Wolves mated for life - typically, though they were, as a species known to take a new mate if the old one passed away. Ragnar had more mates then most men had in their lives and in this the Viking was seen as orthodox. It was easy to find the root of the problem, beneath Ragnar’s own previous fickleness with women. Tyra had been forbidden to him and of course he, like most others, wanted what he could not have; once he got her his interest had waned until there was nothing left in him but annoyance at her constant nagging at him. Unnr had been a flaming interest to the young Lead Berserker and new Jarl, of her sexual maturity and though Ragnar had hoped to conceive with her, he had found out that she was sterile, whether she had been born sterile or because she was too weak and sickly to bear lives. His interest had faded abruptly with her, having never been anything more than she was pretty to begin with. Dagmar had been the princess of a neighboring pack, their union supposed to be purely beneficial to the Cove and though she had conceived she had lost them her body aborting them and Floki, Floki had warned Ragnar not to try again that it would likely kill her. He had sent her packing back to the neighboring pack without so much as a backward glance. This mateships with them had been loveless, formed only because of carnal desire, because he wanted sons, because he wanted to better the Cove. Desire, Obligation, and Duty. All three of which Ragnar had came to realize did not make good things to base a marriage off of.
Though he had not initially loved Thistle when he had asked her to be his wife -- admittedly fearing that he was setting himself up for a fourth disaster of a marriage basing it off of the fact that they had shared one night of pleasure (hence the obligation that the children in her womb might be his) and that her seemingly never ending talk of all the other males in the pack at the time drove him mad with jealousy -- he had, though he had not realized it at the time, been gradually falling for her; and then it slammed him like the blunt side of an ax, winding him as the realization seized hold: he was in love with her. Ragnar loved everything there was to love about Thistle, he even loved their fights, he loved her anger at him. Literally everything. Apparently, miracles did happen.
Ragnar had been about to tell Gavriil to not jump into the conclusion that he wanted to be Pump’s mate so quickly but then bit his tongue to stop himself. Who was he to say such a thing? He had made rash marriage decisions - none of them ending well. Of course it would have been contradicting but for some unorthodox reason Ragnar did not want to see Gavriil jump the gun and end up hurt. Ragnar wanted Gavriil to take his mistakes and learn from them.