The birth of his sons was close. Each day Ragnar watched Thistle struggle with their combined weight and size within her womb, exceeding their limits until Ragnar nearly feared they would tear through her sides like ravage beasts. Of course, this was just an imagination - they would be delicate, helpless and quite harmless for the first few months of their lives, Ragnar knew. Ragnar had all but forgotten about Crete, his meeting with the Plateau wolf’s Alpha and brother over with, and in this forgottenness had convinced himself that the pups were his by blood as well as by claim (even though they would not be his by blood and flesh). With Freyja and Frigg appeased, the Viking no longer feared a difficult birth for Thistle, confident that Freyja and Frigg would assist Thistle as invisible (for rarely did they ever allow mortal to see their forms) midwives. Odinn’s possession had been a phenomenal and terrifying thing for Ragnar who could feel a piece of the Allfather lingering within his soul where the God and mortal had joined. Perhaps that had been the Allfather’s plan all along - to give Ragnar a part of him to ensure that Ragnar reached the ends he was ordered to achieve, no matter what. As it was, Ragnar felt altered within himself, a new song thrumming through his veins, even if he did not understand what it was Odinn had gifted him with besides power. Not the power of a Jarl but the power of a to-be King.
Pump’s suspicions were correct. Ragnar would not settle for the Beta rank long before wanting absolute power. But he did not want the Ridge - not really. He wanted to scoop up those that would become a Viking and create anew in Ravensblood Forest. His connection to the earth there - holy to the savage man - was deeply rooted and he wanted it before another came in to take it. Yet, how was he to find support in such a short measure of time? He would never be able to make the move in time before Thistle’s birth and then there was the inherently and rooted problem of Pump. She could not stop Thistle without, likely, killing her or the babes but she had dictated that they were to stay until they were two -- which Ragnar had a suspicion would not go over well with his sons when they were old enough to understand their sentence of what he likened to perdition.
Odinn would see him through the obstacles, along with Ragnar’s own cunning and intelligence; he did not solely rely upon his God for all of the answers knowing that he had to find his own way. It had always been that way, and Ragnar reveled in the challenge. His walk along his patrol route was slowed, captured as he was by his thoughts, though his attention was not totally side tracked. He was always alert in some manner, ears perked and twitching as he processed the noises, nose inhaling each and every scent, dissecting them to see if anything was amiss. His eyes traced the path before him with an absence but he did not often rely upon his eyesight. Eyes could deceive, and Odinn could see more with his missing eye than Ragnar could with his own two. It was instinct - gut feeling, scents and sounds that he relied upon the most.
Gavriil liked patrolling during the day. He ran into a few outsiders, Ame and Willow, in his time of patrolling. Meeting random wolves from other surrounding packs was beginning to become a normal event. While walking around the territory Gavriil ran into the alert looking Ragnar. His ears were perked, eyes wide, and nose was searching for nearby scents. Wandering close to the male he let out a soft greeting bark. "Hey, how is the father to be doing?" Gavriil inquired after giving the male a bow in respect. He trotted up and licked the pale wolf's muzzle in a greeting filled with submission and respect for the higher ranked male.
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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.
The cinnamon wolf still felt uneasy around Ragnar. The macho male was daunting to say the least. While the pair were equal in size there was something about Ragnar that made him more savage visually. The group of scars that surrounded his head played a huge factor in his wild looks. It was extremely difficult not to feel intimidated by the pale wolf's presence. When the other male nudged Gavriil's muzzle he relax a little, although being closer to the bear of a wolf wasn't easy. The snowy male spoke about how he was doing well, and in return offered a simple thanks (well a thanks in Ragnar's ideals) for standing up for his pups. Gavriil acknowledge the other males words with a nod "I could only hope that if I was placed in the same situation you would also stand up for me. The crimes of the parents shouldn't be reflected on the children." Gavriil replied in a deep tone. It was true the male could only hope that the pale wolf would do the same. He questioned if Raganr would have as much tolerance for mistakes if they weren't his own (or his mates for that matter).
Gavriil had learned from Pump that Ragnar wanted beta position, and soon after he got that the ebony she wolf feared he wouldn't stop. It was easy to tell the male wanted power by the way he carried himself. Gavriil likewise wouldn't challenge the male, he showed respect and submission around him to keep him at bay. When the snowy wolf inquired in a friendly tone it left Gavriil feeling even more uneasy, it was odd hearing the wolf speak in a friendly tone. Gavriil shrugged it off as excitement for the pups. "I am well, and yes I have recently spoke to Thistle. The pups seem to be healthy, and no doubt once they are born will they be happy. I am very excited to meet your children Ragnar. I know that in time they will be great members of this pack." Gavriil spoke proudly of the yet to be born pups. It was true, the cinnamon male was extremely excited to see the pups. The teddy bear had always had a special place in his heart for pups.
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.
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.
Gavriil simply nodded at the pale male's words. There was nothing more that needed to be said, the macho wolf put it well. The cinnamon wolf agreed wholeheartedly that pups shouldn't be killed for the crimes of their parents. It wasn't fair in anyway.
Gavriil wondered if the ritual that the macho wolf spoke of was cleared by Pump. Gavriil was a curious being, it was in his nature. Since the punishment for Thistle's actions were that the pups were public territory he couldn't help but asking. "Have you cleared the ritual with Pump yet? If so I am sorry for asking I am merely curious." Gavriil spoke in a cheery but inquisitive voice. The cinnamon male had no ill intent against his pack mate, he wished for the best after asking the question.
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’.
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.
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.
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.
”I understand Ragnar, you will have your viking children but just make sure you also don’t do anything to upset Pump. I am not ordering you around I’m just simply suggesting as a fellow packmate- and a friend. Pump deserves to be treated with the upmost respect as do you.”. Gavriil spoke submissively to the male. The cinnamon wolf adored his wolf-hybrid alpha. He found her droopy ears and shaggy fur to be beautiful. Every word she spoke was full of meaning, and weren’t spoken just to hear her own voice. Gavriil on rare occasions even got to see her smile and joke around, which made the teddy bear extremely happy. Daydreaming about his alpha Gavriil couldn’t contain the smug smile on his face, and pure desire in his eyes.
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 do enjoy her company, but will I ever act upon my feelings? No. She's too intimidating." Gavriil spoke without looking the me in his deep blue eyes. He didn't feel anger towards Ragnar for asking about his affections towards Pump. In all reality he was glad to have someone to talk to about it. With Ragnar already having a mate the teddy bear figured that he would be an excellent wolf to chat with about his unrequited love for Pump.
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.
Confidence That was all the teddy bear needed according to Ragnar. Hearing his story of bold action gave the cinnamon wolf a burst of confidence. "I should just tell her then? Not that I want to be her mate, but but not that I don't-because I do. I seriously do. But that I want to court her?" Gavriil spoke softy but boldly to his macho companion.
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.
"Thanks Ragnar. Thanks a lot actually. Without you I never would have even gone after her. Now I know she could say no, hell I'm almost positive she will, but I will try. She's a strong independent woman and she don't need no man, but I would love to be the man standing beside her ya know?" Gavriil replied with-for the first time- confidence in his strong voice.
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.