After Ubbe departed guilt dealt with Bonnie. She'd led him on. Allowed him to believe they had a future only to later rip away his faith in them by having sex with his brother, and then refusing to depart with him. How could she build something meant to last with Ivar if betrayal supported their foundation? Shame had driven her once again to avoid Ivar. Even Hvitserk, suffered from the side effect of her remorse. Mainly, because she'd psychically forced him to jump ship and remain behind with her. Yet, she still didn't understand why. All she knew was the pain in her chest damn near jerked her to her knees from watching him go. They'd not been parted for any real length of time since meeting and the thought of being without him, hurt worse than her misplacing Sigurd. Why the hell was Hvits so important?

"These quarters could rival many of the halls in Asgard, My Love," Ivar's voice drifted to her from the entryway of the informal parlor she'd taken to decorating.

She craned her neck to peer at him over her shoulder. "You're a king in your own right, Ivar. Elevating your environment to match the upward launch in your station will remind those with simple minds of who you are and where you're going. Besides, this place is disgusting. If I'm staying then I refuse to live in filth in which Wilbur wouldn't even be caught dwelling."

"You're queen to be of this great house. Do with it what you will. You'll not receive any protests from me." He limped further into the room.

Although, their first time wasn't a sizzling fantasy straight from the pages of an erotic romance or even a sloppy porntastic good time, her body and magic still remained aware of him. Clocking his every move as if she were a second hand and he were time itself. Every breath he breathed and beat of his heart which pounded spun her world.

"Queen to be and being queen or two different things, but I accept your offer to remodel this place as I see fit," she said tearing her gaze away from him to refocus her attention on the royal blue roses.

Moments later she felt his solid frame at her back. A fraction of a second after, his palm rested on her hip. "Have you misplaced your faith in me, My Love?"

His breathy whisper shot a thrill down her spine. Minute shudders attacked her frame. Her eyes rolled closed as air moved with great difficulty in and out of her lungs. "No, but I know there'll be pain before there's love and my heart is reluctant."

"I won't be as foolish to promise you a life without pain." His hand slid from her hip to rest on her belly. "Yet, I'll swear upon Odin's name and all things sacred that what I do promise is a love without end. You, My Love, are well aware that you're destined to be my wife," he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, "the mother of my babes," his soft lips met the bend of her shoulder, "and the future queen of not only York, but also Kattegat."

That was it! She snatched out of his hold, and then spun to face him. "No, Ivar! That would be the slave girl you saw fit to free." She slapped the remaining flowers she held against his chest. "Goddess! What the hell was I thinking remaining here with you? You will break me and you know what?" He opened his mouth to answer but she didn't give him the chance. "I'll deserve it after the way I hurt Ubbe!"

"I care not for that slave girl!" He growled, while leaning almost all his weight on his cane.

"Yeah?" She cocked her head sideways. "Then why'd you free her?! If you have no feelings for her then why wasn't she sacrificed?" His mouth flapped open and closed, yet words weren't forthcoming. "Humph, that's what the hell I thought!"

When she turned to leave he stopped her departure with a question.

"It burns does it not?" His question left his lips in the same quiet tone that reminded her of his father. She arched a brow in response. "To believe someone other than yourself holds my affection." The implications of his words narrowed her eyes. "I know those flames well. For I found myself trapped within the same blaze every time I was made to watch you lust for another before my sight. Whether it be my witless brothers or some passing foreigner of no note who captured your notice like King Harald's brother. Did you believe I enjoyed being petted with the same familial hugs and caresses you bestowed upon Guthrum, Hali, and even Wilbur?"

Contrition forced her gaze from his. Hadn't she'd given herself the business months ago over her virginal mate treatment of him? Although his words were gospel ready, she still couldn't hurdle over the blind jealousy and fear she felt at losing him to another. Yet knowing she inflicted these same feelings on him countless times only added to her melting pot of emotions.

"I've never held you in the same regard as I hold Guthrum and Hali." She whirled all the way back around to face him. "From the moment I met you my heart has beat in your possession. Others may dwell within its chambers but from beginning to end you'll always be who my heart chooses. Yet this will not always be true for you."

