It is not an easy habit to break. I will attempt it, but I never asked to be compared. It was others that began it. But you speak the truth, Great Lady, and I realise that my way forward has been clouded.
I will do as you say and make my own path, away from Ragnar. We are a great force, but he has made it clear he will be great with or without me, and I do not require him nor his aid in my destiny.
There will be a sacrifice in your honour, Lady Freya, and every battle I win hereafter I dedicate to you.
Trust in yourself, and your strength. Know in your heart that you are the fiercest of warriors and men. Remember and strive to do this, and your path will become more clear for you.
Brothers will always be in each others lives, but it does not mean you can not have a life of your own. He loves you, unconditionally, and you him. Trust that while that love binds you, it also strengthens your ability to forge your own destiny while he continues on his own path. There for each other, but not in each others way.
You flatter me greatly, Rollo. And I look forward to the many, many battles you have to win ahead of you.
The affection between us died many years ago, Lady. His path changed him and it changed me, I do not know if he can forgive, truly, what was done. If our paths separate us, then that may be for the best. I can not swear an oath to him and not doubt it, or have it doubted.
But if that is in our future, I will accept that. I would rather be parted than see him dead, although there have been times that is all I wanted.
I can not believe that a man can flatter a goddess, no matter how hard he tries. But I thank you, Freya. Your guidance is worth more than any treasure.
Sometimes time apart will do family some good. It lets wounds heal, and allows for some reflection. But I wouldn't discount the strength of the blood that binds you both either.
And there have been times you said you wanted his death and yet were unable to see that want through despite the opportunity. Much as he angers you so, I don't think you'd want him forever gone from your life, no matter the thoughts of want that float to the surface.
You would be surprised. When words are true, and offerings are made from the heart, it flatters even an old goddess such as myself. I am happy to give you my guidance as it is needed. And know you are more than welcome to call on me, even if it's for help understanding Odin. His tough love can be a little like chewing on rocks, good intentioned or not.
[She might be the only one in the world save Loki to be able to say such about Odin and get away with it.]
My lady, if my brother was Freyr, I do not believe I would have so many problems. I know there is truth in what you say, but equally you did not grow up with Ragnar.
We have so often gone to battle and believed we would only meet again in Odin's Hall. I have wanted him dead and I have promised to deliver the blow myself, to do it? That is another matter. I am not as brave or as foolhardy to do that. Lagertha would have my heart and balls if I did.
Lady Freya, you should not call yourself old. The gods cannot be old, any more so than the rain is old or the sea is old. You are timeless and mighty and without age. Your beauty is unfading and your wit unmatched. I say nothing on Lord Odin, he has blessed my brother and my father before him. It would be unwise to lead him to think we were not grateful.
[ This is Rollo using his brain, a rare occurrence that should be recorded in song.]
I did not, no, all I can speak of is what I've seen. But I do trust in the binding that being family brings, even through tough times.
Sometimes, living with those we want dead occasionally is brave as well. And does show a different kind of strength. And to be fair, I've seen Lagertha as well and she would put fear into even Thor and Odin for crossing her at her angriest. She is a strong warrioress in her own right as well.
Many thanks for your kind words, Rollo. And even if you do not see it, there are blessings from him for you as well. Hopefully you will see it in time.
[It's also Rollo proving her point, to an end. That he has it in him to be better, do better, and find his own way.]
[ooc: I'm happy to do almost anything. I'm only in season two of Vikings, but I'm slowly binging my way through it. Heh. And Freya is definitely up for anything Rollo would want to do with her. ]
[ Oh You are in for so much heart break. I still have to catch up on the current season but I honestly thought you had seen all of it!
Hmmm maybe we could do some stuff with them actually meeting? Rollo can get very badly injured and she can come save him. Or she can give him a vision or whatnot? ]
[Oh noes! Heartbreak is always hard to watch. Especially after you're so invested in the characters. I poked the wiki to learn a few things and give me some heads up on a couple things though.
I'd love to have them meet. And she'd definitely save him from a life ending injury. Especially after this chat, she'd be keeping a closer eye on him.]
She's such an amazing bad ass. And she knows how to stay her hand when things require patience over violence. Such a well written character and beautifully acted.
She really really is and honestly I get so annoyed that she gets pushed out and I KNOW THEY ARE FOLLOWING THE ACTUAL SAGA but I still think it sucks. And Ragnar is a dumbarse. But the actress is just amazing.
And I'm sorry for the caps lock but Lagertha is just... she is just peak awesome.
Rollo wakes with a jarring cough, a metallic tang on his tongue and pain as sharp as Thor's lightning down his back. He can smell death and smoke, and nearby is the caw of crows, but all he can see above him his darkness. Whether it is night or he has lost his sight he doesn't know. He could be in a Hall, he supposes, one dark like a grave.
He shudders and tries to get up but the pain comes again and his breathing quickens. He does not try again, not until his breathing slows and his heart stops pounding against sore ribs.
Instead, he tries to remember what happened. That isn't an easy thing to do. A Berserker normally has little recollection of a battle, unless an opponent was especially memorable: a famous warrior or simply difficult to kill. He can recall none of it. He isn't sure who they were fighting, or where. Who was he fighting for?
He can answer none of his own questions, but they aren't his primary concern at the moment. He must get up, and he must go. He just needs to find his weapons, in case more enemies still linger.
The soft sound of light footfalls will come as he's considering getting up again, thinking that he must go. The caws sound a little angry for a moment, the crows not liking being told to shoo and not do their job for their master. But there's a soft shushing sound as Freya waves her hands to dismiss them from this particular Viking. "This one is not yours yet, now go." The command is stern, a mother talking to children who want to open a present before they're allowed, and the crows bid her command and fly to any others they are taking with them this day.
"You have much more life left to live, my Viking," she murmurs softly as she kneels next to Rollo and her fingers brush along his brow and down the side of his face. The touch is warm, and she pushes that warmth, that magic through him, to his veins to travel to where it needs to be in order to heal his wounds and clear his mind some.
