The morning mist hangs low over Kattegat’s fields. The distant sound of hooves echoes across the village as Bjorn rides into view, his leather armor glinting faintly in the rising sun. Behind him, a small group of shieldmaidens, including Lagertha, moves with purposeful precision. The air is thick with the scent of smoke from the previous skirmishes and the tension of a city about to be reclaimed.

Bjorn dismounts with practiced ease, brushing his fingers along the horse’s neck before turning toward the familiar wooden hall of Kattegat. His eyes sweep over the crowd, finally landing on a familiar figure among Ragnar’s loyal shieldmaidens. A faint, unreadable smile tugs at his lips.

“Well… look at you. Not a girl anymore, I see.”