Halfdan watched his wife move about the training field. She instructed warriors and shieldmaidens on how to engage multiple attacks during a battle. Bjorn's stepson trailed her about with the gaze of one thoroughly besotted. The young warrior took every opportunity to touch her when the occasion presented itself. Which was often, since Bonnie doted on the boy as if he were no more than a babe. Offering him embraces, kisses, and always entwining her hand with his, for no other reason than because he happened to be near. And near he always was! Guthrum never allowed her to stray long from his sight before he turned about to seek her out.

Perhaps the boy's presence is the reason Bonnie and he hadn't even spent half a turn of the hour glass together since they'd married. For nigh two new moons they'd been joined in matrimony and he'd yet to be alone with her. She even refused to share a tent with him. Her claims being she didn't feel comfortable dwelling in the same covering with someone she barely knew. Yet how would she come to know him if she continued to spurn every attempt he made to acquaint himself with her? Ever regarding him with a wary eye she did, as if at any moment he'd try to force her into performing her wifely duties.

Sigurd crept next to him as quiet as the snake which resided in his eye. "Lagertha ask we attend her in the strategizing tent. Frankish ships have been sighted journeying in the direction of Vestfold. It's just as Bonnie spoke it to be."

"Do you suppose he still believes himself in love with her?" Halfdan questioned, ignoring Sigurd's news in favor of scrutinizing Guthrum who now basked in his wife's attention.

Halfdan felt the weight of Sigurd's gaze upon his cheek. "Of course he does. As do we all, and well you know. Did you believe our affections for her would fade once she entered into matrimony with you?"

"No, but I did believe that in regards to me hers would take root," he answered even as he endured the constant burn his longing for her inflicted upon him. Sigurd offered him a pitying clap on the shoulder. "Do you believe my wife returns young Guthrum's affections?"

"Bonnie doesn't even take note." Sigurd laughed as she licked the pad of her thumb and cleaned the corner of Guthrum's mouth. Then moved to adjust the sword at his side. "She cares for him in the way a mother would her babe. If it's rivals you seek, then you need cast your gaze no further than me and my brothers." Snake in the Eye slapped him on the back once more before heading in the direction of the strategizing tent.

Halfdan turned in time to sight Bonnie crumpling to the ground. For a single pound of his heart he believed Midgard to be on the brink of Ragnarök. He tore across the field at such a swift pace his feet barely touched the ground. In no time he arrived at her side. She lay sprawled upon her back, her eyes closed. The shallow pants of her breath barely provoked the rise and fall of her chest. Shoving Guthrum out of the way, he lifted her into his arms. Not pausing to explain what he was about, he carried her to his covering. Once inside he rested her upon the bed furs and began to remove her weapons and armor. Soon as he relieved her of the last of her protective covering she stirred.

He poured water into a chalice with one hand as he stroked the side of her face with the other. "Bonnie?"

Her lids fluttered. "Hvits?"

His chest caved. "N-No, it's Halfdan." She bolted upright at the sound of his voice. Her wide stricken verdant eyes swept about his covering, before returning to him for answers. "You swooned on the training field and I carried you here to recover."

His explanation somewhat put her at ease enough to become lax in her bearings. "Thank you, Halfdan, but this was unnecessary."

"Unnecessary? For the past two new moons I've watched you on several occasions become ill after consuming first and second meal. Though your still the most beautiful woman I've ever sighted, you've appeared tired and drawn as of late!" His moons of patience had finally met its end. He could no longer take care with her sensibilities. "Then you collapse before my very eyes, during which time I'd swear my heart neglected to pound. Only to tell me my actions and concerns are unnecessary. You're unwell! No longer will I deny it or ignore it."

Halfdan braced himself. For he knew Bonnie's temper to be quite unpredictable when provoked.

"I'm not unwell!" Her expression crumpled, before she threw herself in his arms. To his utter delight and profound concern, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and bawled. For the next several moments he held her close to his chest as she wept. When her body juddering sobs somewhat subsided, all too soon she pulled out of his grasp to ensnare his gaze with her still watery one. "I'm pregnant, Halfdan," she whispered in a voice so soft and low had his heart chosen that moment to beat he wouldn't have heard her.

