"I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful, a fairy's child;

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild."

It took a while for Ragnar to fully comprehend the vision in front of him.

He did not dare speak in fear of loosing the illusion, their silence spoke no words as it was his blue shining eyes that painted a picture of the ocean that La Belle Dame drowned herself in.

Her gaze somehow seemed like the look of an old friend Ragnar and he liked it that way; something familiar hidden in the extraordinary encounter.

After one whole minute a rose bloomed on the women's cheek and her gaze turned to the ground but her eyes did not stop sparkling.

"Hello."

Ragnar told her, with a small upturn of his lips. It was a simple introduction.

"Hello."

La Belle Dame replied simply, for words did not seem like they would form.

What to say? What could Ragnar day to the first human he had seen in months? He wanted to beg them to take him back to Kattegat but also for them to leave him in his solitude.

"And who might you be?"

Ragnar felt different; he was no longer cold. The autumn air had turned back to summer as he watched how La Belle Dame's figure blocked out the sun.

"Nobody."

"Nobody still has a name."

Ragnar pressed. Slightly moving his head to enter her line of sight. He didn't know what he would do with the information. Was she from Kattegat? Or a Kingdom bordering his own?

"Tell me yours."

She changed the conversation to her favourite puzzle; the King - yet now he is here she couldn't even look him in the eye.

Ragnar's eyebrows contorted in confusion. He dragged his elbows out to prop him up, grunting as the bruises on his arms hit the ground, the girl flinched.

"Ragnar."

"King Ragnar Lothbrok?"

She questioned despite knowing the truth. She wanted to see his reaction and perhaps gain another smile.

"I do not know if I am the King anymore."

Ragnar sank back to the ground and let a long breath escape into the warm air.

"Surely, you are, although I do not see your crown King Ragnar."

La Dame joked and she began to run her fingers through her hair.

"I left it with my wife."

It was almost as if he spat out the words. Aslaug was his wife, not his lover. The King did not want the trouble of one anymore, he had lost his appetite for love after he let Lagertha slip between his fingers.

"I am sure she will look beautiful with it."

The women tried to hide her dismay yet Ragnar saw the sadness.

Ragnar scoffed thinking about his wife, how would she feel if he never came back? Would she care? Then he contemplated if Lagertha would notice, the words said to his coffin in France seemed to be carried by the wind.

"She will look like the Christian Devil,"

Ragnar told her and La Belle Dame giggled softly and then covered her mouth, it wasn't her place.

"Unlike you. You still haven't told me your name."

"I told you, I'm nobody."

They locked eyes and she resisted the urge to move her body closer, she had to go slow.

She was scared that Ragnar would overcome her senses, already her heart was beating to a new rhythm, faster than ever before and her sight, oh, every second her eyes weren't on Ragnar it was wasted.

"Well, make up one then."

Ragnar stood up decisively, wincing as he contorted his back but soldiering on nevertheless. He towered over the lady as she was plunged into shade and he could look at her better.

"Excuse me?"

She replied, pulling her legs into her chest and wrapping her hands around them.

"You can not just take me away from the Gods and then not tell me who you are or even where you are from."

"I don't have a home."

La Belle Dame stated honestly but she began to think deeper as she saw Ragnar's disapproval.

She did have one. He was her home.

But him being estranged from Kattegat meant he was homeless, a nomad King, the ruler of his kingdom of one.

"Where were you born?"

The King pressed like trying to fit a stubborn puzzle piece in the right way.

"I -"

La Belle Dame felt a tear prick in her left eye, it was a moment that the emotions you had buried deep resurfaced with vengeance.

She had no family.

No parents that shared her first steps or siblings to rely on, she had Ragnar Lothbrok in front of her and for one split second she felt the sadness of the world on her shoulders,

"I don't know."

Ragnar was never good with other people's emotions, he lacked empathy usually but today a little part of him broke to see the girl cry because of something he said. He wasn't mean or rude to those that mattered and he wasn't going to break that habit with this beautiful and mysterious lady in the meads.

"Don't cry."

He crouched in front of but he kept his hands away, not knowing if it was out of fear or curtesy. And instantly the tears dried and it was as if it never happened. Ragnar was surprised,

"I did not think that would work."

