"Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, blood and revenge are hammering in my head."

~William Shakespeare

Ivar gazed down at his wife. Her hair was splayed out across his pillow, draped over his arm. He combed through the strands with gentle fingers, basking in its softness.

He had come to the realization that he cared for her ages ago. He knew he loved her. He'd admitted as much to his brothers. He didn't understand the extent of his love until this moment.

Ivar was a man who would do many things for the people he loved. He would lie, cheat, steal, and kill for his family.

He'd abducted men from their homes and tortured them for his father. He'd stalked and beaten a man for his wife. He murdered men in the name of his brothers. He'd blackmailed men and women alike for Lagertha. None of this was below Ivar. He'd done them all and he would do them again. One thing that Ivar could safely say he would not do for his family was die for them.

He was a selfish man and considered himself above all others. He never did anything that could potentially bring harm to himself. He often acted first and thought later but never at the expense of his own life. Self-preservation was his greatest instinct and yet…

He knew this woman sleeping beside him would be his undoing.

Waking up beside her was the most exquisite moment of his life.

She was an angel laid out in his bed. The feeling of her body pressed against his was like nothing he'd ever felt before. She was sunlight shining down on the darkness that was his heart. She illuminated cracks that had never seen the light of day. She warmed the spaces of his chest that had been frozen since his mother died.

His whole life he believed he would never feel something like this. He was too different. His physical limitations held him back from seeking female affections. He didn't want to be laughed at and ridiculed. It was easier to just not try.

He'd grown up thinking that something was wrong with him. That no one would be able to accept him so he built walls. He shut himself away to keep from getting hurt. It was easier than letting someone in. He had more control that way.

He didn't even let Freydis in as much as she liked to think he did. She never burrowed her way in as Aaline had.

He realized then that he would die for her. She was above all others. Her life mattered more to him than his own.

He couldn't help the grin that threatened to overtake his face.

He buried his nose in Aaline's hair and closed his eyes, ignoring the sudden trill of his cell phone.

He glanced back at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. It was almost eight in the morning. They were officially late for work.

Ivar shrugged it off. They practically ran their jurisdictions of the company. Someone else could handle business today. Ivar was keener on handling his wife.

He rolled over, pinning her beneath his massive frame. She groaned and stretched against him, brushing up against sensitive parts of his anatomy. He moaned and nuzzled her ear.

He popped an eye open when his phone went off again.

It was probably Björn demanding to know where he was for whatever meeting he was late for. Ivar knew his brother would understand. Björn and Torvi were still pretty hot and heavy after twenty plus years of marriage.

He felt Aaline sigh beneath him and he stroked a hand down her side. "Good morning, elskede. Did you sleep well?" He breathed against the shell of her ear. Aaline shivered as his breath ghosted across her neck.

She pushed up against him and Ivar lifted, allowing her to roll onto her back. She blinked up at him through sleepy eyes and brought her hands up to frame his face.

"I've never slept better." She answered.

Ivar smiled and leaned down to kiss her. His phone went off again. Aaline groaned and drew back, her eyebrows raised.

"Are you going to answer that?" She asked. Ivar shook his head and leaned down, kissing her again. Aaline giggled as his phone rolled into a fourth round of vibrations. She pulled away.

"Ivar, maybe it's important." He grunted and shook his head, trailing kisses down the slope of her neck. Aaline smiled and leaned into the kisses but drew her eyebrows together when her own phone started going off. Before she could move to answer it, Ivar rolled her over to the other side of the bed, out of reach.

She shrieked and he continued his journey down her neck, licking into her clavicle. "Ivar, what if it's an emergency?" He shook his head against her, sending shivers down her spine at the rasp of his stubble against tender flesh.

As Ivar reached down to begin toying with her pussy, the door was thrown open.

Ivar jumped back and off the bed, his hips angrily protesting the quick movement. He had his pistol out and pointed at the door before Aaline could scream.

Aaline herself pressed the blankets to her chest and stared at the door. More so at who had burst inside.

Hvitserk had broken the lock, the splintered wood lying scattered at his feet. The door was almost split in two, hanging by only one of its hinges.

"What the fuck, Hvitserk? Get out!" Ivar was unconcerned with his nudity as his brother stood panting in the center of the room. He tossed his gun on the nightstand, the loud clatter the only sound in the room. Aaline glanced briefly at Ivar before turning her eyes back to Hvitserk.

"Why don't you answer your phone?" Hvitserk demanded. He was just as unbothered by Ivar's nudity, staring hard at his younger brother.

Aaline could see tension in the lines of his face and shoulders. His mouth was a tight line cutting across his face. His hands were clenched at his sides and his body shaking.

She turned worried eyes to Ivar. Something was wrong.

"I'm busy, obviously." Ivar gestured towards the bed where Aaline still sat, huddled under the blankets, and pressed back against the headboard.

"I've called you. Four times." Hvitserk spluttered. He was breathing heavily and sweating as if he'd just run a great distance.

Ivar scrunched up his nose and scowled. "I know. I ignored it."

