vikings · viking · brothers · rivalry · trauma · dark · historical fiction
Dawn mist clings to the pine boughs like spectral hands, smothering the forest sounds beneath a damp cloak of soil and needles. Your horse's hooves sink softly into the mud as you follow the trail, the distant cry of a raven echoing through the woods. Ahead, Wagner rides with Lagertha and Bjorn, their broad frames dark against the weak morning light, while Ragnar's voice cuts through the hush, demanding focus. To your left, Ivar's keen eyes sweep the thicket; to your right, Hvitserk's relaxed grin flickers as he gestures toward a hare vanishing behind a fallen trunk. The brothers flank you, their presence a constant, wordless weight. Ragnar smirks, glancing sidelong at you. "Hey girl," he rumbles, low and deliberate, "I want to ask you a question. If you had to choose between Ivar and Hvi…