Blood stops spilling into the dirt, and muscle and skin knit themselves back together slowly. It may be painful at first, but she can only sooth or heal when the wounds are this grave. Battle is not where people think to find her, truthfully she rarely pays it mind. Shield-maidens bid her favor when they're feeling done with the field for a while and wish for children, men beg her for their wives to be granted her blessing, but battlefields rarely need that kind of blessing. But she's been paying more attention since their conversation, and something tugged in her when he'd been wounded so. It pulled her here, kneeling beside him with a soft hum from her throat as she wove her magic. "I would sit slowly when you can, you are not yet ready to do more than rest."
The battle coming to a close, the sounds of fighting few and far between, and no where near them. What he won't know just yet is that no one but he can see her either. But that'd only be important if someone were to come closer to Rollo and for now at least they are quite alone.
He hears the steps approaching, but in his present state he can't do much to defend himself, he can't even work out if the steps come from another warrior here to finish off the dying, or a Valkyrie come to take him away. He hopes it's the former, he does not want to spend eternity with the unbelievable pain in his back and side. If he's not yet dead, then any warrior that finishes the job has his thanks, and Rollo will greet him as a friend when they do get to meet again. But no. He's not dead. Dying, perhaps, but as another cough shakes him to his core, she's sure he can hear a voice.
Not speaking to him. A woman, or a boy too young to be on a battlefield. He's not sure, but the cawing fades, and for a moment there is peace, nothing but a breeze that carries the noise of battle towards him. But that too is distant. Not from Odin's Hall, where men fight all day and feast all night. He is sure there would not be the stench of death there. That gives him hope. He had not yet fulfilled any destiny, any substantial destiny, and to die before his time would be a dishonour to Freya who had told him so much.
And then, as if thinking of his strange vision of her, he hears her again. Her voice is as gentle as a mother's, tender and full of kindness. He remembers nothing of his own mother, only Ragnar's, who raised them both and never treated Rollo as if he was anything other than her own. But this is not her, this is someone even more impossible. This is Freya, he knows that even if all he can see is the golden glow of her.
He feels the touch of her fingers against his bloodied skin. It feels warm, not enough to burn, but enough for it to suddenly make the rest of him feel cold, much colder than it had before. But slowly, that heat radiates, and his breathing becomes less of a rattle, slower, deeper. The fog lifts, the dark film over his eyes clears away and he sees her. Golden like the morning sun, as pure and beautiful as any woman he has ever seen.
"Lady Freya-" He begins, and then the pain of wounds healing cuts off what he might have said and instead he roars like a wounded beast. The rent in his side, wide and gapping from a sword's slice, begins to close of it's own accord and it is the worst pain he has experienced. It is nothing like the draw of the knife across his face, it is raw somehow, blunt as sinew and muscle knot together, as veins heal. He is panting again by the end of it, his knuckles white from grasping the bloody dirt and holding on as tight as he can.
"How can you be here?" He gasps out, once more in some more of control, but not yet able to sit up.
If she could take the pain of the healing away, she would. But some things come with a price. And she can't skirt the price of bringing him back from the edge of death, from nearly being taken to Odin's Hall. She's well aware that Odin will have some choice words for her, interfering with things, but in this she's standing firm. Rollo has a brighter destiny, one that will still lead him to Odin's Hall when it is the proper time. But she knows in her being that this is not Rollo's time, he still has too much life ahead of him, too much the world still has to offer him.
Besides, if Odin can be so heavy handed in Ragnar's life, well, Rollo deserved someone by his side as well. It shouldn't be right for Odin to play such favorites between the brothers, fueling the jealousy and feud between them. Rollo deserves some happiness in his own right, and Freya wants to help him find it as she can. And that starts with him staying alive to do so.
Fingers light down his neck, his arm, to his hand to take one of his in hers. She pays no mind to the dirt and blood that lingers on his skin. Her golden hair is half loose, half braided intricately with silver thread around her face, but her clothes are leather and fur instead of fine silks that one might expect to find her in. It is a battlefield, and she looks the part save for the part where she's a goddess and not a shield-maiden. "Quite easily when I am needed, my dear Viking."
She offers him a smile for his question, waiting patiently as he gets his barrings back, as his body settles from the healing. Her free arm, the one not holding onto him, rests an elbow on her knee and she settles her chin in her hand as sharp eyes watch him. The contact she keeps on him is both to try and comfort him but also make sure that he's healed fully, magic ebbing and searching for any minor wounds that might need healing as well now that the main damage is closed. And while everything healed fast, because it's a magical healing, it will be a nearly impossible to see scar of the would be death blow. Barely a pucker of skin to show for the pain of death and health. "You are far from done with your life, and I did promise you a good one in your own right, did I not? Odin can wait many more years before he claims you." There's a small weight to those words, something that says she might be claiming him in the mean time. The favor of a goddess, so attentive is a rare thing. Even Odin would not stay a killing wound to Ragnar to keep him battling.
Rollo can manage pain. He has known pain on every battlefield and every raid he has ever been on, ever since he took his arm-ring and swore an oath to the Earl of Kattegat. He has scars aplenty, even though he will not carry this scar, there are smaller ones, older ones, ones that he will always have, ones that mark the death of friends or great enemies of Kattegat or his family. He is proud of them, like he is proud of the intricate ink that adorns his chest and shoulders, the ink that will fade with the winter snows and be drawn anew with fresh needles at the eve of the next battle.
He will later regret not bearing a scar to prove his place in the battle, or to prove her healing touch. But while Odin likes to make his part in this stories known, Freya is a far less demonstrative god.
The caress across his skin is light, like the kiss of the sun or the soft brush of a feather. His mind, now his own again, attempts to record every detail of her, the gold of her hair next to the silver thread, the shape of her lips like a hunter's bow, the fondness in her eyes. Not the fondness of a mother, he thinks. Something else. And do those words carry more of a promise of protection? He does not know, but to ask any more is more than he dares. She has given him back a future, if he offends then she may take it away again.
"I think I may be better suited to Sessrúmnir and not Valhalla," He says, a little more himself as, with only a faint noise of pain, he sits up, out of the mud and the gore and breathes more freely. To be chosen for Freya's Hall rather than Odin's is an honour, even if most warriors only sing of Valhalla. Either would suit him, but not today.
