Thunderous words tumbled out of Ragnar's mouth in a torrent of deep rage. He had grown tired of their chieftain's rule already, and now he had gone too far. The life of his friends had bled out in great rivers of red, staining the dirt, and tinged the air with copper fear. Floki stood beside him, a mad shine in his dark orbs.

Ragnar had always been a point of intrigue: fearless and clever, with a hint of emotional chaos. Floki could not resist following this man, who dared to venture the seas on so little information, and fought against the enemy they knew so little about. Now he was making successful trips, returning with gold and slaves. More importantly, he had given Floki a reason to build a boat.

Floki was more than proud of his boat.

The crafted wooden beast sailed with all the grace of a wolf, and the swiftness of a bird of prey. Floki loved his creation, and he was certain the gods understood his work. Thor had seemed jubilant, testing the boat's strength upon the high seas, and rejoicing with a great storm.

Now the craftsman stood beside his friend, ready to strike down any man who tried to hinder their purpose. He had become loyal to Ragnar, approving of his leadership, even if he was supposed to be treating their group as equals, he was clearly a fine warrior and sailor. Floki knew that Ragnar would want the chieftain dead now. He had taken too much from them, and it was time for a change. They would need to gather more men if they were to succeed however. Floki doubted assassination was Ragnar's style, or that he would approve of foul play against someone appointed by the gods. Floki also doubted however, that the gods approved of their chieftain's rule any longer.

While Ragnar went to prepare himself, mind and body, sitting on the hillside, high above the water, Floki slipped away. He danced amongst the trees, down the path towards the water's edge. There, he glimpsed his masterpiece, floating like mist upon the surface of the rippling tide. She ebbed slowly up and down, tempting him with her movements, pulling him closer. He lifted a hand to her bow as he drew near, tracing his fingers along her woodwork. The oak teased his skin, sending shivers of excitement coursing through him. He could hear the light raspy sound as his nails grazed the wood's surface. He craved the warmth of her company, and climbed inside her hull. There he curled up, basking in the sweet touch of wood against his cheek.

Sunlight poured over him through a gap in the clouds, coating Floki and his boat like a blanket. He smiled, and begun singing softly to her. Words of adoration spilled from his mouth, as a tightness formed in his chest,

"Let no man tame your frantic drive,

or steal with greed these night-loved timbers,

to you my soul unfold, and carry you as the restless ocean."

Floki caressed her with his words, as he drifted into a dream of sea voyages and glorious battles. She would be waiting for him in Valhalla.