Just as Frodo had turned and left them in peace, their tent was descended upon by other Vikings from the surrounding camp. Food was piled onto the table, more drink, as promised, was poured into the chalices around their hands and the sleeves of wine and ale dropped to lay next to the mounds of fish and venison making her stomach rumble more. The workers left as quickly as they came, leaving the whirl of the tent, dropping the canvas sides in a nearly choreographed motion that would have made her laugh in another time. Now, it just made her tired and worry more for the single combat tomorrow. If their camp was this organized, how would the combat go?
Shaking her head of the thought, she sat back down and downed her glass of ale before reaching for one of the others filled by the – were they slaves, she wondered. It didn't matter. They were cared for right now and wouldn't need anything prior to the morning.
Ubbe threw off his cloak and armor, unbuckling his own cuirass without help, piling it in a corner with furs. He wore a cream-colored tunic lined in dark leather. It was clearly Viking, but she didn't recognize it. Was it one of Hvitserk's he had brought with him, and Ubbe then acquired it? Again, it didn't matter. Her brain was just trying to occupy itself with things other than an impending death tomorrow. He sighed and joined her back on the stool he had previously sat on, grabbing a bite of fish on the reach over and a fresh sleeve of wine.
Lhyrie didn't talk for a time, too enamored by eating to fill her hunger or secretly stuffing her face so tears would not fall out of it, either way, it quenched the rumble her stomach had all day with the fresh river trout they had caught and deer that tasted as lean as one from Kattegat. The Viking ale still tasted strange to her, but the sleeve Ubbe had grabbed was Saxon wine the Danes had acquired somewhere in their travels, and she poured that next into her glass when the bottom was dry. It must have been later in the day than she realized as soon they needed to light candles to light the tent as it darkened quickly outside. Ubbe had been playing with the remnants of fish bones and flicked them from his plate to the pile of bones across the table. They landed on top, balancing perfectly on the pile.
"If he prevails, flee as far as you can," Ubbe whispered after a time. Her strategy had worn down as the food had been eaten and only the drink remained. After playing with the fish bones, he started swirling his spoon aimlessly on the table. He said the words without looking up at her.
"I will be at your side. I will not flee," she said, her voice shaking. And then slightly stronger, "My sword will be in Frodo if he does prevail."
"And then a sword will find you."
"And then I will die with you."
He looked up with his eyebrow cocked, the spoon he was spinning now flicked up in front of his eyes to mimic a scoff as she said a similar declaration again. "I will use a sword," he said, wiping the look away. "He had a long axe on his hip. And I will carry my knife on my back for everyone to see. If they protest, you take it. If they do not, I will use it."
She nodded, remembering she wanted the blacksmith to sharpen it when they were in Medeshamstede. That time felt like ages ago, but only a fortnight had passed. Then suddenly, her nerves turned to straight fear. What if he needed the knife? What if he needed it and it wasn't sharp enough? She pressed her eyes tight and pushed away from the table, turning her back to Ubbe and she tried to will the fear that had turned to tears in her eyes away. They came rapidly and heavily, a sob creeping up her throat quickly before she could swallow it down. She wiped the warmth from her cheeks and took another ragged breath as she felt Ubbe step behind her.
His hands landed gently on her shoulders, delicately, as to not startle her. It almost made a sob come harder to her, but she stifled it and wiped her nose, trying to push back anything further from brewing. He was here now, that was all that mattered.
Her armor laces loosened as he pulled the knots on the strings of her free, and her cuirass fell from her body. She didn't try to grab it, to carefully let it fall into her hands, supporting the intricate stitching of leathers with her long fingers, instead letting it crash into a heap on the floor like she wanted to do herself, crumpled and unrecognizable. His hands went back to her shoulders and rubbed them softly, before leaning and placing a kiss upon one of them. She pressed her eyes shut tight again as the tears wanted to come once more.
