She was out on the seas, the waves crashing around her and the wind howling and throwing her hair in tangles across her eyes. The boats were caught in a tempest so strong Thor was capsizing them himself; they were taking on floods of water like she could swim in the boats themselves as they struggled to remain afloat. The rain stung and bombarded her face and she could taste the salt water on her lips and feel it sticking to her arms. Men were yelling orders, but the words seemed to mix with the wind and fade out as quickly as they were saying them.
A man was shriveled in a corner, bowing his head and shivering. Lhyrie didn't recognize him. But she saw Ivar, tied against the mast, his eyes forced shut with all his might and fists clenched in fear. She could almost hear him whimper within the wind. Then suddenly, a great clap of thunder and lightning hit so close to the boat it sparked in the waves and the world grew silent. Thor pushed a towering wave at them and it lingered over the vessel for what seemed like eternity. The men, frozen in their places, gazed at it, mesmerized by the sheer force. And then it fell, the arctic surge crashing into the boat and ripping it into two halves. Ivar screamed, breaking the silence, helplessly tied to the post and struggled against the ropes.
She woke with her shift soaked through. She could still feel the ice water and salt clinging to her skin and feel the wind whip at her. Out of breath and freezing she sat up, pulled a fur closer around her and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to press away the dream from her mind's eye. The night had been filled with terrors. Her dreams were occupied by a ragging tempest or a cage dangling over a leaf covered pit and no amount of praying to Nỏtt could halt her dreams. Ubbe stirred beside her and snores echoed in the small cabin. It must be hours until dawn as the room was a void of darkness.
"Come back to bed," he whispered and groped to feel her beside him, but came up with nothing. He opened his eyes and saw her sitting at the edge of the bed and placed his hand on the small of her back. "You're freezing."
"I had that same dream," she said. "The one with the storm. I can feel it in my bones." She had woken him earlier and briefly told him of the storm and ship breaking, but left out the detail of his brother helpless against the mast. She thought he was getting used to her sleepless nights, as he would wake when she did and calm her back to sleep.
"Anything change?"
"No… exactly the same." Lhyrie wondered if her dream was the shipwreck Ivar had told her about – how the ships were lost at sea. If so, she wondered if the cage had something to do with Jagar's death. She was too afraid to ask.
Ubbe sat and wrapped his arms around her and pressed his chest against her back. His body instantly warmed hers with the thought of the battered storm fading from her memory. He lightly kissed the base of her neck and she shivered, but not from cold and she melted into him. His beard gently scratched and tickled her as he planted kisses on her neck and allowed something other than nightmares to keep her awake.
"We have guards out front," Sigurd called, waking her as the waves crashed around her and swallowed her whole again. She jumped awake with the little hairs on her arm alert and shivering.
Ivar was already perched on a stool, fiddling with a knife and arrow, ignoring his brother who stood in the doorway with a pail of water. Ubbe groaned next to her and squinted one eye open. "Who?" He grunted.
"Lagertha's shield-maidens," spat Sigurd. He gripped the handles of the bucket so tight she thought he was going to drop it.
"Good…" Ivar sneered, "We can kill them."
"No. We will not," Ubbe mumbled in.
"But I want to kill them," Ivar told his brother. He peered over at them in the bed, looking out under his thick brow. Lhyrie thought she saw a darkness shadow his eyes like a veil, but it flashed away in an instant. She felt a chill coming from his glare and tightly pulled a fur around her thinly dressed body.
"They would only kill us," Ubbe propped up on his elbows and hissed at Ivar. "And I do not wish to die today," he reached for her hand and squeezed it hard. Her lips twitched up in a slight smile, but it suddenly faded when she looked back toward Ivar and his cold stare.
Ivar groaned and threw the knife he was playing with hard into the wood flooring so that it stood erect, imbedded in the grain. Sigurd finally moved from the doorway and let it slam behind him, just as Lhyrie saw a woman move past, a shield and sword drawn. Ubbe stood at the side of the bed and pulled a pair of trousers on as she thought on the strange situations that brothers are heir to. Covered under a blanket, she shuffled to find her dress and throw it over her shoulders while being modest, unlike Ubbe a few seconds before.
"Now it would help to have a shield-maiden on your side," she said softly, almost under her breath.
"Not now," Ubbe warned her.
"For what?" It was funny how innocent Ivar could seem sometimes, Lhyrie thought as he asked the simple question. He looked very much like a child then, pure and unsure, not the terror who mimics the monsters in bedtime stories. Ivar looked toward her and cocked his head, so much like Ubbe it made her uncomfortable. She gulped and hid her eyes from him.
"Lagertha asked me to be her shield-maiden," she said, just above a whisper.
