Fighting, Honour and Valhalla || Vikings x The Originals x TVD

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.