AN: Here's another one, Fandom! We're getting closer and closer to the end of Book 1. And closer and closer to our favorite Original family. In fact, guess who's already preg-nah. I'm not going to say too much right now. No worries, though. We'll get there. Ay yo... taexminnie, theendofthedream10, jaybird327, cotreasephillips, ARBattle, 17pepperonis, got that work you wanted. Sorry it took so long, but in the words of the Queen, these packs hit different ain't nothing microwavable about it. Lmfao! Nah, but editing is a Big B and well Frankie is Frankie. So, with all that being said, enjoy the read, Kindreds.
Katia waited for King Ivar outside his quarters. She'd tucked herself in a corner near his chamber doors, burrowing deeper into the shadows cast by the wall hangings from the many sconces' flickering flames. Willfully embracing subterfuge in hopes of sighting the one who held her note all without the intent of doing so. Which mattered not. For that rising when the tide departed so would he. Along with her husband and half of the royal guard as well. Only the Gods knew when she'd sight them next. Such thoughts unsettled her. For she feared she no longer held his favor. Not since the mid rising he'd spoken to her with mild coarseness and sought his leave with nary the over shoulder glance. Since their…disagreement, he'd kept himself away. Though these actions conveyed much of his mind concerning her. Still, she couldn't allow his leave while such strife lingered between them.
Before Katia's laboring mind could birth forth a bevy of wailing second thoughts, King Ivar's chamber door opened. Soon after his brother and he exited the quarters. Gathering her wits about her, she inhaled her courage. Well, it was either courage now or a legion of regrets later. Exhaling, she stepped from the shadows into his path. Surprise flared the fallen King's eyes wide even as disgust and loathing narrowed his brother's.
"Princess Katia," King Ivar's sure limp halted as his searching stare crept over her face, "Why have you come here?"
His brother's face twisted as if she were no more than the foul leavings in an overused chamber pot. Without pomp or a beg for pardon he sought out his leave.
She angled her head to glimpse him over her shoulder, "He really has not a care for me does he?"
"You shouldn't have come," he said, taking her by the arm and guiding her back into the very shadows from which she'd only just emerged. "Hvitserk and I were just on our way to the harbor."
"You're angered with me," she spun about to face him, her voice rising, "how could I not come?" His bulging stare darted to either end of the hall. By the gods! Now she'd given leave to her emotions. Sipping a bit of air, and then releasing it, she continued in a lowered tone. "You must forgive me my hysterics, King Ivar. Yet, how could I allow you to seek your leave of my land with you feeling as you do about me…especially, when I feel as I do about you?" His mouth opened and closed. Regret and kindliness seared his brightly pigmented stare. Yet she couldn't help but take note that the affection which harried her remained absent from his consoling gaze. Anguish and agony swelled her chest to nigh bursting as she placed a finger over his lips. "And, yes, I'm more than aware your heart is not vacant, that it belongs to another."
With a gentle hand, he withdrew her finger from his mouth. "A verity which has been so since my seventeenth summer. Yet you should know this is the first moment I wished that it wasn't." His shoulders rose, and then fell, "but we are no more than pieces on the battlefield, and as insignificant warriors we aren't given leave to offer Fate self-serving tactile strategies in a war which she's already plotted and proved victorious."
A self-deprecating chortle burst from her lips. "And here I stand attempting to thwart Fate by unburdening my heart at your feat." She snorted. "All while wearing the face of the one you loathe most."
His pitying stare slitted to a discerning glare. He grabbed her arm and drew her to him. "What do you know of the face I loathe most?"
Oh, he was severely out of his depths. King Ivar had the right of it. He was no more than a piece on a board, but Fate wasn't the gamemaster manipulating him about.
"Oleg will remain a friend for as long as your usefulness wills out," she uttered, while attempting to say more with her gaze.
His stare crept over her face. After a moment of searching her eyes he released her. "Then I shall remain useful."