Now he sits, he can look at her better, still a little awed at her. Ragnar has only ever seen glimpses of Odin, seem him at a distance or walking away, or seen his Ravens. Never, to his knowledge, have one of their people been so close to one of the Gods. Rollo is a tall man, solid, although by far not the tallest Norseman. He is much larger than her, and yet she seems so imposing, so powerful that Earls and Kings should dare not oppose her.
Freya has a more subtle touch than Odin tends to have, she likes moving in the background of things and letting people come to her verses proving their need to come to her. Though if a mark truly meant that much to him, she could find a way of leaving one, of giving him a marker of both the battle and her magic and attention to him on the field.
Though, the fact that she's here by his side and wanting to keep him safe is better than any mark or proof of her help. But she also knows men, and their need to prove things to each other. So she could see the want too.
Her fondness is more than a mother, and much different. While she does want to protect him, see him happy, it is not in the kind a mother would want for a child. How exactly, well, that's to be learned, and to be seen as she watches over him. She doesn't take a fondness like this often, and usually only one or two at a time if at all. He has her fondness, her attention, and yes her protection. Though part of her is glad he doesn't think to ask about it. He trusts what she grants him, and she likes that.
"When that time comes, you will have your choice of both, I think." He is a fierce warrior, and Odin would have claimed him for Valhalla if she had not interfered. He won't give up his claim so easily, but with her favor she'll offer him the choice. How he'll choose at that time will be solely on him and neither of the Gods will frown or be jealous when he chooses. But the time for choosing is far from now, she'll make sure to see to that. "When you are far older, and grayer, and ready," she confirms.
The lit to her lips slip up a bit as she stands and watches him get up slowly. "Be mindful, you lost a fair amount of blood, and you might feel a tad light headed until you eat and drink." She doesn't slip far from him, her fingers light on his skin still to make sure he's secure on his feet.
She could come with him, back to the raiding camp. Though she'd be torn between making sure only Rollo could see her or dulling herself in a glamour to feel and look a little less goddess/powerful and a little more regular beautiful woman. She doesn't have a camp to bring him food at, after all. Sooner or later though, someone will come looking for him because only one or two saw him take a blow but not how bad it had been, of that she knew.
Strangely enough, Rollo has always been ready to trust the women folk around him. He shouldn't, Lagertha is twice as smart as her husband, twice and cunning, and yet Rollo has never once questioned her motives towards him, or suspected her of anything. Same for Siggy, and the shieldmaidens. It is only the other men Rollo suspects, and sometimes with good reason. But who is he to question a goddess and her motives? He accepts her at her word, that she wishes to see him fulfil his fate, to achieve what the Gods wish for him.
He does stand, with her words in his mind older and greyer and ready. Well, so be it then. As long as he does not grow to be too old, too old to hold a sword and fight, too old to miss the men he fought with and for a short while has thought of as friends. But before he meets them he does want to have tales to tell, and she is offering him the chance to have such tales. "But still honourably? With a sword in my hand?" He asks, if only because he must be certain of that.
Standing, unfortunately, is not as easy as he would wish it to be. But he does not want to stay on the ground like a corpse, despite how pretty the view of her is. He has, before now, always found himself drawn to dark haired women, dark like the winter sea but warm as a fire in bed. Perhaps he should find himself a golden-haired beauty, a woman to stroke across his cheek and look at him so fondly. There must be one he can find, even if there is no mortal woman that can match a goddess' charms. But if he can find one inclined to cats, perhaps the goddess will be amused and favour him with some children.
He does manage to steady himself, to stand with a straight back. It doesn't turn, although he does feel a little like he's drunk on bad mead. But he feels her touch still on his bare arm, and it seems to guide his steps, to take him away from the battlefield and to the camp in the forest. There aren't many there- the few women that came with them, a few men injured too greatly in the last fight, some to guard the treasures they have stolen. Rollo does not want to stay there, to answer questions about why he is back before the rest, although he is covered head to toe in mud and blood.
No one questions the woman with him, and in truth he is not sure they notice her. She is a goddess, she is not seen unless she wishes to be. But he takes a skin of beer and some bread and he continues through the camp, towards the edge of the river, and there begins to unfasten his belts so he can get in the water and wash the gore off his skin. And then stops, frozen, and looks to her, uncertain if this is disrespectful.
It's a small flaw, because other women can and do tend to be up to things. But in this case, with Freya at least, he has nothing to worry about. Her motives are to see him live a long, prosperous life, and she's focused on his needs. There's no real scheming to her in this.
She knows the importance, to die in battle, honorably and after a long, hard fight of his best. She stretches just a little so her hand can rest briefly against his cheek at the question and she nods though her head is tilted to look up at him. "I promise, you will still have an honorable death, sword in hand, in battle. I will not interfere when it is your time." There's a serious look in her eyes, she means it.
Shifting her weight, she moves in time with him. There's no pull or push to get him to move or start walking, she merely counters his moves so she stays constantly at his side, fluid and almost like a dance. Freya wants to see him happy, and when he does find himself a women to settle down with, she will bless his wife's belly with as many children as he wishes. As for who, she might later send a few women down his path, love is also her domain, after all.
Her touch never waivers and it's still warm where it rests on his skin, still offering him support to see him safely home. She's silent as she walks by his side, chosen to stay unseen to those in the camp, which would be why none question her with him. Most don't seem to bother him much either as he takes what he wants of the food and moves to the river, though with how he looks most assume the battle is over enough and the rest of the party will be back. Which is true enough. If she glances over her shoulder she can see the rest finishing the raid, packing up their spoils to come back.
When they're at the edge of the river she'll shift to sit down in the grass as her head tilts to watch him unfasten his belts. There's the softest quirk of her lips when he stops and her brow arches ever so slightly. "Is there something wrong, Rollo?" She doesn't find it disrespectful in the slightest, if her tone and question is any indication. He is a strong, handsome man, and truthfully, she'll enjoy the view as he washes himself off. "Did you need help?" Now she may just be teasing, though the challenge in the air may be to take her up on her offer.
