Hi everyone! How are you guys doing? I hope you are ready for the New Year! I am going on vacation next week so I wanted to upload before I left. Hope you all had a great holiday season. I've graduated so now I'm looking for a job LWish me luck! Anyway, I felt sort of strange writing this chapter (its hard to explain) so if anything feels off to you as well, you can let me know. Actually, if any of you are interested in beta reading for me, I would appreciate and I would be more than willing to return the favor! As usual, I only own Dagny. Thank you so much for all of your kind comments!
Ivar spent the majority of the journey back to Kattegat hanging over the side of the Saxon ship, retching. Nothing he ate stayed down. He could not blame it completely on the water nor completely on grief. It was some mix of everything, taking its time poisoning him.
When Ubbe and Sigurd grabbed hold of him, wrapping his arms around either of their shoulders, Ivar knew he had the pallor of prolonged sickness. He knew that his hair, just a shade longer, was sticking to the sweat on his brow. It was not the image he wanted to project but part of him simply no longer cared.
Finally, he looked down the dock, took in just how much seemed different. There were so many shieldmaidens and people he didn't recognize. Something was not right. The strangeness that accompanied that realization faded away when he saw Dagny at the end of the dock, leaning against a post like standing hurt her.
She looked taller, which should be impossible, but then Ivar realized that she had her shoulders thrown back. It was not the stance of a slave. Her gown was of some color that teetered between green and blue. Ivar had never seen it before. It seemed finer than most things he'd seen Dagny wear, unless it was a special occasion and Aslaug had something made for her. This was a special occasion. He had managed to come home and survive the voyage when no one else had. But Ivar looked her over once more. The gown may have been fine but it did not disguise how she was favoring her right leg and it did not hide how her figure had filled out and how she had put on weight. Perhaps it had even been bought to accommodate that. Ivar had never thought of Dagny as too thin or built like a bird but seeing her now, he knew she must have always been a little too small. Dagny at the end of the dock looked regal with her waist-length hair in waves and her skin like bone. She did not look the same as the day he boarded Ragnar's ship. It was a good thing, he thought, if this meant she was healthier, if this meant she would come when he exacted revenge for the death of his father.
Dagny followed behind them at some distance as his brothers took Ivar through town. He turned, looked over his shoulder at her, and saw that she was limping. It was not bad by any means, something that would go away the more she practiced, but why did she have it at all? Why were they heading to the cottage instead of the great hall?
Ivar sat at the table in the cabin. Ubbe barely helped him to the chair before turning around and going back for Dagny, who apparently spurned his help because she walked in on her own. Ubbe shrugged at Sigurd when he came back, as if stubbornness summed all of Dagny's attributes up. But he watched her anyway. Ivar saw his eyes follow her as she came to sit down at the table. The wound on her leg must have been bad at one time for Ubbe to worry so.
Across the room, Sigurd and Ubbe talked lowly, fixing a meal.
"What happened to your leg?" Ivar asked, seizing the opportunity. In response, Dagny lifted her skirt enough to show him the skin of her calf. There was a scar that ran its length, from knee to ankle. It was a fine line, not ugly like so many warriors, which told him she'd regain full use of it. The worse the scar, the worse the injury.
"It is hard to believe but this is the best it's looked," she replied and let the skirt drop.
"Who did this to you?" Ivar's voice was a growl and it threatened violence.
"Lagertha," she replied solemnly. He opened his mouth to question that but Dagny immediately asked, "Where is your father?"
Ivar knew from the look on her face that she expected his answer. "You were right."
Something passed over Dagny's expression, a cold and a shock and a knowing.
"My father is dead."
"Oh, Ivar." She made his name contain sorrow, rage, love. There was a flash in his eyes that spoke of all those things and more.
Across the room, Ubbe was squaring his shoulders. "Where is everyone else? Where is Ragnar?" he said, sitting at the head of the table. Ivar thought he was only pretending not to have heard.
"King Ecbert handed him over to King Aelle," he responded, voice grim.
"Why?" At this, Ivar shrugged. Sigurd sat down across from Dagny and they exchanged a look, the meaning of which he couldn't automatically decipher.
"He is probably dead already. We will have to avenge him." There was no emotion to the words, just resignation. He went on to describe what happened, that Aelle may be the killer but Ragnar wanted justice against Ecbert as well, that Ivar being taken home was a condition Ragnar had made Ecbert agree to. "He wanted us to retaliate."
