Ragnar stood in a clearing deep in the forest. He watched Bonnie and Sigurd train using swords, battle axes, and hand to hand combat. Her movements reminded him of wind and waves. Deceptive when still, yet swift and lethal when raging. If Sigurd had not turned out as well formed as he did, he'd never be able to train her. Watching his son fight, afforded him with a measure of pride. He may not have had a hand in the warrior Sigurd would become, but he clearly made use of the skills he'd received from him through conception.

"Snake in the Eye will be one of the fiercest warriors to ever be remembered," The dark woman who resembled Bonnie said as she stepped out of the entryway of her keep to stand next to him. "He should be grateful for Bonnie. If not for her, this would be the last summer he'd ever see."

"We all have our reasons to be thankful for her," he said, sparing the woman a sideways glance.

"Hmm," she studied him for a moment, and then returned her gaze back to the sparring pair, "why are you here, Ragnar Lothbrok? You forfeited your place at her side when you began siring babes."

"She left me!" He rolled his eyes away from the woman to look at Bonnie.

The woman scoffed. "She didn't leave you, fate took her! And she had just as much control over that as you did."

"Then it must be fate's will to give her back to me," he said, committing every step Bonnie made to memory.

"And her memories of you?" The woman questioned, amusement threaded through her tone. "Why haven't they returned if fate has ordained this reunion?"

"It matters not. For we'll create new memories. Our fate will be what we choose," he nodded when Bonnie craned her neck to look at him.

The woman shook her head and spun to return to her keep. She paused before entering. "Long ago you traded your destiny for sons, now fate means to seek recompense for your part of the bargain. Your actions already bequeathed Bonnie to Ivar, now all you need do is let go and let him have her."

A tall muscular man who had the look of a Fenrirsson stepped into the clearing from the East side of the forest. He bobbed his head toward he and the woman, before turning to Bonnie.

****

"Why is he here?" Sigurd questioned, swinging his ice riddled gaze to Ragnar.

"For me." Bonnie held stares with Ragnar for a moment before walking to the nearby tree where they'd placed their weapons.

She dropped her sword on the pile and squatted to go through her basket. Flipping the top on the wicker carrier, she sifted through the contents. Once she located the small royal blue velvet pouch she withdrew it, stood and turned.

Sigurd towered over her. "What'd you mean Ragnar's here for you?"

She released a sigh. The last thing she wanted was to have this conversation now. "He said he'd choose me if I made him the other half of the prophecy instead of Ivar."

"Is this something you can do?" He asked, his expression as doubtful as the tone in his question.

Her shoulders bobbed. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

Bonnie stepped around Sigurd to make her way to Ayanna's keep. She gave Ansel a pointed stare to follow. He fell in step without question. Together they crossed the distance of the clearing to the small shack. On her way in she noticed Ragnar no longer lingered. For now she decided to be relieved by his absence. Although being his felt familiar, him fulfilling the other half of the prophecy just didn't feel right to her.

When they entered the dwelling, she bowed her head to her great foremother in greeting. Ayanna offered her a smirk and a quirked brow in return. Damn it if the woman didn't have the same mannerisms as Sheila Bennett. Shaking the thought away, she led Ansel over to the stone table.

"Bonnie, I know the sons of Ragnar are important. That their allegiance will decide the outcome of Ragnarök, yet there are other supernaturals who's apart of the saga as well," Ansel began not even allowing her a word, for an excuse, explanation, or a lie if she were inclined. "You can't offer all of your attention and care to them, then turn a blind-eye to the rest of us. We're also your responsibility!"

Bonnie's brows rose to flirt with her hairline. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware you all thought I was playing favorites. Please, tell me," she sat on the stone bench, and waved for him to sit as well, "what have I done to make you all believe you're products of my disregard rather being privy to my consideration?"

"Well," his gaze shifted to Ayanna who gave him a don't look at me expression, "on the morrow you'll be sailing with Bjorn Ironside to the Mediterranean. Have you even pondered what will become of the descendants of Fenrir when you do? Since your arrival, we been given control of our shifts. Because of this we no longer have to live apart from others. After years of dwelling in the forest, most of my people have returned to their farms and outposts. Do you know what it'll do to them if they're made to go back?"

Bonnie pushed the velvet baggie across the stone table to Ansel. He stared at the bag for a moment before picking it up and peering inside. "What's this?" He withdrew a silver ring adorned by a black gemstone from the baggie.

"A moon light ring," Bonnie stood, and took the ring from his hands. She slipped it on his ring finger. The fit was custom. "The ring not only allows you to control your shift, but you'll also still have the strength of your wolf in human form."

Ansel's eyes flared as they darted to Ayanna. "You said it couldn't be done!"

"Wrong, Wolf! I said, I wouldn't be the witch who'd do it," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

Bonnie covered his hand with hers, staring up at him. "But you won't need it, Ansel. Once you make an offering tonight and I give you my favor, we'll always share a connection. Those rings are for your people."

