Sigrida entered the warriors' hall, where a clatter of voices and laughter filled the air. The scent of roasted meat and spilled ale hung thick, testament to the evening's revelry. Warriors and shieldmaidens crowded the long tables, their spirits high with drink and fellowship.

  Agnar and Beowulf guided her through the throng, their imposing presence parting the crowd. Sigrida kept her gaze steady, refusing to shrink from the curious glances cast her way. As they approached Helga's table at the far end of the hall, she caught snippets of a raucous tale being spun.

  "...and there I was, naked as the day I was born, facing down a bear with nothing but a wooden spoon!" A bearded warrior gesticulated wildly, his audience roaring with laughter.

  Helga's booming laugh rose above the din. "By Odin's beard, Alfhild! You've outdone yourself this time!"

  As Sigrida walked towards Helga’s table, the imposing woman turned to her, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Ah, Sigrida! I was beginning to think you'd lost your way. Come and sit with us!"

  Sigrida politely nodded, sitting down. "Thank you for the invitation, Helga."

  Helga's expression shifted, becoming more thoughtful as she studied Sigrida. "Now, tell me true, girl. Are you eager for the coming battle? Ready to spill some blood for our dear Jarl Magnus?"

  Sigrida hesitated, choosing her words with care. "I... I had not planned on joining the battle, actually."

  Helga's eyebrows shot up, surprise evident on her face. "No? I would have thought you'd be chomping at the bit to fight alongside Brandr. Or perhaps..." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "you have other ways of supporting our future Jarl, eh?"

  Helga’s eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh come now, a girl ought to have a good time! No shame in that, eh?"

  The men around them chuckled, but Sigrida felt a flash of indignation. "You misunderstand," she said, her voice tight. "I have not had a 'good time' with Brandr, despite what you all think."

  Helga's eyebrows shot up, her grin widening. "Oh? That's a shame! I'd have thought a strapping young man like that would know how to give a woman a good time. Seems he's got some learning to do!"

  The table erupted in laughter. Sigrida's cheeks burned from Helga's deliberate misinterpretation of her comment. She looked away, her jaw clenched, fixing her gaze on the darkened rafters above.

  Helga studied Sigrida's expression for a moment, understanding more than Sigrida realized. Her grin softened slightly as she said, "Or perhaps you both have some learning to do, eh?"

  Sigrida remained silent, willing the conversation to move on.

  Helga's boisterous laughter faded, replaced by a keen-eyed stare that bore into Sigrida. The Sea Queen's striking features remained impassive, the fine lines around her eyes and mouth doing nothing to diminish her beauty. Her crew exchanged knowing glances, their low chuckles rippling through the tense air.

  Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. The warriors' focused attention pressed upon Sigrida, but she refused to squirm under pressure. Finally, she lifted her chin and met Helga's eyes.

  "Helga," Sigrida said, her voice steady, "why did you ask me to come here?"

  A flash of approval crossed Helga's face. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a low rumble. "Tell me true, girl. Are you set on turning your back on Skogstrand? On the chief who raised you? On the only home you've ever known?"

  Helga's husbands and crew leaned in, their eyes fixed on Sigrida, waiting for her answer.

  Sigrida paused, and replied steadily, "Torbjorn's concerns are not my own."

  Beowulf's voice cut through the silence, a challenge in his tone. "But he's your chieftain, girl. Isn't that reason enough to fight?"

  Every warrior at the table watched her intently. A lifetime of living behind the lies of others fell away as she chose honesty. She lifted her chin, her voice clear and resolute. "Torbjorn kept me captive, then threatened to cut off my hands for seeking freedom. His cruelty severed any bond between us. I owe him nothing, least of all my blade in battle."

  Helga's lips curled into the faintest of smiles, her eyes never leaving Sigrida's face.

  Sigmund's gruff voice broke the silence. "We're not fighting for Torbjorn's preservation either, girl. We expect to gain from this victory."

  Sigrida's gaze snapped up, her interest piqued.

