King Ivar spends much of his time with his infertile first wife: neglecting his second wife, the mother of his children, a Freyjasdottir. Eventually, it catches up to him when a foreign King Sverri invades his lands.
tw: abuse, character death, etc.
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It is deep in the night when you finally put down Aslaug and deeper still when the boys decided to wind down. You tuck them into bed and slather their cheeks with full lipped kisses until Veifnr was giving you his typical dumb sleep-deprived smile.
"Mother." Veifnr cooes. You move over to his side, curling away his dark hair from his sleepy slender eyes. You lay a chaste kiss to his forehead as he whines.
"Don't leave us again. I can't deal with Uxi alone." He mumbles, looking to his strawberry haired brother snoring in deep reverberating breaths to the left of him. You slide beside Veifnr and run your fingers from the tippy top of his forehead down to his supple lips.
"Your mother isn't going anywhere. Now sleep." You pinch one of his cheeks before sliding off on your way outside. Earlier-- Ubbe promised to keep Ivar busy tonight. While he made such a promise, he stands waiting outside with hands folded one over another. A massive horse stands tall beside him, his head bent against Ubbe's hands while he gently massaged him between the eyes.
"What are you doing Ubbe?" You laugh at his horse sniffing through his hair. He swats the horse away with a limp wrist then takes a step forward, grasping underneath your arms to haul you up onto the horse.
"Oof!" You exclaim.
"Are you sure you want to go alone?" Ubbe asks. As you steady yourself on the horse, Ubbe handing you a heavy weight woolen cloak. You drape the head of the cloak over your clean hair and nod your head.
"I will be fine. I've managed all this time without a Ragnarsson. I don't need one now." You reassure him, finding that his eyebrows are contorted all too seriously. It's almost as if he doesn't want to drop the issue with those blue eyes full of expression.
"Gods stop looking at me like that. I would think you're half sorry for what you did." You bob your head with the words.
"Maybe a little." Ubbe sighs. You're sure you're not the only one he's hurt, but in a way, you suppose that it can't be helped now. Your eyes hold his for what feels like years before you kick off out of camp. He regretted hurting you. Now that you were married with three children, what were you to do with that information? Nothing, you suppose. You take his apology and put away all the talk of what could have been-- or should have been. Still... it would have been far less complicated for you if you had only married Ubbe.
You know better than to go straight for Sverri. If there is a scout from either camp, you are sure they would catch wind of what was going on. No, instead you weave through your father's camp, stopping to pitch your horse up and speak to your father. Then but an hour later you truly set out on foot for Kattegat and gain access to the great hall where your Sverri was.
The hall fell instantaneously quiet when you breach the doorway, man after man falling out of line from as you look for the King. He sat on Ivar's throne, his hand under his chin while another held a golden goblet of celebratory mead. He is donned in a deep green tunic, his favourite colour. Thick, black hair tickles the scruff of his beard. Then his eyes settled upon you and he shifts his leather boots evenly onto the ground.
