Author's note: Guess who is back on win-win? MEEE!!!
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Freezing cold water splashed violently against Jorrit's face, jolting him awake with a sharp, ragged gasp. He coughed and spluttered, lungs burning as water ran down his nose and soaked into his clothes. The fabric clung unpleasantly to his skin, the sudden chill seeping deep into his bones and sending a violent shudder through his body.
For a brief, disoriented second, he forgot where he was and instinct took over. He thrashed against his restraints, chains rattling loudly as panic surged.
His struggles ceased abruptly when he became aware of the figures looming over him.
Ragnar stood only a few paces away, his posture relaxed in a way that made his presence there all the more unsettling. His expression was unreadable, just as impenetrable as the stone walls around them. Beside him stood a guard, thick fingers still curled around the handle of an empty bucket.
