AN: Here's another one, Fandom. Enjoy, and don't forget to feed Frankie!
Bonnie awakened resting upon her husband's chest. Wrapped tight in his arms she attempted to drive away everything which forced her there. After the insanity with Harald the eve before, she'd ran to him. She'd allowed him to fill her body and mind. Until the shame and guilt over what she felt for mere moments drifted to the far reaches of her brain. Yet in the searing light of dawn her borderline fuckup sashayed back to the forefront. She still, however, refused to speak on the fuckery. Halfdan had been her husband and Harald his brother. Which made him her sibling by law as well. Even if she weren't married, her and Harald's relationship could never be anything more. What of that kiss? Case closed. Gavel dropped!
Bonnie turned to consider her husband. His kiss was the only kiss which mattered. Her stare drifted over his face. A weight settled between her breasts. Twelve years later, and her heart still refused to look away. Despite Fate's ever interfering designs. Since day one Bjorn Ironside had shitted on the Mistress of Tapestry's plans. The moment he'd shackled her to their vow he'd declared war on the universe. From there every day was up, and she'd spent the better part of a decade battling gravity. Although in the end, she still fell chest first for all things she once warned Elena not to.
A smile teased the corners of her mouth. She'd wasted so much time. Especially when resisting them damn near ruined all involved. She leaned forward to kiss his neck. Soon as her lips grazed the hollow space behind his collar bone her vision bled. Her surroundings melted away until she stood upon a cliff staring down at Vestfold's south beaches. Blood fell from the skies. Sanguineous red filled the sea and poured onto the shores. Fifty-eleven warriors and shieldmaidens, battled legions of foreign invaders. Squawking birds feasted upon the fallen. Hel had showed up, showed her ass, and now the Viking Era had lost its fucking bottom.
When she thought the shit show couldn't go anymore left, the horde of thrashing bodies below split to reveal Bjorn. Within that moment he appeared more Berserker than Hvitserk. No mere warrior could hold him. It mattered not how battle seasoned their skills claimed them to be. Just when she believed they'd triumph, Bjorn dropped his shield and Fate son-ed their asses. Like in the series, Ivar stepped from a cluster of Rus soldiers, and then plunged his sword through Bjorn's chest to the hilt.
In a witching minute, her surroundings faded back to their bed chambers in Vestfold. The premonition obliterated her moment of contentment. By rising's end Bjorn Ironside would fall. Wrong fucking answer! She slipped from her husband's arms, dressed in her battle leather, and hurried from the room. Barely attending anyone about, she rushed to Harald's strategizing quarters. There, she went over battle tactic after battle tactic. Yet in every scenario she ran, victory alluded them, and Bjorn still met his end at the point of Ivar's blade.
Laughter dehydrated of humor burst from her lips. She'd always counseled Ivar against allowing emotions to sway his moves. Now there she stood more pressed than hot button issues at a West for President Convention. Damn those turning tables! Her gaze swept to the Rus' model ships which sat upon the map on the strategizing table. Based on reports from the scouts, they'd been moved to the Fjord the rising before. The potent tug of Ivar's approaching energy, however, spoke of them being much closer. Smite them! She could…if she wanted. The darkness threaded into her sorcery churned. Yes! Through you all things are possible…
Heat singed the ducts of her eyes. The strategizing table shook. Each of the tiny model boats rocked back and forth. "It'd be so easy, too. Game over before they even reach land," she murmured to her sorcery.
"Are you really that far gone, Bennett?" Silas' voice echoed off the walls of the room as his form solidified across the table from her. "You'd kill thousands to save one? Have you learned nothing since Kattegat's first civil war?" He leaned forward and thumped one of the model ships. "Besides, their his! You don't want those problems."
"Bjorn's more than just, 'a life of one' to me. He's my one…my husband," she hissed back at him. "He's been a constant for me since I landed ass first in this Era and a blade to the chest won't be what changes that. So, take note of my words," she leaned forward, resting both of her fists on the table, "when it comes to Bjorn Ironside Lothbrok, I will burn them all! Do you hear me? Their faith be damned!"
