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In Kattegat, widows are common.
Ivar has seen their lament and insists to them that there is no reason to cry. They are with the gods! But... for you, well, that is something completely different. You have no tears. Only joy when you come to the Great Hall. The doors of his Great Hall opens. Ivar has been inside most of the day, only going down the snowless path carefully. Now he sits with Hvitserk and his wife, Thora at a table.
"King Ivar," you stop behind him, bowing slightly.
"(Y/N)."
"Skadi has come down from her mountains. It is snowing. Come see the snow with me!"
"It has been snowing all day."
"Come!"
You grasp his hand. Ivar grasps his crutch in the rush, limping along the benches toward the door. You've fisted his warm furs on your way out, settling them over his shoulders. You open the door, looking from the cleared path to the fluffy packed snow. Dread hits him instantaneously. He knows that he's going to fall in the snow. But maybe, maybe he wouldn't fall. You turn around just before entering the snow, taking his hands at the elbows, forearm against forearm.
"You won't fall." You tell Ivar.
But he's well aware of the eyes watching him. He sighs, looking around, and turns his eyes back to you. You hold him tightly, guiding him through the fluffy patches of snow that squish under the swath of his feet in the moist snow. Flecks of fluffy white stick to the top of his head.
"Have you been in the snow before?"
"Not in some time." He indicates that... well, he hadn't. Maybe he had. Maybe his mother swirled around in her beautiful dresses and stretched his tiny, chubby hand out into the snow. Maybe Ubbe had taken him in his chariot and that chariot had gotten stuck. The squishy snow under his feet, snow in his hair. Ivar sucks in a breath when you drop back, catching him on top of you.
"Are you– You fell!"
You laugh and laugh, running your hands over his shoulders as he lays over you. The snow is fluffy around your head, cold to the touch. You stare up at him, running your fingers over the stubble now.
"You are crazy. The snow will wet you!" Ivar remarks fondly enough. "Have you knocked your head?"
"A little," you say. "But it was worth it to be with you."
"What will I do when you remarry?" he laughs, then loses the smile in the thought. "Will you be remarrying soon?"
Your eyes flicker away. Then– he has more questions than he has answers to. The peasant girl came to meet and harass him after claiming land... you. It was probably the safest course of action for you to marry. A husband. A family. You deserved that.
"I've met someone," you answer Ivar. "I thought maybe you would approve."
He looks at you with derision, wondering who you could possibly be speaking to when not here with him. Most nights you came here after the chores of the day were done and cared for. Were you seeing someone at the same time?
"Who?"
"You!"
It took his brain a second to catch up with the thought, but when he does, Ivar bows his head. Where did you get off scaring him like that! And then– him? Ivar sits up out of the cold snow, and you stand up, pulling him up with you. The thought catches up with him.
