Master Warrior
A lot had changed lately. At first, Charon hadn't missed Kevlyn much. Kevlyn was loud and he always wanted all of the attention to himself, much to Charon's dismay (who wanted all of the attention to himself too, but wasn't quite as good at being vocal about it, often making him miss out on what he wanted). However, after a day he had grown restless at the loss of both his brother and his mother, disliking the emptiness of the den and, while they had begun to eat regurgitated meat, missing his mother's milk. Things were quiet in the Ostrega den at the moment that Charon had began turning his babbles into words, with only Dad to praise Charon and his siblings for any sounds that sounded remotely like words at all.
Then a lot more had changed. Verrine had left, for reasons Charon couldn't understand. He was too little and, while he had begun to say things like 'daw!' to Verrine, and related tiny words, just because others seemed very eager for him to repeat their words, he understood little of what he was actually saying... Let alone what anyone else said.
So when he, Liyaní and Levi had been packed and shipped off to a different den, a different place, and consequently Verrine had just left them there, Charon had been a very, very unhappy boy. He'd been an average sort of pup thus far; eager for attention and trying to copy his parents' and siblings' behaviour, estimating what adults wanted him to do and trying to do so, responding to positive enforcement. Now, however, he was not happy and even though he had seen Ragnar and Thistle a couple of times in passing and knew that Verrine was the one that brought them here, Charon wanted to go home.
He wanted Ma, and Da, and he even wanted Kevlyn.
So he shrieked and cried, protested and threw tantrums, tried to run away only to be protectively pulled back in, and made sure that his caretakers had an absolute couple of handsfull trying to keep him calm... But it didn't work. Charon lavished the attention his bratty behaviour granted him, even the negative attention, but Ma, Da and Kev were still gone.
At the end of the first day in the residence of the Alpha pair and their children, Charon gave up. No longer did he scream or whine. He'd fallen asleep eventually, after staying up for longer than he had stayed up before, and now that he awoke the next morning, still feeling tired from all the fits he'd had, Charon sat quietly among the wolves that surrounded him.
He looked at the alien den that surrounded him. And, adjustable and flexible as he was at his young age, he accepted that things were as they were. He accepted that this was now his home, and that perhaps, he'd never see Ma, Da and Kevlyn again. He pressed all of his feral, childlike anguish to the side and fell into a more basic survival system, where - for now - he needed to move on.
His paws folded underneath him, making himself small, Charon looked around the den at the wolves that were now his family - whether he liked it or not - in quiet contemplation.
The first day that the remaining Ostrega children had been with the Alpha pair as their new wards, it had been Charon that had thrown the most tantrums, even trying to escape a few times. The young Ostrega child had wailed like a banshee giving neither Ragnar or Thistle who had taken shifts watching their newest wards so that one of them could attend to their leadership duties while the other played babysitter to their foster children, having Mercury and Gunnar take shifts with them as well, one boy patrolling the borders or hunting while the other aided in trying to keep the clearly upset children calm. It wasn't very effective but it was all that Ragnar knew to do for them, assuming that they had to tantrum themselves out. Presumably, Charon eventually did tantrum himself out and slept through the night. Ragnar couldn't say the same, and was groggy when he did finally awaken, giving a soft order to Mercury to bring the children something to play with. Ragnar no longer had the bones he had worried in for his Gods, each having been placed on the appropriate alters deep in the heart of the forest that dominated most of the Bay, but Ragnar had kept the antlers of some of the deer that they had taken down and hoped that Mercury would know where to find them.
Assuming that the other Ostrega children: Liyani and Levi were still asleep Ragnar turned his eyes of carribean blue eyes to the uniquely marked child: Charon, whom had seemed to shrink in on himself. Ragnar understood a simple truth: he could not replace the absence of Verrine, no more than Thistle could replace the absence of Julooke — no more than either of them wanted to replace them. They weren't their true parents but they were their foster parents and as far as Ragnar could see the best chance the small children had at surviving this harsh winter to come. The scarred Scandinavian stared at the only woken child, feeling piteous but knowing that he couldn't sympathize with him. He'd never lost his parents, at least not while he was much too young to understand; but Ragnar did understand the pain of loss, despite that he'd been an adult when Bjorn had brutally ended Eitri's life for the crown of Odinn's Cove.
It was doubtful that Charon understood what he was saying, and even if he did that he would listen but Ragnar was going to try to get Charon to open up to him, regardless.
Master Warrior
Charon startled when Ragnar spoke to him, saying his name. He hadn't realised that the Loðbrók patriarch was awake too. "Ch'won," the boy mumbled to himself as he tried to mimic the word that Ragnar had said, recognising it as his own name. Charon was in the phase of his life where he started to copy words that others threw at him, but also started to recognise what it was that they said to him. He wasn't entirely sure whether the word Charon held any other meaning than an indication of him, but right before he had lost him, his father had responded positively to him repeating the word as best he could, so he continued to do so. He wondered if Ragnar would give the same sort of reaction as Verrine had.
