.

Run boy run! They're dying to stop you
Run boy run! This race is a prophecy
Run boy run! Break out from society
Tomorrow is another day
And you won't have to hide away
You'll be a man, boy!
But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!

Woodkid : Run Boy Run

Glory & Gore

Chapter 4:

The Raven

There was a calmness to the day that Sassa should have taken as a bad sign. Her father had always said, too much happiness, too much peace, was a warning from the gods. A last feast if you will, before the war.

On that day, it was far too calm. The woods were unusually sunny. And her catch had been far too plentiful. Unnerved, and with her father and his lover Helga occupied, Sassa took to the waters as her people usually did. She rowed down the shoreline, catching more fish for a winter stock as she went. She found herself steering ashore a familiar piece of farmland. The girl dropped the small rock anchor and dragged the boat higher on the shore. Bow and arrow in hand, she made her way up the beach and through the brush.

Bjorn, having been busy doing chores, could not say he was displeased to see her emerging from the woods. "What are you doing?" He stopped restocking their small fishing boat to glare at her. Both children knew his glare had no effect on her. This time his gaze was more suspicious then it was angry.

Truth be told, Sassa did not know. She simply seeked company and her search had led her here. "I..." Missed you, did not sound appropriate. It would give the boy the wrong idea. "I-I've come for a visit. To make sure Gyda was okay" she firmly decided. But Bjorn continued his narrow gaze and, for once, Sassa felt the urge to fidget under it.

"Isn't it dangerous?" His father and mother had warned him just the other day that his sister and he were not to leave the farmlands without them. Not to hunt, not to fish, not even if one of the pigs escaped... Ragnar and Lagertha had promised a frightened Gyda there was nothing to be troubled by, but Bjorn, ever perceptive, had the feeling it had to do with the men that had attacked them a week prior. "Especially for you?" He looked at her small size.

"I manage perfectly fine on my own, little boy."

That had done it. Suspicion turned into a familiar anger, and this time Sassa found herself more comfortable by the boy's glare. "I am not a little boy. I am a man!" He showed the golden arm ring on his wrist. Sassa laughed at his attempts.

"Men do not need to prove they are men. And if they do, they are not very good ones." She mocked him.

"You are only three years older!" Bjorn wanted to grind his teeth at her musical laugh, always directed at him it seemed.

"Three years older. Meaning three years stronger, and smarter, and faster." She corrected. Bjorn looked at her with that displeased pinched expression he got whenever she pointed out such things and he did not know how to reply. But for once, Sassa was not interested in picking fights with the boy, however much she enjoyed the way his face wrinkled, and his ears turned pink. "Where is your father?" She wanted to ask Ragnar a question, eager to see if he and his wife would uphold their promise.

"Hunting." Bjorn clipped as his face softened. He do did not wish for a fight on such a lovely day. "Where is yours?"

"Fucking." She so blatantly replied as she glanced at him. Talk of such things still made Bjorn blush, especially coming from a girl. Sassa smiled at the faint pink in his cheeks. "See, you are still a little boy." She went to pinch at his cheeks, unable to resist poking fun. She was, after all, her father's daughter.

Bjorn pushed her hand away and foolishly stepped back. She tried again, he took another step back. A familiar glimmer of mischief sparked in her green eyes. Bjorn's face dropped to fright as a smirk overcame her full lips. For a moment they both froze before Bjorn caved under the pressure. He turned to run. And soon enough they laughed as she chased him around the fishing boat. A game of tag interrupting his chores. Bjorn realized his mother and father may not be please but as they both rather likes Sassa he was sure they would make an exception. It felt nice just to play as children do. Round and round they went, running as fast as they could in the sand and over boats, before Sassa's ears registered a short whistle over their laughter. She stopped short when an arrow landed on another boat besides the boy.

Bjorn, seeing her suddenly open mouth and furrowed gaze, stopped as well. "What?" He still held a tinkering laugh of amusement, on guard in case she dare try and trick him. But Sassa had lost the mood for games as an unsettling feeling overtook her. Seeing her focus shifted, Bjorn too became more serious. "What?" He repeated. All laughter was gone.

Sassa's open mouth opened wider to explain when another whistle sounded. This time it landed with a squish instead. Sassa and Bjorn both looked towards the sound. An older man from one of the other properties fell to the beach with an arrow standing from his chest. Bjorn, a naive boy, went to investigate as Sassa's eyes turned further up the shore.

The red and black shields of the Earl stood tall with the archers, and horses and aimed arrows.

The calm was over. The gods test began.

Sassa's mouth opened wide, and with a deep breath she screamed for all those to hear, "RUN!" The crowds attention was collected in time for more arrows to be knotted and fired.

These were not soldiers, but younglings, and old folks, farmers, and fishermen. This was not a battle, it was a slaughter. The Earl's men released more arrows, and the farm folk took off in screams of their own. Their people had not been raided in many years, promised the protection from the same man that now hunted them.

"Run, you stupid boy!" She grabbed Bjorn's hand when he refused to move and took off running as fast as she could. But human feet running in sand are no match for the hooved ones of horses. As fast as they ran, people behind them were still cut down mercilessly by the Earl's men on horse back. The archers took aim once more and fired. In all the chaos Sassa managed to peak over her shoulder to see an arrow looming down on them. She pushed Bjorn out of the way, sending him tumbling into the sand as the arrow pierced her shoulder. She screamed of pure pain at the unfamiliar sensation.

Bjorn's blue eyes were wide as he stared at her, the force of the impact nearly topping her onto her knees. His head turned seeing the dirt and path hidden in the trees. The hard soil would allow them to run faster and home quicker. This time it was Bjorn who grabbed her hand. Pulling her to her feet, he ripped the arrow from the shoulder. The boy cringed at the sharp scream that came from her. Grabbing her hand tightly in his own, he ran, leading her to their farm.

