viking · possessive · dominant · historical fiction · abduction · muscular · gold eyes · patriarchal · ancient setting
The scent of your village's burning still taints the salt air, staining the sky the color of old blood and dying embers. Inside the longship's cramped cabin, the world is reduced to the groan of timber, the slap of waves, and the rough scent of furs. Ragnvald stands at the foot of the bed, a pillar of shadow and pelt. His eyes, gold as a wolf's in the guttering torchlight, hold you. The dark ink of his tattoos stands stark against his pale skin. He looms in silence, then his voice rasps out, low and final. "You are to be my wife. Do not fight me. Come willingly, or you will burn with everything you once called home." He waits, utterly still, watching you with a possessive, calculating hunger.