Bonnie glanced at herself once more in the mirror. She wore a white flowing long sleeve lace bohemian dress that grazed the tops of her feet. It was the eve before they were to sail to England. Lagertha decided to offer a sacrifice to the gods in the form of a human. She agreed to be present for the festivities but the truth was, she wasn't feeling watching a human die to appease an immortal who could care less.

A tap sounded at the door. Sigurd. She grabbed her sable cloak and slid it over her shoulders. Once she'd deemed herself put together with a face beat and hair slayed by her mystical energy she opened the door. The immortal standing on the other side almost made her want to slam it back.

"Silas?" She lifted a brow, utterly confused by why the hell he believed them to be cool enough that he could show up at her home without the benefit of an invitation. "Why're you here? Didn't we say all we had to say to each other the night before."

"My loyal faithful's have prepared a sacrifice in my honor," he said as he allowed his gaze to sweep her from curls to boots.

She pushed open her cloak so her fists could find her hips. "Yeah, so?"

"They have sacrificial rituals here all the time. I'll bet you've seen at least one since you've been here," he said, nodding his head as if urging her to answer in the affirmative rather than the negative. She did neither. Exasperation snatched a sigh from his lips, before forcing him to continue, "However, what you haven't done is seen it from my side. I'm here to show you what it's like for a god to receive a sacrifice. A human sacrifice. It's a rush unlike you've ever known." He looked just beyond her and his brows scrunched. "Is that a solid oak wood door with a brass door knob?"

"Um, that'll be an easy no. I'd rather peel myself with a butter knife than spend the evening with you," she said, stepping out and closing the door behind her.

"Even if it meant you'd get to witness the Valkyries galloping hell for leather from the gates of Valhalla to retrieve the sacrificed warrior's mystical energy and soul?"

She raised a hand and swung her head from side to side. "Even if it meant—wait what?"

"Thought that might snatch your attention, Bennett," a grin tilted the corners of his mouth as he held out an arm for her to take.

"This means nothing," she said, brandishing a finger in his face. "It's nothing more than my curiosity playing me dirty once again."

His grin grew and managed to dimple his cheek as he faked a scoff. "Oh, of course."

Her eyes rolled as she took his arm and allowed him to pull them into a vacant place which resided between the here and the after. It's a place she often lingered when she died but didn't cross over. From there she watched the physical and spiritual world from a spectator's view. Everything around them appeared normal, yet wispy with the same consistency as smoke. Objects drifted over their hands and body initiating contact but never solidifying enough to hold. She found the entire experience strange. Disconcerting, even. Especially, since she still remained in her very much alive body.

"Silas, you don't find being here like this," she shrugged as she attempted to describe the emotional and mystical turmoil whipping about inside of her. "Provoking?"

He turned to study her, before continuing on toward the harbor. "Maybe if I still had my magic. This is the unfilled place, and it marks the site where the final battle will be waged. Your witchery senses it. We non-magical immortals are not as in tuned. Our supernatural instincts lessens over time and after a few hundred years they become no better than new to the craft witchlings."

"That's a shame," she said, placing a hand on his arm entwined with hers. "Between you, me, and this nothing place, you're the only witch whose power I've ever feared."

He glanced at her from the cut of his eye. "And you're the only witch I've ever really admired."

"Really," she cocked a doubtful brow. After all he'd had the privilege of having Qetsiyah as a coven mate.

The skin between his brows wrinkled. "All of that untapped mystical energy and potential you showed back then, hmm. Oh, yeah."

A smile twitched at her lips, but she refused to give in to such a notion. Silas was as crooked as they came, and it wasn't a coincidence he'd chosen to assume the identity of the god who presided over betrayal. They arrived at the harbor in time to be serenaded by the sound of beating drums. An attractive dark haired man strutted up to an erected podium with two gigantic torches burning on either side. Bonnie recognized the man as the night's sacrifice. He was a Swedish Earl, but even with the point of a blade pressed to her chest she still wouldn't have been able to recall his name.

"There's your sacrifice my will be mate," Silas whispered next to her ear. "You may do with him whatever you want as long as I can watch."

