Stavanger Bay Frigga bless me

There was no need to upset what was already a perfect universe; yet this perfection weaved with love and care – delicate in it's design – was shattered. It began as a spider web crack. Tiny. So very easily brushed off as tremors ripped through the womb of his mother. Perhaps the others were disturbing her, restless as they all had seemed to be in the past few days. Ragnarok had been taking place inside Thistle's womb during these days though Jorunn had no sense of time and thus it had no real consequence to him, as they battled – kicking one another and her in the process – like the Gods would do at the end of the world. His sense of awareness was minimal, barely existent and yet he was rousing like some beast lain dormant beneath the earth. Awakening. The spiderweb crack had splintered out then as another tremor rocked Jorunn's world and then the previous claustrophobic space had been emptied of one of them. There was some more space to stretch and inside his sac, a little bit more room afforded to him though his other half was never further away then a stretch of his paw. The other half that had been split from his own egg during their ...creation.

There was a blissful pause, and with it a false hope that the shattering would cease and that he might be saved. This hope was obtuse, however, as the tremors rocked Thistle's womb again and this time it was he that was being pushed through her, torn away from what he had known. The second Lodbrok and first born son of Ragnar scrambled restlessly in the sac as he felt it move beneath him, disoriented, a defiant scream leaving his little mouth as he felt Thistle's tongue, warm but unfamiliar bathe him clean of the sac that had kept him alive in her womb. The outside world felt indefinitely larger, colder, but he was pacified soon as Thistle pushed him in his bum towards her side. He army crawled – about the best that he could move at this point – mouth seeking her teat as he nestled beside the first one, drawing warmth from the two bodies sensing that his twin had yet to make it into the world. Jorunn suckled reluctantly, unable to fully resist the temptation of Thistle's warm and sweet milk – but also knowing he would not be able to be fully content until his other half was beside him.

As Thistle gave birth to his twin, Jorunn nuzzled closer to Ragna, drawing from her warmth, unknowing that she was perhaps doing the same (not that he would ever mind, really). It was only when he felt his identical twin come to his place beside him did the boy give out a breath – something akin to a sigh – and suckled at Thistle with vigor then, taking the pushes from his twin in nothing less then stride. The young Berserker did not mind, for he was a the legend and he had fought, endured and survived much worse.