Chapter 4 - Reunion
A/N: Warning: this story will have very triggering subject matter throughout. Individual trigger warnings will be placed with chapters when appropriate. Any feedback is really appreciated.
Content warning for this chapter: child pregnancy, teen pregnancy, vulgar language.
Ubba squinted as the sun broke through Repton's horizon. But he did not have the same sense of peace as he had weeks prior.
The air felt different. Heavier. As if it required more energy to breathe.
The weight came from last night's events. As elusive as La Mère des Secrets was, he at least had a mental sketch of her. An old, tired engei on her last leg.
But now they were dealing with a young woman. A "Mother of Bastards." She was nothing he had expected. If La Mère was to throw any surprises at him, something of this nature was beyond anything his imagination could conjure up.
"Well! That was fucking dramatic!" Ivarr joined him, yawning as he took in the same sight. Ceolbert and Ceowulf followed, but Ubba found little rest in their company. Too much had transpired to find peace, even in those he trusted.
"I knew this arrangement would hold surprises for us, brother," Ubba said, shaking his head. "But this is a lot to take in."
"She's a de la Croix. Why could she possibly want to murder her family?" Ceolbert asked. His visibly troubled expression hadn't changed since last night.
"I suspect her daughter plays a key role, if not pivotal," Ceowulf surmised. "My thinking is she, if not the pair of them, are bastards."
"Hence the name?" Ivarr jested.
"I suppose it rolls off the tongue better than the 'mother of secrets,'" Ubba said half-heartedly.
"Bah! I bet that bacraut was never in danger! She just wanted revenge because she couldn't keep her legs closed!" Ivarr spat.
"Ivarr!" Ubba chastised his brother. "Not only do you speak out of turn," he said, pointing across the way. "But she's right there!"
La Mère, or whatever her pompous name she was assuming, had taken refuge near the city limits. She paced back and forth angrily, kicking up dirt in frustration. The dust wafted around her, staining her navy robes with a brown gradient tint.
Swayne watched her intently, his face completely stoic.
"I cannot get a good read on her guard," Ivarr remarked.
"I know we've only just met him, but he strikes me as the type to only find joy in defeating his foes," Ceolbert said.
"More like tear them to pieces! Did you see him fight?! He's got talent!" Ivarr said insistingly.
"They're speaking," Ceowulf said. Ubba narrowed his eyes and noticed the same. La Mère seemed to be talking to the air with Swayne only nodding in response. But they were too far for him to make out the words.
Ubba glanced at his group, silently deciding to rectify that.
Someone in her position could not be allowed privacy. It was simply too great of a risk to take.
As they approached, Swayne braced himself like a soldier standing at attention. He was particularly focused on Ceolbert. They were roughly the same height but something about the air around Swayne made him seem taller. Ceolbert straightened his posture to square up to him.
A rivalry in the making.
"What do you want?" La Mère asked tersely.
"Do you always speak down to those superior to you?" Ubba challenged her, placing his hands on his hips.
"He is not my King until I am reunited with my birth daughter!" She shot back defiantly.
"You insolent little -!" Ubba started but Ceowulf stepped forward.
"Enough!" Ceowulf barked. "You have a very capable warrior personally retrieving her. Should that not be enough to earn your confidence?" He asked calmly.
La Mère opened her mouth to reply when she was suddenly hit with a huge wave of water. She shrieked as her robes became drenched. Soon a woman's giggle filled the air, revealing the culprit.
A young, gorgeous woman stood opposite of La Mère, having gone unnoticed in the intense quarrel. Her alabaster skin practically glowed against the morning light. A light breeze rustled her long, wavy honey-blonde hair which almost automatically fell back into place. She giggled mischievously at La Mère.
"You must quench your fiery rage before it gets you killed!" The woman laughed.
"Ugh! I am in no mood for your childish antics, Melisendre!" La Mère whined.
"And who might you be?" Ivarr asked, giving the newcomer a sly smirk. Clearly his brother was smitten by the fair lady.
"Melisendre. This one's second-in-command if you will," she greeted them happily, grinning at La Mère. The angry spy lord said nothing as she wrung the water out of her hair and robes. Her dirty robes dried quickly in the arid morning heat, caking into large, uneven splotches.
"The King is right, Blanchefleur. I do not share your propensity for mathematics, but the result is clear as day! We have a strong warrior, thus your chances of holding Melodie again increase dramatically!" Melisendre comforted her.
"That is precisely what concerns me!" La Mère said tiredly. "She should have returned by now. And I know this because I timed how long it takes to journey from here, to the cave, then back again! On foot, and by horse! Twice!"
"Ooooof course you did!" Melisendre teased, flicking La Mère on the forehead.
