Ubbe and Lhyrie rode out to Winchester what seemed like only a few hours after she had returned from the birth of Aelfwynn's boys and, with their light travel, they arrived in Winchester at dawn the next day after a short camp for rest. Vendors should have been starting their day, making well their shops and stores, but all was quiet. As they rode in and dismounted, they exchanged worried glances. It wasn't a feast day.
Also without a sound, a guard whisked them into the Villa and to their set of old rooms to wash up and change. She was thankful. They rode quickly and through rain, her boots and dress plastered in mud. She slipped them off as a maid came in with spare clothing. They had packed a set of clothes but was glad for something immediately drier. Someone grabbed her a light green dress she had seen Queen Judith in before. Picking it up, she held the fabric carefully in her fingers. It seemed so delicate now, the fabric flowing light and loosely through her fingers. They hadn't been removed from Villa life for that long, but already the finer things that were normal here seemed strange.
Lhyrie changed quickly in front of the looking glass, stealing a look to see if her body showed any signs of her being with child yet. She didn't feel like it, but she also didn't feel so much with Ragnar, despite the nausea. Smoothing the dress over her hips and lower abdomen, there might be a small bump if one really peered at her. Letting the fabric fall, the dress hung loosely and covered it easily.
As she turned, Ubbe was staring at her, his head cocked and eyebrow raised, confusion on his face. Oh no. She wanted to tell him last night as they made camp, but his snores quickly changed that. "I –,"
"That is not one of yours."
"No," she gulped, slightly relieved.
"I don't know if I like the color."
She laughed. It was an interesting color, like the first green of spring, slightly devoid of its true richness. "For now, it is dry." He was also wearing something they did not bring, a red striped tunic. "That is not one of yours," she pressed. Seeing Ubbe in a Saxon tunic was a sight Lhyrie couldn't get accustomed to. Usually, when they were just in their rooms here at the Villa, he would wear a standard Viking one but he had been wearing the style more and more at Medeshamstede while working.
"No." He looked down at it and ran a hand over his own stomach. "I believe this is Aethelred's."
Lhyrie scrunched her nose. Yes, she had seen Aethelred in that: the morning he questioned her about his father's death. She remembered Ragnar squirming in her belly during the interrogation and she felt something flip in her belly now. She resisted the urge to place her hand there. She cleared her throat and rid the sensation from her mind. "I have –," she began but their chamber doors opened and a guard stomped in. She pressed her lips together tightly. She should just shout out the news, but she had a feeling it wasn't going to be told today.
Ubbe nearly guided the three of them to Alfred's study instead of the guard and the man looked flustered when they arrived at the closed doors promptly. Ubbe made a motion to enter, but Lhyrie held him back. "He has a job to do," she murmured. Ubbe huffed and rocked onto the balls on his feet, impatient. She pulled him down. "Stop fidgeting." He kissed the side of her head hastily as to keep her from nagging him while the guard opened the doors ajar.
It had been some time since Lhyrie had been in Alfred's study, and the pile of scrolls in the corner grew to be well taller than her. There seemed to be a mountain of maps spread across his desk and too many goblets littered about the room already. Alfred turned from the map he was looking at. The crease between his brow softened and his smile grew wide at his sight of them.
"Thank you for coming on such rushed conditions." Despite the piles of materials in the room, his voice still seemed to echo off the walls. Stepping down from his spot, Alfred took the few rushed steps to wrap Ubbe in a hug. Lhyrie could see Judith sigh heavily from her spot at another desk. The doors were closed, he didn't need to be regal now. "You look well, both of you," he said, pulling back from Ubbe and moving to close her into a hug.
"You as well." Ubbe clapped him on the back, but Lhyrie held her breath. Alfred had a gauntness to him. If it was the news that brought them here or otherwise, she wasn't sure, but he certainly didn't look his best. Alfred met her eye and her thought, and he tried to wipe it away with a smile.
"Did you bring Ragnar with you?" Judith asked. Her tone hit oddly, out of concern. Lhyrie did grip her stomach then, as it flipped out of fear.
"No, he stayed in Medeshamstede with Wynnflaed," she answered slowly. She glanced between Alfred and Judith, trying to see what threat was lingering over Wessex. "Should I call for him?" Lhyrie had taught Wynnflaed some Norse and told her to flee to York in case of a Viking raid. She prayed that Wynnflaed knowing Lhyrie's full name would be the difference in those in York thinking her a pretender, running with a son of Ragnar's own.