Ubbe, carefully drumming his fingers against the tabletop, gave a nod. Sigurd nodded as well.
"What do you think, Dagny?" he asked, cutting his eyes to her. She did not hesitate.
"Of course, you should do it. It is what Ragnar wanted," she responded.
"And you will come," he said with a nod. It was a command and one he knew she was well-equipped to fulfill. Though perpetually sick as a child, Dagny had grown up strong. With a season of training, she could be skilled enough to fight.
"If she wishes," Ubbe said. Ivar looked at his older brother as if he had spoken an entirely different language. "She's free now."
He turned, leveled his gaze at her, and everything seemed to fall into place. The new clothes, the weight, the way she carried herself.
"What happened while I was away?"
Dagny turned solemn but still she smiled, an expression like watered down ale. And they told him everything. By the end, Ivar's fingers were clenched so tightly around the chess piece Alfred gave him that blood colored the white figure red.
Ivar was going to kill Lagertha. This was a simple conclusion for him to make as she had done everything imaginable to draw his ire. Dagny's leg, the death of Aslaug, tricking Ubbe and Sigurd, taking over Kattegat as if it wasn't his birthright.
"You can do better, Dagny, I know it," Ubbe was saying. He was training in the meadow with her while Ivar watched, a distraction from grief and anger. This was something he had learned they did every day, for hours. Sigurd said it as if he was sitting upon a great and treasured secret.
Ubbe and Dagny had grown close in his absence. He'd seen that in the days since he returned home. It wouldn't bother Hvitserk. Normally, it would not bother him. But there was something to their friendship that Ivar distinctly did not care for. But Dagny was free now and Ubbe still spent much of his time walking through the market, waiting for a glimpse of Margrethe. Maybe it was because Ivar knew little of real friendship, real loyalty. Maybe it was jealousy that Ubbe was so easy to like and get along with.
Dagny hacked at Ubbe's shield with her sword and brought up her own shield in time to block his next blow. She was not the greatest shieldmaiden yet but nor was she the worst. Ivar would have been grateful to have her beside them in England. Still, she lacked polish at times and appeared weak at others. But she had to begin somewhere. Ubbe gave way when Dagny gave his shield a push with her own, one of the rare instances where Ivar had seen him go easy on her.
"Don't do that!" she said, laughing. "I can take it. Come at me full-strength."
Ubbe grinned and it was a face Ivar only saw him wear when he was at his happiest.
They had a routine, Dagny and Ubbe. Sometimes Ivar only watched from the trees, without them knowing he was there, and it was always the same. Archery first, which had to be Dagny's greatest skill. She was patient, yet quick, and she rarely missed a target. Ubbe could throw an apple into the air, almost completely silent, and she could spear it instantly. Then there was training with swords and shields and axes. She was fairly good at this as well, if a little rough. Still, she had yet to beat Ubbe. Finally, there was sparring hand-to-hand. Dagny was always just barely disguising a smile during it, even when knocked flat on her back.
Ivar wondered at this secret that Sigurd was guarding like a dragon with his hoard. He wondered at the hours that added into days and weeks that Ubbe had spent out here with Dagny. He wondered at his older brother freeing her without a thought given to anyone else. He wondered at how it happened. Was it beneath the trees here in the forest? Was it before his mother's body? Was it with Dagny's hands in Ubbe's, a promise of the expected kind followed swiftly after? But Ubbe loved Margrethe and freedom had not changed Dagny, not truly. She could have left his family long ago, when Ubbe first said the words. She was still here, still performing many of the duties she had when she was a slave.
"Would you spar with me, Ivar?" He looked up at the sound of Dagny's voice. She was standing beside him now, wearing a breastplate of leather over a blue tunic and pants. It was a look that Ivar savored.
"Haven't you tasted enough defeat at the hands of my brother?" he replied.
"I have been going easy on him." Ubbe scoffed from across the meadow.
Ivar's full mouth curved into a smirk. Dagny's hand clenched into a fist at her side, near to the ax he'd given her, but she smiled. Given the chance, Ivar thought she might eat him alive.