He could sense her tension, her discomfort, her fear; Lhyrie knew he could, as his hands now moved to intwine and loosen the knots of her hair. She had made sure she spent extra time this morning braiding it. Instead of the single braid pulled into a low bun that she had grown accustomed to wearing in Wessex, especially while she was working, she instead added extra braids to her usual routine, feeling they drew her back to the Viking that was still somewhere deep inside her. Five braids met and pulled back into a single braid with a coil that almost matched Ubbe's. She was quite proud of it as she stared at the small, polished glass in the tent that morning. Now, as Ubbe gingerly pulled the coil from the combined braid, she wanted to stop him, wanting to hold onto this shared aspect together but stopped as his hand massaged the back of her head, releasing the braid to fall to her shoulders. Then, ever so softly and carefully, he moved to unravel the tiny braids on her scalp, his fingers moving gracefully around the weaving pattern until all her hair was free, flowing effortlessly in soft waves down her back.
Again, his fingers found her shoulders and wrapped around them, now with a light pressure to turn her to face him. The worry from her eyes was reflected back to her in his, but a small twitch of the corner of his mouth upward tried to soften the tension still present in the shoulders he was rubbing.
"A sword is a good choice," she said, pressing her lips together and pulling her brows closer in thought. Lhyrie nearly ducked under Ubbe's arm as she moved away from him, needing to move, to relieve the staleness and tension that had grown in the tent. Her coming words did not help though. "If he chooses an axe, a sword will be lighter against his size."
Ubbe smirked outright, aware that she was only saying it because she was uncomfortable. He sighed and sat down, finishing the last of the wine or ale in his glass. He had tried what he knew to help her process, but she couldn't help him out of this one and she needed to come to terms with that by herself. Lhyrie continued to pace about the tent, swirling the air with her. Then, she stopped in her tracks.
"You do not have to do this."
Ubbe slowly looked up at her, pulling his attention from his goblet. "It is the only solution."
"We can flee," she breathed, feeling an ounce lighter. Denial was a remarkable thing for the moment it lasted.
"No," he cut short, shaking his head. "I did not expect that from you." He jabbed the air between them, the glare under his brow harsh with his tone. It faded quickly with a shake of his head. "And I will not – can not – leave the consequences of that for Alfred."
The partial weightlessness came crashing down and the pressure of a failure; the pressure of both armies over Wessex; of a bloodied Ubbe tomorrow on the old fallen leaves of the circle stomped for their showcase; the pressure on her and the new child growing inside her came crashing down on her chest.
Fleeing was not a choice. Somewhere deep inside she knew that, but she needed to find another solution to their problem that did not end with a dead man. Not only was Hvitserk's situation worsened because of his reliance on substances, but because he had fled. It was one thing to admit you are scared, the other to actually show it and to show it by running away was a disgrace to oneself. No matter which god was worshipped, you faced them head on.
Lhyrie rubbed her brow and sighed heavily, letting her shoulders rise to her ears fully before dropping to be closer to her scattered solutions on the floor. Her released breath loosened the tightness that had been in her chest since the afternoon and she felt that ounce lighter again with sudden relief. Accepting she could not change the duel happening tomorrow, she dragged her feet back to the table as Ubbe silently held out a glass of whichever alcohol to her. She gulped it quickly – it was Viking ale and her lips curled down after she finished it. She reached across the table, poured a glass of wine, and finished it just as quickly. Her head rushed as she sat down.
Ubbe stretched backward, leaning against the back of the chair so much so she thought it would topple under him as he dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, yawning. It couldn't be terribly late, but with the tent flaps closed and the heaviness of the day it could be any time of night.
"Sleep," Lhyrie told him. She was about to echo his yawn, despite knowing sleep would not come to her this night. "I will keep guard."
"I do not believe they will kill us in our sleep," Ubbe yawned yet again. "Hemming is honorable."
"There are two other Kings, one of whom you face tomorrow," she said, facing a blast of nausea. She swallowed the nausea down as she took another sip of one of the glasses on the table. If they were to be murdered tonight, at least they might be drunk.
Ubbe took the glass from her hands and set it on the table. Leaning forward, the warmth from his hands soothed the coolness of hers as their fingers intertwined in her lap. "We will not die tonight," he whispered.
