A smirk crept across Hvitserk's lips and masqueraded itself as a smile. In a swift reverse of power he flipped Bonnie. Fractions of a second later she lay sprawled on her back. Ivar's and Hvits' faces loomed over hers. Hunger lit their blazing blues. The deprived need which sparked their gazes flamed every piece and part of her, melting her until she was no more than a puddle of her baser instincts.
She raised herself on her elbows to scan the length of them. Ivar who'd managed to relieve himself of his pants, held his flushed rock solid dick in a firm grip. Drops of precum oozed from the slitted head. The sight forced her tongue to glide across her bottom lip. Damn she loved everything about him, even the taste of him. Especially the taste of him. If only he understood the contents of the heart he held within his possession. Perhaps then future fuck ups on both of their parts could be avoided. She mentally shook away the dark clouds that brewed on their horizon in favor of embracing their spine snatching present.
Thoroughly amazed and compelled by consuming Ivar, Bonnie rolled over on her stomach. In a slither reminiscent of his own she moved to claim the salty sweetness dripping from the head of his manhood. Persistent fingers however, thwarted her efforts. They tangled themselves in the roots of her hair to hold her in place. Seconds later a hard lean body covered the back of hers. Hvitserk's intoxicating weight caused a tight press between the fur covered mattress and her sensitive nipples. Her clit thrummed under the stimulating graze of each bristled strand. The breath-taking sensation snatched her arousal to heights that even NASA wouldn't venture.
"Where in Odin's eye are you off to, Hjarta?" Hvitserk whispered next to her ear, before nipping at her lobe.
"To taste my mate!" She growled, annoyed he'd dare stop her. Yet turned on by the means in which he'd done so.
He lifted off of her to straddle the tops of her thighs. Soon after he slapped her ass, hard. "Ivar, has our Supreme earned the privilege of savoring you?"
"No, brother, she has not," Ivar said with as much smugness dripping from his tone as cum seeping from his dick.
Her neck snapped as attitude twisted her face in a—the fuck you mean—sneer. "Oh so you don't want me to take you to the back of my throat. Okay," Her head bobbed. "Noted!"
Ivar's eyes flared as his expression blasted the flip-flop of his mind from Hvitserk's tilted position. "My love, I only meant-,"
"Talking about I haven't earned the privilege," she muttered as she attempted to buck Christian Not Grey off the back of her thighs.
"So many apologies, My Love!" Ivar said, damn near breaking a hip scooting closer to shove his dick in her face. He grabbed her cheeks and tried to guide the head of his prick in her mouth.
She tore her face from his grasp. "You must've forgotten I know all about the little pest problem you had, Lover." Thankfully, the weight lifted from her thighs. So she took the opportunity and climbed to her knees to visually annihilate him from point blank range. "And let's just get one damn thing straight, Mr. I Get Around! The privilege would be all—oohugh!"
Hvitserk slid balls deep into her from behind in one stroke. The thrill of him filling her damn near to the base of her throat ripped the rest of the words from her tongue. Oxygen chuck deuces and told her lungs to get it how they lived. Leaving her to huff and pant herself through a feeling so fire it came close to wiping the memory of her own damn name from her brain. Her eyes crossed as drool leaked from the corner of her mouth. Never in life had she ever known how to Harlem Shake but Hvits' superb dick game had her jerking and quaking better than Al B. ever shook.
The thongs he saw fit to push to the side, he now tore from her body and tossed them to Ivar. "Brother, you are not to apologize to her! In our quarters-,"
"Hmm—Our quarters?" She questioned, attempting to snark her way through a rather embarrassing whimper. "When the hell did you move in, Hvits?!"
He smacked her ass again and stilled his movements. The burn of his spurn nearly incinerated her on the spot. "In our quarters," he speared her with a—I said what the hell I said—glare, "she is not our Supreme, she is biddable or she is displeased. Never shall pleasure and waywardness dwell within the same gathering."
"Hvits, my heart, my mate," she cut an eye at him over her shoulder. "Though my love for you flows without end, there's no part in this situationship of ours that I'll allow you or Ivar to top me." Her calculating stare swept to Ivar whose gaze still pled with her. "Kiss me, Lover…and make it nasty."
