#king ecbert

Lord Newell came from a lesser house, while Lord Aldric was searching for a suitable wife to prevent his house from falling under the weight of his late father's debts. It was unlikely that the proud Lord Godric would allow such people into his household or grant them access to his wealth. Selethryth felt for her sister, who was sweet but naive. To her credit, Eadgifu wasn’t accustomed to the schemes of the court. People liked her, and they loved talking to her, but until she reached the proper age to find a husband, her political influence had been limited. Selethryth didn’t know how to behave—should she crush all her sister’s dreams, or let her indulge in them? Either way, she would be left with guilt.

“Have you spoken with Father? About your preferences?” Selethryth asked instead.

Eadgifu thought about it for a moment before answering. “Father must have noticed my interest at the feast. I’m sure he’s debating with Mother over one of the two options.” Selethryth watched her sister, once again struck by how differently they viewed their parents. Eadgifu always saw them as strict and dutiful, but also righteous, pious, and generous. Selethryth, however, harbored darker thoughts. Her father was ambitious and cunning, while her mother was cold, distant, and bound by superstition.

“We shall pray for that,” Selethryth answered with a small, forced smile. She truly hoped so. She wanted her sister to be happy—and safe—with the man who would one day become her husband.

“What about you?” Eadgifu asked eagerly, leaning toward her sister. “Is there someone who caught your eye?”

Selethryth never felt comfortable at the feasts; the gazes and whispers only grew louder during those occasions. The superstitions and rumors about her spread across the realm, and there was no man or family who didn’t know about the Witch of Wessex at the court of King Ecbert—or at least, her likeness. Selethryth’s eyes gave her away before someone could even speak a word to her. So, during a feast, she usually stood at the side of the room, trying to be as invisible as possible, observing her sister and the other ladies dance. Her mother seemed to appreciate her behavior, but usually, her father—against Oswyth’s will—would bring Selethryth before the King so that he could exchange words with Ecbert.

And the same thing had happened the day before. Selethryth had managed to stay on the side of the ballroom until her father found her and brought her to the King. Selethryth had bowed to the man, giving a small smile in Alfred’s direction when she noticed him sitting next to his grandfather. The sweet boy returned the gesture before the King began to speak.

“You look delightful this evening, Selethryth,” Ecbert said. She found herself looking up at her father, wondering why he enjoyed being in front of the King so much, knowing that the man was more interested in her than in him.

Ambition is a strange thing, she thought, before smiling at the King.

“Your words are very kind, Your Grace,” she answered politely, as she was accustomed to doing.

"I was wondering if I might enjoy Selethryth's company after the feast," the King now spoke to Godric. Her father's eyes briefly moved toward Oswyth, who was not far from them. She was supposed to accompany Eadgifu to speak with the suitors, but she was always too focused on observing whoever and whatever came close to Selethryth. Sometimes it felt as though Oswyth thought that her daughter would cast a spell on any fool who dared to approach her.

But this time, Oswyth's eyes were on the King and her husband. Godric had noticed too.

"Could I ask the reason behind this meeting?" At her father's question, a small smirk appeared on the King's face before he leaned back in his seat, folding the rings that adorned his fingers.

"I was thinking, Godric," Ecbert began, and Selethryth observed him closely. She had spent much time with the man, but he was highly unpredictable. Sometimes he seemed like the kindest of kings; other times, he was ruthless and almost dangerous. Selethryth just hoped that her father hadn’t angered him.

"Soon I'll have to leave for Repton," Ecbert continued, "You would be most welcome to join as one of my guards."

Selethryth could see how her father’s chest swelled with pride, and a smug grin spread across his face. "The girl hasn’t slept much tonight," he said. "The medic advised against her staying up late. But my King can have her as he pleases."

If Selethryth didn’t know what Ecbert expected of her, she would have thought her father was offering her up as the King's mistress. Ambition was truly something created by the Devil.

Her eyes met Alfred’s. The young prince seemed confused and pensive. Selethryth knew what he was wondering—the same thing that the court wondered. He was young, but soon he would start to hear the rumors, and Selethryth wondered if Judith would ever have any doubts about what her lover wanted from the girl. She was no longer a babe.

But the King didn’t seem to mind any of those worried thoughts, as he smiled at Godric. “So kind of you, Godric.” Then the King turned to her, "I'll send someone to call for you after the feast, my dear."