She was on the ground in the next instant. All it took was the swing of his arm and the right shift of his weight and he was above her, arms on either side of her waist. A well-placed kick to his hip had him on the ground beside her and her hands coming for his throat. But though Dagny had been training regularly and was already innately strong, she was no match for Ivar, who did not even pretend it was a fair fight.
Dagny laughed on her back in the brush beside him and it was the first time since leaving for England that Ivar felt something other than rage and hatred and unbridled sadness.
She had witnessed Aslaug's death, with the numbness that often accompanies things like war, and nothing Lagertha did would give Dagny cause to forgive her. When the new queen called for ditches and ramparts to be built, Dagny gave no agreement. When they passed each other, Dagny only gave a cursory look to her. And Ubbe said she had asked, more than once, what their plan was regarding the queen. Ivar often felt ridiculous and weak when he thought of Dagny but this did much to change his mind.
Her fingers brushed the back of his knuckles and Ivar stayed still, so still.
"Do the two of you plan to lay out here all night?" Ubbe asked. Ivar was tempted to say yes, for the welcome distraction from grief that Dagny could be, but she took her hand away and was on her feet quickly.
"Not unless you're making dinner," she replied and Ubbe put his hand to his chest in mock-hurt.
"Those are words of war and I will remember them," he said, giving her a nudge.
Ivar deliberately waited to start moving until Ubbe was farther along the path. Dagny kept pace beside him, her leg seeming ever better. Part of Ivar, the stupid boyish part that he wanted to put behind him, thought this meant fate tied them together. His rational side knew it meant absolutely nothing.
"You like Ubbe, don't you?" he finally said, the sun getting low and the branches casting long shadows on the ground beside him. It was harder to speak to Dagny now that she was free.
"Doesn't everyone?" Dagny responded.
"Yes, but there is more to it for you." He saw her shoulders tighten for a moment.
"I do not know that I have ever had a friend, not truly, and he has been one to me. He acts like I was never a slave." Something appeared to be giving her trouble, as if the saying of it might mean grave consequences. "Ivar-" she started.
"Were you lying to me?" Ivar asked, voice small. This, he hated. Because he knew that Dagny was not so deft at pretending that she could fool even the cleverest among them. He knew she wanted him. He could see it in her eyes. But what if he was wrong? What if he was as naïve as Dagny had been that day she came upon Margrethe and Hvitserk?
"About what?" Dagny stopped walking, her pale skin white as the moon.
"Anything that you have said in my favor." He did not meet her gaze, defiant. "Anything you have said of me at all."
"Of course not!" She bent down and made him look at her, his chin caught in her fingers. "I never say anything I don't mean."
"Then tell me," Ivar murmured. "Tell me as a free woman."
"It is no secret that I covet you, Ivar. It is something everyone knows, even Lagertha." She dropped her hand, the new queen's name a poison. "And I will follow you for all my days."
Ivar gripped the back of her neck and put his lips on hers. It was harsh, so harsh, and Ivar still did not know what he was doing, but it was enough to drown the doubts tumbling through his mind. What of Hvitserk? What of Dagny's greatest friend, Ubbe? If the day came when they did not stand with him, when Ivar was as a great a warrior as he dreamed of becoming, where would Dagny's love lie? No one truly loved Ivar, no one but Aslaug and Ragnar and Floki. No one but Dagny. Four people, two of them dead. He had more fingers on one hand than that. Love was weakness and it caused such absurdity. Ivar hated it. And yet, he did not.
Dagny pulled away, a dreamy sort of look on her face that Ivar pretended to find ridiculous.
"Do you really want me to join you in England?" she asked when they resumed making their way back into town.
"Of course, I do. I never say anything I don't mean." Dagny smiled. "And we have need of skilled archers."
She scoffed. "I am a terrible archer. I am not you."
"No one is me." She gave the barest laugh. "I have been watching you train. You are excellent at it."
"I am lucky." But she flushed so Ivar knew she liked his praise. "Ubbe has told me I am good at it as well but I thought it might be because archers tend not to be in a shield wall."
"If you want to fight in the shield wall, you should do it." Dagny gave him a bewildered look, the thought of actually being supported in wanting to fight apparently new to her. "Ubbe is sometimes… overbearing. Protective. Fearful." This last was said with disdain.
