Bonnie glanced over her shoulder at the five men who stood on the cliff looking over the Sea they'd thought themselves to have conquered. From the straightness of their backs and square set of their shoulders, anyone could see pride wore them well. Yet, the sight of them sickened her. Bjorn and Hvitserk most of all. Maybe because she thought more and expected more from them as the ones she'd chosen to champion her cause. Yet, on top of all the disappointment this trip brought, suffering through the loss of Ragnar is what made everything else unbearable. Things she'd tolerated before, she could no longer even entertain. Even then, she longed to be anywhere else than in the same vicinity as Bjorn and Hvitserk.
As if she called their names, Bjorn and Hvitserk turned to glance down at her. Crows began squawking in the distance. She exhaled. It was time. This moment was why she opted to follow them to this cliff, when she'd barely even spoken two words to any of them since they sailed from Algeciras. The All-Father. She needed to know who the immortal was who named himself Odin.
"How the little piggies will grunt when they hear how the old boar suffered."
The gentle edge of Ragnar's voice gouged her for the remaining chunks and fragments left behind in the wake of his loss. Tears she'd thought ran dry the night before, trickled steadily down her face without end. Bjorn's strong features crumpled. She turned away from him, unable to shoulder his grief and her own. Slowly, she descended the cliff. All while casting her gaze out to the hills where she knew Odin would soon appear.
Not long after a figure cloaked in dark robes appeared on the heels. A flock of squawking birds flew over him. Knowing he wouldn't remain long, Bonnie released her mystical energy at full force. It shot through the air towards the immortal. Her sorcery wrapped itself about the figure, instantly revealing his identity, even before it snatched away his hood. She shook her head. No damn it! It couldn't be! She watched him get sucked into a celestial abyss. How could he be the immortal known as the All-Father. None of it made sense, and yet it all did. The second most powerful witch to ever live. The oldest immortal in history. Of course he was the oldest immortal. He was the first.
The figure slipped her magic and disappeared from the hills. Only to reappear before her. He executed a flawless bow all while his serious gaze never left her face. Sharp intakes of breaths sounded from behind her, yet she didn't turn to gauge her companions' reactions. At this point she didn't care.
The All-Father tsked, his brow cocked. "Bygones, Bonnie?"
"Silas." She mouthed.
A hint of a smile disturbed his lips as he placed a finger to them. He reached out to brush the tears from her cheek. "You're a long way from Mystic Falls, Bonnie Bennett. If you're here then I know things are critical. We have much to discuss you and I." His gaze flicked over her shoulder to study her companions, before returning to her. "I'll find you when you return to Kattegat." With that said, he disappeared.
"Bonnie, why didn't you ever speak of being acquainted with the All-Father?" Hvitserk questioned, amazement tainted his tone.
She waved him off as she started her trek down the cliff. "None of that matters, Hvits. All that matters is us getting back to Kattegat."
"But he bowed before you," Harald rasped in disbelief, "Odin, our All-Father, bowed before you."
She didn't even bother responding to him or his veiled condescension. Halfdan fell in step at her side. "Bonnie, what's happened? Why was Odin here?"
She glanced at a stricken Bjorn over her shoulder and forced her heart to harden. "To bring news of a death and his condolences."
"Death, but whose?" Rollo questioned. "What warrior is so great, Odin himself brings news of his entrance into Valhalla?"
"Who do you think?" She asked, sparing him a glance over her shoulder.
"My father's dead," Bjorn said to no one in particular. It was almost as if he were attempting to convince himself.
Her eyes slitted as her broken spirit gave birth to a thirst for vengeance. "And England owes Scandinavia a debt and if I know Ivar's beautiful mind like I know I do, he's already gathered a great heathen army to ensure they pay in full."
Sigurd stood in the entrance way of Ubbe's door staring toward the direction of the Harbor. Without thought he whittled away at a stick with a blade. Bonnie weighed heavy on his mind and his heart. An eve past he'd felt her perish from this life by a blade to the chest. The agonizing blow pilfered air from his body. Yet, nothing pained him more than knowing she passed from this life to the next. It mattered not how temporary. Her departure from Midgard should've never happened. How could Hvitserk and Bjorn allow such a thing to occur?
"That is my knife," Ivar said, from his place at the table.
Not minded for one of his brother's fits, he crossed the room. He placed the blade in front of Ivar, and then took the seat across from Ubbe.
"Are you still unwell?" Ubbe questioned, studying him with an expression of concern.
