Bonnie traveled with Hvitserk for days without even an utterance of a word from him. Anger radiated about him like barbed whips. Every time she thought to initiate conversation his hostility forced her to think again. No matter what she did or what level of remorse she attempted to demonstrate through various ass kissing acts of contrition nothing worked. Hvits remained cold, distant, and indifferent. He did—I don't fuck with you—so well she'd resolved herself to his disregard being their new normal.

Yet several days into their travels he extended an olive branch. An olive branch he didn't have a mind to beat her with. One eve after making camp he came to her lodgings. "Bonnie, may I enter?"

Hvitserk's voice floated to her from just beyond the slitted entrance of her tent. Her heart sputtered in her chest. Over the past couple of risings she'd grown accustomed to his silence. It had become a comfort. For if he decided to express his anger or worse his pain over her actions then he'd validate the guilt she'd dragged about since she'd allowed Prince Albert to drop a tune in her mix and then grind to her beat. Goddess, how could she ever face him after giving herself to The would be king? How would she face Hvits?

"Bonnie?" He called again.

She inhaled, before closing her eyes to blow out a steady stream of air. "Come in, Hvits."

Moments later he entered. She drunk him in. Every unremarkable inch of him. He still remained just as unimpressive in comparison to his brothers. Yet now looking upon him, he appeared to be everything she could ever think to want in any man. She didn't know how it happened or when, but she knew her emotions for Hvitserk had sprouted and flourished beyond her reasoning. Feelings for him burned all through her. Consuming every integral part of her. Heart, spirit, and sorcery, it all blazed within the ever intensifying love that had taken her unawares.

"Is all well, Hvits?" She questioned, attempting to feel him out.

His intense unwavering sapphire stare met her gaze and held. "Will you take a stroll with me to the river this eve?"

"Th-The river?" She asked, more than beyond confused at this point.

He moved further into the tent to approach her, stalking close until he towered over her. "The eve before we sailed for England you bathed and groomed me because I lay with Margrethe on she and Ubbe's marriage eve." He paused long enough for his silence to emphasize his meaning. When clarity bitch slapped the Christian hell from her, her bottom lip hit the ground. He planned to go there! "Since you've lain with another I'd prefer to bathe and groom you." And he went there.

Bonnie didn't insult his common sense for the obvious by denying his claims. She simply nodded her head, before turning to gather her things for a bath. Once she had everything needed in hand, she followed him from the tent and out of the camp. The warriors who'd accompanied him to recover her, pretended not to notice them, but she caught more than a few curious glances stray in their direction before clearing the camp. Since she'd rejoined them no one had questioned her about willingly traveling with the English princes. Instead, they all appeared relieved to have her back. Many had even begun leaving offerings at the entrance of her tent whenever Hvitserk called from them to make camp. It made her wonder if they somehow believed her leaving to be their fault.

When they arrived at the river, she recognized it as one of the first lakes she'd come across when she traveled with Alfred and Ethelred. The waters were still cleansed and warmed by her sorcery. A brilliant new moon lit the sky, casting radiant beams down on the surface of the crystal clear water. Inviting wisps of steams rose from the aquatic depths, beckoning them forth. Bonnie felt the pull as if tugging hands had a hold of her.

"Disrobe," Hvitserk said in a tone that lacked emotion but still managed to resonate power.

The latest show of assertiveness in his personality triggered an acquiescent side of her she never knew she possessed. Slowly, she began to remove her clothes. Once bare, she raised her gaze to meet his. His eyes glowed ultra-sapphire bright with an untapped mystical energy she'd never experienced. It was altogether different from anything she'd ever encountered. Truth be professed, Hvits' dormant sorcery was rather godlike in its deviltry. Bands of harsh, domineering, and imperious supernatural potency made a fangirl mess of her practiced senses.

In a way the unrealized witchery equaled the potential of Ivar's magic, but fell short of his energy in other areas. Yet she suspected if push came to concrete, Hvits sorcery would not only outmatch his younger brother's it would downright exceed it. How was this possible? That's not how the Lothbrok line worked! He was just the middle son. There's no way he could be more powerful than Ivar. Maybe she was just imagining things.