When Ragnar spoke again, Charon tilted his head, trying to figure out what it was that Ragnar wanted. Verrine and Julooke had often made longer sentences too, and Charon was only beginning to grasp the meaning of things. But to compensate his lack of knowledge of the words, at least Charon recognised that Ragnar's voice was friendly and soft, and he probably meant well.
"No," Charon said uninterestedly, even though he had no idea what, exactly, he was no-ing. But he'd recently learned the word 'no', and he liked to throw it around, even if he was yet to fully grasp its meaning. Grey-tipped ears perked forward, betraying his anticipation at Ragnar's reaction and his curiosity how Ragnar would respond.
Ragnar hadn't meant to scared the young Ostrega child, and his ears cupped forth to catch the sound of the boy mumbling his own name in a mimicry.
“No” seemed to be the first word that most young children spoke, likely because it was a pretty easy word to mimic. Given this, Ragnar took the liberty of assuming that Charon, perhaps, did not truly grasp the gravity of the word he'd just thrown out to the sleepy silence of the den. The Jarl hardly took it personal. Neither would he have, even if Charon did understand the heavy ramifications of the word “no”. He and his siblings had been through a grave ordeal and now found themselves in the company and care of, otherwise, strangers. The Ostrega children were also children of the Bay and though they did not understand it yet, the wolves of the Bay were their family also. Charon, Liyani, and Levi were not his children but Ragnar would not treat them any different then he had Mercury, Gunnar and Gyda. Blood didn't matter, and the Ostrega children were young enough to need Thistle and him.
Master Warrior
Ragnar's stare made Charon feel a little uncomfortable, though he could not quite place why, and he averted his gaze in automatic respect for his Alpha and guardian. Ragnar did not respond right away at Charon's "no", but when he did it was in the form of a question - sort of - by echoing Charon's "no" back, a questionmark attached. Charon did not really understand why, and, paired with the new living situation, he felt self-conscious and unsure how to respond to Ragnar's query. He thought "no" was a response to stuff, and the fact that it could also be a question caught him off-guard.
"Um," Charon mumbled, and he momentarily looked up to Ragnar, before respectfully averting his gaze again. "Chu — um — Chuwron?" He hadn't quite meant to phrase it like a question, because he wanted to answer the question that he was asked; from observing conversation he'd found that when someone asked questions, the other answered. Because he wasn't very trained in this art yet, Charon responded with one of the few words he yet knew — his name — attempting to succeed at conversation.
Ragnar did not have the joy within him to give Charon the praise that the scarred Scandinavian knew the boy deserved, and equally assumed that Charon was looking for. It wasn't fair, Ragnar understood. It wasn't fair to Charon for Ragnar to not lavish him in giddy praise for being able to repeat his own name, no matter what Ragnar's reasoning was. Odinn alone knew the pain of losing not just one dear friend, but two. Thistle and him had found Julooke's body and though Ragnar had not been able to find Verrine's the only evidence remained left little to the Viking's imagination, and the worst, with little other choice, was assumed. Charon, Levi, and Liyani were wards of the Lodbrok family, adopted in the wake of them becoming orphans. Their situation was so very different than his own children, born of another man's seed. Ragnar had sought to replace Crete, and it had been a selfish desire but obtainable because Crete had vanished off the face of the earth before Thistle had even known she was pregnant. This time, Ragnar did not seek to replace Verrine as their father. Certainly, he would become a father figure but he would not see Verrine or Julooke out of their hearts or minds. He would tell them what he knew of their parents, making sure that the Ostrega couple that created the small children whom now shared the Jarl's den with them lived on in their children. It was the very least Ragnar felt that he could do for them.
Charon seemed to shy away from Ragnar's stare and the Scandinavian took in a deep, slightly labored breath with the emotion that threatened to over take him. The burn of tears were there, hot and unbidden in his eyes. It felt too familiar to having lost Pump because, essentially, it was not that different. Again, he lost dear friends, and again he took up the mantle of responsibility left in the wake of their departure from this world into the world of the Gods. Charon was too young to understand his loss, as was his siblings but someday soon they would know. Wondering if he was scaring the young boy, Ragnar looked away, the handsome half of his face, smooth and unscarred facing Charon. After a few moments, Ragnar placed his head upon his front paws, closing just his left eye, unable to help but think that this was how Odinn saw things. Through one eye. But Yggdrasil gave him infinite knowledge and with the aid of Huginn and Munnin the All-father, in actuality, saw everything.
When Charon broke the silence, Ragnar did not lift his head, instead he readjusted his position, tilting his head slightly so he could better look at the boy, without, hopfully, making him too uncomfortable.
Master Warrior
Even though Charon hadn't answered Ragnar's question at all, his reaction still elicited a positive response. When Ragnar praised him, Charon's tiny tail wiggled a few beats in momentary cheer. None of this lifted his confusion, but then again, there probably wasn't anything that could at this moment in time. He'd remember that even though he had not given the answer that was expected of him in the situation, sometimes giving a different answer would still receive a positive response. Ragnar said something else, although Charon understood only bits and pieces of it.
