A/N: this story will have very triggering subject matter throughout. Individual trigger warnings will be placed with chapters when appropriate. Any feedback is really appreciated.
Triggers for this chapter: mention of child abuse, mention of teen pregnancy, mention of forced pregnancy, vulgar language.
Ubba was eternally thankful to Freyja for giving them Eivor Wolf-Kissed. The young drengr had a natural gift in moderating tense situations with words as well as arrows, axes, and shields. Were it not for her, they'd have probably torn La Mère and Swayne to pieces where they stood.
If not the week prior given the chance.
La Mère motioned to a freshly polished wooden chair to her left. Ceowulf nodded, granting her permission to sit. She gracefully sat down, tucking her amber robes under her legs so as to not crease them. Swayne stood behind her, arms crossed. His buff biceps protruded from his thick leather tunic.
"My association with La Mère has been lifelong because of my mother," La Mère began. She smirked up at Ceowulf. "She was the only good de la Croix to have walked in these lands."
Swayne looked at her with clear concern. But the young guard seemed to prioritize La Mère's welfare more than the fact that she broke whatever Francian protocol was imposed on their women.
Perhaps her mannerisms are as hybridized as her family's accent.
"My mother was a midwife, you see. An unusual occupation for someone of her status, but she always had this undying passion for helping mothers and children. Her mantra was 'motherhood does not discriminate based on class,'" La Mère said matter-of-factly, holding up her right index finger to emphasize this point.
"Your mother, a Francian lady, associated with common folk regularly?" Ceolbert asked, surprised.
"Mothers, children, everyone and anyone who needed help!" La Mère said tartly. She quickly regained her composure when Ceowulf glared at her. Ubba knew she'd have to reign in that attitude if she was going to last long here.
"Our whole lives, my mother instilled this in me and my siblings. My birth father only approved when she cited various bible quotes to justify her involvement," La Mère scoffed. "He only truly approved when he saw it was improving our reputation in social circles. Brought in more business."
"I've heard similar sentiments about your…birth father." Ceowulf affirmed.
La Mère pressed her lips together but did not delve further into her father's character. "She was especially keen on training Yvette and I in the ways of midwifery. Combining our traditional education with midwifery services."
She sandwiched her hands, interlacing her fingers. "A brilliant combination, really!" La Mère continued.
"How exactly did that work?" Ceolbert asked.
La Mère crossed her legs and looked up, clicking her tongue. Ubba suspected she was to conjure up a tall-tale that would earn sympathy and trust.
But Ubba was too smart for that. He had to be sure Ivarr led Ceolbert away from such treacherous company whenever possible. Ivarr was a morally questionable mentor at best to the young boy, but he could at least recognize and handle danger very effectively.
"Well, for example, I've enjoyed mathematics since I was a young girl. After lessons, I would calculate funds for tinctures, bedding, food, and other resources for those we helped," La Mère explained. "Accomplishing two things with one exercise allowed me to grow in skill and as a person. I plan to instill the same sense of efficiency in my children!" She smiled, evidently proud of her model.
Any other woman who provided a public service would normally earn respect from Ubba, but he was anything but impressed at what he'd heard so far.
He didn't care if she had replaced her title to fit this so-called "true family" she had created. She was still an information broker. A treacherous troll who was not to be trusted.
The fires of his suspicions grew larger because her words did not match her disposition. She gave off a sense of malignant narcissism rather than a nurturing mother figure. Spinning threads of lies to form well-crafted stories. Falsified sagas to hide her transgressions.
Ubba could only imagine how frustrated the High One was knowing the sons of the legendary Ragnar Lothbrik had been forced to associate with such pompous scum.
"I'm not sure I agree," Eivor chimed in. "Isn't that subject matter inappropriate for children?"
"You don't say the same when you train with to brutally kill with weapons at a young age." La Mère replied confidently.
Ubba rolled his eyes begrudgingly. Alright, that's a fair counter.
