CHAPTER TEN; the father and the uncle

"His name is Rorik?" Uhtred was the one to ask after a good few seconds. Sihtric was unable to do anything other than dwell in his stunned silence, his eyes burning into the face of the little boy who was burying his head into Tova's stomach to hide himself from the stare. Tova nodded at her brother, glimpsing toward her ex-lover. Uhtred stepped toward her again, meeting Rorik's eyes. "My nephew."

Tova's smile was tight, fingers curling upon her son's shoulder. "He is," She confirmed and relaxed somewhat at the feel of Uhtred's hand resting against her arm, squeezing lightly. But his eyes didn't stray from the child. "He has heard many stories of my brothers. His Uncles. Haven't you, Rorik?"

The mention of stories of their youth being told to his sister's son made Uhtred smile grow, thinking back on those memories. Him, Tova, and Brida with older Ragnar around. Thyra eventually stuck to their Mother like glue. "He has heard of me? And Ragnar?"

Rorik's fingers lace around Tova's. "My Uncle?" His mismatched eyes narrow toward his Mother's brother. "He is my Uncle, Mama?"

His eyebrows slowly knit together as he stares at the boy. If he was not mistaken, he'd of thought his nephew, Rorik, perhaps sounded. . . unconvinced. Did he not believe Uhtred of Bebbanburg to be who Tova said he was?

So, Uhtred lifted his head and took a step back from Tova and her son. "I am your Uncle, Rorik." And still, the boy's eyebrows furrowed and he looked toward the dirt. "Do I not live up to your stories?"

Despite Uhtred's last words having been meant as a jest, Rorik did not understand that and answered most honestly. "No."

Laughter burst from the Irishman, both surprised and gleeful at the boy's humour. "That was charming," Finan spoke between his amusement, and Uhtred turned his head to throw his good friend a glare. "I mean it, Lord. It's most certain he's your nephew."

A smile came from that from Uhtred. Tova looked to him, taking in the dark beard and the cross chain around his neck. He was a Christian and he served her brother. "You serve the same God as Peter," She spoke, and found Finan's eyes on her near instantly. "You ride alongside my brother and. . ." She stilled, not knowing how to refer to Sihtric now he was in front of her, still silent.

Finan understood though. "I do," His hand rested on the pommel of his sword. "I serve your brother, Lord Uhtred. You can trust me, Lady."

Sihtric moved, taking a few steps forward. Tova's eyes did not break her gaze with Finan for another second, lifting her chin and deciding she'd need to clear any of that nonsense up. "I am no Lady, Christian. I am Tova, a Dane. Daughter of Ragnar, sister of Uhtred," Her fingers squeezed her son's shoulder, and his mismatched eyes blinked up at her, "And Mother of Rorik. And you?"

She felt Sihtric's fingertips skim her arm, ghosting up toward her elbow. He was leaning against her side and Tova's eyes returned to him, as she'd been imagining doing so again for a few years now, and nothing had ever felt greater. Though her fingers remained keeping Rorik to her front. Almost nothing.

He was staring at her as if she was unreal. As if she'd up and disappear if he took his gaze away, and perhaps that explained his grip, as his other hand slowly moving past her stomach — she could feel the silver of the arm piece against her mid-section — to rest on top of Tova's. Their son's shoulder. Keeping them there and bound to him in case his fears were true. In case they weren't really there.

( She understood that well. She'd imagined him more than twice after birthing Rorik of Sihtric's presence. If he wasn't sitting and watching her, he was stood over their son's cot. Staring down at the boy that was half him and yet so far away.

Tova had known it wasn't real, heartbreakingly so, because Sihtric. . . hadn't known of their boy. And so she knew him protectively standing by Rorik was simply her hopes and dreams. )

"He. . ." Sihtric utters, breath against her cheek. She patiently waited. When they were younger, he'd been so quiet and unsure back then, because of his Father. "He is real?"

Tova nodded firmly, "He is real." She confirmed, feeling the hold behind her forearm tighten. Not painfully, but simply tugging her closer. "And he is our son."

