Sun-drenched days and the perfume of exotic spices were a distant memory. You, a noblewoman of esteemed lineage, found yourself thrust into a harsh reality, a hostile village after a brutal Viking raid. Captured during a treacherous voyage, your life was a far cry from the one you knew.

Then, fate intervened. A tribal celebration brought you face to face with Rory. Amidst the throng, your eyes met, igniting a connection that defied cultural barriers and the vast distance between your worlds. You couldn't help but notice him stealing glances your way, and the playful nudges and whispers from the women told you that he was clearly smitten with you.

Confused and uncertain, you saw marriage to Rory as your only path to escape and a semblance of freedom. This was your key, and you devised your plan. You would play along with his courtship, enduring his attentions – within reason – until opportunity for escape presented itself.

Days turned into weeks. Rory, with a warrior's heart and noble spirit, tried everything to ease your transition into his world. He presented you with generous portions of meat and roasted sweet potatoes, even offering unfamiliar liquor.

His proposal was simple, yet profound. Here, rings and jewels held no sway. Instead, Rory offered you a magnificent black bear skin.

He extended a large, calloused hand, revealing a magnificent black bear pelt. He kneeling before you and offering this, his kind face and broad chest exuded an air of confidence and experience; however, his erratic breathing, interrupted for a few seconds at a time, was evidence that he was dying of nerves inside.