Much had gone unsaid between them, since that very first moment that Ragnarr had shown himself in the Lagoon, playing his part perhaps a little too well. He’d seen the flare of anger in Lagertha, and had turned aside from the despairing glimmer of betrayal. In time, he prayed she’d forgive him for this, but he did not know what else to do. How could he make her understand that he needed to be with her? That the only way he could keep his promise to her was to break it? There were far too many here for him to fight alone, and the scent of the wolf greatly unsettled him. If Ivar was indeed here… Ragnarr would not leave Lagertha to face his wrath alone.

As ever, Ragnarr remained a stoic warrior. His temper was fire, and his malice was ice. He kept close to Lagertha, but did his best to read her mood and determine when he should give her space. But always, always he kept her in sight, ensured that he was nearby if ever she needed his assistance. The Nordic male kept to the cunning promise he’d made Cullen, but it stirred intense frustration in him that the dominant stallion of this band of brothers was largely absent. At least, the half-blind brute had hardly seen the golden bachelor, and he’d been keenly vigilant in his assessment of the rogues who lived here.

Since Lagertha had asked him for a favour (which he had come around to agreeing to, albeit quite bashfully and awkward and very much lacking in his usual brusque manner), Ragnarr was even more diligent in his watch over her. It was out of instinct that he studied her form as he did all those he came across – forever assessing strengths, finding weaknesses, seeking to discern the body and how it moved and reacted, reading the story that any scarring told. But with the silver maned mare it went much deeper than just wanting to know the capabilities and possible shortcomings of one who could potentially be ally or enemy. Nothing mattered to him more than her.

And Ragnarr would never look at anyone the way he did Lagertha, nor would the presence of any other have such power over him.

Naturally, he had noticed the physical changes in her almost immediately, and, naturally, he grew ever more aggressive in his defense of her, though he was always quick to leave off at a single word or a meaningful glance from the sooty bay warrior woman. He understood her reasoning for wanting to bare his foal – it was a protection against the soft lowlander studs that roamed the Lagoon, nothing more. Whatever he felt for her burned within, and outwardly he remained cold, and aloof, playing the role he had assigned himself when he’d first approached Cullen. He did nothing to lead any to suspect that he and Lagertha had a shared history, and in the dark of night, he would listen to the raucous songs of the insects and wildlife that inhabited the Lagoon, and in secret, he plotted and planned.

He remained distant, closing parts of himself off from her, and struggling to keep control of the monster within him. The smoky grullo Icelandic was afraid of many things, but he could not bring himself to show these fears to the woman he loves, and so he showed her nothing. It was safer that way. Perhaps, in time, when they were in a better place, he would explain himself if she desired explanation, and he would humble himself before her as he had done on the mighty mountain to the north. On his knees he would beg, beg, beg for her forgiveness.

And even then, he’d be forever undeserving of her and all she was.

-----

The night Lagertha crept through the darkness, Ragnarr shadowed his warrior queen, prowling like the animal he kept caged inside him. He retreated into the deep shadows of the trees when a stallion stirred and took to following Lagertha’s path. It took all of the Icelandic warrior’s willpower not to charge into battle right then and there – the beast within with was jealous and possessive and it raged and thirsted, demanding blood. Ragnarr focused on keeping his breathing even and quiet, and after a minute or so had passed with no sign of the bachelor returning, nor anyone else prowling in the night, the stocky, scarred stallion silently tracked the two who had gone before him, leaving the Lagoon behind and not looking back.

Ragnarr almost lost his way in the endless darkness, and for a moment he feared that the inky waves of the boundless ocean would swallow him. In his heart, he cried out for guidance, and was caught up in a current and borne away.

He stumbled ashore, tired both physically and mentally. It had been a harrowing ordeal, perhaps rather more difficult for him because of the weight of his mane and tail, the build of his body, and the fact that he was half-blind and had panicked out there in the black void of the night. But a scent teased his nostrils, and a voice carried on the wind stirred his fighting spirit. The scent was Lagertha’s and the voice was Björn’s. This male had once been as a brother to Ragnarr, before he had left them all behind. A surge of anger, a wave of hurt, and the flicker of loyalty that still burned in his warrior heart for the Bear.

If not for the presence of the outsider who release the piercing call - the lowlander who was not cut from the same cloth as the rest of them and foolishly thought he’d stand a chance - things may have turned out differently.

“You,” Ragnarr snorted as he strode confidently up the beach, slowing as he approached the group, and coming to stand close to the bachelor, the stink of the Lagoon clinging to the hides of all of them except Björn. His gaze was fixed on the splashed white mare – it had been she he had called out to. “Did you not think I would follow you?” Though his words were cold, he desperately hoped Lagertha would sense his hidden meaning. I will be true to you. Trust me. Trust me. The smoky grullo almost trembled with the effort it took to ignore Björn, and prayed that the other male wouldn’t give him away. At the roan’s words, Ragnarr turned and weakly twitched an ear beneath his heavy, soaked mane, his words guttural and heavily accented as he stumbled over his speaking in the common tongue.

“Think she does not know herself well, that you would dare to define her limits?” He chuckled darkly, but his expression was menacing. Unlike the bachelor herds of the Northern lands from where the Icelandic trio had come, the bachelor herd on these islands was varied and haphazard in its organisation. Any brute was accepted, and little was required. Though Ragnarr had not associated much with any who currently lived in the Lagoon, if any had gotten to know him, they would realise that he was a dark and dangerous creature, a true warrior, and it was wise to be wary of him, half-blind as he was. The scars that littered his hide were testament that he was a true survivor.

“It is you who would be foolish to make her leave now.” Ragnarr shifted his position, stepping closer to Lagertha. “Even you would struggle to make the return trip without rest. The water is like ice. Do you not realise it is winter? If you force her to go back into the sea, you risk the life of the child she carries.” Ragnarr pinned his ears and tossed his muzzle, blind eye hidden by his long, tangled forelock. “It is my child, and I will not risk losing either of them. She stays here, until the weather turns, and then you can come and take her.” A hoof struck at the sand and sent up a spray.

“She was reckless, but what’s done is done. Go, now. Go back to Cullen, tell him whatever you like. I will make sure nothing happens to her, and that the foal is safe too. You tell him that I stood against you, and he can come here, and I will tell him that I spared the Lagoon from losses you would have caused.” Ragnarr paused, fixing his good eye upon the bachelor’s face. A final warning. Surely the bachelor would understand, if he had any sense. After all, he had the scent of a mare upon him – would he not act in the best interest of the one important to him, if he deemed she was in danger? “Go. Now. Before the water turns any colder. I will wait here, and will watch for your return when it is safe and sensible for her to leave.”

Ragnarr stood resolute and immovable. There was no way a return journey would be safe for Lagertha, especially without first resting. The chill of winter was only just beginning to abate, and it was illogical, in the Icelandic stallion’s mind that he, nor any other male, would force a pregnant mare into such bad conditions, especially as they could never even begin to comprehend the effort such a journey would make, nor understand the pain, discomfort and exhaustion it would cause.

The smoky grullo did not look to either Lagertha or Björn, but hoped they would trust him, even though the shield maiden had no reason to do so, given how distant and seemingly unreliable he’d been these past months. Instinctively he knew that this bachelor wouldn’t go easily – if this plan to keep Lagertha safe, and to ensure that her child survived, to buy them both some time, he would need their help to convince the blue roan mustang to leave them in peace. At least until the weather turned warmer.