Sigrida bolted upright, her heart pounding, a silent scream caught in her throat. The nightmare clung to her like a damp cloak - she had been running, terror nipping at her heels, the threat of capture looming ever closer. What fate awaited her if caught, she couldn't say, but the fear had been palpable, real.

  As her breathing slowed, Sigrida glanced around the dim room. Rannveig and Astrid slept peacefully. Quietly, she slipped from her bed and crept through the cavernous longhouse. Thin shafts of dawn light seeped through the cracks, casting eerie shadows.

  Outside, Sigrida inhaled the crisp morning air. Fjell?rn's timber walls and watchtowers loomed before her, encircled by a sturdy palisade. Beyond, misty mountains reached towards the heavens, their slopes carpeted with lush forests. The faintest hint of sea air mingled with the earthy scents of the fortress.

  As Sigrida's gaze swept over the breathtaking scene, a weight settled in her chest. The vastness of the world beyond only emphasized the boundaries of her newfound confinement.

  "Sigrida?" a melodious voice called, startling her from her reverie.

  Sigrida turned to find the two women that she had been introduced to at dinner approaching, their beauty even more striking in the morning light. Their steps were graceful, their smiles warm and inviting.

  "How... how did you know my name?" Sigrida asked, caught off guard by their sudden appearance.

  The darker-haired woman's eyes crinkled with a genuine smile. "We've heard so much about you. I'm Jorunn, and this is Svanhild," she said, gesturing to her fair-haired companion.

  Svanhild's smile was gentle. "We thought you might like some company. Would you care to walk with us?"

  Sigrida hesitated, uncertainty fluttering in her stomach. Their interest was surprising, and she recalled how their presence had flustered Brandr and chilled Rannveig's demeanor that night. Yet their manner was welcoming, and she found herself curious about these women who had such an effect on her friends.

  "I... I suppose that would be nice," Sigrida replied, her voice tentative but not unwilling.

  Jorunn beamed, taking Sigrida's other arm. "Wonderful! We have so much to talk about."

  As they walked, Jorunn and Svanhild's movements were graceful, almost choreographed. Their laughter tinkled like bells, and they constantly adjusted their hair or jewelry, as if always aware of being watched.

  "We've heard about your... adventure," Jorunn said, her voice soft and sympathetic. "It must have been terrifying."

  Sigrida's steps faltered, her heart racing. Before she could respond, Svanhild chimed in, her tone consoling. "Don't fret, we're glad you ran. Gunnar would have been a terrible master to serve. Cold hands, hard heart, that one."

  Jorunn nodded, wrinkling her nose delicately. "And so ugly! Can you imagine having to look at that face every day?"

  The women giggled, the sound light and practiced. Sigrida's discomfort was intensified, her eyes darting between the two women and the path back to the longhouse.

  Noticing her distress, Jorunn's voice softened further. "Oh, sweetling, we don't mean to upset you. We understand more than you might think."

  Sigrida's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? How could you possibly understand?"

  The two women exchanged another look, their expressions a perfect mixture of pride and sympathy.

  "Sigrida, dear," Svanhild said, her voice barely above a whisper, "we're thralls too. Just like you."

  As the words sank in, understanding bloomed in Sigrida's mind. Their beautiful clothes, the glittering jewels, their practiced manners and seductive speech - it all made sense now. The reason for Rannveig and Brandr's discomfort the previous night became clear.

  "You're... you're Magnus's concubines," Sigrida whispered, the realization settling over her like a heavy cloak.

  Jorunn nodded, her fingers delicately tracing the intricate embroidery on her sleeve. "We are. Not everyone approves, but we have security, comfort. Magnus gives us what we need."

  As they spoke, Sigrida noticed how every gesture, every word seemed carefully chosen, as if they were constantly performing. It was beautiful, but somehow sad, like pretty birds in a cage.

  Svanhild gently squeezed Sigrida's arm. "Look at us now." Her eyes sparkled as she touched the gleaming pendant at her throat. "Who would have thought simple thralls would one day wear embroidery and gold?"

  "You both look very lovely," Sigrida mumbled softly, unsure how to respond.

  Jorunn's face lit up with practiced delight. "Oh, thank you, dear! Magnus does have excellent taste." She smoothed her dress, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "It's not love, perhaps, but it's his own kind of caring."

  The women exchanged knowing glances, a heavy silence settling between them. Svanhild leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell us, Sigrida dear, do you know who you'll be serving? Magnus or Brandr?"

  Sigrida felt her heart skip a beat, struggling to keep her face neutral as shock coursed through her. The idea of being a concubine to either man had never crossed her mind, and the casual way Svanhild presented the options left her momentarily speechless.

  "I... I'm not sure what you mean by 'serving'," she said slowly, her eyes darting between the two women.

