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 Vikings: The Black Dragon

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PostSubject: Vikings: The Black Dragon   Mon Nov 06, 2017 2:52 pm

Runa stood in a dark corner of the great hall as everyone jubilantly celebrated. Music played vibrantly as a handful of people danced while others feasted and drank merrily. She leaned casually against one of the hall's wooden support beams, her arms crossed over her stomach as she vigilantly watched everyone and everything around her. Held loosely with the fingertips of her right hand was a black hued drinking horn still half full. Her lithe frame; honed from training and experience, was still enveloped in black leather armor and her axes were still strapped, criss-crossed at her lower back. Her faithful companion; a large barn owl that she had taken to calling Munin, sat perched just as vigilantly on the back of King Ragnar's throne. A beautiful hand crafted bow was slung across her chest, carved with runes and knotwork patterns. A quiver full of hand fletched arrows tipped with iron heads and black raven feathers rested along the length of her spine.

"I have not seen you in Kattegat before." Came a faint voice, purring from a young man with long blonde hair and a small scrap of facial hair. There was something off with his right eye, an uncharacteristic marking that she had never seen before. Though he was young, he towered over her petite stature quite easily. However, despite her height, her presence alone tended to intimidate even the most stalwart warrior.

She turned her piercing grey eyes in his direction, those keen orbs taking in ever detail in mere seconds. "I have only just arrived with King Harald." She replied softly, immediately turning her gaze back to watching the activity in the hall. She felt rather than saw the young man move, attempting to step into her field of vision. Her eyes snapped up to his face, annoyance clear in her expression.

"It is a shame I can not put a name to such beauty."

"You could if I gave it to you." She pushed herself away from the wooden beams, moving around him. His hand gripped her wrist, stopping her from leaving. "I would suggest that you let go." Runa's gaze drifted up from staring at his hand, staring daggers directly into his strange eyes.

He let go of her arm, taking a single step backwards. His jaw clenched tightly for a moment before he spoke. "I am called Sigurd son of Ragnar Lothbrok. You will be hearing from me again."

Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a mock snarl as she moved to stand a mere inch from him. "I do not take kindly to threats, Sigurd, son of a King or not. You might want to remember that for future interactions." As she stepped past him, she roughly bumped his shoulder, causing him to stumble back a few steps and nearly trip over Floki who sat behind them, watching the exchange with amusement.

"I wouldn't test the waters with that one, Sigurd." The ship builder warned. "You wouldn't be able to handle her." He gave a high pitched giggle before taking a sip from his drinking horn.

"Who is that woman?" He inquired, indicating to the dark haired beauty that was now standing towards the back of the hall. Her long hair was parted to one side, the left hald braided tightly to her head.

"That is Runa. One of King Harald's best trackers. I wouldn't cross blades with her, Sigurd. She can be vicious."

"Belive me, Floki, it is not blades that I want to cross with her."

"Yes, well, it would seem that someone has already beat you to it." He indicated towards the woman where she was now conversing with the younger of the brothers, Ivar.


"You have traveled with King Harald?" Ivar inquired, his head listing lazily to the right. He sat in one of the chairs closest to the fire. As he spoke, he gestured towards the chair beside his with a gloved hand. He watched, amused as the armed beauty slid her bow and quiver off and placed them beside her within reach before taking a seat in the offered chair. She crossed legs enveloped in leather breeches and settled both arms against the rests of the seat, fingers of her right hand casually holding her still half full horn.

"Extensively, yes." She replied, having noticed that his legs were strapped together. She sensed there was something wrong with them, but she was not aware of the extent of it. It mattered to her not, what mattered to her was the strength of his character. Already she could tell that although he had his own demons, he was not as arrogant as his older brother Sigurd. Her grey gaze shifted towards his older brother, taking note of the look of contempt that passed across his features before he turned away in a temper tantrum like huff and pushing his way through the crowd.

"Pay Sigurd no mind. He thinks himself privilaged."

Runa snorted faintly and was rewarded with a rather charming smile. She boldly took in the youngest of Ragnar's sons from head to toe, taking note of the short cropped black hair, sporting an undercut. His piercing blue gaze seemed to stare right through her, clear as the daytime sky. They were eyes that saw everything and took note of every tiny detail.

"What brings you to Kattegat?"

