Ragnar, aside from admitting about Dagmar, of which he still was not entirely sure why he had ever brought her up in the first place - it didn’t much matter now - had no real intentions of telling Thistle about his two wives previous to Dagmar, nor his many dalliances. Ragnar was not, admittedly, as bad as Váli but he doubted that small and unnecessary tidbit of information would bring Thistle much comfort in the long run. Though Ragnar’s past was and would always be imperative and intergradient to his future - for the Viking did not believe that one’s past could or should be forgotten though many traveled to do just that - his previous wives didn’t much matter. That had ceased to matter when his interest in them had waned and faded as abruptly as it had came, fading quickly like the death of a star. Blink and you missed it in a ‘there and gone’ manner. He had decided he would only tell her if she inquired about them, though she had nothing to worry or even remotely feel jealous about. Somehow, in some way, she had gradually became the center in which his universe revolved around. It sounded horrendously tawdry to the Viking even in his head and so he kept that truth a coveted secret. There was a small part of him that realized that while he had admitted to her of affection (and jealousy he felt when she spoke of other men, discreetly) for her Ragnar had yet to admit that he was falling for her like a glorious morning star hurling towards it’s point of collision.
There was a small part of the Viking that was actually, genuinely, afraid that if he admitted it to her it might go away; that it would slip from betwixt his fingers like smoke. Though the things he felt were unlike anything he had ever felt with his previous wives (and lovers) before he remained superstitious and kept quiet not wanting to jinx it. A soft chuckle escaped Ragnar’s lips at Thistle’s words, inhaling her saccharine scent once more - a scent he associated with pregnancy, laced with her own unique scent and now his - as he felt her nuzzle his chest and shoulder. A shudder of pleasure at her touch shivered down the strong curve of his spine.