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It had been at least half of a day after he had discovered …or rather thought he had discovered a new pack located on the isle; though he couldn’t be sure that was what had happened. It wasn’t as if they had been made aware as extremely close neighbors or anything and if, indeed, the annoying (or so Ragnar felt) earthen creature had managed to round a few followers and claim it without even informing the Ridge that they planned to take a territory so close well then he was more lack witted than Ragnar had plagued him to be the day in Ravensblood. As it was the scarred Warden stared out at the isle from the shore, hating the lack of real distance between the isle and the ridge. It was just a small strip of ocean and realistically could be swam easily. Torn, he bared his teeth and let out a low grumble of discontent wanting to inform the pack via a howl but not wanting to rise an alarm if it ended up to be nothing more than casual traversing — though Ragnar doubted it even as he thought it. He had been around enough forming packs, raiding, to know that loners did not converge like that unless they were staking a claim.
A deep breath was taken, the salty scent of the ocean filling his lungs as the brine kissed at his face, giving a sticky feeling to his fur as he shifted his weight, sand wedging between his toes before he snorted and turned away sharply, heading back to the den where Thistle was with their newborn children. He intended to track down Verrine and see if the male wished to join him on the journey to the isle, figuring it would work to both of their advantage since Verrine had some scouting experience and he had expressed an equal interest in the Outrider trade, but first he wanted to speak to Thistle. Perhaps his wife should not have been the first woman he confided into considering that Pump was his Alpha but as it was Ragnar didn’t want to bring it up to Pump until he knew for sure and his mind had already been made that he would approach to find out what was going on — though he was suspicious and suspecting enough.
Perhaps, Ragnar realized, he was letting his heightened territorial instincts make a mountain out of an ant hill.
As he neared the den his pace slowed, black, leathery nostrils flaring to inhale the scent of @Thistle Cloud and the newborn pups. He paused outside of it, listening for signs that the children were awake or feeding because he knew if they were he might have to wait until Thistle could steal a few moments to relieve herself figuring that was as good a time as any to speak with her. It wasn’t ideal to confess his anger and suspicion when she was attempting to use the bathroom but it was better than not talking to her at all; besides he wasn’t sure how long this trip would take, or what would happen when he did go. It was an uncertain world, despite that Ragnar felt confident if they were a pack it wasn’t very big. He scented only three other scents along with Majesty’s.
Thistle heard her husband and since the pups were currently well sated and sleeping soundly, with ein being on top of the two of course he would be. She smiled softly at them and moving gently so she did not jostle or wake them. She tucked the deer hide around them gently and tightly so they did not get cold or notice her absence. She would need to ask Ragnar to maybe find some more animal pelts for smaller animals. She worried often.
She slid from the den mouth, her belly still shrinking in size. She licked his face and nuzzled his neck and continued on past him to sit across from him. She sat down gracefully to her haunches.
It was nearly a week that their children had been born into the world, and while Ragnar wished he could spare more time to allow Thistle to venture out of the den for more than a few moments of the time he could not offer her as much time as he had wanted too — and even if he didn’t there wasn’t anything he could do for them if they needed to feed (as to which apparently they did a lot). Ragnar tried to compensate for this where he could, sensing his wife’s frustration at being cooped up all the time, by relieving her when he could and when the children were sleeping filling her in on the day’s events even if they were not what Ragnar would have considered important. Today, however, was a different matter, the words he had to take to his wife were nothing short of grim and of what he felt was an importance despite that he was only running off of suspicions and assumptions; his gut told him that he was right short of not having any sort of tangible proof.
