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The morning sun, as it was most days, was obscured by the white wisps of clouds peeking through every now and then when they offered a respite from their shielding as they moved lazily across the vast stretch of baby blue above the world. Ragnar knew Sköll was in these Wilds. It was nothing so complicated as being a matter of a vision granted by the Allfather, nor the passage of message through lips (if only because Ragnar did not associate with the Isle wolves more than was necessary). Rather, simply, it was because he had scented him in Ravensblood. His scent had been faint, tainted justly as faintly by the scent of a woman that was not any that he recognized. Sköll. Son of Floki and Helga. Floki who was counted rarely among one of Ragnar’s truest friends. Joined with the wolves of the Isle. The betrayal was like a vicious slap to the Viking’s face and despite the putrid irritation he felt he had to stop to remind himself that the boy could have easily grown confused. Perhaps, all along, Sköll was searching for him and had gotten mixed up. He was intelligent but Ragnar knew he was unable to speak but a child’s handful of the common tongue words.
Unless Majesty could speak their native tongue it left Ragnar to wonder how, exactly, the boy got in with the Isle wolves to begin with; however, it did not matter. Soon Sköll would be among the ranks of the Ridge, among Ragnar’s ranks where the platinum silver Viking felt the Flokisson belonged. Or so it was how Ragnar believed. With this thought firm in his mind the Beta of the Ridge stalked the Totoka River wondering if he should call for the Tiny Viking or if he should wait on the surefire chance that he would have to come out of the Isle sometime to hunt for himself. Or to gather herbs.
Sköll had been watching the pallid and scarred figure, his Jarl and once mentor (besides Floki of course) with trepidation that tightened the thinly corded muscles beneath his coat of bleached bone, orange eyes holding his visible hesitation. Torn; he stayed still. For a minute, an hour? The Tiny Viking really wasn’t sure. He wanted to go to Ragnar, to seek out the familiarity that he would willingly offer him but also he didn’t because he was afraid of the other man. Afraid of his reaction when Sköll admitted that he had lost Kenna’s youngest children. Ragnar’s half siblings. Hiding and skirting around it was entirely cowardly, Sköll understood and yet he had procrastinated it for so long what was a little bit longer? Yet, would he get another chance to speak to Ragnar alone? Directly? Face to face. Man to man. Probably not, and with that knowledge accepted with a soft, near inaudible sigh the Tiny Viking slid from his coverage just as the sun broke free of a cloud and lit up the space between them.
“Ragnar,” Sköll called to the other Viking timidly, lowering his body into a position of submission, eyes adverting respectfully as he was used to greeting the other man. They were like family but he was still the Jarl in Sköll’s mind even if he no longer held the official title. He was still favored by Odinn and though he had not asked for it, he had Sköll’s submission among his respect. "I have something to tell you," Sköll spoke to the other in their native tongue with ease and relief glad that someone would finally be able to understand him perfectly.
Watching Sköll emerge from the shadows the Flokisson had obviously been hiding in, the wraith’s body slinking into instant submission caused Ragnar to bristle with indignation. He was not Jarl here, and not Sköll’s leader and yet the boy: the son of Ragnar’s closest friend was acting as if he was.
Besides as his best friends' son Ragnar felt like he had an obligation, a duty to Sköll and Floki.
Ragnar commanded him to rise and Sköll obliged, swallowing thickly against the fear of the Jarl that bubbled within his chest and threatened to lump and stick in his throat. Presently, his ears remained slicked back against his skull, knowing that Ragnar wasn’t a Jarl in these lands but that he was unable to help himself. Fear and admiration may have warred within him when it came to Ragnar Loðbrók but both dictated that he show the platinum silver man the utmost respect, even if Ragnar did not like it. He was going to get it, anyway. Old habits died hard. There was a moment when Sköll’s lips opened and closed as he tried to find the words despite their simplicity: I lost your baby siblings. Easy words that carried heavy and possibly dire consequences. Kenna’s twins might have only been partially Ragnar’s blood but everyone knew that the Jarl was big on family and the twins consisted of his family. However, before Sköll could work up the courage Ragnar took the silence to be an invitation and spoke.
Surprise flitted across Sköll’s face. Surprise and relief; and hesitation. It was great that Ragnar wanted Sköll to be apart of the Ridge. As it was, it would save Sköll a lot of the aggravation he faced on his daily routine on the Isle, and while he would seriously consider it, as long as Ragnar’s offer still stood after; the Tiny Viking blurted: “I have lost your baby siblings, Ragnar.” Knowing that he would never get it out if he stopped himself now. He slunk down, on instinct, awaiting Ragnar’s verdict with baited and fearful breath.
Sköll didn’t even seem to register Ragnar’s words, of his desire to see the Flokisson boy where he belonged in the Ridge, having given no sort of response based upon it. Instead, the pallid boy offered — or rather unceremoniously blurted — that he had ‘lost Ragnar’s baby siblings’. For a moment Ragnar displayed only his confusion at the words Sköll had blurted out in their native tongue until, slowly, they began to process and Ragnar, after it had bubbled in his chest, let out a laugh. Was there a sense in telling Sköll that Hati had found her way to the Ridge? That while, yes, she might have been lost it wasn’t anything he needed to blame himself for? Or would it be better to surprise Sköll with the knowledge of Hati’s presence, allowing him to see her with his own, two eyes? The latter, Ragnar decided, confident that Sköll would choose him as he was confident that the sun would rise and set.