a king's ransom

*Ragnar* · June 23, 2014, 10:10 AM

For @Julooke in Stavanger Bay. Claiming thread #4. :-)

With the knowledge that he was taking yet another wolf from Majesty’s pack left the Viking feeling anxious sure, that at some point, he would find out and come for retribution. Beric had yet to come find him in Stavanger Bay but he had asked for time and in confidence Ragnar had given it expecting the secret of their meeting to be kept just as he intended to keep it from Julooke and Verrine whom Beric wished to surprise. In reality, it wasn’t as if Ragnar shouldered the sole blame of it. Sure, he had made the offer which in and of itself had been harmless. He hadn’t persuaded or cajoled Beric into accepting it, hadn’t forced him at the point of his teeth, or threatened. Everyone had a choice. Ragnar would never take those choices away from members or potential members. Yet, if Majesty had ever found out that both Sköll and Beric had fled to Horizon Ridge …or what would soon be Stavanger Bay Ragnar wouldn’t have been offended by deserved ire. If the tables had been turned, he would have felt the same way. At the end though, life wasn’t nearly as complicated as men tended to make it. You had to lie in the bed that you made; and no one, no matter how friendly and compassionate, or assertive and callous was granted an exception.

The basis of the Vikings’ stories taught them that as children and served to remind them as adults. Even Gods suffered consequences for their actions. Odinn had desired knowledge and had to not only hang himself from Yggdrasil but also had surrender an eye to get what he wanted. Likewise, Ragnar had to accept that one day retribution might come knocking at their door despite that he just wanted to be away from the Isle wolves. The Viking, though, had no intentions of apologizing for bringing Sköll where he would be more useful, neither would he apologize for offering Beric a home among his family. Being a family oriented man himself, Ragnar understood the desire to want to be near them and he would not deny even his enemies a chance to prove themselves otherwise. He was a harsh judge of character but he at least had that he was nothing if not a fair leader who cared about his pack and would protect them to his last, dying breath if it came to that going for him. It was a small redeeming quality in a sea of what was likely horrible qualities.

The truth was, Ragnar had grown weary; weary and blood sick. He was tired of always watching his back, tired of suspicion and tension that drummed through his muscles every second he was in Horizon Ridge. He just wanted his pack to flourish, to be able to hunt and live in peace. Which made him a hypocrite, sure, considering he raided and would raid again if he thought it was necessary. Admittedly, his weariness and blood sickness made the prospect of raiding lack the spark of excitement that it normally held for the Viking but he gathered once he got the pack relocated and settled in over the months it would return. For now, however, it was extinguished.

Still, Ragnar worked as hard as ever, marking the borders, as he was currently in the process of doing, waiting for word of or from Beric as he did so. Leg lowered from the tree he’d been marking, brushing his fur against the thick bark, tough as boiled leather, before he moved on, padding a few feet down the line only to lift his leg again and repeat the process lost in his contemplation, though his ears were alert all the while.