《Lessons in Devotion》Chapter 83
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From Morgana's place in the heavens, Guthrum witnessed the approach of the skogarmaors. They'd somehow managed to avoid their alarms and now loomed mere paces from the break in the tree line. Without delay he snatched the horn from his side and blew. The call of arms snatched everyone from laxed states to battle ready in single grains through the hour glass. Bodies moved about the homestead with swift precision. All intent upon gaining access to their places. He even caught sight of Hali, hurrying the prisoner to the covering which housed the larger animals. Many would sight his purpose as, to keep the boy from escaping. Yet Guthrum believed him minded to keep their captive from harm.
Soon the skogarmaors emerged into the clearing. Their numbers doubled since the last attack which took him unawares. For he'd believed they'd decimated their forces in the last battle. Had Ayanna not arrived with reinforcements then the fight would've been loss to them. Once in the clearing their enemies broke off in three parties. One group headed for the cliffs where they believed the archers lay in wait, the others skirted the perimeters and thought to breech their defenses by way of the shores, while the remaining party approached the homestead head on. Whitehair led the group who bore down on them straight away. When the first warriors attempted to cross the boundaries of the homestead they all dropped to their knees, ripping open their tunics to claw at their chests.
"Halt!" Whitehair bellowed.
The stampeding skogarmaors stumbled to a stop. Fear tore gouges into each of their faces as they watched their brother's in exile twitch and squirm about in the dirt. Guthrum dropped his arm. His archers loosed a barge of arrows into the opposing warriors who thought to linger at a standstill below. Skogarmaors who'd entered the homestead from the shores tore into the town weapons raised. Ingrid stepped into their path. She lifted her hand palm up, and then blew. A blood hued mist swirled about the air, moving over each of the exiled fighters who'd stalled their approach.
"My sight!" One skogarmaor screeched as he scratched at his eyes.
Other claims followed suit. Wasting no time, Gunnhild, and the other shieldmaidens descended upon the men making quick work of them. The party who'd broken away crept his archers from behind with swords. As they moved to cut the boys down, seasoned warriors of the homestead waylaid them, slicing open their throats before they could defend themselves from an attack. All but one fell. With a lift of the hand Guthrum ripped the spine from the fleeing fighter's back before a barbed head of an arrow impaled in his side. Searing pain lit a firestorm of agony from flank to sternum until obsidian nothingness blessedly blotted out his Midgard.
****
Bonnie walked the gang plank of the dock between Bjorn and Harald. Citizens of Vestfold and foreigners lined the way. They all showed to see who'd be chosen. Which king would walk away from the Conclave bearing the burden of a nation. Bonnie's stare darted to where the other aspirants waited in the center of the inlet on a large circular wooden barge. As they passed many bowed, while others appeared close to misplacing their eyes from their sockets. Bjorn huddled closer to her, while Harald placed a hand to the small of her back. As they drew closer to the end of the dock where the high priests stood a sharp pain pierced her side. Her knees buckled. For a single moment her heart froze between beats...
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"Bonnie!" Bjorn snatched her from Harald's hold ready to lift her in his arms.
She shook her head, bucking out of his hold to remain on her feet. "I-It's fine...I'm fine."
"Are you certain!" Harald demanded in his sand paper victimized tone.
"Yes!" She forced through the clenched teeth of a frozen smile. "Let's finish this."
They both stared at her neither moving. Having no time to spare on their qualms and nonsensical sensibilities she broke free, and then marched the rest of the way to the high priests. The two men stared at her with bulging eyes, before dipping in formal bows. Their scarlet painted bald heads damn near scraped the wooden planked floors. Harald and Bjorn came to stand on either side of her.
"Most High, will you place your blessing upon the sacred blood?" One of the high priests asked.
Bonnie lifted her hand. Golden mystical energy seeped from her fingertips to infuse itself with the blood in the ceremonial bowl. Murmurs and gasps sounded from the crowd. Even one of the priests sucked in a shit ton of air and fumbled the basin almost dropping the sacred object. The other priest managed to take hold of the bowl. He sprinkled both Bjorn, Harald, and the other contenders faces, before leading them to the boat that would take them to the barge. Harald squeezed her hand, and then climbed unto the small dinghy. Bjorn moved to board the vessel, stopped, and spun on her. So many unspoken verities flickered in his electric blues. Verities after all this time she'd never stopped wrestling with when it came to him. Yet now was not the time and their setting dwelled leagues from ideal as well.
