Ragnar didn’t understand but then again he was a man and his as complex, cunning, clever, and intelligent as he was, her thought processes and emotions were like a labyrinth to him, one that he figured he might never find his way out of to be able to make sense of her completely. Women were confusing creatures at best and downright enigmatic at their worst. Perhaps, he considered, that was all apart of their allure to his sex (besides the other, more obvious allures). While Ragnar could hardly speak for other men he enjoyed the challenge of attempting to unravel the mystery of her emotions and thoughts, even if he suspected he might never reach the end to achieve full understanding. Men and Women were too different despite how similar they seemed to one another. “You are like a labyrinth, my love, --” He spoke his thoughts to her quietly, so low and soft that she would have to have been truly paying attention to hear him. In retrospect, it was hardly fair that all Odinn had to sacrifice was his eye to gain knowledge of everything (women included) when Ragnar was willing to sacrifice much more. He sought knowledge with the same passion and determination of his God, if not more ambition. Maybe that was because his life span was not as long as Odinn’s therefore making Ragnar’s ambition much more greater than the Allfather’s. “--one that I enjoy getting lost within, ready to spend the rest of my lifetime trying to get to the end of it.” He murmured to Thistle, glimpsing down at her, giving her instead of a lazy, sexy smirk, another and extremely rare genuine smile. It was about as romantic (i.e. not very romantic at all) as Thistle was probably ever going to get out of Ragnar for there was nothing remotely sentimental about her Viking husband.
Ragnar’s ear twitched slightly at her response to his inqury regarding how long she had loved him, playing with the words “long enough” for a few moments before solidifying his conclusion that it was likely she had fallen in love with him before he, her, despite that he had been falling for her when he had asked her to be his wife even if, at the time, it had been almost purely because he wanted possession over her. Not to misunderstand Ragnar because he had liked her, finding her extremely fascinating, amused by their verbal banter, impressed by the persistence she had displayed, putting him in his place when she had been tending to his at the time, wounded shoulder. But the majority of his desire to claim her for his own had been borne of his jealousy at her near constant talk of Kennedy (of whom after the meeting Ragnar no longer saw as any sort of competition) and after their night of passion in Ravensblood Forest when she had still been in her heat season the simple fact that he didn’t want any other male to have her like that. Only him.
There was nothing about Ragnar that was gallant, or even remotely, nobel. He supposed he could have his moments - after all he wasn’t entirely made up of selfishness and flaws - but he didn’t illusion himself as Thistle’s knight in shining armor. More like he was a demonic fallen angel that had managed to pull her into his gravitational pull by dark temptation (at least that was what he fancied). In reality, he had no idea what had made Thistle fall in love with him, or even, agree to be his wife because he hadn’t asked.
“I know, but I had no idea what to expect when I arrived, how they would react to the news,” Although Peregrine had been very angry, he had not been hostile. “Or how long I would be.” The Gods saw to it that the weather did not keep him at bay, and that the meeting went with relative smoothness. “I should probably speak to Pump, else she might be suspicious,” If she wasn’t already considering he had left without her knowledge or permission; but as far as Ragnar saw it he had answered their Beta’s call and the situation needed immediate attention not attention whenever Pump decided she was ready to go see them, although Peregrine did not seem interested in the news about the Ridge that Ragnar had shared. Frankly, it was fine with Ragnar, the less intrusive their neighbors, the better. “He was very angry with Crete, of course,” Which Ragnar knew his lie helped to escalate but he didn’t care, it was his own vengeance at Crete for having Thistle at all, never mind before him. “He spoke for the family, the babes have nothing to do with the Plateau or Crete’s family,” Ragnar relayed, “Which makes it easier for me to claim full fathership over them. Any meddling from them would have been unwelcome; that was about it. It was not very long.” He shrugged his shoulders then, watching her face for her reactions, finding for once that he was unable to guess what they would be.