In the home of Ragnar Lothbrok, the screams of others disrupted the quiet of the longhouse. Lagertha stopped cutting carrots for their dinner, listening closely as the far too familiar sounds of a raid grew closer. She kept the knife in hand as she peaked through the home's door, aghast at what she saw. Red and black shields. There own people, raiding and butchering all those in sight.

"We're under attack." She alerted them with a misplaced calmness "Gyda!" Lagertha gave little warning before she placed the knife she held in her daughter's hands. Gyda was clearly frozen, holding its handle tightly with unsteady hands. She looked to the priest, who shared a wide eyed gaze with her that the mother missed. Two gentle souls thrust into a rather volatile situation with little notice. Athelstan's memory was thrown back to the monastery with no notice, his knees almost shaking as they begged him to drop and hide as he once had.

And look where that got you, his mind sneered.

"Where is Bjorn?" Lagertha's cutting words snatched away Athelstan's attention. He dropped the log into the fire, completing the task her previous words had froze him in. He wasted little time scurrying to the other door, opening it in time to see a small blonde boy rush through the woods towards them, a familiar darker head being pulled behind.

"Sassa?" He was most surprised to see the girl as they scurried into the safety of the home. He closed the door with an almost slam as he turned to follow, quickly noticing the red stain growing from her shoulder. Blood. "You're hurt."

Obviously. Sassa gritted her teeth, nearly snarling at the blatant observation as she gripped Bjorn's hand in her own. A slight squeeze, perhaps for comfort, perhaps from pain, but a squeeze all the same. Tightening, then releasing, as she tore her hand from his.

"Take this." Lagertha directed her son, handing him an axe and doing the same with the priest. She paused only slightly to look at the wound on Sassa's shoulder, taking note of the bow clutched in her slightly shaking hand.

A look towards her mismatched green eyes let her know it was pain not fear. "Are you alright?" She asked simply. Are you dying?, was the unspoken reality.

Sassa gave one firm nod of her head, the child she rarely got to be once more pushed far away as her mouth straightened into a serious straight line. She would be fine.

"What shall we do? Should we run?" Bjorn asked, not as confident as his mother but not as scared as his sister. Gyda stayed behind them all, nearly curling in on herself with the simple knife clutched in her hands. Her shoulder hunched as if using all her strength to keep it up and pointed towards the door. Beyond it, the sound of raiding came and went, horses and men running pass to chop down those who tried to run much in the way the boy suggested.

"No, we stay." Lagertha dismissed the idea as foolhardy. The children would be cut down like the rest of them and she had not the arms needed to both attack and defend as would be needed. "Your father will be back." She assured.

"But there are too many of them!" Bjorn objected. It sounded like a whine and Sassa looked at him as if annoyed. Oh yes, certainly a man. She snorted.

"Stay strong." She picked up her shield with one hand, her sword with the other. A look of war came over her face as she ordered them to be ready. Standing in front of her children and the frozen priest, she felt a flame of respect when a knotted and pointed arrow came into her peripheral vision.

More beside than behind, Sassa's feet stood firmly planted, her hand clutching her bow and arrow tightly as it pointed towards the door. Her arm screamed for her to put it down, the tension on her shoulder seeming to make the wound bleed more. But Sassa did not budge. Her mouth became a grin line, her eyes following soon after as she focused on the shadow spotted through the doors woven holes.

Focus, she ordered her mind, her finger itching to release the bow as the door opened.

"Wait!" Lagertha commanded her. Ragnar, limping, sweating, bleeding, and oh so tired, leaned against the doorway for a moment to catch his breath, clutching at his aching side.

Sassa lowered the arrow in equal reliefe, her flaring shoulder dulling to a thunderous throbbing as soon as her arms fell to hang in front of her.

"Father!" Bjorn ran to him with his mother, bringing him further inside as they closed the door.

"You're hurt." She made the same observation the priest had with Sassa. And like Sassa, his shoulder was punctured and bloody, but it was little compared to his other injuries. His leg had been badly cut, and his side had taken a few nasty punctures and slashes. Blood ran from his body freely, dripping quickly from his fingers despite how tightly he gripped his side to stop it.

Where Sassa was in no danger of keeling over anytime soon, the same could not be said for the farmer.

"We have to go now." He wasted little time, limping the best he could out of his family's embrace and towards the back of the home.

"What's happening?" Bjorn begged for information, not understanding why their own people were attacking them and certainly not sure what to do about it.

Ragnar did not answer, dropping to his knees at the back of the home he lifted loose floorboards, an escape route for times like these when he had first built the house. His wife had not had to use them for many years, not since Gyda was still in her belly. Those years of safety and security brought on by the same man that know forced them into use once more.

"Father, please tell me?" Bjorn begged.

"We have to get to the boat." Was all his father said. Ragnar wheezed, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to stand. He couldn't stop. He couldn't lay down. Too much was left to do. Things to do, things to do, the trio of words repeated in his mind pushing him to keep going.

They surrounded the boat." Bjorn informed. They had attacked the beach first for that very reason: destroy the boats, kill those in the open, those who had nowhere to hide...

Ragnar froze at the words. The smallest details overlooked led to such horrible repercussions.

"Not mine." A younger feminine voice spoke, with a surety that certainly wasn't Gyda's. Ragnar turned around, facing the source. He at Sassa as if fully realizing she was actually here.

"What are you doing here?" He said in wonder.

"Enjoying the day." Her lips twitched in a smirk. "Saving your lives." She remarked offhandedly. Ragnar nearly flinched a smirk. Not at all bothered she appeared, hiding her pain rather well.

"Are you coming?" Lagertha asked, as she dropped into the passageway, just large enough for a man of Ragnar's size to crawl through on their knees.

