The next morning, Yvette woke before anyone else in Kattegat—though she hadn't really slept much at all. To clear her head, she decided to take a quiet stroll along the water's edge.
A soft moan of pleasure escaped her as her bare feet sank into the cold sand. This was a first for her—a beach, something completely new after always being surrounded by rolling hills and open fields. She hadn't had a chance to really savor it amidst the chaos of the past days. Yvette edged closer to the water, letting the gentle waves kiss the tips of her toes. She closed her eyes, letting out a contented sigh. Perhaps this was a silver lining to staying here.
"How's the water?" Ubbe's voice broke through the tranquility, making Yvette jump in surprise. He raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, a playful grin on his face. Yvette nodded, a smile tugging at her lips, silently inviting him to come closer.
"I've never seen a sigh as such." Yvette giggled and a rosy blush crept upon her cheeks.
"Don't have beaches in France?"
"We do, of course. But I've never seen one before—most of my time is spent within the palace walls," Yvette explained to Ubbe. He couldn't help but be captivated by her, the way the sun cast a soft, magical glow on her skin. Secretly, he hoped he might be the one to win her heart.
"That doesn't sound like much of a life," Ubbe mused, stepping closer to her and taking in her features.
"It was enough for me," she replied softly.
"I know you don't want this, and I understand you might think poorly of us. But at least give us a chance?" Ubbe's words resonated in Yvette's mind like the chimes of a distant bell. Maybe he had a point. Perhaps she needed to open her heart to more than just her future husband, to give everyone in Kattegat a fair chance. But how could she, when her thoughts were consumed by the destruction they had wrought on England—and the looming threat to France?
"Yvette, may I walk you back to the great hall? My mother is already there."
"Of course." Yvette smiled. She was quick to walk toward Ubbe and gracefully walk beside him toward the great hall.
Yvette found herself unexpectedly drawn to Ubbe. Though they had only met the day before, the moments they shared had already shown her his gentle nature. He was by far the sweetest to her, and if only she could look past his Heathen ways, she might even entertain the idea of falling for him.
As they entered the great hall, Yvette's confidence wavered. Unlike the night before, when it was just the Sons of Ragnar, Aslaug, and herself, the room was now filled with a bustling crowd of men and women. Feeling uneasy and a bit overwhelmed, she froze. Ubbe, noticing her discomfort, placed a reassuring hand on her back. He wasn't sure how she would react, but he was relieved when she didn't pull away.
A few moments later, they stumbled up to the table and took their seats—almost identical to where they'd sat the night before, only this time on the opposite sides. Instead of Ubbe beside her, it was Hvitserk. But he hadn't spared her a single glance, and Yvette couldn't help but wonder why. Had she failed to catch his eye? Or was she just not his type? Though that seemed unlikely, given the stories she'd heard; he was known for his interest in any woman who would have him.
"How did you sleep, Yvette?" Aslaug's voice cut through her thoughts, snapping her back to the present.
"It was good, thank you," Yvette said with a soft smile, turning her attention to her breakfast. As she took her first bite, her world seemed to fall silent. The buzz of conversation around her faded into the background as her thoughts zeroed in on the blonde boy beside her. It struck her as strange that he hadn't made any smooth advances towards her, unlike the others—well, except Ubbe.
Ubbe had been unmistakably intrigued by her. She'd caught him glancing her way more than once, his eyes lingering and exploring her frame with a spark that hinted at something more. He was the nicest and most responsible of the sons Yvette had met, and if she were to marry him, she didn't think it would be a huge issue. Honestly, if it weren't for his Heathen ways, she could see herself finding happiness with him.
Hvitserk on the other hand hadn't even made the slightest move on her - let alone take a second glance her way - Yvette was sure the only time she saw him even looked in her direction was last night when Aslaug had address the situation of why she was even here. Other than a quick, unpleasant glance he had paid no mind to her. What was it about her that had him to turned away from her?
"What do you say, little Christian?" Ivar's voice rang out, pulling Yvette from her daze. She blinked up from her food, a look of confusion on her face. Hvitserk, immediately rolling his eyes, intercepted with a protective remark aimed at Ivar. He could tell Yvette hadn't been paying attention to the brothers' banter, and he didn't want her to suffer further embarrassment from Ivar's bluntness.
"Leave her—" Hvitserk began, but Ivar quickly cut him off.
"I want to hear what she thinks, dear brother. I want to know her thoughts on us sharing her in the bedroom."
Yvette's face flushed a deep crimson, her eyes widening in shock. "Sharing me?"
"Ivar, stop," Ubbe said, his voice laced with frustration. But Ivar only found the situation amusing, clearly relishing the shock on Yvette's face.
"No, no, no, please," Ivar insisted, leaning in with a smirk. "Tell me what you think. How would you prefer we take you, sweet little Christian?"
"What makes you think you can even get it up? mhmm, you can't even walk." Sigurd snapped back. Ivar's face darkened with rage, his grip on his goblet tightening until his knuckles turned white. The tension in the air grew thick, and Yvette feared that Ivar might lash out at Sigurd.
"Enough, all of you." Aslaug's voice sliced through the tension, compelling everyone's attention. She was less concerned with Yvette's fate and more with the future of her sons. After weighing her options carefully, she was confident in her decision. "I have my answer on which of my sons will marry you in two moons."
A heavy silence descended over the room, the weight of Aslaug's words hanging in the air. All eyes were fixed on her, waiting for her final decree, which would irrevocably alter Yvette's world.
"Hvitserk, it's you, my son."
YOU ARE READING
Selcouth
Fanfiction"I hope you know how hard I am trying to love you." ~•~ "Maybe I deserve someone else but I always loved you, Hvitserk."
