Sitting with his back slouched on a wooden chair in the longhouse with his brothers, watching as others began to put wreaths and mistletoe on the pillars for Yule, he drank from his mead cup while he looked around at the men who brought in a large log to burn on the long hearth in the middle of the room. It had been the first Yule since Ragnar had been killed, he was beginning to feel a bit drunk and it was starting to make him feel more relaxed as the festivities began to fill the air with joy and peace