Sure enough, it seemed that Eitri did have things to teach Ragnar despite that he had been deceased for nearly three years now as Charon burst into an explanation without being prompted for one. Single eye roved to glimpse down at the boy as he spoke, though the Viking's grim expression did not alter upon his lips. The description of the wolf was met with vague familiarity to Ragnar but he brushed it off because he could not draw upon it with any sort of specifics. “We have no wolf with that coloration, nor that name,” Ragnar informed Charon simply. Just because the Berserker had stepped down from his title of Jarl did not mean that he did not keep track of those his wife accepted into his the pack. He might not have been very sociable but he knew them from simply watching and inquiring things from Thistle as a debriefing. As the warden it was his job to know who he was protecting, after all. “And if you would have sought me out immediately after she spoke these lies to you, you would have known they were lies,” This was said with soft disapproval, in a “for future reference” tone. He was happy to have Charon back safe and relatively sound — though Ragnar did not doubt Thistle would fuss over his malnutrition like any loving mother — but he wished for Charon to learn from his mistake. A mistake that Ragnar, himself, would have made in his youth. They were flawed, mistakes were written in their genetic coding. Even Gods made mistakes. “I had assumed that Kevlyn had died, as your parents had. His trail faded into the sea,” It was alarming to think that he wasn't deceased, for this 'Blythe' whomever she was had known enough about them to know the boy by name, or so that was how Ragnar had taken it from Charon's words.

“The Glacier wolves think we stole a child of theirs?” Ragnar was surprised, and balked a bit at that, slowly the puzzle pieces falling together into his mind causing a soft snarl to push forth from parted lips. “We have been set up Charon, and so have the wolves of the Glacier,” It all made sense now, and even went so far as to explain the strange sea and female scent over every one of his prominent urine markings. Ragnar was many things: savage? Yes. Heathen? Yes. Murderer? Possibly, it depended upon how one wished to look at his death match with his eldest brother and those whom he had raided and slain over the years. Kidnapper? No. He was a father. He had given Junior back, hadn't he? He had rescued her. He did not tell Charon that he had played right into this 'Blythe''s trap, figuring that the boy had likely already figured it out for himself. “Thistle needs to be made aware of this and we need to ready the pack. There may be a war upon us soon.” His thoughts immediately went to his unborn children and his breath left him in a soft push of air, as if someone had punched him in the lungs. So, dark days were upon the Bay, after all.

After a stretch of silence, and Ragnar peeked at Charon once more, inhaling deeply and letting out the heavy exhale. He wished to admit that he had worried endlessly about the boy, that he was glad he was back, and that he had missed him when he had been gone but Ragnar didn't know how. He wasn't that kind of man and was not sure how to appropriately speak his feelings; thus he favored silence.

In a way Ragnar understood why Charon had done it — why he had dashed away, hoping to be Kevlyn's hero, and while it came as some kind of surprise to think that the other Ostrega boy may still be alive, Ragnar did not think that there was such a thing as “saving Kevlyn”. He had been gone too long, corrupted by whatever malicious creature had stolen him from the shores of the Bay. Would he even want to come home? Was the Bay even home to him anymore? Ragnar did not voice these aloud to Charon, for the child's own sake. Ragnar did not believe in hiding things from his children but at the same time Charon was still just a boy and Ragnar found that he was not so willing to steal away what innocence he had left of the world by marring his belief that Kevlyn could be saved with Ragnar's pessimistic own. “You are growing fine and strong, Charon,” Ragnar complimented the boy but paused for a second before he added, “but you are still a boy. You could have been killed, or taken from us like Kevlyn and Liyani. I know you do not realize how worried you had Thistle and I but we were. Yet again, I felt helpless. I did not know where you were and therefor would not have been able to help you.” He hated lecturing his children, but at the same time he wished to communicate to Charon that it was okay to take the time to get an adult, if not Thistle or Ragnar himself then someone.

Ragnar did not know what to say when Charon confessed to wanting to “fix” Levi. It would have been easy for Ragnar to say that eventually their memories of their brother would fade and that the ache would dull to something that hit them only once in a while. Or, like in Ragnar's case, it would go away, though he had came face to face with Bjorn's death if only because he'd dealt it himself. The Northman hesitated here, wanting to confess what he thought might have happened with Kevlyn but was not, at this point, willing too. “It is admirable how you love your brother, Charon, but the Gods take with one hand and give with the other,” Ragnar paused here, taking a deep breath before letting it out in a soft exhale. “Sometimes we must not focus so much on what they have taken from us, but what they have given us in return.” It was a hard thing to do, even for Ragnar. Yet, he wanted Charon (and essentially Levi) to be able to focus upon what they had, as opposed to “what could be”. If they kept living in the mind set of “well this could be if this and this hadn't happened or if I did this” would only serve to drive them insane.

“Maybe,” The Viking conceded dryly, though he did not believe it. If Stavanger Bay was being targeted and had become some witches' scapegoat then they were in danger just as much as the Glacier wolves. Still, he was not as optimistic as his young son in concerns to the Glacier wolves listening to him or the Bay wolves if their case was pleaded. Ragnar enjoyed war as much as the next heathen but not when his stubborn queen was pregnant and would want to be in the thick of the battle, akin to a true shield-maiden. He would not lose her, nor the children growing within her womb.

Ragnar's singular eye, trained upon Charon as it was, caught the boy's wince of pain, reminding Ragnar that the boy did not come back to them unscathed. “I'm calling for @Thistle Cloud so she can look at your wound,” He informed the boy, wanting him to be prepared lest Thistle made him explain himself, as well.