It was dawn at first light. For the past eight days, Amirah had sailed with Bjorn and Ragnar. Despite the cold nights, for the past eight days, sailing: was something Amirah enjoyed. After all, her first time sailing wasn't the best. Though she thought she would die from sea sickness the first time, she eventually overcame it.

Amirah stood at the front of the ship, admiring the city in the distance. Paris was surrounded by a large wall that covered and protected the city living within it. Tall watchtowers stood high above the ground, keeping a watchful eye on the distant lands. Amirah knew it was going: to take a lot of work to break into Paris, especially: when it acted like a vault for robbers.

Loud pangs broke the silence in the air: as if church bells were ringing. Amirah's attention flickered toward the wall. Archers readied their crossbows as alarms were sounded, alerting the French -- at least three-thousand men were knocking at Paris' door.

While Amirah and two-thousand men readied their attack on water, Lagertha and another thousand men took to the land and prepared their strike at the front gate. Screams and cries sounded in the air: as the remaining farmers hurried inside the city gate before it closed.

If it wasn't for Floki: The Boat Maker, and his genius idea to mock the Parisians by making wooden towers of his own, all hope would've been lost to scale the walls. 

Slowly, one by one, each ship pulled several towers toward the wall, knocking against it and ringing the bells of each Parisian who stood; guard above the wall. Wooden beams were placed on the base of the rafts carrying the towers, creating a small walkway for the warriors.

Each warrior roared with a battle cry, raising their axes and rushing into the midst of battle. After several men had run down the planks in line, Amirah watched: several warriors get struck by arrows.

Amirah gathered up as much courage as she could and charged into the midst of battle. The young woman charged forward: using her long legs to jump over the side of the boat and into the water below. Adrenalin continued to pump through her veins as she hiked through the water to reach the rafts that held the towers. 

She weaved her body left and right, ducking every so: often and raising her shield above her head. Soft pattering sounds were heard above Amirah. Amirah redrew her barrier and widened her eyes when she saw several arrows penetrate her shield.

Bjorn ran toward one of the towers and encouraged several other warriors to start: climbing. Arrow after arrow, the line of French soldiers above targeted each warrior before pulling back the drawstring and reloading their crossbows: once more.

Taking a moment to examine the base of the wall, Amirah slowly ran her eyes up and down the wall, noticing how tall it was. It had to be at least 40 ft tall.

Floki ran toward a cowardly warrior and placed his hands on; the sides of his face before speaking in his Norse tongue.

"What are you doing?" he questioned before continuing.

"The gods are with us. The gods are with us." With a few simple words, the cowardly warrior was climbing the ladders.

Amirah ran toward one of the ladders and started climbing. A hiss escaped her lips when she felt splinters dig into the flesh of her palms. She continued to; climb when the next man in front of her got knocked off by an arrow. Amirah's boots punched the beams, trying to climb each step.

A loud squeaking sound was heard above her. She stopped climbing and looked toward the pully leaning a large bucket of oil over the tower she was climbing. Amirah's insides twisted when the oil dumped on the tower and sprayed all over her armour. 

"Amirah!!" Bjorn shouted as his gut twisted in agony. 

Her eyes widened when she saw: a soldier pull back a flaming arrow and release it. Before her mind could process anything: she jumped from the tower and landed in the water below -- not noticing the flame that spread across her left arm.

An agonizing scream shot out of the young woman's throat. She lifted her left arm out of the water and saw her sleeve and skin had been burned. Her flesh continued to bubble as she cut back the tears in her eyes. 

A grunt escaped her lips as she tried to hold back the pain.

Amirah held her left arm against her chest and continued to hike through the water, looking for a piece of cloth she could use. The young woman noticed several bodies floating around in the river. The smell of smoke and death coated her lungs, creating a sickening feeling in her gut.

Amirah felt lucky to be alive, though it cost her arm. Most of the warriors got it worse than her. Fate gave them a suffering passage into the afterlife. 

Being burned alive wasn't something on Amirah's list of ways to die.

Her golden eyes spotted the remains of one of Paris' flags floating around in the water. Without a second thought, she grabbed the garment and twisted it around her forearm before using her teeth to pull the knot together.

She fought back the pain and pushed forward, attempting; to climb another ladder. Though it was a terrible idea, she needed to try. Luckily, Amirah was ambidextrous, otherwise; she was screwed.

"Amirah! No!" Bjorn shouted up the ladder.

His stomach dropped when he saw Amirah's arm. He grits his teeth as he chases after her, trying to protect her from getting herself killed. Bjorn prayed to every god for Amirah's safe passage up the tower, not to mention his own.

He gripped the ladder post as he felt his body shift backward. The man in front of Bjorn had been struck by an arrow and held onto Bjorn's right hand for his dear life. The young prince bit back the pain as he attempted to lift the man back onto the post. His strength started to slip, and so did his: grip on the moist ladder post.

A grunt escaped his lips as his arm slowly started to burn. He knitted his brows and sucked in a breath. His nostrils flared in anger as he threw his boot against the man's gut, trying to throw him off, Bjorn. The second strike proved lucky, as the man let go and landed in the water. Bjorn flew up the ladder like a madman, trying to chase Amirah and bring her: down to safety.

He watched as Amirah stood on: the top of Paris' wall and continued to: fight. She swung her axe and body in ways Bjorn thought were a dance. Her graceful steps weaved from left and right as she cut down each enemy.

Alarms went off in Ragnar's head as his parenting instincts kicked in. He wasn't going to: let his son climb the ladder alone and face whoever opposed him at the top. Swiftly, Ragnar ran after his son as fast as his legs could carry him. 

