It had been two weeks of constant sex. Ragnar felt as if he was in a foreign world where this Queen was testing his masculinity. You challenged him in all fronts: drinking and sex being the lighter of their affections. It was worsened by his defeat and capture. To a certain extent one could blame him for the breeding of his men.
But of course– who of his men was blaming him for that?
"I want to make a deal with you, Queen (Y/N)." Ragnar asks turning on a pillow stuffed with the white feathers of a native bird. You turn on your hip towards him, the light of a fire warming your soft skin. The sweat of your body glistening under its hearth. Moments prior, he spent a session stuffing you with his cum.
"What is it Ragnar?" Your golden clad wrists slide as your hand strokes up his scarred torso.
"Fight me before we disembark tomorrow." He says, lurching over your body. His lips barely rub against your own, stroking the golden ring that cup one side of your lower lip.
"You are challenging me? I am the one releasing you." You whisper against his lips, pressing a haughty kiss to his lips. He could taste your pride for having defeated him once before.
"I want to take you back to Kattegat. To be mine." He challenges.
With his words, you doubt the sincerity of his words. Did he want to take you to be his for a conquest? Or did he truly enjoy you? You hoped he did. But as a Queen, you couldn't simply leave your people. In the same token, this was different. Your law deemed that as a Queen, you could not deny anyone claim against your dominance. Women, man or a beastly creature in between. You had no choice.
"Then... if you lose, I will keep you. Let Bjorn go in your place." You chide, letting your fingers graze past the light brunette hairs of his jawline.
"And if you lose?" He asks, grasping your slight hand in his own. His hand encompasses your own entirely.
"My daughter Simarys will take control of my women... and I will agree to be yours." You nod in one curt stroke. Ragnar concedes.
All night the Viking men prepared to leave the shores of your land. While you spent much of the night making love to Ragnar, the time came to prepare yourself for this hand to hand combat with him. Your daughter laced the leathers of your boots while you finished dressing.
"Are you sure you will win?" She says.
"No, but it is in the god's hands now." You glance over to a slight statue etched in gold. "And if I fail, I know that my daughter will reign fairly."
As you make your way outside, Ragnar stood alongside the shore. Early morning sun kissed the horizon. The air was light and misty on your cheeks, the wind slight. A perfect morning for a fight. You clasped a bangle on your wrist as you stood before him, several heads shorter than he.
"Are we to fight yet?" You say. "I'm eager to say my goodbyes, my love."
Ragnar glances up to the skies, one sole raven soaring through the skies. With a light snicker, he shakes his head. "I don't think we will be saying goodbye today." He snickers and paces back to pick up a mere axe.
Almost snarkily, he hands a shield to you. "Be safe." He whispers in your ear.
You snuff the shield, chucking it to the ground and opting for the a lightweight spear. Bjorn lifts up a hollow horn to sound the start of the fight.
Immediately after his first charge you knew was that your daughter was right. He looks strong. His blade soared high through the air in sharp cuts, before slamming down to the ground. He nearly takes your feet over with every swipe.
But it wasn't just that he was strong. When your blade twisted and flicked through the air to come down onto his shoulder, he would evade with a jerk of his upper torso one way than another. He bounces on the balls of his feet back, the heavy braids of his head the only flicker of a reminder that at one point– the pale man was once there.
"Come love." The words were behind you.
Ragnar flipped his axe around, butting you squarely in the back with his axe. The base made contact with your scapula, sending you back onto the cold earth with a sharp cry. Around you, your women screech in surprise for what was happening. Were you too cocky? You didn't think so.
Ragnar kept his distance while you roll and push yourself up. You take the lightweight spear up again, darting side to side. As quick as you were, Ragnar was careful to keep his distance, lest you spear him square in the shoulder. You certainly tried too, forcing your spear down into the earth beside him. A miss, but you used the spear as an anchor to whirl yourself around and kick him in the ribs. You both tumble on the ground, axe and spear abandoned, rolling with one another until Ragnar slams his forehead into yours.
Not just once or twice, but three times. Enough to throw you off balance and enough time for Ragnar to take up his axe. Enough for you to lose when your daughter fling herself in the middle of the fight.
"Mother!" She grasps Ragnar's wrist. Ragnar stills above you, his face softening. You lay in the worst of sorts underneath him, your hands wiping away pungent blood dripping down your nose. You lost.
In the corner of your eye, you caught the sight of Floki's less-than-soft giggling. Torstein and the others carried your things into the boat when Ragnar lent you his arm to stand. You sigh, winding your arm around his inner elbow.
"I suppose there is no goodbyes for you today."
A Queen always kept her word.