Silas met her glare for glare. "I have more fucks to give Qetsiyah than I have cares for what Ironside means to you. I'll dead the Golden Oldie myself before I allow him to fumble this hail Mary."
Frustration feasted on the inner makings of her mind. Her vision blurred. "But you have my back, right?!"
"You're fucking right I do!" At supernatural speed he zipped around the table, and then snatched her to him by the arms. "So, take a good look, because I'm what having your back looks like." She struggled to pull free of his hold, but he held firm. "And listen when I say, Ironside isn't the piece to let the game ride on."
"Fuck the game!" She managed to liberate herself from his grasp. "Haven't I already lost too much…sacrificed enough?"
"Not even close, Bennett." His laughter mocked her as he faded from existence. "For the Universe has already foretold and in this you can trust, when the last shot is fired they'll be nothing left but us."
The door to the quarters opened, and then closed. Moments later her husband embraced her from behind. Shifting her braids to the side, he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. "No longer will you rise from the bed furs without me." He gave her a slight squeeze. "I'm your husband and this is my right to say."
"Is it now?" She muttered even as Silas' words still played on her head.
He spun her in his arms to face him. A frown drew his features as his narrowed stare searched hers. "And well you know."
Not wanting to worry him, she forced a smile. "Many apologies, My King."
"Tell me, what forced you from our furs?" His slitted gaze darted to the strategy table.
Your bloody end. Goddess, she needed more time! "Final strategy checks. What if all of this is for naught?" She shook her head. "Ivar's clever and it's been summers since I last engaged-,"
"Ack!" He grabbed her face and forced her eyes to meet his. "We've done all there is to be done. Asides, the gods have already decided the outcome." Ivar gutting Bjorn exploded before her third eye. Battle horns blared in the distance and she damn near jumped out her skin. He watched her for a long moment, and then said. "Come, we must ready ourselves; war is upon us."
When he turned to leave, memories of them whipped across her mind. Her heart leapt into her throat, and the soles of her boots planted themselves to the ground. She placed a palm to his chest, and his brow rose in question.
"Remember our vow," she pleaded.
He cradled her cheeks in his hands to study her face. "Of course."
"Swear it!"
"What have you seen?" He demanded as his glare probed hers.
"Swear to me you'll stay by my side until this battle has met its end." Her hands rose to cover his.
He watched her for a moment before nodding once more, "I swear."
A calamitous clang wrenched Harald from the throes of a tolerable slumber. Tossing the bed furs aside, he struggled to sit up. The shuffling from moments before stilled. With the backs of his hands, he wiped bleariness from his eyes. When his vision sharpened the priestess and Gunnhild greeted his sight. They both moved with care towards the doors to his bed chamber. So, they thought to seek there leave without rousing him. Even after last eve? He'd pleasured them both. Many times. Twice with his tongue even, when his sails no longer had the winds to rise. Disappointment burdened the corners of his mouth.
"Why do you pilfer yourselves away before even the gods have the opportunity to greet the morn?" He croaked, looking to his personal feasting table. Where the Hel was that serving girl with his morning tankard?
The priestess and Gunnhild exchanged glances, before the former queen stepped forward to speak, "King Harald, last eve was…agreeable," she paused, and hoisted her chin high. "Yet what took place here among us is where we'd prefer to leave it."
He opened his mouth, and Vestfold's battle horns blared. Gunnhild offered him another nod, and then hastened her steps. The priestess lingered by the door for a moment longer after the former queen fled. Her pointed stare moved over him. Questions flooded his mind. Yet his tongue remained reluctant. For how many times had the damned thing failed him? With how many women? Perhaps if his disposition had been more likened to Halfdan's. If he cared less, loved less, yet savored more. Maybe then…
"Have a care for yourself this rising, King Harald," The Priestess' lilting tone met his ears. His gaze rose. There she stood near his chamber doors watching him. The look upon her face added girth to her words. "It distress me to be minded of you being harmed." They considered each other for a few grains longer, and then she sought her leave as well.
