Play pretend
Mary sits down with a huff.
"Shouldn't you be cooking?" Hvitserk asks and she makes a wordless gesture to the fire where Helga is bend over a pot of stewing venison while Tanaruz dutifully cuts more vegetables.
When Helga notices the stares, she lifts the spoon and points it almost threateningly at the two of them, "I will not let you cook for us."
Floki cackles and Hvitserk chuckles, and Mary crosses her arms with a pout.
"You hate cooking big meals," Hvitserk remarks when he hands her a cup instead, "you should be happy."
"I have been practically banished from my own kitchen." She grumbles before taking a beer and grimacing at the bitterness of the beer.
"My kitchen." Hvitserk corrects and she nudges his shoulder.
"Can you still not drink without pulling a face?" Floki laughs and Mary sticks her tongue out.
"The beer is much better where I come from." Is all she says.
Hvitserk pulls on his braids and Floki leans his arms on the table between them. The usual dining table is much too small for the number of people, so the working desk – usually covered in scattered maps, books, and candles – has been added to the odd getup.
"Now, my little Seer." Floki starts and Mary leans back suspiciously.
"What do you want?"
Ubbe smiles into his cup and Hvitserk pulls on his braids again.
"Oh, I am simply curious. I am a curious man, what can I say." Floki says and Mary's eyes narrow even further, "More like nosy."
Tanaruz giggles at her quiet remark and then quickly lowers her eyes back to the food in front of her.
"You see," Floki continues, not even batting an eye at the interruption, "Last time I saw you, our dear Ivar was all over you."
Mary rolls her eyes. She knew that the topic would come up. It had to. But even now, months after, she could feel her muscles tense when the topic was brought up.
"When I saw you last, you were barely more than a blurry face, right after Ivar almost amputated my hand."
Ubbe looks uncomfortable at the reminder but Floki just nods, a thoughtful hand at his chin, "Ah, yes. I remember." He doesn't stay distracted, "And ever since we have had betrayal, war, and conquest. Now we come back and find you here, at the arm of a different Son of Ragnar."
Hvitserk, once again uncomfortable, tugs on his braids one last time.
"Christ, boy." Mary growls, "Let me take those damn braids out."
He looks at her in surprise and then jerks away when Mary comes to stand behind him and starts tugging her fingers almost forcefully between the strands of hair.
"Hold still." She instructs him.
"Violent woman." He just mumbles in frustration, before crossing his arms and letting her jerk his head from side to side as she frees the hair.
"Maybe," Floki starts speaking again, "Dear Ivar was simply not man enough to handle such a spirit."
Mary glares at him. Not funny then, not funny now. He raises a hand in defence, but the smirk stays on his lips. Ubbe exchanges a glance with Hvitserk, whose face is exasperated even when a content smile tugs at his lips.
"Things didn't work out." Mary answers then, between clenched teeth, "It happens. Love comes and love goes."
When Hvitserk lifts a hand to her fingers, she notices that she may have been pulling at his hair with a little too much force and relaxes her muscles.
"Love doesn't go." Floki says and when his wife comes into arms-reach, he pulls her into his lap, "Love stays forever."
Helga smiles adoringly and when they kiss, Tanaruz makes a gagging sound.
Mary laughs, Hvitserk chuckles, and Ubbe – still a little subdued by the news of his wife – smiles.
When the food is served, perfectly hot and flavourful, and the alcohol starts flowing, cold and plentiful, Mary is filled with a contentment that has been missing for a long time.
"So, what's with the new decoration, man?" she asks Ubbe after a while, when the alcohol is starting to cast everything in a warm glow. At his confusion, she runs two fingers down the side of her own face and he shrugs.
"Tattoos are a Viking tradition. You don't like it?"
Mary snorts into her cup, "I have my own, remember?" she says and puts a hand on her side, where the rainbow-coloured cross sits under her tunic. With a devious smirk, she leans her elbows on the table and leans closer to the oldest brother. "And actually, I love tattoos. Something about them is just very…attractive."