He shook his head and glanced back towards the door. "I'm ill at ease. I committed a grave error when I agreed to allow Hvitserk to replace me on the journey to the Mediterranean Sea. He wasn't ready."
"Why do you believe this to be so?" Ivar questioned as he fingered the point of the blade with the pad of his thumb.
His gaze left the door to scrutinize Ivar. Nigh all of his life he'd despised his younger brother. Now since there father had chosen Valhalla over Bonnie, Ivar was once again destined to become her eternal mate. If they were all to coexist together for an eternity, he'd have to learn to set his hatred for his crippled brother to the side. Eventually, they'd have to forge an alliance. Be joined together in one accord in their loyalty and protection of her.
"Three eves past someone impaled Bonnie with a sword. Her departure from Midgard occurred within the kindling of an eye," he said, exhaling as some of the burden lifted from his shoulders.
The blade Ivar fingered sliced open his finger. He allow the knife to clatter to the table as his face loss all pigment. "What?"
"How can you be certain of this?" Ubbe demanded coming erect in his seat.
His gaze left Ivar's to meet Ubbe's. "I can't explain the how of it, but Bonnie and I are one. I can feel her even when she's not near. Just as I felt her die, I also felt when she resurrected. I can even feel her impending approach to Kattegat."
Upon hearing of Bonnie's resurrection Ivar slumped over on the table. His gaze trained on his knife, yet more than likely unseeing. "How long will it be before she arrives?"
"A fortnight, perhaps less," he said, once again casting his gaze towards the door.
Indifference laid siege to Ubbe's face, yet the distress which lingered in his eyes boldly contradicted such claims. "We were meant to marry upon Bonnie's return from the Mediterranean Sea. She was supposed to be my wife."
"She was never going to be your wife," Ivar said, driving the blade into the table. "Everyone knew this to be true. You were foolish to believe your will to be stronger than fates. Especially, when your path has been revealed to you on countless occasions."
Ubbe brought his chalice to his mouth and sneered into the vessel. "And I suppose you believe yourself to be fated for Bonnie."
"Ubbe, your mind ponders things which are already set," Ivar said, snatching the dagger from the table to utilize the blade to scratch his head. "Your thoughts should be upon avenging father."
"Yes," Ubbe nodded, while slamming his cup down on the table. "King Alle must be made to answer for the death of our father."
Ivar pointed the blade of the knife at Ubbe. "And Ecbert! He is the one who offered father over to Alle. Father wanted revenge on Ecbert as well."
"No, I believe our focus should be on Alle." Ubbe glanced to Sigurd for support, but he had none to lend him. On this, he agreed with Ivar.
The muscle twitched in Ivar's jaw as he plainly waged a battle with his frustrations. "This is the message he wanted me to bring back to all of you."
"Ecbert's lands are vast and are defended well. We haven't the army to engage Ecbert in war along with Alle." Ubbe attempted to explain.
"And there he is. Even minded Ubbe," Ivar said as he slapped the dagger in his palms in a hand clap of sorts. "The same even minded deserter who allows that usurper to remain seated upon our mother's thrown."
"Ubbe's right. We don't have the army we need to bleed both Ecbert's and Alle's kingdoms." Sigurd began. Ivar scoffed, waved him off, and then turned in preparation of taking his leave. "So we raise one. A great one the likes of which England has never known. We call in favors, we make promises, and do whatever it takes to forge alliances for this purpose."
A smirk replaced the sneer on his younger brother's face. "But we don't restrict our appeals for alliances to Norway alone. No we make requests of every kingdom in Scandinavia we can message. Then in the name of Ragnar Lothbrok, and the All-Father we'll raze England to the ground. Blood eagle her kings, and then set it all to flames."
Bonnie stood at the front of the boat staring out at the horizon. One would say the sight was breathtaking, but she saw none of it. Her thoughts lay with the wealth of memories of she and Ragnar. Now unbound, they flooded her mind. Just as an overabundance of unused love burdened her heart. Why couldn't her memories have resurfaced when he first returned to Kattegat? She'd never would've allowed him to sail to England without her. She would've beat the hell out of fate if it would've kept Ragnar on this side of the veil. Yet, this wasn't the case and now there she stood with a mental full of regrets.
