Hi! So I have a bit of a longer chapter here today, I think. I hope you enjoy it. Again, thank you so much for all of the reviews, follows, and favorites! I really appreciate it. How did you all feel about the season finale? I thought it was so good! Again, thank you and I hope you enjoy this!
"Would you like some more ale, Ubbe?" Dagny asked. He smiled and nodded. The moment she was near enough to him, he reached around her back. Dagny pretended she didn't notice it but part of her wondered if he was finally taking to her. Ubbe had seemingly courted all of the other slaves, even Dotta.
But when he pulled back, he was holding a pair of leaves, no doubt plucked from her hair. She tried not to look as embarrassed as she felt but he winked and she tripped when she moved to stand beside Margrethe. Margrethe grinned but quickly hid it. Dagny nudged her to make her laugh.
Serving dinner was usually a rather boring affair. It was pouring drinks and moving plates and standing aside, making no noise at all. But Dagny did enjoy listening to the conversation. Slaves were akin to decoration, rugs on the floor, and no one paid them mind when talking. Dagny got to hear so many interesting things in the course of a royal dinner that it could keep her sustained for a week.
Tonight, Aslaug and the princes were mostly discussing the return of Ragnar Lothbrok. Dagny had met him twice now and each time she was enamored with his charm and odd grace. He also did not treat her as a slave, not in the normal way of most. It was difficult to swallow her admiration of him, not to say that she knew all of his stories despite Kattegat's current opinion of him. He had an easy charisma that made him likable to Dagny. It was simple to see why everyone had been so taken with him.
But he was disliked for his long absence, around half of Dagny's lifetime. Even his sons seemed distant from him. She thought they just hid their feelings well because she would love to have a father return after 10 years. She would love to have a father at all. And she knew they must feel the same.
Sigurd gestured with his hand and Margrethe rushed past her. Dagny thought of poor Dotta. Beside him, Hvitserk did the same. Dagny didn't want him to smile at her or laugh but he did both and she couldn't help smiling back at him. Why was she disappointed anyway? He was a prince, he could do anything he wanted, and just because he had been with Margrethe did not mean that he didn't want Dagny. That senseless wish, that she was worth more than his normal trysts, still lingered in the back of her mind. His fingers brushed the back of her hand, too deliberately to ever be called an accident, and chills snaked up her arm. Her gaze flicked to Ivar, whose full mouth traced the edge of a goblet.
Margrethe stole most attention at the table, aside from Aslaug's. Dagny found Margrethe opportunistic, willing to do whatever it takes to better her own circumstances. She wanted to admire her for it, for the way she'd twisted Sigurd around her slender finger and got to forego the tedious work of the other slaves in order to entertain Aslaug's sons. In fact, Dagny wished she'd thought of it first. But when she thought of all that Margrethe did, possibly endured, it wasn't so easy to admire or envy her.
When dinner was over, Margrethe left the cleaning up to Dagny and Asdis. Dagny could tell that it made Asdis unspeakably angry but what was to be done? If she was asked by one of the princes to leave, she had to do it. Asdis gathered dishes and managed to make so much noise that Dagny asked her to quiet down.
"Aren't you angry, Dagny?" Asdis asked, tossing dark blonde hair over her shoulder.
"What is there to be angry about, Asdis?" Dagny replied. "She's got to do as she's told, same as you or I."
"Why are we never told to do as she does? We are just as pretty, no doubt we are every bit as good as she is. I do not understand it."
"She is still new to them," Dagny said, cleaning off a plate. Asdis snagged a large piece of uneaten bread from it before it could fall into the animal trough. "They'll tire of her and then it will go back to the way it was."
"She's been with them all, hasn't she?" Asdis asked around her mouthful of bread.
"No," Dagny muttered. "I doubt she has."
"Has she been with Ivar?" Dagny's shoulders stiffened. Asdis broke the bread in half and gave her a piece.
