Of course things couldn't  stay so perfect for you. From the steps of the throne you watch the Yule  log crinkle and pop while Uxi jumps beside it like an eager dog,  listening to the oaths of men. Veifnr long since fell fast asleep in a  bassinet beside you as you enjoyed the vigil to your ancestral goddess  on Mothernight.
                          
"You're enjoying yourself, my wife?" You glance  over to your husband as he leans over his armchair towards you. It has  been bizarrely quiet. Kitta, who does not sit in her throne, almost a  pleasure that night. You sit on furs slung across the steps by his  chair, drinking of the horn he hands to you when you hair his following  request.
                          
"Good. Then as the gods have given us another son, I want  to take Kitta to see the lights of colours that I've heard such things  about." Ivar proposes.
                          
Of course you know what he means. He means  the sky that lit up in brilliant greens, heavenly blues and nearly  fragrant purples, painting the sky like wisps of the gods chariots. It  was rumoured, or so you thought, that Freyja would ride her kittens in  the lush green stripes. That was the streak your father always told you  about and the one that you eagerly you wanted to see. To see if your  mother Freyja really did ride the heavens. But it is Kitta's moment to  be spoiled.
                          
"Ah... then you would like me to care for things?" You suggest.
                          
Ivar  brings his horn back from your fingers and presses it up to his cracked  lips. "Yes, Princess. I'm sure you've done it for Faksi."
                          
"Of  course." You nod— of course you had. You had done it more than once as  he raided frequently. The public of Kattegat seemed to enjoy you enough  with the births of Ivar's sons. It would be fine. You would just be at  home like you always were.
                          
"Hvitserk will stay behind to care for a  portion of the army." Ivar leans down, taking your chin in his palm.  "So I better not hear that you've betrayed me when I come back." He  gives you a clear warning, but to you, it is a message. Ivar doesn't  trust you.
                          
You pull your head free from his palm. "I'm not a loose whore to be sleeping with your brother."
                          
Kitta  comes from the crowd, pushing past the clusters of drab woolen clothes  until she finds you both speaking. Ivar drops the conversation quickly--  seeing his jewel coming forward. He reaches for the hand she extends  for a kiss, falling into Ivar's flirtatious tug closer. She drops into  her chair almost as if she's cocky of what she is doing. Your eyes fall  away to Veifnr's bassinet, acting as if you are rocking it.
                          
"Are  we going?" She's almost gleaming in excitement-- and in response, Ivar  seems to glow. His skin, cleansed before dinner, brightens.
                          
"I  told you I would take you." For his efforts she gives him a kiss,  sliding onto his lap with her slender toes in black laced flats nudging  you just slightly to move a step or two lower. You slide closer to  Veifnr instead; nudging his little cheeks with your fingers. He's fast  asleep.
                          
"Thank you, (Y/N)!" She says. "I haven't had him alone in years. It will be perfect for so many years!"
                          
Maybe  her words are genuine— but as a woman that never had her husband to  herself, you snort. Your teeth knit into their grooves, disrupting an  otherwise peaceful moment when you swipe back at Kitta.
                          
"I wouldn't know. I've never had a man to myself." You say.
                          
Kitta's  joyful moment is cut short with her hand in his hair and lips against  his. Her momentary smile against his lips quickly turns dark. She pulls  away long enough to stare at you– because you've just disrupted  something beautiful.
                          
But you don't honestly give a fuck. They  would go and have fun, bathe naked together in the rumoured hot springs  or lay under the glittering stars at night while you stay nothing more  than a mother with Ragnhild. Ivar turns his gaze to you slowly, fiddling  with the strings of Kitta's dress. Here it went again.