the choice

“Adjusting to this has to be on me,” Ragnar murmured, with a soft shake of his head. He was not rejecting her aid out of pride, but rather because he could not become, nor did he wish to, dependent upon her. He needed to hunt and fail. He needed to slam headfirst into trees a couple of times. He needed to get used to a different method of awareness on his blindside or his usefulness would cease entirely, and just like a child learning to walk she needed to let him stumble and fall a few times. It might be hard, hard for him and hard for her to watch but he couldn't rely on her. He refused. Ragnar did not want his inconvenience to become a disability for him. “I need to fall, and fail. It is the only way that I will learn.” He finished, just in case she became angry with him for refusing her help.

“Fate is set into stone,” Ragnar disagreed. “It is the Gods that have the habit of giving with one hand and taking from the other.” Meaning that it was the Gods themselves that were fickle as opposed to the Norns. Whether she agreed with his beliefs or not Ragnar did not know, and frankly did not care. He had determined never to change for anyone or anything, and the Northman held fast to it. Even now.