"Go." He would not confirm nor deny. "Quickly, Gyda!" He helped her in next, the girl giving no thought in crawling after her mother. "Come on, boy." Ragnar turned towards his son as the priest went in next, kindly taking Sassa's bow from her as she started lowering herself in.

Bjorn made no move to go next. "Father, I won't go without you." He shouted in a rare scene of disobedience, adamant his place was here.

"Boy, don't argue!" Ragnar's voice rose in shortening temper.

"Father, I don't want to go without you!" His son cried again.

"Ragnar Lothbrok!", a voice called outside the house.

Ragnar looked to his son, his eyes softening at the near tears in the boy's own familiar blue gaze. He touched his face gently, a tender caress to brush away the tear that slipped free. "I'm right behind you." He promised softly. An assurance with such conviction it made Bjorn's feet unhook from the floor. His father pushed him towards the only escape from certain death. "Now go!" He ordered his son, kneeling on the floor to lower himself down, but still not trying to escape.

When he still did not move, two small hands re-emerged from the dark tunnel. Grabbing onto the boy's shirt from behind, they gave a ruthless tug and swiftly pulled the boy into it.

Sassa.

Ragnar sealed the entrance to the tunnel, hurrying them along through the cracks in the floorboard. "Go, go!" He yelled. The children grunted and hissed like wild animals at each other as they straightened themselves out.

"He'll be fine!" Sassa hissed. She pushed Bjorn before her, unwilling to come back to get him a second time. Her green eyes rose, catching sight of a bloody man not yet defeated through the floorboards. She challenged him with her eyes, a simple command.

Don't make me a liar.

Ragnar nodded in appreciation. A silent promise to her as well before they both turned to continue their separate missions. Each leading to her boat…

Sassa struck the bottom of Bjorn's foot every time his crawling slowed, reminding him that he could not turn around or get around her in the narrowing tunnel so there was no point in trying.

Screams and roaring fires were what met them when they finally exited the tunnel. Hunched low and close behind a thick bush, the group waited with baited breath for Lagertha to decide when to move. Their opportunity came when a group of women were chased down the beach away from them. "Come on." Lagertha kept her daughter close, under her arm and by her side, as they bent low and ran towards the wooded area. Athelstan handed Sassa her bow, taking over her duties yet again as he planted his hand on the boy's back. He kept pushing and pushing, keeping Bjorn moving forward, and never giving him a chance to turn back.

The screams of a woman sharp and echoing pierced the air. For the first time, Sassa froze. Her body straightened, eyes peering over the wild bush to search for the source. A woman being dragged by two men away from the water, their hands clawing at her mercilessly as she begged them to stop. Sassa stood taller.

"Sassa." Lagertha called. She turned to the woman, begging guidance. Or perhaps permission…

She wasn't aware her arrow was ready and pointed until her shoulder flared in pain.

The shieldmaiden's eyes were filled with soft pity. "You can not help her." Sassa's finger tightened, knowing the truth but unwilling to accept it. She knew what would happen to that woman. The same things that happen to all women during raids…

"Sassa." She called again, firmer.

Sassa cast her eyes back to the scene. One arrow. Four men. Sassa's jaw tightened, her eyes lighting with rage as she came to terms with the truth. As quickly as she had stopped, she resumed. Her body crouched low behind the bushes, her feet moving silently and without pause as she pushed past them to lead the way.

Her finger remained tense, her grip unyielding despite the pain growing in her shoulder. SHe could feel the blood slide down her chest now, like warm rain in the sun.

The boat was where she left it on the shore of the lesser known river. Unnoticed, and undamaged in the flurry of activity. It did, however, appear to be guarded. A single man walked towards the boat to investigate, cutting them off as they were forced to stop in the woods.

This time Sassa didn't hesitate. She rose to her full unintimidating height from the brush, catching his attention just as the arrow released from her bow. They ran quicker, knowing where there was one there was always more. Sassa didn't even stop as she clutched the arrow and yanked it from what was once his eye.

"Get down. Hurry!" Lagertha ordered the children, pushing them to lay flat on the bottom of the boat. She brought the small stone anchor in with her, leaving Athelstan to push them from the shore. She held her children close to her, looking up to the traitorously calm blue sky.

What a beautiful day to lose everything.

Athelstan lay beside Sassa, both equal parts exhausted, unminding of the fish corpses from her earlier catch below their heads. It was quite clear she had not expected to bring home guests tonight.

Athelstan turned his head, studying her. Her expression was pinched in pain but overall calm. Displeased, more than anything. He thought back to their first meetings, how intense she was, how dismissive and calm. His eyes lowered to her shoulder, seeing blood coat her hand as it applied pressure.

"How are you?" He asked, wondering if there was anything he could do to help. It felt so odd, to be scared and running and then expected to lie motionless and calm.

Sassa's eyes rolled to the side, glancing at him in confusion before turning upwards to the sky. She hadn't been lying. She really had been enjoying the day…

"I always enjoy a calm float after a busy day hunting. Don't you?" Her head rolled towards him then, eyes looking at him as if expecting an answer. Athelstan stared back, silenced.

Hearing horses travel away, they waited for the coming silence before daring to raise up. Their heads rose just enough to gaze out the boat. Unlike the calm blue sky, there was nothing peaceful or comforting about their new sight.

The house was engulfed in flames as were the crops. Every bit of livestock: from the goats to the pigs, the dogs, and the horses, all lay dead in the sand.

No food, no shelter, no way to barter or trade. Even if the family had survived the attack they would be at the mercy of their tribe for survival. Just as the Earl had planned. Without them even knowing it, a bounty of silver and rank had been promised to those who turned them in.

Gyda whimpered, the first to sink away from the sight as she returned her eyes to the calm sky. Lagertha soon followed, bringing Bjorn down as well. She held her children trying to comfort them in silence as she forced herself to remember Ragnar's plan. They floated in silence to some destination on Lagertha seemed to have in mind.

