Ivar sat upon his throne. He watched his wife from the cut of his eye. Several risings had come and gone since he'd tasked Ingrid with poisoning her mead. Yet she lingered. In verity, she lingered in a disturbed state of awareness, but still she thrived. Ever cloaking his side in foreboding shadows that darkened every morn they met together. Gods what if their matrimonial vow bound them as one for many summers to come? The offensive thought forced him to guzzle down more of his ale. Plots of bloody murder gouged a trail across his ever contriving mind. For he'd plunge his dagger to the hilt in the center of her breasts before he subsisted even one more summer with the loathsome bitch.

The doors to the hall burst open. Sheila entered, dragging a bedraggled warrior at her side. They stopped a few paces short of his throne. The soldier appeared addled. Shaken even as he cast his fearful stare about the hall. Bruises and open wounds plagued his face. Blood saturated the front of his torn tunic. Without Sheila's assistance Ivar doubted if the man would be able to stand.

Intrigue slitted his stare as he tore his eyes from the addled warrior to regard Sheila. "Who is this man?"

"This is Vali, King Ivar," Sheila answered as the soldier slumped a bit more at her side. "He was among the spies you sent to seek out knowledge on the army who's made camp a half risings time from here."

Lastly, news! Now he'd know the enemy who stalked his gates. A battle strategy could be fashioned to fit the attack of his pursuers. "Well?" He moved to the edge of his seat as his stare darted back to the barely standing warrior.

The addled soldier looked to Sheila who in turn offered him a dip of the head. He then turned back to Ivar. "The great army who gathers north of here marches for four leaders."

A frown creased his head, while furrowing his brows. Which of his enemies held such strife for him they'd band together. His hands fisted as Freydis stirred at his side. "Who are these men?"

"K-King Harald, King Olaf, B-Bjorn Ironside, and Lord Hv-Hvitserk," the warrior uttered through clicking teeth.

The names forced his back to collide with his throne. He knew Hvitserk to be angered with him. Yet he would not have believed him traitorous in his ire. Freydis shifted once more upon her seat. Her once harried expression now rested in a state of sereness. The cankerous whore even appeared pleased. His back teeth clenched. She no doubt believed him defeated. Though the battle drums had yet to sound. Victory, however, belonged to him. For as long as the gods favored him his triumphs in battle and other endeavors would know no end.

"The All-Father also wanted you to have something," The man spoke as his tremulous hands rose to worry the material of the tunic bunched about his neck. When he had hold of a thin worn bit of hide he snatched the strip from around his gullet. The warrior then offered the neck ring to him.

"It would appear I'm still favored despite Odin's well-known yearning for our once Supreme." Ivar gestured for one of his personal warriors to retrieve the offering. Once in his possession he held the prize up to closer examine his offering from the gods. Then first meal rose to tickle the back of his gullet. Three bloody severed tongues dangled from the string. "What is this?!"

Fear struck the man's eyes so wide they appeared close to rolling from his head. His voice shook with each spoken word, "The All-Father has one last message for you."

"What?!" He demanded barreling from his throne to hobble his way down the steps.

The Warrior swallowed, and then said, "The gods are no longer with you."

Once he'd uttered the words into existence he snatched a dagger from the waistband of his tunic. Sticking the blade between his lips, he sliced the tongue from his mouth. Blood gushed from the gaping orifice as he tossed the tenuous muscle at Ivar's feet. Before they knew what the warrior was about, he raised the weapon to his neck and dragged it across his gullet. More of his life essence spurted from his open wound. As Freydis screams nigh brought down the walls of the longhouse insight bequeathed revelation to his plague of misconception. The match had evolved and the rules of engagement had changed. Perhaps, they ceased to exist. He'd thought to draw Bonnie into a mental contest of chess. Yet after a series of moves he now realized she wasn't engaged at all.

****

Bonnie had never harbored any feelings for a person more toxic than a strong dislike in her life. Though she'd had a shit ton of reasons to despise many. Yet over a thousand years into the past and one woman had drastically shifted her perspective. For she hated Freydis more than she'd ever loved her better half. The woman was a malignant cancer who infected those who had the misfortune of being near her.

