AN: Warning, Fandom! From here things go dark. Please bear with me and know this will not always be the case. Enjoy the update. And don't forget to feed Francesca…reviews are her food of choice!
"Do you swear before the gods you want to take this wom—uh—um—our—our…" The high priestess paused for a fraction of a moment to spare Bonnie an anxious glance. Ivar grunted his displeasure. The woman cleared her throat. "S-Supreme as your wife, King Ivar?"
The high priestess gave Bonnie an apologetic gaze. Yet she had no feelings one way or the other. Even if Ivar chose to call Freydis the Sun, the people of Kattegat would still look to the heavens to light their way and nurture their crops. The power didn't come from a name, the name gained power based on the act committed by the one who donned the handle.
"Yes," Ivar's glare collided with her indifferent stare and held. Dark circles ringed his eyes. It also looked like he rocked eyeliner. She wondered if he'd been sleeping. Probably not. How much sleep could anyone get lying next to a Doppelganger gone hollow? "I swear before the All-Father on all things sacred I want nothing more than to take the Supreme as my wife. There is nothing I've desired more since setting my sight upon her."
A flash of him exploded before her third eye. He stood upon his cliff. The one that overlooked the inlet into Kattegat's harbor. He smiled…at her? And she smiled back! A genuine smile that lacked sneering, while wearing a damn wedding gown. The exact gown Caroline had chosen for her when she'd planned Bonnie's fake wedding to Colin Farrell when they were in the ninth grade. The Hell. Ivar appeared several years older than at present. The affection which radiated off of him and gave her so much life it would sustain her even when her eternity met its end. So much love burst from his eyes it damn near stopped her heart.
Applause obliterated the vision, snatching her back to a living nightmare that appeared to have no end. In time for her to see Ivar kiss his brand new bride. She tore her gaze from the sight and Hvits waiting sneer danced within her view. Glee glistened his scrutinizing glare. He looked almost turned on by the possibility of her pain.
"Come," Harald rasped next to her ear as he placed a hand to the small of her back. He led her away from the happily married pair receiving well wishes by the thrones. "We'll discover a place at the great table."
"You shouldn't linger, Harald." She narrowed her eyes at Hvitserk whose glare still bore into her. Rolling her gaze from her estranged mate, she gave her attention back to her brother-in-law. "Neither should I. This place, these people…" Her head swung about to take in the vacant eyed soldiers who milled about the grime ridden hall. Her brows buckled as she tried to figure out what the hell the tarry substance was that oozed down the columns and walls. The back of her hand flew to her nose and mouth. What in the name of the good Goddess was that smell? The stench of death and cat house living clung to the air and waged war on her gag reflex. "It's tainted…they're tainted. I'm working harder than a chamber pot cleaner after a stomach plague not to spray this disgusting place with first meal."
"Curb your jealousy. The only thing of offense here is the coterie," Harald said guiding her towards the great table.
"That is because they've all been influenced, even him," she jerked her head in Ivar's direction who at the moment pressed kisses into his wife's palm. Harald cut an at eye him before leveling her with a side-glance. Ignoring his attempts to cast her in the roll of the jilted lover, she tried to warn him once more, "Don't eat anything! Do you hear me? Not one damn thing from this place. I wouldn't put it pass Freydis to be recruiting followers by poisoning the food."
As soon as she and Harald sat two servants hurried over. They placed two platters piled with meats, vegetables, and fruits in front of them. The sight provoked many unsuspecting mouths to drool. Yet Sheila Bennett had always taught her if, you weren't comfortable sitting in someone's house, then you shouldn't be comfortable with eating their food. Especially if they'd cooked the food in said house. And since Bonnie could practically smell the ill intent wafting from the platters, she refused to have even a sip of water.
A slave girl donning a face covering wedged herself between she and Harald's seats to fill their cups. As she did so, she dropped two small balls in Bonnie's lap. Her brows bunched as she cut her eyes up at the girl who in turn remained steadfast in her task, never establishing eye contact. Tearing her gaze away, Bonnie glanced down. Two glossy red apples rested in her lap. Not only did they appeal to the eye. They both were completely edible and radiated Bennett Magic. She looked up to locate the girl, but her searching stare once again collided with Hvitserk. He now sat across from Harald, making it his personal challenge to guzzle down every drop of ale at the reception.
