A Ballot of the Wolf and Merc | Ubbe Ragnarsson FanFic

Myfs Brawler

Day light sliding easily into twilight came sooner than expected for the twenty one year old viking. Cursing autumns drabble into shorter days Ubbe knew he would regret any action besides following Eleri's instructions to find her out for a drink. Slipping from his mother's attention was one thing. Facilitating the same escape to Kattegat at night poised a different hitch with his nosey brothers.

"Where you going Ubbe?" Hvitserk looked up when his eldest brother passed the door way where he lounged with Margarethe and Sigurd in front of the crackling fire place.

Twisting around to the sound of his brother's voice, Ubbe saw all three sets of eyes on him, "I uh...I'm going out for a walk."

"This late?" Sigurd popped off, blonde barely existent eyebrows pinching in the middle of his forehead.

"It's nearly nightfall," Margarethe observed with a glimmer in her eyes watching Ubbe shift on his feet.

"C'mon Ubbe, I'm sure you're sore from practice today," Hvitserk grinned and leaned his head into Margarethe's corseted breast, "Margarethe could give you a rub down?"

Eleri's voice rang in Ubbe's mind 'Mommy's toys for you~'

"No," Snapping Ubbe shook his head adverting his eyes back towards his trail, "Just- Not right now Hvitserk."

"Ubbe?" surprised to hear him turn it down Margarethe began to rise to go over to him but Ubbe frowned at her and then looked to his siblings.

"If mother ask's I'm you know where," Ubbe nodded to Hvitserk.

"Are you going to be there?" Hvitserk's eyebrow shot up, knowing his cover of partaking in the brothel would only irk their mother more with her eldest not being married at nearly twenty two in a few months.

Glancing over with a tense set in his jaw Ubbe did not answer him. Sighing Hvitserk shook his head as Margarethe sat back down on his lap. The slave disheartened to be turned down by him. But Sigurd and Hvitserk taking her attention back to the both of them as Ubbe slipped out of the main door without so much as a creak in the floor boards.

A biting waft of fall wind greeted Ubbe the first step out of the door. Sending a sharp shiver through his body the viking wrapped his hefty shall of varying pelts tighter around his shoulders. Glancing around there were intervals of warm torches spilling orange light onto the damp city's ground. Attention was the last thing the heir wanted to encounter. Flipping up his hood Ubbe darted to the nearest cobblestone street near their home.

Preferably vacant Ubbe made a gross round trip to the tavern he assumed Eleri meant. Avoiding eye contact with the few ambling folks he passed Ubbe's trek through the city was made easy by his knowledge of the side streets.

'Why am I even doing this?' pondering without a word to himself, the viking took a moment as he saw the tavern across the way. Casting a look up at the dark sky saturated with twinkling stars, Ubbe took in a deep breath of crisp air, 'She's just playing a game. She could have picked Hvitserk or Sigurd or Ivar to do this with, this is just-'

In his peripherals Ubbe caught himself mid monolog and looked back to the taverns closest window. Peering in he saw a burly figure hustle past something but it took a harder look to see what commotion was happening. What looked like a standard brawl almost lost the man's interest until he saw Eleri's muscly thickset figure in the window. She was the target for whatever ruckus had been stirred.

"Eleri!" alarmed Ubbe took off in a sprint across the street, bumping into some grumbling patrons leaving the tavern as he bolstered his way past the narrow door frame.

"Wrench!" One groggy man spat at the woman backed into the corner.

"Em's one of brothel workers she without a man this hour!" Like hungry vultures the drunkards set in on her without concern for the woman's obvious disapproval. Weapon or not Eleri was out numbered and out muscled by the hulking drunk vikings.