Ivar killed her! He pierced Bonnie's heart with a sword! Who were they now? What had they become? Fury hammered the exacting entity lying in wait within the depths of him. The ancient energy's bellowed response reverberated through his being. It demanded retribution for the one it still considered theirs. Hvitserk tore himself from Thora's hold. Snatching the sword from his sheath, he slashed through a sea of soldiers. At the beginning of the confrontation they'd positioned themselves between him and the thrones. A move which effectively severed his access to Ivar and Bonnie.

Hands, arms, and heads, soared through the air. Each offending body part belonged to Kattegat's soldiers. Torrents of blood sprayed the great hall on a whole. Visiting warriors who thought to defend the king against his wrath also fell with ease. Soon his efforts brought him to the one he intended to send straight to the gates of Helheim. Ivar. He lay upon the ground staring at the spot where Bonnie only moments before stood. Silent sobs shook him, while the watery show of his emotions drenched his face. A spatter of crimson and gilded blood stained the wood planked floor. Another bold reminder of his brother's shameful offense. How many more wrongs would Bonnie suffer at their hands? No more!

Hvitserk spun the handle of the sword in his grasp. With a downward thrust the tip of his steel sought out the center of Ivar's chest. Before his blade could meet its aim Thora threw herself over his brother's body. His weapon halted a scraping graze away from puncturing her back.

"Thora, you will remove yourself!" His biting order slithered from the clench of his teeth as the breathtaking desire to kill trembled his hands.

"Husband, please!" She pleaded. Turning her head to rest the side of her face on Ivar's chest, she cut an eye up at him. "If you do this...if you kill your brother, you'll succumb to the regret that will follow. His death is not your path."

A formidable force slammed itself against his chest. Visions assailed his mind's eye of him impaling his wife to in turn slay Ivar. Bloodlust tore a battle cry from the bases of his lungs.

"" He thundered, before tearing the ax from his waste and hurling it at his brother's head.

The hurtling blade changed courses. Instead of implanting in Ivar's skull, the weapon buried itself in the splintered wooden step nigh Freydis' sleeping face.

"" The first witch flared into existence across from him.

Refusing to be thwarted again, he raised his sword once more. A gust of familiar mystical energy stalled his blade mid-swing. His confounded gawk darted back to the woman's sea inspired glare. Upon further consideration he realized her sorcery didn't feel the same. Not the way it felt the first time he'd sensed her all those summers ago.

The point of his blade met the floor under the growing girth of his suspicions. Somehow the suggestion of her identity tampered his fury. The mere implication filched strength from his body. "Who are you?"

Her slitted aquamarine stare bore into his. "I know you want to make amends to the Supreme, but you're gonna have to find another way. A better way that doesn't compromise my continued or would be existence!" She lowered a loving but pitying stare to Ivar. The tips of her fingers brushed at his hair, before she kneeled before him and placed her hands on his broken legs. A gilded-sea hued mist swathed his limbs. It entered the splintered appendages and lit them from within as it set the fractured bones to right. Once done the sorcery returned to the hands of its wielder. The woman then stood and her gaze moved back to him.

"Thora's right, murdering your brother is not your path." She faded to nothing. Yet her words continued to echo off the walls of the hall in the wake of her leave.

"Hvitserk?" Ivar tore his glowing blue stare from the place where the first witch had crouched over him. "I don't understand! Was she...was that..."

Beyond confused and far from a forgiving mind, Hvitserk snatched his wife from her place next to his brother. With no clear purpose to order his steps he exited the hall and stalked in a direction influenced more by chance than Fate. Everything around him met his mind in a senseless tangle. Yet something deep within him understood the bafflements which swirled about him.

"Hvitserk, please!" Thora tugged free of his grip on her arm to turn and face him. Pain flooded her stare. "You mustn't be angry with me. I only did what the Goddess urged me to do."

"Thora," he exhaled her name. Guilt for the way he'd spoken to her, and the ever changing beat of his heart convicted him. "I'm not angry with you, My Joy. How could I ever be?" Relief overran her unassumingly pleasing features. He cradled her cheeks in his palms as he rested his forehead on hers. "Yet I must leave Kattegat."