Selethryth forced her lips to turn up before bowing to the King. Then, with a glare, she followed her father away from the throne. He seemed so proud of himself. That was the kind of look that hurt her the most. She was used to being looked at with fear, but seeing her own father so satisfied after having handed her over to the King hurt more than she liked to admit.

"Smile for real, Selethryth," her father said proudly as they walked through the corridor.

"Should I do it for your ambition?" she asked from behind him. He turned to her with a glare.

"You should do it for yourself," he hissed, eyeing the corridor to make sure no one was too close to hear. "Your dreams make him interested, and I’ll be an escort to the King," he whispered, "You were born to be used. Better by the King than by the Devil."

Those words had hurt her deeply, and Selethryth had to do everything she could not to let a tear fall from her eyes. She spent the entire night fighting against her own sorrow; every sweet laugh from the lips of a lady, every dance asked with courtesy by a man—all of it reminded her how distant she was from that life.

She should have been among them, enjoying the evening and finding a suitor. But she wasn’t. It was like being forever a flower on the wall, never able to be with its kind on the ground. And that hurt deeply.

Selethryth could breathe again when one of Ecbert's guards told her the King was waiting for her in his quarters. She had never been more grateful to leave that chamber without sharing a word with anybody.

"Your beauty is wasted, if accompanied by such a sorrowful expression, my dear," the King said as they were left alone in the corridor. "What causes such dim feelings?"

"My mind is often busy with worry, Your Grace," she answered vaguely. The King observed her for a moment before gesturing for her to follow.

"The physician told me you had quite a busy night," he said, his robe making a swift sound as they walked. "Screaming and crying. What was the reason behind such desperation?"

Selethryth took a deep breath. "My dreams," she whispered. "They... do not leave me be... not even for a night." The King turned to her, a pensive frown on his face.

"The raven..." he said. "Is it he who causes your desperation?"

"The raven and what follows," she said, looking up at the King. "My lord, you know I do not believe in the powers you all think I have." He looked at her knowingly—they had had this conversation more than once over the years. "But these nights... they are terrifying."

"Why, my child?" he asked again, his tone flat but ever weary.

"The tempest," Ecbert frowned at her words. "The tempest that follows the coming of the raven. It feels... as if it brings an end. Unstoppable and ever close."

"Have you seen our land?" he asked attentively. He wanted to know if his crown would remain secure.

"No, my King," she said. "Just the tempest and the raven." And the blue-eyed figure, who seemed to carry so much pain and anger. She had grown fascinated and terrified by him, and she decided that he was probably death itself—the death that followed the destruction brought by the tempest.

"Thank you, Selethryth, for your words," the King said, visibly concerned as he walked towards the window, looking out. "Tell the physician to give you a tonic to calm your mind. You have been more than faithful."

"I appreciate your words, my King."

Selethryth remembered that she had never been so happy to finally be allowed to take a tonic that would bring her a dreamless slumber. But she soon learned that no tonic worked anymore.

It had been a week since the feast, and she had dreamt every single night. She awoke each time screaming and crying. The raven was closer each day, and so were the two men and the tempest. She had grown to fear bedtime. The physician was growing anxious; nothing he gave her worked. And he seemed to be starting to believe that these were not simple dreams.

He now looked at her with fear and disdain. And Selethryth was growing restless—and scared. If even a man of science thought of her as a witch, what did that make her?

"Lady Selethryth," one of the guards' voices made her look away from the window. Her head was pounding from lack of sleep, but she could see the urgency in his expression.

"What is it?" she asked, standing up.

"The King has requested your presence," he said. "Urgently."

Selethryth followed the man through the corridors of the castle, always busy with the people of the court. But as she always did, she passed through them like a shadow, faithfully doing what the King had asked of her. But silence never spared her from the gazes—gazes she was still learning how to ignore.

The King's chambers appeared peaceful, but as she opened the door, the terror she felt in her dreams returned, now fully awake.

Ecbert was sitting at his desk, his son standing a few feet from him, and on the wooden surface lay a red cloth. And on it, the image of a black raven was clear, even from where she stood.

Aethelwulf seemed surprised to see her, but he did not question his father, as Ecbert gestured for her to come closer.

Selethryth obeyed, feeling the cold creep through her body—the same cold that seemed to have affected the King, judging by the paleness of his cheeks.

"A raven..." she whispered under her breath as she looked closer at the cloth. The King nodded.

