The day felt odd already as the crispness of the morning hung throughout the dark room. Today was the day they were going to lose their Gods.
Her agreement to the baptism was easy. For both her and Ubbe, the agreement was for their family – to ensure their life here was easier, without the turmoil that would be without it. Ubbe's juxtaposition, however, was in his mind. The words of Alfred echoing in him regarding Ragnar's belief had split his own and it gnawed at him even through sleep. Her nights were restless enough with little Ragnar awake every few hours, let alone with Ubbe tossing and turning between them.
Last night her dreams kept her awake also. They had cast a shadow of her former self as though she wanted to remain in simpler times. Niorun had her remember her childhood and Ubbe with it, a reminder of how tangled their lives have been; how entwined it will always be.
"I'm sorry," Ubbe said suddenly, breaking the silence that followed both of them sensing each other was awake.
"For what?" She turned and planted a kiss on his cool shoulder.
"I didn't say goodbye," he said softly.
She smiled to herself. It was nice of the Gods to bless them with the same dreams. "I was thinking of our childhood too," she said, trailing her fingernail down his chest. "I think my mind is trying to separate the days with the Old Gods before we take in this new God today."
"It won't change the past," he whispered, dragging his fingers through her tangled hair gently.
"I wouldn't want it to," she told him. She propped herself on her elbow to look at him fully. "It has led us to where we are now. And for every day I am thankful." She kissed him deeply and he tasted like morning dew. Something inside her longed for him, the butterflies from when they were young were just as strong now as they were then.
"Do you think this is blasphemous to do before the baptism?" He broke away as she slid on top of him.
"We are with our Gods right now," she smiled at him.
"If you're not rea -," he started but a groan involuntarily came from his lips.
Lhyrie smiled. She missed that sound. "It has been far too long, Ragnarsson," she told him as she finally traced the dark lines of the tattoos flowing from his shoulders. More than seven months too long and she needed him. "I want to have one last act under our Gods." She kissed him until their ecstasy flowed out and moans crested from both of their lips.
Sometime later, Ragnar rustled in the bassinet next to the bed. "I think we woke him," Lhyrie laughed, moving to slide off her husband, still breathless.
Ubbe placed his hands back onto her hips and gently pressed her down, forcing her attention back to him. "Tonight," he groaned under her softly, "when we are with this new God, I want to hear you make that noise again."
That noise almost escaped her lips without will once more and he smirked with one last press on her hips. "Curse you, Ragnarsson," she smiled, falling against his lips. Ragnar cried again and Ubbe let her slip from him this time.
"I will get him," he said rising stiffly.
Lhyrie collapsed back onto her pillow. She peeked an eye open to see them swaying gently in the morning light. "I don't know if I can call you Ragnarsson anymore," she told him, propping herself on an elbow.
"Why would that be?" Ubbe cocked an eyebrow at her. "It is still my name," he added with a twitch of his head.
By the Gods she loved that too and let her smile show. "You're holding a Ragnar."
"And…"
"The words have lost their appeal," she sighed. "Now with my jest, I only see him," she sweetly said to her son. "And I don't want to curse him."
"What will you call me now when you want to prove a point?" He smirked at her, gently bouncing his son.
"Ubbe." She stated simply but shook her head with distaste. "Though that's not as demeaning as I need it to be when I tease," she laughed.
He came up to her and leaned in for a kiss. "Do not overthink it, minn iss." Ragnar quipped again in his arms. "He is hungry," he said, passing their child to her.
Lhyrie's stomach rumbled. "Me as well."
"We missed the morning meal," Ubbe said, pulling on his pants. "I will find some food." He came and lightly kissed the top of her head and patted his son's.
As Ragnar finished his own meal, a light knock came from the door. A servant peeked her head through. "You may come in," Lhyrie told her, adjusting Ragnar in her arms.
"The King wanted to extend an invitation to his morning walk," she said quickly.
"You may tell him I will join him after I break fast and dress."
The maid nodded her head and scurried out as Ubbe stepped in the doorway behind her. She jumped slightly as she turned into him.
Following a lackluster meal of porridge, Lhyrie stretched her aching legs and dressed. Fall had approached fast and winter was nipping at their feet. She threw her fox lined cloak over her shoulders and left Ubbe with Ragnar for a short time as she joined Alfred on his walk. She had missed this tradition while she was recovering after childbirth.
She found him in his study. He was always in the study it seemed, constantly reviewing and memorizing each text. His head snapped upward as she pushed the door open.
"Are you anxious for the baptism today?" He asked once they were out the gates and in the sanctuary of the walking path nearby.
Lhyrie gave a light chuckle and patted the arm supporting hers as they walked. "Surprisingly, no. I am at peace that the Gods are of the same realm but are different beings."
"That is an interesting outlook," he pulled his eyebrows together in thought. "I hope you're not insulted with me asking Ubbe alone about the baptism," he said. "I needed to see his character."
Lhyrie nodded beside him. "I may not have been born into politics," she told him, "But I do know games are needed."
"He is very loyal," Alfred said nodding himself. "And firm with his beliefs."
She laughed. "I would call it stubbornness, but his morality is strong, yes."
"Once he gains trust it is unwavering until insult…" he lingered.
Lhyrie eyed him cautiously. "Impressive how you determined that from one conversation alone."
"My grandfather taught me it was best to determine a man's – or woman's – motivations quickly," he paused for a moment, seeming to reflect on the past conversation. "It sets the stage for any interaction."
"I would have loved to have met your grandfather," she told him, but gulped her words. Ubbe had, hadn't he, being a player in his death. "I apologize, I forgot the circumstance," she said quickly.
Alfred gave a reassuring pat of her arm in his. "It is life and death." They walked in silence for a moment again. "I am grateful to have met his father," he breathed. "Ragnar was an admirable man."