( Bastard. Bastard. It ran through Sihtric's head with shame, because he'd done that — he'd failed to do as he'd sworn by reuniting with her sooner. Not wedding her as they'd wished meant their son, with his dark curly hair and his baby cheeks, was a bastard.

Sihtric felt ill thinking of it in such ways. He joked of his own birth status, but he'd never wished for any of his children to live a life of a bastard, in truth. )

"We will wed," He reveals. Tova's hand, the one that didn't have a hold of her child, reached up to grip his short, sleeveless tunic. "We will wed as we should of and our son will be ours only then."

He already is, Tova thought. But she supposed she knew nothing of Sihtric's thoughts circling being a bastard, for she knew nothing of the livelihood of being one. She'd never mistreated a bastard, but others did, and perhaps that's all he wanted to do was protect Rorik from the same fate. Though, it mattered little for many Danes that had grown up around her as a child.

"Tova?" That was Uhtred. His hand was stretched toward Rorik, "Is your son shy?"

It was hardly any fault of Rorik's own. "Ye —"

"No," Rorik's little body fought to free himself from Tova's — and Sihtric's hand on top — hold, but he managed when she let go of him. His eyes stare up at Uhtred again, and her brother is staring back, one eyebrow raised and his hair long and free. Tova was glad to see he'd hardly changed. "Brave."

"Course ya are, little Dane." That was Finan speaking again. Tova peered over at him, her free hand now coming up to rest against her front. He was grinning, a wide break of his lips, down toward Rorik and her son — he was shy, and three years of age — even gave a little giggle. "With what being raised by your Mother. I've no doubt. . ."

"Finan," Uhtred sighed, giving his friend another look. Tova thought the moment reminded her of when Uhtred and Ragnar used to do the same. She bit back the ache that radiated through him. "Do not tease the boy."

Finan put one hand up, face clearing to become serious. She saw the twinkle in the dark eyes though. It reminded her of those memories with Sihtric when she was yonuger and he was playful. "I wouldn't."

Uhtred began to speak back, but Rorik turned to her again, his hand coming up to grasp her leg. "Mama," He whispered, and continued when she gave him a small nod, "Keep him?" And pointed toward Finan, who was holding both hands up now for his Lord, protesting that he meant nought against Uhtred's Dane sister and her son.

It was those words that made Sihtric break, his shoulders relaxing entirely. "He acts like a pet, but he is not." Sihtric answered for her, and then he kneeled in front of her, but facing his son. "I am Sihtric. Do you know who I am, boy?"

Rorik nodded, not shy to do so. He looked to his Mother for a second, but didn't say anything else when he returned to meet Sihtric's eyes and Sihtric did not blame the boy for choosing silence.

Was he confused? Did he not understand? Sihtric did wish to know what Rorik was thinking. He wished to know of everything that he'd missed from the moment he'd told Tova to go and find the horse he'd left for her to flee with.

"Good," Sihtric is unsure on what to say. How to say it. His son, and his future legacy, and he was tongue-tied. One of his hands came up to cradle the side of Rorik's arm instead, amazed by the reality.

Son. Son. Son. He had a son.

"You. . ."

"Sihtric," Tova placed a hand on his shoulder, glancing down between them. The crease in her brows made him gulp, belly full of nerves and the reason being was a boy of three. Sihtric had seen battle and been excited for it, and yet he couldn't utter words now? "Stand up for his sake."

Sihtric did not mind being a Father who knelt for his son, but he stood up regardless upon her word and did not miss the way Rorik seemed to relax a little.

Her hand placed itself back onto Sihtric's, giving him a tight squeeze between her fingers this time. "He knows the man you are, Sihtric." Tova nodded to her son, gesturing him back to her front. "Of his Father."

Rorik was about to go back to her, his hand reaching for hers, as Sihtric watched closely at their bond. The only parent Rorik had known, and for Tova, the only blood, and the only reminder of Sihtric.

