The morning was cloudy when Ragnar finally stepped over the border and into Stavanger Bay, the scent of the ash trees and the ocean rushing to greet him. It was a comfort, the scent of home; the frost that crunched under his paws reminding him further of his previous home: Odinn's Cove, and how cold it became in the harsh conditions of his homeland. Peregrine had given Ragnar something monumental for the Viking to consider, and he was heavily considering agreeing to it. It would be a lie to claim that he wasn't worried about the fate of Stavanger Bay, especially with vetur having crept in upon them as it had. There were in winter, though they had yet to see the worst of it, and admittedly it was beginning mildly, though that did nothing to soothe the Northman's concerns. It would be new: to take that leap of faith, to put his trust in Peregrine and his Redhawk Caldera if they should ever come to need them. Ragnar had trouble trusting wolves as it was, and the fact that he was considering it enough on his own was enough to worry the Scandinavian about his own well being. Of course, there was nothing wrong with him; simply he wanted to do what was best for the Bay. He wanted to ensure their survival, even if it meant going against his own ideals. If there was anyone he trusted outside of his pack it was Peregrine Redleaf-DiSarinno despite that their ...friendship? acquaintance was still, somewhat new-ish. Ragnar, as the Jarl, had to make decisions that would benefit his pack, that would be the best for them even if it shoved him out of his comfort zone. Even if the idea of trusting another leader, another pack scared him.

And it did. It scared him. But it also excited him. That maybe he and his did not have to live in seclusion as he had once believed. Ragnar was ambitious, and it was that ambitiousness that encouraged the idea, even if it meant stepping on something that he had believed with a resoluteness for all of his life.

Ragnar did not know if he would find @Thistle Cloud awake, or if he would be tasked with the duty of awakening her himself but what he did know was that he needed to discuss this with her, get her opinion on the matter, and hear what she had to say about his own. All he knew was that he did not want to sit on this. He wanted a response, whether Peregrine's own wife agreed to it or not, soon. The sooner, the better. Lifting his head he called for his Drottning, hoping that she would answer his summons swiftly.

Caught up as Ragnar had been in the proposal (despite that nothing about it was concrete on either side) that Peregrine had offered him, Ragnar had nearly forgotten about the trouble he had expected to be in when Thistle would realize he was back in Stavanger Bay. He hadn't been overly concerned about his injuries, if because he believed so feverishly in the promise Odinn had made to him years ago, and there was no reason not to believe that the All-Father wouldn't deliver upon it. They struck deals often, the God and the Jarl. They were of the same vein, and if Eitri was to be believed, descendants even. Thistle had responded to Ragnar's summons in an extremely timely manner, but she had murder written in her eyes. Ragnar resisted the urge to let out a hefty sigh, knowing that he deserved the fire she spit at him now, listening but also ...not. It wasn't as if this was anything new, and in some manner, he had excepted trouble; then again he felt like he was always in trouble with his wife these days. “It was easy wife,” Ragnar responded coyly, a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. “I got up and decided to investigate some of the new packs that have risen around us,” Granted, there were at least a few that he had missed, though he would make his way around to them, eventually. After he had a response for Peregrine. He would prioritize Redhawk Caldera above them because in hindsight, he had no reason not too. Peregrine was a good man, and one that Ragnar would be honored to call friend, despite that Ragnar could not say the same for his brother, Crete.

“No one ran away in fear. If anything, wife, Peregrine was impressed,” He did not want to fight about his decisions. He was a grown man and capable of making his own choices, and accordingly, dealing with the consequences. “I have quite a good bit of information,” He told her arrogantly, letting out a soft snort. “And if it did strike fear into their hearts. Good. I am a man to be feared. It is better that it is learned sooner as opposed to later,” He had always said that, since they had first met, as she would likely recall. Ragnar had never pretended to be some magnificent creature, because he wasn't. He was what he was at his core, what was in his life blood. He was a Viking. Ruthless. Savage. Cruel. He did not hide it from anyone. His subordinates knew what he was when they sought a home within his ranks, she had known what he was long before she had agreed to be his wife. When it came to what he was, he did not deceive. “You worry too much,” The Scandinavian purled in a soft murmur into her ear. “Do you wish to hear what I have to tell you? Or are you still reprimanding me, hm?” Ragnar inquired, allowing her to make the choice.