"Though, Eivor, you are right to worry about the impacts on children. How it influences decisions later in life. Yvette was a competent midwife, but she vowed she would never have children; she didn't want to risk dying in childbirth," La Mère recalled.
"But you weren't deterred?" Ceolbert asked. But he winced when he realized he'd gone a step too far. Though he didn't say it outright, he was surely implying to La Mère having Melodie.
The aethling was eager to learn and assert his position as Mercia's champion. But to make such a careless statement was beyond stupid. They didn't know the circumstances of Melodie being born, and frankly Ubba wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.
He could only hope they'd be spared that tale, no matter how wishful his thinking was.
Swayne furrowed his brow at Ceolbert, probably resisting the urge to punch him square in the jaw for his brashness. La Mère's expression was at ease, but something in her eyes seemed to harden somehow.
They were downright haunting, like she was suppressing the icy winds of Helheim from engulfing them all.
"No," she huffed, finally. "I wanted my mother to be proud, for one. And I could see we were doing good work. We still do."
Ubba sighed in relief. If not for her benign reasoning than for not exploding at the little would-be king. He'd braved the storm of arrows and thunder of shields up to this point, but few could weather the attacks of a sharp-tongued, powerful woman.
"What does this have to do with La Mère?" Ubba asked, desperate to change the tone of the conversation.
La Mère's shoulders relaxed. "We eventually realized an influx of women were seeking my mother out. All whores, all unmarried women, all with virtually identical stories. As if they'd been scripted. My mother grew suspicious and commissioned a private investigator to root out the cause." La Mère said.
"La Mère?" Eivor guessed.
The current Mère nodded. Ubba was struggling to keep track of when they were talking about the woman in front of them versus her predecessor. The fancy codenames beyond unhelpful.
If anything, it reinforced his opinion of Francians being those who prioritized fanciful practices over far more important matters.
Even if she posed as a modest woman who favored allocating funds to those less fortunate, she was still Francian. No one could just simply disregard that because she wanted them to.
"But she always had us by the balls!" La Mère sighed.
Ivarr chuckled at her sudden vulgarity only to be quickly shushed by Ubba.
"La Mère was an expert in secrecy. It just so happened the investigator was one of her agents," she looked at Ceowulf intently. "She wanted to be noticed. She wanted to meet my mother."
Ubba understood what La Mère meant right away. To "meet" La Mère wasn't actually meeting the wretch. It simply meant they'd communicate through a series of intermediaries. She never presented herself before an audience, save for those she allowed in her exclusive inner circle.
This woman before him had undoubtedly managed to earn a place in that very circle. She better have a damn good reason for being granted permission into the snake's den.
"She preyed on my mother's caring nature and made a proposition: La Mère would send regular patients for treatment with direct, semi-transparent communications. In return, my mother got to do what she loved most." La Mère finished.
"Forgive me, but this sounds like a load of moldering cow dung!" Ivarr yelled. "That is completely out of character of the Mère we've come to know and loathe. Why the fuck did she do that?"
"Her agents couldn't bring in coin if they were dead," La Mère said simply.
Ceolbert gawked at her seemingly gross indifference to people's lives.
"You do remember how La Mère operates…or should I say 'operated,'" Ubba said, trying to steady the boy. "This is to be expected, Ceolbert."
"Be still, Ceolbert. Know that we abandoned that mindset the moment earned my place." La Mère said. Ceolbert nodded awkwardly to accept her promise.
"To give us more incentive, La Mère offered us trade secrets for our fabric business. Our profits soared. This allowed us to provide the finances necessary to help all these mothers." La Mère said reminiscently.
"And not a single coin would leave La Mère's coffer." Ubba surmised
"Precisely." La Mère confirmed.
"So, you've worked with her your whole life. When did it all go wrong?" Ceowulf probed.
Ubba's anxiety bubbled up again. They were about to tread in dangerous territory.
He thought back to Melodie. He feared the little girl was about to enter the story in a rather cruel, unspeakable fashion.
