"See it is just as I said," King Olaf declared, extending a hand towards Harald who perched upon his throne with chalice in hand. "Harald has been an affable host."

Harald glowered down at Olaf. "Perhaps more reluctant than affable," he rasped, before his slitted stare moved to Bonnie and Bjorn. Pleasure ignited his face as he lifted his arms to her. "Come!"

Bonnie gave up on trying to suppress the grin nipping at the corners of her mouth. Without shame she crossed the hall in a sprint and damn near floated up the steps leading to his throne. When she reached him, he pulled her onto his lap. Slipping her arms around his neck she burrowed in his chest. She reveled in having him close after so much time had placed itself between them. He tugged her face upward by the chin, and then kissed her hard on the lips.

When he pulled away a light scold scrunched the skin between his brows. "What delayed you? Did you have a mind to swim here?" He demanded in his two hundred pack a day smokers voice. "Olaf nigh ate his weight through my kingdom."

"Now you see, it's the drama for me, Beowulf!" She tugged his beard, before hugging him once more. As he held her close, her lips grazed his ear. "Your fate is upon you."

He pulled away to stare into her eyes. "This I know."

A throat cleared. Their gazes collided with Bjorn's who stood glaring at them both as if they'd both hurtled several miles pass the foul zone. His narrowed stare then moved to King Olaf who watched them all like they were trash TV.

"So it's true, you've summoned us here to name a king to rule all Norway?" Bjorn asked, before his gaze drifted back to she and Harald.

Olaf ambled further into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Harald's hold around her tightened, while Bjorn appeared two seconds from shaking the stout round man for every answer to which he thought to cling.

Finally when satisfied all eyes lit upon him, Olaf spoke, "This is the only way we'll survive what's to come."

"What is to come?" Harald demanded more of her than Olaf. His blue stare bore into hers.

Her gaze held his for a moment, and then drifted to Bjorn. "Change."

"Will you agree to this, Ironside?" Olaf asked, while shuffling even closer. "Agree to surrendering your crown to whomever his chosen for the survival of Norway as we know it to be?"

For a several long seconds, Bjorn said nothing as his stare searched hers. She knew second thoughts plagued the decisions to which he'd already committed himself. He wanted her to reassure away his doubts, but she couldn't. She knew he still harbored hopes that in the end he'd be chosen over Harald. Yet he wouldn't. Ruling all of Norway wasn't his path, and for him to continue to aspire for something not meant would only add gravity to the loss waiting to be hoisted upon him.

When he found no surety in her eyes his shoulders sagged under the burden of his disappointment. "Yes, I agree."

"Very well," Olaf inclined his head as his stare strayed to assess the unseen. "Now our next task shall be convincing the others when they arrive to do the same."

****

Ubbe followed the homely shieldmaiden down the pathway which led to the harbor. Confusion befuddled his common senses. For he'd requested to be taken to Hvitserk, but the girl had guided him in the opposite direction of his brother's keep. News had arrived of the progression of the silk road. From far east to west, trading posts had sprouted forth all along the routes. The news was worthy of exploration. Were he not shackled to the throne of Kattegat, he'd been the first to pull anchor. Alas his responsibility to the city couldn't be abandoned. Yet such claims had to be personally considered. So he'd reconciled himself to sending Hvitserk in his place. Which came together well, since he'd vowed to Bonnie before she'd set sail he'd assist his younger brother back to robustness in her leave.

Several grains of sand through the hour glass later they stood before a hovel infested with degenerates and drunkards. Ubbe tore his regard from the barely standing keep to glare at Amma. Distress harried the girls common features until she appeared less pleasing to the eye than her pinched expressions already claimed her to be.

"Why would you bring me here?" He demanded, spinning about to face the hollow headed girl full on. "Were you unhearing or were I not plain in my speech when I spoke of needing to attend Hvitserk?"

Amma shook her head to the detriment of what resided inside. "Hvitserk didn't return to his keep the eve before." Her shoulders rose and fell. "The only place I know him to be, other than the great hall, is here."

"Here?!" His head whipped back to the hovel just as a staggering man pushed pass him to enter the gods forsaken place. "You favor yourself in love with my brother do you not? What the Hel have you been doing to assist him along?"

Her stare stretched, and then bulged. "I'm not in love with Hvitserk!" She spat as flames nigh leapt from her sockets. "I only assist him because the king requested it of me."

"It matters not the reason!" He growled back at her. "For you have failed at the task despite the cause."

With that said, he stomped inside the keep, tearing away the covering hanging over the entrance in the process. The inside upheld what the outside so boldly claimed. From corner to corner unwashed bodies laid strewn across the small space. Dung, piss, and rotted fish clung to the air. As his glare moved over the legion of the unkempt, Amma hurried ahead of him to an elderly addled warrior huddled in a corner in the back. He moved to follow her, and his brother's sacred arm ring pilfered his notice. The arm, however, which donned the gilded ring didn't belong to Hvitserk. No, a bandit bore the symbol of his family. The vagrant's eyes appeared keener than the others as he tallied the array of baubles before him. Outraged by what such a verity could mean, he snatched the degenerate to him by the back of his tunic.