  Jorunn's eyes flashed with anxiety, then determination. Her jeweled hand trembled slightly as she adjusted her hair. "Come now, Sigrida. Has Magnus shown you any... special attention?"

  "No, I've never spoken to him."

  The women exchanged quick glances, relief softening their features. "Then Brandr," Svanhild continued, her voice urgent. "He must have discussed your... future here."

  The question hung in the air, delicate yet laden with implication. Jorunn's smile was warm, but her eyes held an overeager intensity as she studied Sigrida's reaction.

  Feeling cornered, Sigrida blurted out, "Brandr's promised that if I work hard and I'm persistent, I could join his crew and fight alongside my friends."

  Amusement spread across Jorunn's face. "Ah, Brandr," she said, her voice warm but knowing. "Always did love a bit of fierceness in his women."

  Sigrida's eyes widened. "No, it's not like that—"

  Jorunn's eyes gleamed with understanding. "Oh, Sigrida," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Of course, Brandr would make you feel that way. He's such a charmer. He wants you as his shieldmaiden, but not in the way you're thinking."

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Sigrida felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. She opened her mouth to protest, but doubt had already begun to creep in. Had she misunderstood Brandr's intentions?

  "But... but he promised to teach me," Sigrida said, her voice smaller now. "He said we could travel the world. He was going to show me navigation by the stars."

  Jorunn and Svanhild shared a look, their eyes a mixture of amusement and sympathy. Svanhild's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Oh, sweetling, I'm sure you'll shine brightly in his night sky."

  Jorunn and Svanhild exchanged glances, barely containing their giggles. "Isn't she precious?" Jorunn whispered theatrically to Svanhild. "Such innocence. I can see why he's drawn to her."

  The ground seemed to shift beneath Sigrida's feet, her dreams of respect and adventure crumbling like sand. A chill crept through her as she realized her role in Fjell?rn might be far from what she'd imagined. Her voice quavered, barely audible. "Why are you telling me this?"

  Jorunn's face softened, her hand reaching out to gently stroke Sigrida's arm. "Oh, don't fret," she cooed, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "We can see you're lost, uncertain. But we can help you find your place here."

  Svanhild nodded eagerly. "We can teach you everything you need to know. How to speak, how to move, how to make powerful men see your worth."

  "We're telling you this because we want to help you, dear," Svanhild explained, her tone gentle but firm. "We can guide you, teach you how to navigate this new world. Who to charm, who to avoid, how to secure your position."

  Jorunn leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "We've been where you are, Sigrida. We know how overwhelming it can be. But with our help, you can thrive here."

  Sigrida paused, her breath catching slightly as the weight of their words sank in.

  Jorunn and Svanhild continued chatting, their tone light as if discussing the weather. "So, tell us, Sigrida," Svanhild said with a playful smile, "what have you figured out about Brandr? What does he like?"

  Sigrida blinked, puzzled by their interest in Brandr's preferences. "Uh... ships?"

  The women burst into giggles. "No, silly!" Jorunn said, her eyes twinkling. "What does he like about you?"

  Svanhild leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Yes, once you know what he likes, you can do more of it to secure him. It's how to survive, dear."

  Sigrida stood frozen, unable to process Svanhild's words. The world around her seemed to blur, the sounds of the fortress fading into a dull hum. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. How could she even begin to address such a foreign concept?

  "First," Jorunn continued, reaching for Sigrida's braid, "you must let this lovely hair flow free. Men don't want to see warrior's plaits."

  "But when I'm fighting—"

  "And that leather armor," Svanhild interrupted, wrinkling her nose. "So crude. Nothing too heavy—you want to show plenty of skin. There are much more... appealing ways to dress as a shieldmaiden. Something that catches the light, shows your figure."

  "You'll want to stay out of the sun too," Jorunn added, patting Sigrida's cheek. "No good having weather-beaten skin like those other warrior women. Morning practice only, dear."

  They continued chattering over her protests, discussing her as though she were a hall to be decorated for a feast. Sigrida felt her face flush with indignation, but they seemed not to notice, too absorbed in their plans for her transformation.

  "I'm sorry," Sigrida cut in, her voice faltering. "I just remembered... ah... I have to go."

  Jorunn and Svanhild exchanged knowing smiles, their eyes following her with a mixture of pity and amusement.

  Sigrida turned and walked away, her pace quickening with each step. Her heart pounded, but whether from the brief exertion or the weight of the concubines' earlier words about survival and securing her position, she couldn't tell.

  As she approached the courtyards near the armory, the thundering of paws made her turn. Relief flooded through her at the sight of Liv and Lina bounding around the corner—where the wolfhounds were, the twins would surely follow.

  "Sigrida!" Hervor called out cheerfully. "Perfect timing! Have you heard who's been here?"

  "Who?" Sigrida asked, grateful for any distraction from her troubling conversation.

