Since joining Heidinn, her parents had taken a more ... off-hand approach to parenting. Cy was tucked away in some den, her own mother spending most days hunting, and her father running around trying to take care of all six of them. With a few being sent off to other family packs, it still left a few others for Oki to keep track of, plus his two women who were in no right state of mind. So was anyone surprised when Delphi was inevitably dumped into Vidarr's lap? Did the Viking king really want that kind of responsibility? Probably not, but she was his favorite so he wasn't going to say no either.

Delphi knew this and perhaps was taking it... far too much to her advantage. Getting into trouble was becoming her middle name. From her tail being taken, her run-in with Asla, and then her consistent fighting with that asshole thief boy, it was one thing after another. There was no use getting around it anymore. Vidarr had requested her presence at his den up on the maw. She knew she was going to get a talking to and was not looking forward to it. Slowly, she made her way there, taking as much time as she could manage without actually pissing him off.

Eventually, she made it to the doorway where he lived. Peeking in to make sure Tenshi wasn't there before entering, Delphi slipped inside and curled up onto his bed with her nose tucked beneath her tail and eyes watching the doorway. Waiting for her... whatever it was that Vidarr was about to dole out.

Víðarr was, in all honesty, glad that the kids were here. Even though some had relocated to somewhere warmer for the winter, family time was important. Delphi had become quite the handful lately... always keeping him on his toes. In Víðarr's mind, there was no better place for her. The child had a penchant for chaos, and the viking king needed to figure out how to cultivate that. Cultivate that chaos, hone it like a knife.

There was also the recent attack on his favorite grandchild, one that weighed heavily on his mind. He would need to track down the asshole who'd hurt her, longed to make them pay. Víðarr would not rest until he got his pound of flesh, no matter who'd dealt her the wound. It was the list of things to handle. While the most pressing matter was surviving the winter in the harsh climate, they were pretty good on that front. The successful raid on Avalon had certainly helped, and another one would be soon on the horizon.

The shadow spent the morning doing chores-- tending the animals, patrolling, the like. It was peaceful here. He could be at peace here, for as much peace as the shadowy viking could get. Víðarr had requested the presence of his favorite grandchild, though it was a meeting he wasn't thrilled to have. Important, but heavy. He was surprised to find Delphi already waiting, curled up on his bed. The viking king sat at the foot of his bed, gaze falling softly on Delphi. "Is something bothering you, my lamb?" Tone gentle, wanting nothing more than for her to feel safe. He cares.

"Speech"

Her eyes grow heavy, sleep poking at her as she continues to watch the door. Inside, her heart is beating fast. Was Vidarr upset with her? Was he going to scold her? Why did she care? The worry and nervousness ate her insides as she waited. And waited and waited. She was beginning to feel like Vidarr had forgotten about asking to meet her when finally he made his way through the doorway. Looking up at him with her two different colored eyes, her tail wiggles slightly as he comes to sit on the end of the bed.

Instead of berating her, he asks if something is bothering her. Nothing leaves her at first. She just continues to stare at him, fighting back the tears that well in her eyes. So much had happened recently that she hadn't really given herself time to digest it all. Deep down, she wasn't a bad wolf, she was just... angry with the world. Pissed off at how unfair it had been treating her. How was she supposed to put that into words for him? Her eyes shut tightly as she sniffles, really trying to hold back the tears. Unfortunately, its too much, and suddenly, she is crying and practically leaping into his lap. Pushing her face into his fur, she sobs loudly for a few moments. Breathing is hard as she sucks in deep breaths and tries to calm down.

"The world HATES me," Delphi yells into Vidarr's side as she curls up against him and hides her face.

She is angry at the world, but who isn't, at her age? There seem to be so many injustices, so many things that aren't fair. She's learning how to be a contributing member of a pack... from scratch. She's learning how to have feelings, some good, some not so good. Growing pains, things that would all be worth it some day. Hell, Víðarr had run away when he was her age.