She nodded, before continuing. "You should also know the motivation behind Oleg's pursuits in Scandinavia have shifted or perhaps…grown," her stare swept from his as she gathered her thoughts, "I'm not certain to what or why, but he seeks something more." Taking her courage in hand, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a swift caress of mouths. After pulling away, she held his stare once more. "Have a care for yourself while your away, King Ivar, and please, hasten your return. Even if it's not me you mean to return to." She glanced about the corridor. "Now I must go, my husband awaits me to bid him farewell before he sails."
"Fortifying the shores and outpost won't be enough," Bjorn bellowed across the strategizing table at Harald. Bonnie pressed her fingers to her temples and massaged the throbbing area there. "More allies is what will secure us a victory." Harald's eyes rolled as Bjorn continued to hurl visual battleaxes and gag worthy verbal jabs at him. "Is this not the purpose for which you were named king of all Norway?"
Harald's chin rose, and the muscle in his jaw flexed. "I've sent messengers to all my sentry kings, only a few abided the summons. Others who've answered refused to lend their support because to do so would leave their lands undefended." He slammed the side of his fist down on the stone table. "What more would you have me do, Ironside? Send the few warriors we have to take the unwilling in hand?"
"Ack, useless!" Bjorn sneered.
"No, this back and forth is useless," Bonnie said, having had enough of Bjorn's and Harald's shit. She slid from her seat to stand and regard them. "While you squabble like old addled minded men the sea is about to be overran with foreign invaders hell bent on claiming everything you fought and bled for fifty-eleven times over." Both Bjorn and Harald glanced away, but she continued because they needed to understand the type of slings that awaited their asses if they loss. "And if that's not enough to lend direction to your focus, then let's not forget who's rolling with them," she paused. When they only stared at her in question she had to force her eyes not to take a damn spin. "The military mastermind tactician with a chip the size of Asgard on his shoulder."
"Ivar," Bjorn seethed.
"Attend your priorities, gentlemen," she said, her glare moving over each of them.
King Olaf cleared his throat and shifted his wide frame forward in his chair. "Our Supreme has the right of it. I've long since heard mention of these foreign invaders. For many solstice cycles they sought to lay claim to the lands east of them. It would appear Ivar the Boneless has turned the Rus from those pursuits, and now they've cast their covetous gazes upon our shores." His resigned stare swung to regard her. "In these fleeting moments what would you have us do, Most High?"
King Olaf acted as if they'd already lost! There wasn't an ass clapping day in the Ancient of Days kingdom she'd willingly take an L because a certain script writer and well-placed foreshadowing character said she couldn't win.
"What would I have you do?" She glared back at King Olaf. "Move intelligently, but above all, stand united. It's the only way these shores and seas will survive an attack of this size." She turned to pace the room, while she attempted to bring order to the madness spinning about in her head. "They'll have the numbers. So, Ivar will mean to overwhelm."
The forging of an explosive plot ignited within her brain and damn near blew off the top of her skull. She halted. After schooling Ivar from A to Z on strategizing and warfare, who would've believed there was still one more lesson to be taught. Her gaze hurtled to Bjorn who watched her in turn from the edge of his seat.
His brows bunched as the corners of his mouth took the southern route. "What are you minded of?" He asked.
She smiled. "All warfare is based on deception."
Ingrid murmured another spell to fortify the newly erected barriers around the southern perimeters of Vestfold. Without warning, her surroundings rotated. Her innards bucked, and her feet stumbled in place. She swayed from side to side, unable to gather her bearings. Thick warmth spurted from her nose.
"Ingrid!" Gunnhild cried out.
Moments later, capable arms wrapped themselves about her.
"I'm fine," she attempted to assure, while wiping the wetness from under her nose with the backs of her hands.
"You should rest!" Gunnhild insisted.
"There isn't any grains of sand to spare." She pulled herself from Gunnhild's embrace. "The invaders will greet these shores any rising now, and there's still much to be done." She turned back to spell the next section of the barrier.