As they came across a high cliff some time later, Lagertha perked up. "There!" She shouted, her voice hoarse from emotion and the unexpected shout. "Thee he is!" She pointed to a cliff far overhead.

Sure enough Ragnar stood on the curving edge, looking even worse than he had before as his footing began to slip past the flat top. He swayed, tired and dizzy as he looked down at his family and friends. Five very hopeful faces, looking at him as if he had risen from the dead.

He certainly felt like it.

With one look back at the men that dared chase him, he let his knees give out as they so eagerly begged him to. He fell forward, bring forth disbelief and screams as his limp body flipped through the air before splashing with a mighty sound.

It took some time for the water to settle, returning to its gentler waves as the river continued to flow around him. Still he did not emerge.

"Where is he? Can you see him?" Lagertha asked.

"Where is Father? He's there somewhere." Hopeful, but timid, Bjorn willed himself to peer as deep as he could for any trace of his father swimming back to them.

"I don't think he was awake." Sassa admitted.

Lagertha and Athelstan looked to her making her feel bad for her careless words. But they were the words they needed to hear. Athelstan wasted no time pushing past the wife and children and diving into the water after him.

"Where are they?" Bjorn begged for answers. His father promised. Sassa had promised.

They seemed to have lied.

Bjorn turned to the girl in question tilted slightly out the boat, with one hand holding the boat and the other holding her shoulder. For a moment he considered pushing her in as well.

The small waves were disturbed with a heavy splash and a gasp. Athelstan emerged. Ragnar tucked under his arm. Unconscious as Sassa had assumed.

"Father!" Gyda screamed with joy. The family eagerly pulled the heavy man aboard, Sassa extending her good arm to help Athelstan into the boat behind him.

"Is he dead? He's dead, isn't he?" Bjorn nearly wept.

"Shut. Up!" Sassa told him, slapping him upside the head when Athelstan was in the boat. If you speak of a man as dead, he already was… It was a curse.

"He will be fine. We need to get him to my father." Sassa pulled the rope she used from her fishing nest, handing it to Lagertha. "Help him row." She ordered Bjorn. He stayed still glaring at her, unwilling to obey her.

"Bjorn." Lagertha called. He snapped to attention. She gave a slight nod towards the ores. For his mother, not for Sassa, Bjorn made it clear as he glowered. Athelstan did not need help, but perhaps it was best if his mind was preoccupied with something. Lagertha looked to Sassa, believing the girl to have known this too. "Thank you." She whispered. Not from fear or shame, but so that it came out clear and not the cracked anguished cry it very well might had she dared to raise her voice. How had things gone so wrong...

"Floki!" Bjorn wasted no time leaping from the boat and charging up the beach towards the house. "Floki!" His voice pitched and crackled with the strain, the sound no doubt echoing in the woods like some inhuman creature. "Floki!" He was quickly using what little calm he had, his worry quickly replacing with anger.

The door to the home finally opened. A woman, clearly not the boat builder, kept one hand on the door as she stepped out to see the commotion. She stood before him unabashedly nude, her pale blonde hair covering only her breasts. Her fair thin features pinching as she looked at him. "Who are you?" A mix of amusement and worried curiosity coating her tone.

"I must speak with Floki." Bjorn begged, his breath heaving and raged. "Is he here?" His voice cracked at the sudden lower volume he took.

The woman looked towards the door just as Floki emerged. His shirt was gone and his dark pants were just finished being pulled on as he pulled an apple from his mouth with a slight crunch.

"Bjorn?" Floki coughed mid-swallow.

"My father is dying and Sassa is hurt." It was a simple statement, a much calmer tone than that which befit his drumming heart. In one quick motion he turned around, retreating back to the boat with Floki hot on his heals. The apple rolled down the dirt hill, dropped and forgot along with all other thought as the duo ran to the blood wetted boat.

Lagertha and the priest carried an unconscious Ragnar over their shoulders, his feet digging light trails in the softer dirt as he was dragged.

For a moment Floki froze, looking back at his daughter helping Gyda out of the boat. His eyes dropped to her shoulders seeing the red stain. Sassa was quick to note his eyes. Wider and wilder than they had been in some time, the sudden memory of the last time Ragnar's home had been disturbed crept into the forefront of her mind.

"I'm fine." The change in her town was noticeable to those that heard her. Soft, but firm, a meekness to it that was so unlike her. Instead it was more akin to how one might try and placate a wild animal.

And it worked.

Though a bit doubtful, Floki's attention turned to the man more in need of help. Pushing the priest away he bent below Ragnar's arm, taking the brunt of his weight as he shuffled him quickly into the safety of the home.

"Helga, get the bark of the ash, and the garlic, and the sage. Get the sage!" Floki hollered as he and Lagertha pulled Ragnar in. Helga, now dressed, wasted no time in scurrying about. Lagertha and Floki took great care in laying him down, crouching beside him and the fire. "We make a paste to put on the wounds. But first we must clean them. And the only way to make them clean is with fire." Lagertha looked alarmed, not wanting to cause her husband anymore pain, as she gently stroked his face. He looked so pale.

"Bjorn, get more logs back there." Floki directed the boy. "A knife. I need a -" Floki stopped mid sentence seeing a hand extend a dagger. He looked up, nodding at his well prepared daughter before taking it from her. He placed the logs in the fire, building the heat of the embers before placing the blade into the flames.

Sassa took a seat out of the way, the thudding in her heart slowing, and with it the energy to keep moving. She swayed just slightly, drawing her father and Gyda's gaze. The young girl didn't hesitate to come to her side, sitting beside her and holding her hand. It was as much a comfort to her as it was an encouragement for Sassa. They sat silently, watching with impatient eyes as the dagger's metal heated and burned.

When it was finally hot enough, Floki carefully removed it from the fire.