"What?" Exclaimed Sigurd, who nearly knocked Ivar off his stool as he ran past and slammed his fists into the bedding a mere foot from her. Ubbe quickly jostled his brother away from the bed and away from any uncontrollable action might be brewing in mind. He held him with a hand on his chest and his palm behind his neck. Lhyrie didn't think he was displaying anger – the only anger Sigurd had in him was toward Ivar and Ragnar, not her. But the line between anger and excitement twisted in on itself and could turn to one or another in a blink of an eye.
Ivar picked up the knife he had thrown into the wood and began picking at it again. She could sense hatred in him – he clearly hated Lagertha and wanted no one associating with her, including Lhyrie. Just like Ubbe, he wouldn't be able to see past the veil of Lagertha, of mother-killer and usurper, to see how a position within her ranks would benefit them.
"Wouldn't that be better than healing?" Sigurd looked cock-eyed toward his brother holding him. He was excited for her, not angry.
"Not if she wanted to get killed," Ubbe shook his brother and let him go with a shove. "Lagertha would never place you anywhere near us. You would be on the docks – away from her and away from us," he said to her.
"Shield-maidens gossip," she pleaded, but could sense Ivar brooding in his seat and fought her words swiftly. She wouldn't win her argument with Ivar around. "Before I head back to Kattegat, I want to search for plants," she said in a somewhat question, unsure if Ubbe would even allow her to do that. Hopping out of the bed, she grabbed her sword and tied it around her waist. She crossed her arms and waited for a debate, but met none and swung her medical bag over her shoulder.
"We'll go with you," Ubbe said, ruffling Ivar's hair. "By the river?"
She nodded.
"You need a bath," he poked at Ivar, "We all do."
Sigurd and Ivar groaned and rolled their eyes. Ubbe fell naturally into the mothering role, as he did when Ragnar was away with the father role. Lhyrie smiled to herself, picturing Ubbe tucking them in at night and smoothing their curly hair.
"I'll meet you outside," she said, swinging the door open. She ran face into a guard who stepped into her path. Her head rung as she rubbed her forehead from the force of the shield that met her there and took a step back. The door had slammed shut behind her and the if the force of the blow hadn't forced her eyes shut, the morning sun blinding them helped.
"We can let her go," a voice said to her left.
"Where are you going?" Someone else asked.
"There's no need, Asif," another one said. How many guards were here? She wondered. She raised her hand to her brow to try and block the light and began to see the outlines of the women surrounding her. They half-circled her with their shields braced but one, who stood back and folded her arms.
"Lagertha said we only needed to guard Ragnar's sons, not their… whomever," she trailed off.
"I don't feel comfortable with that," the one Lhyrie ran into sneered at her. "Anyone who stays with them is dangerous."
"I will let Lagertha know you disapprove of her order – now let her go."
The woman stepped out of her path and scoffed. Lhyrie looked toward the woman in the back and nodded. "Thank you," she told her. She didn't feel threatened by them – she felt more intimidation from Ivar inside the cabin than the five women surrounding her now. "I'm going toward the woods," she said to them, taking a step forward. "To pick herbs and plants. Then I will be on my way back to Kattegat."
Lhyrie could hear the one guard mumble under her breath as she walked past them and toward the forests dark edge. She needed her Black Hellebore, especially after just giving Margrethe the last of her supply and her sleeping with Ubbe last night. Her pace quickened toward the forest as she remembered she needed to take it soon as she always did the morning after. She was certain it wasn't too far, as she had seen it that one day riding to the cabin a few months ago.
Ahead of her the leaves rustled and crunched. Lhyrie thought another guard might pop out behind the brush, but instead trotted out a fawn, out of season, fresh with spots. Winter was coming fast, the thin cloak Lhyrie had around her shoulders wouldn't last long as the days grew shorter. What was a fawn doing so close to winter? She thought as she stopped where she stood, careful not to startle the younger deer as it explored its surroundings. Its head was bowed low, smelling the earth, probably looking for water.
The cabin door creaked open yards behind her and the flutter of the shield-maiden's steps crunched in the mud. Lhyrie turned her head to look back at them as Ubbe walked out, exalted with the rushed greeting he received of swords and shields drawn. As she looked toward the fawn it was gone, but she could see the tiny footprints left in the damp earth where they sprinted off. She gave a deep sigh and moved forward, following the tracks until they disappeared into the leaves. She had hoped to see the mother, to see that the little fawn so out of season was safe, but came up short. The tracks had, however, led her right to the Black Hellebore, which she gathered gleefully and overfilled her satchel.
"Are you going to watch us bathe?" She heard Ubbe ask somewhere through the trees. She thought she could hear crickets in the silence that followed. "I take that as a yes," he boasted.
