-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 -
ꜱᴀᴄʀɪꜰɪᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀꜱʜ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ.
ᴀᴄᴛ ᴏɴᴇ - ᴏᴍᴇɴꜱ

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

THE TEARS LEFT
stains on her cheeks. Left her eyes swollen and red and bloodshot and the usual bright emerald green dull in colour. Her limbs were weak, shaky, paralyzed as she tried to wrap her mind around what had happened.

They were dead.

Their screams were a ghostly overlay, echoing through one ear and tunneling through to the other, an endless noise that rung against her bleeding ears. She wanted it to stop, she wanted it all to stop. The pain, the noise, the screams. No matter how hard she tried, how much her palms cupped her ears, how hard she buried her nails into the skin of her hands, they didn't stop.

She could feel the blood pool in her palms, the red staining her fingertips and seeping beneath her nails.

Just stop.

She pleaded within her mind. They didn't listen. They just kept on screaming. Over and over, with pain in their lungs and skin melting from their bones, with fire crackling against wood.

The whole night she'd watched, helpless as the fire died down into nothing but embers and hot coals, as the smoke was left coil and fly high into the clouds. Till it became nothing but the debris of fallen structures and the ash of bones.

She sat still, curled up against the base of a tree, twirling the knife in her hand. Her fingertips flexed around the handle and with a tight unwavering grip, she angrily stabbed the blade down into the large root of the tree that stuck out from the ground beside her.

The wood splintered around the blade, peeling back the flesh of bark to reveal the green skin beneath.

Freyja tore her knife out and repeated the action, over and over, earning a glance of concern from Brida who'd barely so much as spoken, opting to stay silent in her grief.

"Freyja." Uhtred calmly called her name, his voice nothing but a whisper as he turned his chin towards her direction. His cerulean eyes flickered to the stabbing knife in her hand and with a sigh, he called her name once more. "Freyja."

She refused to stop, she couldn't stop. It was the only thing keeping her there, keeping her from running straight into the village and killing everyone in sight.

It wasn't such a bad idea at that moment, but Freyja knew that her alone or even with Uhtred and Brida by her side, it was only a wish calling for death.

When she didn't acknowledge his voice, Uhtred shifted his weight and turned towards her, his hand reaching out and fingers wrapping around her wrist, bringing her actions to a still.

He didn't take the knife away, and maybe he should have, but all he had right now was his trust in her to not do anything stupid. They needed to stick together.

Finally, after hours of staring at the curling smoke, Freyja ripped her eyes away and looked at him and something in Uhtred's heart broke even more.

He saw the evidence of tears in her dull eyes, saw the dark shadows beneath them and as he looked down, he saw the blood on her hands. He thought she'd gotten rid of that habit.

Slowly, he released his grip on her wrist and backtracked his touch, his body turning away from her.

Freyja's attention slid back to the village.

Kjartan and his men spoke amongst themselves and moved down the dirt path towards the burnt down homestead. They began flipping large logs of the wooden structure, tossing them to the side as if they were nothing - which in a way they were.

Nothing but a painful reminder of what was.

Uhtred's expression became one of confusion as he watched the men toss and turn things over in search for something and his eyes narrowed into a squinting glare. "What are they doing?"

"They're searching for Ragnar's wealth." Freyja informed and pushed herself up onto her knees. She crawled across the forest ground, leaves crumbling beneath her and she knelt to her brother's side.

"They'll never find it." Brida swallowed thickly, sure of her words as her eyes glanced over to see the glares fixed on the siblings faces.

"No, they won't" Freyja's jaw ticked, her head slowly shaking from left to right. The flames sparked within her as she caught another passing glimpse of Kjartan, her grip tightening around the handle of her knife. "Because we will get to it first."

There was a pause, a silent moment of passing.

"That wealth belongs to young Ragnar. It belongs to us."

Brida's eyes shifted to her, her gaze narrowing in concern as she saw the exhaustion clear through the angry expression of her face. Brida's lips pulled into a deep frown and she reached out, setting a hand on Freyja's arm. "And we will come back for it." She promised. "But we need to get out of here first."

"Search in the back." Kjartan's voice reached across the distance. "Come on, we're leaving soon."

A saxon dress man strode out from behind one of the buildings and Uhtred immediately rose to his feet. Brida quickly latched onto his hand. "Get down."

