The large man on the floor looked up at Halfdan; his eyes filled with fear. The brother of the king being forcefully held back; it obvious to all that the younger son of Halfdan the Elder, wanted to do more to the beaten man, than just beat him to the floor. Halfdan's eyes filled with anger, with death, as he struggled against the grip of the four others holding him.

He shouldn't have touched her. He should never have touched what was his. Even Harald knew to not touch her. She belonged to him and everyone knew it. She was his thrall, his woman; yet it seemed that some men just didn't listen. That some men just wanted to meet the gods, long before they might have thought. That some enjoyed teasing the wolf. But the man had quickly discovered that this wolf, was not toothless or clawless. This wolf wanted blood.......his blood. The prone man looking between Halfdan, and the exquisite thrall that Harald was keeping behind him. Sure, that he had never seen a man more ready to kill for a woman, than Halfdan was for (Y/n).

Halfdan had found her on one of their raids, hiding in a small hay barn, in a little town that they had come across. The Northman smiling as he saw a cowering female figure; his hands reaching for his breeches, happy to just take what he wanted as he had done so many times before. To sate his needs and then end her. Yet when she had looked up at him, Halfdan had found himself staggering back. The beauty before him, making more than just his loins stir. He dropping his shield and his sword before holding up his hands, and slowly making his way back to her. Halfdan finding himself not wishing to scare her any more than she already was. A small smile pulling at his lips, as he inched ever closer, her tear-filled eyes so soft, so gentle, so enchanting. The breath leaving him, as he finally placed his hand on her cheek. The warrior sure that he was touching the divine.

He had kept her with him, while the others finished the raid. Growling menacingly at any man that even dared look at her; bring her with him as his thrall, his prize from the attack. Harald amazed to see the effect that this one woman had had on his brother; how gentle he was with her. Halfdan not taking her, until she had wanted it; even confessing that he loved her. And from that moment, he had been truly lost. The feared Viking becoming her slave; willing to kill, to die for the woman that was his.

"HALFDAN. ENOUGH!" Harald called out. His brother and everyone else turning to look at the king. Halfdan forcing the other men to let him go, before making his way around his brother, to (Y/n)'s side. Placing his hand on her cheek and doing his best to smile at her; before picking her up and carrying her from the hall.

                                                     >>-----------------------------------<<

"Did he hurt you..........?" Halfdan asked, as he placed her down on the bed. He had only wanted (Y/n) in the hall for the celebration, so that she was close to him; so that he could keep his eyes on her. He had never thought for one moment anyone would be foolish enough to do anything to her. But that man had not just touched her, he had pulled her onto his lap and tried to kiss her. The man slapping her and knocking her to the floor, after she had slapped him, herself, for his unwanted advances.

"I'm fine Halfdan, I promise........" She assured. Yet he could still see the mark from the man's hand on her skin. His anger rising again, he wanting to return to the hall and finish off the man; to watch as the light left his eyes. Yet before he could get to his feet and leave, (Y/n) placed her hand on his cheek. Halfdan's eye instantly falling on her face.

"Please, Halfdan, just stay with me. The man isn't worth it. Though I would like to get out of this dress.....I swear that it smells of him........" (Y/n) told him. Halfdan wanting none of that; not wanting his woman to smell of any one but him. The dress quickly taken from her form, followed by his own clothes. The pair moving under the furs, before he pulled her into his arms.

"I no longer want you to be my thrall.........." Halfdan suddenly said. His words causing (Y/n) to raise her head from his bare chest.

"But......but why......? I didn't want that man to touch me, Halfdan. I......I like being your thrall, warming your bed, caring for you. Please.....what did I do wrong. Have I upset you, angered you........? I will do anything.........."

"You are no longer going to be my thrall........" Halfdan interrupted, as he placed a finger underneath her chin.

"Because I am making you a free woman, (Y/n). A free woman that I want to be my wife.........." A smile coming to his lips, as her eyes widened.

He knew that he should have done it a long time ago; that he should have freed her. And the man touching her.......touching her as if she were just nothing. As if she could be used freely, like all the other thralls, had made him see his error. Had made him realise that he wanted nothing more than to take her as his wife; to see her belly filled with his children, as they made a home together.

"Do......do you mean it, Halfdan.......all of it..........?"

"Every word, (Y/n). You are free, and tomorrow I will tell my brother, that we are to wed..........you do want to marry me, don't you........?" His brows furrowing as (Y/n) laughed, before quickly climbing atop him. Her legs straddling his hip, as her hands took his face and kissed him.

"Of course I want to marry you. You are my Halfdan, my Viking; and I wish for nothing more than to be yours in return, to give you everything you want. And just to prove that, I think that there is something I should do for you." (Y/n) told him, before she kissed him. Halfdan's head dropping back, as her lips made their way down his neck, his chest and then over his belly. The younger Halfdansson letting out a lewd moan, as he felt her mouth move around his manhood. His hands gripping into her hair, as she took him deep; the feel as the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat over and over again, sending his mind racing. Halfdan swearing to Odin that be she thrall or free woman, he would never let another man touch what was his, again.