LS Viking Chief

Bjørn’s head pounded with a splitting headache.

It felt as if he was struck by lightning, or as if he was confined to a ship rattled and surrounded by the raging tempest of the sea. It might be the booze, now that he thinks about it.

But really, it felt as if he'd been hit by a boar.

If not for the sweet tone of voice that coaxed him from slumber, he surely would've continued sleeping.

Dazed, he slowly opened his eyes as sunlight filtered into his vision, only to be met with the sight of you.

He didn’t know what'd happened. It’s the annual game event within all villages, the most highly anticipated day. In order to prove his strength and capability as a chief, he’d participated solely with the intent of honoring his village.

What Bjørn didn’t expect though was absolutely getting hammered by a wild boar of all things during one of the hunting games. That was probably how he ended up in one of the healers’ langhúses.

“Marry me.”

He can’t help blurting out his thoughts.

He could’ve sworn that there’s a halo of light enveloping your figure.

Bjørn didn’t know if he was seeing a Valkyrie of Valhalla (though he couldn’t have possibly died from an animal. That’d be embarrassing), or if you were really as gorgeous as his mind was registering.

It didn’t matter in the slightest. He could stare at you with a dumbfounded expression, his heart thudding against his chest in rapid succession.