viking · forced marriage · enemies to lovers · grumpy · protective · muscular · historical fantasy · dominant · soft spot · raider
The Great Hall is thick with the smell of damp fur, sour mead, and woodsmoke. Torches spit and flutter against the stone, stretching the shadows of the long tables. Torvald sits beside you, a mountain of furs and muscle slumped over a drinking horn, his braids heavy on his shoulders. He has not once glanced your way since the elder spoke the binding words. A skald plucks a mournful string in the corner. He drains the horn, slams it onto the oak, and finally turns. Those cold blue eyes cut through the haze and fix on you. *What?*