"Adventure." She replied, finally take a sip of the mead in her grasp. "And King Harald ask me to accompany him."

"Are you and he.." Ivar trailed off, the hidden meassage quite clear.

"Oh no. He and his brother saved my life once. That is the only allegiance I offer, gratitude."

She took note of the added charm of his smile as it widened. Runa shifted in her chair, switching her drink to her left hand while she propped her right up, placing her chin in her palm as she turned her undivided attention towards the man beside her.

"And what of you, Ivar? What do you seek?"

"Adventure, the same as you."

"Then you are going with Bjorn on his little voyage?" She asked, noticing that his smile faltered, his expression hardening.

"No, I am not."


"No one wants to drag a cripple along."

It was her turn for her expression to harden. "Just because you are unable to walk like others, Ivar, it does not mean that you are any less of a man. I think it makes you more of one. To develop the strength to move around the way you do. I can see the grace of which you carry yourself. You have an inner strength that makes you shine brighter. A man's legs does not measure a man's heart nor his intergity."

For a moment, she could have sworn she saw tears swimming in those intense eyes before he covered it by taking a sip of his drink. She gave him that moment, the silence stretching out between them, but it was a comftorable one.

"Thank you. Your kind words have touched me." He turned his gaze back towards her, taking in each feature of her face. Long jet black hair, flawless pale skin and clear grey eyes that could harden like ice when she was angry or warm like liquid mercury when she was being kind. He was startled when she reached out and touched the back of his leather gauntleted hand, the warmpth of her skin seeping through the thick leather with ease.

"I speak the truth, Ivar. It matters not what is on the outside. It matters with what is on the inside. Take your brother Sigurd. Sure he can walk. He can fight, but none of that is worth a damn if he acts like an arrogant turd."

Ivar nearly spit out his mead through his nose. He couched, wiping the dribble from his chin. She smiled faintly and sat back in her chair, crossing her left leg over the right.

"You are certainly not like most women I have met and it occurs to me that I do not know your name."

"I-I do not know my true name. People have taken to calling me Runa and I have stuck with it."

"Runa." He stated, tilting his head slightly as he tested the feel of it passing his lips. "It is a beautiful name. Fitting."

She gave a one sided smirk. "Are you hitting on me, Ivar?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"If it's working or not."

Runa snorted faintly and stood from her chair when she noticed King Harald beckoning to her. She leaned towards him, place her lips near his ear.

"It's working." She whispered softly, sliding both her quiver and bow back on before turning on her heel and leaving the stunned Ivar to stare after her retreating form.

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PostSubject: Re: Vikings: The Black Dragon   Mon Nov 06, 2017 2:52 pm

"I have seen you conversing with my youngest son."

Her gaze shifted slyly over towards the older man who had spoken, barely breaking her out of her concentration on her current target. An arrow was expertly notched in her bow, her sight spot on. She turned her head to face Ragnar, her clear eyes searching his face as she let go of the arrow. It flew straight and true, landing squarely between the eyes of a severed buck's head. He stood, staring at the shot she had just made before he turned his piercing blue eyes in her direction and gave her one of his signature sly smirks.

"And?" She inquired, lowering her bow to the ground to lean against it casually.

"You are not like most women. They fear him for his temper, for the unpredictability of when he will snap. But you, you do not fear him."

"No." She stated simply, picking up her bow and notching another arrow. "I do not fear him. He has become a young man with great ambitions and a great mind. He is not afraid to think outside the box while the rest are content to follow what they have always known. He has been isolated for so long that he fears he will hold everyone else back because of his handicap. He tries so hard to be like everyone else that he does not realize that he has the potential to be better."

There was a whistle in the air as she let loose another arrow, this one striking the shaft of the first dead center and splitting it in two. Needless to say, Ragnar was impressed.

"I have asked Ivar to come with me to England and he has agreed. I would like for you to join us."

Her gaze shifted back to him. The corner of her mouth pulling up into her own sly smirk. "King Harald will not be pleased. He intends to join your oldest son to the Mediterranean."

"So I have been informed. However, with you coming to England with us, I will not have to worry so much about Ivar."

"Do not underestimate his skills, Ragnar. He is every bit as skilled in combat as any man who can stand."

"You have seen him in combat?"

