The next rising Bonnie awakened in Hvitserk's arms. Warmth bloomed in her belly and radiated throughout her body. She lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest. Her gaze slid over his face. He slept with his mouth wide, while twin chainsaws growled at ear throbbing volumes at the back of his throat. The noise filled their bed quarters in surround sound. Goddess what a man! She'd never seen a sexier sight. With her chest near bursting, she stretched upwards to press her lips to his. The rhythmic roaring within his throat gave way to a moan.

A smirk did filthy things with her mouth as she turned to do the same to Ivar. The empty space on her mate's side of the mattress snatched her wishing brain back to actuality. Back to a future where them being hers no longer existed. A chilling ache cooled the warmth from moments before. Yet Soft lips and a scruffy face nuzzling at the nape of her neck somewhat consoled her. Sinewy arms tightened around her. Expression thrummed in her vessels, while the dominant part of her sorcery shifted about in a state of agitation. A hint of ancient mystical energy called to hers. Her senses prickled. Ivar. He'd returned to their shores. And so it begins. She rolled back to face Hvitserk.

Bonnie pressed a drawn out peck to his lips. "It's time, Hvits," she uttered, her tone low and reluctant. "Ivar's come."

With a cocky confidence she hadn't known from him in years, he pulled her on top of him. The driller twitching between them stood cocked, loaded, and ready to wet up the club. As much as she missed him and wanted to fall right back into them...she couldn't. Another path lay before her. A path she'd left uncharted long enough.

"I know," he said as he reached up to bury his fingers in her hair. "Will you bathe and groom me?"

"It's unnecessary, I've bathed and groomed you multiple times. It only takes once, Hvits." Reluctantly, she pulled herself free of his hold, and then slid from the bed. "Now rise and gather yourself." She snatched the bed furs from his bare body. "If we don't hurry we'll miss him altogether."

He wrenched up and swung his legs off the mattress to perch on the side of the bed. "How can you be certain Ivar will welcome us back at his side? Bjorn took his crown and I would've claimed his life had he not slithered away."

"Oh he'll be welcoming," Bonnie offered him an over the shoulder pointed stare. "If you play the part and own your position."

"What part, what position?" He demanded as his drooping body straightened from its slouch.

She crossed the room to stand between his parted thighs. Placing her hand to his cheek, she murmured, "The part of the broken warrior stumbling down the road of recovery. He loves you as much as I do, he'll not be able to turn you away."

"Very well, Hjarta. I'll be the drunken degenerate once more...for you." He turned his face into her touch to press a kiss within the center of her palm. "Speak to me of the people with whom he now dwells."

"The Rus." Her stare crept from his as her mind conjured the last couple seasons of Vikings. "They're brethren to you and your people."

"My brethren?" He questioned as doubts flickered in his narrowed stare.

Her head bobbed. "They were once Vikings too. Descendants of Odin just as you and your people are," she shrugged, "but for political purposes and personal alliances they've now chosen to walk the path of The Ancient of Days."

"They're Christians?" His stare took a side-eying turn as distaste twisted his mouth over the word Christian.

"Facts," she insisted. His puckered face suggested he loitered on the verge of calling bullshit. "Their land is vast and lies east of here."

Two furrows disturbed the smooth skin between his brow. "And they have designs upon Scandinavia."

"Not all of them, only Prince Oleg." She corrected.

He placed his hands on her waist, and then pulled her onto him. Once she straddled his lap and perched upon the most uncompromising part of him he hit her with another question. "And let me guess, this Oleg and Ivar are now allies." He scoffed. "I always knew he'd return, rodents often do."

"Don't start, Hvits. Ivar's the path you chose," She leaned back to search his stare. "Either make peace with it or choose another." She scooted from his lap to stand before him. "Now gather yourself, before we miss them altogether."

For the next hour they packed and stored resources for a trek down the mountain. Once done Hvitserk sought his leave without a backwards glance, while Bonnie gave the cabin a final look. Memories of she and Ragnar filled her vision. One after the other they took her down until nothing remained but acceptance. Time came for her to let go of what never was, to embrace the possibility of what could be. With a heavy chest she closed the door on dreams never meant to belong to her.