"You are no longer welcomed within the walls of this city," he snatched Hvitserk's arm ring from the man's wrist, and then hurled him to the ground. "Now make haste and take your army of reprobates with you or I will have you all tossed into the sea." The man scrambled about before discovering his footing. When the other bodies appeared not to take heed of his threat he snatched a lit torch from the wall. "Or do you prefer being burned?!" He roared.

A storm of filth rose. Several bodies staggered, crawled, and, slithered from the keep. When no one remained Ubbe turned to Amma who kneeled before the body, attempting to rouse it with gentle hand pats. Snatching a full pail from the barrel which sat near the entrance, he closed the distance between them. Without warning Amma he tossed the contents on the elder warrior, soaking half of the girl in the process. The drunken man sprung from his slump. Hvitserk stood before him ax in hand. A strange pigment glowed bright within his glare, and then faded.

"U-Ubbe?" Hvitserk questioned, blinking as if his eyes meant to deceive him. He lowered the ax back to his side.

"Come, Hvitserk." He slid an arm around his brother's shoulders to guide him towards the entrance of the keep. "I have an important task, and you, brother, are the only one I trust to carry it out."

****

"I dwelled for some time in the lands Halfdan loved so," Bonnie uttered, filing the last of Harald's nails. She then displaced a conditioning oil coat through time, unscrewed the tiny bottle and then started to brush the vitamin over each of his fingers. "Saw the sands which inspired so many of his sagas. I felt close to him there, like I do whenever you and I are together." She lowered her head to kiss the back of her brother in law's hand. "Sometimes his presence is so strong I expect to find him standing beside me. It's a comfort, Harald."

Harald pulled her from the perch on the side of his bed unto the mattress to lie next to him. "It is so very odd to linger in a Midgard which no longer boasts of his existence." He cast his distressed blues down to study her face. "Yet being with you affords me a certain bit of comfort as well." He admitted. "That's why you should remain with me after the vote is cast and I'm named King."

She shifted in his embrace to hoist herself up so she could converse with him face to face. Loneliness shimmered in his stare. Along with an emotion she'd not the heart to define. "I'm sorry, Harald, but I can't stay. Bjorn's made me keeper of Kattegat and head of his army. There's no way I can risk remaining here any longer than Fate will allow." Not while war stalked the perimeters of their peace.

"He only did so to hold you near," Harald rasped as indignation locked the muscles in his face.

"Perhaps," She lifted a shoulder and allowed it to drop. "Yet I shall return in the summer to spend the raiding season with you if Fate continues to extend her favor."

The Tension faded from his features as he settled back with her on the silk covered mattress. "This somewhat pleases me."

"I thought it might." She murmured as exhaustion weighed on her lids. Despite the urge to close her eyes she studied her brother in law's face. Circles ringed his eyes. Gauntness hollowed his cheeks. Her Vestfold king was not doing well at all. Concern burrowed into her chest and feasted on her heart. "How have you been, Harald?"

He reached up to cradle her face in his palms. "Lonesome in my ponderings."

"Well, I'm here now so ponder no further, Mr. Lonely," she settled deeper into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "For soon you shall be king of a nation."

Soon after Bonnie answered the Sand Man's call. She allowed the keeper of dreams to guide her to slumber without a fight to the first. Hell, he could've asked for her hand in marriage and she would've happily ran him her vow. The last several risings of sailing weighed on every piece and part of her. From her mental capabilities to her mystical means nothing tangible swirled about in her tank. Yet, instead of exhaustion claiming her, something supernatural drew her away from the blissful point of unawareness.

Bonnie found herself hurtling back towards a place which heralded all the feels of home. Flashing sparks whipped pass her in an unbroken stream, lighting the darkened tunnel in which she drifted. Fifty-eleven moments after careening toward the unknown the light bled dry. Her surroundings twisted itself into the candlelit enclave of the waterfall in her cove. A bare cut to perfection Ubbe paced the expanse of the area. Once again, he'd called her to him with nothing more than his will alone. She walked further in to the enclave while noting she too subscribed to the bare ass agenda of the cove's undress code.

"Ubbe, what's wrong?" She rushed forward to subtract the distance between them. "Are the children well?"

"Valkyrie!" He stopped mid-pace upon hearing her approach, and then spun in her direction. Anger shredded his face, while pain dimmed the brilliance of his sky blue glare. He pulled her to him and wrapped himself around her. "No, the children are both well, so is the babe Torvi carries for me."

"Then what's wrong?" She asked, pulling back to take his face in her hands.

The muscle in his jaw twitched. "It's Hvitserk! He's beyond any assistance I can lend him."

"Don't-," She began.

"It's true, Valkyrie!" Ubbe tore himself from her hold to restart his pace. "For when I offered him the means to reclaim his worthiness as a man...as a son of Ragnar, he spurned me by choosing debauchery. He wanted no parts of an expedition I prepared just for him!"

Hvitserk's actions didn't surprise her. She'd long since suspected him to be so lost in his regrets he'd cast himself adrift in his addictions.

