There was a commotion in the middle of the village, she grabbed her sword and Thkatla ran in the direction of the sound spooking a few feeding animals. "What's going on?" she called as she got closer, but before she reached the crowd a rider escaped and left the village. In the middle of the crowd, a bloodied panting Ragnar, she rushed to him and collapsed in front of him. "What happened? Where's Rollo?"

"He's gone," he answered staring in the general direction of his fleeing brother. "He won't be back." Thkatla pulled Ragnar into her side.

"Come, let's get you back to the house," Thkatla helped him to stand and together they staggered back to the longhouse. As she opened the door the heat from the fire hit them, he laid down on the deer skin rug and warmed himself. "I hope that spat wasn't about me?" She asked dabbing his wounds.

"No, he has betrayed us all," Ragnar said trying to escape the stinging pain.

"Betrayed us?" The shadow of the flames danced over her serious features and furrowed brow.

"He married himself into the enemy, the one family who wishes to takes over our land," he said wincing under her gentle touch.

"He is that stupid," she huffed a giggle to herself. "I guess she has far larger riches than we do." Ragnar nodded.

"He has had enough of the heathen life," Ragnar quoted his brother his words still fresh in his mind.

"That's his choice," she said placing the cloth down and resting her head on his bruised shoulder.

"That it is, I hope he does not come back begging for protection or forgiveness," he said.

"I'll murder him myself," she said.

"Don't look so pleased about that," Ragnar told her.

"I'm allowed to smile aren't I?" She giggled.

"Of course, just not at the thought of murdering my brother," he said and pulled her into his lap. She looked up at him and smiled as she rested her hand on his cheek.

"Ragnar Lothbrok my saviour," he leant down and pecked her lips softly. Day turned into night, Kattegat shrouded by the stars that twinkled and danced. The moon flowed like a torch and shone on the dark waters, caressing each ripple with its ivory rays. The wild dogs ran around the village wreaking havoc and disturbing sleeping animals. A great fire burnt in the middle and several figures were gathered around it. An elder man sat with furs draped over his shoulders and leant on an old walking stick, once a mighty ore on a sunken longship. He began his tales of old to the youngsters of the village starting off with Jöurgmandur who encased itself around Midgard and ate its own tail.

"Are the children with Ivan?" Thkatla asked Ragnar.

"Yes, telling them stories no doubt," he said.

"I'm not staying up with them this time," she said taking another fur and wrapped it around Ragnars shoulders. "Are you feeling any better?" He nodded.

"Yes."