The fever was gone from Ragnar now, if not at the wiles of his equally as stubborn as him, wife, who had threatened and cajoled him (though mostly threatened if his remembrance of her deadly voice was of any real indication) until he had, finally, consumed the Jopi Weeds (or maybe she had forced it down his throat - his memories of that particular time were admittedly rather blurry). He knew, only, that he was insufferable when it came to illness or injuries because he loathed being fussed over - not to be confused with attention because he decidedly liked his wife’s attentions but he didn’t like her worrying and fussing about him. Ragnar’s thoughts in this manner were rather simply to understand. Their lives were fated. If he was going to die he would, if he wasn’t going to die, he wouldn’t. It was something the Pagan inherently knew and no amount of arguing would ever get the Viking to change his mind on the matter.

Though the presence of Gavriil was not entirely unexpected, for the warden knew that he, too, patrolled the borders just as Pump and Ragnar himself did, still, their patrols did not often cross paths like it was fated they would today. The other man gave a bark of greeting, causing the Viking who had been aware of his presence if only because of his scent being carried upon the wind to turn to face the other man suddenly, watching as he bowed and then trotted up to lick Ragnar under the chin in submission, greeting, and respect. It was those things that Ragnar revealed in. Ragnar bumped his muzzle against Gavriil’s in a return of the greeting and respect, finding that while he might not have initially thought much of the male upon their first meeting that his opinion was open for adapting. As it was, Ragnar was not the kind of man that held grudges, finding them a waste of time -- not that Gavriil had done anything to warrant a grudge, merely his dismissal of anyone else worthy to lead in the Ridge had not set well with the Viking (though if he knew of the conversation between said male and Pump it might have been enough to push Ragnar into taking action - though luckily for everyone he didn’t know if it).

The truth was, respect would never be enough to keep Ragnar from getting what he wanted, not even equality. If Pump were to choose Gavriil over him for the Beta position (which would admittedly piss Ragnar off) he would challenge both of them without any remorse and even if he lost he would not stay in Horizon Ridge. He had already decided that, already decided that if he did not receive the Beta position, and if later he lost to Pump (if he did and challenged her for Alpha) he would gather up Thistle, his children and any that wished to follow him and stake his claim in Ravensblood Forest (because that was where he really wanted to be). Pump had merely been lucky using Thistle and his sons as a deterrent, lucky that her attempts to keep Ragnar at bay were working.

She had to realize that they wouldn’t last forever.

“I am well,” Ragnar responded, soft, heavily accented voice holding a much friendlier tone towards Gavriil than had probably been bestowed upon him during their first meeting. Then again, things had changed since that point in time. Gavriil had rallied for the life of Thistle and Ragnar’s pups and for that Ragnar was eternally grateful, had been one of the things that had nurtured the Viking’s respect for the other man. “I’d like to express my gratitude for speaking up for giving my sons the chance to live during the meeting,” If Pump hadn’t asked their opinions it was likely they would have died at her jaws, or she would have made Thistle take something to abort them (which was not something Ragnar ever wanted to see again in his life). It wasn’t really a ‘thank you’ but it was, admittedly, as close to one as anyone was ever going to get from the Viking who did not, really, ever use manners (likely because he truly didn’t have any). “Are you well, Gavriil?” Ragnar returned the question in kind, the other male’s name coming out not quite right in the Viking’s heavy accent - which was admittedly why Ragnar didn’t like addressing by names.

“Have you spoken to Thistle lately? The babes are almost as big as her.” Ragnar joked, making reference to the fact that Thistle was tiny and that she was heavily and largely pregnant with child. It was amusing in a loving sort of way to Ragnar who was quite taken with his tiny Viking wife. In a way, it elicited a nervousness in him - how rounded she was given her stature - but they would have Frigg and Freyja to help her give birth and he trusted the Goddess’ to not let any harm befall her or their sons during the process. Ragnar shifted his weight and gazed out at the stretch of land behind Gavriil for a few moments before he looked back to his pack mate with a wistful smile though he did not speak any more, for now.

