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"Does he know?"
It was your worst nightmare to know that Ubbe had come back. Worse so with your young family in the other room, waiting for you to return. You were caught between the wall and Ubbe's taut muscles pinning you in place. Your cup had gone empty, dropped by your fingertips when you groan out to him.
"Ubbe, I'm too sober to deal with you." You sigh.
"Is she my daughter?" He asks, causing your hand to come over his mouth. You effectively silence him, dropping your hands back to your sides where you inhale a little roughly.
"She's not. Please... go away." You lie, exhaling sharply. You know you're lying too. How could Ubbe come back, walk in and tear your family up? It wasn't going to happen. Ubbe's eyes hold yours sternly as if he knows you're lying. The lies are too much to take when you look away, knowing that your love child was in fact his.
"She was mine." Behind you, your husband limps forward wrought by the pain in his side from sparring to the best of his ability with your younger sons that you had with Ivar. Three sons and Ubbe's daughter. You only wished she was his too. "She is mine, brother."
He stumbles forward, breaking Ubbe's hold on your arm. "I claimed her into my home as an Ivarsdottir. That makes her my daughter, not yours." He says.
Blood or not, his niece or not, Ivar brought her up with you. He was her father. Ivar's hand snakes around your waist, prideful as Ubbe falls silent. Your heart swells with pride at his blatant claim to your person.
With a jerk back towards the room, Ivar throws behind his shoulder. "And (Y/N) is my wife, not yours."