Aaline cleared her throat and called his name. "Ivar…"

He ignored her and continued to stare at his brother.

"Are you going to pay for a new door?" He pointed an accusing finger at the wood littering his doorway.

Hvitserk ignored him and gestured towards Aaline, his eyes never leaving Ivar. "Thora's even called Aaline."

"Look, it's broken in half."

"Nobody can reach you."

"Why didn't you just knock? I would've ignored you but maybe then I would have answered your calls. You didn't have to kick down the door. It's very rude, Hvitserk."

Aaline watched the banter like a tennis match, her eyes trailing from one to the next, anticipation building.

Something had happened. Something bad. Hvitserk was visibly upset. He looked like he'd been crying. He said he'd called Ivar four times and Thora had called Aaline. Ivar was oblivious, arguing about his door and his brother's lack of decorum instead of seeing the bigger picture.

She hissed at him, "Ivar."

"Ivar, enough!"

She and Hvitserk spoke at once, drowning Ivar out. She leaned back, watching Hvitserk. He'd clenched his eyes shut and his jaw was stiff with tension. He was clenching and unclenching his shaking hands, his knuckles white. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was in pain.

Aaline's heart began to pound. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears.

Something terrible had happened.

Ivar snapped his mouth shut and, for the first time, seemed to take in his brother's appearance.

His eyes narrowed and he looked Hvitserk up and down.

"What's so important that you needed to break my door down?"

Hvitserk sighed and only then did he glance at Aaline and notice her state of undress. "I'll step out so you can get dressed." He made to turn but Ivar called his name, stopping him.

"What's happened, Hvitserk?" His voice was low, just barely this side of threatening. Hvitserk closed his eyes and Aaline could see his throat bob as he swallowed.

"Ivar, put some clothes on." Hvitserk sounded tired.

Ivar shook his head, ripping a pair of sleep shorts out from under the pillows and yanking them up his legs. He raised his arms in a shrug and slapped back down to his sides. "I'm dressed now tell me. What is going on?"

Hvitserk looked at Ivar for a long time. It was as if he was trying to collect his thoughts or come up with the best way to phrase the next few words that would leave his mouth.

Ivar was just beginning to lose patience when Hvitserk spoke.

"There was an ambush. A small group of men were on their way into the office when an SUV drove by and shot at them. The car was peppered with bullets. Dozens of shots fired.

"Two men died at the scene and one was rushed to the hospital. I do not know the extent of the damage but… he was… he was pronounced, uh… DOA."

Hvitserk stopped and looked down. Aaline had seen his eyes go glassy before he looked away. She knew. Before he even said it she knew that it was one of the brothers.

Ivar seemed to know, too.

"Who?" He practically growled.

Hvitserk looked up and sniffed, his eyes still wet but no tears had fallen.

Ivar growled again, his hands clenched at his sides and his chest heaving. "Who, Hvitserk?"

Hvitserk cleared his throat and swallowed again. It looked like the action caused him a great deal of pain. His voice was low like he was trying to keep his voice from cracking. It didn't work. What came out was a croak, a painful sound that seemed to get lodged in the back of his throat.

"Sigurd."

.

"An eye witness said that Sigurd's car was stopped at a red light when a dark-colored SUV pulled up beside them and started shooting. We've gotten conflicting accounts on the color of the vehicle. Some people have identified it as black, others are saying blue. We did get a partial plate so I have someone tracking that down as we speak."

Athelstan's voice was soft as he spoke to Ragnar. He watched his old friends face, waiting for any kind of reaction. Ragnar was a stoic man and rarely allowed his emotions to shine through. The only indicator that Ragnar was in pain were the tears he allowed to flow freely down his cheeks.

Athelstan glanced over at Lagertha whose own grief-stricken face looked back at him.

Athelstan had known Ragnar when he was a simple foot soldier working beneath Earl Haraldson. Athelstan had been a rookie, working his first big case, smuggling at the Kattegat docks. Athelstan had formed a bond with Ragnar, sharing their curiosity for each other's culture and upbringing. They quickly formed a friendship that lasted through the ages. Ragnar even served as Athelstan's confidential informant from time to time.

He had been there through Björn's childhood, watching him grow into the powerful man he was now. He was there when Gyda passed, comforting Lagertha on the nights that Ragnar disappeared to ease his own pain. He was there for the birth of each of Ragnar's sons. He was there for Aslaug's funeral. He was an attendant at each of their weddings. He was even godfather to one of Björn's children.

He was a fixture in the life of Ragnar Lothbrok and he would make sure that Sigurd's death was not in vain.

"The two men with Sigurd, Thrain Ansson and Armod Visätesson, were both pronounced dead at the scene. Multiple gunshot wounds each. It looks like they used AK-47's and AR-15 semi-automatic rifles.

"It was an ambush. Sigurd and his men didn't have any time to draw their own weapons before they were attacked. Sigurd's gun was found on the floor of the car indicating that he drew it but was wounded before he could really get it out. EMT's performed CPR for the entire ten minutes it took them to reach the hospital and ER doctors worked for an additional fifteen minutes but they could never get a pulse. They pronounced him dead on arrival."

