Men and Women
Then Bjorn arrives.
Mary sees the ships from the window of the cabin, watches them row into the bay and get closer to town. She can even see the small masses huddling at the piers to welcome the newcomers. But there have been many ships coming lately, so she thinks nothing more of it, until the brothers come stumbling through the doors, louder and more boisterous than usual, and clearly already a few drinks into their celebration. With them is the biggest man she has ever seen. Tall as a giant, with shoulders so bright she is surprised he fits though the door.
Ubbe lets Ivar down on one of the chairs, while the others take their seats around the table.
"Mary, bring us some beer." Ubbe requests loudly. The newcomer watches her with interest as she shuffles to fill a tall jug and carry it to the table together with 4 cups.
Sigurd is in the middle of a story that has Ubbe in tears from laughter, and even Ivar smiling brightly and all of them have glassy eyes and red cheeks.
When he sees her approach, Sigurd stands up as if to help, but then he sways dangerously, burps loudly, and falls back on his ass with an apology.
"I see, our poor Sigurd has once again set his eyes on a slave." The giant man says, and puts a hand on Mary's back, giving her a devilish smile. Which is fine. What is not fine is the hand starting to wander further down, hidden from the view of his brothers.
Mary glares at him, grabs his hand and pulls it off her arse with a scowl. When Ivar notices what is happening, he pulls Mary towards him. Not only that, but he pulls her down and into his lap, putting an arm around her waist to make sure she doesn't fall off his bony legs. Mary blinks in surprise and decides that they must have had more beers than she realized.
"Mary, this is Bjorn, our oldest brother. Bjorn, this is Mary." Ivar introduced them and Mary blushes when she realizes who he is. Bjorn Ironside. Viking king. Apparent pervert.
Bjorn just nods in apparent understanding.
"I see you have finally gotten yourself a slave. It's about time, brother." He says and Mary scowls at him.
"Why is that everyone's first assumption?"
Sigurd makes a vague gesture, but he is face down on the table by now and probably doesn't even know what is happening.
"She is not a slave, brother. She is a Seer that Ivar brought back from Wessex." Ubbe explains. Bjorn's face grows serious at that and Mary crosses her arms with a huff. Her title should really not be the deciding factor in whether or not his hand belongs on her ass.
"If she is no slave, the why is she in our brothers lap?" Bjorn asks confused.
"We don't know either." Sigurd mumbles and Mary slaps his head lightly.
Ivar averts his eyes at the question, but his grip on her tightens and she interlocks her fingers with his under the table.
"Mary has been most helpful in our plans against King Aelle." Ubbe tells Bjorn. "But let's not talk about such serious things tonight, brother."
Bjorn agrees, putting one giant hand on his brother's shoulder. "You are right. Tonight, we shall rejoice."
They all lift their glasses and cheer, beer swapping over the rim and covering the table.
"The queen is holding a celebration, where we shall drink, talk, and drink some more." Bjorn exclaims and his brothers agree loudly, willing to look past their hatred for Lagertha in favour of beer.
Mary raises a sceptical eyebrow. She doubts they can even find their way back into town.
"Even him?" she asks, nodding her head towards Sigurd.
Bjorn smiles brightly "Especially him."
Turns out that the viking way of sobering up is much more extreme than Mary's. No coffee, no aspirin, not even any food to soak up the alcohol.
She and Ivar watch in amusement as Bjorn and Ubbe empty a bucket of ice-cold water of their brother's head, who jolts awake and curses lightly as the others laugh. Cruel, but effective.
Even before they head out, Ivar coaxes her to start drinking and once she sets the cup to her lips he just keeps lifting it until she is forced to down the rest of it while the brothers cheer. She splutters at him in indignation afterwards, beer dripping down her chin and she curses the fact that even a thousand years from now, men will be pulling the exact same prank.
By the time they leave, Mary has to look carefully where she walks as the world is much less stable than she is used to. With Ubbe carrying Ivar, and Bjorn taking the lead with impossibly long strides, Sigurd and Mary are left to fend for themselves, holding onto each other as they make their way down the hill.
The town is alive with celebration. Men and woman drinking at every corner and, as Mary finds out, having sex between houses. Sigurd quickly pulls her away when he notices her stare.
The main hall is filled to the brim, people she has never seen already passed out on the floor and when Bjorn arrives, they all welcome him with loud shouts.
Ubbe leaves Ivar on one of the benches before heading deeper into the crowd, Sigurd has already left to speak to one of the servant girls, and Bjorn is quickly pulled into a group of important earls. Mary sits beside Ivar and leans her head against his shoulder as they watch the celebration go. There are some whispers, some stares, but for the first time, Ivar doesn't mind. No, he is proud. Proud as the men look at Mary, proud of being the one by her side. Stare all you want, because the cripple prince is finally not by himself.
"Do you celebrate like this?" he asks her after a while, looking out at the masses of people drinking, laughing, and talking. She knows he expects her to say no, and while this is quite a wild party, she has seen much worse.
"We do. We don't drink beer, but liquor, it tastes much worse but it's also much stronger."
