Vikings Drabbles

⤭ the best laid plans

ecbert has his ways of assuring the northmen will accept his offer to aid him in his ambitions. rated 18+ for smut (M/F/M threesome).

THE ROMAN BATH fills the room with steam, making the air heavy and hard to breathe when you first push open the door —answering King Ecbert's summons. Stepping forward to the edge of the bath, you glance between your king and the Northman sitting across from him. Ragnar Lothbrok is a man of renown amongst his own people and a scourge to the Saxons. Yet, the great King Ecbert invites him into the heart of Wessex to speak and sup as a token of would-be friendship.

Ragnar's stare, clear and blue as a summer sky, holds you captive —one part fear, one part curiosity. You expected a giant from how others described him or someone horribly disfigured, like a devil-made flesh, but the man before you is none of those things. He is just that, a man. A man of flesh and blood and ambitions, not so different from your adored king. You dare return Ragnar's intense gaze, eyes tracing the scars on his chest and those below the surface of the water, his lips curl upward.

Ecbert glances over his shoulder, nodding for you to come closer. You've aided him in building alliances in the past. This time shall be no different. Toeing off your slippers, you tread across the smooth stone. "Please," Ecbert smiles, his grey eyes sparking with a sense of baseness you know well enough, "sit, my dear." He motions to the space next to him.

Lifting the diaphanous linen skirt of your shift up past your knees, you sit on the edge of the bath, legs dangling in the temperate water. Ecbert hums his approval of your presence, leaning to press his lips against the outside of your knee. The display earns a curious look from the Viking —Ragnar's first thought is that you are Ecbert's queen, yet no such introductions were made, nor had anyone within or outside the walls of the royal villa spake of a queen, only the one he had many years ago.

"You may still speak freely, Ragnar Lothbrok," Ecbert assures him, turning back to address his guest and rival. "She is one of my closest confidants" —his lips kink into a smirk as he looks up at you, the memory of the morning hours still fresh in his mind— "and bedmate."

"I don't care about treasure," Ragnar says, relaxing into the side of the bath, moving his arms to rest against the stone lip. You glimpse Ecbert as he lifts his chin, seeing the questions forming in his eyes. Ragnar's lips twitch, head tilting to the side in a half-shrug of sorts. "I'm a very," he pauses, eyes flitting over to you, "curious man. I want to see your lands, and I want to see how you farm them." He tilts his head down, the slightest of smiles pulling at his lips, half-hidden by his beard. "You see, I am really a farmer," he tells you both, then brings his arms back to his sides, sinking further into the bath.

Ecbert flicks the water with his hand. "Are you saying if I offer you some land, we can make a deal?" He asks.

Ragnar is silent for several long moments, then he glimpses to the side, his whole head tilting, nose scrunching. "It is possible," he answers, eyes still darting around the bath.

"But I would want something in return," Ecbert says. "You see, Ragnar Lothbrok" —his eyes dart up to you, seeing your soft smile— "I am an ambitious man. I have great plans." Ragnar lowers his gaze, chest rising from the water with his deep breath. "And you and your warriors could help me fulfill them." The Northman does not object, his bright eyes smiling.

"Now, that is settled," the king remarks, following Ragnar's stare. The humid air has made the thin fabric of your shift translucent —the material clings to every curve and crevice, doing little to hide the stiffened peaks of your nipples. You look a goddess or nymph sitting there wearing an innocuous little smile, looking at both men through your lashes. "She is a rare beauty," Ecbert sighs, eyes flitting from you to Ragnar, "is she not?"