A/N: This came out later than I intended, but that's what happens when your anxious tendencies make you rewrite an ending over again.
*Jarl = Earl
From the bumpy cot he lay, Lord Zhu of Mercia awoke to the sound of rusty metal creaking. His sleep was fleeting and restless; disturbed by his uncomfortable quarters and overall situation.
To think just days before, he'd rested without worry on a soft bed covered with laundered sheets and plump pillows stuffed with goose feathers. Days earlier, he'd pumped King Jeremy with inflatable confidence, assuring him the collective might of the combined Mercian forces would tear down the Vikings, even without the forces of Wessex, Sussex, and Northumbria. It was a slight over-exaggeration, but it was not his fault the young king hung on to that detail. Zhu himself had little cause to doubt an effortless victory. The Vikings were creatures of habit who would attack from the north and meet with a mighty army before getting swallowed up on all sides by the remaining English forces.
Now, he'd been tempted to call his assumptions a slight miscalculation.
Another louder creak sounded, accompanied by heavy boots marching closer. Two Viking guards accompanied a familiar face to the door of his cell. The sight should have made his stomach drop in relief, but Zhu was confused.
"Marcellus?" He croaked.
Marcel looked well for one supposed to be their fellow captive. Looking not unlike his normal self in fine robes, freshly bathed russet skin, and his usual scheming smirk. "Lord Zhu. I trust your accommodations are comfortable?"
"What has happened? Where is the king?"
"Jeremy of Wessex is king no more."
No words have ever pained him more.
"I see." Lord Zhu sunk back on top of the bed with weary resignation. He expected it, yet the confirmation bittered into his marrow. Yes, it was more than a slight miscalculation.
He glanced at the foreign guards, face morphing from defeat to raw disdain. "I see that something already folded you into the bosom of the enemy. You didn't waste any time, Marcellus. You were always like your father in that regard."
Marcel shrugged off the venomous insult with ease. Growing up in court, he'd heard worse. "I do the bidding of my Queen and her soon-to-be co-ruler, King Klaus Mikealson. With the express anointing of the Witan, of course."
Zhu blinked, unable to comprehend the words spoken. "Co-ruler? With Bonnie?"
"With Queen Bonnie, yes."
The ealdorman envisioned many outcomes in the wake of defeat. One outcome that seemed most logical was complete ravagement. Northmen saw revenge as an opportunity to sate their everlasting lust for violence and would surely leave no living body upright. Silver-Eye was a different breed from his people; no one had led the Viking army with such precision and an otherworldly fierceness in recent history, not unlike the legendary tales of Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons.
And that unnatural silver eye of his added to the mythos.
But nothing ever prepared the ealdorman for the possibility that a Viking would ever crave anything beyond quick gold.
"That barbarian intends to sit on England's throne?"
One of the Viking guards affixed him with a loaded look that had Zhu stammering an apology. Assuming they could not speak the language was folly when centuries of entanglement ensured that.
Marcel folded both hands at his back. "With all due respect, he already sits upon it. But Silver-Eye is a fair man who respects the customs of our kingdom. He has a proposition for the nobles and Witan. I witnessed his fair conduct towards our former king."
"Was his death painless?" The worst part of all this is for Lord Zhu for the lost opportunity. After all the time spent in careful maneuvering to gain the trust of the now-former king, it tumbled in the blink of an eye. His daughter Anna would now be the former mistress of a conquered man.
It shook a little more than his pride.
"He lives and will remain a respected lord of Wessex," said Marcel. "As will you, if you agree to a civil negotiation with King Klaus."
"He would have the Witan place the crown on his head?" His words were thick with sarcasm, but Marcel's smirk threw him off.
"That is exactly what he wants."
Lord Zhu was a proud man. His ambitions surpassed the length of his boots many times, but he was not too foolish not to take an opportunity when one presented. Sometimes defeat was not an everlasting state. If he played this right, then perhaps there would be a time in the future to undo all this madness. To see the right blood sit upon the throne again.
"I accept then," He conceded after a moment passed.
Marcel's theatrical smile widened, dark eyes pressed against the older man as if searching for a whiff of an ulterior motive. But he moved aside for the guards to open the cell. "You've made the right choice for England."
"May God help us all," Lord Zhu muttered.