"What? Surely, you can't believe fleeing is to be your path!" Tears trickled down his wife's cheeks. He used the pads of his thumbs to wipe them away. For such a precious commodity was wasted upon the likes of him. "Why? Why do you have to go?!"

"I must raise an army large enough to dethrone my brother. Though it may not be my path to usher him to the gates of Valhalla, his rule here in Kattegat cannot stand." His purpose unfolded with every word he spoke. "Ivar's no longer fit to bear the title of king and if it's not Fate's will for me to remove his head, then I shall take his crown."

****

Bonnie came to awareness with a throbbing ache at the center of her chest. Shock and denial rocked her mind. Though she'd warned her sorcery of Ivar's treachery the confirmation by his hand decimated her soul. He'd stabbed her in the back to protect Freydis...and for what? To save a babe who'd already fallen into stillness. Yet even if the babe still lived did he really believe her capable of taking the life of an innocent child in retribution? When had his opinion of her plunged so low?

A soft wail whimpered from the depths of her. Her sorcery grieved. It fell victim to Ivar's true nature. The experience treaded close to unmaking her essence. Bonnie's mystical energy adored him. The ancient magic loved every piece and part of him and in return he'd spurned it. Hell, he'd spurned them both. They'd built him up, literally! Provided him with the mystical means and strength to stand. Then they proceeded to dismember, maim, and kill those who rallied against to make him king. Yet in the end it hadn't been enough. For he turned from them to invest in a hollow dream, and the irony wasn't lost on her. Freydis promised to make him a god, but had he remained at her side. Embraced the path offered to him by the Goddess of all, his place in the supernatural procession would've been higher than those he called gods.

He's no longer worthy. Her sorcery seethed.

"No, he's not," she agreed as her gaze swept her surroundings.

Though she resided beyond the veil, she stood in a dining room in Ecbert's palace in Winchester. Judith and Aethelred sat at the table about to eat dinner. Her breath caught. Goddess no! Why now? After everything she'd been through. All she'd lost. Why must she be subjected to that scene? The servants left the room as the conversation between Judith and Aethelred deepened. The mother and son conversed over the noblemen's fears of Alfred being able to fulfill his duties as king. Aethelred appeared earnest in his attempts to convince his mother of the Ealdormen's side for wanting Alfred removed from the throne. Although biased in his argument Bonnie sensed no cunning behind his words. Only genuine concern.

Soon after his first bite, his words devolved into gasping wheezes. Judith stood and bandied about a few excuses she could've kept in her pocket. Nothing uttered, muttered, or stuttered by her could explain away her actions for taking the life of her son. Bonnie never understood such an unnatural act. Not even when Esther attempted to try her hand in filicide. And at that time she'd believed Esther's kids to be originally evil. Now in the wake of losing her daughter, witnessing Judith poison Aethelred was a level of perversity too vile for her to stomach.

"What kind of mother are you?" Aethelred managed to rasp from the constricts of his throat just before falling and hitting his head on a wooden bench.

Yes what kind of mother was she indeed. Sobs jarred Bonnie to the marrow of her bones. How was this fare? She'd fought for Faith! She'd fought even after her enemies had broken her down and bled her dry. Yet when the fight met its end all of her efforts still hadn't kept her baby alive and well in her arms. No, her failure had saw her daughter into an early grave. So why? Why did Fate allow women such as Judith to become mothers, while in turn spurning those with the best of intentions? Did the Seamstress of Paths feel away about her? Was there beef between them she'd neglected to acknowledge? What had she done so wrong to tip the Mistress of Tapestry's loom so far out of her favor?

Bonnie witnessed the elder prince breathe his last breath in the arms of his murderer. Upon his final exhale his mystical essence fled his body. The eternal energy crossed the veil. His form materialized before her. He appeared confused, shell shocked, and beyond damaged. The traumatizing effects of his death would resonate well into his next life. She knew this almost better than she knew the exact shade of Faith's eyes.

When his bulging stricken glare collided with hers recognition crept into his gaze. Before a greeting could split her lips Aethelred filled her arms. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and submitted to the emotions fueled by the unspeakable fuckery that fitted together his beyond fucked situation. She followed his lead and together they wept.

