Stavanger Bay vikings mourn their dead

This post legit hurt to write. T-T Also, to whomever responds to this no need to match the length and I'm sorry in advanced for a grieving Gyda! <3 (Hover for translations!) 1,117 words — last time i wrote so much was with ragnar, omg.

Dagrún had been an outstanding Jarl and mentor to Átta during her time spent in Odinn's Cove, though his mentorship and rise to power had been at the Viking woman's bequest and at the personal cost of a fight against her uncle Vali, a fight won only because of Ragnar's patient teachings. Gyda had been patient, had watched her uncle spar, studied him and had allowed his arrogance and softness for pretty things that he did not wish to harm but only to possess to be his downfall. Átta had ascended to Queen of the lands that had bore her beloved father. What Gyda had not given Ragnar a chance to teach her by her wanderings, first with his priestess wife Nerian — not out of devotion as Ragnar and her had fought over but out of the need to protect her. Gyda had been a child but Nerian had needed Gyda in a way that her parents and her brothers had not. She needed the aspiring shield-maiden's encouragement and care though they had parted ways at the Cove for Nerian had refused to return to her captivity within the Vikings' ranks. Where her father's priestess wife had ended up was an enigma to the young Dróttning. Gyda did not have qualms about relinquishing full control of the Cove to her half uncle, confident that he would rule them well and in every way that would make Ragnar proud when he heard the news.

Yet, for all Dagrún had taught her, he had not taught her how to stifle the rising panic in her breast when she came upon the majestic arch of Stavanger Bay, her home to find the scent markings that she had known had once been there to be entirely gone. Not even a faint trace of her mother nor her father's scent lingered, nothing old. The Bay was ...devoid of pack life and the absence left a chill down her spine, platinum silver hackles bristling along her spine as unease cooled the boiling panic. Her father had loved this Bay and Gyda could not fathom anything that would make him choose to leave it behind. The sands and sea and forest of ancient ash trees had been sacred to him as if their divines had made their presence known in the earth. Rather, Gyda chose not to fathom what it could mean, refusing to believe what was surely not possible. The dream had been wrong, and the one eyed behemoth had been a projected image of her father ...not her father himself. She had spoken with a conjuring of her subconscious when it was at it's most powerful: in the dreamworld. The mangled throat and blood stained fur of his chest was a project of her worst fear, no doubt cau].sed by the guilt she felt that they last thing they had said to one another had been words heated with anger at one another from their shared stubbornness.

This was what Gyda had spent a good ten minutes telling herself until she had soothed her prickling unease at the utter absence of any life that wasn't prey or sea mammal enough for her to glide through the cold sands beneath her paws, under the arch and set eyes of Caribbean ice — so uncannily like Ragnar's own though it was claimed they shared no blood — to the ash forest. It was damaged. Not to the point of being inhabitable but it was bad. Terror washed through her in time with a blast of icy wind off of the roaring sea behind her, seeping into her veins, to the very marrow of her bones. There was no time to process what had happened to her beloved Bay and though their trail had long since run as cold as the ice caverns of the north Gyda could not help but rush forth, into the foliage thick and overgrown in the absence of constant travel. “móðir!” Gyda screamed into the icy forest, the sting of the ash tree's branches as they pulled at tendrils of her coarse winter coat as they snagged unnoticed as the barreled through, dodging them only enough to avoid getting entirely caught. She was numb to the physical pain she felt. The emotional turmoil as she tried, still, to deny what the gripping and horrific dread was trying to make her see was much, much worse. “faðir” She called for Ragnar, her volume wavering as hysteria began to sink it's teeth into her like one of Loki's serpent: spreading the venom of panic and fear.

No. No, surely Ragnar would hear her. Ragnar would come to find her. He was her Berserker, her father, her protector. The dream was wrong. Ragnar couldn't have died. He was too strong, too intelligent, too legendary. He was everything she had looked up to, a hero, everything Gyda had aspired to be and more than she could have ever hoped to become. Drawn to the heart of Stavanger Bay the mound ...the grave caught her eye. Of course it did. It was near impossible to miss. Gyda's body froze, each muscle pulling taunt beneath her silver coat. She did not want to see, she did not want to know but, morbidly, she could not look away. Slowly, she approached it as if it would physically harm her, extended her nose towards the smooth earth and worried bones beneath the tallest ash tree — no doubt meant to represent Yggdrasil: where Odinn had hung himself in pursuit of knowledge. There were scents she did not recognize, loners surely, one particularly stronger than the other's which had grown faint with time. There was the scent of two other males though she could not find herself lingering upon their individual scents alone for the scent of her mother, though different than she'd remembered it, unmistakable despite that. 

It was not Thistle that lay beneath the frozen earth, under Yggdrasil, then. As the realization Gyda had been trying so hard to fight hit her it slammed into her, with the force of the sea slamming against the harsh rocks. Her legs buckled beneath her and she knelt to the ground, a shriek unlike any she'd heard before leave her body. It was a powerful sound, a haunting sound, filled with grief and agony. “Gyda, I have come to tell you goodbye...” Those words in the familiar, accented voice of her father haunted her now and the valkyrie began to sob. Death was celebrated, yes, Ragnar was in Valhalla with Odinn now, she knew, but she struggled to find joy for the occasion, because it had been a truth she had been fighting against for months; because she had never gotten to atone for their fight, had never gotten the chance to tell him that she was sorry and that she loved him, that she'd been wrong for getting angry and defensive. The knowledge that she would never get the chance to tell him those things was a horrible and dreadful weight upon her chest.

