"She is a witch!" The drunkard hissed whispered to his companion as they stumbled through the dark pathways which led from the harbor to the long house. "I'm speaking the truth. I watched her stick her hands in the soil and force the crops from the ground. The yield is poisoned!"

"Baa!" His companion scoffed and shoved him away. "Go find your bed. You're not fit for the feast. If not for Odin, your foolish mishandling of the farm would've seen more than half Kattegat's people starved." He stalked away towards the long house.

"But she's a witch!" The drunkard screeched after him.

His companion whirled around, "And what if she is? So, is Freyja! She's the queen of witches and magic. Even the All-Father's been known to fiddle with witchery." He threw up his hands and spun back towards the long house. "Quarreling about anything with you is for the witless. I'm going to the feast."

"She's not one of us, she's a foreigner!" The drunkard bellowed after his friend who only swatted another hand at him as he marched away.

Sigurd waited in the shadows for the drunkard to stumble his way pass. When the inebriate cleared him he stepped from the shadows. Soundlessly, he clasped a hand over the man's mouth and sliced his throat from jawbone to jawbone. The old fool gurgled and choked on his blood before his body went limp. He allowed the dead son of a whore to slip to the ground. After cleaning his blade on the man's shirt Sigurd rose and stepped over his body to head back to the long house.

"Sigurd Lothbrok, son of Ragnar Lothbrok," a lyrical voice said from just over his shoulder. He pivoted around with his dagger at the ready only to find Floki grinning at him.

"Floki," Sigurd said, lowering his blade. His glance darted to the dead man who smile with glee from his neck. "I was-,"

"Protecting her," Floki finished for him. "This is good, Sigurd. She is to be protected, whatever the cost. Come, let us feast."

****

"Goddess," A young man murmured with reverence as he placed another offering next to Bonnie's feet.

Though sweet, the whole affair was becoming really annoying. Pretty soon she wouldn't be able to get up without tripping over all the stuff that littered her move around room. "Thank you," she said to the man who looked familiar. Did he have some type of glow up in the show?

"May I be bold and speak my intentions?" He questioned staring her directly in the eyes. Something others who'd approached her had yet to do.

"Um," Bonnie's gaze darted from left to right, hoping to locate one of the brothers to run interference. The young man's polite but compelling nature reminded her of someone. She just couldn't put her paw on who? "Please, I prefer it when people share their intent."

To her—can't look away from a train wreck—horror he dropped to one knee. Taking her hand in his, he stared into her eyes. The once raucous hall went dead man silent. Not even the gulping of ale met the ear.

"Goddess," he began.

"Bonnie," she corrected, more out of habit than anything else.

"Bonnie," A genuine smile dimpled his cheek. "I'd like to court you. It is my hope that once you come to know me you will agree to become my wife."

Whispers rippled through the room. When she glanced up her eyes collided with varying shades of glaring Lothbrok blues. Her gaze narrowed. Where the hell were they five minutes ago? There she sat seconds from getting engaged and there they were staring at her like she was the shit starter in this little scenario.

Floki's high pitch tinkle carved through the hushed whispers. "Friend, you offer to court her, yet have you even told her your name?"

"My apologies, Bonnie," the young man said. His eyes wide and sincere. "I am Mikael. My father is Earl Mikaelson."

Her eyes nearly popped from their sockets and rolled in her lap. She looked to Floki who stared back. He appeared to be as undone as her. Her gaze shot back to an incredibly young not yet homicidal looking Mikael. "You're M-Mikael Mikaelson?"

"You've heard sagas told of me?" His face glowed.

She nodded still to stunned to even think. "Y-yes, your sons-,"

"Will likely be many," Floki finished. He cut an eye to her and gave his head a little shake. "I've heard tales that you Mikaelsons are of good stock. You practically live forever." His high-pitched giggle was met with others in the hall.

"Good stock or not, Bonnie is under my protection." The revelers parted creating a path that soon presented Bjorn. "And since her maiden head is still intact, it is I who will decide which warriors will court her or if she will be courted at all." Did he just blast her second virginity?

Ubbe dropped down in the seat next to hers. With that unblinking sky-blue stare, he scrutinized Mikael, while taking the bejeweled curved horn from her hand and drinking from the glorified cup. Hvitserk not to be outdone plopped down in the other chair next to her. He then took her hand and placed a lingering and rather telling kiss on her inner wrist.

