"Queen Aslaug, please reconsider leaving. Your death will break him, irrevocably," Bonnie pleaded once again for third time since she'd come to the great house to talk sense into the queen about abandoning Kattegat in favor of remaining among the living.
Queen Aslaug spun around on the wooden stool in front of the Viking Era version of a vanity mirror. "My death will transform him into the strategic warrior you'll need him to be. It'll lend fury and focus to a passion which now is only listless in its blaze. I have seen it!"
"I've seen it also, and this will ruin him. It'll fracture your family." Bonnie hissed in a lowered tone. "If they're divided then we can't stand. And if we can't stand how the hell are we supposed to rise?"
"My faith is in you, Bonnie," the queen said, her eyes wide and earnest, "and I have no doubt you'll find a way to repair what my death will have broken."
Margrethe simpered in with her eyes trained on the ground. "Your ale, Queen Aslaug."
"Thank you, Margrethe." The queen wave a dismissive hand. "Anywhere over there will be fine."
Margrethe bobbed her head in a nod, and then placed the golden chalice on a small stone table near Bonnie. Once the task was complete she made a quick exit. When they were alone again, she opened her mouth to continue pressing her case. But a hint of obscure sorcery wafting from the cup agitated her mystical energy. Her brows buckled and her face crumpled. Did this bitch really just try it with her standing there? She walked over and picked up the offending chalice.
"What's wrong?" Queen Aslaug questioned coming to her feet.
Bonnie shook her head, as she waved her hand over the rim of the cup. Ancient sorcery seeped from her palm, and then slithered into the cup. Moments later the liquid began to boil and fizz until her sorcery emerged encasing a dark sprouting root which appeared to be dripping blood.
"Bloodroot," Bonnie and the queen said in unison.
Bonnie fixed her gaze on Queen Aslaug. "Have you noticed any occasional visions, familiar feelings since I've bound your foresight?"
"No," the queen shook her head. Distaste twisted her mouth as she stared at the root still floating inches above her cup.
Scrutiny narrowed her gaze. "Well do you believe this is the first time someone has placed bloodroot in your ale?" She questioned doubt coloring her tone.
"I wouldn't know," The queen shrugged. "I haven't drunk any ale since you liberated me of my visions. I've only been pretending to partake. You wouldn't believe how many tongues loosen around an intoxicated woman."
"Well, continue on with your performance and I'll place a protection spell on you, and the boys. I'll also cast a turnabout spell," she said, while allowing her energy to incinerate the bloodroot.
"Who do you believe-," Queen Aslaug began.
"Margrethe," Bonnie said without even allowing the queen the courtesy of finishing her question. "She's a witch. Not a very powerful one, but I can feel active mystical energy radiating off of her just the same."
"Queen Aslaug, second meal is prepared and waiting on the great table," Asta said from the entrance of the queen's room.
Queen Aslaug nodded to Asta and turned to Bonnie. "Please join us for dinner."
"I'd love to, but-,"
"Margrethe serves us," the queen said with a stare so sharp and pointed it would make the end of a katana appear blunt in comparison.
"I'd love to," she restated.
Aslaug gave her a smile bred from gratitude before looking to Asta. "Please make another place ready between Ivar and Ubbe."
Bonnie and the Queen followed Asta from the private quarters to the great hall. The boys were already seated at the table. When they noticed her with their mother each of their faces brightened a degree. Even Ivar's, who sat at the head of the table with Margrethe seated next to him. She was hand feeding him things from his bowl. Bonnie's face dropped. There wasn't any damn telling what Margrethe's twisted ass had been using to poison her boys.
Ubbe stood and tugged her into a hug. "I didn't know you'd be joining us," he said, before helping her into the seat next to Ivar, "We've not been in each other's company as of late. I'd begun to think you may have not truly forgiven me."
Wasn't this some Jerry Springer shit? His side bitch was sitting right at the table practically riding his brother's lap and he had the nerve to be questioning her forgiveness.
