This was her chance to unleash havoc: to let all of her emotions go and everything around her. Without a problem in the world, she knew she had to win, no matter what.

 A slave came forward and handed Amirah a sword and a wooden shield. She watched as her enemy stepped forward from the crowd and stood in the sand a couple of feet away from; her. Revenge stirred in her gut from the bowels of hell, waiting to unleash and burn everything around her.

The crowd gathered around. Those who stood in the front line held colourful shields stacked together, creating a fortification. Amirah watched another man come forth and cut the ropes that bound his hands together. The slave hands a shield and sword to her enemy. He extended his arms out; to the larger man in front of her to provide him with his options. Her foe ripped the sword and shield from the man's trembling hands. Quickly, the thinner man rushed back into the crowd like his life depended. Amirah figured the man in front of her wasn't much of; the talk of the town. From the rumours around the crowd, he was an outsider.

Athelstan stepped forward from the crowd.

"This is a Holmgang," Athelstan projected his voice loud enough for the farmers and townsfolk towns folk to hear, "a fair contest of skill. Both can choose a weapon they see fit."

Amirah cast her gaze toward Athelstan as he announced the rules. He sent her a glance, indicating his confidence for her, almost as if it was a silent prayer for her triumph. He disregarded her enemy, looking elsewhere or at the black sand below.

"Each contender will be aided with two shields, and if both are no longer of use, no further replacement will be provided." With those final words, he stepped back into the crowd and stood next; to Bjorn and Ragnar.

"May God give her the strength to prevail," Athelstan mumbled as his lips formed into a thin line.

"Hell hath no fury, like a woman's scorn," Bjorn commented, earning a slight chuckle from his father.

"You have no idea," Ragnar replied with a hint of laughter.

Before Amirah could process and pull a single coherent thought through her skull, a thunderous shout rippled from her enemy's throat, shooting her out of her thoughts. As her reflexes had a mind of their own, she brought up her bright red shield and blocked the blow. Again, again, and again. She refused to let her flight mode prevail.

Sudden roars of applause and several hollers of disapproval came from the crowd around her. Amirah felt as if she was lost in a storm; it reminded her of when she was five. Lightning flashed and danced on the walls of her childhood room, creating a burst of energy. A younger version of herself was spotted on the floor next to; her old twin bed. Within her old room, a nightmare raged in her head; as the little girl clamped her hands over her ears.

Amirah flickered her gaze toward her bedroom door and then back to her younger self. She mainly remembered the comforting embrace from her brother, shielding her from the fear of the storm. His consoling words gave her the strength to embark on a personal journey to create a specimen of strength.

"There is nothing more courageous than being brave in the face of severe calamity, Amirah. Tempests should fear you, not the other way around. Shout louder than the storm,"

'Shout louder than the storm.'

His words echoed in her head like a churning tide ready to boil over. 

A thunderous strike brought her out of her thoughts and back into the heart of battle. She watched as he brought the blade of his sword down on her shield, splitting it in two. Splinters scattered across the sand with grace as Amirah stumbled back. She felt as if a battering ram had stuck her.

At this point, her defence wasn't favouring her as much. She had no experience with a sword.

 During her second year in the army, they taught her combative, also known as the Red Phase. She knew it would be risky to throw down her arms and attempt; to take him down.

Amirah threw her weight into the impact of her sword, swinging it without fretting about its weight. The Viking brought up his shield, making her sword collide with the round piece of wood.

She pivoted her feet and continued to strike, attempting to find his weak spot.

Amirah began to feel frustrated. She couldn't find his weak spot without taking; the risk of her head being decapitated. 

Sharp clashes of splintering steel continued to strike each other. Sparks began to fly as she continued to; parry each of his attacks. Soft grunts escaped her lips as she continued her warpath. Tiny beads of sweat decorated the back of her neck with grace.

She took the opportunity to strike. Amirah blocked his next shot with the remainder of her shield, bringing it up and locking the sword into place. With her right hand, she swung her sword and slashed his side, creating an open oozing wound.

A grunt escaped his lips. He cast his gaze toward; the mark she etched on him. Nothing felt more satisfying than good ol' karma hitting him in the arse. He quickly threw down his sword and pressed his hand on the wound, trying to add pressure to the oozing wound.

Attempting to fight with one arm: didn't hold many advantages, nor were there many options. Now was her chance to strike, to prove she wasn't a woman to mess with. She knew if she established her strength, no man would dare to strike her from behind. Even though she is: a free individual: both Bjorn and Ragnar -- explained: she is protected under their law.

She swung her sword, gripping the hilt as hard as she could. His swift defensive shield blocked Amirah's attack, creating an ear-splitting sound and shattering her sword in half. She watched as the other half of the blade flew into the sand below. She cast her blade to the side and darted her gaze toward the man, who was now switching out his weapon for an axe.

Despite the constant shouting from the crowd, she didn't feel like switching out her weapon and shield. Her gaze scanned the broken shield in her left hand, noticing several splinters sticking out of it. A small smile curved at the corner of her lips as she switched hands to hold her shield.

