"Come in here and I'll show you how to spear a fish," Bjorn said, taking another jab into the water with his long pole.

Bonnie sat on the pier of Kattegat's harbor enjoying the warmth of the sun as her feet dangled beneath the surface of the water. "I have no desire to learn how to spear a fish, Bjorn."

"It matters not if you desire to do so, Mystical One. Desire is not the sole motivation to instigate action," he said, sending another thrust of the spear into the water. "Now come, or I shall take it upon myself to retrieve you."

"If you don't want your retriever broken beyond repair, you'll keep that thing far out of my reach, Bjorn Ironside," Bonnie said, lowering her Jackie Ohh RayBan's down the bridge of her nose to peer at him over the frames.

"Is that indeed so?" He questioned, turning to give her the full benefit of his attention.

She cocked a brow as a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "If you believe my threat to be exaggerated then that would be your first-,"

Before she could finish her shit talking, Bjorn had managed to tread water faster than Michael Phelps and snatched her from the pier. She wrapped her legs and arms about him, clinging to him for the very sake of her fresh twist out. The people bustling around the harbor laughed and some urged him on, while others pleaded he have a care for their goddess. Bjorn paid heed to neither onlookers, he appeared to be like her, too caught up in the tight press of their bodies and how well they fit together. His head dipped. His mouth lowered to hers.

"Bjorn, you'd better come!" Queen Aslaug yelled from the harbor.

Those words snatched Bonnie's focus. They'd officially entered canon. Bjorn cursed the Queen under his breath as he placed her on the pier.

Once back on the dock, she hurried over to Queen Aslaug. Grabbing the queen's arm, Bonnie spun them back in the direction of the great house.

"Is it him?" Queen Aslaug gave her a strange look. Bonnie had no time for strange looks or expressions driven by confusion. "Is it the man who's come with word from England?"

The queen nearly stumbled in her step, but Bonnie's firm grip kept her steady. "Y-yes...he speaks of Ragnar possibly siring a son with one of the queens of England-,"

"Which he didn't she only pissed on his wound. Naming Ragnar as the father of her child was nothing more than a feeble attempt to hang onto her crown," Bonnie waved off Magnus' the useless side plot, for the more important matter. "If he's spoken to you of that, then he's already told you of Ragnar knowing about King Ecbert destroying the Viking settlement." Her troubled stare discovered Queen Aslaug's powdered white complexion. "You're aware of what this means?"

"And so, it begins," The queen said. They came to a stop at the entrance of the great hall. "The time of calamity has finally reached our shores."

Bonnie nodded her confirmation. "Shall we confront fate?"

"If we must," Queen Aslaug said, before they continued their march into the hall. As they walked in Bonnie recognized the man with his head shaved clean of hair. "Thorhall, this is Bonnie. She's an honored guess of Kattegat and also under Bjorn's protection."

The man's gaze roamed her from head to toe, before distaste slightly crumpled his face. "Bonnie," he said, barely sparing her a nod. His eyes darted back to the door. "Will Bjorn Ironside still attend me as you assured, my Queen?"

As if timed by perfection itself, Bjorn burst through the doors of the great hall. "Who is this?" He demanded, eying the man with an expression that conveyed he had little patience for the bullshit.

Queen Aslaug, who was still put off by Thorhall's reception to Bonnie continued to glare her disapproval at the man. She exhaled a sigh, "This is Thorhall. He's apparently here with news from King Ecbert court in England."

The muscle in Thorhall's jaw shifted, but his expression remained neutral.

"Well," Bjorn's impatience graduated to mild irritation as his inquisitive blues swung from Bonnie, Queen Aslaug, to Thorhall, and back. "I'm listening."

"I-," Thorhall paused to clear his throat. "I went on a raiding party to England the summer pass. We fought against King Ecbert's army and eventually made a treaty with one of his ealdorman. It was then, I learned King Ragnar sired a child with Queen Kwenthrith of Mercia. They say the child is now twelve summers and resides in King Ecbert's court."

Shock stretched Bjorn's eyes wide. "Name this child!"

"They say his name is Magnus," Thorhall said, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"And you're certain, Ragnar fathered this child?" Bjorn questioned, while searching the man's expression.

Thorhall scoffed. "Well, I cannot be certain. I wasn't there during their coupling." He laughed, and when he discovered he laughed alone his mood sobered. Clearing his throat once more he spoke. "Why would he lie?"

"Oh, my goddess!" Bonnie's eyes rolled to meet the ceiling of the great hall. She'd had about enough of his simple ass. "Why would a lamb lie to a pack of wolves about being married to the great Fenrir? To secure her survival! Now, how about you stop wasting time on idle gossip meant to amuse nattering old ladies and tell Bjorn the real reason you've come."

