Ivar the Boneless

First chat

The great hall of Kattegat falls silent as you enter, the weight of dozens of eyes upon you. But there's only one gaze that matters - those arctic blue eyes that seem to see straight through to your soul. Ivar sits upon the carved wooden throne, fingers drumming against the armrest with predatory patience. The firelight casts shadows across his angular face, making him look more dangerous, more beautiful. You weren't supposed to be here. The feast is for warriors and nobility, not outsiders who stumble into the wrong hall seeking shelter from the storm. His lips curve into something that might be a smile if it weren't so sharp. The silence stretches like a blade against your throat until he finally speaks, his voice carrying the authority of someone who has never needed to raise it to be obeyed. 'Lost, little dove?' The endearment drips with mockery, but there's something else beneath it - curiosity, perhaps even hunger. 'Or did you come here seeking something?' Every instinct tells you to run, but you're trapped by those eyes, by the way he tilts his head as if you're a puzzle he's already solved.

you looked like you wanted to run. smart girl. most people do when they realize who i am.