Her fierce shieldmaiden snatched her back around to face her. "Ingrid, continue on as you are, and your end will greet you before any war has the opportunity. You must halt being so boar headed and have a care for yourself!"
"Be at ease, Shieldmaiden." A smile pushed at the corners of her mouth as she leaned forward to stroke the soft tendrils at Gunnhild's hairline. "We have solstice cycles to natter over things of no note."
"Ease will come when war no longer stalks our lands and seas," Gunnhild uttered.
Ingrid opened her mouth to agree when a tempest of bluster and agitation descended upon them and forced the words back down her gullet. She whirled about in time to lock gazes with the Vestfold King.
"Priestess!" King Harald rasped, his glare boring and nostrils flaring. "You demanded to know what sort of man I am." Gunnhild sputtered, but Ingrid nodded. "I am a king." Again, with the titles? Her eyes spun, but he raised his hand to halt her from further disengaging. "While many worthy men protect their family, worship the gods, and defend homesteads, I stand for all of Norway. I'm the first to do so when enemies threaten our borders, and I'll be the last to fall if the fight is ever loss. This is who I am, who I was bred to be, and who I'll walk through the gates of Valhalla as." With that said he spun about and marched off.
Gunnhild shook her head. A frown spurned her faultless features. "That man's boldness wanes on without nary a hope of a humble moment. Just who does he perceives himself to be?"
"The father of our babes," Ingrid grinned, her gaze fastened to the Vestfold King's retreat.
"What?!" Gunnhild thundered.
As Oleg walked to the ship with Ganbaatar at his side, Ivar's words filled his mind. You are Christian are you not? A question his tongue often answered with ease, but a belief to which his heart never committed. His gaze drifted to the priest being assisted upon one of the many ships that lined the harbor. Misgivings churned his innards. Yet eagerness, and the beguiling unknown bound him to the voyage. The Gods and Fate held him at their mercy. For he'd tread those waters, it mattered not what end he met.
"Have you heard anything more from the scouts?" He asked, clasping his hands behind his back.
Ganbaatar inclined his head, "I'm told many of Kattegat's warriors have sailed north to reinforce King Harald Finehair's defenses."
"Then it appears the sagas are true," He chuckled a bit as he nodded to one of the wealthier merchants, "The citizens of Norway have banded together and chosen a king to rule them all."
"Yes, it would seem."
"Ah," he raised a finger, "a king that's not a son of Ragnar."
"Hmm," Ganbaatar hummed. "What does such a decision bode for the future paths of our brethren's?
"No, the more germane query is," his stare settled upon Ivar's dispirited brother who'd just stepped on the docks, "what does hearsay such as this mean for our Boneless king and his lesser relation?"
His captain watched him from the cut of his eye, before to turning to regard the so-called Lord Hvitserk as well. "Who can say?"
"Only God, my friend," he assured as his mind drifted once more to the woman cloaked in shadows. Though engaging her in battle gave him pause, the pause still lacked the perilous warning required to tamper his eagerness to engage. "And what of their Supreme?"
Deep furrows disturbed the skin between his friend's brows. "I'm told she accompanied them."
"Then that's where we'll begin our attack," he said, before clasping Ganbaatar's shoulder. "Set your doubts aside, Captain. Did you not heed King Ivar's counsel?" A smirk ensnared his pressed together lips. "We have nothing to fear with God on our side." The smirk residing upon his mouth unfurled into a genuine smile at the approach of Katia. "Ah, my devoted wife." He took hold of her arms and pressed his lips to both of her cheeks. "You've come to fare me well on my travels."
"Of course, my darling," She returned his smile, while resting both of her palms on his chest. "but I've also come bid the Gods to deliver you back to me, robust and triumphant."
"Gods?" His smile took a mocking turn as he offered Ganbaatar a knowing eye.
"G-god," she stammered a bit as red tinted her cheeks, "forgive me, I misspoke."
