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Firestone Hot Springs was as far as Ragnar dared to go, not wanting to get too much further south than was absolutely necessary knowing that Thistle was a week or two away from giving birth to their sons and that it was not a monumental moment that the Viking intended to miss. If he missed it on @Dagrun’s behalf he would likely gut his half brother because though Ragnar remained apprehensive despite Freyja and Frigg’s promise to aid and watch over Thistle and the children during the birthing he could not, despite how hard he tried, get the image of Dagmar laying weeping in a pile of her own blood, and the sacks their children, still and delicate in death laying lifeless at her teats no matter how forcibly she licked at their cold and stiff bodies. It was a horrifying image if only because he had dreamed that Thistle had been in Dagmar’s position. Ragnar had not loved Dagmar, not even remotely - she was a pretty little prize that had conceived for him upon their first coupling and he was left with the obligation of taking her as his third wife (though apparently as it would come to be in the Teekon Wilds not his last) - originally she had just been a dalliance, a plaything, something to satisfy his carnal needs while he had to abstain from Sif (though according to Thistle who had heard from Dagrún; Váli had taken advantage of Ragnar’s willingness to refrain from having Sif many times over behind the Loðbrók’s back).
In truth, while that knowledge had inspired rage and jealousy and possession within Ragnar, they had dulled and vanished altogether, until he felt nothing but the bitter sting of his younger brother’s betrayal and peace in the assumed knowledge that Váli and Sif were happy together. It was a sincere sentiment: Ragnar was happy and accepting of them and their small and new family. Ragnar was not known for holding grudges - they took too much energy and were, essentially pointless.
Ragnar believed Thistle’s words and believed that she had truly spoken to his half brother, but still, the Viking yearned to see Dagrún for himself, to speak with him. There was much they needed to discuss, and something important Ragnar needed to ask of his dearest brother. It was with this in mind, the platinum silver fur of his nape curling in the humidity and heavy in warm dampness air making his breathing slightly more harsher that icy oceanic eyes sought the sable and silver peppered Viking.