"My Love," He said, reaching out a hand to her.

"No!" She shook her head and backed away from him. "It isn't our time yet...not yet."

Before he had a chance to say anything else to her she raced out of the room. She ran through the halls of the castles in the direction of the secret tunnels which led out of the city. After she cleared the tunnels and emerged in the surrounding forests of York she halted her Olympic sprint. Several yards ahead of her many daughters and sons under her dominion were under attack yet none of them realized the stroke level position of their situation. They were all too taken with the bounty of the day's hunt to grasp armed English soldiers surrounded them and only seconds from firing on them.

"Shit!" She muttered to herself.

There would be consequences for disrupting this scene, but she'd be damned if she let her faithful's die senselessly. She allowed her magic to seep from her pores to seek out those who meant hers harm. When her sorcery held them in a firm grasp, it forced them to turn there bows and swords on their comrades. Cries of terror and shrieks of horror signaled her warriors they weren't alone in the woods. She left the cover of the trees and walked in the clearing to stand next to the wagon piled high with game.

"Supreme!" Sheila, one of the shield maidens, gasped.

"How many times has Ivar told you all to be aware when you venture out of the walls of the city?" She questioned with her eyes trained on the deceptively still forest.

Thomas rushed to her side. "We've remained vigilant, Most High," he bowed and assured at the same time.

She raised a hand to silence him. "Come forth," she directed to the out of sight British soldiers. Her tone borderline pleasant.

A rustle of movement and the crackly crunch of dried leaves sounded before English soldiers feet dragged against the ground as they attempted to fight against the compulsion which bound them to break formation and leave their concealed positions' of power in the forest. All while still aiming their weapons at the other. When her warriors realized their folly, they raised their weapons and moved to form a shield wall.

"Bonnie!" Alfred emerged from the forest with his sword drawn but pointed at the ground. "Are you doing this?"

"Why're you attempting to slaughter my warriors while their backs are presented to you? I thought you English men prided yourselves on being men of honor." Her glare swept over the English soldiers who surrounded them to land upon Alfred, the would be king.

She raised her hands, and the opposing warriors lifted their weapons to aim at the others head. Grunts of distress rippled through the bunch.

"Bonnie, please. These men are under orders," Alfred said, rushing towards her. Two of her warriors grabbed him and shoved him to his knees. Yet, he didn't allow the precariousness of his situation to still his tongue. "Do not allow the error of another to seal the fate of these men. They're blameless."

"And you think the children under my dominion aren't?" Disbelief caused the volume of her voice to soar. "Ubbe came to you all in peace and you damn near beat him within an inch of his life. So tell me, Alfred, how blameless can any of you really be?"

Alfred stared up at her with wide innocent eyes as he shook his head. "I don't condone what happened to the sons of Ragnar while in our care. Were it left for me to determine, I would've honored my grandfather's request to grant your people the lands of East Anglia."

Honor and truth rolled off of him in laudable waves. He was about as close to the Arthurian king as England would get. Her eyes rolled, because though it peeved her, she too believed the hype about king Alfred. Being around him was like being in the presence of greatness in progress.

"Let him stand," she told her warriors who in turn reluctantly let him go. Once Alfred was on his feet she approached to stand toe to toe with him. "Take your soldiers and go. Return with them and next time I'll allow them to finish what they started." She turned to leave and thought better of it. "Oh, and tell Bishop Heahmund, a rising will come when he'll be made to pay for everything he's done, and the price will be a hell of a lot higher than a few self-inflicted slashings to the back or a jog through a grove of thorns."

Alfred watched her for a moment before nodding and turning to direct his men away from the surrounding forests of York. Bonnie released a sigh disguised as an exhale as she watched him go. Ivar was going to flip every bit of his shit when he discovered she'd allowed Alfred to escape. That's all she needed at the moment. More beef to add to their estrangement.

****

"Was your mission a success, My Son?" Was how Alfred's father greeted him as soon as he entered the camp.

He gave his commander in arms a nod of dismissal before turning back to address his father and Bishop Heahmund who stood next to Ethelred. "No, father. I'm afraid victory was not ours this day."

