Page 66 of The Magic of Vanaheim

“Not just a random warrior of Asgard,” Talvinen breathed, eyes glued to the fallen god. “The man who killed Jökull.”

So it was all true, the stories about Njord and his dragon and the fight against theÆsir.

“You finally captured him,” Talvinen said, words laced with pride. “I’m glad for you, Uncle.”

Only Njord didn’t seem pleased at all. And if Håkon could sense it, Talvinen naturally could, too.

“I didn’t capture him. I bought him from Sveinn.”

“How did that rat get his hands on a warrior like Thori?” Talvinen asked.

Njord’s features clouded over some more. He sat down on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly running a hand down the thrall’s flank.

“His longship was ambushed as they were scouting for a raid. I believe it was Svanhild’s doing that they were caught. And Thori—he made sure hisliðcould escape at the price of his own freedom.”

“A more selfless deed than I’d expected from this scum,” Talvinen said.

Njord only hummed in response.

“So, what are you going to do with him? Keep him as your thrall?”

“Yes. A fitting punishment for Jökull’s death, don’t you agree?” Njord grumbled.

“Certainly,” Talvinen answered.

Håkon shuddered. If Talvinen were a crueler king—less compassionate, less loving—the same fate could have awaited Håkon. He could’ve ended as a thrall, bound in golden chains, a slave to his husband’s will, just as easily as the Odinsson.The thought sent a chill down Håkon’s spine, part horror and part shameful excitement. Because the thought wasn’t without appeal as long as it was Talvinen holding his chain.

“What’s bothering you then?” Talvinen asked. The open way he spoke to his uncle still baffled Håkon. In Jotunheim, an elder warrior would’ve never let a younger man question him like that. But surprisingly, Njord’s open-mindedness didn’t feel like a weakness to Håkon. “Svanhild. She’s pulling the strings here. And she would only let me have Thori if I agreed to participate in her ritual.”

“With him?” Talvinen’s voice rose with incredulity, and Håkon felt like he was missing a vital part of the conversation. “In the state he’s in?”

“I don’t fancy it, but the alternative is razing the whole camp to the ground, killing both Sveinn and Svanhild.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” Talvi quipped.

“I won’t let my warriors die just to spare Odinsson the ritual. And I’m still planning to gather information about your mothers’ whereabouts.”

“What kind of ritual?” Håkon blurted. He’d never have dared to raise such a question in front of his father and his vassals, because he knew they’d only laugh at him. With Talvinen at his side, however, it felt only right to ask.

“A fertility ritual to bless our crops,” Njord said.

“What does she need you and the blasted Odinsson for, then?” Håkon asked.

Something like amusement crossed Njord’s face.

“It’s a carnal ritual. She needs someone with a powerfulseiðr. And a conduit.”

“A conduit?”

“A vessel. Someone to channel the power like a burning lens.”

“Someone to get fucked by thevalaconducting the ritual,” Talvinen said, his hand brushing gently against Håkon’s.

And Håkon understood. His gaze jumped from Njord to the unconscious man on the bed. He held no sympathy for theÆsir, but the thought of leaving the captured warrior to his fate and in the process forcing Talvinen’s uncle to commit such an honorless deed didn’t sit right with him. There had to be a different solution.

“Why don’t we do it?” Håkon asked.

“What?” Talvinen stared at him uncomprehendingly.