"He is no coward, Ivar." Yesterday, he had challenged Lagertha to single combat and Ubbe had tried to talk him down. He was surprised that Dagny remembered his callously calling his brother a coward. "He is simply cautious." And caution was a language Dagny was fluent in, Ivar knew. "Sometimes, waiting and plotting is the wise path to take. Especially when we will need her warriors to seek revenge for Ragnar's murder."
"I still say we kill her. She must pay for what she's done."
"I agree and it cannot come soon enough."
Dagny, paying in full for her criticism of Ubbe's cooking, made dinner with Sigurd's help. Ivar didn't see how it could really be called that, when all he did was take the food and place it on the table when Dagny was finished with it.
"We have important decisions to make," Ubbe said once they had all finished eating. Dagny and Sigurd sat side-by-side. They were an odd pair by anyone's reckoning.
"I'm listening. Say something interesting," replied Ivar. It made Dagny's lips part in a grin and Ubbe groan.
"We want blood revenge against Aelle, correct?" Dagny nodded. Sigurd said yes.
"Not only against Aelle. I told you. King Ecbert offered our father up like a sacrifice. We should do the same to him. That is what our father wanted. That is the message he wanted me to bring to you." Ubbe's features contorted into that look that said he was older and thus, he knew better. Ivar hated it.
"That's very easy to say, Ivar."
"Oh, there he is," he hissed in response, disdain clear in his tone. "The voice of reason. I hate reason."
"I am just thinking that Aelle has a small kingdom and Ecbert's kingdom is vast. How do we overcome that when we have never attempted anything like it before?"
"Raise an army, a large army, like out of legend," Dagny said. Ubbe nodded at her plate and she rolled her eyes before finishing off her last scrap of bread. She was still learning to have a larger appetite.
"A great army, bigger than anything ever seen before," agreed Sigurd.
"Sigurd and Dagny are right," Ivar said. The two of them exchanged a look of disbelief and frankly, part of him wanted to laugh at it. "We can call in favors. We make deals with kings and earls that we hate. Whatever we have to promise them, we promise. In the end, we summon an army twice the size that Ragnar took to Paris."
"Then we declare war on England," Sigurd said.
"No," Ivar replied. "We declare war on the whole world." Dagny's eyes brightened across the table but Ubbe tensed at his side. Perhaps, Dagny was not so cautious as he thought.
That night, after everyone else was asleep, Ivar crept across the room to Dagny's bed. He was not sure what possessed him to do this, particularly since Ubbe's bed faced hers. Maybe it was even because of that.
He clamped his hand over her mouth. She thrashed immediately, searching for something to hit him with, but Ivar held a finger to his lips and she recognized him. Just a short distance away, Ubbe turned over, ruffling his bedclothes.
"What are you doing?" Dagny whispered as Ivar crawled onto the bed. She winced when it creaked.
"What do you think I am doing?" he murmured back and put his arms on either side of her. Ivar liked looking down on Dagny. It was such a rarity and therefore, such a pleasure.
She fought it, he could tell by the way she tensed, but she smiled. Ivar wondered if it was because she could see things before they happened, if she'd known all these years that he desired her and finally, he had mustered the courage to kiss her when he wanted instead of hide behind vitriol and exaggerated cruelty.
He leaned down, feeling the muscles in his arms quiver, even though they had been carrying him everywhere since he was a child. Dagny opened her mouth to him. Her fingers were light against his face, which confused him. Ivar thought that if you wanted someone that you held on tight, even to the point of pain. He gathered the bedding in his hands on either side of her and gripped it until he feared it might tear.
"Ivar," she murmured. Her hands had found his hair and this was a harsher grasp than the last.
"Yes," he said into the skin of her collarbone. Dagny arched, brushed her chest against his, and Ivar fought the growl that wanted to climb out of his throat.
"We shouldn't be doing this. Ubbe is right there." Ivar looked over and saw his older brother was facing them in sleep. He'd seen Ubbe asleep often enough to know that he was lost to this realm for a few more hours at least.
"He will be proud, of you and of me." The apples of Dagny's cheeks colored, the red of blood and battlefields far away. "Why do you care so, for his opinion?"
"He freed me," she replied, fingers landing on Ivar's smooth cheek. "I owe him a life debt." Ivar had had very few real conversations with Dagny since returning to Kattegat. Mostly they were diversions from the real issues, like that she was free now or that both his parents were dead. It was to her credit, Ivar thought, that she never mentioned anything unless he brought it up.
