"He was the thesis of her prayers."

prologue extended ✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆

"!"

Nero's giggle was the type of rare sound to be cherished.

His hands tightened around her waist, bringing her attempts of scaping to an end. It was for the best that the youngest Ragnarsson was asleep instead of looking at the interactions between his brother and his childhood crush.

He had grown close to the girl, especially since she was the only person in Kattegat who was not afraid of him in the slightest.

The only person in Kattegat who had nothing to fear.

Ubbe and Sigurd watched the two. Enjoying how they were spinning around carelessly. Their light eyes reflected the greenness of the breathtaking landscape around them.

Ubbe questioned how his brother and his friend managed to muster the energy to play after such a long, hunting day.

And Sigurd, well, Sigurd's mind was elsewhere.

He couldn't help but feel a bit... jealous. The boys were just then discovering the wonders of women, and Nero, being the closest one to them, would obviously be the apple of their eyes.

"Prince! Let me down, will you?"

Yet Ivar, Sigurd, and Hvitserk knew they couldn't marry her. She was no lady for them to marry. She was a warrior. A shieldmaiden.

The scar that ran through her left eyebrow made sure to remind them of such, even if it only accentuated her wild, untamed beauty.

"The wolf flies," Vit chuckled, spinning around on his heels as the girl tried to find a comfortable position over his shoulder.

Moments like those were rare for warriors like them.

It wasn't often that they were allowed to have their guards down and act childish, but in truth, those were the moments she loved most. Especially when they were shared with Hvitserk.

Suddenly his movements came to a halt. His body tensed up and she instantly quit thrashing against his hold, noticing his change in demeanor.

His eyes fixed on the figure trailing down the mountain. Confusion crossed his features as he noticed Ironside, whose face was devoid of any emotion.

Ubbe noticed their oldest brother as well, furrowing his eyebrows, "Ivar, wake up, Björn is here."

The girl absolutely beamed and smiled even bigger once she heard the name of her war mate.

She eagerly patted Vit's back and he gladly let her down, still wondering the reason behind Björn's approach. The hunting grounds weren't quite near the town, it was undeniable that something important had happened, "Bear!"

"Hello, wolf," he gave the girl a toothless grin as she ran to him, hugging his waist.

The older boy shuffled his friend's hair, some of his worry dissipating at the sight of his family and his expression becoming slightly softer.

Once he settled on the small camp, his features became serious, Nero, noticing that, decided to remain quiet. She knew better than to interfere in the conversation that was about to happen.

Goosebumps trailed her exposed arms and neck, and she cursed the cold. The girl rounded the fenced area and gave up on finding comfort, defeated, she looked for warmth and sat by Ivar, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He was still sleepy, but he smiled nevertheless, understanding what she was silently asking for.

He slid an arm behind her and pulled her in, under his many furs. She grinned subconsciously, admiring how Ivar's lips were slightly parted when he turned towards his brothers. The wolf shivered as a slight breeze whisked her face.

He felt her shudder in his arms and quickly looked down at her. The freezing girl was threading at her clothes and her grin was still in place. She was many things, but certainly not a huge smiler. Knowing so, he raised an eyebrow and nudged her shoulder.

The wolf rubbed her arms, and he nodded in understanding, pulling all of his furs over her. She closed her eyes, pleased with the sudden warmth. She curled around the 'blankets', becoming a small ball.

Ivar's eyes didn't leave her, even though he still replied to the argument he was having with his brothers. He couldn't help but notice how she looked harmless, adorable. Blush crept onto his cheeks as he brought her even closer and turned his full attention to the conversation.

She breathed in, trying to refrain from sleeping. Upon catching a whiff of his scent, she blushed as well. He smelt of ale and wet grass, and in all truth, it was her favorite smell, not because it was great, but because it was his.

She could feel Ivar's chest thundering under her head with every word he spoke. His grip tightened around her and she was suddenly very aware of his fury.

She paid no mind to what angered him, instead, she chose to focus on calming him down, running her fingers in soft patterns over his shoulder.

Ivar used his free hand to down his drink, his body visibly tensed up causing the girl to look up at him. He held his breath.

She knew him too well. She knew that once his breathing became uneven, he was too far gone. He was pissed beyond the point of no return. It was a rather common occurrence when all the boys were together, they were talented when it came to pissing each other off, "Screw you, all of you."

