Sophie Ealhmunding, a young woman enslaved and thrust into the world of the Vikings, quickly captures the attention of every man in Kattegat, especially the gaze of Ragnar Lothbrok, the king of Kattegat. Will she endure his cruelty, or will her rebe...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
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. Ivar appeared, stabbing her relentlessly with a knife and leaving her to bleed to death while a macabre audience watched.
In one horrifying vision, her old master choked her, only for her to realize it was King Ragnar, smiling sinisterly as he watched her struggle for breath. Her mind relentlessly played with her memories, weaving them into a harrowing tapestry of nightmares.
Sophie commenced her day with a mind still groggy, struggling to compensate for the energy lost to the preceding night's malevolent phantoms. She could hardly focus, her eyes yearning for rest that remained elusive.
The head thrall of the household seemed to be having a rough day herself, projecting her agitation onto everyone around her. A formidable older woman even on her good days, Sophie dreaded to think what she was like on her bad days.
Engrossed in scrubbing the clothes assigned to her, she failed to notice King Ragnar approaching. He stood there, studying her intently before deciding to clear his throat, prompting her to look up at him.
His gaze drifted down to her reddened, delicate hands, unaccustomed to the rigorous work she was obligated to undertake. Returning his gaze, he noted the determined expression she tried to maintain, which made him chuckle. She always seemed to exert excessive effort to appear tough, almost always falling short.
Without saying a word, he gestured for her to follow him, leaving her momentarily hesitant before complying.
Sophie rubbed the drowsiness from her eyes as she trailed slightly behind, observing her new surroundings. The thought of halting and turning back crossed her mind, unsure of where he was leading her and for what purpose. But she repeatedly reminded herself that she wouldn't retreat; she wouldn't cower anymore.
Her newfound courage stemmed from the knife she had discreetly concealed at her waistline since morning. It wasn't originally hers, but she had made it her own the day she purloined it from Torvi, anticipating the day when she might need it. That day seemed to have finally arrived.
Ragnar had guided Sophie to a cottage outside the city, opening the door for her to enter. She could surmise where this was headed, hesitating for a moment while he waited patiently. Opting to play his game, she stepped inside, hearing the door shut firmly behind her.
She didn't glance back or utter a word, preparing herself to unleash fury upon him if he dared to make a move. Perhaps he thought she owed him something now that he had saved her life not just once, but twice?
Poor Helen, thinking he'd be any different from the other pagans.
"Tell me how you became a slave," he suddenly asked, his voice emerging from behind her, startlingly close for her comfort.
The absence of a response caused him to move even nearer, uncomfortably close, to the point where she could feel his breath on her skin. Her hand remained firmly gripped on the handle of her knife, poised for action. "I know you weren't born into it, because you are clearly not very good at it," he murmured beside her ear.
She had suspected it all along. He had been toying with her, a cruel game meant to deceive. How foolish she had been to believe she could place any trust in these heathens.
"You are afraid that I'm going to rape you?" he asked much to her surprise. "Is that why you have that knife with you?" That made her gulp, as she felt her heart accelerating but again didn't find the words to speak.
"Tell me who you really are," he whispered once more, his voice a soft murmur as he moved away, causing her to tense. "Where you come from," he continued.
"It's been so long," Sophie finally spoke. "I'm not sure who I am or where I truly belong anymore."
Sophie recoiled as a rodent darted towards her when King Ragnar lifted a box off the grimy floor.
"Were you a princess before this?" He asked with a chuckle. She didn't get a chance to answer, her eyes widening as Ragnar pulled a serpent from one of the boxes.
Involuntarily, she stepped back, fear coursing through her at the sight, wondering what thoughts were spinning in the King's mind. His smirk deepened as he watched her with those unsettling eyes.
Summoning all her courage, she dared to ask, "What do you want from me?"
He ignored her, bringing the serpent closer to his open mouth before shifting his gaze back to the frightened Sophie.
Lowering the serpent, he took a few menacing steps towards the trembling Sophie, causing her to recoil again.
"This is to be your place," he spoke as he stopped advancing towards her, noticing how she got ready to bolt out of the door. "You can come and go as you please."
Did she hear him correctly or was it her sleepy mind playing tricks on her?
"That's impossible," she said.
"It is," he told her. "Remember? I am King."
"But what about my duties?" She asked.
"No longer wanted," 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 to?
"Does that mean I am a free woman?" She dared to ask.
"No," he smirked.
What was that even supposed to mean?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
