"When did you get new tattoos?"
Ubbe glanced over his shoulder from the chest he was leaning against. He was washing his tunic in the basin there. He had paused for a moment, stretching. Circling both of his cut shoulders now lay an intricate weave of cascading ink down his arms. She suppressed an urge to trace every line.
"You should be sleeping, minn iss," he whispered.
"I think Sigvi was right," she yawned, "A mother knows when her child is awake." A cry came from the bassinet next to her.
"Come here, little one." Ubbe turned and scooped the hungry infant from the crib. He held him carefully in his bare arms, like he might break from his breath. "Shh, shh," he cooed, swaying softly. He ever so gently placed Ragnar in Lhyrie's arms while planting a kiss on top of her head.
"I do like the tattoos," she commented as her son clasped onto her breast. It was still a sensation she wasn't accustomed to and jumped slightly at the latch.
"It took my mind off things while I regrouped," he said nonchalantly, going back to the basin to ring out his tunic. Ubbe was still silent on the months that separated them. As far as she knew, Hvisterk and Ivar sided together. After everything she's done to Hvitserk, she could not blame him. Ubbe took it as insult.
Lhyrie shifted in the bed and moved Ragnar to her other breast. "I wish I could get out of this bed," she groaned. For once, she was listening to Beaton's advice of bed rest as the small steps even to wash felt like crossing oceans.
"Rest while you can," he urged as he peeked back her, half expecting her to rise from the bed out of spite. She could see the images of her labor flash in his eyes momentarily and the amount of blood still staining the boards below his feet echoed in his voice.
"I am," she told him. Another look shot her way. "I promise," she laughed. Ragnar squirmed in her arms. He yawned and squeaked a sound of content for his meal that made her heart melt.
They decided on the name Ragnar due to the manner of his arrival. Ubbe figured it would be very much like his father to cause such a commotion at his long-awaited entrance.This Ragnar already had small puffs of blond hair that curled ever so subtly and bright, curious blue eyes that matched all of his namesake's own sons.
Breaking the peace, the door swung open, causing all three of them to jump. Usually, the maids knock when entering. Instead, a guard stepped through the threshold.
"The King asks for your presence," the guard said, not looking at either of them. Lhyrie noticed her top was still half open, showing more of her chest than this Saxon society deemed respectable.
"She cannot go befo-,"
"Your presence," the guard stated again, focusing toward Ubbe.
"Oh," Ubbe straightened. "Do you need help with him?" He asked to Lhyrie regarding Ragnar.
"No, no," Lhyrie waved him off. Ragnar was already back asleep in the comfort of her arms.
"Are you sure?" He asked quizzically with a hint of despair.
"Yes, Ubbe. Put on a tunic and we'll be fine," she added as Ubbe took a step. The Villa would not respond well to him walking around the concourse in just his trousers, tattoos littering his arms.
He puffed out his cheeks and sighed, throwing another tunic over his shoulders. "Call out if you need help," he told her again before giving her a kiss that lingered slightly too long.
"I will," she smiled, cradling his cheek. "Go," she whispered.
He stuck close to the guard in front of him, leading him through the foreign corridors. He was expecting to go to the throne room, where most of the interactions have been in in the few weeks since his arrival. But the guard passed by those heavy doors without a look and trudged on, snaking through passages Ubbe hadn't been before. Hopefully the guard would stay during this meeting to guide him back to Lhyrie's – their – rooms or he would be lost for days.
The guard stopped abruptly outside a set of doors. He made no motion to enter himself, so Ubbe pushed the door open cautiously. The boy king was standing on the opposite side of the room, his back towards Ubbe. He was plainly dressed, much like the outfit he was wearing. Upon his entrance, Alfred turned, somewhat surprised. They both walked closer to the table in the center of the room and stood for a moment, the air lingering between them.
"You," Ubbe paused, breaking tension, "asked to see me," he said without question.
"Yes!" Alfred exclaimed, remembering the basis of the assembly. Rather unlike a king, Ubbe thought. "Please sit," Alfred motioned and pulled out a chair for him. Ubbe stood planted in his spot, shifting his weight. "Some wine?" Alfred offered awkwardly, begging for some semblance of a positive encounter with Ubbe alone. All of their other meetings have either been in the presence of Lhyrie or his brother. Alfred poured wine for himself after Ubbe leaned back and glared for his answer.
