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Though his fever had burned itself out of his system; what Ragnar stubbornly accredited to his body adjusting to the sliver of the Allfather’s being Odinn had left behind in the Viking when he had possessed, controlled, and released him though in a reality that was not Ragnar’s own it was simply because his wife had nursed him (including the forceful convincing of getting him to consume the Jopi Weeds) back to health. That wasn’t to claim that Ragnar didn’t give her credit because he did simply not in the sense it was deserved. It had been well into the night when he had came to the birthing den, patrols having just been finished, and curled up alongside Thistle’s slumbering and heavily pregnant body to sleep.
It felt like he had literally just fallen asleep when soft sniffling roused him, the uneven and sharp inhales and exhales of breath accompanied with quiet sobs causing the Viking to stir.
The sobs continued then, and Ragnar rose, tiredly to glimpse around for her, yet she was not in the den, the quiet sobs coming from outside of it instead of inside it as they had been, he had sworn it, seconds before. As he neared the mouth of the den the stench of blood and death hung in the air, causing Ragnar’s ears to slick back to his skull as he peered into the fog veiled night, approaching Thistle’s silhouette where she lay. He stepped in the pool of blood as he approached her and jerked back suddenly, his heart hammering within it’s prison of flesh and blood. Reluctantly, the Viking peered down to see Thistle grooming the five, tiny bloodied bodies at her teats. Not one squirming, crying or suckling. They were lifeless and Ragnar felt horror, again. Not again.
Thistle was still curled beside him, her sides still rounded with child but he was frightened by his dream, feeling far more threatened by what he did not know, that he had felt in quite some time.
Unlike Ragnar Thistle had been having a pleasant dream in it were her parents and surprisingly Ragnar. Though she was certain as unfortunate as it was that he would never meet them. Which saddened her greatly, but she also accepted it. Thistle was quite tired due to the fact that she was pregnant and she had been nursing her husband and had not slept well.
Therefore the first time he had called her she had not even heard. She shifted in her sleep only to waken abruptly at the loud voice near her head and her husband panic ridden words. She sat up and looked around blinking blearily unsure where to look and letting her eyes get accustomed to the darkness that lay heavy in the den. Ragnar what on earth is wrong? She reached out in the darkness for something to touch with her muzzle whether it be his shoulder his paw anything to make sure he did not have his fever again or something worse. Perhaps something was wrong with her.
She sniffed she smelled no change, no coppery smell of blood so she was quite confused what on earth was going on. She tilted an ear waiting for him to answer her.
It would be easy, Ragnar assumed as he watched her rouse from her slumber which had looked peaceful if the look upon her face was to be believed, to soothe her. To run his tongue over her ear, to groom the silken fur of her cheek and pepper her muzzle with soft kisses to solidify that nothing was wrong. In essence, there really wasn’t anything wrong; he could see this now as the adrenaline faded and his heart rate relaxed at the same time his hackles - which he had not even realized had been bristled dangerously along his spine - smoothed back to lay alongside the other tendrils of platinum silver on his body. Her question reminded him that he had woken her in his fear still, at that point, unsure what was just a dream and what was real. He peeked over her to look down at her side, relieved at what he didn’t see as her muzzle touched against his throat. There were no babes at her breasts, neither alive or dead - no they were still safe inside her womb - and more importantly there was no blood. Thistle smelled as she always did, like the Ridge, like him, and a mixture of her unique scent and the sweet scent of her mother’s milk her body was producing for the babes within her. Wordlessly, aware that he actually had yet to answer his wife he brushed his tongue along her swollen side, hoping that it soothed her and the children that kicked - he felt one of them kick beneath his touch.
While it might have been easy, that did not solve the unsettled feeling that pooled like sharp ice in Ragnar’s stomach, despite that the Viking had made certain that both Thistle and the babes nestled in her womb were alive, well and safe. He contemplated for a moment further as he pulled back after essentially smoothing her silken fur down with his tongue leaving a patch of her fur damp with his saliva where Ragnar had attempted to groom her (it wasn’t like he was a cat or anything, his grooming was likely very messy).
Simply put, he felt threatened but by who or what he did not know. That was the only thing he could get from it.
She nuzzled his face and neck licking his muzzle and his face nipping gently at his ears and scruff then soothing with her tongue. Trying to offer comfort where she could. She wouldn't be able to move too much as she was far to large, and she was comfortable anyway. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? It sounds like it must have been a very bad one based on your reaction? She licked his face again unsure what else she could do to offer comfort where it was needed.
I love you Ragnar. She whispered those words to him gently hoping to soothe even more of his fear and pain. She had not known what his dream was about but she was certain it was something to do with her and the pups. She felt that perhaps Dagmar's aborted litter had scarred him far more than he cared to admit.
