Bonnie stared at her distorted image in a dull piece of reflective medal. Torvi had given her a golden silk slip dress with a velvet emerald overdress. Gilded ties secured the front of the over gown in a simple lace up.

Since her hair for no other reason than to be difficult had grown at least twelve inches and thick coils sprouted every which way from her scalp, she twisted part of the front, while securing the rest at the crown of her head. To her surprise she was able to manage a halfway decent style without her products but she knew better than to rely on that always being the case.

"Are you a Queen in your land?" Guthrum questioned as he stared up at her with the entire solar system in his gaze.

Torvi laughed as she continued fussing with the train of Bonnie's overdress. "She is certainly beautiful enough to be."

"Well, I'm definitely not a queen, Guthrum. In fact, there are no kings or queens in my land," Bonnie said, reaching down to help Torvi up from the floor, "We have a democracy made up of representatives, congressman, and senators."

"You will make a fine second wife for Bjorn," Torvi said with a smile that didn't quite make it to her eyes.

"Torvi, I'm not planning on marrying Bjorn," Bonnie assured.

"Then what are your plans concerning my husband?" She demanded.

Bonnie met and held her gaze, before responding, "To only honor the oath I swore to him."

The door to the keep opened. Bjorn marched in freshly washed and shaved.

"Torvi, are you prepared to-," When his electric blues crash landed on her he staggered to a stop. "Bonnie, your beauty mystifies. That pigment which adorns you intensifies the hue of your eyes. Near to the degree of bewitching."

"Thank you, Bjorn, but I'm no match for your wife's Nordic magnificence," Bonnie said, and stepped aside so he could take in the pale loveliness of his wife. Whom stood draped shoulders to ankle in a silken sea of azure.

"You are indeed beautiful, Torvi," Bjorn concurred.

A soft smile curved her lips as she basked in his attention. "We should depart, we would not want Queen Aslaug to think us ungracious."

"Agreed," Bjorn replied, waving a hand for them to proceed him out of the door.

It took them only a few minutes to make their way to Kattegat's great hall. Soon as they entered the explosion of festivities went nuclear.

It appeared the entire cast of Vikings came scurrying out the woodwork. First being Bjorn's mother Lagertha, who pulled him into a snug embrace before pressing kisses to both his cheeks.

"How was your travels? Tell me of all the great things you've done and seen." Her inquisitive sapphire stare flicked to Bonnie. "Beginning with her."

"Mother, this is Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls. She was dropped in my ship by the gods," Bjorn said. He placed a hand at the small of her back and urged her to step forward. "And she is now under my protection."

"Dropped in your ship by the gods," Queen Aslaug sauntered over, giving Bonnie an assessing stare as she approached, "truly?"

"Truly," Bjorn said, "one moment there was nothing, and the next there was everything."

"Hmm," Queen Aslaug cut her eyes at Torvi.

Damn, who the hell knew the Vikings needed shade when it was damn near twenty below outside.

"Mystic Falls...I do not believe I have ever heard such a land spoken of before," Lagertha interjected.

"No, you wouldn't have," Bonnie shook her head, attempting to ignore the intense heat drilling holes in the side of her face, "It's far west, even further than England."

Lagertha's brows bunched a bit, "A land further west than England?"

"Bonnie is under the impression the world is round instead of flat," Bjorn explained, while looking down to regard her with sparkling eyes.

Bonnie's neck popped and her lip quirked, "Since when is the truth amusing, Bjorn?"

"When the supposed truth has the sound of a saga meant to amuse children..."

Unable to avoid the gravitational pull from the searing heat at her periphery, she slanted a gaze in the direction of the ever-intensifying powder keg and collided stares with eyes so fiery blue the irises glowed as if they were lit from within by flames.

Ivar. The spell was cast. For a full eight seconds her world refused to spin, leaving her trapped in a single moment. A true prisoner of the intensity which was him.

The cold thin hand that slipped in hers freed her from the mental chains in which she'd found herself bound. "Bonnie," Queen Aslaug now watched her with a sincerity that wasn't there before. Expertly, she entwined a slender arm with Bonnie's and guided her towards the great hall table, where Ivar sat with his brothers. "Have you met my sons?"

Ubbe ran a speculative stare over her, and then dismissed her to return his attention to Margrethe, the slave girl who wanted Bonnie thrown overboard. Hvitserk, on the other hand must've been well versed in the art of multi-tasking because he spread his visual attention between, she and Margrethe in equal measure, while Sigurd stared so hard it made Bonnie wonder if he was attempting to see through her clothes.

"I met Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd earlier when I arrived, but I haven't met Ivar," She said, sparing a quick glance to Queen Aslaug before settling her gaze back on the character she'd always loved to hate. Despite everything she knew about him and everything she knew he would become; a smile graced her face. It was a smile so genuine she would've sworn that it was conceived in her soul and birthed from her heart.

"Bjorn," He slightly tilted his head forward as he regarded her with his signature stare which made one believe he could see every thought that had the nerve to skitter across one's mind. His fierce eyes hooded and fixed, "He's spoken of his crippled brother, hmm?"

Bonnie shook her head once. "No, he didn't have to."

Puzzlement went pound for pound with his defensive posture. His ramrod frame relaxed a bit. "If not Bjorn then how? Are you a spy sent from another land to learn about Kattegat's defenses? Surely, that is how you have come to know of me and my brothers."

"Ivar, you must be kind to our honored guest," his mother tsked in an indulgent tone before moving on to greet another group of revelers.

Ignoring Aslaug's abrupt departure, Bonnie laughed and stepped closer to the table. "I am no spy, but I'm not surprised that espionage would be your first go to."