Ivar stared at the shores of Vestfold. The sight which loomed before him stirred no great longing within him. He'd prefer to gaze upon the inlet of Kattegat once more. To move through the marketplace. Lay upon the boulders of the cove, while he watched as Bonnie frolicked underneath the falling waters. What he wouldn't trade to sight the pigmented lights in the heavens once more during the moons of the solstice. Prince Oleg, however, had decided to attack Vestfold over Kattegat. Even with the knowledge that Kattegat stood undefended. Only a leader whose head touted of all, but tactical strategies would commit such an error. Unless…
You should also know the motivation behind Oleg's pursuits in Scandinavia have shifted or perhaps...grown.
"I'm certain you understand my decision to attack Vestfold instead of Kattegat," Oleg said, claiming the vacant spot next to him near the figurehead of the ship.
"No," Yet more than a few notions had sprang forth in retaliation to his witlessness over the matter. He offered the Prince a tactful dip of the head, "but I'm certain you have your reasons."
"Whatever the reason," Hvitserk said, from his perch upon the edge of the boat. "You should prepare yourself. The end you seek won't be met with ease."
Prince Oleg and Ganbaatar regarded the other with gazes that spoke much.
His gripped upon his iron crutch tightened as he turned to face the two. "Hvitserk, has the right of it. For if you believe Vestfold shall be delivered without bloodshed and great loss then alter your beliefs. Now that King Harald has aligned with Bjorn, their forces have grown. Were I you, I'd seek out my god to ensure he was on my side this rising."
"Perhaps," Oleg clasped his hands behind his back. "But I'm told our forces out man Vestfold's five to one, so I'll endeavor not to worry overmuch. We'll overwhelm the northern harbor and I'll send a ship to the southern shores to take the beaches by force. So, worry not, King Ivar," The prince slapped him on the back, "your strategy is soun-,"
"Captain Ganbaatar," A scout warrior who had just boarded their ship from another hurried over. The captain beckoned the warrior forth and bade him to speak. The soldier bowed to Prince Oleg, before he turned to address Ganbaatar, "Vestfold's Southern Shores are barrier defended. The borders are also patrolled with more warriors than we accounted for before." Shame darkened the warriors face as his shoulders bobbed. "Perhaps, with as many as the Northern harbor."
"Impossible," Oleg said, turning to fix his glare upon Vestfold, "They don't have the warriors to arm such a defense. Not with the sums that were conveyed by foregoing accounts as well."
"Rather than dispatching a single ship to the southern shores we'll send half-,"
Hvitserk laughed, while gazing across the sea towards Vestfold. "And so it begins, Ivar, and so it begins."
Hvitserk had the right of it. Change was again upon them, and Fate had come along calling. "Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant. If he is taking his ease, give him no rest. If his forces are united, separate them. If sovereign and subject are in accord, put division between them. Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected…Sun Tzu," he muttered.
"What did you say?" Oleg demanded.
"I say no," Ivar chortled to himself. He'd believed them to be done with moving pieces about upon their board. "Rather than dispatching a single ship or even half of our army to the southern shores I advise we send all but one. And allow the remaining ship to take the Northern harbor by force."
"This would be fool-," Ganbaatar began.
Oleg raised a hand as he looked to him. "Are you certain?" Ivar inclined his head. They shared a hard stare, and then the Prince turned back to the Captain. "Give the order."
"Intelligent move, My Love," he returned his sight back to Vestfold, "but you've taught me well. Now allow me to show you what I've learned."
A single Foreign ship sailed into Vestfold's inlet. While the rest of the navy soared towards the Southern Shores. Ack! Bonnie's ploy hadn't thrived. And more's the pity. The Rus would overcome their southern defenses in grains. His stare crept to Bonnie. She stood at the cliff's edge. Her glare fixed upon the invaders who'd soon breech their shores. After all the summers which had come and gone she remained the most arresting sight he'd ever known. The gods had verily shown their favor when they placed her upon his ship. And continued to do so every rising she'd spent at his side. Especially as his wife. Now Ivar and his foreign allies arrived with a mind to rip away all he held close to his chest. The brand upon his forearm seared. The Seer's prophecy tolled within the walls of his ears…
His gaze drifted to the mystical path. "And the other?"
"Will afford you Nirvana on Midgard...for only a season." The seer answered. "Then death and Odin will come to demand their due."
"If only I could speak with him," he forced from the clench of his teeth.
