Moonspear nothing can stop us

Gyda had doubled back to Ragnar's grave after returning from her trip north, though she had taken a longer route to investigate Ravensblood Forest to ensure that it still remained unclaimed. At least there was that, she told herself attempting to find a silver lining in the clawing grasp of reality as it sunk into her again (this visit absent of Krypton's companionship) causing a painful ache in her heart. There was surely a piece of it missing, torn out the moment she had unwillingly began to make sense of the grave and to whom it belonged to. Not that she would have rather it been Thistle's, mind. The horrible truth was she would give anything for it to be any wolf other than Ragnar's decayed body beneath the ash tree and mound of dirt. The Scandinavian knew that it was a cruel thing for her to think but ...she thought it nevertheless. Knowing that it was horrible and cruel didn't change the fact that it was how she felt and what she wished for; but of course Ragnar's scent was no where to be found and thus it was the only logical conclusion the shield-maiden could draw. 

A hefty sigh had left her lips as she had torn herself away from her father's burial place to follow the unfamiliar scents laced with a scent she would recognize anywhere: Thistle's. So long as she followed the scents she felt confident they would lead her to where ever it was her mother settled ...and if they did not then she was determined to get answers. She would see her mother, of that there was no room to negotiate. The trail had taken her past The Sentinels through the Honeyed Pasture, down into the Deepwood Weald, around Moonstone Quarry, and through Silverlight Terrace to a towering peak. She stood back now, more than a respectful distance from the pack's borders, though the viking had drawn nearer to sniff at them, to assure herself that Thistle was indeed here and she had not been led on some wild goose chase through what felt like most of the southern half of the Teekon. 

The strong scent of her mother, while not as strong as some of the other scents, confirmed that her mother was here. Or, at the very least, had been here. Inside Gyda was anxious with longing and a bit of nerves. Her and Ragnar had fought and that was the last time she'd seen either of her parents, and she wanted to fix that though she would never have the chance to apologize to Ragnar and confirm that she'd been a stupid teenager. At least until her death and ascension into Valhalla; at least she could apologize to Thistle. That was what she could do and so it was what she would do. Tipping her silver muzzle towards the sky Gyda let out a howl, announcing her presence and waited for one of Moonspear's wolves to greet her.

It had gotten a little crowded on the mountain, with a few new wolves added to the ranks. Dash wasn't all the comfortable in a large group, and had mostly kept to the outskirts of the pack lands, weaving in and out of the territory. Most of the other wolves stayed further within the territory, so he had less of a chance of running in to them.

But, the sound of a howl at the borders hit him with the harsh realities of his new life. There was no avoiding wolves that you lived with, and there was no avoiding new ones that arrived. As much as he tried to push himself into socializing, there were still many days that only his solitude would get rid of his anxiety.

Being Gamma of the pack, Dash knew he needed to set an example for the others and be more proactive. Charon and Amekaze had seen fit to promote him thus far, but the howl that ran out a few days ago had confused him. Floki, a wolf lower in rank than he, had been promoted to Beta over him. What did that mean? Dash wasn't good at being dominant anyways, but there was still a sting at being denied the promotion.

With a sigh, Dash headed towards the stranger, stopping at the border line of the pack lands. She was a petite wolf, silver in color. His stance was mostly neutral towards her, but his ears were perked in interest. Hello, he said simply. What can I do for you?

“Hello,” The viking queen mirrored the ebony male as he came materialized from the shadows cast by the towering peak in the very near distance. Eyes of Caribbean ice studied him for a moment, naturally drawing the assumption that he was one of the guardians of Moonspear. The greeter's stance was neutral towards her and Gyda returned the favor, maintaining her a regal sort of elegance, though it was subtle. She was not apart of their pack and would never bow to another again. Ragnar had been right with his deduction in that at least, power was dangerous. It had given Gyda a confidence that she'd never had before (though winning her duel with her uncle had helped as well). She understood how her father felt and why he had never truly given it up. He'd always been in charge, if not as the figure head then pulling the strings with his cunning. She had not aspired to be the same but she had found herself in the position of having favor and knowing Vali's tyranny had to be brought to an end whether she was the one to do it or her half-uncle Dagrun; not entirely unlike Ragnar's own ascension to the helm of the Cove (though there were notable differences).