"Thank you, Bonnie," he said, before engulfing her into a tight hug. "You've no way of understanding what this means for us."

"You'd be surprised, Ansel," she rested her head on his shoulder, "you'd be surprised."

****

"Why would you volunteer to bleed for her? Do you believe all of this nonsense they're saying about her?" Harald demanded as he watched him prepare for first meal.

Halfdan exhaled his agitation. Ever since they'd sought there leave of the great hall the night before his brother had traveled to unimaginable lengths to let his displeasure be known. "What if I do, Harald? Is my having affections for someone who doesn't align with your design really so offensive to you?"

"How can you have affections for this woman? You know nothing of her, you've only just met her!" Harald questioned as his arms whipped about.

He whirled around to face his brother. "I don't recall such thoughts being your mind when you met Ellisif."

"Ellisif wasn't some foreign woman passing herself off as being greater than a god!" Harald bellowed.

"King Harald," Frode, their seer, entered their lodgings. His gaze swept between the two of them. "Are you in need of counsel or insight?"

Harald continued to glare at him. "No, why do you ask?"

"I heard your bellow from my lodgings, and I assumed you were in need of me," Frode answered, his words as deliberate and well chosen as ever.

"Forgive me, Frode. I'm attempting to convince Halfdan to not offer this woman his blood. I became a bit incensed in my pursuit," Harald said, stepping away.

"Why? I myself am to make an offering to the Most High. I would advise you do the same, King Harald," Frode said, stepping further into the lodgings. "There's no other place equal in comfort than in her favor. In this you may trust, for I've seen it. Her appearance has changed what we always known to be true about Ragnarök. Now the fate of the gods are undecided."

"Argh!" Harald threw up his hands, before taking leave of the lodgings.

Halfdan shook his head, moving to follow Harald out.

"Halfdan?" Frode's call halted him. "Last eve when she placed her mouth upon yours I witnessed the vision shared between you both."

"I imagine you've witnessed a great many things shared between two people which were meant to remain unseen," he said, turning to face the seer.

Frode smiled, neither confirming nor denying. "May I advise caution in your...involvement with the supreme. For whatever purpose, fate has already chosen Ragnar Lothbrok's youngest son Ivar as her Eternal Mate."

"The cripple?" Halfdan questioned not quite believing Frode had the right of it.

"Yes," The seer's eyes rolled. "And he's more than just a cripple. There will come a time when the world comes to know him as the greatest Viking to ever live. Besides, it is my belief our Most High has come to accept the will of fate."

"Why?"

Frode stared at him as if he'd asked him how to drop anchor. "She marked him as such last eve."

"Perhaps, you're not certain of what you saw," Halfdan closed the distance between them until he towered over the much smaller man. "And since you're uncertain of what you saw, perhaps it's best you keep your beliefs to yourself, Seer." He firmly patted the man on his cheeks.

Frode cleared his throat and forced a smile. "Perhaps, you're right. However, allow me to say this, be wary of making an enemy of fate. She's long of memory and her vengeance is always mocking in nature." With that said the Seer squeezed pass him and scurried out of the door.

****

"Why do you continue to provoke her, Ubbe?" Hvitserk questioned, while sitting at the great table watching as the servants prepared the hall for the evening. "The more you do, the worse she comes to think of me. It staggers me, she even chose us to bleed for her. Especially after everything that happened with Margrethe."

"Well, I did not see you attempting to halt my demands. In verity, I believe it was you who said, I can't wait to bind you," Ubbe mocked, before taking another swig from his cup. "Tell me, Hvitserk. What's more of a provocation than being bound or the threat of being bled? Was that not another of your assurances. Besides, she's receiving no more than she deserves. Or have you misremembered what I witnessed at the cove?"

The thought of Bonnie being with his father in such a way set his mind to flames. Ragnar had no rights to what belonged to him. "No, I haven't."

"You have to continue to trust me, Hvitserk. Especially, in all things Bonnie Bennett. Have I not aided you in discovering ways into her affection?" Ubbe waited until Hvitserk reluctantly nodded, before continuing. "It was me who arranged for you to sail with her to the Mediterranean in place of Sigurd. I even promised to share her with you once we're married. You'll be her second husband."

"Of course I'll continue to trust you, brother," he said, grateful to Ubbe for always having a care for him. "I'm just afraid Bonnie will never turn our away again. Not after we sided with Margrethe. Though, it matters not our mind was still addled from the love potion."

"Hvitserk, calm yourself," his mother entered the great hall from her quarters. "Fate has already decided you and Bonnie's outcome. Once you learn to have faith in your own mind instead of always looking to others, then she'll be yours. I've seen it." His mother, leaned down to kiss the side of his head, before seeking her leave of the long house.

He stared after his mother. "What do you think she meant?"

"We'd be witless to ponder the rantings of a woman," Ubbe waved her off, "especially that woman."

