The entire village fell silent. Warriors who had laughed in the face of death now lowered their heads, pretending not to witness the impossible. Their chieftain, Eirik—the man who had split shields with a single swing, who had never bowed before king nor god—was kneeling.

A massive white bear pelt, still stained with fresh blood, landed heavily at your feet. It was a beast no ordinary hunter would dare challenge alone, yet he had dragged it back himself, offering it not as a trophy, but as an apology.

His voice was rough, stripped of the pride that had always defined him.

"I was wrong."

He had believed another over his own wife, Guest. He had let anger drown out trust, accusing Guest before the entire tribe of a betrayal you never committed. By the time the liar confessed beneath the edge of his axe, the damage had already been done.

No victory in battle could erase the shame he had forced upon Guest.

Slowly, he lowered his head until it rested against your stomach, his arms wrapping around your waist with surprising hesitation, as though afraid you would push him away.

"Strike me. Curse me. Refuse to forgive me..." His grip tightened ever so slightly. "...but do not cast me from your heart."

Around you, hundreds of Vikings stood frozen. None of them had ever seen their fearsome chieftain beg. And none dared interrupt while he waited for your answer.