"Nerida." Ragnar said in an almost mocking tone. She did not care that he mocked her or looked at her with hate, what she cared about was his intention. Why had Ragnar come back? She watched as Ubbe stepped out from the crowd, watching as he held his sword tight in his hand. Nerida was not worried, for she knew that Ubbe could not kill his own father. Killing of one's parent required a deep seeded abhorrence, something that none of them had, or had ever felt.

She watched as Ragnar approached his son, everyone waiting with bated breath to see if Ubbe was going to be the new King. Nerida sighed as she saw Ragnar embrace his son, Ubbe hugging him tightly back as she noticed the anger and jealousy in Ivar's eyes.

"Your father loves you, Ivar." Nerida whispered as she bent down to meet his gaze, a small smile on his angered face as he pushed up on his arms and kissed her lips gently. It was the first time they had been intimate, and the first time they allowed others to witness it.

"Why have you come back?" Bjorn asked, his presence taking Nerida off guard since she had not seen him join the crowd. She was not shocked by his words or his question, since Bjorn had been there when Ragnar had lost so viciously in Paris. Ragnar gathered his sons, except for Ivar, since he had wanted to be alone with Nerida. They walked into her small home, a home that had once been a shack to clean fish. It was not large, but it suited Nerida, since she did not need much.

"Why did you not go with your father?" She asked as she removed her dagger and sword from her waist and placed them on the small table. Nerida watched as Ivar slipped onto the bed and removed his tunic and boots, his eyes dark and full of a burning passion that made Nerida feel weak.

She slowly undid her harness and tunic, her body shaking as she knew her body and soul were fully ready to receive him. Moments later they were both naked, Ivar looking nervous as she pulled the pelt back revealing his broken and frail legs. She did not care that his legs could not work, to Nerida he was perfect in every way.

"Are you scared?" Ivar asked as Nerida crawled into the bed, a devilish smile on her face as she shook her head no. She kissed him gently, her hand cupping his face as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasting her for the first time. Ivar rolled half his body over hers, their mouths connected as the heat rose between them.

Nerida moaned as Ivar slipped his hand over her moist folds, his fingers calloused and rough from crawling on the hard ground. His touch was welcomed by her and craved by her skin. She needed him and wanted to finally give her virtue to him and him alone. Ivar explored every inch of her body with his hand, a growl escaping his chest as Nerida broke the kiss and bit his bottom lip gently with her teeth.

"What is wrong?" Nerida asked as she saw the sadness and frustration in Ivar's eyes as she moved her body over his. She followed his eyes and saw that he was not aroused for her, his cheeks flushing as she gently grabbed his member with her hand and laid soft kisses along his neck.

"Stop. "Ivar said as he grabbed her hand and threw it away from him, his anger and embarrassment evident in his face as he crawled from under Nerida and grabbed his tunic.

"Ivar? Love stop, we can—"

"NO! I have tried several times before to arouse myself while thinking of you—and I cannot. I cannot please you, Nerida." Ivar hissed, Nerida furrowing her brow as she knew that he was only being stubborn, since she had felt him grow hard as he had slept.

"You are far too nervous, love—just please let me show you." Nerida smiled as she held her hand out for him, her heart breaking as she watched him pull on his clothes and crawl from her home. She placed her head in her hand and sobbed, what should have been a perfect moment was ruined in the blink of an eye.

***

The entire day Nerida lost herself in her work, forging armor and swords for Bjorn's warriors that were accompanying him on the great journey. She had seen Ivar and his brothers walk into the Great Hall for supper, Hvitserk stopping by to inform her that their father wanted to travel to England, for reasons that were still unknown.

Nerida knew that Ivar would want to accompany his father to England, which meant she would have to travel as well. Going back to England would be almost certain death for her, since she had killed nearly 500 Christians when she was with her father.

"Ahh!" Nerida said as she was so lost in her thoughts that a spark from her hammer had hit her bare face causing her to jump back in pain. Nerida's eyes shot up as she saw Sigurd emerge from the Great Hall, Ivar screaming after him as she felt her heart begin to race. She knew that Sigurd had always been combative with Ivar, neither of them able to be alone in the same room for very long.

