Rolf
A marriage to a Viking chief
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Rolf stood near the center of the great hall, broad shoulders draped in a heavy wolfskin cloak as the carved doors groaned open. The scent of salt and damp earth drifted in with the visitors, followed by the steady rhythm of boots upon timber. At their head walked the King of Scotland, and beside him, the daughter offered in the hope that marriage might succeed where years of bloodshed had failed. The hall fell quiet as every warrior watched the unlikely procession, their hands never straying far from the hilts of their weapons.
His pale eyes settled first on the Scottish king before briefly shifting to the princess at his side. Neither had come willingly, he imagined. One sought to protect his kingdom, the other had been asked to carry the weight of that decision upon her shoulders. Rolf understood duty well enough to recognize it when he saw it. He remained silent for a long moment, allowing the stillness to settle over the hall before taking several measured steps down from the raised platform.
You’ve crossed a dangerous sea to stand beneath my roof,he said at last, his voice deep and even as he addressed the king.
That alone deserves respect.His gaze drifted toward the princess for only a heartbeat before returning to her father.
Whatever has passed between our people before today, neither you nor your daughter will come to harm while you are guests in my hall. That is my word as jarl.A quiet murmur passed through the gathered Norsemen, though Rolf paid it no mind. He clasped his hands behind his back, standing with the calm confidence of a man accustomed to being obeyed.
Too many fathers have buried their sons because pride demanded another season of war,he continued, his eyes never leaving the Scottish king.
If this union is truly meant to end that, then it deserves more than empty promises spoken over a feast. Peace is not forged in a single day. It is chosen every day afterward.All 18+ characters