  Agnar's smile widened as he leaned forward. "You know, Sigrida, there's always room on our fleet for a skilled shieldmaiden."

  Sigrida's eyes widened, uncertain she'd heard correctly. Years of mockery had taught her to expect ridicule, not respect.

  Helga's voice cut through her confusion. "You'll never regret standing your ground, girl. But if you run away, there's no taking it back. Ever."

  Sigrida's breath caught in her throat. It was as if Helga had reached into the depths of her mind, pulling out the very thoughts she'd kept hidden. How could this woman she barely knew see through her so easily?

  Beowulf's deep chuckle broke through her bewilderment. His weathered face grew serious as he met Sigrida's gaze. "Think on this - you'll be fighting alongside those who've stood by you. Your strength, your blade - they'll mean something to the ones who matter."

  After Beowulf's words, Sigrida fell silent, his message resonating deeply within her. Despite the recent challenges, her love for Astrid, Erik, and even Brandr remained unshaken. The thought of standing beside them in battle stirred something in her heart.

  Her eyes widened as understanding dawned - Helga's invitation wasn't just a jest, but a gateway to something more. Here was a chance to forge her own path, to hone her skills under seasoned warriors, to become more than what others had decided for her.

  She turned to Helga, meeting the Sea Queen's steady gaze. With newfound resolve in her voice, Sigrida said, "I would be honored to join your crew, Helga, and fight at your side."

  Helga's laughter boomed through the warriors' hall, her hand slapping her thigh with resounding force. Heads turned at the sound, warriors pausing mid-conversation to look their way. "That's the spirit, girl!" she roared, her approval evident in every syllable.

  Her husbands and warriors joined in, their laughter a chorus of affirmation. In that moment, Sigrida sensed she'd made more than just a choice to fight - she'd taken a step towards claiming her place in the world.

  Agnar's voice rose above the din. "A round of ale for our new crewmate!"

  Sigrida blinked, momentarily stunned by the swift turn of events. As a horn of ale was pressed into her hand, she took a tentative sip, her eyes darting around the table at her newfound comrades.

  As the horns of ale were drained, the hall's atmosphere shifted from boisterous to downright raucous, though the mood remained lighthearted. Sigmund, his eyes twinkling with mirth, began regaling the crew with tales of their early days.

  "Remember when Helga outdrunk that island chieftain?" he bellowed, drawing cheers from his shipmates. "Left him snoring in a horse trough while she sailed off with his entire crew!"

  Helga's thunderous laugh echoed across the yard. "Ah, my first fleet! But certainly not my last!"

  The crew roared with laughter, slapping the table and jostling each other good-naturedly. Sigrida sipped her ale quietly, watching Helga with a mixture of awe and fascination. The Sea Queen's larger-than-life presence seemed to fill the entire hall.

  Through the continuing revelry, Sigrida spotted movement near the hall's entrance. Astrid approached, followed closely by Erik and Brandr. They paused, taking in the unexpected scene before them – Sigrida seated among Helga's legendary crew.

  Astrid slipped onto the bench beside Sigrida, her expression a blend of worry and concern. Erik and Brandr joined them, with Brandr positioning himself next to Sigrida. A current of tension ran beneath the jovial atmosphere as the newcomers settled in, their questioning glances moving between Sigrida and the boisterous crew.

  Helga slammed her massive ale horn onto the table with a resounding thud, silencing the chatter. Her striking sapphire eyes, framed by flaxen hair, fixed on Brandr as a sly grin spread across her face.

  "Well, young Jarl-to-be," she boomed, her voice as commanding as her presence, "I hope you've got a strong heart, because your lover here will be joining my crew."

  Sigrida's cheeks flushed as she hastily interjected, "Actually, Brandr and I aren't—"

  But Helga steamrolled over her protest with a bawdy chuckle. "Let's hope you can weather the long, lonely nights without her to warm your furs, eh?"

  The Sea Queen's crew erupted in raucous laughter, elbowing each other and shooting knowing glances at Brandr. Helga punctuated her jest by slapping Brandr's shoulder with her powerful hand, nearly sending him tumbling off the bench.

