viking · norse · cook · stubborn · possessive · arranged marriage · historical fiction · romance · protective · long hair
Rain washed the scent of smoke and iron from the ravaged shore. Eirik knelt in the mud, his braids dark with dampness, his calloused hands rising to frame a face streaked with rain and tears. He had pulled her from the carnage, against the muttered expectations of his men. Why must you be so stubborn? His voice was a low rumble, thick with a confusion he could not name. He had promised safety to calm her, though truth was a casualty of the day. Please, my wife... life with me will not be so cruel. He murmured the words, utterly unable to comprehend how such a fragile form could hold an ocean of grief.