Ivar sat upon his throne. He cast his gaze out at the near deserted hall. No one but his household warriors moved about the space. The usual long house revelers no longer vied to dwell within his walls. All who once claimed to love him now sought to distance themselves. Their actions spoke much of their distrust for him as their king. They even refused to come to him to resolve their disputes. He didn't fear this shift in his people. No, not as much as he feared the reasoning which provoked the shift...Bonnie. Most of his citizens clamored for her favor. Only his personal warriors remained faultless in their loyalty of him, while many others allegiances bore the burden of question.

As Ivar continued to ponder the allegiance of his people and fate of his rule, the doors of the hall burst open. Sheila entered and unease wrought uncomeliness upon her features while lending haste to her movements. Creases and wrinkles overran the shieldmaiden's face. The unknown concern added more cycles to her summers, securing her the likeness of a crone. When her anxious stare discovered him, he waved her over. She crossed the expanse of the room without delay.

Her head dipped in a bow as she drew near. "King Ivar, there's been word from the outpost."

"Yes, go on!" He flapped a hand for her to continue.

"A large army has made camp near the borders of Kattegat."

The news snatched him to the edge of his seat. His stare narrowed. Perhaps Hvitserk had managed to convince Olaf to align with them in their pursuits in England. "What banner does this army march under?"

She shook her head. "The Jarl who sent word said his warriors were unable to discern their identity. None among them carried a banner."

"Send spies to discover who is in command of these warriors," he said, settling back on his throne, "also summon the citizens and all of the warriors who still remain in the walls of the city so I may address them. Our defenses need to be reinforced and new fortifications should be built with haste to stave off impending attacks."

The shieldmaiden inclined her head and searched out her leave to do his bidding. With great pain, he rose from his throne and limped to his personal quarters. He breached the beaded dressing over the entryway to his chambers. There, Freydis still lay in bed, staring into the unknown. At what, only the gods knew and perhaps they cared less than he. Though the eve drew nigh she'd not left the furs all rising. Not even to relieve herself. Just as in Vestfold she'd taken to doing the latter where she lay. She'd languished in such a state for the last two risings, refusing to engage with anyone, including him.

Ingrid entered and inclined her head in a bow when she took note of his presence. Ivar gestured for her to follow him out of the chambers. He limped back through the hanging beads. Once liberated of the stench which clung to the air in the near closed quarters, he slouched against the wall in front of his bed chambers. As he rested his aching legs his scrutiny remained on Freydis whom he still observed through the slits of the beads. Ingrid joined him moments later.

He beckoned her closer. When she leaned in, he spoke. "Is this her resting state even in my absence?"

"Her state is ever unchanging, King Ivar," she answered, holding firm to his gaze with her own. "And it has been so since that hunter offered her the bones she believes to be the leavings of your son."

"Hmm." Scorching heat blistered his insides. His loathing for the deceitful bitch nigh suffocated him. For he'd offered her the means to devastate him and she'd taken breathtaking lengths to do so. Well she may have made a fool of him, but he vowed to make a memory of her. He swung his stare to Ingrid. "I fear my wife means to join our son in the halls of Hel."

The veiled woman's eyes flared. "You believe she has designs of ushering forth her own end?"

"These are my fears." He folded his face into one of tortured mourning or so he hoped. "And if she does this unforgivable...this cowardly thing..." he shook his head, "she will teeter in a place much worse than where our son now dwells."

"This is true, the gods are slow to forgive those who ventures to thwart Fate," the handmaiden agreed.

His tortured mourning expression morphed into one of contrived sadness. "As a Saxon by birth, she cannot understand the verity of our ways. Yet if she endeavored something as foolish as this she'd suffer the judgement of the gods just the same."

"That is also true, King Ivar." Ingrid readily agreed once again. "And wouldn't such a slight be a pity? For Freydis has known much suffering since arriving upon these shores."