“I am Gyda,” She introduced simply, “daughter of Ragnar and Thistle Cloud Loðbrok. Do you know if my mother is around?”

Her voice seemed pleasant enough as she return his hello, and her stance, while not submissive wasn't dominant, either. Dash was always a bit unnerved meeting wolves at the borders alone since he didn't feel very qualified to meet some of their inquires. If they were interested in joining, he couldn't help them since it wasn't up to him to approve them.

But, right now he needed to push that aside. If he thought carefully, surely he could do something, depending on what she needed. He wasn't expecting what she said, however, and his eyes showed his surprise. He knew Thistle had children, some of which where here in the pack, but he hadn't expected one to show up at the borders. He wondered why she simply hadn't called for her mother directly, but he didn't ask. I'm Dash, he replied. I'm not sure where your Mom is exactly, but I'm sure she's around, he said. Thistle had spoke of visiting her previous home by the beach, but those were plans for the spring, not now. I could call for her, if you like? he asked, not assuming he should go ahead and do so.

Ok, so for the sake of Gyda's wonky timeline i'm going to say this is after her visit to DL so that it makes more sense, lol *makes a few tweaks*

He offered her his own name. Strange to her though it was. Dash. She was used to Norse names...or names like Thurinwethil's own. It was strange given that she had grown up (partially) in these Wilds and yet they seemed so foreign to her upon her return. The one thing she had counted on to stay the same was changed too. Gone; her father feasting and fighting in Valhalla. No doubt where he belonged as the strongest of warriors but she could help the small part of her that was cross that spoke that he belonged here in Midgard. He explained that he wasn't sure where Thistle was precisely but that he believed her to be “around”. It was vague and for a brief moment the viking queen's icy gaze sized him up, a slight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Gyda could smell that Thistle did not lead here ...for if she did her scent would be the strongest as Ragnar's had been at the once Stavanger Bay. This confirmed what the monochrome colored male had told her (not that she'd had any reason to disbelieve him). Nothing made sense to her, only speaking with Thistle would truly clear up her confusion ...and of that there was plenty.

Dash made the offer of calling for her and Gyda thought it over for a moment, weighing her fierce desire to see something familiar and the nerves that her mother might hate her for leaving with Nerian and coming back only to fight with Ragnar before leaving once more. Gyda had amends to make and she knew that Thistle was the only one with whom she could reconcile. “Yes, we have much we should discuss.” She eventually responded to his offer, giving him a small smile.

Okay :-)

He caught her gaze, his own narrowing ever so slightly. He wasn't sure what she was thinking, but she was obviously not the normal submissive and respectful wolf that generally graced their borders. Gyda seemed rather unhappy with his answer, but it was what it was. Had he known where Thistle was, he wouldn't have an issue with telling her.

She seemed to take her time in answering his question. Being a mostly patient wolf, it didn't bother Dash to wait. When she finally confirmed she did, in fact, want her called, Dash lifted his muzzle to the sky and howled for @Thistle Cloud.

He sat back on his haunches, his now-relaxed gaze, caused by her small smile, mostly centered on Gyda, watching her. She seemed quiet, like him, saying only what needed to be said and not bothering with idle chat. Dash wasn't usually one to try and make conversation to pass the time, preferring to watch quietly instead.

Thistle heard the small call and she looked around unsure. It was a requesting howl, but to be truthful she didn't want to leave the comfort of her den. There were small pelts and it was pretty. She had made it herself, something to occupy her time, to fill the void of lonliness. She tilted her head and trotted towards the borders, but was stopped short by the sight that met her. Dash and she stared at the female studying her, was that her Gyda? After so long. She made to ghost forward and then stopped unsure if her daughter would want her attention. Most of her children in her own mind hated her, thought she was terrible. Whether it was true, or her own self-loathing projections she wasn't sure. So instead she studied her daughter with apprehension and then spoke knowing if the girl understood the harsh language it was Gyda.

