The memories of the night just past serve to strengthen Ragnarr’s resolve, casting it in ice and steel.
‘Join me,’ Lagertha had said, and tentatively, with his heart in his throat, Ragnarr had obliged, moved as always by the mighty soul of his warrior queen. Even after everything he’d done, still she did not turn him away, even though she had every right to. He’d let her down. But not this night. The scarred stallion folded his legs beneath him, settling in the sand beside Lagertha, his body offering warmth and support as he gently lipped at her damp mane, and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, closing her eyes and inhaling her comforting and deeply familiar scent. There was no-one else for him, there never had been. From the very beginning…
He stuck to Lagertha’s side as they swam through the sea, matching her pace, anxious to get her to the shore of the Lagoon safely. Though the weather was warming, the water was still cold, and this, combined with the exertion the swim would have on Lagertha’s body, filled him with concern. If anything happened to her, or her child, there would be hell to pay, and Ragnarr knew who he would call to collect from. Their destination is within their reach, just there, when Lagertha murmurs his name, and panic floods his heart.
“Just a little farther,” Ragnarr gulps a mouthful of saltwater as he cuts closer to her through the sea, hoping that his gentle encouragement is enough. He is torn as Lagertha stumbles ashore, fearful for her wellbeing (and the foal’s), and on edge about Raider’s presence. The Lagoon General had stubbornly refused to leave them on Atlantis, and now that they were on the doorstep of the Bachelors’ territory, the blue roan had no right to pester them further. If the bachelor lingered, Ragnarr would see him off.
But at the sound of Lagertha’s voice draws him back from the bloodthirst singing in his veins, and he rushes back to her side, just as her head flops weakly on the sand. Ragnarr drops to his knees, oblivious to the sting of sand against his skin. “Hush, ástvinur minn, I am here, and I know you can do this.” The minutes that pass are agony for Ragnarr, and he has never felt more useless in his life. He cannot even begin to comprehend how painful and difficult this is for the silver bay mare. As she strains and sobs, Ragnarr murmurs a song in her ears, a lullaby in their northern language that stirs up memories for the half-blind brute – it is one of the only memories he has of his mother.
A son. They have a son. But Ragnarr’s elation quickly turns to terror, as Lagertha fades. “No, no, Lagertha!” Ragnarr desperately nosed at her muzzle, and turned his face to scrutinise her barrel, numb with panic, but relieved to see that she was still breathing, albeit unevenly and shallow. Movement and sound from the colt serve to prevent him from sinking into despair, and the stallion reached for him and cleaned his face. There was little else a stallion could do for a newborn, and Ragnarr’s heart lay with the one he loved above all else.
“You are a shield maiden, with the heart of a warrior,” he whispers to her now, their native tongue shaping the words, heavy with the intensity of his emotions. “Do you remember what I promised you, on that mighty mountain where you waited for me?” Gently, gently, he rested his chin on her neck, breathing his words into her ivory ear. “My Radiant Queen… Even into the place beyond I will follow you.” The warrior’s heart within him had never felt so afraid. “But I am not ready to leave yet, and your son, he needs your fighting spirit.” Ragnarr feels it building in his chest, a crushing weight, an ache that would not leave him.
A sob broke the silence, and within moments, Ragnarr’s whole body was trembling, unable to hold his anguish in check. “Your fight is not over, Lagertha.” His breathing hitched, and he struggled to speak. “I need you.” Ragnarr closed his eyes, moaning in despair. He couldn’t… He couldn’t lose her. “I love you.”
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