His eyes flared as a hand twisted into the position of extended offering. "Which is why as her husband I must protect her from such a fate." He took Ingrid's hand in his. "As her favored handmaiden are you willing to assist me in ensuring my wife is reunited with our son in the halls of Hel?"

"Of course, but I'm uncertain of what I can do." Her head slanted a bit as expectancy twirled about in her concerned stare.

"Steal away to the forest without delay." He gave her hand a squeeze. "While there, secure a root I may use to assist my wife beyond the veil." Ingrid's brows puckered and he tugged on her hand. "Though committing such an act will haunt me until I enter the halls of Valhalla, I must be more minded of her than myself."

Ingrid's blue gaze sharpened and skewered him. For a moment he even believed her stare to be more calculating than the inner workings of his mind. Yet upon closer inspection only naivete glinted her wide trusting stare. "Of course, King Ivar. I shall depart for the forest straightaway."

"Thank you, Ingrid." He offered her a closed lip smile. "You've always served us well, and because of this you can be assured the gods are pleased by your noble deeds."

Her head tilted a bit as confusion drew her brows together. "Are you not a god as well, King Ivar?"

"As well you know, and I too am pleased, Ingrid." He pulled his hand from the girl's grasp, and then gave her a gentle shove towards the hall. "Now have your leave. The eve will be upon us soon and it would not bode well to have you wandering about sightless in the forest."

When the girl hastened away, his smile took a cold hard turn. His gaze returned to his witless wife. Soon he'd be rid of her and everyone would be the better for her demise. Especially, his former love...his only love. Perhaps, Freydis' end will soften Bonnie's heart towards him once more and in time maybe even bring her back to him.

****

"Kattegat's defenses are impenetrable," Hvitserk said, while moving his gaze over the warriors gathered in the strategizing tent. His stare sharpened upon King Olaf's and Guthrum's faces, "And by now, Ivar's spies would've sighted our army. Even as we speak, I'll wager further fortifications and reinforcements to the existing ramparts are underway." He leaned back in his seat and various warriors gathered at the tables began to speak at once.

Consternation had its way with King Olaf's face. He raised a hand to silence the covering on a whole. The king's harried stare then swept back to him. "Then how are we to proceed, Lord Hvitserk. For there must be a way to breech the city. I don't believe you would have led us here were there not."

"What if we enter by way of the forest?" Guthrum offered in an emotionless tone he'd come to expect from the boy. "The battlements at the rear of the city have always been the weakest point of entry."

Hvitserk shook his head. At one time his suggestion would have been acceptable. Yet this no longer held true. "Ivar has since strengthened those defenses. Now the rear ramparts are stronger than the fore."

"Then perhaps we should appeal to the Intercess—um," King Olaf appeared to choke on his words a bit, before attempting to clear his throat. "The Supreme for aide."

Hvitserk cast his gaze away, while hanging his head. If only such an appeal was an option. "She will not interfere."

"How can you be certain?" King Olaf's brows attempted a fool's errand and leapt up his forehead in search of his missing hairline.

"Because she could've long since ended Ivar's reign. Yet she has not!" Bitterness rose to linger with his guilt. "For it matters not what wrongs he commit against her..." His daughters face flared before his unseeing sight, "or what losses she suffers at his hands, her heart and sorcery will never completely turn against him." If only she'd extend the same consideration to him.

"I don't believe that," Guthrum said. Anger flickered within the depths of his eyes. The ire was the first show of emotion he witnessed from the boy.

King Olaf slapped the table. "Then what shall we do?"

"We shall forgo the strategies." The covering at the entrance was tossed to the side. Bjorn stalked into the quarters. King Harald and two women followed. "In favor of using our forces to topple their defenses. This is the way we shall take back our home and reclaim our Supreme."

Eagerness stirred and pulsed throughout the covering, reinvigorating the warriors who'd all but surrendered the battle before even raising their swords.

"If we combine our forces, then Ironside indeed has the right of it," Harald added as his gaze moved over each of them. When their eyes met distaste puckered his former ally's face.