She shook her head faintly, ebony strands of hair shifting with the subtle wind. "No but I can tell. I am a Tracker. My skills of observation tend to be more developed than most. The way his fingers curl around a drink can tell me exactly how he holds his sword or his axe. The shift of his fingers can explain how he holds the string of a bow." She paused for a moment as Muninn circled over head once before landing silently on her outstretched arm. "There is a darkness in his eyes that tells the story of his lonliness, his anger and his pain. He is vulnerable even if he would never admit it. But it is not a physical vulnerability, it is an emotional one. Queen Aslaug has coddled him far too much, stifled him in a way that has made him both love and resent her. "

"You have seen all this in such a short conversation with him?"

Runa nodded once in affirmation. "Yes."

"Then you are far more skilled than King Harald has given you credit for."

"Just as I know that you, my friend, are dying. You seek to end your pain by turning yourself in to King Ecbert."

Ragnar was so silent that it had become nearly oppressive. She could feel it like a physical presence pressing down on them.

"You see far too much."

"Perhaps. It is both a gift from the Gods and a curse, but I have learned to embrace my Fate. This is who I am. This is what the Gods have in store for me and I know that when my time comes, Valhalla will call to me. Though, I must admit, I do not intend for it to be anytime soon."

He gave a hearty chuckle, fingers running thoughtfully through the lengthly beard that was spotted with grey.

"Will you join us?" He inquired, his keen blue gaze taking her in from head to toe as she stared straight ahead of her as if she was lost in thought.

"Aye. King Harald will have to suffice without my presence this time around."

He nodded once. "Good." He turned as if making to leave, but stopped facing the opposite direction that she was. Ragnar leaned towards her. "You know, if I was younger, I would be fighting for your attention and not my sons."

She snorted faintly, turning her head towards him. She mirrored him, leaning in the same manner as he. "If you were younger, you quite possibly would have had a chance."

He gave her one of his signature sly grins before slowly making his way back towards the city.

"What do you mean you are not coming with us?!" As predicted, King Harald Finehair was not pleased with the news. He paced back and forth along the docks in front of his ship, his brother vigilantly watching as he leaned against one of the posts, idly picking beneath his nails with the tip of a knife. Both brothers were known for being tenacious, vicious and downright cruel but they had always shown her a kindness that not many had known existed. Runa had put them both in their place a few years prior when Hafldar had threatened to kill her. He had not been able to walk right for nearly a week by the time she had been done with him.

She stood with an air of annoyance in her posture, one arm resting casually against the top of a sheathed axe while the other picked idly at the black fur of the hooded coat she wore. The thick wolf pelts a symbol of the type of warrior she was. Cunning, agile and vicious. The hood was pulled up, shrouding her face in subtle shadow and protecting her from the growing harsh cold winds.

He did not wait for a response from her, he shifted towards her, reaching up to place both of his hands against her upper arms. The touch was surprisingly tender, perhaps even intending to be seductive.

"I need you, Runa." He said softly, his hands running up to her shoulders. She could feel the caloused roughness of them and it sent a faint thrill down her spine. She had to admit it to herself, he was a handsome man. Ambitious, cunning. He had risen to King through gile and ruthlessness and she knew he wanted his hands on Kattegat. It was one of the reasons why he had asked her to come along, though she was unaware to it.

"I must go."

His fingers tighten faintly on her shoulders, not enough to hurt, but enough to know that he could long before she could draw one of her axes.


She gave a soft sigh, brushing his arms aside with a simple sweep of her right arm, letting him know that she didn't need her weapons to be dangerous. "Because it feels like it is the right thing to do. You do not need me, King Harald. You have your brother and your men. King Ragnar has only the men he has bribed and his youngest son Ivar. I can not leave either of them to fend for themselves alone."

"Ragnar has lost his way, Runa. He will only drag you down with him in ruin." His pleas did seem rather desperate. Did he truly care for her more than his need of her skills? Perhaps the time apart would reveal the truth.

"Now since when have you ever known for me to let anyone drag me down?"

That made him chuckle. He nodded once. "Alright. careful, Runa."

"They call her what?" Ivar inquired as he sat beside Floki. They had watched the exchange between Runa and King Harald. Though they could not hear their words, they watched their body language. There was a tension there that was quite possibly mistrust on her part and lust on the King's part.