Frankly, even if she was plotting something, something against another god using him as a pawn, is there anything he can do about it? They can change their fates, that's true enough but she has shown him nothing but kindness. Even if all this does upset Odin, Rollo can remember a half-dozen tales where the goddesses have outsmarted and outmanoeuvred their menfolk. If he is to be part of it, it is not such a terrible way to be remembered: as a champion of Lady Freya.
He can't resist a smile at the promise, or the touch to his cheek. He could get used to that, if it did not require his near death in battle each time. But the promise, that is a good one, one he accepts. Battle may not be her real focus, but there are plenty of people who invoke her before a fight, and as she is here, when Odin is not, he is sure he can trust her. He will not die in a bed too old to fight, he will not die before the fate she has in mind for him is seen through. What more can a man ask for, "Thank you, my Lady."
At the river, it is not so much a requirement for help: her healing as done everything to banish the pain, the scar, everything but wash the mix of his own blood and that of other's from his skin. Neither is he ashamed to be naked, although never in the known presence of a goddess. He's bathed with Lagertha, although she remained mostly clothed, as was fitting for the wife of his brother, and Siggy... well. That was different.
"Any more than you have provided or promised already? No." He laughs, and then drops the belts close to where she sits, need the skin and the bread. Then his shoes are kicked off, and the trousers pulled off, and he sinks gratefully into the water. "I was only going to invite you to join me."
Truly there would not be much he could do, no. When the gods play against each other, men stand very little chance save to accept the ride they are on and continue moving as they are willed to. As for outsmarting and out maneuvering the menfolk, well, Freya would merely say that's because sometimes men think far too much with their ax and less with their brain unless given a reason to. She is glad, though, that Rollo is more than willing to be remembered as her champion. It delights her.
She would not do that to someone for whom battle is so important. Battles are important, as is the honor that comes with them. He will carry honor for surviving this battle, along with the spoils that it will bring that he'll share in. And there will be many more. And while her hand may itch to save him that last time, she's strong willed enough to let it see true and give him the death he needs. Besides, Freya can walk between halls to see him no matter where he decides to be for eternity.
As his trousers are left in the grass next to her, Freya's head tilts to watch him with a smile. Bright eyes enjoy the sight of him as the water slowly hides him from view. He has every right to be proud, the words aren't said aloud but they may show in her eyes. And Freya is neither Lagertha or Siggy. She pushes up from the grass with a soft hum at the invitation. "I'd reconsider that when you have that one spot just mid back that you won't be able to reach," she teases softly.
Quick work is made of the leather tunic and it's strings and straps before it's falling into the grass next to his trousers. Soon enough her own trousers and boots join everything and she slips slowly into the water with him. It's slow enough to let him get a long look at her bare should he want to, done on purpose to let him. "But I would like to join you, yes," she finishes as she stills her feet near him. Her hand skims the surface of the water between them idly, enjoying water as it laps at skin. "It's not everyday that someone invites me to join." Most don't think to. While the gods may travel as they wish, and do as they wish, it's nice to be invited instead of just assumed they'll do things if they grant favor. If one were to think about it, they're prayed to for blessings, made offerings to appease those blessings or their wrath, but fair few invite in such a simple manner.
Rollo isn't ashamed of himself, nor would he be concerned if this woman was simply that, a woman. While he should be respectful, while he knows that according to all the stories, the goddess of love is married, she does seem to be putting on a show. And as she removes her clothes, he watches, letting the flow of the river wash against him, slowly moving into slightly deeper water. Why should he look away, after all, when so few mortal men have ever been allowed to see such beauty? She is almost unimaginably so: her skin has a golden glow, as if a thousand stars shine beneath, her limbs are elegant and graceful, and everything about her form seems to him perfect.
As she comes to the edge of the water, bare feet slipping beneath the mirrored surface, he can not help but come towards her, rational thought lost somewhat in the spell of her beauty and his growing enchantment. She almost certainly does not mean to have this impact, but it is her nature to do so, and it is in his nature to desire, especially what he can not or should not have.
But he can not help himself, and as she comes closer he reaches out to touch the hand skimming the surface of the water. He could say something about the offer to wash his back, make a joke out of her needing an invitation, but all of that seems unnecessary when he stands here with her, with the water swirling around them and distantly, around the curve in the river, the noise of celebration from the camp as the victorious Norsemen return. There doesn't seem to be any need to speak at all, to say anything, when she is so close now he can lean in and press his lips to hers.
She might strike him down now. She could, he supposes, stop his heart or have the water tug him away and drown him, but he doesn't think she will. Even if she does, it would be worth it, to die kissing the goddess of love and beauty.
She may be married, but neither Odin or Freya consign themselves to an eternity of jealousy. Especially not when love, desire, and fertility are her domain. She has an understanding with her husband, and both are free to bed mortals as they wish. Other gods, it tends to get more complicated sometimes and discussions need to be had on limits and things because they have such a longer life. But her interest in Rollo won't draw any anger from another god toward him. Of that, she can promise.
The way he watches her, moves toward her as if enchanted, it pushes her heart to beat a little faster. She isn't doing anything special, other than being a goddess in her own right, but she can't help but enjoy the effect on him all the same. That raw edge in his eyes, in the way he moves, it's as powerful as her natural beauty. She was most definitely not lying when she had told him he was a handsome, powerful man and she can see all that power now.
There's no smiting, no water tugging him under. Her fingers thread through his on the hand that's touching the water's surface as she pushes up on her toes a little to meet him for that kiss as her free hand slides over his cheek gently before it tugs his beard to lower him a little. He is taller than her, and something in her is hoping he'll like that tug to let her reach him just a tad easier.
She doesn't even care that there's a hint of copper on his lips, most likely someone else's blood that had sprayed against him at the time of their death, she stretches as she can some to deepen the kiss. They don't need words right now, and the celebration will be going on most of the night so it's not like he's needed at the moment. All the noise, coupled with the soft churn of the river does is add a soft background to everything they're doing.
Rollo has a couple choices - bend lower for her or lift her up to give her better access. She'll be happy with either, truthfully.
This wasn't her original plan when she'd come to heal him, ending up in a river, bare with him. But she can't say she's in anyway disapproving of how their time is going right now either.