Hvitserk rose from his seat, and then turned about to face his eldest brother. Bjorn was the one who'd reared him from boy to man, who'd taught him how to hold a sword and how to fight to protect his family. Risings gone by flooded the space between them. Even the final one. The blood drenched rising when they'd set their weapons against the other.

They eyed each other for a moment, and then Bjorn spoke, "What end do you seek in your present endeavors, Hvitserk?"

"This too is something I'd much like to know!" Harald rasped, moving to stand near Bjorn.

Ignoring the Vestfold King, Hvitserk lifted his chin as he continued to maintain his brother's stare. "It is my mind to return Ivar to the filth from whence he slithered."

"And this is truly your purpose?" Bjorn's scrutiny searched his glare.

His hands fisted at his sides as the twitch in his jaw sought to match the pounding of his heart. "This is my only purpose."

"Hmph." Bjorn strolled forth, closing the distance between them. Once they stood toe to toe his brother regarded him a moment longer, and then pulled him in a hug. "Then it gladdens me to call you brother once more."

The thrashing of flesh met their ears just beyond the entrance of the covering. Grunts, groans, and shrieks followed. Then all grew silent. When Hvitserk and Bjorn moved to investigate the disturbance three bloodied face warriors crashed in to the quarters, falling a few paces just short of their boots. Odin entered shortly thereafter.

Flames ignited the All-Father's glower. His judging glare passed over each of them, and then settled on him. "You're senses have become shit! I discovered these warriors lurking outside. No doubt listening to your every spoken word. Hope nothing too important was discussed because I found favor in one among them and allowed him to return to Kattegat." Hvitserk's jaw clenched.

Why send a spy he'd confirmed as such back to the one who sent him? Odin's eye blazed brighter and narrowed as if he'd heard the odious ramblings in his head. Something unsaid swelled between them, before the All-Father tore his glare away to behold Bjorn. "And you, nice of you to finally join us, Ironside! Have you a mind for war or should we wait another Solstice Cycle for you to decide?"

****

"I never should've married you. You were nothing more than a faithless whore who affections and spoils were well used before me and even more so after me," Bragg berated from the side of Freydis' bed.

She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to ignore him. He was but one of many who'd ventured beyond the veil to torment her. This had been so since the hunters discovered the wee bones of her baby. Now grief and guilt tormented her mind along with the many she'd wronged in years gone by. They all thought to remind her of their ends even when they didn't meet their demise by her hands. If they believed her responsible they all arrived to tell her as such. Senseless, the lot of them!

"I await you in Helheim, wife. Attend me when I speak to you," He demanded through the slits of his teeth. A sob ripped its way from the press of her lips as she rolled away from him onto her side and pulled her knees to her chest. "Look at me, whore!"

He appeared on the opposite side of her bed in her field of vision. Blood covered the front of his tunic and he had the look of a man who'd greeted his end ages ago. His appearance however didn't affect her more than the bundle he cradled in his arms.

"Is that...is that my baby?" She questioned unable to trust her sight. She reached a hand out to her former husband. "Please...let me hold her." Abhorrence had its way with Bragg's features before he turned and walked away. "No, Please! Please come back!" She screamed in his wake even as the vision of him blurred. "Let me see her, Please!"

"Greetings, Freydis." The sound of Margrethe's voice worried her ears even as her horrid dung smeared face filled her sightline. "You lied to me and our goddess is not pleased with you."

She snatched her eyes away. "I never lie-,"

"You said I would be queen of Kattegat and now it is you who sits upon the throne or is it sat," A titter of laughter bubbled from the girls mouth. "Perhaps it matters not, Freydis, queen no more or queen never was. For our goddess is not pleased with you at all. She chose Ivar for herself and you made him yours. You've ruined much." Another shrill giggle sliced through the thick silence which hung heavy throughout the bedchambers. "For this the true most high no longer recognizes you as a faithful daughter."

"I care not, now take yourself away from here," Freydis spat before rolling to face the other way. "Leave me be...just leave me be!"