( Sihtric felt a little odd, at the pull of his gaze to Peter. Rorik had the presence of a man already. He was both grateful and envious of the discovery that Rorik was already being taught as Sihtric wished to teach him. )

But then Uhtred bends forward and sweeps his nephew up into his arms, tugging him against his left shoulder and lifting him high. They were face to face as Rorik's eyes widened, startled at the sudden yank.

All Uhtred did in return was laugh, brushing some of the curls from Rorik's forehead. "He looks," He pauses, a beat between his next words, "Little like Mother."

She'd always thought that whenever she stared into her son's face. That her Mother stared back. That when her son smiled, so did the memory of her dead Mother. In a world of grief, it brought Tova comfort during the nights she'd struggled most with a son on the road trying to find the last remaining members of her family.

Tova swallowed back her own pain and swam in the bliss of it instead as she nodded, happy to see that one of her brothers saw as her eyes did. At least they weren't telling her a lie to ease her heartache.

Her son's eyes lit up at what Uhtred says and she knows instantly that her son would feel better for those words. He had heard them from her lips.

"I am happy," Uhtred says then, making Tova's fingers tighten down. She'd dreamed of finding her brothers. Of her brothers welcoming her boy. Of bringing them back together. "And Sihtric is, too."

As Uhtred turns to his nephew, the boy staring at him intensely, and Finan and Clapa still speaking in the background over the teasing body of Peter, Sihtric took the chance. Just as she had before.

And their lips met once again. His fingers digging into the curve of her jaw, trying to urge her closer but she couldn't be any closer unless they merged together. Sihtric would not protest. That way they could never part again.

Her warmth was something he'd imagined for the few years now. Her hand against his made it more than a want.

But Tova moved from him again, and sooner than Sihtric liked (he'd be glad if she never did, truth be told, and stayed with him forever — just them, and their son) as she pressed her forehead to his and breathed in.

His hands don't leave her face. His gaze wait to find hers as she takes a moment.

"I'm happy," She confesses then. Like her brother had done only minutes ago. And he's happy even more for her own happiness. "To find you, for you to meet him," She turns her head slightly to look toward Rorik, and he does the same.

The boy is now feet on the ground, but standing beside Peter, who is kneeling and the pair are watching Clapa laugh about something. Rorik must of saw she was busy and gone to Peter, leaving Uhtred by himself, though the Lord didn't seem to care much as he shook his head and ordered Clapa to take care of his words in Rorik's presence.

Sihtric nods, his thumb brushing underneath her cheekbone as he looks to her again. "He's perfect and healthy," He praises, "As his Mother is."

A laugh comes from her, "He wishes to be a warrior one day," She tells him, and his own amusement follows, "Much like his Father even in your absence."

The reminder of his absence deeply wounds him even though she's not meant it in such a way. Just that Rorik was more like him than she'd imagined he be given he'd not been raised underneath Sihtric's fatherhood as of yet. But now he would be.

Sihtric wasn't going anywhere.

( He had half a mind to tell his Lord Uhtred he would never take to spying for him again. Never to leave his home again, but to make it a home it had to be complete. )

"Marry me, Tova," Sihtric tilts her head to look back at him as she had been staring after Rorik. Her brows furrow together. "I wish for you to be my wife now and for us to be a family," He did not want for Rorik to be a bastard any longer when he needn't be, "To have a home together as we always wanted."

He hoped the shine in her eyes was a good sign.

But Rorik ran over, tugging at the bottom of her tunic. "I'm hungry, Mama," He tells her, "Peter is hungry!"

Patting Sihtric's shoulder, Tova gives him a smile before focusing on Rorik, lowering her head as she leaned forward to his level, "Should we cook some meat?" And his eager nod made her grin widen. "Go."

He did not need to be told twice, and Peter sent her a nod as he left with Rorik beside him to go grab their catch from where they'd hidden. Her arms crossed as she watched her son walk with her friend.

A hand on the back of her head startled her, one hand instinctively gripping the top of her dagger as she turned and saw Uhtred's soft smile.