She side-eyed Ivar and Margrethe and Ivar raised a chalice to her. "Skol!"
"Give me that," she snatched the cup from his hand.
Opening her senses, she allowed her sorcery to search for hints of mystical energy. Yet nothing supernatural piqued her notice from Ivar's tumbler. Curiously, she sensed wisps of magic radiating from Ubbe's, Hvitserk's, and Sigurd's cup. Sigurd she wasn't worried over. Since he'd chosen her and they'd become one he had immunity to all forms of supernatural energy she didn't ordain. Still when he lifted his chalice to his mouth she shook her head. Without question he placed it back on the table.
Ubbe reached for his cup with a frown on his face. Bonnie, however, grabbed the tumbler before he could wrap his fingers around the stem. Margrethe squirmed in her seat, but unable to move from the death grip Ivar had on her hand. She really needed to school him in the art of seduction through hand holding. From the corner of her eye, she saw an annoyed expression cross Hvitserk's face as he lifted his cup to his lips.
She turned to straight face the hell out of him. "Why?! Why does it always have to be like this between me and you?"
"W-what?" He sputtered as his gaze darted around the table only to find everyone staring at him.
"Don't what me!" She yelled code switching before anyone could say Bonnie from the Falls. "Clearly, something isn't right with these drinks and instead of you trusting me you'd rather drink poison, while probably hoping I'm the one who'll die."
"Poison?" Ivar questioned turning whiter than Margrethe's hair.
"I'm overexaggerating," Bonnie said, waving Ivar off as she continued glaring hole's in Hvitserk. "It's probably some weak ass love potion. Something you don't have to worry about because she doesn't like you enough to wanna be bothered with you going from zero to stalker on her." She looked to Asta who's mouth was practically running over from all the tea. "Go get the ale tankard used to fill those cups." Asta nodded and disappeared through an entryway leading off to the storehouses.
"No, no, no," Margrethe sobbed to herself. "She made me do it."
"Who are you speaking of? Are you responsible for tainting our ale?" Ivar snapped, slamming her wrist down on the table.
Ubbe straightened. "Ivar!"
"Really, Ubbe?" Bonnie questioned with a cocked brow.
"He's hurting her without cause," Hvitserk added, the ever co-signer for Ubbe's behalf.
Bonnie leaned forward to get him smack dead center in her sight line. "Hvitserk, I will literally take you out to the center of town and kick holes in you until I get tired." Sigurd and Queen Aslaug snorted. "Who the hell certified you as his hype-man, anyway? You should just shut up. Ubbe clearly doesn't need you bearing witness for him every time he finds himself in a conflict."
"I was only saying-," Hvitserk began.
At that moment Asta came back followed by two large men carrying a large tankard of ale. Bonnie's face wrinkled. She didn't even have to lift her hands to sense the mystical energy wafting from the tankard. By this time, Margrethe started openly bawling. Ignoring the sobbing at the left of her, she scooted away from the table and rose.
Before she approached the table she allowed her sorcery uninhibited reign. Golden mystical energy seeped from her pores casting her body in a gilded glow. Asta and the men who carried the vat sounded as if they were struggling not to swallow their tongues. Seconds later, the wooden top blew off the barrel. A piercing shriek sliced through the air as a large obsidian tarry root shaped like a person floated from the vat followed by a thick clotty dark red fluid that had the stench of rotten fish and dead roses.
Ivar slapped a hand over his nose and mouth. "Oh Odin's eye! What is that?"
"The key components for Margrethe's love potion," Bonnie said, not even attempting to suppress the grin ripping her face in half. "Mandrake and her woman's blood." Her mocking stare skipped to Hvitserk. "Go on, drink up, Hvits. Weren't you just dying to chug that good-good down a few moments ago?"
"Alright, Valkyrie, you've had your humor at Ubbe's and Hvitserk's expense. The smell and the screeching is more than a little distressing." Sigurd said, taking his cup and pouring the contents on the floor.
