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Ragnar drew in a deep breath, the morning air chilly but not cold — nothing by comparison to the winters that the Eldingar Valley suffered, but this place was not his homeland. He missed the Cove, he missed Eitri. Though Ragnar was nearing his fourth name day he felt so lost and wanted nothing more in that moment than to speak with his father, to hear the man's advice. Advice as a young man Ragnar had been quick to scoff at and spurn. It was a downfall of youth: thinking that he knew all the answers, that he had the world by the rear end. Confidence was not something that Ragnar had ever lacked, believing so fiercely in his Gods. He still did, but Odinn's guidance had never been more confusing to the Northman than it was now. He needed a Seer. Someone skilled at speaking with the Gods to interpret what he could not. It felt as if the language of the Gods had suddenly became unintelligible to him and Odinn was screaming at him in an otherworldly tongue that try as hard as he might Ragnar could not make sense of.
Though Ragnar had always spent majority of his time upon his borders, since stepping down officially from leadership the Jarl practically lived upon them, aware that he had yet to make the journey to the Caldera to return to Peregrine that Thistle Cloud and him accepted the offer, if it was still open to them. Too many things had happened. Ragnar had been busy on the borders, guiding Thistle and offering her his advice when she asked for it, and now Charon was missing. The absence of the uniquely marked Ostrega child left a painful hole in the Viking's heart, an ache that could not be assuaged; the two Ostrega boys having became his own children though they did not share blood. That had never made a difference to Ragnar: not with Tyrr, and not with Gunnar, Mercury, or Gyda. And though he desired to go after the boy, though likely his trail was likely long faded, Ragnar resisted. Charon and Levi, the only two children remaining, for Ragnar assumed Kevlyn and Liyani to be long dead like their parents, was all he had left of his departed friends, and he was failing them all. Over and over. Though Thistle's heat season was over now, Ragnar did not feel inclined to leave his Bay for any measure of time. There should have been no doubt in his mind that his seed had taken for they had consummated several times during her season to ensure that it did; but even so he did not know for sure. Even if he did: he would not leave. He had left Dagmar when she had been carrying his children and they — all of them — had came too early, stillborn.
And now there was the matter of the strange scent all over his prominent urine markings. He could not determine any pack scent but it was unmistakably a wolf despite that it was attempted to be masked with sea brine and salt. Whomever was responsible had not been subtle. Stupid the Berserker thought with a curl of his lips. He knew her scent, lone as it was, though how he had missed her hitting every once of his borders when he practically lived upon them he did not know. All he did know was that she should be kissing the ass of whatever God she worshiped that he hadn't caught her; though Ragnar had every intention of hunting the bitch down and gutting her. He was suspicious of these actions, knowing that he would need to speak with Thistle about it urgently. There was a reason for it, he had no doubt. For the lone female rubbing in his piss markings, there would be no mercy and no remorse because the Viking was confident he would catch her, and that she would rue the day that she crossed his path. He would show her what it was like to piss off a Viking, though she would not live to pass on the message to anyone else who found it tempting to tease him by rubbing in his scent.
She had wanted his scent, though, that much was obvious and that unhinged the Northman, having no motive of any sort and currently nothing to go off of than the individual scent tied strongly as it was the scent of brine and salt.
Chuffing gently as she saw her husband standing stalwart on the borders, a troubled expression on his face. She frowned, perhaps now was not the time to tell him she was expecting. After all she had learned quickly, that when he was in a bad mood, he did not like good news. She moved forward and stood beside him, and lay her nose gently to the ground sniffing. A small growl came from her throat when she smelled another wolf, from where she wasn't sure, but they had lain there.
Do we have trouble on the horizon?
She meant nothing by it, and a war was far from her mind, but they had their fair share of intruders. She wondered if it was to be that way again?
Back from her journey and home again, she fell her weary paws move across the borders though like Ragnar, she was alerted and disgusted by a stranger's scent. Someone else had pissed upon their borders and by instinct alone it raised a fury. The thick hairs in her neck began to sharpen like little spikes, giving off a lion-like impression. Slowly, a growl passed from her leathery lips as it appeared that they had unwanted stragglers at the borders who was or were playing a game of trick-or-treat. A foolish wolf could even end up dead with such a dangerous came it could appear like Russian roulette.
But there was more that the midnight-painted female wanted to share with the pair as she stumbled across their scents. Not only was she keen on meeting Ragnar and hoping to get an outrider assignment, at the same time she had to share something that she remembered when first meeting Thistle Cloud. After all, there was someone she met. "Hey guys!" Spectra said casually as she approached, through at the same time with a respectful posture. "I met him, I met this Óðinn wolf." And he was really hot! She thought privately inside her thoughts as her leathery lips turned into a roguish smirk.
