A Philosophical Mess of A Thorffin x Male!Reader Fic

Chapter Two.

*Warning: minor reference to the Viking rape tradition, just mentioning it. Nothing happens, of course.*

I am no stranger to labour, of course.

Never was.

Having been born and raised in a tiny working village, it'd be a shock if I didn't pick a knack for it.

Peasant-class parents can go so long without utilizing what they have.

That said, I doubt my parents would've been this harsh with me. Cleaning up after those bastards is, in all honesty, a terrible job. Every single thing a Viking does is done in a manner so undeniably animalistic that a peasant would seem graceful in comparison.

Not to be picky, of course. Those monsters aren't well known to be practitioners of decency, after all. But wouldn't it be so hard to just leave me dealing with their weapon storage and polishing? You'd think Askeladd's men would have more female servants for this sort of thing. You know, for the more 'feminine' tasks of keeping their hygiene and food intake in check.

Okay, to be fair, they themselves don't stink. I'll give credit where credit's due.

Which is quite ironic, honestly, since their dinners are always a horrific battlefield of leftovers and cheap liquor-

*CRASH!*

..and of course, the peace couldn't last.

Might as well see whatever the hell that was..

Oh; how delightful. It's that kid again.

The scrappy mutt that keeps following Askeladd everywhere, going all 'I'll kill you!' and what-not.

He seems thinner than usual, which probably indicates that his hunting hasn't awarded him with much these past few days. Probably why he's resorting to pathetically attempting to snatch a scrap of meat or two.

Really putting up a fight, too.

"Quit it! That ain't yours!! Get yourself your own fucking food!Hell; you should've died a long time ago!"

A plate is thrown.

"Shut your ass up! All of you are slobs; depending on being hand-fed and pampered, anyway!!"

Another one is knocked over.

"Then why are you here?!"

Okay. This has gone on long enough. I am not cleaning up more than I have to.

I'll just drag him the fuck out.

"Hey- what the fu-"

God damn; that kid's way fucking stronger than I thought. Dragging him away is almost impossible for me. Guess he'd obviously have to be; he's a Viking, after all. But still!

..he's starving, though, so if I just keep hanging on, he'll die out eventually..

..still going at it..

Come on! Get tired already!!

It's not working. Why the hell did I think that was gonna work? Bastard's been starving many times before, probably, and getting weak 'cause of that would equal certain death.

Honestly shocked that he didn't reach out for his daggers yet. Might do that soon, though..

..Actually, I'd rather not get sliced up, thank you very much. Those bastards already ate their fair share and more, what's a little scrap of meat to them? I'll just toss one outside to shut him up.

There. Now, quit have a tantrum and let me do my tasks in peace!

"Fuck you, you mute slave! Don't throw that on the snow or it'll get all dirty an' shit!! Damn it, get off me-"

Ow.

Kid almost flung me over to the dining table. He immediately left and rushed over to the meat, though, so I guess that's taken care of.

...god, how I hate Vikings. Shit like this always just keeps happening..

Back to work, I guess.

The other Vikings don't care, obviously, and just keep eating unfazed by whatever just ensued.

...

Don't think about it. It never does you any good, thinking about it.

Just get back to work.

That's all you have to do.

Work.

And soon enough, it's time to settle down and rest up. The moon is becoming brighter and brighter with each passing second.

The bastards all hit the sack.

Once I'm done cleaning up this final batch of wooden plates, I'll finally be free for today. I should be feeling rather relaxed right now, but something is hindering me from doing so.

Watching. Someone is watching.

A blunt thud sends a shiver starting from the spine, reaching till my toes.

Holy shit.

There's no one here at all. It's just me. And that, sadly, isn't much.

Worst case scenario, I get raped or I die. Maybe both.

Turning around, I'm met with an all too familiar hay-colored nest of hair.

"I'm still hungry."

It's him.

I point over to the empty table and washed plates. What a dumbass.

"I don't fucking care, get me something."

Ha! Hell no. Shaking my head 'no' is a clear cut response.

Ohh; he didn't like that.

His lil' grumpy face getting all scrunched up an' shi-

"The only reason you're still alive after the little stunt you pulled earlier today was because all of Askeladd's lap dogs were present. Now that no one's here, you're fair game. Do you really think anyone'd care if you disappeared? They'd just think you escaped. And trust me, I am exceptionally good at hiding corpses.."

It's hard to think with a dagger pressed against your windpipe.

All I know is, I don't want to die over a missed meal.

"Seems like I convinced you. The moment I put my dagger away, you'd better get me something to eat. And be quick about it; I'm starving to high hell here."

He lets me go.

Don't have much food to offer, though..

..well, unless it's mine.

But, oh well, life was never fair to begin with.

He follows me till we reach the plate of my ration for the night.

Without another word, he eats.

Scratch that, utterly devours.

Going dinner-less today, I assume.

Finally, in a flash, the plate is licked clean.

He gets up and walks away.

The rush of adrenaline that spiked when that dagger was on my neck still didn't wear off, and at this point I just want to sleep.

Cleaning the plate was simple enough, and I prepared to fall into slumber for the start of another awful day of labour. As I was dozing off, I swear I felt eyes staring daggers at me..

Either way, I'm too tired to care.

As long as I'm not dead, I don't even care anymore.