"She can't have. We would know. He would brag to any and all who would listen."
"It's just not right. You and I are scrubbing dishes while she's kissing Ubbe in a stable." Dagny couldn't help laughing. Asdis arched an eyebrow but laughed too.
After she finished helping Asdis, Dagny assisted Aslaug in getting undressed. Dagny was rather tall so she was always called upon to dress and undress the queen. All she did was speak to Dagny about all manner of things, about her sons and Ragnar and the business of ruling Kattegat, and all she required was nodding in response. Aslaug, though a queen with legendary lineage, was always easy to please and she rarely asked anything of Dagny, aside from herbs and tinctures. Dagny had liked Aslaug from the moment she'd been bought and as she grew, she only admired her more. There was always talk from Sigurd, and sometimes Hvitserk, about Harbard and how Aslaug had so easily fallen under his thrall. Dagny remembered little to nothing of that time so she made no judgment. She only knew that life could have been much worse if she'd been bid on by someone else.
The next day came quickly, after a night of short and troubled sleep. Dagny's shoulders ached from carrying laundry and the basket of fish and stacks of dishes. She would need to have Asdis put some salve on them that night. But aside from the constant pain, which wasn't unusual in Dagny's life, she got through her morning work quickly. She hung many herbs up to dry, crushed a few into tinctures, mended the sleeve of one of Aslaug's gowns, and now she was at the market to buy a few things that Aslaug wanted before the feast in a few days. It wasn't the most tedious of days luckily, as Dagny was meant to help the queen herself prepare for the feast, unlike the others who were readying food and tables.
Dagny asked for a bolt of cloth and some furs and before she could put her coins on the merchant's table, Hvitserk had done it for her. He tugged on a thin braid in her hair and collected everything she bought before she could do it herself. Dagny pretended to be put out but only for a moment. She was truly grateful that she wouldn't have to lug them by herself back to the great hall.
They walked for a while without saying anything. It didn't bother Dagny because she was often quiet and Hvitserk could be as well. Sometimes he'd just sit with her when the others were training and they'd never speak but it was nice all the same. A comfortable silence that Dagny wasn't sure she'd have with anyone else. But today, she could only think of his mouth on Margrethe's skin and that in a few days, he would be gone. Raiding was an important season for Kattegat but sometimes, it felt long and Dagny knew that this year, it would feel particularly drawn out. Hvitserk had always been around and while she was genuinely happy for him, she thought she would miss him.
Eventually, they spoke about the feast and Hvitserk's anticipation of the Mediterranean and how he felt about Ragnar. As if summoned by the mention of his name, Dagny and Hvitserk saw the king. Hvitserk had just said how he wanted to go to England and had asked every son to go with him but Hvitserk was committed to Bjorn. Dagny thought there must be more to it than that. Yet, here Ragnar was, giving away gold and glory to get men to come with him.
"Is he giving away…" Dagny trailed off but Hvitserk finished her thought.
"His horde." Ragnar was ragged, older and clearly aching, but he still bore the charming and enigmatic signs of a handsome man. He shouldn't have needed to pay for people to join him, particularly the useless lot that surrounded him at this moment. Ubbe and Sigurd approached him, no doubt to salvage some of his pride. Dagny offered an arm to take her things in case Hvitserk wanted to join them but he shook his head.
"If I was Viking, I'd go with him," Dagny said. The sight of the king peddling his horde was enough to turn her stomach. The man was fading into myth and legend, yet he paid for raiders that were worth less than the worn shoes on her feet. It was painful and it was sad.
"You would, would you?" Hvitserk's voice told her that she hadn't just thought the words but said them. Dagny, pale and nerves strained, turned to him but Hvitserk didn't appear to think she was speaking above her station or out of turn. She should have known he wouldn't. "Dagny the healer, a shieldmaiden?"
