Horizon Ridge On a rush of angel wings

In a manner of speaking, Thistle was probably more deadly than Ragnar himself with her skill set for there was a fine line between healer and murderer. What could heal in small doses could also kill in larger ones. This concept did not go unknown by Ragnar who had spent much time in Floki’s presence who had shadowed the Berserker and later Jarl for nearly all of his life, even when they had been but two awkward pups. A soft snort left the Viking’s nostrils as he compared Floki and Thistle in his mind, “You are a much more attractive healer than Floki,” It was a seemingly random declaration to her, but proved true to the savage nevertheless. “I think you would like him. He’s a trickster and jester like Loki but he is smart and a good man.” And just as stubborn as Ragnar himself which as Thistle had - and would - find was a good thing to be. “I think you would like Odinn’s Cove, it is a shame I cannot take you there for a visit.” Ragnar informed her, knowing that their home was here where, hopefully, their family would start (because he was hoping that his seed took that night even if it was a big secret between them).

It was a funny but intensely satisfying thing to group them together as a cohesive unit instead of individuals. “May Thor strike me dead if I am lying,” Ragnar said to her teasing. “It is a good thing to be likened to a shield maiden. It takes a special kind of woman to be a Viking’s wife.” He spoke, following after her at a leisurely pace, enjoying the view with unbridled smugness and satisfaction. "Will you take the Loðbrók name?" He asked her after a few seconds, figuring he could atone for his past marriage failures by giving her something he hadn't given the others: his last name.