A WEEK had passed since the feast, and during that time, Sophie couldn't help but notice King Ragnar's eyes on her whenever she entered the great hall or even when she worked outdoors with Helen in the fields. Nothing inappropriate had occurred, but the constant scrutiny made her uneasy.
She wondered whether he was watching and waiting for her to make another mistake, so he could punish her more severely this time, or if he had some other motive. Her mind often wandered to the darkest possibilities, despite Helen's reassurances that King Ragnar was not capable of such malevolent deeds. To Sophie, he was a Viking, and Vikings had a reputation for anything but kindness.
Today, Sophie was tasked with assisting Queen Aslaug in trying on a new dress, and she was supposed to meet her early. However, she had been delayed by a last-minute task, and her inability to explain the situation due to the language barrier left her feeling frustrated. Helen was nowhere to assist her, and Sophie cursed herself for the delay. She despised making mistakes, and it seemed that every time she tried to do something right, she messed up.
Rushing into the great hall, nearly bursting through the door, Sophie noticed King Ragnar seated on his throne, studying her with his piercing gaze. It made her curse him under her breath repeatedly. Surprisingly, he remained silent, waiting for her to speak. Sophie sighed, exasperated.
She considered just walking past him to find Queen Aslaug, but she didn't want to give King Ragnar a reason to dislike her. Not that she truly cared whether he loved or hated her, but she needed to convince herself that she didn't want to be on his bad side. She also wanted to avoid hearing him insult her for any perceived disrespect.
After a prolonged internal debate, with Sophie standing there feeling like a fool under Ragnar's unrelenting scrutiny, she decided to acknowledge his presence. However, she faced a problem: How could she explain that she needed to meet with Queen Aslaug if he started asking questions she might not understand?
"Stupid heathen," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, as she assumed he wouldn't understand. "Queen Aslaug," she said in his language.
"And what about her?" King Ragnar responded, speaking in her native tongue but with a slight accent that caught her off guard. Did he speak her language all along, and no one had told her? Did she just insult him, thinking he wouldn't comprehend? Apparently, she had.
Oh, Lord.
"I..." Sophie stuttered, her voice faltering as she swallowed hard. "She had asked me to meet her, but I was..." She started speaking in English but cut herself off abruptly. There was no need to explain to him how she had messed up once again. She had just given him a valid reason to unleash his anger on her.
King Ragnar gave her a look that conveyed his expectation for her to continue, but she chose to remain silent.
"Is Queen Aslaug still here?" she asked after a while.
"No, you're late," he replied, rising from his throne and taking a few steps towards her. Sophie felt herself take a deep breath, refusing to avert her gaze from him.
"Now that we understand each other perfectly," he spoke in English again as he approached her, "What might your name be?"
Sophie resisted the urge to cower away from him as she replied with a voice that trembled slightly, despite her efforts to mask it. She loathed appearing weak. "Sophie," she said.
"So-phie," he tested her name on his lips, closing the distance until he loomed above her. He was tall, just as a Viking should be, and now that Viking was invading her personal space. Sophie wasn't liking it.
Summoning her courage, Sophie took a confident step back, never breaking eye contact with him. Fear from earlier was gradually morphing into anger, and the two engaged in a strange staring contest that seemed endless, only interrupted when another person entered the great hall, drawing King Ragnar's attention away from her.
"Björn," he said.
"Father," Björn, one of Ragnar's sons, as Helen had explained to her before, replied in their native language. Sophie could comprehend this exchange. She had expected Ragnar's children to be young, as he didn't appear that old himself, but the pitch of Björn's voice indicated otherwise.
She didn't look back as she continued to focus on Ragnar, who ignored her while he conversed with his son in their language. This time, she couldn't understand a word they were saying and found herself standing awkwardly between the two men until King Ragnar looked down at her with a sly smirk. She could only imagine how satisfying it would be to wipe that smirk off his face.
