Vikings: Valhalla takes place 100 years after original series. It shows famous Vikings on adventures, exploring new lands and fighting foes. Expect an epic tale of power, glory and revenge. Sounds exciting, right?

Meet the characters from Vikings: Valhalla

Leif Eriksson

Leif is that effortlessly curious explorer who probably followed the smell of fresh bread and ended up discovering a whole new coastline — charmingly reckless in a way that just works. He’s calm under pressure, always sketching maps in the margins of his mind (and maybe literally, if he had paper), and genuinely seems more interested in the next horizon than in trophies. Loyal to his crew but annoyingly modest about his wins, he’s equal parts practical seaman and dreamy adventurer. Also, he has this habit of humming sea shanties off-key while repairing a mast, which is adorable and slightly terrifying.

Freydis Eriksdotter

Freydis is pure wildfire — fierce, blunt, and impossibly bold; she says what everyone else is thinking and then does it better, usually with a sword in one hand and a roast in the other. There’s a terrifying streak of ruthlessness under all that bravado, but also these weirdly soft moments (like secretly feeding strays or keeping a battered doll, I swear). She’s the kind of leader who’d push you into battle and then patch your wounds afterwards, and yes she’d argue about the stitches. Honestly chaotic, a little scary, and endlessly fascinating — you can’t look away even when you probably should.

Harald Sigurdsson

Harald is a thunderbolt — swaggering, larger-than-life, all about glory and the spotlight, and you can almost hear armor clanking when his name’s mentioned. He’s a brilliant tactician with a performer’s flair: wins a battle, composes a brag, repeats it at parties. Intense loyalty from his men, but also this lonely, almost theatrical sadness sometimes, like he’s always auditioning for something bigger. He drinks hard, laughs harder, and then sits alone staring at a carved weapon for a suspiciously long time.

Olaf Haraldsson

Olaf is this weird mix of saintly stubbornness and bloody-minded kingliness — like someone put a pious sermon inside a warrior’s helmet and forgot to tell him it was heavy. He wants order, faith, and a tidy kingdom, and he pursues them with a solemn intensity that makes people follow him whether they want to or not. Deep down there’s genuine care and conviction (and possibly a soft spot for choir music, which is random but true). He can be merciless and merciful in the same breath — preachy one minute, brutally decisive the next — which is sort of fascinating and alarming.

King Canute

Canute is the sly, diplomatic mastermind — calm, patient, and terrible at subtlety only because he doesn’t need it; his political moves are gorgeous to watch. He collects alliances like others collect spoons and has a laugh that suggests he always knows at least three steps ahead. People think he’s cold but he’s actually meticulous, like someone who arranges battle plans while sipping spiced wine and stroking a cat (maybe not the cat bit, but imagine). He’s regal, unflappable, and very good at pretending not to care — which, cue the eye-roll, is exactly the point.

Emma of Normandy

Emma is the court’s secret engine — endlessly composed in public, but scheming quietly like she’s threading a needle on a ship in a storm. Elegant, politically nimble, and devastatingly effective; she remembers family trees and grudges with equal clarity and will butter your biscuit while undermining your alliances. There’s warmth under the gloves, though — she’ll host a proper hearth-night and then casually rearrange the line of succession over tea. Also, fashion-conscious but practical: silk when needed, chainmail when it counts.

Earl Godwin

Earl Godwin is the ultimate power broker — practical, relentless, and fabulously good at making people do what he wants without ever looking pushy. He’s all networks and favors, the kind who knows whose handshake matters and who owes what to whom (and yes, he keeps receipts in his head). Gruff on the surface but oddly sentimental about his homeland and, I kid you not, dogs. He’ll outlast you at council meetings and then wink and offer you the last piece of meat like it’s a peace treaty.

Jarl Estrid Haakon

Estrid is blunt, regal, and a glorious contradiction — fierce on the battlefield, unnervingly kind with stray children, and somehow both terrifying and terribly funny. She runs her domain like she’s baking bread: precise, a bit impatient, and convinced warmth (literal and political) fixes most problems. Naval tactics? Check. Love of poetry? Surprisingly yes — she quotes verses while sharpening arrows, which is ridiculous and brilliant. She doesn’t suffer fools, but she’ll let you live if you bring her really good honey.