"Enter the water," he spoke once more in the same monotone voice.

Once in the water she swam to the middle of the lake and turned to look back at Hvitserk, who'd just entered the lake as naked as her. In a series of powerful but gracefully swift strokes he swam to her. When he was close enough to grab her, he pulled her into his arms. Seeing no need to waste words, their mouths collided in a clash of teeth and tongues. Her fingers tangled in the wet clumps of his French braid as her legs wrapped around his waist.

"I'm so sorry, Hvits," she murmured in between kisses. "Alfred and I should've never happened. What I did was wrong on fifty-eleven levels. There's not enough words in any language to explain or excuse my actions. So I won't even try."

He pulled away to rest his forehead on hers. "Do you love the Wessex prince?"

"No, not in that way," she said, meaning it from the bottom of her eternal soul. Could she love Alfred? Yes, but did she love him? The answer was a resounding no. There was not one part of her heart that wasn't already unaccounted for by the Lothbroks' and another who'd come before.

"Then I shall forgive you, my Hjarta," he said, before reclaiming her mouth with his.

Bonnie broke there kiss to recapture his stare. She wanted nothing more than to be completely honest with him. "I'm not sure what the next rising will bring, because my love for Ivar still claims every piece and part of me," she said, before reaching down between them. Grabbing a hold of his manhood, she guided him into her. They both gasped as his eyes glowed even brighter. "Yet I can no longer deny what I feel for you either. Truth is, I should've given myself to you in the Mediterranean. Will you have me now, Hvits?"

"Yes, Hjarta," he groaned as he worked her up and down on his manhood. "I shall always want you. Even after time has met its end."

With Herculean strength, he clutched her to his chest as he swam them back to the shore. Back on land, he lay her in the grass. In a slow teasing pull, he withdrew himself from her. He silenced her whimpered protests with a lingering kiss. After a dawdling moment of a thorough exploration of her mouth he tore his lips from hers. He then descended her body while leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses in his wake. When he reached the apex of her thighs he tossed them over his shoulders and dove into her pussy face first.

At a deliberate pace, he parted her southern lips and licked every crease, crevice, crack and slit of her good-good until she foamed at the mouth and ripped grass from the ground by the roots. He had her mental so thrown, she didn't know whether she was coming or cumming. If he kept fucking her over at that pace, she'd soon flood out the shore.

Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, he clamped his mouth on her pussy, then sucked and tongue plunged her into a body shaking orgasm. A multitude of galaxies exploded across her field of vision as a roll of thunder obliterated her hearing. The scent of an oceanic breeze invaded her nostrils as the flavor of mint and honey danced across her tongue. Oh Goddess what was this uninspiring man doing to her? As the powerful chords of her deathless end ebbed and survival appeared a possibility, Hvits snatched away the hope of a continued existence or at least enough stamina for a round two. In one deep powerful thrust, he entered her with the gentleness of an invading savage who'd come to devastate and lay claim.

"Oh, Hjarta," He groaned into her neck as he plunged so deep into her she felt the length of him in her heart and soul. "You're faultless. How can I go back to a barren existence when I've dwelled within the halls of the Aesir?"

He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, and then stroked her clit with the pad of his thumb. "Ooh, Hvits...ooh, Hvits...I'm sooo close...sooo fucking close."

Her eyes crossed as she threw her hips back at him. She grabbed his narrow but muscled ass and began to grind upwards into him. Whimpers resonated from her chest, while his groans turned into full-fledged moans. Without warning a full grown orgasm snatched her down. Her pussy clenched tighter than an untouched vagina. Hvits' nails tore into her waist as a growl vibrated from the base of his throat.

A cross between a grunt, moan, and gasp burst from her lips. Her good-good released, and then clenched again. This continued in a series of rapid cycles and Hvitserk began thrusting as if someone had shoved a Ferrari engine up his ass. Tiny multiple orgasms started to flame her. All she could do at that point was bury her face in the curve of his neck and scream her way through. After what seemed like endless mind dumbing pleasure his dick jerked and whipped inside of her as if it were a fireman's hose turned on full blast. This turned her tiny orgasms into a phenomenal one she was sure would bring about an end to her immortality.