Summoning what little courage remained, she shot him a defiant glare before turning away. To her surprise, he allowed her to leave. Sophie stole a few glances at Björn, noticing he was a rather tall man, even taller than his father, with a long blonde braid. He regarded her with no expression before she rushed out of the door.
"Why the rush, my child?" Helen asked the moment she saw Sophie running towards her, her face filled with concern.
"I don't want to be here anymore!" Sophie sighed, running her hand through her blonde hair in frustration.
"Why? What happened?" Helen inquired, worry etched on her features.
"Why didn't you tell me that King Ragnar spoke our language?" Sophie demanded, her disbelief evident.
"I didn't know," Helen replied with widened eyes. "He never spoke..."
"He does, Helen!" Sophie cut her off. "And I might have messed up again."
"I've never heard anyone speak our native tongue around here except you. How could I have known?" Helen explained.
"He's cunning and unsettling," Sophie said, her voice filled with anxiety. "And he scares me."
"What happened, my child?" Helen asked gently. "Tell me everything."
Sophie poured her heart out to Helen, who, as always, reassured her that King Ragnar meant no harm. But Sophie couldn't help but wonder if Helen was wrong about him after all.
SOPHIE HAD BEEN tasked with fetching a bucket of water for the Queen's chambers, so she made her way to the source to fill it. Along the way, a young man walked beside her and started speaking, but Sophie couldn't comprehend everything he said, nor did she want to.She knew he was one of Ragnar's sons, and Helen had advised her to avoid them as much as possible, as they were not as benevolent as their father."Are you deaf?" the young man spoke in his native language, irritation clear in his voice before he blocked her path. Sophie couldn't help but wonder why everyone seemed intent on distracting her from her work, which she was desperately trying not to mess up."I asked you a question," he repeated, this time in a manner she understood but chose to pretend otherwise. In her mind, the less she spoke, the better chance she had of avoiding trouble.Shaking her head in apparent confusion, she looked up at the tall Lothbrok son with piercing blue eyes that resembled his father's. She ho
IT HAS BEEN a week since the Vikings went on the raid that King Ragnar had told Sophie about and nothing much happened ever since.She heard that they were planning on raiding Paris whom a priest from Wessex had told King Ragnar about. She had never got the chance to meet that famous priest she had been hearing about yet, and she hoped she would once they were back if they ever made it back as she knew how strong the Franks were from the few months she had spent there with them.The days were getting boring following a slow routine as winter had begun and Sophie spent most of her days helping Helen out when she had no tasks herself. She would remember King Ragnar's request every time she saw Aslaug who seemed rather bored with her life too with nothing interesting to do that would catch Sophie's attention until one day a man appeared out of nowhere and as Helen had told Sophie he was known by the name of Harbard and it wasn't the first time he came to Kattegat.That Harbard was the re
KING RAGNAR LOTHBROK and his crew were away for nearly six months when they returned, bearing news of their triumphant raid. The people of Kattegat sang their praises, welcoming their beloved warriors back to town with jubilant cheers. Sophie stood beside Helen and the other slaves, a little away from the boisterous crowd, observing the Lothbrok family's reunion. Rollo's absence was notable, considering he was renowned as one of the best warriors. She watched the famous priest, Athelstan, whom she had yet to meet, warmly greet Queen Aslaug and Ivar, a display of affection that made Sophie wonder if she would ever hold them in such high regard. Her attention was so consumed by Athelstan that she failed to notice King Ragnar's eyes on her, although Queen Aslaug didn't miss the silent exchange. It wasn't until he passed by her that she finally became aware, refusing to bow her head like her fellow servants. It was a practice she had never adhered to and never would. The day flew by sw