Ragnar loved the Ostrega boys fiercely, had loved Liyani too for whatever good it seemed to be worth, and again he had watched himself fail as a father as one by one they went missing as well. It brought within him a trepidation towards the knowledge that Thistle was likely pregnant, though as aforementioned he did not know for sure either way. He was weary of children because he was sure that he would fail them, too. He was worse than a deadbeat dad because he could not keep them safe. He was present but he kept making mistake after mistake, masquerading around in the delusion that he was doing a good job. He hadn't been a good leader, either, it seemed. The Bay was flourishing under Thistle's sole rule and though the Jarl was proud of his Queen Wife there was also the question of if he'd been living under a delusion the entire time he ruled at Odinn's Cove. Yet, he was not so ready to be so hard upon himself. This was a great learning lesson for his young wife and she was coming into her own with more fire and beauty than he could have ever imagined. It was as if Freyja and Frigga had merged into one and possessed Thistle. The mother, the queen, and the shieldmaiden.
Heavy footfalls drew the Northman out of his thoughts, though the Berserker did not have to turn his singular eye to look at her to know who it was. He felt her presence like an electricity in the air, sparking along his skin. Ragnar's black, leathery nostrils flared as he took in her scent, truly took it in for the first time, brow knitting as he swung his head to study her with a fierce Caribbean blue eye. She smelled of sick and a warm aroma, not quite of mother's milk yet but something close. Having been around her during her first pregnancy he placed the scent nearly immediately.
His attention lifted from Thistle to the ebony girl who came into view, greeting them casually, though her stance was respectful. Spectra, Ragnar thought her name was. She was of a technical higher rank than him but considering Ragnar operated heavily out of his own hierarchy he offered no acknowledgment of this. He would not bow to his subordinates (technical superiors). The Bay was still his pack, and the wolves of the Bay who technically ranked higher than him would do well to remember such things. Ragnar gave Spectra a quizzical look when she spoke of meeting Odinn, making the mistake of calling the All-Father a wolf. Technically he could take the form but he was a God.
Thistle saw him turn towards her, his single eye roving over her small frame. She imagined or perhaps hoped he could see the small pouch that she was sporting. Then again, it could just be her seeing it, and not noticeable to anyone else. His next question surprised her, but she smiled. About time you noticed Ragnar Loðbrók. She teased him gently, but ghosted forward to plan a small lick to his cheek.
Thistle sighed, This is true isn’t it. Ragnar I fear we may need to get more violent with those that trespass. I am loathe to do it, but I am unsure what else to do. They are too many. She tilted her head, unsure what else to say. She didn’t want to start violence, or incite wars, but the truth of the matter was they needed to do something. Trespassers were far too many, and for whomever this wolf was. For her or him to roll in their own urine, and sport it like some sort of sick perfume. There was something really wrong with them.
Thistle turned towards Spectra and she swallowed hard and laid her ears back. She was fearful, if the girl really hadn’t seen Odin, and she told Ragnar she had. Oh it could end badly for her, very very badly. She stepped back and held her body tightly and a little worriedly. Afraid of where this might go.
Her late arrival to the party made her miss Ragnar's outspoken concern for the pack, instead she was captivated by the chosen word. All-father? The name bounced around in her head from left to right, hitting no light bulb. Gently, she shook her head as if saying no. "Chocolate brown wolf. Blue eyes. Just Óðinn. That's who I met." Spectra said truthfully and honest while swooning, inwardly, over his hotness. She didn't include the details of their encounter or that they went out on a date. That last was probably teenage yearling business only.
Confused Spectra blinked her eyes when Thistle Cloud out of the blue backed away as if she had just played around with a poisonous rotten apple. Spectra noticed how fear and worry was written all over the leader's body language while she stepped back. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, the midnight-Delta wondered exactly what was going on. Although a strange feeling swept over the atmosphere and she would probably find out soon enough.
Thistle's tease managed to bring a small ghost of a smile to the Viking's lips though it did not linger there long. His eye swept over her face before it settled upon the supple roundness of her sides, not bulging yet but still noticeable, nevertheless. It was his children that grew within her this time, and while that filled him with a strong swell of pride, he realized that because she was pregnant that the urgency of this sea scented stranger needing to be dealt with had become sevenfold. He would not have her injured, he would not lose his children. horror story of how he'd given away his second wife to a neighboring pack as a gift because she had killed his children. Perhaps it hadn't been so, but the Viking did not know that it hadn't been her fault. True, he had not loved Dagmar as he did Thistle, but even so he would rather not find out what another miscarriage would cause him to do.
It meant that the All-Father still favored them after all, to him.
I will be careful dearheart, but the simple fact is I am still a leader, and I cannot shirk those responsibilities completely. I can of course stay away from the borders and further into the pack land. But then someone will have to take up my slack?
She felt bad for making someone else, do her patrol. She however saw no other options.
Thistle tilted her ears forward to catch his words. A meeting would be worthwhile. She would call one in the next few days, unless Ragnar wished to call one. She would ask him, she thought of those in their pack…many of them still so young…the only older ones was Aesop and herself and Ragnar the rest all adults, but young. It would be a tragedy to lose some of them.
would you like me to call one? Or would you like to do it? I’m not very good with words of war. She nodded her head, Very well.
She would not argue with the killing this time, not when someone was threatening her home, and the unborn children in her womb. Factually they had an angry mother on their hands, and they would not be dealt with mercy.
