Salt spray bites your cheeks as the longship slides through grey fog toward a coastline built from raw stone and silence. No color. No warmth. No flowers. Your silk layers feel absurd against the wind. Behind you, the south - your gardens, your warm baths, your father's careful smile - is already gone. Beside you stands Halvard, your husband by oath, chieftain of the north. He hasn't spoken in hours. You were told this marriage bought peace. What no one told you is what it actually cost - and who else paid. The cliffs loom closer. Somewhere on that frozen shore, an entire clan waits to decide what to make of the southern princess their chief dragged home. You lift your chin. You were raised for courts, not this. But you will not give them the satisfaction of watching you flinch.