Ragnarr drank in her familiar scent ravenously, desiring very much to reacquaint himself with the strength that lined every part of Lagertha’s body. But he held fast. It was not his place to assume he had that right. True, this was hypocritical of him, for during his time running with Ivar, he’d not shown such control or courtesy to the countless mares whose paths Ragnarr and his band of brothers had crossed, but still in many ways, he was the lesser of evils among the horde. The smoky grullo beast certainly wasn’t without sin, and he’d never deny that he’d borne witness to many atrocities and turned a blind eye, choosing to do nothing when it was within his power to stop the madness. He’d nearly lost himself in the darkness of it all, and knew deep within himself that he would never be free of the cries that surfaced often in his dreams, nor would he ever be free from the beast that was caged within himself.
And still, Lagertha made her oath to him. It was far more than Ragnarr deserved, but he did not dishonour the solemn promise of the warrior maiden before him by voicing this aloud. Lagertha knew him, perhaps better than anyone ever would, and still she would be true to him. The enormity of this, the weight of this profound truth was almost too much for Ragnarr to bear, and the half-blind stallion dropped his head even lower, grinding his teeth as if in pain, as Lagertha continued, questioning his loyalty to her, as was her right. Patches of sweat began to appear along his pale neck, and his breathing stuttered unevenly. He stood silent and stiff for a few moments, chest rising and falling shallowly, while he waged war within himself.
Slowly Ragnarr reached out for Lagertha again, his eyes downcast as he struggled to control his breathing, and finally he answered her, his words rough and breathy, rasped quietly in their native tongue, meant only for the ears of the bardagaanda before him. “Urðr led me to this place, to you. I feel Verðandi breathing on my neck...” The scarred stallion trailed off, finally lifting his head, holding it only slightly lower than the mare’s. “I fear they are angry with me Lagertha, for I have denied their beloved Skuld for long enough. Perhaps they looked into my future, and saw how far I’d stray from you.” Ragnarr trailed off, the words catching in his throat as it tightened with emotion.
“Perhaps it was them all along. The sisters took my eye as punishment and warning both, to serve as a reminder to never lose sight of that which is most important to me,” the stallion turned his seeing eye away from Lagertha, revealing his blind side, and rendering himself completely vulnerable to her in that moment. Silence settled upon them, only for it to be ushered gently away by Ragnarr’s next words, whispered into the dawn air. “But Skuld, she is patient, longsuffering…” The stallion turned back to Lagertha, meeting her gaze once more. “She seems determined to have her way with me,” he mused quietly.
Ragnarr shifted his weight, taking a moment to behold Lagertha in the light, admiring the way the breeze seemed to flirt playfully with her think, silvery mane. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld, and it humbled him that even after everything, she gave him this time, this chance to prove his loyalty to her in return. “Ivar is here. He will find me sooner or later. But upon my very life, Lagertha, it is you and not Ivar, that I will follow hence.” The words he spoke now were weighted with sincerity, their earnestness pulling them like gravity into the very stone beneath their hooves. The Mountain would stand as an eternal witness of the pledge the stallion made to the mare. “Please. I beg your forgiveness, and I pray that you believe me now. I will fight against the Norn no longer, nor will I abandon you again.” And Ragnarr bowed before her again, this time on bended knee. “I will do whatever you ask of me, Lagertha. I am your Verndari for always, until death itself bears me away from you.”
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