"Look at that man, the Saxon." Uhtred spoke in distaste and nodded his head in a specific direction ahead of them. The women's eyes followed his line of sight and found the man's in dark blue robes. "His name is scallion. He works for my uncle. He'll tell him that I'm dead."

His hand reached out, grasping ahold of the slim trunk of the tree beside him.

Brida turned her head in his direction, her brows pulling together to form lines across her forehead. "Let him do it."

"Brida is right, Uhtred." Freyja spoke calmly but in her eyes laid the silent anger, flames dancing through the coloured iris's. "The element of surprise will work best for us." Slowly, her gaze wandered back towards the village, towards what little was left of her home. "Anyhow, I'd like to see the looks on their faces when they realise we're not a pile of ash."

Uhtred ignored them both. "I see him with Kjartan."

"He and your uncle, maybe they're in it together?"

Frustration tangled in Uhtred's voice, anger bubbling beneath his skin, ready to erupt. "And what makes them believe they can do this without punishment?!"

"Shush." Brida's hands reached for her lover's shoulder, her eyes pleading as they frantically darted from him to the village. "They will be, punished, but not by you."

Freyja's brows knitted together at her words and she turned towards the woman she'd known as a child. "Then by who will they be punished?"

"The gods." She sounded so sure, so promising of her words.

"But is that not why we're here?" Freyja shook her head, failing to understand Brida's words. "The gods want us to punish them. It is the reason we're alive, is it not? The reason why young Ragnar is in Ireland. The reason why you and Uhtred watched the charcoal. Why I was in a tree." She paused, her eyes as wide as a full moon and her arm outstretched, a single finger pointing in the direction of the village. "We are alive so they can be punished."

Brida's lips parted, unable to rack her mind for words to convince the woman otherwise. But Freyja had a point, Freyja always had a point. There was a reason why they were the ones left alive.

It could have happened any other night, any other night where she chose to stay in bed instead of coming out into the woods, any other night where Freyja's insomnia didn't get the best of her.

Any other night - but it was that night that it happened.

Slowly, Freyja inched closer to the woman and carefully cradled her cheeks between the warmth of her blood stained palms. The Dane's voice dropped to a whisper and she leaned close, their noses inches apart. "The gods chose us, Brida. We must obey."

Brida sighed heavily, unable to look away from the pair of startling green orbs that were slowly beginning to gain back their emerald colour. "We serve Ragnar best alive." She attempted again, pleading with her eyes. "We tell the story."

"And we will." A small subtle twitch tugged at the corner of her lips but it was gone just as quick as it came and the darkness came seeping back into her dull eyes. "But we will tell the story our own way."

Smoothing the pad of her thumb across Brida's soft cheek, Freyja released the young woman's face and shuffled back to her place beside Uhtred.

Uhtred head unconsciously nodded along in agreement to Freyja's words and his grip on the tree grew tight. "I need to kill someone."

"No." Brida shook her head, reaching out for him.

Slowly, Uhtred lifted his gaze from the ground and stared ahead, his glaring gaze settling on scallion in the distance. "And I choose him."

He ignored Brida's attempts to keep him in place and shrugged her hands away as he rose to his feet. Without another word escaping the tightening of his lips, he marched through the woods towards the closest building that the fire hadn't reached.

Freyja instinctively followed after him and turned at the call of her name. She half smiled at Brida as she backed away and shrugged her arms out beside her as if to say she had control over what Uhtred did.

She knew well enough if she said the right word Uhtred would immediately back off.

Twirling her dagger through her fingers, Freyja's light steps followed in Uhtred's path. They tip-toed across the dirt clearing, hiding beneath the shadows of waves. They acted casual, as if they were merely Kjartan's men searching for the wealth.

When one came close - too close that Uhtred could feel the breeze shift as he walked passed, he turned and spat a wad of saliva to the ground and Freyja turned her back on the stranger, her elbow leaning against the fence post.

"The main thing is to keep the horses together, yeah. Don't leave any weapons behind." Kjartan's voice drowned across the camp.

A single gesture, a subtle touch of fingertips against her back and Freyja spun around and continued her path.

As she walked, Freyja kept her chin buried against her chest and watched as her feet trampled the wet, sodden ground. She snuck behind the men, so close that she could easily slice her blade across their necks. The thought crossed her mind. Her fingers curled into fists.

Reaching the stables, they disappeared into the shadows and ducked behind a half wall on each side. There was a gap between them, a walkway that led up towards the entrance of the stables right where scallion stood.

