You make way for Kattegat to fight alongside the Sons of Ragnar as they plan to avenge their late father's death.
You are known amongst your people as a fierce warrior and great beauty. Having fought for your earldom since your father's death, you...
Forced onto your back from the sheer force of his horse. The man who killed your friend, your sister...now sat valiantly upon his stead, looking down as you squirm helplessly beneath. Your eyes grow wide in anticipation...this...was surely the end. Comforting thoughts of your place in Valhalla soothed your mind. Of how the Valkyries would soon descend and select you and other warriors to sup with them in Odin's great hall.
Before Ivar's roars pulled you from your thoughts and back to the danger you found yourself beneath...
"SPEARS" in seeing you so close to death Ivar's voice is gritty and fierce.
It slices through the air almost as violently as the spears that follow it cutting through the Saxon line like a sharp blade through running water.
The circle of Saxon men that had divided you from the Viking force falls to the floor with a muddied thud. Saga's killer takes his eyes up to the fallen line and away from you beneath him. Taking the opportunity Ivar has given you, without even a second thought, you roll out from underneath the brown mare, and clamber to your feet.
Your breath begins to slow, along with everything around you. The sound of metal on metal and the screams and whimpers of those who lay dying around your feet, fade out with each breath and step you take. Feet moving slowly in a slight retreat as you watch a sea of Vikings consume the remaining Saxons in front of you.
Your back makes contact with a steady force.
Bringing your sword up in defense your hand shakily returns it to your side in seeing Hvitserk's concerned face. His mouth moves in a way that tells you he is saying your name. Grabbing your shoulders and shaking you...trying to bring you to your senses. Your eyes remain glazed and your body numb until finally...you begin to hear the sounds around you fade back in...
"SIGRID?!" Hvitserk has lowered his face to try and meet your gaze. Concern ran like a river through him and his rushed words. Grappling with your frame, shaking it violently for you to form a response after saying your name over five times now.
"Hmm..." you manage to form a sound, just loud enough to resonate above the violence around you both.
"Sigrid! Can you hear me? Are you hurt?" his voice lowers along with his hands which grip just above your elbows, squeezing them slightly. As his eyes scan you for injury.
"Yes...I...I can hear you. I'm fine. Wh...Where is Ivar?" you breathe, before turning to look for yourself.
Motioning with his bloodied axe, he points up to the top of the battlement overlooking the courtyard.
Ivar is standing with a few men. Looking straight into your eyes. Concern lifted completely from him and replaced with a jaw-clenching rage in seeing you stood so close to his brother.
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His thoughts race desperately, intent on knowing what it was you had promised to tell him after the battle. Before you can respond to his stare, his face snaps back to the horse-mounted Saxon slicing through your warriors.