S'okay if I jump in and use it for a specialization? 

Upon walking into the beautiful landscape, the large female was out doing what she did best: explore. She always felt as if she belonged to the world outside and to always explore, not matter what held her down. She hadn't been down near the bay before, and it had been a drive for her. However, it was in the middle of winter and it was't the best weather to be traveling right near the water.

The beauty still captured the large female's eyes. She felt happy with discovering this new place and would hopefully be able to return here again. The land was unclaimed, and she didn't see nor sense another wolf as she walked. Maybe her pack would claim this land as their own if given the chance? She shook her  head and laughed at herself. This pack was her main drive for her thoughts, she could barely think of herself at times. Then again, this pack was her family and treated her like so.

With a shake of her head at her own internal argument, the burly female made her way down along with sand of the bay, staying out of the small tides that lapped against the sand that was becoming covered by snow. Her large paws left messages behind in the sand, it looked as if a giant had been walking through.

She soon stopped as a scent had reached her nose, even with the chilly and salty air that surrounded her. It was another wolf out here, and it only smelt like one rather than a group. Large, slightly curled ears pricked forward towards the scent, body straightening and hackles rising. Krypton's glassy eyes remained still, pupils grew smaller as a cat's would. Although it wasn't on her list to meet a new wolf, it would be maybe nice to see a new face?

Pushing off into a even-paced trot, the burly female trotted towards the scent, tail swaying with  her large strides as they covered the ground. She wasn't in the mood for a brawl, and she only prayed it would not be one.

That's perfectly fine! Thank you for joining! c:

“Ég er því miður faðir,” Gyda murmured to the mound beneath her through her harsh weeps. She had left him, and now he was gone until she saw the halls of Valhalla herself. A cowards death would not solicit her a place within the Odinn's Hall, no. Only a death befitting of a Viking would see her there. Only the greatest of warriors were chosen by the Valkyries and while she had won the challenge against her uncle she had so much to prove to Odinn yet. The earth of the mound was as unyielding and cold as any other piece of earth, though she draped herself over it, similar as to how she had draped her self across his strong shoulders as a small pup and after some time her sobs became hiccups and soft weeps. Ragnar had achieved what all of their kind aspired to achieve. He was where he was meant to be — though Gyda could not bring herself to fully conform to that thought. Not yet, anyway. For rather than the Viking Queen she was, she felt like little more than a lost little girl. A little girl's whose only wish was to be reunited with her father.

Something stirred in her chest, a slight flutter of discouragement. Though death was the ultimate prize for the Norse it was not something Ragnar would want from her. Not now. Surely she had a long life yet to live. Her destiny in these Wilds was not yet clear to her but she felt it was where she needed to be. Company was not something that the young Drottning had expected, nor was it particularly welcome at present. She was in no fit state to play hostess and yet it would seem that she was given no choice. The sounds of approaching footfalls, heavy (at least heavier than her own) drew nearer and Gyda rose from the mound, shaking dirt free of her coat, attempting to make herself look presentable — a habit of composure only nurtured by her leadership in the Cove. She was no Queen here, not to these wolves, but that did not mean she would relinquish what Dagrun had taught her. Ragnar had never been less than what he was, had never allowed anyone's opinions on him to deter him nor change him no matter how negative, so why should she?

When the other figure shrugged into the clearing, Gyda did not move from the foot of the mound, looming over it. It was nothing but earth and rotting flesh and bones, yet it was the only presence of Ragnar Gyda believed that she had left. “Hail,” Gyda greeted the stranger, studying her with acute curiosity, having first been confused that the scent labeled her as another female but her build suggested something much more sturdy and bulky. The frame more commonly seen on males (or at least this proved true to Gyda's personal experience thus far). “hver ert þú og hvers vegna kemur þú hingað?” Gyda was not accustomed to speaking the common tongue, the native language of her father the only language she'd used when she'd struck out with Nerian and further used to communicate with the wolves of the Cove. 

After a few moments it dawned upon her that the Norse that slipped from betwixt her lips was likely random noises to the broad woman. Gyda adjusted her stance, muzzle lifting ever so slightly as she contemplated their common translation. “Why are you here,” The words were slow as Gyda attempted to puzzle them out, the common tongue words enunciated by the thick accent of the Scandinavian's even in the soft lilt of her voice. “What is your name?” It had been too long and Gyda found her common tongue to be rusty. She much preferred Norse, she realized, but did not draw attention to this inner ephihany as she awaited a response to her questions.

Seeing how everything flew by with her trot, the large female kept her eyes and ears forward and focused on where she was going. She wasn't very sure if this wolf or wolfess was friendly, so keeping her chin up, her ears flicked back and forth and each noise that was being made by her and around her. Although her body seemed to project confidence (for her hackles were raised), her mind was not at ease. If anything, she was scared. Even with her large size, any wolf could topple Krypton over. Her fighting skills needed work still, and she was somewhat unprepared for a spar or battle.

She shook her head at the thought. It's always been flight over fight, and that's how it is going to stay. Her eyes finally showed her something worth seeing. it was a wolf, she couldn't tell the gender from where she was at, but from the build, it looked to be female. Of coarse, anything that was slim in Krypton's eyes was female, she was unlike the rest of them. Seeing how the female first spoke in a language she did not understand, the burly female tilted her head at the words. Never before had she heard such a language, it made her curious about it.

