Bjorn stared at Bonnie as if a second head had sprouted from her neck. "So what are you implying? That the world is not flat but-,"

"Round!" Her head bobbed in a rapid series of nods. "Yes."

He watched her for a moment longer before snorting, "Impossible...ridiculous even! Surely if I were to sail too far in either direction my ship would eventually fall into oblivion."

"No, you'd just end back up in the same place you-,"

"Land!" A gruff voice growled from the head the ship.

Torn from their back and forth, she looked up and her chin almost smacked the floor of the ship. The sight of Kattegat snatched her breath and knotted her tongue. Television didn't do Ragnar's kingdom any favors compared to what the naked eye perceived in person.

"What you're feeling now is the same feelings I have each time I return. Bonnie," Bjorn whispered next to her ear, before his rough palms closed around her hands. "Swear your allegiance to me. Remain always at my side and I vow to protect you for as long as we both remain on Midgard."

Confusion wrinkled her brows. What the hell had she done to provoke such and oath from one of history's greatest names? "Why offer me this? You hardly know me."

"Because the same emotions I feel when I return to Kattegat is the same sentiment I felt when I looked upon you for the first time," he gave her hands a squeeze, "Something within speaks to me."

"Wha-," her voice went hoarse in the presence of a throat so dry she doubted even high quality h2o could quench her thirst. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed and tried again. "What does it say?"

A smile caressed his mouth as he lifted her hands to press a kiss to the back of them, "To hold you dear. For you're to be treasured."

"Bjorn-,"

"Will you bequeath me your vow, Mystical One?" He demanded as he imprisoned her in his electric stare.

Unable to do anything but give into the iconic Viking who was destined to carve his name across time, she nodded once. "Yes, Bjorn Ironside. You have my allegiance. My sworn word that I will never stand across from you on a battlefield and if left up to me, I vow to remain by your side for as long as we both shall live."

The words were out her mouth before they had a chance to tap dance across her mind. What the hell? Why the hell would she promise such a thing? She had to find Klaus! There was no time for her to become just another name on Bjorn Ironside's hitlist.

"Good, this pleases me," He laughed and released her hands to clap his. "Now we must seal our sacred vow." The laughter faded from his features as his facial muscles stiffened into a mask of sincerity.

Her breathing slowed while she prepared for the fuckery sure to follow. "How? Please don't say by blood."

"No, this way is the right of it," he whispered as he placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. Slowly, he leaned down to allow his lips to graze hers.

Before it fully registered what jumped off he pulled away. "Now it is done."

"Okay, so now that's out of the way," she cut her gaze to the shore as she attempted to even her breathing and calm the flipping in her stomach. "How do you plan to explain me to your wife and the rest of your family?"

Bjorn's face scrunched. "How-," she halted his question with an unflinching gaze. The smirk on her lips hinted at all-knowing. He inclined his head as a concession of sorts, "Allow me to worry over my family. I have given you my sworn oath. There is no other in Midgard who can compel me to break my vow to you."

"Alright, my protector," she glanced over the multitude of people who at present packed the harbor, "I believe you."

Bjorn helped her off the ship onto the dock. When he turned two children raced into his arms followed by a petite woman with crinkled flaxen hair. Torvi. After the kids had released him, she threw herself in his arms and kissed him so hard she damn near sucked his whole head in her mouth. Moments later he untangled himself from her hold.

"How fare your travels, husband? Did the gods smile favorably upon you, was greatness achieved?" Torvi questioned as her gaze drifted to Bonnie and lingered.

"My travels have fared better than even I anticipated. For the gods have bestowed upon me the most wondrous of gifts," Bjorn turned to cast a wide smile at her and an extended hand. Accepting the outstretched palm, she allowed him to pull her to his side, "This is Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls and she is under my protection."

"Is she a slave then, Bjorn?" The oldest of the two boys questioned.

"No, Guthrum," Bjorn kneeled before the child to stare him in the eyes, "She is to be a most sacred friend to our family and that is how we shall all regard her."

"But she is dressed as a slave," Guthrum insisted, waving a hand at the burlap sack dress she wore.

Bjorn tsked. "Guthrum, it is not the garments that are donned which confirms the value of one's worthiness. However, worry not. For she shall be cloaked in the finest hides, silks, and furs befitting her station soon enough."

Raw pain etched its way across Torvi's face. "So you have taken a mistress?"

"I'm not his mistress, nor will I ever be," Bjorn head snapped around to peer up at Bonnie and she gave him a look that carried the weight of her words, before her gaze swung back to meet Torvi's flared stare, "on that you have my word."

"She speaks our language," She said, her words ringing more as a statement than a question, "Fluently, it would seem. Did you teach her?"

This gave Bonnie pause. Weren't they all speaking English? There wasn't an ice-water day in hell she spoke old Norse fluently. Not even with Super Head's tongue.

"Bjorn!"

Two tall lean muscled boys just beyond the dawn of manhood with eyes as transfixing as Bjorn's, cut through the crowded dock. Without any need for introductions, she knew who they were before hello crossed either one of their lips, Ubbe and Hvitserk. One after the other, they gathered Bjorn in a spine crushing hug. Each brother concluded their embrace with a pound to the back.

