Inside a wooden house where the fire crackled in a bonfire, moans and groans echoed. A woman in her early twenties with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a medium figure with faint freckles on her body and face was moaning as her lover was ramming her. Itzvar's body was filled with sweat as he rammed his bedpartner, a slave.

He was furious. Furious that his plan failed. However, all was not lost, as he could see Sophia again. She changed as time progressed; her hair grew longer and became slightly pale, but her demeanor changed. He saw it in her eyes. She held no fear when she saw him. When she thought he would kill her, she motioned out her arms, telling him to do it.

Itzvar couldn't deny that he was angry that Sophia didn't show fear, but he couldn't deny that it was attractive. When they first met, she spoke against him, which would be immediate death for a slave. Yet, he didn't kill her; he liked her fiery temper; he wanted to tame her. However, Sophia escaped with Ragnar. That's when Itzvar thought about how close she and Ragnar were. 

Did they even lay with one another?

The thought of another man touching her angered him to the core. He looked at the slave, who was moaning in pleasure as her hands were on his back. He felt her nails digging into the back of his skin. It didn't affect him. Initially, he felt satisfied, but when he thought about Sophia, the sex wasn't as pleasurable. He thrust deeper and harder into the slave, trying to find any pleasure, but it was pointless.

The image of Sophia was now before him instead of the female slave. Sophia's image looked at him with an amused look on her face. "What's wrong, Itzvar? Angry that you could never get me to bend to your will? You call yourself a man? A Viking?"

His eyes became wide. Sophia was challenging him. He took half of his cock and rammed it inside of her. The image of Sophia looked indifferent. She had the same look in her eyes when the attack was happening. Itzvar grabbed her neck as he was thrusting inside her. Her breast bounced with every thrust he made. 

He felt her walls clenching onto his cock, knowing she would cum soon. Sophia's image was breathing heavily, but her eyes were emotionless. "You're pathetic, Itzvar. You think you will have me back. You're wrong. I will be with Ragnar. You will never be the man he is. Coward." Her image moaned as Itzvar thrust harder and faster. His eyes filled with rage. His grip on her neck became tighter.

"You bitch! You think you can speak to me that way!?" 

Sophia grabbed his hands but didn't squeeze; a smile crept on her lips. "I already have. You will die, Itzvar. Your pride and arrogance will be your downfall." The image of Sophia disappeared, and the image of the slave returned. She was struggling for air as Itzvar was squeezing her neck. He let her neck go, but he grabbed her waist and thrust harder until he came inside her. The enslaved woman breathed heavily. Her neck was engraved with a hand mark. 

"Get out."

The woman didn't argue as she dressed and left Itzvar. The Viking got off the bed, went to a big wooden tub, and bathed himself. "Had your pleasure?"

"You were watching, Frode?"

"The people could hear you. I am here to see if you have anything planned. You always tend to interrupt and try to have the last say. Although, when that happened, you failed miserably."

Itzvar washed with some herbs and a sponge. "I have underestimated him, that is all. However, I was able to kill his son. Ragnar must be suffering."

"You think it is something to be proud of? You might have killed his son, but a father always needs vengeance. The love of a child and vengeance is something that is not to be trifled with. You surely made a terrible mistake."

"You think so? Then you are a fool. The need for vengeance can cloud one's judgment and reasoning."

Frode was feeling annoyed. "You're young, Itzvar. You don't know how it is to love a child. You view it as a weakness. Yet, word spreads that you are doing this for a woman you couldn't tame. You let Ragnar escape, and you could have killed him when you had the chance. Now I find that pathetic."

Itzvar stopped and slowly glared at Frode. "Careful, Frode. You couldn't even capture Ragnar yourself. He was able to take parts of your land away from you. He defeated you in more battles than one can count."

The older man growled. "Well, we must make another plan. They're at their weakest point."

"As are we. We are not going to attack at the moment. We must find more of their weak points and make a better plan. We also need to ask more of our allies to join our cause. I have seen what our enemy can do, and they will not be easy to defeat. That is why we need to know more from what is on the inside."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

Itzvar smirked. "Would you believe me if I told you I have eyes among them?"

Frode stilled. "What? H-How were you able to do that?"

"It is not as difficult as you would think. I have been getting word from my little bird on what is happening in Golm's city. I always wanted to get Golm's territory but was getting trouble doing so. To my luck, I was able to get a little ally to give me news of what was going on. Now with Ragnar, everything has changed. So, we need to be patient."

It was silent between the men. "Very well. We will soon gather more allies for our cause. This will be the final war where Ragnar will fall. You better not fail us again, Itvzar. I don't know if you know, but your men are beginning to doubt your leadership. You youths believe you're unstoppable, but you all will eventually grow old if you live that long. I shall leave." Frode walked out of the house. He felt a bit satisfied for speaking to Itzvar the way he did. Frode was curious about who was working for Itzvar.

It didn't matter. All he cared about was getting rid of Ragnar. Now, all he had to do was to be patient.