The wolfess then changed her tongues, most likely understanding that most wolves around Teekon didn't really speak her native language. Even Krypton hadn't found a wolf who spoke French. With her ears pricked forward, the burly female stopped in her tracks. Her words fell from her mouth in a slow manner, almost as if she was having trouble finding the words. It did not matter, it could have been a while since she had to speak in it. 

Hearing the wolfess' question, the burly female lowered her hackles and body to make sure she wasn't being seen as a threat. The last thing she wanted to do was scare off a wolf. The first question to answer: Why was she here? She thought about it, she really had no idea or reason to be around thee parts. "In all honesty-" She started off, looking at the she-wolf with calm eyes. "I had visited this area to only explore, nothing else." She said it in a monotone, not very excited with her answer. She moved onto the next question: her identity. That was at least an easier question to answer. "Krypton is my name. I mean absolutely no harm to you here." The tawny female let out a soft breath and hopefully eased the other female's thoughts about here.

There was never a moment of uncertainty for Gyda, never a moment of fear — at least not where the large female was concerned at any rate — only caution. Ragnar had taught her that there was nothing to fear in losing, that there was nothing to fear in death. There was fear to be found in losing things important and loved but not in death itself. Knowing that the Jarl had not died afraid was comforting to his daughter who loomed over his grave, still protective despite that the other woman had ceased her approach. For a moment they appeared to be content to study one another, the svelte Viking Queen and her surprisingly broad companion. Gyda was satisfied that her questions were given a response, ears of silver velveteen cupping forth atop the elegant curve of her crown to show she was giving her companion her undivided attention. 

“It is falleg …-” Gyda caught herself slipping into Norse and with a small, soft “ehh” noise gave a short pause to mull over her too rusty translations. “-beautiful, is it not?” The Viking Queen finished her inquiry with a soft hum in her throat, offering the broad woman a small smile. It was devoid of it's normal charm and radiance but she was grieving, even if she had no intentions of letting it show. Her grief was her own and she would not burden this stranger with the weight of it. “This place is called Stavanger Bay, my father named it and once ruled here as it's mighty Kóngur,” It was her home, it was Ragnar's final resting place and Gyda wondered what kind of awful thing had happened that had caused Thistle to give it up. She had not known her mother to ever go down without a fight for their fiery dispositions were extremely similar. “Ah, King I think is the word...” She offered a sheepish, apologetic curve of her lips. Speaking in the common tongue was something she would have to get used to.

“I was not worried, friend,” Gyda offered the woman peaceably as she (Krypton) offered an olive branch with her words “I mean you no harm”. Gyda might be much smaller, but that did not make her any less skilled. Besides, she had taken down a male much more powerful and she assumed, experienced, then the stranger before her. Of course, the Valkyries had been on the Queen's side for Vali was predictable and had underestimated her sorely, and Gyda had not been afraid to use her cunning to gain her an advantage on the battlefield. Regardless she was in no mental state to be fighting. She put on a grand show but that was all that it was: a show to mask the pain and grief that roiled within her. “Gyda. I am Gyda Loðbrok, Ragnarssdaughter.”

Just a question, how do you make the translations appear when you hover over them?

Seeing how the other female offered kind words, the larger female sighed in relief, It was another safe call for her, and she would gain some information about this land. When the female spoke about the beauty of the land, Krypton could do nothing but agree with her. It truly was a beautiful piece of land, one which any wolf who ventured in here would be lucky to claim as their own.

When the other spoke about the land, how her father ruled, it made the tawny female think. A king wolf ruled these lands before? She thought about it, a puzzled expression on her face. Did she mean alpha? Well, whatever she mean, Krypton just knew it meant her father was a powerful ruler. Perhaps a monarch of some sort over these lands? She nodded her head at the other female, taking a few steps closer with her hackles lowered flat.

The other wolfess then spoke about having no fear about Krypton's appearence. That was good to hear, then it wasn't to her. At first thought, she was happy the she-wolf didn't fear her. However, it raised two ideas in her head about this wolf's personality. One was that she was ignorant, but by the way she presented herself, she most likely wasn't Her second idea was that this wolf was cunning, agile, and raised as a warrior. Remembering her words about having her father be king, the wolfess would most likely have been trained into combat. Finally, the other female exposed her name, Gyda, daughter of the king wolf. Although she doubted there was such a thing as a king, she believed it was an alpha and decided to show her respect.

Bowing her head, the female shut her eyes and lowered her body into a bow position. "It is my honor then to be in the presence of royalty." She said softly.

Krypton, Gyda reminded herself forcibly of the name offered to her by her companion (despite that it sounded strange to Gyda whom had gotten used to Norse-centric names), was respectful when the Viking Queen spoke to her and that was something that Átta greatly appreciated. Too well did she know the frustration of being ignored, or worse yet spoken over because she'd been young when she'd ascended to the throne of the Cove. This was a nice reprieve, especially considering Dagrun was not here to silence any that would be so discourteous to her, though in truth, Gyda hadn't needed him to intervene and had once snapped at him for it. She could handle her own, she always had, had a remarkable talent for it. Which was perhaps why she'd chosen to accompany the pregnant priestess as she fled the Bay, scared of that the life that had begun to grow within her womb would be in jeopardy if she stayed. Not by Ragnar, of course, and while Nerian had never came right out and admitted it Gyda suspected there was fear of Thistle's wrath. 

