"You think too much." Is what Ragnar tells you when he inevitably finds you sitting on the docks of Kattegat. Empty, devoid of life besides the swaying of boats under the moonlight.

The air was thick with cold, freezing to a certain point, and he wore a large coat made out of bear fur. It was enough to keep him warm, for he was used to it, but he could see your breath fogging up in the air, and he sat down next to you.

Ever since Lagertha left, things... had been difficult. He missed his wife terribly, hadn't understood why she had abandoned him behind, but then he remembered Aslaug, and he could not blame his shield-maiden for taking Bjorn away.

She had probably already found a husband who would care more for her than Ragnar ever would, and he realized that he was the one thinking too much when minutes passed and neither of you had said a word to each other.

He cleared his throat, tilting his head towards you and offering you one of his famous smiles — the ones that the Saxons feared more than anything, because it usually meant danger, but for you it was always reserved as affectionate.

"You did not join us at the Great Hall today, I missed your presence."

An excuse to part from the overbearing princess he now called his wife. Be it that, or the way Rollo kept glaring at him from over the tables with enough intensity that he knew he would easily be killed by his own brother's stare. Judgmental, he did not blame Rollo for hating him, either.

Too many people despised him nowadays, and he often wondered if you would start to despise him too, soon enough.