Her breath caught as her heart skipped several beats. "Y-You're disgusting," she rasped. The hell?! What was wrong with her? Was she actually turned on by thoughts of fucking a rando in front of Silas? In what alternate universe would that shit be canon?

"I can be," he spun her so the back of her faced his chest, "if that's what you're into, Bennett. Our eternity together doesn't have to be one of torture." The whisper tickled her ear as his lips grazed her lobe.

She moaned! What the absolute fuck?! She had no will power against him. "What's happening?"

"It's the sacrificial ritual," he said, massaging circles into her abdomen. "Their worship of me channels an excessive amount of mystical energy in to the Unfilled space. The level of power varies by the kind of sacrifices they make. Animals are satisfactory, but humans will transform this place into a nuclear holocaust of untapped sorcery. The kings of England will never know what ended them."

The penny plummeted to the ground and she hadn't realized it soared into the stratosphere. "You brought me here to supercharge me. Why?"

"Since I can't be there to watch your back I need you at your strongest. Not many in England will be under your dominion. In fact, a majority of the population are human Christians," his hands roamed up her stomach and stopped just shy of touching the bottom of her breasts, "and you know how he is about his children. They can do no wrong even as they wage war on nature and supernature alike."

"The Goddess of all has given me leave per the Ancient of Days to exact the price owed for Ragnar's life from England. So you see, there's no reason for you to bestow all of this upon me." She clenched her teeth and groaned through another blast of mystical energy. "Oh..."

"I'm vulnerable if I leave Scandinavia," he said, allowing his palms to slip back down her stomach. "As much as I crave revenge for my favorite descendant, I can't risk leaving this part of Europe."

And she couldn't risk losing him before the final war. So she nodded, while permitting her gaze to take in the crowd. Ivar sat with Helga and Floki near the platform, while Sigurd stood to their far right. Ubbe and Hvitserk stood next to him with Margrethe nestled between them. Each of them looked every bit of the happy throuple, they'd attempted to blackmail her into. Difference was the crazy ex-witch appeared to enjoy being sandwiched between the two. Her magic amped another notch inside of her. The thought of Hvits touching her looney ass, forced her indifferent position on him to take a homicidal turn.

Almost as if he could sense the stroke levelness of his situation, he craned his neck to peer in her direction. For a brief moment they stared at the other. Him knowing but unseeing, and her all seeing and so thoroughly pissed she was more dehydrated than a bucket of sand. Margrethe disliking not being the center of his focus tugged his arm to snatch his attention.

"What's with you and the monotonous one?" Silas questioned, while running his nose along the length of her neck.

"Hvits isn't monotonous...," her words ran the hell out as she watched Bjorn and Astrid share a look before they both ducked out of the ritual. "After everything we spoke about and admitted the night before he still does this, really? Damn him!" She jerked from Silas' grasp and headed towards the long house.

"Him who?" He called after her. "Who are you talking about, Bennett?"

She waved him off without turning around. "No one, I'll find you later."

With every step Bonnie took the heavier the weight on her chest grew. A tidal wave of mystical energy repeatedly slammed her from behind. The chants of the people echoed throughout the Unfilled Space. She could practically taste the strength of their faith on her tongue. By the time she made it to the long house the foreign sorcery seduced a firestorm of rage within her. Her feet barely touched the planked floors as she crossed the great hall to enter the queen's personal quarters. Grunts and breathy moans greeted her upon her arrival. The sight of Bjorn drilling Astrid from the back dusted her heart. Everything she and him could've had or been, fled with his last betrayal.

Not knowing what she did or how she did it, she stepped out of the Unfilled Space and into Queen Lagertha's private quarters. Still going at it like a couple of dogs, she lifted a hand and pushed a vase on the floor. The crash startled the humping twosome. They both jumped apart and whirled to face her. Astrid's face nearly gave birth to her eyes, while Bjorn's mouth hung open without offering her even a benefit of an utter.

