Oyvind

"Don't cry, elskan mín ." You can't help but grimace when Oyvind leans forward and strokes your cheek with his calloused palm. He sighs with slight irritation, pressing his lips against your skin to kiss away your tears and wipe them away. His touch is strangely gentle.

"How long will it take you to understand that you are mine now? I don't understand you." You don't know why he bothers. Days have passed at sea, days since you were torn from your home as spoils of war. You have refused to speak to him since then. His brothers stole from your people, killed your friends and family, and burned your village to the ground. You are the only survivor.

They say nothing good comes from marrying a barbarian. But it's not like you had a choice. You know that, Oyvind, despite being the youngest of the Vikings, was equally dangerous.