"With whom?" Bonnie turned to gaze up at him. "Ivar?"
"Yes." Many solstice cycles had moved between him and his youngest brother since he'd sighted him last. Yet who knew how travels had weathered a mind such as Ivar's? Especially, since madness had feasted from his head even before he'd abandon Aslaug's tit. Truth be professed his wits had fled Kattegat long before him. So what could he verily expect from speaking with Ivar? Odin's favor! "Perhaps, I shall be able to convince him to halt this attack."
Doubt puckered his wife's brow.
"Agh!" Harald scoffed. "Even if it were possible the endeavor would be for naught. Have you misremembered our prior accord, or are you now obliged to offer the spoils he in verity seeks?" Harald's stare swept to Bonnie.
Bjorn glared back at the Vestfold King, but Harald wasn't who met his sight. No, Ivar from summers ago stood before him. His hands extended in peace in exchange for Bonnie. Had he agreed, many of the calamities which befell his family… that befell Kattegat, could've all been avoided. If given the opportunity would he have chosen different? Was there ever really a choice?
Warm palms captured the sides of his head, and then pulled his face down. Bonnie's soft lips brushed his. "If you believe speaking with Ivar can end this, then maybe there's a way I can make that happen."
A hint of verdant drifting nigh the shores snared Ivar's notice. His stare narrowed. The oddity strolled closer. A woman's form took shape. Not just any form though. Bonnie's form. She donned the gown she'd worn the first eve they'd met. He pressed the back of his hand to his head. Had the risings at sea addled him? He cast his gaze about. No one other than him appeared to have sighted her. Not even Hvitserk.
When his stare darted back to the sea she stood upon the waters before him. A gilded glow shrouded her form, while verdant fire ignited her gaze. As winds which moved the tides tossed about her curls she held out a hand to him. Her jewel toned stare bored into his. Without deliberation he took the extended appendage. Her soft palm enclosed around his coarse one and tightened. Warmth overran him, and he reveled in all the treasured recollections her touch provoked.
As he abandoned himself to risings gone by, Bonnie yanked him over the edge of the ship. Midgard spun about him. The Rus country, England, and Vestfold. Each land tumbled pass his mind's eye in flashes of garish pigmentation. When his rotating surroundings halted, he sat on the shores of Kattegat. Bjorn, of all his brothers, sat next to him.
"Hmph." He chuckled. How unexpected, but so very expected was life? Check, My Love. "Why has Bonnie brought me here, Bjorn?"
"To avoid bloodshed, Ivar," Bjorn glared at the sea. His shoulders squared, posture stiff. How dire was Vestfold's state if his eldest brother traveled to such lengths for an accord with him? "For the sake of our people and lands I don't wish to engage in another war."
"Then you should lay down your arms," he tore his gaze away from the horizon to add gravity to his following words, "For we both know, you cannot win this, brother."
"Ack! Allying yourself with Christians, Ivar?" Bjorn ripped his stare from the horizon to regard him, and what swirled in those raging slits shocked Ivar. Not only did resentment and bitterness season his brother's glare, but also fear. An emotion he'd never attributed to the great Bjorn Ironside. "Your actions dishonors the gods, father, and our Supreme."
"Then try not to think too harshly of yourself," he said. It would seem Bjorn still indulged his second face nature. "I've committed no offenses you haven't exacted before me. Unless, that was another King Alfred you fought with to defeat my warriors in York."
Bjorn's face deepened to the pigment which could be likened to spurting blood. "Aslaug ruined you!" He dismissed him with a swatting hand. "She engaged your madness, deceived you into believing you were favored by the gods over all others. Yet you're no more favored by the gods than a Saxon."
"This may be so," He didn't doubt Bjorn's claims. Not after the offenses he committed against their Most High. "Yet it appears only one of us still follows the will of Fate."
"She is my wife!"
"As well as my path, and well you know."
"If you do this, Ivar," Bjorn forced through the slits of his teeth, "if you invade these shores, then you'll no longer be a son of Ragnar….you'll no longer be my brother."
"Our paths are already decided, brother. You've chosen yours and I've accepted mine," He cast his stare back to the horizon. "With this you'd do well to make peace. For it's the only peace which shall be allotted to you this rising."
