𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃 | Ragnar Lothbrok ¹

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

SLAVE

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 orders. Ultimately, she chose the latter.

"You're learning," he remarked, testing her patience further, and once again, she managed to keep her composure.

"What do you want me to do for yo, Prince Ivar?" she asked, projecting confidence to conceal her racing heart.

"Perhaps start by taking your clothes off," he prodded with a sly smile, while Sigurd snickered and the other brother whistled, except for Ubbe, who glared at the table.

"Are we here to feast or spend our night conversing with a slave?" Ubbe interjected, turning to Sophie, who looked anything but confident. "Fetch the ale," he commanded her, prompting Ivar to glare at him for squandering his opportune moment.

Sophie needed no second telling, feeling thankful for Ubbe, who had likely spared her much trouble. Perhaps not all of them were entirely malevolent.

Returning with the ale, prepared to fill Ubbe's cup, he didn't extend his cup to her, instead reaching for the large jar she carried. He poured ale for himself and his brothers, all the while she observed. "You may leave," he surprisingly told her, moving to sit down once more.

"No, she cannot," Ivar interjected. "It's not for you to decide."

"Look at her, Ivar," Ubbe remarked. "She can barely remain on her feet."

It was considerate of him to notice how utterly fatigued and sleepy she was.

"I don't care," Ivar retorted, shooting a glare at Sophie, who kept her head down, holding back her words. "Why aren't you getting mad, huh?" he pressed her.

"Perhaps I can provoke her for you, brother," Sigurd chimed in, sparking chuckles from Ivar and Hvitserk, while Sophie cursed him under her breath.

"Do you want to leave?" Ivar asked, wearing a smirk that never seemed to leave his face. She chose not to respond, aware of this being one of his tricks. "I asked you a question."

"Yes," she answered, despite knowing the trap, and yet she was wrong.

"Then go," he motioned, and she looked up at him, bewildered. "Off you go," he shooed her.

Her gaze shifted to Ubbe, who had turned away from her. With tentative steps, she moved away from the brothers. Her heart was in her throat when a knife whizzed past her, barely missing her head, prompting laughter from behind.

"Enough, Ivar!" Ubbe's voice thundered as he abruptly stood up, the chair crashing back with a loud thump, making Sophie startle.

"What? We're just having fun, Ubbe. Why do you always have to spoil it?" Ivar questioned, looking at Sophie, who still faced the door. "Did you think I'd let you off that easily?"

"Where did you think you were going, anyway?" he pressed. "Planning to run to our father like you did earlier?"

She'd never consider that, as he was the last person she'd seek protection from.

A glance from Ivar set Sigurd and Hvitserk in motion toward Sophie. Even though she had her back turned, she sensed their approach. Swiftly, she spun around, poised for defense if necessary.

Hvitserk made the first move, earning himself a shove against his chest. It did little to deter him; he seized the girl easily, holding her in place by both arms and leering down at her. Uncertain about Ivar's intentions, and with Ubbe offering no defense, she fought back tears, fear gnawing at her.

Before anything escalated, the priest walked into the hall, glaring at Hvitserk, who held Sophie in his grasp.

"And the priest decides to join us," Ivar mockingly remarked. "Welcome, welcome, priest."

"Let her go," Athelstan demanded, turning his attention from Sophie to address Ivar.

"Why should I?" Ivar retorted.

"Because Ragnar asked me to keep an eye on her," Athelstan informed, prompting a chuckle from Ivar. He then motioned for Hvitserk to release Sophie.

"Of course, he would want to protect another Christian, especially a beautiful one like her."

"Tell me, priest," Ivar continued, "do you find her beautiful?"

"Of course I do, but that doesn't give me the right to torment her," Athelstan affirmed.

"But she's a slave," Ivar argued.

"And yet a human being," Athelstan countered.

"So, tell me, why doesn't Ragnar himself come to save his little slave?" Ivar taunted.

"Perhaps you should ask him that," Athelstan replied, motioning for Sophie to follow him as he turned to walk out, which she gladly did.

Unbeknownst to her, Ragnar had witnessed the entire scene from the other room. He wouldn't allow his sons to harm his favorite slave. He knew precisely what needed to be done.