A hint of a scoff disturbed the practiced indifference of her features. "I let the first time pass because you had no idea of my...issues, with this," she waved a hand at a visibly shaken Astrid, "woman. Yet, now you do and still I find you here balls deep in her." She lifted a hand, "You know what, let's not even do this. I knew who you were from the beginning and I only have myself to blame for wanting to believe you were someone different than who I always knew you to be." Waving a hand in the air, the vase rose and reconstructed as if someone had hit a rewind button. Astrid pushed herself even further into the wall she was being drilled against only moments before. "Now you can pretend I was never here. Carry on." Bonnie spun on her heel and left the room.

She was halfway to her home, before someone yanked her around. Bjorn stood before her wearing an expression that pled with her even though he'd yet to open his mouth. He lifted a hand as if to reach out for her, but she took a step back with a shake of the head.

"I'm sorry, Bonnie," he said, barely able to meet her eyes.

She snorted, while a searing ache gnawed at her chest. "You really should get those words tattooed on your forehead so you can give your mouth a rest."

"You jest and yet I know you're hurt," he said, taking another step forward.

"Hurt? Oh no," She shook her head as a laugh tumbled from her mouth. "You've wrecked me, broken me, and now here I lay at your feet in pieces! There's no coming back from this for you and me."

His head swung from left to right as he attempted to grab her again. Once again she curved him. "Mystical One, if you'd allow me to-,"

"All I ask now," she said, raising her voice to be heard over his, "is you release me from our vow."

His face crumpled. "Many apologies, but I will not."

"Then our vow is all you and I shall ever share, Bjorn Ironside."

"It matters not." He lifted his arms as torment compromised his features. "For I'd rather share only a vow with you than nothing at all."

"I curse the moment time and fate saw fit to bring me to you!" She hissed before whirling about and stalking the rest of the way to her house.

Once inside she slammed her door and raised her barrier spells. She needed one moment to herself to release all the fractured parts she held together for the sake of her pride. Alone she didn't have to be strong for anyone. By herself she could be what she truly was, a mess. She slid down the door and pulled her knees to her chest. Her vision blurred as sobs shook her to the core one after the other.

"B-Bonnie?" Hvitserk's voice penetrated her pity party for one.

"Hvits!" Quickly, she rubbed at her face with the heels of her palms. "What're you doing here? How'd you even get in?"

He helplessly waved at the door, and then shrugged. "You weren't at the ritual and after what took place in the Mediterranean, I needed to be assured you were well."

"I'm fine see!" She sniffled, while climbing to her feet to move away from the door. "Now, please leave."

Moving towards her bedroom, she rounded the wooden divider. As soon as her shoulders buckled under the agony of Bjorn's treachery a pair of strong lean arms wrapped around her from behind. Traces of an unclean murky lifeforce agitated her stomach. The mere hint of a corrupted aura triggered her magic. She elbowed herself free of the tainted hold.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked in a voice higher than intended. "You're not clean. Save Sigurd and Ivar, none of you are clean! You, Ubbe, and Bjorn...," her arms wrapped around herself as she began to pace the length of her sleeping area, "you've all been polluted by her filthy influence in one way or the other."

"You're speaking of Margrethe," Hvitserk remained frozen as he tracked her with is eyes.

She snorted. "Yes, I'm talking about your part-time wife or at least she is when Ubbe's feeling generous."

"Bathe and groom me once more then." He began to remove his clothing. "I understand now. It wasn't your intent to entice the rising we happened upon you bare at the cove. While you washed yourself beneath the cascading water." She paused in her pacing to turn and gaze at him. "You only meant to prepare us...protect us...from what's to come."

Another flash flood struck, and then filled her eyes. "Hvits, you all have no idea how bad Ragnarök is really gonna be. No idea at all."

"Then tell me," he urged as he kicked off his pants. "Trust me as you trust Sigurd and speak to me of what's to come."

Sadness weighed heavy on her face. "But I don't trust you. You've proven time and time again you can't be trusted. Even now you stink of her. And we both know you're supposed to be mine!"

"Bathe and groom me once more, and I swear upon the lives of our unborn children I'll never again lay with Margrethe." He stood before her bare and awkward.

