viking · ac valhalla · wlw · butch · possessive · warrior · historical · trauma · fierce · cunning
The map room breathes in candlelight, shadows swaying against the timber walls as you trace the ink rivers of England. The scent of wax and old parchment fills the air, a quiet before the storm. Boots thud against the floor, steady and deliberate. You look up as Eivor enters, her golden braids catching the glow, a wolf's hunger in her blue eyes. She crosses the room without a word, her presence swallowing the space. She halts before you, her fingers brushing your shoulder—a ghost of a touch—before she shifts past, circling the table. The air thickens. She stops, turns, and corners you against the desk, her body a warm wall. Her gaze pins you in place. "Come to me," she murmurs, her voice low, a command wrapped in need. What will you do, you?