In a semblance of truth Ragnar wasn’t exactly a stranger to “stealing” a pack so to speak even if the alpha position was fairly earned, but there was a palpable difference between Odinn’s Cove and Horizon Ridge. The Cove did not need any changes made to it when he had taken the helm and, theoretically if one day he challenged Pump and won he would be making massive upheavals that would likely send it’s already few members scattering to the wind, not to mention he desired to claim Ravensblood Forest for his own for reasons that were starkly obvious to himself. Theoretically, it seemed easier to part ways with Horizon Ridge if not as friends than at least on civil terms and start new with those that would follow him willingly instead of forcing changes upon those who would be stuck with him. It was something he had also considered during his meditations, his preparations in Ravensblood Forest. “I have considered leaving the Ridge also, on reviving the Cove here in Teekon Wilds. There is a lot to consider,” The Viking admitted, leaning into her touch against his face.

“Don’t you have to say that?” He teased her but indeed wondered if her loyalty to Pump would get in the way of her loyalty to him as her husband. He would not be put beneath anyone else in the terms of her loyalty which was remotely similar to how she felt about him finding passion with another woman. It was, he assumed, of a similar vein. In a way they both desired the same thing from one another: loyalty. Absolute and unbending.

Thistle seemed genuinely curious in his “plans” though and after a brief moment of consideration Ragnar decided that maybe he should confide them with her - because she was now his wife but also because it would be nice not to keep it such a tightly guarded secret. A moment of trepidation stole over him within the next few seconds as he fixed his oceanic gaze upon her knowing that if he confided that she would be put in more danger than if she knew nothing if Pump suspected and decided to interrogate. Ragnar did not pin their leader as being as openly cruel and ruthless as the Viking himself was but he did not know her well enough to ascertain it either way. “If something were to happen you would be the first to know providing it was planned not a sudden decision,” Sometimes, things happened that did not allow for more than a seconds notice of planning; but Ragnar attempted to assure her, nevertheless. Scarred ear twitched back lazily as some bug or another buzzed past it causing it to twitch for a few seconds - briefly annoying Ragnar - before it pushed forward in alertness. “I have thought about claiming Ravensblood Forest on more than one occasion, it is a perfect place to raise pack based off of the Cove,” Mostly because of his stubborn belief that the lands were holy to Odinn. “But that would put us next door to the Ridge and if our departure is not on good terms it will cause problems.” Not that Ragnar was particularly swayed or deterred by that idea. He had fought bigger and more numerous enemies before on the raids he had used to lead.

“I have been too long out of my ideals and beliefs, constantly stopping myself because I don’t want to put in jeopardy my consideration for the Beta rank,” It was leaving Ragnar feeling frustrated and itching for something. “My shoulder has kept me at bay but it is healed now,” He smirked down at her, leaning forward to nip affectionately at her cheek and spoke with a chuckle, “no thanks to your persistence. Things might become tense now and I suspect that Pump is aware of that, am beginning to think that besides that she does not know me it is why she has not granted me the rank despite the restless effort I’ve put forth to it. I respect her but it will not be enough to keep me from taking what I want.” And in truth, it was not the Ridge that he wanted. It was Ravensblood Forest, it was a pack raised on his culture’s ways where he could openly practice and encourage what he had always known. “She will be angry with me for it, and you by association and our children.” Because as far as the Viking was aware Thistle could have as easily been pregnant by him as she could have by Crete (of course she was pregnant by Crete but what Ragnar didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him - not that in the end it mattered he would love them all as his own just the same).

“As I said, there is much to consider.” Ragnar spoke with a deep breath, allotting for her to say what she thought about the more detailed considerations he had been having, if she had any insight to offer.

It had been easier, admittedly, when it had just been him, when his plans had revolved strictly around himself and now that they had reached out to pull her and their unborn children (because he didn’t care as far as he was concerned the pups were his and not Crete’s even if that wasn’t true) into it’s cusp it was more…complicated. It was important that he prioritized them above all else. But it could go the opposite way, it could make his decision all the more easier depending upon what was to happen. He would always do what he thought was best for his family. “No,” Ragnar admitted after Thistle finished speaking, suggesting that he talk to Pump about implementing his ideas, giving him the sort of advice that only a woman could. “She has no reason to accept them,” Ragnar was doubtful, and unsure, and beyond that selfish. The ways of his culture were not a secret and had been around for well, as long as the Vikings had been but he expected them carried out a certain way and that was one of the large reasons why he had yet to inquire to Pump about it.

“Soon,” Ragnar promised in regards to speaking to Pump again about the Beta rank, and about implementing some of the Cove’s culture into Horizon Ridge. “I think you have something to discuss with her first. I will wait to see what happens and go from there.” While Ragnar was ambitious he wasn’t careless and did not do things if the odds were not in his favor.

In Ragnar’s defense, if one could be truly made for the Viking at all, Odinn had commanded him to carry out his will, not hand them off to another in the hopes that things went well. No. Their culture was specific, and there was a right way to do things and then there was wrong ways to do them - just like anything. Their game of chase forgotten by both of them he heard her sigh. It was not quite an exasperated sigh he guessed but it wasn’t exactly contended either. “I am fairly sure one of our seeds took, Thistle.” Whether it was the faceless Plateau male’s or Ragnar’s own, unless Thistle proved to be infertile. Ragnar felt her bury her face against his neck but the Viking had no words of comfort to offer his wife. He was not the type of man to offer comfort at any rate. “This is not the only place for us.” Was all Ragnar offered her. Whether it provided comfort or not depended upon her, really.