King Ivar spends much of his time with his infertile first wife: neglecting his second wife, the mother of his children, a Freyjasdottir. Eventually, it catches up to him when a foreign King Sverri invades his lands.
tw: abuse, character death, etc.
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For all of Ivar worried that you may have injured your womb, the rest of your pregnancy progressed as easily as your first. Perhaps in a way, he was more aggressive about your care after this scare. You expected him to be. But if he was aggressive... it also meant that Kitta was more aggressive as well. Especially when the Queen was rejected from helping you through your labour.
"You don't want Kitta here?" Ivar's hand is at your back, rubbing you through another set of contractions. The pain that sears your legs apart was nothing like the anger that built up in your heart over the last few months sharing your life with Kitta. First, she humiliated you. Second, she spilled the secret of your first love. Now you were not even sure if Ivar knew who it was.
"Why would I want her here? She has made a fool of me!" You push down on a contraction.
"She was here last time." Ivar says. Your heart is closed, knowing Kitta is with Uxi while Ragnhild stays with you. In a way, perhaps you were punishing her. She must have known so as well. That was why she insisted that Ivar could not let you do this. Sorrily for her, he was too weak to do anything with the wrath of Frigg threatening to overcome him.
"The gods know and see how she has changed." You hiss, back curling upwards. The contractions came closer and closer-- and you knew this is the stage of true labour in which there are no true breaks. All you want is to be able to labour in peace on all fours without Ivar insisting on Kitta being there in the room. Ragnhild is between your legs with an older thrall, learning the fine art of being a midwife. Dropping the issue, Ivar grimaces and sits helpless to change anything. It was better to stay quiet than incite your rage when you were in labour. Any man knew that.
At the end of it all, you gave birth to his second son, a healthy baby boy. He was a hungry thing, bonding to your breast quicker than Uxi had. By no time at all, you were in bed with your husband. Two years was a long time to be without a baby in the home. Or so Ivar thinks when he finally has his son on his tattooed chest, tiny hands on his body. He's never felt broader. The Great Hall is quiet again and with it, the peace of the moment. He looks over to you, clean from your warm bath that scrubbed away the pain of labour.
"He does not look deformed." He lets his hand come to his son's back. By the gods-- the little boy looks like Uxi had during birth. "He's healthy."
"Maybe I am descended from the bride of the Vanir." You snuggle your way closer to him, taking the one hand that is not on your shared child. Ivar affectionately runs his fingers over your knuckles like he so enjoys to do with Kitta.
"Maybe." He agrees.
Little Veifnr is a slight and handsome boy. By now Ivar had learned to shift days, giving you four while Kitta had only three with her husband. Though if you didn't sleep because of Veifnr, he quickly went back on his word to her to bond with her son. Kitta didn't understand. Wasn't that Ragnhild's use?