Ragnar would not claim that he had come to these posh wilds with the intention of finding a mate and having children because initially he had not. That had not been at all why he had come to the Teekon Wilds. He had been commanded their by Odinn with the singular purpose of extending the Cove, giving it a sister branch, a place of home for those that wished to become apart of the culture if they were not already. Not to mention his oldest son stolen adopted as he was had came to these lands and to Ragnar’s knowledge still roamed up north with the Creek wolves. Least of all had Ragnar ever expected to fall in love something he had thought himself inherently incapable of. No, Thistle had not been apart of his plans though there was little doubt in Ragnar’s mind that while she had not been apart of his own plans she had been apart of Odinn’s. Already she had been converted to his culture, had become a Pagan even if Ragnar did not expect her to ever love his Gods as he did. They, unlike most Gods, did not ask for love only respect because his Gods were different than most. Certainly much different from Nerian’s, though the Priestess seemed determined to cling to her God who had more or less abandoned her when Ragnar and his ilk had raided her small pack and Ragnar - still the Jarl of Odinn’s Cove at that time - had taken the girl as his slave, though she did not know it, saving her from being raped by half of his men. Not that he had thought it might lessen her fear of him any.

“Thistle was clearly taken advantage of. She is young, fresh into her sexual maturity any man capable of producing children would have known that,” It seemed rather cliché to blame it upon Crete, but in a way that was where the blame really belonged. Any man wanted to say that to protect the integrity of his wife but as it was Ragnar truly believed that Crete had thoroughly taken advantage of Thistle’s innocence and lack of knowledge. “She even told me she did not think it would result in children.” Ragnar had spoken the same thing to Blue Willow and Peregrine as if to drive the nail home just how uneducated on the topic of reproduction Ragnar’s young wife had been. Given that she was not his first young mate, her lack of knowledge had not surprised him. Dagmar had not known, either. Of course, maybe - he thought wildly - maybe it hadn’t and children were truly Ragnar’s own. It was a slim, near impossible wish but he wished for it fiercely nevertheless. “As I said in the meeting, illegitimate children are common for my people. Killing them is wasteful. Children do not deserve to die a death for something they did not do.” Killing children was not something that was taken lightly by the Viking community, either. In a way, it was Ragnar’s manner of agreeing that if Gavriil were to take a leaf out of Thistle’s book that he would rally for life in return. He did not feel as if he owed the male any favors - but he would do it simply because it was the way of his people.

Gavriil’s words were interesting to Ragnar simply because he had never thought of children incapable of doing anything besides squirming, crying, sleeping, pooping, and sucking at their mothers breast as happy. Did they even feel happiness as newborns? Ragnar found that he did not have an answer, instead turned his head away for a few moments, scarred ear twitching as clear contemplation lined his features. At Gavriil’s speech regarding his excitement to meet his children, Ragnar had to forcibly remind himself that Gavriil as well as Pump and Kennedy owned the children too as if they were property instead of actual living beings. It irritated him but the Viking hid it well with an easy grin. “Not until a month after they are born,” Pump did not know and had not agreed to the Rite that Ragnar was going to perform whether he had clear permission or not because, again, it was the way of his people. “When they are a month old there is a Rite I must perform as the husband and father. It will acknowledge them as apart of our family, pack and to my Gods and serving as protection.” Ragnar explained just in case Gavriil took it the wrong way. Until that ninth day they were vulnerable and if someone attempted to kill them there was nothing Ragnar was allowed to do. He was a traditionalist through and through.