He flipped his notebook closed and put it away, crossing his arms over his chest. He took a deep breath and waited. He knew Ragnar would speak but he was a man of quiet contemplation. He needed time to collect his thoughts before he would speak.

Ragnar stood facing the two-way glass of the medical examiner's office. Athelstan stood on his left and Lagertha on his right. He kept his face clear of emotion but he could not stop his tears. They rolled freely down his face as he watched the ME roll the metal slab where his son's body layout of the freezer. He watched in stoic silence as the sheet was pulled back and his son's face was revealed.

When Athelstan had told him he needed someone to identify the body, Sibylle had insisted. Through her tears, she begged Ragnar to let her identify her husband's body. She clutched at his jacket, tears flowing, and begged to see Sigurd one last time.

Ragnar refused.

Not to be cruel, no. He was protecting Sibylle. He knew that his son's body would be bloody and brutal and he did not want Sibylle to see her husband like that.

He'd been on more than one end of a body ID and it never got easier, no matter who it was on the other side of the glass. It was made that much more difficult because it was his son laying on that cold slab of steel.

Sibylle had insisted that she could do the identification but she had been hysterical since they'd told her of Sigurd's death. Ragnar knew that she would only suffer more if she ID'd her husband.

She was sitting in a room off to the side with Torvi, Thora, Margrethe, and Aaline. She had been sobbing great heaving breaths. Her face was red and her eyes almost swollen shut. Loud aching cries had fallen from her lips and echoed through the room. Ragnar had to leave, the sounds of her cries to piercing to his own aching heart.

Torvi had quietly suggested a Valium to calm her and Aaline had agreed. No one was surprised when Margrethe had some in her possession but they thanked her when she put it forward. Sibylle had passed out almost immediately and had laid across the hospital-grade couch under the watchful eyes of her sisters-in-law.

Margrethe kept a superficial vigilance on the door, her eyes resting mostly on the cellphone in her hands and less on the door but she was sober, at least.

Torvi took the responsibility of making all the calls. She contacted Sibylle and Sigurd's offices, keeping them mostly in the dark but letting them know that something had happened. She spoke several times to Björn, trying to get as much information from him as she could but he seemed to know just as much as them. Which was very little.

Thora and Aaline made it their job to take care of Sibylle. Thora was standing against the wall by Sibylle's head, watching her sleep. There was a table beside her that she had placed a bottle of water on in case Sibylle woke up. Aaline sat on the other side of the couch with Sibylle's feet in her lap. She stroked and squeezed her ankles, offering what little physical comfort she could.

The rest of Ragnar's sons were holed up in another room, waiting for any kind of information so they could move forward. When Ragnar had left them, they couldn't sit still. Björn was constantly making calls, talking to his wife and Floki and Rollo. He was establishing security for their properties and protection for the rest of the family.

Ubbe had been leaning against the wall, readjusting his stance every few seconds, incapable of remaining still. Hvitserk sat with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. Ivar had been pacing.

They all knew who was behind this attack. It was just that nobody had said it yet.

Ragnar gazed at his son's face for several more minutes before nodding. Athelstan knocked on the glass twice to signify a positive ID and the ME covered Sigurd back up.

Ragnar watched as his son was pushed back into the freezer, locked away. He did not look away from the inside of the morgue. He felt Athelstan place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze but he did not move.

"Tell me, Athelstan, who do you think is behind this?" He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. Ragnar was a powerful man. He was not one for many words so when he spoke, people tended to listen.

Athelstan took a deep breath before he spoke. "Who do you think is behind this, Ragnar?"

Ragnar took a deep breath before turning slowly to address his friend. "I think you know exactly who I'm thinking of. You just can't prove it. Am I correct?" When Athelstan didn't answer, he nodded.

"The Saxons are angry, my friend. We made fools of them, made them look weak. That was something they could not stand for so they sought revenge the only way they knew how." He glanced once more through the two way glass before looking back at Athelstan.

"Not once in this silly fight for power did I attack a single one of their children. Aethelwulf was a casualty early on, yes, but only after his brother betrayed me. A deal that Aelle agreed was fair was struck between the two of us. Aelle betrayed me, killed two of my men, and so his brother paid the price for that betrayal and was left at his door.

"Tragic, yes, but necessary. After that, property was seized back and forth between us but never did I make a move to harm one of their children." Ragnar looked away from Athelstan. His eyes began to shine with fresh tears but he held them back.

"Our children are grown. They live their own lives, raise their own families, run their own businesses. But they are still our children and I would never deprive a man the love of his child. The agony is too great." Ragnar reached back and offered his hand to Lagertha who took it in a mighty grip.

"Aelle and Ecbert know what they have done. They know the fury that will rain down upon them." Athelstan braced as Ragnar turned burning eyes to him. Rage simmered just below the cool blue surface.

"This will not go unpunished."