Thorhall turned three different shades of red. "You'll do well to remember yourself, girl!"

"And you'd do well to remember where you are and to whom you're addressing," Bjorn said, invading Thorhall's personal space. "Speak to her in such a tone again, and the dogs will sup on your tongue for second meal."

Thorhall took a step back. His hands raised as if to ward off any impending attack. "I meant no disrespect."

"You meant all the disrespect, but that's fine, Thorhall. Just get on with your news, because I'm really looking forward to seeing the back of you," Bonnie said, placing her hands on Bjorn's arm in an attempt to calm him.

He covered one of her hands with his, before returning his glare to Thorhall. "If there is more to tell I suggest you do so with haste."

Bonnie glanced back at Queen Aslaug who sat at the edge of her throne, while clutching her armrests. They shared a knowing look, before she gave her focus back over to Thorhall.

"The ealdorman also informed us the farming settlement in Wessex had been destroyed. All but a few were slaughtered," he paused to swallow air. "They said the few who were allowed to live were sent back here as a message to your father."

"He never mentioned it," Bjorn said, with a little shake of the head.

"Well, call him here now," Thorhall glanced around the great hall as if Ragnar would surely come tripping through his sight line. "We'll ask him."

Queen Aslaug sagged back against her thrown. "We don't know where Ragnar is, he never returned after the raid in Paris."

"But that was years ago," Thorhall said, more than prepared to state the obvious. "How can such a man just...disappear?"

Bjorn scoffed and spun away to pace the hall, while the queen glanced off to the side more than content to keep her own counsel. Leaving Bonnie to deal with Thorhall. She signaled to a serving girl named Asta who lingered in the doorway of the queen's quarters.

She shuffled over and bowed before her. "Yes, Goddess?"

Thorhall's eyes flared as he once again ran another gaze over Bonnie to reassess her measure. "Show Queen Aslaug's guess to a bench. Also, see he's provided with food and water. Should he attempt to take more," she gave the girl a well-meaning stare, "that has not been offered, inform me immediately. I'll be sure to make quick work of him. Are we of one accord, Asta?"

Asta suppressed a smile. "Yes, Goddess." With that assurance, she led Thorhall away.

When she turned, back Bjorn towered over her. "I have to speak with my brothers."

"They're at the cabin," she said.

"Will you come with me?" He asked, all of his vulnerabilities on full display.

Bonnie reached up and palmed his cheek. "Of course." She looked back to inform the queen of their plans only to be met with an empty throne. Deciding to leave Aslaug to her own devices for the time being, she followed Bjorn from the great hall.

****

Bonnie and Bjorn rode in silence for the first part of the journey. The snowball had started its descent down the mountain. It would gather force and strength as it rolled. Soon they'd have an all-out avalanche on their asses. What could she do to prevent the Lothbrok brothers from being buried? If she planned to win now was the time to secure the game. Her foundation had to be built for avalanches, shit storms, bullshit and fuckery galore. It would be the very basis for all of her plans. Between Fate, The Hollow, and this nameless immortal, she'd never again know the meaning of rest. Not until the winner took all.

"What will I say to them?" Bjorn questioned as he stared straight ahead. "For years I've tried to convince them how great a man our father is despite the fact he pilfered his leave. All I ever wanted was for them to know him as I do. To love him as I always have. Now I have to tell them this!" He scoffed and cast his gaze off to the side. "Once they learn how little he cared for our people," he shook his head, "they will never respect him...or care for him. Not the way I do...not the way Gyda did. And he sacrificed so much to have them."

"Bjorn, it's not your responsibility to dictate your brothers' feelings for your father," she said, shifting her weight on her cursed horse. "The relationship you had with Ragnar is just that, yours. They're allowed to feel about him however they want." Which she got with every thread of her lifeforce, being she was queen of absentee parents. "The only people with the power to change those emotions are Ragnar and your brothers. So, don't you dare take their ill content with him on yourself as some kind of personal failure." She gave him a sideways glance. "You've set your dreams to the side and have done what he taught you a man is always supposed to do."

A smile played cautiously with his lips. "I've taken care of my family."

"That's right, you've raised boys into men, when you were barely a man yourself," she trained her gaze straight ahead. "There aren't too many people in this world like you, Ironside. In fact, the word failure doesn't even get to dwell in the same space as you. Yeah, you may not be the epitome of what all men should be." He snorted his offense. "Sure, you may make hella mistakes when it comes to thorough bred women. Yet, despite all of your shortcomings, you still reign as king over every man I've ever known."