She closed the distance between them to place her palm to the center of his chest. "I know," she whispered. The tension faded from his face as an exhale crept from his lips. "Me too, Bjorn...me too...I've never stopped." The problematic truth leapt from her tongue before she could swallow the undeniable revelation back down.
His eyes shut, before he tore his head from hers. "It matters not what fate has plotted for me this day. For I know my path shall end with us."
With that said he spun on his heel, and then climbed onto the boat. As she watched them sail to the waiting conclave, her conscience side-eyed the hell out of her heart. Yet the damn thing knew know shame. For the organ had geared up to beat out of her chest for a man to which it would never belong. Even while Guthrum skirted the line which separated the here from the after. She'd hate to entertain what his fate would be if his lifeforce hadn't been tethered to hers. Just the thought of losing Guthrum to an end beyond the veil tied her gut in a knot. Unable to ponder over the unknown, she centered her attention on the conclave.
By the second turn of the hour glass the collective of kings, earls, and jarls, chose Harald as the first King of all Norway. While Bjorn looked on as if he hadn't seen it coming from about a week ago.
King Olaf turned in her direction with a beyond troubled expression pitching a squat on his ample face. "Send a boat so the Most High may crown our new King."
Seamen waiting with her on the docks moved to prepare the boat to take her to the conclave, but Bonnie forwent the wait. She stepped upon the water, and then strutted across the surface like a New York catwalk at the height of fashion week. Shrieks, rattling intakes of air, and disbelieving cries erupted behind and before her. A few, 'By the gods' even managed to blanket her auditory senses as well. When she arrived at the raft, Harald stood waiting to help her onto the wooden circular structure. He dropped to one knee before her as King Olaf handed her a crown. She placed the crown on his head. Then she opened her wrist and placed the gushing wound to the newly crowned king's lips. He indulged in her until his eyes glowed gold.
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When he released her wrist, she leaned down to press her lips to his. He deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue in her mouth. Instead of shutting him down, she allowed him his moment and to her bare ass shame she found herself swept away by his gentle but persistent oral play.
At the blatant clearing of throats, she pulled away. "Now rise as the first crowned king of Norway, King Harald." She murmured to him. Pleasure beamed at her from his gilded gaze. Tearing her stare from his, she turned to the lingering horde and roared. "" Her bellowed proclamation shook the raft they stood upon, vibrated the sea floors, and resonated throughout the lands.
After the impromptu coronation the tension fueled vibe took a celebratory turn. All the way from the conclave back to Vestfold's long house all except Bjorn honored Harald. None of the boisterous cheer, however, masked the sinister underlining current threading itself through the festive atmosphere. A menacing implication which converged itself upon her protector. Which shocked her, seeing none of the contention from the show stood as points between Bjorn and Harald. Yet with each passing moment the threat against Bjorn's life shot to stroke level serious.
Oblivious to all the opps moving against him, Bjorn glared at Harald who wallowed in his best life next to them with the other former rulers of Norway.
She pulled out of Harald's hold to whisper in Bjorn's ear. "It's time we make our way back to Kattegat."
"I agree," Bjorn grunted through gritted teeth, before standing and plucking her from Harald's lap.
Harald bounded to his feet, and then others in his party followed suit. Bonnie placed a palm to her brother in law's chest to diffuse the situation. "Harald, time has arrived for Bjorn and I to seek our leave."
"What? No...why...stay?" Harald rasped. "At the very least for the eve."
"No," her stare slitted as she snatched him face to face with her by the front of his tunic. "And don't think I don't know what you're up to. For this you will see me later, King Harald."
The King of Norway inclined his head, his blue stare stretched wide with feigned innocence. Satisfied he wouldn't attempt to run his games in her face, she shoved him away, and then spun on her heel to leave the hall.
