Watching Over You - Chapter 3
Title: Watching Over You - Chapter 3
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.
Chance
Bam heard the whooping and hollering in the courtyard. The warriors must have returned from their raiding party. Perhaps they would have new kitchen slaves, Bam thought to himself as he tended his duties. He would have been permitted to join the others in the yard to greet those returning. His help may even have been welcomed if there were wounded. But something kept him in front of the fires.
Bam remembered the night before the party left. The warriors had been drinking and telling tales in the hall. Bam had been clumsy, nervous under Ville’s continued scrutiny, and had sloshed beer on Migé’s hand as filled his cup. Migé, normally one of the more easy-going of the crew had angered and clouted Bam hard on the shoulder. The blow had been staggering and Bam had had a hard time remaining on his feet. When it seemed that he would either fall or drop the pitcher or both, he’d felt a firm grip on his forearm, steadying him. He’d breathed a sigh of relief and glanced up to meet Ville’s eyes. The surprise and perhaps the apprehension he felt whenever he was around the other man must have shown on his face because Ville’s gaze hardened and he released Bam as if he’d been burned. Bam forced a grim smile and nodded at Ville before he backed away and began filling glasses anew.
Ville hadn’t had to help him. Perhaps it was the beer he was saving but Bam’s thoughts had returned time and again, during the long months the warriors were gone, to his relief at being saved, to the feel of Ville’s strong hand on his arm.
That night there was merry making in the hall. The raiding party had met with great success. Not only were there several new slaves to work the land, there were other riches as well. While much of the bounty belonged to the Jarl, Kari, each of the warriors were allowed to keep some of their own spoils as well. Spirits were high and the drinking lasted into the night but eventually things wound down and Bam was able to escape to his bedroll by the kitchen fires.
He'd just settled down among the other sleeping forms when he sensed someone enter the room. It was Ville. Bam somehow wasn’t surprised. He’d felt something between them all evening. It was the same as before Ville had left but more so, more intense.
While Ville stood in the doorway scanning the darkened room, Bam gathered his courage and stood from his place on the floor, allowing Ville’s eyes to find him.
“Is there something you are needing, sir?” Bam asked, eyes on Ville in the darkness.
“Bam…” Ville started, then stopped, pausing before continuing. “I was lucky with the raiding.” Ville’s voice was quiet. It heightened Bam’s nerves even further as did the content of Ville’s speech. He did not know how to respond, generally not spoken to by freemen outside of being given orders. Unsure, Bam remained silent, eyes to the floor.
“Do you enjoy working in the kitchens, Bam?” Ville asked.
“En, enjoy?” Bam repeated. This was something to which he’d never given thought. It mattered not as he had never had a choice. “I’ve been a slave in the kitchens since I was a boy of 8 years. I remember naught else.” Bam finally replied.
“I have spoken with my father and made arrangements to pay your slave price. You are to be my man. If you show a natural inclination, you will be trained as a warrior. It will be dangerous as you are late to start training but it should matter not as this is the only road to honor. Because you have been a… ,” here Ville paused, his eyes sweeping Bam’s body in the darkness. …loyal slave these years, my father has asked that I give you the choice. He believes our kitchens will miss your attentions. Tell me your answer.”
Bam’s feelings at Ville’s words overwhelmed him and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. When he recovered himself, he looked up into Ville’s eyes and asked the first thing that came to his mind. “Why?”
“There is strength in you, I spoke of this before.” Ville waved this line of discussion away. “Do you consent to this change?”
Bam felt as if he stood upon the precipice of a sheer cliff with the world stretched out beneath him and the wind catching at his hair. His eyes wandered the room where he'd spent much of his life, to the figures sleeping at his feet. What am I to do, he wondered for only a moment before the freedom of the moment grabbed him.
Looking up at Ville, he squelched the smile that threatened to bloom on his face but couldn’t keep it from his eyes. “I do,” he replied, and felt as if he’d leapt from the cliff.
Ville nodded. “Come to my room in the morning,” he ordered and strode from the kitchen.
Bam didn’t sleep that night.