His mind wandered to Bonnie and her role in all this. It seemed that Sheila of Normandy and her line always found a way to emerge unscathed from thorns that cut everyone else. Knowing Sheila's granddaughter, she might even come to see this invasion as a damn blessing, as it finally gained her the crown she coveted for so long.
"Is this wise?" Rebekah's questioning tone halted Klaus' concentration on the letter he'd been reading.
He looked up to see his sister standing outside the hallway of his new quarters. It took a while to get used to it. Part of him missed the coziness of a longhouse, but the goose-stuffed pillows on his gigantic bed were a delightful surprise.
His sister arrived by boat a few days before from Denmark at his request. Finn was the only one who remained as regent in his place since he had little taste for war. An odd trait for a Viking, but they often allowed Finn his peculiarities. His penchant for keeping restless Jarls in line was also much appreciated.
Unlike her brothers who'd had reasons to enter come in the past, it was Rebekah's first visit to England. Despite her sparse knowledge of English politics, she had plenty of opinions about it.
"What are you referring to?"
"Your deception of the English Queen. Am I to believe that you will simply make her a co-ruler?"
Klaus folded the letter and placed it on his desk. "It is not a deception. What is unwise is startling a skittish animal; you never know when it might snap. And if I recall correctly, I never said I would marry her." At least not now.
She placed both hands went on her waist. "Then how do you expect to cement your claim on the throne? Your enemies lay in wait without bothering to hide their intentions. Do you think those weak-livered nobles won't stab you if they gain one sliver of an advantage?"
"Is that all?" He intoned.
Rebekah rolled her eyes, walking towards the windowsill. "I do not pretend to have the shrewdness of Elijah or any of your cunning, but I know it takes more than pretty promises to secure the throne of people we've fought for a hundred years. You need a solid alliance."
"You're right."
"I am?"
"You don't have any of our cunning."
His sister grace one more unimpressed look before turning to leave. Focused on her rash exit, she bumped against her older brother Elijah without acknowledging him in his entry into their brother's study. He turned back in puzzlement and then faced Klaus.
"Is everything alright with her?"
Klaus waved off her tantrum, folding another finished letter. "She's angry that I won't see her reasoning."
"You have told her of your plans to wed her?" Elijah asked.
"We hadn't even gotten there yet. No, she believes I am making a mistake by not wedding Queen Bonnie."
Elijah folded his hands behind him, face schooled into practiced neutrality. "I cannot say she is wrong. There is a school of thought that marriage creates stronger bonds in turbulent times like this."
Klaus scoffed, raising his legs on the desk. "Can you both not comprehend that my designs do not fail? When have I led you astray?"
There was a pause. Elijah could admit his brother's plans from inception had gone miraculously well. Perhaps not such a miracle considering all that happened, which caused him to gain a unique sight. But he'd learned to trust Klaus and weave his counsel on that.
"Could you at least inform us of your choice? You cannot expect men to always eschew the reasoning behind the actions of their leader, no matter how much the people trust him."
"You underestimate our people's trust in me," Klaus dismissed.
"And you overestimate it."
Both brothers hold each other in a tight, silent stand-off. The tension dissipates, but Klaus doesn't quite release his stony stare.
At the present moment, Elijah still did not know what his younger brother had experienced in that forest during the fateful trip to Upsala. All any of them knew was that it shifted something inside him. Like a blind man regaining sight.
He remembered being a boy of fifteen, looking in panic for Klaus on that night. He'd defied their raging father, praying to all the gods he could remember in tearful reverence that his brother was alive. And this is how Elijah found him.
Emerging from the forest half beaten and bloody, yet without an accompanied limp or any broken bones. His left blue eye turned a startling silver and an unfamiliar weight shadowed him.
"We will understand all in due time," Klaus answered. "In the meantime, I find Bonnie is more agreeable because I did not force her into another marriage."
"We can only stay certain of her cooperation for so long. We unseated her husband," Elijah warned.
Klaus scoffed. "Trust me, there is no deep affection between the two."
"Still, he is a familiar face. You are a stranger."
Klaus blinked, his silver eye gleaming. "I am a stranger who gave her what she's wanted all her life. Her throne."
One learns to scent the same from others when they're ambitious. Bonnie might dampen that aroma from others, but he'd seen her hunger from the day they met. A beautiful flame simmering paces from him on the battlefield.