Alfred motioned toward the map he was pondering. It showed what Lhyrie knew of England and the Kingdom of Wessex, its rivers and settlements. She recognized their new home of Medeshamstede on it eastwardly. To the left, was a black mass and it appeared to have been shifting from the coast. Alfred stepped back as her and Ubbe examined the map, not that it showed them much of anything, but she traced the waterway the black mass would be taking and it would lead them right into Winchester and beyond.
Ubbe followed her finger along the blue line and grunted. "Who are they?"
"We think they are Danes," Alfred said, rejoining Lhyrie's side at the table. "They have sailed from their base in Dublin across the sea with at least 300 ships."
Ubbe straightened his stance. "How many warriors can your nobles put in the field?"
"Two thousand."
"Two thousand," Ubbe echoed, scoffing lightly. "The Danes will have a thousand more warriors."
"I will personally ride out with our troops," Alfred offered. "To inspire our forces."
"The Danes will not be frightened to see you at the head of the army," Lhyrie said bluntly at Alfred, shaking her head.
"And why not?" Judith asked. Her hands flew to the desk in front of her and she rose slowly, achingly, but stared hard at Lhyrie like a challenge.
"Because we," she motioned to herself and Ubbe, "were not frightened to see your father," she told Judith. "Or your father," she pointed to Alfred. "And we had a thousand more men than them."
They both stared at her. Alfred hesitated, unsure of who to turn to, but finally turned toward Ubbe. "What do you advise?"
Ubbe looked toward her and she knew the look he was giving her: that he was the answer. Would screaming that she was pregnant stop him from volunteering himself? No, no it wouldn't. She gave the slightest nod of her head in acknowledgement, and they took a deep breath together. So much for their normal life.
"Make me the head of your army." Alfred looked taken aback, it must have been the last thing he thought Ubbe would suggest. "I will find a way to deal with the Danes. Without me," he added, crossing his arms over his chest, "you have no hope."
Alfred pivoted toward Lhyrie then to Judith, looking for an answer. At first, Lhyrie didn't want to meet his eye but then did so as fiercely as she could in support of her husband. Alfred led out a small laugh. "Fealty," he chuckled to himself. "What can you do that my commanders can not?" Alfred asked Ubbe.
"Talk to them, and they listen."
"We played that with Harald."
"And it worked." Ubbe's head cocked sharply to the right. Lhyrie refrained from laughing. He was being too cocky. Rightfully so though, it did work – the Viking negotiator. "But you do not have the army to back up the guise this time. I would need to fully bargain."
Alfred ground his teeth and shifted slightly in his spot. His head started to nod. "I trusted you before," he said. "I can trust you now." Judith looked like she wanted to argue, to take the decision back to his more immediate set of councils first, but remained silent as she slouched back down in her chair. Ubbe clicked his tongue in acceptance and nodded hard, before burying his head back down into the map under his hands. Lhyrie shifted then and noticed a tray of goblets and a carafe near Judith. She didn't realize how thirsty she had become.
"That is the first news settled then," Alfred said, as Lhyrie poured herself wine.
"What of the second?" She asked him. Clearly, the main threat to Wessex was the Danes, anything else was less. Ubbe had not looked up from the map, his finger was passing back and forth over the lines and squiggles.
"Your brother followed behind the news," Alfred said toward Ubbe.
His brows flicked together as he continued to trace the River Itchen. "Why did Bjorn return here? He was to go to Kattegat."
If Bjorn accompanied the news of Danes in Wessex, was he injured by them? Intercepted going to Kattegat? But that is the opposite way, she realized, glancing back at the map under Ubbe's palms. Why was Bjorn back at Winchester? She set down her glass.
"I misspoke," Alfred corrected. Lhyrie paused. One thing Alfred never did was misspeak. He cleared his throat and an awkwardness that usually did not accompany talks with Alfred followed. "Hvitserk is here."
Ubbe's hand slammed flat against the table. Lhyrie and Judith jumped in time together. "Why?" Ubbe grumbled, his eyes burning a hole through the map of Wessex. He was more tense now than he was months ago when she mentioned Hvitserk. As stiff as a statue, with his palm still pressed flat, she could see every vein pop as they trailed up his forearm.
"He was hesitant to disclose," Judith said softly, sweetly. Lhyrie knew that wouldn't soften the moment, however well intentioned the try was. Ubbe clenched his jaw and his eyes remained downcast, but unfocused.
