A shift on the mattress snatched Bonnie from a dead man's rest. Her eyes snapped open. Blurred shadows greeted her sight. Heavy breathing that didn't belong to her collided with her ears. Tension hung so thick in the air, she could almost taste the bitterness on her tongue. Blinking she focused the blurred shadows into detailed Lothbroks. Ivar loomed over her, while Sigurd pressed a blade into his carotid. If he breathed to deeply, the breath would be his last.
"What's wrong?" Bonnie questioned, while gently pushing the blade away from his throat.
Ivar glared at Sigurd for a moment longer, before moving his gaze to her. "Are you still willing to honor your vow to me no matter your fate here at Kattegat?"
"I'll never break my word no matter the circumstances," she said a little offended, he'd even ask.
He nodded his approval, and then continued. "Bjorn and most of the revelers have been laid low by the mead and ale. They'll slumber well into the next rising. So-,"
"If we're gonna do this, we'll have to go now," She finished for him. Queen Aslaug had recovered. Her recovery would free Bjorn of his hosting duties. He'd be on her doorstep as soon as he opened his eyes and awareness reinstated itself. She looked to Sigurd. "Go get Hvitserk and Ubbe. We'll need help getting him to the cabin."
"You'll be alright? You know," Sigurd nodded his head in Ivar's direction. "Alone with him?"
Her gaze swept over Ivar and her magic heated. Warmth radiated throughout her. The vibe almost reminded her of the feeling she received when in contact with another Bennett Witch, but somehow different. Kind of like tangerines and nectarines.
"Go on," She said without taking her eyes from Ivar. "I know how this works. He won't hurt me. Not while I'm still useful to him."
Sigurd placed the handle of the dagger into her hand, pressed his forehead to hers, and then left the bed. Ivar and she watched him leave the keep. Their stares then returned back to the other. Negative energy brewed between them. Energy she had no interest in feeding. So she left the bed to dress and ready herself for the track through the hills.
"Do you really have no excuses or explanations hoarded away to offer me?" Ivar's question met her back, and she didn't bother to turn around to face it or him. When her answer wasn't forthcoming an ax sailed by her face. No more than a breath away. She spun around to visually tear his soul away from his body. "How can you expect me to care for you and not know you, hmm? What am I to think of a woman who claims to feel more than pity for a sad, poor cripple like me?"
Her heart softened until its consistency rivaled that of mush. What the hell had he done to her? Not five seconds ago he'd hurled an ax at her head, and now there she stood contemplating ripping his damn clothes off. The could be no luke-warm with the man.
"Don't allow your insecurities to cast me in a role that vindicates your paranoia. Every word I have ever spoken to you has been the truth. I've never lied to you!" She snatched the ax out of the wall stomped over to him and dropped it in his lap.
"Yet, you've never given me the entire truth either," he extended his hand as if he were showcasing a point, "but, Sigurd…"
"What about Sigurd?" Bonnie folded her arms beneath her chest.
"What about Sigurd," Ivar muttered to himself as he scoffed. "Would you have me believe he's not the sole keeper of your secrets? That there in fact aren't things he knows about you of which even Bjorn is unaware, hmm?" She glanced away. "Just as I suspected. Tell me, what has my unexceptional brother done to garner your trust that we have all failed to do? What has he done?!"
"He cared about what happened to Siggy!" Power resonated through Bonnie's voice as it reverberated off the walls of the keep.
"Are you speaking of my mother's friend, the one who drowned while saving us?" Hvitserk questioned from his place just inside the doorway.
Bonnie hadn't even realized they'd arrived she was so wrapped up with Ivar.
"No, she's talking about Bjorn's first child. Siggy's namesake," Sigurd said walking in further until he stood at her side.
"None of you but him gave a damn about that blessed little girl. A daughter of a future king!" An ache welled in the center of Bonnie's stomach just thinking about Bjorn's daughter lying dead in a puddle like unwanted trash.
"That's not fair-," Ubbe began.
