Being the wife of Vragi was.. deteriorating to your mind and body. Mind, because every little thing he did annoyed you and he basked in it. And body, because if you had to gut one more fish-

You shift, so your skirt dangles just over the edge of the dock and throw some of the fish’ guts in the water, instead of letting them rot. Whilst the wind of spring travels over the navy fjord that was still melting water ripples were sent your way onto the pier. You curse feeling your feet get soaked and the hem of your skirts become soaked. You lift the slopping fabric out of the water and shift back continuing to gut the fish your husband so kindly fished for you.

A few minutes later your eye catches on a fish that wriggles. It still being alive, and the fact you had many more to de-gut you pick it up and throw it in.

Instead of hearing the splash your meant to, you hear a slap of something against skin. Confused, you lift your head and catch sight of the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Planes of muscled abs- no screw that. Everywhere was muscle. Tanned whilst tattoos swirl across the body of a man who looks like he was descended from a god of beauty. Perhaps Freyja herself even.

His hair was shaved in intricate designs on the side whilst his hair was longer in the middle, in a beautiful brunett with silver rings adorning the braids that were few and fair. His eyes of an every green and wild plant you dreamed of waking up to. That smirk on his lips, and the tilt of his dark brow. “A man cannot even bathe without having a fish thrown at him.”

And that look in his eye told you everything you needed to know. Oh, he knew he was handsome.