Watching Over You - Chapter 2
Title: Watching Over You - Chapter 2
Author: Bluespire
Pairing: Ville/Bam, hinting at Ville/Mige and Ville/OC
Summary: Ville is a Viking warrior, eldest son of Kari, a Viking Jarl. Bam is a slave (called a thrall). What happens when Ville pays Bam's slave price and moves him from the kitchens into his bed?
Rating: Will eventually be NC-17
Disclaimer: While Ville, Bam, Mige, Kari, Anita, Jesse and some of the others mentioned within this story are real people, the events that take place in this work of fiction are not real. No harm or offense is meant by the characters and events depicted within.
Warnings: This thing reads like a bad historical romance novel. Minimal research was done so it will likely be wildly inaccurate. Much suspension of disbelief is required.
Author's Notes:This was started from a drabble and just kept going. Written and posted with minimal editing. Flying by the seat of my pants over here. Originally posted Here over on vamble.
Loyalty
It was a hot summer. As one of the male kitchen slaves, Bam was responsible for the large caldrons on the fire and the heat made the work unbearable. Early in the day Bam had shed his tunic. Despite being clothed only in thin pants and thin hide slippers, sweat was streaming down his chest, dampening his waistband. Bam strained and swung the huge iron pot by its chain from the fires, then sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow with a cloth.
“It’s a pity you’re a thrall.”
Bam startled at the unexpected voice behind him but he didn’t need to turn to know from whom it came. He desperately wanted to remain with his back turned but custom demanded he face his master’s son. Spinning, Bam carefully kept his chin down in a gesture of respect and although he felt a desperate urge to cover himself, he left his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
“There is strength in you,” Ville spoke as he approached Bam and began circling him. “Perhaps you can earn your freedom and become a warrior. My father is a good Jarl, always at the ready with a force of men when the king commands. He needs good warriors.”
Bam remained silent. He knew he wasn’t expected to speak, not that he actually could. His heart felt like it was in his throat.
Ville leaned forward and whispered in Bam’s ear. “Tell me, have you ever held a sword?”
Bam shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. If possible, he began to sweat anew. When Ville just waited, Bam tried to make his voice work. “N, n, no.” Bam managed to get out.
Ville remained where he was and inhaled audibly. Bam could feel his heat from behind.
“Hmmm,” Ville murmured and pulled back slightly so that he could run the pad of his forefinger down the center of Bam’s back. Bam held himself still by force of will.
“Why did you never speak of what you saw in the main hall that night?” Ville asked.
Bam glanced quickly over his shoulder and caught his breath of at the cold green of the eyes watching him.
“Was it fear or subservience that held your tongue?”
Bam swung his head away and closed his eyes, searching his mind. What was the right answer? At first it was fear but as the months wore on, it became something else. He began to watch Ville, or try to, when Ville wasn’t watching him. And after awhile he began to feel that there was something between himself and the eldest Valo son, perhaps borne of what he saw that night but grown now into something different. How could he say this to Ville, though? It would sound impudent, presumptuous. He’d be beaten for sure.
“It’s loyalty,” Bam finally spoke.
Ville was silent for a moment. “Loyalty?” he finally asked, moving around to grip Bam by the chin and bring Bam’s eyes up to lock with his own.
Bam stared. The anger in Ville was apparent but he couldn’t think what he might have done to deserve it. Although every fiber of his being told him to wrench his chin away and break the connection, he forced his eyes to remain locked with Ville’s. Finally the light in Ville’s green gaze softened. It was subtle but Bam saw it, recognized it.
“Perhaps it was,” Ville murmured, dropping Bam’s chin and turning from the room.
Bam was left by the fire. The room was still exceedingly warm but Bam felt chilled to the bone.
***
Chapter 3 - Chance
Author: Bluespire
Pairing: Ville/Bam, hinting at Ville/Mige and Ville/OC
Summary: Ville is a Viking warrior, eldest son of Kari, a Viking Jarl. Bam is a slave (called a thrall). What happens when Ville pays Bam's slave price and moves him from the kitchens into his bed?
Rating: Will eventually be NC-17
Disclaimer: While Ville, Bam, Mige, Kari, Anita, Jesse and some of the others mentioned within this story are real people, the events that take place in this work of fiction are not real. No harm or offense is meant by the characters and events depicted within.
Warnings: This thing reads like a bad historical romance novel. Minimal research was done so it will likely be wildly inaccurate. Much suspension of disbelief is required.
Author's Notes:This was started from a drabble and just kept going. Written and posted with minimal editing. Flying by the seat of my pants over here. Originally posted Here over on vamble.
Loyalty
It was a hot summer. As one of the male kitchen slaves, Bam was responsible for the large caldrons on the fire and the heat made the work unbearable. Early in the day Bam had shed his tunic. Despite being clothed only in thin pants and thin hide slippers, sweat was streaming down his chest, dampening his waistband. Bam strained and swung the huge iron pot by its chain from the fires, then sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow with a cloth.
“It’s a pity you’re a thrall.”
Bam startled at the unexpected voice behind him but he didn’t need to turn to know from whom it came. He desperately wanted to remain with his back turned but custom demanded he face his master’s son. Spinning, Bam carefully kept his chin down in a gesture of respect and although he felt a desperate urge to cover himself, he left his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
“There is strength in you,” Ville spoke as he approached Bam and began circling him. “Perhaps you can earn your freedom and become a warrior. My father is a good Jarl, always at the ready with a force of men when the king commands. He needs good warriors.”
Bam remained silent. He knew he wasn’t expected to speak, not that he actually could. His heart felt like it was in his throat.
Ville leaned forward and whispered in Bam’s ear. “Tell me, have you ever held a sword?”
Bam shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. If possible, he began to sweat anew. When Ville just waited, Bam tried to make his voice work. “N, n, no.” Bam managed to get out.
Ville remained where he was and inhaled audibly. Bam could feel his heat from behind.
“Hmmm,” Ville murmured and pulled back slightly so that he could run the pad of his forefinger down the center of Bam’s back. Bam held himself still by force of will.
“Why did you never speak of what you saw in the main hall that night?” Ville asked.
Bam glanced quickly over his shoulder and caught his breath of at the cold green of the eyes watching him.
“Was it fear or subservience that held your tongue?”
Bam swung his head away and closed his eyes, searching his mind. What was the right answer? At first it was fear but as the months wore on, it became something else. He began to watch Ville, or try to, when Ville wasn’t watching him. And after awhile he began to feel that there was something between himself and the eldest Valo son, perhaps borne of what he saw that night but grown now into something different. How could he say this to Ville, though? It would sound impudent, presumptuous. He’d be beaten for sure.
“It’s loyalty,” Bam finally spoke.
Ville was silent for a moment. “Loyalty?” he finally asked, moving around to grip Bam by the chin and bring Bam’s eyes up to lock with his own.
Bam stared. The anger in Ville was apparent but he couldn’t think what he might have done to deserve it. Although every fiber of his being told him to wrench his chin away and break the connection, he forced his eyes to remain locked with Ville’s. Finally the light in Ville’s green gaze softened. It was subtle but Bam saw it, recognized it.
“Perhaps it was,” Ville murmured, dropping Bam’s chin and turning from the room.
Bam was left by the fire. The room was still exceedingly warm but Bam felt chilled to the bone.
***
Chapter 3 - Chance