New Day, New Jarl

Thorfinn sat heavily on the Jarl's throne, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the arms of the chair. It was one of the few moments of rest he'd had since the attempted assassination a few days prior. The large wooden chair was cold and uncomfortable, he had barely slept since then, always on edge, always wary of another attack.

His eyes scanned the hall, now empty but for a few guards posted at the entrances. The room still bore the scars of recent battles—broken furniture, bloodstains, and a lingering scent of sweat and iron. The men who had sworn fealty to him were outside, patrolling the village, ensuring no further surprises would catch them off guard. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The room was quiet now, the only sounds were the faint murmurs of his men outside and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. He needed to gather his strength for what was to come. The Jarl and his men would return soon, and Thorfinn knew there would be another fight.

Thorfinn's mind drifted back to the events of the previous night, the memories flooding in.

*Flashback*

Thorfinn stood at the entrance of the Longhouse, rain beating down on his head. The men knelt before him, soaked to the bone, their eyes cast down in submission. His own men stood tall, knowing they didn't need to kneel. They had won the battle, and now it was time to consolidate power. But the Jarls' men, the defeated, knew that their choice was to kneel or die. Today, Vikings knelt to one that was not their god.

As Thorfinn surveyed the scene, an ear-piercing shriek cut through the night. Siggy, the Jarl's wife, stood at the entrance, her eyes wide with horror. She saw her son's lifeless body sprawled in the mud, rainwater mixing with the blood that pooled around him. His face was a mangled mess, one eye burst and teeth shattered, and the right side of his head sunken in. Siggy ran towards him, collapsing to her knees beside his corpse.

"My son! Gods, no!" she wailed, her voice a raw and desperate cry. She clutched his broken body, rocking back and forth as her tears mingled with the rain. "Magnus, my son!"

Bjorn and Thyri arrived moments later, Thyri covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face. She tried to approach her mother, to kneel beside her, but Siggy shoved her away, sending her sprawling into the mud.

"YOU WHORE!" Siggy screamed, her voice nearly breaking. "You betrayed your family! And now look!" Her voice lowered, choked with sobs. "Your brother is dead."

Thyri sobbed, "Mother..." Her brother had been a cruel man, but he was still her brother. Her heart ached for the boy he once was, the boy she used to play with. Flashes of memories came to her; playing in the fields, laughing together, Magnus teaching her how to hold a sword. "I'm sorry, mother..." she whispered, not for betraying the family, but for the pain it caused.

"You killed your brother!" Siggy cried, holding Magnus's body close. His face, marred and lifeless, stared blankly up at the sky. His chest was caved in from where Thorfinn had crushed his throat. She clutched him tighter, as if she could will life back into him, her sobs echoing in the rain.

Thorfinn watched the scene, his expression almost emotionless. He reminded himself that peace was never an option; this was the way it had to be. He turned to his men and barked orders.

"I want you five to bring Lagertha inside and then guard the Longhouse. The rest of you," he shouted, "secure the village and make sure none leave until I speak to them. You four, secure the Mikaelson home. Don't enter, just stop them from leaving." The men followed his orders without question.

Thorfinn descended the steps and approached Thyri, who still sat in the mud, tears flowing freely. He gently lifted her in a bridal carry and carried her into the Longhouse, with Lagertha being carried not far behind. Inside, he took Thyri to her room, placing her gently in a chair.

"I will come and check on you later," he said softly, "but I need to treat Lagertha now." Thyri nodded, unable to speak through her tears. She watched as Thorfinn left her side, already wishing he could come back and free her from this pain.

Thorfinn stepped out of Thyri's room and back into the main hall where Lagertha lay on the table, pale and wounded. He moved closer to her, taking her hand in his, feeling the coldness of her skin. "I'm here," he said, trying to offer some comfort. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a weak smile.

"Thorfinn," she whispered, her voice strained with pain, "I'm glad you're here."