Embarrassed as hell, she offered Mikael a weak smile. "Thank you for considering me."

Appearing passed disturbed, he inclined his head in a bow of acknowledgment and turned to leave. Moments later she felt Sigurd at her back. The press of his body warmed her all the way through. He leaned down and placed his mouth next to her ear, "The cabin is in order."

"Perfect, where's Ivar?" She questioned glancing around the great hall.

"He's with mother, she's in the throes of another one of her episodes," he said.

Episodes? Her brow quirked. That wasn't in the show. "What kind of episodes?"

Hvitserk and Ubbe exchanged glances, and then glared at Sigurd. He ignored them both. "She suffers with the sight. Normally, the ale helps, but when the visions are constant and calamitous, nothing does."

"Where is she?" Bonnie stood and by some miracle she managed not to step on any of the offerings.

Ubbe slid from his seat to tower over her. "She's not fit for visitors. See her when-,"

"Show me, Sigurd," she demanded stepping around Ubbe.

He shrugged at Ubbe, before turning to lead the way. When she moved to follow, Hvitserk stood and blocked her way. "Are you really gonna stop me, Hvits?" He folded his arms across his chest. Her gaze swung from him to Ubbe. "Guys, I know y'all are trying to protect your mother, but she's suffering needlessly. I can help her!"

"Only Odin can help her," Ubbe said, with no give on his face or relent in his voice.

"Or Harbard," Sigurd added.

Bonnie peered at him over Hvitserk shoulder. "Not helping, Sigurd."

"Well, what harm could be done?" Hvitserk tore his eyes from her to stare at Ubbe.

"Mother would not care for anyone seeing her in such a state," Ubbe argued.

While they went back and forth Bonnie ducked Hvitserk's hold. She zipped around him and hurried pass the thrones to the side door. Sigurd's bottom lip almost slapped the floor.

"Sigurd! Why the hell are you standing there looking crazy? Go!" Bonnie screeched as she barreled towards him.

The reprimand was enough to get him going. He shot off through the doorway and she followed him. She didn't know if Ubbe and Hvitserk followed. Last thing she wanted was to slow her roll in order to check their progress.

Moments later they crashed through the beaded dressing hanging from the arch of the doorway. Queen Aslaug lay twisting and shouting in bed,

while Ivar sat in a chair across from her wearing a helpless expression. Anger darkened his features when he noticed Bonnie and Sigurd.

"Why have you brought her here?" Ivar bellowed. (Gif: AKAMaiden via: tumbler)

Bonnie ignored him as she crossed the room. "How long has she been like this?" Lifting her dress, she climbed on the bed and crawled over to where the queen lay.

"This is not your concern!" Ivar snapped.

"Since after first meal," Sigurd answered. "Her fits sometimes last several risings."

"No matter what happens, don't touch me and if you care anything for me don't let anyone witness what I'm about to do," her gaze swung to Ivar. "You wanna know if I'm a witch. Yes, now do with it what you will." She placed her hands-on Queen Aslaug's head. Bennett magic and something more exploded from her palms.

An explosion of lights and colors overtook her field of sight.

Flashes of Lagertha flickered in and out so fast she could barely make out the vision.

Each displayed before her in translucent hazes for fractions of seconds at a time.

Kind of as if she stood in front of a film projector reeling a preview in fast forward. Bonnie pushed her way through the elusive predictions to the source.

An enormous murky dark blue eye illuminated the space.

Substantial mystical energy radiated from the source. Yet, due to years of disregard for her gift and shirking proper training of said gift the preternatural force now controlled the host. Because that's exactly what Aslaug had become to her parasitic magic. No longer was she and her powers one and the same. Her sorcery had turned against her and during its neglect her foresight had grown. It would never again be of any use to her now or ever. Sadness overwhelmed Bonnie. She prayed that Queen Aslaug wasn't attached to her second sight. If so, she'd hopefully be able to forgive her. With a wave of the hand, Bonnie closed the eye. To ensure the object of premonition remained blind she sealed the lid shut with a binding spell.

Bonnie withdrew her hands from the queen's head. Finger shaped bruises decorated the sides of her forehead. Blood trickled from Aslaug's nose. Shock stretched her eyes wide and paled her skin from white to translucent. Even her vibrant red hair appeared faded.

