Morning is just around the bend but the sky is still dark and he’s been awake for a while, laying on the cool ground while he awaits the day. Tensions within Sleeping Dragon had started to become obvious but Gavriel was oblivious to the real situations. Being low on the totem pole, even if he were Seageda blood, didn’t get vet much attention. Thuringwethil had him under a close eye. The corruption in their former home had led to a lot of distrust and it would take time for him to prove his worth, that he had not been apart of it, and being her brother wouldn’t give him any advantage.
When the skies begin to lighten up, Gavriel shifts his weight and finally forces himself to stand. There’s a rumble in his stomach but it’s quiet enough he doesn’t have to listen to it. He stretches out his limbs, shaking loose the stiffness in his bones, and begins an even trot as he makes an aimless trip to the eastern border of the dragon.
Gyda was restless. While a few weeks ago she might have thought this to be a good sign it is not the excitement of her maybe impending season that had her awake late into the night and rising early in the morning. There was much on her mind. The packs which kept cropping up all around the Teekon Wilds — and they only knew of the ones close to Drageda ...there could be countless other's. Lately, the Wilds had begun to feel claustrophobic to the shield-maiden whom had grown up in these lands when there were but, at most, five packs. When Gyda could not sleep, she busied herself with routine patrols and cache checks, sometimes venturing into the free territories north of the Dragon to check on the herds she'd been keeping tabs upon.
This morning, she chose the patrols. It was easy to lose herself in the focus, in the smells and the itch to protect what was hers. One particular scent stood out to her, strong and fresh and without giving it much thought Gyda followed it, her eyes of caribbean blue resting upon the strong form of Gavriel as she approached him from behind. “Gavriel,” She greeted him simply, wondering what had him up so early.
It is not long before he is accompanied. Most of his time on the borders is spent alone but he never complains. The times he does have the chance to have company is nice, even if they don’t speak to one another very much—such was the way of Sangilak—but the silence is never uncomfortable. Gyda has more words to her, as he recalls from the first time they meet, and it makes him wonder how things would have panned out if she’d not been so open that night. Eventually, he is sure he would have found Drageda, but it is luck he had that night and their search had been over. Seregryn settled in nicely under the cusp of their Heda.
“Gyda,” he murmurs with a slight tilt of his head, though seeing her on the borders isn’t a surprise either. His tail wags and he moves, slipping to nudge her chin with his cool nose before he settles back a safe and respectful distance away. “The borders are always quiet this early.”
The male's greeting is accepted by the viking queen who gave him a soft nudge of acknowledgment and acceptance. Despite her hesitance about bringing Thuringwethil to see him and the three he brought with him to Sleeping Dragon she had watched them from afar and while she remained uncertain of the young female he brought she is no longer uncertain of Gavriel himself. “As much as I yearn for battle like Odin's Valkyries I do also enjoy the quiet,” She murmured with a soft churr of a chuckle as she took a moment to settle upon her haunches, her tail making a sweeping gesture against the dirt before it curled around her paws, tucked close around her body. “for a while we'd had an influx of trespassers. One of which is very lucky Thurin saw it fit to keep him,” like some kind of pet. She still was largely disgusted by Storm and would have enjoyed booting him out of her lands to try to fend for himself but she'd come to discover that the half-breed appeared to be, essentially, harmless. Gyda could hardly take any man that peed himself at her assertion of dominance seriously.
“Are you settling in well?” She inquired with interest, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side as she studied him, inspecting him in a different manner than she had during their first meeting. He was strong, able-bodied and she had no doubts that he could hold his own in a battle. For now, she tried to keep her mind focused on the formalities on her job and off of things that were of equal importance to her but lesser importance to anyone else.
“I think I prefer the quiet,” he decides. He doesn’t like being still and useless, always wanting to keep his feet moving, always finding himself on the border or hunting or sparring with someone he could find. Semet and several of his warrior companions always found something to do, but here he’d yet to find his niche. No complaints so far, he’d been able to keep himself busy, even if it had all turned mundane.
When she brought up the captive, his head tilted toward her only a moment. When Gavriel redirects his attention the border, occasionally rubbing his nose against a tree or rock, he then diverts it back. “Will he be a slave?” They weren’t terribly uncommon in Seageda, though they didn’t happen on a regular basis. Captives from war, trespassers, others that proved useful based on their skills. He wonders, only to himself, the purpose behind the unknown captive.
Gavriel then nods to the final question, with a swish of his tail. “It’s not the same as Seageda. I do not quite have my mountain legs,” he says with a soft chuckle, and notices he had yet to stumble on the uncertain terrain yet this morning.
