@Ondine looked like she was about to pop any day and Kjalarr knew within the marrow of his bones that the birth of their children would be any day now. Despite Floki's reassurances the knowledge was just as daunting and as terrifying as it had ever been to Kjalarr. Yet, apprehension and fear was not the only thing he felt. He'd noticed about a week or so ago as he considered with a restlessness that any day now the children that they'd made would be born there was a tickle of ...excitement for it, along with a curiosity. During the night as he wrapped himself around his mate's body to offer her his warmth he could sometimes feel them kick from within her. The first time, it had startled the living Hel out of him. It was the first time that Kjalarr truly grasped that the children carried within her womb were really, truly alive. It was the first time that the new father-to-be felt true excitement regarding his own children. As he worked to drift off to sleep night after night he lulled himself to sleep by trying to imagine what they might look like. Would they look like him? Or Ondine? Or Thistle? Or one of his other siblings? Perhaps they might look like one of Ragnar's siblings. The possibilities were endless and it made his head swim a bit at the overwhelming possibilities of it all.

The groundhog that hung limp from betwixt his jaws, his grip firm upon the stiffening corpse that he carried to the birthing den was a fat thing. Almost a struggle for Kjalarr to work around where to grasp it without looking too much like he tried to take a decent chunk out of it. The morning was cold, the fresh snow fall from the night before crunching under his heavy footfalls as he followed the sweet, saccharine scent of Ondine's mother's milk though he knew the way to the birthing den by heart now. He dropped it at the mouth of the den wondering if Ondine was awake or if she'd want him to bring it to her or if she'd pop out and stretch her legs. She wasn't overly active these days but she was swollen from her flanks to her teats which had begun to express milk at some point. So, he tried to do what he could for her: getting her what she needed and making sure she was far from hungry even if it was hours after until he had restored enough energy to hunt for himself (not that he would tell her that).

“Ondine?” He called tentatively, softly into the darkness of the birthing den. “I brought breakfast.” He informed her, taking a step back as his salmon pink tongue drew across his lips in an attempt to clean up any blood that might have been left behind.

Ondine's smile was weak and the concern that furrowed the scarred northman's brow was unbidden. For the first time, Kjalarr realized how utterly selfish he'd been this whole time. He'd worried after his own fear like it was the most important thing. Never once had he stopped to consider if she was afraid ...or if she was strong enough to survive bringing his ...their children into the world. Until this moment when he took in her weak smile he'd never even considered it. All at once, the guilt threatened to choke him as it washed over him like a tidal wave unleashed. He assumed that all births were smooth and that the mother survived every time but a small voice in his head told him that, surely, this couldn't be true or a realistic view of childbirth (it only went to prove his utter inexperience at this). He considered that perhaps he should make a sacrifice to Frigga, so that she might lend Ondine and his children the strength to survive the ordeal.

First, his concern was the mother of his children. At her invitation he grasped the groundhog and entered the birthing den, looming over his mate for a moment to place the kill close to her so she did not have to stretch or go very far for it before he laid down, curling his body around her's without invitation, offering her a series of licks to her cheek and then her ear if she allowed it. “Eat,” Kjalarr encouraged in a low murmur to her ear where he aimed to nibble playfully before he would draw his muzzle back. “You need your strength.” If I could give you my strength, I would.