Ivar watched her with wide neon blue irises. "We were but children."
"Please, Ivar," she released a laugh that was filled with everything but humor, "You caught your first body when you were what, five or six? Let's not pretend we are not who we are! Besides, you more than let your feelings be known."
"What are you implying?" He asked, looking more and more like Ruthless Ivar the Boneless.
"What did you say when Sigurd came to inform Queen Aslaug of Siggy's drowning? I'll wait," she perched on the edge of the stone table. "Do you even remember what you said? Fine, you said-,"
"Who cares?" Sigurd finished for her, his shiny violet blues planted somewhere in a yesteryear.
"Who cares?" she echoed. All of the hostility blowing out as fast as it blew in.
"So, this is why you've come? To punish us for some offense we barely remember?" Ivar demanded.
Her eyes rolled before her brain gave the call. That's how fed up every piece and part of her was with him. "No, you asked why I've entrusted Sigurd with my secrets and now you have your answer. So, are we done here, or would you like to know why I lust for Ubbe more than any other?"
Ubbe's gaze shot to her like she was fire and he was a know nothing cave dweller who hailed from the dawn of time. "Yes, I think that is something we should all explo-,"
"No," Ivar said drilling Ubbe with a visual blow that struck deeper than his broadax. "We may depart."
"Place him over on the cot," Bonnie said as she followed Hvitserk and Ubbe into the cabin. They carried Ivar on top of a wide slab of wood.
She glanced around at the interior of the place. The lodgings was nothing more than a one room shack. A mixture of furs hung from the walls, draped makeshift furnishings, and covered the wood planked floors. It carried the distinct odor of musk, manure, and urine. Not overbearingly so, but enough to make you want to look twice at where you stepped or sat.
Once they placed Ivar on the cot they're collective gazes shot to her. She walked over to the impromptu bed and knelt beside it. "In order for me to fix you, I'll have to break you, repeatedly. It'll be excruciating, but I can put you to sleep for most-,"
"No!" he said, his tone firm. "If I am to deserve the ability to stand and maybe even one day walk, then I should bear the burden as a price for what it is I am to gain."
Bonnie scrutinized his expression down to the stubborn set of his jaw. He'd set his mind on suffering through the process. Attempting to talk him to the side of common sense and sanity would be a waste of time they really didn't have to spare. So she inclined her head and accepted his nonsense since he'd be the only person hurt by the foolishness. "Relax and be still while I visualize the deformities in your legs. I'll let you know when it's time to begin."
For the next hour Bonnie studied every abnormal bend, curve, and crook of Ivar's misshapen legs. When she'd completed the task she placed energy markers to the parts of the bones where the breaks needed to occur. She then pulled her hands away and withdrew her magic. Her gaze drifted over him. He lay still. His eyes lingered on the ceiling. The vulnerable expression which always came for her heart adorned his face. If only she could tell him they'd hurtled over the hard part, but that statement parlayed nowhere near the truth. In the end, he'd sweat blood.
"Ivar," his helpless stare discovered hers, "it's time. You sure you don't want me-,"
"Yes," he said, his voice not as firm this time around.
Bonnie looked to Hvitserk. "Get him something to bite down on, and then we'll get started."
After Ivar had a thick leather strap wedged between his teeth Bonnie closed her eyes. She reconnected to the energy markers she left behind on his bones. When she settled on a beginning point she clenched her hand into a fist and twisted her wrist. A howl from the bed almost shattered her concentration, but she ignored the agony saturated wail. She couldn't allow herself to become distracted. If her timing shifted even by seconds the bones would begin to heal in the pattern it had grown accustomed. Then she'd have to begin the process over. Not on her witching watch!
For the next several hours Bonnie broke, and then rebuilt Ivar's legs. When the last shattered bone fragment discovered its rightful place and the reconstruction was complete, Bonnie sat on the edge of the cot. Ivar lay there trembling and releasing dehydrated whimpers. He'd lost his ability to produce effective sound a couple of hours back. Now he suffered in almost muted silence. She placed a hand on his sweaty forehead. He jerked away from her touch. Her heart shriveled in her chest, but she ignored the sliver of rejection and permitted her magic to guide him into a deep sleep.
