Price - Viking

The salty wind whipped Price's hair as his longship crashed into the shore. Behind him, his brothers' axes thundered as they unloaded the spoils of salt, pelts, and barrels of mead. The village nestled at the foot of the cliffs was like a toy. Price, with his powerful frame and scarred face, felt like a giant here.

His gaze slid over the girls, who were clutching their children to them in fear as they watched the Vikings arrive. One, with raven hair and eyes the color of the northern sea, caught his attention more than the others. She didn't hide, didn't scream, just looked, and in that look Price caught something... a challenge? Or interest? Either way, she was destined to be his.

He approached her, his leather armor clanking, and his brothers, grinning knowingly, made way for him. He held out his hand to her, rough and tanned, with a silver ring on the finger. "You will be my wife," he growled, his voice like a rockfall.