Bonnie had assumed the woman's cancerous ways came from the Hollow's influence, but even after cleansing her the never was queen still donned the stench of the corrupted. A disgusting odor which also spoke undisputable truth. The rot in the bitch had always festered within her. In fact, the deterioration of her character may have been the foothold Inadu exploited to draw Freydis to her side.

Mystical energy poured from Bonnie. The avenging deviltry seeped through the cracks of reality to escape the in between. She watched her sorcery enter Freydis' head by way of the sleeping woman's ear. That eve would be another restless one for the never was queen. For her restless mind would only be met with night terrors. Night terrors so sadistic the level of depravity would have serial killers and snuff film directors forming a picket line against all the gory fuckery. Aside from debauchery paranoia also parlayed at the top of the menu. The same brand of beef she'd dished up for Ivar she now choked on. Once assured Freydis' brain marinated in all of her grimiest misdeeds Bonnie left the bitch to her sentence.

With haste she made her way through the in between. She had an important meeting. A meeting which couldn't be postponed. Soon Hel would climb from Helheim and show her ass. There'd be no time for anything after the battle drums sounded and the arrows began to fly. Besides, she wanted those convening with her gone by the time the worse thought to transpire. They'd be carrying precious cargo. So she meant for their journey home to be one of ease.

Soon Bonnie's surroundings morphed into Mikaelson House. When she stepped from the in between into the foyer Ayana waited for her. She remained silent as she strolled over to the closet. Her brain wrecked itself in attempts to discover meaning in her foremother's visit. Ayana understood the threat level of venturing from the safety of the forest. So why had she come?

"Her torment won't ease your suffering."

"Why have you come, Ayana?" She shrugged out of her cloak and hung the wrap in the closet. "I've told you before, it's not safe for you to wander through the city with Ivar's spies lurking about and counting my steps."

She walked into the sitting area to the right of the Foyer and Ayana followed. "Do you believe I fear the Boneless King. For I assure you I do not. Asides, my reasons for being here is of more import than censoring my steps to evade his sentries. I have words from the Spirits."

"Ayana, I have no time to politic over words from the dead. Not while I'm clocking street stalker miles attempting to safeguard the living," Bonnie said, making a beeline to the silver platter which awaited her on the tea table near the cream love seat. She sat and reached for the kettle. When she looked up to gesture for her foremother to do the same she witnessed shock and hurt ripple across Ayana's face. Contrition came for Bonnie like she crooked a finger at it. "I'm sorry, Ayana. I didn't mean to be dismissive, I'm just...just tired. Of course I wanna know what the Spirits had to say."

Ayana squared her frame and pulled her shoulders back. She shook her head as she sat in the armchair across from her. "No, you speak without error. The concerns of the Spirits shall hold until all of this is at the rear of us." She untied the cloak she wore and allowed the rough looking material to slip from her shoulders. "Now, I can see you're not yourself. Speak to me of what troubles you."

Bonnie poured a little tea in a cup and replaced the pitcher on the tray. "I need to get a message to Bjorn." She perched on the edge of the love seat as she lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. After swallowing the warm liquid she continued. "To warn him not to implement attacking Kattegat's defenses as his sole battle strategy. He will suffer a great loss in doing so."

Ayana tsked, while leaning forward to pour herself a cup of tea. "Only a fool would think to engage in battle with a master tactician with nary a tactic of his own." Her foremother chortled a bit, but when she saw Bonnie only stared her eyes rolled. "I'm beginning to believe fools are the only babes Ragnar Lothbrok ever begat."

Was such a belief even debatable? Bonnie shook her heard forcing herself to remain focused and on topic. "I need you to go to Bjorn and give him this." She reached inside the sleeve of her boot and removed two sheets of stationary. "It's an approach which will offer him victory and save many lives in his pursuit of reclaiming the city. I'd go myself, but there's something I must do tonight which takes priority. And this message is too vital to entrust to a bird or a spell-,"

Ayana held up a hand and took the papers from her. "Gather your fears, Bonnie. This parchment will indeed find its way into Ironside's care."

Ingrid entered the room with a bundle cradled in her arms. "It's time, Supreme."