She allowed her sorcery to decommission the magic fueling the spell. The mandrake fell silent. Moments later the root smoldered. Blazing bright until not one inch of darkness remained. When it was no more than glowing ash it floated from the hall through the open door. As for the menstrual blood, she allowed it to drop back into the vat. Her gaze then swung to regard Margrethe who was huddled in her chair leaning as far from Ivar as possible.
Slowly, she strode to the end of the table. The closer Bonnie drew the louder Margrethe whimpered.
"Perhaps we should allow her the opportunity to-," Ubbe began as he stood.
"You'll not interfere!" A voluminous voice vibrated from Bonnie's chest. A voice which didn't altogether belong to her.
"Perhaps-," Hvitserk started, but Bonnie sliced the rest of his sentence from his mouth with a sharp cut of her eye.
"What is wrong with you both? She's clearly been possessed with evil spirits," Ivar said, staring down his nose at Margrethe.
Bonnie's eyes rolled. "Oh hush, she's your girlfriend. One would've thought you saw the signs." She said deciding to take the petty road.
"I merely plowed her," Ivar said, casting his gaze away from hers.
Margrethe's head swung from side to side harder than an over worked Japanese hand drum. "You did not. His prick-,"
Ivar picked up his eating dagger. "I will relieve you of your tongue through your throat if you utter another word."
"What of your prick, Boneless?" Sigurd managed to say through snorts of laughter.
Ivar's grip around the blade tightened and Bonnie refused to let it get that deep. "Sigurd, I'm working here," Bonnie said, without sparing him a glance.
"Many apologies, Valkyrie," Sigurd said, amusement thoroughly saturating his tone. "Please, hand down your sentence." He stood and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Will I be enforcing the verdict?"
"Sigurd!" Queen Aslaug snapped. "I'll have no bloodletting at the great table."
Margrethe skittered from her seat. She took refuge in the space behind Ubbe's back and the great table. This pissed Bonnie dry. Why the hell did she look to him as a protector? Without pause, she rounded the table in pursuit. When she made it within a foot of Ubbe, he raised his hands to halt her approach. Hvitserk moved to stand next to him.
"Bonnie, this isn't necessary. It was just a love-," Ubbe began.
"Move," she said, not the least bit interested in whatever argument he thought to put up on Margrethe's behalf.
"It was her! She bewitched me and made me place those things in the ale." Margrethe spewed from her hiding place behind Ubbe. "She wants you all to fall in love with her so she can become queen of Kattegat."
"She lies," Ivar and Sigurd said at the same time.
The last straw came for Bonnie when Ubbe and Hvitserk exchanged glances like they were actually considering the lunatic's ridiculous claims. Rage thundered through her as her sorcery tore at every piece and part of her to break free.
"Move!" She lifted her hands and snatched her arms apart.
Ubbe and Hvitserk were forced apart. An unseen hand held them in place so they couldn't come to Margrethe's aide. The little fool's eyes darted from left to right to assess her protector's position. When she saw no help would come from them she attempted to run, Bonnie called to the magic inside of Margrethe to halt and she froze.
"Kneel!" The prehistoric voice bellowed from the depths of Bonnie's lungs. The weak energy within Margrethe forced her to her knees. "Your disrespect towards me has crossed every line and boundary. You have sullied my name with the filth of your words, told untruths on your most high, and you have dared to work inferior tainted spells on my chosen. Now you will be made to answer for your crimes against your Supreme."
"Yes!" Queen Aslaug came to her feet.
"Nooo!" Margrethe struggled against the hold of her magic. Defiance sparked bright in her eyes. "You lie! My goddess is the Supreme of all supernatural things. You're just a witch! Like the dark woman who dwells in the woods."
"Hmph, may your punishment be poetic in its appeasement of justice and fitting of your offense." Bonnie lifted her chin, and then stared Margrethe directly in her eyes. Connecting with all the things supernatural in nature which linked them. "Margrethe, since you deny me as your most high, then I no longer recognize you as a daughter under my dominion and take from you what's explicitly mine by my birth right, supernatural, and natural law to give." Margrethe's eyes bucked as full understanding set in. Bonnie raised her hand palm up. "Come to me."
