Blackbeak Bluff take the halves and call them brothers

i am sorry kjalarr is like this. ;-;

Kjalarr wanted to retort that if he truly meant something to her she would accept him as he was now instead of trying to shove him in a box of the boy she remembered. He wasn't what she wanted him to be. Meaning something to someone meant acceptance, no matter what. With no strings attached. Though this was just the northman's opinion he held resolute to it. He would not give an inch, either. Stubborn was something that the resilient Ragnarsson was very good at. She proposed that they spar and the Jarl scoffed at her. A proposal that a younger, more reckless Kjalarr would have accepted without hesitation. The older Kjalarr, the Jarl did not like that she thought she could set the perimeters of this situation and that he was expected to do things her way. Oh, how wrong she was. Scarred muzzle wrinkled back and he bared his teeth at her, tail lashing behind him. “No,” She was missing the point, still trying to put herself in control of a situation that Kjalarr refused to relinquish his own control on. To what end? To appease her? What about him? Why did he have to sacrifice for her?

“I am the sole Jarl of my pack, it's queen recently deceased. I will not spar with you. I have responsibilities and I need my strength.” He did not think anyone would challenge the rank he'd already held but the rules of Saltwinter were clear: all ranks were challengeable. Even his own. “You keep trying to take charge of this situation but I do not bow to you. Sister or not. Eldest or not.” The truth was: Ragnar wouldn't have stood for her attitude, either. “You expect me to give and yet you are unwilling to give anything yourself.” He refused to give into her. He'd always been dominate — even as Jorunn; and this trait had only been encouraged and strengthened through his life. Ragna didn't have to like it and frankly Kjalarr didn't much care.