Horizon Ridge On a rush of angel wings

My mother gives me weird looks all the time because I'll laugh out loud or something so I understand, haha. Her name is Katheryn Winnick and she's very pretty/kickass. click tbh since Ragnar's human equivalent would be Travis Fimmel (the man in the GIF) I always just sort of pictured Thistle as Katheryn since I realized that Ragnar was more or less sort of falling for Thistle. Also I eluded a little without detail to their night in the forest.

Thistle laughed at his attempts to avoid being a right jerk about how she looked, and shrugged, giving a small nod of his head, a chuckle slipping forth from his own muzzle at her bluntness. “Ah, more or less,” He concurred giving her a slow, mischievous smirk. “It’s not a bad thing though,” Ragnar breathed in a low, conspiring voice to compliment said mischievous smirk. “You are still,” Still what? Still beautiful? He was no strange to administering flattery but there was a distinct difference between flattery and actually meaning it and in this instance the Viking realized that even as he spoke, “still beautiful.” that he actually meant it. Continuing his pace along side her as she headed towards the outskirts of the pack lands he contemplated his vague knowledge in regards to the layout of the land. In truth, he haunted Ravensblood so frequently that he realized rather abruptly, he had not explored much else. “There is a river not too far from Ravensblood that I have passed once on my way up North.” But he had only cut through the lands once, so he could not truly tell her if it would provide to be fruitful for whatever plants/flowers/herbs she was searching for. “We could always start there and double back to Ravensblood if need be,” He had nothing pressing going on that required his immediate attention so for the day he was all hers.

His glare sent her into another fit of laughter, until Ragnar, for a brief moment wondered if she might pee herself from how hard her body seemed to shake with her laughter. It was hard enough to for her to sway close enough to brush against his side a few times, until he could feel the vibration of her mirth through the contact against his hardened muscles sleek and strong under his icy silver kissed coat. She inquired about his question but then added quickly, taking the savage off guard for a brief moment before he collected himself, that she did not find the other male - and the last leg of his competition (so to speak) as husband material either. Her need to feel like she needed to add it - though perhaps cruelly he had not been worried about Gavriil as potential competition - made him reconsider how he wished to go about this. His previous proposals had all be spontaneous and usually after copulation - there was nothing, really, for him to go off of with Thistle because everything had been….gradual; and while Ragnar could not claim that he was in love with her, something was definitely different about how he felt about her - something so unlike what he had felt around any female, ever. It had been easier to see once she had came out of her heat season, when his mind was jumbled with the burning desire to claim and impregnate as her hormones intoxicated him ravenously.

Though, as for matters of love, he supposed he had the image of his parents - who had been rather madly in love with one another - as a template of sorts which left him with the helpless and foreign conclusion that he was at least falling for her.

“And what of me, Thistle?” Ragnar asked her feeling anticipation clench his stomach in a manner that was not very comfortable. “I know you pine for the stranger that stole your maidenhood,” And it dug under his skin to no visible end. “but he has not returned, has made no appearance. He is not worthy of you. And maybe I am not either but that night that we spent together in Odinn’s forest, I cannot forget it. I don’t want to ever forget it,” He was exceedingly bad at these things, for there was not much that was gentlemanly or romantic about Ragnar Lothbrok. “I cannot get you out of my mind, everything reminds me of you,” This was going badly and for the fear that he might start talking in his native tongue out of nerves - of which he felt certain she would not understand he said bluntly, “I want to be your husband, I want to be yours in every way a man can be a woman’s.” He had not came to these posh summer land with the intention of taking another wife - or frankly to fall in love (because lets be honest that’s what was happening) - but it was fate, and Odinn’s approval stated as much to him.