"Did you see?" He forced out between a series of gasps and sniffs.

"Yes," she whispered, bobbing her head as she stroked his, "I saw everything."

"Why? Why would she do this? I always knew she favored Alfred over me. Yet I'd never believe her to...Did she think me capable of hurting him?" He pulled away to stare in her eyes. "I'd never harm Alfred. Though we had our differences, I love my brother!"

"I know." Her head dipped a bit as she held his gaze. She reached up and brought his face to hers until their foreheads touched. "Your explanations are of no use to me. I know you love him, I know. It's something I've never doubted."

He searched her face. After a lingering moment of scrutiny he pressed his lips to hers. The press and weight of his mouth on hers felt familiar. Even the flavor of his kiss sparked light in a dark forgotten place in her mind. A sense of comfort, security and safety enveloped her. Recognition even stirred her essence.

"Bonnie, it's time," a gentle voice said.

Bonnie severed their kiss and swung her gaze to the side. Emily stood next to them. Her expression ever patient. She nodded once before turning back to Aethelred. "This is my foremother Emily. She'll be your guide to your next life." Anxiety ripped at his face. She placed a palm to his chest. "Don't worry, I promise to look after you throughout your following journey. No matter what life you settle in. I'll find you."

A sense of ease radiated from him. The tension in his face relaxed. She kissed him once more and stepped from his arms. Emily gestured for him to walk through a set of open double doors. Doors she hadn't noticed before. A peaceful vibe drifted to them from beyond the threshold of the entrance. Aethelred offered Bonnie a final look of longing. He then turned to do as her foremother instructed. Emily presented her with a pensive stare, before turning to follow.

"Emily?" Her foremother paused to hoist a brow at her. "Who will he be next? It's just...after dying like that..."

"Hmm, it surprises me you didn't recognize him." A small artful smile took possession of Emily's lips. "You must've missed the hint of deviltry in his eyes." Her implications snatched Bonnie's mind inside out. No—it couldn't be! "I'll say this, everything you've become thus far all began with him."

With that Emily walked into Nirvana and the double doors shut after her. Before Bonnie had the chance to offer energy to her foremother's thought baiting words a familiar grunting and snuffling came for her auditory senses. Her divinity thrummed. She whirled about to discover Wilbur racing towards her. Yet it wasn't the huge pig he'd grown into. No, his essence had reverted him to piglet form. Even in death he remained insistently nonverbal and as over opinionated as ever. Just the sight of him lightened her heart. She leaned down to scoop him in her arms.

"Look who's still the master of Shaw Shank escapes. You gave Emily the slip didn't you?" She nuzzled the top of his head with her cheek. "Well I'm glad you did, because I wanna apologize for not protecting you." He grunted and snuggled deeper into her embrace. She shook her head as she began to walk. "No, my apologies are more than necessary. Had I cloaked you with the other animals you'd still be safe in the forest. So for this I'm sorry, Wilbur, and I vow to make it up to you."

The scenery faded from the Winchester palace into the private quarters of Kattegat's long house. Freydis slept on her back in bed, while Ivar sat next to her analyzing the merits of thin air. Distress tore at his features. A whimper echoed from the center of her sorcery. The wails reverberated off the walls of her mind. Her heart still bled for him. She rolled her gaze away determined and lifted Wilbur eye level to her. His wide violet stare bore into hers.

"Freydis is going to give you back the life she stole, and when she does I vow to come for you." She cuddled him back to her chest and kissed the top of his head. "So don't be afraid. For you're destined to be a king."

****

Several thumps from within her midsection awakened Freydis. Shock froze her as hope quickened her heart. For the first time in a fortnight her babe moved. She'd thought her son had met his end. In her heart she believed her baby would enter the world still. Yet the proof of his life came in the form of kicks. Another thud caught her unawares and she laughed, while rubbing at her side. His unrelenting kicks. Her personal handmaidens swept through the hanging beads on the entrance. Brenna carried her first meal on a platter. Stewed onion and broth, the corners of Freydis' mouth travelled south. No surprise there. What, however, did surprise her was the reappearance of her appetite.

