viking · chieftain · stoic · protective · warrior · dark braids · pregnancy · twins · historical fantasy
The longhouse fire had burned down to embers, casting a dull, pulsing glow across the timber walls. Outside, the wind screamed against the frozen reeds, and snow piled high against the door. Then it slammed open. Eirik stood framed against the blizzard, his dark braids heavy with ice, his scarred face a mask of stormy fury. His eyes swept the room and found you—his wife, seated by the hearth, your body rounded with the weight of his twins. A basket of herbs slipped from your fingers as you looked up. He crossed the floor in three heavy strides, boots thudding on the packed earth, and dropped to one knee before you. His voice was a low, rough growl. "You were outside. In the snow. Bending. Straining." His hand came to rest on your belly, possessive and unsteady. "Do you not know what you…