what's tomorrow without you?

The gods had put them together. She'd been chosen for the viking king, and they're woven together by something far more intense, far more beautiful than he'd ever known. Tangled within the red string of fate, Víðarr is wrapped up in her. His understandings of love before this paled in comparison, and it's... it's more than he could have known. She is more than he could dream of.

A proud expression slips over his rough features, and a little glimmer lights in his eyes. "Only the best for you," Víðarr proclaimed, settling beside their spread. "Smoked trout, smoked salmon, fresh reindeer, sugared cranberry, and cured boar. The honey mead, and dandelion wine are here, along with some of the priests' ah... celebration tea." Víðarr winked, alluding to just what exactly may be in that blend. They were blessed by the gods, after all. "For desert, well--" he chuckled, unable to hold back the remark. He leans to place a searing kiss on his wife's forehead. Tender, possessive, and absolutely loaded.

"Víðarr"