A soft noise of agreement rumbled in the elegant curve of the Viking Queen's throat for a brief moment though she saw no need to verbally respond for it would have simply been redundant; but she was glad that Gavriel agreed with her. Sometimes, quiet was not a bad thing. It meant that, for the moment, there was peace and no one was attempting to threaten her wolves by ignoring the most basic of their species' laws. The topic of conversation made the switch back to Storm and for a moment Gyda processed the question Gavriel posed to her. “I don't know her plans for him,” The Viking Queen spoke honestly, though this was namely probably because she hadn't cared to ask. She had no love for their prisoner and wouldn't have minded if he'd gotten the boot right that second. “but that is probably because I think he is a waste of space and resources.” She spoke with thinly veiled disgust and a simple rise and fall of her shoulders. It wasn't slaves Gyda minded so much as it was the idea of housing and feeding someone that had committed a crime against their pack. Aside from killing one of her wolves, trespassing was considered right up there in the Loðbrok's mind.
A soft smile played across Gyda's lips as Gavriel informed him that it wasn't the same and that he was not quite used to the terrain that the Dragons called home. “You will, in time,” Gyda assured him with a playful grin and cant to her head. “It took me some time to get used to it as well. I was so used to living by the sea that I still sometimes find myself homesick for it's constant lull.” That which had become a lullaby to her when she was but a child, first in Horizon Ridge and then in Stavanger Bay, and further into her adult year with Odinn's Cove.
Gyda’s words do not surprise him. It never surprises him when wolves outside their own do not understand. They sometimes contradict the basic instinct, their survival techniques are different, and he’d never really had to face that. Until now. Drageda is a hybrid of is own, and the rest of the world, and listening to Gyda brings that to the forefront of his mind and all he can do is offer a slight smile that he doesn’t let linger for more than a few seconds.
“I am sure Heda is aware of what he’s tallied since he’s been here,” he offers, glancing to the side and then forward again. The sky is starting to turn a lighter shade of blue as the sun rises behind them, slowly illuminating the world around them. “I do not think he will get away without repaying in full, and then some,” he muses. He shrugs one shoulder indifferently. Gyda might not even understand after he speaks, or maybe she did before, but the whole dynamic is one giant question mark; there shouldn’t even be someone next to his leader and yet, here they are.
When she speaks again, he realizes their former neighbor had also been on the sea and that causes him to slow his gait and come to a stop. He stretches, feeling the tiredness of the morning begin to settle in. “Why settle Drageda here, if you both are from the sea?” Everything was different. Maybe not wrong, but Gavriel isn’t sure. Anything he expected from Heda, when it came to their rebuild, differs from their home and perhaps there had been purpose behind that that he doesn’t yet see.
“I do not doubt Thuringwethil,” Gyda assured Gavriel. In fact, Gyda trusted the Grounder with her life — just as she had trusted Dragun and the wolves of Odinn's Cove. “In many cases trespassers will killed or made extreme examples of but they were not harbored and fed by us in the Cove,” Gyda informed him with another roll of her shoulders. If she thought Thuringwethil was letting Storm off too easy — and truly it annoyed the Viking Queen greatly how the hybrid hid behind Heda — Gyda would not hesitate to speak up. Or she would punish him herself. “I wished to reclaim a territory called Stavanger Bay south of here along the sea. It is my birthright,” Gyda admitted, though she did not speak to Gavriel that she was glad she allowed Thuringwethil to talk her out of it. Gyda might have continued to allow her sorrow of Ragnar's passing to cloud her judgment and consume her. Without it's constant presence she did not think on it as often as she might have otherwise. In a way, the Dragon had aided in her healing though it was still a slow process. “but Thuringwethil wished for a fresh start, to create our own legacy. Perhaps it was fate that we settled here for this was the place in which we were reunited.” Whether that had anything to do with their settlement or not Gyda couldn't be sure. It seemed practical and before other packs had came in and settled much of the North had been open to them as viable hunting grounds.
Gavriel does not oft hear his sister’s birth name and on Gyda’s tongue it seems foreign and out of place. When she’d taken the commander’s spirit, Thuringwethil had been placed on the side lines, and her title had taken over. He isn’t sure he’s even able to pronounce her old name anymore at all. “Perhaps there is a reason he had not been killed,” he offers, though he hadn’t been there. Maybe she didn’t at all. “But you are right, even in Seageda it is uncommon for one to survive their crime,” he decides, especially one so serious. Most often a trespasser would turn, even in the event of their promised release, but this one hadn’t gone very far as far as he is aware.
“I see,” he murmurs then, though the name of a bay does not mean anything to him. This land is entirely foreign, and names so far were lost in his mind. Gavriel doesn’t know how far the sea is from here, but he’d caught glimpses of it the higher up the mountain he’d gone. The distance remains unknown but he’d like to visit it again, relish in the waves he used to call home.
