Vikings Drabbles and Oneshots

Bound II: The Spectator

There were days Aslaug did not need you in her court, those days had become cherished because training with the King had become your favorite part of the week. You stand in the practice square in the middle of the woods.

"Spread your legs." The command itself awakes something carnal in you. Ragnar taps your knee caps with the wooden sword. Your legs don't move from the position and he leans down gripping your legs and then tracing his finger up to your inner thighs. "I know you can open wider." The cocky look on his face is teasing enough. "Your stance is unguarded. Weak. One swipe and you are on your ass. Is that what you want Y/N? Up."

He starts lightly attempting to strike you and then whirling around you like it was nothing. You go back to your normal stance and he takes the opportunity to knock you flat on your ass onto the dampened ground. You can feel the mud seep through your trousers and hear the small chuckle of the King. He was one to make an example of you anytime you disobeyed, he called it training. If he didn't have such a wonderful smile you would call it cruel.

Ragnar helps you from the ground dusting off your clothes and making sure you were okay. "Flat on your ass was a warning." He smiled.

The past two weeks had been endearingly awkward. He had not mentioned the exploits of the cabin and neither had you. His decision to train you had not been affected though. You'd learned a great deal and appreciated the one on one time with the King.

You could hear the disturbance of the land nearby. You'd gained a spectator, the youngest most agile of the children, Ivar the Boneless. You were not sure if Ragnar knew of him watching you, he did not seem to be bothered by it either way. He wanted you prepped for the Spring. Ready to storm the shores of whenever the longboat landed.

"Pay him no mind." Ragnar says acknowledging your awareness to the son. "He has always watched us, it's how he learns." He whispers before snapping his sword onto your shield. You were impressed yourself with your reflexes here of late. You might not could stand right but you knew how to guard yourself from him. "Good job."

"Thank you." The confident smile is plastered over your face as you mentally give yourself a pat on the back, not paying any attention to Ragnar, which proves to be a mistake.

He swings at you again and you stumble back dropping the sword and the shield and his blade rests on your neck. The small snicker from the woods means you have given the spectator a nice show of your foolery. "He presses the blade almost knocking through your skin. "Get up." He directs. "Be strong when you are weak, be brave when you are scared but most importantly be humble when you are victorious, for the next battle might be your last."

"I wasn't expecting that." You huff the last of the breath knocked out of you.

"Of course, you weren't." He teases. "No one expects death, especially in battle. Shield at the ready. There is not time to rest."

The training lasts until the blue-sky fades to the pinks and yellows and you two head back into the walls of Kattegat. Your body was worn out and ragged but there was work to be done at your small cottage. The winter months were upon you and you lacked some of the simple provisions like firewood and furs. You had saved enough for a few furs for the market but the firewood you would have to chop yourself and you didn't look forward to it.

You change from the sweaty clothes into the simple tunic and the pants then find comfort in carving the runes you'd planned to gift your mother, alone. Always alone. The small knock on the door comes from the bottom and it's followed by your door opening and Boneless crawling in. His gloves muddied and face innocent. He slides the gloves off dips his hands into the water pale at your kitchen. The helps himself onto the stool tousling his short brown hair.