Ivar hurried to take her mouth, Hvits snatched her out of his reach by the hair. With slow deliberate strokes he ground into her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Developing a mind of their own, her hips wound countered clockwise in rhythm to his. Without her damn consent and to her shit talking shame belly bred moans tumbled from her mouth in long humming wails. No matter how hard she bit her bottom lip they refused to be contained. Hvitserk had her on the ropes ringing the hell out of her bell. The arrogant bastard knew it too.
"Now you see, Ivar." He palmed her breast and flicked her nipple with the callous pad of his thumb. "Sight how addled she appears…how willing…how biddable? There isn't anything my Hjarta wouldn't do for you or I." He assured between measured pumps and grunts. "All we need do is ask."
Ivar considered them with wide uncertain eyes before his questioning stare crept to hers. Their gazes locked and held. Neither one of them was feeling the game Hvitserk more than likely recycled from his threesomes with Ubbe and Margrethe. Hvits thought he was turning her out. Yet his slow teasing strokes only served to piss her off. Control and obedience wasn't her and Ivar's way. Buck wild and no restraint is how they got down. No one was subservient to the other because they both served each other.
Vulnerability and unsureness humbled Ivar's demeanor. Hvits, oblivious to the change in the room continued to slow grind her from behind. Ivar snatched his gaze from hers to regard the softening length in his hand. Something akin to doubt radiated off of him in waves. Almost as if he questioned all the love they'd made up until that point. Questioned if he'd really been man enough to satisfy her. Such misgivings on his part decimated the tolerance she'd allowed for Hvits fuckery, but no more! She was calling it! They were done feeding into Hvitserk's Fifty Shades of Bullshit! She wanted to cum…long, hard, and multiple times. Even more than having her back blown to bits and fragments she wanted to be close to her mates. Not just by pressing their bodies together, but by entwining their energies, hearts, and minds as well.
Without further deliberation, she tore herself from Hvitserk to straddle Ivar. In a lift and dip of her hips she took him all in. By the time her good-good swallowed the last inch of him, his manhood went from angel soft to brick mansion hard. He gripped her waist and rested his for head on hers. They both exhaled.
Hvitserk crawled to crouch next to them. "Ivar, if you allow this, she shall never know her place when we come together-,"
"Silence, Hvitserk," Ivar managed to groan. "I only wish to hear my love's maddening shrieks of pleasure as I plow her. Not you and your witless instructing," One of his hands glided up the side of her body to cup her cheek. "Can you not sight how faultless she is within this moment? Why would you ever want to alter her, hmm?" He took possession of her lips and seared her soul with the scorching caress of his mouth.
"Ivar, you only believe this to be so because you've never-,"
Bonnie snatched Hvitserk to her. She plunged her tongue in his mouth. He grabbed the sides of her face. She thought to sever their lips, but he used his grip on her cheeks to deepen the kiss. As the tongue wrestling between her and Hvits got sloppier, her pussy imitated a succubus. Her Super Soaker Snapper 300 (pending trademark LMFAO) attempted to suck the life out of Ivar's life giving dick. Too soon and not soon enough, her clit throbbed in concert with the pounding beat of her heart. Her nipples attempted to imitate jaw breakers. A pulsing pressure swelled and pressed down on her mons. Her mouth watered. Good Goddess she was so close. Hvitserk broke there kiss. He bent down to suck and nibble on her nipples.
"Oh, fuuu—oooh!" She growled, smashing her hips into Ivar. "Oooh, fuck! Hvi—Iva—shit!" She didn't know who name to fucking call.
She ground her clit against Ivar's pelvis. Once, twice, thrice, and up in flames went her world. She howled. Mystical Energy exploded from her. The ancient sorcery wrapped itself about Ivar, while tentatively sensing out Hvitserk. Twisting her body better than a record breaking contortionist, Bonnie rotated and turned herself until she had Hvits' dick down her throat while still riding Ivar in a back bend.
"Hjarta! NO! That is not natu-ah…oh! Shama…lama…lama"
Hvitserk's head dropped back. He began to speak in tongues. Which ones? She didn't know. His gibberish must've confused the hell out of her sorcery because a translation was not forthcoming. In a state of insane bliss he gripped her by the back of her head. With powerful thrusts he fucked the hell out of her throat as she fucked the hell out of Ivar who in turn fed her good-good dick forged by the gods in spine tingling pumps from the bottom. Each of them wailed, moan, and spit hella nonsense until the damn broke. Hvits ejaculated a load down her throat which shot from her nose. Ivar's monster slapped and whipped at her g-spot until her good-good went clonic and started to south side quake. In a writhing and twitching fit, they all collapsed in a knotted heap.
