Sea Lion Shores sword of kings

@Red if there is spelling mistakes I apologize autocorrect and my iPhone are crap. xD Also, I'm not sure what happened to this post. All I know is I had muse and I ran with it. :p

The morning was fair when Ragnar had parted from Stavanger Bay, his destination Northward bound though in truth it was not he that had any real destination in mind. He had finished his early morning patrols before the sun had even began it's ascension into the sky, breaking past the arch way of stone just as it had began to peek over the horizon, casting the morning in a fiery, golden glow. The tide was low, the salt water cool as it rushed to greet him, splashing against his legs leaving cool kisses along platnium silver fur and heated flesh beneath. The waters had long since washed away Bragi's tracks an even his scent but Ragnar knew the boy could not have gotten too far ahead of him. Perhaps tracking the boy was wrong. Perhaps it was an invasion of privacy that not even being Jarl excused when it was breeched; but the boy was gone more than he was in the Bay and that rose not only Ragnar's curiousity but also a small measure of alarm bells. Bragi was eager to be an Outrider, Ragnar knew, and traveling was in his blood as a Viking but even so if he was simply out exploring Ragnar could not understand why the boy did not seek to inform him of his findings to that Ragnar could consider giving him the apprenticeship title. As it was Bragi avoided him as if he had concocted the plague and for reasons that once, Ragnar had not dared to look at too closely it bothered him.

Lying to himself was nearly as bad as lying to everyone else. There was no real mystery of whose loins Bragi had been borne from, and though Ragnar had taken Sveið in the heat of battle, as the high of adrenaline and the Berserker rage coursed through his blood like the blood of the All-Father he had not been impared. He remembered. Of course he remembered, it was hard to forget that magnitude of ferocity and beauty. Hard to forget, even, how she had went from the small girl he had picked on growing up into the a beautiful woman; the best shield-maiden Odinn's Cove had ever known. Forgetting the glory of their union was impossible; ignoring the fact that it had felt right to make something that belonged to the both of them through flesh and blood was wrong. It was only a shame, Ragnar thought, that Bragi had not taken more from his mother. They were too much alike, Bragi and him, by far more alike than Ragnar was to Crete's bastards. It only stood to reason, after all. Bragi was his and the children were Crete's. The only living child he had sired, when in reality Ragnar should have taken the shield-maiden as his wife instead of Dagmar. If he would have...he did not imagine how things might have been different because there was no point. Only, he knew things would have been different. That much was obvious.

Ragnar had Sveið had agreed to keep Bragi a secret and so Ragnar had. He had not told anyone about it and, if possible, he kept it from himself until he no longer thought about it. Until he had almost forgotten about it. Thistle's assumptions were correct yet, still, Ragnar desired to keep it from her. He would not so easily break his promise to the shield-maiden he had made it too; and as much as Ragnar wanted to see Sveið again he knew it was better that she stay away. He had enough problems on his shoulders with Thistle's jealousy over Nerian and the confusing affection he felt for his Priestess without adding too it. Especial by re-kindling a fire he had managed to reduce to embers. His "love" life was complicated enough without adding a third women in the mix, and not just any woman at that: the mother of his only blood child. That mixture would not bode well, he knew. Swiftly, he shook his head to dispel the thoughts of her. They were dangerous and would only serve him to be in trouble and possibly alone.

It had been a nagging that had urged Ragnar to follow Bragi at a safe distance. Perhaps the boy was just exploring, or perhaps, and this was not something Ragnar could fault him for: he was exploring other pack options. Thistle ha not been kind to him, and Ragnar was not so ignorant to the discomfort he have Bragi. Along the walk Ragnar's pace had slowed until he had lost the boy's trail all together, hesitating on the outskirts of Sea Lion Shore. Ypres had declared them her 'thinking grounds' but they were still considered his hunting grounds. Eve so, he was in no mood to deal with her today. He could not say for certain it wouldn't be the day when he finally laid into the elegant curve of her soft throat.

With his purpose having been allowe to slip from betwixt his paws he, instead, turned his eyes skyward, taking in the stars that littered the sky and in his solitude, allowed his mind to wonder once more.