Gyda opted for contemplative silence and as Gavriel spoke allowed it to wash over her. In truth, she had nothing really to say, at least not without being redundant to herself. Gyda had, for the most part, written Storm off. She failed to trust him still, but that neither here nor there. Until he did something to warrant it: he wasn't her concern. He was Thuringwethil's to babysit and keep after like a pup — although, admittedly, Gyda had to admit she'd much rather have pups to look after then a prisoner that had committed a crime against her pack. She inhaled deeply and let it out for a second, allowing her gaze to traverse his body once more. An idea began to flicker to life within her mind, rooting and taking hold. The Viking Queen was hesitant for a mere second but she had shed the demureness of her youth a very long time ago. She circled him once, slowly, though gave no indication as to why. He was broad and strong and Thuringwethil trusted him, it had seemed to Gyda. Her conditions had been that her children be of Drageda blood: but Gavriel was one better. He was also of Seageda blood as well. Surely, Thuringwethil would not disapprove ...so long as Gyda could garner the male's permission. Gyda only had to figure out how to best phrase this too him. She did not want to scare him off and wanted him to know that he had the choice to decline her.
“Gavriel,” Gyda spoke his name softly, in a thoughtful hum as she came back around to face him. “I have an odd...proposition for you, if you would hear it?”
Silence falls between them and, for a moment, he thinks it’s because the comment of his preference. He assumes that that would begin to travel the borders again, side by side, and just enjoying their company. When she begins to move, he picks up a paw to continue his advance, but he’s cut off when she makes a circle around him. Gavriel stiffens and feels the skin upon his head tighten, ears splaying on top of his skull, and he feels a weird tightness in his chest he doesn’t understand.
Eventually, she comes back to stand in front of him and he watches her carefully—trying to decipher her expression from his peripheral without hitting her bright blue eyes—and cants his head when she offers him something. Gavriel takes a moment, expecting her to continue, but offers only if he’d care to hear. “Okay,” he says, trying to mask the uncertainty he suddenly feels.
Gyda notices the tenseness in Gavriel's posture though she is relaxed. She didn't think what she was going to ask him would be all that horrendous — but did she knew? As it stood, she was still confident that it was a good deal, just as she'd spoken to Thuringwethil. No strings attached and all that; but allowed herself to realize that it might not seem that way to him ...or any other male that she inquires to if Gavriel declines. Gyda hopes that he does not, but she would accept his rejection if he refused and move on without a second thought. “You can tell me no and I promise that I will not persist or think any less of you,” Gyda liked to keep things simple like that; though perhaps her willingness not to hold it against him was due to her blatant lack of romantic interest in the opposite sex. Would she have been romantically interested in him her feelings and approach to this whole scenario, she realized, might have been entirely different.
“I want to be a mother,” Gyda told him simply, so that he might catch onto her drift though Gyda did not intend to let him without an explanation for long. “I am not looking for a mate, only a sire for my children,” Beneath her confidence she couldn't help but acknowledge that she was a little scared. Perhaps of the idea of what it took to make children, not so much of his rejection as if he said yes and expected her to become wifey material. Perhaps, if that were to be so, there were worse fates but Gyda was very much independent and very much despised the idea of being forced into something she didn't want. It was too bad that procreation was nothing something Gyda could accomplish on her own.
“I have spoken with Heda about it and her condition was that they be of Drageda blood. You are my first choice but do not feel guilty for refusing, if that is what you wish.” She didn't want him to feel pressure. The choice was solely his to accept or reject, she reclined back upon her haunches, awaiting his response, something akin to nerves fluttering about in her stomach though she tried her very best to dismiss and ignore them.
awkward post is awkward?
There is some pressure, even if she offers him the chance to say, that he might be judged if he says know. Even before he knows what it is, he tries to figure out before but he eventually settles his mind. He shan’t worry about something he can’t control, until it’s presented, and having a shaken home until recently, but he remains quiet while she explains and the pieces begin to come together.
Gavriel’s jaw tightens and the more she speaks, the more he understands and what she wants from him. He opens his jaws to speak, but she continues onward and answers the concern. The condition sounds like something he’d expect, though the entire situation of Drageda is a little weird to him, but he brushes it off and shrugs a shoulder.
“Okay,” he says, and inhales a long breath. He did not have children of his own yet, nor a woman to call his own, but the task doesn’t much faze him.
“As long as Heda doesn’t mind,” he adds, though the woman seems to have her bases covered.
Gyda watched him studiously for his reaction, eager and also, perhaps for her own sake of not wanting to feel disappointment if he were to refuse, guarded. He replied with an “ok” that made Gyda immediately began to analyze wondering if it could really be that simple. Sure, she'd imagined a thousand different scenarios in her mind half of them where things would go smoothly and simply as they appeared to here and now, and half where all the worst scenarios occurred. In the here and now with the apparent simplicity she felt the urge to distrust it, and gave a sage nod of her head when he reiterated that as long as Thuringwethil didn't mind he would be ok with filling the role she'd sought him for. Gratitude swelled beneath her beast and for a moment Gyda couldn't help but give him a bright smile at the chance he was giving her. For a while now, children had been all she'd wanted and he was going to fulfill that wish. “Thank you Gavriel,” Gyda, caught in the moment of her sheer and unbidden joy moved forward to press her nose to his cheek and offer him a small lick: the equivalent of a human kiss upon the cheek.
