A smirk crept across Hvitserk's lips and masqueraded itself as a smile. In a swift reverse of power he flipped Bonnie. Fractions of a second later she lay sprawled on her back. Ivar's and Hvits' faces loomed over hers. Hunger lit their blazing blues. The deprived need which sparked their gazes flamed every piece and part of her, melting her until she was no more than a puddle of her baser instincts.

She raised herself on her elbows to scan the length of them. Ivar who'd managed to relieve himself of his pants, held his flushed rock solid dick in a firm grip. Drops of precum oozed from the slitted head. The sight forced her tongue to glide across her bottom lip. Damn she loved everything about him, even the taste of him. Especially the taste of him. If only he understood the contents of the heart he held within his possession. Perhaps then future fuck ups on both of their parts could be avoided. She mentally shook away the dark clouds that brewed on their horizon in favor of embracing their spine snatching present.

Thoroughly amazed and compelled by consuming Ivar, Bonnie rolled over on her stomach. In a slither reminiscent of his own she moved to claim the salty sweetness dripping from the head of his manhood. Persistent fingers however, thwarted her efforts. They tangled themselves in the roots of her hair to hold her in place. Seconds later a hard lean body covered the back of hers. Hvitserk's intoxicating weight caused a tight press between the fur covered mattress and her sensitive nipples. Her clit thrummed under the stimulating graze of each bristled strand. The breath-taking sensation snatched her arousal to heights that even NASA wouldn't venture.

"Where in Odin's eye are you off to, Hjarta?" Hvitserk whispered next to her ear, before nipping at her lobe.

"To taste my mate!" She growled, annoyed he'd dare stop her. Yet turned on by the means in which he'd done so.

He lifted off of her to straddle the tops of her thighs. Soon after he slapped her ass, hard. "Ivar, has our Supreme earned the privilege of savoring you?"

"No, brother, she has not," Ivar said with as much smugness dripping from his tone as cum seeping from his dick.

Her neck snapped as attitude twisted her face in a—the fuck you mean—sneer. "Oh so you don't want me to take you to the back of my throat. Okay," Her head bobbed. "Noted!"

Ivar's eyes flared as his expression blasted the flip-flop of his mind from Hvitserk's tilted position. "My love, I only meant-,"

"Talking about I haven't earned the privilege," she muttered as she attempted to buck Christian Not Grey off the back of her thighs.

"So many apologies, My Love!" Ivar said, damn near breaking a hip scooting closer to shove his dick in her face. He grabbed her cheeks and tried to guide the head of his prick in her mouth.

She tore her face from his grasp. "You must've forgotten I know all about the little pest problem you had, Lover." Thankfully, the weight lifted from her thighs. So she took the opportunity and climbed to her knees to visually annihilate him from point blank range. "And let's just get one damn thing straight, Mr. I Get Around! The privilege would be all—oohugh!"

Hvitserk slid balls deep into her from behind in one stroke. The thrill of him filling her damn near to the base of her throat ripped the rest of the words from her tongue. Oxygen chuck deuces and told her lungs to get it how they lived. Leaving her to huff and pant herself through a feeling so fire it came close to wiping the memory of her own damn name from her brain. Her eyes crossed as drool leaked from the corner of her mouth. Never in life had she ever known how to Harlem Shake but Hvits' superb dick game had her jerking and quaking better than Al B. ever shook.

The thongs he saw fit to push to the side, he now tore from her body and tossed them to Ivar. "Brother, you are not to apologize to her! In our quarters-,"

"Hmm—Our quarters?" She questioned, attempting to snark her way through a rather embarrassing whimper. "When the hell did you move in, Hvits?!"

He smacked her ass again and stilled his movements. The burn of his spurn nearly incinerated her on the spot. "In our quarters," he speared her with a—I said what the hell I said—glare, "she is not our Supreme, she is biddable or she is displeased. Never shall pleasure and waywardness dwell within the same gathering."

"Hvits, my heart, my mate," she cut an eye at him over her shoulder. "Though my love for you flows without end, there's no part in this situationship of ours that I'll allow you or Ivar to top me." Her calculating stare swept to Ivar whose gaze still pled with her. "Kiss me, Lover...and make it nasty."

