fail you to the core

Ragnar loved the Ostrega boys fiercely, had loved Liyani too for whatever good it seemed to be worth, and again he had watched himself fail as a father as one by one they went missing as well. It brought within him a trepidation towards the knowledge that Thistle was likely pregnant, though as aforementioned he did not know for sure either way. He was weary of children because he was sure that he would fail them, too. He was worse than a deadbeat dad because he could not keep them safe. He was present but he kept making mistake after mistake, masquerading around in the delusion that he was doing a good job. He hadn't been a good leader, either, it seemed. The Bay was flourishing under Thistle's sole rule and though the Jarl was proud of his Queen Wife there was also the question of if he'd been living under a delusion the entire time he ruled at Odinn's Cove. Yet, he was not so ready to be so hard upon himself. This was a great learning lesson for his young wife and she was coming into her own with more fire and beauty than he could have ever imagined. It was as if Freyja and Frigga had merged into one and possessed Thistle. The mother, the queen, and the shieldmaiden.

Heavy footfalls drew the Northman out of his thoughts, though the Berserker did not have to turn his singular eye to look at her to know who it was. He felt her presence like an electricity in the air, sparking along his skin. Ragnar's black, leathery nostrils flared as he took in her scent, truly took it in for the first time, brow knitting as he swung his head to study her with a fierce Caribbean blue eye. She smelled of sick and a warm aroma, not quite of mother's milk yet but something close. Having been around her during her first pregnancy he placed the scent nearly immediately. “You are with child?” He inquired of her, heavily accented voice a low murmur. Despite that the thought, coupled with the strange scent all over his borders made him anxious and nervous but he needed the joyous news to lighten these bleak days.

“There is always trouble on the horizon, my love,” To think that peace was something they could ever accomplish for a measure of time that was not a few brief months was foolish. Though this time, as far as the Berserker was aware, they had not done anything. He could do many things. He had desired to raid numerous times but something had always held him back. Mostly the Bay's lack of staggering numbers. They were not a monstrosity of a pack and though Ragnar only needed a few to raid he did not want to risk taking half of the population down with him if something went wrong. “Dark days are coming to the Bay,” Ragnar was no Seer but it was something he felt in his very core without having much of a reason why. Perhaps it was only paranoia on his part but he doubted it.

His attention lifted from Thistle to the ebony girl who came into view, greeting them casually, though her stance was respectful. Spectra, Ragnar thought her name was. She was of a technical higher rank than him but considering Ragnar operated heavily out of his own hierarchy he offered no acknowledgment of this. He would not bow to his subordinates (technical superiors). The Bay was still his pack, and the wolves of the Bay who technically ranked higher than him would do well to remember such things. Ragnar gave Spectra a quizzical look when she spoke of meeting Odinn, making the mistake of calling the All-Father a wolf. Technically he could take the form but he was a God. “The All-Father came to you?” Why would Odinn come to this girl, whom as far as Ragnar was aware, did not share his religion?