Thistle Cloud woke with a small sigh, her belly was cramping and she felt odd. Standing trying not to wake her life mate, though knowing Ragnar one small movement and he'd be up she headed towards the small water inlet in the pack lands. She needed a drink and she needed to pee badly. Walking swiftly from the den towards the water she felt funny as if she was off balance and off center and she didn't quite understand why. As she approached the water a small happy sigh settled from hers lips. At the moment she was content with life and couldn't help but love the little ones that were growing in her womb.
She bent her head to the water and looked all around before taking a drink. As she lifted her head small droplets of water fell from her maw and she happened to glimpse down and a surprise gasp came from her. She looked again sure enough not only were her teats a little swollen, but she felt a little bigger she measured her belly gently with her paw and realized yes she was bigger, it was a very small change and not many would notice it, but being that it was her body she did notice. It was then that the reality really did crash down, she really was going to be having pups in about 5 weeks. She smiled to herself as she sat down. She wondered who they would look like, she was unsure who their father would be now after all both men had staked a claim and one had kept his claim and would forever, so it didn't really matter she supposed Ragnar was their father regardless.
She smiled to herself again and allowed her tail to gently move to and fro as she day dreamed and imagined little ones at her feet. Perhaps they would have her coloring or maybe they would be white or dark black. Would she have boys or girls? Would they have blue eyes or green eyes or even amber? She knew that pups could come in all colors, there were some that could look exactly like their grandparents she wondered if she would have a male exact coloring just like her father. She smiled again and lay down to take a rest before walking back to the den and Ragnar.
They were all but certain that Thistle was pregnant, though Ragnar had called it before it had even been addressed at the meeting having known about her initial tryst with the Plateau male Crete - it was unfortunate that Ragnar remembered his name, probably because he distinctly remembered the jealousy he associated with the stranger when he heard Thistle speak of him as if he were the stars (or rather how she had spoken of him) or some sort of God that she revered, all the while remembering his own night with Thistle in the Allfather’s sacred grounds if only because there had been a part of Ragnar that was and remained still surprised that Thistle had accepted his advances instead of rejecting them. Unfortuantly for Thistle - for Ragnar was a light sleeper (and with good reason) her attempts at rousing from his side without awaking him had failed though he did not immediately let on that he had awoken. His eyes remained closed, his body in the position it had been in within his slumber though he listened for her departure from the den they now shared. It was big enough for them but he wondered if it would be appropriate for a birthing den, if it could house them and the little ones when they came. She and they would need their space.
Only after he had ascertained that she was far enough from the den, no longer able to hear her heavy and awkward footsteps upon the earth did Ragnar push himself to his paws, shrugging out of the mouth of the den, figuring he would play it like she hadn’t woken him. Knowing her it would probably upset her and that was silly. Apparently, he caught her making her way back to the den from the water her body looking different than it had. It was likely her sides had been rounding out before he just had not taken notice to the subtle changes in her body. Today, however, the Viking noticed it. “Do you feel them inside you now?” Ragnar asked his wife as he closed the distance towards her. “You are beginning to show.” In case she was not aware of the fact.
She smiled at Ragnar and nuzzled him gently as she was walking, but she sat down to enjoy the air and she found herself tiring quickly as of late which was part of the fact that she was pregnant. She chuckled at his blunt words, he did not sugar coat anything. "I haven't yet, but I should soon probably within the next few days or week. Yes I know I am showing I noticed just now when I went to get a drink. I am sorry if I woke you. It was kind of funny to her that she noticed today when she hadn't noticed before that. How could she start to grow so quickly in a day but the ways of pregnancy were strange and varied.
As it stood, Horizon Ridge had no Caretaker, no Midwife, nothing and no one to assist Thistle with the preperations of the birthing of their children - unless there was something one of their pack mates had not been telling them - and because Thistle was young - having likely just reached her sexual maturity sometime before Crete and her copulated - it made Ragnar nervous. Instincts were all well and good, and would without a doubt in his mind kick in for her when the time came but it would be her first time and what if something went wrong? It was a morbid thought that whispered like a devil in the back of his mind but it had and did happen. It had happened to Dagmar. His ex-wife’s (one of them anyway) pregnancy was not something he would have considered useful to use in this situation, for the babes had came rushing out of her in a pool of blood, each and every one of them still and lifeless. There had been no joy only pain (for Dagmar both physical and otherwise).