"Ragnar has returned." Selethryth's heterochromatic eyes moved to him. That cloth was not just a raven—it was the symbol of someone coming. A warrior. A legendary warrior.

This cannot be, Selethryth thought, dread filling her. How had she managed to dream this? How had she known? But they were only dreams. They had to be.

Her breath grew labored, but she did her best to keep it to herself.

"He came with a fleet," Aethelwulf's voice broke the silence. "But his ships broke apart in a storm."

The storm as well...

"It seems unlikely many of them survived," Aethelwulf continued. That made her heartbeat ease slightly. She hadn’t seen that. In her dream, the raven had died, swallowed by a snake. The storm followed. This was not the same. It couldn’t be.

The raven must just be a coincidence, she told herself. She had seen no ships.

"But some survivors were found slaughtered near the village of Wareham," Aethelwulf finished.

"Who killed them?" Ecbert asked, a small frown forming on his forehead.

"Well, I don't know," his son replied, "But it wasn’t us."

"And there's... no sign of Ragnar?" the King asked, his tone unreadable. When Aethelwulf confirmed they had found no trace of him, Ecbert continued, "You'll keep searching. In the meantime, I must leave for the council in Repton." He leaned back in his chair. "I cannot ignore my duties just because one man has illegally entered my kingdom." His gaze briefly met Selethryth's. He didn’t seem worried, and that relieved her.

"He is not just one man!" the prince argued. "The history of his race, Father. He is the face of the enemy we must always fight, always overcome."

Selethryth took in his words. If superstitions were true—God forbid—what if her dream meant another heathen invasion?

It is just a dream, Selethryth told herself. Do not find meaning where there is none.

"And if we are the lambs of God, then he..." Aethelwulf said, growing angry, "He is the eternal wolf."

"Sorry," the sudden, delicate voice of Judith made them all turn toward the door. "I didn’t mean to interrupt."

"You didn’t," the King reassured her gently, gesturing for her to approach the table. He truly seemed to seek the woman’s counsel.

"What’s this?" she asked, looking at the red cloth.

"It’s the raven banner of Ragnar Lothbrok," Aethelwulf answered flatly. "We believe he has returned to haunt us."

Judith turned to the King. "Will he come here?"

"Who knows," he said with a shrug, then looked up at Selethryth. "But as long as he does not arrive at the head of three thousand warriors..."

The young lady shook her head slightly, understanding that the King wanted to know if she had dreamt of any such thing.

"Then I refuse to be alarmed, no matter what my son says," the King declared. Aethelwulf seemed ready to argue, but his father kept speaking. "He is, after all, just a man."

Selethryth felt somewhat relieved by what she had just witnessed. If her dream had meant anything, it was just a raven dying and a storm. Nothing to do with them. And yet, she still couldn’t understand how she had dreamt exactly of a raven—and a storm.

But nobody mentioned the last figure she had seen. The angry, grieving blue eyes. The Death, as she had come to call him.

That must have been just a coincidence. There was no storm coming their way. And the King, seemingly relieved, must have seen that—this time—her dream, however terrifying, was just a dream.

*******

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Your brother, King Ecbert had agreed to meet with the Vikings that had recently rushed your shores. Now you stood idly by next to the king as they entered the hall. You stiffen as they walk in. You had never seen men like them, so bold, so big, so wild. Then one man caught your eye standing next to the man they called their king. You later learned their kings name was Ragnar Lothbrok, the famous Viking. The translator did not look quite like the other men, but you couldn’t place it. He was very intriguing nonetheless. As soon as the conversation started between Ragnar and your brother he began to translate for the kings, you realized he was definitely not like the other men.

**********

After Ragnar’s return home King Ecbert turns to the Viking woman Lagertha who seemed to be another leader of the Vikings. Your brother also turned to who has become his trusted confidant, Athelstan. You had not spoken much to him over the weeks he was here, mostly in his presence when he is discussing various things with the king. Your eyes would meet many times, he seemed to be just as intrigued with you as you were with him, though you did not understand why. You felt strange when he looked at you, your skin would flush and your heart would race. You had never felt this way before. You had come to learn he used to be a monk before he was taken by the Vikings. It sounded like an awful story but he seemed to enjoy his life with them now, you noticed how close he was with their king, Ragnar. He almost seemed to be one of them.

