Dragoncrest Cliffs my tree house is on fire

His advice was as barbaric as his culture was claimed to be by those who knew of it but did not understand it; perhaps they were heathens in this respect. Yet, it was what their Gods had deemed long ago and it was the basis for their laws. Kjalarr understood that his morals did not align with that of many, though this had not come apparent until quite recently. Yet, Octavia's sobs had begun to slow and she appeared to be contemplating what he offered her. He doubted it would probably go over well with the father of the children she carried, unless, he too was a viking — but this was as much her choice as it was her lover's; and Kjalarr wasn't about to apologize for the out he'd given her. A different perspective from his culture. 

“Others will make you put their happiness first,” Kjalarr knew this first hand all too well. “and sometimes choices are hard but you have to do what's right for you.” His own choices to pursue his happiness had (almost?) entirely cut him off from his biological family; but Kjalarr felt no guilt. After all, Ragnar had done worse; and it seemed that Kjalarr was fated to walk a similar path to his father's own. Building something from nothing and giving awful advice, pls stop Kja. “Besides, your leaders might not even give you the choice of keeping the children, if it wasn't supposed to happen.” Kjalarr offered another possibility, entirely unaware that, that wasn't the case with Octavia.