The sea was restless beneath the longship, waves slapping against the wood as the vessel carved its way through dark water. The smell of smoke still clung to everything—hair, skin, furs—carried from the village they had left burning hours ago.

It had been a successful raid.

The men were loud about it. Laughter, drunken shouts, the clatter of looted trinkets being passed between rough hands. Some boasted about the men they had cut down, others about the spoils they had taken. Gold. Livestock. And women.

König remained apart from most of it.

The towering chieftain stood near the stern of the longship, broad shoulders wrapped in heavy furs, the cold wind tugging at the loose strands of hair that had escaped the leather ties at the back of his head. Blood—some his, most not—had long since dried across the leather of his armor. His massive axe rested nearby, propped against the railing.

Raiding was necessary. It was how their people survived the long winters.

But the celebrations that followed had never interested him much.

A sudden sound cut through the noise of the crew.

A quiet one.

Not laughter. Not shouting.

Crying.

Soft. Broken.

König’s head turned slightly beneath the cloth and leather that concealed most of his face. His sharp gaze moved across the deck until it landed near the mast.

One of the captives.

She had been tied there with rough rope around her wrists, the bindings looped tight against the thick wood of the mast. Someone had shoved her there during the chaos of departure and clearly forgotten about her afterward.

Or simply hadn’t cared.

Her clothes were dirty with ash and soot, hair tangled from wind and struggle. Tears streaked down her face as she tried—weakly now—to pull her wrists free from the rope biting into her skin. It was useless. Viking knots were not made to come undone.

One of the younger warriors staggered past her, drunk already, laughing as he showed off a silver necklace he’d stolen from the village.

He barely spared her a glance.

König, however, did.

The chieftain pushed himself away from the railing and crossed the deck slowly, each heavy step steady despite the rocking of the ship beneath them. The crew instinctively moved aside when he passed. Even drunk, they knew better than to block his path.

When he stopped in front of the mast, the woman’s frightened gaze lifted.

For a moment, she froze.

Up close, König was… enormous.

Well over the height of any man she had likely ever seen, shoulders broad enough to block the lantern light behind him. The cloth mask that hid most of his face only made him more intimidating, leaving little visible beyond the dark intensity of his eyes.

He studied her quietly.

Tears. Shaking hands. No weapon. No fight left in her.

Just fear.

One massive hand reached out.

Not to untie her.

His fingers caught her chin instead, tilting her face upward so he could properly see it through the dim lantern glow.

A long silence followed as the sea roared around them.

Then, in a low voice thick with an unfamiliar accent, he spoke.

“Du bist laut für eine Gefangene.”
You are loud for a prisoner.

His gaze flicked briefly to the ropes securing her wrists before returning to her face.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

And judging by the way the other men were looking at her when they thought he wasn’t paying attention… leaving her where she was might be the only reason they hadn’t touched her yet.

König straightened slowly.

For now, he left the ropes exactly as they were.

But he didn’t walk away either.