Bonnie exhaled. For she wasn't pleased about what came next, but her happiness meant nothing in the presence of the children under her dominion. Especially this child. She placed the teacup back on the platter and rose.

Ayana gazed up at her. Her eyes brimmed with sympathy. "Moments such as these are fleeting when interwoven with the whole of your eternity. The pain shall past, but strength remains...always. This is something you must never misremember during your journey."

Bonnie inclined her head, and then walked over to where Ingrid waited in the entryway. Tears pooled in the girls eyes, mirroring the flood which now drowned the inner reaches of her. She palmed the girl's cheek to offer her a bit of comfort. On a vaster scale she understood the sense of loss her trusted attempted to shoulder. After a few minutes of soothing her, she took the bundle from Ingrid's reluctant hold and the bag from her arm.

Without another spoken word she stepped into the in between. There Silas waited for her. Her gaze flared. She hadn't expected him to be here for this. For she knew the task she undertook gutted him just as much as it slayed her. Yet whatever anguish he faced in order to bear the burden of such and endeavor, his being at her side relieved her.

Silas approached her and cradled her face in his palms. He rested his forehead on hers. "Did you really believe I'd let you do this alone, Bennett?"

Her eyes closed to block the tears on deck waiting to breach the barriers of her lower lids. An exhale broken by a sob burst from her mouth. "Thank you," she managed to say.

"Come on, let's get this done. Tomorrow our sons and daughters go to war." He removed the bag from her shoulder, and then slipped an arm around her waist.

Together in silence they made their way to the harbor where a ship waited. Two figures stood upon the dock. Several warriors flanked them, while others waited in the longboat. When Bonnie and Silas stepped from the nothing, the warriors and their charges fell to their knees. They closed the distance between them and the kneeling charges.

"King Sigurd, Queen Asta rise and meet your son," Bonnie forced from the base of her throat.

The Queen released a shrieking gasp as her hands moved to cup her mouth. King Sigurd stood and assisted his wife to her feet. "Many apologies, Most High," the king uttered, before his disbelieving stare strayed to Silas, "All-Father...my wife's womb is damaged. She's unable to carry a babe, so we don't have a son."

"I'm aware of your wife's condition, King Sigurd," she said, removing the covering from Wilbur's face. The Queen wept. "And yet I have not misspoken. If you're willing to love him..." her voice caught as she attempted to swallow a sob, "and raise him as your own, then he will indeed be...your son."

"M-My son?" A suspicious gleam shone in the Ringerike King's eyes as his stare swept from her to Silas and back. He gasped. "Such favor...I-I do not understand."

"Do you accept our favor?" Bonnie questioned, while allowing a squirming Wilbur to take her finger. "Do you accept him?"

"Of course I...," he turned to look at his wife who too bobbed her head in agreement. "Of course we accept him."

She nodded, and then dipped her head down to whisper to Wilbur. "Time has come for you and I to say goodbye, Honey Bandit, but this will not be the last time we meet. On this my vow is yours." Her sorcery sliced open her thumb. She swiped the bleeding digit over his right brow. She then walked over to the king and queen and swiped their brows as well. "These people are your parents. They will raise and care for you until you find your way back to me." She looked to Silas to see if he wanted to say his goodbyes, but he only shook his head as he handed the bag he carried to the Ringerike King.

Bonnie placed Wilbur in the Queen's arms, and then placed her palm on the woman's abdomen. "He is favored by Odin and ordained by your Most High. Please cherish him as such, for he deserves no less." They readily gave their vow. She removed her hand from the woman's stomach. "Your womb is healed, now go. War shall soon greet these shores in only a few turns of the hourglass."

"Thank you, Supreme," The woman whimpered and the king uttered as he led his wife back to the ship. After his warriors moved to help her into the boat, he turned to her. "When you sent word for me to come here," he shook his head. "I did not expect this. Yet my wife and I are obliged for such favor." Bonnie nodded as Silas slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her deep into his side. Together they turned to enter the in between, and the king called out to her. "What shall we name him?"

An arrogant face filled her mind. One who's countenance always reminded her of Wilbur. A smile disturbed her lips despite the tears which flooded her eyes. "Name him Harald. For like his namesake he too will one rising be the King of all Norway."

