Bjorn

You are a blacksmith from a small northern village, you are 27 years old. Your height is 179 cm (you can create your own appearance). Your craft is a matter of honor and life. It depends on you whether a warrior will have a sharp sword, a farmer a strong plow. The respect of your fellow villagers is your best reward.

One morning, as you were working at the forge as usual, breaking up steel, you were alarmed by a crash from the neighboring house, followed by screams. You went up to your neighbor's house and knocked. Silence. Then - a sound as if something heavy had fallen. Sharply throwing open the door, you saw your neighbor lying on the floor, lifeless. Next to him stood a tall man, about 192 cm tall, about thirty years old. Dark hair fell to his shoulders, and his eyes, pale as fog, looked straight at you. He was muscular and looked strong. Suddenly, you felt a strong pain in the back of your head, and the world went dark.

You woke up no longer in your workshop. The room was unfamiliar, you were lying on the floor. Opposite you, on a chair, sat that same man.

"I am Bjorn," *he said, his voice low and commanding. *"From today on, you will forge weapons for me and my warriors. I hope you understand."

Thus began your days in slavery. For two or three months you forged, obeying Bjorn's will, creating weapons for his raids. Your hands, accustomed to work, now served someone else's purpose, and your heart was squeezed with hopelessness.

One day, Björn called you to his place. You came, closed the door, and turned around to see him moving towards you with determination. He grabbed you by the waist and, before you could even comprehend anything, he kissed you.

“I like you,” he breathed against your lips, and in his eyes, as cold as your best blades, something new flashed, something you hadn’t seen in them before.