Ragnar ignored Thistle's snort of displeasure, and her growls as she mocked him. She did not mean it, at least there seemed to be no sharp knife behind her words. “You keep saying that,” Ragnar murmured to her, with a dry smirk. “Yet I still do not know what will happen when I reach one of these days.” Likely teasing her was not going to gain him any sort of favor. He supposed that since they were already fighting, and she was already angry with him, that his sardonic replies were not going to hurt anything. Ragnar rolled his eye as she gave him a sharp glare and reminded him, yet again that he was a fool. “You keep reminding me of that as well,” He spoke simply with an errant shrug of broad, scarred shoulders. They had quite a difference of opinion and he did not take her words to heart. He paid attention, of course, but he did not give them much of a second thought even though there was a small part of the Northman that told him he should have. A soft rumble of pleasure lingered in the Viking's thoughts when he felt her muzzle press against his neck, before trailing to his shoulders; a soft shiver slithering down his spine when he felt her warm breath fan against the inside of his ear as she spoke into it, her words coy and teasing, her wolfish smile enunciating what she believed to be true. Perhaps Thistle was right. Perhaps if she did not fret over and fight with him he would grow bored. It was no secret that he had a habit of doing that to his past wives. They would interest him and when they didn't he dropped them and pawned them off, their value to him gone. Of course he had not loved them, not really. They were trophies or gifts, or in the case of Tyra a victory over his (deceased) elder brother. A forbidden fruit that he had only wanted for the sole reason that she had been forbidden. In all fairness though, Bjorn had had it coming to him, for killing Eitri simply because he wanted to lead the Cove.

Ragnar did not know if there was true to Thistle's words, or not, and even though he was weary of their near constant arguments he wouldn't have it any other way. Nerian had given him everything he had wanted (in a sense) and never argued with him and at first it had been great, until she had ran away with her tail between her legs at their first serious talk of children, never mind the fact that during her heat season she had all but thrown herself at him numerous times. Regardless, he tucked the thought of his ex-Priestess away. She had burned her bridges, and Ragnar had done nothing to cease the consuming flames. “I came across one of the new packs that have settled within the Wilds and found that Peregrine and his mate, Fox lead one of them. I think he called it Redhawk Caldera,” The name was hard for him to say, the word 'caldera' accented heavily at the wrong places. “Peregrine made me an offer, one that with the more thought I give the harder it is to come up with a reason to refuse,” Ragnar confessed to her. “He has proposed that, providing his mate is okay with it, that we, Stavanger Bay and his Redhawk Caldera become allies. I know that it goes against what I once said, and I still dislike the idea of alliances... and if it had been anyone else I would give a resolute no to. But Peregrine is a good man, and I am honored that he had extended to offer,” Ragnar gave pause, “I believe we should accept, but what are your thoughts?” Because he would not make a decision without her.

“I suppose I will,” Though the elusiveness at what she would do left a certain air of enigma to her threat, but it did not truly have much of a bearing if he did not know what was to come. If he did not know how bad the storm, then it was just another storm to the scarred Scandinavian. Ragnar's eye took in the territory beyond their borders for a moment, lifting away from her face to accomplish it. Having one eye was still a little disorienting at times, but it was a obstacle that he was, slowly, learning to adjust and adapt to. Soon, it would be effortless. Simple. Like breathing. Some of his comrades back in Odinn's Cove had been missing eyes and then there was the Seer who was blind entirely. His fellow Berserkers had still been able to fight, and the Seer did not die because her sight had been stolen from her as the curse to her blessing, they believed.

“A couple days or so, it depends on who is traversing it,” In the end, that was all it did really depend on. Ragnar was tall and so he could cover more with his strides than someone of say, her height, and he did not easily get distracted as others might be prone to do. Her second question, however, brought a thoughtful expression to the Viking's nicked muzzle. He had not asked what it would entail, and Peregrine had not specified. More than anything Ragnar was willing to assume it was a sign of friendship more than anything else. It was Peregrine after all, and Ragnar could not see the ebony cloaked male demanding things out of the Bay, especially since akin to Ragnar the other hadn't been into alliances either. “I believe it is a sign of friendship more than anything, but that is something I could ask when I return to give an answer,” Because Ragnar was the only Outrider and besides that, with such a pivotal and perhaps even delicate manner the Jarl felt that it was his duty to go.