"Hjarta, p-perhaps your way may b-be the right of it," Hvits stuttered as his head rested on her lower back.
"And d-don't m-make me rep-peat myself," she murmured.
Exhaustion forced her lids to flutter, while the pounding rhythm of Ivar's heart under her ear serenaded her towards slumber.
"P-please rep-peat yourself if you must. I relish hearing such things m-many times a rising," Hvitserk uttered.
"Yes, M-My Love. I'm minded to hear it at least once more this eve as well," Ivar said, before brushing his lips against her forehead.
Unholy fuckery! When in the—Cirque du Soleil—hell did she join the circus?
"I don't favor this," Naya said as she wandered about the tent Emir had offered them for their personal quarters. She pulled back the bed furs, and then peered under the oversized pillows. "I do not favor any of this at all."
Halfdan reclined on one of the ground cushions barely attending her. His mind dwelled many leagues away across the sea. In a city called York. In their absence Bonnie, Ivar, and Hvitserk had become famous. Their names spoken far and wide. Yet he could care less about her infamy. How could she agree to marry one as such as Ivar? From what he remembered of him, he was an ambitious boy who'd been barely a man. Surely a few Solstice Cycles couldn't have altered his character over much. Not enough to deem him worthy of marriage to her.
Naya perched upon his leg, while wrapping her arms about his neck. "You've not lent me an ear since we've arrived have you, My King?"
"Of course," he forced a smile. "You believe Emir to be nefarious in nature and Kassia to be as faithless as a harbor dwelling woman in search of a coin. How can I not lend you my ear? All of your words have the likeness of my homelands most celebrated Sagas."
She laughed and pressed her lips to his. Her kiss lingered for a moment, before she pulled away and whispered. "I shall miss you when you sail away."
"Will you not be sailing with me, my beauty?" He asked searching her face. She bit her bottom lip. Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. "Why not?"
"Because you'll never choose me over her, and my heart will never be able to bear such a burden." He wanted to reassure her of her place in his life. That she came before any other, yet they both knew such a notion would never hold true. She cleared her throat and grinned despite the tears on her cheeks. "Asides, there is a task I must undertake, so here is where our paths must divert."
"Well, there's still many new moons to come before we sail for my homeland," he whispered, sliding his hand under her silken skirts. "Let us not squander what time still remains."
His finger skimmed the nub between her intimate lips and a moan tumble from mouth. "You're right, My King. Let us not."
"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles—babe! I thought you wanted me to read this to you," she said, peering at Ivar over a copy of the Art of War.
His kneading became even more insistent at the arch of her foot. "Can you not read and withstand foot strokes while doing so, My Love?" He questioned all innocence and arched brows.
"Hjarta, speak the part about people and predictability once more," Hvitserk said, before slipping another strawberry between her lips. He leaned down and used the tip of his tongue to clean away the juice that escaped the corner of her mouth.
Releasing a moan of fuckstration, she flipped to the page he referred. "Engage people with what they expect-,"
"Apologies, Supreme." Thomas interrupted with a bow and contrition written all over his face. "King Ivar, the Saxon army, or what remains of it, have abandoned their camp."
Ivar placed a kiss to her foot, replaced it in his lap, and then gave Thomas a wave of dismissal. When they were once again alone, he laughed. "If we wanted we could pursue them. End them, here and now. Destroy them all." Spite and vengeance shone bright in his eyes as he raked a pointed stare over her.
"Or, how about we go hunt down Freydis and I end her." She raised her head from the cradle of Hvitserk's lap. "How about I put her ass in the dirt once and for all!" Their glares locked and held.
"Or we can turn our attentions to somewhere of more import," Hvitserk said, reaching up to cradle the side of her neck in his palm, while caressing the nape with his thumb. Her eyes rolled closed as she settled back on the bench and allowed him to cuddle her to his chest.
"And what place is of more import than here?" Ivar's voice came out clipped and annoyed.
