[j] run to the edge of the world

There was a decidedly warranted amount of distrust in the ebony female’s eyes of which Sveið could feel as if they were burning into her. The question of why she wanted to live here was fair enough, even if it irked the Shield Maiden to her core. She had no intention of using Ragnar to get into this pack, but her devotion to her true Jarl was too strong (not to mention her determination) to let Sveið give up easily. At the end of the day she would either find herself a member of this Ridge or she would have fought her hardest and chalked up her loss as a lesson well learned. “I am going to be honest,” Because there was no sense in lying. “I know nothing of you or this pack. I am willing to take the time to learn. I am here seeking acceptance because my Jarl is here. I know he is nothing in your ranks but he is my everything,” Perhaps it would give the wrong impression of their relationship - though there was truly not one. Ragnar had always seemed to pass her up as a potential wife or even lover, but that was no matter. Maybe she wasn’t worthy of him either in the Gods’ eyes, but she didn’t really need to be a wife or lover. “He is the reason I want a home here.” Sveið told Pump bluntly, inclining her muzzle towards the platinum silver draped and scarred Ragnar Lothbrok as he approached them.

Ragnar spoke of her behalf, his gaze holding hers. Sveið ignored the flutters in her chest, the catch of breath within her throat and looked dutifully away. He had once been a great Berserker and a fair Jarl, and though he was none of these things here, he would always be those things to her. His gaze had been full of silent questions that she had fully expected to have to answer at some point but understood they were not for today. She did not need him to pitch in for her, but if her honesty wasn’t enough, or Pump deemed it better to turn her away then she would move on - though she had no intentions of truly leaving Ragnar behind.

He was too important of a friend and a once leader.