**********

All four of you arrive to the bathing room one day and you have to force your eyes away from Athelstan in his towel. His surprisingly muscular body made your breath catch in your throat. You begin removing your towels and you stare at your feet to avoid looking at anyone else’s naked body so you don’t notice Athelstan quietly taking in the sight of yours.

Athelstan is first to get into the water and you follow close behind, sitting on the same side but keeping a good amount of distance between you. Your eyes meet and he does not hide how intently he is watching you. Your cheeks heat as you look away shyly but still feel his heavy gaze on you. It makes you nervous but not uncomfortable. You kind of like him looking at you this way… You don’t understand these new feelings.

Ecbert and Lagertha get in on the other side of the bath until you are all submerged under the refreshing water. The water was a bit colder today but you happily welcomed it against your now burning skin.

You were expecting to discuss some type of politics but Ecbert was solely focused on his conversation with Lagertha. They whispered and giggled to each other as they sat comfortabley close together, Lagertha nearly in his lap. While you and Athelstan sat a far distance apart. You glance over at him and his gaze is already firmly on you, watching you. He drifts towards you and your heart stops waiting to see what he was going to do. You avoid eye contact as he reaches behind you to grab more wine, bare skin lightly brushing against yours. For a moment you forget how to breathe, until he moves away.

You notice he was now sitting a bit closer to you.

“So…” He says to you, Ecbert and Lagertha still whispering and giggling on the other side of the tub.

“So…” You repeat, feeling the tension bubbling.

“Tell me about you? I realize I know nothing about you other than you are the kings younger sister.” And that you were incredibly gorgeous, but he did not say that part out loud.

“There is not much to know…” You chuckle softly.

“I’m not sure I believe that.” He slightly smirks.

“I am unmarried, no children, no betrothal-“

He shakes his head with a smile before cutting you off. “What about the things you like? I mean, what do you do in your spare time?”

“I don’t have much spare time.” You shrug.

“But when you do?” He pushes, curious to know more about you.

“Well, I do love to read…”

“That’s beautiful.” He smiles, happy to finally know something more about you. “What do you like to read?”

“Anything and everything.” You smile back. “I love to learn and expand my mind.”

He looks at you with a warm smile and you take a sip of your wine to hide your blush. No one else had ever bothered to ask about your interests before.

“What about you? You were a monk, now a Viking, now…? I am sure your story is very interesting.”

“It certainly is.” He chuckles. “There is too much to tell-“

His words are cut off by the sound of water sloshing as King Ecbert and Lagertha leave the bath. They quickly throw on their towels and rush to leave.

“Where are you going?” You call to him, nervous about being alone and naked with Athelstan.

“Where does it look like, sister?” He jokes as he and Lagertha giggle out of the room, clearly on their way to his bed.

You sigh and turn back to Athelstan.

“Well, where were we?” You say, trying to converse to ignore your increasing awareness of your naked bodies under the water.

“My story.” He smiles. “But that is a very long tale I am not sure we have time for…”

“Well then just tell me what they are like? The Vikings.”

He smiles and explains how the Vikings lived. Their religion, their lifestyle, their fighting, you listened to every single word with intrigue, especially learning how open the Vikings were about sex. You’ve been taught your entire life you are to marry one man and only lay with him.

“I have always been curious about it… but as a Christian woman I was always taught it is a sin to bed someone before marriage.” You say shyly.

“I was taught the same thing… Until I met Ragnar of course.” Athelstan responds.

“Have you… you know?”

“Yes.” Athelstan clears his throat as he sits up straighter. “Once.”

“What was it… like?” You ask quietly.

“It is um… hard to describe.” He chuckles shyly.

“I want to know what it’s like…” You say in nearly a whisper.

Athelstan’s eyes meet yours as they go wide.

“The king, my brother, will not let me wed until there is a suitor worth marrying… and god knows how long that may be.” You explain. “I know we have only just met recently but… I feel a strange connection to you and feel as if I can trust you…”

“You can.” He reassures you, placing a hand on your cheek which causes your heart to race.

You’re not sure when you had moved closer but now his face was only inches away from yours as he looks into your eyes.

“Would you want to…”

Before you can finish your sentence his lips are on yours. You whimper at the contact but kiss him right back. You had only kissed one other boy when you were younger but it was nothing compared to this. You let him pull you into his lap and your core presses against his already hardened length, making you gasp.

“Tell me at any point if you wish to stop…” He says in a whisper as his eyes remain fixed on your lips.