"Give that to me." Lagertha demanded with no room for argument. Her voice was hoarse and her face covered in fresh and drying tears. Floki did not argue.

The shieldmaiden raised the blade towards the sky above. "I dedicate this blade to the goddess. To Freya. Wisdom might you give us, Freya, and healing hands while we live."

"Hail to the Aesir." Bjorn finished.

Beside Sassa, Gyda spoke, her voice stronger than that of her mother or brother. "Please Freya, heal my father." A voice filled with unbridled hope and belief that belied her shaking form.

Gyda looked away, not one for blood. Certainly not when that blood was her father's. She turned her head burying it into Sassa's well shoulder as Lagertha pressed the blade into her father's leg. The wound there bleed deeper, a small fountain trickling and bubbling around them as the fire broke open the wound only to cauterize it closed once more.

"For everything there is a season-" Sassa's eyes were the only ones that moved. The priest spoke softly though loud enough for all to hear. "-and a time for every matter under the sun. A time to be born, a time to die; A time to plant, and to pluck up what is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal Mary mother of God, listen to me. Do not let this man die."

Ragnar remained unconscious as Floki sprinkled and stuffed the herb paste over his wound, the same routine repeated with the torn flesh at his side and shoulder.

Gyda sniffled into Sassa's shoulder, trying her best to inhale the smell of seawater and trees rather than that of her father's searing flesh. In a shy moment of comfort, Sassa's arm awkwardly reaching up to stroke her hair. Neither noticed, nor minded, the streaks of blood it left.

Their sanctuary grew quiet as night settled around the boat makers home. As soon as Ragnar's wounds were tended too and his breathing had stabilized, the day's events seemed to have caught up with them all at once. Lagertha held her children close to her as she stared into the fire. Across them, Sassa took her own turn under the heated metal of the blade.

It had fallen to Helga to probe and seal the wound when her father's usually steady hands seemed to take on a slight tremble. Perhaps it was the sudden haze of exhaustion that seemed to take over them, or perhaps it was the sight of his own daughters bleeding and torn flesh that had left him a little less confident in his actions. For whatever reason, Floki had handed Helga the herbs and knife, walking away to busy himself with skinning the animals Sassa brought back.

Sassa sat still as could be, her loose woven tunic pulled far down her shoulder. She bent at the waist on her seat, her arms wrapped around her legs in a tight hold. She tried to hide her discomfort and pain with her head tucked down. She didn't have the luxury of slumber Ragnar did as Helga burned the wound close.

"Not so quick this time, ay?" Helga mused, gently probing the wound to place the poultice. It was a rather clean wound, through and through, with no apparent damage to her bones or muscles. The flesh was red and angry around the wound, but not nearly as angry as her.

The fire in her eyes didn't come from the reflection of the flames, but rather a deep seeded anger. Her eyes narrowed at the boy in front of her. "Only because I had to move him out of the way." She defended, never one to take well to her skills being undermined. "Why are you so slow?" She sneered, remembering how he stood there dumbly.

"I'm not the one with a hole in my arm." Having the rare upper hand, Bjorn didn't think to hold back.

It only infuriated her more. "It was my arm or your heart, you stupid boy!" Her arms released her legs, her body raised off her seat in a flurry of blind fury. Helga pushed her good arm to settle her back down. Like the wild animal she was too often left around, she was ready to lunge, her pride not taking to be wounded nearly as gracefully as her shoulder would.

"You saved my son?" Lagertha asked, quietly awed.

"No!"

"Yes!" Sassa glowered as low as narrow as she could at his objection.

"I would have been fine!" Bjorn's ears tinted red, glad his father and sister were probably not hearing this.

"Ha! With an arrow in your heart and your head axed off your shoulder." She scoffed.

"The ones without holes?" He sneered back.

Sassa snarled, a low growl in her throat as she threatened to attack. There was only so far a dog would be pushed before biting.

"Bjorn." Lagertha commanded him to silence. She was in no mood after tending to her husband. For the umpteenth time that day, Lagertha was grateful for the girl's unexpected presence. When she was healed enough to hold a sword, they would begin her training. She would need it soon if she was to raid in the summer. And after the day's events, Lagertha would be honored to have her beside them.

Ragnar was right.

The gods had great things planned for her.

Sassa nearly moaned as she raised from the water. The heat of the hot spring felt wonderful on her aching muscles. Lagertha had kept to her plan, fulfilling the promise she had previously made. Though unhealed, the moment the girl's shoulder was strong enough to lift a sword, they had begun her training.

Pain made you stronger. The winter made you tougher. If you could fight well bloody, pained, and freezing, you should have no problem fighting healthy, warm, and prepared.

Sassa, like her father, saw no flaw in this reasoning. And two weeks after they had started, the change in her arms were beginning to take shape.

Her fingers gently probed at the area around her wound thoughtlessly as she rubbed the aching muscles. Angry and red, it would most definitely scar on both ends. "Stupid boy." She found herself sighing once more. "Stupid me." She chortled, lowering her hands to the ends of her long hair. She should of let the arrow hit him, the ungrateful brat.

Her nimble fingers threaded through her long dark locks, a spill of rich brown that floated around her head. They felt as soft as the water itself as she made sure to undo the ties and knots that may have formed in her bathing. The inky tendrils falling around to shield her from the cold of the winter winds that broke through the steam.

The slight whistle of wind comforted her, the bubbling of the hotter springs above and the coos and hums of nature soothing her soul. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to just float and be. With a deep breath, she submerged herself completely.

In an attempt to prolong her peace as long as she could, she missed the distant call of her name growing closer.

Floki has sent the boy looking for his daughter, needing her help with a project Bjorn was dismissed from before he could even offer.

His eyes caught a figure in the water. He approached closer, curious but not expecting. With a small gasp Sassa emerged, standing tall to wring out the water in her hair.