Ragnar did not count that as a real birthing because they had been aborted by Dagmar’s body.
The nerves within the scars upon the left side of his face perceived most touch as pleasure that was felt there in a sickeningly sweet feeling and it was that feeling that rushed through the side of his face when she nuzzled him there. Ragnar watched her sit down, assuming that she needed a rest from the short walk, enjoying the sound of her chuckle. “Do you think they recognize voices yet?” On a spontaneous urge, something he had never felt the need to do when Dagmar had been carrying, he moved to her side and bowed his head so his forehead was lightly touching one of her rounded and slightly extended sides. “Odinn tells me you are all healthy and strong in there,” He nearly cooed to her womb, wondering what kind of specticle he - the fierce Viking made cooing to his and Thistle’s unborn children. “It is fine,” He spoke to Thistle now. “I sleep lightly.” Vigilance even in his slumber was important for the protection of his family, anyway.
Thistle laughed "of course they are strong look who their dad is. She hadn't even thought about it it just slipped out and in her mind he was indeed their father whether he was biologically their father or not. She knew he was a light sleeper and she was happy for the fact that he could protect them even at night.
Ragnar understood that miscarriages like Dagmar’s were not common, and further understood that most births went off without a hitch but he also knew that on the flip side of that things could happen. If something were to go wrong - not that he was determined that anything would, these children were blessed by Odinn after all - he wondered if Thistle’s medical knowledge would be of any help to her because he knew that in hindsight he would be of no help. He should have, Gods above knew that he had enough wives in his short span of life thus far, but only Dagmar had been old enough when he had been old enough and that had been a cursed pregnancy from the start. Things were inherently different this time, here, with Thistle, Ragnar felt it in the marrow of his bones. Odinn had brought him here to make Vikings and rise a Viking pack within these posh summer lands - of course Ragnar had not thought that the Allfather had meant make babes, the devout Jarl had thought simply he meant by conversion. Of course, that was possibly what the Allfather had meant too but the fresh, impressionable minds of their children would be more suspectable to accepting his ways then someone who had lived differently.
He planned on converting Thistle, too, having already, briefly, discussed it with her assuring her that as long as she respected his Gods that they would not require devotion from her, that she would be welcomed as a Viking so long as she respected them.
Thinking about her giving birth made Ragnar wish desperately for Floki’s presence, knowing that Floki would have been invaluable, and would have been able to assist him in teaching the babes and Thistle their ways. It had been easy to teach Týr their ways because the boy had lost his memory during the struggle when they had captured him. Floki had healed him and had begun weaving the grand lie of a story that he was Ragnar’s son. The boy had been young enough that it was a belivable enough lie though Ragnar had never given his age because it hadn’t mattered. Thinking about his son located up north reminded Ragnar that he had never spoken of Týr to Thistle. It wasn’t as if Ragnar forgot about him, no his affection for his
stolenadopted son had not diminished in the promise of new sons but he had never, prior to his mateship to Thistle, thought to inform her.
“You are strong too, shield maiden,” He murmured to Thistle, bestowing one of her many titles upon her in a gentle manner. She might not have been a warrior like shield maidens were supposed to be, but she was just as strong as any of them. Idly, Ragnar wondered how much detail he wanted to go into in regards to Týr before deciding that she already knew of his ways that likely the boy’s capture would (he hoped) come of no surprise to her.
