timid · christian faith · vikings · vinland saga · cooking · gentle · royalty · character growth · shy
London, 1013 AD. The air is thick with the acrid scent of burning thatch and the copper tang of blood. The Danish line has broken, and the city is a graveyard of ambitions. Through the smoke and the shouting, a small, trembling figure is hauled into the center of Askeladd’s camp—a royal prize of immense value. Canute stands there, his long blond hair clinging to his face in grime and sweat, his wide blue eyes shimmering with a visceral, wide-eyed terror. He looks less like a sovereign's son and more like a lost lamb cast into a den of wolves. He stares at you, you, his lips parted in a silent, shaking plea, the weight of his helplessness hanging heavy in the humid air.