Lhyrie tried to suppress a laugh as he said that. She could picture him plain as day – leaning slightly back, his fingers spread open wide in front of him and his eyebrows cocked. She had seen him use that expression countless times. Bjorn and Ragnar had it too. Stuffing the Black Hellebore into her bag, she followed her path back to the farmhouse.
"They are going to watch our every move," Ubbe said to her as she joined the boys just outside the cabin door.
"Someone ought to," she smirked, reaching on her tiptoes to give him a small peck on the cheek. Ivar growled and slithered past them, toward the forest and the river. "I should get back to Kattegat," she told him as Sigurd brushed by. "Aunt Helga will have questions." She tried not to glare at Ivar. Helga deserved to hear the fate of her uncle and she was certain the word of Ragnar had already flooded the village. Clearing her throat, Lhyrie attempted to hide the resentment in her face.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" He asked rubbing her shoulders.
"I need to get back to Kattegat."
"Alright." He kissed her forehead before taking her hand. "I will come to Kattegat soon. After Ivar gets settled."
"Of course.
The row to Kattegat was better for Lhyrie than the trip to the farmhouse, as her arms were not tired from a fight and the tide was with her. She took her time, letting the current take her as she watched the water cut against the small boat and the fish swim carelessly under the surface.
But as she stared and the let her mind wander, an anger started to brew toward Ivar. Like her, she wondered if Ivar remembered every face he killed, for then he would know if he killed Jagar or her uncle. Her mind unwelcomely flashed to the dreams she had last night and tried to decode them. She was certain they were real, past events of what happened to the party in England, but she refused to muster up the courage and ask Ivar – perhaps Ubbe would do that for her. She hated him and even their shared vengeance toward Lagertha couldn't bring Lhyrie to sympathize toward him. She even felt her discontent toward Lagertha weaken as it switched to Ivar and the wish to see her dead faded.
Pulling onto the beach in front of Helga's house, she could already hear the gossip of Ragnar and the other raiding party's deaths. One woman was bold enough to come up to her directly and asked her, knowing her connection to Ubbe and therefore Ivar.
"I'm sorry, the Queen will surely know more," she lied to the poor woman. She didn't want to be the one to break the news but gulped and said, "I do know some boats were lost in a storm…"
"Thank you dear," the woman sniffled, squeezing Lhyrie's hands.
Aunt Helga stood in the doorway when she heard her voice and waited for her to walk the few feet into her home to talk privately. "Are the rumors true?" She asked over a cup of tea.
"Some boats floundered in a storm," she said with a sip. "Those who made it to shore were killed."
"During a raid?"
Lhyrie hesitated. Should she lie and say yes? People would assuredly want revenge for Ivar killing their loved ones, if they so dared and Helga wouldn't keep a secret for long.
"They were ambushed," she said finally. It wasn't a complete lie. They were ambushed – by Ivar and Ragnar.
"And they spared Ragnar and Ivar?" She asked quickly.
Again, she hesitated. "Yes. It sounds like Ragnar was bartered to another King who wanted him dead… Ivar didn't know much of the language."
"Do we know the fate of Drun or your friend?"
"No," she answered curtly. She was done with questions and her head started to ache.
The rumors only grew from there. The most popular was that Odin struck Ragnar down himself, angry that he didn't tell the people of Kattegat the English settlements had failed, and Odin's crows plucked out his eyes and tongue. Another was an earthquake split the Earth and swallowed the party that landed on the beach whole. Whatever calmed the people's fears, Lhyrie thought. It was better than the truth.
A few days later, Ubbe and his brothers came back to Kattegat. Lagertha was going to make an announcement. She had been away at Hedeby after Ivar returned with the news of Ragnar. Some people believed she had fled like Ragnar had, but Torvi and Astrid stayed behind, manning Kattegat in her absence.
"I think it may have to do with defenses," Lhyrie told him.
"Why's that?" Ubbe cocked his head to the side.
"I saw guards scouting the parameter of the city and the river and marking areas. It looks like the groundwork for palisades… and I heard a few shield-maidens talking. I told you they like to gossip."
"It's about time," he agreed with the defenses and ignoring her comment. He began to get dressed but she stayed covered with no intention of moving.
"Are you coming?" He asked as a horn blew from the Great Hall.
She shook her head slightly and rubbed her eyes. "If it was mandatory she would've said. And there's little room in the Hall anymore for these gatherings. She needs to fix that too. Kattegat has grown too large for that small Hall."
"I'll be back after."
"Are your brothers going?"
"Sigurd is. I do not know where Ivar went to. Probably far away from the water – he still gets quite seasick, despite his journey to England." She naturally pressed her lips together with mention of Ivar's name. A cold spot still haunted her from his actions and the few days hadn't calmed it – especially with everyone's talk about him and England. "I saw Margrethe earlier," he said casually, pulling on his tunic.
"Now that Lagertha has officially moved from Hedeby, I guess Margrethe came with her," Lhyrie added.