“I have not told you yet but they have an older brother, his name is Týr,” Ragnar began letting his gaze rest upon Thistle’s even though she was his superior in the terms of rank. Right now, their ranks were irrelevant - this was a conversation between husband and wife not a superior and subordinate. “He resides up north in Swiftcurrent Creek. He is one of the young wolves I told you about…one of the reasons I stole my brother’s name as a monkier,” Ragnar informed her, watching her reaction. “He is not of my loins, we found him during a raid and he sustained injuries to his head during the capturing process. Floki nursed him back to health and together we weaved the story that he is my son. He knows no different and though he was intended to be a slave until he was injured, I am affectionate towards him. He is my son, just as our sons are. Someday I will take you up North so you can meet him, if you want.” It was only slightly awkward to Ragnar who was not entirely confident how Thistle would take the knowledge that they had captured a teenager and furthermore lied to him until he believed that he was a Viking and Ragnar’s son. "I should have told you sooner but for now I am letting him find his path upon his own." It was not a well rounded excuse, admittedly, but it was the truth. Ragnar had not intended to intrude upon Sveinn's life here in the Teekon Wilds knowing that the boy needed to find his own way to Odinn or Fenrir or Thor - whichever God he chose to follow, and because he had not wanted to potentially upset Thistle with the knowledge.
Thistle titled her head but kept her gaze on Ragnars and listened quietly. She was shocked at first when he spoke of them having an older brother, as she had thought all the pups had died when Dagmar had miscarried, but maybe there had been one who had been saved, but as he continued she felt a little odd. IN a way she was angry with him for taking the boy and turning him into something he was not without his consent, but at the same time if the boy had no recollection of his family he would need something to build a life upon and it spoke volumes that Ragnar accepted him as his own. She frowned as she thought of what to say. She looked down for a moment and then she looked back up. "Okay Ragnar as much as a part of me disagrees with that, i also see why you did it and I am proud of you for making him your own son rather than a slave. I do have a question though, was there anyway that he would possible regain his memories from his former life? That could pose a problem and yes I would like to meet him. She was still not happy about it, but she did understand that in away, Ragnar had given the poor child a better life than he would have had, he would have had nothing but blank spaces and it could cause serious problems later on.
Ragnar listened respectfully when Thistle posed her question to him, no doubt speaking of the scars that marred the left partion of his face, carefully arranged and designed though to most they without a doubt simply looked ugly. Ragnar had never expected anyone to understand their symbolism and their meaning to him. They were supposed to be arranged to form a disjoined raven - Odinn’s mark. Her question was fair but simply reminded Ragnar of how much he had yet to teach Thistle. “It is not something that is expected of us, if that is what you are asking. It was my choice,” Ragnar informed her with a thoughtful undercurrent. “It is Odinn’s mark - a raven. My father carved it into me when I became the lead Berserker shortly before he died and if, someday, they want marks of their own, I will bestow the same honor.” Ragnar would not refuse their sons if they too, wished to bear a mark of a God upon their face/body.
Thistle did not seem overly outraged at him when she finally spoke in response to Týr as she had when he had told her of Dagmar, though she did not sound overtly enthused, either. In hindsight, Ragnar realized that he could not blame her for though he assumed she was more upset that he had not told her sooner than she was about the fact that they had taken the boy captive. That, however, proved to not be the exact case. “I have taken many captives in my short life, Thistle, I have killed many. I know these things seem wrong to you but it is the way of life for me. I don’t expect you to agree with it, and I will perform the Rite Of Passage to make you recognized as a Viking but you don’t have to participate with me in the way of life as in Raids and Slaves and things if you do not wish too.” Ragnar told her demurely though he secretly hoped that she might, someday, change her mind. He wanted to share his world with her and all that it entailed. It was not exactly uncommong for them to make wives/husbands of wolves from other cultures (especially of packs they raided) but she was his first non-Viking wife and his desire to share his world with her was the truest form of trust he could ever offer her.
“Floki and I never really discussed what would happen if his memories came back,” Likely, Ragnar looked back upon it, they should have. It had been determined by Floki that his head injury would keep his past memories at bay, that he would never know different. If Sveinn regained them he would either understand why Ragnar had done what he had, or he would hate him for it. “I wouldn’t say it would cause a problem, he is just a teenage boy; and if they would awaken he will either hate me for it or understand why I did it.” Ragnar spoke offering her a nonchalant shrug not really all that worried about it.
"Take care not to worry so much Thistle, he is a docile boy." Docile for a Viking, but clear headed. He doubted that even if his memories were regained that Sveinn would take action - that wasn't the kind of wolf that he was Ragnar had learned.
