IVAR HAD A HABIT of appearing from the shadows unnoticed despite the scraping of the metal buckles around his legs, making Sophie jump slightly as she almost dropped the bucket she was carrying. "There you are," he said with a smirk. "Our little angry slave." He waited for a reply as she fought to remain silent, knowing that she wanted to respond with something harsh. "But Sigurd had it coming," he continued. This wasn't the first time she had heard that. "Now you decide to remain silent?" he asked with an annoying smile as he tried to balance himself on his crutch. Disregarding Ivar, she strode past him, prepared to resume her duties. However, he had different intentions, halting her by seizing her arm. "I'm addressing you," he snapped, his teeth clenched. "Slave." "What is it, Ivar?" she demanded, glaring at the hand that imprisoned her before lifting her gaze to meet his malevolent eyes. There was a fierce intensity in her eyes he hadn't witnessed before. A spark, as if Thor,
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 orde
ATHELSTAN ESCORTED Sophie back to the barn last night, just as Ragnar had requested. She was immensely thankful, as he had spared her from whatever torment Ivar had planned. However, the knowledge that King Ragnar had specifically instructed him to watch over her unsettled her deeply. Of course, she was grateful for the fact that it was Athelstan rather than some Pagan, as not only did she feel safe knowing he was appointed to be her guardian angel but also closer to home. He refrained from initiating any conversation, observing how utterly exhausted she seemed. So, he simply bid her goodnight before leaving her to grapple with a restless sleep, her thoughts swiftly morphing into haunting nightmares. Her mind seemed to replay the darkest events from her past, intermingling and reshuffling them in a way that left her breathless upon waking in terror. The knight who once tried to violate her but failed materialized in her dreams, succeeding this time, inflicting harm repeatedly. Iva
SOPHIE COULDN'T believe her ears at what came out of King Ragnar's lips. "This is to be your place," he spoke. "You can come and go as you please." "That's impossible," she said, her eyes reflecting her confusion as she searched his face for the truth, but his eyes betrayed nothing but the crafty thoughts Sophie had yet to uncover. "It is," he confirmed. "Remember? I am King." "But what about my duties?" she asked, taken off guard. "No longer needed," he said, catching her off guard. "You are an awful slave," he continued. "And I am dismissing your services." "And I can come and go as I please?" she asked again. "Only if you desire to," he told her. "You can walk away right now if you want." She could, but where would she go? "Does that mean I am a free woman?" she dared to ask. "No," he smirked. What did that mean? "No?" Sophie tested the waters. "Not until you tell me who you are," he insisted, causing her to sigh in defeat. "And if I do tell you, you'll set me free?" s
RAGNAR EITHER dozed off or was feigning sleep as Sophie sat there, wide-eyed, watching him. Realizing there was no point in figuring out whether he was asleep or not, she stood up slowly, put on her boots, and turned to walk out. "Where are you going?" he suddenly spoke before she had a chance to reach the door. "Out of here," she replied, ignoring him as she walked out. Ragnar groaned as he forced himself to stand up before following her. "Out where?" he called after her. "I thought you said I can come and go as I please," she said as she continued to walk away from him. "You can," he confirmed. "Okay then," she said. Ragnar eventually stopped following her when he made sure she was back in Kattegat safely. He did not want to scare her away, as he was interested in knowing more about her. He had to admit, she had piqued his interest from the beginning—something about her made him want to know more. The fact that she kept holding back made him even more curious. So instead, he
WITH A RAPID HEARTBEAT, Sophie sprinted desperately away from the individual who had thrown the axe at her. She plunged deeper into the woods, eventually reaching the river, which blocked her path. Terrified, she spun around, her eyes scanning for an escape route, only to find no one pursuing her. There was absolutely no one in sight, waiting to harm her. Was she losing her mind? Was it all a product of her imagination? Judging by her surroundings, Sophie knew she was lost. As she prepared to move again, she heard nearby rustling, triggering her defensive instincts. In her mind, she formulated an escape plan while anxiously waiting with widened eyes for her pursuer. To her astonishment, the predator was none other than Ubbe, one of the brothers she had been avoiding for the past few days. However, there he stood, panting, hands outstretched to show Sophie he meant no harm—only for the axe in his hand to derail his intentions as she bolted once more. "Sophie!" Ubbe shouted as he s
WEEKS HAD PASSED, and Sophie dedicated her days to daily training sessions with Ubbe. King Ragnar was conspicuously absent since their last encounter, which was a relief, considering how he enjoyed playing mind games that confused her. Ubbe proved to be an excellent and patient teacher, training her as if preparing for battle. Sophie was thankful for his guidance. She never imagined she would have the opportunity to wield a sword, let alone learn the art of combat. One aspect of Viking culture that appealed to her was the way they treated women equally. The next day's training involved archery. Sophie, although skilled with a sword, was eager to try her hand at being an archer, a childhood aspiration. She was thrilled about the prospect, only to find that archery was more challenging than expected, leading to consistent failures. "Watch your stance," Ubbe instructed, correcting her posture. "Face me, not the target; you keep forgetting that." Sophie followed his guidance, readying
SOPHIE WAS SUPPOSED to meet Ubbe at their training field, which was quite a long walk from her place, let alone from Ubbe's, as she preferred to stay away from the public eye. However, Ubbe was nowhere to be found when she reached her destination. She waited impatiently to start the day's session. For unknown reasons, Ubbe hadn't allowed her to have her own sword or bow, leaving her with only her knife—Torvi's knife—to defend herself. She heard a rustling noise not far away, presuming it was Ubbe. But a bolting figure told her otherwise as she ducked away just in time to avoid the blade of steel swinging at her. Surprised to see King Ragnar standing there with a sword in hand and a smirk on his face, she found herself glaring at him as her quivering hand found the hilt of her knife. It was no wonder where Ivar got his sneakiness from. "Where's Ubbe?" she asked, growing more and more irritated as he studied her with those glinting eyes of his before he almost caught her off-guard b