Once Ivar rested she turned to address the room. Ubbe and Hvitserk watched her with wide stricken eyes. Sigurd's gaze remained unchanged. Deciding to deal with one issue at a time she focused on Sigurd. "May I borrow your blade?" Without question he presented it to her handle first, while Ubbe and Hvitserk stirred into action.
"What is your need for the dagger?" Ubbe demanded, moving closer to the cot and taking a protective stance over Ivar.
Without answering Ubbe she took the blade from Sigurd and slit her wrist. The sight of her blood nearly collapsed every lung in the room. Not because they all had an aversion to the life sustaining fluid, but because she doubt if they'd ever seen blood of her likeness before. Thick ruby liquid interlaced with iridescent golden threads pooled from the open wound.
"She is a goddess," Hvitserk said to no one in particular.
Sigurd had the look of someone who'd been proven right. "Freyja."
Ubbe, whose eyes remained transfixed on her wound rounded the bed and grabbed her wrist. He raised it to his face. She assumed to take a closer look. Yet, she damn near fainted when his mouth covered the gushing gash and began to drank.
"Ubbe, that's for Ivar," Bonnie said, attempting to wrestle her wrist from his mouth. "My blood holds healing properties, it's meant to aid in his recovery. Ubbe-," When he pulled back to look at her, his irises were solid gold.
"Ubbe?" Hvitserk questioned, coming closer.
Ignoring Hvitserk, he snatched the dagger from her, and she began to prepare herself for another trip to the other side. Just when she started to close her eyes and brace herself Ubbe dragged the blade across his wrist. Blood spurted forth and her stomach churned.
He lifted the gushing wound to her mouth. "My offer to you."
"Um, nah, I'm goo-,"
Ubbe push the torn wrist to her mouth, and she prepared herself for the disgusting coppery metallic taste of blood, but instead a sweetness she'd never known burst onto her tongue. A moan vibrated from the depths of her throat as a pleasure infused groan ricocheted off the drums of her ears. A series of things began to happen at once. Her senses heightened. The rhythmic sounds of beating hearts and blood rushing through vessels assaulted her auditory faculties. Her sense of smell went from distinct to wolfhound keen.
From this moment on, she would be able to identify each Lothbrok brother by scent alone. Each of their unique pheromones thickened the air with a heady and arousing odor that would make it hard for any human, woman or man, to remain clothed while in their vicinity. How could one choose? They might as well have been Pokémon because she had to catch 'em all. Oh hell! Did she just quote Nash Catchem catch phrase? She was fucking losing it. She tore her mouth away from Ubbe's wrist. Their gazes collided and the lust that blazed in the depths of his golden eyes damn near incinerated her. Sucking in enough air to appease two sets of lungs, she tried to even her breathing out. Yet, just staring into his unwavering stare fucked her all the way dry and had her panting harder than a dog. Air! Oh, goddess of all, she needed air!
Bonnie spun away from Ubbe and rushed out the cabin into the cool crisp late autumn night air. Once outside she lifted her face towards the sky. Deeply inhaling and exhaling, she dragged in gulps and nostrils full of oxygen. Moments later, arms wrapped around her from behind. Soft lips and a scruffy chin nuzzled the crook of her neck.
"I've grown tired of feigning indifference to you. There is no level of distraction that'll keep you long from my head. Now, I've come to terms that all I really want to be is yours. Bonnie," Ubbe's raspy voice enticed her ear and her knees weakened. "I said before I wasn't ready to marry but having you in my arms now says otherwise. It says we are both exactly where we belong. Together." He finished on a whisper.
Every one of her emotions was on ten and she didn't know which to trust. Tears welled in her eyes because Ubbe's words translated to her heart like poetic lines to rhythmic rhymes. Yet, they were both on some kind of supernatural blood high and not one bit of the vibe flowing between them could be real.