You shake your head before kissing him again, this time dipping your tongue into his mouth which causes him to pull you even closer against him. Your naked bodies pressed together and you relished in the feeling of skin on skin. As the kiss becomes more heated you begin to grind against him, making you both moan into each other’s mouths.

“Do you want to continue this in your chambers?” He asks, wanting your first time to be as comfortable as possible.

“Yes… but unfortunately the guards will likely see and might stop us.”

He nods and you move to position him against your entrance.

“It’s going to hurt at first…” He whispers.

“I know.” You whisper back, one thing you were taught about sex was how painful the first time would be.

He pushes into you slowly and you scrunch your face from the pressure. Once he reaches the barrier he stops completely, holding you up with his hands on your hips. He looks to you waiting for your permission to continue. Once you calm your heavy breathing you nod to him. You cry out as he thrusts through your maidenhead.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He frantically says as he brushes the hair from your face.

“No no, I’m fine, I’m fine. I just need a minute…” You whisper, focusing on taking deep breaths.

Athelstan waits with great patience for you to be ready. He was secretly glad you needed a moment because he did too. He had only had sex one other time and the way you gripped him so tightly like a vice was better than what he remembered. If he didn’t have this chance to collect his own thoughts he was sure it would have been a very quick ending.

After a moment you begin to very slowly move yourself up before sinking back down onto him, causing a whine from you and a small moan from him. He studies your every expression as you do. You repeat this slow motion, moving up and down on him, both your breaths growing heavy as the pain slowly fades. You lean in and press your lips to his, Athelstan moves a hand to your neck and kisses you back passionately, your tongues dancing together and soft moans filling the air.

As you continue to kiss, you start moving faster, grinding back and forth against him. Waves of water now sloshed around with your movements. A spark of pleasure shoots up your spine and you break the kiss to moan loudly.

“Shh.” Athelstan hushes you with a small smirk. “You said yourself you do not want to get caught.”

You give a shy smirk as you nod. It becomes harder and harder to remain quiet as you move faster on him, desperate to chase that friction. You bite on your lip hard as a strange feeling overcomes you, a coil in your belly tightening more and more. Athelstan even begins to struggle holding back his pants and moans, the sounds only fuelling the fire inside you. The room is filled desperate whimpers and water splashing as you both get closer to the edge.

“Something-“ You pant. “Something is happening…”

Athelstan just nods with glazed over eyes, secretly relieved because he had been beginning to struggle fighting back his own release while you chased yours. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as you see stars, crying out far louder than you should but you couldn’t contain it any longer. The sight, sound, and feel of you coming undone around him is enough to push him to the edge. He groans into your neck as he comes inside of you.

The sound of the sloshing water begins to die down as it’s replaced with both of your heavy pants. Your heavy lidded eyes meet before the blur of lust faded and you giggle to each other before bringing your lips to his, cupping his cheeks with your wet hands. You revelled in the feeling of him still inside you.

“That was…” You were at a loss for words.

“Yeah.” Athelstan pants with a grin.

“Maybe you should try to sneak to my room tonight.” You say as you kiss his neck gently, causing him to shiver. “I have already sinned, and I would really like to do that again.”

“Perhaps I will...” He says before bringing your lips to his again.

The married couple had not seen each other in many months as he left right after their consummating ceremony. Although their marriage was only a political matter, Björn still cared about her.

“Ah, my son-in-law! How are you Björn?” King Ebert opens his arms wide. Björn awkwardly looks to his father before hesitating and moving closer to the King who pulls him in for a hug and a pat on the back.

“My dear Evangeline has missed your presence, but rest assured, her pregnancy has been very smooth. I pray to the God above that she delivers the child safely without much pain.” He does the sign of the cross as Björn slowly nods. “And where is she? The soon to be mother of my child?” His deep voice questions the King.

King Ecbert beckons a servant, “Take them to the birthing room,” And with that, Björn quickly follows the servant, Ragnar following suit but not before giving a look to the King.

The two walk into a hallway where they could already hear Evangeline’s cries of pain. Björn stiffened at the sound of her screams, it was his first time becoming a father so he did not know what to expect. Ragnar takes ahold of his son’s upper arm making him stop. “When you go in there, she is obviously in a lot of pain. Take her hand, comfort her. And pray to Freyja.” He says lowly to Björn who just nods before exhaling from his nose.

The servant waited in front of the door. Björn nodded and the door opened revealing his wife pacing slowly around the room. Her hands on her back as she breathed heavily. Her hair was sticking to her shiny face and her white gown slightly covered with blood. Evangeline had not yet noticed his presence in the room.