Ubba sized the duo up. Though he knew them both only briefly, he could tell there was a special bond between them. Primarily because anyone who would flick La Mère like that would most likely have their fingers chopped off.
Or bitten off, given how angry La Mère was.
It reminded him of how he compared to Ivarr. They were physically and emotionally like night and day, but bound by the stories that made up their sagas.
A similarity he never imagined sharing with the likes of La Mère.
"Perhaps some mead to calm your nerves?" Melisendre suggested.
"No, I need to be sober when she arrives," La Mère said dismissively.
Melisdenre held her hands up in mock surrender. "I relent! Never say I didn't try to calm the ferocious -!"
"ARRÊTE!" La Mère yelled, finally silencing Melisendre.
Swayne remained unfettered, probably having become used to his leaders' outbursts. Melisdenre winked at Uba, earning her a smirk from him.
At least we don't have to kill you. Probably.
La Mère gazed longingly at the landscape as she awaited Eivor's arrival. While she was disrespectful about it, Ubba acknowledged La Mère had a point.
Eivor knew how important this alliance was, and for now it all hung on the safe retrieval of Melodie. Surely she would make haste. He prayed to the Gods for their safe return. The sooner the better.
"Look!" La Mère suddenly exclaimed. Ubba stood next to her and his worries vanished. Eivor and her cream-colored steed fast approached. A little dot of red that had to be Melodie based on La Mère's description.
But Ubba's worries returned as soon as they had left.
As Eivor came closer, the girl appeared to grow larger and larger. M had to be at least eight, if not nine winters along. La Mère had to be no older than Eivor, yet she claimed to have a child at this age?
By the hand of Thor…
La Mère paid him no mind. She was shakily breathing while anxiously shuffling her feet. She probably wanted nothing more than to run to Eivor but feared retribution from her soon to be King.
Upon arriving, Eivor dismounted and scooped the girl up gently before setting her down. Sure enough the girl's features were unmistakingly La Mères, save her hair and frosty blue eyes. The full extent of her right foot's disfigurement was hidden with a thick boot. She eagerly wobbled towards them using a thick stick as a cane.
"Mama!" The little girl cried out.
"Melodie!" La Mère called back. She looked at Ceowulf, her eyes begging him to greet her. He nodded, sending La Mere into a surprisingly measured jog.
She held the girl tightly who sobbed into her robes. They spoke rapidly in French to one another. The girl was giddy, barely able to contain her energy. La Mère was appeared happy but unlike earlier had managed to restrain her emotions.
A complete switch from her disposition earlier.
Everyone looked on at the bizarre reunion. Ubba's group was dismayed while Melisendre and Swayne appeared to be at peace. Swayne was even smiling.
"She's getting better with her," Melisendre said to Swayne, nudging his arm.
"Melisendre? Who is that?" Ivarr asked slowly.
"Melodie de la Croix," she replied softly. She pressed her hands together as thanking the Christian God for this moment.
"W-well I can see that, but…" Ivarr continued but his words trailed off. Eivor stared at the mother-daughter duo, her face echoed the same sense of confusion Ubba had. She passed by them slowly and ignored her comrades when Ivarr grabbed her bare bicep.
"Eivor? What the fuck?!" He whispered harshly. But the Wolf-Kissed one ignored him; her face frozen into a hard stare.
"I need mead," she muttered before trudging past him.
"How old is M-melodie?" Ceolbert stuttered.
Melisendre crossed her arms. She had straightened her posture and stared at that them hard, taking on the same persona of a defender like Swayne.
"Eleven," she said firmly. "And before you ask any more questions, which I'm sure you have, anything further is not my story to tell."
She gripped the fabric of the thin sleeves of her olive dress. "Please...just let them be for the day!" She begged, taking care not to raise her voice.
La Mère stood up, wiping a glob of mucus off her daughter's nose. "King Ceowulf!" She said, happily. "Our resources are yours!"
Melodie giggled happily as she clung onto her mother's leg. The girl's grip was so tight it was as if she feared she'd be carried away by a light breeze.
They must've been apart for quite some time.
Ceowulf gulped and straightened his red velvet tunic. Ubba pitied the old king. He spoke of facing great challenges before, but this was daunting, even for the most seasoned of rulers.
"Perhaps we should take the day to collect ourselves," La Mère said, picking up Melodie once more. Ceowulf nodded curtly before averting her gaze. He tapped Ceolbert's shoulder, motioning for him to follow. The group slowly dispersed.
The only comfort Ubba could take was knowing La Mère seemed to be aware she had exceptional circumstances. He was still determined to get all the answers he needed, but for now he had to gather his bearings.
And those of his brother, for he feared Ivarr would resort to far too much mead.