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 hoped her message had been conveyed. "You do not speak our language?" he chuckled, seeming to have read her thoughts. "Not even a little?" He asked as if he could sense her understanding. But Sophie simply stood there, maintaining her bewildered expression.
He reached for the heavy bucket she was still holding, causing her to recoil. He raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture, but instead of allowing him to take the bucket, she moved past him.
Thankfully, he didn't follow her, and Sophie was grateful for the respite, knowing she was already late for Queen Aslaug, who was likely waiting for her bath.
When she entered the chambers, she was surprised to find King Ragnar there instead of the Queen. He was already seated in a half-filled circular bathtub, waiting for her. Sophie noticed him dismissing another servant and felt the urge to bolt from the room.
"You're late," he remarked with a sly smile. "Again."
Sophie didn't reply, placing the heavy bucket by the fireplace and avoiding his gaze.
"Why are you always late, Sophie?" he inquired, her name sounding peculiar on his tongue.
"Your son," Sophie replied softly. "He delayed me."
"Delayed you?" he asked, and when she remained silent, he prodded further. "And which son could that be?"
"I don't know," Sophie replied honestly. She had seen them often enough, all of Ragnar's sons, staring at her, but she wasn't quite certain who was who, except for Ivar, the crippled one, and the eldest, Björn.
She could see King Ragnar leaning forward in the tub as he placed his forearms on the edge while he studied her but she did not look at him as she pretended to be busy with tidying the area up. If just her father would see her serving those Pagans he would hunt them down one by one.
"You don't look like a slave." There it was.
"And yet, I am," she replied while lifting the now-heated bucket off the fire before approaching Ragnar who was still smiling.
He had expected her to pour the water in but she instead placed it down beside the tub within his reach before stepping back as she avoided looking at him.
"Aren't you going to help me?" he asked.
"I thought you said I didn't look like a slave," she replied without missing a beat as she looked him dead in the eyes.
"And you said you were," he smiled before reaching for the bucket.
She watched as he poured the boiling water into his tub without any trouble. At least he didn't insist on her serving him which made Sophie reconsider Helen's words.
"I'll be away with my sons on a raid tomorrow," he suddenly spoke, leaving Sophie to wonder about the reason for sharing this with her. She considered asking if the raid was targeting her kingdom but decided against it. There was no need to raise suspicions. "And I want you to keep an eye on my beautiful wife," he continued, further confusing her. What was he implying?
"Keep an eye on her?" Sophie inquired.
"Yes, keep an eye on her," he affirmed. "You can go now."
She didn't need to be told twice, and she hurriedly left, unaware that Queen Aslaug had been observing their entire exchange.
To her surprise, the Lothbrok brothers were waiting outside, or so it seemed. The young man from earlier offered her a smile as she rushed past them, and she noticed a blonde servant named Margrethe glaring at her with her eyes as she headed toward the barn.
What was wrong with everyone?
"Helen," Sophie called out, but her friend was nowhere to be found.
"She went to the field," Margrethe informed her from behind, causing Sophie to spin around to face her.
"Thank you," she replied in their native language before walking away.
"Are you sleeping with the Lothbrok brothers?" Margrethe asked, surprising Sophie. To her amazement, she understood some words and managed to piece together the rest to understand the question.
Her comprehension of their language was improving, but she still struggled to express herself clearly.
"No," Sophie replied firmly.
"No?" Margrethe asked as she took a step forward. "I see how they look at you."
Look at me? Yeah, I've seen that too.
"What?" Sophie asked.
"I said I see how they look at you," Margaret repeated.
"And?"
"I think you're sleeping with them."
"I told you I'm not!" Sophie fumed, causing Margrethe to cower back before she walked away, leaving her alone.
Everyone's behavior was perplexing, and Sophie felt lost without Helen. She needed guidance and an explanation, but the woman was nowhere to be found.
Exiting the barn, Sophie noticed that the Lothbrok brothers and Margrethe had all disappeared. Determined to find Helen, she followed the path toward the fields Helen had once shown her. Along the way, she passed by some warriors engaged in sword fighting, which intrigued her. She had never had the opportunity to watch the heathens fight, and from what she saw, they were every bit as skilled as she had heard.
Lost in thought, she didn't realize she had stopped to watch the warriors. She pondered how useful it would be to know how to wield a sword, at least for self-defense.
"Slave," a harsh, deep, and manly voice snapped her out of her daydream. She looked up to see the tall and imposing figure of Rollo, a man she knew by name. He had always scared her, and now he stood just a step or two away, towering above her.
Why do they all have to be so tall?
"Slave," he repeated as she didn't answer, and neither did she answer this time as she turned and ran away.
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
RAGNAR EITHER dozed off or was feigning sleep as Sophie sat there, wide-eyed, watching him. Realizing there was no point in figuring out whether he was asleep or not, she stood up slowly, put on her boots, and turned to walk out. "Where are you going?" he suddenly spoke before she had a chance to reach the door. "Out of here," she replied, ignoring him as she walked out. Ragnar groaned as he forced himself to stand up before following her. "Out where?" he called after her. "I thought you said I can come and go as I please," she said as she continued to walk away from him. "You can," he confirmed. "Okay then," she said. Ragnar eventually stopped following her when he made sure she was back in Kattegat safely. He did not want to scare her away, as he was interested in knowing more about her. He had to admit, she had piqued his interest from the beginning—something about her made him want to know more. The fact that she kept holding back made him even more curious. So instead, he