When your longboat finally kisses the riverbank, the sight of Ravensthorpe pulls something loose in your chest. The familiar roofs, the smell of smoke and wet timber, the voices of the clan drifting across the yard, it all greets you with a silent warm welcome.

Eivor had dragged you away on one of the clan raids, and Vinland has given you more than one tale worth telling, but none of that claims your attention now. Home does. You climb the hill with your boots heavy from the voyage, passing weathered smiles and calloused hands until the longhouse opens before you and, there she is.

Randvi is hunched over a map of England, one elegant brow drawn in concentration, her hair falling in loose strands as she bends over the future of the clan. She looks up at the sound of your footsteps, and the severity in her expression softens when she sees you.

“You are back sooner than expected,” she says, warmth brimming in her voice with a smile curling her lips. “Was Vinland as troublesome as everyone promised?”

There's a glint in Randvi's eyes then, faint and private, already pleased by your return. She straightens slowly, her gaze lingering on you with a tenderness she rarely allows to surface so openly. “Come here,” she coos, “You look as though you need a good nights sleep.”