Bonnie paced back and forth on the edge of the cliff. She should've been the one to speak with her former mate. She'd more than not get further with him than her husband. Between Ivar's fifty-eleven ways to shade and Bjorn's Original Hybrid approved temper, her husband would be beating the hell out of her ex-Fated Mate in a crackhead sprinting minute.
"Ironside, is wasting his words," Harald rasped. "Ivar, will never abandon his pursuit of these lands."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with him trying, Harald," she said, sparing her brother-in-law a quick side glance from the cut of her eye.
Harald shook his head and waved her words back at her. "So are we to feign as if last eve never occurred?" Was he fucking crazy?
"Now is not the time!" She chanced a quick glance to Bjorn. When he appeared still in deep meditation she exhaled.
"We caressed mouths," he grabbed her arm, "and Freyja as my witness, for grains you favored-,"
"Harald, please!" Had his brain been fried alongside his vocal chords.
"There'll be no resolution," Bjorn said, pulling her to him. "War shall soon meet these shores."
"Maybe if I talk-," she began.
"It's already arrived," Harald said, pointing toward the southern beaches.
Several foreign ships had floated close enough for Rus' warriors to jump from the ships and trudge to land. A wave of mystical energy slapped her dumb and snatched her head sideways. The hell? These warriors were sons under her dominion. In the show, weren't they Christians?
"I'll see to the southern shores, while you-," Bjorn began.
She smacked the center of his chest as she glared up at him. "We'll see to the southern shores, Ironside." She corrected.
"Bonnie-,"
"Together until this battle meets its end, remember?" She locked hands with him. "You vowed it."
He glared at her for a moment as the muscles in his jaws flexed. Releasing a shit ton of air, he then said, "Very well. Harald, you-,"
"I'll go where I must!" Harald rasped, stalking pass them to head down the cliff.
Together hand in hand they followed.
Harald ran towards the northern harbor. Rus warriors had breached the kingdom's borders. Several attempted to take the city's temple. Priests and priestesses, however, had banded together to defend it. When he thought to leave them to it, a show of gold upon fair skin drew his footsteps to the unfolding battle. Drawing his sword, he joined the fight. Mere grains into the conflict a curved blade swiped at his face. The edge of the steel sliced several lengths from his beard. At the final moment he arched backwards, and the blow missed widening his mouth. He pivoted to the right on his left foot. The opposing warrior whirled about in tow. With a twist of his wrist he drug his sword across the soldier's gullet, and then turned to hurl his broadax at another who thought to approach.
From the cut of his eye he witnessed an invader attempting to dagger Ingrid from behind. Without thought he threw himself between her and the soldier. The blade entered his side, while his blade entered the offending warriors chest to the hilt. Ingrid turned in time to see the warrior fall. His glare darted about. Most of the Rus soldiers had retreated or lay scattered across the ground. When assured all was well he glanced to the priestess.
"Have a care for yourself," he growled at her before rushing from the temple.
Once outside, Harald resumed his trek to the northern harbor. He arrived in time to witness King Olaf be overran by foreign invaders and a child who appeared too young to have reached his raiding summer. Taken by the sight before him and not minded of his guard, several warriors crept him from behind. Shoving him forward, they forced him to his knees and settled him next to King Olaf who knelt with his head bowed. The girthy man's shoulders sagged as if he were reciting a Christian prayer. He was no better than one of those Saxons who discovered themselves dangling from the wrong in of his blade. Olaf appeared as if he accepted this path. Hel take him! If Harald believed himself witless he'd reason the long-winded fool had surrendered.
"What have you done?" He seethed from the slits of his teeth.
King Olaf lifted his chins, while staring straight ahead. "I've done what's just."
Sparks ignited at the edges of clashing blades. All about Hvitserk, the battle raged. Yet, he only raised his ax in defense. He'd no desire to wage war against his people. Especially, not at the sides of those who'd forsaken their gods for the favor of one. He knew not why Fate ordered his steps to trek such a path, but it's the path he'd continue to trek. For something within uttered the way was just. That soon he'd be reunited with all he'd lost. Sooner than he perceived. A pulsing mystical force thickened the air. Battling bodies shifted. Odin appeared before him. Birthed from the halls of Asgard, no doubt. Hvitserk halted a step shy of barreling into him.
