A shift on the mattress snatched Bonnie from a dead man's rest. Her eyes snapped open. Blurred shadows greeted her sight. Heavy breathing that didn't belong to her collided with her ears. Tension hung so thick in the air, she could almost taste the bitterness on her tongue. Blinking she focused the blurred shadows into detailed Lothbroks. Ivar loomed over her, while Sigurd pressed a blade into his carotid. If he breathed to deeply, the breath would be his last.

"What's wrong?" Bonnie questioned, while gently pushing the blade away from his throat.

Ivar glared at Sigurd for a moment longer, before moving his gaze to her. "Are you still willing to honor your vow to me no matter your fate here at Kattegat?"

"I'll never break my word no matter the circumstances," she said a little offended, he'd even ask.

He nodded his approval, and then continued. "Bjorn and most of the revelers have been laid low by the mead and ale. They'll slumber well into the next rising. So-,"

"If we're gonna do this, we'll have to go now," She finished for him. Queen Aslaug had recovered. Her recovery would free Bjorn of his hosting duties. He'd be on her doorstep as soon as he opened his eyes and awareness reinstated itself. She looked to Sigurd. "Go get Hvitserk and Ubbe. We'll need help getting him to the cabin."

"You'll be alright? You know," Sigurd nodded his head in Ivar's direction. "Alone with him?"

Her gaze swept over Ivar and her magic heated. Warmth radiated throughout her. The vibe almost reminded her of the feeling she received when in contact with another Bennett Witch, but somehow different. Kind of like tangerines and nectarines.

"Go on," She said without taking her eyes from Ivar. "I know how this works. He won't hurt me. Not while I'm still useful to him."

Sigurd placed the handle of the dagger into her hand, pressed his forehead to hers, and then left the bed. Ivar and she watched him leave the keep. Their stares then returned back to the other. Negative energy brewed between them. Energy she had no interest in feeding. So she left the bed to dress and ready herself for the track through the hills.

"Do you really have no excuses or explanations hoarded away to offer me?" Ivar's question met her back, and she didn't bother to turn around to face it or him. When her answer wasn't forthcoming an ax sailed by her face. No more than a breath away. She spun around to visually tear his soul away from his body. "How can you expect me to care for you and not know you, hmm? What am I to think of a woman who claims to feel more than pity for a sad, poor cripple like me?"

Her heart softened until its consistency rivaled that of mush. What the hell had he done to her? Not five seconds ago he'd hurled an ax at her head, and now there she stood contemplating ripping his damn clothes off. The could be no luke-warm with the man.

"Don't allow your insecurities to cast me in a role that vindicates your paranoia. Every word I have ever spoken to you has been the truth. I've never lied to you!"

She snatched the ax out of the wall stomped over to him and dropped it in his lap.

"Yet, you've never given me the entire truth either," he extended his hand as if he were showcasing a point, "but, Sigurd..."

"What about Sigurd?" Bonnie folded her arms beneath her chest.

"What about Sigurd," Ivar muttered to himself as he scoffed. "Would you have me believe he's not the sole keeper of your secrets? That there in fact aren't things he knows about you of which even Bjorn is unaware, hmm?" She glanced away. "Just as I suspected. Tell me, what has my unexceptional brother done to garner your trust that we have all failed to do? What has he done?!"

"He cared about what happened to Siggy!" Power resonated through Bonnie's voice as it reverberated off the walls of the keep.

"Are you speaking of my mother's friend, the one who drowned while saving us?" Hvitserk questioned from his place just inside the doorway.

Bonnie hadn't even realized they'd arrived she was so wrapped up with Ivar.

"No, she's talking about Bjorn's first child. Siggy's namesake," Sigurd said walking in further until he stood at her side.

"None of you but him gave a damn about that blessed little girl. A daughter of a future king!" An ache welled in the center of Bonnie's stomach just thinking about Bjorn's daughter lying dead in a puddle like unwanted trash.

"That's not fair-," Ubbe began.

Ivar watched her with wide neon blue irises. "We were but children."

"Please, Ivar," she released a laugh that was filled with everything but humor, "You caught your first body when you were what, five or six? Let's not pretend we are not who we are!"

"Besides, you more than let your feelings be known."

"What are you implying?" He asked, looking more and more like Ruthless Ivar the Boneless.

"What did you say when Sigurd came to inform Queen Aslaug of Siggy's drowning? I'll wait," she perched on the edge of the stone table. "Do you even remember what you said? Fine, you said-,"

"Who cares?" Sigurd finished for her, his shiny violet blues planted somewhere in a yesteryear.