For a few, stretching and silent minutes Ragnar simply stared down at her as she nuzzled and nipped and licked different parts of his face and neck but he could not bring himself to enjoy her touch, nor seek the comfort she was offering him. Even though it had been just a dream it had felt real enough and he remained, for the lack of a better word, spooked, the hackles bristling slightly again. Again, his stomach felt like it had dropped and his chest felt tight with icy as he wondered, then, if it was not the part of Odinn left behind within him that was warning him. A foreshadowing. The ‘what if’ scenario of that was not exactly pleasant and despite his previous determination that he was not going to worry Thistle with it, that he would not tell her that gruesome scene, lingering unbidden and unwelcome in the back of Ragnar’s mind as all nightmares did a low growl rumbled in the Viking’s throat for a few seconds, though it was hardly aimed at his wife. Ragnar was not sure he truly wanted to remain in the Ridge, confident that Pump would either keep coming up with excuses as to why he could not have the Beta rank - not to mention he would challenge her eventually, it was unavoidable and Ragnar did not want the Ridge - or pick someone over him.
He was tired of the ball and chain he wore, but held back from moving forward because it would be stupid to move Thistle now, not when she was due any week now, and even then the pups would not be able to be moved until they were at least a year old and even then sneaking them out of the borders might serve to be hell. Pump had him by his tail and there was nothing he could do about it, currently.
A small gasp escaped her throat at the imagery brought to mind as he explained the dream. No wonder he was upset, she didn't even dream it and it upset her. To have someone literally rip out her insides and her babies was a terrifying thought. There were no wolves here she didn't think that were dangerous enough to do that nor were they savage enough. However, that brother of his she didn't know him very well, he had seemed pleasant enough though. and he had a healthy respect for his brother, so she didn't think he was to fear. She listened ot his question and pondered on it.
To be honest Ragnar I don't know. I think that dreams leave a lot up for interpretation and they can symbolize many things, not necessarily death. However, I also think that there is no one around us right now that dangerous or savage enough to do such a thing. Not even you would do something like that I don't think and especially not to me. Granted the bear is certainly a worry, but you all took care of him I do not feel he'll come back do you? Perhaps you could make a trip to the forest and meditate on it or something? SHe was unsure exactly what was done to get in touch with her husbands gods, but perhaps that would ease his mind just perhaps. Granted she would need to ease hers as well, but she could meditate anywhere.
Ragnar felt Thistle’s body stiffen against his at the dark growl that emitted from low in his throat at his unease, at the mere suspicion that he felt threatened. It was an assurance as much to himself as it was to her that he would not let anyone harm her or his children. Ragnar himself wasn’t exactly sure who it was meant for, simply he knew that it was just what it was. A low warning uttered in the still of the night, whether they heard it or not. There was a small surge of guilt that overcame the Viking when Thistle gasped at his words, at the retelling of the things that haunted his dreams, knowing that it would upset her. That had been his initial reason as to why he had not wanted too.
The Viking was silent as his wife tried to soothe him. He shifted against her, gazing out at the moonlit landscape stretching beyond the mouth of their den as he absorbed her words as she spoke them. She was right, in an aspect, it might not have necessarily meant death per say - it was true that he had not seen Odinn, whom he often saw on the battlefield raising those who had fallen to Valhalla; but he had felt a disturbance in the force air - still felt it, even now though he was wide awake and painfully conscious that made him uneasy though he could not place his paw upon it.
Thistle did not say it, but she felt deep inside that not even a bear could be that vicious. Bears were vicious it was true, but they were more territorial and predatory rather than cunning and sly and savage. Only one who had the afore mentioned qualities as well as no conscience could do any such thing.
She listened to him and ran her muzzle across her shoulder as she did listen thinking hard. Ragnar I told you I would support you adn I will, but I can't leave right now Ragnar it would be too dangerous and i won't be able to after the babes are born for at least a week or two we take them out in the air before they are ready they could become sickly and die. So it woulod take time, though I am sure preparations would take time as well. She wanted to tell him she would go, but even though she loved him the children would come first and that is what she hoped he would do as well. She could understand his frustration and she did not blame him for it. Pump had in a way been keeping her decisions to herself however she also knew pump and usually Pump had a very good reason for keeping it. Perhaps Pump has not decided because she knows that you will not stop at the beta rank dear hear? And it was true anyone with half a brain who knew Ragnar knew that he was ambitious and did not settle for anything less than leadership.