****

Bjorn stood upon a cliff which afforded him a view of Kattegat. Everything about his home remained more than not the same. Perhaps, except for one. The massive keep fashioned from stone and gleamed of the same slick hardness which covered the castle in York. Had Ivar commissioned to have such a monstrosity built to further pander to his pride? Nothing so deific belonged in Midgard. The likes of such a house should reside in Asgard among their gods.

"The keep is Bonnie's," Hvitserk said as he joined him on the cliff. "She placed it there before I took my leave of Kattegat."

He shook his head undone by the wonder of his Mystical One. "Throughout all my travels I've never seen anything likened to it."

"Throughout all my travels I've never seen anything or anyone likened to her," his brother refuted, while gazing in the direction of Bonnie's great house. Hvitserk had the look of a warrior who'd fought long and hard, died on his feet with his weapon in hand only to be denied entrance into Valhalla.

A sense of buoyancy escaped him in the presence of his younger brother's somberness. Since he'd learned of the fate of Bonnie's babe he'd carried guilt. "Hvitserk you should know Bonnie's marriage to Halfdan didn't begin as the love match I'd led you all to believe when I visited Vestfold. Ivar had the right of it, she only entered into matrimony with him in an attempts to escape her vow to me." Hvitserk's stare left Kattegat and swept to regard him. "I don't believe they even consummated the marriage ritual until the night before the second battle. She refused to even share a tent with him."

"So you knew the babe to be mine and Ivar's?" His brother questioned, before snatching his gaze away to cast it back over Kattegat.

Bjorn's brows sought to congregate with the other in the middle of his head. His mouth flopped open and closed without the benefit of sound before he decided upon the correct dispute swirling about in his mind. "What you meant to say is the babe was yours. For you were the only one to lay with her and there is no doubt in my mind for whom she carried."

"My words met your ears without error, Bjorn. Supernatural means ordained the existence of our babe. So my daughter had the makings of us all...Ivar, Bonnie, and me," he said as his babe's face filled his mind. "You shouldn't burden yourself with the guilt, though. Our babe's stillness is a lofty girth which belongs upon my shoulders and those who shall soon suffer much for her loss."

Bjorn turned to scrutinize the whole of him. Disappointment burned a path of loathing through the center of his chest. "How could you allow such a wrong to occur?"

"I didn't realize the babe was mine until she'd already perished from Midgard." The muscles in Hvitserk's face stiffened as a glimmer glinted his eye.

His nonsensical excuse swung Bjorn's head about. "You speak of not knowing the babe to be yours. Yet you knew the babe belonged to Bonnie. I don't understand! Why was knowing this not enough to afford her your protection?"

"Because he despised her for entering into marriage with Halfdan," Harald said as he claimed the spot on the otherside of Bjorn. "He and Ivar taunted and ridiculed our Supreme at every turn." He spit upon the ground at Hvitserk's feet. "They were never worthy of one such as she!"

"These are claims with which I have no quarrel, but I also know of no other man who's deserving of one such as she." Hvitserk's narrowed glare flicked to the Vestfold King. "Yet what I do know is there's no other man less deserving than you, Harald."

King Harald placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, while offering Hvitserk a sneering smile brimming with mock. "And yet I know of two."

Hvitserk snatched his ax free of his trousers. He spun about to face Harald. Although Bjorn harbored no great affection for the Vestfold King, he had the right of it. Neither Hvitserk nor Ivar were worthy enough to scour Bonnie's chamber pot. They'd failed her and her babe. A verity from which he'd never be redeemed. It mattered not how many armies he gathered are blades he lifted. Bonnie's forgiveness would never belong to him. Were it not for Bjorn's own need of Hvitserk's blade and his army, he would've acquainted him with his end at the bottom of the crag.

Bjorn shoved Harald and Hvitserk apart. "Our fight is with Ivar and not each other. Dethroning him and liberating Bonnie should be our sole motivation!"

"And how do you suggest we go about this, Ironside?" Harald demanded, sheathing his sword. "If what the spies revealed holds true, the city is nigh impenetrable."