She gave a small laugh and suddenly like a switch being turned, their relationship changed; they trusted each other just a tad more.

Ragnar knew why he didn't touch the girl. He felt like he would damage her, she was a porcelain doll that would crumble under Ragnar's bloodied hands.

Ragnar wasn't used to purity being in his life, there was little room in the Viking world for it. Yet here she is, a God send - he thought. And that was worthy of taking a chance on.

He outstretched his hand; pink scars running along his skin, burn marks on his palm and dirt underneath his fingernails.

La Belle Dame placed her delicate fingers in them and let him pull her up. She half jumped to her bare feet with a coating of dried dirt on them, it contrasted her dress with no crease in sight. The sound of ruffling and a small laugh accompanied the girl as she went, a sound Ragnar would soon consider normal.

Their height difference was evident immediately as La Belle Dame tilted as far up as she could to catch a glimpse of Ragnar. She smiled up at him as their hands intertwined instinctively, Ragnar thought about what to say to the young lady whose eyes sparkled with delight at him. He did not want to break her heart yet she found himself slowly melting into her arms. The strong Viking found himself sheltered by the pixie.

"Bjorn, my son, he would love you." The women seemed newly into a womanhood he hadn't looked twice at since his original love for Lagertha.

The vision of Bjorn that came to the women's mind at first was of a blond baby faced boy, but then she remembered the warrior he had become to deserve the title of Bjorn Ironside.

It was wrong.

She was older than anybody on this world, couldn't Ragnar see that although her face may never wrinkle her spirit is perfectly made for his.

"Why?"

Ragnar's eyebrows creased,

"Can you not love him?"

Suddenly a passing anger boiled her blood, she could not love Bjorn when she knew that Ragnar was breathing. All she could remember was this man, she had no idea about the truth.

"Because I love another."

Ragnar's instant familiarity with the stranger now annoyed him, how could this women know him when he didn't even know himself?

He was trying to resist the spell of La Belle Dame sans Mercy. But it was not that easy.

The Gods may have let their pawn believe she had free will but it was something the women would never be granted.

He went back to the river side, gazing into the clear flowing water to avoid the burning hot sensation of the girls stare on the back of his neck. He wished for solitude again but knew that now he had human contact he would die if it was taken away.

"Can't a man love two women and a women love two men?"

La Belle Dame called out to him like he was a thousand miles away in Midgard, the only place the two of them could truly be together. He heard the rustle of her dress followed by a change in the tune of the flowing stream, she was walking in the freezing water,

"Love changes like the seasons Ragnar, it can come and go or stay for centuries."

"How do you know so much about me? Huh? We have only just met yet you, without a name, without a home, you tell me nothing."

Ragnar tilted his head and pointed at her accusingly.

"I don't want to talk about myself."

She stated as she let her toes dance above the water sending ripples across the surface.

"Well, I want to talk about you."

Ragnar may have given up on life but now he was not giving up on this task set before him.

A sudden pull came upon the women as Ragnar's confidence appeared again, a force swaying her on her feet.

It was a sign; a warning sign.

She had thought that the gods would have loosened their reign, allowed her to think for herself. She was naive to believe so.

The gods wanted Ragnar back on his throne and La Belle Dame was already serving her higher purpose, she rekindled a small spark of Ragnar Lothbrok spirit.

She stumbled over the rocks and fell, her gloved hands sinking into the water along with her dress.

Ragnar did not know what to think, he didn't reach out to stop her fall instead letting nature take its course. He debated what to do before deciding to walk over and lift her up by the arm. The water was freezing as he entered it, the man wondered how he had ever spent days half submerged in it. It wasn't gentle, like she expected but it didn't have the characteristic Viking roughness. It was a gesture somewhere in between.

"You really don't want to talk about yourself, do you?"

"I'm so boring,"

She replied. She took off her gloves and smiled sadly,

"I'm plain."

It was the truth as everything she remembered about herself had some connection with Ragnar. She was nothing without the connection the Gods made her have with him.

Ragnar looked at her in a new light, inspecting her profound beauty and without thinking he took her hand, "Then let us fix that."