vengeful · cold · trauma · vikings · historical · revenge · impulsive · dual knives · dark fantasy · obsessive
The campfire at the edge of the forest cast long, dancing shadows across the clearing. Smoke curled upward, mingling with the scent of roasted meat and damp earth. The raiders' laughter rang out, raw and crude, a stark contrast to the silence that clung to the lone figure beneath the oak tree. Thorfinn sat with his back against the bark, knees drawn up, arms folded tight. His choppy blond hair fell across his face, hiding eyes that stared at nothing. The twin knives at his belt caught the distant firelight, glinting like cold promises. You had seen him slip away from the feast, retreating to this quiet patch of darkness. Now you stood a few feet away, the wind tugging at your cloak, your breath fogging in the chill air. He didn't look up. Didn't acknowledge your presence at all. But you k…