Her gaze returned to the fare in front of them. Harald conversed with a woman to his left. Without thought for the warning she'd given him, he plucked a piece of meat from his platter. Before he could bring the succulent roasted boar to his mouth she slapped the food from his hand. His glare darted to her. He appeared to be coming for the filth drag race edition. She shook her head before he could impersonate Marge Simpson going in.
"Harald, no," she hissed, and then paused to fake a smile for those who stopped stuffing their faces to watch them. "The foods been poisoned, dummy!"
"Don't be witless," he turned in his seat to run a critical glare over her. "Ivar wouldn't dare poison me before the sight of my men and all here. Only cowards and devious women would resort to the likes."
Bonnie's gaze swept to the happy couple feeding each other from the same platter. When Freydis noticed Bonnie watched she lifted her chalice to her in skol. The smugness swirling about the blonde set her teeth on edge. Her stare slitted. That bitch was up to something. She just knew it! Not giving a damn how weakened she'd become, she placed a revelation spell on she and Harald's food to expose to her the unseen. The grub on the platter in front of Harald morphed into a shit ton of Hemlock and decapitated heads of black snakes. Fangs extended from the serpents opened mouths as venom dripped from the tips. Acacia and Fleabane herbs loaded down her platter. Night Shade plants sprouted from the center, while centipedes and maggots squirmed about the entrée like live garnishments.
Once again first meal flirted with the back of Bonnie's throat as instinct moved her hands to cradle her belly. This—nickel for a dozen—bitch had come for her baby! Her gaze darted to Hvitserk. His narrowed glower moved over she and Harald's platters as if he too could see the—to die for—food Freydis had tried to hoist off on she and Harald. For a moment she even believed she saw a flare of concern shimmer within those cold listless depths, but then he cast his gaze away as if she were know more than a passing stranger. Disappointment and fear forced her from her seat. She snatched Harald's arm as she went.
"What are you about?" He demanded as she half dragged and carried him from the hall. "I've yet to break my second fast! Have you misremembered I sail for England on the next-," She whirled on him and slapped the two apples the slave girl gave her to his chest. His irritated gaze riddled her face with scrutiny before concern flared his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb under her nose, and then lifted the digit to her sight line. "You bleed! You made use of your sorcery!" He accused.
Distracted, she swiped at the blood with the back of her hand. "Don't worry about that, it's not important! Harald, you can't wait for the next tide. You want live long enough to greet it." She grabbed his arm once again, spun on her heel, and then continued her trek to the harbor. "Gather your men and sail now…I mean right now!"
She felt the weight of his stare on the side of her face. "What did you see back in the hall?"
"Harald!" Frustration halted her steps once more. She whirled about to tell him how hollow headed he was being, but her words dissipated at the split of her lips. All she could do was stare. In that moment she knew she'd lose much when he departed from those shores. He'd unintentionally become an unlikely ally. Her confidant. "If you remain here any longer they will kill you. And there's nothing I can do to stop them. Not as I am." She shook her head and threw up her hands. "So you have to go, Harald. For it's the only way I know how to protect you."
His eyes slitted under his gathering brows. He snatched her to him by the forearms, and then spoke to her through stiff lips. "And what of you, hmm? Who shall protect you from them? Am I to flee…crawl away and forsake the vow I swore to my dying brother? Allow them to harm you, to harm the babe?"
"No," she uttered, while utilizing a whisp of her sorcery to slice open her thumb. Cradling his cheek in her palm, she swiped the oozing pad over his right brow. "You are to crawl away now so you may one day rise again…King Harald." She then rubbed the wound over her lips and pressed her mouth to his for a brief instance. When she pulled away his eyes flickered gold, before returning to their usual blues. "The future king to all of Norway," she exhaled on a breathy whisper.
For several long seconds he studied her as if he attempted to commit every detail of her features to memory. Once he'd filled his mental photo log to his liking, he then rested his forehead on hers. "I shall return for you," he reached up to take hold of the sides of her face, "and when I come I will bring with me an army large enough to overthrow Ivar. This is my vow to you, my sister…" he gazed into her eyes as a hand dropped to palm her belly, "My Supreme."
Alfred sat in his grandfather's favorite study. He stared down at the missive the young Northman had given him. A missive he claimed had been written by Bonnie's hand. Over the passing months he'd longed for her in a way that a man who served god, should never long for anyone who wasn't responsible for their eternal salvation. Yet his single night with Bonnie consumed his mind. It had somehow altered him. He no longer saw things and people as being one way or the other. Now each situation and individual presented themselves in varying degrees of what he once believed to be uncompromising. Even now after all the savagery the Northmen had wrought upon his kingdom he found himself pondering their pleas for sanctuary.