He turned to one of his men. "Go to the shed outside Rollo's house and bring my black satchel with the medicinal herbs. The rest of you, stand guard." The man nodded and hurried out into the rain.

Lagertha groaned as she touched her side, her face contorted in pain. "I let my guard down," she chastised herself.

"You'll be okay," Thorfinn assured her, trying to sound confident. He grabbed his dagger and cut a long strip of her dress, making makeshift bandages to staunch the bleeding. As he worked, Lagertha's voice grew softer.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you were Seiðr?" she asked, her words dreamy and slurred.

Thorfinn didn't look up from his task. "It never seemed important," he replied. "I'm not a true practitioner."

Lagertha's condition worsened, her skin growing paler and her breathing more laboured. Thorfinn did what he could, pressing the makeshift bandages to her wounds, but it was not enough. His desperation grew as he saw the bandages soak through with blood. Finally, the guard returned with the black satchel. Thorfinn snatched it from him and got to work.

He pulled out a small mortar and pestle, and various dried herbs. Grinding the herbs into a thick paste, he worked quickly, mixing in a bit of water to make it easier to spread. The pungent smell of the herbs filled the room. He spread the paste over Lagertha's wound, the thick, sticky substance clinging to her skin. But he knew it wouldn't be enough.

Placing his hands on the wound, he whispered, "Ahlúttre þá séocnes. Þurhhæle bræd." His eyes flickered gold for a moment before becoming more solid, the magic flowing from him into Lagertha. It was the only direct healing spell he knew, one he could barely manage before. He felt the strain immediately, the last of his energy being sapped away. But he had to try. He couldn't lose her.

Lagertha's breathing steadied, and some colour returned to her cheeks. But for Thorfinn, the effort was too much. He felt his strength leaving him, his vision darkening. He fought to stay conscious, but it was a losing battle. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was Lagertha's face, peaceful and resting. Then, he fell to the ground, passing out from exhaustion.

*Flashback End*

It hadn't been long since he'd woken up, but it felt like he hadn't had a moment to breathe. Every minute, his men bombarded him with new situations that required his attention. Just after he regained consciousness, he learned that Siggy, the Jarl's wife, had tried to escape Kattegat. She had been run down and was now confined to her room. Thorfinn wasn't sure what to do with her. After her reaction to her son's death, he knew he couldn't trust her in his home, especially not with Rebekah and the other women there.

"Something to think about another time," Thorfinn muttered to himself with a sigh. He adjusted in his seat, but no matter how much he moved, he couldn't get comfortable. His body ached badly, and his mind throbbed. He wished Arwyn were here; she was good at relaxing his muscles with her strong hands. When he woke up, he had immediately asked where she was. Magni had informed him that Ragnar had come to see them before they all went to Darkmoon Forest and asked for them all to come. Arwyn refused and said that he might need them when he returned. Even when Ragnar argued that it was unlikely Thorfinn would ever return, she didn't give in and only compromised by saying she would accompany them but they would stay. Thorfinn had asked why all the men listened to her, and Magni, blushing, said he tried to take command from her the first day, but she put him on his back like it was nothing. Thorfinn smiled at that.

Just then, Magni came inside. "Lord, everyone is outside. They are waiting for you."

"Thank you, Magni," Thorfinn said, standing up. His body protested every movement, but he forced himself to stand tall and head outside. Thorfinn stood at the top of the steps to the Longhouse, looking out over the assembled crowd. The rain had stopped, but the air was heavy with tension. His body ached, and his head still hurt. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared to address the people of Kattegat.

"Last night was a long one, and much happened," Thorfinn began, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. "I'm sure you all heard the fighting and wish to know what happened."

He paused, letting the anticipation build. "Magnus is dead. Jarl Bjarni is dead."

The crowd erupted into murmurs and shouts. A few even cried out in outrage.