As always, the girl served as medicine to control his outbursts, subconsciously, his grip on her tightened even more. She wondered if his touch would bruise her. His fingers dug into her ribcage and she was quick to press a soft kiss on his clothed chest.

Ivar breathed out and loosened his hands, finally snapping out of it enough to worry about harming the girl. The storm in his eyes calmed slightly, and he wished he could put his lips on hers, that would surely be enough to calm his storm for days.

"I don't think he is ever going to come back," Björn's snap made Nero interested in the conversation, "I think what happened in Paris, finally broke him."

Her eyes skimmed over the boys, accessing their emotions. Their well-being was her number one priority. Deeming they were all fine, she allowed herself to think of the subject at hand.

She knew they were talking of Ragnar, just as she knew he would come back. He was too prideful. He wouldn't give up on getting revenge on that traitor. He would tear Paris apart, even if it meant he would be torn apart with it.

"You can all say whatever you want, but he was a human. People started to talk as if he was a god. He was not a god, he was a man! A man with many dreams and many failings.

"I've learned that in the years since he went away. If I was him, I wouldn't come back," Björn explained and Nero's eyes beamed with pride for his words. She couldn't agree more. Ragnar was human, he was allowed to have ups and downs in his life and not be seen as less of a man for it, "despite all his failings, he's still the greatest man in the world to me."

The oldest Ragnarsson stood and looked at Nero in a silent plead for her to follow. Nodding to herself, she got to her feet, grabbing her furs and untangling herself from Ivar, who looked at her in uttermost betrayal.

A smirk crossed her features at his theatrics, she leaned down, and in a moment of pure instinct, she pressed a kiss to the very corner of his lips.

She quickly skipped towards Ironside, waving goodbye at the other brothers who hadn't noticed her exchange with Ivar. They were too busy wondering how in Midgard her and the king's firstborn managed to communicate so silently.

She didn't know either. Neither did he. Her and Björn were much like Ragnar and Floki, they simply understood each other.

Just as Nero approached Hati, who mind you, was the horse gifted to her by the Lothbroks, it began stomping on the grassy floor, creating craters with his heavy hooves. The animal was almost as impatient as its owner.

She settled on her stallion and followed Björn into the woods until they were on the track that the two had followed so many times. The path to the wolf's den.

They were silent for the most part, Nero only making small comments about how Björn was being too careless with his ride and thus why its mane was all tangled up.

Once they climbed off their horses, the oldest of the duo smiled, fondly remembering how she had fought in war, and how she had changed after it. The girl surely was born with an appetite for destruction, and the skills to match.

The once best friends hadn't been around each other much since Ragnar's departure, both of them were much too busy running different parts of Kattegat. Dealing with loss and grief in their own ways.

"Does it still pain you?"

"It itches," she sighed, her mind was far, far away as she looked up at the treetops. The sound of crashing waves brought her back, "but sometimes, if I rub my face with my hands, it stings. What weak beings we are, I guess we never fully recover from anything, do we?"

He chuckled and she smirked at him, knowing he had caught on to her drama act. Right then, with happiness enlaced in the air around the two, Björn thought back to all the moments they had shared together. She was a great kid. A great kid for sure.

He cleared his throat. Partially hoping that she accepted, partially hoping that she refused. Branches and twigs cracked under their boots as they made their way to the shore.

"Sail to the Mediterranean with me," his voice was strained, almost as if he was choking out a secret. She raised her eyebrows at him, slightly smiling. It had been too long since he had last ordered her around.

The duo kept on walking, silence settling in between them.

The prince's eyes never left the girl, and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She breathed out in relief as her feet began digging onto the sand, silently showing her she was home.

It suddenly dawned on her that her prince was waiting for a response. Let's just say Nero was not great at reading social cues, "Uh, your orders leave no room for answers, Björn."

Laughter bubbled from his chest at her cluelessness. He had missed her. He had missed how innocent she always seemed to be.

And she had missed him. Someone who took her awkwardness as a joke rather than an offense, like the other Lothbroks. She would always be faithful to him, much like her father would always be faithful to Ragnar.

Of course she would. She owed it to him, to his father, to her father.

"Björn, you can expect me to be by your side, whenever you need me to be," the wolf promised, remembering how much she truly owed to his family. Remembering how much they had done for her.

"Ivar won't be pleased..." though teasing was clear in his tone, there were also hints of honesty. He was relieved that such a great asset would be added to his expedition, but he was also worried that such great asset happened to be Ivar's favorite human.