To Gyda's perplexity, the broad female lowered herself in a bow and humbled herself with flattering words of “royalty”. Interestingly enough, Gyda had scented a pack upon the woman's fur, and thus the submission (whether it was simply meant out of respect or not) baffled the Viking Queen. “Why do you bow to me?” Gyda inquired, though in a way Krypton had already explained why. Something to do with honor and royalty. “You follow the rule of another,” The Scandinavian woman spoke, her confusion evident even through the weight of her accent. “My father's achievements are his own.” Gyda did not thrive off of Ragnar's legacy — no. She made her own legacy (despite how similar it was to Ragnar's own start). 

Hearing the woman's confusion about her actions, the tawny female raised her shoulders and her head. Why did she bow when she follows another? She wondered that, but quickly answered. "Merely to show respect." She said, shifting weight from one paw to another. "You inherit the title of Alpha, do you not?" She asked, quirking a brow at the foreign wolf. Would she not like to be showed respect for the powerful position she most likely holds onto? It made Krypton's brain think for a moment before snapping back into reality. Her father was a king, wasn't he? So, that would make her a princess, wouldn't it? it made her slightly confused, most would prefer to be acknowledged with respect.

"Even if I follow another, that does not mean I cannot show respect to a daughter of a king." She reassured her answer, her tail hugging her left hind leg a little, the fur messy. It was only an act of respect, a virtue any wolf in her homeland was forced to understand or they would be ran out, or even in worse cases, they were put to death. She shook her head at the thoughts of home, even though it was strict, her family was loving.

Her ears flicked forward when the wolfess spoke about her father's achievements, how they were only his own and not hers. At first she was confused. She didn't understand what they meant, but she started to sprout ideas. Maybe this she-wolf preferred her own path, her own image rather than standing in the shadow of her father's? Maybe she wanted to be seen as different? Whatever the reason was, Krypton was curious. She couldn't help but ask a final question. "Do you wish to be seen different from your father?" She asked, hopefully not going too deep into personal things.

“Thank you,” Gyda offered diplomatically because she did not wish to be rude. “but I would not have inherited my father's title with his passing. It would have went to my oldest sibling that remained with the pack,” And of her litter Gyda had been the last born, though Mercury had left a long time ago. She supposed that if Thistle would have stepped down the rank would be held now by Gunnar ...yet she had not believed that Gunnar would have ever left Stavanger Bay. The truth was, though, that her littermates were strangers to her — just as she was to them, in all fairness. “I am a Queen,” Gyda informed though gave a thoughtful pause as she considered how to word the traditions of her culture. “but not by by my father. I returned to his birth place and challenged it's alpha and won. In my culture fights for leadership are to the death and to refuse is dishonor.” And no one wanted to dishonor the Gods by refusing a duel even if it was to the death. It was simply how the Vikings did things. It was an honorable death, at the very least and that was what mattered the most.

“I ...do not know what as become of my family,” Aside from Ragnar's death, she meant though Gyda did not express this aloud as she glimpsed, forlorn down at the mount of earth she stood over. Her heart gave a painful palpitation within her breast and she looked away, quickly, fixating her eyes upon Krypton instead. Feigning composure was quite easy, she found, though it helped that she had something to keep her mind from the corpse within the ritualistic mound. 

For a long stretch of moments Gyda was silent, mulling over the inquiry Krypton posed her way, weighing her thoughts upon the matter. At first, Gyda did not quite understand the question, which adhered to her prolonged contemplation though, eventually, the Viking Queen was able to place the pieces together to get the gist of what had been asked of her. “I...do not know,” And that was the complicated truth of it. “He was a legend, like a hero right out of the Sagas. He was a great leader and he has inspired me in so many ways,” She gave a slightly hedging pause. “but I am my own woman and I want to inspire my own Sagas.”

Her slightly-curved ears flicked forward at the other wolfess' words. She at least thanked her; Krypton had done something right. But upon hearing about the inheritance differences, Krypton felt a little confused. Of coarse, the oldest sibling would gain the title if the former alpha passes, but Gyda seemed to be one of the most maturest wolf's she had ever met (even if she hadn't met the other siblings). Humble was the only word that could describe Gyda in Krypton's mind. Hearing how Gyda spoke about being a queen, Krypton could only nod. Although she didn't fully understand Gyda's system of rules and traditions for her pack culture, it didn't mean Krypton couldn't respect it.

However, she was surprised for a fight to the death just for the title of alpha. Normally around Teekon, wolves who lost would just go into a normal ranking or be ran out; but never had she heard of the formal alpha being put to death. In her eyes, when Krypton looked at Gyda, she saw humbleness no doubt, but she saw a spark of something else that she couldn't quite name. That would bug her until she could name it off.

In her own family, death was a tragedy, but also an extreme penalty. Normally if an alpha battle is lost by the former alpha, the new reigning alpha can either choose to run the former out, keep them in the lower ranks, or in rare cases, be put to death. That only happened if the former alpha was found of tyranny and what not. It was not normal though for that to happen, she hadn't seen met a tyrant alpha before. However, death was a penalty made only to those who did not abide by the laws of the land; to those who were reckless and showed no respect or dignity. Then was the only time death was acceptable. Krypton felt a little relieved to not have been born into Gyda's culture.

Krypton felt saddened when Gyda spoke about not knowing what has become of her family. It made her think for a little, she doesn't even know what happened after she ran away a year ago from her own family. Then, the wolfess answered the last question with a little bit of a pause, as if she was unsure with her answer.

