Flóki couldn't help but smile, as he listened to (Y/n); as she spoke of what the seer had told her. Of what Víðarr and Váli had shown her. The daughter of Ragnar not caring, as he would occasionally reach out and touch the mask that covered the scarred side of her face. (Y/n) used to the strange things that the boatbuilder would do. The shieldmaiden having quickly grown accustomed to his wild giggle, and the way that he would move his hands around her, when she would come and see him in her youth. Some of her best times just spent listening to him, as he would tell her stories about the gods; the same stories that she herself would later tell her little brothers, when they could not sleep.

"There will be an army, Flóki. The greatest heathen army that has ever been seen. An army that will come together in the name of my father; in the name of revenge for the death of Ragnar Lothbrok. And I will be there when King Aelle is captured and laid open to the gods; there when Ecbert's blood, flows from his body. My face.......the face of vengeance, the last thing that either of them will see, before their devils come to claim them." (Y/n) said. Her voice low, as she gripped the boatbuilders hand. The masked woman knowing that he was the only one that she could tell of these things; that even though she knew what was to come, it was to her brothers that she had to trust to rally all those that would come and stand with the children of Ragnar.

"And I will be right by your side, (Y/n). No matter what may have happened between your father and I, I still loved him; I will always love Ragnar. And I will proudly stand with you when we face the Christians. But.......are you sure that you..........."

"Will be able to fight..........?" (Y/n) interrupted, knowing exactly what Flóki's concerns would be; what her own concerns had been.

"I know that I am not what I once was. That my blind eye will make it harder for me on the battlefield. But I will not let that hold me back. The girl I was before that raid on Paris, died a long time ago in a Frankish dungeon; her uncle watching as she was whipped by his men. This (Y/n) Ragnarsdóttir, she was sent back from the dead and is more than she could ever have dreamed of being. So, I will not let you down, I will not let my brothers down; and most of all, I will not let my father down." She explained. The pair smiling at one another before the pale eyed crow that had been sat on the chair behind her all this time, let out a sudden caw.

"Yes, Reiði, I know." (Y/n) told the bird. Flóki laughing at the fact that she had named the one-eyed black creature, Wrath, as it jumped to her shoulder.

"I should be going. I left my mother in a state of shock this morning, so I should go back and explain. That, and I need to make sure that my brothers do what they have to do." She told the boatbuilder, kissing Flóki and then Helga on the cheek.

"My mother spoke of a feast, last night, that will be held this evening. And I think that it is about time that I show my new face to the whole of Kattegat; though I would appreciate it is you two were there to give me the courage..........."

"You do not need us to give you courage, (Y/n); but we will be there." Flóki assured. Helga coming to her husband's side and nodding in agreement. Reiði letting out another caw, before they made their way out of the door.

                                                          >>-------------------------------<<

Halfdan had been stood in the same spot for what felt like hours. He had woken early that morning, leaving his brother to sleep as he made his way out onto the streets of Kattegat. The slaves going about their duties, farmers herding their animals and merchants setting up their stalls, already making the realm of Ragnar look busy. The younger son of Halfdan the Elder, leaning up against one of the posts, as he continued to think about the same thing he had been letting his thoughts drift to, since his brother had confirmed that it was her........(Y/n).

He would confess that even though he was not like his older brother and lost his heart to any pretty face; he had strangely found himself feeling something for Ragnar's daughter, when they had spent that time together, all those years before. He had had plenty of woman, some whether they liked it or not; yet none of them had made him feel like she had. None had brought that same thrill of danger with them, as he had felt when he had been thrusting himself into her, over and over again; and she screamed out his name. And he wanted to know if those feelings had just been of that moment, or if they had continued to be there without him knowing. That, and he would like to see what his brother had meant by her being disfigured. Rumours already abound in town, that her body was covered in scars from years of torture. Yet he would know nothing unless her brothers let her out of their sight.

Then, Halfdan standing up straighter, as he noticed a figure dressed in a dark hooded cloak, make their way down the hill. The small crowd of thralls, farmers and merchants parting ways, as the person with a pale eyed raven sat atop their shoulder. made their way through them. The man from Vestfold knowing that it was her; that it was (Y/n). Halfdan following her out of town to where the boatbuilder lived, and he had been stood under the tree, watching the cabin, since she had gone inside.

Suddenly, he saw the door open. Halfdan making his way to the other side of the tree, as he watched the same figure emerge from the cabin. Flóki and his wife coming to stand in the doorway, watching as the form slowly made its way back along the path towards town. Halfdan choosing to follow, determining that before they got back, he would find out if some of the rumours, were true.