The long awaited chapter two has arrived! Thank you all so much for your patience.

Disclaimer: If you know it, I don't own it.

Word soon spread through the Village. The strange red-haired woman was to marry the King's youngest son. Many doubted the success of the marriage. Mainly the reason being Ivar was a cripple. Could he even produce an heir? Annag ignored all these rumors and gossip. For that is all that it was.

She wasn't all too surprised that Ivar had her join him and his brothers for training. It was all rather exciting. It reminded her of the set up her own brothers had. The log targets the archery set up with the deer. This caused her to think back to her family. Her brothers...sister...her father...all of them were gone. Her whole clan had been wiped out. Annag sighed to herself as she stood back against a tree and watched them.

Hvitserk paired up with Sigurd while Ubbe and Ivar practiced their archery. Sigurd had two axes while Hvitserk had his swords. She could see the blond watching her as she stood there. Ivar shot his arrow between his two brothers instantly getting their attention. There was something about the look in Ivars eyes. A smugness that made him look wicked and handsome.

Sigurd flung his Ax at Ivar knocking the freshly poured cup of mead out of his hand. Ivar then took his own ax and flung it into the target as it went flying past Sigurd's head. Annag watched as some blood trickled down his head. She couldn't help but smile. He was very good. Very. Very good.

"What are you smiling about?" Sigurd asked as he noticed the smile. Then those green eyes locked onto Sigurd. "Can you fight? Do you know how to use that sword on your waist woman? Or do you even know how to speak our language?" He Taunted her as the blood trickled down his face.

The only people who had heard Annag speak the language of their people were Ragnar...Aslaug and Ivar himself. Ivar felt his hand curling around his sword. "You dare speak to my Bride like that Sigurd?" He threatened. Hvitserk and Ubbe looked at one another.

"Your Bride..." Sigurd scoffed. "She probably agreed out of pity." He spat back at Ivar causing the younger's face to contort in anger.

"Fight me." Ivar, as well as his brothers all, looked up at Annag.

"What?"

"I said. Fight me." She said in a calm voice as she continued to stare at him. Ivar watched curiously. He had heard that her people were great warriors. Now he would get to see it.

Sigurd scoffed "You think you can fight me?" He looked to his brothers and laughed. Ivar looked from his cackling brother to his bride to be. Annag didn't back down. Her glare had darkened at Sigurd.

"I don't think...I know I can. Pick up yer sword little boy. Fight me...unless you are scared." She smirked at Sigurd who now looked completely insulted. This woman had called him a little boy as well as claiming he was scared. His face twisted in a childish fury before grabbing his sword. Annag backed up giving them space. She knew how to fight, gods knew she knew how to fight. Her father had taught her. Before she engaged Sigurd her eyes briefly closed 'Father...guide my sword...'.

Sigurd swung at her with his heavy broadsword which she quickly blocked with hers. Her eyes locked with Sigurd before pushing him back. Left, right, left right, perri, perri, thrust, and thrust. She blocked all of his advances. The three brothers stood watching the exchange with rather impressed looks. The woman was indeed holding her own against their brother. Ivar was watching far more intently than the other two. His eyes, unblinking, watched his bride. It was as if she were a swan in mid flight. Her hair flying about her like a wildfire. What she must be like in battle...the very thought seemed to bring erotic images to Ivar's mind. He bit onto his thumb as he continued to watch. Her sword swung up knocking Sigurd's from his hand before her boot connected to his chest. He fell flat onto his back and a pair of crossed blades lay above his throat.

Sigurd couldn't believe this woman had bested him. This woman...his brothers fucking bride! He seethed in anger as her green eyes bore into his. She stepped back and slammed Sigurd's sword into the ground as she sheathed her own. Then much to everyone's surprise, she held out her hand to him. "You fought well..." Sigurd was hesitant to take her hand but he did and she pulled him to his feet. Then, she walked away to stand back against a tree near Ivar.

Ivar looked at his bride with heavy eyes as his breathing was deep. He felt his pants tightening as he gazed upon his warrior queen. She must have been with skills like that. He wished they were already married so he could take her. He wondered what sparing would be like...would it be foreplay for them? So many more thoughts ran through Ivar's mind before they headed back to the village.

"How did you learn to fight like that?" he asked out of the blue as they made their way back. He was curious to where she learned her skill.

"My father taught me" was her only reply at first. But seeing Ivar's inquisitive attitude she gave in. "I was the eldest child. I had three younger brother's and sister. My father taught me so I would know how to fight and defend my family. I taught my brothers before..." she closed her eyes as the memories came flashing back. "Before they died." She finally said in a soft whisper.

"How did they die?" Ivar asked now becoming more and more curious of his bride. His eyes continued to stare at her as his brothers carried the cart he was on.

"The English came...and they wiped out my village. Pagans, heathens and heretics was their reason. We were no better than animals. I fought as much as I could. I killed who I could...but my family was wiped out. My entire clan..was gone."

Ivar listened to her story and felt sad for her. She had no one, "Is that when my father found you?"

"Yes. He took me in and saved me. I was wounded." She sighed heavily "I would have died if it were not for him."

"And I would not have met you." Ivar teased softly as he smirked. Sure enough his smirk seemed to ease her mood. She shook her head and smiled as well. She walked ahead of them allowing Ivar to watch her from behind. He bit his lip as he watched her walk away. Soon she would be his. Soon...she would be writhing beneath him...or above him...and he would make her his.