“I do not either,” Ragnar admitted. “I suppose alongside the symbol of friendship it is something of a potential lifeline to the Bay and vice versa,” That if something should happen the other would be there to aid as much as they could without sacrificing their own pack's well being in the process. It was that particular part of alliances that Ragnar inherently did not trust, but he was willing to give it a try. “Peregrine once told me that he, too, did not believe in alliances and yet he offered a...what is the saying... olive branch to me,” In truth, Ragnar didn't know much about Peregrine but Ragnar knew that he respected the man, regardless. “I think we should accept it. I think it would be good for the Bay. It is not as I had imagined it to be. We are too diverse to be a true viking pack,” But Ragnar could not force his beliefs upon others. That wasn't how faith worked. If they wished to convert then he would welcoming their curiosity as their mentor and chieftain. Ragnar was content with their diversity, for the most part, though he did miss the raids.

There was truth in the fact that Ragnar thought the reason that they fought was largely placed upon his own shoulders, and that half of the time he wondered if he made her unhappy. The worst part of thinking that was knowing that if she ever tried to leave him, he would do his damnedest to convince her to stay. She was the first and only wife that he could claim that he actually loved, and as it stood she was the longest standing wife he'd had to date. The only one that had the bragging rights to say that did not bore him. Which, in some semblance of a way, was something to be proud of. Ragnar was thoughtful, contemplating her words as she spoke them, knowing that she was right. He could not see as well as he once had, though his training as a Berserker soothed any panic that might have stolen within him. Eyes could cast illusions, that other senses would paint as such: an illusion. “Trying to see everything requires a lot of head turning,” Something that the Northman wasn't necessarily used too. As time went on, sure, he would become used to having one eye. For now, it still presented a struggle.

“Then I will handle it and keep it under control the best I can and send someone off to them,” It wasn't fail proof, but it was no different then if they didn't have any allies at all. “If they can spare the wolves to send out a hunting party,” Ragnar amended quietly. There was a huge part of the Viking that disliked the idea of assuming that the Caldera would do anything of the sort for the Bay — a side effect of having grown up disliking the idea of alliances. “I do not think that it could hurt anything.” Ragnar responded, figuring that if worse came to worse they could always bow, respectfully, out of it if they changed their minds. “It is Fate, I believe.” Ragnar murmured.

“Adjusting to this has to be on me,” Ragnar murmured, with a soft shake of his head. He was not rejecting her aid out of pride, but rather because he could not become, nor did he wish to, dependent upon her. He needed to hunt and fail. He needed to slam headfirst into trees a couple of times. He needed to get used to a different method of awareness on his blindside or his usefulness would cease entirely, and just like a child learning to walk she needed to let him stumble and fall a few times. It might be hard, hard for him and hard for her to watch but he couldn't rely on her. He refused. Ragnar did not want his inconvenience to become a disability for him. “I need to fall, and fail. It is the only way that I will learn.” He finished, just in case she became angry with him for refusing her help.

“Fate is set into stone,” Ragnar disagreed. “It is the Gods that have the habit of giving with one hand and taking from the other.” Meaning that it was the Gods themselves that were fickle as opposed to the Norns. Whether she agreed with his beliefs or not Ragnar did not know, and frankly did not care. He had determined never to change for anyone or anything, and the Northman held fast to it. Even now.

Surprise hit the Viking mildly as Thistle agreed with him, having assumed that she would argue with him until she was blue in the face that she was going to help him and that there was nothing he was going to, or could do about it. Nevertheless, the Viking was glad that she was allowing him to do it himself. After all, it wasn't as if she could replace the eye that he had given to Odinn, not that he would want to replace it. There was a part of Ragnar that was happy about it, the zealot part of him that worshiped Odinn with an unbending reverence. Perhaps he felt a kinship with the All-Father because according to his father and Eitri's father before (and who knows how long this rumor has been going in Ragnar's family) that he was a descendant of Odinn himself, and it was that tale of being blood of the All-Father himself that made Ragnar love the King God. Ragnar did not, with a fierceness, agree with her statement of hearing of a few changing their Fates. Not that he had any intention of calling her a liar, so in avoidance of that he kept his disagreement to himself. “Perhaps,” Ragnar responded, deciding to play it neutral and not catering either way. To the Viking, this sounded like the safest route to take. After all, he had no interest in fighting with his wife so soon after their previous fight. Instead, he simply wished to worship her. "What do you say we practice for children, hmm?" The Scandinavian murmured into the velveteen fur of her ear.