SOPHIE GAZED UP at Ragnar as he approached with brisk strides. Strong hands pulled her to her feet, escorting her outside with force, causing her to stumble along with his rapid pace. This was it, she feared; he had grown tired of her blunders and was ready to exact punishment. She didn't resist; there was little point in doing so. She knew he would overpower her easily. She silently hoped that Helen could find her before he did any harm, but realistically, what could that woman do? Once they were outside, Ragnar finally loosened his painful grip but still held onto her, pulling her farther away from the crowd and the noise. The night was dark and cold, and Sophie shivered, unsure if it was from the cold or the fear of what might transpire. Suddenly, Ragnar stopped, and Sophie violently wrenched her arm out of his grasp, almost tripping over her own feet and nearly meeting the muddy ground. Ragnar, however, grabbed her cloak by the neck, steadying her. She averted her gaze from hi
IVAR HAD A HABIT of appearing from the shadows unnoticed despite the scraping of the metal buckles around his legs, making Sophie jump slightly as she almost dropped the bucket she was carrying. "There you are," he said with a smirk. "Our little angry slave." He waited for a reply as she fought to remain silent, knowing that she wanted to respond with something harsh. "But Sigurd had it coming," he continued. This wasn't the first time she had heard that. "Now you decide to remain silent?" he asked with an annoying smile as he tried to balance himself on his crutch. Disregarding Ivar, she strode past him, prepared to resume her duties. However, he had different intentions, halting her by seizing her arm. "I'm addressing you," he snapped, his teeth clenched. "Slave." "What is it, Ivar?" she demanded, glaring at the hand that imprisoned her before lifting her gaze to meet his malevolent eyes. There was a fierce intensity in her eyes he hadn't witnessed before. A spark, as if Thor,
CONTRARY TO HER original intentions for the evening, Sophie found herself in the hall early, preparing it for Ivar and his brothers, just as he had instructed. She detested the fact that he had coerced her into being here, but perhaps if she completed the preparations quickly, she might have a chance to get some rest. Her plans didn't align with reality as the brothers entered the hall, surprised to see her, although Ivar wore a smug expression of pride. Disregarding her, they proceeded to sit at the large table. Sophie noticed Sigurd glaring at her with eyes that held nothing short of murderous intent, propping his legs up on the freshly tidied table. She hurriedly completed her tasks, hoping to leave, but her attempt was thwarted when Ivar called after her. "Slave. Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "Are we supposed to serve ourselves?" Facing away from them, she took a deep breath, grappling with the decision to either walk out, ignoring him, or stay and follow his orde
ATHELSTAN ESCORTED Sophie back to the barn last night, just as Ragnar had requested. She was immensely thankful, as he had spared her from whatever torment Ivar had planned. However, the knowledge that King Ragnar had specifically instructed him to watch over her unsettled her deeply. Of course, she was grateful for the fact that it was Athelstan rather than some Pagan, as not only did she feel safe knowing he was appointed to be her guardian angel but also closer to home. He refrained from initiating any conversation, observing how utterly exhausted she seemed. So, he simply bid her goodnight before leaving her to grapple with a restless sleep, her thoughts swiftly morphing into haunting nightmares. Her mind seemed to replay the darkest events from her past, intermingling and reshuffling them in a way that left her breathless upon waking in terror. The knight who once tried to violate her but failed materialized in her dreams, succeeding this time, inflicting harm repeatedly. Iva
SOPHIE COULDN'T believe her ears at what came out of King Ragnar's lips. "This is to be your place," he spoke. "You can come and go as you please." "That's impossible," she said, her eyes reflecting her confusion as she searched his face for the truth, but his eyes betrayed nothing but the crafty thoughts Sophie had yet to uncover. "It is," he confirmed. "Remember? I am King." "But what about my duties?" she asked, taken off guard. "No longer needed," he said, catching her off guard. "You are an awful slave," he continued. "And I am dismissing your services." "And I can come and go as I please?" she asked again. "Only if you desire to," he told her. "You can walk away right now if you want." She could, but where would she go? "Does that mean I am a free woman?" she dared to ask. "No," he smirked. What did that mean? "No?" Sophie tested the waters. "Not until you tell me who you are," he insisted, causing her to sigh in defeat. "And if I do tell you, you'll set me free?" s