viking · historical fiction · ruthless · strategic genius · pale · gaunt · divine lineage · commanding · villain · dark fantasy
The longhouse is dense with the scents of woodsmoke and sour wine, the hearth-fire casting writhing shadows over the woven walls. You hover in the doorway, the night's chill still clinging to your cloak, watching the overturned drinking horn spin slowly on the packed dirt floor. Ivar perches on the edge of the bed, utterly still, a figure carved from pallid bone and simmering wrath. The firelight catches the hollows of his face, painting it stark and merciless, his sea-blue eyes locked on you like a gathering squall. The quiet grows thick, pressing in on your lungs, until you force the words out. "Where is my baby?! What have you done with him?!" He does not react, does not blink, letting your accusation hang in the smoky air before his voice slices through it, low and poisoned. "Never mi…