He grinned and it managed to rake her skin. She shrugged and smiled back. She followed after him when he began walking again, sparing a slight glance towards the king. A man she'd heard about all of her life, who was intelligent and brave and whose greatest friend had been a slave he'd freed. She admired him. She wanted to be like him. A farmer who had made himself king. A slave who would make herself free. It seemed just as unlikely a jump to her as it must have to Ragnar all those years ago.
Hvitserk took the furs and cloth into the hall to the tailors without asking Dagny's opinion on it. As it felt nice to be helped, she didn't complain to him.
"You're a good man, Hvitserk," she said, grabbing a basket from the hall for collecting herbs and flowers for her crown.
"What a shame," he replied, tugging at another braid in her thick hair. "I strive so hard not to be."
She laughed and knew it was the reaction he'd been seeking because he gave her the most languid, lazy smile. His hand slid up her arm to land on her bare neck and it was like poison from a snake bite. Something thick and warm that slid through her veins, paralyzing her and betraying her body because she leaned into him. Part of her wanted him to close the distance between them. It would end Asdis's and the others' teasing. It would prove to Dagny that she hadn't been forgotten in favor of someone else. But when he dropped his hand, she was relieved. There was a difference between being prepared for something and not being nervous about it.
She left town for the forest. Once beyond the tree line of the woods, Dagny felt weight lift off her hurting shoulders. As a slave, she often felt like she didn't know what she wanted or what she liked because she didn't have the opportunity to know. But she knew that she loved the forest, that she loved greenery and shade and ancient trees, that she loved the way the path would soften the sound of her steps. She was sure of very few things but that she loved the forest was one of them.
When she reached her favorite meadow-like clearing, Ivar was there, sitting amidst tall grass and small white flowers. He seemed out of place, a thing of war amongst peace. And Dagny, though she'd all but invited him, hadn't expected the youngest prince to come. She wanted to ask how he knew about this meadow or precisely when she'd be there but Dagny thought the answer was clear.
"Hello, Ivar," Dagny said and he nodded to her.
"Hello, Dagny." He leaned back on his hands, a crooked smile on his lips.
"You seem in a good mood," she replied, bending down among the flowers. Dagny took a blunt knife to a patch of tiny white flowers. They came away easily and she laid them in the basket.
"I am to go with my father to England." Dagny's knife snagged on a particularly pretty piece of salvia. Miniscule purple petals fell over her hands. He cocked his head to the side and asked, "What do you think?"
He was expecting a particular answer, she was sure. Some variant of telling him that he shouldn't or that she didn't want him to. And Dagny did not want him to. But she thought of kind king Ragnar and his horde and the whole of Ivar's disappointing life. They were a pair. This was a last chance and a first chance to prove themselves. Ivar deserved the opportunity to show everyone wrong.
"I think you should go. I think you will thrive." At that, he tensed and Dagny wasn't sure if she'd made him angry.
"Do you simply tell me things you believe I want to hear?"
"Do you want me to tell you that I don't want you to go? That I find it too dangerous for you?" Ivar stayed tense, obviously anticipating the answer. "I do not want you to go and I think it will be dangerous." He took in a breath. "But I know you are brave and that Ragnar is king and that you need to do this."
"Why do I need to do this?"
She gestured at him, hand dirty and full of salvia. "Why do I need to say? People mock you. It is unfair and it is also foolish, when you are worth more than all the men on Ragnar's crew."
Ivar came to her, pulling his legs behind him. "And you, Dagny, are wedded to kindness and naiveté when it would serve you better to be cruel."
"I do not take that as criticism." He leaned toward her and his hand crept up to her throat. Dirt smeared across her pale cheek.
Ivar shrugged, as if maybe he didn't mean it as one. She wanted to take his face in her hands but she settled for resting her fingers on his chest. He dropped his hand and leaned back, as if he realized he was too close. It left her fingers dangling in the air.
