Chapter 6 - The First Mountains
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: mentions of child pregnancy, mentions of teen pregnancy, sexual content, prostitution, vulgar language.
The following morning, Ubba reflected on recent events as he finished his meal in the longhouse. With each sunrise, this world grew stranger and stranger. La Mère becoming an ally was one thing. But to have her be a mother at such a young age was terrifying to him.
She had to have been 14 when the crippled girl was born. That couldn't be true. No, more like he wished it wasn't true.
Ivarr had joined him, gulping down his mead eagerly. Ubba suspected his brother was trying to distract himself from what they were facing. Other than his noisy cow-like chewing, Ivarr was unusually quiet. The closest to meditating he could probably achieve.
His frequent bouts of lunacy were starting to grow more pleasurable than the heavy weights La Mere kept hurling their way. They could handle a storm of arrows and thunder of shields as Eivor put it, but this…was a series of hard truths to hear.
Can't say I blame him.
"What are we to do, brother?" Ivarr asked.
That didn't last long.
"In regards to what?" Ubba asked, tearing the last piece of his chicken off its bone.
"You know exactly what I mean," Ivarr growled.
"It's been but a fortnight. I'm still processing things, brother. We just have to keep our wits about us as this alliance continues," Ubba sighed.
"We would not be given a whole fucking day were it not gifted to us by our new ally!" Ivarr drawled. "I am so beholden by her generosity!"
"Be serious Ivarr! She does seem determined to step out of the shadows. Take credit for her deeds. We cannot fault her for that," Ubba argued. He had to force those words from his lips. Though he often tried to be the voice of reason he felt it hard to believe his own words. A desperate grasp at stability when it had been robbed from him time after time.
Ivarr shrugged. "I will believe that to be the case if it happens right before my eyes," he said. He grabbed his fork and held it up to his left eye, staring intently at his brother.
"On that, we are agreed," Ubba said, nodding. For once Ivarr was starting to make more sense than him.
"Ivarr! Ubba!" Ceolbert greeted them. Ubba smirked at the aethling and motioned to his cheek, for it had a thin line of grease on it from his morning meal. Ceolbert quickly wiped it off, his cheeks growing rosy in color.
"I've come to fetch you. Father has asked to meet him in the war room. Apparently La Mère is ready for talks," Ceolbert said.
"Fucking fantastic!" Ivarr groaned, slamming his fork on the table. Its thick metal tongs penetrated the wood. Ubba was sure he'd get a tongue lashing from Ceowulf on respecting Repton's property. Not that Ivarr would give half a damn.
Ubba stood up, took a quick breath, and cracked his neck.
Let's go!
The trio made their way through the bustling streets of Repton. The town rehabilitating itself after years of war seemed oblivious to the new ally in their midst. Common folk went about revitalizing the city. Having barely made progress since the battle Ubba could tell they were eager to return to some sense of normal.
Ubba carefully eyed the children along the way. His usual fear that any of them could be La Mère spies resurfaced. He held his paranoia down for he could not afford any distractions now.
But after passing the halls of Tamworth and reaching the war room, he was faced with just that. In the most unexpected form possible.
Whores. Lots of them.
Melisendre of all people and four scantily clad women were posing around the room. Eivor had already fallen under one's spell, holding a whore in her lap. The blonde drengr was caressing the whore's breast, as if oblivious to any scandalous attention she'd draw to herself.
What little fabric they wore draped over their body purposefully showing off their figures. Some were voluptuous, others rather slim, no doubt to cater to the wide variety of tastes they saw in their line of work.
Ubba's loins stirred at what he was seeing. He barely cared that this was some kind of premeditated surprise. Or trap.
"Wha?!" Ceolbert squeaked.
"Helloooooo," Melisendre purred. "Little king, did I fail to mention I was La Mère 's second in command?"
"U-uh yes, but um -" Ceolbert stuttered.
"I am Madame Melisendre. I command our arsenal of whores," she explained with a grandiose tone. "You see girls? Before us stands Mercia's champion and the mighty Ragnarssons!"
A brunette whore giggled and waltzed over to Ivarr. She licked her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I have a thing for men with scars," she said gingerly.
"I'm starting to like this alliance, brother," Ivarr said, grinning madly.
"Which one will you take, Madame?" Eivors whore asked.