Hearing how the wolfess spoke about her father, how he was a legend; Krypton smiled at Gyda when she said he inspired her. But when she spoke about her independence from her father's own views from others, Krypton couldn't agree more. Even if your own family members from the past live up to a high name, not everyone can live in their shadows. Gyda wanted to be her own legend, to inspire her own; Krypton could not argue with her. 

"Carving out your own legend?" She asked first, before reassuring her question with a statement. "Not many are brave enough to venture and make their own shadow; their own tale. You are a brave woman." She said gently, a calm look adjourning her fluffy face. Never before had the tawny female met a wolf like Gyda; she was truly a one of a kind to Krypton. 

Krypton was attentive, and this was a trait that Gyda found to be admirable. While Gyda never sought to be the center of attention she enjoyed knowing that her company was, at least, paying attention to what she had to say even if it was only out of respect. Gyda had been Ragnar's favorite, but she had never let that spoil her. She felt as if she had always needed to work twice as hard as her brothers to prove her spot in the Viking world despite that women were respected in their culture. Free women, that was. Not slaves, like Nerian, though her father's Priestess Wife had became a free woman when Ragnar had taken her as his mate alongside Thistle. Dagrun's own mother had been a slave woman, she remembered the Jarl confessing to her upon her arrival and initial search for the heavily pregnant Priestess. Still, the attention was nice even if Gyda chose not to allow herself to bask in it for too long. Gyda had seen the tyranny arrogance and ego could become, it was why she had fought it; and why Ragnar had fought his eldest brother: Björn.

“I want to be like him but I do not want to be him,” And if that made any sense to her companion or not Gyda wasn't sure. To her, it made perfect sense. To inherit his success made her feel like she was trying to be Ragnar ...and it was no way to become anything. Power was earned. Trust and faith were earned. They should never be given. At least, this was how she thought (never mind that it entirely disagreed with her younger brother: Tevinter's thought process). A coquette smile played across Gyda's muzzle as she leveled a charming glance in Krypton's direction. “A very wise woman once told me that the Gods smile upon brave women.” The Gods had meant everything to Ragnar and because her father adored them, so too, did Gyda. They were the center of her own world and she revered them. "I have seen nothing that is untrue in that."

With a calm expression on her face, the tawny female kept her gaze on Gyda. When she said about being alike her father, any offspring would wish to be like their parents. However, Gyda threw Krypton of when she said she wants to be like him, but not a spitting image of him. It was somewhat a conflict to her, not be the entire wolf but be somewhat alike? It sort of made sense, but not entirely. However, she would just show she did, it almost made complete sense, but there were just a few missing pieces to the puzzle.

When Gyda spoke about her gods, Krypton was very curious about them. Never had she really heard of having more than one god, she only had her main god she would pray to. Hearing how Gyda's gods smiled upon the brave women of the world, Krypton nodded her head and smiled. She didn't really know the gender of her god, she just knew that he/she was a god and she was to follow him/her in the best way possible.

Nothing was untrue in her statement, women are brave just like males are in the world. "Indeed there is not. You wish to be like your father, but not the exact version of him? You wish to earn what he had and not be given it?" She asked, hopefully making sense to Gyda. It made sense if that what was she was after. There is no honor in being given something. It is honorable to earn anything you put your heart and mind to.

In the faith of the Northmen there were many Gods — some male and some female. They each played their own part, their own role critical to the Norse culture. Gyda did not fathom having only one God well at all, though Nerian had spoken of her strange and enigmatic deity enough. Gyda had not scoffed the Priestess for her faith, would never question his father's priestess wife to her face but Gyda could not make herself believe in just one. It ...everything was simply too much for one deity to rule. Odinn reigned as the sort of “King” of the Gods, but he was not alone. Freyja was his queen, the warrior goddess. And there was Thor, and Frigga, and Loki, Tyr and Hel. The mental list could have went on would Gyda not have re-focused her attention upon the topic at hand.

Brave. So many had such varying opinions on what constituted bravery; some say it borderlined on reckless abandon — but Gyda was not a reckless woman. She was ambitious. She was cunning and observant. Not unlike many women, surely. A Viking Queen she might have been but she was still just a woman. The only thing that separated the Valkyrie from the sheep was that she was not afraid to make the jump for what she wanted. She didn't settle, whether that was her mother or father's (or both) influence. She was concise. She knew what she wanted and she did not fear rejection. Rejection was not the end of the world — it could easily be chalked up to a learning experience. As Ragnar had once told her: rejection closed one door so that another might open.

“I want to feast and fight alongside him in Valhalla,” The young Queen admitted in a tenor so soft it was nearly a whisper. “but I want to make him proud. There is no honor in claiming something that I had nothing to do with. Always, I have had to prove myself. It is the ...standards I uphold for myself. I do not fear challenge, neither do I fear rejection.” Was that what made her brave? Or was it something that she did not yet recognize in herself.

Gyda's voice was so soft when she spoke, Krypton could barely understand her. Her ears were able to pick up her words though, Gyda wanting to eat and battle alongside her father in Valhalla. Krypton portrayed the place to be heaven and agreed with her. She wished she could meet Cloud again, even just one time before she too perishes.

Making her father proud sounded to be a goal for Gyda. Of coarse any child would wish to make their parents proud, it was a main power source for the way many act. Hearing how Gyda didn't fear what most did, nor did she wish to claim something that she didn't earn; it encouraged Krypton. Never had she met a wolf that was so driven, passionate about something she holds dear. Most of those whom she had met, they had minimal goals in life. 