"Ubbe, you don't mean this," she said spinning in his arms to face him.
He cradled her face in his hands. "And yet, I mean every word."
It's the blood! She opened her mouth to say as much. "It's-,"
"Freedom," he kissed her. Somehow the universe stopped, and he became her focus. "Our offers to each other granted us a freedom to speak what plagues our minds. To unburden our hearts." He inhaled and slowly exhaled. As the gold in his eyes began to fade into his natural summer sky blue hues, he rested his forehead on hers. "I've fallen in love with you and known it to be so for a while. I know Bjorn wishes to make you his second wife, but I want you to marry me and be my first and only."
Ubbe had lost is damn mind! Did he actually believe she would entertain his nonsense? They barely spent any time together, and when they did he actively ignored her with great prejudice. She'd rather say, I do, to Wilbur than meet his ass at anybody's altar.
She lifted her chin, looked him directly in the pupils, prepared to tell him just that. "You'd have to court me first," a smile lit his face, "and only with Bjorn's permission." The light dimmed and his eyes rolled. "It's the only way, Ubbe. He's my protector. I've also sworn my allegiance and loyalty to him. I'll not lie or be deceptive with him."
He growled under his breath before giving her a hard peck on the mouth. "Very well! I'll speak with him after first meal on the morrow."
The door to the cabin swung open and Sigurd stuck his head out. "Ivar's beginning to stir."
"It's too soon. He still needs some of my blood to cement the reconstruction," she whirled around to follow Sigurd in the cabin and paused. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, her stare met Ubbe's too blue one. "Are you certain?"
"On whether you're a witch, a goddess, or just a woman? No, but I am certain I want to spend the remainder of my risings on Midgard with you not caring," he said, before kissing her once more.
Bonnie watched Ivar stir from the throes of a supernatural rest. She'd kept him asleep until the worst of the pain passed, and the reconstruction cemented. Though his legs were no longer knotted, gnarled, or his feet stumped, they still were very thin and appeared easily broken. However, truth be exposed, she doubted that even a direct hit by a Mack truck would be able to break Ivar legs. So, if he'd ever hoped to walk, those would be the appendages she'd bet dollars to air on which he'd do the impossible.
Ivar's lids fluttered then opened. His gaze fixed itself upon the ceiling of the cabin, and then it swept his surroundings. When his eyes landed on her, fear flickered in his iridescent irises. Contempt soon followed.
"I never lied to you, Ivar," she said, her tone gentle as she moved closer to the cot, "you knew before we began that the process would be painful. It was a price you, yourself claimed to be willing to pay." She arched a brow. "So, are you ready to see what you paid for?"
His eyes grew wide as he tilted his head forward in a nod. She tugged the furs away from his legs. They held each other's gazes for a moment longer before his stare drifted downward. A gasp tumbled from his lips. With a trembling hand, he leaned forward and touched one of his legs.
"My l-legs…they're…they're…," he stammered.
"I know they don't look normal," she sat on the edge of the cot next to him.
He tore his stare away from his legs to stare at her. Moisture glistened his eyes as he shook his head. "They're perfect, even my feet. On these I can stand."
"Standing," she scoffed, grabbing his hand. "Shoot, with proper physical therapy and hardware we'll have you walking. I didn't expe-,"
He snatched his hand from her grasp. "No! Though I'm grateful for you aiding me with my legs, I want no further help from you. I'd rather sort all of this out on my own."
"Ivar, that's crazy. Why do this on your own when I'm more than willing to help you?" She couldn't understand his reasoning or his all of a sudden standoffishness. What the hell had she'd done wrong?
"Because you are a witch, and yes you may have mended my legs. Yet I'll never become a willing puppet to you as my brothers," he said, glaring at her like she'd just crawled out of a waste bucket.
A pain shot through her chest and Trey Songz, Heart Attack came to mind. "Is that what you think? That I've cast some kind of spell over your brothers?"
