"I now renounce everything. I renounce my place in Valhalla in favor of serving my Supreme, Bonnie Bennett, in this life and the next."

Bonnie's breath caught as the vision of Queen Aslaug's final moments consumed her third eye. A thread of energy bound to her shifted planes of existence. No longer could she sense the physical lifeforce of the connection, but the queen still remained spiritually among her trusted and protected. Aslaug had chosen Nirvana over Valhalla. The former queen now resided in the halls of Eternity with the rest of her Bennett predecessors. Her shoulders sagged under the burden of what tainted fruit this loss would bear.

Floki ducked into the tint like area Bjorn had erected for their privacy and sleeping area. She must've looked as thrown as she felt because he rushed to her side. "What's happened?"

He pulled her into his arms. The dam broke, and her tears fell without care. "Queen Aslaug is dead. She now dwells within the Halls of Eternity with my entire family line. Qetsiyah came to escort her spirit to the other side."

"She chose you? Even though she and Odin had once been lovers," Floki said, but he sounded as if he spoke more to himself than to her. "Hmm."

"Her death will bring about the end of the world as they know it," she said, remembering how the queen's death turned Ivar against his family. It led to him exacting ruthless decisions. Decisions which led to his hands being drenched in his brothers' blood. "Floki, things are about to take a hard left. I don't know if I alone can keep this train on the tracks."

"You'll do what you must. You have your grandmother's strength in you, Bonnie Bennett. There's no doubt in my mind you'll find a way to save us all." He pressed a kissed to her temple.

She prayed his faith in her wasn't misplaced. Saving a town was one thing, but an entire world was way beyond her scope of practice. Floki gave her and the legacy which came before her too much credit. In the past Bennett Women had moved mountains not to demonstrate might, but simply because they were in the way. Those queens rose because up was where they just so happened to be going. Now she was tasked with a goal by the mother of all creation which may very well be unattainable. What if all of her plots and schemes were still not enough to place her purpose within her reach?

"Bonnie?" Bjorn's head ducked into the slitted opening of the tent. His features scrunched. "Why do you weep?"

Floki released her and scooted toward the entrance of the tent. "Come, you'll be more of a comfort to her than I, Bjorn."

Bjorn disappeared away from the entrance to let Floki pass. Once the boat builder took his leave, Bjorn reappeared, and ducked inside. He tugged her into his lap and retook her position on the pile of furs. She swiped at her face with the heels of her hands. Goddess, she hated looking weak in front of people. Especially, the ones whose names were synonymous with strength.

"You're right to wipe away your tears. They only serve to make you appear pathetic," he whispered into her hair. "You and I know pathetic isn't a word which can be likened to you. So gather yourself and speak to me of your sorrow."

His harshness hurt, but that was the way of Vikings. They didn't indulge outward expressions of grief or being too emotional in general. From their point of view, over sentimentality had never supplied a legitimate solution to any challenge that presented themselves. And to an extent they were right, but sometimes you also just had to give Usher his due and let the shit burn. She exhaled to put her feelings in check.

"Queen Aslaug is dead by your mother's hand," she said, knowing there was not enough sugar in the world to coat such a bitter truth.

"Hmm," Bjorn pulled her closer to his chest. "My mother has finally had her revenge. I'm not surprised. I knew she and Torvi had something planned, but what?" He shrugged. "I knew not. Just as well. Aslaug received no more than she deserved."

"How can you say that, Bjorn. A woman is dead before her time, shot in the back by your mother. This one act will not only tear you and your brothers to shreds, but it will also rip apart the very fabric of your world." She turned in his arms so she could look him in the face. "Kattegat will never again be the same."

"Kattegat hasn't been the same since Aslaug sailed into its harbors," he hissed back. The hatred in his eyes was clear, present, and accounted for. "I've hated that woman from the moment I first looked upon her, and my hatred for her only flourished when she destroyed my family. Now that she's dead I feel no pity, grief, or remorse. For I know Midgard will truly be a better place since she no longer dwells in it."

"Bjorn!" she gasped.

She couldn't do any more than stare at him as if both of her damn jaws were broke. Yeah, she knew he barely tolerated Queen Aslaug, but she didn't know his hate for her blazed hotter than the fires in the Christian hell. Somebody definitely needed a therapist asap to unpack some unresolved feelings.

