[Her careful gaze shifts again into a glare.] I will not ride into Kattegat without fighters and a plan. A foolish death would be a dishonor, and riding into the place your enemy holds would be more than foolish. [She watches him pause before mounting, watches the laughter behind his eyes and hears it (too familiar by far, even now) from his throat. It's a laugh that still laces its way through her dreams, fooling her into thinking it will be him next to her when she wakes. She doesn't know the expression on her face before she schools it back into a frown and shakes her head.] I will fight against your enemies in battle, but I will not deliver myself to them like this.
[That stated, she does at least move to do up the bedroll, grab the saddle nearby and toss it over her horse's back. She works silently, attention seemingly on her task, though part of her is always aware of where Ragnar stands, ready to draw her blade if he gets too close.] You will take me to where your family is hiding. [It is demand, command, not a suggestion.] And hope that my fighters are there. [With Bjorn, though she does not say that much.]