The afternoon passed slowly with little conversation. Dagny's thoughts were consumed with Ivar going on raid. He more than likely didn't know how to swim. He'd never seen open sea. He'd never been in battle. It worried her, no matter how much Ivar needed to do it. She wondered about Aslaug. Everyone could pretend but it was plain that Aslaug favored Ivar above her other children.
Ivar only watched Dagny collect flowers and thistles for the crown. Dagny wondered if that was the entire point of him coming into the woods. She drew it out, made it take nearly the entire afternoon, and he never complained. It was unusual. He was treating her differently. Rather than his normal fake irritation, nothing she did appeared to bother him.
When her basket was overflowing and she became exhausted, Dagny sat down beside him. Ivar turned, appearing to have been waiting for this all day.
"If you weren't a slave, what would you be?" Ivar's voice was clear but his eyes were stormy, as if he were aching. Dagny knew that Ivar suffered constant pain. She could see it all over him, even though he never acted affected by it. Perhaps, when you had been that hurting that long, you became used to pain.
She picked up some flowers from her basket, beginning to weave them together, and pretended that this was a question she was asked every day. Sometimes Asdis and Dotta would talk about what their life was like before being captured and sometimes they would daydream about having that life again. Though Dagny wanted to be free, she gave little thought to it. If she did, it only came from seeing Ubbe and knowing that the types of things he wanted seemed to align with her own.
"I suppose I would still be a healer," she responded, though she had no idea whether that was viable or not. Ivar just looked at her.
"Not an English princess?" She smiled at him and shook her head. "Not a shieldmaiden?"
"I do not know how to fight."
He scoffed. "You can learn."
"Why ask me this?"
"Because I have known you most of my life and I still do not know you." The expression on his face seemed to make it obvious; that he was genuinely curious about her answer. He could deny it all he wished but this was something that friends would do. Dagny desperately tried not to get her hopes up but the rest of the time was filled with questions. How much did she know about Ragnar? Had she given any thought to this or that? It was as if he was taking the time to get to know her. She knew it wouldn't last, not when England when was on the horizon, but it made her happy anyway. She called herself stupid and naïve because she knew the truth. But it did not matter.
Dagny liked him and it was a horrible, terrible thing because she was more than aware that she shouldn't. She knew Ivar to be cruel and vindictive and murderous but when he laughed, Dagny wanted to bottle the sound and get drunk on it.
Two days later, Ubbe approached Dagny after a particularly tense dinner. Aslaug had been the only one there who didn't seem to have her mind on other things. There was little talking. Ivar's shoulders curled in, a sure sign of anxiety. Hvitserk said little, but that wasn't unusual when food was involved. Dagny couldn't place what had them acting this way. Ivar and Hvitserk were due to leave in mere days. The feast was in two days. There were many things to be excited about but she conceded that there were also many reasons to be nervous.
Ubbe had waited until everyone was gone, even Asdis, before asking Dagny to walk with him. The entire silent walk to Kattegat's shore had Dagny's stomach in knots. She knew what Asdis would think this was about and what if it was? What if Ubbe was taking her down to the boats to ask her what he'd asked so many others? When he stopped at the shoreline, she swallowed her nerves and went to stand beside him.
"We are friends, aren't we?" Ubbe finally asked, his arms crossed over a lush green cloak. Dagny echoed him but felt just how ragged her brown cloak was in comparison to his.
"Are we?" Dagny responded. It was dark but she could still see when Ubbe gave her a crooked smile.
"Maybe you do not consider yourself my friend but I am yours." Dagny turned to look at him, with what felt like claws dragging down her stomach and clutching her heart. She'd always wanted someone to say that to her. Even Asdis hadn't.
"Do not make fun of me, Ubbe. Please." His lips parted and for a moment, he said nothing. There was only the sound of the water lapping at the shore and the stars above and Dagny once again felt as if she had stepped out onto a perilously thin sheet of ice.
"Why is that so difficult to believe?"
