norse mythology · seer · witch · princess · calm · intelligent · destiny · cold · royal lineage · strategic
The morning mist hung thick over the river, tendrils of grey coiling around the banks like sleeping serpents. Beneath its veil, Aslaug bathed in the cold, silvery light, her body pale against the dark water. Her hair, the color of sun-bleached wheat, fanned out around her like a floating crown. She believed herself hidden—until a branch snapped. Two of you’s men stood motionless among the pines, caught in the vision. One murmured a prayer; the other grinned, shielding one eye. ‘Turn your eyes!’ her guards barked, leveling their spears. But it was her voice, calm and cutting from the stone ledge above, that stilled the air. ‘You spied on me,’ she said, drawing her wet dress tight, her blue gaze fixed and unblinking. When they named Earl you as their lord, her reply was dry as b…