When she spoke about proving herself, Krypton knew that too well. As a pup, she was first born and held to the highest standards possible. In combat or medicine, stamina building or hunting; she would always have to be the best no matter what. If she failed, she was only shown faces of disappointment, expressions she loathed to see. 

"You hold a courage not many have. You hold it without the strings of ignorance tied into it. I have never met someone who had only the positive thrive in them." She offered to her. Her words weren't lies, many wolves who were courageous held onto their ignorance, it was almost a side effect to be brave. Krypton never felt very brave, she knew it too. Although as a puppy she was fearless, she grew up to be a coward after her past events. She is at least able to smuggle those feelings with an emotionless face.

We can continue on for a few more posts with Gyda captializing on the inner territories of the Bay or we can fade to a close with your post. It doesn't matter to me! c:

The praise that Krypton offered the young Viking Queen did not go unnoticed, nor thankless. Gyda might not have thought herself arrogant but she enjoyed the flattery — like most young girls do. She liked to know that she had impressed, she liked to be admired. Was this what it felt like to Ragnar who had been both admired and feared? The fuzzy warm feeling that blossomed within Gyda's chest and spread to her cheeks with subtle hints of humility. It was not every day she was praised by a stranger and only for a moment did Gyda allow herself to bask in it. It felt dangerous though, basking too long in the praise and the way in which it lifted her spirits. As if it would be all too easy to get drunk in it. It proved a nice and useful distraction from the grief clouding her heart for the moment. “You are kind,” Gyda murmured, perhaps a bit bashfully. This easy compliment was not something she was used to. Perhaps the Vikings were just a harder bunch to please but Gyda felt as if she had not truly done anything to earn Krypton's praise. Still, she accepted it nevertheless. It would be rude otherwise.

“You spoke of exploring, no? Come,” Gyda invited with a sweep of her silver tail and a gesture of her elegant muzzle. “I will show you around,” Stavanger Bay was still Gyda's home ...or perhaps a home she was not ready to yet let go of, though she understood that it was only because it had been precious to Ragnar and it was the resting place of his corporeal body. Her mother had found the courage to move on ...and now, so too shall she. “It is overgrown from time without the pack but I remember.” Even though it looked a little different, and though the damage done by whatever storm had moved through it made those reaches of the Bay perhaps unsafe to travel to she still knew these lands like she knew the back of her own paw.

A few more should be good! Kryp has been all over the map and needs to get home :D

The female looked a little bashful from Krypton's words. The tawny female smiled a bit, she liked flattering others, it made her feel happy that others felt happy about themselves or words that are kind. Hearing Gyda's own kind words, Krypton smiled even more. It was nice to hear that every once in a while, especially from a stranger.

Hearing how Gyda offered to show Krypton around, she happily obliged and nodded her head. Knowing the land would be an amazing skill for her to master, and it would most certainly be a useful one for herself. Krypton walked after the wolfess, curious about the bay that they were in. Gyda's words about the land made Krypton catch up to her shoulder and look around. The land was quite beautiful in her eyes, something about just gave off a sense of mystery and a past only few could imagine.

Ah, we had inner territories written up but they were never added to the pack record, eep. Ok, going to try to pull these from memory though I may get the names wrong, lol.

The woman's response was a silent one, though she offered a nod of her head. Gyda took that as her go ahead. “We will start here. This place had no name before but now it shall be Dalurinn konunga,” The Norse spilled from her lips easily, smoothly as she named the final resting place of Ragnar. “It loosely translates to The Valley Of Kings.” Gyda's words made it sound like she intended to return here, that one day all the great Viking Kings that ruled this bay would join Ragnar. Perhaps they would, and Queens too. Gyda may have looked sweet as honey and docile as a kitten but beneath that charm and beauty she was a fierce as the father that had raised her, and just as ambitious; and little good had came from that with Ragnar. He'd made many enemies with his brutality, yet that was the way of life. The strongest survived and you were either a wolf or a sheep. Peace treaties were useless things to her, and friendships with other packs were loose things. 

Giving it a name gave Gyda some closure though she would reflect upon her grief when she was alone. For now, she tucked it aside as best she could for the sake of her company. She had offered to give a tour of her once home and she would not allow her grief to put a damper upon it. With a gesture of her muzzle in the direction she planned to take Krypton, Gyda led the way pushing into the ash forest. She tried to pull up her mental map of the Bay, trying to determine which inner territory was the closest to their current position. The overgrown tangles and burnt splotches of forest had her recalculating (albeit without the annoying confirmation of a gps) a bit in an effort not to lose her way. Gyda did not reach out to break the silence that had settled between the two women before she shrugged into a familiar clearing. 

“My father called this clearing præll Halda, the slave keep,” Speaking with someone in the common tongue was beginning to become a little easier for the viking queen, offering common translations before she was asked. “Slaves are essential to my culture, my father's own priestess wife had once been his slave. He was not a gentle man but he was not heartless. He had been enraptured by the priestess and by taking her as his slave had saved her from rape and mutilation. He treated her well though she had never seen this place. Before I left my father had only taken two slaves as punishment for trespassing. He could have killed them but he did not. They stayed here for a month, contributing to Stavanger Bay and then he let them go to spread the word that the next trespassers would suffer a fate worse than death at the jaws of the Viking King.” Gyda offered some history and explanation, offering Krypton a glance, unsure of how what was common and accepted in her culture would be taken by someone who was not a Viking.

