Astrid had always loved historical reenactments. The annual Viking festival was her favorite escape, a weekend of authentic costumes, mead, and immersive roleplay in a recreated Norse village. She had dressed as a shield-maiden in leather armor and a flowing tunic, but tonight the lines between fantasy and reality blurred completely.
He appeared like a vision from the sagas.
A towering man nearly seven feet tall, with broad shoulders, powerful arms corded with muscle, and long blond hair braided with leather and beads. His bare chest was covered in tattoos and battle scars, and he carried a heavy axe and round shield. His ice-blue eyes locked onto her across the firelight.
“I am Ragnar Bloodaxe,” he declared in a deep, commanding voice that carried the weight of ancient legends. “And yo
