Ragnar felt Gyda collide with his chest, pushing herself against the hardened muscle and silky fur that lined the contours of it, one of the sections of his body that was not riddled with scars. His belly area was not either because Ragnar had never been submissive enough to expose it. Even the mere thought of allowing another creature access to his throat and the vitals they could easily find at the exposure of his stomach made the Viking shudder. Thistle had gotten about as close as anyone could ever get to those regions and that was because it had been necessary. Otherwise Ragnar was not so sure he would have even let her have access to those vulnerable areas of his body despite that he trusted his wife with his life. Had too, really, he realized, remembering the threat she had issued him with the severity of a woman who would not be left scorned. She would end his life if he was unfaithful to her and not in the way a warrior should go out. She had promised him a silent death, likely a slow and agonizing one. Poison was a woman’s weapon, or so he had heard multiple times.
When Ragnar had issued his question, it had quieted his Viking Princess for only a few moments before she was crying at him again demanding that he …say more? It was a guessing game for the man who didn’t speak baby and had eliminated that it wasn’t food she wanted and there wasn’t much else the Viking assumed she could want… besides maybe his voice. Or the vibrations his voice made when he spoke, at any rate.
For a moment he pondered what else he might say to her. While he could easily just tell her sweet little nothings (it wasn’t like she could hear him anyway) that felt wrong. Instead, he contemplated what type of story he could tell her.