"I believe knowing and loving you changed Ragnar." Rollo fell into place next to her. "When he returned from wintering in the mountains, he was no longer content with farming the land. He became consumed with journeying west. Like a man in search of something or someone." He glanced at her from the cut of his eye. "It wasn't until many summers after when he finally spoke of you. The way he described you, I thought you no more than an exaggeration of a nigh frozen mind. Yet, now that I've met you I finally understand the loss he'd suffered for all those summers. Just as I feel your suffering now." He turned to face her full on. "I know this may not ease your sorrow. Though, I can only hope it assists in easing your mind to know that when the time comes I intend to fight at your side."
"Thank you, Rollo," she said, finding little comfort in his words. The man she wanted at her side claimed not to be the man she needed. "You should see Bjorn and Hvitserk. They're both hurting and I no longer have it in me to care."
Rollo watched her for a moment, before nodding once and turning to head in the direction of Bjorn's tent. She turned back to the horizon as another memory plagued her beleaguered mind.
She trailed kisses down the side of his neck to his chest, pausing only long enough in her descent to tongue each of his nipples. A groan rumbled against her lips. She smiled into his peck. His spot. Worked every time. His hand fisted in her hair in an attempt to hold her in place, but she ducked his grip and continued down his abdomen.
"Where's your place in the world?" He murmured as she nipped at the skin of his lower abdomen.
Her head popped up as a frown crumpled her features. "What do you mean? My place in this world will always be at your side. You're stuck with me, farmer Rags! No take backs."
"No, I mean where does the land you're from lie," he said as a smile commandeered his mouth.
"Well if this is Norway as you say, then I guess my land would lie to the west," she said, gripping his manhood in her fist.
He growled his way through a moan to speak. Stretched wide eyes met hers. "There's land to the west of here?"
"Of course there's land west of Scandinavia. It's not like the worlds flat, and you'll fall off the edge if you sail too far in one direction," she laughed.
"But the world is fla-," whatever he planned to say was snatched back down his throat when she swallowed all ten of him.
Funny how one conversation between lovers could write an entire chapter in history. He'd went on to become the father to a race of people and he'd done it all without her at his side. Now the mother of all creation had named her mother of all supernatural things. It was now her turn to redefine a world, but could she really move mountains while she bore the burden of his absence at her side?
An arm slipped around her shoulders to cuddle her to his side. "You'll do what you must, because there's not only strength in you Bonnie Bennett, but there's also honor." Floki's words were delivered with such conviction his truth was at risk of becoming hers. "I don't believe your unmatched mystical energy is the only reason you were named Supreme. No, I believe it's because you're the best of us all. I've no doubt that when the final battle arrives you'll deliver a victory that even the Goddess of all never saw coming."
Bjorn sat alone in the small confines of his tent thinking of his father. Ragnar had entered the gates of Valhalla. They'd not see the other again until he did the same. It's true, he'd already mourned the loss of his father long ago, but the finality of this time placed an agony within him for which he'd not been prepared. Yet, the only woman who could come near to easing his pain refused to have anything to do with him. And who can discover fault in her actions? He'd named himself her protector yet it was she who protected them all. The one moment she required him to live up to his title he'd fallen short of his obligations to her.
"Bjorn, can I come in?" The woman in question asked from beyond the slit of his covering.
"Yes," he said, staring at the entrance anticipating the moment she entered.
A mere moment later she slipped in but moved no further from the entrance. "I've come to ask that you release me from our sacred vow. You've proven yourself ineffective to uphold your end, and the thought of continuing on at your side from this point is no longer something I desire to do."
Her words nigh unmade him. Nothing she claimed of him were false. Yet, even so he couldn't renounce their vow. Doing so would cast her from his presence and that's a harshness for which he'd never be prepared. So he lifted his chin, while gathering his pride and said, "No, I'll not release you from our vow. We've both committed errors in regards to our oath, yet how will we ever correct our transgressions if we effectuate the gravest one of all by breaking our word."
"You're right, my prudent Protector." She inclined her head as she stared at him with a gaze so unlike the one he'd come to know. Sorrow, anger, and regret dulled the once brilliant verdant hue of her eyes. "It is better we break each other, than to break our word. Such seeds of wisdom is more than my poor womanly mind can comprehend."
"You mourn Ragnar," Bjorn voiced his understanding as soon as awareness enlightened his mind. "Why? It wasn't as if you knew…," His words faded to nothing as his understanding proceeded to full comprehension. He shook his head still refusing to believe what in the depths of him he knew to be true. "But, that's not…how?"
Bonnie cast her gaze to the ground. "You no longer have my confidence or trust, Bjorn. We may be bound together because of this vow, but it'll be the only connection we'll ever share." She turned to seek her leave.
