Rollo was walking down the corridors of the royal palace of Paris. The sound of his heavy steps echoed on the walls. The day had been hard for him and every muscle of his body hurt. He had to fight all day against Northerners who came to raid and seek revenge on him and Paris. Of course his forces prevailed, but at the cost of many lives and after a day of violence, all he wanted was to see the face of his beloved. As soon as he came home, he took a bath, but his clothes remained stained with the blood of his let a sigh come out of his chest: he was late. And Gisla would not appreciate his lack of manners. The gods knew how he wished for that woman to like him. But even though he tried to reach her heart, she remained cold toward him.

When he entered the dining room, all sights went on him. He read disapproval mostly, but also disgust and mockery. This had been a long and tiresome day. So when he noticed everyone looking at him, his blood rushed to his ears and he said in a broken frank:

- Pardon my appearance your Highness, I had to take care of a problem all day long.

- You are forgiven Rollo, the king said with a weak voice. Paris, once again owe you its peace. Did you lost many men?

- I did. It is a pity I didn't have any reinforcement, he coldly said looking straight at Odo.

- A pity indeed, the king said weakly.

A sudden scraping chair noise to the right of the king made him turn his head.

- I suppose it is blood on your shirt. I really hope it is yours, Gisla spat to him standing still.

Rollo's mouth widened to reveal a bright smile.

- I won't give you the pleasure of saying it, my wife, he teased her as he sat next to her. I suppose you will look for every wound tonight. Just try and be patient.

Gisa suddenly blushed and spat to him:

- You filthy pig!

Proud of his good word, Rollo began to eat the food that was in front of him. His sptifire of a wife really was his island in this court where everyone was backstabbing his neighbor for power. She was so fierce. She wasn't even afraid of him and looked at him not with fear, but with anger which led him to think that his wife was the strongest woman of the kingdom. Despite his still terrible table manners, he accustomed quite well to the court of Frankia and his newly found title. He cut his hair, wore expensive shirts and tunics bought by Gisla with his gold and his Frank was getting better every day, allowing him to tease his wife even more.

The only thing he quite hated at the court was all the whispers about him and Gisla. All the fuss about how she rejected him and didn't want to let him touch her. The story of their first night together as husband and wife was well known at the palace. And it was a common joke to say that the duke was unable to tame a mere woman. Rollo felt all these whispers as daggers in his skin. He could have slept with her if he wanted. He did that before. But she was his wife, a princess and the strongest woman he ever met. His own Walkyrie. She wasn't a slave.

These people were doubting his authority. Him, who, the past few months defended the kingdom all by himself. Him, who didn't hesitate to join his men to battle and to fight for them. Him, who, despite being away from his lands, ruled it anyway. Oh, how he could shut their mouths. How he could kill them in one evening if he wanted to. But that Rollo, he left him when he fell from the wall. He left him in Kattegat with Ragnar, Siggy and Lagertha. He would endure. If he knew anything about him, it was that it would take a lot to destroy him.

He finished his meal in silence, absored by his moody thoughts, not noticing his wife hiding a knife in her sleeve.

She was the first one to get out of the dining room. The less she spent time with her husband, the better. She carefully checked if her knife was still in her sleeve when a cold metallic hand grabbed her arm to push her against a cold wall, out of sight. At first, she thought it was her husband. Brutal as he was, it was probably the most sensed hypothesis. But she remembered her husband had no metallic hand and suddenly, she felt cold and shivers down her spine. Odo. He was standing in front of her, menacing despite his short body. He was blocking her way and she looked at him with an expression full of disgust and disdain.

- Let me go, she coldly said to the count.

- I'm afraid I cannot, princess, he said in her ear.

- Let me go this instant or I'll ask for your head.

- To whom? Your father, he mocked her. Oh, dear, he will do nothing for you. Not now that you are married.

- What is it you want count Odo?

He paused for a second, playing with her locks.

- I suppose I want repayment for the humiliation your beast of a husband did to me this evening.

- What makes you think this is the right way.

He suddenly stopped playing with her hair and bursted into laughter. A few second happened before he came back to normal and he answered coldly:

- Well, because he loves you of course.

She knew it. She knew her heathen of a husband cared about her. She became accustomed to him too. And him knowing her tongue was the reason they came to slowly understand each other better. Yet, she still was defiant toward him. Her silence was more than enough for Odo to understand how she felt.

- And I desire you, he whispered touching her breast with his metallic hand.

