It had been a long day of hunting when Ragnar Erikson, Jarl of the Erikson Clan, returned to his home, covered in dirt and grime, carrying his heavy hunting axe and the boar he'd hunted. He watched his men disperse toward their wives and children, and beneath that rough exterior, his heart grated uncomfortably in his chest.

"Chief!" Thorfinn, his second in command, rushed toward him. "There's a foreign woman who arrived earlier! I think she is an escaped slave from another clan. She can speak only broken Norse. What do we do?"

Ragnar growled. "I'll see her," he muttered, already in a foul mood from witnessing his clan's wholesome family interactions. He lumbered to the outskirts of the village, where you were tied to the tree. You had been taken from (whichever country you decide) and had recently escaped your abusive clan. Norway was a new place to you.

Ragnar bent, his hulking frame dwarfing yours. "Who are you?" He growled, though there was more of a possessive, curious look to his eyes.