During their trek down the mountain Bonnie wrestled with what came next. Though she'd surrendered to slumber buried deep in Hvitserk's arms the eve before, a dictionary worth of words still lingered between them unsaid. Even the admission parlaying at the edge of her tongue refused to be forced from her lips. Her confession adhered to her taste buds in the same way Elena clung to Salvatores. There'd be no separating the tenuous muscle from such a revelation. In the end she reconciled on waiting for the right moment to speak her truth. Who the hell knew it would be their last?

They spent several turns of the hourglass in silence until they reached the bottom. Once they stood upon flat ground at the base of the mountain Hvitserk turned to her. Resolve and determination sparked a bold as shit union upon his face. His mouth opened, but the sounds of several unrecognizable voices displaced Hvits. Yet a familiar one among the prattle overruled them all. Ivar. She and Hvits eyes held as they silently asked the other if they'd heard the same melodious but commanding timbre. After a moment of unspoken communication Hvits turned in the direction of the voices.

When he moved to leave their place behind the brush, Bonnie realized their clock had stopped. She took hold of his arm to hold him in place. "Hvits, Ivar's your path, but he's not mine." Hvitserk's face twisted into one big question mark. Her gaze strayed in the direction of Ivar's voice, before darting back to Hvits'. "At least not yet."

"What?" He turned back to her with crumpled brows and a squinted stare. "Are we not to join him together?"

His face blurred as she gave her head a slow shake. "I can't attend my future, until I've seen to my past. If I leave with you now then what ifs will always stand between us...separating us just as they've always done." She placed a palm at the center of his chest as she gazed up at him. He opened his mouth once more, but she continued without giving him the opportunity to speak. "This isn't Vestfold, Hvits, but you do have to let me go." He dropped his head to glare at the ground and she continued on as if her next words would make it all easier. "If it's meant...if we're meant, then Fate's plan shall will out."

He lifted his face to rest his forehead on hers. Resolve blazed in his ultra-blue stare. "My trust isn't with Fate, it's in you, and the vision we both sighted so many summers ago." The voices beyond the brush began to move away. "Come so I may rejoin my path."

He turned to leave the privacy of the brush, and she pulled him back. Their lips crashed together. Their tongues collided. The sweet flavor of mint leaves burst her nose wide. Oh her damn he tasted like a mistake. A fucking phenomenal mistake. She squeezed her eyes closed and held on tight as doubts blasted her choice with nuclear powered purpose.

Loathing, yearning, love, and verity set fire to the piece of her determined to remain indifferent. The intensity of the blaze scorched her essence, while putting her divinity on notice. She'd not survive that moment and remain intact. For change dwelled in his kiss, just as certain death resided in the life giving part of him. Undiluted truth bled red down the walls of her reality. They'd belong to the other long after the world returned to dust. Too soon Hvitserk pulled away.

"Fare thee well, Hjarta," he whispered between concluding pecks.

Bonnie's eyes fluttered open. The flood gathering at her lower lids managed to penetrate the barriers. Damn. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Sadness took shots at his face as he brushed the dampness away with his thumbs. When he attempted to pull away again, she grabbed his wrists to hold his hands in place. He muttered something under his breath, and then once more tugged her back into his arms. Sweltering heat mounted between them until the chill straddling the wind lost its bite. His hold around her tightened before he altogether released her. He then took her by the hand and led her from the brush.

Warriors bustled about the clearing as the men broke camp. Several soldiers carried various items to the long boat waiting near the shore. As always Hirst's script willed out. They'd come across one of the Rus' raiding parties. The sight of so many foreign invaders agitated her on a mystical level. Yet a more compelling view reduced the foreign warriors to nothing more than a trivial distraction. Ivar. He waited near the ship while facing the fjord. She and Hvitserk glanced at each other, before rushing forth to close the distance between he and them.

A tall warrior donning black battle attire trimmed in indeterminable fur stepped in their path. His sword drawn. "Halt!"

Hvitserk placed himself in front of her. "What did he say?" Hvits demanded.