"Why not?" Ethelred demanded as a slight furrow disturbed the skin between his brow. "The conquest was simple enough. You were able to take them unawares were you not?"

Alfred's gaze swept to Bishop Heahmund who studied him through narrowed eyes. Almost as if he were attempting to read the explanation from his mind instead of waiting for his words to meet his ears.

"Yes, but-," Alfred began.

"Yes, but what?" His father asked, while flapping a hand for him to continue.

He squared his shoulders as he lifted his chin. "Bonnie was there."

Ethelred's chin dropped, allowing his mouth to form a silent, oh. His father's complexion took on varying shades of red as Heahmund's eyes slitted even more while his lips pursed to betray the dedicated focus of his thoughts.

"This is their witch you speak of?" Heahmund questioned, distaste apparent in his soured expression.

"There goddess is whom they believe her to be," his father corrected as he stared off into the distance at nothing.

"Actually, I heard them refer to her as Supreme and Most High," he supplied, not sure why he felt a need to edify his father on Bonnie's precise title to her people.

"It matters not what the pagans believe her to be," Heahmund snapped, once again forgetting himself. "What weapon can a mere girl pose against our army? Especially, when we have God on our side?"

Ethelred and he shared a glance. They'd promise there father they'd never reveal Bonnie as the ally within York who assisted them in fleeing the city when they lost the battle.

"What transpired during your attempt to dispose of the Viking hunting party?" His father asked in a gentle tone purposefully turning his back to Heahmund.

He held his father's gaze for a moment, and then spoke. "We surrounded the warriors just as we plotted beforehand and as we were about to loose our arrows into the party, our soldiers turned their weapons on the other."

"What?" Ethelred questioned as if he'd somehow misheard the exchange.

He nodded to add confirmation to his words. "Then Bonnie emerged from a different part of the forest and beckoned us forward." His wide gaze swung back to his father. "I gave a silent command for them to remain hidden, but they disobeyed. It was as if their will was no longer their own. For they attempted to stay concealed, yet their boots dragged against the earth even as their feet endeavored to remain planted to the ground they stood upon."

"Who are these men in your command who can be so easily manipulated by a whore of the devil?" Bishop Heahmund seethed as he craned his neck to cast a sideways glance over them.

His father squeezed his eyes closed as he mumbled something under his breath. After a moment of a few more silent utterances. He exhaled, and then spoke. "The witch's power over Alfred's men has nothing to do with their lack of faith, Bishop Heahmund. I've heard tales from soldiers who fought with Alle against the heathen army. They say they witnessed this Lilith snatch blue fire from the heavens and fill a man with such fantastical powers that the defeat which met them in the end was swift and brutal."

"And yet the spirit of fear does not corrupt our souls, my King." Heahmund's declaration dripped with condescension and an over indulgence of arrogance. The Bishop then turned his squinted glare on him. "My prince, if this witch has proven to be so formidable, how did you and your men manage to escape?"

"We didn't, she allowed us to seek out our leave. Under strict orders we deliver a message to you of course," he said, eyeing the good Bishop with unfurling suspicion.

"A message!" One of Heahmund's brows shot to his hairline. Astonishment flared his normally squinted gaze. "For me?"

He lifted his chin. "Yes."

"Well, what's the message, then?" His father demanded.

"She wanted me to inform you, a rising will come when you'll be made to pay for everything you've done, and the price will be a hell of a lot higher than a few self-inflicted slashings to the back or a jog through a grove of thorns." He concluded just as his mother came hurrying over.

The color faded from Bishop Heahmund's face as he dipped his head to them in a bow. "Excuse me, my King. It is time for my evening prayers." Without waiting for a dismissal he hurried away.

Heahmund bobbed his head to Judith his mother as he brushed passed her. She pivoted around to observe him go. After a moment of watching she turned back to them as perplexity had its way with her features.

"Is his Grace well?" She questioned, her worried stare flicking over each of them.