She was anxious for some kind of reaction, not having known (nor did she want to know) any other type of life aside from the ones the Northmen lived. She was curious, and paused in their journey to pace the clearing, stopping when she was directly across from Krypton allowing for questions, should the other female have any.

Don't worry about it! Anything will be okay c:

Krypton followed Gyda and let her eyes wander around the land. A beautiful place indeed, she would love to venture back here. Hearing how the foreign words fell from the the other woman Krypton's large ears perked forward. The Valley of Kings for this place? Well, it did look like it belonged to kings, it was breathtaking, even in the freezing weather. Perhaps Gyda would live here or return if she ever left? She did say she was a queen, and a king is no king without a queen and subjects, right? Well, that was no matter to Krypton, she stayed silent but let her eyes shimmer with her curiosity.

Seeing how the two were entering a forest, Krypton was sure to move a little closer to make sure she didn't lose sight of Gyda. The forest looked a little intimidating to her, and the last thing she wanted to do was become lost in unfamiliar lands. Reaching a clearing, Krypton heard Gyda speak again. The slave keep, something that was considered essential to Gyda's culture. That threw Krypton out a little. Never had she heard of a pack keeping slaves.

She knew some kept coyotes as slaves, but never other wolves. It was strange, and it seemed a little harsh to keep any animal as a slave. When the woman spoke about her father and the slaves, Krypton made sure to pay attention. Gyda's history was intriguing to her, knowledge was always power of brutality in Krypton's eyes. As the female concluded her talk about her culture, Krypton felt a little curious. She at least agreed, thieves and/or trespassers deserved to be taken away or ran out. And the fact that her father let them run to spread fear about his name, that was not just a punishment made by him.

Gyda paused and looked towards Krypton, almost as if she wanted to know if the tawny female were to ask anything about her culture. Krypton didn't wish to push the limit with personal questions, but she still had to let one of them slide. "Your culture sounds like it has a better order than mine." Krypton laughed, her family at home didn't have slaves like Gyda's, nor did they have a name to fear. Her family wasn't the most stable at times, but they had times to shine brighter than any star in the night sky. "Have you taken your own slaves before?" She asked, her head tilting a little at the other woman. Gyda didn't seem very ruthless as she would describe her father, nor was she heartless (like her father). Krypton wondered about Gyda, it almost seemed as if she belonged to something else, but it was only a gaze Krypton was tossing at her. She wasn't thinking deeper, it was just light thinking, barely scratching the surface.

Krypton's assessment was a strange one to Gyda — was the Viking culture more ordered that any other? Perhaps. She didn't necessarily believe it to be so. It was chaotic and gory. It had it's own cons though to her it's pros would always outweigh them. Perhaps she romanced it too much and could not see it for what it was: brutal and ruthless. Then again, Gyda herself had conformed to these ways, had accepted them, the moment she had challenged her uncle to a duel and had won, stealing his life force but gaining the crown. She could have easily brushed it off as a seeker of justice in his tyranny. It was true that he had not been a good leader to the Cove but to claim that there was no desire for the throne ...well that would be a lie. He would have never made her a leader, and had proved this when he had laughed her offer off. “We have been called heathens, barbarians by many. Eldingar Valley is ruled by the Vikings and it is feared by them as well,” The raids upon the lesser packs were constant, though never to the point of entirely extinguishing them. Sometimes, they would offer something in return for the Vikings' protection that year: an amnesty from the raids. “The Jarl and, or, the Queen is the law but the throne isn't protected. Your spot upon it is never a guarantee. You can inspire loyalty and you can inspire trust and if you have those things you will be okay. At least until someone decides to brave a challenge.” 

Gyda shrugged. It was life and it was death; death was meant to be celebrated and a death in combat as one of the highest honors a Viking could achieve. 

A silver ear swayed in Krypton's direction as the other woman spoke before Gyda gave a gesture with her muzzle for her to follow. As they walked towards Gyda's next destination, the viking queen offered a demure smile. “I have not,” But that did not mean that she was opposed to the idea. “Mostly it is a fancy of men,” For the slave women were free game; but a tryst between a free viking woman and a slave male? That was utterly unheard of and likely taboo to boot. The walk was shorter, this time, and the clearing that came into view was abruptly and achingly familiar to her. “This is Sorg skjöld stúlku um  — the shield maiden's sorrow. My mother named it. She was extremely fond of this place, she came here often, sometimes even slept in the den she carved out there,” Gyda gestured with an elegant paw. “when she was angry with my father.” It was this place where Ragnar had told them about Nerian, who and what she was to him. She had not taken the news well, initially, but realized that Nerian hadn't been as bad as she had stubbornly considered her to be at first, believing that Ragnar had been trying to replace Thistle. That had never been the case, Gyda knew now.

Heathens? Barbarians? Vikings? Those were words Krypton hadn't heard much of. Her first thought was that must be the name of Gyda's people, or what others may call them now. The tawny woman didn't remember her own name for her people, they were either wolves or some other fancy name she couldn't remember. Hearing about the throne for the queen wasn't protected, Krypton couldn't argue with her. Sure, the title of alpha was held tightly, but never a for sure thing. That was at least common between both.

When the woman spoke about holding no slaves at any time, it made Krypton a little relieved, It destroyed her ideas of Gyda holding onto a seed if wickedness in her heart or any ideas of being a tyrant. Both women made their way to another clearing, Gyda's explanation of the place made the burly female a little saddened. Gyda's mother would stay here when she had rough tides with Ragnar.

