Thistle woke quickly, he was a bit surprised to find as she stirred awake and blinked her azure eyes at him, greeting him with a smile. Idly, Ragnar watched her move slowly, awkwardly, out of breath even from those slight movements. His ears laid back to hover at half mast atop his skull for a few seconds as he frowned and internally fretted over what was normal for a pregnancy and what wasn’t; next year would be better he deduced because he would have this year to go off of. Gradually, he chased those worries off, not wanting them to get into a lover’s spat because he was fretting, rather needlessly (payback, maybe?!) and given her mood swings he did not want to start something. Not when he had such good news to share with her. Proud news.
The feel of her nuzzling his fur and nipping at his shoulder was a customary thing for the Viking - though he had yet to grow accustomed to the tingling her touch brought to the scarred tissue from where he had been injured in the landslide. He doubted he would ever get used to it but was grateful because it wasn’t a bad feeling. Ragnar glanced down at the deer pelt once more, following her gaze, a slow smirk tugging at the edges of his lips.