He knew it was wrong. That Floki, if not Sassa herself, would take his eyes if he was caught. Yet he found himself unable to move, to speak, to turn away as he stared.

His logic failed him as he watched her stand from the water, a look of peace he had never seen crossing her face before. Her usually pinched features were relaxed, her narrowed eyes softly hooded but otherwise open and unguarded. The lips so usually turns towards an expressionless line, sneer, or displeased frown were slightly parted, puffs of breath escaping in the cold air to mingle with the steam rising from the springs. The heat had given her skin a slight flush, the faintest bit of pink crossing her cheeks, and nose.

For the first time since his father said it, Bjorn could see the truth. She did, indeed, have a beautiful face. But what he was not prepared for was the beauty of the rest of her…

From the column of her neck, to the swell of her petite breasts, to faint flair of her high hips, he took in all he could of her before she was hidden by water.

It was not the first time he had seen a naked woman, nor was it the first time he'd felt a physical reaction to one.

But it was the first time he felt his tongue feel heavy, his eyes following the water that fell from her hair and trailed down her body. It was not the first time he felt the reaction below his belt, but it was the first time he'd felt it in his chest, a thumping, almost painful drumming of his heart beating faster and faster. Perhaps from knowing what would happen if he was caught, or perhaps from the ideas that slipped into his mind without warning.

If he touched her petite breast, would it mold to his hand or stay firm against his palm? If he pressed his lips to her skin, would it feel warm? Would it be as soft as it looked? Would it taste like salt or the spring water that glistened over her? And if his lips touched her, without her frown, would she press them back?

He'd hope they'd press back...

Bjorn shook himself of his stupor and tried to correct his mistake. He stepped back, trying to quietly leave, as if he had never been there, but it was clearly early on who the gods favored.

Bjorn's entire body froze as the tell tale snap of a branch sounded under foot. His eyes were as wide as Sassa's as she looked to the source, her gaze connecting with his.

The innocent water nymph was gone, the valkyrie in her place once more. Her features hardened, her eyes narrowed as she dropped her knees, submerging herself in the water and out of his still wide eyed sight. "Get out!" She spat, lifting her head just enough to spit the words at him before submerging her mouth once more. Only her eyes, narrowed and more deadly than he had ever seen them, remained in his view above the water.

Bjorn blushed a brighter red than she had ever seen, his ears, his cheeks, and even his neck lighting up as if his face had been held under the hot water longer than it could stand. "Ser-Sorry." He stuttered.

"Leave!" She yelled, spitting the water that entered her mouth in his direction.

Bjorn stumbled in his attempt to back track, slipping and falling onto his ass before scurrying away. He was so panicked by the idea of what Floki would do when he found out, he had momentarily forgotten about Sassa. Despite her wounded shoulder, her aim had not been lost. With a hiss of a cry, Bjorn flinched as the flat river stone connected with the back of his head.

Alone once more, she slipped back into the warm comfort of the murky water. Yet another thing she could, and would, hold over his head…

It was only two days later that Sassa discovered another pair of uninvited eyes. Hunting in the forest, her eyes fell to the bottom of a steep embankment at a hulking figure. Hidden amongst the trees, she allowed herself to observe him as he passed below. It was clearly a man given the frame. As tall as her father but of broader width, he was covered in a coat of white furs. His thick hood was lowered to cover his face but did little to conceal the blonde hair that escaped it. His head turned this way and that way every few feet. He was clearly looking for something.

Or someone…

Sassa's eyes narrowed suspiciously. There was only one known home this deep in the woods, known for the reason he was quickly discovering first hand. It was near impossible to find.

She slunk from the branch, the sound of her light body hitting the ground catching his attention and putting him on guard. He turned, clearly searching for the source of the sound that seemed to close, but found nothing but the faint falling snow and the rustling of the peaceful forest around him. Sassa side was once more on her side. She ducked low, crouching and crawling until she had the higher ground once more. She knotted the arrow, standing tall and proud as he looked the other direction. When she was ready, she put her foot on a fallen branch before her, steadily apply pressure until it folded.

The breaking branch cracked through the air. The figure turned, freezing at the sight of the girl with the bow and arrow standing at the top of the embankment above him. Though her sex and size may be misleading, the cold and almost disinterest look to her left him with no doubt she would fire.

"Sassa?" Her name slipped through his lips. Her grip tightened in preparation. There were so few friends left... "Sassa, it is me." He slowly raised his hands in surrender. Her only change of expression was the slight glint of warning in her green eyes. He pushed the hood from his face, revealing tan skin stretched over a ruggedly handsome face. A blond beard and pale scars covered his lower jaw.

She quickly recognized him as one of the men that had left raiding with her father.

Torstein. A trusted friend… for now.

"Is it true he's here?" His voice was hopeful yet wary, as if afraid to know the answer should he be the wrong one.

Sassa gave no response. And for one brief suffocating moment, the only movement in the forest was the the light flurry of falling snow around them.

Torstein felt his face fall, his chest constrict at the idea of his fear coming true. His mouth opened to curse when she gave a single nod of her head.

Turning, she lowered her weapon and led him towards the home. Her slight figure graceful and at ease over the uneven hills and thick bush, unlike Torstein hulking, tripping figure. She never paused, expecting the man to keep up as she walked and jumped over obstacles with the ease of a someone who knew the area by heart.

The brush and trees thinned out till they came to a clearing by the shore. Torstein smiled, seeing the boy, greeting him quickly and merrily. Bjorn looked at him in a quick glance, as if afraid to let his eyes linger in their direction. He gave a low hello and smile, but then turning his attention back to the wood he cut.

"How is he?" The giant of the man asked the girl as they walked into the darker, but much warmer, home.

"He's still weak but his wounds are beginning to heal, thanks to Floki's magic."

