#ubbexofc

in the theatre of these lush green woods, under the canopy of trees, they put on shows for me with their wooden swords and blunt axes

he is lithe, bending and ducking away from his brothers’ swings. but when he strikes, it is considered and thoughtful but not careful - no, there is nothing careful about it

the force. swords collide like a thunderclap, the sound making me and whatever other mice who roam in this forest flinch

the boys laugh at me for some of my timidness but ubbe says, in private moments, that i am stronger than all of his brothers combined- “quiet strength,” he says, cupping my cheeks in his hands, “they know nothing about quietness” and we laugh because it is true

these are my favorite moments - the private ones when he stares into my eyes - because my pupils blow out and my face becomes like the moon - lit up, reflecting the sun’s beams.

today is a private moment. we are walking in the woods - it is spring and he picks berries as he walks, gathering handfuls and giving them to me to eat. sweet.

eventually we reach a calm riverbank and rest, sitting on the grass in front of each other

“you are beautiful today,” he says to me.

i smile, “what, am i not beautiful every day?”

“you know what i mean,” he tucks a stray hair behind my ear. his fingertips linger on the side of my head and i lean into his palm, humming at his touch. i close my eyes for a moment in peaceful bliss but only for a second, for i cannot bear to not look at him. his face.

his dark eyebrows that quirk in electric conversation, furrow in confusion, rise in amusement, harden in frustration

they frame his eyes. his special eyes. they are blue like rolling tides, and they are revealing. all one need do to peer into the emotional world of him is look into his oceanic orbs - they harbor his pain, confusion, sadness, anger, disillusionment. but today they are calm like a roman bath, and i wish to float them, suspended in weightlessness

he has sloping cheekbones, and gravity pulls my eyes down towards his lips

his eyes trace my movements, burning a path of desire across my face and he stares at my mouth too

and then, in this forest of calm sunshine, to the sound of a babbling brook, his soft lips meet mine. he knows when to push and pull, softly biting my lower lip and suckling as if he were pulling all of the juice out of a fruit. i melt into him, a pool of water at his touch. his tongue enters my mouth and gently dances with mine, teasing and joyous. his hands cradle my face and pull me even closer to him. we are so close that we are breathing in sync, the molecules of air divide into an atom for each of us before we exhale in gentle liveliness. we pull away only just to let in room for more air and his forehead rests against mine. there is a string of delicate spittle between our mouths, like a golden line drawn through the air, tracing our kiss, reluctant to part.

he sighs contentedly. “what are you thinking?” he asks me. “hm?”

“i think i love you.”

“Do not mind Sigurd, he is very vocal with his opinions.” Aslaug shot her son a warning glare as she cleared her throat and lifted her hand to rest on top of Úna’s, running her thumb gently over her knuckles. “Do not question Ubbe’s affection for you, or for you child. He will love and care for you without hesitation as his father did for him. I am sure of it. They are more alike than he knows.” Her smile was warm and kind, easily melting Úna’s concerns.

Sigurd scoffed from his seat, eyes still trained on the instrument in his grasp. “I think Ubbe proved that when he fathered a child with a woman who was not his wife.”

“Sigurd!” Aslaug snapped, her head whipping to look at her son. She scowled at his crude comment but he shrugged, unaffected by her scolding eye. He rose from his seat, gathering his oud and horn of mead before taking his leave from the hall to find somewhere else to practice.

Úna did not wish to pry into personal matters, but the curiosity of what he’d meant burned inside her. Aslaug seemed to pick up on the unasked question that floated between them and the tension in the air that followed Sigurd’s departure.

Aslaug cleared her throat and turned to Úna, giving the kind of well practiced, polite smile you would expect from a Queen. The younger woman sat expectantly, stealing her expression to hide any reaction as she wondered what exactly Sigurd could have meant. The Queen paused for a moment then spoke, “Would you be so kind as to run an errand for me?”