Ragnar had not even realized his body had been tense, the muscles beneath his scarred, platinum silver coat pulled taunt and as tight as a wire until he saw Thistle emerge from the den and he felt his body relax, the muscles uncoiling …if only slightly. He was still unnerved, irate, and beyond that bluntly annoyed that he had to extend his patrols to cover the shore line when before it had been entirely unnecessary. There was no scent markers along the beach to claim it as theirs because until recently there had been no need — no one expected wolves to come into their claimed lands through the sea but Ragnar was far too vigilant and far too suspicious to play it off as anything less than what it was: a threat. Despite that he had no proof it was still a possibility and still a threat to the pack, to his wife, to his children. In a brief moment as he watched his wife approach he felt nothing short of resolute frustration wanting to perform the Rite right there and now so that if someone were to come in and slaughter his children he could do something about it. As it currently stood, without the Rites to protect them, he could not take revenge if something were to happen to them at the jaws of a wolf. He had yet to acknowledge them as part of Horizon Ridge, as part of his family to the Gods and thus they were unprotected by him and by the Gods. It was possibly the worst thing in the world Ragnar felt, facing this new pack, he assumed, lording too close to Horizon Ridge. As it was, things had to be done right, Ragnar knew that.
He leaned into her kiss, and further the touch of her as she nuzzled his neck and for a moment he put his concerns and worries and anger behind him as he watched her sashay past him with a glint of appreciation in his eyes. There was little doubt in the Viking’s mind that if he allowed her Thistle could make him forget about everything that bothered him, everything that ate at him …if only for a little while; but this wasn’t that kind of time. He shifted then to face her, desiring to close the small gap between her and draw her close, to touch and hold her but he restrained himself for the moment. She did not speak and Ragnar took it as his initiative to go ahead and begin.
Thistle was momentarily alarmed as she could see the muscles tense on her husband. She wondered what was wrong and it worried her. If he was tense something was very wrong at least to him anyway and it bothered her. She waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts and speak to her about it.
Thistle's eye went wide, Why on earth would another pack settle so close to us? I know I am not very knowledgeable about packs and their mannerisms, but isn't that unusual. Ragnar what if they should gain more followers, we have quite a few, but they could maybe even turn some of our own against us. Are they are threat? Should we be worried that they will attack and raid us. Gods forgive me, but i'll kill any that threaten are children and it will not be done with mercy. Thistle was immediately worried, what if they decided to attack them this pack that was so near her new home. have you told pump? That is far to close it is mere meters away! Perhaps the amber colored wolf was overreacting, maybe her maternal instincts were warring with her, but she did not like the close proximity. They could merely swim to them and as soon as they touched beach they would be on their land and in their home.
It was impossible for Ragnar to entirely relax, especially now that he would have to tell his Wardens and eventually Pump to stretch their patrols to include the shore. It was a whole extra stretch of land they had not previously worried about and though Ragnar would never relent on his duties it irritated him because it was an extra hour or two taken away from the time he set aside specifically for Thistle and their babies; all because of some annoying, over eager wolf who thought what it took to be an alpha (wow Ragnar’s thoughts are harsh >__>) and couldn’t suck it up under his present leaders’ rule — as it was Ragnar was a harsh critic when it came to leaders because his culture only accepted the best of the best; anything less and they’d be dinner for the vultures. There were more practical ways of dealing with a leader you couldn’t stand aside from settling practically right on top of a pre-established pack who, frankly had a right to be hostile about it — providing it was the case, of course. Ragnar didn’t know for sure and wouldn’t, until he approached them; however Ragnar was far from incompetent and had been around long enough to know the signs of a newly found pack. The Gods alone knew how many of these slipping and sliding packs he had raided, and chased away from the Cove.
If Ragnar could get Pump on his side about it he would make sure they realized the mistake they made; but he was on the fence about how she would react because when he thought she would side with him (namely like with the bear) she had totally floored the Viking and been lenient, brushed it off as if it were no big deal (a fact that a bear had demolished several of their caches and had tried to kill the three/four of them was a big deal). There was about a fifty-fifty chance she would go either way. Either she would care or …she wouldn’t. It wasn’t even a matter of “oh I didn’t know” because Horizon Ridge was one of the oldest packs in the valley. He wanted to fight, to break and tear them down for being so callous and ignorant but he was on a tight leash and did not have the liberty to do whatever he pleased. As it was, he was already making plans to just “talk” well no, talk wasn’t the right word. To warn. That much was within his power.
