A Ballot of the Wolf and Merc | Ubbe Ragnarsson FanFic

Quiet Killings

Boisterous drinking cascaded through the rest of the afternoon after the reuniting of sons amongst their father. Some of the boys drinking to celebrate their father's return, mostly Ivar. And others drinking to indulge for the moment being. Aslaug, unlike her sons, was eremitic to her alienated husband. Few words spoken between the wife and husband once in each other's presence to the boy's misunderstanding. All four of their children assuming short-sightedly they'd reconcile later if not now.

That thought wasn't until much later in the evening, Aslaug excused herself after a long feast paired with assorted bottles. A passing glance between the two severed rulers but no words when the Queen took her leave. Each of the sons though staying when they mother departed at least for the moment being.

"Why didn't you put a stop to that vulgar woman!" when Aslaug was out of ear shot, Ivar hyped up for the thousandth time to his father over the lack of display in power over the Varagain's deceitful actions, "She's been nothing but surly since mother brought her into our city!"

"You're only saying that because she doesn't put up with your crap Ivar," Sigurd rolled his eyes deep back in cheeky disgust before taking a long draw on his mead.

"Lout! An uncouth lout with no manners!" Slamming his fist down on the table Ivar's crystal blue eyes shot up to the head of the table to his father, "The Great Ragnar has come back to Kattegat and that disrespectful wrench does that!"

Silent through his son's political bickering on the subject, Ragnar interjected nothing while drinking leisurely from his stein. Intent on seeing how each son held his own opinion and articulated it. Though not all agreeing or disagreeing Ragnar took pleasure in listening to his grown children talk at such lengths. That was, all saved for the eldest.

"Ubbe," Ragnar set his mug down.

"Huh?" answering his father's call, Ubbe looked up from his half full flagon.

"You're quiet," singling out his son's behavior made the other three boys turn to Ubbe just as Ragnar had, "What keeps the great Ubbe from enjoying his families company?"

Glowering with a stern eye roll Ivar popped off, "By Odin's tit he's probably-"

"Ivar," Ragnar's raspy calm voice railing in his son's rant. A sneer of derision lingered on the youngest's lips but Ivar subdued to his father's word. Casting his piercing eyes back to Ubbe, Ragnar's eyebrow arched up in inquiry, "What bothers you son of mine?"

Lips tightening into a faint line, Ubbe did not answer right away as he minded his thoughts carefully for what he might say, "Seems mother will have to pay the Varagain something for her time here in Kattegat, is it a crime for your eldest to worry over one's mother since your absence?"

Ragnar delayed accepting the answer, knowing well that wasn't all but skin deep for the discontent on Ubbe's face. But Ragnar sat back, mug in hand, and nodded before taking a swallow, "Seems time is money for their type."

"What is their type?" Ivar adverted his focus back onto his father, "That shrew never spoke but in tongues, I've never even heard of this ridiculousness."

"She told you what they do Ivar," Hvitserk spoke latently when Ragnar instead took a drink instead of answering Ivar, "They're hired that's it."

"But hired for what?" Sigurd interjected on the side of Ivar's perplexity on the woman's business anyways.

"Messenger, fighter, I don't see that she's incapable," Hvitserk shrugged but in time looked over at Ragnar waiting his turn.

Looking up from the oaken table, the King made sure each son had finished before addressing it, "A Varagain is that of a type of profession mostly far south from here." Tipping his mug to peer inside Ragnar saw his drink dwindling and wondered how much more bother the children would be, "Traditionally a glorified thief."