Återkomst: The Swedish word for return or the act of returning home.

Bjorn retreated out of the bright red tent while a crowd of warriors stood outside the tent. His thoughts churned like the tides below the sea. It's been three days since he last saw Amirah. With all the information and rumours he collected, she was pronounced dead, though her body was never found. His chest burned in regret. He should have never allowed her to come on this trip: she risked her life twice and almost died the first time. Now he has to mourn the deaths of Amirah and his father.

He sat on a crate outside of the tent. Bjorn refused to look anyone in the eye. His gaze was blurry as a coat of tears covered the sclera of his eyes. The sky created a veil of dark clouds as a crack of thunder broke the silence of the air.

He glanced toward the edge of the crowd; as a crack of thunder rippled across the sky. Off in -- the distance, he spotted an individual with a blue cloak and their hoot-up. Bjorn slowly stood up, wondering if his prayers were answered if the gods brought Amirah back to him.

Bjorn walked away from the crowd and approached the woman in the cloak.

"Tell me the gods brought you back to me, Amirah," he whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders.

A soft smile curved at the corner of her lips as the woman removed her dark blue hood. Her golden eyes gleamed, melting his heart.

"Thank the gods," he pulled her close as she shed tears: of joy.

"I told you: I'd come back to you," Amirah whispered as he tilted his forehead against hers.

Once Lagertha and Floki noticed Bjorn's actions, they rushed to his side. Their heart skipped a beat when; they noticed Amirah's presence.

"How? Amirah, I watched another Parisian strike you down!" Lagertha questioned in surprise.

"The gods favour you, Amirah. They protect their best warriors hoping for them to return home," Floki replied.

"How did you do it?" Bjorn pulled away and looked her in the eyes.

"I had help escaping the fortress," Amirah replied, feeling her throat become dry.

"Who?" Floki questioned as all eyes were on Amirah.

"A friend. My brother helped me escape," Amirah didn't care if he was a different individual. He shared the same face from her memories. However, he refused to go with her, despite her intentions.

"Are you feeling okay?" Floki questioned, noticing the slight change in her voice.

"Yes, I'm fine. You may not believe: me, but I lost my brother: a long time ago. And I finally found him. He's the Captain of the Kingsglaive, and he has a plan: to get us into Paris," Amirah attempted to deceive them so they wouldn't kill him on the raid.

"How's Ragnar?" Amirah questioned as the trio became silent. She scanned them for answers, but reality soon hit her.

"He's dead." Amirah's heart sank when she heard those words; out of Lagertha's mouth.

So many questions ran through her head like a raging inferno ready to burst. So much she'd missed over the past several days being locked in a cell. Nothing could take away the fact she wasn't there to say a couple of good words to him.

"Where is he now?" she questioned, looking for answers.

"We're hoping Valhalla, but his body is over there," Bjorn pointed to the red tent: his father's wooden coffin was in.

"Will you take me to him?" Amirah questioned. 

Bjorn nodded in response as he interwinds his hand with hers. Amirah followed Bjorn, noticing how relaxed his shoulders became when he was with her. She felt happy to stand by his side again and be with him. She vowed the night they became one: that she would stand by his side in life and death.

Her brows furrowed as she saw a handmade, wooden coffin shaped like a Viking ship. The box: was handcrafted with the finest wood and engraved with deep carvings.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," Amirah mumbled as Bjorn wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Neither did I. He faded in the middle of the night; yesterday. I don't think this will be the last time we see him," Amirah understood his words, referring to Valhalla.

Her attention turned toward two other warriors who came in to retrieve his coffin. With great haste, both took each end and lifted it. Amirah couldn't believe Ragnar was dead. She understood he'd taken a great: fall from the fortress and became sick, but she never would've imagined his demise to end like this. 

Amirah retrieved another set of armour. She changed into a black leather doublet with golden lining on the sleeves, accompanied by: a red cowl over her shoulders. Amirah wasn't going to be cut down in the heart of battle. She refused to let go of her destiny. One way or another, she was going to: help the Vikings win the war. Despite Paris' security, she was going to; break down those doors and take care of the Emperor herself.

An echoing drumbeat echoed throughout the front of; Paris' gates as traditional singing was heard at the front of the line. Those wearing wolf pelts as hoods continued to shake their staffs, causing the chains attached to the edge to jingle with each beat.

