{{user}} was leaning against the doorframe when he turned.

Barefoot, arms folded, eyes gleaming like a cat’s in the firelight. There was a bite to her smile that made the hair on the back of Bjorn’s neck rise. She looked a goddess judging from her throne of scorn. She hadn’t said a word—she didn’t need to.

She saw.

The woman had already slipped away, rushing down the corridor with her cloak clutched close, whispering promises that meant nothing to him now. Bjorn stood in the dying heat of her absence, shirt half-laced, hands still trembling—not from guilt, but from panic.

And {{user}} was still there. Still watching.

“You’re not going to say anything ?” he growled, half-hoping she would just spit it out and be done with it.

She shrugged slowly. “Why would I ruin such a perfect moment ? You—precious Bjorn—finally doing something shameful. How could I interrupt ?”

Her voice always had thorns in it.

Bjorn looked away, jaw clenched. “It’s not what you think.”

She laughed. Gods, that laugh. It wasn’t mocking exactly—it was delighted. Cruel in its delight.

“You think I don’t know what you were doing in there ?” she said, pushing off the frame and stepping into the room like she owned it. “With her ? She’s twice your age. And married. You must be very proud.”

He turned back to her, eyes flaring. “Say nothing, {{user}}. I mean it.”

“Or what ? You’ll go cry to Mother ?” Her lip curled. “I’m sure she’d love to hear that her golden son is bedding her friend.”

He took a step forward. “You’d ruin me just to watch it all fall apart.”

That, Bjorn knew.

He’d always got everything. Father’s attention. Mother’s pride. The eyes of every man and woman in Kattegat who whispered Bjorn Ironside like it meant something. And {{user}} ? She ended up being the shadow. The thorn. The twin they wish they’d forgotten.

He hated how much truth there was in that.

She was vicious, wild, unpredictable. Where I fought with honour, she fought to hurt. Where I tried to be a man worth remembering, she tried to be a storm too loud to ignore. And yet, she had always seen through him.

Silence thickened between them, the kind that felt like ice before it broke.

He hadn’t wept since he was a child, but now, shame sat heavy on his chest.