As the child throws herself into his lap, Víðarr is quick to catch her. The viking king could sit quietly, he could hear her pain and her cries. Tightly, he holds onto Delphi, wrapping her up in the biggest bear hug. She is tiny, that fact highlighted by the sheer difference in size. The hulking creature hums softly, the songs of his people. The songs of the motherlands, the places he's left behind. They bring him comfort, and it's the only comfort he knows how to give.

She yells. Víðarr lets her. She sobs. Víðarr gives her the space to do so, rocking Delphi silently as he holds her. "Even when you feel like the world hates you, I want you to know that you are loved." He speaks after a long while, voice gentle and calm. "I know things have been hard lately. Tell me about them," though phrased like a question, Víðarr does need to get to the root of... whatever this was. A bout of near-teen angst, or something else. Some deeper unhappiness causing her to act out. That, or perhaps something else entirely, something he's missing. Regardless, Víðarr was going to do his best to help navigate the weights the world put on Delphi's shoulders.

"Víðarr"

The gentle rocking of Vidarr as he holds her close is enough to almost lull her to sleep. Soon, her sobs turn to sniffles and her breathing slows. Inhale for three seconds, and exhale for three seconds. Focus on his words. Remember that not everything has to be dramatic. Well, okay, it was Delphi, everything was dramatic, but still. Vidarr's firm is comforting. His big, soft, and thick fur is like her dad's, but a tiny bit squishier. He is strong and she feels as if he would never let go if she didn't want it. It helps her as she finally peeks up at him from her hidden position within his fur and legs as he requests she tell him about her troubles.

"M-my," no she can't start with that, "I, I don't know. I just," she lets out a sharp exhale, closing her eyes for a moment, and let her ears fall back. "I followed that doe outside of Heidinn to prove myself. And da, he tries so hard, I feel bad. So many of us to watch and mums are too sad, I wanna help, but I'm so...so," Delphi's words hiccup as she fights back another wave of sobs. "SMALL!" The word blurts out as the tears come back. Burying her face again, she cries for another minute before she can recollect herself and keep going. "I th-think I wanna fight instead. That b-boy I met, he said he'd h-help teach me, even though he's mean to me," Delphi's face scrunches up as she is still so internally confused about him in general. "Morfar, jag tror jag gillar honom," her pronunciation is probably butchered, but she tries because it is safer to that phrase in something not everyone could understand.

"It's so confusing though," she whispers as she presses her forehead back into his fur. "I don't know! Ugh, the world just hates me," Delphi whispers again as she snuggles deeper into his embrace.

Víðarr is deceptively soft, and rather squishy. A man who likes to eat, and who is proud to be well fed. To be a bit chubby is to be wealthy, a display of the fact that he hasn't skipped meals. There's also the protection that the cover of fat brings, anything to keep the teeth of predators and foes alike away from his vital bits. A robust, chunky man-- dad bods are very in, from where he stands. That, and there is plenty for the girl to sink into and hold onto, and he can keep those he loves warm.

"You have no need to prove anything, my lamb." He murmurs, the words gentle as he speaks. "Do not accept judgement or criticism from anyone you would not go to for advice." Víðarr doesn't stop rocking the child, listening as she continues. He stays quiet while she cries, though he leans down to brush away some of her tears with a gentle dab of his paw. Ah, this was Strai she was speaking about. Víðarr does his best to withhold judgement, feeling like he may know where this is headed. What catches in the viking king's mind, too, is the idea that she would like to fight.

"If you would like to fight, then we will turn you into a warrior that will make the valkyries proud." There is pride in Víðarr's gaze as he looks down on his granddaughter. Though her pronunciation is shaky, the viking king knows exactly what she means. The confidential nature of his mother tongue... and for good reason. It's a long moment before he speaks on the matter of the boy, trying to arrange his words carefully. "Du är för värdefull för att bli illa behandlad." It's with finality that he speaks. The words are firm, weighted as a warning and a promise, but a reassurance as well.