  Hilde's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Helga the Hussy! She arrived days ago with her fleet!"

  "Yeah!" Hervor chimed in, practically bouncing on her toes. "And she's pledged her whole crew to the war effort!"

  The twins' enthusiasm was contagious, momentarily pushing aside Sigrida's tumultuous thoughts. "Helga the Hussy?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Who's that?"

  Hervor and Hilde exchanged incredulous glances. "You've never heard of Helga the Hussy?" Hervor asked, her voice filled with awe.

  Hilde grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. "Oh, Sigrida, you're in for a treat. Helga's a legend!" As they walked along the side of a building, Hilde animatedly recounted tales of Helga's prowess as a sea captain, her eyes bright with admiration.

  As they turned the corner, they came upon a group of warriors engaged in boisterous swordplay. Brandr stood at the center, his blade flashing in the sunlight as he sparred with another warrior. "Oh, look, our cousin Brandr! We need a word with him," she said, nudging her sister.

  The twins marched to the edge of the practice area, waiting for a break in the action. When the fighters paused to catch their breath, Hilde called out, "Brandr! Why didn't you tell us Helga was here?"

  Brandr turned, wiping sweat from his brow, an amused smile playing on his lips. "I... didn't know it mattered so much to you," he said, lowering his sword. His eyes sought out Sigrida, hoping to catch her attention.

  Sigrida kept her eyes downcast, the unsettling conversation with Jorunn and Svanhild fresh in her mind. Their words had cast Brandr's past behavior in a new light—his discomfort when they'd approached at dinner, the way he'd avoided explaining their relationship to others. Perhaps she'd been naive, seeing partnership and adventure where he saw only another pretty distraction. The thought settled like a stone in her stomach.

  Hervor stepped forward, her face suddenly serious. "Brandr, we're talking about THE Helga," she said, emphasizing each word. "The one and only Helga the Hussy."

  "As shieldmaidens in training, there's so much we could learn from her," Hilde said, her eyes shining with admiration. The warriors' laughter rumbled around them, clearly entertained by the twins' enthusiasm. She rolled her eyes at their continued amusement but pressed on undeterred. "Her battle tactics, her leadership skills..."

  "Not to mention her legendary strength," Hervor chimed in. "They say she can outdrink and outfight any man in her crew!"

  As the twins carried on, Brandr leaned towards Sigrida, a mischievous glint in his eye. In a staged whisper that was far from discreet, he said, "I hope you're planning to learn some of Helga's other... skills as well." He followed the comment with an exaggerated wink. Several warriors nearby smirked at his joke, their amusement palpable.

  The words pierced through Sigrida's fragile composure. Her initial doubts about Brandr, fueled by Jorunn and Svanhild's words, came crashing back. She felt her throat tighten, tears threatening to spill. Was this all Brandr saw in her? A potential "hussy" in training?

  Oblivious to Sigrida's distress, the twins pressed on with their demands, their enthusiasm to meet the legendary shieldmaiden undiminished.

  Hilde crossed her arms. "Thanks to your egregious oversight, we've missed two whole days of learning from Helga!"

  "So you'd better make it up to us by introducing us," Hervor added boldly.

  The warriors chuckled at the twins' audacity in confronting their captain. "Best listen to these two," one called out. "They're as persistent as hungry wolves – and twice as fierce!"

  Brandr grinned, "Alright, alright. I'll introduce you to Helga."

  His eyes found Sigrida's, warm with invitation, but before she could respond, he was already turning toward a group of warriors near the practice ring.

  "Come meet my crew," Brandr called, gesturing to the warriors. "This is Sigrida, she'll be my personal guardian." His casual wink made the men laugh.

  "Guardian?" one warrior snorted. "You'll need more than one to keep you out of trouble."

  Another elbowed him, grinning. "Oh, I think she'll keep him in plenty of trouble," he said with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows. The warriors' laughter echoed across the yard.

  Shame burned through Sigrida as their implications sank in. "I need to find Astrid," she muttered, turning away from their grins.

  "Gods, Brandr," Hervor groaned, throwing up her hands. "Save your awful jokes for someone who cares. Come on, Hilde—Thor's waiting, and I want to see him try to block that new move we practiced."

  "Right behind you," Hilde called, whistling for the dogs. "Better hurry before he claims he's too tired to spar!"

  Their cheerful banter faded as Sigrida walked away, her steps quickening with each memory of Honningdal. All his talk of adventure and joining his crew felt hollow now, tainted by the warriors' knowing looks and the concubines' warnings. She'd been so certain she'd seen a different side of him, one that valued her strength and spirit. Now she wondered if she'd simply seen what she wanted to see.

  She found herself wandering the paths between the longhouses, neither seeking company nor solitude, too restless to stop yet with nowhere to go. The familiar grounds of Fjell?rn, once full of promise, now felt more confining than Skogstrand had ever been.