"The Black Dragon." The ship builder replied. "She may wear the pelts of a Black Wolf but she has the strength of the Great Serpent. She is cunning, agile and intelligent. Her inner strength was what gifted her that name."

"How do you know all this, Floki?"

"The Gods. And the whispers of Harald's men. They say that she very nearly castrated Hafldar when he tried to threaten her. Since then, both brothers have treated her with respect."

Ivar let out a bark of laughter. "She is lucky that they didn't try to kill her in her sleep."

Floki let out a high pitched snicker. "With her skills, they knew better. From what I hear, she is always armed. Even bathing, it is assumed that she keeps some kind of blade on her. I doubt she is vulnerable even if she appears to be."

They watched as she walked past them, seeming oblivious to their presence, but both of them knew that it was more than likely she knew exactly where they were sitting and just how they sat. Ivar leaning casaully back in his chair, an arm draped over the back of it as it held a mug of mead. Floki leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. As her gaze swept over them from the shadows of the hood that her coats provided, a sly smirk tugged at the left corner of her full lips. On the back of her furs, a Nordic knotwork Dragon had been branded into the pelts, burned with intricate detail and precision. It resembled the tattoo she had on her upper left thigh.

As the ship builders eyes landed on the symbol of the dragon, he gave a high pitched chuckle, a knowing scoff as he sat back in his seat looking thoughtful.

"I do not fear for you, Ivar. With Runa joining you and Ragnar to England, you are both left in capable hands."

"I do not need a woman to protect me, Floki." Ivar stated, sounding almost offended.

"Of course not but she is a fierce as the pelts she wears. She is like a mother wolf with their cubs. It is in her instinct to protect. It is her purpose."

Before she reached the doors to the long hall, she paused with a hand resting briefly against the frame, head turning slightly in their direction, almost as if she had heard Floki's words. Her silver gaze flashed towards them, passing over them swiftly before she turned back around and disappeared into the hall.

"Despite what you have told me of her already, Floki, she is still a very mysterious woman."

"Aye. Most of what people speak about her is rumor, stories. But how much of it is true or not is anyone's guess." He paused for a moment, turning his sly gaze towards the younger Viking. "Did I tell you about the one where she is supposedly decended from Dragons?"

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PostSubject: Re: Vikings: The Black Dragon   Mon Nov 06, 2017 2:53 pm

If only they had known the half of it. Runa watched the dancing flames of the hearth in the center of her lodging. She found comfort in it, a sense of peace that calmed her and cleared her mind of any chaotic thoughts that may have plagued her. She hadn't exactly been truthful when she had told Ivar she had not known her true name. It was not something she told many people, for her clan had believed that names had power and to use her name would have undoubtedly given anyone she told it to power over her. Power to summon her at their will. It was not something she was willing to hand out to just anyone. The silver of her eyes flashed, reflecting the flames like a mirror. Her breath became nearly visible, smoke curling from her nostrils and through the subtle part of her lips. It curled and twisted as she breathed, nearly chilling the very air despite the heat the fire threw off.

Runa had been part of an ancient clan of warriors, now long forgotten. They had settled far to the north, high in the mountains and far away from the rest of civilization. They were called Ormr, an old Norse term for dragon and they had the unique gift to shape-shift or transform into their name sake. She was, unfortunately, the last of her clan. The rest having been hunted to extinction. Even Queen Aslaug's own father had hunted her people, succeeding in killing her kin. Though it angered her to be in the same presence as Aslaug, she did not wish to draw attention to what she truly was. The less who knew, the better. She feared that if anyone knew the truth, they would enslave her. She feared that more than anything. To be used as a weapon of destruction for someone who wished to conquer the world. It was a fate far worse than death in her opinion.

She heard the faint shuffle of movement long before she heard the knock on her door. Reigning in her composure, Runa stood gracefully from her seat and made her way towards the entrance. She swung open the door, leaning her hip casually against the wooden frame as her gaze shifted down to Ivar who was perched upon her step, torso lifted up by the powerful strength of his arms. The lower half of his body seeming to trail almost uselessly behind him.

"Ivar." She greeted with a genuine smile touching the corners of her lips. "A surprise visit?" She stepped back from the doorway and gestured for him to enter. "Please, come in."

There was a familiar sly look on his handsome features, one that she could tell mirrored that of his father's as he crawled his way into her temporary home. She closed the door behind him and watched, intrigued as he pulled himself up into a chair directly beside the one she had recently occupied.