They waited for Kjartan and his son Sven to move away before Uhtred quickly and quietly moved forward and cupped his hand around scallion's mouth to muffle his noise of surprise. His other hand reached around, pressing a knife to the Saxons neck and he dragged him backwards into the shadows.

Shifting his hold, Uhtred pressed him to the wall that Freyja knelt against.

Freyja stood to her feet, her hand flat on the wall as she peered through the crack between the splintered wood.

Weaving his fingers as best as he could through the shortly cut hair, Uhtred gripped the man's head back and breathed heavily as a menacing grin curled at his lips. "You know who I am? It's me you're looking for."

Uhtred stared into his eyes. Stared deep and longing with a look that Freyja had never seen before. It sent a chill down her spine and she shivered as if she'd been touched by snow. It was dark and narrowed, with eyes she'd imagined a killer to have.

It was the look of revenge.

The look of utter fear slowly faded from scallion's face and was replaced with pain as Uhtred slowly buried the knife through his stomach. "It's me you're looking for."

The obscene sound of tearing flesh fell over her ears, but Freyja couldn't bring herself to care. The time would come when she got her own revenge, and she was planning to make Kjartan's death memorable.

"You remember me? You remember me?" Uhtred whispered as scallion's weight slugged against the wall, his grip loosening on the Saxon as the blood crawled up his throat and oozed from his lips.

With one quick drawback of his arm, he ripped the knife away and allowed the body to fall to the ground, a dead weight thud echoing throughout the stables.

Freyja's eyes lifted from the body and onto her brother, her gaze searching through his expression that slowly faded into a look of shock. He was just coming to terms with what he'd done, his eyes wide and set on the body of scallion.

Freyja wondered what it was like to take a human life for the first time.

Uhtreds breath suddenly became heavy, unequal panting frantic from his lips. He moved towards the wall and Freyja set a gentle hand to his shoulder, easing him to the ground.

When the first sob wracked from his chest, Uhtred shattered into a million different pieces and Freyja swore to herself that she was going to pick up every little glass shard.

She winced and carefully pulled him into her arms. His head met her chest and her fingers combed through the tangles of his hair. She bit her lip to stop it from quivering and placed her chin to the top of his head.

His arms came around her waist, finger's fisting the fabric of her tunic. He squeezed her tight, allowing the tears to run down his cheeks and stain her shirt.

He focused on everything, the touch of her fingers in his hair, the smooth beating pattern of her heart that thumped against his ear. He focused on that, feeling it pulse against skin and mold his own heart into the same steady rhythm.

Freyja was surprised at her own strength for not crying. Perhaps she'd already shed all the tears she could in Uhtred's arms last night in front of the flames and now she was left feeling numb, paralyzed to all the emotions bundling up inside her.

Minutes had passed, minutes that felt like hours that Uhtred spent in his sister's arms, gripping her tight as a grounding post, to keep a sense of reality in his mind and soon, the sobs settled and the tears faded into light sniffles.

She listened to voices that faded away, listened to the feet of Kjartan's men as they grew distance, and with a light kiss to Uhtreds hair, Freyja pried his arms from around her waist and lifted herself to her feet.

Silent, she took a step towards the wall and peered around it in search for the men. The village was empty and the only bodies that laid within were them and the corpses of the people they cared about, turned to nothing but melted flesh the ash of charred bones.

The thought left a bitter taste on her tongue.

Turning her head, her eyes softened as she glimpsed across her brother. "They're gone." She whispered, her eyes filled with sorrow as she watched him wipe the tears and snot from beneath his nose and stand to his feet as if nothing had happened - as if they hadn't just lost literally everything.

There was pause, a lingering silence of tense atmosphere before Freyja slowly extended her hand towards him.

Uhtred looked at it almost in hesitation before he reached out his hand and slid his palm against hers. Fingers weaved together and a comforting squeeze was pressed into palms.

They strode out from the shadows and into the unwelcoming light. The remembrance of the fire left traces around them, building slicked with ash and smoke and in the clearing where Freyja and Ragnar sparred long ago, laid the corpse of their father.

Uhtred gave another squeeze Freyja's hand when he noticed her steps falter and he had the fleeting thought of taking her someplace where she didn't have to see it.

But it was too late - the image had already scorched her mind.

Freyja breathed in the painful air and felt her chest ache as she pulled her hand away from Uhtred. Her eyes watered and her legs shook before finally crashing to the ground where her knees became painted with mud.