The command in her voice provoked a deluge of lavender mystical energy to gush from every available orifice of the crazy slave girl. Wisps of sorcery poured from her eyes, mouth, nose, and the wide pores on her skin. It shot to Bonnie, rolling itself into a tight orb of energy that fit within the palm of her hand.
Once vacated of its former host's body, Margrethe sagged to the ground. Tears drenched her face in a salt water mess. "I'm s-sorry! I didn't know goddess. She told me you were just a witch, I didn't know!"
"And now it doesn't matter. You're no longer my responsibility. May the mother of nature do with you as she will," Bonnie blew on the floating orb hovering above her palm.
The energy erupted into hundreds of twinkling starry like lights. In a move reminiscent of a comet, the sorcery shot from the great hall and soared toward the heavens. To rejoin the reservoir of untapped magic.
Asta and the store house workers knelt before Bonnie with their faces angled at the floor. Ivar watched her with a calculating gaze, while Sigurd's expression remained unchanged.
Queen Aslaug's features were locked in a severe expression as she nodded her approval. "May your will be done, Supreme."
Ubbe and Hvitserk just looked confused as they struggled against the force that held them in place. Bonnie waved her hand. The energy barrier released them. She wasn't at all surprised when they both ran to console a sobbing Margrethe. They both showed her who they were that day and where they stood and that's a lesson she wouldn't soon forget. With her head held high, and not sparing anyone else in the hall a glance, she took her leave. Sigurd led her out, with a guiding hand at the small of her back.
Bjorn watched King Harald's fleet of ships dot the outline of the horizon. Their where nigh fifty ships which would be sailing into their harbor within the turn of the hour glass. Elation should've been the sole emotion which dwelled within him, yet anger dominated his emotions. And his bewitching Mystical One shouldered the blame. For instead of standing with he and his family to receive King Harald and his brother, she'd shirked the duty in favor of the gods only knew what. Her lack of disregard for something so meaningful to him blazed an inferno within his chest.
"Hvitserk, did you not speak to Bonnie of me wanting her at the harbor when the sun reached midpoint in the sky?" He asked, peering passed Torvi's not so subtle eye rolls to lock gazes with his brother.
Hvitserk shifted his gaze to him, and then back to the horizon. "I attempted to do so. Yet, when I visited her keep she told me she'd set me to flames if I placed another fist upon her door." He swallowed, and the knot at his throat rode the wave of the movement. "Due to a misunderstanding of our actions, I doubt I'll ever be well received by Bonnie again."
Curiosity momentarily subdued his growing agitation. "What did you do?"
"I lent my support to Ubbe as I've always done," Hvitserk said. A twinge of confusion tainted his words.
"Did Ubbe have the right of it then?" Bjorn studied his brother's profile. For he knew right or wrong, Hvitserk would always stand with Ubbe. He'd proven this to be true on many occasions throughout the ever changing summers.
"He merely offered his comfort to a slave girl Bonnie unjustly tormented," Hvitserk said, his shrug dismissive in nature.
"Bonnie would never torment anyone, even if there were cause to do so," Torvi said, turning a sideways glance to Hvitserk. "And from what Asta has spoken to me, there indeed was cause." She craned her neck to look up at him. "The slave girl put mandrake and her woman's blood in the ale for a love potion of sorts. When leveled with accusation, she attempted to burden Bonnie with her guilt."
"Ack, woman's blood and mandrake! Is this ale I've drunk before?" The contents of his stomach rose to greet the back of his throat.
She returned her gaze to the horizon. "No, this brew was specially concocted with the sole purpose of ensnaring the hearts of your brothers."
"Where is this girl now?" He demanded. "She should be lashed in the center of town and branded as a deviant slave."
"My mother removed her from our household," Hvitserk answered. "She now shovels dung from the horse's stalls in Kattegat's main stables."
"Which is more than fitting for one such as she," Torvi said, with a pleased expression on her face.