Another cry left her mouth as she threw her head back, massaging her stomach as servants press a cloth to her sweaty forehead. Ragnar stayed leaned up by the door, his eyes scanning around the room. “Evangeline…” Björn called out making the princess turn her head to his direction.

In a matter of seconds, she stormed up to him, hitting his chest a few times. “Where have you been! I have been waiting for you-“ She stopped mid sentence as she winced and leaned her head against his firm chest. “Because of you, I seem to be fighting against a demon inside my stomach!” She fumed before she turned back around and continued pacing.

Björn watched his wife in shock as she kept yelling “get out, get out, get out” over and over. He looks behind his shoulder to his father for help but Ragnar only chuckles. “Sounds like a typical Viking baby” He shrugs as Björn walks to Evangeline. He takes her shoulders, “I think you should this to the bed, yes?” He says to her with his slight accent.

“I think that is a great idea, my Prince. Let’s go lay down in the bed shall we?” An older handmaiden gently takes Evangeline’s hands and move her to the bed. Now that he was married to the Princess of Wessex, he was technically considered Prince. It sure was still new to Björn.

Evangeline laid down on the bed with her husband trailing behind, his hand on her lower back. Björn takes ahold of her hand, just like what his father told her to do, placing a kiss on her knuckles before silently praying to Freyja.

“Princess, you need to start pushing!” Evangeline screams in pain but nonetheless pushes. “What are you doing?” She says in between her yells of pain. “Praying to the Goddess Freyja, so that you safely deliver our son or daughter” Björn says as he looks her in the eyes.

She doesn’t say anything but continues to push, tears streaming down her face from the pain she was experiencing. “This baby is going to be the death of me!” She screams before she gives one final push, her hand squeezing hard with Björn’s but he did not mind.

For the first time that afternoon, the villa fell silent until the noise of a baby crying broke it . Evangeline fell back on the bed, exhausted with her eyes closed. Björn stares amazed at the newborn, his child, a daughter. The handmaiden wraps the baby in cloth before taking her to the exhausted mother.

“Look, isn’t our daughter beautiful?” Björn softly whispers in Evangeline’s ear as she slowly opens her eyes, her daughter resting on her chest as tears of joy flow down her face. Björn couldn’t stop smiling at the little human being he helped create.

“She’s beautiful,” Evangeline whispers, looking down at the baby. “What should we name her?” The Princess looks at Björn with searching eyes as he takes a moment to think before looking to his father.

“I think we should name her Ingrid. It means beautiful goddess, because I know our daughter already is one,” He smiles down at the baby, her tiny hand wrapping themselves around Björn’s finger. Evangeline’s eyes move to Björn as everyone in the room exchanges looks.

No doubt were they questioning the name of the Princess’ child as it was old norse originated. “Ingrid. Princess Ingrid. I like that name,” Evangeline says softly as Björn smiles at her and kisses her cheek.

“Where is my granddaughter!” King Ecbert rushes in and stops to see the sight infront of him. His eyes immediately soften before coming to his daughter’s side, Evangeline notices his older brother Aethulwulf standing by the door awkwardly. Evangeline carefully gives her father Ingrid as the King admires his granddaughter silently.

The young Princess beckons her older brother who takes a hesitant step forward. He moves past his father and engulfs the younger in a hug. “How are you dear sister?” He rubs her back as Evangeline lets out a breath. “I’m fine. Though rest and sleep is all I can think about right now,” She chuckles as the others around do the same.

King Ecbert than passes Ingrid to her uncle. Evangeline watch as the two fuss over her daughter as she rests her head on Björn’s chest. “Thank you for being here,” She looks up to him with a gentle smile. He says nothing but moves her closer to him and places a kiss on her forehead.

The door opened and revealed Lagertha and Ragnar. The famous Shield-maiden immediately moves to the bed where the couple laid. She engulfed Björn in a tight hug before giving Evangeline one aswell. Lagertha moves to the other side and Aethulwolf passes Ingrid to her.

“Oh she’s beautiful,” Lagertha softly says, looking at Evangeline and Björn. “What is her name?” She questions as she brushes Ingrid’s cheek. “Ingrid.” Evangeline answers with a proud smile. “Ingrid.” Ragnar nods, moving behind Lagertha to look down at the baby in her arms.