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Sometimes his mind wanders back, when Lagertha is sleeping wrapped up in his arms and Ragnar holds him to his chest. He thinks about the time on the boat when Ragnar told him that they’d find out together why his life was spared, or when Ragnar chose him to take home, or when Ragnar cut his rope and told him he could run. He remembers briefly the first time he tried to re-shave his head, and how Bjorn and Gyda looked on the second time, when Lagertha took the knife and did it for him so that it would not cause him pain. He nearly cried out in joy at her kindness, and then, let his hair grow out. Sometimes he likes to think that waking up with them each morning was that reason God and Ragnar let him live. God sent him here to love and be loved by this family, and he found himself smiling with the thought. His grin that morning only grew when Lagertha woke up to press his hand closer against her belly, and he coul feel the child moving more clearly now. “He is strong.” She whispered, not wishing to wake up Ragnar. He will be traveling later, to the Earl’s home to bargain for and receive his share of this summer’s raids. “How do you know it is a boy?” He whispered back, lips pressed to the shell of her ear. “A mother knows. He is coming soon too. He moves lower each day.” Her smile was serene and she covered his hand with her own, turning her head slightly to watch him carefully.
“We will have to think of names.” Athelstan nuzzled closer to her, so far as he could without moving farther from Ragnar. “What was your father’s name?” She asked him gently, and he shook his head in response. “I did not know my father. The monks…when they took me in they taught me God was my Father. And I would not name a child of yours with a Christian name. I would have your thoughts on this.” She chewed her lip. “I have not told Ragnar, but I would name him Unnvaldr. In your language, it means two things. To be happy or content with, and ruler. It is a good name for a boy.” Athelstan beamed and kissed her gently. “I am sure he will like it. I do.”
When Ragnar finally woke, they lavished him with kisses and the name she had picked out, and he laughed with a nod. “I should have guessed. I am surprised we are not naming him Cuthbert, or some other English name.” Athelstan might have chuckled, if he had not thinking of his brothers that morning. Instead, he shot the man a wry grin. “If the child is to be raised by you, he should have a name befitting his people. Not mine.” An eyebrow was raised. “But you will raise him with us.” The head of brown curls shook slightly. “Of course. But he will be more like you than me. You will raise him in your ways, and keep my God out of it. He will not bear a Christian name.” There is almost forcefulness to the way he said it, and Ragnar shrugged, dropping it in favor of kissing his priest silent.
They had breakfast as a family, subdued and quiet, as it always was on days Ragnar had to see the Earl. Bjorn would join him, which excited the boy, but he kept his enthusiasm tuned down, out of respect for his mother and sister, who would be going without the excitement of the Earl’s hall. They finished their meal and Lagertha packed what was left for them to have on the road for lunch and dinner. She struggled to maneuver herself now, and Bjorn had to stifle his laughter, out of fear of his father’s disapproving gaze. They said their goodbyes in front of their home. Lagertha kissed them both and told Bjorn to be good and listen well, and Athelstan hugged Ragnar and ruffled Bjorn’s hair, and Gyda hugged them both as tightly as he still too small arms could muster. The two women and the priest watched as they left, and went back inside to keep themselves busy. The next day was very much the same. Gyda tended the goats, while Athelstan convinced Lagertha to leave the farming to him. He did not want her to strain herself, with the baby so close, and she was sore enough that she was inclined to be persuaded easily. She opted instead to work on her loom. The tapestry had more added to it now, including locks of her, Ragnar’s, Bjorn’s and Gyda’s hair. She would ask Athelstan for a lock of his when he was done with the chores for the day.
They shared dinner and talked happily about the next day, when Ragnar would be returning with his share of the raids. Gyda said that she hoped she would have a new dagger to train with when her father came home, and perhaps some new trinkets for her hair. Athelstan told them a story of the time when he was a child, and the first time his monastery had been given alms, he played with the coins until the Father had told him stealing was a sin and he was forced to give them up. It was pleasant, if quiet without Ragnar’s roaring laughter, or Bjorn’s interruptions.
They sent Gyda to bed soon after and fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms, trying to fill the empty space their warrior left. Before sunrise though, Lagertha woke with a start, covered in sweat and gasping with pain. She woke Athelstan with her sudden movement as she struggled to sit up, holding her belly. “Wake Gyda. Send her to Alhildr. I need Alhildr.” Athelstan recognized the name of the midwife and nodded, running to perform the task and soon enough Gyda was gone and running to find the woman. It would be long enough for her to return, and Lagertha could do nothing but move, trying to relieve her discomfort as Athelstan flailed, unsure as to how to help her. “Tell me what I can do. Can I do something? What do I do?” She rolled her eyes as she groaned. “Sit still. You are not helping by acting as if your shirt is on fire.”
He took a deep breath and knelt by her knees. “Tell me what I can do.” Her smile was fond, if not very strained. “Get me water and help me stand. And clean rags, we’ll need them.” He nodded, and bless him, he still took orders like a slave, fetching what she needed quickly and without question. She held his arms and stood upright, moving to relieve some of the pressure as wave after wave of pain hit her. She had to convince him that it was normal, as he’d never been present at a birth before. “The other monks sometimes went to births to Christian the child.” He said conversationally when she asked him to distract her. “I was always too frightened to go. I thought I would drop the babe as the Father anointed him and I would ruin everything.” They chuckled sheepishly until another contraction hit her, and she grit her teeth, and he paled at the sight of her hair sticking to her sweat-drenched face. His lips moved constantly, silent prayers being offered in exchange for her safety, and that of the child’s.