When her parents had tough times, they never slept in different places. Sure they would leave to clear their heads, but in a mere few hours they would be back together to sleep in the den. Maybe Gyda's parents didn't have a stable relationship at the time (of coarse Krypton is one to hypothesize). The shield maiden's sorrow, a beautiful place indeed in the both woman's eyes. "Your mother found a beautiful place." She offered kindly to Gyda, her ears were pricked forward at the clearing.

Would Krypton have given voice to her hypothesis Gyda would have been happy to explain the complication and yet utter devoted love her parents shared. It was true that Ragnar and Thistle's relationship had not always been conventional but nothing about their relationship — from it's start to (Gyda presumed) it's end. Thistle had been pregnant with Gyda and her brothers and the three of them had belonged to a different man named Crete DiSarinno, and at first it had been told by Ragnar that their relationship had been founded on fondness and convenience. Love had came after; but Ragnar was a feral man and had taken the priestess Nerian as his second wife so that he had not one wife but two at the same time. Not exactly uncommon in Odinn's Cove, she had met a woman with two husbands, a woman with a female and male lover, and a man with two wives. Gyda, personally, found herself a bit baffled by the idea of sharing a mate. She wanted a love like her mother had found in her father. Fierce, passionate, scolding to the touch and yet with a devotion that even the Gods would be envious of. 

“I will miss this place,” Gyda admitted softly, and while her words could be applied specifically to Shield Maiden's Sorrow in truth they'd been meant Stavanger Bay as a whole. She did not want to move on from this place ...at least not with her father still buried in it's soil but to dig him up would surely be disgraceful. It could, even, anger the Gods. Yet, Gyda understood that she would need to. She would soon learn of the claim upon The Sentinels neighboring it's western border. Though she was not afraid of a challenge and believed she had plenty of rights (even if she didn't) she knew to be a better leader than that. Ragnar might have been territorial but he was cool and calm; and like her father before her Gyda made to utilize these traits. Besides, she had no pack to stand behind her and while she was bold and brave she was not stupid.

Sorry this is so short ;-;

The woman's eyes stayed onto the clearing. It was a beautiful sight to her, nothing like she had really seen before. Sure, there were clearings, but this one topped off her list. The tawny wolfess heard Gyda speak, one about missing the clearing. Why would she miss it, wouldn't she live her?

Krypton thought for a little, why would Gyda leave this land if it belonged to her people? Was it not rightfully hers? No, that couldn't be it... "Do you not intend to stay?" The tawny wolfess asked her, curious about her answer. Why would she not, the land was probably a good place to have a pack in.

It's perfectly ok! <3

Krypton's question did not come to the viking queen as any sort of surprise for it had likely been clear enough of Gyda's fondness for Stavanger Bay. It was her home, and more special because it had been a land her father had chose to raise his family and rule his pack. A place he'd deemed to be a safe haven against the wolves of Wheeling Gull Island because though it had been Ragnar's nature to fight he understood that it might take the life of wolves he had came to care for. He was an admirable man and Gyda hoped one day to be the ruler that he was. “No,” The word hurt more than Gyda would have cared to admit. She did not want to leave, she wished to stay and claim it and restore what her father had once built here but his grave was what was truly precious to her. She could not move it, however, and she understood that with time it would be raided or forgotten about.

Her father had went to Valhalla, that was where he was truly, more than just his corporeal being. “This is not the only territory my father held beloved to him, there is another slightly north east of here, Ravensblood Forest,” Gyda turned her eyes to the horizon for a few moments before her gaze fell back upon Krypton. “Perhaps I shall claim that, instead.”

Fade in a few posts? :)

Gyda's response confused the woman a little. This place held the burial place of her father, why would she not wish to claim it as her own? However, the other woman soon reassured her answer, stating Ravensblood Forest was a place dear to her father as well. She spoke about how she would maybe claim that place for herself. Krypton had yet to travel there, it sounded nice. Maybe if she returned she would see Gyda there, flourishing with a family or pack.

"I haven't been to that place before. Is it nice like this place?" Her words were filled with curiosity, along with her eyes. Her eyes scattered around and soon noted how the day was trying to draw itself a little closer to night. The tawny woman would hate to travel in the dark in the snow, it wouldn't be a very wise choice either. She would have to return home soon, but at least traveling was not very far away.

Sure. c:

“In it's own way; though Ravensblood Forest's beauty is more haunting than Stavanger Bay. The trees have a red sap that comes from within them and there are old stories about ravens ...but to my people ravens are not a bad omen,” No, a raven meant the Allfather was watching; though the Allfather was always watching. “Any glimpse of a raven from near or far could be Huginn or Muninn, Oðinn's ravens.” Thought and Memory. It was how he was all seeing and all knowing, though Yggdrasil had played it's part. “His favor is rare and it is a great honor.” Gyda explained to Krypton in the simplest way she knew how, attempting to mimic how Ragnar had once spoke similar words to her when she was but a child. Those memories seemed so long ago — a lifetime ago — for the viking queen, blessed by Frigga and Freyja was almost old enough to bear her own children. She had not given it much thought until lately but she had no intentions of simply settling just because she wished to be a mother, should Frigga bless her.

She was no where near finding a suitable mate, let alone a love like Ragnar and Thistle had once shared. “I heard most wolves fear it.” But not her, and if she could gather wolves to follow her into seeing her dream a reality Gyda would make sure that they would not fear it, either.