A Hungry Creature

I had an astute Insta comment from a reader who recalled that it was Leif, in Heart of Winter, who first mentioned Ragnar. Good catch! And thanks for the inspiration of this post. I'm always in the mood to talk about Ragnar. 

Here's his first "appearance," if you will: 

“What’s troubling you?” Erik asked. He realized, with something of a start, that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone with his heir like this, and felt like a neglectful sod for it. Leif had no shortage of tutelage and training, and his brother was his constant companion and best friend – but Erik intended the boy to rule this nation some day, and he’d failed, lately, in providing any sort of direct counsel.

Leif shrugged. “Do you think Ragnar will come?”

“When has he ever missed a chance to drink our ale?”

The corner of Leif’s mouth twitched upward in a fleeting smile. “That’s true.” He sobered. “He will be angry that we’ve strengthened ties with the South.”

Later, when Ragnar sweeps into the hall during the Yule feast, Leif is the one who answers Oliver. 

Great slabs of pink, bloody beef tenderloin were being served when the grand doors at the far end of the hall groaned open, admitting a gust of cold wind that bent the candle flames double, and a swirl of snow.

A collective gasp went up amongst the diners. Guards moved forward along the edges of the room, heading for the small knot of newcomers who stalked in shaking off clumps of snow, cheeks pink from the cold.

Leif’s cup landed on the table with a solid thump. Before Oliver could ask who had arrived, Leif said, “Ragnar,” in a tone that was both eager and cautious.

“Who?” Oliver asked.     

“The leader of the Úlfheðnar. Our cousin.”

There were seven of them, all men, grouped three and three so they flanked their leader, walking into the hall like a spearpoint.

Guards heaved the massive doors closed again; the candles guttered, and then settled. The light swelled again, and Ragnar swept around the big fir tree and into full view.

It was the eyes Oliver noticed first: the same clear, shocking blue as Erik’s. Even without being told, he could have noted the familiar resemblance: the stern brow, the blade-straight nose, the regal bearing.

But where Erik’s mouth had been a flat line of contempt on Oliver’s first day here, Ragnar’s was curved into a boyish, overeager smirk. He was golden-haired, like Leif, his hair secured in a dozen small braids along his temples and the crown of his head, left loose in the back, so it looked like a windswept lion’s mane. Rather than beads and jewels, there were bones strung through it, and around his neck: a thick, intricate choker of old, dirty ivory that gleamed faintly in the candlelight. He wore wolf fur of a dozen different colors over worn, serviceable leathers. A wide belt set with more bones, and heavy, fur-wrapped boots to his knees. He carried a sword on his hip, and a bow and quiver on his back; a horn hung from his belt, and his hands, as he spread his arms upon approach, bore fingerless leather gloves backed with bone spikes like ivory knuckle-dusters.

“Cousin!” he greeted, heavily-accented voice booming through the hall, undercut with suppressed laughter. “You’ve saved the best course for me, I see.”

One of the things I realized early on in HOW drafting was that Leif wasn't like most of my other leading men, in this series, or any of my others. I tend to write stern, leaderly grumps (Erik, Ghost, Nikita), loveable but awful gremlins (Tenny, Nali, Much), displaced theater majors with tragic backstories (Val, Ian), strong silent types who feel deeply and show little (Michael, Walsh, Vlad) and the occasional sunshine boy, like Sasha. (Rune fits that bill, too, for the most part.) But with Leif, I was writing a dutiful prince for the first time. Not a vengeful, blood-drinking, fratricidal prince like the Dracula brothers, but a proper one. Loyal, steadfast, dedicated to following in the king's footsteps to the best of his ability. Leif approached being heir with a weighty sense of responsibility - if not joy. And that's the thing about Leif: he doesn't find joy in his inheritance. It's a duty, one to which he's wholly committed at the outset of our journey, but not one that has made him spoiled or bratty or entitled. Leif is very much a Good Boy. He does everything right. 

Leif is essentially the perfect man - in real life. But this is a fiction book, and that calls for interest. It does for me, at least. Fiction, adult fiction, is a sandbox in which to play with all the dark, savage dolls not suitable for real life. It's for fun. In real life, watching a person like Leif fall from grace would be a travesty. In fiction we get to enjoy all the delicious drama. 

For all his admirable traits, and for all that Leif admires - reveres - his Uncle Erik, Ragnar has always been the "cool" cousin who swept in on special occasions, with a blast of cold, and a cutting smile, and the fascinating ability to knock Erik sideways on his throne. He's only a year or two younger than Erik, they were children together, and so he served as an alternative uncle for Leif and Rune: the fun uncle with the dirty jokes, the smuggled booze, the bad ideas and the raucous laugh. Erik was the role model, yes, but there was something awe-inspiring and irresistible about Ragnar. Erik dreads his arrival at the Yule Feast, but Leif is eager to see him. It's that eagerness, that affection formed in early childhood, which will always endear Ragnar to Leif, despite his sins and crimes. That familiar bond is what makes the romantic turn of their relationship reprehensible (fun; it makes it taboo and fun), but also the thing that has spared Ragnar's life up to this point. Intellectually, Leif knows not to trust him...but he does again and again, a trust that's been deepened and solidified by their shared status as wolves, and their roles as alpha and beta. 

In this Norse-inspired melodrama, Ragnar plays the part of Loki. Transgression is in his very nature, woven into the soul of him. Even if he achieved everything he'd ever wanted, he would not be satisfied. Ragnar is a hungry creature. He takes, and he takes, and he sins...and he is forgiven. Why? You might also ask: Why do the gods forgive Loki? It's a question that can't be answered by anyone standing on the outside of the situation looking in. Any observer would demand Ragnar's head and give it no further thought. His family will always hesitate, Leif especially. And especially now. 

Because Ragnar is playing Loki in this bit of Norse god theater, he isn't actually seeking forgiveness. He's been defeated, been collared, and set firmly in his place...but he hasn't rolled over. He isn't sorry for the things he's done, only sorry that things didn't work out the way he'd hoped. Likewise, he would have been sorry if he'd succeeded and killed all his cousins. He doesn't know how to be satisfied. His character journey isn't necessarily one of repentance and earned redemption. By the end of the series, we'll see if Ragnar was able to gain the self-awareness to find something like peace. We'll see if he understands that love and belonging are the best he can hope for. The audience doesn't yet trust him, as well they shouldn't. He's untrustworthy. 

This is when I'm forced to think about the ways the mainstream, popular, powerful romance voices have done the genre a disserve by setting such firm and inflexible parameters with regards to what romance is. I love playing fictional matchmaker, but sometimes the dominant genre narrative drives thought about pairings in one direction: it dictates that the purpose of a romantic pairing in a novel is to bring out the best in both parties, so that each half can grow and improve and gain moral clarity. Sometimes I write those stories...oftentimes I prefer to take a more Bronte approach to the craft. Leif and Ragnar's dynamic is rich with possibility, with deep emotion and painful truth. Theirs is not a story of Ragnar's reformation. It doesn't mean they won't inspire and improve one another, but it's thorny, messy, and intentionally damaging. And when it comes to Amelia, well...I think it's best in long-form series like this to wait and see. 

Book 5 in the series, Fortunes of War, is available now.