"How else would you explain their behavior, hmm?" He questioned, his head tilted just so. "Ubbe all but confessed you've bewitched him." He waved a dismissive hand. "But that is neither here nor there, for I believe my brothers to all suffer from weak hearts and even yet weaker minds, so I do not believe your charms are intentional. In truth, I find you genuine and guileless." Lifting his hand, he permitted his thumb to stroke the hallow of her jaw. "Still, there's a mesmerizing quality which surrounds you that I'll never allow myself to be ensnared by."
"So, what? You'd like for me to leave Kattegat?" She questioned, snatching away from his touch.
A small smile creased the corners of his mouth as his hand dropped back to his lap. "On the contrary. You can remain in Kattegat if that is what you're minded to do. If you desire to marry, have children and live out your risings here, then do so. For this is your right as a free woman. My only demands are you bring no harm to Kattegat and my family. Oh," He raised a finger, like he'd just remembered something, "and you seek and sustain your leave of me. This is all." His gaze dropped back to his legs and awe crept back into his expression. "My last demand begins now," he said without looking up.
Too hurt to do anything other than cry or leave, she chose the latter. With her head high, she crossed the cabin and left. There had been times she been used by the people she cared for, but never once had she'd been left feeling discarded and empty. Never did she ever regret putting forth the effort or let their trash can ways reflect on how she saw herself as a person. Yet here Ivar the Boneless had her questioning everything about herself. Or could he just be the proverbial straw that broke Bonnie Bennett's back? Perhaps instead of her being everybody's Girl fucking Friday, maybe she needed to cape up for her damn self! Stop fucking off in the Viking era and figure out how to get the hell back to 2023!
Metal embedding in wood tore her away from her thoughts. She glanced up in time to see Sigurd stand from a tree stump and place a half skin squirrel over the wooden railing. "So, what'd he do?" Sigurd crossed the expanse of the front yard to tower over her. "What did the shattered bag of bones say this time? Didn't care for his fresh pair of legs, did he?"
"No, he love those," she said, lifting and dropping a shoulder, "he just doesn't care for the jazzy fresh witch who gave them to him. Ivar prefers he and I keep our distance."
Sigurd scoffed. "And he thinks that a penalty. Had I'd known that to be his quittance, I'd patched him back together summers ago."
"Oh, Sigurd, you'd be my laughter during a rectal exam," she looked up towards the sun as her mind drifted to Ubbe and Hvitserk. "Hope Ubbe is having a better time with Bjorn than I with Ivar."
"There's something to laugh about," Sigurd said, before placing a kiss on her forehead and turning to go back to preparing second meal.
Ubbe walked into the great hall with Hvitserk at his side. The harvest feast had continued on from where it smoldered out the eve before. The revelers who had been felled by the ale were rested and ready to resume where they'd left off. As he and Hvitserk passed, many of the guests slapped them on the back. They offered up praises and other meaningless words of cheer. He, however, was only interested in speaking with his eldest brother about possible courtship with his ward. A ward Bjorn longed to make his second wife.
"Ubbe, Hvitserk," Helga positioned herself between them, entwining her arms with theirs, "Floki is searching for you two and your brothers. He's unable to find Bonnie. We went to her keep this morn to accompany her to first meal and she wasn't there." He and Hvitserk exchanged wide-eyed glances and appropriate surprised noises. "The two of you wouldn't know anything of her whereabouts, would you?"
They both shook their heads, "No, not since last eve." Hvitserk lied with a fluency which could only be related to the truth.
"Have you seen Bjorn?" He asked, sweeping his gaze over the hall in hopes of catching sight of his brother.
"He's there with Floki in your mother's dining area discussing the voyage to the Mediterranean." Helga jerked her golden head in the direction of his mother's personal quarters.
He nodded at Helga and tapped Hvitserk who'd become preoccupied with whispering into Margrethe's ear. When his younger brother spared him a passing inquiry, Ubbe arched a brow. After giving him a firm nod, Hvitserk uttered something more to the slave girl, and then followed him over to their mother's dining quarters.
