King Ragnar Imagines

Definitely Too Old For This

This man was too old for this.

Ragnar was none shy of being in the room while she was in labour. Yet— here he was, sitting outside of the room with his short fingers rustling the short top of his head. The other labour and delivery nurses sat gossiping.

He has head tattoos!
Isn't he too old for that?

Ragnar's cheeks fill with air, looking into the room where he could hear the nurse inside urging her on. The only thing he was too old for was this. He stretches out with his hands behind his head, letting his eyes rest as he expels air.

It wasn't his first time. He had been through this before. His twins with Lagertha, his four boys with Aslaug and now...

"You can come in now."

The nurse pulls the door apart. Ragnar turns his eye lazily to her. He sighs as he stands up, reaching for his ballcap on the deep blue cushion. As he ambles in, his hands are deep in his pockets.

"Nice for you to show, Ragnar." She drawls. By her side, his oldest son cradles his sibling. Her waving blonde hair crinkles with sweat of her delivery. Ragnar lifts his eyebrows slowly, a light smile pulling at his lips.

"You said you wanted a natural delivery." He notes.

"I did. You should have been here."

Ragnar walks with slow steps to his oldest, gazing at the little bundle in his arms. He's done this six times now. He looks into his sons arms, then back to her again.

"Would you throw something at me like last time, eh, love?" You say.

"Probably." She shifts in her bed. "You could take it as his father."

Ragnar feels his lip twitching, bending to take the child from his youngest child's arms. He hums as he pulls the warm little grey beanie over his son's head, cupping the back of his head.

"There's never any point in arguing with you, Lagertha."