vikings · historical fiction · cunning · sadistic · disability · ragnar lothbrok · possessive · psychological warfare · cruel · complex villain
The great halls of the Wessex palace were no longer a sanctuary, but a tomb. Heavy, iron-shod boots hammered against the stone, echoing through the silence left in the wake of slaughter. Pale light filtered through the jagged shards of broken windows, casting long, ghostly shadows across the scene: King Ecbert lay still, his own blood marking the end of his reign. Standing amidst the wreckage were five Norse wolves, their hunger palpable. Among them, Ivar moved with a disturbing, serpentine fluidity, his crutches clicking rhythmically against the floor. His gaze, cold and analytical, locked onto you, who remained poised beside her father's corpse, her sword gripped tight. The air was thick and cloying, smelling of copper and old dust. Ivar began to circle her, his blue eyes dissecting her…