"Halt," she said, moving around him to stand toe to toe with Oleg's captain who in turn glared down his nose at her.

Bonnie lifted her hand. The sword wrenched itself from the Captain to replace itself in her palm. The man sockets came damn close to giving birth to his eyes as he stumbled backwards. Ivar turned to attend the collective gasps and bellows moving about the site. Annoyance carved furrows into his forehead, while snatching his glare narrow. Methane sparks darted over the area until they crash landed on her and ignited on impact. The rhythmic pounding at her chest lost its beat.

Over the last three years of their separation he'd changed. He'd grown older. More beautiful than she remembered him being. How was that even possible? Gone was the insecure broken boy, and the boneless mad king who thought himself divine. No, someone else stood before her now. A person she no longer knew. This made her nervous. For the first time since dealing with him unsureness climbed in and started pushing buttons. Her sorcery slid through her veins in a scornful sulk. The ancient energy played at apathy. Yet the low thrum popping sparks at the tips of her fingers proved it anything but. If truth was bust down, and then sold by the pound then she'd have to speak facts. Ivar's hold over her remained firm and true. It was a hold neither she nor her sorcery could deny.

"Bonnie," he mouthed.

"How serendipitous." She lifted her chin and strolled forward. "Hvits has been banished from Kattegat, and now here you are ready to shuttle away the trash."

Ivar's head tilted as his gaze shifted to regard Hvitserk who in turn slumped over in the same manner he utilized when he employed the title of village drunk.

"Banishment, hmm." His stare flicked back to her. "For what purpose?"

"Degeneracy and murder," she answered, before shoving Hvitserk towards him.

Hvits landed at his feet Ivar's feet.

"Whom did he murder?" He demanded never removing his stare from hers.

"Lagertha," she answered. The methane flames flickering in his stare flared. She cast her glare away to regard Hvits. "He's yours now. May you both discover," she offered him a grimace which masqueraded as a smile, "contentment at the other's side."

Bonnie spun around to leave. The Rus Captain who'd played at being Billy Badass moments before leapt from her path. She tossed his sword at his feet, and then snatched a banner bearing Oleg's coat of arms from the ground.

****

"Not those hued ones!" Bjorn shot from his throne to bellow at the longhouse guards hanging flowers along the rafters. "Those blossoms provoke my nose to convulse and drip! Take them out, now!" He whirled about to glare at the great table holding down ground in the center of the hall. "And what of this table, are your minded to leave it here?"

"Bjorn!" His name left Gunnhild's mouth astride a drawn out breath.

He cut an eye to her. She stood near the personal quarters glaring at him. His intended stood next to her glowering with the same pinched face she always donned just for him. The way she scowled one would believe he'd just wrenched himself free of a muck pile. He hadn't spoken more than a smattering of words to the girl since informing her of her fate. What more was there to be said? She'd pilfered a place in his bed with his wife, now she'd suffer the weight of his vow as well. Disgusted, he rolled his gaze away.

"What is it, Gunnhild?" He demanded as he marched over to the great table for a closer regard. Two handmaidens scurried from his path.

"Bjorn, you're being distressing-," A gasp severed her words.

His brows bunched as he turned back to consider his wife. The gawk of her stare threatened to swallow her face, while the markings upon her mistress' face shone with a gilded glow. Sharp sips of air rung out around the hall. Mutterings from several wagging tongues met his ears. Various troughs and chalices hit the ground. He followed Gunnhild's bulging stare to the entrance of the hall and nigh misplaced his tongue down his gullet. Bonnie stood in the doorway, her gaze fixed upon him. The breeze gusting in the open doors tossed her unbound hair about her head. While carrying her flowered and mystical scent throughout the hall.

Never removing her gaze from his, she approached him. Her chin raised. The determination which thwarted him many times afore clenched her jaw and thrust her chin toward the ceiling. When she reached him she dropped a banner of sorts on the, Hel take it, great table.

"The threat I warned of has arrived," she said in a lowered tone. "I came across a raiding party not even a two day trek from here." She moved closer to him and Midgard came to a halt. "They've no doubt come to test Kattegat's defenses. Once satisfied they'll seek their leave of these waters but make no mistake. They will return with an army large enough to fill the horizon."

