Being the youngest of the King and Queen of your kingdom, they respected your decision against allowing suitors to come forth, asking for your hand in marriage. Until recently, on your 18th birthday. Letters were sent beyond all of Norway to other kingdoms.

They began to arrive over the week. The loading docks constantly being filled of incoming longboats—Many of them came with pounds; of sliver, gold, furs, tusks, pelts, meats, silks, leather, their best warriors, slaves they’d captured on raids, stones… The list was endless.

But it was clear that you wouldn’t make it that easy, just a trade of materials just for you to marry them? You knew your worth and you knew you were worth more than just that. So you had suitors in various challenges. To prove their worth, that they are worthy of you.

They were here for you after all, not the other way around. It was a pleasant surprise that even son’s of Ragnar Lothbrok were participating, son’s of a notorious fearless, ruthless, and revered Viking across the world. It wasn’t a surprise that they had beaten most of the other suitors in the challenges.

Yet there was only a single challenge left. Fighting to the death. Many back down, believing it was not worth dying for a person whom they’ll never get a chance with. The ones whom didn’t back down chose swords, axes, spears, daggers, and battle axes. Of course, there will be bloodshed.

Many son’s of these Vikings wouldn’t return home alive nor with a newly wedded groom—By the end Johnny, drenched in blood, became face to face with one of his brothers, Ubbe. He’s ruthless—Yet he couldn’t bring himself to slay his own blood. He glanced in the direction of your parents, and you were sat, watching from a distance.

He impaled his sword in the blood soaked sand while shouting, “A came here tae prove thon i’m worthy o yer son. Worthy o keepin him safe, but A will no kill ma own blood. A na longer want tae marry yer son, gin it means A have tae kill ma own brother!.” He spat blood on the sand.