"Our home, brother," Hvitserk said. His words halted the beat of her heart. Her eyes snapped open. "Kattegat."
"Ah," Ivar vocalized his pleasure as the formation of another fire plan lit his face. "There is a debt which must be collected in our homeland."
"By now Lagertha's hold on Kattegat is strong. Knowing Ubbe as we do, rather than slaughtering our mother's murderer as he should he's become her ally. I'll wager they mean to utilize each other to stand against you if time ever arises." He lifted her wrist to his nose and inhaled. She shuddered as hot liquid need thoroughly saturated the crotch of her panties.
Ivar waved a dismissive hand. "Ubbe does not concern me nor does that murdering bitch Lagertha."
"This is why the time to attack is nigh upon us," Hvitserk said, before pressing his lips to her inner wrist. "If Bjorn should return before we have an opportunity to retake Kattegat and crown you king then victory will be that much more difficult to achieve." Both of their gazes drifted to her.
"We can always stay here. It's not like fate doesn't know where to find us," she said with a forced smile which in truth felt more like a grimace.
"And you know well why this is impossible," Hvits whispered next to her ear.
"Come, My Love," Ivar held his arms out to her, and she pulled herself free of Hvitserk to go to him. Once she straddled his lap he palmed both of her cheeks. He brought her face to his for a soul stealing kiss. "This is something Hvitserk and I must do. Lagertha must answer for what she has done to my mother. Has this wound not festered long enough, hmm?" She rolled her gaze away. He captured her face again and rested his forehead on hers. "Asides, we've been betrothed long enough. It is now time for you to become my wife, and in my vision we entered matrimony upon the cliff in Kattegat overlooking the sea. So you see, I must kill Lagertha and claim the throne. Is this not our fate?"
Why couldn't they see this path led to their separation? Killing Lagertha would forever place Ivar and Hvitserk on opposite sides of Bjorn. And though she loved them with every piece and part of herself, she couldn't stand against Bjorn. There's no way their vow would allow it. Yet it wasn't just their vow. She cared for all of them, and it would tear her to bits to watch them attempt to kill each other.
Intercessor?
Her head cocked. Bishop Heahmund?
"This time we shall really seek our leave of York," Ivar said. She climbed from his lap and hurried towards the throne room door. "My Love, where are you misplacing yourself? There are plans to be plotted for the return to our homeland."
Ignoring him, she rushed from the room and raced down the hall until she reached the stone steps that led to the dungeon. Two at a time, she descended them. At the bottom, three warriors stood guard as a chain and collared Bishop Heahmund kneeled in prayer. Her appearance provoked the warriors to peer at each other, confusion present and accounted for on each of their faces.
"Supreme," One of the warriors said as they each bowed to her. "Does King Ivar know of your presence here?"
Heahmund opened an eye to peer at them. She lifted her chin to stare down her nose at him. "No, perhaps you should run along and tell him, Bragg." Waving her hands at the other two warriors, she spoke to them as well. "You lot go with him to be sure he gets the right of it." Moments later a thunder of footsteps pounded the stairs.
"Why do you allow those ignorant Pagans to refer to you as their Supreme?" Heahmund asked, still haughty as ever.
She exhaled. "What do you want, Heahmund? Why have you called me to you?" She began to slowly circle the stone pillar he'd been attached to.
"I had to be certain you were who I've come to believe you to be, Intercessor," he inclined his head to her. "The lord's holy spirit within the world."
She shook her head at his nonsense. Did he really summon her through their shared connection to see if she would come? As if she were no more than an errant dog in need of training? She stalked over to him and knelt in front of him. More than prepared to give him the come to Jesus talk he so wanted. Heahmund, however, snatched her off guard. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
"What have I done," he whispered next to her ear. "What transgression have I committed for which he'd forsake me, oh Sacred One?" He ran his nose along her throat, while pressing his body firmly against hers.
Her lip tooted as she broke free of his hold. "Well perhaps it has something to do with you always seducing most of the women in his flock. Blessed, Goddess! You're a Bishop, and yet you're around here behaving no better than those dogs that goes around humping random legs. Perhaps Christianity is not the religion for you." She shrugged as she stood and began to pace. Cocking her head to the side, she squinted her eyes as she considered him. "You could very well be a man out of time. I see you more as a free loving sexually liberated hippie," On further thought she dismissed the idea with a wave of the hand. "But then again the darkness in you will send you down the Manson path in no time."