"Because I made a mistake," his voice came out as a reflection of himself…broken. He needed her, and she spurned him.
"No because I made a mistake!" She yelled without affording him the respect of even turning around. "What I feel…felt for you was wrong and misguided. The love I thought I felt for you was only because you reminded me of someone else."
Bjorn scoffed. "My father." She didn't say anything. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. His hands roamed in different directions. One went north, while the other explored south. "Was it my father you thought of when I touched you as well? When you begged me by name to enter you?"
"Don't you dare!" She snatched out of his embrace and spun around to push him away. Gold flames blaze bright in her gaze as she pointed a finger in his face. "Don't you dare treat me how you did those poor women who were too afraid to fight back, Bjorn Ironside."
His gut twisted and knotted. Those women were no more than for sport, and he didn't even enjoy taking them by force. He only did so because that is what's done. "I would never treat you in such a way."
"Yet, you don't mind treating other women in such a way. As I said before, you're not the man I thought you were," she said, before slipping from the tent.
"What will the Supreme say of us marrying Ubbe? I do not want to anger her further," Margrethe questioned as she sat across from him sewing her wedding gown.
Ubbe glanced down in his cup. It wasn't Ivar's words that hung heavy in his mind. It was the sentiment behind his words. He'd spent the entire solstice cycle pursuing Bonnie in hopes of luring her in to matrimony and it had all been for naught. In hindsight, he now believed his bewitching Valkyrie never had any intention of becoming his wife. She'd ensnared him with her exotic charms, and for what? He still remained undecided of her true motives. Yet, while his betrothed portrayed the temptress, Margrethe remained steadfast in her affections for him. Not once had she'd ever turned away from him as Bonnie. So if anyone deserved to be his wife and the mother of his babes, it was Margrethe. After all it was as Ivar said, she was his path.
"I care not what Bonnie has to say of us marrying. If she is angered then I'm sure in time she'll move past her feelings of ill content," he said, giving her a closed lipped smile before taking a sip from his cup.
Her pale blue gaze sparkled back at him. "Even still, I shall like for the past to remain behind us and for the Supreme and I to become close. Like she and Torvi appears to be."
"Bonnie's not a trivial woman. I'm sure if she believes you to be contrite all will be forgiven," Ubbe said, not entirely sure of his assurances to his soon to be wife. Bonnie was rather petty when she was minded to be.
The door to his keep burst open and in slithered Ivar. Unease overtook Margrethe as she folded in on herself, attempting to make herself smaller as if she meant to go unnoticed. His younger brother had not a care for her, however. Instead, he pulled himself upon a stool and poured some ale in one of the empty chalices on the table.
"King Eriksson and Earl Dahl has agreed to gather their warriors and journey with us to avenge our father. Skol," He said, raising his cup to him before taking a generous swallow. "We are well on our way to having an army that will devastate the Christian lands of England, brother."
A smirk took possession of his mouth. The news of more warriors joining their cause incited his lust for blood and retribution. He glanced to his intended, her look of unease appeared to have given birth to a gut illness. "Worry not, my beautiful Margrethe. We'll marry before I journey to England. Then Lagertha will have no other choice than to acknowledge your elevation in station."
"Oh, I didn't realize she was about," Ivar said, appearing surprised to discover Margrethe sitting off to the left across from him. He glanced back to Ubbe. "So, you've decided to marry her then? How did Lagertha receive you freeing one of her slaves?"
"I care not for how she receives any action I choose to enact," he said as his face twisted into a sneer. The thought of his father's first wife deceiving him as if he were no more than a fool still set flames to his chest. He longed for the day he could run her through with a blade of his choosing. "I hope the bitter bitch chokes on her disagreement if she is so inclined to be disagreeable."
"Or perhaps a blade to the heart to assist her out of her misery," Ivar said, allowing his grin to take a sinister turn. "Ubbe, I know you and Sigurd say we should focus on avenging father. Yet, with the great army arriving daily, this places us in a position of strength. Why not deal with Lagertha before we sail to England? If we delay, by the time we return her claim to the throne will be that much stronger, not to mention her defenses."
Ubbe lifted his chin as he scrutinized his brother. Ivar's thoughts were sound. He lifted a cup to Margrethe and smiled. "Hmm, perhaps it is time we escorted Lagertha to the gates of Helheim."
"Row," Bonnie yelled from the front of the boat to the seamen on the oars. Through the darkness she could make out Kattegat's harbor, but something deep within her mind whispered the timeline had shifted. "Faster, damnit! Faster!"