Despite the warmth he provided and the warmth that seemed to grow deep in her core as his words bore through her, she shivered, goose bumps running down her arms under her red tunic. Wanting to get closer, to build the warmth within her more, she broke their hands apart and cupped them behind his head to pull his lips to hers. His braid had twigs in them from riding through the wood, but her fingers tangled in them regardless, pulling him closer to her, their breath racing with their chests pressed together.
Ubbe's hands rested on her thighs and tickled as they stroked lightly, moving to part her thighs with a warm exhale on her lips. His long fingers inched inward, and she shifted forward in her seat, allowing them to brush her core with another exhale. She shifted again, rising to move so that she was teetering on the edge of the stool but instead of moving his own hand further, they traveled up her sides, one of them lingering in her loose hair, the other pulling at the strings of her tunic.
The roughness of his fingers dipped below the edge of her tunic as he pulled the fabric down off one shoulder once the ties were loose enough. Their lips broke apart as his other hand moved from behind her head to lightly pull the fabric from her other shoulder down, grazing her skin with the barest touch as he did so, so that the tunic fell in a bellow around her waist. Casting her head to the side, she flicked her hair so it was off her shoulders, letting the coolness nip her chest. His eyes lazily lingered over her, the smallest crick of a smile in the corner of his mouth.
Ubbe leaned forward, that look still in his eye, the loose smile still turned up on his lips as he pressed them to hers. He leaned further, the pressure of his soft lips parting hers and her chest rising more rapidly with each drawn breath seemed more noticeable now that it was bare. The corner of his smile widened with the soft tickle of his beard on her cheek as he continued to linger just over her lips. His tongue dragged a slow line on her bottom one.
"Stand," he told her, his lips unmoving from just before hers. His words stopped her before she could grab both hands behind his head and force more than just his tongue inside her. She wanted to play it off and ignore him, but he pulled away to sit back into his chair with an eyebrow ajar.
Pressing her lips together, she reluctantly stood, letting the tunic fall further onto her hips. She resisted the urge to put her hands on her hips but was unsure of what to do with them as Ubbe just sat before her, the same semi-glossy look in his eye. She decided to run them through her hair.
Then, Ubbe's hands were back on her tunic, further loosening the ties of the neck that still caused it to catch on her hips. She was not sure if it would even open wide enough to slip over her ever-widening hips, but he wiggled it down, his fingers running down the backs of her thighs as he did so and it toppled to the floor in a puddle at her feet. His fingers groped and pressed into her backside, pulling her a step closer to knock her knees into his. Ubbe smirked as his free hand carefully pulled at the laces of her trousers and soon, they too were piled on the floor.
"You were this pregnant in York, then?" Ubbe asked, his index fingers tracing the curves of her.
She quickly counted the months. "If I was pregnant leaving Kattegat, yes."
"Were your breasts this large?" Suddenly his hands moved to grasp onto them and squeeze hard. The sensation made her breath catch and then she chuckled as he continued to knead.
"I don't think so. But Ragnar is still also taking milk."
"Hmm…" he mused, his fingers swirling lightly as he traced an erect nipple. Her warmth grew. "I would have noticed." He rolled the other nipple between his fingertips and a small moan escaped her lips. A smirk formed on his.
He leaned in and took the other peak he had traced into his mouth and sucked. With Ragnar taking milk, the thought of anything leaking made her uncomfortable, heaven knowing how Ubbe would react – though even if he found it revolting, he would cast it off. She tensed and he felt it, switching instead to pull at it between his teeth, the pressure with his fingers on her other nipple hardening. Her core shivered as she did outwardly. He started planting kisses around her chest as he continued to grope them and moved his kisses up slowly, lingering in the crevice of her collarbones and nipping at the lines of her neck, all while standing slowly himself.
Her own fingers glided up and down his sides, pulling and playing with the edge of his tunic, the edge of his waistband, palming the growing bulge pressuring his trousers. When he stood fully and his hands cupped the sides of her face to kiss her deeply, her hands moved up his tunic. It didn't have ties at the neck to loosen it – she didn't like this tunic. Back under the fabric, feeling the prickle of the hair on his low abdomen, the light chest hair flowing down, her hands rose, peeling the tunic up and over his carved shoulders. The tattoos the flowed down his arms and dug into the muscles accented them perfectly. Casting down his tunic, her fingers traced the curved lines up his arms.