"Do not attend Ivar, he spends half of his time tugging on mother's girdles and the other crawling around with goats," Sigurd said with a cut of his eyes as a flirtatious smile played wild and reckless with his lips.

Anger popped and locked Ivar's features as he slammed his eating dagger three inches into the solid wood table. "Brother, are you speaking of the girdles you wish to be under? And what of these goats to which you refer, hmm? Are they the same goats you devote half days' time to plowing each rising?" Sigurd opened his mouth to respond, and Ivar dismissed him with a wave of the hand. He recentered his attention back on her. A hint of a grin fluttered across his lips. "So, you say you're not a spy." He stated carefully.

"I'm, one hundred percent, not a spy," she confirmed.

"Hmm," he gave his head a slight nod, "then there is only one other explanation."

With a quirked brow, she clasped her hands behind her back. "Which is?"

"Please," he gestured to a vacant chair next to him.

After she joined him at the great table, she reached over and pulled a succulent piece of meat from his tray. "Well?" She popped the meat in her mouth and slowly chewed. His eyes drifted to her lips for a fraction of a second, before returning to meet her gaze. Once she swallowed, she continued. "What other explanation is there?"

"You're a witch," he answered, clear as Windex polished glass and for all to hear.

Margrethe, who'd been ear hustling next to them while pouring Ubbe's ale, ended up missing his cup altogether and filling his lap instead. Ubbe jumped from the table like he'd taken molten lava to the groin. Bonnie tossed her head back and laughed. Hvitserk and Sigurd joined in.

"Forgive me, my Prince," Margrethe sputtered as she fluttered about, waving her hands around, but doing absolutely nothing. "I did not mean-,"

One whispered curse word after the other forced themselves from the clench of Ubbe's teeth as he rub the sour smelling liquid from his lap with his hands. "Worry not, Slave. I understand there was no ill intent in your actions."

"No," Margrethe said, dropping her head and taking a step back.

No longer there for the fuckery or interruptions, Ivar gripped her wrist, effectively bringing her attention back to him. Their eyes clashed. Visual warfare ensued. Not a narrow, wink, or a blink, passed between the two. Both refusing to be the first to back down by looking away. One second melted into another. The air thickened until her chest rose and fell in rapid successions all in an attempt to catch even a hint of a breath.

Realization further ignited Ivar's already inflamed gaze. "Hmm," He leaned forward, and angled his mouth next to her ear. "Admit your guilt, for your eyes already speaks a thousand truths. You are a witch."

"And if I am," Bonnie snatched back to look him in the face, "will you have me burned as one?" She could still see the fake Lagertha strung up by her ankles and put to flames for all of Kattegat to see.

"This depends," his head tipped forward just so. His eyes hooded. With savage intensity, blue incandescent orbs watched her through dirty blond lashes. "If you've come to bring harm to Kattegat or my family, then I shall light the pyre myself."

"Bonnie, come," Bjorn's interruption called a reprieve on the staring match they'd resurrected. "There is something that I would much like to give you in private."

Raucous cheers and jeers sounded off around the table, Hvitserk being the loudest.

Reluctantly she pulled her gaze away from Ivar and allowed Bjorn to tug her from her seat. As he dragged her through the press of bodies Ivar's voice reverberated off the walls of her mind until the echoes of his words hit more like a prophecy than a warning. Once at the door of the great hall she chanced another glance in Ivar's direction. There he still sat unmoved watching her with a countenance predators utilized exclusively to pursue prey. Before the solid wooden barrier could sever their connection he inclined his head. Which only meant one thing to her...let the games begin!

****

"Bjorn, why did you bring me here?" Bonnie asked, spinning in a circle to take in the cove equipped with a waterfall.

After they'd left the great hall he'd guided her through the woods. The trek took them nearly an hour but it was a time well spent. Along the way she spotted many plants, flowers, and berries. All of those finds could be used for soaps, shampoos, conditioners, and moisturizers. Because the mother of all knew she wouldn't survive the Viking era without her products. By the time they made it to the cove her senses was one stimulation away from an overload meltdown.

"I brought you here to correct a grave mistake," he turned and stared down at her, his stretched eyes wide and steady.

She lifted her chin, while holding his gaze. "A mistake?"

"Yes," he answered, "earlier today when we swore our sacred oaths, we did not exchange tokens to symbolize our devotion and commitment to one another."

Her brows scrunched. "Our devotion and commitment to one another?"

"Pertaining to our vows of course," he reassured her.

Her head bobbed as she pressed her lips together to suppress a grin, "Of course."

"As a symbol of our oath I would like for you to have this," he reached down and removed the bracelet he received from Earl Haraldson when he was twelve.

"You're sacred arm ring?" Swinging her head from side to side, she placed a hand on the bracelet to prevent him from trying to put it on her. "I can't accept that...I won't!"

The muscles in his face stiffened. "Is it your mind to go back on your vow?"

"No," the word leapt from her lips before it even had the chance to dirty dance across her mind.

"Well," he gently removed her hand from the bracelet to slip it on her, "then you must accept my token." He raised her arm to his lips and pressed a kiss to her inner wrist. "This will also signify that you're under my protection."

Shame rose inside of her. She didn't have a pot or damn window. What could she possibly give him? Everything on her body had been provided by him and Torvi. "But I have nothing of value to offer you."

"But you do," here moved a dagger from his pants and trailed the point over the bosom of her dress. Lifting the blade, he then connected it with a springy curl. "A lock of this is far more valuable than even the finest silk in the distant Eastern borders. May I?" She nodded and he severed one of the curls from her up do. He knotted the tendrils around the medallion on his necklace. "There, now it is truly done."