Bjorn and Floki watched them approach. Their expressions neither condemning nor welcoming. His mother sat at the head of the table with a golden cup to her lips. Her eyes was closed as she savored the contents of the chalice which more than likely hailed from a vat of mead. Swaying from side to side in her chair, she paid no heed to the two in her company. Instead, she flirted shamelessly with her now and once again lover intoxication.
"Floki, you're looking well," he said clasping arms with the boat builder as he stood to greet him.
Floki's eyes narrowed a bit as he scrutinized his face, while holding his arm a moment longer than necessary. "You not so much, Ubbe. In fact, you appear anxious." His assessing stare flicked to his younger brother. "You as well, Hvitserk."
Disregarding, Floki's observation, he glanced to his elder brother who hadn't bothered to rise. "Bjorn, may we speak?"
"Ubbe, where's Ivar? He didn't return yestereve," his mother demanded, her speech thick and slurred from being well in her cups.
"The hunting cabin with Sigurd, mother," he answered, not missing the glances exchanged between Floki and Bjorn.
"Bjorn?"
Bjorn waved a hand as he settled back in his seat to regard him. "Speak then, brother."
"I want to court Bonnie this winter and marry her on the first Frigg's day of the coming Summer," his words tumbled forth without censor.
His mother scoffed. "You? Not you, Ubbe. Ivar, marries Bonnie. I've seen it." Her droopy gaze then cut to Hvitserk and she winked. Hiccupping, she lifted her cup and jabbed it in the direction of the archway leading to the main hall, where he caught sight of Margrethe hurrying away after being caught spying. "You enter matrimony with that mad slave girl, there. Foresaw that too." She mumbled as she replaced the cup to her lips.
Floki wore an expression of deep contemplation as he regarded his mother. While Bjorn peered at him as if he had a grave gut ailment.
"You too?" Bjorn settled back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest as contempt continued to ooze from him by visual means. "You're the fifth warrior to speak with me this rising to request my approval to court the Mystical One." He cast a dubious glare to their younger brother. "What of you, Hvitserk? I suppose you'd like to cast your lot in as well."
"Well, I mean-," Hvitserk began, but the scowl he received from Ubbe clamped his jaw closed. His mother snickered into her cup, while Floki openly release a string of high-pitched giggles.
Disgust riddled Bjorn's features as he dismissed Hvitserk with a wave of a hand. His gaze returned to Ubbe. "Why would you ask permission to court Bonnie? Are you not aware I wish to make her my second wife?"
He clasped his hands behind his back and locked his posture. "I'm aware, yet I'm also aware that Bonnie is a rare jewel among women. Being relegated to second in any circumstance would be a grave dishonor to her."
Bjorn brows crumpled as he utterly appeared confused. "So, how does being joined in matrimony to a second son serve her honor well?"
The muscles in his shoulders tightened and knotted. Almost to the point, he'd doubted he'd be able to turn his head without snapping his neck. His mother slammed her chalice down on the table. Surprisingly, amber liquid sloshed over the cup's edge. She leaned forward in her seat to level Bjorn with a scorn bred glare.
Floki sat forward, his cautious gaze swinging from him to his elder brother. "Bjorn, since Ubbe is your kin maybe you should allow Bonnie the chance to decide whether or not she'd want to accept his proposal of courtship."
Recognizing an opportunity, Ubbe added, "Bonnie has only to refuse my offer of courtship once and I'll not burden her with any further advances."
"Will you not allow Bonnie a say in her happiness as a free woman?" Torvi questioned from the beaded entryway.
Bjorn eyed her for a moment before shifting his glare away. "Fine, if Bonnie chooses to accept your courtship then you'll have my consent."
Hvitserk pounded him on the back, while his mother sipped from her cup with a smirk perched upon her lips. Torvi gave him a conspiratorial nod as she passed him on her way into the room. He returned the nod with a slight incline of the head.
"Where is the Mystical One, now then?" Bjorn questioned, his narrowed stare fixed upon he and Hvitserk.