Ubbe flusters at her words and she laughs delighted. Hvitserk pulls her back, one arm around her shoulders, "Leave him alone, Mary."
She pouts and wags her eyebrows at the blush on Ubbe's face.
"Attractive, huh?" Floki chimes in and pointedly runs his hand along his skull, where black markings are etched into his skin as well. Helga traces the patterns with her finger and leans her chin on her husband's shoulder, "Very."
Tanaruz once again looks slightly put off by their affection and Mary pushes a cup of mead across the table, "Have some."
The girl must be around sixteen, right? She can drink.
But Tanaruz shakes her head, "It is too bitter."
"If you want to be a shieldmaiden, you have to learn how to drink." Hvitserk comments, his breath hot on Mary's ear.
"Or maybe get a tattoo." Mary muses and puts a hand to her chin, "That could work."
Tanaruz visibly perks up at the thought, her eye bright while her short curls bob around her head, "Can I?"
"No." Helga answers at the same time that Floki excitedly says, "Yes."
He promptly earns a slap from his wife and sets his face in false demureness, "Listen to your mother."
Tanaruz pouts, but Mary notices the easy way in which the word mother is taken. Maybe, she will be alright.
God, she hopes so.
"So, we have a a shieldmaiden in the making," Mary states and raises her cup in the direction of Tanaruz, "And a bunch of explorers who have just discovered Iceland." She frowns, "I feel like I am stagnating here. I started on the top and now I am nothing but a humble serve."
Hvitserk snorts at the word humble and she elbows him in the side.
"Violent woman." He whispers against her shoulder and then playfully bites the skin of her neck. She swats him away with a laugh.
"Iceland?" Ubbe asks and Mary freezes. Whoops.
Eh, it will be fine.
"Why would anyone call it Iceland? Why would people move to a place called Iceland?" Floki argues and Mary chuckles, "Actually, there is a hilarious little story about that."
He narrows his eyes, but when it becomes clear that she won't tell him – not yet – he shakes his head.
"You two are the only ones keeping our dear King Ivar in place," Floki says and raises his own cup in salute, "All of Scandinavia should be thanking you. Saviours from the mad tyrant."
"About that," Ubbe chimes in and sits up straight, "How bad has he been?"
"He seems scary." Tanaruz admits with lowered eyes and Floki puts a comforting hand on the young girl's shoulder.
"Don't worry," He says with a cackle, "I taught that boy everything he knows. A wrong step, and he will be sharpening my sword."
"Jesus, Christ." Mary mumbles, "Relax will ya?"
But even though, the gesture is a sweet one and when Helga looks at the tender interaction, Mary can see the love for her husband grow even more. Saints, how those two don't have a house full of children is beyond Mary.
"You hurt me, Floki." Ivar's voice sounds and for a moment, the laughter around the table dies. He is standing in the door, a heavy cloak on his shoulders, and Mary can see Tanaruz tense, her eyes trained on the table.
"The truth is rarely ever kind." Is the only answer and Ivar and Floki exchange arrogant grins, Hvitserk clears his throat, "It is generally seen as rude to intrude into someone's house like that, brother."
"It is generally seen as treason to call you king mad." He replies and Mary blames the mead for the much too loud and distinctively unladylike snort that escapes her at his words. He raises an eyebrow in challenge and she throws up her hands, "Come on, Ivar. I saw the sketches. A statue? Really?"
His ears actually turn red and Hvitserk leaves her side to invite in his youngest brother. The cold is quickly shut out again and Ivar falls onto a chair across the table.
"Freydis likes to draw." He mumbles and Ubbe holds a cup out for him. But when Ivar takes hold of it, Ubbe keeps it in his grip for just a moment, looking into his brother's eyes. "A statue?"
Mary giggles and Ivar angrily yanks away the cup before downing the content in a single gulp.
"No good man ever puts up a statue of himself." Floki advises and Ivar look up in exasperation. "It was just an idea."