"I wanted to speak with you." He stated softly, the sound of his voice not failing to send a faint tremor down her spine. She didn't know what it was about him, but she felt something. Perhaps the Dragoness in her sensed the strength pouring off of him in waves. Though it may not have manifested in a purely physical way, it didn't seem to matter. She was nearly drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"Oh? What of?" She inquired, pouring him a mug of mead from the table. She moved back towards her seat, offering it to him. She nearly jolted when his fingers brushed hers. The touch had sent a near violent shock of electricity through her nerves. Her gaze sought his almost immediately, silently wondering if he had felt it too. Whatever she saw in those piercing blue depths was enough to confirm that he had. The subtle tremble of his hand, the sharp inhale of his breath. The way his heart rate spiked.

Runa tore her gaze away and sat down beside him, covering her reaction by taking a sip of her own drink. The sweetness of the fermented honey striking her tongue.

"I wanted to speak with you about some of your adventures, if you do not mind sharing. As you may have guessed, I do not get out much." He replied with a faint gesture towards his bound legs. á"My mother is very...protective of me." He continued with a faint sneer, a flash of teeth that sent a bolt of fire through her veins.

"I know." She stated softly. There was no pity in her words, but an understanding of how he felt. "I have not been entirely truthful about my past ábut it is not something I speak off very often nor to just anyone. When I was a little girl, my family was very protective over me. They hardly ever let me out of their sight. It was..stifling to say the least."

His gaze shot to her, interest flashing in their depths. "Why do you not speak of your past?"

She gave a soft sigh. "My people were...reclusive. We kept to ourselves and only ventured down from the mountains where we lived to hunt. One day, a stranger stumbled upon our village. He had been lost, wandering the forest for days. A scuffle broke out between him and one of my people and the man was cast away. He returned perhaps weeks later and brought with him a small gang of warriors." She paused for a moment as the violent memories assailed her. "My entire village was slaughtered. No one was spared. Men, women and children lay butchered in the snow." Runa turned her eyes towards Ivar. "I am the lone survivor of my people."

"You speak as though you are not human."

Perhaps this was what it felt like for other people when she observed them too much. It was an eerie feeling to have someone delve deep into your words and catch a meaning you had not intended but was the truth.

"And if I was not?" She found herself asking. A part of her was cursing herself for doing so, but there was another part of her that almost yearned to tell someone.

His gaze found hers and wouldn't let go. They sat in silence for several moments, a silence so thick that Runa could nearly feel it like a physical presence.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is a person's strength of character."

Hearing her words turned back on her made her snort faintly as a single scoff escaped. "That may be true, but I find that people seldom want the full truth." She contemplated for a moment, growing silence once more. "Have you heard of the Ormr?"

Ivar tilted his head to one side, his mind searching his memories. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't put a finger on it. He knew the word meant dragon, but that was it. "It sounds familiar but I can not place it."

She gave a sad smile, an expression that he found nearly ripped his heart in two. Why did he feel so strongly about it? He ached for her, sure. She was a beautiful and capable woman but there was more to it than that. He found himself calm in her presence. His anger and pain forgotten even if only for a short time. He felt normal with her for she treated him like a human being and not a crippled freak.

"Not surprising." She replied cryptically. "You wanted to hear of some of my adventures? Anything specific?"

The abrupt change of subject was not lost on him, but he decided to let it go. If she did not wish to indulge of her past, that was her choice and if her entire village had been slaughtered, he did not blame her for remaining so mysterious or leery of speaking about it with strangers.

"What was the most exotic place you have been to?"

For hours they had discussed various topics. From the Gods to Ivar's ambitions. Even Runa's past adventures and her plans for her future. Ivar found her more intriguing by the minute. She was not only beautiful and capable, but intelligent. And she had a dark sense of humor that seemed to rival his.

"It grows late." He stated reluctantly. "I have selfishly kept you awake long enough, Runa." Though his words spoke of a departure, he made no move yet to leave. He seemed leery of doing so. Almost as if he was already missing her company.