At that Guthrum wedged himself between Bjorn and Torvi. He gazed up at his mother. Regret thrived in his eyes as he shook his head. "Bonsie told me to tell you she sends her regrets. She said she's much too busy with other things of absolutely no import to stand around waiting to greet King Harald."
Bjorn's head pounded. That woman's audacity would be the death of her! Torvi clucked her tongue at Guthrum in chastisement. "Guthrum, are you certain? Maybe you've misplaced Bonnie's words in your mind." She coaxed in a leading tone that was accompanied with a pointed stare.
"Perhaps," he said looking away, while confusion wrestled with his features. "She did tell me to say beforehand, and I quote."
Hvitserk snickered.
"Ack!" Bjorn exploded unable to tolerate Bonnie's third person disrespect a moment longer. "If I'm to be in good spirits when King Harald arrives, then let us speak no more about Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls!"
Bonnie paused a moment on the cliff to watch King Harald's ships sail into Kattegat's inlet. Just the thought of him sickened her. Hell, just the thought of traveling alongside him for the next several months disturbed her sensibilities on a fundamental level. So she'd rather avoid him for as long as possible. Tugging the hood of her cloak over her head, she turned away from the procession below to resume her trek to the forest.
Not long after, she arrived at her private cove. As always the waters appeared willful but inviting, while the waterfall looked alluring as ever. Her sorcery seeped from her pores to heat the waters as she removed her clothes. Once she wore nothing but an expression of utter contentment, she waded into the inlet with her basket resting on her arm. The temperature of the water relaxed her muscles until their consistency was no better than warmed rubber. It had been a while since she'd taken advantage of the cove. Not since the falls had frozen over and she acquired her clawfoot bathtub from the twenty first century. Now that the weather had warmed she planned to take advantage of the cove while she still had the privilege.
As she drifted over the rock formation, Bjorn crossed her mind. A smile curved her lips. One could only imagine the look on his face when Guthrum delivered her message. Served him right. Had he apologized for being a dick the other day, then maybe she would've considered being there to greet the king of all dicks with him.
When she reached the platform of rocks, she placed the baskets on the highest stone and hoisted herself up on the pillars. Once up on the solid foundation, she stepped under the waterfall. The cascading water drenched her from scalp to toenails. After enjoying her fill of the frothy goodness rushing over her skin, she set to work washing her hair, and scrubbing her body.
Halfway through her shower, the unmistakable sensation of Ragnar's untapped sorcery wrapped itself about her. Her senses went on red alert protocol. He was there watching her. She could almost feel the caress of his eyes upon her skin. The thought excited her and that feeling scared her shitless. Without further deliberation over what she should do, she grabbed her basket and stepped through the curtain of falling water. Within the small enclosure she, put on a red bikini.
In the distance she heard a splash. Her breath caught. For fifty-eleven seconds she stood there going back and forth with herself. Should she remain within the cover of the enclosure, hope he peeped the picture and swim away? Did she want him to swim away? She mentally slapped the hell out of herself. Of course, she wanted him to swim away. Not only was he Queen Aslaug's husband, but he was also Ivar's and Bjorn's father. There's no way she could entertain any type of relationship with him that wasn't born of absolute desperation and necessity. Hell, she even intended to keep their mate bond strictly platonic. There would be no daddy Lothbrok making nookie with her Bennett cookie.
"Do you still wish to bathe and groom me?" Ragnar's question carried to her through the shield of water.
"Shit," Bonnie muttered under her breath, before stepping back through the waterfall. "King Ragn-," the bare rock hard sight of him took her off guard. She trained her gaze on his face, swallowed, cleared her throat, and swallowed again. "How did you find me here?"
"I saw you on the cliffs earlier and followed you here," he said, stepping closer to her. "Your attire is…interesting." His gaze drifted down the length of her body, "yet I enjoyed the sight of you before more. When you were bare. Will you once again remove your clothing?"