Alfred lifted the missive from the table and released a breath he hadn't realized he held. Carefully, he tore open the odd sealing of the parchment and began to read…
King Alfred,
I somehow knew I'd be referring to you by that title sooner rather than later. Though it's not lost upon me what had to occur for the crown to pass to you. I'm sorry about your father. Aethelwulf and I may have had our differences, but differences aside I did believe him to be a good man and great father. Yet you'll be a better king. Even more so than Ecbert and do not think that as a slight against the old dog. For he raised you to be the kind of king his own antiquated teachings and rigid traditions wouldn't allow him to be. To succeed where he had failed.
Alfred, he raised you to surpass him and unite your land. He attempted to do it through corruption, Aethelwulf thought to use force, now you must do what you're minded to do. Even though you fear how your designs in the face of your Ealdormen will be received. Trust in yourself, Alfred. For I know the Northmen well and your way is the right way of it. Diplomacy, peace, and faith is the only way. Over the next year or so treachery will run high in your kingdom yet trust in those I've sent to you and all shall be well. May I suggest you reinstate Heahmund as Bishop. Something will occur which may give you pause to do so, but his offense is well justified. Also Ubbe, Guthrum, and Torvi will be of great aid to you, keep them close.
There are forces beyond your comprehension which work against you and although Ethelred is jealous his love for you outweighs any resentment he may harbor or the crown which sits upon your head. Though it pleases my spirit to communicate with you once more even if it's just in a letter, I feel this correspondence has reached its conclusion. Yet there is one more thing I'd like to address before I leave you. I want to once again apologize for taking from you what I had no right to. You were young and I took advantage of you, for this I pray when next we meet you can forgive me. Until then…
Sincerely,
Bonnie Bennett
As Alfred attempted to contemplate everything Bonnie had revealed in the missive the door to his study burst open. Ethelred hurried in with a brightly pigmented face which could be likened to that of spurting blood. Veins protruded from his neck and forehead. Alfred rose from his seat for he sensed the news to be dire.
"Ethelred, what is it? What has happened?" He demanded.
Ethelred's gaze strayed to the missive on the table, before returning to him. "It is Bishop Heahmund. He's killed Bishop Cuthred in his church! Before the sight of witnesses!" To his surprise a pleased smile crept across his brother's lips. "Now we have a reason to not only put the sons of Ragnar to death, but also Bishop Heahmund."
The revelations within Bonnie's letter cavorted to the forefront of his mind. "Where is Heahmund now?"
"In the chapel," he offered along with his scrutiny.
Alfred crossed the study to the door. "I shall like to speak with him alone before rendering any such judgements."
Rage flamed Bjorn's chest as he watched Ubbe and Torvi be baptized into the Christian faith by the newly reinstated Bishop Heahmund. Ragnar's head no doubt hung in shame knowing one of his sons turned his face from their beliefs. Bonnie had told them they'd be safe in England and they could trust Alfred. Yet so far, King Alfred had not honored the promises of his grandfather and England had shown no concerns for anyone's safety but her own. Every member of his family had been tasked with safeguarding the malodorous wetlands against his invading countrymen. Soon they would be embroiled in yet another battle which would make them traitors to their gods and country. In one moon cycle they'd become people he'd never suffer under any other circumstances.
From the cut of his eye, he saw his stepson seek his leave of Alfred's side. Since being liberated from the cell beneath the castle, he and Ubbe had become constant companions to the boy king. Which probably had something to do with the parchment Bonnie tasked Guthrum with delivering to him. And why would Bonnie offer words to Alfred and not him? She wouldn't! He was by far of more import to her than an English King. Perhaps, she did have a message for him Guthrum neglected to tell him about.
He followed his former stepson a ways away from the river, before stopping him. "Guthrum?"
Guthrum turned and a single wrinkle between his brows marred the mask of indifference he often donned. "Yes, Bjorn?"
"When we first arrived you gave Alfred a message from Bonnie," he began.
The boy's eyes narrowed a bit. "Yes."
"Did Bonnie also task you with delivering a missive to me as well? One you may have misplaced in your mind to offer me until now?" His tone sounded more leading than questioning, even to his own ears.
