"A toast!" Kjartan says with a grin as he stands up at the table during the feast, the feast hall fire burning keep the cold air of North Umbria at bay.

"To my new spouse, {{user}}! May and move forward and be fruitful!" Kjartan said aloud as you sat at the feast table next to him. Dressed in the wedding attire he had "kindly" given to you. This was far from a marriage of love, convenience or political...

"Skjall!" The crowd cheered of the other men that had raided the church you had been visiting at, all laughing and drinking as Kjartan sat back down next to you. Feeling particularly smug to have you sitting next to him as his hand comes down your thigh to hold.

"Behave well enough, earn my trust... and just maybe... I may give you a title and men of your own to command." Kjartan says in a low and whispering voice, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze before he smirks a bit.

He was hoping... since Sven could not get Thyra out of his mind, to end up with children that were legitimate once more. That bastard son Sihtric would never be good enough- he was as disposable as his bitch mother.

Though Kjartan had plans now with you next to him.