"A life debt," he echoed, as if her whole relationship with Ubbe could be summed up by those words. When he gave it thought, Ivar found it made sense.
"One I will never be able to repay in full." Her fingers were still light against his skin, on his throat and his cheek. "I should tell you something." Now her fingers found his hair, the back of his neck. It was deliberate.
"I don't want to talk anymore," he responded, just because he was sure it was something he didn't want to hear.
"All right." Dagny pressed her lips to his and raked her fingers down his back.
He was not sure how long he kissed her. It could have been hours but he thought it must have only been mere minutes, the shortest amount of time that he was under her thrall. He laid on his back beside her and something in him thought this was even better. Her chest rose and fell in time with his own.
"I did not think this through," Ivar whispered, because he too did not much care for an audience, even if Ubbe was in a sleep as deep as the sea. And who knew if he could even do it? He did not care to discover that now, not when Sigurd could tease him for it.
"It is just as well," she murmured and twisted to look at him, head against his shoulder. It unnerved him. "I want to take my time."
"And what does that entail?"
Dagny shrugged but the look on her face belied just how long she'd been thinking of it. It said she could make this last days and weeks and that she had a plan for how she wanted it all to go. Ivar often thought waiting was excruciating but in many ways, this did not seem so bad.
"I am not patient."
"I am patient enough for us both." Her lips split into an exquisite grin. It burned its image in Ivar's mind and erased so much that he felt unhappy with, for the moment at least.
He was across the room, in his own bed, before he ever began to wonder about what she wanted to tell him. He looked over his shoulder at her and she was on her side. She cast her gaze on Ubbe for the briefest moment and then turned over. There was something wistful in the gaze that Ivar couldn't decipher. He could concede that Ubbe was, perhaps, Dagny's first experience with real friendship and disappointing him made her anxious. Ivar didn't have friends, not in the traditional sense. Not unless whatever bond he had with Dagny counted. Brothers were obligated by blood to be there for you and even them he could not rely upon. Ivar supposed he had always had Floki but that seemed unfair to a man who had had to occupy so many various roles in his life; teacher, mentor, friend.
Ubbe was having to play those roles for Dagny now. And Ivar thought that perhaps he played them too well.
Lagertha would not commit herself or any of her warriors to the great army. This did not surprise Dagny and she doubted it surprised Ubbe. Still, they had made the trek to the ramparts that morning to ask her. Margrethe was working in the mud, filthy, and again Dagny felt a pang of pity for her. She knew Ubbe felt the same because his eyes lingered on her for a long time.
Thinking of this made her sluggish and Ubbe hit her shoulder with the end of his sword. It threw her off-balance, her right leg still smarting on occasion, and she collapsed.
"You're better than this, Dagny. Something is distracting you," Ubbe said. He laid down beside her. She took a deep breath.
"And nothing is distracting you?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"I did not say that." There was silence for a long time. She and Ubbe had never actually spoken about the things they'd done. In fact, she had no idea of his thoughts on it at all. She just knew that, logically, it had gone as expected. She had learned to please a man while Ivar and Hvitserk were on raid and now it was done. There was no discussion of it between them and frankly, that was the way Dagny thought it should be. It said friendship more than uncoupling and she was glad that, despite her earlier fears, there was no awkwardness between them.
Ivar had been home only a short while but it felt like ages. Many days they did not even see him, as he sequestered himself at the blacksmith's or on the hillside. He was always angry, always sad. Dagny did not know if he loathed Ubbe for freeing her or if he'd considered doing it himself or if it even mattered to him at all. She knew little about his time away and he knew little of what she'd done while he was gone. In fact, she was unsure whether Ivar liked her for herself or if he just enjoyed the fact that she was enamored with him.
Ubbe's knuckles touched the back of her hand. At first, she thought this was an accident but he never moved away. Dagny fought the instinct to turn her hand over and link their fingers.
"Ivar's cruelty will one day turn you against him," Ubbe said, voice solemn. "It will not always be stolen kisses in the night."
Dagny did not respond. She just looked upward at the interweaving branches of the trees and felt her face redden. The voice of reason, indeed, she thought.
"You don't see it. Not yet."
"Ubbe, I do see it," she replied. "Now pick up your sword."
