It also came to his attention in an uncomfortable way that three females were all in heat at the same time and that tension, though at the time underlining also didn’t help him any. The hormones Julooke, Nerian and Aine were putting off in waves caused an ache in Ragnar’s loins that made it even harder not to seek relief. He was grasping for control and he knew the other men of the Bay were, too, despite that Ragnar was confident Julooke would let no man but Verrine touch her, and that Nerian would let no man but Ragnar himself touch her. Those were brief thoughts of comfort but there was still Aine and all he could hope was she had more sense than to do something behind his back. If she did there was a good chance he would kill the children if only because he believed in punishments and Stavanger Bay, if Julooke and Verrine did decide to have children, would have plenty of puppies as it was.

Just when Ragnar had thought that maybe Thistle and him were working on forgiving one another, for admittedly, this had been their biggest fight yet and while Ragnar had not been all that worried about it — love triumphs after all and just because he’d been angry with her didn’t mean he loved her any less — along came Bragi and Thistle’s assertion that the boy had came from Ragnar’s own loins. Admittedly, the boy looked like a spitting image of him when he had been that age, unscarred and unbridled handsomeness. Granted, it was an unfair assumption given that Ragnar was a spitting image of Eitri, and Váli, also looked like their father though his coloration was more of Kenna’s supple cream and golden eyes than anything else, and even Dagrun could have sired him. He was bigger than Ragnar yet, and though he had taken after his Amazon mother in coloration he carried enough of Eitri’s genetics to be able to spawn a child that looked like Eitri and essentially: Ragnar. As far as Ragnar was aware he had never taken Sveið though that thought didn’t exactly bring him much comfort given something could have happened under the influence of the mushrooms that he might not have been able to remember, high on their effects and drunk off of the blood of battle. He didn’t say that to Thistle, though, and did not pry information from the boy who seemed to be uncomfortable having wolves tell him that the story of Heimdall siring him was wrong. Not that Ragnar would ever tell him that because to Ragnar, also, it was possible.

Ragnar was still as she drew nearer and though he allowed her to touch him he did not return them. Because he didn’t want to just forget their fight. Couples fought when something was the matter and they had a duty to try to fix what was wrong, for the children if not for themselves. "Lately we have been fighting more than we have done anything else," Somehow their discussion regarding Junior had turned out into a knock out, drag out fight that in the end had nothing to do with their little orphan girl. "There is something wrong and ignoring it is only going to make things worse," He told her softly, not because he wanted another fight but because he genuinely wanted to find the problem and work through it with her. "You remember I told you when you agreed to be my mate that I would not be your Prince Charming. You know what I am. Who I am." He wasn’t sure but all evidence began to point to the fact that it was him that was her problem. "If that is truly your problem I do not know how to fix it because I won’t change," Well the only solution, if Ragnar was her problem was simple. He didn’t like it because he was selfish and possessive but if he was making her that unhappy then it was kinder.

"I am not saying that Bragi does not need to be more respectful but what you said about his mother was cruel, Thistle. Not even what you said but how you said it," Ragnar was full aware that Bragi had said something similar in regards to Ragnar but Ragnar hadn’t taken offense to it. Whereas the boy had definitely taken offense to Thistle’s turn of them. "That is not you."

Thistle spoke, explaining all that bothered her in full detail, which though her monologue was long Ragnar felt that it gave him a much clearer insight on what was going on inside her head. "You are desirable. You are always beautiful to me," Ragnar interrupted in a fierce whisper, not liking that she had ever thought of herself as undesirable. He wasn’t saying the words to be romantic, simply, he spoke them because they were his truth. He inhaled deeply and let it out when Pump’s death came about. It wasn’t something Ragnar could easily forget. Though he hadn’t admitted it, he had never actually mourned her. He had been sad she had been taken from them, of course, but death was not a bad thing in his culture and he couldn’t change how he had been raised to think since before he could even comprehend his parents’ words. It had, no doubt, been untimely but she was not the first to be taken too soon by the Gods and she would not be the last. "I’m not going to change, Thistle. My culture is in my DNA, my religion is my lifeblood. Without them…" He would be a stranger to himself. "— Odinn led me here so I could do what I am doing here. So I could recreate the Cove, and teach others about my culture and religion. He chose me because he knew I could do it without losing myself along the way." It wasn’t as if Odinn had ever came out and told Ragnar that but the All-Father didn’t have too. It was what Ragnar believed he knew deep to his bones.

He considered carving some part of Claire’s flesh out and dumping it on Ypres’ borders as a grim present and likely would have gone through with it if he knew with a certainty that Beric wouldn’t stop him. Which would be worse for Beric than it would Claire because Ragnar would not be stopped from doing what he thought was the right thing to do. Obviously, laying down the law wasn’t enough. He had tried being diplomatic once it was awful and clearly it hadn’t gotten the message into their leaders’ thick skull.

"Deal," Ragnar agreed to it, having paid attention but his mind was also distracted. "There is another matter on my mind, my love," He admitted to her having assumed that the worst had came to pass and wanting her council as both his wife and the highest ranked wolf under him. "I know you took the Isle girl captive, and while I am weary of how Beric will treat her," Needless to say Ragnar was not a fan of the girl sleeping in Beric’s den. She was a prisoner. Prisoners didn’t get luxuries and shelter from bad weather. They had committed crimes against the pack and were just lucky he had been feeling generous in that he didn’t tear their jugulars out of their throats; because Ragnar had thought about it. "By not intervening I am showing him that I trust him but she is still a prisoner. She has committed a crime against the pack and I care nothing for her comfort or her life," If Ragnar thought they were too much coddling done he would step in and Beric didn’t have to like it. He could leave if he wished, Ragnar liked to think he was a good leader but he would not have his wolves defying the rules he set down and in essence disobeying him. He wasn’t a pushover and Ragnar wouldn’t put up with that shit.

"I extended an offer for him to come to the Bay because Verrine and Julooke are his family and because he didn’t like being under Majesty’s rule. I won’t tolerate disobedience over a girl I don’t even know or care about. She is a prisoner and alive only because she is useful to me." It had nothing to do with him not killing women or children because he had already done both before and knew that if the exceptional circumstance arose he would do it again. She was an enemy and a trespasser. By all rights she should have been nothing but a corpse with the ravens picking at her decaying flesh.