"You are a prince. I'm a slave. It is common sense. I am no more your friend than I am Hvitserk's or you are Margrethe's. We are not equal so we cannot be friends." Dagny fingered a hole in her cloak, tracing it with the tip of her finger.
"I think we can be." She knew it must be a well-laid trap constructed by one of the most handsome and skilled hunters she'd ever known but Dagny knew she would walk into it for the price of a few kind words. "I think we are."
She nodded. "Then we are… friends." She let herself savor the word. It slid over her like water. Dagny had always wanted a friend, one that wasn't there for her out of necessity, like Asdis and Dotta. Part of her wondered if Ubbe was simply getting her to warm to him, if he was intuitive enough to understand exactly what she wanted to hear. He wasn't a malicious or manipulative person but Dagny had been wrong many times before.
Ubbe smiled. It was so beguiling that Dagny wanted to apologize for thinking ill of him. "Friends are honest with each other, aren't they?" Dagny nodded, as if she was familiar with the concept of friendship beyond sharing a bed in the cold. "I want you to be honest with me, Dagny."
"I am always honest with you."
"Are you?" he questioned. "Or do you tell me things you know I want to hear?"
"Can't they be the same?" He laughed and alongside the sound of the water, it was almost bewitching.
"You're very clever. But to be real friends, we need to trust one another."
"I do trust you. I would trust you with my life." He paused, just watching her, the moonlight shining in his eyes. He must have found what she said to be truthful because he nodded, a weirdly solemn movement.
"That's an honor I don't deserve."
"You deserve many honors." Ubbe laughed again.
"See, now that was a lie." Dagny felt a smile tug at her lips. "Dagny, I understand that we are not the same. But it does not mean that we cannot be friends." Part of her thought that it did, that their unequal balance excluded anything like that. But she wanted it to be true.
"Why today?" she asked, suspicious. There was something to the set of his jaw that told her it was something more than charity or well-meaning. "You wait for me after dark, when your family has left, and take me to the sea. It is not something for friends." She could tell by the look on his handsome face that he registered the accusation. He took a step back from her.
"It is when we have secrets." Her skin felt icy cold and she couldn't be sure if it was the night air or her nerves. "I have made a decision, Dagny, in something that concerns you and I want to know if I have made a mistake."
"Something that concerns me?" Was it Hvitserk? Was it Aslaug? Was it freedom?
"Ivar cares for you, Dagny." She let out a breath, watched it take form in the air. "He thinks you favor him. Sigurd laughed when he heard that, as you can imagine. Hvitserk, predictably, did not pick a side but I know he thinks the same as Sigurd."
"And what do you think?" she muttered.
"I think I am not blind or foolish. For days, you have been in the woods with him. Ivar is your favorite." He arched a perfect brow, clearly prompting, so Dagny nodded.
"It's not-" He shook his head.
"I am glad, Dagny, for he has few who like him. I think you, me, and my mother are all."
"I'm afraid I don't understand what decision you've made."
"Ivar's never been with a woman before." Dagny's lips parted and her fingers balled in her old cloak. Is this what Ubbe had come to ask? A favor? If she wanted to bed a cripple and if she didn't, he would make some excuse? "He wanted to be with you."
"Yes," Dagny said. "That is fine. I will do it." He shook his head, his braid falling over his shoulder. "I am being honest, Ubbe. I will do it gladly."
"We talked about it, Sigurd, Hvitserk, and I. I made the call to have Margrethe do it tomorrow." Dagny stepped back, an odd mix of immense jealousy and betrayal storming within her. Margrethe had already usurped something Dagny thought she had earned in stealing Hvitserk's attentions but this was beyond it all. Margrethe didn't like Ivar. She had called him creepy and conniving and her fear was thinly veiled. She would be unkind to him. She would be unwilling, something that seemed to matter a great deal to Ubbe. But there must have been something in it for her or she would have found a way to thrust it upon Dagny. And this whole conversation, where Ubbe had wrapped Dagny around his finger and walked her into a trap like some willing prey for the price of kindness, all for him to hurt her. They were not equal and they most certainly were not friends.
