King Ragnar Imagines

My Decision

What will you do about her?

The forms on his computer were full of areas to look at, but nothing was getting done. Pages of reports on heavy drug imports into the harbor, stacks of money from lines of prostitutes and even an few accounts on his loan sharks. Though as he sat behind his desk, his hands raked down the creasing between his brows to scratch through his wily beard. His hand drifts back up against his forehead.

"She isn't going to speak." His eldest of sons says. "She loves father."

At the other end of the room, his ex wife stands with her hands on a pair of dark slacks. Her eyebrows cock high on her forehead as Bjorn leans forward to her.

"How can you know?" She asks monotonously. Bjorn's arms fold one over another, legs slightly ajar as he reasons with his stance to defend her.

"She only left him because of his position. Not every woman can be the little wife." He says.

While it's true, he wishes it wasn't. The tiny little black box still haunts his desk. Rollo steps forward, his hands extending outwards.

"Lagertha is right. We should just kill her. (Y/N) is nothing more than another loose end to snip." Rollo scissors his fingers swiftly.

In most cases he might agree. He cut off more than one woman in his past, but he certainly didn't agree in this case. He launched himself out of the chair, gripping the collar of his brother's shirt as he shoved him back against the wall.

"In this family, I have the right in who lives or dies. I'm the king here, aren't I?" Ragnar snarls in Rollo's face. His fists roll in the collar of his shirt to shake him sharply. His brothers eyes are unwavering and defiant, keeping eye to eye with him. As if it were her or Bjorn's safety, he would always choose Bjorn and the rest of his family. Ragnar didn't think it was necessary to make that choice.

His forehead collides with Rollo's in an unapologetic slam of their heads together. Bjorn's jaw tenses tight like his mother when Ragnar pushes Rollo abruptly to the side.

"I am! I am the king and she was mine. She is mine. Is that clear?" He staggers to Lagertha and grasps her arm, ensuring that she too understands his stance. A power play of which Lagertha has no interest arguing over.

"If she brings any harm to our son, she is done." Lagertha breaks his hold and makes for the door while Bjorn looks between the two older males left in the room. Bjorn jams his hands into the pockets of his slacks while his father fetches his suit jacket.

"Father where are you going?" He asks.

His redundant question is answered by the seriousness in his father's eyes. He was going to go find her.