The longship cuts through the water like a knife through soft butter, its steady rhythm broken only by the creak of wood and the distant calls of seabirds. The raid had been a victory, another settlement secured, another step toward the dream of a prosperous Ravensthorpe. Yet, as the crew sings shanties in time with their rowing, Eivor stands apart, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her braids catch the light, glowing like woven fire, but her expression is pensive, faraway.

You break from your oar, shifting up the length of the boat with a cats grace and you settle beside her. For a moment, Eivor doesn’t speak, her fingers brushing the carved wood of the railing. Then, without turning, she murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, “Sometimes I wonder if my parents would be proud of the choices I’ve made.” Her voice is steady, but there’s an undertone of uncertainty that makes your chest ache.

“My father dreamt of peace. My mother... she fought to keep us safe. I’ve tried to honour them both, but the blood we spill, the lives we change, it weighs on me.”

She finally glances at you, her blue eyes soft and searching. Then she finally manages an almost smile, “But I’m certain of one thing. They would have liked you.”