by T S Florence
“Ragnar,” Rose screamed, running to the tub, grabbing at his arms in an attempt to pull him up.
His hand latched onto her arm, his grip so strong that it caused her to yelp in pain as he pulled her forwards and completely into the tub with him.
“What in Odin’s name are you doing, Rose?” Ragnar shouted, surprised.
“I thought you had drowned,” Rose said, catching her breath, her dress fully soaked in the warm water, as she sat on top of Ragnar’s naked body.
“What? I’m in a tub, how could I drown?” Ragnar asked.
“I don’t know, you weren’t moving,” Rose moaned, embarrassed.
“I like to put my head under. It’s peaceful,” Ragnar said.
“You’re naked under me, aren’t you,” Rose stated, more than asked.
“Maybe,” Ragnar said, a sly grin growing on his face.
“Why are you grinning” Rose asked, feeling herself grow warm.
“Rose,” Ragnar growled.
Rose could feel something moving under her skirt, something growing hard between her legs, pushing up against the centre of her thighs.
“Ragnar” Rose gasped.
“I cannot be held responsible for my actions if you stay on top of me,” Ragnar said.
“What will you do if I do not move?” Rose asked, squeezing her thighs together, enjoying the feeling his length between her legs.
Instead of answering her, Ragnar’s huge hands rose from the tub and gripped her dress from her chest. In one tug, he tore it down the front, exposing her naked breasts, leaving her bare nipples pointing at him.
A gasp escaped Rose’s lips as she watched his face grow hungry with lust. He pulled her forwards and took her breast in his mouth. As she was pulled forward, she felt his hardness pressing against the centre of her legs.
A moan escaped her lips as she reached down and wrapped her hand around his length, and felt him throb, as if it was alive.
Ragnar took his mouth away from her breast and tore the rest of her skirt in one clean rip. He bundled the torn fabric and threw it onto the cold stone floor. Now there was no material to protect Rose’s innocence from Ragnar’s member. And he knew it.
“Ragnar,” Rose gasped, her eyes wide.
“You’re still mine,” Ragnar growled, as he took her by her hips and began to move her backwards and forwards along his length.
“Think that if you want,” Rose said, as she straddled him, feeling his tip pressing against her entrance.
“I know it,” Ragnar said.
“You’re as much mine as I am yours,” Rose said.
She lowered herself onto him, feeling the initial pain of her centre being filled. Soon, after a few thrusts, the pain was replaced with pleasure, and the sound of water splashing out of the tub was replaced by moans of pleasure.
Rose took Ragnar’s face in her hands and attacked his lips feverishly, biting and sucking and squeezing his face. His taste filled her mouth, and she found herself dipping her head down to taste his neck, his ears and his cheeks. She was overtaken with a desire to have all of him.
Ragnar stood with Rose still in his arms, which caused her to gasp in surprise. He stepped out of the tub and lifted Rose up and down, allowing his member to fill her completely.
“Rose I’m going to…” Ragnar said, before grunting and heaving, all of his muscles contracting under her touch. She felt all of his member pulsing inside of her, causing her to moan with pleasure.
After regaining his composure, Ragnar lowered her back into the tub, to let her was the sex from her body. He stood and watched Rose scrub herself clean with a wry smile on his face.
“Are you ok just watching me like that?” Rose said, her face red.
“I could sit here all night,” Ragnar said.
“Well you can’t, we have to go to dinner with Ivar and Isla,” Rose replied.
“I know, my rose petal,” Ragnar said.
“Rose petal?” Rose replied.
“It’s my new name for you,” Ragnar smiled, as he wrapped a towel around his waist.
“I like it,” Rose smiled.
Ragnar
Ragnar took Rose’s hand and lifted her onto his horse. He took the main road, and enjoyed the feeling of her behind pressing against his body as the horse trotted towards the castle. They rode past the blacksmith’s shelter, where Jack Ashborn stood out the front, washing black dust from his arms and face.
Ragnar pulled the horse to a stop, to speak with the man who had gone to Scotland with him, not more than twelve months earlier, to rescue a Valkyrie. Ragnar respected Jack. He was a brave man, made good swords, and used good swords well, which was more than Ragnar would say about most other men.
“Ashborn,” Ragnar said, putting his hand out for the warrior’s handshake.
“Ragnar the Destroyer. I see you got your slave girl back,” Jack said, eyeing Rose suspiciously.
“Ah. Hilda is no longer my slave,” Ragnar said feeling his face become heated and Rose’s body stiffen at the word.
Rose had not taken her eyes from Jack, the whole time they stood speaking in the street, and she stayed quiet even once they had begun their journey to the castle.
