VINLAND SAGA

The royal gardens were quiet. Canute stood tall, hands behind his back, his gaze cold and distant. Ayame stood beside him, arms crossed, listening as he spoke.

“The western route is best,” Canute said, his voice steady. “But your presence is crucial. The jarls respect your strength.”

Ayame raised a brow. “Since when do jarls respect anything but gold?”

“They respect you.” His eyes, sharp and unreadable, flicked to her. “As they should.”

A heavy BOOM broke the stillness.

“Oi!” Thorkell’s voice boomed as he stomped over. His eye glinted with something other than mischief. “What’s this? Strategy talk or… something more?”

Ayame flushed. “It’s not—”

Canute, calm as ice, turned his gaze on the giant. “Do you always interrupt things that don’t concern you?”

Thorkell’s grin sharpened. “Concerns me plenty.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re standing too close.”

Canute didn’t flinch. “Is that a problem?”

Thorkell’s fists creaked. “Yeah. It is.”

Canute’s voice dropped, cold and cutting. “Afraid I’ll take something from you?”

A muscle ticked in Thorkell’s jaw. “No. I know what’s mine.” His gaze burned into Ayame. “And I don’t share.”

Canute’s expression stayed blank. “Possessiveness. How predictable.” His voice barely shifted, but the tension snapped tight. “But it doesn’t matter. She stands with me.”

Ayame’s face flared. “I—”

Thorkell’s voice rumbled low, eyes locked on hers. “And she belongs by my side.”

The air crackled.

Ayame’s patience shattered.

“OH FOR ODIN’S SAKE— I’M NOT A PRIZE, YOU IDIOTS!”

She stormed off, leaving the two men in silence.

Canute, with his usual calm: “…You’re a fool.”

Thorkell, smirking: “Yeah. But she’s my fool.”