( She was missing the sound of Thyra's giggles. The heavy but everlasting supportive hand of Ragnar on her shoulder. The way Brida would talk about their futures.

Neither of the girls had expected this outcome. )

"Where are they, Uhtred?" She wondered, not catching her thoughts leaving her mouth in time as desperation clung to her tone. He hears it the same way he'd heard Ragnar when their brother had asked the same thing. "Are they alive still?"

"You know Ragnar would not leave this world without finding you again," Uhtred reassured her, "Brida is with him. And Thyra. . ."

Her heart ached at the thought of her sister. Brida, too, but blood sung and though many had called Tova the sweetest, for she was a prettier daughter as the older women would praise, Tova had always thought that was her sister.

Thyra, who only wished to marry the boy she loved across the field. Who'd been excited to dance with Tova and braid her hair, who spent all her time with their Mother, and hoped for their children to grow together.

"Is alive." Uhtred finished. Her eyes narrowed at the way he'd hesitated as if delivering bad news. "What? She is alive and safe. Do not look at me like that."

She wanted to hug him again, so she did. At least, after all this time, there was still some familiarity to how Uhtred used to act during the later years of his growth with their family whole. She had missed his joking, even on the worst of moments.

His lips press against the side of her head. "She will be happy to see you," He mutters in her ear, "Perhaps you could offer her some joy."

Worry crept upon her as she leaned back, hands gripping his arms. "What do you mean by this?" She questions cautiously. "Is she not recovering?"

"The damage to her was great," Uhtred sighed in defeat, having failed to save his sister — his sisters — when that's all he'd wanted to do. One sister had lived a life of torture in a shorter amount of time and the other had raised a son from a fleeing same mirroring miserable fate.

What would his Father, Ragnar, think of him for this? Failing at his duty to his family. Uhtred couldn't imagine.

"I will help her," Tova nodded, shaking the bad images from her head. From what could have happened. "For now, we should go inside. The weather will take a turn on us."

She was right. Not long after, rainfall began and Rorik was bouncing with excitement as he stared out of the doorway longingly, head against the wood. The blanket she'd given to him sat beside him on the floor, unused.

The flames that lit underneath the stuck meat lingered just outside, protected by the hut cover over the front. Peter cracked his neck to the side as he walked over to Rorik, bending down to speak.

"Here," Peter wraps the blanket on top of the boy's body front, tugging the layer in at the sides to trap the warmth in. "Let's save ourselves the trouble of you becoming sick?" His fingers lightly tickle against Rorik's belly and he giggles. "Especially now."

Tova smiles, watching them. One leg pressed against her chest as she does so, an arm hanging over. Sihtric is beside her, half-eaten food in his hand as he curiously watches on. 

"Rorik enjoys his company," Sihtric is still unsure on the envy that lingers around his heart at that.

Finan was just behind Peter, but comfortably sat with his hands over his lap, having eaten his portion and more with Tova handing her leftovers to him. He kept laughing at whatever Clapa was muttering to him, and the occasional eye roll from Uhtred told Tova it was foolish talk.

"Peter is good with him," Tova says honestly, pushing the blonde of her hair behind her ear. "And Rorik has loved him since he was a babe. They have a good bond and Peter is a great friend to me. He is giving his life for us on a debt that I believe he already repaid from his own choosing."

That caught Sihtric's concern. A frown appeared as he turned his head against the wood behind him, "A debt?" He repeats, for the sound of those — and oaths — were not always good when it came to men wishing to repay back. "What is it that he did to you?"

Did to you? To me?

Tova believed her friend had done nothing but always remained good and kind and loyal, and all that she knew his parents had told of him to her.

"He believes he is repaying to me a debt that is not his own," Tova words better this time and some of the tension eases from the man beside her as Peter ruffles Rorik's curls and stands. "He is a good man, Sihtric. You will like him."

Envy aside, and the smallest amount of worry despite the reassuring, Sihtric believed her words. Peter seemed a good enough man and Rorik appreciated him plenty for a picture to be painted in his own mind.