The large, wooden doors to the gate opened, revealing a dozen guards and the pope. The man was dressed in white and gold as he held: a staff with a golden cross: on the end. Amirah made sure to conceal her face with the maroon-coloured scarf she placed over the bridge of her nose.

She carried the coffin alongside the men. Once she followed the pope onto the bridge, each guard followed behind them if they were to try anything. Amirah's gut began to twist as the wound on her arm began to burn. Slowly her vision started to spin. She shook her head, bringing her vision back to normal.

The doors behind them closed, leaving the rest of the army and Bjorn behind. Anxiety struck her with; full force, creating a terrifying feeling in her gut. What if someone recognized her?

Her path was led along Paris' cobblestone streets. Amirah was led down a vast path with people on either side quoting: 'In the name of the father and the son, and the Holy Spirit.' Loud pangs from the church bells rang in the air as they continued: to walk toward the cathedral. Amirah felt her head thrash in pain as she: stepped closer to the cathedral. Odd stares of judgment were sent her way as she kept her eyes forward. At this point, she didn't bother to argue or give them a bad look.

'I see the gates of the white city and all who oppose. I see bells ringing for an untimely death. You'll hence the torch up to your lips choosing whether the flame dies.' The final words from the Seer echoed in her head as the doors to the chapel opened.

Soft echoes of singing: were heard, almost as if angels sang for Ragnar's death. Amirah couldn't believe she was standing in another historical place. Each move she made, she knew it would be recorded in history. History remembers names, not blood.

Her gaze examined the wonderous chapel. Tall ceilings with large, stained glass windows represent their Christian faith. The wonderous designs of the cathedral made her astounded to see. Several large candle holders with lit embers danced around the room as more Parisians came to see the funeral of a mighty warrior.

They followed the pope to the end of the red carpet and placed the coffin down on the small wooden pedestal. Her eyes locked with Alexander, who stood: next to a whale of a  man. He gave her a slight nod before they set down the coffin and backed up a couple: of steps. Amirah was relieved to see Alexander was okay. It was almost as if a mountain was lifted off her shoulders.

"Gloire au Pére, au Fils et au Saint-Esprit. Comme Il état au commencement, maintenant et toujours pour les sičcles des sičcles. Amen. Glory to the Father, to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. As he was in the beginning, now and always for centuries: of centuries. Amen." The pope shared a French prayer as he flicked a bottle of holy water on the coffin.

Amirah watched the pope sprinkle water onto the coffin's lid. She looked down, giving her condolence to the dead. As soon as she looked elsewhere, her eyes locked with the Emperor -- who seemed to notice who she was. His dark brown hair and curly mustache weren't making him look any friendlier.

Her attention turned toward a loud thumping sound. The coffin lid slid off and crashed into the floor. Several; gasps from lords and ladies were heard from the crowd as Ragnar turned to his side. Amirah's lips curved into a smile beneath her scarf as she noticed Ragnar's magician act. She couldn't believe he pulled the 'Trojan Horse' act on Paris. This deception sent a new wave of jarring sensation through her soul.

He stood up and looked around. Ragnar's gaze soon locked with the Emperor's gaze. As he leaped from the coffin, Amirah and the others sprinted toward the coffin and removed one of the animal pelts, revealing swords, daggers, and axes. Splintering crackles from swords were drawn from each guard's sheath as Ragnar pointed the tip of the blade toward the Emperor's golden and jewelled collar.

The Emperor began to shake in his boots as he slowly stepped back. His cowardly gaze looked in every direction for help. His back soon bumped into the alter, shifting the golden cross back and forth before haunting. Amirah placed one foot forward and one foot: back, waiting for her enemy to attack.

Ragnar's gaze shifted from the Emperor to the golden cross. He knew God was watching over him, telling him to spare the Emperor. Instead, he thrusts his blade into the pope's throat, making the: crowd scream in fright. 

Amirah took up arms as a fight began to protect the Emperor. Her gaze was locked onto the Emperor: a debt she needed to be fulfilled. Each man who stood in her way was cut down with her axe. A slice to the leg, a slash in the throat, an breakage in the skull. She continued to weave her body left and right as she bounced on her toes, making her enemy work harder to attack her. Adrenalin continued to crawl through her veins as she slayed one by one. 

