Gyda had come to relieve Thuringwethil of her guard duty over Cirrus. Up to this point, the viking queen had made it a point to keep a distance between herself and the half-breed prisoner Heda had deigned to take in. As far as Gyda saw it: he was a waste of space and resources; and if it were up to her he would either be cast out to survive or die on his own, or she would have ended his life for his crimes by now. It was ...unusual that Thuringwethil take the more diplomatic route than Gyda but trespassing was not a crime Gyda dared to take lightly. In her culture it warranted death: and the laws of Odinn's Cove that she had been looked to uphold had always been clear to her. Simple.

Eyes of caribbean ice glinted with a fierce disgust as she took him in, her lip curling back as she watched his progression. He was walking ...limping rather but it was progress. Still, Gyda did not yet see the point in healing him. “What is it,” Gyda called out to him, her accented voice barbed with stoicism. “that you can offer Sleeping Dragon in exchange for feeding you and healing you?” The shield-maiden demanded of him, sashaying to his position, her posture dominant in her approach.

He looked awful though Gyda surmised that was more of circumstance than it was a lack of hygiene. He was, likely, not able to properly care for himself and while Gyda could not speak for any of the others she would not be one to aid him in that endeavor. She turned her nose up at him, a flick of her tail stating her displeasure though her snobbish attitude she'd decided to take towards the prisoner had never been unclear, even from the very beginning. Ragnar had treated his prisoners much better than the shield-maiden deigned to treat Thuringwethil but then again Dagrun had taught her that to take prisoners was to waste. She was moderately satisfied when the half-breed let out a whine and lowered himself to submission but it wasn't enough. The fact that he still drew breath he alone owned to Thuringwethil, who stood as a barrier between Cirrus and Gyda's teeth. For that, he was lucky.

Wrong answer. The viking queen's hackles bristled with her irritation and her upper lip curled back from her teeth in a warning. “No,” The Scandinavian woman spat. “Perhaps that answer appeases Thuringwethil but not me,” Thus far, Gyda had allowed Thuringwethil to make decisions without her consent, but they were partners. Equals; and she would actively raise her voice from this moment forth: starting with this prisoner. “What are your skills? What can you offer Drageda?” It wasn't about what she wanted: it was about what the pack needed and if he could offer anything she deemed useful.

The wolves that Thuringwethil had inducted in needed to know that Gyda was Heda's equal and that her voice was just as strong as The Commander's. It held just as much weight and if Cirrus had any hopes of remaining in their ranks when his imprisonment was over then he would have to appease Gyda, too. He peed himself, she realized, when she smelled the scent of his urine. For the briefest of moments, this gave Gyda pause. She was no tyrant, she loved her people ...but Cirrus (currently) was not one of her people. He was a mistake taken in by Thuringwethil for a purpose that Gyda wasn't so sure she knew. It was not a bad thing to make it known that she was not a threat to be taken lightly. She did not get where she was today without a little ferocity, after all. Her culture was brutal and unforgiving and instilled fear in the hearts of men and women alike and it was for good reason.

He stuttered out his skills which consisted of gathering feathers and down for her den. Something she, herself, could do well enough on her own; and then he mentioned babies. Her babies. The prisoner, Gyda couldn't help but think as she clenched her jaw, was lucky she was not pregnant now because she would have attacked him. As it was, she fought the urge, if only because there was nothing for her to protect. Yet. “I do not trust you,” Gyda spat at him. “I do not trust anyone that does not respect our laws and who ignore our borders.” In case that wasn't already clear enough; but Gyda couldn't be arsed to care if she was being redundant. “You will learn to hunt when you are able,” Because Sleeping Dragon could always use more hunters, especially when she became pregnant. “and you will help Lucani replace the medicines she has used to heal you.” Because, in Gyda's mind, this only seemed fair: replace what he'd taken. It was the standard for all of them, and she saw no reason he should not be held to it whether he was a prisoner or not.

“Good,” Gyda snapped. Though it did not feel like it was enough to appease her at the moment so long as he made good on the promise he made her here and now then she would not come to snuff out his life in the name of sacrifice. The whole situation with him was nothing more than a strange one especially when it came to the stark difference of stance Gyda and Thuringwethil had taken on him. Gyda had always thought herself ...perhaps not softer but more quick to forgive than Heda and yet here it seemed they had switched the roles. Gyda wanted him gone or dead — either would have sufficed — but Thuringwethil kept him around and saw to it that he was fed and given the medicines he needed to heal him. He was trying very hard to appease her, even going so far as to ask what her favorite meat was. “Help fill the caches, help feed the Dragon's wolves.” Gyda denied him of what she thought he had wanted to do. Sure, as viking queen she got first pick alongside Thuringwethil but she wasn't selfish enough to demand he hunt for her and her alone. She wanted him to hunt for the pack in which it didn't matter what meat it was as long as he had put the effort into catching it.

A steely nod was given as he spoke nearly as soon as she had finished issuing her command to him. It was not enough to garner the pressure of her expectations upon him to lessen any but it was enough to cause her to feel she could back off some. She'd gotten her point across, she felt. There was little need of making him any more agonized then he currently was — at least for now. “Do as Lucani tells you, and see it to be so.” Gyda did not want to lose her patience with him and she understood broken bones too a while to heal. “Do not disappoint me.” The shield-maiden issued him one final warning. Any minute now another Dragon would be coming to babysit him and would relieve Gyda of the task she rarely took on. But this conversation had been needed to be had, whether it made her look like a tyrant to the prisoner or not Gyda truly didn't care. She had no intention of him becoming a permanent addition to their ranks, and as far as the viking queen was concerned he had earned her ire by trespassing in the first place, further by Thuringwethil's decision to keep him as some kind of example wasting their food and medicine resources by his continued presence.

Gyda had nothing left to say to the prisoner. Thus, she held to her silence, her sharp gaze never leaving him where he lay before her, her tail whipping behind her every so often, though this was more to exert her frustration in a healthy non-violent manner as she waited. Eventually, one of her subordinates came to relieve her and she turned, offered them a soft lick of acknowledgment to their cheek before she left, not bothering to look back. Storm's next sitter would, no doubt, be measurably nicer than Gyda herself, who firmly believed that her cruelty had been nothing short of warranted, even if in reality it had not been. She returned to her duties, heading straight to the borders were she could patrol out her pent up irritation, knowing that the steady routine of marking and surveying them would eventually calm her.