Her reached out a trembling hand, unsure if it was her blurry vision or actually her that made her hand shake so much.

She swallowed thick, feeling her throat pulse as the tips of her fingers brushed across the charred remains of her father's hand.

Slowly, with a touch so gentle she was afraid he would completely vanish into a cloud of dust, she held his hand in her palm.

I should have done something to help.

Her eyes squeezed shut and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Lo, there do I see my father." She whispered, squeezing her father's still hand. "Lo, there do I see my mother." A glimpse of her mother's smiling face flickered behind her eyelids. "And my sister's." Red hair glimmered brightly beneath the honeyed sun rays. "And my brother's." Uhtred slowly knelt opposite to her. "Lo, there I do see the line of my people back to the beginning. Lo, they do call to me."

She took a sharp breath, feeling Brida's hand rest on her shoulder. "They bid me take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live forever."

A cold gust of wind brushed over her and she shivered, her eyes slowly creeping open to welcome the harsh light and let her head fall back, her gaze lifting towards the sky.

Smoke became one with the clouded sky, grey rolling across the pale blue with approaching rain. It seemed even the sky wanted to shed tears.

With one last squeeze to her father's hand, she uncurled her fingers and pulled away, wordlessly standing to her feet.

Leaving the two to their own, Freyja walked away. She walked and walked, her body heavy, her legs aching, her feet feeling as if they had chains attached at the ankles, the chains rattling as they dragged along the deadly earth.

She stepped inside the burnt down homestead, debris and crumbled logs cracking beneath her boots. The smell of smoke became strong and the taste of bile filled her mouth.

There was a parallel line between the dead and the living and Freyja was walking it. She walked through the home like she once would, looked across the half standing walls where the beds once remained, approached the centre where she used to stand and watch the fire until someone came along to snap her out of the trance.

She knelt to the floor, an arm wrapped around her middle as her stomach became unsettled. She pressed her lips tightly together and ever so carefully reached for the skull in front her.

There were two, meaning whoever the bones belong to didn't die alone and in some strange way, the thought comforted her.

Her hands cupped around the black skull and she ignored the heat that still radiated against her palms. She stared into the holes where the eyes were supposed to be and imagined her mother.

Suddenly, the feeling grew too strong and the grip loosened, the bone clattering from her hand as she turned and heaved onto the ground.

Her bones hurt, her muscles ached and the bitter taste filled her mouth as it spilled out onto the scorned ground. Freyja moaned as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, her limbs trembling with every movement as she stumbled back to her feet.

She looked anywhere but the bones, her mind creating a layout of the homestead, a path that got her feet moving in the direction of the beds.

They weren't so much beds anymore, merely half mattresses that had become black from the flames that destroyed them and the frames were barely left untouched.

But even amidst all the wreckage, Freyja knew exactly which bed belonged to her.

The closest bed to hers was Thyra's and every night they'd fall asleep facing one another, and when the sun had risen and their eyes pried open to greet the living, each other was the first face they'd see.

Many nights, Thyra would slip out from beneath her covers and crawl into Freyja's and she'd cling onto her like a child's favourite toy, falling asleep to the soothing sound of her big sisters heartbeat.

Freyja took a single step and stood still at the foot of her bed. Her eyes shifted to the chest by her feet, surprised to see its walls barely so much as brushed by the heat of the fire.

The tips of her fingers slid over the case, feeling the rough edges and the carvings engraved into the wood to form the illustration of an angry sea and boats with large beasts mounted onto the heads.

She remembered the day that Ragnar showed it to her.

She was thirteen and he'd just gotten back from one of his adventures, and as a surprise - a gift of apology for him leaving her in the first place - he brought her chest, a place to hide all her belongings.

One day, her mother and father came to find Uhtred locked inside of it.

Freyja smiled at the memory, her hand slowly tracing over the latch before she unclipped the lock and lifted the lid with a creak.

Her eyes scanned the few contents inside and she reached for the axe. She flipped it over and over, feeling the familiar weight of it before sliding it into place on her belt.

She grasped the quiver of arrows and pulled it to her chest, feeling her finger along the soft coloured feathers that she'd found throughout the woods. Carefully, she ducked her head and slid the strap over her shoulders before reaching for the last item.

The bow was light in her hands, the wood smooth against her skin and the pad of her thumb brushed across her name engraved into the frame.

She held it close and turned as feet crunched against wood by the entrance. Her eyes locked with Uhtreds for a moment before he slowly took in the wreckage.

