raise me from perdition

Ragnar watched as her smile vanished entirely, proving his previous assumption correct. His singular eye caught the movement of her body in reaction to his words, watching as she more or less, rather inelegantly plopped down upon her hunches in a sitting position. In hindsight, the Jarl supposed his words were rather unexpected and surprising, regardless he intended to hold fast to them. She would not change his mind, he was determined, even if this led to a nasty fight as he have expected it to. It'll honesty that was what he expected out of the relationship these days: arguments. "I am stepping down as Jarl of Stavanger Bay," he repeated, wishing she hadn't made him repeat the words because they had not been any easier to push forth from his lips. Surely, she had heard him well the first time but it was shock, he assumed, the caused her to inquire excuse me to him. The idea made him uncomfortable; no longer being in control, no longer having a say as to what happened or didn't happen in his pack. He was born to rule, and he was made to rule his own creation but at the time he could think of nothing else to do to keep from dying. Ragnar was desperate.

"Something needs to be done, Thistle," Ragnar broke the lengthy silence that followed his redundancy. "We dying pack. With my dethroning I can focus on what the pack needs. Food caches, outrider trips, able bodies in the non-leadership ranks." Would he actually be able to do it? Could handle being below one of his subordinates? Likely not. He was too dominant to stand down to them even if they were to rank above him and it might rain holy chaos upon the pack but he had to try something.