He lowered his gaze, "All-Father, my apolo-,"
"Oh, so now you're above it all?" Mock sharpened his tone and lent a cleaving edge to his words. "Lord Hvitserk! God of war…berserker with a blade." Deliberate of step, Odin began to pace around him. "Or at least that's who many of these uninformed bastards believe you to be." He halted in his pacing to stand booted toe to booted toe with him. "But we both know that news couldn't get any faker even if Millie Vanilli sang your praises loud and proud from the pits of FOX News studios."
His stare darted up to lock with Odin's kindling glare. "I'm uncertain of what-,"
"Tsk," the All-Father chided him with a shake of the head, "How the hell could you be any of those things when the boneless fraudster still thrives to swindle and slither another day?"
"Ivar and I have-,"
Odin's glare rolled away as his pace resumed. "And what of Bjorn?!"
"Bjorn?" His head slanted.
"Did he not cast you out, brother?" The All-Father taunted. "Sure, Ivar may have pilfered you of your Faith, but it's Bjorn who means to filch your destiny of hope." Odin's words blazed hotter than Hel bred flames in the center of Hvitserk's chest. "And now all you're minded of is wandering about like a mindless inbred without the brash or balls to lift your blade. Hm, how obliging you are, brother. Perhaps, you'll allow me to spread her open next."
Something dark and exacting overpowered his will. Without thought, Hvitserk swung his ax at Odin. A grazing distance before the edge of the blade buried itself into the All-Father's neck, he faded from Midgard. He reappeared at the embankment leading down to the southern shores.
"Face me!" Lord Hvitserk bellowed.
"Brother, is it really my end you wish to shove me to?" Odin gestured toward the shores where Bjorn fought as if he battled within the courtyards' of Valhalla, "Or is it another?"
Side by side Bonnie and Bjorn fought one foreign invader after the other. Though Rus the mysticism of their essence revealed them as hers. And as such she swung weapon and blows to harm, but not kill. The pounding behind her breast refused to allow her to draw fatal blood. Not after everything…not after Faith. Although prodigal and errant they still counted as children under her dominion. She cast her gaze over the surroundings. The battle had forced them much too close to the southern shores for her third sight liking. For prophecy fulfilling sake the need to get the fuck out of dodge asap bore down on her!
She turned to her left, "Bjorn-,"
The Viking sized vacant spot next to her shoved the following words back down her throat. Filthy ashen clouds burst from the four corners of the heavens. The dense dark billows smothered the sun and buried the sky. The skreiching of fifty-eleven crows drowned out the sound of Hel on earth. Neighing horses galloped across the heavens as their large wings flapped against the wind. For a fraction of a second the phenomenon spun about her in mutually exclusive chaos. Then her sorcery painted a picture. Once the image fit the frame, the depiction came together. The sounds merged to serve as a soundtrack more befitting for a saga dedicated to mayhem. Several paces away, she sighted a figure donning a hooded cloak, threading their way through the fighting warriors…
"Odin!" She bellowed.
The hooded figure halted, and then turned to acknowledge her. Their eyes clashed over a gore strewn battlefield. Electric methane raged against a legion of verdant pleas. Without offering her any assurances, he faded from existence. Bonnie's chest clenched. Her third eye flinched. Panic snatched her head about. Gut twisting fear spun her steps a perfect 360 degrees. Still her husband's massive form missed her darting gape. After another desperate search of her surroundings, she hurtled to the embankment edge. There, Bjorn battled his way across the southern shores. He cut down every warrior that stood between him and the figure being carried unto the beach by a throng of Rus soldiers. This was her vision! Right down to every swing of the sword. The only difference, there were no more do-overs. This was it! Shoving reason and thought aside, she leapt from the cliff.
Ivar's booted feet sunk to the ankles into Vestfold's soggy shores. His iron crutch descended even further, but he took no note. Yet the sight barreling towards him, he attended well. Bjorn loomed before him. Only a few battling warriors separated them. Which mattered naught. Ironside wielded his weapon as a berserker. He cut through the throng with the edge of his blade.