When she pulled back, however, her expression was contemplative though still bright with her jubilation. “Originally I had not intended to allow them contact with their father,” Because even if they were not or ever mates Gavriel would still be their father by blood. Her ears slicked back to rest at half mast atop her skull. “but I cannot do that to you,” Perhaps because she knew him, or out of her never-ending gratitude towards him that so very suddenly caused her to make an amendment to her previously strict guidelines. “If you don't want to be present in their lives as their father you don't have to be, but if you want to be that role then I will not stop you or discourage it.” This decision was also his.
Perhaps she wasn't doing him a favor at all, she didn't know, but she wanted to put it out there, just in case, so he knew he had a choice of if he wanted to be in their lives or not.
Gyda explains her original plan and Gavriel hums quietly to himself in consideration, unsure of where they would go from here. The woman barely knew him, but his association with their leader gave him an advantage. He can’t help but wonder about the other males in the pack, ones he had yet to meet, but perhaps the condition had not included them. Or they weren’t up to the queen’s standards. Shrugging it off, though, he wonders about his involvement in the children.
“I will be involved if you want me to, but if your original wish is not, I do not mind separating myself. An uncle, maybe?” he asks, though he can’t help but think of Seregrýn and their relationship is far from an uncle and a niece. He was donating his service to Drageda, he could keep his distance. “I will protect them with my life, regardless. The first children of Drageda,” or at least, his assumption. Breeding in Seageda had been easy, their populous that kept them afloat against the rest of the world.
The truth was, now that Gyda had someone willing to sire her children, someone that was a subordinate, that held some of her affection simply for being apart of Sleeping Dragon as he was, she wasn't sure what to do. She held no interest in taking him as a mate — that much didn't change. It wouldn't have been fair to him, simply because her heart yearned for another; and while her sexuality was not something she pondered often the truth was she preferred women over men. Gyda wasn't so sure she could rip the chance of being their father away from Gavriel; in fact, she knew she couldn't. He was not some stranger that held no connection to her or the pack, or their would be children. “Originally I intended to have a loner sire my children,” But she had thought it would have been less messy. Perhaps, facing the dilemma she was now, it would have been much easier to stick to her original plan; yet Thuringwethil had set conditions after insulting Gyda's ability to lead (she was still a little salty about that) for the choice. “so what I had set applied to a loner. It no longer applies.”
Her ears slicked back to her skull for a moment as she went back and forth. “I will not withhold the truth from them,” not as her parents had done to her and her brothers. “Growing up the man I believed to be my father had turned out not to be my father at all. I do not wish to carve a lie to my children. Learning the truth of my mother's infidelity and the lies they'd told us had been a hard blow to take,” Gyda loved Thistle dearly and looked up to her in some respects, but she realized now that she didn't want to be her mother (was it too late for that?). “They will know you are their biological father, and what you and they chose to do with that information will be between you.” Gyda would simply tell the truth and allow the choices to fall between Gavriel and their children. If she had learned anything from herself and her brothers growing up it was that, if given the choice, they would decide for themselves. Mercury had rebelled and Gunnar had apparently been indifferent to the truth; while Gyda was still not ready to face how she felt about it. These days it really didn't matter. Ragnar was in Valhalla and the last time Gyda had seen her mother was shortly before Sleeping Dragon had been founded. Her grudges were old and she was ready to turn them into lessons that she intended not to repeat to her own children.
The last thing Gavriel expected when he found Heda had been becoming a father. In fact, it hadn’t been on the list at all. And here he was, agreeing to his new queen—the title still felt foreign to him, even in thoughts—and siring children for her. Even if he agrees, and it sounds that their leader would be on board, he still remains a little uncertain about the whole thing. Perhaps, if he could find her, he would speak to their Heda, but for now he just smiles and nods his head.
Whatever comes of the entire thing would play out and he wouldn’t be kept away from them. If it had been required, he would—he’d been able to separate himself well enough from his younger sister—but the fact they would be his children felt strange. He had a niece, and younger siblings, but they did not come from his loin, and now he had the chance.
Gavriel nods again, once she’s given him the decision to make himself—and those of his children, should they want to—and finds himself silent, without anything else left to say. His tail wags and he widens his smile, trying to ease the tension riding between his shoulders that he hope doesn’t present itself in his gait. They continue on, talking a little about random things, but the awkwardness of the proposal never quite dissipates.