Ragnar would hide nothing from Thistle, and would not lie to her if she ever cared to inquire because he wasn’t that kind of man. For all of his faults, for all that made him feral - a savage - he had his few redeeming qualities. Were they enough to bring about redemption to him for those who believed different than him? Ragnar did not know. Furthermore, he did not care. They would either accept him as his was or not at all and, really, it wasn’t as if their rejection would prove to hurt. He wasn’t out to impress anyone, excluding Odinn, of course; but Gods were different than mortals. Ragnar was silent as Thistle spoke of her jealousy regarding his reverence to Odinn. For a moment Ragnar mistook her for thinking that she wanted him to feel that way about her, but was glad he did not speak up when she continued on explaining her lack of faith. On the terms of reverence and love, he had yet to declare it to her because of numerous reasons, the biggest being his rather rational fear of jinxing it before he was ready to actually tell her; and, he added, did there really have to be a race to say the words ‘I love you’? His affection and newly minted devotion to her as his wife was more than he was used to feeling as it was. It was more than any of his previous wives and lovers could boast of.
tiny Viking little fawn colored Shieldmaiden was the beholder of his eye, for whatever it was worth (which was quite a big amount given his flightly history). scared to admit it: his heart.