La Mère took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. How many half-truths she had squeezed in up until now was probably incalculable. Would she apply the same deceptive tricks to the story of her own child?
"I was engaged to a Francian lord when I was but thirteen. I was lucky enough to have a fiancé comparable in age. But..." she said with her voice trailing off.
She gripped the fabric of her sleeves tightly, her knuckles quickly turning bone white.
"Go on," Ubba said, more coaxing than he intended. When it came to children Ubba had a soft spot. If this was a lie, at least he could let her stage it politely. Even if she wouldn't extend the same courtesy to him in a similar situation.
If at all.
"We...consummated before the wedding. It was a stupid thing to do as younglings experimenting with our bodies, paying no mind to ceremony and tradition," she said hurredly. She was either a fabulous actress or she was truly embarrassed by her actions and just wanted to get the words out and over with.
"My betrothed died in his sleep before the wedding. But he was destined to be a part of my life forever, even after death. It didn't take long for my family to notice life had taken hold in my belly." She spat.
La Mère shook her head. "No. He was fury embodied into a zealous, hypocritical man!" She growled. "The one thing my father cared about as much as he did his faith was reputation. Reputation translated into how our family was treated, and therefore how profitable we were." She went on.
"Can't have a whore in the family!" She whispered in a sing-song tone. Her delivery was so eerie it made Ubba's hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end.
"The plot to conceal my 'condition' was well underway. I was whisked away to a convent to carry out the rest of my term from the prying eyes of upper Francian society,"
"You were fourteen when this occurred?" Ceowulf interrupted unexpectedly.
La Mère nodded.
"Word reached my former king's court of your apparent demise. The tale was you fell off a cliff. Your body had been carried away by the ocean." Ceowulf said.
La Mère shrugged. "So I've been told. My family has always gravitated towards elaborate stories to cover up our misdeeds." She said indifferently.
Ubba wasn't sure what bothered him more at this moment. The fact her family had something of this nature covered up to save their own skin, or La Mère's reaction to King Ceowulf's recollection of her father. Maybe she was expecting something like that to be brought up at some point.
Like she had become accustomed to it.
Ubba shuffled his feet and tried to rationalize her story thus far. It would make sense someone in her position would become inured to traumatic sights ranging from childbirth to betraying those foolish enough to trust those around them.
Was she telling the truth after all? Or was she simply so well accustomed to the lie she could put on a perfect façade?
"What did you and Melodie do?" Ceolbert asked. "That must've been hard on you both."
Ubba frowned. It was borderline pathetic how desperately Ceolbert was trying to be sympathetic to La Mère of all people.
"I wouldn't know. We've only been together for three years." She said without missing a beat.
"What?!" Ceolbert asked, taken aback.
"You didn't honestly think they'd keep us together, did you?" She asked sarcastically. She narrowed her eyes at the little king, as if to test his resolve with her gaze alone.
"Careful, La Mère. We have offered you a stage to present your case. I will not tolerate such blatant disrespect from you much longer," Ceowulf warned her.
"Presenting a case? What, have you put me on some kind of trial here?!" La Mère protested. Swayne uncrossed his arms, placing a firm hand on his lyre's holster. This guard took no risks it seemed, even in the face of legendary warriors who could easily spill his brains.
Oh, the arrogance that comes with youth!
"I bet you could fill every river, lake, and ocean with your precious little tears," Ivarr mocked her. "But for God's sake, get on with it!"
"Silence!" Ceowulf ordered loudly. The war room soon became dead silent, save for the angry breaths coming out of Ivarr and La Mère.
"Take a moment, a breath if you will. Return when you've calmed down!" Ceowulf barked.
"Raaa!" Ivarr groaned but soon stomped out of the war room. A series of clay pots breaking and gasps of servant girls soon followed. Ivarr's unique therapeutic ritual.
Ubba started to exhibit his brothers' sense of frustration. He grew tired of surprises, tales of trauma, and he'd had just about enough.
Women are complicated enough already! This is just ridiculous!