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When Ubbe and Hvitserk returned the next morning, it was in a state that I'd never before seen them. They were bloodied and bruised, their egos battered, and I knew that would only worsen once Ivar saw them. Despite everything, I'd grown to care a great deal about the both of them. Ubbe was the first friendly face that I'd seen upon arriving in this miserable place, and Hvitserk had been everything that I needed after my incident outside the city walls. I considered them both my friends, and seeing them in such a state was heartbreaking.
Nevertheless, there wasn't much that I could do. I'd only seen them from the window of the old church and, by the time I'd turned towards the door, Ivar had already noticed the concerned look that shadowed my every feature.
"It's Ubbe and Hvitserk," I informed gently, rushing towards the old wooden doors. "They're injured."
Before Ivar could even so much as scoff, the pair had walked in. We all knew that it had been Ubbe's idea to talk to the Saxons, and we all knew that he'd gone behind Ivar's back. Hvitserk had followed blindly, his loyalty to his brother unwavering - that was until the very moment that they'd held a sword to his throat and he'd seen his life flash before his eyes. I could see the change in the middle brother, the way he seemed to lose faith in Ubbe - the way he separated himself. I never thought I'd see the day, and yet it seemed to be upon us.
I was just about to reach for a jug, hoping to fetch them both a drink following their painful journey, when Frida sent me a warning glance and turned her attention back to Ivar. I followed her gaze, pausing my action entirely. Of course, it wasn't long before Ivar found himself incapable of holding back his japes towards his brothers. Although they'd gone behind his back and done precisely what he'd warned them not to do - despite preaching that they were the ones who wanted to be equal leaders - I couldn't help but feel sorry for the older Ragnarssons.
"Welcome back brothers," Ivar began, making both of them look up from the floor and towards him - Ubbe's bloody eye catching the sunlight as he did so. Lord I didn't have the patience to sit through them arguing. I wanted to help Ubbe and be on my way. But, over course, the bickering ensued. "You look thirsty. Are you thirsty?" Laughter began to circulate the room and I couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of annoyance for the two brothers. They were still sons of Ragnar and were surely humiliated enough already. But of course, being his usual self, Ivar couldn't help but rub it in. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. The moment they both messed up, and people began to see that he was far more fit to lead. Nevertheless, in my time, his words would've been called bad sportsmanship. In this time, I believe it was called being a pain in the arse. "I know you shouldn't say I told you so," He stared back at them innocently - in that way that he often did while mocking his brothers. "But I told you so."
As laughter began to fill the room again, I looked back towards Hvitserk as he spat upon the ground. From half a room away, I could feel his annoyance. And honestly, I understood it all too well.
"Ivar we were-" Ubbe began, trying to speak up for their actions, but he was quickly stopped again.
"No, no, no, let me guess. You went to the Saxons and tried to make a deal, and they spoke sweet words to you. Hm?" Ivar began to laugh, knowing full well that he'd warned them of exactly this mere days before. "But of course you were brave," He goaded. "You fought back." As laughter began to echo through the hall, I found anger bubbling in my chest - and I wasn't even certain why. I couldn't listen to any more. I couldn't. I wouldn't.
Without another word, I left the old church, closing the door quietly behind me. I was sure that they were all too caught up in their squabbling to notice me leave, and decided my time was better spent with the sick. They needed me, and I saw no point in wasting my time watching the brothers tear eachother apart for their own egos. Men. They all seemed infuriating in their own way.
I knew that Ivar was making valid points that his brothers had been reckless and foolish and could've endangered not only themselves but the whole camp. I also knew that he was by far the best choice to lead the great army. But, coming from a culture so alien to this one, I didn't quite understand the gloating and arguing. Perhaps because I was an only child, I'd never experienced such bickering in my life. But I think it was more than that. I think it was simply how deeply I misunderstood this time and culture and way of being.
Nevertheless, I busied myself in working - stitching up wounds, making up little bottles of medicine for those who'd come down with the fever. I'd been so busy, that I'd barely noticed the time go by as morning light became afternoon.
Frida was the one who first extracted me from my work, gently tapping me on my shoulder and telling me to go and see to the princes while she finished with my last few patients. For a moment I was reluctant, but the look she sent me reminded me of my place in this strange world. I knew that I was not at liberty to pick and choose what I did. I knew that no matter what, I was still beholdant to the sons of Ragnar.
"Ubbe," I gave a small sigh, a frown akin to one my mother sent me when I ran away to join a hippie circle at age thirteen. She'd found me under the trees the next morning, incredibly hungover and shaking like a leaf. "What on earth happened?" I gently reached out, patting a wet cloth against his battered face. The Prince flinched momentarily, the injury stinging as I cleaned it, but it didn't take long for him to grow accustomed to the pain.
"I tried to make peace." He answered dejectedly, and I could see how deeply this whole situation had affected him. It was truly heartbreaking, seeing him in such a way. "I know," He interrupted before I could even fully open my mouth to speak. "You and Ivar both told me not to."
"That's not what I was going to say," I smiled softly, ringing out the bloodied cloth into the now reddened bucket of water. "I was going to say that it was admirable of you to try," I continued, sitting down beside him. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen."
"Ivar did." He interjected. "And you did." There was silence for a moment as I gave a small frown, not really knowing what to say. He was right, we did both know. But Ivar was a pessimist - he always saw the worst outcome first - and I was from the future. It was hardly a fair comparison. "It doesn't matter now. My brother has what he wants. He's now the leader of the heathen army."
I wasn't sure why this shocked me so much. I knew that Ubbe wasn't really famed for being their leader - rather for returning to Scandinavia while his brothers raided the British Isles. But it still shocked me somehow, as though I didn't already know that this day was coming. From the start, Ubbe had kept me safe. Without him and Hvitserk, I wasn't sure what I would do.
"And what of you and Hvitserk?" I jumped straight to the pressing question, wanting desperately to know the outcome of this situation.
"We leave for Kattegat tomorrow." He answered, watching my face drop entirely. We both knew that things would be very different here with him gone, very different indeed. And part of me wondered whether Ubbe leaving was exactly the push I needed to return to that blasted stone.
I hadn't even thought of what I was doing before I did it, but I quickly embraced Ubbe in a tight hug. Though he grimaced slightly from the pain at first, eventually he hugged back. For some reason, it felt as though this would be the last time I'd ever see him. And that was a feeling that I was not overly fond of.