"She said she saw you a few days ago."
"It was the day Ivar returned… It was so frantic it slipped my mind." She propped herself up on her elbows and reached for a glass of water.
"She wanted to thank you for the herbs?" He raised his eyebrows with curiosity and waited for her answer.
She wavered slightly, uncertain if she should tell Ubbe why, or if Margrethe had already told him and he was just testing her. "I gave her something to help with afterbirth," she gulped.
"She was with child?" Ubbe stiffened with his eyes wide.
"She miscarried, yes."
"How – how old was the child?" He stuttered.
"I didn't see the child… but what she described couldn't be more than a few weeks."
"But you can't be sure," he fiercely retorted.
"I didn't see it, Ubbe."
He slammed his boot on the floor as he was pulling it on. Lhyrie jumped at the sound and reached for her tunic, suddenly uncomfortable in her nakedness. "You were jealous of her," he said, pounding his other boot into the floor and looked up at her. "Did you give it to her to miscarry?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ubbe –,"
"Is my question not justifiable?" He glared at her.
"She had miscarried already. If afterbirth is left in a woman it is deadly. I was helping her, despite what you think as malicious." He scoffed as he pulled his vest on and rubbed his brow. "Ask her yourself if you do not believe me." Another horn blew in the distance. "You are going to be late to the meeting."
He left without looking at her. Despite what she knew was right, Lhyrie was filled with guilt as she was left in the empty house. She was afraid Ubbe would react that way – he was too caring, too invested. Of course, his first instinct when he heard "child" was to be a father, to protect it and the mother, regardless if it was even his. He had had a relationship with Margrethe and therefore any child she could have been with would naturally been his, despite her doubtless abundant partners as a slave. So obviously, Lhyrie was lying and had it out for her.
She wished he would turn rational soon and not let it draw out like her leaving Kattegat. She didn't think she could withstand another rift of that magnitude. And she definitely couldn't stand the house this quiet with the air so stale and unmoving; she needed to leave.
The streets were quiet except a few people wandering the streets, avoiding the Great Hall and Lagertha's announcement same as her. She was curious though, and found herself at the Hall despite. It was overcrowded with people pouring out the doors, peering to hear the low voice of their Queen. But it wasn't Lagertha speaking.
Ivar grumbled and it echoed in the Hall. All Lhyrie could hear was "combat" before a gasp simultaneously resonated in the Hall as a hundred people thought as one. He had challenged Lagertha to single combat. "A cripple," she heard someone huff. Did they not know Ivar? Even if he was hungover and next to dying Lhyrie wouldn't be foolish enough to face Ivar in single combat. But Lagertha wouldn't refuse, she couldn't. But she did.
Lhyrie turned and left before Ivar pulled his way out of the Hall. She could hear the pounding of his stakes as he crawled and with each blow she could see each thrust of his knife into people she cared about in England.
"Lhyrie!" Ubbe called as she quickened her pace. "I didn't mean to be so brash earlier…" She turned sharply on her heel to look at him and crossed her arms. He was trying to make himself look smaller, crouching his shoulders slightly and looking sorrowfully under his brow and therefore more sympathetic. She didn't fall for it and waited for him to continue. "I – I shouldn't accuse you of anything. You just wanted to help."
But he didn't apologize. For someone so caring and remorseful he never apologized or blamed himself. She actually thought about tapping her foot to prove a point but stood there as the rain started to drizzle and pressed her lips together. "I know you care for Margrethe. You still do, don't you?"
It was time for Ubbe to be silent. "I love you. I always have," he said softly.
"Good." She turned hard on her heel as the rain started to fall harder. Thunder rolled as she weaved through the streets to her uncle's – no her – home, now. As she closed the door and leaned against the wall, Ubbe gave a single rap on the wood.
"Are you going to leave me in the rain?" He asked.
"Maybe," she replied with a smile, but tried not to let it show in her voice. The rain pattered harder on the roof and a drop leaked on her nose from a hole she needed to patch.
"Lhyrie…" A soft thud struck on the door. He was leaning with his forehead against it and she desperately wanted to open it quickly to see him stumble. Instead, she let it slowly creak open to see him sopping wet. If he was pretending to be pitiful earlier, there was no faking it now. He looked drowned and bitter in the nearly frozen rain. He pushed crack in the door wider, enough for him to push through and scoop her face in his palms. She tasted the fresh water on his lips and breathed in the rain on his skin. She couldn't be mad at him with his skin pressed against hers.
"You were right. She's building defenses," he said sometime later, cuddled next to her.
"That happens quite a bit, actually, " she said, stroking his hair.
"And Ivar vowed to kill her."
"That's not surprising. Are you? Going to kill her?"
"Eventually…" he pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "But not tonight."