Slowly, Ragnar focused back in upon Thistle feeling a relief at the first thing that popped out of her mouth: a question of why they would claim land so close. For a second he had considered that Thistle might have tried to soothe him and tell him he was being paranoid and worrying for no reason; or worse yet that it was no big deal. But she didn’t.
Ragnar liked to think that as his position as Head Warden he had some leeway when it came to the overall safety of the pack but he didn’t think that was the case and suddenly he was torn. Torn and hated it. If it was up to him alone he’d have went already, gave his grim warning to stay out of Horizon Ridge’s territory or die and then been on his way but it wasn’t up to him.
Thistle listened again and she wondered if he should tell Pump herself after she asked the question. She had to think about it. Though Pump was very diligent about watching their borders and keeping track of the surrounding area. She did not know if they should bother her yet with what they knew. You know what Ragnar No maybe you shouldn't tell her yet until you are certain they are a pack. They could be some loners just gathering to travel together. It is unlikely of course, but it is possible too. I do think though as soon as you know for sure you should tell Pump right away so she can help you keep an eye on that certain area. You are a strong, man with much endurance, but even that will stretch you thin.
Thistle buried her muzzle into the ruff on his neck thinking hard about the days events. To say that she was nervous about the others was an understatement. Knowing that her children were virtually helpless and the only thing that stood between them and the other wolves were herself her husband and their pack and it made her jittery and nervous
Thistle saw his grin if you could call it that and shivered slightly, but not in fear. More of the fact that she was aware of what he was capable of even if he hadn't told her fully some of his more savage nature. She could guess most of it and though she did not know much about war and violence she had seen and heard of the after maths. And if her husband scar ridden pelt was anything to go by he knew them up close and personal. That made her realize that if the other wolf was smart he would give her husband a wide berth and if he wasn't well his blood may very well stain the ground a red color.
Thistle nibbled at her cheek and nodded her head I think that is a smart plan Ragnar. No use in getting every one up in fur about it, if it isn't to be something to worry of. I Do not know this Verrine, but I know Julooke. Thistle listened to him and thought about it, she briefly wondered why he hadn't asked Gavriil since he had been here longer, but she chose to not voice that question. She thought perhaps it was just simply the fact that Verrine wanted the outrider trade. She smiled a little bit impishly and said huskily teasing I know this very well Ragnar. Then she raised an eyebrow and backed up a few steps. She was merely teasing and to be honest she had no idea what had gotten into her, but she really could not help the words that spilled and truth be told she didn't really want to catch them back. She maybe young and yes a bit naive, and sometimes such talk made her incredibly warm under her fur and want to hide her head under a rock, but today she felt it was needed if only to justify and pacify and take away the tension that her husband felt.
Thistle sniffed and glared at him in mock anger I am not that stubborn Ragnar Loðbrók. But she couldn't help the small smile that threatened to over take her maw. However, as the rest of his words made their mark, Thistle frowned and spoke softly, I will ask Gavriil before I ask your priestess Ragnar. She does not like me I don't think and well she makes me nervous. I do not know how to act around her.
There was a part of Ragnar that wanted to tell Pump, to alert her of the possibility but considering he wasn’t even sure what was going on he didn’t want to worry her with something that was nothing more than an assumption. If he was Jarl and one of his wolves had come to him with a suspicion (while Ragnar, admittedly probably would have checked it out himself as he was doing now) he would have been annoyed that no tangible sort of proof had been brought back to solidify it either way. There were more important things to be done than chasing something that might not be what assumptions made it be. Even for Ragnar there were more important things but his gut was telling him that his assumptions were correct and if he just let it go he would never be able to rest, and certainly never be able to sleep. He had to know, either way; and it had to be him who went because he had found the trail to begin with. The storm Thor had conjured that night might have washed away the exact scents that Ragnar had followed but he was good enough at tracking that he did not need them to find his way back. The Viking only hoped that if Verrine did agree to go along that at least some new scents were made so he could get a solid opinion out of the other aspiring Outrider.