Alexander grabbed the Emperor's daughter and placed a dagger toward her neck. Using her as a diversion would give Amirah enough time to seal the deal she made. Havoc unleashed around her as the slaughter continued. Blood painted the cathedral walls a new coat as blood coated her face.

She locked eyes with the Emperor as she stood: in front of him with a dangerous gaze. Her eyes glowed in golden light as the Emperor shuttered, shaking in his boots. At this point, he assumed she was the devil in disguise. She clamped her left hand around the scarf that covered her face.

"Remember me?" Amirah questioned as the man widened his eyes in fear. He remembered her from the day he burned Alice against a post.

"It couldn't be. . .  Your dead!" his voice trembled in fear as his eyes darted toward her belt.

"Who are you really?" his limbs began to shake as his breathing became rapid.

"Ironstorm," she replied, swinging her axe toward his throat. Her breath hitched as she felt a sharp, agonizing: pain in her lower gut. Amirah's hands trembled as her gaze flickered to her lower: gut. The golden and black hues of the shiny dagger caught her attention as it was plunged into her: gut. Slowly, blood started to ooze out of the bottom of her leather doublet. Amirah leisurely slid her hand to the hilt of the blade. Her fingers encircled the; blade as she pulled it slowly out of her gut.

She felt each layer of skin rip within her gut. Her eyes filled with tears as she yanked the bloody piece of metal from her stomach. 

"Wrong move, asshole!" she said between her grit teeth. Her time began to tick as she wasted no time plunging the blade into the Emperor's throat. Blood flowed out of his neck like a rushing river. His body soon became limp when he crashed to the floor.

Amirah placed her dagger back in its sheath. She clamped her hand on her stomach, watching the blood ooze between her finger. Her golden gaze watched; the Emperor's crown rolled across the floor and hit her boot. She curled her fingers around the spine of the; crown. Amirah knew he wasn't going to last long as a monarch. He was better off dead than alive.

The room went silent as all eyes were on Amirah. She gripped the crown between her palm and slowly hobbled toward Ragnar and the other men. No one dared to touch Amirah until she placed an arm around Ragnar's shoulders. He walked alongside Amirah, supporting each step she took. Although Amirah was from a different family, he considered her: as a daughter. There's nothing he wouldn't do for Amirah, mainly through the hardest of times.

Alexander released his hostile hold on the Princess and set her free. She held her dress and sprinted toward Paris and her guards.

Amirah's mission was complete. There was nothing left to fight for. It was like the silence after the bullet. It sent a jarring sensation through her. Everything she knew was over, and she would have to lay down her gun and return home.

At the end of the bridge, she saw a flood of Vikings wash through the bridge and into the city at Bjorn's command. Amirah felt her legs buckle as her vision started to blur. At the end of the tunnel, she saw Bjorn. Her energy soon failed her as she collapsed to the ground. 

Bjorn's heart sank as he rushed toward Amirah, holding her hand and cradling her head: in his grasp. His chest burned when he heard a soft whimper escape her lips.

"I did it, Bjorn. I killed him: and I helped you conquer Paris," her voice quivered in pain as she knew this was the end.

Bjorn held back the tears as he shared a soft smile. "Yes, Min kärlek. My Love. You conquered Paris. May the gods of Asguard guide your steps toward their gates. In your journey, may it be safe and filled with light. May you find strength from Thor in your darkest of hours. May you find wisdom from Odin in times of confusion. May you find beauty and lasting bonds from Freja and Frey. May your web be spun tightly with that which: makes you stronger, happy, and wise. And may the gods always look upon you with good grace," Bjorn kept his eyes on her, sharing a small prayer while she was awake.

"I love you, Amirah. May the gods guide us to each other in the next life," his heart swelled with agony as the saliva in his throat burned like a thousand needles.

"Bjorn. I love you, too. Take me home," tears began to spill from her eyes as her chest burned in pain. Her oxygen and heart were slowly fading, along with her gaze.

"Just hang on, Amirah. We're going home," the tears from his eyes began to spill as he leaned in to capture her lips once more. Her golden hues faded in colour as her last breath escaped her lips.