"Of course, he will," he lifted her hand to brush his lips over the back of her fingers, "for when next we me, he'll have blessed me with an entire nation to lay at your feet."
Bjorn gestured toward the outposts near the southern territories. "We should shore up defenses there, and the channels which leads into the inlet forest." He gestured to the guard posts to the rear of the kingdom. "And you should place more warriors and heated oils upon those battlements there. They'll more than not bear the brunt of the attack."
"This Rus Prince," King Harald said, gazing in the direction he gestured, "I'm told he's entered into marriage with a Khazar King's daughter, and gained support of their warriors."
He continued assessing Vestfold defenses, "Then we are fortunate the Gods are on our sides."
"Of this I am certain," Harald agreed, "however when the time arises will you be able to do what you failed to before? Will you be able to lend your hand to your brothers' ends?"
He tore his gaze from the barren lands of Vestfold to regard its King. Who was Harald to question his commitment to his people, crown, and country? Him of all lowly men! A man who held know power over that which he claimed to rule! There they stood within the arm's reach of war. Yet there they stood alone.
"If my brothers' path lie beyond the veil, then I have no quarrels with them greeting the other side on the point of my blade," he seethed from the clench of his teeth.
Harald scoffed. "Such notions are spoken with ease, yet nigh hobbles the sturdiest of warriors when they attempt to carry them out. Solstice cycles have come, gone, and still Halfdan's blood stains my hands," the hollow crown king studied his palms as the words crept from his mouth low and feeble in their likeness.
"Neither Hvitserk nor Ivar is Halfdan," he said. "Whatever lot greets them upon these shores is an end bestowed upon them by the Gods."
"And what of the will of our Supreme?" Harald demanded. Upon the mentioning of his wife, they both glanced at the beach. Bonnie stood upon the shores below speaking with Gunnhild. "She's been there since first light. And now that I'm minded, I don't believe I sighted her in the Great Hall during first meal either," the Vestfold king turned back to him. "Has she even been receiving-,"
"My wife is well," He growled, returning Harald's glare, "and not your concern. Have you not enough to harry over, King Harald of all Norway? You'd do well attending the deflection tactics near the eastern borders, instead of burdening yourself with tasks which are of no concerns to you."
With that he stalked down the hill to the beach towards Bonnie. When he reached her vacant side he spoke his discontentment not being minded of his ex-wife bearing witness to his unease. "Does Harald have the right of it? Did you forsake first meal this morn?"
A frown buckled Bonnie's brows as she glimpsed him from the cut of her eye. "And hello to you too, husband."
"What of offerings?" He demanded, ignoring her jesting. "Is what you take from me while we couple enough, or do you require more to sustain?"
"Bjorn!" Bonnie's head jerked backwards as if he'd struck her with a closed hand. Her bulging stare darted to his ex-wife. "Gunnhild, please finish up here and we'll discuss offensive tactics on the morrow." She then grabbed him by the arm and led him away.
"Mystical One, I'll not have you-," he began.
"It doesn't matter what you'll have, Bjorn, because there is no fucking time!" She spun on him. "Don't you see? There's no time for anything! Not if it's not related to defending these shores. With every grain of sand through the damn hourglass Ivar's energy draws closer."
"And we'll defeat him, just as we always do," he assured, while reaching up to palm the side of her face.
"It's not that simple this time…the perils are too distressing," she murmured as she lifted her hand to cover his, "the loss…the loss too great."
He brushed his lips against hers then leaned back to capture her gaze. "This is a battle I don't intend to lose, Mystical One. Now come so we may have second meal before I make you an offering."
For a moment she appeared to want to say more, but after a few grains of deliberation she nodded and allowed him to lead them back up the hill. As she followed, he prayed that Fate's will aligned with his. Anything other than an eternity with Bonnie would never sate him. Helheim take a season! For he'd greet the gates of Valhalla upon Ivar's blade before he'd ever allow Hel to take him.