“A bastard brother. I grew up unallowed to aknowledge him. That makes you tend to not speak of him.” Though Ragnar was curious by Dagrún’s sudden appearance in the Teekon Wilds - which could not be a coincidence he realized it was not the time to question it. First, he needed to focus on Thistle. He didn’t understand why she was so up in arms about Sif who was honestly boring to him anyway, now. “You’re not listening,” Ragnar snapped at her, experated, agitated at both his brother, Sif and Thistle. He was being stabbed in the back by the brother he had thought he could trust and the little vixen that had been his even if he had lost interest in her as quickly as it had came. Trying to process and sort it all out, while trying to understand why Thistle was so angry with him about it all - did it really matter he was never going back to the Cove, while his past was not forgotten his wives and gifts previous to her was insignificant. They no longer mattered to him, holding nothing for him. “She wasn’t pregnant when I left!” If she had been, he would not have departed.
“I had her, many times, but never while she was in heat.” Ragnar told Thistle, trying to keep his calm at the angry (and jealous) accusations she was letting fly at him. “Why does it matter to you so much? Do you still think I will leave you?” Was that the base of her problem with him? Was that was the rowing force of her anger as it crashed upon him? “What is it about them that makes you so furious, hmm?” Ragnar returned, as he circled her, figuring that Sif was probably part of the problem too. “Whatever ever interest I had held for them was fleeting and is entirely gone, never to come back,” Ragnar licked his lips and made to skim his muzzle tantalizingly over hers if she would let him though he expected her to pull away sharply or bite him. There was something about her being so furious with him that was intensely arousing to the savage feral.
He wanted to play with her, to turn it into a game as he had first assumed it was.
“I don’t hold your mute lover over your head, do I?” He inquired in a sharp hiss, eyes dancing with mischief as he moved in again to nip at her cheek roughly. “Do you know why?” He whispered to her in a soft groan at her ear, smirking to himself.
It was not likely the most appropriate time to tell her, and there was always the chance that she would refuse to believe him, but he had realized that he had crash landed on his way back the Ridge from the Plateau. “Because I believe in my heart that they are mine, and I love them,” He had glimpsed down to her womb as he spoke it before he looked back to her, daring her to meet his gaze. “because I am in love with you, Thistle.”
