𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃 | Ragnar Lothbrok ¹

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

A CUNNING MAN

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.