Not pondering his actions, he reached out to place his hand on her still flat stomach. "Lord Hvitserk?"

She dipped her head. "And Ivar's."

"H-How's...w-what...w-why...w-what-," Confusion tied his tongue, leaving him helpless to do anything other than to silently plead with her for an explanation.

"It's a supernatural conception." She covered his hand with hers as more tears trickled down her face. "Hvitserk provided the means. Ivar ordained and enriched it with his mystical energy. This baby will be the product of all three of us."

"Bonnie!" Guthrum rush through the slit of his covering. Tension locked the muscles in the younger warrior's face just as fear flared his gaze.

Concern colored her expression. She rose from the bed furs and rushed to the boy's side. "What's wrong, Jedi?"

Relief dropped his shoulders as he ran an assessing stare over her. "Lagertha inquired if you were well enough to come to the strategizing tent. There's news on Ivar and Hvitserk."

"Of course I am." Her gaze returned to him for a moment, and then moved back to Guthrum. "Come, we shouldn't delay."

Still stunned beyond the site of what any seasoned warrior had a right to be, he rose from the bed furs and followed his pregnant wife out.

****

When Bonnie entered the strategizing tent all conversations halted. Several bodies left their seats to offer her a bow. Heahmund being one of the more extra among the group. He'd made a competition of who came to their feet first and who swept the lowest in a bow. It was beyond annoying and sometimes she questioned her damn sanity for healing him.

"Intercessor," he murmured as he snatched a chair out for her.

Still a bit queasy, she forced her eyes not to roll. One wrong move and everything she'd managed to hold on to from first meal would come back up.

She nodded a thanks to him before sitting down. "Forgive me for my delay."

"Such delays from you does not call for contrition, Supreme," King Svase said, offering her a dimpled grin while allowing his leering gaze to wander over her.

Heahmund scoffed at the older man's attempts at flirting. Disapproval burst from the Bishop's eyes. He barely tolerated anyone other than she and Lagertha, but he especially despised the Sami King.

Lagertha cleared her throat in attempts to diffuse the situation no doubt. The last time the two were in a tent together, leathered sling shots and swords were drawn. "Guthrum spoke of you swooning on the training field. Are you unwell?"

"What?" Sigurd snapped, addressing her for the first time since she entered into matrimony with Halfdan.

Bjorn paused in peppering kisses to the back of his blushing wife's palm to cut his gaze to her. At this point she'd do well super gluing her eyeballs to her lids. For once again she had to force her eyes not to roll. It's funny how he discovered newly wed bliss when he thought her in newly wed misery.

"I'm fine," she said, waving them off. "Too much sun, not enough water."

Sigurd shot her a—I call bullshit—glare, while everyone else nodded more than ready to move on to the topic at hand. Lagertha continued her pace around the table as Halfdan entered the tent and took the seat next to her. He gave her a measured look, before reaching over to take her hand in his. Normally, when he attempted to initiate anything affectionate between them she'd shut his ass down. Yet that day his hand around hers felt nice. It felt comforting. And she needed all the comfort she could get to offset the constant scared shitless feelings that now bubbled in her gut since she discovered herself pregnant.

"Bonnie you were right about Rollo allying with Ivar and Hvitserk." Lagertha began.

A slight scoff cracked her mask of indifference. "We should've approached him first."

"I agree," Lagertha nodded.

Heahmund moved to stand behind Bonnie. "It would have been prudent to heed the Intercessor's counsel."

"We don't need Rollo," Bjorn spouted, dropping his wife's hand altogether. His glare lifted to Heahmund. "And why do you call her that?" Before his sparking blues dropped back to her. "Why does he call you that?"

Lagertha exhaled as if she struggled to keep a grasp on her patience. She turned a regretful gaze on her. "A large navy of French ships were spied sailing in the direction of Vestfold."

"Their trying to neutralize me." She gave her head a little shake.

Lagertha considered her for a moment. "How so?"

"Rollo's warriors are human Christians that lacks supernatural energy. None of them falls under my dominion," she said, placing another hand over Halfdan's to cradle his in hers. "Were I to attack them then I'd very well provoke war with the mother of all nature and trust me...we don't want those problems. Not while Ragnarök looms on the horizon. I'd rather have her as an ally than an enemy."

