Painting Ragnar Lothbrok Real Novels & Stories

“I didn’t mean to.” “Nevertheless, good is good.” She smiled at her with unabashed sweetness. “And I hope you’ll ask Aiden to show you the pieces. They’re by an Icelandic painter called Ragnar Vilhjálmsson. The collection is called Let Us Compare Mythologies.” “Is that…is that a Leonard Cohen reference?” She nodded. “You know, if it wouldn’t be the…” For the first time, her grace faltered, a delicate flush brushing the fine arch of her cheekbones. “The uncoolest thing in the world, would you like to come to lunch with me someday?”

I looked away each time, focusing on Alexander's cold hand in mine, on the steady pulse of the bond between us. When Ragnar finally returned to the central chamber, the fire had burned down to embers. He looked different in the gray light that filtered through cracks in the stone ceiling. Less like a monster and more like a king. His massive shoulders were draped in a cloak made of some dark fur, and his amber eyes seemed to glow in the dimness. He stopped in front of us, his gaze moving from Alexander to me and back again. "I have made my decision." Alexander rose to his feet, pulling me up beside him. "We are listening."

Ragnar didn’t even look up. “I said be quiet.” Lance leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “This is taking forever,” he whispered dramatically. Silence. Ragnar completely ignored him. Lance stared at the ceiling for a moment before groaning again and standing up. Since sitting still clearly wasn’t working, he started wandering around the office instead. His eyes drifted toward the paintings hanging on the walls. Some were landscapes. Others looked older, like historical portraits. “Nice place you got here,” Lance commented casually.

Ragnar snarled. I shifted without hesitation, my paws slamming the earth as I tore through the trees. The sound guided me, and then I saw them. They had Nyx bound in ropes, a bag over her head. One of them struck her with a rock as they noticed me. Ragnar snarled, baring his teeth. “How dare you!” I roared through him. I had miscounted. There weren’t three. There were six. Their bodies were painted black, hair shaved to the scalp.

Ragnar hissed. Collin’s smile became darker. “I hate when people paint me like I’m the villain,” he said bitterly. “All I want is the woman I love. Stella. Is that so wrong? You, Ragnar… you walk around with three women in your life who’d die for you. Your precious mate, your doting mother, and your little sister. And me?” He scowled. “I get nothing. No loyalty, no love. Just rejection.” Ragnar spat at his feet. “Untie these damn ropes,” he growled. “Let me give you a face only a mother would love.”

He held the painting tightly but he was surprised when he noticed the painting seemed to be different. Noel saw the change in the painting, a man who had been surfing had just been in the painting, now it looked like a deep well that was very bright inside. He tried to release the painting but he could not, because a strong force coming from inside the painting pulled his whole face up to his neck. He was screaming but it was just an echo that kept coming back to his hearing. Laughing Gregorio approached the black cabinet. With both hands, he opened it. "My dear lord! Watch the new gift I offer you." Gregorio said happily. He looked back at the young man who seemed to be trying to remove his

Draco shared a look with me and I huff to inform them all seriousness of this situation but then suddenly my gaze caught something attention, I saw a big old portrait of a noble man painted as, man in portrait looked almost in late 40s. I went closer and took good look at portrait, under shallow light I could see his clear face, it than hit me that he was the same man whose ghost I saw in alive body of King Erlenduris in royal castle. “Who… who is he..?” I questioned solider Martin, he looked at me like dumb but then replied with pride in his eyes “He is our late king… JAMERIAN BORG” “Ohh…..nooooo…..” was only expressive I could mutter.

“You should better find someone else. I have to finish this painting as soon as possible.” Ragnar’s face darkened. “Are you sure you want me to find someone else? Let me tell you something. Just now, there was a woman with a body a hundred times better than yours, who would be more than willing to satisfy my urges. You better learn what’s good for you.” Ragnar snatched the paintbrush from my hand and threw it on the ground before pointing at the portrait. “What are you trying to do looking at another man’s face every day? Are you rebelling?”