****
Lagertha dropped her sword on Whitehair's dead body. As she turned to limp away from the setting of her most brutal fight, the captive they'd imprisoned risings ago darted pass her to drop at the side of Ivar's former personal guard.
Snatching her gaze from the grieving captive, Lagertha halted before Ayanna. "Will Guthrum see another rising upon Midgard?"
"Birdseye will know many more risings upon Midgard. His path and my descended daughters are one." The powerful witch barely spared her a glance. Instead she glared into the heavens. "Fate's scales, however, are still out of balance."
"Hali...," Lagertha searched the younger woman's face. "What must I do to revisit stability to Fate's plan?"
Ayanna's dark glare left the heavens to regard her, before moving to settle upon the captive, and now Hali who sat next to her. "Return to Kattegat this eve." She inclined her head towards the two kneeling not far from them. "Have Hali's young captive escort you. Then, and only then will fates scales be righted."
Gunnhild and Ingrid approached them. "I can hear Thor's hammer falling in the distance," Gunnhild uttered, with her gaze trained on the horizon.
"The Goddess of all means to wash away the taint of filth from this land." Ayanna's stare rose once more to scrutinize the heavens. "Worry not for your homestead, Shieldmaiden. For it shall stand even when Kattegat is reclaimed by the seas."
Ayanna's foretelling filled her with bitter relief. For what and whom upon Midgard could claim to be absolved of change? "I'll be returning to Kattegat to speak with Ubbe of what happened this eve."
"Lagertha, no," Gunnhild, turned from the raging sea to cast her bulging stare upon her. "You were gravely injured while fighting Whitehair-,"
She raised a hand, giving her head a quick shake. "I've known worse."
"Gunnhild has the right of it, Lagertha. Allow us to go in your place," Ingrid added.
"You both shall remain here to watch over Guthrum, and the homestead," she insisted, forcing iron in her tone.
"I'll escort Lagertha to Kattegat," Hali said, coming to stand near them.
A sad smile disturbed the corners of her mouth as she reached out to cradle the side of his neck in her palm. "No you shall remain here with your stepmother. She shall need your assistance in watching over the homestead while Guthrum is mending."
"Well you can't travel to Kattegat alone," Hali argued.
"And I won't be," her gaze moved to the still kneeling figure not far from them. "Ronin shall ride out with me."
****
Ambrose pushed through the cutting wind which sliced at his face, while holding Ubbe close to his side as they trudged across the inlet of unstable ice. Ice which creaked threats of being one step from shattering. Care for their footfalls, however, could not be offered. For Oberon stalked their heels and would be upon them before they crossed the inlet.
"Hvitserk, I'm cold," Ubbe wailed into the howling wind. "We should've spoken to mother of Sigurd's fleeing instead of attempting to discover is whereabouts ourselves."
"Your mother is under the influence of another! She would've offered us no aid," he spat back as he struggled to keep his footing from sliding upon the ice.
"Ubbe! Hvitserk, stop!" A woman's voice carried to them from the rear of them.
Ubbe cast a glance over his shoulder, and something akin to relief stretched the boy's eyes. "It's Siggy!"
"And Harbard is not far behind her," he forced through chattering teeth, while continuing to shuffle along. "We have to keep moving."
"No! I'm too cold to keep going." Ubbe stepped backwards and his foot went through the ice.
Losing his footing, Ubbe tumbled rearwards into the hole. As he flailed about in his fall, he snatched Ambrose along with him. In that instance time dawdled to a halt. Oberon appeared before him in a kindling of an eye. His younger brother took hold of the front of his tunic. The hold stalled his plunge backwards into the icy water.
"Release him, Ambrose," Oberon uttered in a tone that rang like a plea. "Release my descended son or I shall release you both."
He could no longer hear Ubbe splashing about in the water. "The boy-,"
"Will live, but you must not." Oberon's grip loosened upon his shirt. He felt the biting wetness at his back.
Ambrose allowed his divinity to unthread itself from the mystical energy of his brother's sire line, and then wane. Hvitserk's essence flared to claim dominancy over the life they'd both shared as he dwindled to nigh nothing and hid himself away in the most forgotten crevice of the boy's mind. Not to be stirred again until he sensed her...
