It had been a while since her talk with Gavriel and his agreement to aid her in the creation of Drageda's future. The Viking Queen had deigned to give it some time, to know that he was sure and would not come to her with a changed mind before she had spoken to Thuringwethil of it. The changes in her body had begun in earnest this time and Gyda had favored seclusion because of it. There was a small measure of relief in knowing that she wasn't broken after all and that she would be able to bear Sleeping Dragon it's royalty. The valkyrie's sleep was nothing short of restless, and she awoke many times before she eventually gave up on the idea of sleep. She very neatly groomed a piece of fly-away hair for a moment, feeling the vain need to nit-pick on her own appearance for no reason other than it gave her something else to focus her mind upon.

Her mind was just as restless, her thoughts in a constant racing swarm, fussing and worrying even about the smallest of things that were out of her control. She worried about the borders — which until she had ended her receptive cycle would be straying far away from for the sake of not attracting attention she did not want — to the caches. She supposed she could do some hunting but was prepared to tear the lungs out of any male other than Gavriel that came near her, and yet on second thought was filled with hesitation. The confines of her cave were safe but she was not the type of woman to stand still.

The night carried with it a nice breeze, the echoes of which Gyda could feel within the depths of her cave. She lifted herself to her paws and stretched for a moment, loosening the muscles that lined her body before she padded to the cave's mouth, peering up and out at the horizon, velveteen, whose darkness was dotted with millions of stars. A familiar scent grasped the shield-maiden's attention and without truly thinking about it she followed it. It had been a while since Thuringwethil and her had had a moment to be alone, to speak one on one. The last time, admittedly, hadn't gone so well but Gyda was confident that such would not be an issue for this conversation.

Eventually, she found the Grounder, a canine silhouette against the darkened rock. “Having trouble sleeping too?” Gyda asked her, keeping to the rock face below the Commander for the moment.

Thuringwethil's touch came as a surprise to Gyda, unexpected as it had become. Selfishly, Gyda allowed herself to revel in the Grounder's touch and further embrace, pressing her own nose against Thuringwethil's neck. Gyda had missed this, she realized, and was unsure if her return of the embrace spoke what she did not speak aloud or not. Whether it did or didn't, Gyda supposed, mattered little at the moment ...if at all. When Thuringwethil withdraws from their embrace Gyda did as well, and following Heda's lead also took a step back, her gaze meeting the ebony Grounder's own with affection. Would Gyda not have been so quiet she would have missed Thuringwethil's words spoken into her neck, but Gyda had been able to make them out well enough. “Spring will bring with it the promise of new life, just as it always does.” Of this, Gyda is confident because that was how it had always been. Little did she know how very wrong her statement would be within a few days' time.

“Speaking of the promise of new life,” Gyda broached the subject, figuring that while they were sort of on the topic it was a good time to bring it up. “I have decided who will sire me children, he not only meets my standards but exceeds your own, I think,” Thuringwethil had said Drageda but Gyda had done, in her mind at least, one better. “Gavriel has agreed to give me, to give Drageda it's royal heirs, to extend our legacy beyond what it has become.” Under the condition that Thuringwethil approved, of course, but Gyda couldn't fathom any reason she could foresee why the Grounder Commander wouldn't. Gyda would have the babies she wanted so very desperately, and Drageda would have heirs to succeed the Viking Queen in the (hopefully distant) future.

It remained strange to Gyda, even now, how Drageda and Sleeping Dragon were spoken of as if they were separate instead of one. Perhaps it was their own way of holding onto their separate cultures though, admittedly, it felt as if Gyda had given up much of her own. Perhaps it was subconsciously of the shield-maiden's own doing, but Ragnar had never believed in forcing his culture or religion upon those who were not his children and Gyda held to the same mentality, whether she knew it or not. Her rituals were done in private and in seclusion — a far cry from the fan fairs of the Cove; but Sleeping Dragon was not Odinn's Cove, nor would it ever be. This was something Gyda had accepted from the very start. “Right,” Gyda concurred. Though she had long since determined that her children could choose whatever they wanted: Sleeping Dragon or Drageda. They had two wealthy cultures at their paws and the Viking Queen saw no reason to discourage whichever they chose — or if they chose none at all.

“One of my children will be groomed to take over for me, when that time comes.” Whether it would be the first litter or the fourth Gyda did not know (wasn't even sure she'd be alive to see a fourth litter into the world); but Gyda did not want to linger upon the future for long. Her fate had already been decided for her, ordained by the Gods long ago. There was no mystery for her to puzzle out, no reason to speculate about what she could not change. “I am surprised he agreed. I did not realize how...strongly my proposal would come about,” Admittedly, Gyda had thought it was a golden deal. Allowing something rare with little to no commitment if that was what the sire wanted. Admittedly, she thought, perhaps most women sought a life long mate — but then again Gyda was not most women. She was Gyda, and the shield-maiden perhaps feared the commitment of being tied down, afraid that if she gave in to one of her feelings and pursued a romantic interest that she would either be rejected or that her freedom would be stifled.

“I feel I should let you know that Gavriel may come to you to confirm that we have your blessing.” Whether Gavriel would or not, Gyda could not say. She supposed she understood the hesitation on his part, but Gyda, too, was an Alpha and she did not need anyone's permission. A blessing was fine, perhaps, but the truth was even if Gavriel wouldn't have agreed, or Thuringwethil for that matter, Gyda would have pursued her dream of children anyway, at the end of the day.

Gyda offered Thuringwethil a sage nod at her observation though Gyda did not change her opinion of what they were. Her children would be her heirs: that was simply how it worked in her culture. She was confident that when the time came, a ways down the road, one of them would rise to succeed her: but that was far from now and Gyda did not linger upon it for long. The shield-maiden shifted her weight, once, inhaled deeply and let it out with a soft exhale. “Would you care to join me for a hunt?” The Viking Queen invited to Thuringwethil, leaving it open for her to accept or deny. There was little more to say, Gyda felt, and she was getting a little hungry.