Ragnar realized the ramifications that he was no longer in Odinn’s Cove and while that point held a certain face value it was also true that he didn’t have to be in a specific place to continue with his traditions. That was what was truly good about his culture and beliefs: where ever he went, they followed. Pump didn’t have to like it; and the pups might be “property” of the pack -- though in truth Ragnar was not sure how well that was going to go over with his sons when they became old enough to realize that they were, basically, prisoners -- but they were still Ragnar’s sons, and therefore they would be of his culture, know of his traditions and believe in his Gods. There was no other way and if anyone tried to tell them different they would find themselves face to face with the consequences. Said consequence being Ragnar and there was no telling what he would do aside from the vague ‘it would not be pretty’. “No,” Ragnar responded, eyes narrowing towards Gavriil swearing silently to Odinn that if the male proceeded to tell him that he “needed” too as if Ragnar was a child that needed to be pointed in the right direction he might snap. There were just some things you didn’t presume to tell the Viking who planned to do what he wanted to do anyway.

Pump didn’t want to push him too far, or he would leave. It was not an empty threat, and if pushed to that Ragnar would not longer care what she said or had said, he would scoop up his mate, their babes and he would leave. And if anyone tried to stop them Ragnar would fight with the intention of to kill. He had killed for much less in his life and would have no regrets doing it if things ever came to that level. Pump was balancing on a precarious edge with two choices but the edge would not hold forever, and her attempts at keeping him at bay, with the Beta rank, with his sons would only go so far for her. Without that proverbial leash he could finally be free again.

“I will speak to her about it later.” Though her answer really didn’t matter because the Viking wasn’t negotiating this. His Gods would not negotiate it. It was as simple as that.

The problem with Ragnar was that he had not been ready to relinquish his status as Jarl when he had. It would have been a different story if he had not settled into his position of power as well as he had, or even if he had been awful at leading as his brothers (both apparently) had been/were; but he hadn’t been bad at it. His wolves respected him, and that was a hard transition to make: alpha to omega. Ragnar suffered through submitting because he had no choice, because Odinn had demanded this of him. It was the burden he suffered for being the Allfather’s favorite, the chosen one. He had climbed the hierarchy easily enough, quickly, though he accredited it to his abilities and ambition alone, because it certainly wasn’t as if he was Pump’s pet - in fact they often did not see eye to eye on most matters. Naturally, they were rivals. Despite this, it was still respect that Ragnar felt for their hybrid leader. She had earned it and no matter if they came to be literally at one another’s throats he would still respect her.

Gavriil’s voice was full of submission and if Ragnar had been a different kind of man he might have felt bad about being cold and clipped with Gavril - of whom he did owe something of a debt too (though it was very unlikely that Ragnar would take to that being thrown in his face in kind). Someday, Ragnar would pay him back for it, but only when the time was right. “I am not upset,” It was the truth. He was perhaps a little annoyed but not upset. “I only want my sons to be apart of the culture and religion that is their birthright.” He explained wondering what it would take to make these wolves see. He did not want someone else to unravel what Ragnar was trying to teach them as they grew, and Ragnar did not think that what he wanted in that regards was much to ask for.

That sort of trust was hard for Ragnar to give out blindly and he would make sure his sons were made into proper Vikings, even if it meant defying orders to make it happen.

Gavriil’s words warranted a curious tilt of the Viking’s head in a bird-like manner, ears slicking back to half mast as his icy, oceanic colored eyes assessed the cinnamon colored man with careful precision as the Epsilon went on about not upsetting Pump. She had asserted that she had some control over his sons, but she was not a parent and therefore Ragnar could not help but feel that in the end, it was Thistle and him that sound have had the ultimate control over them. It caused Ragnar to wonder that if the roles had been entirely reversed if Pump would, in turn, like it if someone went around telling her what she could and could not do with her pups and that she, as a true parent, had no real say in what happened. The chances were she would probably kill them the moment they came out of her womb but if she hadn’t, if she, during her pregnancy had grown to love the lives growing within her as Thistle had he wasn’t very confident that she would have taken it (in that theoretical scenario) all that well, either. Ragnar picked up on the perhaps saccharine tones Gavriil had, more than likely unknowingly, adopted when he spoke of Pump that left the Viking confused between whether he wanted to bristle in mild irritation or laugh.

