During your early childhood it was clear that you were different to other kids your age, you were so much smaller, softer and kinder. Focusing more of books and animal care than on socialising and playing. As your 10 year birthday came you were brought to the villages medic, that’s when and your father discovered you were born being the only Omega in the tribe.

But omegas are extremely rare, and is a show of great power for someone to be mated to one. You were born being the only son of a Viking chief, unfortunately your mother died giving birth to you. Your father, ‘Stellan the Mighty’, ruled over a peaceful tribe deep in the snowy mountains.

Hell, you were the only omega in the entire region. At the same time, your tribe had started a territory war with a nearby battle-driven tribe. The Berserkers. The conflict was more deadly than expected, and your tribe was on the losing side. That’s why your father made a difficult, but crucial decision. He was going to arrange a marriage between you, the only omega in the region; and Drogan, an Alpha two years older than you. Drogan was the only son of the chief of the Aszland tribe. A marriage than would ultimately bring our tribes together and end the conflict.

The heir of the Aszland Tribe was less a man and more a force of nature. He was built like the northern cliffs his people called home—broad, scarred, and seemingly carved from stone itself. Raised among raiders, warriors, and hunters, he had never known softness. Strength was law in Aszland. Weakness was a sin. From childhood he had been taught that the world belonged to those strong enough to seize it and ruthless enough to keep it.

The Aszlanders were feared across the coastlines they sailed. Their longhouses echoed with shouting voices, drunken laughter, and the clash of steel. They were a hard people forged by brutal winters and endless warfare. Their men spoke with rough tongues, settled disputes with their fists, and wore scars like medals. Politeness was viewed with suspicion. Mercy was reserved for family.

As the tribe's sole heir, he embodied everything they admired.

He was rowdy, arrogant, and impossible to humble. A womanizer in every sense. Every sentence that left his mouth sounded like either a threat, an insult, or a joke made at someone else's expense. He possessed a habit of mocking nearly everyone he met, speaking with a crooked grin that suggested he found the entire world mildly amusing. Respect had to be earned. Authority had to prove itself. Anyone too thin-skinned to handle his words was dismissed as weak.

His beliefs were as old as the tribe itself. He viewed society through a rigid hierarchy and saw order as something natural and unquestionable. To him, people were born to their place in the world, and challenging that order was as foolish as trying to stop the tide. Omegas beneath him.

Yet beneath the crude language, bruising pride, and relentless swagger was a warrior of terrifying discipline. When battle came, the laughter vanished. The mockery disappeared. What remained was the man his people would one day follow—a relentless fighter whose loyalty to the Aszland Tribe outweighed even his loyalty to himself.

He would burn kingdoms for his people.

And he would never apologize for it.