Ivar sat upon his throne during second meal. He cast his gaze out over the great hall. Though revelers filled the space, he saw none of them. Bonnie's battered and blood spattered face consumed his mind's sight. The scorching rage that blazed in the depths of her verdant glare emblazoned itself on his skull. Such a burn incited an apprehension so brazen within him a sense of dread perched upon his heart as a forewarning. Beware. And well he should. For that rage resided within her even before she knew the fate of their babe. He'd since confirmed the stillbirth of the infant from the sendoff ritual. No doubts dwelled within him Bonnie would seek out vengeance for the part she believed he had in the death of their daughter.

Ivar's memory drifted to the likeness of the beautiful sleeping babe etched on the smooth stone near the cove. His heart clenched. If he remembered his teachings with Bonnie correctly she'd named their daughter Faith. Such irony! Since now their Faith was dead. He took another sip from his chalice. The sour taste of the ale lingered with the ever present bitter taste on his tongue. He forced the unsavory merger down his throat. If he sunk deep enough into his cups then perhaps he'd be afforded the respite of misremembering.

A coarse palm touched his arm. Freydis. His eyes rolled closed as he tried to imagine her somewhere other than at his side. Once again he'd allowed the Saxon whore to make a fool of him. For he no longer believed the boy she claim to carry was for him. Ragnar had more than confirmed his suspicions.

"You are not at fault for the loss of the dark witch's babe, My King." Freydis scooted to the edge of her throne to move closer to him. "Surely of this you must be aware. Not every womb is sacred or strong enough to bear the babe of a god. Can you not sight what your fellow gods have shown you? They have once again proven the dark witch's unworthiness to trek your path."

Though the sound of Freydis voice sent his skin to skittering, her words did provide him solace. Perhaps the burden of blame for their daughter did have a rightful home upon Bonnie's shoulders. How could he, a god, be held accountable for anything? Most of all, the death of a babe. "Though you may have the right of it, Freydis. Your actions has still brought about the death of my most favored personal warrior. Once you birth your son into Midgard your punishment for such a transgression shall be great."

Contrition tugged on her features as she dipped her head. "Yes, My King."

Ivar snatched is glare from his duplicitous wife. It harried him greatly to even look upon her. She thought herself clever, but he thought her lacking in sense readily common to others. His gaze collided with his brother and sister by marriage who sat several tables away. Hvitserk had the look of a long-suffering Christian. A knee scrubber who was undoubtedly moments away from tearing his tunic and throwing himself to the ground. Just as well! For had it not been for his foolish petulance it would be Bonnie at his side instead of the...what did the Seer refer to her as...ah yes...instead of the viper which now sat next to him.

A soldier approached and his personal warriors thought to halt his advancement to the thrones. He recognized the man as one of the many warriors he left behind to secure York. "Let him through!"

"King Ivar," the man greeted dipping into a fleeting warriors bow. "I have grave news from York."

"Well!" Freydis snapped.

Ivar sliced further interruptions from the base of her tongue with a cutting glare, before giving his attention back over to the warrior.

"Yes, go on," he said, waving for him to continue, "speak of this news."

"King Harald and Jarl Olavsson engaged in war with the king of Wessex Alfred."

His back met his throne. "Alfred?!"

"Yes." The warriors head bobbed. "Our loss was great. For Bjorn, Ubbe, and Lagertha fought with the Saxons."

His lips nigh twisted from his face. The revelations staggered him. Alfred was now king of Wessex and not only had he given refuge to his sworn enemies he'd also defeated his forces in York! His head swung in a slow shake. Bonnie! This is why she spared the Saxon prince so many times. She wanted him beholden to her. Why else would he give sanctuary to his grandfather's murderer if not out of obligation or worse...love! He slammed his fist down on the armrest of his throne. Now he understood everything. She'd even allowed herself to be captured to distract him so the absconders could flee to England.