"Who cares?" she echoed. All of the hostility blowing out as fast as it blew in.

"So, this is why you've come? To punish us for some offense we barely remember?" Ivar demanded.

Her eyes rolled before her brain gave the call. That's how fed up every piece and part of her was with him. "No, you asked why I've entrusted Sigurd with my secrets and now you have your answer. So, are we done here, or would you like to know why I lust for Ubbe more than any other?"

Ubbe's gaze shot to her like she was fire and he was a know nothing cave dweller who hailed from the dawn of time. "Yes, I think that is something we should all explo-,"

"No," Ivar said drilling Ubbe with a visual blow that struck deeper than his broadax. "We may depart."

****

"Place him over on the cot," Bonnie said as she followed Hvitserk and Ubbe into the cabin. They carried Ivar on top of a wide slab of wood.

She glanced around at the interior of the place. The lodgings was nothing more than a one room shack. A mixture of furs hung from the walls, draped makeshift furnishings, and covered the wood planked floors. It carried the distinct odor of musk, manure, and urine. Not overbearingly so, but enough to make you want to look twice at where you stepped or sat.

Once they placed Ivar on the cot they're collective gazes shot to her. She walked over to the impromptu bed and knelt beside it. "In order for me to fix you, I'll have to break you, repeatedly. It'll be excruciating, but I can put you to sleep for most-,"

"No!" he said, his tone firm. "If I am to deserve the ability to stand and maybe even one day walk, then I should bear the burden as a price for what it is I am to gain."

Bonnie scrutinized his expression down to the stubborn set of his jaw. He'd set his mind on suffering through the process. Attempting to talk him to the side of common sense and sanity would be a waste of time they really didn't have to spare. So she inclined her head and accepted his nonsense since he'd be the only person hurt by the foolishness. "Relax and be still while I visualize the deformities in your legs. I'll let you know when it's time to begin."

For the next hour Bonnie studied every abnormal bend, curve, and crook of Ivar's misshapen legs. When she'd completed the task she placed energy markers to the parts of the bones where the breaks needed to occur. She then pulled her hands away and withdrew her magic. Her gaze drifted over him. He lay still. His eyes lingered on the ceiling. The vulnerable expression which always came for her heart adorned his face. If only she could tell him they'd hurtled over the hard part, but that statement parlayed nowhere near the truth. In the end, he'd sweat blood.

"Ivar," his helpless stare discovered hers, "it's time. You sure you don't want me-,"

"Yes," he said, his voice not as firm this time around.

Bonnie looked to Hvitserk. "Get him something to bite down on, and then we'll get started."

After Ivar had a thick leather strap wedged between his teeth Bonnie closed her eyes. She reconnected to the energy markers she left behind on his bones. When she settled on a beginning point she clenched her hand into a fist and twisted her wrist. A howl from the bed almost shattered her concentration, but she ignored the agony saturated wail. She couldn't allow herself to become distracted. If her timing shifted even by seconds the bones would begin to heal in the pattern it had grown accustomed. Then she'd have to begin the process over. Not on her witching watch!

For the next several hours Bonnie broke, and then rebuilt Ivar's legs. When the last shattered bone fragment discovered its rightful place and the reconstruction was complete, Bonnie sat on the edge of the cot. Ivar lay there trembling and releasing dehydrated whimpers. He'd lost his ability to produce effective sound a couple of hours back. Now he suffered in almost muted silence. She placed a hand on his sweaty forehead. He jerked away from her touch. Her heart shriveled in her chest, but she ignored the sliver of rejection and permitted her magic to guide him into a deep sleep.

Once Ivar rested she turned to address the room. Ubbe and Hvitserk watched her with wide stricken eyes. Sigurd's gaze remained unchanged. Deciding to deal with one issue at a time she focused on Sigurd. "May I borrow your blade?" Without question he presented it to her handle first, while Ubbe and Hvitserk stirred into action.

"What is your need for the dagger?" Ubbe demanded, moving closer to the cot and taking a protective stance over Ivar.

Without answering Ubbe she took the blade from Sigurd and slit her wrist. The sight of her blood nearly collapsed every lung in the room. Not because they all had an aversion to the life sustaining fluid, but because she doubt if they'd ever seen blood of her likeness before. Thick ruby liquid interlaced with iridescent golden threads pooled from the open wound.