Úna blinked for a moment before stuttering out an answer. “Oh, yes, of course. I would be happy to.”

The Queen set down her shuttle as she explained how to find the stall in the market she was to retrieve the dyed wool from.

Basket in hand, Úna exited the hall stepping into the early afternoon sun. She enjoyed the moment alone, exploring the narrow roads of Kattegat. The market space was like nothing she had known before—each side lined with kiosks that varied in goods offered. Some were tended to by foreigners dressed in garbs and fabric she had never seen, others were the classic herbalists that sold dried plants she had previously grown herself.

Easing her way through the shoppers, her arms rested protectively over her middle out of instinct as she tried to navigate the dense crowd. It was not hard to spot the vendor she was sent to find. The skeins of yarn on display were dyed bright colors, more vibrant than she could have imagined. Even if this stall was not her intended destination, there was no way she would have been able to fight the draw to approach.

She gathered the Queen’s order, digging out the gold she’d been given to pay with from the purse that hung from the leather belt cinched around her growing waist. Úna was thankful her stomach was not yet so large she was unable to hide it under a baggy apron, but she knew it was only a matter of time until the bump made itself known.

Úna considered for a moment buying some of the vibrant yarn for herself when she realized she’d hardly be able to afford a short length of one string. With a polite smile, she stepped away and shuffled towards a vegetable cart in the opposite direction as if the yarn seller was not the only errand she needed to run. Absently, she perused the display of food—hoping she looked like she meant to be there—when something caught her attention.

She spotted a quick motion out of the corner of her eye before there was a familiar crack of skin meeting skin ringing out from a few feet away, over the ambient hum of the people. Úna’s head snapped to look past her shoulder when she recognized Aslaug’s second son, Prince Hvitserk rubbing a pink cheek as a petite brunette turned on her heal and stormed away with a haughty air about her that was recognizable—even from such a distance.

Úna lifted her hand, resting her fingers over her lips, trying to hide her laughter as she watched the rejected prince fume from afar. He seemed to be a good sport by her accounts though, quickly adjusting his tunic and turning to survey those around him, acting as if nothing had just happened. His eyes lazily scanned the crowd, his posture relaxing as he took in the status of the market—until he spotted Úna a few feet away and still trying to stifle her giggles.

Hvitserk sauntered his way over to Úna, grabbing a carrot from the stall she stood in front of as he smiled. Resting a hip against the wooden frame, Hvitserk took a bite from the end of the carrot before offering it to her with a simple, “Here.”

She reeled back, holding up a hand, but he insisted, “For the baby, then.”

Úna’s cheeks flush at the addition, her eyes flitting from side to side to see if any passerby’s had over heard before she shook her head again, “I can’t, I haven’t paid.”

Hvitserk gave a grin to the vendor who rolled his eyes in response, though he still gave an affirmative nod as he turned to a different customer. “It’s taken care of,” the prince smirked as Úna finally relented and took the root vegetable from his grasp, gnawing on the end as her feet carried her forward. Hvitserk easily fell instep next to her, his long legs managing to keep pace with her short strides.

They walked together in silence for some time, Úna occasionally taking a nibble from the carrot while gathering the courage to speak and attempt to quell the awkward tension she felt between them. Hvitserk, in contrast, seemed completely at ease when he asked, “So how are you adjusting to life in Kattegat?”

“Oh, uhm—” she stammered, caught off guard by his relaxed demeanor. “Well, I think. It’s very different, there’s so many people.”

Hvitserk nodded, agreeing with the observation. “You get used to it though. Learning how to navigate the market and also finding spots that are less populated.”

“Maybe I just need more time,” Úna sighed, looking towards the ground. “It would nice if Ubbe was here to show me around.”

“Trust me, if he could, that’s all he’d be doing,” Hvtiserk gave a laugh while looking to the solemn girl beside him. “He doesn’t shut up about you. He goes on and on about how everyday you’re more beautiful and radiant than the last.” Hvitserk couldn’t fight his grin as he watched the blood rushing to Una’s cheeks. She avoided his gaze, blatantly staring off in the opposite direction when he nudged her with his elbow, teasing her, “He has a point, there is a glow about you.”

