Re: Sigvard's Hall: Lagertha/Ragnar
Not being on the receiving end of her anger gave Ragnar a chance to admire it, as one might when watching a fire about to consume one's enemies. Had the All-Mother chosen to arrive in the Hall now, he would have risked Frigga's wrath by naming Lagertha the more beautiful of the two.
He was silent as Sigvard spit drink-drenched words that lacked anything of wisdom or leadership. Instead, his gaze remained solely fixed upon, Lagertha, her blood staining his palm. There was no reasoning with the man, not when he was full of drink. Arguing with a horse's ass would have probably proved more productive.
And he did not startle when she moved so quickly to put the blade between Sigvard's ribs. The man was not an earl, not a husband, and he did not deserve to keep either title. "Finish him," Ragnar said quietly. Only the worst amongst them deserved a slow death and though he felt no mercy for the man before him, to show it and give him a quicker death would reflect more highly of her.
It was not a blow he could deliver, but he could give her something else. His bloodied hand slipped to his belt and removed the knife that he had taken from their home, the knife that was hers, that had been stained by use and sweat and now by her blood and held it out to her, the handle flat across his outstretched palm.
If she did not, if she chose to not, it would be a slow death while his lungs filled with blood and he choked on bloody spittle. Valhalla had already been denied to him and that remained was for her to show the woman she was and the Earl she would be to these people.