He'd taken Bonnie's silence, weakness, and obedience as signs of her thorough defeat. Oh what a fool he'd been. Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt. It was, . She'd taught him and he'd been witless to believe he'd bested her. Hmm, well the game had only begun. He flicked a wrist to dismiss the soldier and sent his personal warrior to collect Hvitserk. After a great disturbance and pleading on his wife's part, his brother finally rose to attend him. When Hvitserk stood before him, instead of meeting his gaze his glare attempted to spear Freydis with holes.

Ivar cleared his throat until his brother leveled him with an annoyed stare. "Hvitserk, it would seem Harald sailed to England and utilized our army to engage in war with King Alfred who is now king of Wessex." He settled back and waited for his brother's reaction. Hvitserk however only stared.

After several prolonged moments disgust tore a grimace across his brother's face. "Our babe is dead and all you care to concern yourself with is the Saxon prince turned king? You weren't even minded enough to see her make her way to the other side! Yet you beg for the life of this whore's babe as if it's your own!"

"Hvitserk! You will remember yourself or I shall-,"

"Shall what?" He thundered, Helheim sparking bright in his glare. "What shall you do, Boneless? I've lost two babes in the course of two moon cycles. There is nothing you can do to me the gods have not already begun to exact."

"Of course I was there!" He wrenched forth in his seat and lowered his voice. "Yet I was not as foolish as you to believe Bonnie would welcome my presence after...," his gaze strayed to his wife who clung to their every word. He returned his stare to his brother. "I heard everyone of her screams just as you and even felt our loss the moment she realized our babe was still. So yes Hvitserk I was there. I kept my distance, but I was there."

"She will never turn to us again," he all but whispered in a voice to broken to belong to his formidable brother.

"No, she will not." He shook his head for that was a truth he even then grappled with in the depths of his soul. "Surely, you must have realized the end we'd meet when we ventured down this path. Took other wives."

"I never considered..."

His gaze flicked to Freydis once more. "Leave us!"

She glared at him, and then bolted from her seat to stalk towards their private quarters. He waved a hand for Hvitserk to sit upon her throne.

When he'd settled, Ivar continued. "You never again believed you'd find her faultless within your sight." His brother glared down at his clenched hands in his lap but nodded. Ivar shrugged. "Me...I never stopped. I just learned how to crave other things more than I wanted her. This is why we must journey back to England. For if we can no longer have her, then we must hold dear everything she has given us. And if she ever wants to have us forgo judgement on her and gain her freedom she'll assist in this endeavor."

"Have your wits and senses banded together and fled your head, Ivar?" Hvitserk demanded impaling him with a glare at close range. "Bonnie owes you nothing! You broke your vow when you failed to keep our daughter safe from your whore of a wife. So you do understand what this means do you not?" His brother stood and cast his scrutiny down upon him. "Your protection from her wrath is no more. Were I you I'd take the serpent who masquerades as my wife and flee while Bonnie still mourns the loss of our babe."

"What did you sight, brother?" Ivar asked when Hvitserk moved to seek his leave. "When she placed her palm to your head at our babe's send off. What did she show you?"

Without turning Hvitserk spoke. Yet Ivar heard him as if he'd bellowed his response in his ear. "All the things I chose not to sight."

Hvitserk collected his wife and sought his leave of the hall. For the remainder of the eve Ivar sat upon his throne battling his thoughts. He sat there until the last reveler took leave of the hall. Once alone he hobbled down the path which led to the false wall. He planned to visit Bonnie's keep. He had to see her. Though they no longer shared a bond something within him still sensed her. In the same way he always sensed her since he was no more than an enamored crippled boy. Her emotions was his and their pain was breathtaking. From rising to eve their agony never relinquished them. He had to go to her.

For the next turn of the hour glass he made his way to Bonnie's keep. What met him at the conclusion of his journey snatched him unawares. Someone had placed blocks of stone over the entrance into Bonnie's chambers. He no longer had a way into her keep without invitation. In that moment the whole of his circumstances weighed upon him. Bonnie was truly lost to him. He slammed his fists against the wall of stone until blood spurted from the backs of his hands and salty water burst from his eyes to betray his emotions. Sobs shook him from his shoulders to the balls of his feet. There alone in the bowels of Kattegat he mourned the loss of a treasure he'd so foolishly chosen to trade away for a chest filled with dirt.

