The first time you met Ubbe, he was only Torvi’s newest companion, another Lothbrok son with kind eyes and an eager grin, polite even when nervous. You remembered thinking, At least she chose someone gentle this time. You had known Torvi for years, long before Kattegat changed hands a dozen times, long before she learned to fight or to lead. You’d held her while she cried for dead husbands, dead fathers, dead hopes. You were her constant, her shield and her friend.

So when she began smiling again because of Ubbe… When her laugh regained its brightness… You were happy for her. Genuinely. Fiercely.

Or so you told yourself.

The settlement in the west was quiet that morning, waves rolling lazily against the rocks. You helped Torvi carry baskets of fish while Ubbe organized supplies with the other settlers.

You shouldn’t have been watching him. But you were.

He brushed hair from his forehead, concentration narrowing his gaze, sunlight catching in the gold of his beard. When he laughed at something a hunter said, warmth flickered in your chest like a treacherous spark. You tore your attention away, guilt settling deep.

Torvi nudged you. “You look distracted,” she said. “Too little sleep?” You forced a smile. “Something like that.”

She hummed, satisfied, and moved on. You watched her walk away, this woman who trusted you more than anyone, as the guilt twisted and burned. Later that evening, while the settlement gathered around a fire, Ubbe sat beside you. Too close. Close enough that your arm brushed his whenever he shifted.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured, low enough that Torvi, laughing with the children across the fire, couldn’t hear.

You swallowed. “Just tired.” His blue eyes lingered on you, too knowing. “Are you sure?” A beat. “Have I done something?”

Your heart thudded painfully. “No,” you said too quickly. “You’ve done nothing.”

He didn’t look convinced. He rarely was when it came to you.