His face was just as shocked as hers.

After a few moments of searching through the debris, they approached the anvil and together, Brida and Uhtred pushed against it, knocking it down with a heavy thud.

Kneeling to the ground, Freyja placed the point of the chisle against the stone and with a rock, she smacked it down onto the tool, watching as the concrete chipped away.

She gave a few more hard hits before the veil was cracked open and stone crumbled around her, chunks of rock falling down into the shallow pit.

With the help of Uhtred, she lifted the crate up from the hole and set it the level ground, at the flat of her hand brushed across the lid.

The sliver glimmered against her eye and her heart stung and her pain bled through a single tear that rolled down her cheek. Freyja turned away and wiped it against her finger before Uhtred and Brida had a chance to see it.

She reached into the box and her fingers wrapped around a silver cross, a cross that once belonged to those of Christians.

Freyja had never met a Saxon but she'd heard stories, endless stories that sprouted from her father's lips. Uhtred was Saxon once, even been bathed in the holy water of Saxons. And he'd tell her story's, tales that her mother feared would corrupt her.

Brida was too young to remember her life outside of Danes.

With a distasteful curl of her lips, Freyja dropped the cross back into the box and wiped her hands down the front of her shirt.

"By right, it belongs to young Ragnar." Uhtred sniffed and locked away from the crate, his gaze wandering towards the entrance where the light of the sky completely came to a stop, unable to dip into the shadows of the building.

Brida looked up with a solemn expression. "Yes." She nodded and paused, her eyes searching across her lover's face. "But we spend what we need to spend - we stay alive."

"We tell the story and then what?" Freyja's dull eyes slipped towards the young woman and she raised her arm, placing it on the bend of her elbow where she tucked her chin against the limb.

There was a silent shift.

"We find a new Lord to serve."

As if reading eachothers minds, Uhtred and Freyja shared a slowly shake of their heads. Uhtreds cerulean eyes found Brida's. "I will not stand by and have everything that is mine taken from me." He glanced towards the entrance and straightened his sit. "I'm going back."

Freyja lifted her chin, her eyes following him from the ground. She searched his face before asking a question she might regret. "Where?"

"To the beginning."

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

THE HOOVES OF A GATHERING
of horses hit the ground hard as they galloped, shaking the earth with each thundering step like the feet of an army going into battle. The air turned cold and left her skin feeling like ice, but there was no possible explanation to describe the joy she felt on turning back to see Uhtred's uncle and his men chase after them.

The look on his face, the pure confusion that sunk into utter terror the moment he realised the one thing he sent his man out to do, had failed. It had ultimately failed in the worst way possible, because now scallion was dead, nothing but a head on his doorstep and Uhtred was alive, breathing and one day he would come for Bebbanburg - because that was what he was meant to do.

Perhaps his uncle was smart, perhaps he knew that there was no defeating Uhtred. You take his family, Uhtred is going to tear apart everything you know and shove it right back in your face.

The field was narrow as they rode across it, a straight path of shortly cut grass that was wet with the morning dew. Woods surrounded either end of it and with a turn of her head, Uhtred and Freyja shared a glance.

"We should head for the woods." Freyja sucked in a breath, feeling her teeth chatter from the coldness that flushed her skin pale. "We could lose them there."

Parting his lips, his hands tightened on the reins and his nodded in agreement to her words. "Head for the words."

They were closing in, a mere feet distance away.

Freyja gave a sharp tug of her reins and turned the horse, steering it into the woods.

The thundering earth became the crushing of leaves as they stepped into forest ground and Freyja ducked her head to avoid the lower branches.

The indistinct chatter followed them through the trees.

"Go right, there's a gully over that bridge." Uhtred ordered with a quick point of his finger and he veered off to the left. Without hesitation, Brida followed through and took her horse to the right, disappearing through the trees.

Freyja and Uhtred shared a look and the unsheathing of daggers reverberated across the woods.

"What do we do?" Freyja asked, her gaze darting back and forth between her brother and the pathway through the the trees where the men were bound to appear any moment.

It was silent, the air growing stiff until Uhtreds attention settled on the tree beside Freyja.

"We hide our path."

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

THEY'D RODE FOR DAYS
and a night, from dusk till dawn, from even ground to hills, through trees and open fields. They didn't stop, not once did they stop and the horses were beginning to tire from underneath them.