Thistle snarled outloud at the name of Diluculo. "That wolf is a poison, the very words she utters do nothing but befoul the air. I do not trust her, she is sly and cunning and she will do anything to cause a rift i believe. Even so much as trying to flirt with your wife. Though admittedly it took me a minute or two to figure it out. Thistle remembered that day well she had teased back, merely to not cause any issues and at first she had not realized at all what the other wolf was doing. She shook her head she was an asset to the pack yes and if she would let her guard down, Diluculo could probably be very kind and good, but she was not sure if she could let go of what ever hate she felt in her breast.
Thistle listened to him they could sneak out it was true, but she could not for at least a few weeks yet. Simple fact of the matter was that she was far too along to move and then once the pups were born ther ewould be no way to take them out for a couple of weeks. Though itwas almost summer, there was still chilly nights. and they would have to leave at night for sure.
Ragnar felt Thistle run her muzzle across his shoulder, across the ragged scar the landslide had left upon his skin, healed but left with the certainty that the fur would never grow back to cover it, her words a truth that Ragnar knew and had accepted and yet he still found them disappointing, nevertheless. As much as he yearned to leave right this instant, he knew that things didn’t work like that. He had Thistle to support him, and if he reminded her to whom owned her life Nerian, and maybe if he sought out his brother, Dagrún but he wanted more, just in case. Things would take time, and as she had pointed out - as he knew - the children would be in no fit state to be snuck out of the borders until they were at least a week or two old. That time would be invaluable if Ragnar was to make his move, though he understood the ramifications that it might bring to him and his family. Only more of a reason to get them out.
For a moment, Ragnar considered telling her that if she couldn’t leave the Ridge, if she could not cut her ties with Pump and the ones that would not follow him then she, too, could stay. Ragnar was too selfish, and too far in love with her to tell her such a thing, because he did not feel the Ridge was safe for their sons, for his teachings. It was almost painfully obvious that Pump did not want him in leadership under her, and he was tired of being jostled around as if he were some placacent subordinate. A subordinate he might have been but it was not what he was born to be, and furthermore anything but placacent. Thistle’s snarl, loud in the breaking of the sudden darkness drew Ragnar’s attention from his thoughts and back to his mate with a touch of concern upon his muzzle, a furrow of his brows that smoothed when she spoke to a coy little grin.
She chuckled at his question slightly only because she found the situation slightly humerus that the other would be so low as to flirt with another's mate not only that but another of the same gender to boot. "no Ragnar I did not I defected her flirtations to make my excuses believable i called her precious and darling one time each, but I always turned the conversation back to you or something else. Trust me You have nothing to worry about in that regard just as I told her I prefer my mate manly and strong. She did not like that nor did she like the fact that I am clearly taken with you. Thistle tilted her head shaking it gently as she couldn't believe he thought she would actually flirt and make a woman into a lover.
Suddenly she growled at him at his next question her hormones and anger hair trigger as of late. Of course i wouldn't Ragnar what kind of wife do you take me for. Maybe it is commonplace in the viking culture to take many lovers and move from one to another, but I am not like that nor for that matter do I find any female attractive let alone males. I haven't even looked at another male but you. She snorted at him.
Though she was a little upset with him as it always did his smile caused her to momentarily lose her mind. That is really not fair Ragnar. You're smile is dangerous. She found she could no longer be irritated with him or his questions and she supposed it was perfectly normal to ask such a question especially given his culture and how he was and how he had gone through females it was probaly only common for the women to do so too.
As she thought about their current conversation she realized she may have hurt his ego slightly when she spoke about Pump. Ragnar I want you to know when the time comes I will follow you easily. I just worry for the pups that is all. Though I consider Pump my friend you are my husband therefore my loyalty goes deeper there. She then lay her head on her paws for a moment licking the white one as she thought about his dreams and Pump and the pups and it all rolled together in a mish mash of strange ideas and ordeal, she sighed softly. Unsure how he would take anything she would say after all RAgnar's moods were turbulent at best.
It did not occur to the Viking how his blunt and brutish words might hurt his Tiny Viking for the simple fact that he had not intended them to do such.
Thistle’s growl at him was not unwarranted, but his curiosity had demanded he ask it even though it clearly hadn’t set well with his golden wife. A low hiss rushed from betwixt his teeth and lips in retaliation at her inhumane warning of displeasure, Ragnar’s ears, scarred and unscarred slicking back to his skull.
Thistle looked up at him and snorted I can certainly growl if I want too Ragnar thank you very much. She moved into his touch and briefly allowed the thought to cross her mind that she was becoming very dependent on that touch and she did not know if that was a good thing or not, but she was not about to look to deeply into that preferring to be one who looked not to the future but the present.
She shook her head at his coy smile and gave a sharp nip to his shoulder blade in retaliation. Don't let it go to your head. she teased gently. She snorted again and shook her head but she lay back to her paws anyway. good night Ragnar. And she too fell asleep.