Horizon Ridge On a rush of angel wings

“No,” Ragnar shook his head, speaking in his old friends’ defense. “He is very intelligent. The only time he would mix up herbs was if he was intending too, never accidental.” This was something that Ragnar believed very vehemently to his core. “He’s not the type to kill by poison,” Ragnar’s grin grew wide then, giving her a sneaky look. “Poison is a silent death and we Viking men like it rather messy and bloody.” It was true that Floki would rather tear out someone’s throat than kill subtly. “It is the easiest way,” Ragnar began, having never had to really explain the ways of his people to another before. “You could wait for them to die of old age in theory but no one waits that long,” Ragnar squinted against the onslaught of sunlight as the they left behind the Ridge and crossed the threshold into “no man’s land”. “Then there are the Jarls, like me, that go into battle,” He glimpsed down at her to make sure she was still following along, that he hadn’t lost her or that his accent hadn’t deterred her, despite that she was probably used to his accent by that point. “If I was to die in battle my wife - that would be you,” He grinned at her, bumping his shoulder against hers. “Would take over as Earl in my stead. If and when you no longer wanted the title or responsibilities you would pass it to my named Second in Command. I don’t think any man can challenge an Earl which is the female title of Jarl.” Though plenty of woman could take any number of men down it wasn’t exactly a fair fight.

“Are you worried?” He asked her teasingly, but shook his head. “No, you do not have to kill anyone. Wives aren’t property we don’t inherit them with the death of their husband,” Not typically, anyway, Ragnar had taken Tyra at Björn’s death but that had been different. “For instance I am still reigning Jarl of Odinn’s Cove because I gave my brother only temporary rule of it, so as my wife you are second under me just by being my wife and my brother while is my Second in Command is under you, even so. Does it make sense?” Of course it made perfect sense to him but he had grown up there, and had lived and breathed it for all of his life. “You don’t have to be ruthless, you just have to be strong.” And Ragnar knew she was strong, that wasn’t a question. “If you want I can hold a rite of passage for you to make you a tiny Viking,” He offered his voice teasing on the ‘tiny Viking’ but otherwise quite serious.

The decision was hers, but she was his wife whether the Gods recognized her as a Viking or not.

“Thistle Cloud is too much to say it’s like everyone running around calling me Ragnar Lothbrok all the time. I like just Thistle better.” He murmured to her, smirking again.