"Queen Freydis, please attempt to consume a little of the broth this rising," Ingrid pled in her quiet tone. "After last eve, I fear continuing to-,"

"Yes, please!" She pitched herself in an upright position. "The babe and I are famished. I also wouldn't mind a dollop of honey to go along with it?"

Brenna kept a wary eye upon her as she prepared setting the small dining table in the far corner. Her thoughts more than not still resided with being doused in steaming pot liquor. Yet the woman feared for naught. That rising, hunger gnawed at Freydis' gut. Even a bundle of squirming larvae wouldn't keep her from guzzling down her broth and savoring the many layers of her onion. In verity such a sight would be welcomed. Protein hadn't dwelled upon her trough without the stench of shame in nigh a moon cycle.

After Ingrid assisted her with dressing and her hair, Freydis crossed the room with haste to seat herself before the scant meal. For the next turn of the hour glass she consumed two bowls. Before she could ask for another a shuffling beyond her chambers pilfered her notice.

"What is happening?" Freydis turned to assess the moving shadows that filtered through the beads hanging over the entrance of her chambers. "Why is there such a stirring in the hall this soon in the rising? Has my husband reopened the doors to the revelers?"

"No, My Queen." Brenna offered Ingrid a pointed sideways glance, before her cowering stare returned to her. "When the Supr—former Supreme's faithfuls learned of King Ivar's deeds against their Most High the lot rebelled."

"R-Rebelled!" She sputtered almost choking on the word.

Brenna's head bobbed. "Yes."

"The king sent word to the agitators earlier this rising. He intends to speak with them at the conclusion of first meal," Ingrid cast more light into the obscurity moving about the long house and Kattegat on a whole. "This seemed to somewhat have appeased the rebellion. For there've been no further attacks on the city."

The news set flames to her pride. How dare they? Those faithless savages not only thought to rip their city asunder. They did so in honor and retribution of the false Supreme! Freydis tossed her ladle back into her trough. She struggled to her feet. When she discovered her footing she quit her personal quarters for the great hall. As soon as she entered the room Ivar's impressive form enticed her sight. He stood before his throne leaning heavily on his iron crutch. The pitiable horde before him clung to his every word.

"During my father's time he gave his ear to the people. He allowed their sound counsel to influence his decisions. This form of rule spoke much of his cleverness." He swayed a bit but managed to remain upright. "Yet in the last several summers since my father's reign the city changed. Kattegat has grown into one of the greatest trading centers in Scandinavia."

"Blessed be the Supreme!" Someone shouted from the back of the horde.

More voices added. "All Praises be to the Most High!"

"Yes!" Ivar's jaw locked and the muscles in his face twitched. He glared into the masses and attempted to impale the skull of the naysaying culprits by sight alone. "Blessings be to my wife your Divine Supreme. However, due to the growth which has taken place upon our shores the word of our fellow neighbors can no longer be trusted. Not because I suspect them each to have nefarious intent," he shook his head, "Oh no, of course not. Their ignorance to our ways is what provokes my reluctance to rely upon them for the guidance of my judgements. For they are new to these shores and unfamiliar to our traditions."

The crowd lifted their disgruntled voices in disagreement. Her husband raised his hands to order the throng. "So I've chosen the most faithful among you. They shall remain unidentified...nameless to one and all excluding me. This group of men and women shall be my counsel. They shall keep me informed of everything which stirs unrest within the walls of our city. For they will hear all and see all." The horde quieted. Their gazes took a doubting turn as each hurtled to regard the other. A sneering smirk ensnared her mouth. Well done! For how would two stand together if distrust stood between them? "Now go about your rising citizens of Kattegat and take pride in knowing you are reigned over by a god who sees all and knows more."

As the people departed from the hall, she approached the throne. Ivar hobbled over to his and sat. He greeted her with a glare. She'd expected as much from him. Perhaps, even more. For she'd exacted another offense against his dark obsession without the benefit of his permission. Yet what punishment could she be met with in her condition? Amnesty belonged to her whether he wanted to extend the reprieve or not.