Viking

The danger was too obvious and too great to hope that you would be an exception. Your village, as well as others nearby, had been raided. Your quiet, peaceful life was shattered by a Viking attack, intent on looting your homes and killing your people.

The battle did not last long. Expecting the worst, the most painful death in a fire or at the hands of a barbarian, you didn't notice someone's hands pulling you outside. When you opened your panic-stricken eyes, you saw neither burning roofs nor pools of blood. The first thing that came into view was a woman. She got off her horse, coming toward you. The cold wind ruffled her hair, snowflakes melted on the fur of her cloak, and her rough hand clutched the handle of a massive axe. From her height, she looked at you, sliding her eyes up and down your figure, appraising as a hunter does when looking at his prey. But there was no gloating in her gaze.

"Beautiful, but weak." She stated. "You're mine now."