  The young warrior's face reddened, caught between embarrassment and confusion as he struggled to regain his balance and his composure. Brandr's eyes flicked between Helga and Sigrida, uncertainty etched across his features. Astrid's mouth fell open in surprise, while Erik's expression remained carefully neutral, his eyes watchful.

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  Sigrida felt a wave of awkwardness wash over her. She hadn't considered how her friends would find out about her decision, let alone in such a public and abrupt manner. Their intense stares bore into her as she kept her eyes fixed on the table, tracing the wood grain with her finger. Beside her, Brandr shifted restlessly, his usual confidence noticeably absent. Across the table, Astrid's gaze darted between them, her brow furrowed in bewilderment.

  The silence stretched, punctuated only by Helga's boisterous laughter and the chatter of nearby tables.

  Astrid leaned forward, worry creasing her brow. "Sigrida, what's happening? Why didn't you tell me about this?"

  A flash of hurt crossed Sigrida's face. "When should I have told you? You've been..." She stopped herself, shaking her head slightly. "I only just decided, moments ago with Helga."

  Brandr's shoulders tensed, his expression pained as he stared at the table between them.

  Erik touched Astrid's arm gently. "Come," he murmured. "Let's give them space to talk."

  Astrid hesitated, but let Erik guide her away, casting concerned glances over her shoulder as they moved to another table.

  "Is it true?" Brandr finally asked, his voice low, controlled but tinged with uncertainty. "You're joining Helga's crew?"

  Sigrida nodded, finally meeting his gaze. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes – a mix of surprise and an emotion she couldn't quite place.

  "I see," Brandr said, his tone measured. He paused, seeming to choose his next words carefully. "I thought you would be sailing with us. What changed?"

  Sigrida took a deep breath, struggling to articulate the nebulous feeling that had led her to this decision. "It's... it's hard to explain, Brandr. I just know this is right for me. It feels like something I need to do."

  Brandr's brow furrowed, confusion evident in his eyes. Seeing his bewilderment, Sigrida felt compelled to clarify further.

  "Brandr," she said quietly, "I never wanted to be your concubine. That's not who I am. I left Torbjorn's household to escape that fate, not to fall into it again elsewhere." She paused, her eyes meeting his for a brief, charged moment. "Not even for you."

  Brandr's confusion deepened, his eyes widening with genuine surprise. "Concubine? Sigrida, I never—"

  She cut him off gently, leaning closer, her voice barely above a whisper and tinged with pain. "Your comment the other day, about me being... well, you made it sound like you saw me as some kind of..." she hesitated, then breathed the word, "hussy. Like that's all I was good for."

  The words hung between them, heavy with misunderstanding and unspoken feelings. Brandr's face cycled through a range of emotions – shock, realization, and then a dawning horror at how his words had been interpreted.

  Brandr's face softened into a warm smile. "Ah, Sigrida, that was just a jest. I never meant to upset you."

  "And then Jorunn and Svanhild told me that all your talk of adventure was just—"

  "What?" Brandr's smile vanished. "What did they tell you?"

  Sigrida twisted a loose thread on her sleeve. "That it was all just a fantasy. That you'd never really let a thrall become a shieldmaiden." Even as she spoke the words, she began to doubt. Had she let their whispers poison what Brandr had truly meant?

  Brandr shook his head, caught between amusement and anger. "And what would Jorunn and Svanhild know of my thoughts? I barely exchange two words with them in a month." His expression softened as he continued, voice low and earnest. "I care for you, Sigrida. I would never treat you with such disrespect."

  His words hung in the air, unfamiliar and startling to Sigrida. Care? For her? Besides Astrid, and perhaps Asbjorn and Erik, no one had ever expressed such sentiment. She'd been treated as little more than a useful animal, never a person worthy of affection. Especially not from someone like Brandr, who could have any woman he desired.

  "Why didn't you come to me?" he asked softly. "Why let their words fester instead of asking me directly?"

  "You were never around," Sigrida murmured, staring at the table. The unspoken words hung between them – that a thrall wasn't worth making time for.