Torstein turned to the voice, speaking no words as he encased Lagertha in a tight hug. "You're alright?" Sassa paid them no mind as she took the rabbit offered without hesitance or shame. Every bit of meat was now needed to feed the eight bodies who lived there. She settling by the warm fire, sharpening her knife to begin skinning.

"We all are." Lagertha gave a now rare smile.

Floki, bent at the fire making soup, looked at the commotion behind him. "Torstein!" He raised to his feet, wonder and glee clear in his voice. A wheezing cough sounded from the other side of the fire pit. Floki and Torstein's attention were stolen. "Ragnar, see who is here!" He led the viking to their prone friend.

Floki, bent at the fire and making soup, looks up and rises to greet their friend. "Torstein." he says in wonder and glee. He takes the rabbit offered, every bit of meat a great help for the eight bodies who live there. "Ragnar, see who's here."

"Ragnar, my friend, how are you?" Torstein crouched beside him. The farmer was wrapped in blankets, cocooned and rendered nearly immobile in his bed.

"Save me from these people." He joked, wheezing a laugh before flinching in pain. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't." Torstein admitted. "I only know Earl Haraldson is looking for you. It was Rollo who said that if you're alive, you might be here."

"Then why did he not come himself?" The hurt in his voice was clear as Ragnar asked.

"Because he thought the Earl's men would be looking for him especially." Torstein turned to the other adults in the room. "It is no secret that all of the crew are being watched." He smirked at the children. "But I made sure no-one followed me."

Gyda flushed a bit under the handsome man's attention while Sassa and Bjorn unknowingly shared an eye roll. Bjorn at being treated like a child. Sassa at the fact her help had been overlooked once more.

"Let's eat." Floki said, picking up the bowls Gyda brought him.

"It is good to see you." said Ragnar.

"You too, my friend." Torstein clasped his hand in firm greeting, glad beyond measure he was still alive. Ragnar coughed and looked towards the ceiling, dismissing him to eat as he rested more. Standing at his full height, Torstein nearly collided with a form suddenly behind him.

He was struck by the sight of the golden haired beauty. His mouth hanging open without thought or words as he stared at her. She came to just below his shoulder, her frame slighter than that of Lagertha, but undoubtedly feminine all the same. She had fair features, and large eyes lined with coal. He was smitten at once.

Helga gave a graceful, almost coy smile. She, along with the rest, waited for him to speak. Torstein could still form no words.

"This is Helga." Floki put him out of his misery, the introduction innocent.

"H-Hello Helga." He greeted breathily, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Ohhh." Floki moaned amused. It drew the mountain-of-a-man's attention, finally breaking his enchantment. "Don't wiggle your maggot in her face." Floki moved his slim pinky in his face with annoyance, the implication clear. "She's taken." He pushed the bowl of soup towards his friend.

Torstein held it carefully, not knowing if he was still welcome. "Sit down." Floki ordered, making the choice for him. The giant did as he was told, sitting across from the beauty with a now amused smile on her face.

Across the home, Athelstan and Lagertha shared amused looks of their own.

Their happiness and ease was short lived.

"I heard they burned down your farm." He quietly spoke.

Lagertha tensed, her back straightening as she gripped the bowl in her hands tighter. "They also slaughtered all our livestock." She felt that wave of dread settle in her stomach as she painfully admitted the truth. "We have nothing left."

"You are alive." Floki reminded her of the little good they have left. "Ragnar is alive. The children are alive…"

"You're welcome." Sassa snidely commented to Bjorn. She gave him a cold look, uncaring that his own glare heated along with his ears. It was one of the few times he dare make eye contact with her since finding her in the springs. Even that was short lived as he cast his gaze away from her once more.

"You have everything left." Her father assured.

"We also need to eat." Lagertha reasoned. She walked over to the fire they all gathered at, regret and apology in her tone. "And we are already eating some of your winter supplies, Floki."

She looked to the rabbit in Sassa's hands, thinking how quickly they had gone through the bountiful catch Sassa had caught when they first arrived. "I am ashamed." She touched the father's back in a friendly gesture, truly remorseful of the trouble the simple-loving family was going through for them.

Their family took food mostly from trade, rather than farm, but with their bloodlines under close watch they had been all but banished from the village. With Ragnar needing to be looked after, it left most of the hunting to Floki and Sassa. Lagertha turned to the girl, blood on her hands as she slid the knife easily under the rabbit's hide. Correction: it left Sassa to do the hunting. And that made Lagertha feeling even more guilt. It seemed their debt to the girl would never be paid.

"The gods will provide." Floki promised. A giggle of laughter escaping as Lagertha smiled. Hopefully. "And if not Sassa will."

Her green eyes narrowed as she scoffed, ripping the fur from the rabbit's legs as she did. She set the pelt aside, green eyes rolling at the idea.

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die." Athelstan said.

Floki giggled, amused at the Christian's words. Athelstan frowned a bit, embarrassed. Floki got up and handed him a bowl. "Just eat your soup, priest."

But across the home Ragnar spoke from the bed. "Sometimes your God sounds a lot like one of ours." He reassured. He had remembered those words in his haze of near death. The priest had begged his god that he not die, and for that Ragnar was silently grateful. Athelstan smiled, a small nod exchanged between them. Not one of master and slave. But one of understanding and gratefulness. Dare he say….friends.

The snow had left, a cold, hail filled rain taking it's place in the night. Outside: owls hooted and winds howled. Inside: the fire cackled and warmed its overpopulated occupance. Cuddled close to the source of heat, Lagertha slept peacefully with her children. Athelstan was in an equal state not far away.

But slumber did not come easy for all.

As it did every night, Ragnar's mind raced and twisted, his thoughts so loud he could not sleep. So loud, they fought to escape his mouth. This time, with someone to listen, he didn't bother trying to stifle them.