“Hilda, is it?” Jack asked, turning to Rose.
“Close enough,” Rose clipped.
“Right we’re off,” Ragnar growled, before pulling on the horse’s reins. “God’s teeth,” Ragnar said, quietly annoyed with himself.
“What?” Rose asked, through pursed teeth.
“I called you by your slave name,” Ragnar said.
“I’m still your slave, just not in so many words,” Rose replied in a curt tone.
“Rose,” Ragnar groaned, feeling her body stiffen as she answered him.
“You were acting strange just then,” Ragnar said.
“Was I?” She asked.
“You were,” Ragnar said.
“I thought that Jack fellow seemed familiar, that’s all,” Rose replied quietly.
“And nothing to do with being called Hilda?” Ragnar asked.
“I don’t mind being called Hilda, it is my name as much as Rose,” Rose said.
“I disagree,” Ragnar said.
“We disagree on most things,” Hilda said, looking toward the castle.
“So, how was it seeing your family again?” Isla asked as she picked at the roast lamb.
“What family?” Rose’s eyes widened, causing Ragnar’s body to tense with apprehension at the incoming news.
“My god, of course, how would you have known?” Isla muttered, half to herself.
“Isla, please don’t withhold information,” Rose said.
“Well your mother and Jack, they are both here, in Newcastle,” Isla said the words quickly, as if it would lessen their impact.
Ragnar looked at Ivar, as if to ask if he knew, but Ivar only shrugged his shoulders, to signal that he knew nothing.
“Are they still wool merchants?” Rose asked.
“Your mother… she never recovered after you left. Not mentally, anyway. Jack is a blacksmith now,” Isla said.
“Jack Ashborn,” Rose said, turning to Ragnar, who felt his brain trying to work its way through the realisation.
“His last name is not Draper, like yours,” Ragnar said, scratching the side of his head.
“He changed it when Elsbeth re-married the local blacksmith,” Isla said, while Rose wordlessly nodded in agreement, her eyes cast to the floor.
“He knows I was a slave. He knows my slave name. He knows I am yours,” Rose spoke up, though her eyes stayed on the floor.
“Are you ashamed of this?” Ragnar asked.
“It is very different to the life I lived before,” Rose paused momentarily “How do you mean mother never recovered,” Rose looked at Isla.
Isla’s touched her lips self-consciously, buying time to consider the most gentle way to tell Rose the unfortunate news of her mother.
“She doesn’t go into public much these days. She’s devoted,
I suppose you could say,” Isla said.
“Please speak plainly, princess,” Rose clipped.
“There’s no need to use formalities, Rose,” Isla said back, acknowledging the childhood familiarity between the two.
“Isla, please,” Rose said impatiently.
“She is devoted to god. She goes to the church daily. Some days she will stand on the steps of the church and preach the word of the lord. She is… tenacious,” Isla said.
“She’s fanatical,” Rose guessed, correcting Isla.
“That’s another word you could use, I suppose,” Isla replied.
“Jack has grown. He’s a man now,” Rose said, changing the conversation to her brother.
“And brave,” Ragnar said.
“Of course, you know my brother well,” Rose clipped.
“We have journeyed together,” Ragnar said, carefully.
“Here in England?” Rose asked, ignoring their royal company.
“And Scotland,” Ragnar said in a low voice.
“Why Scotland?” Rose asked.
“To rescue a girl,” Ragnar said, knowing that the truth was digging him further into Rose’s bad books.
“So you had time to travel to other countries with my brother, rescue girls who you did not know, but not enough time to come and see me in all the four years you were gone,” Rose smiled. “And now you likely know my own brother better than I.”
“I don’t know him that well,” Ragnar said, cautiously.
“Well enough to have travelled with him to Scotland, of all places,” Rose said, turning to Isla.
“Isla, did you know that Ragnar was my owner, when-” Rose began to ask.
“I knew nothing about you at all, I swear,” Isla said, before realising that was probably worse than saying she did know of her.
“Of course, why would Ragnar have ever mentioned me at all,” Rose smiled, though without conviction, for the tears welling at the bottom of her eyes gave her away.
“This is enough dinner for one night,” Ragnar growled, before pushing his chair out, and reached for Rose’s arm.
“Who said I’ve had enough”, Rose said, pulling her arm from Ragnar’s grip.
“Make up your damn mind, you claim that you’re my slave when you wish to make me feel bad, but if it doesn’t suit you, then you do whatever you damn well want,” Ragnar growled.
“Already regretting your decision to proclaim me as free?” Rose clipped, though she stood anyway, signalling that she was ready to leave.
“Umm, goodbye then?” Isla said, interrupting the two.