****

Guthrum attached the small hide pouch to Morgana's ankle, and then stroked the birds breast before launching her into the heavens. As he turned to climb upon the departing ship, his thoughts drifted to a fortnight ago...

A tearing at Guthrum's gut wrenched him from slumber. The ripping pain hoisted him upright. Once sitting up, he buckled under a girthy ache rather crushing in nature. A smothering press weighed upon his chest. He knew without explanation or reasoning something unspeakable transpired with Bonnie. The door to his private quarters burst open. A shadowed outline of Sigurd stood in his doorway. A bloody head dripped from one of his fists while a broadax dangled from the grip of the other. His sorcery lit every candle within his room, illuminating the space in glowing amber light.

The massive Enforcer/Confessor stalked into the room, his head twisted sideways. "Did you...a pain...Bonnie!" Pools of liquid flooded his stare and his expression could be likened to the way Guthrum felt.

He nodded. "Yes, our Sup...Bonnie." Fear pilfered control of his emotions. "She suffers."

Sigurd pitched the head and ax to the ground. Resolve locked the muscles in his face. "On the next tide I'm sailing for Norway. I'm done upholding her will!"

"No!" Sigurd's Proclamation shook him enough to reclaim his emotions. "If you leave now everything you've already accomplished will be for naught. Remain and take back England for our Supreme. I'll sail for Norway in your place. And if I should discover..." His mouth refused to say the words. "Then I'll send word."

Sigurd appeared to want to argue the issue, but his stare darted to the head glaring up at him from the floor. "And you'll send word if you have need of me?"

"Yes," Guthrum dipped his head while still holding the newly crowned King's gaze.

^^^^

Guthrum clutched at his aching chest as he climbed upon the ship. Goddess please let his suspicions not be the right of he and his favored girl's shared agony.

****

Hvitserk lingered in the marketplace. He watched the foreigner who'd traveled from the far reaches of the East. The robust stranger claimed to have once been a wealthy merchant. He spoke of enduring the seas to trade his wears, but several risings into his journey a storm overturned his ship and his seamen drowned. For a purpose unknown to him, Fate spared him. Now there he sat in Kattegat's marketplace without a useful wear to trade or a means that would see him back to his homeland. Yet instead of distressing over his shift in fortunes the foreigner looked to be at peace.

Hvitserk envied the man his contentment. For he hadn't known peace since Bonnie filled his head with images of her carrying their babe. He not only witnessed the attack she suffered at the hands of Freydis' warriors, but he also felt every single blow they struck. The failure she convicted herself of for not being able to protect their daughter became his judgement as well. He even burned from the same guilt which flamed her. The guilt of not being able to offer their daughter a life in which she was chosen above all else by her father.

Hvitserk had moved on. He'd discovered happiness and peace in the arms of Bonnie's faithful. He married Thora and filled her with his son. All while Bonnie struggled with the verity she didn't have enough power to keep their daughter safe. His shame soared beyond the bounds of reason. For if the pain he inflicted wasn't already biting in its agony, Bonnie then had to witness him rejoice over another's babe while he flouted the one she carried. She'd said the happiest moment in his life would be joined with one of his biggest regrets. He should've known she'd have the right of it because there he stood wishing he could take back everything. Return them to the moment when he suggested they depart from England.

A pair of slender arms wrapped themselves about him from behind. He felt the press of a cheek on his back, just beneath his shoulder bone. His Joy. Thora. A smile attempted to lift the corners of his mouth but failed in its attempts. He grasped one of her hands by the wrist and tugged her around his body to anchor her slight frame to his chest. Her heaven inspired stare held sadness even as her pleasing lips offered him the smile he couldn't seem to fashion moments before.

She placed a hand to his cheek, while her pitying gaze searched his face. "I shall go to the Supreme and plead for her forgiveness on your behalf."

"Thora, no." His eyes rolled though he wasn't minded to be dismissive. "Our daughter perished because I failed to protect her from Freydis. So you see, I am deserving of her unforgiveness. It is my burden to suffer. Asides, Bonnie still mourns the loss of our babe. This is something which should not be intruded upon."