"But you fought and killed human Christians in England," Heahmund said, while staring down at her.

"Only because the Ancient of Days gave me leave to do so." She shrugged. "He wanted the wicked exterminated from his flock and I wanted revenge for Ragnar. Win, win for everyone except those who thought to succumb to Inadu's influence."

"So we can't fight them," Bjorn said, glaring at her as if she were the one who brought the end to their doorsteps.

"I didn't say that." She skewered him with a fully loaded hatemaker of her own. "I said, I can't fight them."

"Then will you bleed for us, Supreme?" King Svase moved to the edge of his seat to get as close to her as the table separating them would allow. "So we may become mighty enough to defeat these Christians without inciting the mother of all nature."

Anxiety forced her to shift in her seat. Since she'd become pregnant she been unable to accept offerings without damn near regurgitating her lungs and stomach. If she allowed them to bleed her then she'd have no way to replenish herself. She'd desiccate! To her horror almost everyone began to agree with King Svase. Speechless, she could do nothing more than shake her head.

"Yes, Bonnie," Lagertha's head bobbed, while excitement polished her eyes. "The night before battle we should have a ritual in which you bleed for all our be-,"

Halfdan shot from his seat and slammed the blade of his ax into the table. "No one here will bleed my wife! Especially not while she carries my child!"

Silence snatched her Supreme title. Various sets of eyes darted about the room, silently questioning if anyone other than Halfdan knew of her condition. Rage tore at Sigurd's features as he climbed to his feet, and then stalked from the tent. The hollow space behind her rib cage quaked a bit. Sigurd was her one. Her Enforcer/Confessor and since his return from the Mediterranean she'd handled him with utter disregard. He shouldn't have had to discover her pregnancy with everyone else. On the strength of their bond, he should've been the first to know.

"That's why you swooned on the training field," Lagertha rose from her seat and rounded the table. Kneeling at her side, she placed a palm to Bonnie's stomach as she gazed up into her eyes. "We will find another way." She glanced over her shoulder. "Bjorn, send a messenger to King Harald. Perhaps we will be able to reach an accord this time."

"Ack!" Bjorn scoffed, before rising and stomping from the tent.

Heahmund placed a hand on her shoulder. "You should have a care for yourself, and the child you carry. For the babe is sacred as are you. Rest while our lord still offers this moment of respite."

"Come, Bonnie," Halfdan said, while glaring at Heahmund as if he'd just been shoveled out of the stables. "You should rest for a while before second meal."

****

Silas stomped through the void pissed beyond reason. First his mate marries another, and now she's to bear someone else's child. Enough was fucking enough! He was done playing the remorseful cheater. She'd had several millenniums to put this shit in her rearview. Now it was time for her to get the fuck over it. To exhale, let it burn, or whatever a several thousand year old witch did to grieve the loss of a relationship. He didn't give a dry as sand fuck as long as she handled her issues and they got back to business.

"Qetsiyah!" He bellowed into the nothingness. Spinning around, he scrutinized pockets of fog with the potential of concealing her. "Qetsiyah!"

"What do you want?" A haughty voice sounded from behind him. It was the type of haughty reserved for stick up their asses first liners. "I'm kinda busy helping my descendant save the supernatural world."

His eyes narrowed. Just the sight of her agitated his sorcery. "Did you know?"

"Know what?" She tucked her arms under her breasts in a neat little fold. Her eyes glittered with spite and amusement.

His glare slitted even further to damn near close lid proportions. He wouldn't put it pass his ex to have set the mood with candlelight, while standing at the bedside squawking, Let's Get It On at the time of conception. "Oh you bitch."

Her verdant gaze flared. "Call me another one, you cosmic rerun! Not only will I snatch out your tongue, but I'll have your overworked vocal chords along with it."

"Why the hell did you and your—protest warrior—descendants allow Bonnie to marry fucking Halfdan the Black of all Vikings?"

She allowed a shoulder to rise and fall as her face blasted just how much she enjoyed his pissed on fury. "What's wrong with Halfdan? I think he's-,"

"Qetsiyah, I swear to the Goddess!" His sorcery flamed the insides of him. If she continued to try his patience the cease fire would meet its end.