"Hvitserk's a full blown addict, Ubbe," she said, watching him wear out the smooth rock surface of the enclave. "In his mind nothing is more of an assistance to him than the things which help him take away the pain. He's sick," She uttered with a shake of her head as her shoulders rose and fell. "You have to keep trying, you have to get through to him."

He stopped his pacing to close the distance between them. "Valkyrie, I don't want to fail you in this but he needs something more than I or even his ale and mushrooms can offer him."

Bonnie knew exactly what Hvitserk craved. She knew because its what she longed for ever since that eve she failed to protect her baby girl. Absolution. He needed her forgiveness. Yet how could she forgive him when she couldn't even forgive herself?

****

Guthrum held his position on the higher hills which looked down into Lagertha's homestead. From their he watched several skogarmaors pound their weapons against the doors of the storehouse to gain entrance. Whitehair sat astride a horse observing from paces away. When the men appeared consumed with their tasks, he lifted his hand and allowed the appendage to fall. A line of young archers barreled to their feet, loosing arrows into several of the men who attempted to breach the doors.

Lagertha, the homestead's shieldmaidens and aged warriors, burst from their hiding place from behind the storehouse. They engaged the remaining skogarmaors his archers missed. Whitehair's head whipped around as perplexity had its way with his face. His horse danced about as his mouth flapped open and close as he observed each of his men being cut down by unskilled blades.

After witnessing several bloody ends of his disgraced warriors the words he'd struggled with afore tumbled forth, "Retreat!"

From the cut of his eye, Guthrum caught sight of Hali crossing blades with a warrior who looked to be more seasoned than he. Fear fisted his heart. Did his sight deceive him? Goddess please let his sight have deceived him! Why had he abandoned his hiding place with Asa, and the other children? Guthrum whipped around to regard the fight between Hali and the skogarmaor. Lifting his bow, he aimed at the slight build of the forest dweller who's superior sword practice had Hali on the defense. With great patience, he waited for his target to become unobstructed.

Whitehair who angled his horse back towards the woods, stalled in his retreat. His glare fixed upon Hali and his opposition. Just when he believed the skogarmaor would prove triumphant. Hali managed to relieve him of his weapon, before slamming the handle of his sword into the exiled warrior's face. He then followed the blow with a kick to the chest. His adversary soared backwards several paces before his back smacked the ground. The young archers about him shouted down their cheer to Hali.

Pride and relief swelled within Guthrum until the distress upon Lagertha's face pilfered his moment of respite. He followed her gaze to Whitehair, who'd turned his horse all the way about and now bore down on Hali. Lagertha hurled her sword at him. The steel sheered part of his beard as it surged pass him. He loosed an arrow. The barbed tip shot forth and buried itself in Whitehair's gut. Yet the blow didn't even slow him.

"Hali!" Lagertha screamed.

Within mere paces of Hali, Whitehair raised his sword. Guthrum snatched his ax from his trousers and hurled the weapon. The blade hurtled across the expanse and sliced off Whitehair's fighting hand. The appendage fell to the ground still clutching the sword. The leader of the forest dwellers stared down at his now detached hand. His wide bulging glare then rose to regard him for several lingering moments, before he turned his horse about to retreat to the forest. As he went triumphant cheers thundered through the homestead. His archers left their positions to hurry down to their families. Guthrum, however, dropped to his knees and gave first meal back to the earth.

****

Gunnhild stood upon the shores of Kattegat. Winds whipped around her. The once great city of Norway now rotated about her in fractured ruins of its former glory. Fire poured from the heavens. The sea bled red. Warriors and shieldmaidens alike fought with the savagery of berserkers against foreign invaders. Clashing steel and battle cries rivaled Thor's thunder. Madness had come calling with the sole intent of settling upon them all a chaotic end. When she believed the city had all the troubles one land could bear, Valkyries on the back of winged stead tore the fiery heavens asunder.

"A son of Ragnar shall fall!" A voice blared over the blaring chords of war.

Gunnhild turned to discover a figure cloaked in tattered dark robes standing upon a cliff pointing towards the shore. Her stare darted to track where the gnarled finger pointed. A kindling band of light set her entire sightline to a brilliant blaze.

"I don't understand!" She screamed back, only to have her voice taken by the wind.

The figure on the cliff blinked out of existence, and then rematerialized several paces from her. "The age of the Vikings shall be no more...then the prophecy shall be fulfilled." Once again the figure disappeared only to reappear a breath away. So close this time she could see the man's face, and he indeed was a striking sight to behold. "Now do you understand?"

Gunnhild's eyes flared open as she struggled to an upright position on the mattress. A pounding at her chest provoked her to place a palm to the center of her breasts. Slim but strong arms slipped around her. Calm seeped in to battle the panic harrying her mind.

"What has happened?" Ingrid whispered next to her ear.

Her chest rose and fell in pursuit of sips of air. So many things had occurred, but only one name mattered. "Lagertha."

"Lagertha?" Ingrid's brows moved to greet the other. "The king's mother?"

The barrier to their keep burst open. Ingrid's mother marched inside without the benefit of being welcomed. Without sparing her a glance, the elder woman's glare fell upon her daughter. "We must seek out our leave. The Spirits have spoken, Guthrum is in need of our assistance."