Re: Camp: Lagertha/Ragnar
"They are the tales of our gods," he said quietly as bird calls rang out. He went quiet again, the corner of his mouth working up and between his teeth as it did occasionally when he was chewing on his words. Did he tell her? The gods were in their stories, but he had spoken to Loki, spent a night with the All-mother. He had been in Jack and seen those places, had shifted between his skin and the other man's on the threshold of a door.
He broke his silence to say, "I do." Whatever the gods intended for them here, he was sure the gods were here and that they had intentions of their own. He pressed his mouth to her braids again, eyes on the fire. Did he tell her? "I have seen them," he finally said quietly to her. "I have seen the things you saw tonight before you came here. And I have spoken with the gods. I have seen the All-mother, here, as you are. We shared a fire together." Fire and talk, but nothing else. He had been too young.
He drew back slowly and nodded, mostly to himself. "It was fate that brought us here. It was the gods that took us both to that place and brought us back." His voice was low, but sure, filled with the belief that he was right. Loki had once asked him if he felt confined by his fate, by the knowledge that points in his life were preordained by beings and he had no control over them. It was the opposite, Ragnar felt free. He knew he would fulfill the role the gods needed of him and if he faced their decisions without fear, they would judge him worthy to sit in their halls when he died. And to be with them? To be so chosen? He would live as full a life in the halls of the gods as he did while he was here.