The contact was cold and unpleasant. Gisla immediately tried to escape, but he firmed up his grip on her arm.

- Let me go, you pig, she screamed at him.

But Odo shut her mouth with a wet and brutal kiss, unwanted by the young princess. Never has she felt this powerless. This humiliated. When he moved his lips away from hers, she spat at him. He wiped her saliva off his face, showing obvious rage and fury. He slapped her in the face with his metal hand roaring:

- You little WHORE!

He was going to slap her a second time, but his hand was stopped by another, bigger. Suddenly, he found himself pinned to the wall by a tall man with a shirt stained with blood. He grabbed the neck of the count and lifted him against the wall, his feets swinging into the void. The count looked at his opponent and fear suddenly invaded his eyes. He tried to resist by trying to reach the berserker's neck, but Rollo strongly pushed his arm back. Gisla stepped in for a moment between the two men. But what she saw in her husband's eyes frightened her more than ever. There was nothing but hate, fury and anger. It was worse than the day he fought on the walls of Paris. This time, these were not a pretador's eyes, those were a killer's. His eyes were like to glowing sun and his enormous hand reached his belt. Realizing, he didn't take his axe, he swore in his tongue and hit the wall with his other hand.

- I should have take it, he grunted in Norse.

- Husband, let him go! You are going kill him, Gisla shouted to him.

- Yes. Yes I will kill him, he menacingly said in Frank.

- No! Don't, please, she sternly asked him.

- Why? Why would I not want to kill him? After what he did to you?

His grip tightened on the count's neck making his skin turn blue.

- I know. But don't kill him, please. In the name of God...

- Your God! I am a pagan remember? I am a killer, he said between his teeth turning his head to Odo's. If only I had my axe, he said. I could rip your heart off your chest, he grunted in Norse his head at one inch from Odo's.

- I was right! I tried to save your soul but you have none! You are a BEAST, she shouted at him.

Rollo paused for a moment and dropped the count who fell on the floor with a big thud. He turned to his wife a wide smile on his face.

- But, wife, does that mean you actually care about me, he teased her.

At his feets, the count was massaging his neck.

- I do not, Heathen! But I'm glad you showed some humanity in sparing the count, she fiercely said.

- Who said I was going to spare him?

He bent to the miserable man lying on the floor, trying to escape and without any word, he broke his valid arm. The scream the count let out was so loud it could have awoken all the palace. Rollo hit him with his feet to make him shut and turned back to Gisla.

- This is the best I can do for you. Without this arm, I doubt he will ever touch you again.

He, then, left spitting at the count on his way to get back to his bedchambers. Gisla watched his back, discontent. He didn't change at all: he was still as brutal as she remembered. She hated him. But the man she hated more was lying at her feet with a broken arm and begging for her to help him. He grabbed her dress with his broken arm drawing him a painful scream out to which she answered by kicking his head with her foot.

-I'll ask the guards to come and get you. I suggest you get some rest count Odo, she coldly said without looking at him.

Then, she left the empty corridor to rejoin her husband to their bedchambers.

Once they were alone in their bedchambers Gisla immediately took her knife and rushed to her husband to stab him. He dodged it and she fell on the bed. With a scream of rage she ran to his stomach her blade headed toward his skin. She was swift, there was no denial of that. But Rollo was a skilled warrior with years of practice and he was used to being threaten by his lover with knives. This time, he didn't dodge it. He grabbed the little blade with his hands and made Gisla drop it. Then, he threw it on the floor to Gisla's fury.


- HOW COULD I LET HIM TOUCH YOU THE WAY HE DID! How could I let him slap you of all women!

- I could have handle this, she spat back furious.

- You mean, just like what you did right now, he asked sarcastically.

Gisla blushed and hissed at the same time. She slapped him in the face and sat quietly but still furious on their bed. Rollo went to take his shirt off and a few minutes passed before she spoke to him again.

- Does it hurt?

- What, he asked without any delicacy.

- Your hand, she asked again pissed and annoyed. Does it hurt?

- No.

The silence came back for a few moments.

- And you? How is your cheek?

- I'm fine, don't bother asking.

- No it's not, he said grabbing a large bowl of cold water and a clothe. Let me see this.

- Don't come near me, beast!

- Try and stop me. It worked so well the first time.