"You can't honestly believe excommunication is the solution. I'm a warrior for the lord," He said lifting his chin in…pride? She shook her head. Of all the emotions he could've chosen during his petition for redemption, he chose the one which parlayed among the Ancient of Day's deadly seven. "I will fight 'til my death in service of the church!"
"Yeah but doing so basically says you don't have faith the Ancient of Days will deliver you from whatever disaster has befallen you. And isn't faith the foundation of your religion?" She regarded him with a narrowed stare.
His chest puffed as his nostrils flared. "I've done no more than what the church has trained me to do."
"And at what point should a man who is no longer a child in his faith, start to question the messenger when the message being delivered no longer coincides with the well-known word of his father?" She knelt to be eye level with him. "Even still when should said man reap the consequences for following an unscrupulous messenger all while also leading those who have proven to be pure of heart and devoutly faithful to the same deceptive message?"
"Are these things…" Heahmund grasped her hands in his, "Offenses of which I'm believed to be guilty?" He searched her face with wide earnest eyes.
She shook her head. "I don't know, Bishop. Do you believe yourself guilty of such offenses?"
Footsteps descending the stone stairs along with the unmistakable clank of an iron crutch greeted their ears. Her eyes rolled as she stood. The warriors from earlier returned joined with the Lothbrok brothers. Ivar who appeared straight up panicked almost misplaced his footing on the last step. Had not Hvitserk reached out to steady him, he would've met the ground face first.
"M-My Love, why've you come here," he questioned as his gaze shifted from her to Heahmund.
"Why?" She questioned with a cocked brow and searching eyes. His anxiety stirred uneasiness in her gut. "Am I not allowed here, Lover? Is this area of our home off limits to me?"
His face crumpled as if she'd just claimed to be the mother of Jesus. He then released several barks of laughter. "Oh, of course not. You may go wherever you choose. I would just prefer that Bishop Heahmund not distress you is all." Heahmund scoffed and lifted his nose higher in the air. "We both know how you do not favor him."
Her eyes narrowed as she considered him from head to toe. His gaze shifted back and forth refusing to meet her stare, while sweat poured off of him as if he were a crackhead competing in the Breaking and Entering Olympics. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Me?" Outrage stretched his too blue stare wide as his gaze darted from her to a confused looking Hvitserk. "Yes, perhaps you would prefer to believe I am the wrong of it. When it is you, My Love, who is in verity behaving strangely."
His accusation snatched her head diagonal. "Excuse me?!"
"Not even a turn of the hour glass before I attempted to discuss our marriage day and you fled the throne room without even an utterance of an explanation." He waved his hand about as the veins in his neck stood at attention. "Yet mere moments later I discover you here, attending Bishop Heahmund a Christian. A Christian you do not even favor. Are you even still minded to enter matrimony with me, hmm?"
Her eyes slitted to damn near clothes lids proportions. Something was definitely afoot, but what? "What's happening?" She questioned, folding her arms across her chest.
"This is a question only you can answer, My Love. Why did you really come here to seek out Bishop Heahmund?" He demanded as he invaded her space to tower over her. "Is it your mind to seduce Heahmund in the same manner you seduced Alfred?" A scoff motivated by disgust crossed his near faultless features. While the said Bishop had the decency to gasp in feigned outrage. "I've given you leave to open your hearth to Hvitserk, must you have my Bishop as well, Woman!"
"Ivar!" Hvitserk hissed.
Without two thoughts hop-scotching across her mind she reared back and slapped slob from his mouth. "From now until we depart for England, you need to figure out where the hell you're gonna be sleeping because if you so much as touch the door knob to our chambers, the name Boneless will be the most literal thing about your ass by the time I'm done with you." With that threat leveled, she spun on her heel and stalked back up the stone steps.
Ivar exhaled a sigh at the sight of Bonnie stomping up the stairs. He'd come so close to being discovered. His gaze shot to Hvitserk. "Please, brother, go to her. Last time I angered her so she took leave of the city. This would not do were it to happen again."
"Ivar-," Hvitserk began.