"The Mediterranean Sea beckons to us, Mystical One," he said, angling his horse closer to hers. "Once we're away from here, there will be only us and everything that we try not to feel for each other."

"Bonnie! Bjorn!" Sigurd called to them from the yard of the cabin.

Upon hearing Sigurd's call Ubbe burst from the cabin before ducking back inside again. Hvitserk stood next to the fence. He looked to be skinning the remaining meat from a fur hide. She gave Bjorn an encouraging smile, before urging her horse forward in a trot. By the time she reached the cabin, Ubbe was placing Ivar on the ground next to the fence. Hvitserk was still at it with the animal hide, not having the inclination or the balls to look her way. Sigurd gave her a narrowed-eyed stare as he lifted her off the horse from hell.

"Are you here because..." he began.

A wary look and slight nod from her was enough to pump brakes on the rest of his sentence. Uncertainty crept into his expression before cold hard resolve cast away any reservations or doubts he may initially harbored. She rested a palm over the center of his chest, and he covered her hand with his.

"Trust me," she whispered to him.

A smile disturbed the firm set of his jaw. "My trust is already yours, Valkyrie."

"Sigurd, come," Bjorn instructed as he passed. "We must speak. There's been news of our father."

"Our father?" Hvitserk questioned, turning from his animal hide to study Bjorn. "What news?"

She turned and allowed Sigurd to guide her into the fenced area of the cabin. Her gaze met Ubbe's wide blistering stare.

He looked torn between wanting to approach or continue giving her space. There, however, was no longer time for the petty changes she and he found themselves going through. Though he may never be hers, she still needed him at her side when the time came. No matter the capacity. She opened her arms. A huge exhale buckled his shoulders as he subtracted the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. For several moments they held each other, him breathing her in and her offering him comfort.

"I'm sorry, Bonnie," he whispered next to her ear. "Margrethe is a mistake I'll not make a third time."

She leaned back to cradle his face in her hands. "There's no need for words of contrition right now, Ubbe. Bjorn has something to say which overshadows the trivial likes of Margrethe. Come, hear your brother out."

Ubbe spun her in his arms so her back met his chest. He then steered them over to the table and bench which sat near the front of the cabin. After he sat, he tugged her in his lap and wound his arms around her waist.

Once he had her secured to him, he nuzzled her neck a few times before giving his attention over to Bjorn. "What have you heard spoken of our father?"

Bjorn walked over to the table, poured himself a cup of ale, and then gulped down half the contents. The boys glanced at each other, and then her. Their expressions so curious, they practically had question marks sketched all over their faces. She made no move or gesture to assuage their uncertainty.

Once Bjorn sat on a cloth stool next to the table, he looked over each of his brothers' faces. "Earlier this rising, a man by the name of Thorhall visited the long house to inform your mother and I of what he learned during a raid in England."

"Which is?" Ivar demanded, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees.

Bjorn exhaled and took another swig from his cup before answering. "One of the Wessex King's ealdormen informed him father's farming settlement was destroyed soon after he sailed away."

"Destroyed?" Hvitserk tossed the knife he held back and forth between his hands. "By whom?"

"King Ecbert," Bjorn said, placing the now empty cup down on the table.

Ubbe's arms tightened around her. "Do you think our father knew?"

Bjorn's gaze shifted to her. She could see the conflict swirling in the depths of his eyes. He still struggled with painting Ragnar in anything but a positive light for the boys. Yet, they deserved the truth, but this would be her protector's call.

"Who knows," Bjorn dropped his gaze to the ground unable to sell that dream with an indifferent face. "In those days it wasn't easy to navigate the sea."

Hvitserk studied Bjorn for a moment then his stare moved to her.

For the first time since she arrived, and fuck if it didn't feel as if he saw straight through her.

"He knew, he had to," Hvitserk said, certainty adding strength and steel to his tone.

"Does his actions surprise you?" Sigurd questioned as he ripped a rabbit carcass all to hell. "He never bothered to come back for us, and we are his sons, do you really think he'd forgo his own self-interests to avenge a settlement who were possibly no more than strangers to him?"

"You say that as if you see error in his actions, Sigurd," Ivar said, while eyeing Sigurd with the countenance of a King.

Sigurd paused in his bunny defiling to regard his younger brother. "And you say that as if you do not."

"I do not!" Ivar raised his chin as he folded his arms across his chest. "Our father did not become great by allowing his heart to bleed! He did so by seeking pursuits that provided him with notoriety and tales that would one day lead to sagas being told in his honor. What would've avenging a horde of farmers afforded him, hmm?"