He almost praised God out loud when the midwife finally arrived at the door, greeting him with a raised eyebrow and a smile that meant she was here to do her work and nothing more. She made Lagertha lie down on the raised mat Athelstan had used when her first came to them, and she examined the woman thoroughly. “You’d best get comfortable dear.” Alhildr said with a sympathetic pat to the other woman’s knee. You’ve got some time yet before the little one decides to make an appearance. Hours. Not before the sun is at its highest even.” Lagertha groaned and let her head fall back against the mat and Alhidr laughed, patting her knee again. “I know, dear. Have your daughter or the priest come find me when the pains are closer together. In the space of one hundred heartbeats.” That would put the contractions every two minutes. Lagertha nodded and Athelstan bowed his head, thanking the woman. “Do not thank me until the child is here.” She said briskly, and he smiled, pressing a gold coin into her palm. “Just in case.” He waved her protestations away.
He and Gyda went to her side then, hoping to care for and ease the pain. Of course, there was no physical relief to be found, but she took comfort in the fact that she could hold their hands and keep them close. Birth was something she had prided herself in being able to do without much fuss, but like Athelstan, this child was something new, only furthering her suspicion that it was his. He laughed when she voiced her opinion, and pressed a kiss to her sweat soaked forehead. Gyda chuckled and ruffled his hair. She had taken a liking to him from the beginning, and it made her laugh to see how her parents treated him now.
The girl looked to the door and grinned brightly when she saw her father and brother walk in, their faces red with the exertion of the trip, their smiles quickly turning to frowns of concern when they saw Lagertha on the bed surrounded by people and groaning in pain. They quickly dropped their packs and ran to join the protective circle forming around the woman, who took Ragnar’s hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “He comes?” The man asked, his concerned tone taking on a hint of hopefulness. The smile and nod from Athelstan was all he needed to let out a whoop of joy. A child was always cause to celebrate in his mind, and his expression was a nice counter to Lagertha’s furrowed brow, and Athelstan’s concealed panic. They sent the children outside, to do the chores, and the men went to work helping Lagertha go through her labor.
It was not long until her legs were shaking in exhaustion as she moved to squat at the edge of the bed, when lying down had become too unbearable. Her contractions were close together now, and the urge to push was too great to ignore. They had lost count of heartbeats and for the first time through this whole ordeal, Ragnar did not wear a smile. It was too late to fetch the midwife, and the men were thrown into delivering the child along with the mother. As the only one with any medical training whatsoever, Athelstan, who had aided the old and ill in his monk days, was set kneeling before her, peering up between her legs as she whimpered with each contraction. Ragnar sat behind her on the edge of the bed, resting his knees on either side of her, and murmured encouragements when she started to push. She screamed out in pain and frustration when Athelstan admitted he could not see anything yet, but at her next attempt he gasped, the sight of a head, purple and red with her essence covering it coming into view. “Keep going!” he shouted. She rested a moment, just to take a breath before the next push, all of her power and strength concentrated to her lower half as she tried to bring the new life into this world.
Ragnar kept rubbing at her back, and squeezed his knees against her gently, as if the pressure would help and remind her to push harder, as if she needed reminding. With a loud snarl from a deep, hidden reserve of energy within her, she pushed again, harder than she had before until her vision went white and she felt as if she was tearing apart. Oh, but it was worth it to hear Athelstan gasp as the child started to cry, the head fully out now. “Lagertha, he’s here, keep going, my love, you are almost done.” Ragnar murmured against the shell of her ear. She braced herself against him, and with a determined cry and the strongest push she could muster, out slipped her child’s shoulders and the worst was over. Two contractions later, Athelstan was cradling a crying baby and Lagertha was able to slump against her husband as her body took care of expelling the afterbirth. Ragnar kissed her damp cheek and shifted to help her lay down for a much needed rest as he and Athelstan looked to the child. He cleaned a dagger to hand off to Athelstan, showing him where and how to cut the cord that kept him tethered to his mother. They washed and swaddled him with clean rags and a blanket before they brought him to his mother.
She smiled weakly and took the wriggling bundle and held it to her breast, letting him suckle for his first meal. “Unnvadlr.” She whispered, looking up at her loves, her face showing the proud and strong woman that they had fallen in love with. She pushed the blanket off the boy’s head and laughed, dark curls already sprouting and the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. “I told you, Athelstan. He is yours.” She held the baby out for him to take and he sat down as he cradled the small thing to his chest. “I…I never thought I would….This is God’s greatest miracle.” He said, his voice wavering with tears of pride and joy. Ragnar laughed, though not loud enough to startle the babe. But then he looked out the window, to where his own natural born children sat, waiting to be allowed back in, and his smile softened. He clapped Athelstan on the back. “Congratulations, priest. You are a father to a handsome and healthy son.” He pressed a kiss to the man’s forehead, before running his hand lightly over the baby’s curly black hair. “Unnvaldr.” He murmured, before breaking out into another chuckle, “I wonder if he will grow a bald patch like his father!”
Athelstan and Lagertha both groaned softly, but she rested a hand over Ragnar’s spine, and reached out for the child again and instead, she got Athelstan tucked against her side, sharing Unnvaldr while he clung to the baby, and Ragnar leaving to get the children to meet their new brother. Gyda and Bjorn walked in quietly and joined the priest’s side, looking in a silent admiration for what their mother had done. As Ragnar joined her other side, Lagertha smiled. Her whole family was surrounding her, and she felt calm. The word on everyone’s lips was family, and it was the closest thing to a perfect moment they could ever have.