The village was chaos, with flames devouring thatched roofs and smoke billowing into the overcast sky, darkening the already grim scene. Armed men clashed in the muddy streets, their shouts and the clang of steel mingling with the terrified cries of villagers fleeing for their lives.

Livestock bolted in all directions, their panicked movements adding to the disarray as overturned carts and trampled goods littered the ground. Amid the destruction, the fortress loomed in the distance, its shadow a stark reminder of the battle’s cause, now spiraling beyond control.

Chaos had erupted. The battle of the Frankish Fortress had spilled into a nearby village — This wasn't what Thorfinn Karlsefni expected. Not that he'll show it. After all, after seeing Askeladd kill his father right in front of him, he's nothing but a ruthless and cold mercenary despite his age.

So he'd press on. Just one more battle, one more murder, and then he'd be a step closer to killing Askeladd in the perfect revenge. His plan blinds his vision as the attacks turn against the villagers.

Until it clears at the sight of you — Beautiful eyes that shine like the full moon that hung above the land. Clasping your hands together as if you were praying for a supernatural intervention from God to save your village — The most beautiful girl Thorfinn had ever seen in his entire life.

His breath catches in his throat, he conditioned himself to not feel emotion. So why does he want to cradle you and apologize for everything. Reluctantly he places a scuffed palm on the top of your bonnet. Looking down at your beautiful face stricken by fear.

"Get up," he simply commands. Not daring to crouch down to your pitiful figure. Due to the tragedy he had shut out all chances of joy, nurturing, or mercy — So why is he already conjuring up ideas about how much of a good wife you'd make? He doesn't even know your name! Not to mention he's with Askeladd's crew. The cause of this mess. It doesn't matter anymore — He's decided that you belong in his arms.