It took Ragnar a moment to understand the gist of his wife’s impish grin and teasing to his ‘I am fine, my love’ his mind still settled upon the serious matter of things but also because he was not well versed on hidden connotations of words that the wolves who spoke the common tongue seemed to like. Ragnar had not meant those words to have a hidden connotation but Thistle had initiated it nevertheless. His small ‘v’ that had formed between his brow smoothed out and he offered his wife a wolfish grin, tail lashing in a carnal manner as he studied her with a coy, seductive smirk across his lips knowing that she would indulge him in taking his mind off of his worries for a small while if he asked. Maybe even she would though he had not asked. Ragnar could not say that he would mind the heady, carnal, passionate distraction of love making.
Thistle’s mock anger was merely amusing to Ragnar who let out a soft snort and a small, rumbling chuckle that died in his chest when Thistle frowned and expressed that Nerian made her nervous. The mood changed abruptly and Ragnar felt only confusion at his wife’s words about Nerian. This was the first time Ragnar was hearing that Nerian and Thistle had met and the woman had not sought out the Viking after he had rejected her — if one could actually call that a rejection. On the few times in the Cove when the Viking had went to his slave in the hopes that she might sate his carnal desires she refused on the terms that her “God” was the only one who could touch her or however she had worded it. Ragnar had decidedly stopped listening at the “No”. Eventually, Ragnar had stopped asking and had more or less brushed her off as an asset. She would never give him what he had wanted from her and thusly he had moved on (besides Ragnar didn’t like the idea of sharing a heart with something he felt didn’t even exist). For a terse moment Ragnar wondered if somehow Thistle did not know that Nerian more or less loved Ragnar (in a very sad bought of Stockholm Syndrome). That was what the Priestess had told him, not in those exact words but Ragnar was able to put two and two together.
Ragnar had not told Thistle about that because there was no reason too. Ragnar had rejected Nerian because his heart belonged wholly and inseparably to Thistle, his tiny Viking. Ragnar hadn’t planned to fall in love (not ever, really) but Odinn had and it had been Fated all along. He drew in a deep breath and let it out figuring they were already on the subject.
Thistle listened to her husband Julooke sought me out I taught her about pain and internal bleeding maybe a little bit about delusional fevers. the last part was merely in jest for her husband seemed to have a penchant for delusional fevers.
Thistle would take her husbands stress from him willingly with her small and lithe self. however given the moment she would wait until he worked through his conflicting thoughts at the time. Then perhaps if there was time and the pups were not hungry and awake she'd initiate and comply.
Thistle stared at her husband for a moment and suddenly she was very very angry at him at nerian at everyone. She hated how he could intiate passion of all forms in her at times. She knew it wasn't his fault the way he was and he couldn't help who fell in love with him really. But she simply did not like the position she had been put in. She laughed in absolute irony at his next words it was a cold chuckle but she couldn't help it clearly dear heart you have no idea what women are capable of when angry or jealous and if you ever rejected her and she got angry I would not put it past her to harm me. she very possibly knows more about some plants than I. I am not saying she wil but she could and you would be none the wiser. she sighed and shook her head sitting down and then laying down all the sudden far too tired to deal with the conflicting emotions eating her up. most of all she felt bad for them because it wasn't her husbands fault completely. Granted he had offeredx her so many times and she rejected but eventually she would turn it into a fantasy any woman would it couldn't be helped.