"He is right though." Mary agrees when Hvitserk sits back down beside her, "It would be a terrible idea."
"King Harald is being a problem," the young king tries to change the topic, "I worry that he is making an alliance with King Olaf and –"
"No." Mary boos loudly, "No shop talk at the table. Let us talk about other things."
Helga – bless her heart – is the first one to speak.
"So, Mary. Are you going to get a Viking tattoo as well?"
Ivar's eyebrows rise in surprise and Hvitserk leans forward, studying her face in mock seriousness, "I'm sure we could get you the same design as Ubbe."
Mary throws back her head and laughs, "God, I would look ridiculous."
Ubbe looks slightly affronted at her reaction and she pokes him in the cheek with a grin, "Don't worry, you look good. I told you. I like them."
Now torn between embarrassment and suspicion, he just glares at her.
"Mary," Hvitserk warns once again, and when he pulls her back this time, she is sitting in his lap.
"It's so much fun though." She complains, "You should have seen them when I first arrived."
Ivar nods his head at her words, "She almost made Sigurd faint."
"I think you might be a bit of a hypocrite there, Ivar. I remember quite clearly both of you turning bright red. In fact, Ubbe was the only one who didn't look ready to drop." She turns to oldest brother with a pout, "What happened to you? When I was a Seer, you were cool as a cucumber and now suddenly I make you blush?"
"As a Seer you were untouchable." Ivar says with a roll of his eyes, "But now you are only a servant."
"What?"
That surely can't be it. But when she turns to Hvitserk he just shrugs and Mary gapes at them.
"Seriously?" she asks into the round and Floki cackles at the look of bewilderment in her eyes. At least Tanaruz seems as confused as Mary feels.
"Well, let me say this once and for all." She declares loudly, "I'm not here to sleep with anyone."
"Well," Ivar starts.
"I mean…" Hvitserk scoffs.
"Oh my god." Mary groans and she can feel the heat rush to her cheeks when she buries her head in her hands. Hvitserk's laugh rumbles through his chest and she wants to crawl under the table and hide. Point taken.
The others laugh and Mary keeps her head down when the conversation flows back to runes that run down Ubbe's cheek. She only peeks up again, when Hvitserk shrugs off his shirt and shows off the patterns that run down his shoulder and arms.
He flexes the muscles when he notices Mary's eyes and she laughs.
"They are very nice." She admits and he smiles widely.
But then, Ivar tugs his shirt over his shoulders as well, and suddenly her mouth runs dry. Because there are two giant pictures, two animals, jumping from Ivar's shoulder blades and over his shoulders, all the way across his chest, and Mary is reminded of Floki's words from earlier: Love doesn't go.
Damnit, damnit, damnit.
She doesn't want to stare. She doesn't want to have the unexplainable urge to lick her lips and she doesn't want to feel heat pooling in her middle when Ivar smirks proudly across the table.
But she can't help it.
"Don't get lost now." Hvitserk teases behind her and his arm around her middle tightens. But there is no jealousy, just playful teasing, and Mary glares at him.
This time he leans forward and presses a soft kiss against her shoulder, "Weak woman."
He is right. She is weak. Stupid and weak, and stupidly, weakly in love.
She takes a shaky breath and stands up.
"I'm gonna get some air." Mary mumbles and curses herself for catching Ivar's eye – hell, for seeking out his gaze – when she leaves.
The air outside is icy cold and dark and she wraps her arms around herself as she takes a few steps out into the streets. She can feel her overheated skin cool down and she lets her head fall back, staring into the night sky. Months have passed. Months and insults and tears and she had prayed that her heart would just pull itself together. But no. The fickle, little thing has its sight set on the one man she can't have right now.
"Jesus, Fucking. Fuck." She curses loudly. And then she opens her arms wide, eyes still skywards, and shouts, "Seriously?"
Because...seriously?
"Whoever send me here, can come get me now. Mary would like to be picked up from the adventure park." Then she sniffles, just a little, "I can't stand the misogyny and the racism and the goddamn religious wars. I hate the clothes and I miss toilettes and I want to take a paracetamol next time I have my period. Please. Someone."
