Thistle said nothing to his comparison of her to a labyrinth which didn’t bother Ragnar all that much because he hadn’t really said it to woo her or anything silly like that. He had been speaking exactly how he thought of her, expressing that while he could not always make sense of her he was going to spend the rest of his life trying too because it felt like something someone in love did. Ragnar blinked at his wife, his smile fading at her dazed expression, lips parting to speak before he closed them again, trying to understand why she was looking at him like that. It did not occur to him that it had been him that had placed that starry eyed expression upon her face and so the Viking ignorantly wrote it off as a pregnancy thing and left it contented at that.
“Well that does not seem to be a foreseeable problem,” Ragnar assured her, recognizing her relief for it mirrored his own at the time. He had not know if Peregrine would fight for the children or not, but his write off of them made everything measurably easier. That left Ragnar with one last concern. “I do not want anyone coming in and filling their heads with nonsense and undoing their birth right as Vikings.” If Ragnar caught even a whisper on the wind of something attempting to teach his sons things that contradicted him Ragnar would be wearing someone’s bloodied skull as a prize. Pump may have lorded it over everyone that the babes belonged to the Ridge but she was wrong. They belonged to Odinn and the Vikings and though Ragnar was confident his personality was overbearing and resolute enough to prevent anything from being able to contradict what he taught his sons, he still would not take kindly (not that Ragnar was kind to begin with) to it.