She watches Ivar, as he watches the people, his face more open and happier than she has ever seen it and she considers getting him drunk more often. He is almost giddy when people approach him, talking animatedly about his father, exchanging stories, and exchanging ideas. When he is deep in conversation which what Mary thinks is a Dane, Sigurd pulls her from the bench.
Ivar looks up at the sudden movement and she throws him an apologetic glance, before she is pulled into the crowd.
The little bit of sobriety she had gained in the last hour, quickly dissipates when Sigurd keeps refilling her cup as he pulls her from group to group. He introduces her to a number of strangers, putting his arm around her shoulder as he tells them that she is from a land far away, proudly telling them about how exotic and unique it is. He asks her a thousand questions and she tries to answer them as honestly as possible. When he asks her about her culture's festival, she tells them that it is mostly associated with music and dancing.
Sigurd, drunk out of his mind, asked her to show him. For a moment she is tempted to start twerking, but she cannot be the one to kill Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye by giving him a heartattack. So, she shows them a very toned-down version of the dances she knows, often landing somewhere between a belly dance and the Hawaiian hula. She twirls her wrists, and moves her arms in snake-like patterns, swaying her hips back and forth. She laughs loudly when Sigurd and a man named Tofi try to imitate her movements, and tries to show them how to do it correctly. Tofi, she finds is a terribly funny man, happy to embarrass himself for the amusement of others. Another friend of Sigurds, a shield maiden called Asdis, is a bit more reserved but friendly and while she refuses to dance with them, she is happy to offer amused criticism. When she meets Asvaldr, she decides it's time to go. Because Asvaldr is a fat man, with a red beard that is dripping with beer, and he squeezes her ass and tries to pull her hand against his crotch. He seems rather determined until Sigurd steps in and tells him to step back. With a growl the man disappears in the crowd, no doubt already on the hunt for another victim and Mary wants to go after him and beat the hell out of him. But the world has turned into a wonky place, the floor seems soft under her boots, and when she is faced with a man whose face looks somehow familiar, she barely registers it when they introduce her to the last son of Ragnar, Hvitserk. Thankfully, he seems equally drunk because, when she bumps into him again a few minutes later, he puts an arm around her, smiles, and asks what her name is.
Determined to escape the crowd of big men, swords, and the occasional wandering hand, she tries to squeeze between the huge bodies, until a small hand darts out of nowhere and pulls her away.
Margarethe is looking at her nervously, her fingers playing with her hair as she takes darting looks around. "I have to talk to you." She says, but Mary is in no mood.
"Listen. I don't know what your issue is with Ivar, but I don't want to be dragged into the middle of this." Mary says, turning around, ready to find the shortest way through the massive Vikings.
"It's important. Please." Margarete says and the almost desperate tone in her voice makes Mary turn around.
"I could not tell you this before, because I was a slave. But Ubbe asked me to marry him, so I am finally a free woman." She starts and Mary mumbles a small "Congratulations."
But Margarete just waves her off.
"It is about Ivar. Before he went to Wessex, and I was still a slave in the house of their mother, Ubbe asked me to-"
Ivar is happy. He isn't happy often, but right now he is. He sits on the bench and watches the people, watches them celebrate and when he spots Mary in the crowd, doing some sort of dance, his smile widens. His idiot brother and one of the warriors are trying to follow her, and she laughs and repeats it. Her movements are fluent, mesmerizing and much too sensual to be appropriate, but she ignores the curious glances of the other men, and he must admit that he smiles at that. Finally he has something they want, but cannot have. She shakes her head when men approach her, steps back when they get too close or handsy, and she keeps throwing him those damn glances, finding his eyes from across the room as if she cannot stop looking at him.
Earlier that day, when she had stopped Bjorn's advances, Ivar had smiled proudly at Mary, before pulling her into his lap in a drunken show of affection. And also to spite his brothers.
He watches her be introduced to Hvitserk, who had returned with Bjorn, and then scowls when he sees the same brother pull her close only minutes later before she laughs in his face and turns away.
His fears have been shrinking ever since she started sleeping beside him, always affectionate but never crossing that invisible line that his mind would not let him cross. Maybe tonight he will pull her close and finally find out if her lips are as soft as he thinks they are. Maybe, if he keeps her hands away from his prick and legs, she will let him kiss her again tomorrow.
His musings are cut short when his eyes lose Mary in the crowd. He usually sees her head pop up between the shoulders of the taller men, disappearing from his view but reappearing only a second later. But now he cannot see her anywhere and when he starts craning his neck to find her, maybe talking to one of his brothers, or the slave girl Inga, he spots her.
She is huddled against the far wall, with Margarete talking in low but forceful words and his heart starts racing. He wants to leap of the bench and crawl over to them and force Margarete to stop talking, making sure that the slave girl never talks to anyone ever again, but its too late.
Margarete's eyes dart around the room and she freezes when she sees him looking at her, his face furious, but then Mary follows her gaze and when she looks at him, he knows there is nothing he can do. Because she knows. And for the first time there is nothing he can fight, no one he can scream at or lash out against, because nothing will change the look in her eyes.
Ivar flees.