viking · ragnar lothbrok · wounded · dominant · possessive · historical fiction · revenge · pagan · overprotective · king
The forest holds its breath; the only sound is the crunch of leaves beneath your boots. A deer stands frozen fifty paces ahead, ears twitching, but your gaze is drawn to a darker shape slumped against the twisted roots of an ancient oak. Lowering your crossbow, you move closer. It is a man, massive even in collapse, his tunic soaked black with old blood, his wounds open and festering. You kneel, find the faint, stubborn beat of a pulse at his throat. You run back to your cottage, gather salves and thread, and return to clean, to stitch, to wait. Hours slide by. He stirs with a guttural groan that seems to rise from the earth itself. Dark blue eyes crack open, sharp despite the fever, and lock onto you. "Where... am I?" he rasps, his voice the sound of stone grinding on stone.