"How went your raid, brother?" Ubbe asked. A longing flicker which couldn't be mistaken for anything other than wanderlust sparked his unblinking azure stare, "Was the plunder worthy of the voyage?"

Hvitserk laughed and his consideration wandered from them to her. His iridescent sapphire blue irises almost leapt from their sockets. "How far south did you raid, brother?" He questioned, while running his gaze up then down her and back again.

Curious, Ubbe tracked his brother's stupefied stare back to her. When his gaze crashed landed on her, he stepped around Bjorn to invade her personal space. Once he towered over her, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. He then lifted the digit to his face for inspection.

"I assure you, it doesn't rub off," Bonnie said, before reaching up to do the same to him. When she inspected her thumb, she frowned down at the dirt on the pad of her finger. "But I see that yours does." She lifted her finger for him to see.

Ubbe's scrutiny snapped back to her face and doubled in its intensity.

"Where will you be placing her to serve, Bjorn?" He demanded

"She's not a thrall," Guthrum corrected, "she's a sacred friend to the family."

"What?!" Ubbe and Hvitserk questioned in unison.

"Guthrum speaks the truth," Bjorn cosigned, while inserting himself between them in order to address Ubbe and Hvitserk face to face, "Bonnie is a free woman and has my sworn vow of protection. Fear not, however," He pointedly glanced back at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed slave girl who pleaded to have her thrown in the sea to please the gods. She in turn cast her gaze downward and feigned modesty. "I have secured a wealth of suitable thralls to add to the great hall, stables, and trading block." Ubbe and Hvitserk exchanged smirks. "Now come, let us make our way back to the keep. I'm in need of a meal and rest."

****

Bonnie glanced the one room shack. Like on television there wasn't much to the small space. There was hardly any room for Bjorn and his family. Where in the hell did he expect her to sleep? Her gaze moved to the only bed in the home. A pair of hands grasped her shoulders.

"My uncle Rollo has a keep only a few paces from here. My plans are to restore it so you may reside there," Bjorn whispered next to her ear, answering her unasked question as if he had real time Shade Room updates to her thoughts. "It should be complete before we sail for the Mediterranean."

A smile trembled across her lips. "You want me at your side when you sail for the Mediterranean?"

"Of course," Bjorn crowded her into a corner and lowered his voice, "There is a great truth I am with haste coming to realize."

"And that is?" She questioned, while noticing Torvi side-eying the hell out of them.

"There is not a moment when I do not long to have you at my side," he answered.

"And when did you have time to come to this conclusion in the three days of knowing me?" Bonnie scoffed. "Bjorn, I have yet to leave your side so how can you long for something you never had to miss." She inhaled and dropped her head to exhale. She needed a moment to mentally check herself. The angst gnawing at her chest had nothing to do with Bjorn and everything to do with the 21st century Viking she may or may not have left behind. "Look, this isn't what you think it is, trust me." She placed a hand on his chest. "You're just in the throes of a fleeting infatuation."

"You doubt my words?" He demanded stepping impossibly closer. The press of his hard body, pounding of his heart, and the unyielding steel hanging midway down his thigh spoke major fuckery about his earnestness.

"Never, I'm just skeptical about the longevity of their sincerity," she admitted, "Especially, when physical consummation isn't forthcoming. I meant what I said, Bjorn Lothbrok! I refuse to be your mistress. I won't do that to Torvi."

A knock sounded on the door, cutting off anything further he had to say. Torvi rushed over to answer it. Soon after in walked Sigurd.

Aggravation provoked the muscle in Bjorn's jaw to twitch but despite his irritation he turned to greet his brother.

In three strides he crossed the room and embraced Bjorn. Sigurd eyed her over Bjorn's shoulder. "By the gods Hvitserk did speak the truth. You are in possession of a maiden who is cloaked in twilight even in the sunlight. Is she that pigmentation all over, brother?"

"I can assure you, young Sigurd, Ironside wouldn't be able to tell you one way or the other," Bonnie snapped.

Sigurd scoffed. "Young Sigurd? The brazenness of you! I'll wager you've yet to greet your sixteenth summer! You barely have the look of a girl who's one and five."

She tossed her head back and laughed at his flattery which bordered on absurdity. "You're sweet, but I haven't seen sixteen in eleven summers."

"Impossible," Sigurd spat as if he were on the verge of calling her a damn lie.

"Well you know what they say about black," She shrugged as she glanced down. Guthrum and Hali appeared to be hanging onto every syllable of her words. Introducing a set of stereotypes to a race of people who'd yet to form an opinion about her race of people wouldn't be a good look.

"No, what do they say," Sigurd demanded.

Her gaze rose to meet his. "They say nothing, and why're you so pressed to know my age anyway, Viking? Don't you know it's bad form to question a woman about the amount of summers she's seen?"

Torvi released a cough that sounded suspiciously like a chortle.

Bjorn leveled them with a not here for it expression before returning his attention back to Sigurd. "Why are you here, Sigurd?"

"My mother has prepared a great feast in your honor. She requests you bring your family and your..." his gaze moved over Bonnie as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, "charge for an eve of merriment." He stepped around Bjorn to loom over her, "Name yourself."

"She is Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls," Guthrum answered.

Bjorn turned Sigurd towards the door. "Inform your mother that my family, charge, and I shall attend. Now seek out your leave so we may be rested for whatever Aslaug has planned."