Stavanger Bay vikings mourn their dead

Krypton was attentive, and this was a trait that Gyda found to be admirable. While Gyda never sought to be the center of attention she enjoyed knowing that her company was, at least, paying attention to what she had to say even if it was only out of respect. Gyda had been Ragnar's favorite, but she had never let that spoil her. She felt as if she had always needed to work twice as hard as her brothers to prove her spot in the Viking world despite that women were respected in their culture. Free women, that was. Not slaves, like Nerian, though her father's Priestess Wife had became a free woman when Ragnar had taken her as his mate alongside Thistle. Dagrun's own mother had been a slave woman, she remembered the Jarl confessing to her upon her arrival and initial search for the heavily pregnant Priestess. Still, the attention was nice even if Gyda chose not to allow herself to bask in it for too long. Gyda had seen the tyranny arrogance and ego could become, it was why she had fought it; and why Ragnar had fought his eldest brother: Björn.

“I want to be like him but I do not want to be him,” And if that made any sense to her companion or not Gyda wasn't sure. To her, it made perfect sense. To inherit his success made her feel like she was trying to be Ragnar ...and it was no way to become anything. Power was earned. Trust and faith were earned. They should never be given. At least, this was how she thought (never mind that it entirely disagreed with her younger brother: Tevinter's thought process). A coquette smile played across Gyda's muzzle as she leveled a charming glance in Krypton's direction. “A very wise woman once told me that the Gods smile upon brave women.” The Gods had meant everything to Ragnar and because her father adored them, so too, did Gyda. They were the center of her own world and she revered them. "I have seen nothing that is untrue in that."