Chapter Twenty-Four: Kneel

A/N: So this is the final chapter of Jar of Hearts! We were going to wait until the next episode but this is also a bit of a thank you for 300 reviews. Wow! It's been almost 2 years since this story was started, thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with us, especially to our amazing reviewers for their support.

The sequel, Empire of Blood, should be up as early as this week just after the Vikings episode, so keep an eye out ;) It'll take place from the start of Season 4A onwards.

Bjorn's grim demeanour did not improve over the next few weeks, particularly as Ragnar's condition only worsened. Despite getting what they had asked for from the Frankish, they refused to leave as Ragnar was too sick to travel. It was only the morning that she saw the tears in her husband's eyes as he came to see her and the children that she knew. She swallowed hard, battling the guilt inside of her, for she felt nothing but vicious relief.

"Father is dead," he announced.

Karena embraced him tightly. It was for him she felt grief, knowing how much he would mourn Ragnar's passing. She did not care for the death of the man who had murdered her family, but Bjorn did. She rubbed his arms, drawing back to inspect him closely. They had been married for quite a few years and still she did not know how to help him in this dark hour.

"What do you need?" she asked. When Bjorn remained silent, uncertain in his mourning, Karena scooped up their youngest son and handed him to his father. Her husband had always fiercely loved their children, and they coaxed rare smiles from him even when he was feeling overwhelmed. He sat down on the bed with Soren, making Erik pull himself up beside Bjorn and bury his face in his shirt. He was too young to understand what was happening, but only knew his father needed his affection.

"Love you, Papa."

Bjorn put his free arm around Erik, as Soren cooed and blowed bubbles. "I love you too."

"You are the King now," Karena said, slowly realising what this meant for both of them. She had been told by the Seer that this would come to pass, yet she hadn't thought it would be so soon. "Our King."

Bjorn looked up sharply. "I do not think I am ready."

"I am the Queen, Bjorn." Her tone was calm and reassuring. They could deal with the challenges that were to come. Ragnar had had many enemies and no doubt Bjorn would too. But with her by his side, they would be unstoppable. "I was raised a princess. I know what to expect. I can help you. The boys will too, in the way that loving children can."

Bjorn nodded, likely too caught up in his grief to really hear what Karena was saying. She understood, for she had no doubt been the same after the loss of her own family. For now, the only thing she could do was be a consistent presence for Bjorn. She would be there if he needed her, and give him space if he required it. Karena sat beside him and their children, resting a hand on his muscular bicep. She said nothing, but simply offered him silent support. She had hated Ragnar, but her love for Bjorn was so much stronger than that hate.

Karena knew it was wrong to feel victorious as she headed to speak with Erlendur, but she couldn't help it. She had been bullied and intimidated by her older brother for long enough, and now it was time that he knew who was really in control. He was fiddling with some kind of wooden tool when she entered and he looked up sharply.

"Karena."

"Queen Karena now," she corrected coolly. Kneel, she wanted to say, kneel before me, brother. Ragnar's death seemed to bring out the darkness in her, the ruthless side. The Iron Queen, the Seer had said she would be. Perhaps he hadn't been wrong, although the innocent little Karena who had listened to his words then had not dwelled on it.

Erlendur frowned. "Pardon?"

"Ragnar is dead." She examined his face, searching for a change in expression – and she saw the relief there, the same thing she had felt. The only difference was that while Karena was content for Ragnar to die of natural causes, Erlendur had clearly hoped it'd be more violent. "Are you glad, brother?"

He inspected her suspiciously. "Should I be?"

"I thought you would be." Karena folded her arms. "I know you hated him."

"As did you," he reminded her, causing her to avert her eyes. She was not as vocal about her dislike of Ragnar, for she had to be more careful. She was married to Ragnar's eldest son, and so Karena had always kept her personal thoughts to herself. "You must be pleased."

She shook her head. "I did not ask to be Queen. I love Bjorn, and I do not enjoy seeing him so unhappy."

"You are avoiding my statement," Erlendur pointed out. She knew better than to think of her brother as stupid – he had designed many of the siege tools that they were using for the raid. Yet she did not think he was as politically savvy as her. "I want the truth."

"I…I am glad that Ragnar is dead," Karena admitted, "But if I were you, I would also be careful. Bjorn is your King now, and you would be wise to remember it."

Erlendur laughed, causing Karena to frown. It was obvious that even now, he did take him seriously. Perhaps he did not know the kind of power she and her husband had now. With a flick of her wrist, she could have him disposed of. Part of her wanted blood, retribution for the times she had been bullied by him.

"Do not mock me," she hissed.

"I would not dream of it," he responded sarcastically, his eyes glittering with mirth. Karena's hand cracked across his face, but the blow barely made him flinch, and she found herself once again despairing of her small size and lack of physical strength. He raised an eyebrow at her momentary loss of control, watching as anger burned in her green eyes.

"You may wish I was dead, but you do not have the gall to do it yourself," she sneered at him. "I meant what I said. Tread carefully."

Karena turned on her heel and swept out of the tent. The next time she spoke to her brother, she would make sure that he addressed her properly. Whether he took her seriously or not, she had the power to bring him to his knees.

Karena's happiness regarding Ragnar's death was short-lived. It soon became apparent that it had been part of an elaborate ploy to get Ragnar inside the walls of Paris. While she had to begrudgingly admit that it was clever, she couldn't help but feel angry at Bjorn. He had been the only one who'd known the truth – that Ragnar was alive. Yet this was information he did not share with her. She'd had information of her own that she was eager to share, yet since finding this out, she had not wanted to tell him.