"But he only came with a single boat, and thus, was no threat," Alfred added, almost dismissing. "And you were already sent for."
"Where is he?" They asked together. Ubbe finally looked up and then to her, and his pierce made her want to cower under it from his intensity. She picked her wine up and took a large sip. They hadn't eaten much over the course of the last day and the alcohol hit her stomach in a hard wave.
"I was going to place him in your old rooms, but figured that would be a shock to you," Alfred said with a laugh. Neither of them laughed. "He is in Bjorn's old chambers." Lhyrie took another sip of wine and let this one fall on her tongue easier. "We are still waiting for the rest of the witan to assemble," Alfred added. "See to your brother in the meantime."
And don't kill him, she wanted Alfred to add.
Ubbe leaned forward and stretched, tapping his fingers on the map. For a moment she thought he was going to spring forward and dash out of the doors to Bjorn's rooms to beat her there, but he merely nodded and swallowed as though he was the one who held the wine gripped in his palm.
"When is the rest of the assembly due?" Lhyrie asked. Her voice was weak and she thought for a moment she didn't even speak as no one looked toward her. Clenching the goblet in her hand, her wedding band ticked against the metal. That did make a sound and Alfred smiled toward her.
"They should arrive by tomorrow."
Her feet stayed planted on their spot on the rug and Ubbe at his spot at the map, and they both looked toward the door, waiting for it to open, to shove them out to welcome Hvitserk. Would he even come with her? Furthermore, would he want her to see him? From that stare, it didn't seem as though he wanted Lhyrie and Hvitserk anywhere near each other.
"We will take supper with my brother," Ubbe said gruffly, looking idly back at the parchment under his hands. "And assemble for the witan tomorrow."
"Agree," Alfred nodded easily, the only thing of ease currently in the room. "Would you like an escort back?" He asked as then the doors did swing open and a guard stood stout central in them, his frame resolute against the dark carvings of the doorway. Lhyrie was impressed at the timing of it. The guard must have impeccable hearing through the thick oak doors.
"Of course not," Ubbe answered, his voice low. Peeling himself from the map, he took the few steps toward Lhyrie, and eyed the wine she still held in her hand. She handed it to him as he stepped in front of her and he downed it without breaking his stride. Wiping his mouth, a trace of red stained his lips. Ubbe held out his arm for her as the guard waited in the doorway for them to exit.
The walk to Bjorn's previous quarters were not as rushed or filled with anxious excitement as the walk to Alfred's study was. It was mostly conducted in silence, but Lhyrie remained linked in arm with Ubbe.
"Do you want me to see to him myself?" She asked him softly, as they entered the corridor.
"No." He tensed as the door came into view. And didn't want to knock as they stood before it. She sighed and rapped.
"Sæl!" Called from inside. Lhyrie gripped the door handle tight and pushed. The voice that came from inside was Hvitserk's but the man that lounged on the bed appeared to be the shell of him. "Heill," he added softly, sitting up in his spot.
He looked like him, though a little thinner than the more than a year ago that Lhyrie had last seen him. His blonde hair was longer with parts twisted back to keep them out of his eyes, different than how he normally wore it, but being windswept from travel herself, she tried not to critique. As he swung his legs off the bed and walked toward them, she noticed the lack of spark his eyes used to hold, the light and glimmer of hope torn from them. Or how his laughter lines now seemed flattened and neglected, even as he drew his lips up in greeting. Ubbe tensed again and he hesitated, almost to question a movement. Was his first instinct to punch him or spit at him?
"I thought Alfred said he called for you," Hvitserk said, shakily, catching Ubbe's movement. His eyes found hers to avoid looking at his brother and Lhyrie nearly shuttered at the lackluster of blue. This wasn't the Hvitserk she knew. What had happened with Ivar? "His Norse was broken."
"How –," she started, desperate for answers.
"Why?" Ubbe gritted, his eagerness cutting into hers.
Hvitserk swallowed and shifted his feet in front of them. He didn't offer them a seat. "Ivar sent me to Olaf in Finland."
"Did you get lost?" Ubbe clicked his teeth. Lhyrie heard Hvitserk grind his. Maybe they should have just had single combat.
"When I set out, I came here instead."
"Why?" Ubbe repeated.