“Stop it,” Úna hissed, her face as bright as a tomato as she nervously shifted her basket from one hand to the other. Looking anywhere but at the uncle of her unborn child, she spotted a small bench near the docks just ahead. “Do you mind if we sit? I need a respite.” With a quick nod Hvitserk agreed and settled down next to her. He relaxed into his seat, leaning back and stretching his arm to rest just behind her shoulders. They sat quietly, eyes forward, studying the horizon over the water.

Úna found Hvitserk’s presence—though uninvited—both welcoming and soothing. The way he carried himself was very approachable. She debated with herself for a long moment before finally parting her lips, “May I—,” she nervously cleared her throat. “May I ask you something?” Hvitserk turned his head, cocking an eyebrow, compelling her to continue. “It’s about something Sigurd said.”

With the mention of his younger brother Hvitserk gave an audible scoff, “Sigurd says a lot of things.” He reached up to scratch at the sparse hairs growing around his jaw. “It’s important to learn to take what he says lightly, not let it get under your skin.” He gave her a half smile as he tried to choose the right words, “He often says the first thing that comes to him, so it’s really best to ignore him all together.”

“Well, it’s just your mother made a comment about Ubbe being similar to your father. Sigurd then interjected, saying that was apparent due to me—” she hesitated, lifting a hand to rest on her belly. “Due to me and, and my—”

Úna didn't need to finish before Hvitserk let out a long groan, lifting his arm from behind her so he could lean forward and perch his elbows atop his knees. After a moment he gave another sigh and spoke, “You met Lagertha, yes?” Úna nodded, not wishing to interrupt. “She was my father Ragnar’s first wife.” He shifted in his seat, trying to figure out how to best condense his family’s long history. “Well, Ragnar and Lagertha were still married when Ubbe was conceived. In fact, the reason Lagertha left my father was because of my mother coming to Kattegat while she was still pregnant with Ubbe.”

“Oh,” the shepherd mumbled, looking to her stomach as she considered her Earl’s act of kindness in a new light.

Hvitserk dragged his hands over his face before sitting up and giving his companion a tight lipped smile, “That is what Sigurd was alluding to.”

..- -... -... . .----. ...  .-.. .- -- -...

The next morning Úna was late to join her host for the early meal, but when she arrived she found only Aslaug and her youngest son present. She greeted the pair with a slight nod and kind smile before taking the seat across from Ivar.

“Una, how are you this morning?” the Queen spoke as a thrall approached to refill her cup.

“I was quite ill when I first awoke, but I am feeling better now. It seems the nausea comes in waves,” she replied, lifting her spoon as a small bowl of porridge was placed before her.

“Yes, that is something to be expected in the early months of pregnancy. Do not fret, it will pass.” Úna found comfort in the older woman’s counsel while her son dramatically rolled his eyes to passively express his disinterest in the conversation. Turning her head slightly, Úna scanned over the rest of the table, noting the empty seats as her gaze came to rest on the chair usually occupied by Ubbe.

“Ubbe and Sigurd are off preparing for a hunting trip.” Aslaug answered as she watched Úna study the vacancies.

“And Hvitserk?” she added, trying to seem like she cared about more than just the oldest son.

“He’s been gone all night—,” Aslaug began before Ivar abruptly interjected.

“Most likely he’s still in bed with some girl.”

Úna watched Aslaug’s reaction, noting the way she pursed her lips but did not correct or scold him. It struck her as funny how the Queen humored her youngest son. Though Úna bore no physical maladies, she could sympathize with Ivar based on her shared status as the baby of the family. Her mother may not have coddled her in such a way as Aslaug did, but she still did everything in her power to care for and protect Úna, teaching her older siblings to do the same.  