"When I need guidance, I look to the gods. Would you like to come pray with me?" The offer is gentle, and he doesn't loosen his grip on the pup. Perhaps getting up and moving would be helpful, after getting a clearer picture of what the girl was feeling. Though Víðarr isn't the best with emotions, he hoped that offering his coping mechanisms would prove useful. Best he could do was try, right?

"Víðarr"

His words stick to her. His embrace is warm, comforting. He is what she needs. In that paternal way that is cherished. Her father would be better, but her own feelings get in the way. As much as she wants her father to hold her, she knows he is busy doing others things, taking care of other wolves. She doesn’t want to be a burden. But she is a burden.

A burden to everyone.

To her family, to the pack, to Vidarr, to that stupid Thrall boy. Why did he have to make her feel that way! Another screech buried into his thick fur escapes her. Digging her small paws in, knowing that they make no dent in his skin, she hopes he understand. Because he does understand. Oh, if she could make a Valkyrie proud. Tears still dampen her cheeks as she pulls away to look up at Vidarr. Curled into his lap, she nods slowly. Yes, a prayer would be nice. Maybe the gods will answer her.

“I think that would help,” Delphi admits softly even if she feels if it makes her weak. To rely on the gods that probably do not favor her. She is small and unworthy. How can she be a warrior if she is minuscule? The question plagues her as she gives Vidarr one more squeeze of silent thanks before peeling herself away from him.

Her aggression, her need to lash out, it doesn't hurt. It can't hurt him, not here. The viking king remained relaxed, rocking the child gently, letting her express all the frustration and hurt and pain. Another screech there, the curl of her paws there, it's okay. Víðarr knows that for as long as he can hold her, he will make sure the child is okay. He wouldn't be able to do it forever (such is the way of raising someone, he supposed), it's important that he does it now.

Ah, yes, they would pray together. The viking king steps from bed, then lifts Delphi gently, setting her on her feet. He moves to rummage through a chest beside the bed. Two small bottles of honey and dandelion mead, and a long strand of raw wool. It was the last of the stash Víðarr had started the summer with, and looking at it now brought a little smile to his face. So much had changed from then to now. His heart was warm in his chest.

"Come." Víðarr's tone was even, and wouldn't be argued with. Not that he suspected Delphi would have much to argue about, as he led the way towards the altars. They weren't far, though the walk got a bit steep toward the end. The viking king carried the wrapped parcel up the final large step before turning with an offer to lift his granddaughter if necessary. Before them, Freyja's altar spread.

With deft movements, Víðarr lit the candles. He uncorked the jars of mead, placing one upon the altar. The second, he held for a moment with closed eyes before taking a sip. He passes the jar to Delphi, taking a seat. It's weak enough, he doesn't question it. As the viking king settles, he removes the bit of wool from the makeshift bundle as well, beginning to fidget with it. Weaving together, section over section, the same way his scorned elder sister had shown him. "I know you are angry. Tell me specifically-- what are you angry about?" Víðarr needs to channel that anger. He needs to find the source of it, and direct it. They would both need the help of the gods for that one.

"Víðarr"

Delphi follows the Konungr to his alter. She sits neatly beside him, tucked in on herself as much as possible. Her eyes watch his fluid movements with amazement. It was as if he had done this a thousand times before. Silence falls over her as she waits. Patient with small sniffles to keep her nose from running.

Looking up at him after he lights the candles, swigs from the mead, and then hands it to her, she questions. Was she supposed to drink as well? Delphi wouldn't question him. Leaning back, she takes her own swig and cringes. Weak as it is, there is still a sticky sting at the back of her throat. Placing the jar on the ground, she moves her gaze from Vidarr to the altar where the candles flicker. She inhales deeply as he asks what she is angry about. Seconds pass as she musters up the courage to let it all spill out.

"I'm angry because I'm not good enough. I can't hardly help. My moms are sad. My dad is working day and night. My siblings have all but left me alone here. And now I'm so angry that I think... I think I like that dumb Thrall boy and I don't know how to feel about it!" The words spill from Delphi so quickly that she stumbles over a few of them. Tears well back up in her eyes again as she stares at the altar with gritted teeth. Dammit.