Perhaps a bit of both for Ragnar’s left half of his lip lifted in a cheeky, suspecting half smirk; suspicions only reinforced by the growing gazed look in the other man’s eyes: the eyes of a man daydreaming about his lover, no doubt.

“I respect Pump,” Ragnar contradicted because his respect for her had never been in question and as it was, the silver Viking could not see how performing a ritual was any sort of disrespect. It was Ragnar’s culture, his religion, and his children. That was all there was to it. Ragnar hindered on whether he should speak upon his suspicions or not, it wasn’t his business and he wasn’t sure Gavriil would appreciate Ragnar prying into his love life; yet the Viking was curious. And they were both men here. Was there anything wrong in a man to man talk? “Has Pump caught they eye of your affections?” Ragnar asked casually, deciding it might be better to approach it from a blunt prospect than a crafty one.

If Gavriil was looking for any sort of good advice for how to “woo” a woman Ragnar would be of little help to him. He was not a romantic creature and while Thistle might have considered some of his gifts or charming words or actions as “romantic” the Viking would have brushed it off as her being biased. He was her husband she was supposed to say those things about him. Though love had come of their marriage, it had not been the driving force behind Ragnar’s proposal and the fawn colored shield maiden knew that though Ragnar suspected that no one else did. While Ragnar was no expert on relationships (fleeting flings and marriages, yes) he knew women and had plenty of wives and dalliances that perhaps he could prove to be useful to Gavriil in some way or another. After Gavriil had finished speaking Ragnar drew in a deep breath, settled back upon his haunches (really all they were missing was the beer and they could have been having a normal human man conversation between friends), considering the cinnamon colored man’s words. Ragnar did not understand the other’s hesitancy to go after Pump if he truly desired her as Ragnar suspected he did.

Then again, Ragnar was not the same kind of man Gavriil was. He went after what he wanted with a near single minded drive and relentless ambition. Gavriil seemed to soft to Ragnar who, in a comparison, was a much harder kind of man. Of course, it had been Gavriil’s compassion that had led Ragnar to think that maybe (after guessing Kennedy) that Thistle would take him as a mate. In some manners, they were much more alike than Ragnar and Thistle.

“Did you know that Thistle is not my first wife?” Ragnar started out, knowing full well that it was extremely likely that Gavriil did not know that. “In fact she is my fourth wife,” He had a poin the was working towards but it might have prove to be beneficial if Gavriil understood Ragnar a little better. “My first three marriages were based nothing more than fleeting lust, and one might have lasted if her body had not aborted our children. I had not loved her but I would have made an exception for sons,” It was probably cruel sounding, but Ragnar assumed that Gavriil would understand because he, too, came from the North. So much was different down here. Too much, for Ragnar’s general liking. “When I asked Thistle to be my wife it was not because I loved her. I was fond of her and jealous that she kept talking about Kennedy and you,” Ragnar fixed the other male in his gaze offering him a wicked little grin before his expression turned serious once more. “I asked her to be my wife without knowing what she would say, neither of us loved one another and there was no real reason for her to say yes, at that time,” He paused, licking his lips. “The point is, Gavriil, that I asked her, regardless.” That wasn’t to say that Ragnar was intimidated by Thistle because he wasn’t,.

“I’m not saying run off and ask Pump to be your mate; I’m saying don’t let her intimidation hold you back. Start out by getting to know her better, find out if you are compatible with one another. Thistle and I are proof that opposites do attract. Pump is a hard woman, but she is a woman all the same. She doesn’t seem the type to like subtly so it’s probably better, when the time comes - when you’re confident in her and yourself - to be straightforward with her. If you want something, go after it. If you don’t you will live to regret it, some day, wondering what might have happened if you had just tried.” Ragnar shrugged his shoulders simply, listening for anything Gavriil had to offer.