"I'm more than aware of what it means to mourn the loss of a babe, husband!" His wife cast her gaze away as she nodded once. "But it has been nigh two moon cycles since your babe entered Midgard still. And no one has set their gaze upon our Supreme for any longer than a few fleeting moments at a time. She's only ever seen as she passes to trek her way to the blessed cove to sit by the rock which holds your babes likeness as she communes with her sacred pig. I worry for her." She returned her stare to him. "For no one better than I understands the lure the comforts beyond the veil can pose when the sunlight of each rising fails to pierce the darkness that cloaks you."

His heart clenched. In his guilt over Bonnie he'd misremembered Thora suffered as well. "Forgive me, Thora. In punishing me, the god's have also punished you, because of my offenses against their Most High you'll never know what it is to be a mother. If I'd never-,"

"Then I still would never have known the feel of a babe moving in my womb or suckling at my breast. For I'd be a priestess," she said, placing a finger over his lips. "As I said before, husband. I regret nothing."

Yet he regretted everything.

****

The sun rose and set sixty plus times. Stars peppered the heavens when the sun replaced itself with the moon. This phenomenon also happened two and a half moon cycles without fail. Citizens of Kattegat went about their risings in a well-worn cycle, the marketplace tables traded as usual, and the boisterous celebrations at the great hall never halted once. Life went on even though Faith's never would. And that's what hurt Bonnie most, Midgard suffered a great loss and no one in the world cared. Two months, two years, twenty life times could pass her by and it didn't matter. She'd still be stuck in the same spot not knowing or caring if she ever learned how to restart.

Bonnie brushed a few fallen leaves from her daughter's grave. Once she cleared Faith's resting place of debris her fingers grazed the face of her baby's picture. A tear crept from the corner of her eye. It trickled down her cheek and dripped onto the crystal surface of her daughter's resting place. Wilbur nudged her thigh with his huge head. She tore her gaze from Faith's headstone to glance down at her pig. His wide violet gaze held hers. Reaching down, she scratched the tuft of hair between his ears. Another nuzzle of the head and a snuffle conveyed his appreciation.

Wilbur had been her only comfort over the last couple of months. Never did he attempt to tell her it was going to be okay, when she knew it never would. He never offered her well-meaning opinions meant to unbreak her. That ship had sailed, burst into flames, and then bust the bottom of the ocean wide. For she now rested in a broken state.

Angling about, she turned to sit back on her bottom. Her gaze drifted to the letter she'd just finished. She'd begun writing to those from her past with whom she could no longer speak. Though she doubted any of the letters would be read it sometimes helped to reconcile the storm raging in her head. Pushing her pen helped her cope with the chest full of emotions that had grown and matured in her for nine months only to be birthed into a world with nowhere to live. She was a mother without a child. Everyone she'd fought for, honored, facilitated, and uplifted turned on her. She'd placed her faith in them and they'd taken her Faith. They'd all watched her Faith die. That betrayal was more than unforgivable. It was fucking real!

Guthrum's familiar landed next to her. The bird's golden eyes watched her with his kindred's patience. Yet she made no move to remove the letter from the Eagle. The disturbance of air next to her agitated her sorcery. Silas leaned forward and unattached the pouch from the bird's ankle. Once liberated of the pouch the feathered creature launched itself into the air. Silas thought to offer her the letter, but she looked away. She had no interest in the kettles brewing in England. At some point she'd deal with their issues. Now, she'd rather not be bothered.

From the cut of her eye she saw Silas place the letter in her basket, before sitting next to her on the blanket. "Bennett, there'll never be a right-,"

"Si—Odin!" She didn't want to hear him of all immortals tell her what she was supposed to be doing! "If you even think about telling me how I'm supposed to feel I swear to the Goddess I'll light your ass up right here and now!"

"I wouldn't dare, Bennett?" Silas shook his head. "How could I?" He gripped the nape of her neck and rested his forehead on her shoulder. "I'm not sure how you're supposed to feel. I just want to be here and have you know I'm here."