Freyja couldn't feel her legs. They shook like jelly and they had become numb from the long ride and all she had left were the leather straps of the reins to keep herself upright.

The trees stood tall around her, forming a canopy over head that shared varying amounts of sunlight and the leaves rustled softly against the slow breeze.

She looked around her, her eyes capturing the way the sun rays sliced through the branches and shined a golden pathway across the earth.

"Brida." Uhtred called out to his lover, his gaze fixed ahead of him onto the silver furs wrapped around the woman's shoulders. Throughout the pelt, various shades of grey and brown speckled through the fur, the soft hairs brushing beneath Brida's very own brunette locks.

She didn't answer him, didn't even acknowledge his voice as she continued to silently ride on a few feet ahead.

"Brida." He sung her name lowly, his eyes slightly teasing behind her back and he gave a slight nudge against the space just behind the horse shoulder. He picked up the pace only just and moved to walk alongside Brida, leaving Freyja to linger behind the two. "Sing me a song."

Brida looked at him for a short moment and scoffed in annoyance. "I won't and I'm not your skald."

Uhtred pursed his lips together with a casual shrug of his shoulders before the same humourous glint flickered behind his gaze. "True, and what's more, you'd frighten the birds."

Freyja snorted, the pig-like noise echoing across the lingering pairs of ears. With a grin curled slightly at her lips, she sniffed and bumped her finger beneath her nose. "I'm afraid you've already frightened the birds with just your looks, brother."

Uhtred turned with an open mouth, lips parted in shock as he looked at her with mock offence. "Two days you've gone without mocking me." He replied, his cerulean eyes narrowing slightly on her face. "You were doing so well, Freyja."

"Old habits." Freyja gave a weak smile and shrugged, her eyes fluttering as the cold breeze fanned across her face.

Parting her lips as the air fell silent, she welcomed the air through her mouth and into her lungs. They ached with every breath and she slugged in her saddle with a heavy sigh.

Everything felt heavy. Her body, her arms, her legs. Even her own mind felt the weight of everything. She couldn't breathe and she was lucky enough to have the ability to still speak.

There was a bitter taste on her tongue, something scorned and metallic like the blood of something dead, something rotten. Her eyes snapped open, wide as she looked around her - and Brida too pulled her horse to a stop.

"What?" Uhtred noticed their lack of movement and his gaze moved between his sister and lover, confusion written deep into his scarred expression.

"There is a taste in the air." Brida stared off into the distance, staring through the endless maze of trees, staring right through them as if she could see the insects crawling beneath the bark.

Her horse sensed the atmosphere and it's ears turned back and it's legs began stumbling backwards in an attempt to get away from the unsafe area.

Brida eased it's sparked nerves with a brush of her fingers through its tangled mane. "Death."

That was when Freyja noticed the stillness of the earth around her, as if time had suddenly stopped. The breeze was nonexistent, the air suffocating. There were no birds, no noise of creatures that lingered within the woods embrace.

Everything was so deathly still.

Freyja and Uhtred shared a look, a silent passing of gaze that held very few words but the two seemed to easily pick up on each other's thoughts and in synchronised movement, the siblings gathered up their reins and moved further down the path.

The stopped a little up ahead where the hills sloped down into a crevice that formed a gully between a small clearing of trees. A few small shacks stretched across the clearing, destroyed and torn apart, left barely standing by the last person who had visited.

Freyja gently eased the horse to a stop and slid herself down from its back. Her boots made a soft crunch against the dirt and lose pebbles that kicked up beneath her feet.

Brushing her fingers across the horses neck, she pressed a quick kiss to its cheek and slowly reached behind her for the bow.

She held the light item in both hands and tip-toed her fingers across the string in languid rhythm. She pinched the feathers of an arrow between her two fingers and pulled it in front of her.

There were two horses dead from what she could see, possibly more somewhere off hidden deeper into the small village, and amongst the wreckage, laid the lifeless bodies of village people.

She split away from Uhtred who began stalking down the main path, and took a path around the buildings.

Her eyes slowly wracked across her surroundings, stopping to linger upon a few awkwardly positioned corpses.

An image of her own home flashed across her mind and her pace stilled as her eyes squeezed shut. She shook her head, bit her bottom lip, tightened her grip on the bow, anything to rid herself of the image.

The stench of smoke clouded her nose as if to say there was no getting rid of it.

Freyja swallowed thick and forced herself to open her eyes. She immediately regretted it as her gaze settled on the small corpse of a child, barley so much as half of her height.