The insistent tug at his beard sends a little shiver through him. Most women, even women who have spent time as shield maidens, aren't rough with him. They tend to go soft and pliant, but he likes this. He likes the edge of fierceness in her, the way she doesn't care for the blood still staining his face, the fact she presses herself up to him for more of that kiss. It's impossible to forget she's a goddess, and simply fall into the moment with possibly the most beautiful woman he's ever seen: there are too many little reminders that set her out as different.
That does not stop his arms from coiling around her, his hands smoothing down her sides and then around her back, lifting her so that he no longer has to bend. He isn't sure what he expected holding a god like this to feel like, but again, nothing strikes him down. Her divinity does not make it difficult to hold her or his arms ache, and that's welcome. If only because holding her against him like this brings her flush against him, her breasts against his chest and her hips aligned with him.
Rollo should know better. She's a goddess, one who has offered him more favour than any other person in his life, she has saved him from death to ensure he has a chance to fulfil the destiny she has told him about. He should be more respectful. He should not kiss her like this, he should not feel his body throb hungrily for her. Nor should he so desperately enjoy this, the way her nails catch against his skin, the power of her so much stronger than his own. But he does like it, all of it.
And would it be so bad, part of him thinks, to be remembered in legend as one of Freya's mortal lovers?
She’s not sure why women aren’t rough with him, he’s a strong, strapping man and she’s well aware that he can take it. Freya likes him this way, rough and raw, and she’s happy to show that like as well. In a lot of ways, she’ll always be a goddess, but in some ways she’s very much just a woman at the same time. There are wants and desires just like everyone else, and the feel of him against her mouth, against her body, fans those desires deep inside her.
Legs slide along his hips as he lifts her up, settling around his skin to help hold herself up too. Though she has a feeling he could hold her that way for a while. One hand threads through his hair, nails sharp against skin without breaking it along his scalp as she gives a happy sound into the kiss even as she deepens it. There’s the softest tug of teeth against his lower lip, almost a question of if he wants a little hungrier, a little rougher than the current kiss they have. In this way, she is a goddess and he doesn’t have to be careful with her, she’d almost prefer if he wasn’t.
In some ways, Freya would argue that he’s showing her as much respect as he can. To know that his body throbs with hunger for her, that he finds her pleasurable even from just being flushed against each other and tangled in a kiss. This is everything she watches over, but narrowed down to just their pleasure. If he wants to stop, she will, but this far into the kiss, wrapped around him as she is, she’s hoping that he won’t want to stop, that he wants to continue, to see this through. There would be no hard feelings should he want to stop, no resentment.
Warrior, Lover, Favored by the Gods. Rollo probably couldn’t ask for more. Could he?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
For ofold (TFLN continuation)
Date: 2018-12-29 07:23 pm (UTC)It is not an easy habit to break. I will attempt it, but I never asked to be compared. It was others that began it. But you speak the truth, Great Lady, and I realise that my way forward has been clouded.
I will do as you say and make my own path, away from Ragnar. We are a great force, but he has made it clear he will be great with or without me, and I do not require him nor his aid in my destiny.
There will be a sacrifice in your honour, Lady Freya, and every battle I win hereafter I dedicate to you.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 07:33 pm (UTC)Brothers will always be in each others lives, but it does not mean you can not have a life of your own. He loves you, unconditionally, and you him. Trust that while that love binds you, it also strengthens your ability to forge your own destiny while he continues on his own path. There for each other, but not in each others way.
You flatter me greatly, Rollo. And I look forward to the many, many battles you have to win ahead of you.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 08:04 pm (UTC)But if that is in our future, I will accept that. I would rather be parted than see him dead, although there have been times that is all I wanted.
I can not believe that a man can flatter a goddess, no matter how hard he tries. But I thank you, Freya. Your guidance is worth more than any treasure.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 09:10 pm (UTC)And there have been times you said you wanted his death and yet were unable to see that want through despite the opportunity. Much as he angers you so, I don't think you'd want him forever gone from your life, no matter the thoughts of want that float to the surface.
You would be surprised. When words are true, and offerings are made from the heart, it flatters even an old goddess such as myself. I am happy to give you my guidance as it is needed. And know you are more than welcome to call on me, even if it's for help understanding Odin. His tough love can be a little like chewing on rocks, good intentioned or not.
[She might be the only one in the world save Loki to be able to say such about Odin and get away with it.]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 10:33 pm (UTC)We have so often gone to battle and believed we would only meet again in Odin's Hall. I have wanted him dead and I have promised to deliver the blow myself, to do it? That is another matter. I am not as brave or as foolhardy to do that. Lagertha would have my heart and balls if I did.
Lady Freya, you should not call yourself old. The gods cannot be old, any more so than the rain is old or the sea is old. You are timeless and mighty and without age. Your beauty is unfading and your wit unmatched. I say nothing on Lord Odin, he has blessed my brother and my father before him. It would be unwise to lead him to think we were not grateful.
[ This is Rollo using his brain, a rare occurrence that should be recorded in song.]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 10:53 pm (UTC)Sometimes, living with those we want dead occasionally is brave as well. And does show a different kind of strength. And to be fair, I've seen Lagertha as well and she would put fear into even Thor and Odin for crossing her at her angriest. She is a strong warrioress in her own right as well.
Many thanks for your kind words, Rollo. And even if you do not see it, there are blessings from him for you as well. Hopefully you will see it in time.
[It's also Rollo proving her point, to an end. That he has it in him to be better, do better, and find his own way.]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 11:18 pm (UTC)Hmmm maybe we could do some stuff with them actually meeting? Rollo can get very badly injured and she can come save him. Or she can give him a vision or whatnot? ]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 11:37 pm (UTC)I'd love to have them meet. And she'd definitely save him from a life ending injury. Especially after this chat, she'd be keeping a closer eye on him.]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 11:44 pm (UTC)That would be good! And then we can see how things go with them and what we want to do next. Shall I set something up? When it isn't midnight? ]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-29 11:47 pm (UTC)That sounds perfect, and yes please! But first you sleep if it's midnight, ooof!]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 08:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 04:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 06:10 pm (UTC)And I'm sorry for the caps lock but Lagertha is just... she is just peak awesome.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 08:31 am (UTC)He shudders and tries to get up but the pain comes again and his breathing quickens. He does not try again, not until his breathing slows and his heart stops pounding against sore ribs.