There was a brief moment when Ragnar mistook the heat of his wife’s stare to be unbridled passion as it seared into his skin, prickling at his nerves but he realized at Thistle’s harsh, ironic laugh that he had gotten it all wrong. It wasn’t heat of unbridled passion but the heat of her anger. Ears slicked back to his head because he had no idea what he had done wrong — even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. Nerian had been practically throwing herself at him, and it would have been easy to claim the Priestess as his, too, right then and there, but Ragnar hadn’t. Ragnar hadn’t because of her threat, because, and the most important reason, of his love for Thistle. In response to her own anger, Ragnar felt a swell of ire rise in his chest, possibly at the fact that she even considered Nerian as some sort of competition (or so this was what Ragnar assumed). If things had been vastly different, maybe, but they weren’t and while Ragnar had tried to pursue Nerian in the Cove she had rejected each of his advances until he had stopped trying period. Ragnar wasn’t sure what the difference was here, he was the same man and she was the same woman. Neither had changed besides Ragnar’s devotion to his wife. A devotion borne of his unyielding love for Thistle, something he had not felt for any of his previous wives. They had merely been conquests. Things he wanted to claim while they were interesting and dispose of when they ceased to be so.
He listened to her words and watched her lay down, heard the heavy sigh that passed through her lips.
Thistle raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed of course I wouldn't let any other woman near you during that time especially a select few. I would not have you going at them like some wild man in the throes of passion that alone belongs to me.She tiled her head daring him to argue with a small smile on her lips. She was slowly allowing herself to calm down realizing that she was acting quite the fool really.
Thistle's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared as he confessed that to him and she was furious. Even if he had not been her's she would have been incredibly ticked off. It was not right for another woman to go after a claimed man and vise versa. She also found she was quite irritated with him as she found his ire quite igniting and wanted to attack him in a perfectly good way. God there was something wrong with her, he had done something to her it was a strange feeling. She took a moment to consider this as her brow lessened it's pinch slightly. ragnar I do not think you would have accepted her. It is the simple fact and though it is no fault of yours, that these women just fall at your feet it irritates me. Would you feel okay if men actively pursued me even if they knew I was claimed, even if I spurned them as I would do. It would not bother you? Do you understand? Her brow became pinched again, she licked his muzzle gently, but she slid backwards and pushed herself to her feet lashing her tail in irritation but not at him more so at herself.
She listened to his words and mumbled under her breath Not if I do so first and it would not be done with mercy. She tilted her head and shook her shoulders and her back trying to push the irritation away from herself, granted that was physically impossible but she would try it nonetheless
Ragnar had merely been teasing his wife but her scoff and rebuttal signified that she had taken his words with a sincerity they had not been meant to be taken as despite that he had found it fascinating that she had informed Julooke on how to deal with delusional fevers. More that the Viking thought about the more he came to realize that surely he was not the only one to ever suffer from it’s ill effects and would not be the last. It was a secret of the trade, passed from Thistle now to Julooke as someone had surely passed it off to Thistle. Ragnar could say with any degree of certainty that he wouldn’t pursue another woman clouded with delusional fever if it were a woman other than Thistle that treated him for it and it was that uncertainty that clued Ragnar in on why his wife had taken his words with such importance; because she knew he would, too.
It was easy to tell that he had now earned Thistle’s fury, ironic though it was, in telling her the truth. In confessing what Nerian had (in so little words) admitted to him; that in a strong case of what he did not know was called Stockholm Syndrome she had fallen in love with her captor — him. It was not as if Ragnar had ever expected the Anglo-Saxon woman to fall in love with him and even now he was suspicious of it, though her body language and eyes had made it abundantly clear that she had not been lying to him.
thistle chuckled and said quietly not acceptable she teased him back. She would be damned if her any woman other than herself took care of her husband when he was in a delusional fever. Even if she was on her own death bed no on would do so other than her.
Thistle laughed again and spoke quietly Ragnar I am sure you have left a string of broken hearts behind you. And do not deign to think that if they could they wouldn't jump your bones all over again because they would if they could. I would not have you do anything, it is not with you where my ire lies at the moment. She tilted her head she didn't know how she could make him understand she was mad at him for being so good looking and unattainable for all the women but her. It wasn't his fault and she couldn't really say that she didn't think he would understand.