Thistle stared at him for a moment just looking at him and then spoke again "yes Ragnar I know you have done these things, you did not even have to tell me. I have gotten the just of it from the small snippets you have said. Though I do not agree with it, I do know that it is your way of life and that you are that way and it is the way you are supposed to be. I cannot promise to go on raids with you or agree with slaves, but I will accept that you do. I imagine I will never go on raids as that is not in me unless I go as a healer for you and any others that are with you. she did not know where she would be. She had found that she was able to become very angry, something she had not formerly done but she had found out that she could be downright furious especially after the meeting they had had to determine her pups future. She realized that she was very much capable of many things she had not been before.
Ragnar had mentioned being a Berserker to her, likely in passing at one point before their mateship, but he knew he had not given much details of it. He inhaled deeply at her questioning and let it out in an equally as deep exhale, thoughtful for a moment. It would appear that his wife was more privy to the title than he had anticipated. “There is a mushroom that acts as a drug, and the consumption of it puts us into what some call the blood frenzy, or blind rage and brings with it the immunity to pain. It can be very dangerous, though,” He confirmed her questions in his soft tone, peering at the horizon from his place at her side. “I have not sought out the mushroom since my arrival in the Teekon Wilds, if that is a concern of yours,” Because there had to be a reason why she had choosen to bring it up when he mentioned the title. “I led the Berserkers on raids as Jarl but I tended to hang back at that point more of an overseer than I was a Berserker. Maybe it was my time as Jarl that made me persue the defensive side of the Berserkers here.” He told her simply, glimpsing down at her for a few moments before his eyes went back to the horizon.
“I am not asking you too,” He corrected her softly. “I told you there are women besides sheildmaidens. They do not raid,” Ragnar reminded her gently. “I just want to share my world with you.” He confessed in a quiet murmur to her.
She smiled at him and pushed forward resting her head against his chest and under his chin. "I would like to share your world Ragnar, though I have much to learn as you very well know. So tell me something I should know love.
Ragnar listened to Thistle’s words in silence though he found that the picked at his curiosity how a raven would pick the meat off a carcass, hungrily. Greedily. “That is interesting. He could not have been a slave though. They were taken from raids not on them. So who would have made him a Berserker? And for what purpose? Did they force him to eat the mushrooms that would lead to the addiction? That is the only way I know a Berserker could be as you said “made” against their will.” Furthermore, it brought to his mind what kind of pack Thistle’s neighboring pack was. She had never really spoken much of her home pack, though, admittedly Ragnar had selfishly never asked her. Of course he realized after he had finished inquiring that she might not have the answers given that she had admitted her mother had been the one to tell her about it in the first place.
“There is so much to tell you,” Ragnar informed in his usual soft voice as she rested her head against his chest, beneath his muzzle. The warmth of her head bled through his fur allowing him to feel her body heat alongside the pressure of her head. It was the first time as the air stirred around them that he noticed that she smelled different, it was a sweet scent, likely a product of the milk her body was beginning to make in preperation for bringing their babes into the world. “Every Viking must go through a Rite Of Passage as I told you. Usually it is a child’s transition into an adult at a certain age. Typically the children are brought to a trial and allowed to vote on whether a criminal, after hearing the Jarl’s side and then the Accused’s side and sometimes a witness’ account, is guilty or innocent. If the accused is found guilty they must watch the execution without looking away.” Ragnar explained, remembering his own coming of age rite with fondness.
“It will be different for you because we have none of those things here and even if we did I have no power to see it through,” Ragnar sighed softly, giving pause for a moment. “I haven’t decided what I want your Rite of Passage to be. I think I will ask Odinn to see what he thinks is an acceptable substitute.” Hopefully, Odinn saw fit to answer.
She listened thoughtfully quietly without comment thinking things through as he spoke them. Watching an execution could be rough she reasoned for herself, but for a pup that knew savage nature well it would not be so hard. What happens if they look away? She wondered were they then refused into adulthood or demoted?
She smiled softly at his reverence for his god yet again came out in his words. She in a way was innately jealous of this reverence, she wished she could believe in something that resolutely without fail. It seemed to give him a sense of peace that most did not have.