"T-Thank you," Queen Aslaug said as a tear trickled down her cheek.

Bonnie opened her mouth to speak, but her words lingered on her tongue. The air in the room thickened. Black spots peppered her vision. She gasped to force air into her lungs. Yet nothing she did relieved the feeling of her being suffocated. Several hands gripped her arms, while far away voices called her name. The blemishes which stained her sight multiplied. Soon only darkness thrived.

****

"What do you mean, you do not know?" The bass in Bjorn's voice penetrated the shroud of darkness that surrounded her. "It is impossible for you not to know. You and Ivar were in her company when she fell ill were you not?"

"Yes," Sigurd answered, sounding more than a little harassed, "We were in her company, and still we don't know what brought about this sickness. One moment she was speaking with my mother and the next-,"

"She fell ill," Bjorn finished for him.

"Yes," Sigurd agreed readily.

"In your mother's quarters?" Bjorn questioned, almost in a leading manner.

Oh shit! Bonnie wanted to yell for Sigurd to be careful, but she couldn't open her eyes not even to save Odin's remaining eye.

"Yes, Bjorn," Sigurd exhaled.

There was a pause, before, "Why was she in your mother's quarters? Your mother was in the midst of a fit was she not?" Sigurd must've given him a nonverbal yes because he continued. "Then why have Bonnie in your mother's presence in such a state?"

"She thought she could help mother," Hvitserk's voice joined the mix.

"How?" Bjorn questioned without even a hesitation of a pause.

The guys really needed to reevaluate the credit they afforded Bjorn's cleverness. Didn't they understand it took more than brute force to lead an opposing army to their own slaughter? As he was doing now!

"Come now, Bjorn," Floki's melodic tone interceded. "You cannot expect men to have a mind for women's illnesses. Return to the feast. Since Queen Aslaug is not well you're next in line to assume her duties."

"I will not leave Bonnie alone in this state!" He snapped.

"She won't be alone. Helga and I will stay with her," Floki assured, his tone gentle and soothing.

"Go, Bjorn," Helga said. "We will send word as soon as she's awake."

There was a long pause before Bjorn spoke, "As soon as she awakes." He stated in a firm tone.

"Of course," Helga agreed.

Seconds later she felt the brush of lips graze hers. Then there was a brisk chill, and the slamming of a door a moment later. A weight shifted next to her. Calloused fingers tangled with hers. Her palms connected with worn leather material. Ivar. Revitalizing energy swirled up her arm and radiated throughout her body. Light pierced the darkness in glaring luminosity until not even a speckled spot remained.

The once tarry darkness now shimmered with radiance before the golden glow of her sorcery. Once acceptance was given by her magic, the rehabilitated preternatural force threaded itself with her powers and infused her with enough strength to bench press an eighteen-wheeler. Reality whizzed towards her consciousness at the speed of sound. The two collided. An explosion of sight blasted her unseeing eyes. Faces floated into her field of vision. Ivar's features loomed over her. Even as worry furrowed the skin between his brows, relief and joy glistened from the depths of his eyes.

"She's awake," Sigurd said as his face danced into view.

Hvitserk popped into her periphery. "Do you believe her wits are intact?"

"Of course, they are intact! Why wouldn't she be in possession of her wits?" Ivar hissed in the softest of tones, while stroking her cheek. He barely spared Hvitserk a glance.

"It is only a question, Ivar," Ubbe, always the peacekeeper, stated. "There's no cause to shore up your defenses."

"It's a legitimate question! She hasn't spoken a word since awakening," Hvitserk argued kneeling next to her taking her free hand. "What if helping mother has somehow addled her?"

"I'm not addled," Bonnie said, surprised by the strength in her voice. "And I'm very much in possession of my wits, Hvitserk."

She sat up, glanced around, and then noticed they'd brought her home. How long had she been out? With magical burnouts one could never tell and since it had been a while since her last she considered herself due. Her gaze did another quick dart around the room and it dawned on her. Floki and Helga were missing.

"Are you alright?" Ubbe asked, as he hung back by the door. "For a moment we feared..."

"I'm fine," she waved off his question, because she had a tingling suspicion she was anything but fine ten minutes ago. "How's Queen Aslaug? Did she recover from her...fit?"