Guthrum allowed his emotionless stare to move over Bjorn's face once before saying, "No."
The boy then turned to continue on his track back to the castle. The denial nigh dropped Bjorn to his knees. After having time to consider her own counsel, did Bonnie discover fault in him leaving her behind? "All-Father, I know not what to do with myself in this strange land. I've reached a place where I'm unsure of my path. I'm adrift! Please, I ask that you order my steps. Offer me a sign, your guidance."
"It isn't your well-being you should be concerned over, Bjorn Ironside eldest son of Ragnar," Odin's voice shook the ground beneath his feet even before his likeness presented itself to seeing eyes. "Have you forgotten our Supreme you and yours left behind?"
"Bonnie?" Bjorn questioned, turning about until the All-Father shimmered into existence several paces to the right of him. "She told us to flee and I have every intention of returning for her. When I'm-,"
"Whatever time you believe to be right will not serve her well." Odin slowly subtracted the distance between them. "Your brother Ivar has created a covenant with the emissary of her sworn enemy. He's forced the people of Kattegat to denounce Bonnie as their Supreme and name this pretender as such in her place. The same pretender who plots the death of her child and the banishment of her mystical energy."
"What?" Fear and rage fixed his thoughts. For he knew of what his youngest brother was capable in the throes of a fit provoked by fury. Yet his brother loved Bonnie. They all did and even fury wouldn't move them to do her harm. He shook his head. "No, Ivar is nothing if not faithful-,"
"Ivar is vengeful and seduced by promises of divinity. He'll not come to Bonnie's aid when the time presents itself for him to do so." Odin locked his hands behind his back as he glared him in the eye. "If truth is to be professed, he'll be the one who plunges the blade in her back when the time comes…and in the state she's in…there'll be little she'll be able to do to stop him."
"What of Hvitserk?" Bjorn demanded, grasping for anything which would lend him hope towards Bonnie's predicament.
Odin tossed his head back and laughed, before leveling him with a Helheim forged glower. "The drunkard! Even if he were the Lord Hvitserk Midgard has come to know, he still wouldn't be minded to help her. He despises her more than Ivar."
"Then you must go!" He bellowed, forgetting himself in the face of Bonnie's peril.
"I cannot interfere," The All-Father shook his head. "Not unless she gives me leave to do so."
"Then I must journey back to Kattegat," he said as resolve lent him a sureness he hadn't possessed in many moons.
Odin swung his head. "No you must get with the other one who means to help her and assist him with raising an army."
"But you said Bonnie-,"
"You'll request me to go in your place," the All-Father impaled him with a pointed glare. "And I'll do so if you offer me your vow."
"Vow?" Bewilderment wrought havoc on his mind, even as frustration crumpled his features. "What would you have me swear?"
Odin continued in his approach and didn't halt until the toes of their boots touched. "Vow at your time of death you'll choose Valhalla and I'll go in your place. I'll protect our Supreme until you and the other arrive with your army."
"That is no hardship for me to vow!" His head slanted as he regarded Odin. Was such a vow really necessary? "Of course I vow to choose Valhalla at my time of death. Where else would I want to dwell than at the sides of you and my father?"
"I accept your vow, Bjorn Ironside!" A smile inched its way across Odin's mouth. "The bargain is struck."
The All-Father faded from Midgard in a flash of blue pigmented flames. Moments later the triple horn of Odin seared itself into his right forearm.
"King Harald, it is a great honor to have you visit us here at York." A bear of a man who appeared to rival Thor in size greeted Harald. "I am Jarl Olavsson. King Ivar tasked me with the command of York in his leave."
Harald cast his gaze about the castle. He'd never before seen the likes. Had he not known better, he'd believed himself to be standing within the Halls of the Aesir. Instead of wooden planked floors, the ground held a marbled slickness. A marbled slickness which gleamed so it offered him a reflection of himself. His eyes rolled. It was just like his vain sister to place looking glass upon the floors. She no doubt wanted to regard her likeness from every angle. His heart stumbled within his chest. Just thinking of the shrew harried his sound mind. He feared he wouldn't no peace until he returned the foul tongue siren to his side.
"Ivar must have great trust in you to place you in a position of such authority while he pursues other ambitions." He glanced away yet still watched Olavsson from the cut of his eye.
The Jarl cleared his throat as he raised his chin. "Actually, it was at our Supreme urging. Ivar wanted Bragg to hold command until his return, but our Most high demanded I be given authority in their leave."
