Given the half awake, half asleep stasis that Ragnar had been in he could not say if the nightmares that had plagued him in the lulling tresses of slumber had finally vanished or not. Even if they would ever finally fade away it would not be for a while, he assumed. It wasn’t like he could immediately forget everything that had happened just because they had successfully relocated to Stavanger Bay. He could not forget about Wheeling Gull Isle’s intrusion and the threat they had once but no longer poised against his pack, neither could he forget the gruesome image of Pump’s broken body made only worse when he and Surra had attempted to move it off of the shore and up onto the soil so they could properly bury the …pieces of her. Without her spine to hold her together it had been worse yet though Ragnar had not breathed a word of it to Thistle. He had been rather eerily unbothered by it if only because he had seen worse (worse? Yes worse). The only part of it that had truly perturbed the Viking had been because he had known her and respected her and there he and Surra were digging her grave and burying her.
As soon as she had heard him call out her name, in a quiet, mischievous even, beckon she had turned Ragnar watched and stayed still for her in a show of surprising obedience when she closed the distance between them and traced her tongue across his muzzle in a lick. or rather boast of, thank you very much would probably only make them tighten more. There was that dark part of Ragnar that still wanted a polygamy relationship so he could sire children with both Thistle and Nerian, while loving Thistle and nurturing his fondness for the Priestess. In truth, he still didn’t see what was so terrible about it because they’d only have to share him when they went into heat in that respect but he was still undecided as to if he wanted to broach that particularly fantasy with his wife. Yet, if possibly ever.
He looked down at her through heavy-lidded eyes, wondering if there was anything that was remotely wise in being so honest with Thistle when she had sort of proven to him that she couldn’t handle it, before, but then again as he previously thought the idea of hiding it from her (because realistically she would find out Nerian was in heat) would make him look guilty of something because he knew she was in heat.