never the wiser

*Ragnar* · (This post was last modified: May 25, 2014, 12:56 PM by Ragnar.)

@Gunnar I hope you don't mind Danni, but I want a daddy/babies thread even though they can't do much. Also, I'm hoping to get one up for Thistle x Eirikr today. *hordes all the le threads* Slight pp of Thistle, if you'd like for me to change it I will gladly.

Parting from his wife had always been hard, though parting from his wife and children proved to be the ultimate test of Ragnar’s will power. Without his presence he felt that he was leaving them vulnerable to the world despite that he knew he had his duties as Head Warden, and leadership things that needed to be taken care of. Pump had promoted him and he had told her, by accepting, that he could handle the burden of all he had to do. This wasn’t exactly Ragnar’s first time around the block of parenthood, leadership, and the Head Warden duties all at once. When he and Floki had decided to tell the boy they had more or less kidnapped that he was Ragnar’s son and named him Týr (despite that Ragnar had Floki’s horrible mothering to assist) Ragnar had done more than his fair share of the work. Granted, the boy was not a newborn but that made it ten times harder, in retrospect. Ragnar had been a father, the Jarl, and Lead Berserker during those times, having never stepped down from the leader of the raids when he had taken his brother’s place as King of the Cove. His men had trusted him, needed him to lead them on raids. So, no, Ragnar wasn’t what anyone would considered a ‘green boy’ when it came to carrying multiple duties, all of which needed his attention with equal importance.

His limp was less and less, though he had pulled a muscle the other day trying to get to Thistle to watch the birth of his children as fast as he could, but it was hardly anything serious or irreversible damage. He had conveniently not told Thistle of this simply for the fact that she had more important things to worry about than him. Namely, three tiny numbered things. Her undivided attention, as far as Ragnar was concerned, belonged to them. He had finished his patrols in a timely fashion at about early-afternoon and decided to head back to the den, thinking that he might surprise Thistle with letting her get out and get some sun and stretch if she wanted too. Ragnar was fairly confident he could handle three tiny newborns for a while, it wasn’t like they could get into trouble. They couldn’t see, hear, or even lift their heads yet.

“Thistle,” The silver Viking greeted his wife as he slid into their den, careful of the three tiny bodies monochrome except for Thistle’s mini-me. He drew close to her for a few seconds, attempting to pepper her muzzle with sultry kisses, his nose pressed against the velveteen fur of her cheek inhaling her scent for a few seconds before he drew back. “If they have fed recently I will watch them for a while. You go out and stretch your legs, hunt, bask in the sunlight. Get out of this den for a bit.” He encouraged, ungentlemanly just about figuratively shoving her out of it. “How much trouble can they be, hmm?” As it was at least one of them was snoring lightly. That was pretty much what their life consisted of right now. Sleeping, eating, and pooping. He settled into the space Thistle vacated, sitting in a sphinx-like position, feeling Ein nestle into his plush fur of his side and resume his snoring after making a cute little mewing noise.

Ragnar’s gaze touched each of them in turn, lingering a little longer on his (secret) Gyda, the child that the Viking was now certain came out of his night of stolen passion with Thistle before their mateship, shortly after Crete had taken her (though this was a false assumption). They, each of them, was looked upon with fatherly affection, holding a piece of his heart in their tiny little paws. "Is it nap time already, children?" He teased lightly and then murmured to them in his native tongue, wanting them to learn both of them fluently.