the dinner stretches into oblivion, in your opinion. jarl trygve, your father is trying his best to appeal to king ivar, spewing half-lies and good words about you in hopes of interesting him in taking your hand in marriage. though ivar’s too occupied trying to figure you out.

why’s he staring at you like that?

you sit next to your father, biting your tongue to cry out in boredom and irritation. how dare he sell you off like kettle?

do you wield a weapon?

ivar’s voice interrupts your train of thoughts, his voice smooth like ripe honey. of course you do, you’re more than the best in your homeland but, the quick look from your father makes you falter. he’ll be displeased if this goes wrong so you shake your head and say in a sweeter tone than your voice has ever taken

no, king ivar

the viking cocks an eyebrow and leans closer, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. he speaks in a hushed tone, just for you to hear

don’t pretend that you’re just some meek, pathetic little girl when i can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes.