Thistle corrected her words by explaining them so they proved to make more sense to Ragnar who listened and nodded at the correct interval, having grasped, with a complete understanding, what she had meant. He had taken her words to be a literal meaning, to signify that she felt vulnerable when he was patrolling or wandering around Ravensblood (most days it was less of wandering and much more of mapping and sacrifices). The metaphor had been entirely lost upon the Viking and as she explained it he felt a small stab of humiliation that he had misunderstood but buried it deeply in the following seconds. In the wake of the stab of humiliation he felt a swelling pride that she felt protected by his presence, a nearly three-sixty to the fear he had suspected she had originally felt when they had first meant. Thistle was a strong woman, even if she did not acknowledge it and in truth Ragnar did not think that she needed him but it was certainly to feel like he was needed by his wife, to know that his presence brought with it the comfort of safety. That was his job, to protect his family.
Ragnar could feel Thistle shift again for him, and in a breathless moment he rose upon his hind legs and drew his wife into a lovers’ embrace.
Le Fade To Black