Hvitserk sighed heavily and met his brother's eye briefly before shaking his head. "I didn't know where to turn and couldn't stay under Ivar. I knew, Lhyrie, you were here… or you had been." Those dull eyes fell over her again and she wished she had brought the carafe of wine with them to break up the moment. She pressed her lips together and resisted the urge to look about the room.
"Why didn't you turn to York?" Ubbe countered.
"Ivar's men are at York."
"Bjorn is at York."
"I didn't know that."
"You can go there now."
"Ubbe!" Lhyrie hissed, glancing over at him, trying to will some semblance of civility for his brother. She did notice, then, over Ubbe's shoulder, a carafe on a chest. "Sorry, Hvitserk," she muttered quickly. "Is there water or wine in the room? We rode in this morning, and I am parched." She hoped the deflection would throw off Ubbe's snipe as well as quench her thirst.
His brows pulled tight and followed her view. "Yes. Here." He fumbled, stumbling to where Lhyrie spotted the pitcher and a few lonely glasses. He poured a glass hurriedly, splashing wine about the table. He didn't pour one for his brother. She quickly grabbed the glass from him as he rushed it back to her, careful not to spill anymore wine from actually inside the goblet. She sipped and this wine was sourer than the wine Alfred had in his study. She tried not to purse her lips from it.
Now would be the time to fill the lull in their conversation by commenting on how well Hvitserk looked or that it was good to see him. Neither of those were true. Granted, he looked in more health than Alfred did – his skin was at least flushed and not tinted with green. There was something odd though about his eyes, and Lhyrie couldn't place it. Yes, the spark was gone, but he did not have the look of drug use, like she feared months ago – as that was the first thought about the loss of the life in his eyes.
Ubbe cleared his throat but Hvitserk didn't move to offer him a glass. Lhyrie tilted her head and raised the glass to him, though Ubbe shook his head.
"You are farming the lands given?" Hvitserk asked to her finally. After handing her the wine, Hvitserk moved to her left, so that he was further from Ubbe. It seemed to stretch the tension further. Was he now just going to pretend his brother wasn't here?
"Yes," she answered. "We are grateful that Alfred granted them." Hvitserk nodded as she took another sip of wine.
"You both look well," he commented, shifting in his spot. He folded his arms tight against his chest and then added simply, "You're with child again."
She nearly choked on her wine and coughed, her face flushing to match the red in the goblet she clutched. She felt Ubbe's eyes on her like a breath down her neck and now she wanted to run further away from the tension growing between the three of them. Desperate to avoid both sets of blue eyes, she cast her eyes downward and took another sip of wine, trying to quench the burning in the back of her throat.
"You – you are with child again?' Ubbe asked quickly. His voice was rough like rocks and it tumbled down her.
"I – I just realized the night before last," Lhyrie answered, her voice weak. Glancing up to him and then to Hvitserk, both of their eyes were heavy on her for her answer. How could Hvitserk have known?
Hvitserk laughed a cool, foreign laugh. It seemed to compliment the strange, foreign look in his eye. "She doesn't seem to tell you, Brother," Hvitserk snarked. The small laugh that came from him reminded her of Ivar, and she shuttered. Do not be turning into Ivar. "Are you ashamed of carrying his child?" He asked her, but his eyes remained on Ubbe, veiled but challenging.
Ubbe lunged forward and grabbed the front of his tunic. Hvitserk sneered again before slipping from his grip and nearly tripped pushing away from Ubbe. He regained his footing before almost running into the chest the wine carafe had set upon, and laughed again, another cold Ivar-like laugh, as he ran a hand through his hair several feet away from his original spot.
"Stop it!" She yelled at both of them, throwing her hands out to halt them. The wine sloshed about the goblet and a streak of red ran down her hand and arm from it. Ubbe was huffing at her side, rocking back and forth to the balls of his feet; she could feel his mind whirling into another assault. Suddenly, he became as still as a statue and that worried her more.
"Merton was months ago," Ubbe muttered so softly she almost didn't hear him. She felt Hvitserk ripple again in that heinous laugh and Lhyrie pierced a glare at him to stop it. For a flicker then after she shot him the look, the dullness in his eyes changed back to the old Hvitserk; but with another blink, the veil was back.
"I meant to tell you today," she answered, just as softly. "I only realized walking back from Aelfwynn's boys."
Ubbe grunted and nodded his head hard. Then sighing, he ran a hand through his beard. He looked toward Hvitserk and scoffed. "I am going back to our rooms." He turned away from her quickly, heading toward the door. Lhyrie reached for his hand but he shook her off with a huff. She groaned and shook her head as the door closed behind him. Realizing she still held her wine, she gulped the rest of it down and wiped her hand of the wine that spilled before pulling her eyes back to Hvitserk, who leaned against the chest casually.