Instead, he tries to remember what happened. That isn't an easy thing to do. A Berserker normally has little recollection of a battle, unless an opponent was especially memorable: a famous warrior or simply difficult to kill. He can recall none of it. He isn't sure who they were fighting, or where. Who was he fighting for?
He can answer none of his own questions, but they aren't his primary concern at the moment. He must get up, and he must go. He just needs to find his weapons, in case more enemies still linger.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 04:36 pm (UTC)"You have much more life left to live, my Viking," she murmurs softly as she kneels next to Rollo and her fingers brush along his brow and down the side of his face. The touch is warm, and she pushes that warmth, that magic through him, to his veins to travel to where it needs to be in order to heal his wounds and clear his mind some.
Blood stops spilling into the dirt, and muscle and skin knit themselves back together slowly. It may be painful at first, but she can only sooth or heal when the wounds are this grave. Battle is not where people think to find her, truthfully she rarely pays it mind. Shield-maidens bid her favor when they're feeling done with the field for a while and wish for children, men beg her for their wives to be granted her blessing, but battlefields rarely need that kind of blessing. But she's been paying more attention since their conversation, and something tugged in her when he'd been wounded so. It pulled her here, kneeling beside him with a soft hum from her throat as she wove her magic. "I would sit slowly when you can, you are not yet ready to do more than rest."
The battle coming to a close, the sounds of fighting few and far between, and no where near them. What he won't know just yet is that no one but he can see her either. But that'd only be important if someone were to come closer to Rollo and for now at least they are quite alone.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 06:05 pm (UTC)Not speaking to him. A woman, or a boy too young to be on a battlefield. He's not sure, but the cawing fades, and for a moment there is peace, nothing but a breeze that carries the noise of battle towards him. But that too is distant. Not from Odin's Hall, where men fight all day and feast all night. He is sure there would not be the stench of death there. That gives him hope. He had not yet fulfilled any destiny, any substantial destiny, and to die before his time would be a dishonour to Freya who had told him so much.
And then, as if thinking of his strange vision of her, he hears her again. Her voice is as gentle as a mother's, tender and full of kindness. He remembers nothing of his own mother, only Ragnar's, who raised them both and never treated Rollo as if he was anything other than her own. But this is not her, this is someone even more impossible. This is Freya, he knows that even if all he can see is the golden glow of her.
He feels the touch of her fingers against his bloodied skin. It feels warm, not enough to burn, but enough for it to suddenly make the rest of him feel cold, much colder than it had before. But slowly, that heat radiates, and his breathing becomes less of a rattle, slower, deeper. The fog lifts, the dark film over his eyes clears away and he sees her. Golden like the morning sun, as pure and beautiful as any woman he has ever seen.
"Lady Freya-" He begins, and then the pain of wounds healing cuts off what he might have said and instead he roars like a wounded beast. The rent in his side, wide and gapping from a sword's slice, begins to close of it's own accord and it is the worst pain he has experienced. It is nothing like the draw of the knife across his face, it is raw somehow, blunt as sinew and muscle knot together, as veins heal. He is panting again by the end of it, his knuckles white from grasping the bloody dirt and holding on as tight as he can.
"How can you be here?" He gasps out, once more in some more of control, but not yet able to sit up.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 07:12 pm (UTC)Besides, if Odin can be so heavy handed in Ragnar's life, well, Rollo deserved someone by his side as well. It shouldn't be right for Odin to play such favorites between the brothers, fueling the jealousy and feud between them. Rollo deserves some happiness in his own right, and Freya wants to help him find it as she can. And that starts with him staying alive to do so.
Fingers light down his neck, his arm, to his hand to take one of his in hers. She pays no mind to the dirt and blood that lingers on his skin. Her golden hair is half loose, half braided intricately with silver thread around her face, but her clothes are leather and fur instead of fine silks that one might expect to find her in. It is a battlefield, and she looks the part save for the part where she's a goddess and not a shield-maiden. "Quite easily when I am needed, my dear Viking."
She offers him a smile for his question, waiting patiently as he gets his barrings back, as his body settles from the healing. Her free arm, the one not holding onto him, rests an elbow on her knee and she settles her chin in her hand as sharp eyes watch him. The contact she keeps on him is both to try and comfort him but also make sure that he's healed fully, magic ebbing and searching for any minor wounds that might need healing as well now that the main damage is closed. And while everything healed fast, because it's a magical healing, it will be a nearly impossible to see scar of the would be death blow. Barely a pucker of skin to show for the pain of death and health. "You are far from done with your life, and I did promise you a good one in your own right, did I not? Odin can wait many more years before he claims you." There's a small weight to those words, something that says she might be claiming him in the mean time. The favor of a goddess, so attentive is a rare thing. Even Odin would not stay a killing wound to Ragnar to keep him battling.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 08:12 pm (UTC)He will later regret not bearing a scar to prove his place in the battle, or to prove her healing touch. But while Odin likes to make his part in this stories known, Freya is a far less demonstrative god.
The caress across his skin is light, like the kiss of the sun or the soft brush of a feather. His mind, now his own again, attempts to record every detail of her, the gold of her hair next to the silver thread, the shape of her lips like a hunter's bow, the fondness in her eyes. Not the fondness of a mother, he thinks. Something else. And do those words carry more of a promise of protection? He does not know, but to ask any more is more than he dares. She has given him back a future, if he offends then she may take it away again.
"I think I may be better suited to Sessrúmnir and not Valhalla," He says, a little more himself as, with only a faint noise of pain, he sits up, out of the mud and the gore and breathes more freely. To be chosen for Freya's Hall rather than Odin's is an honour, even if most warriors only sing of Valhalla. Either would suit him, but not today.
Now he sits, he can look at her better, still a little awed at her. Ragnar has only ever seen glimpses of Odin, seem him at a distance or walking away, or seen his Ravens. Never, to his knowledge, have one of their people been so close to one of the Gods. Rollo is a tall man, solid, although by far not the tallest Norseman. He is much larger than her, and yet she seems so imposing, so powerful that Earls and Kings should dare not oppose her.