"Bonnie, please," Floki said from his perch on the boat's edge. "They're rowing as fast as humanly possible."
The scowl already present on her face deepened. "That's the problem! Drop the oars!"
The seaman continued to row giving each other confused expressions. All of them too afraid to keep rowing and just as afraid to stop.
"Bonnie, we've all had enough of your ill temper," Bjorn bellowed, snatching her around to get in her face. "You may be the Supreme, but you're not the leader of this ship! So, sit down and hold your tongue. We'll arrive at Kattegat when the tide sees fit to return us there."
"Bjorn, I can give a candy licker's ass who the fucking leader of this ship is. If we wait on the tide or these slow ass seaman to get us to shore then you might as well get used to having your mother as a memory because she will be dead! Now do you wanna arrange a rescue or plan a funeral? The choice is yours, Leader!"
He studied her for a fraction of a second with bulging eyes, before he let all hell lose, "You heard your Supreme, drop the oars!"
Once the seaman had relinquished the oars, Bonnie allowed her mystical energy free reign. The golden sorcery slithered around the oars and went to work. Soon the longboat was soaring towards the shores of Kattegat as if it had a motor. In no time they reached the harbor. A tall broad figure waited on the pier. Without seeing his face clearly or magic discerning the who she already knew him. Not pausing, she jumped from the boat and rushed into Sigurd's arms.
"I'm sorry, Valkyrie. I never should've trusted Hvitserk to protect you," he said as he lifted her off the ground.
She permitted herself a moment to bury her face in his neck. To just inhale the familiarness of him. Then she leaned back. "Sigurd, we'll have time for this later. Now, we have to get to the great hall. Ivar and Ubbe are about to…"
"Come," he said, turning and hurrying them back towards the great hall.
By that time Bjorn, Floki and the other warriors had made it onto the pier. They fell in step after them. As they drew near, she noticed the doors being guarded by soldiers bearing different colors from that of Lagertha's. Not wasting time with questions, she waved her hands. The warriors went flying in various directions. She made a pushing gesture at thin air, and the doors blew off the hinges. Inside, Ubbe held Lagertha with the blade of a sword pressed to her throat, while Ivar was on the verge of hurling an ax at her chest.
Bonnie strutted into the hall with her head high and eyes on Ivar. Her magic lashed about inside of her to be free. Her heart swelled within her chest. Under all of his righteous rage lurked breathtaking agony. When she reached him, she kneeled and pulled the ax from his hand. He released it without a struggle as he stared at her as if she were a dream. She cradled his face in her hands and rested her forehead on his. In the months she'd been away time had sharpened his features and lengthened his hair. Now he appeared more man than boy.
"You did well gathering this great army, babe," she whispered to him as she held his electric blue gaze. "Now let's sail them to England to see how well and for how long we can make Alle and Ecbert pay."
The expression which claimed his face and set up shop in his eyes couldn't be described as anything less than Machiavellian. If she didn't know it before, she knew it now. Ivar Lothbrok was her mate and without him there would be no victory. Ragnar gave his life so that Ivar could thrive. And thrive he would. She'd exact whatever act needed to be exacted to ensure it. She pressed a kiss to his lips, before standing.
"I know the wrong committed against you, brothers," Bjorn said as he made his way into the great hall. "And were it me, my thirst for blood would be nigh unquenchable as well. Yet, if you kill her, then you'll have to kill me also."
"Then so be it," Ivar growled.
Ubbe's glare swung to Ivar. "Hold your tongue!" His hold on Lagertha tightened.
Bjorn stalled in his approach to chance a glance at Ivar, and then Bonnie. She turned away from him to approach Ubbe. Feeling a deep sense, she allowed her sorcery to raise the temperature on the handle on the sword he held to Lagertha's neck. Seconds later the blade clattered to the floor.
"Agh!" He yelled in horror as he glared down at the third degree burn in his palm that exposed bones.
She exhaled and grabbed his hand to heal him. Once the pain receded, they exchanged gazes that spoke on everything which transpired between them and everything that wouldn't. They were over and the only thing left to do was to place a period at the end of them. She stepped back until she once again stood at Bjorn's side.
"We have no time for trivial household disputes. Not when our father still has yet to be avenged. So tell me brothers," Bjorn shifted his gaze from Ubbe to Ivar, "will you remain here to screech and gnash your teeth like women, or will you journey with me to England to wage war and avenge our father like Vikings?"