"He's well enough Judith," his father said, while offering him a deviant grin. "He's seeing to his evening prayers. He intends to ensure we all have passage into the gates of our father's kingdom. Now, come and let us sup. While we do, we'll discuss different strategies which will allow us to once and for all see the back of these Viking invaders."

****

Ubbe sat in the seat of honor at the great table between Torvi and Lagertha. His ex-wife Margrethe lingered at his back as she'd always done as a slave, having been displaced from the place at his side by the now queen of Kattegat. He cared not of the petty power plays between the women. His mind dwelled across the seas with the only love to ever consume his heart and his favored brother. They'd given him their back and set him adrift without a care. How could they turn away from him?

"We've heard tales of the sons of Ragnar bravery during the war against the Saxons. Is it true Odin fought at your side?" Lagertha questioned, before taking a sip from her chalice.

His head bobbed. "Yes, you heard the truth of it. He came to make Bonnie an offering and to receive her favor. For fighting at her side, she bestowed upon him great power," he said, still remembering how breathtaking she looked covered in the blood of their enemies. His prick twitched in his pants. Damn her!

"Oh how I miss Bonnie," Torvi gushed as she leaned into him donning a smile which lit up her entire face. "Was she well the last time you sighted her...before she sailed for the Mediterranean with Bjorn?"

"Yes, Bonnie was more than well the last time my gaze fell upon her. In verity, she thrived." Guilt forced his eyes away from Torvi's as he cleared his throat. "Though she did not sail for the Mediterranean with Bjorn."

"What?" Lagertha came upright in her seat.

Torvi's serene features took a distressed turn. "Whyever not, Bonnie vowed to remain at Bjorn's side."

"Ivar wanted to continue waging war on England even after Bjorn decided to sail to meet his fate. He knew he'd never be successful at such an endeavor without Bonnie. So," Ubbe allowed his voice to trail off as he took a drawn out gulp from his chalice.

"Well?" Lagertha demanded.

He exhaled a sigh. "Ivar convinced Hvitserk and I to assist him in stealing Bonnie away from Bjorn. After enlisting Floki in on our schemes, he provided us with a root that temporarily subdued her magic and mind. Once we had her restrained, we were able to deceive Bjorn and Sigurd into believing Bonnie sailed for the Mediterranean on a different ship."

"I don't understand." The skin between Torvi's brow wrinkled. "Why would Bjorn believe such a tale to be true? Bonnie would never allow Bjorn to travel outside her protection."

"Because of the conflict present between the two of them before his departure," Ubbe said as he placed the chalice back on the table. He pondered if they had anything stronger than mead.

"What conflict dwelled between my son and the Supreme?" Lagertha said settling back in her seat to eye him with the look which made him believe she could see every thought present in his head.

He lifted a shoulder as he cradled his chalice in his palms. "Bonnie wanted to journey back to Kattegat before sailing to the Mediterranean. He assured her they would, but then she overheard him tell King Harald he had no intention of returning to Kattegat."

"Oh," Torvi uttered, settling back into her seat as she stared off into the distance.

"So Bonnie still remains with Ivar?" the dark haired young warrior sitting next to Torvi questioned.

The way the younger warrior spoke Bonnie's name with such familiarity graveled his senses. His hand flew to the handle of his eating dagger. "Who are you to speak her name with such intimate reverence?"

The warriors face remained detached and indifferent while Torvi glared at him as if his mind had taken leave of him. "Ubbe, did you part ways with your wits when you departed from England? How dare you speak to Guthrum in such a way? You know his affections for Bonnie are as great as anyone here."

"G-Guthrum?" Ubbe sat up in his seat, all while blinking his eyes to clear his vision. When last he saw the boy, he'd been nothing more than a child who barely crested his waist. Now he nearly matched him in height. "Your eldest boy?"

Lagertha laughed. "Yes, Guthrum has since become a man since you all journeyed from here to avenge your father."

"Does Ivar still hold her against her will? Is this the reason why she didn't accompany you back to Kattegat?" Guthrum demanded, the intensity of his glare almost too much to bear.

"No." His jaw clenched at the reason for Bonnie remaining behind. "Bonnie considers herself in love with Ivar. She was content in her resolve to remain at his side."