( And perhaps they would get along and befriend one another, but Sihtric didn't entertain the thought for long. )

"I believe you," Sihtric states. The nod she gives him makes him smile. The way she doesn't question him still, even after the years. Even though they were no longer children sitting together amongst the wilderness.

Her hand rests on top of his without looking at him and he rests his head back. A fullness takes up the space in his chest. Sihtric hadn't thought about how much of a boy he'd feel again upon seeing her.

He wished for them to marry now with no wait about it. But. . . Sihtric's eyes turned to Uhtred, narrowing slightly as he thought it over. He knew he'd have to speak — ... ask, more correctly — with his Lord, who was her brother.

Better Uhtred than Ragnar, Sihtric thought. At least his Lord was his friend. Ragnar was Tova's brother only to him. The man had made that perfectly clear in Dunholm — screaming and angrily demanding where his sister was. Where and what had happened with Tova. It had taken Uhtred and Brida both taking to him before Sihtric explained it the best he could.

Ragnar was no friend of his, Sihtric believed. And half of him did not blame the fearless Dane who only wanted for his sister to be back with them safely. Alive. Not fleeing and alone with none at her side.

And, Sihtric thought that Ragnar discovering his sister had a son of her own, and Sihtric's son at that, would only make Ragnar dislike him more.

"Did it hurt terribly?" Sihtric could not help but wonder, remembering the time his Mother had spoke of her experience briefly. Just enough to tease him as a growing boy. When Tova seems confused, he adds, "Labouring him."

A muscle in her face twitches at the mention of her labouring and his shoulders immediately grow tense.

"What is it?" He could not help but to ask, leaning in like when they were children. Seeking any youthful familiarity that would draw her closer to him naturally.

She seemed to understand what he was doing, a small smile stretching her lips. Tova remembered those days well, sure she could never forget them. The days always ending with the sweet kiss of her Mother's lips against her brow.

"His labour was difficult," Tova confesses. Shame burned in her at the thought of her son being taken from her arms in her weakness moment. She'd done everything she could to make it up to him from that moment, even though he did not know. "But now is not the time to speak on it."

"We will speak on it later." Sihtric promises, not willing to let the conversation of his son's arrival fall into nothing. Even without the worry, he wished to know about the moment that the two had become three. "Before we are wed."

Leaning her head near the side of his, slowly itching closer like when she was a girl, Tova hummed. "You must speak to my brothers," She tells him, "In my Father's stead."

Better Uhtred than Ragnar.

"Yes, my Lady."

The same laugh that rang from her when they were children rang again. Rorik turned to them from where he sat, eyebrows shooting up as he stared for a moment. Like his Father stared at his Mother.

Finan leaned in toward Clapa, "Looks like his Father, don't he?" And Clapa nodded, so Finan continued, "Poor little fella."

"Finan," Uhtred warned, shaking his head. But he cracks a smile at Peter's quiet chuckle. He liked his sister's Christian friend. He had made some of his own and knew of their devotion and loyalty.

They watched as Rorik ripped the blanket from his legs and stood up, moving toward his Mother with a small frown on his face. And Uhtred knew their Mother would be proud at the way Tova smiled and gathered Rorik in her arms.

She was a good Mother. It had been Tova who had thought she wouldn't marry, or have children, for she was the youngest and her parents had wished for her to stay with them forever, and yet she bore a child before their two siblings.

"He will not share his Mother well," Peter quietly commented.

Uhtred did not disagree. Tova had been the same with Ragnar at times during their childhood.

When Uhtred looked again, Sihtric was staring at a sleeping Tova and Rorik, refusing sleep himself. He did not want to miss a beat, even taking long to blink. Uhtred sighed, "Sihtric," He called lowly, and his friend glimpsed to him quickly, "Get some rest."

Sihtric did not rest. Not the whole time the others did. Not even the slightest.

He could not pull his gaze away from what he never wished to lose again. His woman and their son.

— part two of the reunion is up! i apologise for any inaccuracy to words.

please (!!) tell me your thoughts on tova and her fic so far! it will really help. the update comments don't motivate me so much!