"Ambition sometimes outshines gratitude, Klaus." Elijah decided to end it there.
With an exhale, Klaus granted his brother an exaggerated smile. "As it should."
Bonnie had dreamed of this day her entire life. Heart singing to the heavens as a child, praying that her crowning would be an elegant event talked about for years to come. Her grandmother's death and the subsequent crowning of Alaric as regent saw it vanish from her fingertips. Despite Sheila's faith in the man, Bonnie always knew he had grand designs of his own. He would never relinquish the throne to her. Marrying her off to Jeremy was just a consolation after he convinced the Witan that his son was more suitable to become king rather than the rightful blood of Alfred the Great.
Her resentment would never dissolve, but there was a bright lining to focus on. And well, her dream of an unforgettable coronation was close to reality.
"I, Osbert, Lord of Kent, pledge allegiance to King Klaus Mikaelson. I pledge allegiance to Queen Bonnie of Wessex and Normandy. As long as I live, Kent will remain loyal to the crown…"
Osbert, Ealdorman of Kent, kneeled before herself and Klaus, promising his allegiance. She liked the man well enough. He had less ambition than his other counterparts and didn't have a problem with her ascension in the beginning. It was the others she kept a wary eye on.
"You never informed me this would be so boring," Klaus whispered in a tone so low only she could hear.
Bonnie didn't let her face deviate from indifference. Ealdorman Edmund of Essex followed to make his pledge.
"Next time, invade a kingdom with more interesting customs." She answered in an identical tone. A cough concealed his snort. Elijah glanced at them from his perch.
"I will seek your counsel, then. Tell me, how exciting are Norman coronations? I might march towards the Franks next."
"As exciting as a cow's fart."
Marcel cleared his throat beside her. Kol, the youngest Mikaelson present, didn't even bother to hide his own snickers. Bonnie's cheeks blazed in the self-conscious realization that they hadn't been as quiet as she hoped.
Her chest tightened for Lord Zhu's turn. He got on one knee, gripping the hilt of his ancestral sword as the blade tip pressed into the ground. His eyes held the same arrogance she'd expected from him all her life, but he swore his oath with passable sincerity.
"I, Zhu, Lord of Mercia, pledge allegiance to my Queen, Bonnie of Wessex. I pledge allegiance to my King, Klaus Mikaelson. As long as I live, Mercia will remain loyal to the crown of England. May my blade never rise in defiance of the rulers our God has set upon us."
There were alterations. Seeing as England had never sworn two monarchs at once, the scribes consulted old Roman texts to confirm their traditions for electing two consuls and took a similar route. Bonnie also requested that Klaus get baptized.
"Why?" He asked.
"Because an unbaptized king has never sat upon the throne of England and unless you want to stir an uprising by bucking centuries of tradition, you must do as I say," she replied.
Klaus had smirked at her. "As you say? Is my Queen giving a command?"
Bonnie rolled her eyes, choosing not to dwell on how the word queen rolled from his lips in a low breath. "A good number of Norsemen are Christians. Whether you decide to practice in private is for you to decide. However, many people, even yours, might find it more palatable being governed by a king with some sympathy for Christianity."
"Or it might alienate a good number of my heathen people," he countered.
She shrugged. "You said you wanted to foster tolerance despite religion amongst the people. You are still Silver-Eye, kissed by Freya, to them." It was what Bonnie learned several of them called him.
"A man cannot serve two gods."
"Well, you're the man who wants to rule two kingdoms. You're going to learn."
Klaus got baptized three days before the coronation. Bonnie stood as a witness with Marcel, Stefan, and Klaus' brother Elijah. Kol supported nothing Christian and their sister Rebekah's refusal to attend was based on her ongoing annoyance with Klaus' decisions. Namely, not marrying Bonnie. But he was careful to conceal that fact from the woman herself.
After the coronation ended, a celebration feast followed. Jeremy, the former king and now a demoted ealdorman of Wessex, sat beside his wife in silence. His life and title were one aspect Bonnie made clear to Klaus that was non-negotiable. No sensible king should leave a potential rival alive, but she wouldn't forgive herself if his life ended, no matter what enmity now existed between them. Klaus agreed to her terms as long as he remained sequestered on his estate for half a year and away from court.
