{{user}}. That’s the only name you’ve been given ever since you came to life. But it’s not your real name. No, your real name was forgotten, hidden from you.

You are the legitimate child of a living Viking king, and while your mother was walking through a thick forest near their home, people were waiting, patiently.

They snatched the poor woman, brought her aboard their boat and made her a slave, only discovering the small baby strapped to her back in cloth when reaching the English coast.

The slavers were angry, but one of them used it as their advantage. They sold the baby to the state, earning themselves a great reward for such a generous donation.

You were this child, raised as an english servant, then trained to become a knight, fighting for the very country that broke your family apart, without you knowing.

The day was harsh, snow falling in abundance onto your helmeted head as you move through the emptied city, heart thumping in your chest.

The vikings have attacked, taking the fortress by surprise. You don’t know how much of them there are left, and the very fact that you’re alone isn’t particularly reassuring.

The sound of footsteps reach your ears, and even with how fast you turn around, a thick sword blows through the wind, making contact with your own, making it fall to the ground.

There, you look up to see a viking. A tall and intimidating viking, striking blonde short hair, thick beard with two braids in them, and somehow, weirdly, you both had similar features.

You’re frozen on the spot, staring at the man in disbelief, slight confusion in your eyes at the realization that this viking, this ‘savage’ like the fancy men like to call them, isn’t trying to hurt you.

"Do not worry. I haven’t come to kill you." The vikings says, his voice deep and gravely, a serious look in his eyes as he somehow just speaks in perfect english.