Gyða er að þér?

The wait was one that had Gyda nearly humming with anticipation. She was a mix of feelings, unsure how Thistle would take the news. In Gyda's mind her mother was angry with her ...this was a play off of the belief that Ragnar was still angry with her when he'd passed to Valhalla. It wasn't too far of a stretch for her to imagine that he hadn't forgiven her because Ragnar had been known to hold grudges. This caused much pain and unrest within the shield-maiden's heart. She sucked in her breath when her mother's frame came into view. That was the moment that everything — including Dash's presence — disappeared and it was just her and her mother. Everything came rushing to the Scandinavian at once, unbidden, like a flood gate wrenching itself open. 

Thouugh Gyda had believed she had wept every tear she was ever going to have over Ragnar's death they welled, hot at her eyelids all the same. Yet, she held herself tall and proud though her heart was breaking all over again. “það er mér, móðir” She breathed in the guttural language of her people and took an uneven breath. “I have found his g-grave,” Thinking and speaking of Ragnar had broke down her pride and she stuttered over the word. “I never got to apologize or tell him that I loved him.” ...in a way that she could not entirely claim was the love a daughter was supposed to have for her father — even an adopted one. It was her darkest secret and she was terrified of it though it didn't much matter anymore. He was in Valhalla and she had no choice but to mourn him and move on. “Did he hate me? Did he die hating me?” Gyda asked, the tears breaking free. She didn't entirely want to know but at the same time she did ...not that she was sure what she was going to do with the knowledge if he had died hating her.

Dash kept his comfortable silence as they waited for Thistle Cloud to arrive. It didn't take long. Thistle's attention was on the stranger, and the stranger's attention was on Thistle. When Gyda began speaking in a language he didn't understand, and then speaking of someone's grave, Dash knew it was time to give them their privacy.

Without a word, he stood and turned to head back into the territory, confident that if Thistle needed him, she would call.

Last from me :-)

Thistle had never been angry with her children for leaving. Disappointed, saddened, upset, a crushing feeling of self doubt, but she did not blame them, nor would she ever. Just as Ragnar didn't, pups grew up and left it was the natural order of things. Always had been, always would be it was instinct. Thistle felt her heart sieze at her daughters expression.

Thistle smield softly at the girl and shook her head. He did note hate you Gyda. He loved you, you were his gilded princess and he was disappointed of course, but he did not hate you. I believe he was more upset with Nerian than anything. It is okay my dear.

Thistle would never know what her words did to soothe her daughter's worries, which had not truly ceased since the moment she found Stavanger Bay to be abandoned and to be left to the assumption that it was Ragnar beneath that great ash tree at it's heart. “Oh mother,” Gyda sighed, teary eyed, her voice catching only once. “I miss him.” Those words did not even feel adequate enough to explain the hole left in her heart by his ascension to Valhalla. Gyda knew it was something to rejoice, that she was meant to celebrate where Ragnar had always dreamed of one day being: fighting and feasting alongside Oðinn. Out of every brave warrior she knew ...Ragnar had deserved it the most and she would never dispute that. Yet, no one had ever told her how much death, despite the joy she was supposed to feel, hurt. It ached like a festered wound, stubbornly refusing to close. Perhaps it never would. “And I have missed you,” Gyda spoke, willing her mother to cross the borderlines so that she might seek the comfort of her embrace.