"N-no," she shook her head to help convey her no as a hell no. "I'd feel more comfortable bathing and grooming you as I am. Please, stand under the waterfall."
He stared at her for a moment, before conceding with a nod, and stepping under the frothy falling water. As he permitted the water to soak him, she gathered the things she needed from her basket to cater to him. Once she laid everything out, she went to work. Her magic pooled in her palms, laboring alongside the body scrub to cleanse him. Penetrating the deepest depths of muscles to promote relaxation until the chorded sinewy tissue submitted to every whim and command of her touch.
After she completed bathing him, she conditioned his skin with shower gel. While that sat, she began to cut his beard. Hacking at the course until it was short enough to shave and trim into a goatee. She then rinsed his face free of hair and his body clear of the shower gel.
Once satisfied with her work, her mystical energy warmed the oil. When the liquid reached an ideal temperature, she began to rub him down. At some point during the task, the massaging movements of her hands on his body no longer became a task. Each touch became erotically strategic in its action. Its goal to provoke and maximize pleasure. The vibe between them shifted. No longer did she erect boundaries and no longer did he check for them. As her palms roved down his rigidly defined abdomen muscles, his fingers skimmed her waist, cresting over the dip at her lower back to grip her ass.
Utilizing the hold he had on her, he pulled her into him. The hard press of his chest against her breast sparked an all too consuming need in her. Forgetting all about the task of oiling him down she snaked her arms around his neck. Her unspoken demand translated to him and his mouth crashed down on hers in answer. A moan vibrated at the press of their lips. Conceived from the relief they both discovered in the unbinding of a pleasure so forbidden they savored each moment as if the next would be the one to tear them apart. Still hanging on to her ass for dear life, he lifted her into his arms and stepped through the curtain of the waterfall.
"Bjorn Ironside," Harald greeted the eldest son of Ragnar Lothbrok.
As the saga's song, the man appeared as impressive as he was beautiful to behold. He towered over the tallest of men with the countenance of one who knew the burden of a crown. A rising would come when Bjorn Ironside would be an even greater man than the tales told of him. It didn't take a seer to know Ironside was favored by the gods as his father was before him.
"King Harald," Bjorn clasped arms with his brother before turning to look to him, "Halfdan the Black! I'm glad to see you both again." He reached back, pulling an unremarkable pale girl to his side who appeared familiar. "You remember my wife Torvi from the Frankia raid?"
"Ah, yes," he floundered, for he couldn't remember one way or the other if she'd been present for the raid or not. "So very glad to see you again."
"You as well, Halfdan," she said to him, before her rather large eyes drifted to his brother, "You also King Harald. We're honored that you've chosen to return to Kattegat."
Harald placed a hand over his heart. "No, it is I who's honored Bjorn has allowed me to accompany him on his voyage to the Mediterranean. It's my belief this alliance will indeed benefit us both."
"And this is Hvitserk my brother," Bjorn gestured to the boy at his side who could be no older than nineteen summers.
Harald eyes flared as he nodded. "Yes, I remember him, but he was no more than a boy the last time I was here. No bigger than this." He held a hand level at his waist. "Now he's nearly as tall as you are Ironside." Halfdan merely nodded an acknowledgement, seeing no reason to perpetuate a familial affection he was not inclined to hold. "Who's this?" Harald questioned.
"My stepson Guthrum," Bjorn said moving the child forward.
Harald knelt to address him eye to eye. "Will you be joining us in the Mediterranean as well?"
"It is my greatest wish," The child said with solemn eyes. "For my favored girl is to journey with you and I fear for her safety outside the reach of my protection."
Harald's mouth formed the perfect shape for catching flies as his eyes nearly rolled from their sockets. "Your favored girl?" He and Harald both looked to Bjorn who moved the boy behind he and his wife.
"The boy holds a child's affection for a woman who's under my protection," Bjorn explained, his face a mask of indifference.
"She's a sacred friend of the family," Guthrum insisted from behind his parents.
He glanced around the harbor to see if there was anyone else who'd accompanied them. Other than a few household servants, harbor masters, and warriors he observed no one else of note.