No he wasn't as magnificent as Bjorn, nor compelling as Ivar. He didn't engage as Sigurd nor was he as beautiful as Ubbe. Yet, it was something about him that irked and consumed her all at once. Even when she wanted nothing more than to dismiss him, he remained a mental splinter in the back of her mind. She opened her mouth to say no, but her mouth betrayed her thoughts.

"Through there." She pointed toward the wooden divider which separated her bedroom from the bathroom.

By thought alone, she displaced the water from the cove to her claw foot bathtub. He nodded, before rounding the divider. As she watched his narrow pale ass walk away, she shook her head. Goddess, why him? Ivar was the other part of her. She knew this as well as she knew her own magic. So why was she so drawn to Hvitserk? Hell, why was she so drawn to them all? At this point she was no better than Elena when she couldn't choose between Stefan and Damon.

****

After bathing and grooming Hvitserk he joined her in bed. A few hours before dawn something supernatural in nature snatched her upright from a comatose like slumber. She sensed one of her trusted. They were in need of her. Her gaze moved to regard Hvitserk who could've easily been mistaken for the dead. He slept with his mouth wide, eyes slightly open, and his chest barely moved to circulate air in and out of his lungs. If not for the simultaneous chainsaws roaring at the back of his throat and nose, she'd definitely be catching hell right then attempting to redress his funny looking body.

Carefully, she untangled herself from his hold, and then climbed from the bed. She grabbed a few things from her wardrobe. On the balls of her feet, she left her sleeping quarters for the living area to dress. Once clothed she departed from her keep and allowed her sorcery to guide her from Kattegat into the forest. The further she ventured the more compelling the mystical draw became. It didn't take her long to realize in what direction she trekked. Fifty-eleven minutes later she stepped into the clearing of land that Ayanna shack sat upon. There Finn and Kol awaited her, while her foremother lingered in the entrance of her home glaring holes through them.

"Finn, why'd you summon me here at the damn hoeing hour?" Her gaze drifted from him to Kol who met Ayanna's glare with a glower. "You're one of my trusted. I have no problems with you dropping by my house."

Finn opened his mouth, but it was Kol who answered for him. "Your sodding grandmother times twenty-seven refuses to allow us to leave. We've been trapped here for three days!"

"They're immortals with no cause to be here," Ayanna bellowed as amber flashed in her eyes. "I caught that one there attempting to pilfer herbs from my garden."

Aw hell! You did not go plundering through a witch's garden. Especially, if said witch happened to be a Bennett. Before Bonnie could calm Ayanna, things deteriorated from bad to shit just got real. Kol dropped to his knees, while clawing at his chest. Agony twisted his face and forced gurgling whimpers from the base of his lungs. Bonnie damn near tripped over her own feet to get to the Mikaelson all the Mikaelson's went out of their way to hate. She pulled him in her arms, while placing a palm over his heart to cool the scorching heat incinerating his chest.

"Ayanna, stop! They're allies!" Bonnie allowed her sorcery to open her wrist but held it out of his reach. Though she sensed where he stood, he had to verbalize his allegiance to her so he could be bound to his word. "Kol you have to make a decision. With whom will you stand?"

He stared up at her as if she were the biggest idiot to ever burden the Viking Era. "With you, you daft bird! I chose you the night we met, and I choose you now. No matter the Era, the universe, the pairing, the story, or plot," he reached up to clasp the side of her neck. "There'll never be an occasion when I'll not choose you, Little Love."

Bonnie dipped her thumb in her open wound, and then swiped it over his left brow. After doing so, she placed her wrist to his lips. As he drunk from her, she allowed herself a moment to search his unfamiliar blues. "I would've made you happy, Kol. If only you had believe-,"

He tore his mouth away from her wrist. "You would've offered me something more than happiness. You would've offered me an eye in the storm that has imprisoned me since the moment I first rose without my magic."

"Oh," a smirk lifted the corner of her mouth, "I'll be offering you more than a damn eye this time around, my exquisite psycho."

His eyes narrowed in classic Kol fashion. "Really, darling?"

"Hmph," she laughed as she reached up to rub away a drop of blood from his bottom lip. "Oh yeah, mama's gonna upgrade you."