"You know I go for the big ones," Melisendre said. Ubba was both excited and scared to see she had chosen him of all people. He peered down at her. Though he was several inches taller than her she definitely dominated him with her presence alone.
And Ubba didn't mind one bit.
"What say you, Ubba Ragnarsson? Care to take me on?" Melisendre whispered, straddling one leg around his waist. Ubba smirked and grabbed it, stroking her impossibly soft skin. He found himself practically swimming in her ocean blue eyes.
"MELISENDRE?!" Ubba recognized La Mère 's voice, and jerked his head behind him.
La Mère, Swayne, and King Ceowulf staring at the scene. La Mère s' brow was deeply furrowed, scowling at her second-in-command. Swayne dawned his usual stoic expression while Ceowulf stared at Ceolbert, as if to mentally restrain his son from engaging in anything "indecent."
Ubba gulped.
Oops!
"Why must you constantly engage in such immature antics?!" Blanchefleur asked exasperated. She was well aware Melisendre had been practically foaming at the mouth by the prospect of bedding a Ragnarsson. But she was hoping she'd tame her hungry thighs until nightfall.
I should be inured to her surprises at this point.
"Oh, don't make us stop!" Melisendre whined, playfully slapping Ubba's behind.
"You are standing before our king!" Blanchefleur yelled, gripping her hair so tight she feared she'd rip it out.
"Fiiiiiiine," Melisendre relented, releasing Ubba and snapping her fingers. This prompted the other whores to follow her. Blanchefleur let her hands slide down until she could bury her face in them.
As Melisendre passed her, she flicked Blanchefleur on her covered forehead. "I can hear the wrinkles forming," Melisendre teased before finally leaving.
"Apologies, my sovereign. Corralling whores can be...difficult," Blanchefleur said through gritted teeth.
"I can only imagine," he replied sarcastically. He walked to the thick wooden table in the center of the room and analyzed the markers of ally and enemy troops. A visual display of his priorities.
"Do you take joy in robbing people of their pleasure?!" Ivarr griped.
"We have far more important issues at hand, Ivarr," Ceowulf reminded him, pointing to the map.
Ubba coughed, trying to regain his composure. "What a change in uniform," he remarked.
"Melisendre always does dress to impress her audience," Blanchefleur sighed.
"No, um, I meant you," Ubba said. He paced to the other side of table, perhaps to hide his erect plow sword with the thick rim of the table.
Nice try.
Blanchefleur looked down at her new robes. The amber colored cloth was far more fitting - both in size and title - than her usual nun costume. Her cream-colored hooded scarf was made from a light fabric, providing just enough sun coverage without being too suffocating.
She fiddled with the chain of her gold heron necklace as she and Swayne approached the table. "Indeed. A refreshing change," she said, confidently.
"I suspect the religious life did not suit you?" Ceolbert asked.
"If I never step foot into a church ever again, I will live a happy life!" Blanchefleur said happily. "I far prefer the company of my true family."
Eivor looked at her, clearly puzzled. "True family?" She asked.
Blanchefleur glanced around the room, noting how the Ragnarssons and Ceolbert obviously shared the same confusion.
"Ah yes, you'll find we use rather odd terminology in our day-to-day operations. 'True family' are those you consider to be family by bond, not blood. 'Birth family' is blood related only," Blanchefleur explained.
"What an odd distinction! However did you come up with that?" Ceolbert asked.
"I am not the only one abandoned by their blood relatives, Ceolbert. Blood does not automatically make you family with anyone. It's one's experience, deeds, and what you do before temptations that define who you are to someone," she said.
Ceolbert gulped. Blanchefleur looked at him from head to toe. He wore the garb of a Mercian soldier, but his spirit was akin to that of a newborn pup. Not even a wolf pup, but more like a domesticated dog meant for companionship rather than battle. Even his eyes twinkled from his innocence.
"And you provide a home for those abandoned in exchange for coin?" Ubba asked, skeptically. She took a quick, sharp breath. This was to be expected given her organization's reputation, courtesy of their late former leader. But she still resented accusations of taking advantage of lost souls the way he was insinuating.
"That is one of many services we offer. All are welcome in our family. Children, women, men, we take them all if they're in need," Blanchefleur said.
"You liar! You use them to fuel the engine of your spy trade! Using trickery and deception to fill your coffers!" Ivarr challenged her.