"Go," he insisted for more reasons than just to soothe his betrothed. Hvitserk studied him for a moment longer then reluctantly took leave of the dungeon. When only his personal warriors remained, he turned to glare down at Heahmund who still feigned at prayer. "What did you say to her?"
Heahmund opened his eyes and the smugness which glittered within their depths set Ivar's teeth on edge. "We spoke of only a few things, the Sacred One and I. Yet, I still found her insight rather altering." Having no patience for the Bishop's casuistry, he snatched a sword from one of his warrior's sheaths and placed it to Heahmund's throat. The filthy Christian smiled and released a hint of a chortle. "Yet you, heathen that you are, would discover no meaning in our religious discussions. No, what you wish to know is if I informed her of the transgression you seek to keep hidden from light." A smirk settled upon his lips. "A transgression which will bear your fruit when the next fall of snow blankets the ground."
He glanced to his personal warriors. "If he is minded to speak with my betrothed again cut out his tongue and set it to flames." When his warriors nodded their assurances, he limped further into the dungeon until he came to a locked room. Soft humming drifted from within. He rested his forehead against the door and exhaled. After gathering enough strength, he unlocked and opened it.
The humming ceased. "Hello, Ivar."
"Freydis," he said as he allowed his gaze to sweep the whole of her. "Are you and the babe well?"
She smiled as she placed a hand on her slightly rounded midsection. "We are, now that his father has come to visit."
Sigurd stumbled into the covering he shared with Bjorn. Halfdan and Naya reclined on one of the large cushions in the common area. Bjorn sat cross legged on another stuffed bolster across from them. Still stunned by what he'd just witnessed he took a moment to order his thoughts.
"Um, what did Emir say came of Euphemius, again?" His gaze flicked from Bjorn to Halfdan and even to Naya.
Bjorn sucked on one of those bubbling canisters they'd each been provided. He exhaled a stream of smoke as he regarded him. "He escaped I believe."
"Why do you ask?" The skin between Halfdan's brow furrowed as he to watched him with a steady gaze.
"Hmph," he flopped down on the cushion next to Bjorn's. "Well he must not have been long in his escape, for he has the look of a corpse that's been dead at least three risings past."
Naya snapped her fingers. "Did I not say his fate was sealed?"
"Sigurd," Bjorn sat upright from his incline, "Is it your meaning that Euphemius has perished?"
"Many apologies if my meaning left room for obscurity, but Euphemius is so dead even the buzzards would consider him spoilt leavings," He plucked a date from the fruit bowl, "which is why I won't be having second meal." They stared at him in confusion and he stared back until he realized his misstep. "Ack! I do believe I buried the bit on that as well. Once again, my apologies, but as it stands, Euphemius is to be second meal."
"Hmm," Bjorn sucked once more from his leathered tube, before exhaling a fog of smoke. With a cocked brow he spoke, "I'm not sure of your minds my brother and friend, but I do feel my time in the Mediterranean has reached its end."
Early within the next rising they all rose. The eve before while everyone enjoyed Euphemius for second meal they'd prepared their party for the journey through the sands back to the ships. Now they only had to quit the trading center. Yet Sinric believed Emir wouldn't be minded to allow them to seek out their leave. That he'd attempt to detain them to please Kassia. Sinric may have had the right of it. For when they withdrew from their tents that rising Sigurd could sense the tension and unrest in the camp. Emir's men had positioned themselves around their party. Though no weapons were drawn, the threat remained clear.
"What are we going to do?" Halfdan questioned as he held Naya's hand firmly in his grasp.
Bjorn's shoulders rose and fell as his gaze moved to Emir and Kassia, who'd just taken leave of Emir's lodgings. "I do not know."
Emir and Kassia strode towards them. Both of their glares fixed and determined. They would not see their way clear of this without divine intervention. Sigurd only knew of one divine entity who'd be minded to intervene. Yet he'd vowed not to disturb Bonnie through their bond while he remained beyond her reach. To do so would cause her unimaginable grief. He now, however, found himself met with no other options. If he stood by his vow, then they'd all be killed. Wouldn't their deaths sadden her more?
