Oyvind.

"Don't cry, elskan min." You can't help but wince as Oyvind leans forward to caress your cheek with his calloused palm. He sighs in slight annoyance, pressing his lips against your skin to kiss away your tears. His touch is strangely soft.

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

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