"His son is more so," she told him with an endearing smile. She was proud of the man he had become; how different and yet the same he grew since that egotistical kid off to Paris she shared her first kiss with, to the man who now shared her bed. It was difficult to reflect on her own journey but found comfort in the change in his.
Alfred coughed and pulled her back from her thoughts.
"We both dreamt of our childhood last night," she told him. "I find it interesting the Gods prompted this conversation following that." She would need to stop saying the Gods soon, she reminded herself. Despite how understanding Alfred was of her philosophies on religion, the royal court would not be.
"Who taught you how to fight when you were young?" He asked, digging more into her childhood.
"My stepfather mostly. But playing with Ubbe and his brothers certainly trained me as well."
"Would he be willing to teach me to fight?" He asked almost innocently.
The question made Lhyrie pause."Battle training is almost intimate," she started, picturing the day he fixed her aim before Paris. "Would you like me to discuss it with him?"
"No, no," he said shaking his head. "I can certainly do that."
A wave of discomfort spread through her, like their fate might change because of this bond. A vision was forced in her mind just then: a flash of Ubbe in front of Björn, striking down a man that was charging them. It was clearly Kattegat; they both looked older and Ubbe wore thick layers of leather far from battle. She shivered. "Alfred, promise me you won't take advantage of his loyalty – if he gives it."
A cunning smile creeped on his lips. "I will not abuse any such thing within my political standing."
She tried to shake the image in her mind. "In our culture there is a role of lawgiver who holds blind dedication," she said, trying to decipher the vision. "Please do not box Ubbe into that role. He is so much more," she begged of him.
"Do all Northmen have such fealty?" He laughed. "I wish a fraction of my Court to display an ounce of it."
"We love and kill by it," she stated simply.
For once Alfred had no response and took in her words slowly. What plot he was forming she wasn't sure but trusted it wasn't malicious. A trumpet note blasted in the concourse and its sound echoed in the trees around them. They both looked toward the Villa. "We should get back so you can ready," he said. They weren't far from the gates, but he quickened his pace anyway.
Despite the coolness of the morning, the sun had started to quickly warm the grounds on their walk and now at this faster pace Lhyrie started to flush. When the sun will be at its highest, it would feel like summer again, which for a fleeting moment she was happy for. She hoped the river wouldn't feel like ice, but the walk back at least would be warm.
As they walked through the gates there seemed to be some commotion in the courtyard. Vendors and residents whispering sharply at one another, few with petrified looks on their faces. Alfred made note of it as well and hurried his pace further.
"We will see you soon," he told her, trying not to be hasty as they walked through the main corridor of the castle. They parted and Lhyrie looked back to see him anxiously wringing his hands together. An earlderman came and whispered in his ear. Her own anxiety started.
She opened the door to their rooms to see Ubbe staring quizzically at the bundle of white linens on the bed. "Did you hear any havoc?" She asked him, placing her heavy cloak in the wardrobe and peeking out the window.
"Just the trumpets instead of the bells," he said without looking to her, eyes still fixed cautiously on the clothes.
"Alfred looked nervous on our way back."
"He might be worried Thor will strike him down today when we renounce him," he smirked, pulling his eyes to her.
"Don't curse him, Ragnarsson." She saw his blue eyes light up with a jest. This time, she did not see her son's face and it once again seemed natural.
Ubbe smiled as he wove his way to her. "Ragnarsson, eh?" He gave a cocky smile and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her lightly.
"Habit, I dare say."
"I like the habit," he said, pulling her into a hug and he buried his head in her hair.
He was torn, struggling against the will of their Gods. She could feel the tension of the weight of conversion on him as he rested on her shoulder. Gently rubbing his back, she whispered, "We should change, Ragnarsson." He shook his head in her hair and her heart ached. He squeezed her tight and let go, not before planting a kiss on the top of her head.
"We look likes ghosts," Ubbe jibbed, looking down at the white cloth he threw over his shoulders. He looked awkward in the garb, like his Vikingness wouldn't let it sit well on his shoulders. The sleeves were slightly too short on him also, adding to the awkwardness. She was almost thankful the gown had sleeves; for the warmth and she was sure the clergymen would not appreciate the tattoos Ubbe had like she did.
She carefully woke Ragnar and dressed him in a similar gown they wore. He also had an intricate swaddle left for him, that Lhyrie had to be careful not to tear the fragile lace it was woven with. Her hands trembled. Not out of anxiety, she knew. Perhaps it was the notion of a new chapter of her – their – life starting. Cradling him gingerly, they walked slowly through the halls until they reached the grand doors of the Great Hall.
The doors were closed which surprised Lhyrie, and the guards in front of them made no notion to open them. She gave Ubbe a questionable glance.
Then she heard the voice. Her breath was pulled from her as a pain in her stomach caused her to stammer backward, the punch she received the night of negotiations feeling as real now as it did then. Her heartbeat rang in her ears and all she could feel was the turmoil of that awful night. Ubbe went pale like the ghost he jested about and every muscle in him tensed, his fingers aching for his axe. Clutching Ragnar closer to her, the doors swung open.
She thought he was going to rush to him and grab the closest thing to jam through his eye socket, but Ubbe stepped lightly and cautiously through the threshold, the tension still taught in his shoulders. Lhyrie had to will herself to move, afraid of being torn from each other again. Her throat went dry halfway through their procession.
Bishop Heahmund turned as Alfred motioned them forward. Ubbe's lip gave a minute snarl but stopped when he saw who was also standing in the darkness of the hall.
"Lhyrie and Ubbe," Alfred beamed, rapping Heahmund on his shoulder. "A surprise is at hand." Björn and Lagertha were standing just off the steps of the platform, the looks of disbelief also plastered on their faces.