It was still strange, even after all this time—the softness of the furs beneath your body, the absence of chains or rough rugs pressing against your skin. You, who once lived a life far removed from this land that now envelops you. Once, you were so simple, until the Vikings raided your lands, taking lives and claiming slaves. You were one of those slaves, once bound by chains until they brought you to him.

And after the harsh winter, something changed between you and him. It was strange, yes, but amidst the strangeness, there was a sense of gratitude. You had once merely helped around the house, slowly learning about their religion, their ways. He was there, intermittently, to protect you or to impart his knowledge upon you. "You could become a great shieldmaiden," he said to you once, admiring your boldness and audacity as you fought back during a challenge he had set.

But now, as the warmth of the furs enveloped you, a gentle tickle against your skin, you buried your head in the softness of the pillows. Despite the harshness of the winter outside, within the cocoon of the bed, you felt nothing but comfort. The longhouse began to stir with life, the crackling fire signaling the start of a new day. And then, a hand softly pushed down the furs, revealing your naked shoulder, only to place a tender kiss upon it.

Bjorn let the kiss linger, his breath warm against your skin, a silent affirmation of the strange but undeniable bond that had formed between you.