"Many are against me granting you those lands," Alfred put slowly and plainly, shifting to a more regal demeanor than when Ubbe entered.
Ubbe nodded and shook his head with a smirk. He was not surprised. He thought there was going to be some other stipulation besides offering his support in battle. This was that answer. Of course, he would do it without Lhyrie present, Ubbe thought. Almost cowardly of him.
"What are we supposed to do?" He asked with a small grimace.
"A concillium," Alfred voiced. "You can publicly renounce your pagan gods. And be baptized as a Christian," he added, to Ubbe's look of confusion.
Ubbe pressed his lips together and turned toward the door, motioning to leave. He wasn't outraged; he thought it might be something to be added to their bargain, but now given the reality of it, he felt Odin at his back whispering No.
"Think of your child," Alfred called out. Ubbe stopped in his tracks, the pressure of those words sticking his boots to the floor. "And your wife." Another string pulled him back to consider Alfred's words. After so much within the past year, his new family's future was everything. His lips twitched with indecision and he circled back to face Alfred. Alfred was unmoved in his expression. Ubbe pointed toward the carafe of wine and signaled him to pour him a drink. He took it quickly from him and sat in the chair Alfred had pulled out earlier.
"You do that for me, Ubbe, and a part of my burden is lifted." As Alfred spoke, it was as though one was already lifting from him just speaking the words. "You named your son Ragnar, is that correct?" He asked. Ubbe nodded. "Ragnar spoke to me when I was a boy. He talked about your people, my people, sharing the land. I think that of all his sons, you are the closest to him. I am grateful it is you who happened here." Alfred paused, letting his words linger before he began again. "Ragnar told my grandfather he no longer believed in your gods."
Ubbe leered at him. "That is not true." He nearly spilled his goblet of wine on Alfred, venting bitterness that rushed through him from the words into the goblet.
"My grandfather told me everything, he wanted to prepare me for times such as this," Alfred assured him, unmoving in his expression.
Ubbe breathed hard and leaned forward toward the king. He came within inches of Alfred's face, staring hard into his eyes to catch a glimmer of a lie. Alfred did not flinch and stared hard back at Ubbe. There was no lie there. "I will need time," he said raising completely from his seat, "to think about what you have told me."
Alfred nodded. Ubbe turned to leave and noticed he still had the goblet in his hand. Drowning the wine in a single gulp, he cleared his throat and nodded toward the King in departure. Thankfully, the guard remained outside the doors. "Go!" He barked at the guard, motioning to lead him back to the rooms. Inside, Alfred drowned his glass quickly and went back to studying a scroll.
He wasn't sure if it was the conversation or the wine that hit an empty stomach, but on the walk back his mind was racing. He would still have his arm ring, and his wedding ring. Those are things that defined him. But in addition to those brass and lead circles, a cross would also adorn him if they accepted the conditions. Would that start to define him too?
Before he could muse further, the corridor ended, and he was back outside his home for the past few weeks. "That was short," Lhyrie commented when he pushed the door open.
Ubbe sniffed in disapproval. "He wants us to be baptized." He said curtly. Absentmindedly, he placed a quick kiss on her lips and stroked Ragnar's curls, gazing at his son as though he never wanted to look away.
"Ubbe?" Lhyrie asked. He was physically in the room, but his mind was still wandering in decisions. She pulled him back to focus. "What did Alfred say to keep you silent?" She smirked.
Ubbe sniffed again and ran a hand through his hair. He went back to the chest, peering into the polished glass like it was a seeing sphere. "He said my father no longer believed in our gods."
Lhyrie shifted restlessly. "He can't know that for sure, Ragnar may have lied to them."
"There was no lie in his eyes, Lhyrie," Ubbe gulped. He looked over his shoulder at her. "You trust him," he said more as a statement and answer than question.
"I do," she nodded.
Ubbe went back to the polished glass, nodding his head in silent answer.
"We are going for a swim."