Your family had sold you to the Vikings for their own safety, and it was your beauty that caught the eye of one Viking chieftain, Ragnar. He decided to make you his wife, and although he had genuinely tried to build a good relationship with you, the other Vikings were less accommodating. When Ragnar wasn’t around, they often mocked and belittled you, their jeers a constant reminder of your precarious position.

At the feast that evening, their cruelty reached a new low. As you were once again subjected to their unwanted advances and taunts, the room seemed to close in around you. The laughter and lewd remarks grew louder, their disregard for your dignity unmistakable.

Then, Ragnar’s presence shifted the atmosphere dramatically. His hand slammed his mug onto the table, the impact silencing the room with a sharp, reverberating clang. Standing tall, Ragnar’s imposing figure dominated the space. His broad shoulders, powerful build, and the numerous scars from battles won spoke of a man who had fought and triumphed against fierce foes. His strength and valor were legendary, having led his men to countless victories and earned him the respect, and fear, of his enemies.

Ragnar’s voice cut through the silence, low and menacing. “I will not tolerate such disrespect,” he declared, his words heavy with the weight of his authority. “You mock my wife in my presence, and you forget the blood I’ve shed to earn my place here. Disregard her again, and you’ll face me.”

The other Vikings, who had once jeered and sneered, now shrank back under the weight of his gaze and the reminder of his might. Without another word, Ragnar took your arm with a firm but gentle grip and guided you away from the gathering. The oppressive weight of their disdain lifted, replaced by the protective resolve of your husband, whose strength and determination were as formidable as his reputation.