“Yes, see you at training tomorrow - I suppose,” Ivar said uncertainly.
“Sorry Isla,” Rose said, turning her attention back to the princess, as she wiped the beginning of a tear from her eye.
“It’s a lot to take in. I will come and visit,” Isla said, rushing around the table to take Rose’s hands in her own.
Ragnar gave Ivar a curt nod and walked briskly to the front door and readied the horse.
Rose
“I want to go back past the blacksmith’s shelter,” Rose said to Ragnar, as he steered the horse out of the castle compound. Rose slapped Ragnar’s hand as it found its way to her upper thigh.
“Do you not want to steady your emotion before seeing your brother?” Ragnar asked uncertainly.
“No,” Rose said, with firmness.
“Father said the wealthy people and poor people have one distinct difference in their personality,” Rose said.
“And what was this?” Ragnar breathed tiredly.
“The understanding that if you have something you need to do, you must do it yesterday,” Rose said.
“That doesn’t sound like a calculating merchant’s way of thinking,” Ragnar replied.
“Being calculating is important, but actually doing something is more important. If I don’t go and see Jack now, then who knows if he will still be there tomorrow. Make the deal while you can,” Rose said.
“The deal?” Ragnar asked.
“Obviously the deal here is going to see my brother,” Rose sighed, impatient with Ragnar’s struggle to keep up with her.
“Of course,” Ragnar said uncertainly, again resting his hand on Rose’s thigh, though this time she did not slap his hand away, but instead rested her (much smaller) hand on his.
“What is he like?” Rose asked quietly, as the blacksmith’s shelter came into view.
“You will be proud of the man he has become. He holds more courage in his heart than most,” Ragnar said.
“I care more about his kindness than courage,” Rose said.
“I’m sure he has that too,” Ragnar said uncomfortably.
The blacksmith’s forge still smouldered, and the heat made the small room almost unbearable to stand in, which caused Rose to feel even more uncomfortable, all things considered. she was already feeling panicked and flustered at the thought of reuniting, for the second time that day, with her brother.
“Jack, where are you?” Ragnar boomed.
“What are you doing back here? I’ve seen enough of your ugly face for one day,” Rose heard Jack call back from a room that was deeper within the shelter.
“Shut your English mouth and come out here, I have someone I want you to meet, officially,” Ragnar shouted.
Jack appeared back out into the main room, and eyed the pair of them suspiciously, “I’ve met your slave girl already today, have you taken too many hits to the head on your raids in the northern countries?” Jack slung a towel over his shoulder, holding the end in his hand. He looked as though he had been washing the soot from his arms before they had arrived.
Ragnar looked at Rose, with understanding and patience in his eyes.
“It’s been a while, big brother,” Rose wrung her hands at the front of her dress, though it did little to expel the nervous energy from her body.
Jack stood there, his eyes so wide that the whites seemed to light up the dimly lit room, contending with the smouldering forge. “Rose?”
“Jack,” Rose said, though her voice came out as barely more than a whisper.
Jack strode forwards and took her in his arms, breathing in her hair. He stood a full head taller than Rose, though their similarities were apparent. His nose and eyes had a brotherly similarity to that of Rose, and his temperament was similar as well, though they did not yet know this.
“Wait,” Jack let go of Rose and took a step backwards, before looking between Ragnar and Rose.
“You were Ragnar’s slave, back in his home country?” Jack said, confused.
“In the eyes of the law, yes,” Rose said.
“In the eyes of the law?” Jack asked.
“I was treated better than most people’s own children. Elder Ragnar would be the one cooking me dinner most nights, rather than the other way around,” Rose said.
“We travelled through Scotland together. We were almost killed in battle standing side by side, and you never told me that you held my sister as a slave?” Jack asked Ragnar, his cheeks becoming red.
“I did not know she was your sister,” Ragnar replied.
“I think he forgot I existed all together, while he was over here,” Rose interjected.
“I did not forget you,” Ragnar growled.
“And now? You couldn’t possibly still be Ragnar’s slave?” Jack asked.
“She is not my slave,” Ragnar said quickly, before Rose could answer.
“Ragnar has been my best friend since the day I arrived on his shores, in Fyrkat. He protected me,” Rose said.
“Are you complimenting me right now?” Ragnar asked.
“Well you did, but barely. I was sold again while I was under your ownership,” Rose smiled, enjoying that she could so easily get under Ragnar’s skin.
“Ok, maybe let’s save that for another time. Rose, where are you staying?” Jack asked.
“With Ragnar,” Rose said, still not feeling the gravity of the situation she was in.
“Are you
two together?” Jack said, his question laced with implication.