Jeremy made no secret of his resentment of her ascension. Not with words, but with indifference and avoidance. Before the invasion, his visits to her chambers were sparse, but now they went weeks without sighting one another. The last time they'd spoken was when she'd told him the terms Klaus agreed to. He hadn't taken it well.
Bonnie didn't mind the distance, but guilt plagued her for thinking so. Lord Zhu took an unorthodox method; he tried to foster closeness and make himself into a late ally of hers. After all the grief he had caused, the transparency of his scheme did nothing to amuse her. The Mercian lord was one person she wanted to crush like a cockroach, but taking a step like that was too risky for the moment. They did not wish to cause alarm among the other Ealdormen and inevitably give motivation for an overzealous Lord to start a civil war.
His daughter, Anna, kept a respectable distance by remaining with the other ladies-in-waiting, but her gaze lingered on Jeremy more than once and he reciprocated. It seemed his fall from power hadn't decimated her interest.
"What will you do about Anna?" Marcel asked later that night in her study.
"What I should do about her?"
He shrugged, picking his words with care. "I doubt Lord Zhu will relinquish his hold on your husband even now."
Bonnie played with the hem of her nightdress and regarded her cousin with amusement. "He can continue, but it should be clear to everyone that Jeremy's influence in this court holds nothing of significance. A blind man could see that."
"Yes, for now. But the future might prove differently. If it were I, an investment like that needn't be discarded so easily." An unfamiliar chill passed through Bonnie. The surge of Klaus' invasion and proposition almost made her at ease with serpents in her own garden. Yes, she'd been concerned about the possibility of civil wars and uprisings, but it never occurred to her that things might not change as drastically as she'd expected. Not at once.
"We can monitor them," Bonnie concluded. "What is the temperature of the other ealdormen?
Marcel took a moment to gather all the whispers he'd gotten from diverse sources. His network of informants found ways to penetrate the most unlikely spots in the entire North sea. He took a step closer to the desk, leaning against it to align their eye level. "On the side of the Northmen, only a few grumbles about their king's conversion to Christianity and how it will erode the Norse way of life. But the loudest amongst them is the current king of Norway."
"Damon Sigurdson. I thought he cared very little about matters of religion," she mumbled. Stefan's brother did not share his brother's zeal for the one true God. But he had no deep devotion to the pagan gods either. He was older than herself and Stefan, so their contact growing up was more limited. However, she knew him to be haughty and arrogant from what little interaction they had.
He was a well-known swaying opportunist, but she wondered what he hoped to gain from this course of action.
"He cares very much for power and I would wager the subject of religion is ever a reliable instrument to sway a majority," said Marcel.
The last thing they needed was another fucking Viking raid. That was supposed to be at least one advantage of having a Norse king.
"I need to speak with my co-ruler," Bonnie concluded.
The next day, Klaus, Elijah, and Stefan met with Bonnie and her cousin to broach the matter. Klaus watched Marcel with wary interest because of his closeness with Bonnie, but she made it clear to him that she trusted no one else. The king and queen sat at the head of the table while the rest flanked them on either side.
"Your brother is no fool. He knows I support your bid for the throne; it is a ploy to weaken support for any possible Christian king to emerge." Klaus stroked the underside of his beard.
"Like his own brother," Stefan said. His bitterness was almost well-hidden in a stony expression. "He had no intention of letting me ascend after him."
"As I understand, Damon Sigurdson has no known heir or wife, so I see no reason he would complicate a logical line of succession," Elijah stated.
"My brother has never made a secret of his dislike towards me. Perhaps it's borne of spite and nothing else," said Stefan in solemn realization.
Both brothers declined to elaborate on the reason for their friction for as long as all the present parties had known them. It was believed that jealousy over a woman who chose neither of them was the cause.
"Even so." Klaus brushed his thumb over the surface of the opal ring which sat on his forefinger. "He's not foolish enough to leave his throne vulnerable to power-hungry Jarls. He must support someone to follow him."
"Damon would never let an outsider take our great grandfather's throne. It's what makes his actions all the more confusing," Stefan agreed.
Elijah folded his hands across his chest. "Your father had no other known heirs. If Damon is intent on keeping the Sigurdson line in power, then there must be someone else from your family."
"A secret bastard perhaps," Bonnie suggested. It was not impossible. Her kingdom's history had specks of illegitimate kings who forced their way to power.