"So would you say your loyalties lie with our Supreme or Ivar the son of Ragnar?" Harald turned to consider the Jarl full on.
His brows sought out the other. "Whether my loyalties were with Ivar or my Supreme wouldn't being loyal to either be the same as being loyal to both?"
"Once such reasoning held true. Alas, this is no longer the case." Olavsson appeared disturbed by the news.
The Jarl's gaze swept from left to right then back to him as he leaned forward and lowered the pitch of his voice. "Has their falling out something to do with King Ivar coupling with the Saxon slave girl with whom Bragg entered into matrimony?"
Harald's eyes nigh leaped from his head. Wasn't Bragg the soldier she slain for attempting to murder her and the babe under Bonnie's orders? "Are you referring to Freydis?"
"I know not her name." The Jarl waved a dismissive hand. "What I know is she allowed herself to be plowed by many of the warriors here for coin and chickens. Several moon cycles after being here she discovered herself with child. Knowing Bragg was the most besotted with her out of all the warriors she'd lain with, she led him to believe the babe she carried was for him and he entered into matrimony with her the same rising."
He came close to swallowing his tongue. "So the babe she carried afore wasn't for King Ivar?"
"King Ivar?" Confusion twisted Olavsson's features. "By the gods no! She was already with child nigh four moon cycles before she seduced King Ivar in his throne room." The jarl's neck jerk back as he wrenched his head sideways to consider Harald from the cut of his eye. "Do not say this is what has caused the rift between our King and the Supreme?"
Harald's eyes slitted as he clapped the Jarl on the shoulder. "Olavsson, we have much to discuss. Escort us to this throne room of King Ivar's so we may not be disturbed. For I have a saga to tell and you my friend have a decision to make."
Screams and pleas from outside her keep drove Bonnie upright in her bed. She slid from the mattress, and then swayed a bit. It had been a month since she'd had her last offering, and perhaps days since she'd last eaten anything more substantial than fruit. Since everything other than the fruit came from the great house stores, she'd foregone consuming anything else. After Freydis attempted to poison she and Harald, Bonnie now trusted few and slept less.
As she approached the door she heard whispering. "Ivar has forbidden anyone to make her blood offerings or alms. She weakens with every passing rising. Tell Ayanna I worry for her. She barely consumes the fruit she sends. Already she withers."
"Make your way to the harbor, Slave!" Bonnie heard the bellowing voice of another soldier who passed the front of her keep. "By order of King Ivar!"
"Go," she heard Thomas hiss.
More screams and wails from beyond her doors liberated her from her ear hustling. A profound sense of urgency snatched her from creep mode to—let's get her done—ready. "Thomas?" Her voice met her ears in a thin shrill. Even the effort of speaking spun her world like she'd gotten Caroline wasted. She clutched at the wall to combat her dizzy spell. After her vertigo subsided, she gritted her teeth and inched her way towards the door. "What's happening? What's Ivar planning to do at the harbor?"
"Supreme!" Thomas appeared fit to give birth to his heart by way of his ass as his bulging stare crash landed on her. "You shouldn't have taken leave of your bed furs! You're unwell!"
"What is Ivar planning, Thomas?" She demanded once more, refusing to be coddled.
"King Ivar claims to have captured Lagertha. He means to sacrifice her to the gods at the harbor as a gift for welcoming him into the Aesir as a new god." He cast his gaze over his shoulder, before attempting to close the door.
"Like hell! That no doubt scared shitless woman he has isn't Lagertha. There's no way I'm gonna allow his crazy ass to put an innocent daughter under my dominion to death. Not this damn time around." She seethed. Her more than less dormant sorcery vibrated and a wisp no stronger than a light summer breeze nudged the door back open. "Take me to the harbor Thomas." Once again the room imitated a Sprewell rim and spun the hell out. Blood gushed from both of her nostrils. The sensation of a thousand scorching blades entering her brain wobbled her knees.
Thomas rushed to her side and wrapped a steadying arm around her. "Supreme, please-,"
She squeezed her eyes closed as she wiped the blood from her face with the back of her hand. "Thomas, I'll not ask again."
"Yes, Supreme," she heard him utter.
