In the burning ruins of an ancient city, Ragnar Lothbrok's eldest son with his second wife Aslaug, Ubbe, found one lone survivor. A young girl. A girl with deep and dark and red eyes, and hair black as night with a single streak of white.
"Aila." Ha...
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"Halt!" Said a raspy voice. "Who are you, stranger?"
"My name is Hvitserk, son of Ragnar Lothbrok. I've come to see King Olaf. We are meant to be allies."
The voice proved to belong to, to Hvitserk's surprise, a dwarf, one who only narrowed his eyes at the son of Ragnar.
"Friend," Hvitserk panted. "I have just ridden across mountain ranges and frozen lakes. I am dying of cold. Will you not at least let me warm myself by your fire? Is this the hospitality of a friend and ally?"
"You arrive here unexpectedly and the first thing you do is insult me."
"Yes. Forgive me."
"Indeed." The dwarf said. "I will of course take you to meet King Olaf."
"Thank you."
"But first you must take off your clothes."
He froze. "What?"
"Take off your clothes." The dwarf said again. "Otherwise you cannot see him."
Hvitserk stared at him in disbelief. He looked around in the Great Hall, confused.
He gave the dwarf one last glance, then began undressing while muttering swears and curses.
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The dwarf only nodded, motioning for his breaches.
Hvitserk sighed and took them off, as well.
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