Sorry for the slow - today has been a dumpster fire of a day
Date: 2018-12-31 02:27 am (UTC)Though, the fact that she's here by his side and wanting to keep him safe is better than any mark or proof of her help. But she also knows men, and their need to prove things to each other. So she could see the want too.
Her fondness is more than a mother, and much different. While she does want to protect him, see him happy, it is not in the kind a mother would want for a child. How exactly, well, that's to be learned, and to be seen as she watches over him. She doesn't take a fondness like this often, and usually only one or two at a time if at all. He has her fondness, her attention, and yes her protection. Though part of her is glad he doesn't think to ask about it. He trusts what she grants him, and she likes that.
"When that time comes, you will have your choice of both, I think." He is a fierce warrior, and Odin would have claimed him for Valhalla if she had not interfered. He won't give up his claim so easily, but with her favor she'll offer him the choice. How he'll choose at that time will be solely on him and neither of the Gods will frown or be jealous when he chooses. But the time for choosing is far from now, she'll make sure to see to that. "When you are far older, and grayer, and ready," she confirms.
The lit to her lips slip up a bit as she stands and watches him get up slowly. "Be mindful, you lost a fair amount of blood, and you might feel a tad light headed until you eat and drink." She doesn't slip far from him, her fingers light on his skin still to make sure he's secure on his feet.
She could come with him, back to the raiding camp. Though she'd be torn between making sure only Rollo could see her or dulling herself in a glamour to feel and look a little less goddess/powerful and a little more regular beautiful woman. She doesn't have a camp to bring him food at, after all. Sooner or later though, someone will come looking for him because only one or two saw him take a blow but not how bad it had been, of that she knew.
Oh love I'm sorry to hear that, I hope you get a chance to rest and recover
Date: 2018-12-31 11:02 am (UTC)He does stand, with her words in his mind older and greyer and ready. Well, so be it then. As long as he does not grow to be too old, too old to hold a sword and fight, too old to miss the men he fought with and for a short while has thought of as friends. But before he meets them he does want to have tales to tell, and she is offering him the chance to have such tales. "But still honourably? With a sword in my hand?" He asks, if only because he must be certain of that.
Standing, unfortunately, is not as easy as he would wish it to be. But he does not want to stay on the ground like a corpse, despite how pretty the view of her is. He has, before now, always found himself drawn to dark haired women, dark like the winter sea but warm as a fire in bed.
Perhaps he should find himself a golden-haired beauty, a woman to stroke across his cheek and look at him so fondly. There must be one he can find, even if there is no mortal woman that can match a goddess' charms. But if he can find one inclined to cats, perhaps the goddess will be amused and favour him with some children.
He does manage to steady himself, to stand with a straight back. It doesn't turn, although he does feel a little like he's drunk on bad mead. But he feels her touch still on his bare arm, and it seems to guide his steps, to take him away from the battlefield and to the camp in the forest. There aren't many there- the few women that came with them, a few men injured too greatly in the last fight, some to guard the treasures they have stolen. Rollo does not want to stay there, to answer questions about why he is back before the rest, although he is covered head to toe in mud and blood.
No one questions the woman with him, and in truth he is not sure they notice her. She is a goddess, she is not seen unless she wishes to be. But he takes a skin of beer and some bread and he continues through the camp, towards the edge of the river, and there begins to unfasten his belts so he can get in the water and wash the gore off his skin. And then stops, frozen, and looks to her, uncertain if this is disrespectful.
Thanks! I'm hoping to. I have nearly nothing on my schedule today
Date: 2018-12-31 03:38 pm (UTC)She knows the importance, to die in battle, honorably and after a long, hard fight of his best. She stretches just a little so her hand can rest briefly against his cheek at the question and she nods though her head is tilted to look up at him. "I promise, you will still have an honorable death, sword in hand, in battle. I will not interfere when it is your time." There's a serious look in her eyes, she means it.
Shifting her weight, she moves in time with him. There's no pull or push to get him to move or start walking, she merely counters his moves so she stays constantly at his side, fluid and almost like a dance. Freya wants to see him happy, and when he does find himself a women to settle down with, she will bless his wife's belly with as many children as he wishes. As for who, she might later send a few women down his path, love is also her domain, after all.
Her touch never waivers and it's still warm where it rests on his skin, still offering him support to see him safely home. She's silent as she walks by his side, chosen to stay unseen to those in the camp, which would be why none question her with him. Most don't seem to bother him much either as he takes what he wants of the food and moves to the river, though with how he looks most assume the battle is over enough and the rest of the party will be back. Which is true enough. If she glances over her shoulder she can see the rest finishing the raid, packing up their spoils to come back.
When they're at the edge of the river she'll shift to sit down in the grass as her head tilts to watch him unfasten his belts. There's the softest quirk of her lips when he stops and her brow arches ever so slightly. "Is there something wrong, Rollo?" She doesn't find it disrespectful in the slightest, if her tone and question is any indication. He is a strong, handsome man, and truthfully, she'll enjoy the view as he washes himself off. "Did you need help?" Now she may just be teasing, though the challenge in the air may be to take her up on her offer.
I think we switched, yesterday was a wild ride I couldn't get off
Date: 2019-01-01 09:39 am (UTC)He can't resist a smile at the promise, or the touch to his cheek. He could get used to that, if it did not require his near death in battle each time. But the promise, that is a good one, one he accepts. Battle may not be her real focus, but there are plenty of people who invoke her before a fight, and as she is here, when Odin is not, he is sure he can trust her. He will not die in a bed too old to fight, he will not die before the fate she has in mind for him is seen through. What more can a man ask for, "Thank you, my Lady."
At the river, it is not so much a requirement for help: her healing as done everything to banish the pain, the scar, everything but wash the mix of his own blood and that of other's from his skin. Neither is he ashamed to be naked, although never in the known presence of a goddess. He's bathed with Lagertha, although she remained mostly clothed, as was fitting for the wife of his brother, and Siggy... well. That was different.
"Any more than you have provided or promised already? No." He laughs, and then drops the belts close to where she sits, need the skin and the bread. Then his shoes are kicked off, and the trousers pulled off, and he sinks gratefully into the water. "I was only going to invite you to join me."
ooof, I hope today goes much better for you! And Happy New Year!
