The sun will always rise

Last post for me. Aaahhh these two just make my feels all happy. I love how they can take a fight and definitely turn it into no big deal. :p <33

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Ragnar’s scarred left ear twitched in her direction giving her his attention even though his gaze had wandered to stare at the nearest ash tree, believing that it was a child of Yggdrasil. All of the ash trees were borne of it’s seed in the same manner their children were born of Crete’s his. His lips has spread into a terse line across his muzzle as her words processed into his brain, and she spoke them softly but quickly almost as if she were trying to gently break some horrible news to him yet wanted to get her words out before he could interrupt her. "I already gave Odinn my children, once," The only litter he had actually sired and Dagmar had not been strong enough to bear them, her body aborting them and they had not been developed enough to be able to survive the outside world despite her frantic and hysterical attempts to get them to drink from her mother’s milk. Perhaps his previous wife had known what he would do to her when he realized the children had died, that she had not been able to bear him the sons he wanted — the sons the Norn had guaranteed him. Dagmar hadn’t been ignorant; she knew very well that Ragnar hadn’t loved her. The Danish Princess had been another conquest, simply, one lucky enough to be married to him for a brief time. Likely, she knew very well that the death of their litter meant for her having been around his wives previous to her. "When he ripped them away from me," Did Ragnar feel any more intelligent from it? Yes, despite that their lives as sacrifice had not been his choice. "I would adapt to one eye. Odinn did." Granted he could still technically see from it despite that it belonged to Yggdrasil. Whereas Ragnar would only be able to see from his eye left in his skull if he were to sacrifice it. "Volunteering to sacrifice yourself to the Gods is an honor," Not that he intended to sacrifice himself any time soon. He had way too much life to live and children to create and things to conquer. If Thistle had came to him wanting a ‘tattoo’ carved into her in the honor of Frigg he would do it to the best of his abilities though he wasn’t as skilled as Floki was at carving up skin into rudimentary shapes that held semblance to the Gods (though Floki’s artistic talent was debatable). "I know," The Viking rasped when he felt her teeth against the skin of his shoulder tugging at it as per her tradition, his confidence unwavering even in the comparison to a God. "Come." It was a simple command that held no explanation of what he intended to do though his body language and his eyes spoke it for him.