After she donned her cloak Thomas guided her from the house unto the trail which led to the harbor. All around her, she could hear the cries of Kattegat citizens as warriors struck them for not moving fast enough. Children shrieks of fear nearly bled her ears. Her baby flipped several somersaults in her belly as fifty-eleven knots tightened in her back to the point of pain. She ignored her discomfort and continued on in her trek until they came upon her bellowing mistake. Ivar stood before an erected pyre looking like a cross between Skelatore and Dracula. A crown fashioned out of some sort of bones sat upon his head. White and scarlet matte ash painted his face and bare chest, while a fur cape fell from his shoulders to the planked floor.
Seeing warriors hang the woman upside down infused her with a burst of energy she hadn't felt in weeks. She released Thomas' arm and dashed up the steps of the platform. Just as she reached the top the high priest standing next to the faux Lagertha turned and dragged his blade across her throat.
"No!" She screamed in a voice too tired and weak to be her own.
"Get back with the others, hag, or you'll join her on the pyre!" A voice she knew all too well growled at her.
Someone snatched her around by the cloak. The front of her collided with Ivar as her hood fell from her head. Shock gasps and stunned murmurs erupted throughout the gathered crowd. Yet none around her compared to the shocked and stunned face before her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She uttered in the wake of a sob. "Why would you do this, Ivar? Why?"
"Bonnie?" His flared fear stricken stare darted over her face several times as if he didn't trust the sight before him. "What has happened to you? You look so…so-,"
"Cast your gaze upon the one you thought to raise to Supreme in my rightful place!" Freydis yelled from her place on the elevated dais which held two thrones. "For her blasphemous acts I've taken her sorcery, youth, comeliness and cast her out of the supernatural procession. She is no longer a part of our people and she's to be shunned!"
The high priest tossed a lit torch upon the pyre, the bonfire blazed to life before them.
"NO!" Bonnie screamed.
She ripped herself out of Ivar's hold. In the process she lost her balance and fell. By the Goddess' grace, her side struck the splintered ground which in turn enabled her to provide a makeshift cushioning with her arm. An unmistakable crack met her ears. A sharp pain shot up her arm to her shoulder and snatched water from her eyes. She swallowed the whimper attempting to force its way from her mouth, while using her good arm to assist her with rising to her knees. As she struggled to change positions, she noticed a bone had punctured the skin and now protruded from her injured arm. More gasps and sharp intakes of breaths sounded off once more. Goddess give her strength! Her gaze rose to regard the heavens and Hvitserk filled her field of vision.
"Hvits, help me." She reached her uninjured arm out to touch the toe of his boot. "Please."
Emptiness occupied his unwavering gaze as he watched her as if he never knew her. Then without a word or a flicker of empathy disturbing his apathetic expression he kicked her hand from his boot and turned to stroll away. Unable to stand, she began to half slither and crawl her way towards the bonfire. She could still hear her daughter's screams. If she could pull her from the flames, she could save her…she had to save her! It was the only way to silence her cries. To take away her pain.
"Hag, go back to your keep!" She heard Ivar roar as she slithered pass him. The pound of several foot falls vibrated the planked wood beneath her. "Leave her, do not touch her!" She heard him growl behind her.
When she made it to the pyre, it took her several attempts to stand. Once on her feet, she wasted no time lifting her hand to reach into the flames. Just as she felt the singeing burn at her fingertips a hand materialized out of thin air and wrapped around her wrist, yanking it from the searing blaze.
"Save the heroics for another victim of the insane, Bennett. This one has already found her way through the gates of Nirvana." Silas' entire form solidified next to her. The tension in his features didn't match his usually zero fucks to give tone.
No! He was the insane one if he thought her daughter dead! Didn't they hear her? How could they be so calm? How could they allow this to stand? "She's still alive!" Bonnie shook her head as she tried to tug her wrist from his grip. "You can't hear her? She's screaming…she's screaming!"
"Whoa, shh, shh, Bonnie," he whispered, cradling her face in his hands. "She's not the one who's screaming…you are."
His revelation forced her eyes back to the bonfire. The bound body which burned upside down before her had been torched beyond recognition. She'd been dead for a while. The validation of what Silas spoke fucked her mind over. Tiny cracks in her sanity showed. An excruciating ache gnawed at her arm. Gravity, exhaustion, and malnutrition finally got the better of her. Her knees buckled under the weight of all her failure. Before she could hit the ground, Silas lifted her into his arms.
As her awareness drifted away, she heard Silas the petty thunder, "And that's not Lagertha!"