Sleeping Dragon entangled bank

Thus far being pregnant was not what Gyda had expected it to be. Surely, she had her “glowing” moments but mostly she was aggressive and irritated because of the constant pang of hunger in her bones, worried for the lives of the children that grew within her, and generally a hot mess. Or maybe just a mess. Her hormones were a wreck — and she realized her own naivety with a reluctance. She had been with Nerian through her pregnancy but Nerian's had clearly been simpler. The priestess had not been trying to lead a pack and survive through a famine. Not for the first time a rush of hot, white jealousy surged through her, followed by a very taboo and shameful rise of anger at the Gods. Ragnar had once told her that they give with one hand and take with the other — she had been too young to understand the true meaning of those words but now she saw and she understood. If there was any comfort to be drawn from: it was the fact that she could feel her children moving. She was determined to keep both herself and them alive — regardless of the cost — and if they were anything like her: she knew that they would not give up either.

Or so this was how she managed to comfort herself.

Until she saw the first sprig of green — a small but mighty beacon of hope and without much warning the pregnant Viking Queen began to weep. It was out of joy that the very small sprig of green brought her — a reassurance from Frigga and Freyja (or so Gyda had chosen to see it) that made her latch onto her hope with a ferocity that surprised even herself. She had not once ever considered that Frigga and Freyja would abandon her or her children but the seeds of doubt had been sown and just as quickly had they been vanquished. She had been determined to make her patrols though she grew rounder with what seemed to be every passing day and she had to stop often. A part of her was irritated by her new found limitations and it occurred to her briefly that when they were born it would be some time before she could see to her physical duties. Diplomatic she could still conduct from her birthing den but she would be indisposed until her babes could eat regurgitated meat ...and until she decided who she could trust with watching them.

She had time — but not as much as she would have liked, she considered. Already a month had passed by in a blur and soon she knew on archaic maternal instincts, she would be giving birth. A few weeks, perhaps. Already, she had begun digging a birthing den the instinct to seek a safe place to bring her children into the world strong. She had reclined back gingerly upon her haunches, taking in the time to rest, a familiar figure catching her eye. “Gavriel,” She called to him, unable to help but realize that this would truly be the first time she'd spoken with him (in more than passing perhaps) since the night they had consummated their ...deal. She was starving for company, though the tangy scent of blood that lingered on his own scent — familiar as it had became to her — reminded her that she was also hungry in general. Not a huge surprise for the shield-maiden since her appetite had grown with the swell of her sides. Her ...no their babes were ravenous little beasts and though she did not yet know them Gyda loved them more than she could ever express to anyone.