Quickly, Freyja moved towards it and collapsed into the ground beside the little boy. His face was grey with a death, his lips a light blue, and blood, there was so much blood. It stained his skin, his arms and legs, his face. His clothes held the most of it, his stomach ripped open to show the internal organs that were now external.

Releasing the bow with one hand, she wrung two fingers together and reached towards his neck. It was no use, it was obviously clear that the boy was long gone, but Freyja couldn't help but search for the familiar thump of a faint pulse.

When the pressure on her fingers remained still and covered with the cold touch of death, she gave a heavy sigh and stood to her feet.

She looked around, searching her eyes for anything to cover the child's body.

There was a blanket, tossed over the fence post of a close building and she ripped it into her hands, using one to carefully drape it across the boy's body, hiding him from the cruelties of the earth that had taken him far too soon.

An arrow whistled through the air and not from her bow but from another and immediately, the guard was raised to Freyja's shoulders and her arms lifted to raise her own weapon. She ducked behind the wall of a building and peered around it in search for her brother.

She found him, hidden within the shadows of another shack.

Freyja sighed in relief.

Gripping her bow tighter, Freyja formed a quick plan within her mind before shifting her weight across the wall and stealing a glance of the other side.

It took her a moment to find the attacker, hidden well behind the stitching of a shack wall, his bow aimed through the small hole.

Another arrow hissed the air and she clenched her jaw.

Pushing off of the wall, Freyja snuck her way towards the tree line surrounding the village. She moved through the trees with stealthy speed, her body hunched and lowered towards the ground.

Her head occasionally turned to find Uhtred moving through the village and quickly ducking behind another object to use as a temporary shield.

Once she had the advantage of being behind the attacker, she stepped out from the trees and her eyes locked with Brida to see she had the same idea.

Turning her attention to the attacker who now stood out in the clearing in front of Uhtred, Brida raised her arm and drew back the axe

The air shifted as the axe whirled forward, penetrating the man's back.

He crumbled forward and released the bow from his grip, the front of his body slamming into the cold ground.

His groan of pain alerted Freyja that he was in fact still alive.

She shifted the bow from one hand to the other, lowering it by her side and advancing towards her brother and the injured man. She stood over them and Uhtred knelt, and slid another arrow into her grip.

Uhtreds fingers weaved through the man's dark locks of hair and tugged his head up from the ground. "Who did this? Who sacked the village?"

The man groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as pain washed over him in waves. "I cannot move."

Brida sighed and walked over. "Your back is broken." She casually informed and reached down to grip ahold of the axe. With one quick tug, she ripped it from the man's back, his grown of pain muffled into the earth.

Uhtred tightened his grip. "Who did it?"

The man failed to answer, lips sealed silent as he stared at ground, a concoction of dirt, saliva and leaves swirling in his mouth.

Placing the arrow against the string, Freyja drew her arm back and aimed for the man's head. "You answer or the next arrow goes in your eye, yeah?"

"You know who did this ." The man spat, doing his best to fight against Uhtreds grip. But he couldn't move, as if his entire body had been paralyzed but he could feel the pain of it all from the wound in his back. "Dane's did this."

Uhtreds brows pulled together and his chin lifted to share a look with Freyja. "Why? I don't believe you. Why should the Dane's attack a village that feeds them?"

"Revenge. But since when have Dane's needed an excuse to kill?"

The air shifted and a cold chill settled across Freyja spine. She looked around her, dull eyes narrowed and calculating, searching for any other Dane's that happened to linger, watching them from the tree's and then after a moment, she looked back.

"Revenge?" She spat the word in disgust, her lips curling back into a sneer as she glared down at the injured man. "Revenge for what? Were their potatoes not cooked?"

The man slowly lifted his head from the ground as best as he could, his dark, pain filled eyes slowly gazing across her face as best as he could through the sun that shown directly across her cheek. He was half blinded.

Uhtred tightened his grip on the man's hair and leaned lower to speak loudly into the man's ear. "Revenge for what, and I'll end it."

The man took in a sharp breath and allowed his eyes fall shut, breathing in the smell of rain that stained the sodden earth beneath him. It was a beautiful smell, the smell of freedom, the irony was that he wasn't free.

"An uprising north of here. A saxon slave, he killed his master at a wedding party."

Freyja's eyes widened like moons and her guarded stance faultered only just. She lowered the bow slightly as Uhtred stood to his feet, her eyes lifting up the gauge the expression on his face.