Thorfinn raised his voice, cutting through the noise. "Did you think I wanted this?! Did you think I wanted things to happen this way?! None of you are foolish enough to not know of the brewing conflict between the Jarl and Ragnar."

He pointed at Orm, the blacksmith. "Orm, the Jarl took your daughter from you. Harold, you are beaten in the streets by the Jarl's men for not crafting things for him. And what of Sven, whose crops were burned because he refused to pay the Jarl's unreasonable taxes? Ingrid, who was forced to give up her livestock to feed the Jarl's feast while her own children starved? This is not a man who deserves to rule."

Thorfinn paused again, letting the words sink in. "And yet, I did not fight Magnus when I returned. I did not call my men from the forest to attack the village. No... Magnus ordered my death in the dead of night like a coward."

"So I say this... Magnus was a dishonourable craven just like his father, and he WILL NEVER FEAST WITH THE GODS!" Thorfinn shouted, receiving shouts of approval in return.

"Your leaders of Kattegat are a man who plots so much he has not left the shadows of his own longhouse since the tiem his father was Jarl. And Mikael, who tried to kill me by giving me an impossible task! BUT HERE I STAND! I SLEW THE LEVIATHAN! I KILLED THE JARL'S SON! I AM YOUR JARL!!!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, chanting "Jotunsbani! Jotunsbani!"

"THOSE OF YOU WHO DOUBT ME, AND SAY THE PREVIOUS JARL IS STILL ALIVE, I WILL FIGHT HIM AND I WILL KILL HIM!!!" Thorfinn roared, and the crowd went wild.

He raised his hand again to quiet them. "I tell you all now, the injustices of the Jarl will be corrected. Orm, your daughter will be returned. Harald, you will be given a silver piece for every bruise on your body. And all those who starve because they did not show absolute loyalty will find their bellies full!"

The crowd roared again.

"I ask only one thing from you!" Thorfinn shouted. "Be loyal to me, but not out of fear. Be loyal to me for my actions, as they are for your benefit!"

The crowd cheered louder than ever.

"Now I want Kattegat to become defended! I want spikes placed around the village, bows and arrows made, and weapons given out to those who would defend the village from a man who would rather make his people suffer than lose any of his wealth and power!"

The crowd roared once more before dispersing. Orm and Harald approached him, thanking him tearfully and bowing their heads reverently.

Thorfinn hopped down and said, "You do not bow your heads to me," before clapping them both on the shoulders. "This is only me righting the many wrongs that have been done to you."

"Thank you, lord," Orm said, tears in his eyes at the thought of having his daughter back home. "I'll start making arrowheads at once."

Thorfinn nodded. "Give the costs to one of my men, and I'll make sure you are compensated."

Many others came forward, thanking Thorfinn or simply crying and hugging him. One woman, pale and gaunt with a baby in her arms, said how her husband had been killed by the Jarl and how they had broken into her house at night and taken what little silver she had.

Thorfinn hugged her before ordering one of his men to take her inside and get her something to eat. After he was done conversing with everyone, he went back inside and took a seat on the throne, his body still in pain.

"Are you hungry, Lord?" one of the slave girls asked.

Thorfinn looked up at her. She was quite pretty, with dark hair that ran past her shoulders, though her beauty was marred by the bruises on her face and neck.

Thorfinn shook his head. "Make sure there is food for those who need it. Just bring me a pitcher of wine." She bowed her head before leaving and soon returned with the wine.

"Who did that to you?" Thorfinn asked, referring to the bruises.

She seemed reluctant to answer at first, but Thorfinn's intense gaze compelled her. "Jarl Bjarni, Lord..."

"Why? Did you displease him?" Thorfinn asked.

"No, Lord... it pleased him to see me in pain." She tilted her head up, revealing her neck covered in a severe bruise. "He liked it when I couldn't breathe the most." Her eyes seemed almost dead and uncaring; there was no sadness in her voice, just acceptance.

