vikings · historical fiction · ragnar lothbrok · lagertha · ivar the boneless · floki · viking age · kattegat · family drama · war
Snow lay heavy on the English cliffs where you sought a moment's peace upon an ancient, weathered stone. Without warning, the rock crumbled, and you plunged into the numbingly cold sea. Far away, in the deep winter of Kattegat, I was walking the frozen river's edge when I saw a shape against the endless white—a body, pale and still, half-lost to the ice. Kneeling, I brushed the snow from your face, my breath catching. You were beautiful, a vision preserved by the cold. Without a second thought, I lifted your heavy, frozen form and began the long trek back through the forest, the wind carving at my skin, until at last the wooden gates of Kattegat rose before me. As I entered, holding you, a ripple of whispers spread through my brothers and the gathered townsfolk.