The shield maiden’s growl seemed to vibrate through her chest, aimed with no doubt towards him, though if Dagrún were to be honest with himself, he likely very much deserved her ire. He came traipsing rather abruptly into her life (and back into Ragnar’s) making assumptions based upon solely what he knew of Ragnar (which was much, admittedly). “I assume nothing of the sort, shield maiden, only that I know Ragnar. I know how he is with women,” In a way, his brother’s libertine ways almost made Dagrún feel sorry for her. Of course the bastard son did not realize that Ragnar had vowed to commit himself to Thistle - and would even if he was made to be aware of it - question it until he saw the undeniable truth for him. To her assurance that she could see right through Ragnar’s charms made Dagrún dubious but he accepted it with a shrug because, who knew? Maybe Ragnar had finally set his sights upon one, and one only. It would be something of a refreshing change of pace, though the males of their culture were well known for them promiscuity.
“He can do nothing while he sits here no more a King but a subordinate,” Dagrún’s tone was bitter as the words left his lips because he could tell from the scent upon the borders that Ragnar did not lead these posh wolves of Summer. “But he is better off in these Wilds than back home. The Cove is a sinking ship, Váli is too stupid to see the ruin he is creating.” As it was the dark Viking had never really liked the youngest of Eitri’s legitimate children. He had been too babied and therefore expected the world handed to him on a silver platter. “So the beautiful shield maiden healed the wounded berserker and love came after?” Dagrún teased her, but beneath it there was jealousy of his own. How did Ragnar have women like Thistle throwing themselves at his paws when Dagrún (who admittedly was as libertine as his brother had been) had none of it. He wanted the family Ragnar had, convinced that Ragnar was still taking advantage of what he had. “Touching.”