As the last tremors of their orgasm faded he reversed their positions, so she rested upon his chest. "That...I've never...oh, Hjarta..." She felt his lips on her forehead.

"You're mine, Hvitserk." She whispered as she rested her cheek against his chest and stared off into the forest. "And I know this not just because we've seen a vision of it, but because my magic, heart and soul has placed its claim upon you. The same way it has Ivar, which is senseless. There's no way I can have you both. It's not fair to either of you, but how am I to choose? Yes, Ivar may hold my heart, but you are my heart, Hvits. As I am yours. Now I understand why you refer to me as such." She pressed a kiss to his chest. "What am I to do, Hvits? How do I choose between my heart and the one who holds it?"

A soft snore answered her. She angled her head toward Hvitserk, to discover him asleep with his mouth slightly open. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Love swelled her heart and flooded her veins. "Sleep well, My Beautiful Berserker. Tomorrows problems are just that, tonight I'm allowed to love you without guilt."

****

Bjorn watched Halfdan fawn over the Sicilian seer from his place at the head of the ship. His friend appeared besotted by the woman who he himself believed to be a witch. It was something about the way she insinuated herself in their lives from the moment she climbed on his boat. How she pretended to know them all better than the time she'd actually known them allowed. He rolled his glare away from the pair to stare in the direction of a draw that had never quite subsided during his time away. Bonnie. Over the past Solstice cycles he'd found he thought of her less and less. Which took him unawares considering how there'd been a time when she never departed from his mind.

Whenever his mind drifted to the one he'd left behind, he pondered how time may have changed her. Had the passing cycles faded her beauty? Did his people still believe her to be the Supreme of their religion or had they come to realize what he'd always known. She was no more than a girl with a witch's power. Oh, how he'd once loved that girl so. Did Sigurd have the right of it? Had Bonnie really given herself to Ivar? Would he now be made to call her sister-in-law? He didn't know how he felt about such a notion.

Sigurd joined him at the head of the ship. His younger brother stood next to him, content to keep his own counsel. Yet, Bjorn couldn't prevent himself from feeling a bit maudlin over his thoughts of Bonnie. "Is it your belief her mind strays to us from time to time?"

"No," he answered gazing in the same direction as he. "To do so would hobble her with grief. Her sorcery, and the protectors of her line would never allow such a thing to happen." He tore his gaze away from the horizon to stare at Sigurd. His brother's shoulder rose and fell. "You know Bonnie has lost more in her summers than many have in twice the summers as she. If she were to dwell on those now beyond her reach, then the bleakness of her sorrow would unleash a darkness in her the world has never known."

"I do not believe that!" he disagreed, returning his gaze back towards the path that he knew would lead them to England. "She's stronger than you all believe her to be. In the end, she always manages to be on the right side of it."

"Hmm," Sigurd hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Where shall we journey next?"

"After we've seen the land of Bonnie's people, I have a mind to journey back to Kattegat," he said, cutting an eye to Sigurd. His brother turned to face him full on. "I believe its nigh time we returned home. I miss my children and I know there are those you miss as well."

A grin tore Sigurd's face in half before he laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, my mind is likened to yours, brother! I miss my land, but even more than that I long to hold my Valkyrie once more."

"What have we missed?" The dulcet tone of Halfdan's seer questioned.

His back teeth clenched to prevent himself from being too harsh and liberal with his words.

"Bjorn just declared we're to return to Kattegat the journey after next," Sigurd answered still donning the grin which nigh touched his ears.

Halfdan's eyes flared as they shifted to him. "Is this true, Bjorn?"

"It is time, my friend," he said, confirming Sigurd's words.

