(m) across the caucasus

No need to match the length. Sometimes Ragnar and I get carried away. lol.

The mandates of his culture were quite clear to the Viking and while it was nice to have Pump’s approval for the ritual he would need to perform Ragnar had planned to do it anyway because it was not just culture but also invoked his Gods. It meant his children were safe and were not to be harmed and that if any harm befell them from another wolf that Ragnar, as the head of the house (so to speak), was entitled to punish through trail and if proved guilty: execution. It was not just the wolves they were vulnerable too, but the elements outside of the den, and the Gods. Though Ragnar wished to abandon his duties to guard the den day and night he knew it was not possible; not to mention it would probably drive him mad because he needed to be doing things, patrolling, hunting, scouting, something.

The sound of Thistle’s voice called him back to the present from his thoughts and he offered her a twitch of a smile considering the fact that one of his sons would grow to rival him. It was not unexpected, given how it seemed to be the way of things. The sun always strove to do better than the father. Had Ragnar not exceeded Eitri’s own accomplishments despite never having wanted to be a Jarl? It had came with winning the challenge of Björn, earned through taking the life from his older brother in the same way that Björn had stolen the helm from Eitri, draped in crimson blood. As it had been, once upon a time, Ragnar had been quite contended with being nothing more than the Head Berserker. If he had never known the temptation of Tyra he would have never challenged Björn, would have never won and never became the Cove’s Jarl. If things had not happened as they had, Ragnar might have never left the Cove, might have never met Thistle. Or, maybe he would have. Maybe Odinn would have called him away, regardless, but maybe instead of Beta, Ragnar would have been contended with whatever rank Pump saw fit to give him and the title of Head Warden.

It was through circumstance that he had discovered he had a penchant for leadership and was actually good at it, despite that he was a ‘Heathen King’ and his ways were boorish, brutal and merciless to those that did not understand it was simply Ragnar’s way of life. Harsh conditions demanded the harshest to survive. At the end of the day that was what spurred every living creature: survival. The survival of their genetics, the survival of their name, the survival of their Gods, their culture.

“He will rival me, someday,” Ragnar broke his contemplative silence then touching his muzzle against hers, desiring her closeness in the stolen moments he could get it. “As will Tveir. All sons desire to do more than their father before them,” Admittedly, they would have to share in his ambition to compete with Ragnar’s accomplishments but he expected them too, encouraged them too. Sons were meant to do better. “It is the way.” That was not to say that one day he would not grow jealous of their accomplishments that would outshine his in the very far future. They say a man should love his sons more, but he can be jealous of his sons. “Enough talk of rivalries. They have a long way to go before they rival me,” And he wanted to relish every moment of watching them grow up to be fine Vikings. “How can I forget? You keep reminding me.” Ragnar teased her, enunciating his teasing with a coy grin in her direction as she licked his muzzle. “We have had a good bit of new joiners recently. Several of them are interested in learning to be a Healer. I told them that you are not available until our children are at least a month old when they will not be so dependent on you. One of them also spoke about watching the children. I do not trust enough to let her alone with them right away,” Meaning Ragnar would be watching. He did not want the careful ground work he would begin to lay as soon as they could hear in making them into Vikings to be unwoven. It would have been much easier if they were surrounded by it as a single culture and the fact that half of the pack claimed ownership to them as if they were property and not living beings still rubbed Ragnar the wrong way because it meant they could undo everything he did., if they wanted too.

Ragnar was not aware that Thistle and Julooke had already met but he felt, as her husband, but also the Head Warden and Beta, it was his job to inform her of any apprentices she might acquire in due time so it was not a huge surprise to her. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that Gavriil is intending to court Pump, I do not know how it went I haven’t…heard from him on the matter. Thinking on it I don’t think he should have listened to me,” Ragnar’s chuckle was low, his expression a mixture of sheepish and mischievous. He had, had three failed marriages due to his lack of interest, but had been with many women, many times and though he thought he knew the fairer sex pretty well, it was true that he was something of a disaster when it came to ‘romance’ (of course his lack of sentiment and compassion probably had something to do with it). “I do not think it will end well for him. Pump does not seem the kind of woman that wants a mate and children, and even if she does deep down I don’t think Gavriil has what it takes to reach that,” It was nothing against Gavriil because he was a good man, a kind man Ragnar and Pump were something of kindred spirits having came from similar backgrounds, sharing very similar ideals and views (not always, they butted heads on things; but most of the time).

As it was, he really didn’t want to talk a relationship that would either be a shipwreck or flourish. It was just menial conversation because it seemed like she just wanted to talk. Drawing closer to her it was Ragnar’s turn to pepper her jaw with kisses, each one more sultry than the last. It was his not-so-subtle way to communicate that his passion had gone no where for her, and didn’t expect that it ever would. She had yet to shed the weight that she had gained (Ragnar knew that would take a while) but she was still the most beautiful thing in his world. “I love you,” He murmured into her ear, just in case she needed the reminder.