Thistle thought about that and nodded, yes it was the same. It all led to the same thing, though she found that she was proud of Ragnar and felt pity for the other one. Perhaps it was simply because one had chosen that life and the other had not. She was not sure, perhaps her judgement was clouded now because she cared about him, and had never met the other one she did not know and she found she did not wish to dwell to much on it.
She looked at him softly and asked another question "I know it was Bjorn that killed your father and then you took his place, but what happened to Vali is he the one that is taking care of Odinn's cove while you are away? She figured that was probably it, but best ask the question just in case it was not it.
She looked at him and found that she respected him even more for being the executioner she felt that if you were to pass judgement you better be ready to dole out the punishment as well, it was often far too easy to pass judgement and let others do the felling of the one judged and that admittedly drove her mad. "I am glad you did it yourself Ragnar.
Thistle offered him a small smile and chuckled at him "Okay i don't expect you to. I will prove my worth just as any would do.
Váli, Ragnar decided as Thistle asked about his youngest brother, was an interesting case. Their mother had favored him, coddled him and generally treated him as the baby. Of course, this had always given Váli a clear disadvantage when it came to keeping up with Ragnar and even Björn because they always saw him as the baby. Ragnar had always been their …ring leader as children despite that he was not the oldest because he was the most cunning and charismatic. Something about him drew his brothers in and allowed him to take lead over them.
She allowed herself a secret coy smile and nuzzled his chest and shoulder gently as that was all she could reach from her current position. "i was not expecting to find you either Ragnar, but I am glad I did. She smiled again to herself, secure in the fact that he cared for her. Thistle nodded "I think he may choose it, but he may bring you to find out what it is so in a way you both will choose it.
Ragnar, aside from admitting about Dagmar, of which he still was not entirely sure why he had ever brought her up in the first place - it didn’t much matter now - had no real intentions of telling Thistle about his two wives previous to Dagmar, nor his many dalliances. Ragnar was not, admittedly, as bad as Váli but he doubted that small and unnecessary tidbit of information would bring Thistle much comfort in the long run. Though Ragnar’s past was and would always be imperative and intergradient to his future - for the Viking did not believe that one’s past could or should be forgotten though many traveled to do just that - his previous wives didn’t much matter. That had ceased to matter when his interest in them had waned and faded as abruptly as it had came, fading quickly like the death of a star. Blink and you missed it in a ‘there and gone’ manner. He had decided he would only tell her if she inquired about them, though she had nothing to worry or even remotely feel jealous about. Somehow, in some way, she had gradually became the center in which his universe revolved around. It sounded horrendously tawdry to the Viking even in his head and so he kept that truth a coveted secret. There was a small part of him that realized that while he had admitted to her of affection (and jealousy he felt when she spoke of other men, discreetly) for her Ragnar had yet to admit that he was falling for her like a glorious morning star hurling towards it’s point of collision.
There was a small part of the Viking that was actually, genuinely, afraid that if he admitted it to her it might go away; that it would slip from betwixt his fingers like smoke. Though the things he felt were unlike anything he had ever felt with his previous wives (and lovers) before he remained superstitious and kept quiet not wanting to jinx it. A soft chuckle escaped Ragnar’s lips at Thistle’s words, inhaling her saccharine scent once more - a scent he associated with pregnancy, laced with her own unique scent and now his - as he felt her nuzzle his chest and shoulder. A shudder of pleasure at her touch shivered down the strong curve of his spine.
Thistle chuckled and then spoke seriousness coloring her tone. "You have such reverence for Odinn. I envy you that in a way. I was not brought up that way, i do not know the faith you have and it seems you have more inner peace and such than most. You are very comfortable with yourself Ragnar I like that. She tilted her head bending scratch and itch and then lifting her head again.