He watched Halfdan and his witch share a glance weighted by meaning. After a moment he rested his forehead on hers, before he guided her away to the small tent they'd erected near the rear of the ship. He didn't know why Halfdan's relationship with the seer bothered him over much. Perhaps in a way he envied his friend. Not of the woman, but of the genuine love he sensed his friend felt for the woman. His affections reminded him of what he'd once felt for Bonnie and the grave error he'd committed when he'd allowed his pride to squander what they could've been. He folded his arms across his chest. Yes, it was time he returned home to his responsibilities...and to learn what became of the girl he'd once loved.

****

Around midway into the next rising they rode through the gates of York. Bonnie was surprised to discover the entire city wait near the entrance to welcome them back. Ivar sat on an elevated throne deposited near the gate. His face appeared haggard as if he hadn't slept during her entire absence. Her heart shriveled in her chest. Though she'd initially fled the castle because of his transgressions, she'd come to know in her time away that other powers and motives were at work. Ivar had been manipulated and used as nothing more than a pawn to place her in the right spot in the exact moment she needed to be there. It angered her to have her mate used in such a way. As if he weren't the one piece on the board that would eventually change the game.

Yet while away she'd been the one to be untrue. To give herself to not one but two men. Like Ivar, she'd given in to lust. Unlike him however, she'd done so of her own accord...habitually. There were no divine factors pushing buttons, making her feel and do things she shouldn't. No, she wanted Alfred from the moment she saw him at the first battle, and she created a loop hole in which she could have him without their gods being the wiser. She'd taken advantage of him and done so while fully knowing they could never be more than what they were in that moment.

Yeah. Her guilt dealt with her something awful. For as bad as she felt over the would be king, he didn't even make up half of her guilt. No Hvitserk did because she loved him. She loved him as much as she loved Ivar and the stress of this realization knotted her stomach. Goddess! She didn't even know herself anymore. Not since she fell through time and landed in that damned era!

"Hjarta," Hvitserk said as he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her from her horse.

When he placed her on her feet his hands lingered at her waist. Their eyes held. "Thank you, Hvits," she said, fighting hard not to lose herself in the moment.

Her gaze left his as she turned to look up at Ivar. In the instance before their eyes met she prayed to the goddess of all that her feelings for him had diminished. That her affections wouldn't be divided among two brothers, but she would've been better off wishing the sky purple. As always when her gaze beheld him, her magic thrashed inside of her, while her heart came close to pounding right out of her chest. No, her emotions for him hadn't faded, if anything they'd intensified from not seeing him in several risings time.

"My Love," Ivar extended a hand to her.

Contrition and anxiety shone bright in his methane stare. She tore her gaze from his to look at Hvitserk. He watched her without expectation. This for some reason hurt her as well. It was like he didn't expect her to choose him. Had she been that much of a bitch to him in the past that he learned not to anticipate anything other than her ass to kiss?

"Tell him I'm tired from the journey and need to rest. I can't deal with this or him right now, Hvits," she said, before turning toward the castle without addressing Ivar at all.

Instead of going to the room she shared with Ivar, she returned to the lodgings she slept in before moving into Ivar's quarters. After unpacking, she spent the rest of the day attempting to rest. Eventually, she fell into a fitful slumber that left her more tired than before she laid down. Upon awakening, she sensed Ivar in her room. What the hell was he doing there? Why couldn't he give her time? For all he knew, she was still attempting to get pass his fuck up with Freydis. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, he'd leave and give her the space she needed to check herself.

"My Love, I know you're awake. Please, open your eyes." The nearness of his voice popped her eyes open and snatched her upright.

"Ivar, have you ever heard of boundaries! Why're you in my bed?" She demanded, while trying to hide her anxiety.

He stared at her as if she'd been banging her head on the castle gates. "I've always made a place for myself in your bed. In verity, my bed is now our bed. So why've you returned here, hmm?"

"Because I need space!" She yelled, while casting her gaze on everything but him. "I can't be around you after..."

"Bonnie, you have to know I'd never willingly hurt you in such a way. I've never in all my risings lusted for another woman. Not in my mind, heart, or body. You're the only woman I long to bury myself in," he captured her hands in his as he forced her to look into his eyes. "I'm not certain what happened with that slave girl, yet I believe the gods may have had a hand in what occurred in my throne room."