Harald, never one to deny intrigue, pressed the matter. "Is the sacred friend of the family here now. I believe I'd love to meet this woman who's stolen away young Guthrum's heart."
A dark expression with the promise of ill intent took possession of Ironside's face at the continued mention of the woman's absence.
"She's no mere woman. She's a goddes-," Guthrum began, but was cut off when two of the household shieldmaidens dragged him away. Curiously, with a very large piglet ambling at their heels.
"Come, a few of the great house servants will show you to your lodgings," Torvi said, beckoning them to follow the procession that had begun marching back towards the center of town. "There you can rest, for tonight we feast."
As they moved further into Kattegat, the strangest feeling overtook him. Something numinous in nature. The fine hairs which covered his body raised. A low buzzing sensation overwhelmed him. Sweat beaded his forehead, while his heart quickened and pounded his chest. Each breath became more difficult to catch than the last. An indescribable awareness waged war on his focus. For the first time the world felt right. Beauty presented itself in things he'd once thought mundane.
"Do you feel that?" He questioned his brother. His tone low.
Harald smiled at a cluster of women who passed, before nodding. "Yes, it feels oppressive. As if it means to stop the very air from entering our bodies."
"No," he shook his head. His brother couldn't be more wrong even if he were named Harald the Wrong. "There is peace in what I'm feeling. Genuine satisfaction, though I know not what I've been given." He veered off from the procession, intent upon discovering the origin of his recently acquired wonder.
"Where are you going?" Harald questioned as he followed.
His mouth did something it hadn't done in a while. The corners moved upwards. "Exploring."
"Take our things to the lodgings provided for us. We'll return soon enough," he heard Harald tell someone.
After that, he tuned out everything other than the vibrating sensation drawing him into the forests. Further in the woods they ventured the stronger the buzzing thrill became. A few minutes after they entered the forest, they could hear the splash of falling water in the distance. He and Harald exchanged glances before they both hurried down the embankment. They reached the bottom in time to see the most exquisite being he'd ever beheld, plunging from the rocks into the water. He only saw her for a mere moment before she disappeared under the surface of the water. Yet, in that single moment he'd imagined a lifetime dedicated to her and the life they'd build together.
"Brother?" He whispered, without taking his eyes from the water.
"Yes?" Harald answered, in a tight voice unusual from his normally jovial tone.
"Remember when you met your princess, and then decided you wanted to be King of all Norway?" At that moment, the stunning sprite broke the surface of the water. Her heart torturing verdant gaze locked with his.
Harald grunted next to him. "Yes."
"Well that woman there has become my entire life. I will conquer the world and give it to her. All she has to do is but ask for it," he said, never tearing his eyes away from the destiny fate had placed before him.
A Few Minutes Earlier
"Wait," she squirmed her way out of Ragnar's embrace. When he moved to grab for her again she stepped from within his reach. "No we can't!"
His eyes rolled. "And why not?"
"Because you're married, and I have morals or at least I had morals before I came to this goddess forsaken Era!" She attempted to slow her breathing and racing heart but doing so was easier thought than done. Especially when she felt like one huge, exposed hormone. If she didn't know any better she'd swear she hit puberty for a second time.
"I'm no longer married in my heart, and what we'll share shall be eternal." He reached for her again.
"I said no!"
She stalked through the curtain of falling water and dove into the cove. The warmth of the water did nothing to subside the pounding her lust for Ragnar put on her. Frustrated she swam back to the surface. Soon as she opened her eyes they connected with a whiskey brown stare. She wish she could say Halfdan the Black had no effect on her, but hell she wish she could wish herself back to 2023. That shit wasn't happening either. It appeared that she was subject to fall victim to every crush she developed on her favorite characters while watching the series. For as much as she hated Harald during the series that's how much she was moved by his brother Halfdan.
"Girl, do you speak our language?" King Harald the dick asked.