When Ragnar showed interest in Spectra, Thistle breathed a silent sigh of relief. She should have remembered that Odinn liked mortal woman. After all, even Ragnar stated he was of the line. She stepped closer, curiosity and intrigue on her face. What did he say to you Spectra?
---
Spectra felt renewed with a juvenile spark, as if she would go to her favourite boy band music show. The posters of that particular boy band, draped with heart-shaped signs, were proof of her love. It was an unfair love, her love for the boy band went beyond how they felt about her, she was nothing more than a fan girl. There were thousands of them, screaming fan girls. Still, the idea of a date somehow felt special and it made her heart beat just a tad faster.
It was obvious that she and Ragnar were not on the same level of understanding when it came to religion, maybe Spectra had missed out a lesson or two. Still she was eager to learn. Had she known what he did, the situation was entirely reversed. So when the impressive northern warrior questioned what he had said, she replied. "Nothing much, he isn't a man of many words. He said yes though, to my question of a date. He's someone who talks more with fierce gesture and powerful body language."
She then looked non-challenging towards the Alpha, curious to what her reaction would be. She appeared more inquisitive and at ease now. It still made her curious why the Alpha stepped away in fear less than a few seconds ago.
“You are with child,” Ragnar spoke as if it were the most simple and complete explanation in the world. To him, it was. “If they cannot pick up the slack, as you put it, for a couple of months then they can get out of my pack.” He had no room for those that did not pull their weight, and sometimes circumstances arose in which more was expected than they might be given. It was life and that was that. On the subject he would hear nothing more from her. Thistle would focus on taking care of herself and his sons growing within her – as was her duty as their mother. He had no interest in her arguments that, should they arise, he fully intended to ignore. She did not need to patrol, there was more than enough of subordinates to do that for her. “I do not tolerate wolves that do not contribute and neither should you.” And if they had an issue with it then they could come take it up with Ragnar. He might not have been a leader any longer but the Bay was his and anyone who could not respect that was more than welcome to tell it to him to his face. Whether he would take it with a cynical smirk or with outright violence was hard to tell these days, but regardless, it would not be a pretty encounter.
“I can call it,” Between the two of them it was likely better, despite that Thistle was the sole leader of the Bay, at this point. She did not have Ragnar's experience with war or battle in general, he knew, and thus the effort should be led by someone who actually knew what they were doing. He would not jump to the automatic conclusion that a war was going to show up at their doorstep at any moment but the possibility was real, and he needed the Bay to be prepared for it, nevertheless. Caribbean blue eye studied the girl as she spoke, stating that he wasn't a man of many words. The date was surprising to Ragnar, and for a moment he was hesitant before it soothed away. It would not be the first time that Odinn had taken interest in a mortal woman, and surely, wouldn't be the last.
“Are you old enough to conceive children?” The Viking asked Spectra without so much as a bat of an eyelash in hesitation. Perhaps, he considered, the All-Father would grace the Bay with an Odinn son, and should that be the case Ragnar knew he would hold no objections to it.
“You are with child,” Ragnar spoke as if it were the most simple and complete explanation in the world. To him, it was. “If they cannot pick up the slack, as you put it, for a couple of months then they can get out of my pack.” He had no room for those that did not pull their weight, and sometimes circumstances arose in which more was expected than they might be given. It was life and that was that. On the subject he would hear nothing more from her. Thistle would focus on taking care of herself and his sons growing within her – as was her duty as their mother. He had no interest in her arguments that, should they arise, he fully intended to ignore. She did not need to patrol, there was more than enough of subordinates to do that for her. “I do not tolerate wolves that do not contribute and neither should you.” And if they had an issue with it then they could come take it up with Ragnar. He might not have been a leader any longer but the Bay was his and anyone who could not respect that was more than welcome to tell it to him to his face. Whether he would take it with a cynical smirk or with outright violence was hard to tell these days, but regardless, it would not be a pretty encounter.
“I can call it,” Between the two of them it was likely better, despite that Thistle was the sole leader of the Bay, at this point. She did not have Ragnar's experience with war or battle in general, he knew, and thus the effort should be led by someone who actually knew what they were doing. He would not jump to the automatic conclusion that a war was going to show up at their doorstep at any moment but the possibility was real, and he needed the Bay to be prepared for it, nevertheless. Caribbean blue eye studied the girl as she spoke, stating that he wasn't a man of many words. The date was surprising to Ragnar, and for a moment he was hesitant before it soothed away. It would not be the first time that Odinn had taken interest in a mortal woman, and surely, wouldn't be the last.
“Are you old enough to conceive children?” The Viking asked Spectra without so much as a bat of an eyelash in hesitation. Perhaps, he considered, the All-Father would grace the Bay with an Odinn son, and should that be the case Ragnar knew he would hold no objections to it.
Thistle listened to her husband and Spectra. She looked at her husband when, he asked if Spectra was able to have children. She wondered at it for a moment, but then realized of course. Her husband would allow a son of odin into their pack, it didn't bother her as much as it should have. She of course was a bit nervous, that this really wasn't odin. Perhaps, a wolf that wanted to do ill, but she ignored it.