He had a shield on his arm and a sword in hand a few moments later. Dagny joined him. He jerked his chin and Dagny came forward, brought her own sword down. Ubbe pushed back, moved the shield the instant her sword left it and brought his blade up. It clanged against hers. Dagny thought, not for the first time and probably not the last, that she would never be a match for him. She would never be as quick or as strong. But those qualities weren't everything and she swung down so that her practice sword caught his legs under the shield.
"Good!" he said. "Again."
They continued like this for a while, until Dagny could see how distracted he was becoming. Ubbe was rarely like this.
"What are you giving so much thought to?" she reluctantly asked, hoping that it wasn't Ivar or how she'd kissed him in the dark.
"I am thinking about what I am going to do," he replied, pacing around, still holding his sword and shield. Dagny vaguely gestured that he should continue. He took a deep breath. "I am going to free Margrethe."
"What?" Dagny's arm wanted to give beneath the weight of her yellow shield, she wanted to throw her sword on the ground. Still, she found she couldn't be angry about it. Hadn't she known this would come one day? "Why would you do that?"
Ubbe's eyes sharpened, as if he thought her tone was disguising rage or hurt or some combination of the two. "Why do you think, Dagny?"
"To marry her." Her voice was so small, so quiet, and Ubbe's expression softened. Her fingers curled around the base of the sword, nails digging into her palm. "You can't do this, Ubbe."
"And why not?"
"She betrayed you! She played a game and had you and Sigurd locked in a barn so that Lagertha could kill your mother. I shouldn't think that I would have to tell you that." Ubbe sighed, like Dagny's thoughts were akin to Ivar and Sigurd's petulant fighting. It wasn't a sound she cared for.
"And I shouldn't think that I would have to remind you of what Margrethe's life is like." There was such disappointment in his tone that Dagny felt ashamed. "She has to make hard choices. She is a slave. How can I judge her for that?"
"Because I was a slave and I stayed by your side! I was loyal to your family and to your mother."
Ubbe shook his head and his lips were pursed. "She is not you, Dagny. And I cannot pretend to understand the hardships she has endured. Nor can you. Not truly." She said nothing in response, just felt her arms begin to shake in anger. She hoped he couldn't see it. "This doesn't befit you." And there it was again, the disappointment. Dagny cared little for anyone else's opinion but Ubbe was different. Ubbe made her want to measure up, made her want to impress him and do better.
"I'm sorry," she said, even as she knew her nails were drawing blood from her palm. But she was sorry, truly she was. "I know you love her and I know you are a good man, a better man than any I've known." Ubbe met her gaze. It was soft and lovely and Dagny hoped Margrethe saw it in her dreams at night. "She is lucky that you would overlook that."
"Give me a reason, Dagny." She stared at him in disbelief. "Any reason at all not to free her or marry her." That, she couldn't do, not without being a hypocrite. She would never want to take an opportunity for freedom away from a fellow slave, even when they were only out for themselves.
"I can't," she murmured.
"Do you love Ivar?" Ubbe tossed away the shield and sword and crossed his arms.
"What does it matter?"
"I just want to know." It was foolish, Dagny knew, but she thought whatever her answer was might change his mind. But she was not a liar. She could not pretend. Frankly, she had never been able to.
"Yes… I fear that I do." Ubbe sighed, this being something he expected. He walked over to her, took her shield, and unwrapped her fingers from around the sword. Dagny did not look away from him but she would be unsurprised if the handle was stained red.
"We do not choose our fates. That is for the gods to decide," he said. She barely nodded. "And it is a pity, if that is yours."
His hand came to the side of her face. She wanted to know why he had turned on Ivar when just a few months ago he had supported her caring for him. But she did not ask. She did not want Sigurd proven right or something else to carry.
Dagny was not prone to being emotional but when Ubbe headed back to town, she cried. She was not even sure what was causing it, anger or disappointment or jealousy. When that word entered her mind, she pulled Ivar's ax from her belt and hurled it at a target a long distance away. When it found the center, she was crying no longer. She would not sacrifice her friendship with Ubbe on an altar of envy or lust. She would not sacrifice anything, not anymore.
So I know a lot of people are into Dagny/Ubbe so don't think this is the full end of anything between them! Especially with the way Margrethe and Ivar are acting this season, lol. Besides, I have too much fun writing them.