If anyone is Kattegat is awake, they might think she is crazy, but honestly, right now Mary feels crazy herself.
"I'm sick of war. I'm sick of being an advisor and failing to save lives. I'm so sick of-"
"-me?"
Mary's arms fall to her side and she wants to cry. Of course, it's him. "Yes."
He is much smarter than her, wearing his heavy cloak in the winter night, and when he limps over, she averts her eyes.
He comes to her side and for a while they are silent. She stubbornly stares at the mud on her boots while Ivar looks up at the stars. Then he sighs, heavy and almost pained.
"Freydis is with child."
Mary tenses, from head to toe, and she has the sudden urge to run away. To cover her ears like a child and hide under the blankets.
Her head snaps up and her eyes widen and there is a distinctive sensation of being stabbed in the chest. It feels so real, she actually lifts a hand and rubs the skin under her collarbone.
"Oh." She says and then, because she can't help it, "So, you guys-"
She motions awkwardly and there is a hint of amusement in Ivar's eyes when she swallows hard.
"No," he answers and his eyes go back to the stars, "It was only with you."
Mary blinks in confusion. Is she going to have to educate Ivar on the birds and the bees? God, that might actually kill her.
"It's not my child." Ivar admits and for someone so impulsive, someone so petulant, he seems ancient right now, "Even if she claims it to be."
And then confusion turns into fury because, how dare that woman? How dare she lie about something like this?
"Don't Mary." Ivar warns and she is about to storm off when his hand closes around her wrist, "She is unimportant."
"How can you say that?" she bristles, "She lied to you. I'm gonna- I'm gonna kill that woman. Metaphorically speaking. She is pregnant, after all. But I'm gonna scream at her for sure."
He chuckles and then he tugs at her wrist and she stumbles against him, her nose squished against the leather of his armour. He is wearing it even now.
And then his free hand wraps around her shoulder and she suddenly engulfed in warm furs and leather and Ivar. She stiffens. "What are you doing?"
"I missed you, little Seer."
"You did always like me most when I was angry." She mumbles and feels a part of herself relax. Gingerly, she puts a hand on Ivar's back and leans her head against his chest. She is weak.
"So, what are you going to do?"
"I could marry her." He mumbles against her hair, "Claim the child as mine. Have an heir."
Mary moves in his embrace and looks up to him, "Is that what you want?"
He shakes his head and even when she can see the sadness on his face, her heart slowly unclenches. But then he speaks again.
"What I want is you. It always was. I have been trying to be a good king, trying to take your advice, trying not to be cruel. But you are with my brother. You are safe and you are happy. And I keep wondering, if I can't have what I want, why shouldn't I settle for the next best thing?"
"A child shouldn't be the next best thing." Mary whispers, because she doesn't know what else to say. That she loves him? Even if she did, what then? She won't become queen of Kattegat. She doesn't want to be. All she wants is to go back to the little hut at the edge of the woods, half a year ago.
"The child wouldn't be. But she would."
The announcement becomes public a week after and when Hvitserk comes home, Mary is in tears, halfway through her second bottle of stolen wine.
"I guess we are celebrating a wedding." She says tonelessly and Hvitserk curses his brother for the pain he gives the girl in front of him.
When he tries to help her up, she kisses him. Deep and desperate and he readily follows her lead. He takes off her clothes one last time, watches her, touches her, hears her moan his name. For the last time, he lets his lips run down her body and for the last time, she gazes down at him when she is in his lap, naked and wanting, and he holds her just a little closer.
Because he knows what she will tell him.
"I can't do this anymore."
And then.
"I love you. Thank you."
Little changes after that. They still advise Ivar, she still cooks, still sleeps in his house. On bad nights she even sleeps in his bed.
And Hvitserk wonders in passing if maybe he had been in love.
But then he meets Thora, and he learns that loving someone and being in love with someone are very different things.