"She is a goddess," Hvitserk said to no one in particular.

Sigurd had the look of someone who'd been proven right. "Freyja."

Ubbe, whose eyes remained transfixed on her wound rounded the bed and grabbed her wrist. He raised it to his face. She assumed to take a closer look. Yet, she damn near fainted when his mouth covered the gushing gash and began to drank.

"Ubbe, that's for Ivar," Bonnie said, attempting to wrestle her wrist from his mouth. "My blood holds healing properties, it's meant to aid in his recovery. Ubbe-," When he pulled back to look at her, his irises were solid gold.

"Ubbe?" Hvitserk questioned, coming closer.

Ignoring Hvitserk, he snatched the dagger from her, and she began to prepare herself for another trip to the other side. Just when she started to close her eyes and brace herself Ubbe dragged the blade across his wrist. Blood spurted forth and her stomach churned.

He lifted the gushing wound to her mouth. "My offer to you."

"Um, nah, I'm goo-,"

Ubbe push the torn wrist to her mouth, and she prepared herself for the disgusting coppery metallic taste of blood, but instead a sweetness she'd never known burst onto her tongue. A moan vibrated from the depths of her throat as a pleasure infused groan ricocheted off the drums of her ears. A series of things began to happen at once. Her senses heightened. The rhythmic sounds of beating hearts and blood rushing through vessels assaulted her auditory faculties. Her sense of smell went from distinct to wolfhound keen.

From this moment on, she would be able to identify each Lothbrok brother by scent alone.

Each of their unique pheromones thickened the air with a heady and arousing odor that would make it hard for any human, woman or man, to remain clothed while in their vicinity. How could one choose? They might as well have been Pokémon because she had to catch 'em all. Oh hell! Did she just quote Ash Catchem catch phrase? She was fucking losing it. She tore her mouth away from Ubbe's wrist. Their gazes collided and the lust that blazed in the depths of his golden eyes damn near incinerated her. Sucking in enough air to appease two sets of lungs, she tried to even her breathing out. Yet, just staring into his unwavering stare fucked her all the way dry and had her panting harder than a dog. Air! Oh, goddess of all, she needed air!

Bonnie spun away from Ubbe and rushed out the cabin into the cool crisp late autumn night air. Once outside she lifted her face towards the sky. Deeply inhaling and exhaling, she dragged in gulps and nostrils full of oxygen. Moments later, arms wrapped around her from behind. Soft lips and a scruffy chin nuzzled the crook of her neck.

"I've grown tired of feigning indifference to you. There is no level of distraction that'll keep you long from my head. Now, I've come to terms that all I really want to be is yours. Bonnie," Ubbe's raspy voice enticed her ear and her knees weakened. "I said before I wasn't ready to marry but having you in my arms now says otherwise. It says we are both exactly where we belong. Together." He finished on a whisper.

Every one of her emotions was on ten and she didn't know which to trust. Tears welled in her eyes because Ubbe's words translated to her heart like poetic lines to rhythmic rhymes. Yet, they were both on some kind of supernatural blood high and not one bit of the vibe flowing between them could be real.

"Ubbe, you don't mean this," she said spinning in his arms to face him.

He cradled her face in his hands. "And yet, I mean every word."

It's the blood! She opened her mouth to say as much. "It's-,"

"Freedom," he kissed her. Somehow the universe stopped, and he became her focus. "Our offers to each other granted us a freedom to speak what plagues our minds. To unburden our hearts." He inhaled and slowly exhaled. As the gold in his eyes began to fade into his natural summer sky blue hues, he rested his forehead on hers. "I've fallen in love with you and known it to be so for a while. I know Bjorn wishes to make you his second wife, but I want you to marry me and be my first and only."

Ubbe had lost is damn mind! Did he actually believe she would entertain his nonsense? They barely spent any time together, and when they did he actively ignored her with great prejudice. She'd rather say, I do, to Wilbur than meet his ass at anybody's altar.

She lifted her chin, looked him directly in the pupils, prepared to tell him just that. "You'd have to court me first," a smile lit his face, "and only with Bjorn's permission." The light dimmed and his eyes rolled. "It's the only way, Ubbe. He's my protector. I've also sworn my allegiance and loyalty to him. I'll not lie or be deceptive with him."

He growled under his breath before giving her a hard peck on the mouth. "Very well! I'll speak with him after first meal on the morrow."

The door to the cabin swung open and Sigurd stuck his head out. "Ivar's beginning to stir."