Margrethe appeared on the otherside of the bed to set Freydis to flames with a glare, her eyes as crazed in death as they were in life. "You shall burn, Freydis. Just as your bastards already do."

The woman's words incited her. How dare she speak ill of her children? Freydis lunged at Margrethe. The mad cow faded from existence in exchange for another tormentor. A hand caught her mid lunge by the gullet and lifted her to face him. Yet no face waited to glower at her. Only a bloody stump of a neck glared back. The hand then yanked her about to regard a severed head which dangled from its fist by the hair.

Gram's very much livened face burst with an expression akin to loathing. Freydis' heart dropped and attempted to flee her body by way of her arse. She screamed, and then tore her gullet from Gram's grasp. With piss running down her legs and muck dripping from her hindquarters, she scurried to the far corner of her bed chambers. She pulled her legs to her chest to rest her face on her knees.

For several grains of sand from the hour glass she huddled in the corner of her quarters, praying to any gods with a passing care for her. She pled for them to see her from the pits of her guilt. To deliver her from the hands of her tormentors. After what felt like several turns of the hour glass of her reciting chant likened prayers, she felt the warmth of familiar sorcery swath her. Her eyes fluttered open to discover a beautiful woman with aqua eyes. Instantly, she knew the woman, for she had the look of her fathers and mother.

"I-I'm sorry...I'm so very sorry...I didn't know...I didn't know. She lied to me...and to many like me. I believed her and she led me astray," she sobbed between whimpers. "If I'm guilty then ignorance is my crime. My witless faith in a false goddess is why your blood soils my hands along with so many others. For this I am sorry...so truly sorry."

The woman only continued to stare at her. After several more moments of regarding her, the woman spoke. "Words hold no meaning when born of a tongue incapable of sincerity. If you really mean to have my forgiveness then your actions must convey what your words do not."

"I only wish to be left alone." More tears fell from her eyes to flood her face.

The woman tsked and shifted to reveal a squirming bundle cradled in the crook of her arm. "And what of your son? Do you wish for him to have leave of you as well?"

She shifted a corner of the clothe from the bundle to reveal the face of a babe. Her breath caught. For the woman held her babe...her Baldur. She reached out in attempts to wrestle the babe from the woman, but the woman knocked her away without even a flinch of effort.

"Please," she pleaded, "give me my baby. I'll do anything, please! I swear it...I do!"

"Well, we shall see about that, won't we?" The woman regained her footing, and then glared down at her with anger so righteous Freydis felt not only judged, but also condemned. "A time shall present itself when you'll have an opportunity to lend action to your words...to fulfill your vow." She then faded into the thinness of air.

****

Ayana set flame to a wick. She cast her gaze over her foremother and the descended daughters of her line. They all gathered in her hut to converse over the unfolding events at play around them. Soon the control of Kattegat would fall to another. The Boneless one would soon discover himself adrift and learn what it truly meant to be alone. Yet the acts Bonnie committed and the decisions she chose in the impending summers heralded to be the most considerable. For those acts and decisions would give birth to the outcome of them all.

Once certain that the sage spelled the room for privacy she thought it best not to delay by clinging to her words. "Our descended daughter has restored order to Kattegat."

Qetsiyah only stared, while Emily and Sheila murmured their approval.

"Yet still we are unsure of the Sons of Ragnar's minds." Qetsiyah began to pace. "This holds us at a disadvantage."

Their foremother spun on her heel to retrace her trek across the small space. Just from the sight of her one could tell agitation stalked her steps.

Emily's gaze rolled to Sheila and sharpened. The woman released an unnecessary breath from her ghostly body, before adding her seeds to the plot. "Not as much as you believe."

"Ayana, did you not say the immortals gravitate to her?" Emily questioned, turning to her.

She inclined her head. "Especially the first," she offered knowing well how such news would harry her already agitated foremother. Qetsiyah cut an eye at Ayana. Her added bit appeared to have hit the desired mark.

"How's Bonnie managed her grief since the crossing of her daughter?" Sheila's eyes appeared far more aged than the rest of her.