The three of them continued to eat in silence—Úna absently stirring her porridge more than consuming, caught up in her own thoughts about family dynamics—until Hvitserk returned home. He sighed, relaxing as he entered the dark hall, keeping one hand braced against his skull as if that would in some way ease his throbbing migraine. Walking up to his mother, he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek in greeting before noticing who she was dining with.

“Oh, Úna,” he started, his voice scratchy and hoarse after a night of heavy drinking. “Ubbe’s been looking for you, says he has a gift.”

“He is? He does?” she stuttered looking up at him, wide-eyed at what he’d said.

“Yeah, he’s out back by the chicken coop. You should go find him before he takes off.” Hvitserk gave her a sly wink, already knowing what his brother had in store, before retreating to his soft bed to sleep off his hangover.

Úna quickly wiped her mouth and excused herself from the table. Ivar watched the way she eagerly hurried over the floorboards to the entrance. Once outside she paused, trying to remember which path lead to the chickens, before gathering her skirts and heading to the left, sure that she’d find it eventually.

Rounding the corner of the hall and approaching the barn, she noticed the two brothers idly chatting. Ubbe’s back was to Úna, but once Sigurd noticed her arrival, he nudged Ubbe’s shoulder and pointed. Ubbe’s head twisted, following Sigurd’s indication until he saw her. Just the sight of her brought a dopey grin to his face.

He pivoted, facing Úna as he uncrossing his arms to welcome her with a strong embrace. Sigurd gave an exasperated grown at the display before heading in the opposite direction to let the pair a moment alone.

“You look amazing this morning,” Ubbe declared, leaning back to study her appearance as he cupped her face, his palms easily covering the expanse of her cheeks.

“You say that whenever you see me,” she admonished, blushing under his praise as she rested her hands on his chest.

“And I mean it every time. You are the most beautiful woman in Kattegat— No, in Midgard.” They shared an expression of pure joy, happy to just be near each other when he laughed. “And for the perfect woman, I have a present.”

Úna’s eyes lit up, remembering why she’d been asked to come outside. Ube shifted, stepping to stand behind her as his hands slid to cover her eyes. Lifting her fingers she touch his knuckles, giggling as he slowly urged her to move forward. She lifted each  foot cautiously, treading over the dirt as Ubbe whispered warning in her ears of the large stones in her path. They stopped suddenly and Úna lowered her arms, her hands resting on a rough-hewn log suspended at about waist height in front of her. “What is this?” she asked, groping at the object.

“That is not your gift,” Ubbe teased, dropping his hands from her face. “Keep your eyes closed for one more moment, let me just gather him.”

“Him?” she asked, bringing her own palms up to replace his over her own eyes. She listened closely, hearing the cacophony of animals milling about and the sound of Ubbe grunting—hissing ‘got ya’ under his breath.

“Keep your eyes closed and stick your hand out,” he instructed, standing before her on the opposite side of the rung. Blindly reaching forward, Úna felt something move at her touch. She withdrew for a moment, then more delicately, and with one hand, she repeated the motion.

First she felt the coarse hair—it was short, stiff, and very obviously attached to something small and alive that reacted to her caress. Sliding her finger tips upwards, she felt two familiar lumps on top a little head, surrounded by the hair. “May I open my eyes now?” she questioned, having a good guess as to what he was holding.

“Yes, you can.” Ubbe tried to keep his voice even, hiding the excitement he felt in anticipation of her response.

It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight, but once she could see, she found Ubbe cradling a tiny goat in his arms. The image of their first meeting flashed through her mind, the way he had held the missing lamb, protecting it from the raging storm.

She gave an involuntary coo, immediately fawning over the small creature. He was pure black from head to toe and his horns were just starting to make themselves known. Ubbe shifted, lifting the kid at his shoulders to hand over to Una. She eagerly accepted him, holding him tight against her chest as she scratched his ears and he urgently sniffed the stranger. He kicked his hooves around, shifting slightly in her embrace but Úna kept him secure as she peppered his nose with kisses. Ubbe exited the pen, re-latching the gate, before joining her.