They were talking about him. They believed that Uhtred killed Ragnar. They didn't know the story.

Brida approached, slow, threatening steps that crumbled the earth beneath her. "What was the name of the slave? Huh?"

"You speak English well for a dane."

With a grinding of her jaw, Brida pushed passed Freyja and knelt to the ground. She gripped the man's hair and twisted the strands to make him cry out. "His name!?"

There was a pause, the man breathing in sharply through his nose and he spoke his knowledge into the earth. "Uhtred."

Slowly, Brida released her hold and stood to her feet, her boots dragging across the ground as she took a few parting steps.

"End it." The man pleaded but nobody moved, nobody said a fucking thing, merely stared down at him as their minds struggled to wrapped around everything he'd just spoke. "End-" he tried to finish but the pain had him gasping for air.

Freyja looked to her brother, searching his stoic expression. He was guilty, she could see it clear as day within his cerulean eyes. He blamed himself for this because now everyone believed that he had killed Ragnar - she knew better.

Uhtreds jaw clenched and he avoided her lingering stare and turned towards the wounded man. He gripped his knife, contemplating his actions and lowering to the ground, quickly stabbing the blade through his neck.

Uhtred gave a heavy sigh to match his heavy conscience and wiped the dagger clean against the fabric of his tunic. "Say it." His eyes stared directly into Brida's back, knowing that out of both her and freyja, Brida was the one most likely to rub it in his face that he was wrong.

"Say what?" Brida snapped but she knew well enough what he meant.

Uhtred slid the dagger back into place against his hip. "What you are thinking."

There was another shift, a crunch of the leaves as they were pushed further into the ground by the movement of Brida's feet. The young woman spun around with a face full of frustration. "I'm thinking that you have a turd where there's supposed to be a mind."

Uhtred laughed, his lips parting as the noise came out forced and breathless, clearing false despite the amusement that flickered behind his gaze. "Thank you."

Freyja gave a weak smiled and slipped the arrow back into the quiver. She held the bow in her hand, giving a short glance to her surroundings as the lovers spat brewed between them.

"We should never have gone to Bebbanburg. We should have let them believe that you were dead."

"You can't change the past, Brida." Freyja hummed and walked ahead a few steps in front of the couple. "What's done is done. Get over it."

"Get over it?" Brida eyed the woman in disbelief, her hopes of Freyja being on her side diminishing into nothing. "We should have gone straight to Ubba."

Uhtred picked up his pace, stopping Brida by reaching for her arm. He forced her to face him despite her stubbornness and he stared into the hazel of her gaze. "No, you're wrong. I want them to know I am alive. I need them to know I am alive because they hold what's mine. I feel better for it."

Letting his words linger for a second longer, Uhtred turned and strode in his sister's path through the village. His shoulder brushed with hers as she had stopped to silently observe the couple.

"Yeah," Brida's eyes followed his back. "So does a dog pissing on a tree."

Uhtred looked back with a humourous smirk. "You wish me to bark?"

"What we needed to do was to ride south to the Chieftan Ubba, and tell the story of Ragnar's death."

"We'll do it now." Uhtred shrugged, taking a step back towards her.

"Now there is a second story, about some slave who killed his master."

Uhtred gave a weak smile and carefully approached the woman, his hands clasped together around an apple. "Ubba knows that Ragnar was my father."

Brida's expression widened and her brows arched towards where the strands of her sandy coloured hair began. "He knows nothing. I doubt he'll even remember you. He will believe the story that he hears first and he will kill you."

There was a pause as her words lingered, echoing through the trees and her narrowed eyes slid to the ground. "If you could write, then you could write to him." Slowly, a laughed pushed through her pressed lips and the air around them became lighthearted as her amusement bubbled from the throat. "If he could read."

Smiling at the ground, Freyja nudged the toe of her boots against loose stones, rolling them back and forth beneath her feet.

"Ubba will remember me." She shrugged, bringing the attention onto her as she discarded the rock and looked up between her brother and friend. "He would have too." Her gaze wandered towards Uhtred. "I'm there to tell your story, he would have no other choice but to believe us."

Brida was unsure and her doubtful expression was within reason as she frowned at the ground below. Neither of them were certain if it would work, but with no other option they had to at least try.

With a firm nod, Brida stepped forward and walked between the gap seperating the siblings. "You left us no choice. We must find Ubba and hope he believes you."

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