"My apologies, Mystical One. I know how much you cared for Aslaug. I shouldn't have burdened you with my anger and bitterness while you mourned your friend," he said, before pecking her forehead.

She shook her head and inhaled. Holding it in for a moment, she exhaled. Since they were clearing everything out. It was only right she prepared him for Ragnar becoming her eternal mate. "Bjorn, there something you should know about your father and-,"

He placed his fingers to her lips. His head swung from side to side. "Don't. I'd rather not know what fate has in store for us. Especially, if it is something which is not meant to be changed. If it is a place in which we will arrive no matter the seas we sail or the trails we trek, then please trouble me not with such details I have no power to alter. For that is a fate far worse than dying old and addled minded in your bed."

"Because the past is prologue," she said.

He stared down at her with his intense blues. "I'm not sure of those words...the past is p-prologue."

"There are fixed points in time which can't be changed because they're meant to set the stage for something greater to come," she said, reaching up to palm his bristly cheek. "So when I say, the past is prologue...,"

He turned his face into her touch, pressing kisses into her hand. "Then I'll know not to inquire any further. And my father..."

"The past is prologue," she uttered all while holding his gaze.

****

"Oh, no, no, no! Bonnie has cursed us because of my betrayal!" Ubbe wailed.

Sigurd took another swig from his cup as he watched his older brother limp around his keep. They'd gone to the great hall to see for themselves what had become of their mother. Just as Bonnie had foretold, Lagertha had murdered their mother before all of the people of Kattegat without cause. Had he cared anything for Aslaug he'd eaten Lagertha's still beating heart for first meal, but his so called mother's death left no love wasted between them. Ivar, however, would be an entirely different saga.

"Bonnie didn't curse you, Simpleton. She warned you. You were the one who chose not to heed her counsel." He took another prolonged sip from his cup. "And for what? Another common tumble in the furs with Margrethe of all bed slaves." Truly, sloshed. He could do no more than laugh at where Ubbe's missteps had led them all.

"Why didn't you lend your sword in the avenging of our mother this rising?" Ubbe whirled to face him. One of his eyes swollen shut.

He scoffed, before leaning over to grab the pitcher of ale from the stone table. "Because to me she never was our mother. She merely was the woman who loved and doted on our crippled little brother. Do you know she still fed him from her breast well into his seventh summer?"

"It matters not! She was still the woman who birthed us all into this life and she deserved more than an arrow in the back from father's lonely bitter ex-wife," Ubbe slurred as he stumbled over to the stool he abandoned moments before.

After refilling his cup, he plopped down next to the stone table to remain near the pitcher of ale. "And I care not for what her just deserves may be. I'll wager Aslaug cares even less now that she resides in the Hall of Eternity with Bonnie's powerful Bennett ancestors."

"Of what do you speak, Sigurd?" Ubbe questioned, his cup stalled midway to his mouth.

"You didn't hear? Aslaug renounced Valhalla in favor of serving Bonnie in the hereafter," he shrugged as he rested his head on the wooden beam at his back. "Which wasn't all that impressive if you ponder it further. It's not as if there truly was a place for her in Valhalla. Not unless Harbard really was the All-Father. Then perhaps there would've been a place in his-,"

Ubbe pointed a finger at him. "Finish those words and I shall cut out your tongue. God or not, he took advantage of her. Just as Bonnie has taken advantage of us all." He stumbled to his feet to snatch something from a wall mount. "Even now she mocks me." He slammed the small platter down on the stone table.

"Now it's you who should mine your tongue, brother." Sigurd leaned forward to retrieve the flat metal object.

When he turned it over he nearly dropped the confounding thing. An identical likeness of Bonnie on a strange type of parchment, grinned up at him. The sparkle in her verdant eyes spoke of her being on the verge of laughter. His chest tightened. She hadn't even been away a full three risings and he already missed her as if she'd been gone an entire solstice cycle.

"Now that mother and father are both dead that makes us orphans, Sigurd," Ubbe said as he to stared down at the likeness of Bonnie. He laughed. Without realizing it, Ubbe had ensured the opposite. "Why are you amused?"

"Thanks to your blunder father will be here long after you're gone," Sigurd raised his cup to Ubbe. "Skol!"