“Are you mad at me?” Gyda asked after a pause, voice soft, timid as it was when she had been but a girl. In her mother's presence ...that was how she felt: like a child once more. Not the queen nor woman she'd become but the small girl who adored her father's stories of battles and Gods. Romanced by the Valkyries and their Queen ...one of three that Gyda had aspired to be just like. The Second (though not in second or third place by any means) was the woman standing before her. She had strong women influences in her life: her mother being the strongest, stronger even then Frigga and Frejya. “Perhaps it makes no difference but the Priestess was scared and she needed me, she needed my strength; she needed me to protect her.” Though Ragnar had always made her feel like she was the apple of his eye, it had been nice to be needed, and she allowed the Priestess to rely on her. Her brothers were boys, they were expected to be stronger, and Ragnar had never made a secret out of wanting boys.

“I have lived among the wolves of Oðinn's Cove,” She took a pause and added, demurely, humbly. “And I have led them, mother, as Ragnar did. I ended Vali's tyrannical reign,” Gyda did not specify how, knowing that Thistle would be privy as to how it happened, smart enough to put the puzzle pieces together. It was simply how the Vikings did it. An honorable fight to the death. “but my home is here and so, too, shall my rule be.” Gyda spoke. “I made a friend from a neighboring pack to the Cove, her name is Thuringwethil and together we will lay claim to Sleeping Dragon in the North.” Gyda informed her, pausing to take a small breath. “You could come with me.” She did not speak it as a plea, nor would she.

Gyda never wanted her mother to feel obligated to do anything (not that Thistle would do anything she didn't want too), even so she left it open as an option ...for now and later should Thistle decide that she wished to depart with Moonspear.

Thistle frowned softly and shook her head. I miss him too Gyda. More than anyone will probably ever know. But we shall rejoice in his name whilst still grieving now, after all he sleeps in the halls of Valhalla and that is something he would always want. Thistle would not, could not deny that death hurt. That she herself had been morose and inconsolable up until recently with his death. Thistle moved her petite body forward, even her daughter was larger than she now. She licked her face gently if she allow her too.

Thistle scoffed softly and shook her head. No Gyda I could not be mad at you. Yes Nerian needed someone to take care of her all the time. Thistle had been friends wtih Nerian, even agreed to share her husband with him, but she would be lying if at times it still didn't rub her the wrong way, but that was the past, something she was detemind toremember but also to move from. 

Thistle's ears went forward and she smiled. Ah so you met Floki, and Dagrun, both wonderfful as your fathers tales? I have never met Floki, perhaps someday, but Dagrun I remember him. He was much like your father though at times a little wilder I believe. Her next words caused Thistle pause and she smiled. I am glad you are going to be a queen little one. There is nothing quite like it. I will remember that, thank you.

“I know it is where he always wanted to be,” She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. “Our fates are already written by the Gods, Odin decided that he needed Ragnar more than we did,” Another brave warrior to join the Allfather's ranks in preperation for Ragnarok. “Yet I cannot help but think that it is not fair. That we need him more than Odin.” Gyda loved the Gods as Ragnar had, devout to them as he'd been. This loyalty and love she had learned from him, fascinated as a girl by the rituals he would hold no matter how macabre. “I did not mind the Prietess' need of me.” Gyda admitted to Thistle, glimpsing down away from her mother's face. She could not  bring herself to admit what she knew and what she suspected none of the others, even Ragnar himself, knew. It was not Gyda's secret to tell, anyhow.

“Floki is eccentric,” Gyda said with a small chuckle accented with the fondest of smiles. “but he is an amazing healer, like you,” Gyda suspected the Floki and her mother would get along quite well, if not for this shared passion alone. “I like Dagrun very much,” Gyda spoke. “He finished the training I had started with Ragnar, and helped me end Vali's tyranny. When I stepped up as the Cove's Queen I made him my Jarl, my co-alpha.” Of course Thistle was savvy to the words of the Northmen and yet Gyda had gotten into the habit of explaining them anyway. “He is very ambitious, but are not all men?” Women too, though of that Gyda needed no reminding. She, herself, was quite ambitious, if her rise to power so young and desire to keep it was of any major indication.

“At least promise me you will visit. I know we will be far away but I would like to see you more often. There is so much to talk about.” Much that Gyda didn't even know about — like her siblings for one.