"Was your first child unharmed?" He asked, tapping lightly on the wood. His eyes were down and his voice lost the harshness he had a moment ago, the strain between him and Ubbe now broken with the latter gone.
"Yes," she said. The last image he had of her was following their failed negotiations at York, of her being torn from the tent after Heahmund punched her in the stomach to show force. "Ragnar is healthy and wanting to start walking."
Hvitserk scoffed softly and his eyes remained focused on the drumming on the chest. "Ragnar…" His voice was pulled far away and seemed to grow softer. He chuckled. "He does take everything."
She wished she didn't finish the last bit of wine from her goblet because her mouth went dry at his words and the ache in them. "Why did you turn from Ivar?" She asked, changing the subject.
His eyes flashed to hers for a moment and then back down to the corner of the chest, his fingers tracing its edge. "The same reason I turned from Ubbe," he gulped. "It was fate from the Gods… Now Ivar thinks he is a God." He peeled himself from the chest and pressed the palm of his heel to his brows. "I was going to Olaf until I smelled the forest burning. Until I heard the screams of citizens of Kattegat… Until I heard my Thora." His voice cracked and Lhyrie noticed a sheen of tears in his eyes that he tried to hide from her.
"Oh, Hvitserk." Lhyrie took a step toward him, but he waved her off. Clearing his throat, he poured a large glass of wine and drank it in one breath.
"I thought about killing myself," he continued, wiping his mouth. "But the Gods won't let me. So, I turned here. Which reminds me…" Hvitserk dug through a bag on his bed, wads of clothes and trinkets falling from it, and finally pulled a copper bracelet out. "I found this and it reminded me of you." He held it out cautiously to her.
Lhyrie took the bracelet and let it fall in her hands. At first, it looked just as a plain open loop of copper. Turning it over, very faintly imbedded in the ruddy metal, were runes, and the outlines of a wolf and snake. Stamped in silver, small flowers wove in and out of the designs. It was beautiful. "For Eir," she whispered. She was about to pull it onto her wrist, to be surrounded in the comfort of the healing goddess but halted. "Hvitserk," she started slowly, "in order to secure East Anglia, Ubbe and I needed to be baptized."
"Oh." His eyes perked up as he pressed his lips tight together. He quickly snatched the bracelet from her hand and tossed it in his own. "Well, give it to the babe then," he said, holding it back out to her.
"Ragnar is also baptized."
His hand closed over the bracelet, hiding it from sight and he cradled it back into his chest. "I see."
"It really is gorgeous. Thank you for thinking of me." She felt a sudden rush of guilt. Maybe she should just take it and keep it hidden in her medical bag or would Eir take offense and sabotage her practice if she did that.
Hvitserk hummed to himself and nodded. "Ubbe was wearing his arm ring."
"He pledged that to your father. Not to the Gods."
Hvitserk clicked his tongue, looking longingly at the bracelet. Then, swiftly, he threw it back onto the bed. It landed on a poorly wrapped package and toppled a mushroom out of it's wrapping. Hvitserk quickly dove on the bed and scooped up the pile he had taken out of his pack, mushroom and bracelet included, before forcing it back tight into his bag. He drew the string tight with a knot. Flipping awkwardly to sit on the edge of the bed, he kicked his feet on the stone floor and twiddled his thumbs.
Lhyrie set down her goblet on the chest and sat next to Hvitserk on the bed. He didn't look at her as she did so. "Can I have the mushrooms?" She asked softly.
"You can't take them, you're with child."
"I don't want to ingest them, Hvitserk. I want to keep you from having them."
"I don't – I don't take excess," he defended, his voice desperate, the addiction trying to grasp onto anything it could.
"I'm sure you don't. But you don't need them here." She put her hand on his shoulder lightly and he jumped, but she didn't move her hand. He finally looked over at her and his eyes were heavy.
"Ubbe doesn't want me here."
"He'll come to," she told him, dropping her hand from him. Hvitserk sighed heavily and tapped his fingers together. Reaching back, he pulled his bag onto his lap, stifling through its contents until he pulled out the free mushroom and the rest of the package. His fingers were hesitant on dropping them in her lap, but they released slowly. "Thank you," she said, popping the lone mushroom back into the pack and sealed its edges. She set the package to her side. "Do you have any other substances? Mandrake perhaps?"