Thorfinn sat back in his seat, looking at her. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Eir, Lord," she replied.

Thorfinn looked at her and wondered why someone would take pleasure in beating such a pretty girl. 'Jarl Bjarni was a disgusting man...' However, as he thought that, a flash of someone's face appeared in his mind. Someone he hadn't thought about for a while—Eowyn. He remembered how he had hurt her in many different ways, how he had hurt other women in Northumbria. Was he any better than that Jarl? The answer that immediately came to mind was yes, of course, he was... yet it did not do much to ease the weight on his chest. He missed Eowyn... but he knew he had no right to.

"Sit down," Thorfinn said to Eir as he stood up and gestured to the Jarl's throne. The girl seemed unsure but did as commanded. Thorfinn moved over to his satchel and grabbed it. He knelt in front of the throne and began treating her bruises, giving her something for the pain. He carefully applied a soothing salve to the dark marks on her neck and face, his fingers gentle as he worked. He then made a poultice, placing it in her hand.

"This will heal your bruises," he said.

A slight spark returned to her eyes as she thanked Thorfinn before standing up and getting back to work. Thorfinn wasn't quite sure why he had done such a thing. Slaves had no rights, and Jarl Bjarni hadn't done anything wrong by the laws of their people. Despite that, he couldn't help but feel sad for what Eir had been subjected to. He sighed and rubbed his head before muttering to himself, "I need some sleep."

...

Thorfinn sat in one of the Jarl's spare rooms, watching over Lagertha as she rested. He leaned in to check her wounds, seeing that while there was still a puncture, it was much shallower than before and no longer leaking blood. The paste he had applied had prevented the wound from festering, and Thorfinn could tell that Lagertha would be okay.

He stayed by her side, observing her steady breathing. Bjorn was on the bed next to her, having refused to leave his mother's side. Thorfinn tried to get up, but Lagertha's grip on his hand tightened, preventing him from leaving. He sat back down, rubbing her hand gently to ease her worries before finally managing to get up again. He took a seat in a chair opposite the bed. The fear he had experienced at almost losing Lagertha, someone whom he'd known his entire life, was hard to describe. Even now, he didn't want to leave the room in case something happened to her.

Since he wasn't leaving anytime soon, he reflected on something that had been bothering him since he had awoken. His final fight with Magnus. He had shattered the man's sword with his fist and nearly blown the man's head off. How was that possible? He replayed the moment in his mind, the sheer force of his punch, the way Magnus's sword had shattered like brittle wood. It didn't make sense. No human strength could do that. Was it the magic he had tapped into? Or perhaps something else entirely? He couldn't reach any meaningful conclusion, only more questions.

As Thorfinn sat there, deep in thought, Lagertha coughed and began to stir. He got up immediately, pouring a cup of water for her and helping her sit up. He held the cup to her lips, telling her, "Drink slowly."

She sipped the water, her eyes fluttering open as she regained her senses. "Where am I? What happened?" she asked, her voice weak but steady.

"You're safe," Thorfinn replied. "I killed Magnus and any of the men loyal to him, as of this moment I've taken the position of Jarl of Kattegat, much has happened since you've been asleep. Your wounds were bad but I treated them quickly, you'll heal well."

Lagertha nodded slowly, taking in the information. "Thank you, Thorfinn," she said, her eyes filling with gratitude.

"There is no reason to thank me," he said, grabbing the back of her head and placing his forehead against hers. "You are family."

Lagertha smirked at him. "Should I call you Lord now?" she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

Thorfinn laughed, a deep, genuine laugh. He sat on the bed, looking wistful. "Less than a year ago, I worked on your fields... It's strange how things have changed."

He looked over and saw Bjorn start to stir. Thorfinn stood up, knowing it was time to leave them to spend some time together alone. He kissed Lagertha on the head and said, "I'm glad you're well."

Lagertha smiled weakly. "Thank you, Thorfinn."