Klaus' eyes darted toward her with an unreadable expression, then she spied the corners of his mouth curve upwards beneath the cover of his hand. He addressed Stefan. "Is such a thing possible?"
Stefan's forehead furrowed in thought. "It's not impossible. But he would have to seclude the child from me."
"If that's the case, we have to act fast. If doubt is sown, the Norwegians will care little about all the camaraderie gained in avenging your folk during the massacre. It won't take long for them to set their eyes on our shores anew and demand tribute from our Christian king." Bonnie emphasized, looking straight at Klaus.
What a great irony if Klaus' grand empire got cannibalized from within before it even began. What they needed was Damon off the throne or at least subdued until his brother followed as the next king. At least Stefan's loyalty was steadfast.
Klaus leaned over to Elijah and whispered something in Norse. Once finished, Elijah stood up and announced his leave. "I will see what information I can gather about a potential child of King Damon. Permit my leave, your highnesses."
He bowed low to address them before leaving the room.
"I also have matters to attend to. My King. My Queen." Stefan bid his leave as well.
"Check among the survivors who remain in Danelaw with children. There might be a Viking woman who has entertained Damon," Bonnie instructed Marcel.
"Yes, my Queen."
Klaus waited until only they remained in the room before speaking. "How did you learn of Damon's child?"
"I didn't. From what I perceive about men, it was a sensible guess. But you know something about it."
Klaus hummed. "He has a seven-year-old son. I believe the boy is called Haakon."
It shouldn't have surprised her, but Bonnie couldn't help the accusation in her voice. "Why did you pretend to know nothing? Did it amuse you to watch us tinker for a reason, like senseless mice? How did you even find out?"
He huffed out a deep laugh, exposing his white teeth. "There is nothing senseless about you and you know it. As for how I discovered it, well, there are certain members of Damon's household with loose tongues and hands hungry for gold. Unfortunately for Stefan, there is much that is quite easy to conceal from him."
"You have spies in his house."
Klaus shrugged. "It would be reckless of me to allow specific information to slip from my grasp when it could prove useful later."
Bonnie narrowed her eyes. "Do you have spies in my household?"
Klaus remained silent, but the message was clear. However, Bonnie kept her peace considering that she had spies of her own watching him. Theirs was an intricate game played with care. Still, she gained a certain respect for him and knew he felt the same for her, which was why he didn't insult her intelligence.
"As for why I kept it secret, I had my reasons."
Bonnie interlocked her fingers together with an intent expression. "Enlighten me."
Klaus leaned forward on the table until he was a few breaths away from her face. Something tingled beneath her flesh, but her composure remained intact. His silver eye flared beneath the light of the late afternoon sun pouring from the windows, making her chest ache at its illumination. "Sometimes, it's better for a man to determine a painful truth for himself. Stefan has always known his brother had no plans of giving up the throne, but his sentiment didn't allow him to admit it. Had I told him before we undertook the invasion, he'd see it as a mere ploy for his support. But letting him discover it for himself, my help is greater appreciated."
"I understand. But what if Stefan discovers you knew along?"
"He won't."
"Hmmm."
"Not unless you plan you tell him," Klaus grinned.
She rolled her eyes. "Securing Norway will benefit England, so I won't undermine you until you give me reason to."
"Oh?" His eyes trailed indulgently from her face to the swell of her breasts above the table. "A suitable reason for sabotage. I wonder what that will be."
Ignoring the heat that pulsed through her from the weight of his gaze, Bonnie stood up. "I must prepare for tomorrow's Witan and tell Marcel not to bother with a fruitless search."
"On the contrary; I believe the child's mother came to England in order to preserve secrecy. Marcel might just find something if he kicks enough baskets."
Bonnie exhaled, suppressing the urge to massage her temple in frustration. "Next time, I'd like to be informed. I understand that a man must keep some secrets for himself, but with anything which could affect the future of my kingdom, I'd rather not find out this way again. Am I understood?"
Klaus remained silent for what felt like a lifetime. He placed his palm over the table. "Understood."
"Good."
"You keep saying your kingdom. England is our kingdom, is it not?"
She crossed her hands over each other. "That all depends on how well you'll be able to serve your two gods."
I promise the next chapter will have all the juicy smut and hot Klonnie moments. In my defense, this is as close to a slow burn as I'll ever get to so….