The next attack came without warning. She felt the skin on her cheek burn like wildfire, knocking her off her feet and into the sand below. Amirah felt her world shift from left to right. It was as if her head was submerged underwater, with a constant ringing sound; echoing in her ears. All she could taste was: iron as a slow stream of blood dripped; out of the corner of her cracked lip.

"She's going to lose. . ." Athelstan muttered to the two men next to him.

"Have some faith, priest," Floki darted an eye toward the holy man beside him.

"Amirah won't lose, oh no. She wears her strength and darkness equally well. The girl is half goddess and half hell. Gods be damned for her not to prevail." Floki crossed his arms.

Even though Bjorn only knew Amirah for one day, he hated seeing her like this. He knew she didn't know how to fight with a sword. Despite knowing it was her battle, his gut told him to: run to her: and protect her, but his brain was telling him other things. From the beginning, he observed her footing: not only was it sloppy, but she leaned most of her weight too much into her attack. A move that could end it all.

Amirah stayed down, waiting for her enemy to stalk closer. She knew where to nail him if he got close enough. She felt as if she was leading a bear into a bear trap.

A scalding; pain pulled at the roots of her hair. She felt as if he was going to; pull out every piece of hair on her pretty head. The exile of escape was nowhere near as daring as what she was about to do.

"Your departure won't be missed, nor will the gods drink with you tonight. Any last words?" As cheesy as his words sounded, she had a few.

"Yeah. I do," Amirah slowly raised her head to look at his ugly nose, blocking his beady eyes. She could have mistaken them for raisins at this point. It seems like allergy season wasn't going well for him. 

She smiled, showing him her pearls that had a thin sheet of blood on them.

"Fuck you!" 

Before he could realize her next move, she gathered up the bloodied saliva lingering in her mouth and shot it at his face. After his; befell, she brought up her shield and nailed him in the groin, earning a cry of pain she's never heard out of a man. His vice grip on her hair loosened as she took her chance to escape his hold. 

She leaped to her feet as the man dealt with his pain. Without a second thought, she whirled her shield toward his jaw, gracefully hitting; him and sending him into the sand below. 'When in doubt, ring his bell.' Amirah thought. 

Watching Amirah fight ignited a flame in Bjorn's gut, creating a beacon of hope that she would triumph.

"Amirah! Finish him!"

She spun her head around and caught the axe Bjorn tossed her from the weapon rack. The man rolled onto his back -- only to meet her boot against his throat. She slowly increased the pressure on his thyroid gland, causing shortness of breath in the man beneath her boot.

"There it is. Finish me off and call in even," his voice crackled and came out hoarse.

"Let me: meet my brothers and sisters I lost in battle. Let me: drink with them and sit at Odin's table," Amirah glared at the man. She knew: if she killed him --  she'd be leaving her promises and morals behind.

"What's taking you so long? A Valkyrie should be able to exile her enemies, not toy around with them until they slowly die,"

Amirah felt a pint of anger in her gut. She knew the whole village was watching, determining if she was strong enough to stand alongside them as one of them.

"You're no Valkyrie! Oh no. You much more. How are we supposed to know if you're not Loki in disguise?"

Amirah's lips formed into a thin line. She knew if they found out she wasn't who they sought her out to be, she would surely: have a couple of hundred Vikings coming after her -- to wring her neck and to use it as a purse.

She brought up the hand which held the axe and reared down it on his head. The crowd went silent, waiting for her to speak. Her body blocked most of the view of where she nailed him with. The axe stood next to his head, digging deep into the earth.

"Why?" The man questioned with deep sincerity.

Amirah removed her boot from his throat and took a step back.

"I am not one of you, and I never will be. I'd rather keep my friends close but my enemies closer. Consider this a blessing from your gods,"

She turned her back from him, only for his body to go limp. The last breath in his body left his body as death consumed him. Despite; Amirah's attempt to give him mercy, it was: too late. The earlier wound she created: hit an artery.

Amirah's body froze: when the crowd roared in excitement. She felt respected among the group of warriors. Amirah finally got to prove herself, and it felt good.

"You proved yourself well for someone much smaller than him," Ragnar replied: in admiration.

"Drengskapr af Líf," His next: words came out like a blur of gibberish. 

"What does that mean?" Amirah questioned, noticing the ring to the words sounded like a different language.

"It means; honour above life," Bjorn added while joining the conversation.

"Is that in Norse?" Amirah inquired, raising a brow.

"Yes, it is. Your lucky Aethelstan taught most of us English. Otherwise: it would have been a different story," a small chuckle escaped his throat.

Ragnar's ocean gaze flickered to his son, then back to Amirah.

"While you're here, my son Bjorn will teach you all he knows about our culture, including our language and fighting techniques." 

Amirah knew she would have to accept the way of living now.

It was like a dream, sometime she'd have to wake up. In the meantime, she accepted: she was stuck somewhere vast and far away. Although, it sounded more like a real-life fairy tale with a dash of violence.

Eventually, she would have to fight.