Little boy blue and the man on the moon

Sorry if this is crap/for spelling mistakes. Mobile posting is a butt. :P

Ragnar had long since resolved himself to the knowledge that he would likely never see Gyda again. He had assumed that Nerian had stolen the young Scandinavian princess away from him though that assumption had never truly made sense given that it had been his ex-priestess wives' fear of children and him that had driven her away — so why would she steal Gyda from him? Though he'd had nothing else to go off of why should he have believed any different? As it turned out he had not known Nerian half as well as he had thought he had. Ragnar's concentration, as of late, had been on attempting to keep the fragile and tearing seams of Levi and Charon's lives together the best he could. The scarred Scandinavian did not know if he was capable of it, or if his attempts were all in vain. He could not control what the Gods had in store for the young Ostrega children but he was fighting for them, regardless.

And then there was still the matter of taking a journey back to Redhawk Caldera to tell Peregrine that as long as the offer still stood that he accepted, despite the enigma of exact details of the proposed alliance.

Surprise froze the platnium silver Viking when the call rang out, missing eye tilted skywards, throthe chilling loss of the soft winter breeze that travelled through the thick and ancient forest, coupled with the warm caress of the sun against deliberately scarred flesh. It was becoming easier now, adjusting to having one eye and the harder Ragnar pushed himself an trained, adapting his techniques to use it to his advantage as opposed to letting it debilitate him, the more positive the Jarl's outlook became. The call was familiar but also different, not entirely matchin the image of the small child he'd had in his mind, that she had been when she's went missing.

Half believing that he was merely dreaming it took a buffered moment even when he came upon the scene, fixing his daughter in his single eyed stare as he moved to stand beside his queen wife on his blind side, ears cupping forth to hear the girl's explination. His expressions were well hid though Ragnar was torn between wanting to scold her and wanting to welcome her back home. For now the stoic Jarl remained silent, figuring that he would trust in the Gods — those who already knew how this was going to go.