Though what she said concerned him, he could do no more than stare. Even after her betrayal, he still craved her more than his place between his father and mother in Valhalla. She released a dawdling breath as her eyes rolled.

Her head dipped in a nod. "Look, I know you banished me, but I couldn't just leave without warning you first." She moved even closer still. Every muscle within his form went taut. "But if you've changed your mind...if you want me at your side when they return, then all you have to do is say the word."

She stared up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. He wanted to demand she do just that! Remain at his side and never have leave of him again. Yet his intent remained wedged within his gullet, leaving his tongue without the words needed to keep her nigh. Her jeweled tone stare glistened.

"Okay." Dropping her gaze from his, her head bobbed. She tugged the sacred arm ring from her wrist and dropped the symbol of their vow on top of the banner. "Farewell, Bjorn."

She then turned and marched back out of the longhouse. He could do no more than watch her go. Once the doors closed after her, his stare moved to consider the arm ring on the table.

"Well, don't be witless!" His intended hissed at him. "Go after her."

His tongue finally unknotted and liberated his speech. "Impossible, you and I are to be wedded." His gaze rose to meet his intended's.

Her golden brow cocked. "Are we?"

He studied her for a long moment, and then his wits reclaimed his senseless mindedness. "No we are not!" He answered before his gaze moved to Gunnhild. She nodded her approval as a grin twitched the corners of her mouth. "And I no longer wish to be married to you."

Merriment danced within her stare. "Nor I you, Bjorn Ironside."

Not daring to squander any more words or time on his ex-wife, he snatched the bracelet from the table and hurried from the longhouse.

****

Bonnie climbed the stairs in Mikaelson House. What a fucking mess she'd become. Her heart weighed a ton and for the shitting life of her, she couldn't stop crying. What the hell had she expected? For him to welcome her back with confetti and a parade? Of course he'd send her ass back to the seas and pathways. She'd abandoned him after Lagertha's death. When he'd needed her most. Yet as much as he needed her, Hvitserk needed her more.

Halfway up the winding staircase the front doors burst open. Bjorn stalked in swinging his ahead about until his glare crash landed on her. With a shit ton of purpose he crossed the foyer, and then bounded up the steps to her.

"You swore to me you'd never again remove this," he said, holding up the sacred arm ring he'd given her years before.

She wiped the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her hands. "I never believed a rising would come when you'd standby and allow me to," she bit back between sniffles.

"You sought your leave of me," he accused as his gaze searched hers. "When Midgard threatened to meet its end I stood alone."

"You're the one who chose to dabble in ultimatums, not me," she said, jabbing her finger in his face. "It was never my mind to leave your side indefinitely."

He climbed another step, his stare narrowed and focused. "And what is your mind now?"

"I-I don't know," she folded her arm beneath her breasts, before letting them drop to her sides. Her weight shifted from one foot to the other. "Perhaps, I'll chart a course for the tropics. Goddess knows I can use a good thaw after spending the last decade with my cakes on ice."

He shook his head as he took another step up, and effectively closed the gap between them. "Then you should've plotted such a course before you returned here, Mystical One." He rested his hands on her waist. "For I'll no longer be denied of what we've both always wanted."

She shook her head. "Well I don't know about always-,"

He pulled her lips down on his, and then devoured her mouth. Unable to remain unmoved by him, she dropped her defenses and wrapped herself around him. They both moaned into the kiss. Each of them forfeiting air in favor of inhaling the other. His hands roamed down her waist to grip her hips. In a swift move he lifted her, and her legs wound about him. The bulge pulsing between them provoked her hips to roll. A growl thrummed against his throat. He thrusted upwards twice, and then ripped her from him. Panting harder than a pack of hounds on the trail of a bitch in heat, he placed her back on the step above his.

Regarding him through a lust slitted stare she reached for him again. "Bjorn, no! Please-,"

He swatted her hands away. "I once swore you an oath, and I mean to uphold it."

With that said he turned and descended the steps two at a time, leaving her with nothing else to do but to gawk after him.

****