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Ragnar had not forgotten about Stavanger Bay's newest captive, neither had he forgotten the promise of a punishment for disrespecting Thistle. Something that would serve as a reminder that Ragnar was not a man to be crossed. That each time he was charitable enough to allow life instead of dealing death like some kind of living, breathing reaper was a blessing. Killing was so much easier, but killing just because of disrespect was a pointless death and might stand to mar his chances of getting into Valhalla. Death with reason was acceptable and while disrespect was a reason it did not warrant death in the eyes of the Gods. Ragnar had been playing with the idea of leaving him with a scar to remember ...for there was nothing more lingering, nothing that served as a constant reminder than a scar something that Ragnar, riddled with scars, each of them bearing a story, some intentional, some from his near death experiences, some from death matches, some from raids was proof of that. He remembered how he got every scar on his body. His decision, however, was still up in the air, toying with the notion of asking his Queen Wife's opinion upon it considering her rise in position as his true second in command but also because it had been her that Kryillos had disrespected in the first place.
As night fell over the Bay, Ragnar had began heading towards the Jarl den, housing his children and both of his wives, the Queen and the Priestess before on a whim he changed his mind and altered his course heading towards the small clearing in the ancient forest that he called Bandingjar Halda in his native tongue translating roughly to 'captives hold'. The translation wasn't a perfect match but it hardly ever was. It was the general holdings of the captives christened such when he had taken the Bay's first captives Ollie and Olor. As he expected, Kryillos was found there as Ragnar shrugged through the thick undergrowth, lingering in the shadows for a few moments, eyes of Caribbean ice studying him with a harbored stoicism. "Captive," Ragnar addressed the man in his naturally quiet, accented voice simply. He did not know the male's name though he suspected he might deign to learn it tonight if the male was on his best behavior, that was.
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Ragnar watched with subdued satisfaction as the captive lowered himself into a submissive pose before him. It was not the most submissive he could have went, not nearly as submissive as Claire had been, exposing her stomach to him but it was good enough. For now. "I am not Sir," Ragnar told the captive stiffly, partially toying with him. Ragnar was clever and sometimes he liked to play with his food before he ate it so to speak. He was curious about how this man worked and what it would take to push him, disliking him still for disrespecting Thistle and not trusting the way in that he suddenly changed his tone when he came face to face with the Viking. That wasn't how this pack worked and Ragnar intended to make Kryillos understand that, no matter the cost. "I am Ragnar," If Ragnar had it his own way he would have taught all of them old Norse, but knew that it would be impossible and so he kept his title as Jarl to make him feel close to his birth home. "But you will address me as Jarl." He finished simply, gaze unwavering from the man.
"I have been thinking about your punishment for disrespecting my Queen Wife," Ragnar began, canting his head in a bird-like, curious manner, a mischievous smirk tugging at the edges of his lips as per usual for him. "What do you think your punishment should be?" He had no intentions of letting on what he'd had in mind, desiring to ask Thistle's opinion on it before he went through with it, unless of course Kryillos came up with a better idea. In a way, Ragnar supposed he was making Kryillos tie his own noose.
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The soft whine that had emitted from the Captive's lips did not soften Ragnar's resolve, did not earn that battle born Scandinavian. Where Ragnar came from you knew your place or you suffered consequences for it that sometimes led to death. Ragnar was incapable of feeling remorse and pity for this creature, because he had trespassed and then disrespected and challenged Thistle while trespassing. One without the other was pushing Ragnar's breaking point, but pushed him over that ledge. Eyes of caribbean ice stared without a shred of warmth, holding a thinly veiled contempt within their icy depths. It took a lot to earn Ragnar's trust and so far this captive was so far from it Ragnar wasn't sure if he could feel anything but disgust for him. It occurred to Ragnar that he probably should have chased him off. Likely, any other Jarl would have and told him to stay away and never come back. His 'generosity' wasn't really generous, as it was the only reason Ragnar had really allowed him in was for his own purposes. So he could punish him without having to chase him down, or potentially, step on another pack's toes (not that Ragnar had any kind of issue with doing that sort of thing).
When the male spoke, Ragnar's facial expression remained stoic but his brow furrowed ever so slightly. That was the second time this man nearly read his mind. The first, being when Ragnar had considered taking him as captive, and now, this. But...reading minds was impossible. Still, two times in a row seemed like a bit of a stretch — unless circumstance was all it truly was (had to be because no one could read minds). Ragnar was weary and half tempted to call Thistle here to carry out the punishment instead of him. Making her hurt another being would likely only piss her off even more, but by this point Ragnar figured he was already so deep in the waters of trouble that he was surprised it hadn't drowned him yet what was one more thing? As it stood, his Queen Wife had already forgiven Kryillos but Ragnar didn't know that, and if he did he probably would have had something smart to say about how it was ok that this male trespassed and then disrespected her authority that she could forgiven like the drop of a pin but she couldn't forgive that Ragnar took Nerian as a second wife, something that Thistle had given him permission for; it was no contest that his Queen Wife made little sense to him on his better days.
"Would it?" Ragnar inquired, with faux interest, wondering if he shouldn't think of something else, now. The last thing he wanted Kryillos to think was that Ragnar did anything because he suggested it. Ragnar did what he wanted, when he wanted too and rarely pulled influences from anyone else. If this happened, it would be on Ragnar's own agenda, at his own discretion. For a moment, Ragnar nearly considered seriously trying to talk Thistle into doing it for him, if only because once Ragnar started he wasn't so sure he would be able to draw the line to stop. After all, he had nearly killed Tiarnan.
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