***
Chapter 4 - Change
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.
Chance
Bam heard the whooping and hollering in the courtyard. The warriors must have returned from their raiding party. Perhaps they would have new kitchen slaves, Bam thought to himself as he tended his duties. He would have been permitted to join the others in the yard to greet those returning. His help may even have been welcomed if there were wounded. But something kept him in front of the fires.
Bam remembered the night before the party left. The warriors had been drinking and telling tales in the hall. Bam had been clumsy, nervous under Ville’s continued scrutiny, and had sloshed beer on Migé’s hand as filled his cup. Migé, normally one of the more easy-going of the crew had angered and clouted Bam hard on the shoulder. The blow had been staggering and Bam had had a hard time remaining on his feet. When it seemed that he would either fall or drop the pitcher or both, he’d felt a firm grip on his forearm, steadying him. He’d breathed a sigh of relief and glanced up to meet Ville’s eyes. The surprise and perhaps the apprehension he felt whenever he was around the other man must have shown on his face because Ville’s gaze hardened and he released Bam as if he’d been burned. Bam forced a grim smile and nodded at Ville before he backed away and began filling glasses anew.
Ville hadn’t had to help him. Perhaps it was the beer he was saving but Bam’s thoughts had returned time and again, during the long months the warriors were gone, to his relief at being saved, to the feel of Ville’s strong hand on his arm.
That night there was merry making in the hall. The raiding party had met with great success. Not only were there several new slaves to work the land, there were other riches as well. While much of the bounty belonged to the Jarl, Kari, each of the warriors were allowed to keep some of their own spoils as well. Spirits were high and the drinking lasted into the night but eventually things wound down and Bam was able to escape to his bedroll by the kitchen fires.
He'd just settled down among the other sleeping forms when he sensed someone enter the room. It was Ville. Bam somehow wasn’t surprised. He’d felt something between them all evening. It was the same as before Ville had left but more so, more intense.
While Ville stood in the doorway scanning the darkened room, Bam gathered his courage and stood from his place on the floor, allowing Ville’s eyes to find him.
“Is there something you are needing, sir?” Bam asked, eyes on Ville in the darkness.
“Bam…” Ville started, then stopped, pausing before continuing. “I was lucky with the raiding.” Ville’s voice was quiet. It heightened Bam’s nerves even further as did the content of Ville’s speech. He did not know how to respond, generally not spoken to by freemen outside of being given orders. Unsure, Bam remained silent, eyes to the floor.
“Do you enjoy working in the kitchens, Bam?” Ville asked.
“En, enjoy?” Bam repeated. This was something to which he’d never given thought. It mattered not as he had never had a choice. “I’ve been a slave in the kitchens since I was a boy of 8 years. I remember naught else.” Bam finally replied.
“I have spoken with my father and made arrangements to pay your slave price. You are to be my man. If you show a natural inclination, you will be trained as a warrior. It will be dangerous as you are late to start training but it should matter not as this is the only road to honor. Because you have been a… ,” here Ville paused, his eyes sweeping Bam’s body in the darkness. …loyal slave these years, my father has asked that I give you the choice. He believes our kitchens will miss your attentions. Tell me your answer.”
Bam’s feelings at Ville’s words overwhelmed him and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. When he recovered himself, he looked up into Ville’s eyes and asked the first thing that came to his mind. “Why?”
“There is strength in you, I spoke of this before.” Ville waved this line of discussion away. “Do you consent to this change?”
Bam felt as if he stood upon the precipice of a sheer cliff with the world stretched out beneath him and the wind catching at his hair. His eyes wandered the room where he'd spent much of his life, to the figures sleeping at his feet. What am I to do, he wondered for only a moment before the freedom of the moment grabbed him.
Looking up at Ville, he squelched the smile that threatened to bloom on his face but couldn’t keep it from his eyes. “I do,” he replied, and felt as if he’d leapt from the cliff.
Ville nodded. “Come to my room in the morning,” he ordered and strode from the kitchen.
Bam didn’t sleep that night.
***
Chapter 4 - Change