"Mandrake?" He asked.
"It looks like twisted roots with a head."
"I knew something happened to that!" He turned toward her and already his eyes seemed a little brighter.
"I did not take it before York, I just tasted a bit of it," she defended. She laughed and he joined her, his regular Hvitserk-like laugh. It eased her worry slightly; at least he was still in that shell Ivar molded, perhaps she could break him fully out. With the removal of his substances, it should clear his mind at least.
"No," he chuckled, "I do not have mandrake or anything else."
"Good," she smiled. It felt more relaxed, more as though they were in their childhood now, the vision of Hvitserk she saw when they first entered his rooms dissipated.
"I don't know if I like this color," he said, picking at the sleeve of her dress.
Lhyrie laughed again. "That is the same thing Ubbe said."
Hvitserk cocked an eyebrow and gulped, ashamed of his words mirroring his brothers. They were only a year apart, of course Hvitserk and Ubbe shared the same thoughts. "What else have you been doing?" He asked, dismissing the thought.
Lhyrie told him and they talked for more than an hour, more comfortable with each other now. He told her about Kattegat but it only pained her for what the city had been forced into under Ivar. She prayed Bjorn would be successful in its overthrow, no matter the dead, no matter the mothers that lay at her feet.
Walking back to their rooms, tears swelled in her eyes once Hvitserk's door closed behind her. The Ragnarssons were fated for hardship, but why did it deal Hvitserk the hardest blow? He had always been torn, a mixture of harshness and warmth, someone to dive headfirst without thinking no matter the consequences, someone who once walked through a blizzard without a cloak because he heard she had a fever and brought her broth. Someone who fell hard.
Ubbe was at the desk when she walked in. Alfred must have dropped off maps, because he was pouring himself over them, frantically tracing the lines, his brows pulled tight in thought. He didn't hear her open the door, and she tried to softly click it closed as to not disrupt him, but the sound bounded through the quiet room. His head perked up and his eyes spun from the rush. Despite it, Ubbe kicked back his chair and whirled across the room, scooping her face into his palms and pressing a kiss to her lips. He already smelled of parchment and candle wax.
Pulling back after a moment, his thumb ran over her cheek. "I am not upset," he whispered. "Hvitserk – he –,"
"I know," she whispered back, stroking his shoulder. His muscles were still tense.
"I want to know at the first sign for the next one, even if you have to wake the dead."
"The next one?" She asked, eyebrows raised. "This one is not even showing yet." Her hand reached down to cradle her abdomen, to see if she could feel anything. As though the child knew their secret was told, she felt a little fuller, the space between her hip bones rounder instead of flat. Ubbe's hands cupped over hers and she smiled, eyes locking back on his.
"I have four brothers," he started.
"Five – Magnus."
He rolled his eyes at her. "Regardless," he said, kissing her lightly, "It is a decent size family."
"Five children?" She scoffed with a smirk. "Do you want to give birth to a few of them?"
"You have that covered, minn iss."
"Well," she sighed, moving to set Hvitserk's package of mushrooms on a chest. "What do you think of this brother here?"
"Alfred should drive him back to Kattegat." An eyebrow cocked up as he noticed the package. "What is that?"
"Mushrooms. I took them from Hvitserk."
Ubbe sighed heavily and rubbed out the line of stress on his forehead. "He can manage himself."
"Ivar killed Margrethe." Her words were rushed and Ubbe shuttered. Lhyrie couldn't decide if she felt sadness or relief when Hvitserk told her. Sadness for him, as he lost yet someone else he loved. But relief that the stressor that tore them apart was gone. She gulped. "And then he burned his girlfriend alive."
Ubbe pressed his lips together tightly and ran a hand over his mouth. "It is not my responsibility to keep him alive."
"No, he already tried to kill himself. He said the Gods wouldn't allow it and that is why he turned here."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"You deserve to actually know why your brother is here instead of just bickering with him." She crossed her arms over her belly with a huff, displacement brewing.
Ubbe pulled his brows back together, his eyes squinting in thought. He clicked his tongue and tapped his fingers, a motion his brother mimicked frequently during their talk. "Thank you. I do appreciate it."
"Now," she said, moving to cradle her hands behind his neck. "Are we going to sup with him tonight like you told Alfred? I am starving."
Ubbe kissed her softly. "You are eating for two now," he smirked.