Thorfinn nodded and made his way to the door. "Goodbye, for now," he said softly before leaving the room.

Thorfinn sighed as he stood outside her room, his body ached, and his mind was weary. He walked out into the main hall and spotted Eir, the slave girl who had served him earlier.

"Eir," he called out, his voice steady but tired. She looked up immediately, her eyes attentive. "Fill the tub with hot water. I need to wash off this day."

"Yes, lord," she replied, bowing her head before hurrying off to prepare the bath.

Thorfinn made his way to one of the other rooms, his steps heavy but purposeful. He pushed open the door to a small chamber where a wooden tub sat in the corner. It was a modest room, but it served its purpose. He heard Eir and another slave girl enter, carrying buckets of hot water. They poured the steaming water into the tub, the sound echoing softly in the confined space.

Eir worked quickly and efficiently, adding herbs he had given her to the water to help soothe his bruises and cuts. The steam rose up, filling the room with a warm, herbal scent. She looked up at Thorfinn, her eyes lingering on the bruises and cuts that marred his muscular frame.

"The tub is ready, lord," she said softly, stepping back.

Thorfinn nodded his thanks and began to undress. He stripped off his blood-stained and sweat-soaked clothing, tossing them into a pile on the floor. The cool air prickled his skin as he stood naked, his body covered in marks of battle. He eased himself into the tub, the hot water enveloping him and immediately starting to soothe his aching muscles.

He leaned back, closing his eyes as the heat seeped into his bones. The herbs Eir had added to the water began to work their magic, easing the bruises that covered his body. He allowed himself to relax, letting the tension of the past days melt away.

Thorfinn lay back in the wooden tub, letting the warm water soak into his bruised flesh. His muscles ached from the recent skirmish, the heat easing the tension in his battered limbs. His eyes were closed, face partially submerged, feeling the soothing warmth envelope him. The water turned murky with the grime and blood from his wounds, the stench of iron mingling with the steam. His breathing was slow and deep, the only sounds were the occasional drip from the ceiling and the crackling of the nearby hearth.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, breaking the silence. Thorfinn's eyes snapped open, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife he kept by the tub. He tensed, every muscle ready for a fight, as he squinted through the steam to see who had disturbed his moment of peace. Thyri stepped into the room, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. She wore a nightdress of thin, worn linen, the fabric clinging to her curves. The dress hung loosely at her shoulders, exposing the soft, pale skin of her collarbones and the tops of her breasts. The garment's hem barely reached her knees, revealing her shapely legs.

Her body was soft, her hips wide and her breasts full, visible through the sheer material. Her hair, wavy and brown, fell around her shoulders, framing her face. Thyri's beauty was earthy and raw, her eyes a striking blue against the flush of her cheeks.

"Thyri," Thorfinn said, his voice rough as he set the dagger aside. She approached him slowly, each step deliberate. Her night dress clung to her body, swaying with her movements. As she knelt next to the tub, the hem of her dress rode up, giving Thorfinn a clear view of her thighs and the dark patch of hair between them. The sight stirred something primal in him.

Thyri leaned forward, her breasts nearly spilling from the top of her dress. She pressed her lips to Thorfinn's, the kiss hungry and demanding. Their mouths collided, tongues intertwining with a fierce need. Thorfinn's hand gripped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her wavy brown hair, pulling her closer. Their breaths mingled, hot and ragged. Thyri's free hand slipped beneath the water, trailing along his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath the scars. She moaned softly into his mouth, her body pressing against the edge of the tub.

Thorfinn pushed her back gently, breaking the kiss. "Why are you doing this, Thyri?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Thyri looked him in the eyes, the blue of her gaze filled with sorrow. "I lost my brother," she whispered, her voice trembling. "And my mother. They're gone." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she took a shaky breath. "I need to feel connected to someone, Thorfinn. I need something to fill this void inside me."