“I’m so glad you like it,” he sighed, rubbing the ridge of fur along the goat’s spine. “Sigurd told me you had been missing your flock of sheep,” he began, catching her eye. “I searched around but there are no lambs for sale. The I found this guy. He’s half a set of twins and was rejected by his mom. The farmer was eager to be rid of him, practically giving him away.”

Úna looked back at the orphaned goat and was overcome with an unexpected swell of emotion, unable to fight back the tears as they streamed down her cheeks. Letting out a choked sob, she hugged the squirming animal closer to her breast and left series of watery kisses on the goat’s nose, before nuzzling against him.

Ubbe was taken aback at her response and moved to comfort her. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he pet her hair, making soft shushing noises as she rested her forehead to his chest and cried. “Don’t be upset,” Ubbe hummed, gently rubbing her back, feeling the way her body trembled with each shuddering cry.

“I-I I’m not up-upset,” Úna declared into the wool of his tunic between hiccoughs. “I just luh-love him suh-so much-ch,” she wailed, dissolving into tears again. She buried her face further again Ubbe’s strong chest as he held her.

Suddenly, Úna pulled back, studying him through teary eyes as Ubbe squeezed her upper arm, giving her a reassuring smile. “I love you,” she whispered, studying his reaction. The moment his face eased, she crashed her lips against his.

He excitedly returned the kiss, pulling her as close to him as he could with the goat between them. The animal began to bleat, demanding he be released and so forcing the couple to part. Úna set the kid on the ground, watching as he scurried to a patch of grass not far away before standing back up straight. She looked to Ubbe, wiping at her tear stained cheeks. Within an instant of their eyes connecting both realized that not only had they just shared their first kiss in months; they also were free to  do it again.

Neither of them could get enough of the other—Ubbe’s palm cupped her ass, squeezing her flesh as she raked her nails over the shaved back of his scalp. Their tongues wrestled eagerly, making up for lost time until forced apart by the need to breathe. The laughed together, panting as Ubbe lowered his head to rest his brow against hers. “I love you, too,” he returned, his voice quiet but bold.

Úna felt purely elated at his words, savoring every second she was near him until she felt an all too familiar lurch low in her abdomen. Immediately she pulled away from Ubbe, curling her palm over her jaw until she was a safe enough distance that she could bend over and spill the contents of her stomach without fear of any residual landing on him. Her porridge from breakfast splattered onto the dirt as Ubbe trailed behind her. Coming up, he scooped her loose hair into one fist, holding it out of the way as he let his other palm caress her back. Úna braced against the animal pen’s corner post as she retched.  

Once she was sure her insides had settled, Úna stood up right but avoided Ubbe’s gaze as she apologized.

Ubbe let out a chuckle at her response. Tugging a handkerchief from his belt, he wiped at the corners of her mouth, holding her chin to face him. “I do not mind. It is only your Ubbesson making himself known. I think he must approve.”

“Are you two done yet?” Sigurd’s voice rang over the air, bursting the secluding bubble that had enveloped the pair. “I need help packing,” he called, his tone obviously annoyed at the time his older brother had taken. Ubbe groaned, rolling his eyes at Sigurd’s thinly veiled complaints before returning that he’d join him soon.

Looking down at Úna, any foul emotion evaporated from him as he studied her glowing face. “I won't be gone long, just a few nights,” he insisted, running a thumb over her warm cheek. “But while I’m hunting, stay away from Katla.” It was apparent how serious he meant the warning by the way his his jaw clenched. “I will deal with her when I return, but in the meantime, just avoid her.” Though she did not quite understand why he felt the need to clarify this—she already did her best to stay away from the woman—Úna nodded all the same as Ubbe placed a farewell kiss on top of her head.

// CH 0 // CH 1 // 

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