Sigurd reached within himself. He accessed the part of his mind which had remained closed since he discovered Bonnie lost to him. Their bond. When he opened the mystical door a torrent of emotions overwhelmed him. Love, happiness, sadness, annoyance, mild anger, irritation, and even more yet…love.! He should just leave her be. Whatever troubles discovered them in that place Bjorn would see them through, right?
Without saying a word to them Emir lifted his hand and swung about his wrist. Soon his unarmed warriors unsheathed their swords, before rushing towards them. Once they had everyone in their party in hand they shoved them all to their knees as they'd done to the guards who Emir claimed allowed Euphemius to escape. Each of the warriors placed their blades against their throats.
"Bjorn," Sinric whispered. "There's a storm coming. If we can stay alive a few moments longer, maybe…"
Kassia approached, the sands whipping about on the horizon settled. The light of hope dimmed from Sinric's face. Kassia laughed. "Did you believe it would be so easy, Wanderer?"
"You speak our language," Bjorn said as he squinted up at her.
A smile rested upon her lips as her laughter died. "Of course I speak your language, Bjorn Ironside. I went through great pains to learn it after I discovered it to be the language of the infidels who attacked the peaceful city of Algeciras." Bjorn and Halfdan glanced at each other. She scoffed. "Hmm, now I see you understand. It makes me happy to know, you will die realizing that your deaths is not one of chance, but one of great design." She lifted her hand to give the order.
Sigurd's mind stretched out to grasp Bonnie's. Valkyrie, we are in need of you!
Bonnie stood on the long boat and watched as the shores of England disappeared. Though she'd dwelled there for years, she couldn't help but feel a thread of happiness at returning to Kattegat. She'd long since come to think of the fantastical place as home. Yet once again, the hands of change had begun to turn. Nothing within it's ever shifting path would remain the same. Even the life she'd come to live and breathe for with Ivar and Hvitserk would soon alter. In what respect? She wish she knew.
"Look away, Hjarta." Hvitserk whispered next to her ear. "It brings bad fortune to dwell on what is left behind."
She turned in his arms and slipped hers around his neck. "Then I'll look to you in honor of the future we'll one day share."
"And I you, for there is no other sight which rivals you," he said bending to trail kisses down the side of her neck.
"Will you forsake me even throughout our journey, My Love?" Ivar's voice drifted from behind her. "You know how sailing distresses me. Asides, it has been nigh a new moon since I've last known your favor. Will you not forgive my foolish covetous heart for provoking my tongue to be careless with its words?"
She turned to look at him. "No, not until you tell me-," Valkyrie, we are in need of you! "Sigurd?"
"Sigurd!" Ivar demanded.
Bonnie broke free of Hvitserk's hold. She brushed past Ivar and hurried toward the front of the boat. The door connecting her mind to Sigurd's burst open. Enough adrenaline to hype a filled to capacity Madison Square Garden's damn near launched her to the blazing sun. When she reached the helm of the ship, she closed her eyes. Exhaling, she walked through a door in her mind she hadn't darkened in years. Sigurd paced the length of their cabin woods back at Kattegat.
"Sigurd?" Bonnie questioned.
Confusion took shots at her sanity. Six years had grown him into a man she'd recognize in the dark on a moonless night while having no eye sight to speak of. A man who bore an identical resemblance to his father. Even more so than Ubbe. Sigurd looked exactly as Ragnar did when she happened upon him in the mountains.
He whipped around. When his eyes crashed on her. Relief flooded his face. He rushed over to her and appeared almost pained to not be able to touch her. She knew his pain only too well.
"Valkyrie, our bodies are about to be relieved of their heads by a powerful witch who means to collect on a blood debt owed by Bjorn for what transpired in Algeciras."
"Sigurd, give me your mind," she said as her mystical energy seared the lining of her vessels in search of an exit.
He nodded his head towards a door at the opposite end of the cabin. She gave him a lingering look before she rushed through it to enter his mind. When she opened her eyes, the brilliance of the African sun nearly blinded her. Yet, she had no time to orient herself with her surroundings. For the formidable witch before her was powerful. As soon as the witch's arms lifted so did the blades at their throats in preparation of a kill strike. Bonnie raised her hands. Golden mystical energy shot from her palms to still the blades mid swing. The witch's eyes bulged from their sockets. As the men struggled to free their grasps of the frozen swords, Bonnie stood.
"Sigurd!" Bjorn hissed.
