Thistle's disappointment rolled off of her in waves but Ragnar turned his blind eye to it (literally) because he did not want to have a fight with her. Not here, not now. How was he supposed to know that Nerian hadn't been to blame for Gyda's absence considering they had left at the same time. Could Thistle truly tell him that the consideration hadn't crossed into her mind as well? If she could then she was a better, less suspicious wolf than he. His daughter's words were brave, but served to irritate him at the audacity to speak back to him as she had. Ragnar's lip curled in warning.
“Do not disrespect me with such a tone girl,” The Viking hissed, a low growl rumbling in his throat. It was the warning of authority, and a fatherly warning as well. No matter how old Gyda got he would always be her father and he demanded respect from his children, even if they did not like what he had to say. He was glad, secretly, that she did not forsake the Gods for Nerian's
God, and for now the fear that Nerian had turned his daughter against him was soothed.
“It is not how little of you I think, rather how little I think of Nerian. I know you two were once close,” Closer than
they (Ragnar and Gyda) had been at any rate. Gyda had likely been the most accepting of his children when Ragnar had spoken to them of the polygamy relationship he had attempted.
It had failed. Horribly, and was in the past but Ragnar had contented himself with the thought that Nerian had taken Gyda with her since neither of them had so much as a peep about leaving or doing anything to him or Thistle. Of course Crete's name caused Ragnar's hackles to raise in irritation and he leveled in a heavy breath and let it out. Gyda knew of her true parentage as well. There were no secrets between parents and children now. Ragnar had not approved of Thistle's willingness to tell her children who their true father was but he hadn't tried to stop her knowing that in the end it was her choice. For a moment Ragnar was torn between mentioning Crete and mentioning Mercury unsure which deserved his attention first. “And? What are your thoughts on who your true father is?” Calling Crete her father was like spitting up acid — it burned in the Viking's throat with well concealed contempt and outrage — but he was curious, nevertheless.
“Mercury has went to Odinn's Cove? Why” Ragnar turned his attention to the next pressing issue. He was not overly sure what the draw was, and feared for the boy's life at the paws of Vali, though for Thistle and Gyda's sake he did not speak this fear aloud.
