son of valkyries - dalten, any

[Lagertha]

this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more

As far as Lagertha is concerned, the whole process of making babies is rather distasteful. All of it; from the mounting to these goddamn cramps that are making her sweat, she doesn’t understand why anyone would want to do this. She waddles her way through the Jungle, wincing every now and then and cursing under her breath. Some place safe…. some place safe… some place where the Jaguars wouldn’t smell the blood and the pythons wouldn’t come a-slithering. She eventually finds a place at the roots of a great tree - covering her back and leaving the rest of her protection to her natural armor formation.

For a warrior who endures pain fairly often, whether it’s through sore muscles or bruises or lacerations, this is oddly unendurable.

Labor seems to last forever, and when she finally pushes the child out, Lagertha sighs in relief. But only for a moment. Something tells her that the tiny little thing inside that sac probably wants to breathe fresh air, so she tears it open, revealing a wet, dark, little boy. Aww. For being only a little bigger than a drowned rat, he was kind of cute… she whuffs at him affectionately (no comments from the peanut gallery, please!), and after she pulls herself up, urges him to stand as well.

She supposes the child must have a name (all children have a name), and so she mulls it over, rolling strong sounding ones around in her head. Finally, one seems appropriate - she wouldn’t want to give him expectations to grow in to (though let’s be real, by definition of his lineage, he has some already), nor something too wishy-washy. “Dalten,” she says simply. “I will call you Dalten”

lagertha

carnage x grim reaper; amazonian general