Her stare was steady when he informed her that he thought she needed to be more assertive with the children and Ragnar got the distinct feeling that while she did not, she wished to speak against his choice of words which, admittedly, had been reprimanding. Ragnar hadn’t meant to scold his wife as if she were a child in need of it and in reality understood he couldn’t tell her how to parent. They were two opposite people with opposing views on how children should be raised. Ragnar clung to what he knew of parenting, raising them how Eitri and Kenna had raised him and his brothers considering it was the only example he had to run with. It had been effective enough for Sveinn …then again Sveinn had been a boy grown when they had captured him not a mere infant. Ragnar did not want his children to become the monsters, the true heathens that he and his ilk had been accused of being on numerous occasions. He wouldn’t tolerate blatant disrespect, not even from his own children. He had decided that a long time ago and would not be afraid to do what other wolves, what other parents couldn’t bring themselves to do. If pushed he would push back and they would find themselves on their asses and packless without so much as a bat of an eye from Ragnar.
Maybe that made him cruel. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had warned her, numerous times, that he wasn’t a gentle man. He loved his children, would always love them no matter what they did but they weren’t pardoned from their actions because he was the Beta or their father.
There was consequence for everything. The story of Odinn giving his eye to acquire knowledge spoke evidently of that heavily. He wanted knowledge and paid for it with his eye after he had hung himself from Yggdrasil (because Tokio is pretty sure he had to hang himself for it, too). It was important that they learn it quickly and soon.
It occurred to Ragnar that maybe his felt need to reprimand her for being to soft with them was born of the small swell of jealousy he felt towards her. She was a natural mother and was great with the children. He …not so much. He liked children, always had, and of course loved his unconditionally (all of them Sveinn included) but he wasn’t good with them yet. It was the first time he had ever dealt with infant/small children in such a capacity and he was learning just as they were. He lost his patience with them more than he cared to admit and felt guilty about it because it wasn’t their fault. Not really. Sveinn had spoiled the Viking and the infants were like a slap of reality to the face. He was an aggressive (sometimes), assertive and callous man — a true savage to his core — trying to learn how to be a gentle man and a good father. It was a struggle and just when he thought he was beginning to gain footing he would slip and find himself back at the base of the mountain, looking up again.
He was broken from his thoughts of his metaphorical treacherous and steep mountain that fatherhood was to him when Thistle spoke, his ears slicking back to his skull as she in turn reprimanded him. It was fair, but he didn’t have to like it.