Yes I know you would and I am the same way only of the female variety. it is just the way of things. And I am not threatened by her Ragnar she made me angry I would love nothing more than to tear her face off and feed it to her. She knew that you were with another and even if you were loose with yourself and carefree before where females were concerned a woman should not pursue another when they are clearly taken it just isn't done just as a man shouldn't. She saw him stalk closer and blue eyes went wide with a raised eyebrow. She really would not ever be that violent and she knew being the one that she was she would not treat the woman badly late when they met and she was able to calm down. Though she may have to have words with her slightly just enough to make it clear she had crossed a line.
The sound of his wife’s chuckle was almost enough to lead Ragnar along on the belief that the fires of each other’s ire was blazing in a very different direction, her ‘unacceptable’ low and teasing inspiring the wolfish grin that exposed his sharp teeth at her, his gaze heavy and heated as he looked her over in a manner that was akin to an artist observing a masterpiece. Admiring and calculating, awe-struck and knowledgeable.
Not that Ragnar wanted them to want him again because he didn’t. Whatever lust the Viking had felt for them had been brief and entirely extinguished.
Thistle raised an eyebrow and then spoke You will tell her no such thing Ragnar. I am a big girl I can take care of myself, and I think I have enough maturity to handle situations. I will not treat her badly or any differently. She has knowledge I would like to know and she does need a friend, even if I am a bit irritated with her does not mean a thing. I'll get over it. Because you are right she can't help it. Though if she crosses the line again not even you will be able to stop me Ragnar. And she meant it, she was a patient and kind woman and she took a lot of crap but when it came to her own and her happiness well she would fight for it. It bothered her that he still needed his priestess, but she would deal. The thought was fleeting and scathing, but she dealt with it.
Deciding she did not like this trepidation she shifted and moved forward. She nipped at his shoulder and buried her face in his scruff, but did not move. She was still lightly irritated, but she wanted to make him sure she was not upset with him.
Ragnar understood his wife was teasing but the threat beneath her tongue-in-cheek words was, however, a true one. They had been over it many times when in truth she had only needed to make her threat to him once …not that if things had gone differently than they had (I.E. he wouldn’t have fell in love with her) that it would have truly deterred him. Ragnar did not fear death. It was embraced welcomingly in his culture though a warrior typically wished to die on the battlefield and not at the hands of a woman left scorned.
It became apparent to the Viking that his wife did not approve of his need to take it into his own hands and handle it and made it clear when she told him, flat out, ‘no’.
He inhaled deeply when she buried her face into his shoulder after nipping at it, and buried his muzzled into the fur of her neck.
Thistle froze for a moment slightly irritated. She would have liked to handle something like that on her own. As he wasn't the one that was being mistreated in a way it was she. She was the one who was being wronged not him, she was the one that was basically getting it stuck to her. She would be the one to have to see another female try and rub all over her husband not him. She snorted but acquieced very well Ragnar I will let you handle it if you are there, but I warn you husband if she says something to me candidly I will definitely be candid back in a manner of speaking. She would let him handle how he saw fit, but she would not back down if Nerian approached her about it, not that she would, but if she did.
She nodded her head her voice muffled in his neck her breath whispering slightly across his fur and skin. Alright ragnar I'm done nagging.
Marriage was about compromises; Ragnar had always been bad about compromising. He negotiated what he had too because it was practical and sometimes bending something would lead it’s eventual breaking. As far as Nerian went, Ragnar did not think there was anything to negotiate and had been rather pleased with how he had handled his slaves’ sexual advances and the bomb shell of her proposed love for him. He had been nothing short of absolutely faithful to his wife in the entire thing and he couldn’t blame Nerian for what she could not help. Ragnar did not consider it a big deal because he had turned her down, and if she continued to pursue him he would continue with his rejections (then again Ragnar is a man and failed to understand how it rubbed Thistle wrongly).