"Alright!" She tossed her arms up and the sheer gauzy material of her gown swirled about her. "Chill, damn! You'd think you'd be able to take the same medicine you've been known to give. Hmm, it's no wonder why you're second best." She exhaled and disdain came close to suffocating him. "We encouraged her to marry Halfdan because he's the lesser of two evils." A laugh born of derision burst from him. Her head tilted slightly as she cocked a brow. "Oh so you would've preferred she married Ironside."

"I would've preferred she joined with me! As it was foretold since the beginning." He growled from the clench of his teeth.

Qetsiyah gave him a—I don't know what to tell you—shrug. "And I would've preferred a betrothed who didn't attempt to use his tiggy-wiggy to plug every hole he encountered. Guess what you want isn't always what you get. Huh, Silas?"

Shaking his head, he cast his glare away unable to look at her a moment longer. "You're living for this fuckery aren't you?"

"Please, I've been over you since the fall of Rome, I'm really not that invested. Look," she began to pace circles around him, "you've already peeped the last page, Silas. You know the endgame."

"Do I?" He turned counter-clockwise to track her movements. "Because in the vision I saw there were no side babies!"

Her brows collided as her pacing came to a hard stop. "Side babies?" He just glared at her. She studied him for a moment, and then laughed. "I know that's wrong! That's not tea at all. Matter of fact, if I were you I'd double back and slap the hell out of my tea supplier, because they tried it with that pot."

He tilted his head. "Really?"

"Truly," she scoffed. "I, myself, spelled her womb to take no other seed than her..." Her words trickled to a stop, while her golden complexion paled to the point she appeared to have been slapped several times with baby powder. She shook her head. "No, no, no!"

"What the hell-,"

She vanished in a swirl of ocher fire.

Frustration ripped a roar from the base of his vocal chords. "What a fucking bit—ow!" A searing phantom swipe to his throat dropped him to his knees. "Damn it, Qetsiyah! I didn't even say it!" He bellowed at nothing.

****

"Ironside has sent news by messenger," Harald said upon entering the nigh brimming hall. "He wants to attempt another peace discussion."

A smirk claimed Ivar's mouth as his gaze met Hvitserk's. "I suppose his renewed interest in peace has nothing to do with the many Frankish ship they no doubt spied sailing to Vestfold's shores."

"Of course he saw the ships!" Harald laughed, moving to thump Hvitserk on the shoulder before thinking better of the action. "I'll wager he's coming to plead for an accord. If Hvitserk speaks without error then our troublesome Supreme won't be able to come to their aide."

"This may be so, but Bonnie is clever," Hvitserk said, diverting his attention from the serving wench perched upon his lap. "It will not serve you well to under estimate her."

A frown tugged at Ivar's mouth. Ever since the night they sensed the severing of their bond with Bonnie, Hvitserk's behavior cavorted along the boundaries of utter disregard. His whoring and drinking carried on beyond the borders of excessive. He slept through each rising and only left his bed furs to greet the eve for more drinking and plowing. Though the severing of his and Bonnie's bond disturbed him greatly, he trusted fate would see them joined once more. He only needed to claim her and he'd tear the whole of Kattegat to bits if doing so saw her back to his side.

"Leave our Supreme to me," Harald slapped his hands together, while a sneer took possession of his mouth. "I shall engage her during battle. This way she'll not have an opportunity to plot any of her tricks."

A gleam shone in the foolish king's eyes which birthed a discontentment within Ivar. "Leave her. If anyone shall distract Bonnie it shall be me. You worry over your own wife. I believe it's her intent to join us in battle once more. Even as her belly swells with your child."

Grunts and moans from the corner tore their challenging glares from each other to the disturbance. Hvitserk had allowed the serving wench to mount him there in full view before every outraged sight in the hall. Rage and disgust twisted Harald's face before he spun to stalk out. Just as offended and disgusted as their host, Ivar struggled to stand. His brother had become no better than the village degenerate. In verity Hvitserk had taken to spending his eves carousing and drinking with the village degenerate.