"Margrethe fears him," Dagny muttered. "She's scared."
"Dagny, I made the choice for a reason."
"Because you have all had her? Because she is beautiful? Because she will please him better than I could?" Dagny hated herself for being hurt by it and for admitting that hurt so clearly. It was all foolish. She was no better than the others.
Ubbe shook his head yet again and took her by the shoulders. "No! It is not that and you are beautiful. You are so beautiful and patient and kind. It is not about that at all."
"And now you are lying."
"I'll never lie to you." He paused, dropped his hands from her shoulders. It left her feeling exposed. "I made the choice because I don't think you've done this before. I don't believe you've ever been with a man. Have you?"
Dagny damned the color creeping into her cheeks. "No," she admitted. "I have been…"
"You have been what?" Ubbe looked at her expectantly and she supposed that she had promised to be honest with him.
"Lucky," she murmured. "I have been lucky, compared to others." Dagny had been the victim of drunken fumbling in the dark and clumsy kisses but it had never gone farther. She knew she was fortunate, incredibly so.
Ubbe stiffened, as if finally understanding something his privilege had blinded him to. "I'm sorry." She shrugged. It was a fact of the life she led. "If anyone touches you and you don't want them to, I ask that you tell me."
Dagny nodded because his tone was serious. "I will." And the whole situation became clear to her. "You chose Margrethe because she is experienced."
"Yes," he replied, relief clear in his voice.
"I understand," she said because in many ways, she did. Dagny knew little to nothing about this, it was partially why she was waiting on Hvitserk. She was teased for it by Dotta and Asdis and the others. But Margrethe was clearly skilled, so much so that Ubbe and Sigurd continually returned to her. It would be easy for Dagny to botch the whole thing.
"You say Margrethe is scared of him?" She nodded. "Are you?"
"No."
"You should be." Dagny could tell from Ubbe's tone and the way he averted his gaze that he must also fear Ivar. It was, unfortunately, a common reaction to him. Dagny hadn't realized that Ubbe was apprehensive. Sigurd certainly was and Hvitserk had said some things in the past that had Dagny curious. But Ubbe? Ubbe was eldest and he didn't seem to fear anything.
"Do you believe he would hurt me?" Ubbe sighed, like he hadn't wanted to bring that into the conversation.
"Sigurd thinks he would kill you." Sigurd was known to be dramatic and he truly did not think much of Ivar but Dagny thought his concern must be genuine.
"And the three of you made the choice to save me over Margrethe? Don't you all care for her?" Had Dagny's longevity with their family made her more valuable? Did they truly like her above Margrethe? Or was Margrethe so skilled at handling men that she would steal Ivar's bloodlust before he'd even begun to feel it?
"It's the inexperience of it all that worried us. If you made a mistake, and it's easy to do, trust me, then there would be no telling." Dagny wanted to deny that Ivar would kill her but she knew that was the most foolish thought she'd had yet. Ivar had killed another child before the age of seven and it hadn't been an accident. Who was to say that if Ivar wasn't totally pleased that he wouldn't kill her? Dagny didn't have any illusions that Ivar was a good person. "We thought he should learn before he came to you."
"Should I learn?" Something flashed in Ubbe's eyes and he smiled.
"If that is what you wish." Dagny felt strangely useless and she thought about apologizing to Ubbe about her reaction. "I wouldn't tell him that we've had this conversation."
"I won't. But why would you tell me this?"
"As I said, I'm not blind." He didn't want her to think it was deliberately Ivar's choice. He didn't want her to feel hurt. She took back her earlier thought as quickly as it had come. This was precisely what friendship should be like. He was looking out for her.
"Thank you," she muttered.
Ubbe extended his hand. "Friends?"
Dagny clutched his forearm like she'd seen men do at the feasts. "Friends."