"Is Ivar ever pleased?"

"He always seems pleased with you."

"Just yest-"

"Alright, wolf. Not always, often."

"Maybe so," she grinned, leaning onto the tent that served as a shelter for her father's many carvings and plannings. Björn kept on forward, closer towards the ocean where the crazed man stood, hammering part of his latest piece.

Floki looked over his shoulder. His eyes shone slightly happier at the sight of his daughter but were nowhere near as sparkly as when his king was still in Kattegat.

Once his gaze landed on the prince, his face dropped, and he turned around, making his way to meet the man.

"Did you know that Ragnar lied to us all?" the growled out words that left the Ragnarsson's lips were enough of a warning to Nero, "The settlement in Wessex was destroyed as soon as we left."

She prowled towards the duo, crossing her arms over her chest, primed and ready to defend her father and his father from whatever the prince was about to say.

Not knowing where the conversation would go, Nero instinctively stood by her father. Her alliance laid with Björn, but she would protect the boatbuilder with her life.

Nero didn't know of Ragnar's lie, and she didn't care. She inherited her father's trust in the king, she knew for a fact that he had done what he thought was best.

"I know, a farmer who escaped the slaughter told your father and me what had happened. And Ragnar killed him so no one else would find out," Floki's voice was calm and unashamed. He had no reason to doubt himself nor his choices. He did what had to be done.

The bear's face softened once Nero reached them. He sighed, feeling content with the boatbuilder's answer, "You are a good friend to my father."

"Hello, Nero, Björn," the melodic voice that interrupted the oldest Ragnarsson was so softly pleasant that everyone seemed to relax.

The wolf's grin widened. She made her way towards the lovely lady that stood by the sea, already untying her boots and holding onto them before bolting into the water and giving the woman a hug.

"Helga!" the prince smiled, officially letting go of the previous topic. Floki skipped playfully towards his ladies.

His hand reached out for Nero, who gladly took it. He held it up and she spun around, washing both herself and her father with her kicks and jumps around the sea.

Björn couldn't help but watch in amusement.

They were crazy, but they were the perfect fit for each other. For a second he wished he was a part of them. For a second he hoped to one day have a family like theirs.

They quieted down and Nero placed a hand on her father's shoulder, looking up at him in worry.

Helga had been laughing and Nero had been dancing. Yet Floki, Floki seemed to be trying to adapt to the situation.

The man wasn't himself without Ragnar, he looked down at her and shrugged his shoulders. She knew part of him had left with the king.

The sun made the ocean's blues reflect beautifully, much like the day he had left.

Sensing the slight awkwardness, the bear coughed out, "I was just coming to see how the boats are progressing."

Floki's eyes immediately snapped away from the wolf's. He forced a grin to his face.

"What do you say, Helga?" He questioned, dragging his daughter over to the stool that stood just above sea level, where his boatbuilding went into practice.

She went on with his act, knowing he would never properly open up to her. The only way to have her father back was to somehow get Ragnar back.

The girl sighed and leaned onto his frame for support; he shuffled her hair playfully, much like he always did when she was just a child.

"What should we tell them?"

"You barely leave this place anymore, Floki!" Nero grinned, knowing the working duo had good news. Björn couldn't help but smile, "You must have good... no! Great news!"

"Floki has been working very hard," the blonde nodded solemnly. She averted her eyes from the wolf and looked up at the prince, "We think it won't be long until you have boats able and ready to take you to the Mediterranean Sea."

"If it exists," Floki interjected with his eyebrows raised and defiant posture.

Even if they knew it did not exist, they would still sail the four corners of the world for it. That's what their gods would have wanted. And that's exactly what they would do.

Björn was quick to get defensive, "Of course it exists!"

"It's just a map, Björn, marks on a paper, even Nero could have done it!" the boatbuilder elaborated, receiving a pointed glare from his daughter, "How can we know it's real?"

She shrugged her shoulders. Leaving her boots on the pier before jumping down onto the shore. Her eyes following the small boat réplicas that sailed away with her movements.

Nero furrowed her eyebrows. She leaned down and wrapped her fingers around one of the many boats. The beautifully worked piece made her shake her head and chuckle; how could someone do brutal in battle, be so gentle in carving?

Suddenly lost in her own thoughts, her eyes wandered to the never-ending sea in front of her. Her cheeks felt hot once she realized that that same shade of blue belonged in the irises of the man she loved.