Leaning forward again, he kissed her deeply, forcing her mouth open with his once her hands circled the caps of his shoulders and danced over his collarbones. His fingers pressed into her hips, pulling them into his, his short fingernails digging into her skin. They broke apart as Lhyrie fell off her toes and grappled at his waistband. The smoothness and slowness of Ubbe's undressing of her was lost in the urgency she felt. Her fingers fumbled on the knot and the ties wouldn't break loose. She dug at it again, redness creeping into her cheeks out of impatience and embarrassment. With a smirk, his hands left her hips and enveloped hers at his waistband. Ubbe's long fingers plucked hers that tangled with his laces away and slowly undid the knot he had tied.
"There." He patted the top of her head like she was a child and she shook him off, dragging the waistband down with her as she lowered herself down on her knees.
Looking up at him, he was magnificent from this view; not only the piece of him directly in front of her, but the posture he held himself to, the composure he still kept despite everything boiling under the surface, the way his shoulders drew down his back to accent the lines of his chest, the cut line down his abdomen. His fingers curled lightly under her jaw and pulled her chin up an inch more while a thumb ran over her bottom lip, tugging at it gently. She pressed her lips to the rough pad before taking it in and sucking lightly. Ubbe groaned.
"If you went there just for my thumb, I would be disappointed." She flicked her eyes up with a smile under her lashes. He did look a little defeated but tried to hide it. Despite the years between them, he would still hide some of his true self. He popped his thumb out, dragging her lip once more down with it, the wetness dredging down her chin. A smile grew from her eyes to her lips as she passed her tongue over her lower lip. The breath that cut short in Ubbe's chest wanted her to draw out the torture longer. Instead, as he tried to conceal a squirm of anticipation, she pressed her lips to him.
She took him until he was on the brink of his own climax. She pulled away as his hips bucked, wanting to chase the release. Not giving it to him, despite the pressure of his fingertips digging into her hair, Lhyrie licked one last line up his quivering member and rose, dragging her fingers up his sides, tickling the spot by his upper ribs.
His mouth devoured hers, his usual smooth demeanor lost with need. He turned and pushed into her so that she pressed against the table, the pressure creaking the table back an inch. Breaking apart, Ubbe reached around her, swiped the table of the goblets and plates and other litter that scattered about it before scooping his hands under her buttocks, his fingers finding her center for the briefest of seconds as she whined in his ear and he plopped her onto the table, his lips back onto hers feverishly. He was lined up with her core. She could feel the pressure wanting to break in, but his hips didn't jut forward, his pelvis didn't collide into hers. She arched, trying to get that movement started, but he didn't move. Instead, he broke apart from her lips to her protesting groan and pulled her hips to be dangling on the edge of the table. Her hand shot behind her to support herself, knocking a glass over, its contents spilling into a sticky mess over her hand, but she couldn't focus on that as Ubbe lowered himself between her spread knees, his fingernails dragging into her upper thighs.
A long finger dragged achingly up from her ankle and followed the bend of her knee as his other hand pressed the heel to hitch onto the table. It made her back arch further to support the awkward position, but his hand made her forget about the contortion. Unlike the slow draw up, once he traced the top of her knee, his hand shot quickly down, grazing her inner thigh and swiped through her slick folds, dipping into her for only a second before he withdrew. Lhyrie groaned under the tease as that hand left her completely to grab her other ankle to jimmy onto the table, her back arching further. She could feel her slick cool as it dried on his fingers wrapped around her ankle.
She didn't need to protest too long for his other hand left the ankle it was holding to press in the space between her legs. As his thumb pressured the spot she needed him, his mouth started to kiss up her leg. If she thought the time it took for him to journey up the first leg was agonizing, this was hell. He continued to rock his thumb back and forth, the lightest of pressures to not bring her over the edge too quickly, planting kisses as he went. At the crook of her knee, his tongue swiped the crevice there and she nearly whimpered, begging for that to be her center.