Torstein leaned against the bed, watching the flames dance as he relaxed with a belly full of warm broth and good ale. The quiet was broken by the husky whisper of the man behind him.

"Why did the gods keep me alive? That is the question I keep asking myself." Ragnar mused, his head turned to stare into the fire as well. Their voices stayed low, trying not to wake the others.

"What are you going to do?"

"I can do nothing until I am well." Ragnar admitted, bitter about that fact. Oh, how it burned him inside being restrained to the bed. His eyes closed on their own accord. He could smell the ocean so close to the home, the air carrying the scent of salt and wood, till he could picture it in his dreams. His eyes quickly opened, his question almost eagerly desperate. "Where's the boat?"

Torstein chest gave a heavy groan, a rumbling of anger and disappointment. "Haraldson has confiscated the boat." His face twisted in disgust. "His daughter is getting married to man from Svealand. The boat is her dowry." It was just like the Earl to take from them and give as if it was his right. There was no honor to it. An insult atop a insult.

Sensing the change in tone, Ragnar was the one to offer comfort this time. "Floki can always build us another one."

"And the Earl?" Torstein turned to look into his eyes. There was doubt, a heavy threat unspoken between them.

As long as Earl Haraldson lived, they were all mice to be stomped on and thrown away at his command.

Ragnar did not answer, his mind twisting into a new path of restless thought as they were interrupted.

"Pssst." A voice hissed. Floki bent before them, his gaze focused on that of Torstein. "Come on." He nodded his head, tempting him to follow.

"What for?" He asked.

"Come." Floki's face stretched into a devious smile, nodding once more but still not explaining.

Torstein may be a friend but he was not a fool. He knew of Floki's quickly chancing temper and how… interesting her could be. He was secretly a bit afraid to follow.

When no man moved, a younger voice intervene. "They want to have sex with you."

Sassa sat beside the larger man, a small bowl of soup in hand as she waited for him to move along. Torstein looked from the father to the daughter, caught of guard by her interruption.

"If you don't come now, I promise, you will regret it." A glimmer of mischief entered Floki's eyes.

Behind him, Helga poked her face out from behind the curtain, her fairy like features lighting in a innocent yet hypnotic smile.

Torstein looked to Sassa, as if looking for permission. Sassa pushed him with her small hand, sending him off as she slid into the warm spot before the fire.

As Helga led Torstein into the bed, Floki closed the curtains.

Ragnar and Sassa were left alone.

"What do you know of sex?" He challenged her, a mixture of amusement and suspicion coating his tone.

"Enough." Was all she said on the subject. She passed him the bowl of soup, knowing he would need it to help regain his strength.

Ragnar took it but did not eat it. "Has your father been hiding you for good reason?" He joked. His lips flinched in that teasing smile he alone kept. He could easily imagine Floki chasing off the boys that would one day come for her. The boatbuilder had grown too attached, too dependent, on his daughter. His huntress. His assistant. His only living blood.

"I am not pretty enough for you to worry." She dismissed the notion.

She was indeed of wedding age, yet she received no offers. Her father's reputation for madness reached far and wide. If she was indeed barren, it was unlikely her father would allow a divorce. What man would chain himself to a future without heirs and legacy? In her experience, none.

Ragnar laughed as hard as his broken body would allow. "You are beautiful, dear Sassa." He spoke boldly and without hesitance.

She frowned, thinking him teasing her further. "My chest is flat and my hips are slim." She dismissed. Her elegant fingers, calloused with years of work, folded in her lap. She looked down at her nimble fingers, her gaze catching that of her lap and hips. Even now they looked rather narrow. Sassa looked away staring into the fire, and the womanly form of Lagertha past it.

Poor breeding, she once overheard. That's what she'd been reduced to. Breeding stock, and not even one worth buying. It hurt her more than she'd ever let them know.

She felt a gentle touch on her face, bringing her out of her rare shell as she looked to Ragnar. His hand caressed the skin from the edge of her green eyes down the curve of her cheek and following the strong line of her jaw, lingering at a moment to raise her chin up. "You have such a lovely face." he admitted. His hand dropped, a hint of a smile reaching her lips.

Such a serious child, Ragnar mused in his head. She reminded him of the ravens. Beautiful, dark, with little expression unless truly close enough. "They are not worthy of you." Not her pretty face, or her great loyalty to her father, or her bravery in protecting his son, or her skill with a bow. She would make an excellent wife, mother, warrior. She was a raven with so many places to fly. If only she was released from this cage.

At that moment, Ragnar made a decision. On his next raid, he would take her with them. He would release her to see how far she could fly.

Sassa dared a rare wide smile. "I see why your wife puts up with you. You can be quite charming." she ended with a smirk.

Ragnar laughed. "Tell her that, eh?" He falsely pleaded.

"Im off to check the fishing line." She pushed herself to her feet. "Eat" she commanded.

Ragnar nodded in thanks for the bowl of soup, knowing full well it was the last of it. He took a spoonful of the still warm broth, nearly spitting it out when he saw her foot connect with Bjorn's motionless leg in her path. The boy gave a disgruntled huff, when she kicked him to move, sleepy eyes narrowing as his heavy head raised to glare at her before falling back on the blanket his head rested on. The hint of childness appeared every now and then when they were together. Ragnar chuckled to himself but reduced it to an observing smile. His son rose a bit once more, watching her as she walked away, a silent exchange seemingly passing between them. Maybe Floki would have trouble sooner than they thought...

Please Review :)

Vikings 4B has definitely reawaken my love for this fic. I love you all so much, sorry it took so long, but hopefully you'll enjoy this shift in relationship. The things that happen in this chapter are gonna be brought up ALOT in the oncoming seasons. Ragnar considers himself Odin, and thus Sassa his loyal ravens. I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR YOUR REACTIONS! THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME!