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Ragnar had been patrolling the perimeter when Nerian's howl had risen into the air, sounding desperate, urgent, long and loud so that it was ensured it would reach him. Something was wrong Ragnar knew and wasting no time he launched himself out of the territory, brow furrowed in concentration of pinpointing his wife's location. Hackles bristled against his spine in anticipation of what he might find. The scenarios that had traveled through the scarred Scandinavian's mind was nothing compared to what he found when he finally reached Nerian. He had not expected to see Thistle's head cradled on Nerian's paws, nor to hear the soft words that escaped his Priestess' lips in between licks. Not knowing that anything was truly wrong with Thistle he was left to jump to conclusions from afar, feeling anger. Anger that Thistle had lied to him all along. She'd made such a big deal out of it to hide the fact that she was really in love with Nerian in the same way that Nerian was in love with her, right? And what of him? Where did he stand in this relationship? He had only proposed the idea of a polygamy relationship because he thought Nerian had been in love with him as she had told him.
It did not make sense to Ragnar, considering they had both strongly disliked one another if not hated each other and what now they were lesbian lovers? Was the marriage to him just some kind of front? A big lie? Ha, the joke's on Ragnar now. A low grow slipped from betwixt his bared teeth, hating the pain from the double betrayal both of his wives had dropped upon him ripped through his heart. Feeling his heart tear only proving that he really did love both women, he half considered spitting at Nerian to take Thistle and never come back to the Bay. They could be happy without him since obviously he wasn't the thing that had bonded them as he had first been misled to believe. Instead he smirked, coy and mischievous though he was feeling far from mischievous.