Bonnie ignored him to approach the witch who was attempting to call upon her now dormant sorcery. "You have committed a grave crime, Kassia."
"You will not address her. Seize him!" The man at Kassia's back bellowed.
"Sigurd!" Bjorn hissed once more.
"That is no longer Sigurd," A sultry female voice said.
Bonnie turned her blazing glare on Emir. "You will be silent when I'm speaking and you will also kneel, Emir." She allowed her sorcery to shove him to his knees and mute his tongue. His eyes flared. Yet, he no longer held her attention.
Kassia tore her gaping stare from a now prostrate Emir to regard her. She saw the moment the witch realized with who she now dealt. "Supreme." She swept down in an elaborate bow. "You speak of me committing a grave wrong when I've only avenged the people of Algeciras. What, Ironside took from me-,"
"Bjorn Ironside has my sworn vow of protection. Whatever blood debt you believe he owes you will be cleared with the pardoning of you and your lover," she said, strolling forward all while allowing her magic to explore the other supernaturals in their midst.
"What crime have I committed?!" Kassia shrieked as her own mystical energy forced her into a position of submission.
"Your eyes aren't unseeing, Kassia." The golden scarlet mark sizzled over Sigurd's and Halfdan's left brow. "These men bear the mark of my trusted. This man who stands before you is my Enforcer/Confessor. Yet you would have your followers cut them down! I should just relieve you of your sorcery and leave you to the Mother of Nature to get together."
"Noooo! Most High, please!" Kassia sobbed as she reached for Sigurd's ankles. "Forgive me…please! I'll do anything."
Those were the magic words she wanted to hear. "Are you willing to forfeit your blood debt against Bjorn Ironside to remain in my continued favor?"
"Yes, I swear it!" Her head bobbed in emphasis.
"And you will offer them safe passage back to their ships," She continued in a leading tone.
Kassia's gaze flicked to her captors for a moment, before giving a nod of assurance. "Of course!"
"One more thing," Bonnie said. Kassia peered up at her with a beseeching stare. "You will no longer pass yourself off as a worshiper of the Ancient of Days. He doesn't like it." She grabbed the witch's chin and yanked upwards so there eyes met. "And neither do I. You are mine, and I'm done with being denied!"
Kassia gripped her wrist and pressed a kiss into her palm. "I am yours, Supreme. Never again will I deny you."
"Rise," Bonnie helped the witch to her feet. "You were named for my ancestor. Do you follow the craft line of the first witch?"
Kassia lifted her chin as pride resonated throughout her sorcery. "Yes, Supreme."
"Then we shall meet again." She turned from the wayward witch to regard the tatted face Viking who'd rarely ever crossed her mind since departing from the shores of England. "It gladdens me to see you again, Halfdan the Black. You look…well."
"Bonnie?" He questioned. Shock and a touch of amazement disrupted his features.
"The one and only." His mouth flapped open and closed. She snorted. "Have I really changed so much since last we met, Halfdan?" She joked, waving a hand at Sigurd's ripped to hell and back body. She glanced to the exquisite mocha woman at his side. "Your wife is beautiful. I'm glad you've finally found love." Her stare traveled over an awestruck Sinric to a still breath snatching Bjorn.
"She's not my wife," she heard Halfdan say.
"Look at the mess you've gone and gotten yourself into, Ironside!" Bonnie placed her hands on Sigurd's hips as she regarded her prodigal protector. "I leave you alone for a few Solstice Cycles and what'd you do? Go and almost lose your head!"
"Mystical One," His name for her fell from his lips like a prayer. "How is this possible?" She only stared while offering him a knowing smirk. He chuckled to himself a bit. "Indeed."
A small smile settled on her lips. "Hello, My Protector!"
"H-How've you fared?" He asked as he stared up at her.
"I've fared, and so have you I see."
They watched each other for a moment. Her reaction to him surprised her. Even after so many years of separation her heart still went harder than the galloping horse power of a Lambo when he stared at her. Which was neither here nor there since she could no longer indulge the part of herself she'd carelessly given to him so long ago. No, the time had come for the bonds between them to be severed.
The smile faded from her lips. "You and I have much to discuss when you return." He swallowed and bobbed his head. "Your path is now clear. Hurry home, Ironside."