"Spies are an ingrained part of this world, Ivarr Ragnarsson. You should be thankful that mine are on your side!" she retorted.
Eivor stood between the two, probably to prevent Ivarr from physically attacking Blanchefleur. "You claim to care for these children, but it is our understanding you put them in dangerous situations as spies. Should that not be the task for grown folk?" Eivor asked.
Blanchefleur tucked her hair behind her ears. "If anything, children are guaranteed more safety as spies. Children often go unnoticed in this world. Especially when it's obvious they've been abandoned," Blanchefleur then bordered her eyes with her hands. "And they deliberately erase them from their minds."
"Hiding in plain sight," Eivor surmised.
"Precisely!" Blanchefleur affirmed.
Ubba scoffed at the pair. "Words of love roll down your tongue like that of a water down a cliff. But this is surely a rehearsed speech to cover your true nature!" He spat.
"You continue to mistake me for my predecessor without giving me a chance to prove myself worthy of respect!" Blanchefleur protested.
Ubba placed his hands on his hips while Ivarr crossed his arms. Blanchefleur knew they were blood brothers, but seeing them stand side-by-side made her fully realize how strong their bond was.
Not strong. Unbreakable.
From her experience this was an especially powerful, often deadly combination.
On the surface they appeared to be as different as night and day. Even their battle uniforms were of contrasting colors. But their energy paired together showed an unmistakable, unbreakable, and formidable bond. She felt sweat beading on her forehead.
The first mountains present themselves.
"Perhaps if you explained how you became La Mère. You claim honorable intentions, but you sit in a position us Norse and Danes consider anything but," Eivor suggested.
Another wise statement. I shall have to keep an eye on her.
"Mother," Swayne tapped on her shoulder. But she didn't have to look at her most trusted guard to know why. She could hear the distinct sound of the tap of a cane growing louder and louder.
"Melodie," she said softly.
"Mama?" Melodie chirped. Her daughter hobbled over to her side and tugged at her robes.
But Blanchefleur did not take her eyes off the Ragnarssons. "I thought I taught you the proper protocol for greeting a king, Melodie," she said, a little more curtly than she had intended.
Melodie let go of her robes and bowed her head at Ceowulf awkwardly. "S-sorry…." she muttered. "My king!" She finished quickly. Ceowulf gave the little girl a respectful nod back but said nothing in return.
Blanchefleur knew it was not entirely Melodies' fault with the large changes she had to adjust to over the years. She just hoped people would take her seriously despite her visible impairment. It might help the little girl settle into her new home
"Remember how I told you the tale of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrik?" Blanchefleur probed her.
"Sagas. They call them sagas," Melodie corrected her.
Blanchefleur's lip twitched involuntarily. "Very good," she pointed to Ivarr and Ubba. "I present to you Ubba and Ivarr Ragnarsson. You are to treat them with respect, understood?"
"Woah!" Melodie gasped; her jaw wide open. Blanchefleur closed it with a flick of her finger.
Melodie grabbed her chin. "MMMMM!" She mumbled in pain.
"Bit your tongue?" Blanchefleur asked. Melodie nodded; her eyes reddened as tears pooled in them.
"Then don't gawk! It's rude!" Blanchefleur scolded her. Melodie rubbed her cheek and held her head low. Blanchefleur's heart started to beat so fast she feared others might hear.
"What is it you want, Melodie?" She asked, finally.
"Um...I just wanted to say hello," she mumbled.
Blanchefleur rubbed her forehead frustratedly. She sincerely doubted her daughter wanted a simple greeting, but she knew her daughter was too sheepish to reveal her true intentions in front of complete strangers.
The fact they carried huge weapons didn't help.
"You know that you are not to interrupt me during business unless it's extremely important," she looked at Swayne. "Escort my daughter to her arithmetic lessons, would you?"
Melodie's head snapped up; a pleading look in her eyes. Though her daughter loathed anything resembling math, she was to endure the same rigorous education Blanchefleur had. When Swayne firmly placed his hands on Melodies shoulders, she finally obeyed and limped away.
Blanchefleur paid the king, drengr, and aethlings odd looks at the uncomfortable mother-daughter interaction no mind. She'd rather regain control of her mind and steady herself with more pressing matters.
"Now, where to begin?" Blanchefleur said, hurriedly.
About time I summit these mountains.