She went silent again. He took the clothe and soaked it in the water. He looked at her cheek with soft eyes and gently, he put the cold clothe on her bruises. The contact made her shiver. She dared to look at him and what she saw gave her more shivers than the cold clothe. His green eyes were now softer than ever. All she could read this moment was care, tenderness and love. When he was done, he slowly caressed her cheeks and the warmth of his enormous hand on her cold cheeks almost made her sigh from pleasure.

- It will only be visible for a few days, he said standing up.

- And your hand?

- The bleeding stopped. It's not that deep. You really need to improve your fighting skills.

- And you, your manners, she hissed.

- What do you mean?

- What's with the shirt, she asked showing the fabric at his feet with her eyes.

- I didn't have time to change.

Silence again. She stood up and went to change herself for the night. Once she came back wearing her white night gown, she immediately headed to their bed without even looking at her husband. She was about to lie down on the bed when his hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her move. She turned her head, still pissed, to her husband's begging eyes.

- Gisla. Please, he said with hunger.

She looked at him with fear. The same fear she sowed their first night together.

- Please, let me love you, he said his voice softer than ever.

She didn't know how she came to stop and stand still. Maybe it was the fact that he fought all day long against his own people to protect her city. Maybe it was the fact that he rescued her from the vile count. Or perhaps it was his eyes and his voice, showing nothing but love and adoration. Perhaps she was bewitched by some pagan magic. The sweetest magic. She looked at him in the eyes allowing him, with her's, to touch her.

His heart bounced in his chest. The moment he was waiting for and dreamt of at night finally came true. How beautiful she was. His wife, his Valkyrie, his goddess. He looked at her in total devotion, slowly untying the laces of her dress. Never had she felt such a sight on her. It frightened her a little but mostly flattered her heart to know that she was so important to him. When, she was undressed, his big warm hands reached her eyes with tenderness and her skin. She closed her eyes as his fingers wiped a single tear from her yet angry eyes. His touch was gentle, as if she was made of the the most precious glass. His rough fingers moved to her cheeks, feeling her soft skin, and then to her lips caressing them with adoration, feeling their warmth and softness. He kissed her bruised cheek, softly, taking care of not hurting her. He kissed every part of her face, her neck, her breasts, trying to memorize every single details of her. His contact was warm, she shivered and breathed heavily as pleasure invaded her body. He went back to her face, took her chin in his enormous hands and raised her face to his. He whispered to her ear in Frank:

- I love you.

She breathed more heavily, almost moaning. His warm breath to her ear, the sound of his deep voice, all of this was enough for her to let him kiss her. His lips softly landed on hers. It was a quiet question to which she responded with hesitation. His kiss was not a claim. It wasn't brutal as Odo's was. It was noting but adoration and devotion. Suddenly all her defenses collapsed and she let herself go into the arms of her husband. He held her back in his hands still kissing her. He moved his hands to her hips and began to slowly kiss her neck. The feeling was delicious. Every contact electified her brain. She began to moan a little more. Never had she expected to find in her husband such a lover. Her back arched as he slowly kissed her breast, her hips, her thighs, going down on her, kiss by kiss. He his lips explored the inside of her legs and her moans became louder.

His tongue was now covering her lower belly. Her back was arching even more. She was gripping his hair as he slowly made her moan more and more. It was torture. She felt overwhelmed by pleasure. A scream escaped her mouth making Rollo grin. She liked it. He stood up and took off his pants. He grabbed her legs, put them around his pelvis and drove her to their bed. While he was doing that, he kept kissing her, touching her tongue with his. He could feel her heart racing against his chest. And his raced in unison. He opened her legs and pressed his hard organ to her inside. He moaned with pleasure as she let a little squeak come out of her mouth. Still moaning, he kissed her lips, touching every part of her anatomy. Her back arched more and her moans became screams of pleasure. She gripped his hair, her hands roaming his back, her lips claiming his. Both screamed so hard the entire palace heard them, to the displeasure of Odo and the whisperers. But it didn't matter to them. Nothing mattered to them more than the pleasure their bodies were giving to each other.

When the climax of their mutual pleasure passed, they both laid on the bed, next to each other, still kissing. Gisla was gently drawing patterns on his scars with her hand and Rollo just as gently as his wife, was caressing her hair. Both of their hands rejoined entangling their fingers, forever bounded.

Cheesy ending, I know. Actually, I just had some unexplored ideas after the latest releases and I had to write them down. I hope, this will help you waiting for the season4. (Gods grant me strength).

Anyway, I hope you liked it ;) Don't forget to write me a review.