Bonnie sensed a flare in Ragnar's not so dormant energy. She spun in the water to face the enclosure sheltered by the waterfall and shook her head. Hopefully, he understood her request and remained hidden. The last thing she needed was word hitting the Gat about her popping the top on the cookie jar for Ragnar Lothbrok.
"Have a care when you speak to her Harald. You've scared her," Halfdan said, his tone one part disapproving and one part scold.
She turned around in time to see Harald release an overdone sigh. "Have a care? It is likely the little fool doesn't understand a word we're speaking. And why are you so taken with her anyway? Are your eyes unseeing?"
"Are yours?" Halfdan demanded, still refusing to cast his gaze away.
Disbelief puffed out his cheeks. "Her skin looks as if she's been tossed into the sun, her hair appears to be a product of Thor's anger and-,"
"And you look like a tatted up treasure troll! So, what's really good, King Harald?" Bonnie said, no longer content pretending she didn't speak the language.
"You speak our language." Amazement lit Halfdan's face. "What is your name?"
"Bon-," she began.
Harald drew his sword from his scabbard. "You dare insult a King of Norway you foreign bitch! I shall have your tongue as a trinket for my princess."
"Harald, there's not a crown or trinket in Norway that'll bring any woman let alone a princess to your bed willingly," Bonnie laughed as she began to do back strokes. "Hi, I'm King Harald. Wouldn't you like to be Queen of all of Norway?" She said mimicking his raspy voice. "No thank you! Not if you'll be the King of all Norway."
Halfdan's coughs sounded suspiciously like laughter. "Forgive my brother. We've only just arrived in Kattegat from a long journey."
"Do not apologize to this slave on my behalf!" Harald bellowed. "Bjorn Ironside and Queen Aslaug will hear about your insolence this rising."
Ansel and his pack howled in the distance.
"Oop, you've gone and done it now. If I were you two I'd make haste. The last place in Kattegat you want to discover yourself when the moon rises is in the forest. The dead arrives and thrives here under the eve light."
Harald and Halfdan glanced up at the waning sun. Halfdan, then returned a serious gaze to her. "Then perhaps you should come with us."
"Who's to say I'm not among my element," she offered him a wicked grin. "Who's to say I'm not dead as well?"
Harald took a step back from the water as if he were truly considering her claim as a legitimate possibility. The wolves howled again, and Harald was halfway up the embankment by the time the yowling stopped.
Halfdan slowly backed away from the cove. "If you're a spirit, I care not. You have relieved me of my heart and now I'd rather be dead with you than live without you. For now that I know you exist in my world living without you is a fate far worse than death."
"Halfdan, let us make haste! Something stalks us from just beyond the overbrush," Harald yelled, from the top of the embankment.
Agitation and fear waged a battle on Halfdan's face. "Will I see you again?"
"Oh, you'll see me again Halfdan the Black," she said, allowing herself to float in place.
"Halfdan!" Harald bellowed.
"When?" Halfdan persisted, ignoring Harald.
She grinned. "Perhaps sooner than you think. Now go before Fenrir's descendants make a meal of your brother. I'd hate for them to get indigestion because there fare was disagreeable."
"Until we meet again, My Forever Life!" Halfdan said, before dipping his head in a bow to her, and then turning to race up the embankment.
After Halfdan disappeared from view, Ragnar stepped through the curtain of the waterfall. "Thought he would never seek his leave. He sounded no better than a castrated barb with the womanly way he turned a phrase."
Bonnie swam around and smiled. "Are you jealous, Ragnar Lothbrok?"
"For me to be jealous, I'd have to feel threatened," he sat at the edge of the rock formation, and then placed his feet in the water. "I'm not."
She arched a brow, giving him a silent touché. "Well in any case. I need to make my way back to Kattegat, the feast will be starting soon and if I miss that too, there'll be no living with Bjorn."
"I'll walk you back. We wouldn't want Fenrir's descendants or the many ghost which dwell in this forest to abscond with you," Ragnar said lowering himself into the water, while giving her a narrowed eyed smirk.