Highly respected King Sverrri, the man who had a supposed alliance with Ivar and the one you... often found yourself looking forward to seeing no matter what the occasion was. He was here. He burned Kitta. The moment you found yourself back in your rooms, your arms were folded. Cheeks hot by the tears pricking your cheeks all night.
"Why would you do such a thing? Invading us? Kitta?" You ask as you sit on your bed. Sverri slowly saunters in front of you, his hand curling through your locks of hair to pull you into his firm chest. It would be a lie to say that you hadn't dreamed of him just like this-- his muscles against your body. It's tainted by the strong waft of smoldering smoke. He says nothing at first, such words escaping him for what he has done. You didn't look pleased. He thought you would be.
"It was a long time coming." He reassures you. "Ivar was going to invade my lands, wasn't he?"
You can't convince yourself to respond. It was hard enough to know that Sverri had done something he could not take back. Worse so knowing that Ivar would never let this slide. He would invade Kattegat for his own honour if nothing else. You sigh and eventually give him a nod of relinquishment. Sverri lowers down, kneeling before you with one of his large hands at your cheek.
"I came for you." He explains, tilting your chin up to look at him. He had done bad– he had killed Kitta. He was a murderer. You keep trying to tell yourself these things, but the way he went on, softens you. "Maybe I could have been happy seeing your beauty from afar, on those little trips to Kattegat. Then he banished me from your sight. The thought of never being with you again. I... no. I've wanted you to be with me for years."
Years? The words kiss your ears, deep into your soul with a bright smile unable to keep itself from your lips. It had been too long that Ivar had said anything sweet to you. Your eyes flutter shut when Sverri leans in.
"Is this okay?" He mutters, lips hovering against yours. You nod and the king would press forward with a small kiss barely gliding against your lips. Then another, gliding your back down against the plush silvery furs of your bed. As his hand rubs against your stomach, you broke his smooth kisses, bending your head to smell the soot and wood on his hair that dangled in your face.
"I shouldn't have done that. Aslaug and the boys..." You murmur gently, searching with the words to say.
"He named your daughter after his mother?" Sverri asks with his tattooed forearm bracing himself above your head.
"Of course he did."
Perhaps the baby was made out of your choice– but Ivar was quick to establish his paternal rights over her. Had he any shame, he would have let you. He knew what happened with the last pregnancy. He knew how much you wanted this little girl.
"I'll take care of Ivar." He says, watching as your head bobs to the corner of the room, gazing at training swords behind the wispy curtains of his dusky hair. You could only hope they made it safely.
Uxi reminds him of himself at such an important age. The boy did not just stew. He was planning. He could be seen brandishing his sword over and over again, clumsily whipping his sword in circles. Sometimes even stabbing through wooden dummy. Ivar sits beside Hvitserk watching as Veifnr approached his brother, whispering into his ear.
"Are you going after her?" Hvitserk asks after several wayward minutes. His hand nurtures his niece's back, having swept her away from the tired wet nurse while Ragnheld slept from her long journey to these icy, gods-forsaken lands. Ivar throws a look over to Hvitserk for little more than a second, reflecting on the children he so desired. What little time he offered them because of his first wife's neediness. It's strange to now have... nothing but time to be with them.
"Does it look like I have a choice?" Ivar seethes, fisting his palms. It's not just for the good of his relationship with his boys. He can't deny that he wants to go get you. After what happened to Kitta... his mistakes in all that he had done. He had to get you. To protect you from who he knew had invaded his lands. It had to be Sverri. The fucking little shit was after you from the day you saw him again, pregnant with Uxi and a giggle on your lips talking of old things. As a man, he wasn't about to let that stand. Still, the boys were alienated from him with good reason. It was nothing that you had done, everything to do with what he had done. He recalls one of those such moments.
You were helping braid his hair that night before he left. A normal routine where Ivar relaxed against your fingertips and enjoyed the way you cared for him. It could almost be described as intimate, if Ivar wasn't listening. The boys playing with chipped wooden figurines of chess left time to yourselves. Theoretically of course.
"Father, stay the night. Mother needs you." Uxi was the first to ask, unapologetic in his attempts. The same old, tell tale question that left him feel less than the ideal husband and father. You slid beside his son to hold his small fingers between your own. He wasn't particularly close lately with Ivar. After what happened, their disagreements were becoming all the more commonplace. They were fighting more than agreeing– but you knew that he loved his father.
"Uxi, try to understand. Your father has to go with Kitta. She's all alone. I have your brother and you, but she has no one." She curled her hand through his thick bangs, watching the expression on his face change from excitable to heartbreak.
"It's his fault that this happened mother. He should stay with us to make sure you are okay." He argues.
"I will be okay with you two." You say quickly, biting back the tears that well up. No. No, not again. Ivar dragged himself down from his chair, crawling on his forearms to his small son whose eyes moistened with tears. He knows this has affected you more than you would lead on.
"Keep your mother company. Next year, you will raid with me." He said. "Will that make you feel better, my son?"
Next year? He could tell that you wanted to say it was too early. In all truth, it wasn't too early. His sons could go raiding. He knew you were lonely and perhaps in a way, it was selfish of him to take his sons. But they had to learn the right ways. He knew you would need more children to fill the void. It would be easy to fill you up with more. The way Uxi's eyes glittered up like the stars at night held you back.
"Deal!"
Hvitserk's lips are moving but nothing that came out made it to Ivar. Instead, he pushes himself to walk to his boys. Uxi's body became rigid, turning back to slap his blade against Veifnr's own. Ivar stands back to admire his sons work while reclining on one arm over his crutch.
"I promised to let you raid with me next year." Ivar tilts his head when Uxi grunts in acknowledgement. "Things have changed. You will come with me to reclaim your mother."
Then Uxi stops from swinging his sword above his head, lowering to stare at his father with brilliant blue eyes resounding shock. The sword clatters onto the dusty earth and he charges to Ivar, swinging his arms tight around his back. Ivar's hand settles on his back. Neither he nor Uxi speak, and when Veifnr creeps over to hold his brother, there is nothing anyone could say to break up the moment.
The days that followed were stale on your tongue. It was bizarre to go from watching after your children, feeding Aslaug and waiting from Ivar to return to this: nothing. Instead of looking after them, Sverri implored you to care for yourself. He could tell that you weren't dressing up as beautifully as you used to prior to the falling out with Ivar. It was hard to find the drive when you knew what you were to Ivar. A womb to brew his children.
"Put a little bit of kohl on your eyes, you look tired." Sverri snarks as you dress for the night's work. Your head tilts, slightly to the side after him. Then you tighten the cincher on the waist of a startlingly deep blue gown.
"Do men always have a habit of hovering? Or is it just you Kings?" You throw back to him. He chuckles, rolling on the furs of your bed until he reaches the end. His dark hair waves away, scrunching his aquiline nose peppered by freckles.
"Its all of us." He says blatantly. Then he clears his throat. "But also, your husband's army is headed this way. As is your father's."
Your fingers stop threading a dangling gold earring through the loop of your ear, instead looking straight ahead. You momentarily forget the other earring that lays in your fingertips.
"Ivar is coming?" You gasp, your lips falling into an open lipped oval.
"Did you think he would not?" Sverri snorts. "Your father on the otherhand..." He speaks as if he could not account for that one. After a few moments, he shakes the thoughts out of his head.
"Dress enticingly. I'll summon him for an audience when he lands." He remarks, thrusting himself off of your bed. You took to the spot where he once lay, sitting with your fingers at your lips. He was really coming. But... was it for you?