Ivar hurried to take her mouth, Hvits snatched her out of his reach by the hair. With slow deliberate strokes he ground into her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Developing a mind of their own, her hips wound countered clockwise in rhythm to his. Without her damn consent and to her shit talking shame belly bred moans tumbled from her mouth in long humming wails. No matter how hard she bit her bottom lip they refused to be contained. Hvitserk had her on the ropes ringing the hell out of her bell. The arrogant bastard knew it too.

"Now you see, Ivar." He palmed her breast and flicked her nipple with the callous pad of his thumb. "Sight how addled she appears...how willing...how biddable? There isn't anything my Hjarta wouldn't do for you or I." He assured between measured pumps and grunts. "All we need do is ask."

Ivar considered them with wide uncertain eyes before his questioning stare crept to hers. Their gazes locked and held. Neither one of them was feeling the game Hvitserk more than likely recycled from his threesomes with Ubbe and Margrethe. Hvits thought he was turning her out. Yet his slow teasing strokes only served to piss her off. Control and obedience wasn't her and Ivar's way. Buck wild and no restraint is how they got down. No one was subservient to the other because they both served each other.

Vulnerability and unsureness humbled Ivar's demeanor. Hvits, oblivious to the change in the room continued to slow grind her from behind. Ivar snatched his gaze from hers to regard the softening length in his hand. Something akin to doubt radiated off of him in waves. Almost as if he questioned all the love they'd made up until that point. Questioned if he'd really been man enough to satisfy her. Such misgivings on his part decimated the tolerance she'd allowed for Hvits fuckery, but no more! She was calling it! They were done feeding into Hvitserk's Fifty Shades of Bullshit! She wanted to cum...long, hard, and multiple times. Even more than having her back blown to bits and fragments she wanted to be close to her mates. Not just by pressing their bodies together, but by entwining their energies, hearts, and minds as well.

Without further deliberation, she tore herself from Hvitserk to straddle Ivar. In a lift and dip of her hips she took him all in. By the time her good-good swallowed the last inch of him, his manhood went from angel soft to brick mansion hard. He gripped her waist and rested his for head on hers. They both exhaled.

Hvitserk crawled to crouch next to them. "Ivar, if you allow this, she shall never know her place when we come together-,"

"Silence, Hvitserk," Ivar managed to groan. "I only wish to hear my love's maddening shrieks of pleasure as I plow her. Not you and your witless instructing," One of his hands glided up the side of her body to cup her cheek. "Can you not sight how faultless she is within this moment? Why would you ever want to alter her, hmm?" He took possession of her lips and seared her soul with the scorching caress of his mouth.

"Ivar, you only believe this to be so because you've never-,"

Bonnie snatched Hvitserk to her. She plunged her tongue in his mouth. He grabbed the sides of her face. She thought to sever their lips, but he used his grip on her cheeks to deepen the kiss. As the tongue wrestling between her and Hvits got sloppier, her pussy imitated a succubus. Her Super Soaker Snapper 300 (pending trademark LMFAO) attempted to suck the life out of Ivar's life giving dick. Too soon and not soon enough, her clit throbbed in concert with the pounding beat of her heart. Her nipples attempted to imitate jaw breakers. A pulsing pressure swelled and pressed down on her mons. Her mouth watered. Good Goddess she was so close. Hvitserk broke there kiss. He bent down to suck and nibble on her nipples.

"Oh, fuuu—oooh!" She growled, smashing her hips into Ivar. "Oooh, fuck! Hvi—Iva—shit!" She didn't know who name to fucking call.

She ground her clit against Ivar's pelvis. Once, twice, thrice, and up in flames went her world. She howled. Mystical Energy exploded from her. The ancient sorcery wrapped itself about Ivar, while tentatively sensing out Hvitserk. Twisting her body better than a record breaking contortionist, Bonnie rotated and turned herself until she had Hvits' dick down her throat while still riding Ivar in a back bend.