All too soon, Bjorn fought with his personal guards no more than an arm's length away. After burying the ax in the gullet of one soldier, he plunged his sword into the chest of the remaining warrior. As boldly as Ironside fought, however, he committed a grave misstep. He'd abandoned care of his defense. The way was cleared, and the king was his. Check mate, My Love.
"Fate's calling, Ivar," Odin appeared at his side, "perhaps, you should answer her."
"All-fath-,"
"Wanna regain my favor, huh?" Odin turned to face him full on. "Wanna reclaim your place in Valhalla…reign within the halls of the Aesir as a god?" He dipped his head once, the All-father's gaze darted down to his sword then to Bjorn. "Then what are you waiting for?"
Ivar's grasp on the handle of his sword tightened. His glare rose to meet Bjorn's, but instead collided with Bonnie's verdant stare. Her silent pleas forced the point of his blade back to the ground. Though he coveted the place at Odin's right hand, he'd not shatter his Love again to claim it.
Her chest rose and fell as she mouthed, "Thank-," fear snatched her eyes wide, "Noooo!"
A warrior next to him plunged his sword into Bjorn's chest.
Time stopped. Sound bled to deafening nothingness. Midgard zoomed towards her until one sight belittled all. The pointed end of a curved blade tore from her husband's back. One…two…three…moments crept by. Each second dawdled past burdened by a shit ton of hope. Please Goddess…no…not him…not after…everything. Slowly, Bjorn stumbled around. When his fading stare met hers, all hope fled. His body fell forward, and his essence remained standing. The heavens tore open. Fifty-eleven of the fiercest shieldmaidens on winged steed rode down to them hell for leather. Bjorn's essence appeared stunned and could do no more than gawk down at his body.
"Take him!" Silas demanded.
The Valkyries moved to do his bidding. Bonnie's world came undone.
"Noooo!"
The earth rolled beneath her feet. Potent searing heat hurtled through her arteries and veins. Mystical Energy exploded from her eyes, nose, mouth, and the flats of her hands. The vengeful gilded essence whipped over the warrior who thought to end a saga fated to resonate throughout time. Like a nuclear blast, ancient sorcery ravaged and scorched the man until all that remained of him pooled at their feet. Gasps exploded from the Rus and Norwegian warriors alike. Clashing clangs of weapons hitting the ground sounded all around them.
"Bennett, was that necess-," Silas began.
Utilizing supernatural speed, Bonnie hurtled forward. She tore Bjorn's departing essence from the Valkyrie and slammed his spirit back in his body. When the same misguided Valkyrie appeared before her as if she meant to pursue her lost charge, Bonnie's body temperature surged once more.
"I said nooo!" She bellowed.
The Valkyries took several steps back from her. Each of their gazes darted to Silas, but Bonnie didn't give a damn how much respect they ran middle management. As long as they obeyed her will, then they could bark louder than heated bitches for their All-Father's regard if that's what suited them. Lagertha dropped from the heavens and landed where the fallen sheildmaidens stood before her. Each of the women looked to the former queen who only shook her head at them in return. The once shieldmaiden then turned to offer her a warriors bow. Bonnie fell to her knees next to her husband's body, and then clutched him to her breasts. Her surroundings blurred.
"Supreme," Lagertha said as her hand gripped Bonnie's shoulder, "You should take these moments of reprieve to…"
She didn't finish. Yet she didn't have to. The former queen's words met Bonnie's ears without the benefit of meaning. For Lagertha might as well hurl her ass back to Valhalla along with her acceptance nonsense. She and Bjorn were nowhere near the point where farewells were necessary. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sight of her husband bleeding out in her arms. Against the sight of the Asgardian vultures waiting on the sidelines. When homesteads was all raided and razed, they'd be waiting until Ragnarök. She'd unmake them all before she'd allow any of them to take him!
"Lay down your weapons!" The words tore from the most divine part of her. They jarred the air, rocked the seas, and quaked the lands. "For this rising is done, the battle this day has met its end." Her voice broke as her first tear breeched the barrier of her bottom lid. "I'm taking my husband home, and if any invaders should follow us, then know the sea is where I shall bury you."