****

Bonnie stared at her reflection in the floor length mirror. Attired in a white lace and knit floor length dress, she looked like some kind of virgin sacrifice. Her hair was swept in an up do on top of her head. Tiny white flowers were threaded through out her curls. Her sorcery had done another A-list celebrity quality style.

As she did one last turn, a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in, Sigurd," she yelled from her place behind the wooden divider. The door opened, and then closed. "Give me a moment. I'm almost ready." For a little longer she primped, then slipped her feet into her shoes. When she rounded the divider, she stumbled to a stop. "Bjorn, w-what're you doing here?"

His gaze which was on the floor, did a slow creep up her body until his too blue irises reached her questioning stare. Pleasure lit his face and danced with in his eyes. "You're beautiful, Bonnie."

"Thank you," she said, trying to ignore the twisting and turning he caused within her stomach. "Is something wrong with Torvi or the kids?"

He blinked a couple of times before giving his head a little shake. "No, I told Sigurd I'd fetch you in his place. I wanted the opportunity to speak with you."

Bonnie studied him for a moment, and then walked over to her favorite chair and sat. She extended a hand for him to take the seat across from her on the sectional. Once he seated himself, she waited for him to speak. She wondered what the hell he could possibly have to say to her.

"What would you like to talk about, Ironside?" She questioned, eyeing him for signs which would indicate an ill mood.

"Last eve I know you witnessed me reenter the feast from the queen's quarters with Astrid. I could be false and say nothing of note transpired between us. Yet this is not the way of you and I." Bjorn maintained steady eye contact with her like his words didn't have the same effect on her as taking a sledgehammer to the heart. "I didn't discover until after the deed was done there was animosity between you two. For this I suffer deep regrets over my actions."

"Oh, so that's what you regret?" She threw her head back and laughed. What in the absolute fuckery? Was he serious? "Not the fact your married and your wife was there watching your every trifling move? Or how about the small detail the woman in question is your mother's live in lover? Does any of those things warrant even a moment of remorse from you?"

"Torvi knows the ways of a man and she's not a jealous woman. As for my mother, Astrid's nothing more than her shieldmaiden. Anything else would be unnatural." He finished with a shrug.

Bonnie scrutinized him for a moment. Bjorn was, stubborn, arrogant, and had more ego than any one room should have to hold. As he sat up there spouting nonsense about how his wife and mother was so undisturbed by his actions, he didn't believe those excuses even as they crossed the threshold of his lips. He said those things aloud only to pardon himself of the emotional breaks and aches he left in his wake.

Unable to further deal with her so called protector any longer, she stood. "Thank you for clearing all of that up. So, are we done?"

"No," his face scrunched as he came to his feet as well. "We've not resolved our issues. I sense there's still ill will between us."

"Well, what'd you want me to say?" She snapped, glaring up at him. How could such a great man fall so short in situations like these when all he needed to do was stand?

"I want you to say I'm forgiven. I want you to also say you're sorry for breaking our vow and not standing at my side as you've sworn to always do," Bjorn bellowed in a tone that carried enough bass to vibrate the paintings on the walls.

His words snatched her off guard. Not once did she believe herself to be in violation of their vow, and yet...she was. "Bjorn, I didn't think..." She shook her head because she didn't know what else to say. She'd fucked up, royally so!

"I needed my Mystical One at my side last rising," he cradled her face in his hands as he stared into the depths of her soul by the way of her eyes, "not because I wanted to brandish you before a visiting king, but because I wanted you to take the measure of a conquering king who may have a mind to make Kattegat his next conquest."

"Oh, Bjorn," she gasped, attempting to dam the flood filling her eyes. Either that or face the wrath of her sorcery for ruining her makeup. "I'm so sorry. Despite my feelings for King Harald, I should've been at your side. Of course, I should've been at your side. Will you forgive me?"

"I'll always forgive you anything, Mystical One. Even if you refuse to forgive me for lying with Astrid." Bjorn inched closer, narrowing the distance between them.

She took a tentative step forward as well, effectively sealing off the possibility of air getting between them. "I forgive you, Bjorn," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Then let us release all hostilities that would see us divided," he leaned down and brushed his lips against her upturned mouth.

"Bjorn?" She leaned her head back a little to prevent him from adding pressure to the kiss. "Last eve when Queen Aslaug called for people to bleed for me, why didn't you offer yourself?"

"Why would I, when I've already sworn not only to bleed for you but to die for you as well? Those who fell on their knees last eve only wish to use their offer as a means to barter for your favor." He placed his forehead on hers. "When I give you my offering, it will be because you have given me your heart. Until then I'll wait for the moment you realize I've been here all along."

For a split second temporary insanity took hold, and she balanced herself on the tips of her toes. She took possession of his mouth and feasted on it as if she were savoring her final meal. When she finally tore her mouth from his, they both gasped for air. "Don't make me love you, Bjorn!" She said between pulls of air.

"This is impossible, Mystical One." He pecked her lips once more. "For you already do. You already do."