"You knew." Karena marched over to him, Soren balanced on her hip and Erik trailing alongside his mother. "You knew he was alive. I am your wife, do you not trust me?"

Bjorn watched her approach, seeming wary. "I do."

"Then why would you not tell me?" she demanded. In response, Bjorn took her hand and led her back to their tent. Clearly he had no desire to bicker in public. Karena knew that she could not stay angry with him for long, not when he was usually so reasonable.

"I was not to tell anyone." Bjorn reached out and caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry."

Karena glanced down at Soren, stroking his blonde hair. Their younger son was glancing between his parents curiously, sucking his thumb. Erik was growing up at an alarming rate, now four years old. His toddle was more of an assured walk now, and he could speak in longer sentences. Karena was both sad and proud that her eldest was definitely not a baby anymore.

She wanted to remain furious with Bjorn for not telling her sooner of Ragnar's plan, but if not even Lagertha had known, she could understand why he had said nothing about it. Although she did not agree, although she had felt false victory at the fact that her family's murderer might be dead, she said nothing. If she objected too strongly, her husband would certainly be reminded of her hatred for Ragnar.

"I am with child," she said quietly.

Bjorn raised his eyebrows. "That is good news."

"Erik is big enough now to help out with a little brother or sister," Karena smiled, emboldened by the enthusiasm of Bjorn's response and the knowledge that he did want to have another baby. "Aren't you, Erik?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, Mama."

Bjorn gently took Soren from her, and the child immediately grabbed his shirt and put it in his mouth, sucking on it. He was at the age where he was teething and most things tended to end up in the mouth, whether they were meant to be there or not.

"Father asked me not to tell anyone," Bjorn said.

Karena sighed. "He does not like me."

"You do not like him," he pointed out, and she couldn't disagree with that. She rubbed at her stomach, which as of yet showed no signs of her third pregnancy. She had only discovered the news recently, after missing her second monthly bleeding. She loved her sons dearly, but hoped they would welcome a girl next.

"I did not expect to have another while Soren is barely a year old, but I suppose it happens."

Bjorn kissed the top of her head. "We will manage."

She smiled slightly. "We will have quite the handful."

Soren seemed to have given up on chewing Bjorn's shirt, for he had quickly fallen asleep in his father's arms. Bjorn crossed over to his cot, gently placing him down and putting the blankets over him. He was such an affectionate father and husband that sometimes Karena could forget how ruthless he was in battle.

Soon, they would be departing Paris and returning home. They had suffered their losses, and she could not help but wonder if the raid that had been so important to Ragnar was worth it. Rollo would be remaining in Paris with some of the warriors - a decision that angered Karena, for it meant he would be abandoning his and Ylva's daughter. Yet it was his choice and she could not make him change his mind no matter her bitter feelings toward his decision. She also hoped that she would not have to see Erlendur much anymore – from what she knew, he would be returning to Hedeby with Kalf and Lagertha. That was probably the best for all of them, because if Erlendur thought it wise to cross her or Bjorn, she would destroy him.

She knew it was a dream, a vision. Yet it felt like something far more real than that. Her dreams about Harbard had been mystical in nature, fascinating. This recurring vision was more of a nightmare – savage and brutal. It concerned Aslaug particularly because of the people it involved: Ragnar Lothbrok and Karena Horiksdottir. She knew that not all of her visions came to pass, but many of them did, in one way or another.

Whilst many of Aslaug's visions took place within the near future, this one was set several years away – Karena was perhaps in her mid-thirties, while Ragnar's beard was greying and his eyes weary. It was the middle of the night judging by the dim light, and Ragnar was on his knees before Karena. There was a very cold look about the woman's face, as she examined the King as one might an insect. Two men stood silently behind her, watchful.

"I remember you once had my father on his knees like this." There was a sword in Karena's hands, laughable when one considered her small frame and the fact that she was certainly no shield-maiden. "Do you remember what happened next?"

"How could I forget?" There was some humour in Ragnar's voice, something Karena did not seem to appreciate. Her jaw clenched, eyes flashing dangerously. The younger of the two men stepped forward, looking concerned. He was perhaps twenty. Aslaug could not be certain, but judging by his handsome features, colouring and age, she guessed that this was Karena and Bjorn's eldest son Erik.

"Mother…" he muttered, but Karena gave him a warning look and he sighed, stepping back beside the other man. It was him, the older one, that Aslaug did not recognise. There was some familiarity about his features, but she could not place them. He was closer to thirty than twenty.

"Leave." Karena's tone was firm. The young man sighed heavily, casting one last look at Ragnar before turning and marching from the room. "Do you recognise this sword, Ragnar? It is the sword of kings. It once belonged to my father, and then you…now everything has come full circle, and it belongs to my family once again."

Karena cast a glance over her shoulder at the man behind her. He stepped forward as if by some silent cue, and Karena stretched out her hands, offering him the sword. The man hesitated only a moment, before taking the sword from her. Unlike Erik, there was no sympathy for Ragnar in this man's eyes. His gaze was cold and calculated as it landed on the kneeling man who was once a King. Karena smiled.

"Thank you, Jakob."

"Bjorn may never forgive you for this," Ragnar warned ominously.

Karena paused, only for a moment. She lifted her chin. "Then that is the risk I take."

Jakob brought the sword down, and Karena's smile widened. This was no innocent girl, no uncertain young woman. This was someone who knew what she wanted, and what must be done to get there. This was a conqueror.