Sleeping Dragon heavy is the head that wears the crown

It remained strange to Gyda, even now, how Drageda and Sleeping Dragon were spoken of as if they were separate instead of one. Perhaps it was their own way of holding onto their separate cultures though, admittedly, it felt as if Gyda had given up much of her own. Perhaps it was subconsciously of the shield-maiden's own doing, but Ragnar had never believed in forcing his culture or religion upon those who were not his children and Gyda held to the same mentality, whether she knew it or not. Her rituals were done in private and in seclusion — a far cry from the fan fairs of the Cove; but Sleeping Dragon was not Odinn's Cove, nor would it ever be. This was something Gyda had accepted from the very start. “Right,” Gyda concurred. Though she had long since determined that her children could choose whatever they wanted: Sleeping Dragon or Drageda. They had two wealthy cultures at their paws and the Viking Queen saw no reason to discourage whichever they chose — or if they chose none at all.

“One of my children will be groomed to take over for me, when that time comes.” Whether it would be the first litter or the fourth Gyda did not know (wasn't even sure she'd be alive to see a fourth litter into the world); but Gyda did not want to linger upon the future for long. Her fate had already been decided for her, ordained by the Gods long ago. There was no mystery for her to puzzle out, no reason to speculate about what she could not change. “I am surprised he agreed. I did not realize how...strongly my proposal would come about,” Admittedly, Gyda had thought it was a golden deal. Allowing something rare with little to no commitment if that was what the sire wanted. Admittedly, she thought, perhaps most women sought a life long mate — but then again Gyda was not most women. She was Gyda, and the shield-maiden perhaps feared the commitment of being tied down, afraid that if she gave in to one of her feelings and pursued a romantic interest that she would either be rejected or that her freedom would be stifled.

“I feel I should let you know that Gavriel may come to you to confirm that we have your blessing.” Whether Gavriel would or not, Gyda could not say. She supposed she understood the hesitation on his part, but Gyda, too, was an Alpha and she did not need anyone's permission. A blessing was fine, perhaps, but the truth was even if Gavriel wouldn't have agreed, or Thuringwethil for that matter, Gyda would have pursued her dream of children anyway, at the end of the day.