She reached out, her hand trembling as it cupped his cheek. "Please," she whispered, leaning in once more. Her lips found his, the kiss softer this time but no less filled with need. Thyri broke the kiss, her breath heavy. She stood up slowly, the nightdress clinging to her skin for a moment before she grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head. The fabric slipped away, revealing her nakedness. Her breasts were full and round, the nipples hard from the cool air. Her stomach was soft, leading down to a patch of dark hair between her legs.

Her body was exposed, unashamed. Thorfinn's eyes roamed over her, taking in the curve of her hips and the softness of her thighs. She stood there, letting him see every inch of her, the raw need in her eyes clear.

Thorfinn felt a surge of desire, the sight of her naked form stirring a primal hunger within him. Thyri moved closer, her body pressing against the edge of the tub, her hands resting on the rim. Thyri stepped into the tub, her bare foot dipping into the warm water. Thorfinn watched as the water lapped at her ankle, then her calf, revealing the smooth, pale skin. She moved with a deliberate slowness, her legs parting slightly as she lowered herself further, the water rising up to meet her.

As she sank down, Thorfinn's eyes followed the path of the water over her body. It covered her knees and thighs, then rose to her hips, the dark patch of hair between her legs visible for a moment before disappearing beneath the surface. Her stomach, soft and inviting, slipped under next, followed by her breasts, the nipples hard and just above the waterline.

Thyri's arms moved to either side of the tub as she settled in, her body now fully submerged except for her head and shoulders. Her hair spread out in the water, framing her face.

Thyri moved forward in the tub, the water sloshing around them. She pressed her body against Thorfinn's, her breasts flattening against his chest. Her skin was warm and slick from the water, her softness a stark contrast to his hard, bruised muscles. She kissed him again, her lips demanding and insistent, tongues tangling together with raw hunger.

As she straddled him, her thighs pressed against his sides, her core resting against his lower abdomen. Thorfinn could feel her heat through the water, the soft hair between her legs brushing against him. Her nipples, hard and erect, scraped against his chest, sending jolts of sensation through his body. He felt his own arousal growing, his member stiffening in response to her touch.

Thorfinn's hands moved to her hips, gripping her firmly as she rocked against him. Her body moved with a desperate need, seeking relief in the connection between them. He could feel her breath hot against his neck, her moans low and guttural. Each movement brought a wave of pleasure, her body fitting perfectly against his.

Thorfinn's grip on Thyri's hips tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as their bodies pressed together in the warm water. The air was thick with steam and the scent of sweat and desire. Thyri's breathing grew heavier, her chest heaving against his as she moved against him. She shifted her position, her thighs spreading wider to straddle him more fully. Thorfinn felt the heat of her core against his hardness, the slickness of her arousal mingling with the water. Thyri's eyes met his, wide and filled with a desperate need, her lips parted as she gasped for breath. Thorfinn's hand slid between them, his fingers finding the sensitive nub between her legs. Thyri gasped, her body jerking at the touch. He rubbed her clit with rough, deliberate strokes, feeling her shiver and moan in response. Her hips rocked against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he was giving her.

"Thorfinn," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please."

He didn't need any more encouragement. With a firm grip on her hips, he positioned himself at her entrance. Thyri's eyes widened, and she bit her lip, a mix of fear and desire playing across her face. Thorfinn pressed forward, feeling the tight resistance of her maidenhood. He paused, giving her a moment to adjust, then thrust hard, breaking through her barrier.

Thyri cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure in her voice. Her nails dug into his shoulders as her body tensed around him. Thorfinn groaned at the feeling of her tightness enveloping him, the slick heat of her walls gripping his cock as she slowly sunk down on him. He gave her a moment to adjust, then began to move, slow and deliberate at first. The pain in Thyri's eyes gradually faded, replaced by a growing pleasure. She moved with him, her hips rolling in time with his thrusts. The water sloshed around them, the sound of their bodies coming together echoing in the small room. Thorfinn's thrusts grew harder and faster, driven by the primal need to claim her fully.