She was gone.

Amirah Ironstorm: she had a heart of iron and the fury; of the storm. Some called her a Valkyrie, while others called her Kingslayer. Others considered her as a daughter, a friend, or a wife. She was their warrior from the stars. A warrior that sought to stand alongside the greatest warriors history has ever seen and follow them into battle. History remembers names, not blood. She died with honour and sacrifice.

Amirah travelled among the stars. She would never be forgotten by the few that stood by her side. Although her time was short, she was meant to return to Odin and his warriors in Valhalla.

Though he had other plans for her. . .

A soft beeping sound was heard in the background as her eyes shot open and her lungs filled with air. Her body shot up like a bullet. 

She was blinded by the white light that consumed her. Slowly, her golden gaze looked through her long lashes and saw that she was alive. Joy consumed her when she saw she was in a hospital bed.

"Oh, you're awake!" She saw a dark-haired doctor with a long white coat walk in.

"How. . .?" Amirah mumbled and scanned her body for wounds and scratches. Every single: scar, mark and wound was on her body, including her stab wound, which was now stitched and bandaged.

"You were in a coma for a year, Amirah. I know it may sound strange: but you were found on a shore alongside some," the doctor halted her words and pointed toward the pile of armour in the corner of the room, "odd armour, weapons, and a crown," he raised a brow in concern.

How was she going to wiggle her way out of this one?

"Believe it or not, I walked amongst the gates of hell and back," she chuckled as the doctor nodded.

"I'm joking! It's a cosplay of a shieldmaiden," Amirah lied, feeling slightly embarrassed by her lie.

"Oh! Got it," he nodded, ignoring she might; be batshit insane.

"Your oxygen levels look good: and your wounds are healing: up nicely," he flipped the paper over his clipboard.

"Whenever you're ready, we can release you," he dropped his hands while he held his clipboard.

"Yeah, I'd like that,"

Due to the lack of clothes: Amirah had. She ended; up wearing her dark blue tunic, black slacks, and worn-out combat boots.

She sat on a park bench, clasping her hands together and watching the children play on the playground. A soft smile tugged the corner of her lips when she saw them filled with joy.

It brought joy to her heart to see them happy. 

From out of: the corner of her peripheral vision, she noticed a tall man with blond hair sitting beside her. She twists her head to the side as a lightning bolt struck; her. Sterling silver eyes, slicked-back blond hair, heart jawline, broad forehead, and high cheekbones. This was déjà vu all over again. Still, she couldn't believe she had travelled through time, though everything felt so; real.

He was dressed in light blue jeans, a white tee shirt and a brown leather jacket.

 "Tough day?" the man next to her questioned.

"You could say that," Amirah chuckled.

"I heard you were found on the shore, Lieutenant," he replied, looking toward her.

Amirah knit her brows. 

"How do you know that?" she questioned, raising her brow. She began to fidget with her hands. The thought of Bjorn being in front of her made her heart flutter but spooked her: at the same time.

"I joined the army a year ago, and they told Delta they found you," he shared a soft smile. 

Oh, how he pulled at her heartstrings.

"What's your name, soldier?" she questioned: in a formal tone.

"Brian Ruthfield, Ma'am," Brian answered.

"Nice to meet you, Brian. I'm Amirah," she held out: her hand for him to shake.

"Oddly, I feel like I've followed you in the same footsteps, Lieutenant," he clasped his hands together, having the same odd feeling he'd met her before.

"I couldn't agree more, Brian." They sat there in silence for a moment. She had nothing more to say besides taking in the warm summer breeze of Alberta's air.

"Would you like to go get a coffee, Amirah?" he inquired, hoping she wouldn't dump him on his ass for asking her out so fast.

Amirah thought about it for a second. She knew she had to leave everyone from the past behind, but she would never forget what they did for her.

"Yeah, I'd like that,"

Even in life and death, the gods blessed Amirah with love and happiness. She was happy to meet Bjorn in another life. Even if it wasn't him, he reminded her of Bjorn.

She would: never forget her journey and mission to the past. 

Legends are made, battles are fought, and the storm is yet to come. Amirah's journey came to an end. She held a heart of iron and the fury; of the storm. 

She was known as Ironstorm.