Date: 2019-01-01 02:02 pm (UTC)She would not do that to someone for whom battle is so important. Battles are important, as is the honor that comes with them. He will carry honor for surviving this battle, along with the spoils that it will bring that he'll share in. And there will be many more. And while her hand may itch to save him that last time, she's strong willed enough to let it see true and give him the death he needs. Besides, Freya can walk between halls to see him no matter where he decides to be for eternity.
As his trousers are left in the grass next to her, Freya's head tilts to watch him with a smile. Bright eyes enjoy the sight of him as the water slowly hides him from view. He has every right to be proud, the words aren't said aloud but they may show in her eyes. And Freya is neither Lagertha or Siggy. She pushes up from the grass with a soft hum at the invitation. "I'd reconsider that when you have that one spot just mid back that you won't be able to reach," she teases softly.
Quick work is made of the leather tunic and it's strings and straps before it's falling into the grass next to his trousers. Soon enough her own trousers and boots join everything and she slips slowly into the water with him. It's slow enough to let him get a long look at her bare should he want to, done on purpose to let him. "But I would like to join you, yes," she finishes as she stills her feet near him. Her hand skims the surface of the water between them idly, enjoying water as it laps at skin. "It's not everyday that someone invites me to join." Most don't think to. While the gods may travel as they wish, and do as they wish, it's nice to be invited instead of just assumed they'll do things if they grant favor. If one were to think about it, they're prayed to for blessings, made offerings to appease those blessings or their wrath, but fair few invite in such a simple manner.
Thank you! I'm sorry I sat on this for a couple of days, work has knocked me for six
Date: 2019-01-03 06:47 pm (UTC)As she comes to the edge of the water, bare feet slipping beneath the mirrored surface, he can not help but come towards her, rational thought lost somewhat in the spell of her beauty and his growing enchantment. She almost certainly does not mean to have this impact, but it is her nature to do so, and it is in his nature to desire, especially what he can not or should not have.
But he can not help himself, and as she comes closer he reaches out to touch the hand skimming the surface of the water. He could say something about the offer to wash his back, make a joke out of her needing an invitation, but all of that seems unnecessary when he stands here with her, with the water swirling around them and distantly, around the curve in the river, the noise of celebration from the camp as the victorious Norsemen return. There doesn't seem to be any need to speak at all, to say anything, when she is so close now he can lean in and press his lips to hers.
She might strike him down now. She could, he supposes, stop his heart or have the water tug him away and drown him, but he doesn't think she will. Even if she does, it would be worth it, to die kissing the goddess of love and beauty.
So he does it, throwing caution to the wind.
Sorry work has been so hard, hun! Sounds like you need a vacation, soon!
Date: 2019-01-03 07:40 pm (UTC)The way he watches her, moves toward her as if enchanted, it pushes her heart to beat a little faster. She isn't doing anything special, other than being a goddess in her own right, but she can't help but enjoy the effect on him all the same. That raw edge in his eyes, in the way he moves, it's as powerful as her natural beauty. She was most definitely not lying when she had told him he was a handsome, powerful man and she can see all that power now.
There's no smiting, no water tugging him under. Her fingers thread through his on the hand that's touching the water's surface as she pushes up on her toes a little to meet him for that kiss as her free hand slides over his cheek gently before it tugs his beard to lower him a little. He is taller than her, and something in her is hoping he'll like that tug to let her reach him just a tad easier.
She doesn't even care that there's a hint of copper on his lips, most likely someone else's blood that had sprayed against him at the time of their death, she stretches as she can some to deepen the kiss. They don't need words right now, and the celebration will be going on most of the night so it's not like he's needed at the moment. All the noise, coupled with the soft churn of the river does is add a soft background to everything they're doing.
Rollo has a couple choices - bend lower for her or lift her up to give her better access. She'll be happy with either, truthfully.
This wasn't her original plan when she'd come to heal him, ending up in a river, bare with him. But she can't say she's in anyway disapproving of how their time is going right now either.
lols I think the problem was I'd just come back from one! But all good now
Date: 2019-01-06 09:42 am (UTC)That does not stop his arms from coiling around her, his hands smoothing down her sides and then around her back, lifting her so that he no longer has to bend. He isn't sure what he expected holding a god like this to feel like, but again, nothing strikes him down. Her divinity does not make it difficult to hold her or his arms ache, and that's welcome. If only because holding her against him like this brings her flush against him, her breasts against his chest and her hips aligned with him.
Rollo should know better. She's a goddess, one who has offered him more favour than any other person in his life, she has saved him from death to ensure he has a chance to fulfil the destiny she has told him about. He should be more respectful. He should not kiss her like this, he should not feel his body throb hungrily for her. Nor should he so desperately enjoy this, the way her nails catch against his skin, the power of her so much stronger than his own. But he does like it, all of it.
And would it be so bad, part of him thinks, to be remembered in legend as one of Freya's mortal lovers?
oh! The trying to get vacation brain back to work brain! That's so hard...
Date: 2019-01-07 09:01 pm (UTC)Legs slide along his hips as he lifts her up, settling around his skin to help hold herself up too. Though she has a feeling he could hold her that way for a while. One hand threads through his hair, nails sharp against skin without breaking it along his scalp as she gives a happy sound into the kiss even as she deepens it. There’s the softest tug of teeth against his lower lip, almost a question of if he wants a little hungrier, a little rougher than the current kiss they have. In this way, she is a goddess and he doesn’t have to be careful with her, she’d almost prefer if he wasn’t.
In some ways, Freya would argue that he’s showing her as much respect as he can. To know that his body throbs with hunger for her, that he finds her pleasurable even from just being flushed against each other and tangled in a kiss. This is everything she watches over, but narrowed down to just their pleasure. If he wants to stop, she will, but this far into the kiss, wrapped around him as she is, she’s hoping that he won’t want to stop, that he wants to continue, to see this through. There would be no hard feelings should he want to stop, no resentment.
Warrior, Lover, Favored by the Gods. Rollo probably couldn’t ask for more. Could he?