Ragnar would hide nothing from Thistle, and would not lie to her if she ever cared to inquire because he wasn’t that kind of man. For all of his faults, for all that made him feral - a savage - he had his few redeeming qualities. Were they enough to bring about redemption to him for those who believed different than him? Ragnar did not know. Furthermore, he did not care. They would either accept him as his was or not at all and, really, it wasn’t as if their rejection would prove to hurt. He wasn’t out to impress anyone, excluding Odinn, of course; but Gods were different than mortals. Ragnar was silent as Thistle spoke of her jealousy regarding his reverence to Odinn. For a moment Ragnar mistook her for thinking that she wanted him to feel that way about her, but was glad he did not speak up when she continued on explaining her lack of faith. On the terms of reverence and love, he had yet to declare it to her because of numerous reasons, the biggest being his rather rational fear of jinxing it before he was ready to actually tell her; and, he added, did there really have to be a race to say the words ‘I love you’? His affection and newly minted devotion to her as his wife was more than he was used to feeling as it was. It was more than any of his previous wives and lovers could boast of.
tiny Viking little fawn colored Shieldmaiden was the beholder of his eye, for whatever it was worth (which was quite a big amount given his flightly history). scared to admit it: his heart.
Thistle was content with her life and such as it were going. She did not need to hear the words I love you from him since in essence he already showed he cared. Granted yes it would be nice, but she would not rush that and she herself had yet to tell him the truth of the matter anyway.
Thistle chuckled at his swift cover and she spoke at him with mirth lacing her words though she was glad he had said that it was nice. "I do not wish you to change Ragnar I like you just the way you are all of you savage or not, wrathful or calm, vengeful or redeemer doesn't matter. You are a very complex male and it suits you. She smiled up at him. And the fact that she meant so much to him was enough to get her through a lot of bad days. She tilted her head as she thought about his gods, before she chose them or anything she would first need to know of them which he knew she was sure, as it looked she would probably end up following them at least to an extent of it, as she was in a way a blank slate religion wise. I need to learn more Ragnar, but I will most likely end up following them, though perhaps not as devoutly as you and our children of course will follow them as I am sure you will teach them.
Thistle shifted when he did moving so he could get more comfortable, she did not like to keep him from moving it made her feel bad. She knew he woke up stiff sometimes and she felt bad, but she also warmed at the thought of him being conscious even in his sleep of not hurting her.
She chuckled at his chuckle and then looked up at him and spoke quietly "Do you think you're Floki will follow you eventually? She was curious about the mad wolf who shared her art of healing. She wondered if he was as OCD as she was about her herbs and plants, or if he was more along the lines of all business stiff and stalwart.
She chuckled at his abrupt question "Ragnar if you keep feeding me like this I will never lose the weight after the puppies are here, I'll be all curves, but yes I am slightly hungry. She chuckled again at him and licked his muzzle.
Ragnar, at Thistle’s question let out a soft, thoughtful noise, contemplating it in his mind. Would Floki follow him? He had not left with the intentions of cajoling his friends and loyal followers of Odinn’s Cove to join him in the Teekon Wilds but then again, for what was now an unknown reason, Ragnar had never anticipated actually staying. When he appointed Váli as Jarl in his stead it had been a temporary fixture. Ragnar had not relinquished his full power to his younger brother under the assumption that Odinn had meant for him to come, convert, steal, and form a pack in the image of the Cove but not to lead it. Now …the vision had become clearer with his growing affection for Thistle and his mateship to her, their vows and consummation (even if the consummation had, admittedly, came first) by Huginn and Muinnin and therefore Odinn himself. Clearly, Odinn had deigned for Ragnar to be much more invested in these posh summer lands than the Viking had first realized. The Gods were not always very clear with their intentions, but now Ragnar could speak that he understood what Odinn meant of him. That this was his fate, she was his fate.
She listened and spoke softly "Do you think you're brother is a good enough leader in your place that he will stay? I would have liked to meet him, Floki I mean, he sounds...uh..interesting to say the least. She smiled at his eluding to the fates. Yes it seemed the fates were laying down a lot of changes in front of her viking warrior.
She smiled and nodded Yes I do need to eat that is for sure and the babes are certainly hungry as always. I do not wish to think of how much they are going to eat once they are older going on how much they eat now. She shook her head she ate enough for 3 lately and she was always hungry. Sometimes she felt as if that was all she was doing was eating and sleeping, both good things when growing warm bodies in ones womb ,but still. She chuffed at him and gave him a mock glare "tiny but Mighty Ragnar Loðbrók and don't you ever forget. She chuffed again mumbling under her breath "Tiny i'll show you tiny big man.