****
By the time Lagertha arrived in her former kingdom with Ronin at her side, Freyr released his rains upon Midgard, even as Thor beat his hammer and set his heart upon battle. Through the torrents of falling water, Lagertha saw not one other person aside from them who moved about the city. She and Ronin halted their horses and dismounted. Her captive strolled forward to gawk at Kattegat. Wonder and bitterness battled for the right to lay claim to Ronin's face.
"This was your home once," Lagertha uttered, moving to close the distance between them.
Ronin's wide stricken stare remained fixed upon a keep which dwelled a bit pass the long house. "It was home to us all...my brother, mother, and father." The captive's head swung from side to side. "Never again did I believe the gods would allow me to rest my gaze upon this sight. After King Ivar fell...I thought them to have turned away from us." Lagertha continued to listen without offering anything in return. "My mother and brother met their end during the last battle, and king Bjorn cast my father and I out as skogarmaors." Ronin's shoulders rose and fell.
"Bjorn would've never cast you out, Ronin," Lagertha uttered just loud enough to be heard over the rain. "Yet I understand why you chose to join your father in exile. For I would've done the same."
Ronin chortled as the wind snatched the covering from the captive's head. Long flaming her tumbled about Ronin's waist. "I didn't follow Whitehair out of love!"
"No you did so out of loyalty," Lagertha agreed, tearing her gaze from her captive to regard the city that had cost her so much. "He was your father after all and you were all he had to leave behind upon Midgard once he passed from this life to the next." Ronin remained silent. "Only an ungrateful daughter would've done less. That's why you avenged him by striking down Guthrum."
"What else was I to do?" Ronin spun to glare at her full on. "He took my father's sword hand. The edge of his blade might as well had met his heart. Each of those paths would've met the same end."
Lagertha snatched her sword from its sheath and plunged the steel blade into the cradle of the girl's breasts. Ronin released a screeching wheeze.
"Shh...shh," Her knees crumpled, and Lagertha caught her, before helping her to the saturated soil. "You only did what any loyal daughter would've done, just as I'm only doing what any devoted bestemor would."
As the glow of life faded from the girl's accusing glare Lagertha wept.
****
Ambrose hid among the lush greenery and brilliant oversized blossoms. Not far from him Oberon huddled with Ala the keeper. Zuri had given her dominion over all things natural and habitual upon the igniting biosphere. His heart had chosen well. For the new mother thrived in her role. Nothing in error within her jurisdiction went unnoted or unaddressed by her. For this reason alone, he'd always respected her divinity. Yet seeing her conversing with his brother gave him pause. Something about the guarded severity upon Oberon's face riddled his energy with discontent and reminded him of a moment from long ago. He'd seen this before. Ambrose moved closer to listen in on the whispering twosome. Neither appeared to acknowledge his advancement. In verity, neither appeared to be aware of him being about.
"Of course there's cause to fear!" Ala screeched, before taking a deep breath. She cast her gaze around the scenery overran with verdant. Once assured of there privacy, she turned back to Oberon and continued in a lowered tone. "What we've created, that thing...it's more detrimental to the grand scheme than her unnaturals. It's even a threat to us."
"Cease with the histrionics, Ala," Oberon hissed, crowding closer to tower over the keeper. He snatched her to his chest by the arm. "If you engage in scheming, then you better be prepared to contend with all the shifting parts of the plots."
"Shifting parts!" Ala screeched once more. "Our entire design has come undone. When the Mother of All, and the other great ones learn of what we have done they'll strip us of our divinity and force us into the birthing ethers." She yanked her arm from Oberon's grip, and then backed away, swinging her head from side to side. "I'll speak with the Ancient of Days... I'll tell him everything. He'll be angered, but he'll understand my-,"
Swifter than Ala could react, Oberon reached out to place each of his palms on either side of her head. Oberon's eyes sizzled methane in its hue as he began to speak. "You and Ambrose together have created a grave wrong against the Goddess of All...and through this wrong you've both also managed to give life to the destruction of our existence."
"W-We managed to give life t-to the destruction of our existence," Ala stammered through the compulsion as a single tear rolled from the corner of her eye.
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