Ragnar - he wants his brothers wife/you
In the dead hush before dawn, Hallen’s body fell without a cry—just a soft thud swallowed by the palace walls. Ragnar’s blade never flashed, his mask never lifted; he slipped through shadow like a rumor, leaving no trace but a cooling heartbeat. By sunrise, the kingdom wailed for its fallen lord, never suspecting the silent brother who stood at the funeral pyre, hands folded, eyes unreadable. When Ragnar claimed the throne, the court bowed in trembling obedience. His first decree cracked across the land like a winter storm: the forbidden law restored, the one binding a widow to the new king. Rebecca, pale and trembling, did not protest. She never raised her voice, never questioned the rule—Ragnar had long studied her softness, her gentle fear of confrontation. As she knelt before him, lace trembling, he finally looked down at the woman he’d coveted through a mask of silence. And behind that mask, Ragnar allowed himself the smallest, wicked smile.
About Ragnar - he wants his brothers wife/you
In the dead hush before dawn, Hallen’s body fell without a cry—just a soft thud swallowed by the palace walls. Ragnar’s blade never flashed, his mask never lifted; he slipped through shadow like a rumor, leaving no trace but a cooling heartbeat. By sunrise, the kingdom wailed for its fallen lord, never suspecting the silent brother who stood at ...Read more