Amirah brought up her shield to block another attack. The impact struck her shield and sent her stumbling back. A gasp left her lips when her enemy's sword almost came in contact: with her arm. 

Amirah brought up: her leg and kicked the man in the gut, sending him flying into the cobblestone below. Before he could grab his sword, Amirah brought her axe down on his neck, ending him with one strike.

From the culling of the opposition, she manifested an unmistakable decision to carry on as a part of Ragnar's stratagem. As a soldier, Amirah grew accustomed to having a lack of choice for whom she would face in war, and for that, she knew that best. A shorter man, dressed in a doublet, that was engraved with armour -- was left concealed beneath his coat, and acted as his best defence against the wrath of war. Unknowingly designated; Amirah as his next opponent. His back mirrored a fair target in Amirah's eyes. 

 Cautiously, Amirah stalked closer to him, remaining with keen observation no one would follow the same dirty plan. Amirah refused to squander her opportunity in a wasteful matter. Despite all tours and wars she has participated in, she questioned: why couldn't all wars be this way? Having the opportunity to strike down the opposition in such a swift moment. But as exhibited, war never ended quietly, nor did it showcase a beautiful side besides those who participate for a better future. 

 Adrenalin continued to crawl; through her veins, as her beating heart thrashed against her ribcage. Easily: as the man was distracted, he might notice her if she wasn't swift enough. Amirah halted in her tracks, her stomach twisted in disgust, as her gaze briefly surveyed the wall. Ahead of the man she designated to strike down, her eyes locked on another. His eyes were cold and deprived, showcasing a raw danger that flickered in his eyes, creating a sense of trepidation that she had met her match. 

 Crimson decorated the man's face and stained the hairline of his short, dark chocolate-coloured hair. Valiantly, he was swift to knock back each Viking that appeared to challenge him in his presence, yet witnessing this: unlocked a new fear inside her that she may have to face him.

Although the length of distance the two held between one another gave her a fighting chance to keep her distance. Her stomach twisted, and as reality got the best of her, his looks conveyed identical features of her brother. Her legs buckled slightly, and her breath quivered at the thought of facing a man who shared the haunting images and memories that followed of her brother. She attempted to treat the situation as if he was an imposter of her imagination. The saliva in her throat began to burn, creating an infuriating sensation.

Her stomach began to flip as she jinxed the idea of fighting that man. Slowly, he stalked over to her, suppressing his opposition's attacks with recoiling force from meeting the top; of the latter. The man wore a black doublet, accompanied by a black metal chest plate, with his cloak half shredded from the battles he had fought, levitated valiantly as he approached her. His high cheekbones and cleft jaw displayed an identical image of her brother as her eyes followed closer to his approach. 

"No. . . It couldn't be," her words spilled from her chapped lips in a trembling whisper that concluded her analysis.

'I see a battle fought by the hand that raises you.' Those words from the Seer hauntingly repeated in her mind several times before she felt the world shift from beneath her. Those deep thoughts were cut when she felt a forceful impact recoil the breath from her lungs, sending her back. 

Her enemy swiftly spun around and slammed his shield into her, sending her flying off the wall. Her stomach flipped when she watched the wall of enemies depart further from her gaze. With a prominent snicker that left his lips, he couldn't have been more proud than by knocking an enemy twice his size off the wall. His distracted laughter was soon disclosed when a towering shadow hung over him. The man shifted uncomfortably, only to meet the man in charge of the French army and proud Commander of the Kingsguard.

In the shorter man's defence, he was proud he knocked her off the wall, as the others were instructed. Only to be enclosed by that thought with the Commander's harsh gaze. The man's smile lowered, and he followed to the conclusion that his Commander was unpleased with his performance. 

"Sir! I-it was a mistake." He acknowledged after recognizing the gleam that shone in his eyes, though the heavier man remained dumbfounded about the worth of her to the Commander. 

 "A mistake you won't make again," the Commander replied, his gloved hand caressing the side of his pawn's face in reassurance before swiftly sliting the man's throat with his dagger. 

Amirah swam to the surface for air. Smoke continued to choke her lungs as her clothes felt heavy on her. She felt soaked to the bone with fear about what she saw next; Bjorn. Her heart sank when she saw two arrows sticking out of his back. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted to him, nearly tripping over a dead body in the: process.

"No. No. No. No. Please, Bjorn," she choked on her words as she lifted his chest, holding him dear: to her.

Her chest burned as she felt hot tears spilling from her eyes. The saliva burned in her throat as she placed his forehead against hers. Soft sobs escaped her lips as she started to mourn. For the past couple of months, Amirah secretly fell for Bjorn. She loved him with all of her heart. If she lost him, she'd be losing someone she treasured.

A loud crash was heard, followed by several others, before she felt the earth shift from beneath her. Ragnar slowly got up from his fall and clenched his gut with one hand. He felt as if his ribcage shattered and his kidney got punctured.

His eyes widened when he saw his son. Without wasting another second, he rushed to Bjorn and took him from Amirah's arms. Ragnar placed his ear next to his heart, listening; as if his heart was still beating.

Quickly he picked up Bjorn in his arms and retreated to a fleeing boat. Several other: ships left during battle and retreated to camp. Amirah quickly followed Ragnar into a fleeing: ship.

Amirah felt like pulling out all: of her hair and screaming at the top of her lungs in anger. She couldn't lose another man she loved.

Not again.

She couldn't lose Bjorn.