Charon tilted his head, not fully understanding what Ragnar was saying and thus not entirely sure how to respond to it. Ragnar did seem calm, which put Charon to ease a little bit. Hesitantly, Charon queried, "Mamama?" He had tried to be angry, and raging hadn't gotten him very far at all, but maybe just asking Ragnar where his mum was and if he could please return her to Charon would help. With a hopeful sparkle in his eyes, Charon stared at Ragnar, willing him to answer his plea; he had no idea that no matter how much he might wish to, Ragnar couldn't.
Ragnar smiled softly down at the uniquely colored Ostrega child when the boy gave a few, small wags of his tail at the Northman's praise. Ragnar's once speculation of being around small children makes future newborns/infants in comparison much easier to handle was seemingly proven correct. Despite the fact that the three Ostrega children were still quite small, and delicate, he no longer harbored the fear that he would break them if he touched them. Of course, being a father to such young children beforehand had certainly helped, and providing that Stavanger Bay was in a good position when Thistle went into her next heat cycle, the technical third litter would likely be the easiest yet. It was true that Charon and his siblings did not belong to the Loðbrók pair but that had never stopped Ragnar from fathering before. He had managed to convince Týrr that he a blood son despite that before that Ragnar had never told a bigger lie. The amazon boy had been nearly full grown when Ragnar, Floki, and Dagrún had captured him; though of course the amnesia had helped the trio immensely when it came to spinning their cunning tale of lies.
Ragnar was pulled from his thoughts when Charon hesitantly asked for Julooke. The Viking's cold eyes softened measurably and for a moment he had the strongest urge to look away from the small child, though he resisted. Despite how hard and bad everything seemed to him now, Ragnar remembered that this was not the worse that he had ever faced. In turn, it was the scarred Scandinavian's turn to hesitate. He was not sure if Charon yet grasped the concepts of life and death, or even if he would understand Ragnar when the Viking spoke to him.
Master Warrior
Charon did not understand most of the words that Ragnar said, but he knew 'mother' and 'father', and he definitely knew 'gone'. "Gahn?" he repeated clumsily, and he looked up at Ragnar. Charon rolled his eyes upwards in their sockets, showing white underneath them, as he looked up, and had a sad expression on his small face. "Why?" he queried, although he wished that he could've asked for how long they'd be gone. They had been gone before, but never this long. Charon did not know the words though, didn't know how to ask, and so he asked the only thing he did know how to phrase - why was this happening to Charon and his siblings? Why were they gone? And surely, they were going to come back, right?
Ragnar caught the curious tilt of the young child's head when he spoke a soft and murmured prayer to the All-Father in his native tongue, though he offered Charon no translation. Not because he did not think that Charon would understand the concept of prayers but because it had been meant to be private. Without Gunnar and Thistle present he was able to speak in Norse to himself without the fear of any others knowing what he said. It wasn't as if the words had been bad either, simply that sometimes what he spoke to Odinn was meant to be private. Just between the All-Father and Ragnar.
Master Warrior
Charon was happy that at least Ragnar was trying to answer the many questions the boy had. He really wanted to know where his parents were and, most of all, why they were 'gone'. He knew they weren't here, because he and his siblings had been moved from the den (although a small part of him still wondered if maybe, just maybe, if he'd go to the den they would just be there, waiting for him, telling him how much they'd missed him).
Ragnar explained that they were gone because it was Fate. Charon was confused, wondering who this 'Fate' person was. If he'd ever meet them, he would be sure to tell them what he thought of them for taking his parents and brother away from him.
With a sigh that sounded like the little boy carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, he unfolded his paws from underneath his body, rose and padded over to Ragnar and the other sleeping wolves in the den. Charon carefully settled himself near Ragnar's hind legs, not wanting to be too close but neither too far away, walked a small round before settling himself on the ground, and closed his eyes. " 'Night," he mumbled before drifting off to sleep, dreaming of his parents and a place in time when they were still here.
Ragnar watched as Charon's shoulders rose and fell with the heavy sigh that the young child let out. It was not an easy thing to hear, and not for the first time Ragnar wished that he had the power of Odinn, that he could make it all go away for him and his siblings. But the Northman wasn't the All-Father, and only could do so much to make it was easy as he could. Charon and his siblings, Ragnar suspected, were too young to know death and he did not know how to explain it so that the boy would understand that his parents weren't coming back. That they couldn't. The boy and his siblings were too young to have to bear such a horrible burden, to know that their parents had been cruelly ripped from them at such a young and tender age. Ragnar felt responsible for it, that if he wouldn't have left to try to find the heathen that attacked Julooke and nearly killed her the first time then perhaps it wouldn't have happened. That maybe Julooke and Verrine would still be here, with their children. Where they should have been; but life rarely worked how it was supposed to go. Having nothing further to say to Charon, the Viking watched as his foster son stood, drew closer, staying back by Ragnar's hind leg before he curled up with a 'night', and promptly seemed to fall asleep.