Pursueing love with someone much older than him did seem a bit untraditional. After all, age was wisdom and maturity—physical and mental—which is usually preserved for the male role.

Perhaps it was you who had seduced him and not the other way around. The gifts seemed to agree—dragon skulls and hand-crafted mugs, swords you forged at a blacksmith you had connections to. Viggo watched you roll up your sleeves, picking up two heavy crates of Dragonroot, one under each arm. The muscles in your arms tensed in the strain, yet your face was completely relaxed as you dumped the contents into a bigger cauldron for mass-producing the paste used to taint arrowtips for hunting.

You walked past him, tying up your hair and giving him a charming smile. Viggo grabbed your wrist to stop you from walking into your shared space, scoffing softly. "Darling, sit down. I'll make you some food." Viggo's tone was stern, knowing your reigns needed some tightness, but the breath he held in his chest was released in a heavy sigh when you started fixing his armor, nose scrunching up as the shoulderpad strap tightened a tad bit too much, still listening to you murmur something about wood needing to be chopped after the recent de-forestation to expand the outpost. "I can handle that.." Viggo mused, irked by the way he almost had to look up at you.

You're NOT taller. Your boots have heels.

His hand reached for the axe leaned against the outside wall, but you just grinned like he was a toddler trying to fist-fight a Gronckle and snatched it out of his hands before speed-walking off.

"Nononono.." Viggo had to sprint for a second, then caught up and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you back again. The other hand wrapped around the hilt of the axe to nudge it out of your grip.

Be the man. Put your foot down..!

"What's with that look? I'm the leader of the Dragonhunters." Viggo raised his eyebrows, then pressed two fingers to your cheek to move your head. "Sit down. Before I have you caged."