  Brandr sighed heavily. "I had duties, Sigrida. The war preparations consumed every moment. Even the drinking with warriors served its purpose – I needed to be with them, as their leader." He paused, studying her downturned face. "But I should have found someone to help you adjust to Fjell?rn. Rannveig, perhaps. That was my mistake."

  Sigrida watched Brandr speak of his warriors - men who would soon risk their lives trusting in his leadership. These men needed a leader who understood them, who ensured they had the weapons and plans to survive the coming battle.

  "You're right. The warriors needed their leader." She lifted her gaze from the table. "I could have gone to Rannveig. Or Astrid. Instead of letting my thoughts churn."

  "Does that mean," Brandr said with an easy smile, "we're good now?"

  Sigrida returned his smile softly, nodding.

  "Perfect! Then you'll be joining my crew after all?" The joy in his eyes was unmistakable.

  "No," Sigrida said quietly, her voice tight. "I'm still joining Helga's crew. This is something I want to do for myself."

  Brandr studied her face, seeing the same determination he felt when leading his men. He'd wanted to keep her close, protect her, but that wasn't what she needed.

  "You'll learn a lot from Helga and her crew," he said, managing a smile. "They're seasoned warriors with tales to rival the skalds."

  He paused, then continued with quiet intensity, "But Sigrida, if you ever change your mind, you need only say so. And... I'll still be here for you at the end of this journey, whatever you decide."

  Sigrida felt a surge of emotion at Brandr's words, her heart swelling with gratitude and affection. For a moment, she almost gave in to the impulse to embrace him, to let all the pent-up feelings from their tumultuous journey overflow. But as she started to lean towards him, she suddenly became aware of their surroundings.

  The room had fallen oddly quiet. Sigrida looked around, her cheeks flushing as she realized that everyone at Helga's table was staring at them with unguarded sentimentality. The hardened warriors, usually so boisterous and rough, seemed transfixed by their exchange.

  One particularly large Viking, his skin covered in intricate tattoos and a bone necklace adorning his neck, had a single tear streaming from his one good eye.

  Agnar, typically stoic and reserved, was sniffling audibly. "It's just so beautiful," he mumbled, hastily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

  Even Helga's eyes seemed to glisten with emotion. Next to her, Sigmund and Beowulf broke the silence with gruff but encouraging comments.

  "Go on, don't mind us," Sigmund said, waving his hand dismissively.

  Beowulf nodded in agreement. "Yes, pretend we're not even here." He took a long sip from his drinking horn, his head tipped over and resting in one hand as he gazed at them.

  Sigrida leaned closer to Brandr, speaking under her breath. "Maybe we should change the subject," she suggested, her eyes darting around at their enraptured audience. The moment of intimacy had passed, replaced by a mix of embarrassment and amusement at their unexpected spectators.

  Brandr cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck as he realized how many hardened warriors had witnessed his emotional exchange with Sigrida. He rose from the bench, smoothing down his tunic in an attempt to regain his composure.

  Before stepping away, he leaned close to Sigrida, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "Well, I hope you'll still teach me all you learn from Helga." He punctuated his words with a playful wink that made Sigrida turn her head, a mix of exasperation and fondness in her expression.

  True to his nature, Brandr couldn't resist one last flirtatious gesture. He reached out, giving a gentle tug to a long lock of Sigrida's hair, his fingers lingering for just a moment. With a roguish grin, he sauntered away from the table, ready to carouse with the other warriors and reclaim his usual carefree demeanor.

  Sigrida watched him go, shaking her head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Brandr would always be Brandr, she thought, equal parts charming and infuriating. She sipped her ale slowly as Sigmund, silver hair catching the firelight, began telling tales of his early days with Helga - of young love, adventure on the high seas, and sentimental moments where they grew together. Helga's rich laughter echoed through the hall as she recalled the hardship they had overcome together in those younger years so long ago.

  As soon as Brandr had left, Astrid swooped in and claimed his vacant seat. She leaned forward, chin propped in her hands, eyes narrowed intently at Sigrida.