She smiled to herself beneath the shadows of her seemingly ever present hood. Despite the warmpth of the fire, she had not removed the furs adorning her. Though he had not minded, he found himself nearly yearning to see her face. Almost as if she had read his mind, she reached up and pulled the hood down. Her long dark hair shifted like curly, black silk in wild, touseled strands. He imagined that was what her hair looked like if she had rolled freshly from bed. Ivar found himself becoming nearly painfully aroused. Something he had imagined was never possible. Yet here he was, standing almost fully to attention. If she noticed, she didn't say anything. There were no braids in her hair this time and it flowed freely over her shoulders to almost blend in with the furs. Her pale skin was flawless, almost glowing in the fire light. Her silvered gaze glimmered like liquid metal in the light of the flames.

"You are beautiful." He found himself admitting softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched her full lips draw up at the corners in a smile, the expression nearly taking his breath away. Did she know the effect she had on him? He watched her gaze shift down and he nearly blushed with embarassment. Did she think him foolish? Had she noticed the evidence of his growing attraction for her? Had he just made a fool of himself?

"Thank you, Ivar." When it seemed like she would have stopped there, she surprised him by continuing. "I have enjoyed your company very much and must admit that I find you to be very alluring."

"How gut wrenchingly sweet." The sound of the voice from her doorway didn't seem to phase her. She remained, sitting casually in her chair, one long slim leg thrown over the arm in an air of indifference. Ivar watched in amusement as she simply tilted her head back over the opposite arm of the chair to see who had entered her home without invitation.

"Sigurd. Has no one ever taught you the finer points of manners? There is such a thing called knocking. Had I been in a compromising situation, you certainly would have gotten an eye full." She stated, her voice as cold as the glaicer ice of her eyes.

"I may have joined."

"You wish." Ivar interjected, a sneer curling up the right corner of his mouth.

"As do you, dear brother. I doubt you would be able to get it up in the first place." The blonde scoffed, folding his arms over his chest as the insult.

The younger of the bothers shifted in his chair, but the faint gesture he caught from Runa stopped him from moving any further. Her crooked finger was enough of a warning. Though he would have normally ignored her and dealt with the matter himself, he was not the only one that his brother had been insulting. Sigurd had entered her home uninvited. When he shifted back into his previous position, he watched her stand with fluid grace. The grace of a lethal predator stalking it's prey. He watched in fascination as she unfastened the furs, letting them slip slowly down her arms to pool on the floor at her boot clad feet. Her slip, curvacious figure was enveloped in form hugging black clothing. The breeches were tucked into knee high boots and the long sleeved tunic clung to every curve showing the ample assets she had. Ivar felt his breath hitch as his gaze locked onto her hips, watching them sway seductively as she moved towards Sigurd with purpose in her stride. She was short, but it seemed as if her legs went on for miles.

When she was within touching distance, Runa leaned forward, placing her face close to his as she breathed in his scent. The Dragoness in her growled in disgust. It did not like this arrogant young man.

"Why are you here, Sigurd?" She inquired, keeping the tone of her voice soft and husky. She reached up and let a fingertip lightly toy over the collar of his tunic.

"I came to find Ivar." He whispered softly. "Mother asked after him."

"Then tell her he is safe and that he is keeping me company." She replied, tilting her head faintly to the right. Her long dark hair slid across her shoulder, barely brushing against his chest as she turned away from him. She felt the air ripple just a second before he reached out and clasped her wrist in one of his hands. She paused in mid stride, her gaze; cold as ice, staring down at where he grabbed her. "I warned you once to let me go, Sigurd. Do not make me chew your arm off."

Laughter rumbled from Ivar and he nearly choked on his mead. He coughed, sputtering faintly before his windpipe cleared enough for him to breathe.

"Oh you are a delight, Runa." He mumbled mostly to himself. He watched in amusement as his brother sent him a look of disdain.

When Sigurd didn't let go, she used the leverage to her advantage and reversed the grip he had on her arm, shifting hers so that she was now in control. The pressure she applied to the joint in his elbow caused him to cry out and sink to his knees.

"This is the last warning I give you. The next time I will start dismanteling your limbs. Beginning with the one between your legs. Stay away from me Sigurd Snake in the Eye. You do not wish to see me angry."

He was abruptly released and he staggered to his feet. He glared daggers at his brother who was doubled over in the chair howling with laughter. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl before slamming the door behind him. Humiliated. That's how he felt. Angry and humiliated. They would both pay for it.

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