CHAPTER TWO
1083 Words
Lance didn't move from his seat, honestly he didn't want to.
“Hey dad" Ylva grinned widely like it wasn't the same man in both their presence, she got up and hugged him eagerly.
Lance reluctantly stood up despite himself due to the respect he was expected to have, but as he turned he regretted it immediately.
As his eyes met Ragnar's, an unmistakable fear fell over him, his blood ran cold and it felt like everything went still.
Lance had faced several frightening situations but none ever made him feel what he felt at that moment, it was a feeling he didn't like one bit.
He was quiet for a moment, just staring until Ylva cleared her throat and he snapped back to reality.
“Hello sir I'm La—"
"I know who you are,” Ragnar said, his deep voice rumbling across the room."Sit”.
Lance didn't even argue and stumbled back into his seat.
Ranger walked over to the head of the table slowly sitting and folding his hands in front of him.
“So dad this is Lance, Lance this is my dad" Ylva smiled.
“Yes sir Ylva has said so much about you" Lance chuckled awkwardly.
“I'll get straight to the point" he leaned closer, his eyes boring into Lance's which made him lean back a bit. “What are your intentions with my daughter?".
"Dad come on” Ylva groaned, her face turning beat red from embarrassment but a part of her was curious at what Lance had to say.
Lance's eyes widened, obviously caught off guard by the questions, but he expected it, “Well I love Ylva a lot and I want to take care of her".
Ragnar was silent before his expression twisted into that of pure disgust “That is what every man says before leaving a girl alone, after getting her pregnant that is".
Lance was taken aback, even the thought of doing that made his stomach turn, “I would never do that to Ylva”
Luckily Ragnar didn't push further and the dinner went on normally after that. Yes, Ragnar looked scary but Lance began to see that he was just a dad worried about his daughter.
Obviously he was still terrified but he began to warm up to him.
Eventually Lance excused himself to the restroom and was given direction by a butler.
As he walked down the hallway he saw the walls aligned with several paintings that strangely resembled Ragnar.
It looked like paintings found in museums and he didn't dare look at the price tags still on the art, knowing it would make him feel more intimidated than he already is.
He was so engrossed in the painting he took the wrong turn and landed up in a dark hallway, it was long with several doors carrying a unique set of numbers and letters.
“What is—" Lance was cut off when he heard the faint sounds of… whimpers and cries.
He slowly walked to the door and pressed his eyes to it and then he heard it clearly.
Cries of what seemed like men and children, even women if you listened carefully and occasional grunts.
Lance was still trying to make sure he wasn't hearing things when his eyes trailed down and his heart stopped when he saw it.
Blood.
It seeped from beneath the door.
He took a step back and then another before bolting out of there and navigating his way back to the dining room.
As he sat he tried to keep a calm demeanor, smiling as he did before.
Ragnar raised a brow, he noticed immediately the shift in Lance's attitude, how he barely ate his food and just moved it around on the plate.
“Are you okay?Did you see a ghost?You look rather pale".
Lance swallowed hard before speaking," Oh I'm perfectly fine, just mesmerized by the size of this place”.
Ragnar hummed but it was obvious he didn't believe it one bit.
Dinner was coming to an end, Ylva excused herself to get something from her room now leaving Lance and Ragnar alone.
“I've taken care of Ylva since she was barely able to walk, since she was barely able to even say her own name or form a thought herself” Ragnar said leaning back in his seat and twirling the glass of whiskey in his hand, watching the liquid inside follow the movement.
"I know tha—"
“No you do not, because if you did you wouldn't be trying to ruin her life”
Lance was now quiet
“I do not approve of your relationship with Ylva, and I doubt I ever will. But for some reason, she has taken a liking to a lowly commoner like you.”
He paused, then finally lifted his gaze, his eyes deadly cold.
“But let me tell you this, Lance. If you ever do anything that causes her even the slightest displeasure, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”
Lance’s blood ran cold. One look at Ragnar’s eyes told him this was no empty threat.
“I… I understand,” Lance managed to say.
Ragnar stood and walked away, stopping only to glance over his shoulder. “And it is in your best interest to forget what you saw in the hallway.”
With that, he left.
“I'm so dead" Lance muttered.
After a few minutes Ylva emerged.
“Oh, dad’s gone. Do you want to stay the ni—”
“No,” Lance said quickly. “I’m good. I have, um… a project I need to finish.”
He smiled awkwardly, kissed her cheek, and practically ran out the door.
She stood there, confused. “bye?".
When Lance arrived at his apartment, he went straight to his room and collapsed onto the bed, replaying the entire night in his head.
He couldn’t deny how terrified he was. Ragnar wasn’t what he expected. He was younger than he imagined. No tattoos. No scars. His skin was smooth, almost porcelain-like.
Hands that looked like they had never worked a day in their life… yet had probably killed without hesitation.
Ragnar was still dangerous.
Lance sighed deeply. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into, but his love for Ylva had made him practically blind to every other thing.
He had a feeling this was only the beginning.
- Writer