Wolves mated for life - typically, though they were, as a species known to take a new mate if the old one passed away. Ragnar had more mates then most men had in their lives and in this the Viking was seen as orthodox. It was easy to find the root of the problem, beneath Ragnar’s own previous fickleness with women. Tyra had been forbidden to him and of course he, like most others, wanted what he could not have; once he got her his interest had waned until there was nothing left in him but annoyance at her constant nagging at him. Unnr had been a flaming interest to the young Lead Berserker and new Jarl, of her sexual maturity and though Ragnar had hoped to conceive with her, he had found out that she was sterile, whether she had been born sterile or because she was too weak and sickly to bear lives. His interest had faded abruptly with her, having never been anything more than she was pretty to begin with. Dagmar had been the princess of a neighboring pack, their union supposed to be purely beneficial to the Cove and though she had conceived she had lost them her body aborting them and Floki, Floki had warned Ragnar not to try again that it would likely kill her. He had sent her packing back to the neighboring pack without so much as a backward glance. This mateships with them had been loveless, formed only because of carnal desire, because he wanted sons, because he wanted to better the Cove. Desire, Obligation, and Duty. All three of which Ragnar had came to realize did not make good things to base a marriage off of.

Though he had not initially loved Thistle when he had asked her to be his wife -- admittedly fearing that he was setting himself up for a fourth disaster of a marriage basing it off of the fact that they had shared one night of pleasure (hence the obligation that the children in her womb might be his) and that her seemingly never ending talk of all the other males in the pack at the time drove him mad with jealousy -- he had, though he had not realized it at the time, been gradually falling for her; and then it slammed him like the blunt side of an ax, winding him as the realization seized hold: he was in love with her. Ragnar loved everything there was to love about Thistle, he even loved their fights, he loved her anger at him. Literally everything. Apparently, miracles did happen.

Ragnar had been about to tell Gavriil to not jump into the conclusion that he wanted to be Pump’s mate so quickly but then bit his tongue to stop himself. Who was he to say such a thing? He had made rash marriage decisions - none of them ending well. Of course it would have been contradicting but for some unorthodox reason Ragnar did not want to see Gavriil jump the gun and end up hurt. Ragnar wanted Gavriil to take his mistakes and learn from them. “Like I said, you have to make sure you’re compatible. Pump isn’t Thistle, not to say that Thistle ever needed me but it‘s easy to see Thistle as a wife and mother because I suspect she’s always wanted it, but Pump never really struck me as the wife or mother type. Maybe she’d surprise me, but don’t push her into the idea if it is not something she seems interested in,” Ragnar warned because that would only lead to the cinnamon kissed male’s ultimate heartbreak (and that was not something Ragnar really wanted to put himself in the middle of). “It is hard to tell with her, but don’t take it personally if she doesn’t accept the idea of you courting her right away. I mean it’s definitely better to be up front with her, she’ll probably respond to you being honest better than she will anything else but, just, be confident but also careful. Women are mysterious at their best.”

There was a steel hard look of determination in Gavriil’s eyes and for a moment, brief as it was, Ragnar wondered if his advice had been all that wise. He could only forewarn and encourage Gavriil so far. What the cinnamon kissed man decided to do with the caution and encouragement remained up to Gavriil alone. “Right,” The Viking agreed with a firm nod of his head. Ragnar’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at Gavriil’s last words, however, though the Viking was confident the other man was too riled up in his convictions that he wouldn’t notice. Ragnar didn’t care if Pump and Gavril didend up together, or even if they didn’t because in truth it didn’t have much of anything to do with him …but it could have, the realization brought to life with Gavriil’s departing words. As long as it doesn’t affect me being the second highest in command beneath her in which everything would be ok. If Gavriil was automatically promoted to alpha male, if everything worked out to plan for the other male and they became mates then there would be problems with the Viking. He was highly protective of his position beside Pump as her Beta and he would never let someone just waltz in and take what was rightfully Ragnar’s just because of great sex - or whatever love or whatever it was that would end up fueling that if it worked out.