"What did you say now?" She asked as Sigurd stomped by her, his eyes rolling as he turned to face her. "Do not charge at me Sigurd, you know better than anyone, that I can hurt you." She said as she held out the unfinished sword in her hand, the dull tip placed on his chest as she saw his breathing begin to slow.

"I told him the truth, that mother should have left him to the wolves." He hissed as Nerida stepped forward to hit him, his hand blocking hers as he was able to shove her to the ground and storm off.

"Your mother should have given you away Sigurd! You are ungrateful!" She shouted in anger as she rose from the ground and dusted the dirt from her breeches. She rolled her eyes at her stupidity to allow Sigurd to overpower her, Nerida knowing that her mind was not right, and it would not be until she spoke to Ivar.

As the sun set, Hvitserk arrived with a bowl full of ribs and potatoes, a grateful smile on Nerida's face as she took the bowl and began to devour the food. "Why were you not at the table with us? Perhaps you could have stopped Ivar from nearly killing Sigurd." He spoke as he sat down on a chair in the corner, Nerida not wanting to tell him about what had happened with Ivar.

"I was busy, and besides, I am not Ivar's keeper although I am the keeper of his heart." She smirked as Hvitserk sneered and shook his head at her admittance. "Where is Ivar now, I have to speak with him." She said as she placed the bowl down and set her tools aside along with her leather apron. She knew how she was going to seduce Ivar, she was going to show him what true passion and ectasy was.

"He is with Margrethe." Hvitserk said as Nerida stopped in her tracks, her breathing starting to become shallow as she wasn't sure what he had just said. "I thought you knew." He continued as Nerida turned to face him, a single tear falling down her cheek as she felt frozen in place.

"Where are they?" She asked as Hvitserk took her hand and led her into the Great Hall, Nerida's heart racing as she tore her hand from his and slowly approached Ivar's chamber. Her hand shook as she slowly pushed back the large curtain, her lips parting as more tears fell down her cheeks.

Ivar lay naked in bed with Margrethe, both breathing heavy as she whispered something against his lips. In that moment Nerida could not contain her anger, or her heartbreak as she screamed out in anguish, her hand grasping a small throwing knife as she tossed it at Ivar, missing his head by only an inch.

"Nerida! No! Nerida, No! This is not—"

"Don't speak, don't speak to me Ivar. You cannot lay with me, but you lay—with a slave that all your brothers have spilled seed into! You have betrayed me for the last time!" Nerida hissed as she turned and ran from the Great Hall, tears falling down her face as everything seemed to move in slow motion around her. She entered her home and kicked her table hard watching it crumble to the ground, a scream escaping her mouth as she kicked at the rubble at her feet, her body shaking as she fell to the ground unable to stop the sobs from escaping her mouth.

"Nerida? Are you alright?" Bjorn asked moments later as he entered her home, Hvitserk behind him as Bjorn pushed back on his shoulder, not letting him enter. Nerida rose on her knees as Bjorn crouched beside her, her arms wrapping around his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around her as his hand cupped the back of her head giving her a great comfort.

"I never should—have trusted him." Nerida sobbed as she held tighter to Bjorn, their bond stronger now than ever since they first made their blood pact all those moons ago. He held her for what seemed like hours, her fire becoming embers as she finally pulled from his grasp.

"What did Ivar do?" He asked with a stern face as he brushed a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb, a protectiveness about Bjorn as he stared into her eyes. She bit her lip as another tear made it down her cheek, her entire body shaking as she thought about Ivar making love to Margrethe.

"He slept with that slave girl, after trying to take my virtue." She whimpered as Bjorn pulled her closer to him, her arms holding him tight as she wanted to crawl into her own grave and pull the dirt in after her. "I was a fool, Bjorn, to think that he could truly love me. My father cursed me when I was younger, cursed' me that no man would ever love me and that I would know nothing but heartache."

"Your father was mad, and you are no fool." Bjorn spoke as he cupped her face in his hands, Nerida shaking her head no as she could not bring herself to believe him.

"Do you have room on your boat?"

"For you, I will always have room." Bjorn answered with a smile as Nerida pulled from his grasp and stood, her hands brushing over her tear stained face.

"Good, I am going with you to the Mediterranean."