  "Alright, tell me everything!" Astrid demanded in an excited whisper. "What in Odin's name is going on?"

  Sigrida offered a faint smile, then met her friend's gaze. "I'm not sure where to start, Astrid. I've felt... lost. And alone. There's been so much happening, and I couldn't make sense of it all."

  Astrid's brow furrowed with concern. "Why didn't you come to me?"

  "You seemed so happy with Erik. I didn't want to intrude," Sigrida said softly.

  Sigrida spoke of Jorunn and Svanhild's misguided advice, Kol's unsettling attention, her growing sense of isolation. As she explained her decision to join Helga's crew, Astrid's face shifted from confusion to anger to fierce determination.

  "By the gods, Sigrida!" Astrid said, her fists clenching. "I had no idea. If I'd known, I would have... I should have been there for you."

  Sigrida placed a calming hand on Astrid's arm. "It's not your fault. I should have spoken up sooner. We both got caught up in our own worlds, I suppose."

  Astrid's anger softened into fierce loyalty. "Well, that ends now. No one treats my best friend like that and gets away with it. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, they'll have me to answer to."

  Sigrida couldn't help but smile at Astrid's protectiveness. "Thank you, Astrid. But you should know - I'm still joining Helga's crew. It's something I need to do for myself, to find my own path."

  Astrid's expression wavered between concern and acceptance. "I may not understand completely, but I trust you. Just promise you'll tell me if you need anything. We're in this together, remember?"

  Feeling reassured by Astrid's unwavering loyalty, Sigrida felt ready to face the challenges ahead, including returning to Skogstrand. As the evening wore on, the two friends talked animatedly, making up for lost time and reaffirming the bond that had always been their source of strength. Their laughter and chatter blended with the sounds of the feast, a reminder that even in uncertain times, their friendship remained a constant.

  Sigrida squeezed Astrid's hand. "There's one more thing I need to do to make things right," she said softly. She thanked Helga and her crew, then stood from the table. Across the warriors' hall, Brandr's booming laughter rose above the din as he regaled his men with tales.

  With a deep breath, Sigrida stepped out into the golden evening light and made her way to Magnus's longhouse. Inside, the central hearth cast a warm glow throughout the space, and there, lost in thought, sat Rannveig, absently stroking Bloodpaws who lay curled in her lap.

  Sigrida approached, her footsteps echoing in the stillness. Rannveig looked up, surprise flickering across her face as Sigrida drew near.

  "Have you been sitting here alone all this time?" Sigrida asked, settling beside her.

  Rannveig smiled. "I grew up in a fortress full of men. I'm used to being alone." She tickled Bloodpaws under his chin as he stretched lazily between them. "Besides, I have this one for company."

  Sigrida took a deep breath, her hands clasped in her lap. "I'm sorry I got angry and walked out on you earlier," she said softly. "It wasn't fair of me."

  Rannveig waved her hand dismissively, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of relief. "It's nothing," she murmured.

  "You've been a good friend to me, Rannveig," Sigrida continued, her voice earnest. "I know you're only trying to look out for your family."

  Rannveig grew quiet, her gaze dropping to the flames dancing in the hearth. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm thinking of you too, Sigrida. I don't want to see you hurt." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Clan politics, especially in a family like ours... they're treacherous waters to navigate."

  The crackling of the fire filled the silence between them for a moment before Rannveig continued, her eyes meeting Sigrida's. "But whatever happens after the battle, whatever you and Brandr decide... I'd like us to remain friends."

  Sigrida felt a warmth bloom in her chest, a smile tugging at her lips. "I'd like that too," she replied softly.

  As night drew near, the two women sat quietly, taking turns petting Bloodpaws, his contented purrs mingling with the distant sounds of warriors' revelry from the courtyard. In the peace of the longhouse, amidst the uncertainties that lay ahead, they had found an understanding that ran deeper than words and defied the rigid boundaries of their world.

  We are at the end of Act 2. I'm curious - do you have a favorite character?