"Hjarta! NO! That is not natu-ah...oh! Shama...lama...lama"

Hvitserk's head dropped back. He began to speak in tongues. Which ones? She didn't know. His gibberish must've confused the hell out of her sorcery because a translation was not forthcoming. In a state of insane bliss he gripped her by the back of her head. With powerful thrusts he fucked the hell out of her throat as she fucked the hell out of Ivar who in turn fed her good-good dick forged by the gods in spine tingling pumps from the bottom. Each of them wailed, moan, and spit hella nonsense until the damn broke. Hvits ejaculated a load down her throat which shot from her nose. Ivar's monster slapped and whipped at her g-spot until her good-good went clonic and started to south side quake. In a writhing and twitching fit, they all collapsed in a knotted heap.

"Hjarta, p-perhaps your way may b-be the right of it," Hvits stuttered as his head rested on her lower back.

"And d-don't m-make me rep-peat myself," she murmured.

Exhaustion forced her lids to flutter, while the pounding rhythm of Ivar's heart under her ear serenaded her towards slumber.

"P-please rep-peat yourself if you must. I relish hearing such things m-many times a rising," Hvitserk uttered.

"Yes, M-My Love. I'm minded to hear it at least once more this eve as well," Ivar said, before brushing his lips against her forehead.

Unholy fuckery! When in the—Cirque du Soleil—hell did she join the circus?

****

"I don't favor this," Naya said as she wandered about the tent Emir had offered them for their personal quarters. She pulled back the bed furs, and then peered under the oversized pillows. "I do not favor any of this at all."

Halfdan reclined on one of the ground cushions barely attending her. His mind dwelled many leagues away across the sea. In a city called York. In their absence Bonnie, Ivar, and Hvitserk had become famous. Their names spoken far and wide. Yet he could care less about her infamy. How could she agree to marry one as such as Ivar? From what he remembered of him, he was an ambitious boy who'd been barely a man. Surely a few Solstice Cycles couldn't have altered his character over much. Not enough to deem him worthy of marriage to her.

Naya perched upon his leg, while wrapping her arms about his neck. "You've not lent me an ear since we've arrived have you, My King?"

"Of course," he forced a smile. "You believe Emir to be nefarious in nature and Kassia to be as faithless as a harbor dwelling woman in search of a coin. How can I not lend you my ear? All of your words have the likeness of my homelands most celebrated Sagas."

She laughed and pressed her lips to his. Her kiss lingered for a moment, before she pulled away and whispered. "I shall miss you when you sail away."

"Will you not be sailing with me, my beauty?" He asked searching her face. She bit her bottom lip. Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. "Why not?"

"Because you'll never choose me over her, and my heart will never be able to bear such a burden." He wanted to reassure her of her place in his life. That she came before any other, yet they both knew such a notion would never hold true. She cleared her throat and grinned despite the tears on her cheeks. "Asides, there is a task I must undertake, so here is where our paths must divert."

"Well, there's still many new moons to come before we sail for my homeland," he whispered, sliding his hand under her silken skirts. "Let us not squander what time still remains."

She moaned when his finger skimmed the nub between her intimate lips. "You're right, My King. Let us not."

****

"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles—babe! I thought you wanted me to read this to you," she said, peering at Ivar over a copy of the Art of War.

His kneading became even more insistent at the arch of her foot. "Can you not read and withstand foot strokes while doing so, My Love?" He questioned all innocence and arched brows.

"Hjarta, speak the part about people and predictability once more," Hvitserk said, before slipping another strawberry between her lips. He leaned down and used the tip of his tongue to clean away the juice that escaped the corner of her mouth.

Releasing a moan of fuckstration, she flipped to the page he referred. "Engage people with what they expect-,"

"Apologies, Supreme." Thomas interrupted with a bow and contrition written all over his face. "King Ivar, the Saxon army, or what remains of it, have abandoned their camp."

Ivar placed a kiss to her foot, replaced it in his lap, and then gave Thomas a wave of dismissal. When they were once again alone, he laughed. "If we wanted we could pursue them. End them, here and now. Destroy them all." Spite and vengeance shone bright in his eyes as he raked a pointed stare over her.

"Or, how about we go hunt down Freydis and I end her." She raised her head from the cradle of Hvitserk's lap. "How about I put her ass in the dirt once and for all!" Their glares locked and held.