Chuckling softly, he lingered on her inner thigh, a shiver running through her with each warm breath so close and he added more pressure with his thumb. Her hips rocked against the motion, pressing into the feeling and she begged for more, trying to carve caverns in the wood of the table with her fingertips. He planted another kiss on her inner thigh, and she thought he would finally move his lips to where she actually wanted them, but instead his other hand left her ankle and drew a line through the moisture. A finger pushed into her as the pressure of his thumb hardened further. She gasped and nearly collapsed back onto the table as her hand slipped in the wine that had spilled earlier. Another finger joined, pumping in time with the quickened rhythm of his thumb, bringing her closer and closer. She didn't dare release a hand from steadying herself as she would surely flail back on the table, but she wanted to drag his hands away to bring his lips to her.
"Ubbe, please," she mewled, every muscle in her core tight on the edge he was bordering. His lips broke from forming blue marks on her inner thigh and the smile in his eye showed satisfaction that she was on the verge.
His fingers left and finally the warm breath, the softness, the pressure of his tongue against her made her writhe. His tongue danced in a feverish rhythm, moving like the tide over her most sensitive parts, pushing and pulling, drinking from her like it would give him life. Now she most definitely wanted to pull her hand away from the table, to rake her fingertips into his hair, to apply that infinitesimal amount of pressure that she needed to have her legs start to shake. She tried to do so, that need too great to ignore, but her other hand nearly slipped on the wine again and she requited back to Ubbe's mercy.
He must have noticed, or became eager himself, because his hands wrapped under her thighs and pulled her further off the table, now her balance truly thrown off as she tried to keep herself upright, but she didn't care. His hands dug into her ass as he dove further into her, his beard plastered with her essence. He moaned or groaned or growled as he continued to lap and the sensation amplified the pleasure that was peaking within her. The muscles in her thighs quivered and her toes curled as stars dotted her vision when his name rang from her lips in time with the overflow of her climax.
Ubbe placed one last kiss on her mound that sent a shockwave through her. He continued his kisses up her body, up her stomach and onto her breasts, as her legs went limp, her heels falling from their perch. When he got to her neck, he licked the line of her jaw and smiled when his lips pressed against hers. Her skin was flushed and sweaty and he seemed so cool in comparison that his touch nearly made her shiver.
His lips went back to her neck with a delicate finger tracing a line down her spine that made her arch her back again, the movement dragging her slit against him. Lhyrie's breath hitched in her chest, the fire rekindled. She arched again, tilting her hips toward him in invitation. Their lips met again, desperate to taste one another once more as Ubbe pressed himself against her.
She locked her ankles around him and pulled him close, not wanting to let him move an inch from deep inside her. Her thighs were jelly, her hold slipped and he withdrew slowly until he was nearly out before sliding his long length back in, his hips meeting hers tightly. Achingly, his pace remained slow. She quivered around him and a low moan escaped her lips as he met her hips once more, filling her completely. Thankfully, his pace quickened, and the hardened thrusts made her a babbling string of squeals, moans and squeaks, her core still alive from her earlier orgasm as another one rolled over her.
He wrapped his cool arms around her, his hips the only other thing grounding her to him. Pressing her close, strong hands encompassed her back. They had never been so close, nearly one, the outlines of one another. They shared one ragged breath, one pounding heartbeat, one shared urgent more burst of release until there was nothing else left. If Frodo's men came now and slit their throats it wouldn't matter, this high sustained them, it gave the breath back to them until that ragged breathing slowed into jerky movements, into shaking legs.
Ubbe's head peeled from being lost in her shoulder and messy hair to rest on her forehead, his breath warm as it rolled over her. Their skin shined with dew so much that even with the stronghold Ubbe still held on her, his arms wrapped around her so much he almost hugged himself, she thought they would slide apart. Lhyrie lifted his chin and kissed him tenderly, carefully, lightly as every bit of her skin still felt aflame at his touch.
At that moment, Lhyrie was not thinking about tomorrow or the horrors that might occur, although Ubbe might had been, his hold still relentless, not wanting to be separated from her. They stayed tangled together, separated by only the sweat on their skin for the rest of the cool summer's night.