****

"What do you mean?" King Ecbert blustered. "If god or the gods didn't exist then nothing would have meaning. We would all just be living to eventually die. Leaving our deeds in life whether exemplary or sinful to go unacknowledged. What would it all be for?"

Ragnar shook his head, every piece and part of him disagreeing with Ecbert's assessment. "Don't you see, everything would have meaning. For they would be actions committed in your own name. Founded on who you are and the personal beliefs you've gained through matters you've experienced. These are true marks which should be left behind. Not religious sagas meant to comfort the small minds of those too timid to believe in themselves or dare I say...dream."

"Believing in something that's beyond you is not an act committed out of timidness," King Ecbert, flapped his arms about to wave away such a notion. "It's an act of faith which is a fete attained by those who are greatly devout in their belief."

Ragnar's eyes rolled. "No it's a way to explain away things you don't wish to understand."

"There's not a quest for knowledge I've ever been too fearful to undertake," King Ecbert bellowed while jabbing a finger in his direction.

Ragnar scoffed. "Your god hates quests for knowledge. Anything foreign or different for that matter. Athelstan says your god believes those things are foot holes for Satan to enter your soul."

"And what of your All Father! From what I hear told, the only thing your gods care about is sex, sacrifice, wars, and death. Not necessarily in that order but I trust you appreciate the point I'm attempting to make. Utterly ridiculous," King Ecbert said picking up his chalice and inspecting the inside.

"It's all utterly ridiculous!" Ragnar plopped back down on the dining room steps. "My gods, your god. It's all a waste of farm animals, friends and in your case a waste of gold, silver and whatever else you're gifting your priests with these risings."

King Ecbert shook his head as he gave Ragnar a superior smirk. "Why am I not shocked to discover you now believe in absolutely nothing?"

"You know nothing of what and who I believe in," Ragnar snapped. The shift in his demeanor swift.

King Ecbert lifted a brow as a smile sly in nature corrupted his mouth. "Who is she?"

Ragnar glanced across the room to study the cage for a moment before he spoke. "The reason why you must kill me."

****

Sigurd rolled over and opened his eyes. The unwelcomed bleary sight of Astrid greeted him. Battleax in hand, he pulled himself in an upright position, while kicking Ubbe's shoe in an attempts of stirring him.

"What?!" Ubbe bellowed as he rolled in Sigurd's direction to glare at him.

Sigurd jerked his head at Astrid refusing to remove his eyes from her. When Ubbe turned he nearly jumped out of his clothing.

"No don't get up, I'm Astrid," she said, as if they'd never met.

Sigurd began pounding his ax on the floor. Bonnie allowed Lagertha to claim her thrown without repercussions. Now the newly crowned queen had better learn how to keep her pet tethered or risk losing her. "Did you have a mind to seek us out for sport? For the thought of hunting you, then catching you, stringing you up, and then hacking away pieces of you has given me my early morn man stand."

"I-I'm here to offer my friendship," she said, as her skin curdled before their eyes. "Perhaps you'll allow me to change your look."

"Perhaps you'll allow me to slice off your ear, and then cut out your tongue," he countered as he dragged the blade of the ax over the wooden planked floors. "I wager we'll have rather an amusing time. Not quite as enjoyable as you and Bjorn, but believe me, I'll make you scream just the same."

"Forgive me, Astrid," Ubbe began, somewhat distracted with scrutinizing him. "I'm afraid, Sigurd-,"

"You should be afraid," Astrid finished. "If you touch a hair on Lagertha's head then you will be men without heads."

Ubbe scoffed. "I'm not afraid of Lagertha, why would I ever fear you? You're not even an actual shieldmaiden. You're nothing more than Lagertha's pet. A glorified bed slave who does nothing more than warm her furs."

Deep red crept into Astrid's face. "Yes well, remember yourself and we'll not have to speak on this matter again," she mumbled before she jumped up and hurried towards the door.

Sigurd hurled the ax after her. It propelled pass her head taking a chunk of her hair as it passed. The blade slammed into the door next to her face. Silky black strands sprouted from the steel.

"Enter again without invitation and the next one will bury itself in the back of your head," Sigurd said, his voice as cold in nature as the snake which resided in his eye.

Without an utterance of a response she swiftly sought her leave.