"Or we can turn our attentions to somewhere of more import," Hvitserk said, reaching up to cradle the side of her neck in his palm, while caressing the nape with his thumb. Her eyes rolled closed as she settled back on the bench and allowed him to cuddle her to his chest.

"And what place is of more import than here?" Ivar's voice came out clipped and annoyed.

"Our home, brother," Hvitserk said. His words halted the beat of her heart. Her eyes snapped open. "Kattegat."

"Ah," Ivar vocalized his pleasure as the formation of another fire plan lit his face. "There is a debt which must be collected in our homeland."

"By now Lagertha's hold on Kattegat is strong. Knowing Ubbe as we do, rather than slaughtering our mother's murderer as he should he's become her ally. I'll wager they mean to utilize each other to stand against you if time ever arises." He lifted her wrist to his nose and inhaled. She shuddered as hot liquid need thoroughly saturated the crotch of her panties.

Ivar waved a dismissive hand. "Ubbe does not concern me nor does that murdering bitch Lagertha."

"This is why the time to attack is nigh upon us," Hvitserk said, before pressing his lips to her inner wrist. "If Bjorn should return before we have an opportunity to retake Kattegat and crown you king then victory will be that much more difficult to achieve." Both of their gazes drifted to her.

"We can always stay here. It's not like fate doesn't know where to find us," she said with a forced smile which in truth felt more like a grimace.

"And you know well why this is impossible," Hvits whispered next to her ear.

"Come, My Love," Ivar held his arms out to her, and she pulled herself free of Hvitserk to go to him. Once she straddled his lap he palmed both of her cheeks. He brought her face to his for a soul stealing kiss. "This is something Hvitserk and I must do. Lagertha must answer for what she has done to my mother. Has this wound not festered long enough, hmm?" She rolled her gaze away. He captured her face again and rested his forehead on hers. "Asides, we've been betrothed long enough. It is now time for you to become my wife, and in my vision we entered matrimony upon the cliff in Kattegat overlooking the sea. So you see, I must kill Lagertha and claim the throne. Is this not our fate?"

Why couldn't they see this path led to their separation? Killing Lagertha would forever place Ivar and Hvitserk on opposite sides of Bjorn. And though she loved them with every piece and part of herself, she couldn't stand against Bjorn. There's no way their vow would allow it. Yet it wasn't just their vow. She cared for all of them, and it would tear her to bits to watch them attempt to kill each other.

Intercessor?

Her head cocked. Bishop Heahmund?

"This time we shall really seek our leave of York," Ivar said. She climbed from his lap and hurried towards the throne room door. "My Love, where are you misplacing yourself? There are plans to be plotted for the return to our homeland."

Ignoring him, she rushed from the room and raced down the hall until she reached the stone steps that led to the dungeon. Two at a time, she descended them. At the bottom, three warriors stood guard as a chain and collared Bishop Heahmund kneeled in prayer. Her appearance provoked the warriors to peer at each other, confusion present and accounted for on each of their faces.

"Supreme," One of the warriors said as they each bowed to her. "Does King Ivar know of your presence here?"

Heahmund opened an eye to peer at them. She lifted her chin to stare down her nose at him. "No, perhaps you should run along and tell him, Bragg." Waving her hands at the other two warriors, she spoke to them as well. "You lot go with him to be sure he gets the right of it." Moments later a thunder of footsteps pounded the stairs.

"Why do you allow those ignorant Pagans to refer to you as their Supreme?" Heahmund asked, still haughty as ever.

She exhaled. "What do you want, Heahmund? Why have you called me to you?" She began to slowly circle the stone pillar he'd been attached to.

"I had to be certain you were who I've come to believe you to be, Intercessor," he inclined his head to her. "The lord's holy spirit within the world."

She shook her head at his nonsense. Did he really summon her through their shared connection to see if she would come? As if she were no more than an errant dog in need of training? She stalked over to him and knelt in front of him. More than prepared to give him the come to Jesus talk he so wanted. Heahmund, however, snatched her off guard. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"What have I done," he whispered next to her ear. "What transgression have I committed for which he'd forsake me, oh Sacred One?" He ran his nose along her throat, while pressing his body firmly against hers.