Thyri's moans grew louder, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her body trembled with each thrust, the pleasure building inside her. She clung to Thorfinn, her breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples hard and sensitive. Her fingers dug into his back, leaving marks as she rode the wave of sensations.

Thorfinn's own pleasure was mounting, a fire burning in his loins. He could feel the tight coil of release building inside him with each thrust. He watched Thyri's face, the way her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth opened in a silent scream of ecstasy.

"Thorfinn," she gasped, her body tensing. "I'm close."

He increased his pace, thrusting into her with a relentless rhythm. Thyri's cries grew louder, her body shaking with the force of her impending climax. With a final, powerful thrust, Thorfinn pushed her over the edge. Thyri's body convulsed around him, her inner walls squeezing him tight as she came.

Thorfinn gripped Thyri's hips firmly and lifted her with ease, her body light and pliant in his strong hands. Thyri gasped in surprise but didn't resist, her legs wrapping around him instinctively before he set her down, turning her around to face the rim of the tub.

"Put your hands here," he commanded, his voice rough with lust. Thyri obeyed, placing her palms on the edge of the wooden tub. She bent over, presenting herself to him, her back arching, her wet hair cascading down her shoulders.

Thorfinn took in the sight before him. Thyri's round, pale buttocks were exposed, the water glistening on her skin. He could see the dark patch of hair between her legs, now slick and inviting. Her thighs trembled slightly, and he could see the evidence of their previous coupling still dripping from her.

He positioned himself behind her, his hardness pressing against her entrance. With one hand gripping her hip and the other guiding himself, he pushed forward, entering her with a single, powerful thrust. Thyri cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure, as he filled her completely.

Thorfinn set a brutal pace, his hips slamming against her buttocks, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing in the small room. Each thrust sent ripples through the water, splashing against the sides of the tub. Thyri's breasts jiggled with the force of his movements, her nipples brushing against the cool wooden rim.

Thyri's moans grew louder, more desperate. She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour. Her fingers clutched the edge of the tub, knuckles white from the strain. Her body was on fire, each powerful stroke sending waves of pleasure through her core. She could feel him deep inside her, every thrust hitting a spot that made her cry out in ecstasy.

Thorfinn's eyes roamed over her body, taking in every detail. He watched her buttocks jiggle with each powerful thrust, the way her back arched and her head hung low, lost in the pleasure he was giving her. He could feel her inner walls tightening around him, drawing him deeper.

"Thorfinn!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she approached her climax. The sound of her cries spurred him on, his thrusts becoming harder and more erratic. He could feel his own release building, a tight coil ready to snap. Thyri's body tensed, her muscles clamping down around him as she came, her screams echoing in the small room. The intense sensation of her orgasm triggered his own release. With a final, powerful thrust, he spilt inside her, the hot flood of his seed filling her.

Thorfinn, still breathing heavily, lifted Thyri from the tub again. Her body felt light in his strong arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. He carried her to the nearby bed, his steps steady despite his exhaustion. He laid her down gently on the rough linens, then climbed in beside her. Thyri immediately cuddled up to him, her soft body pressing against his hard, muscular frame. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. As she nestled closer, she winced slightly, feeling a dull ache between her legs, a reminder of their fierce coupling. Her nether regions were sore from his powerful thrusts, but despite the discomfort, she felt a deep sense of contentment and fulfilment.

Thorfinn's hand stroked her back soothingly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her damp skin. Thyri sighed, her breath warm against his chest. The warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the roughness of his calloused hands brought her a sense of safety she hadn't felt in a long time.

(AN: So Thorfinn has decided to claim the position of Jarl. Whether people accept that or not is another thing, but the reputation that came with slaying the leviathan as well as his charismatic speech seems to have won people over. At least those who were in Kattegat. I hope you enjoy the chapter.)

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