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Elora pulled at the ropes around her wrist as she listened to the men on the boat speak in their foreign language. With every wave, her stomach churned even more.

She didn't know why had she ended up here. It had been a normal day at the castle—that is, until they came bursting in.

A thousand thoughts ran through her head. Why did they take her? Would they kill her? Would her father send men to come save her or would he be glad that his bastard daughter was finally out of his hair?

Her father had always seen her as an embarrassment. She was public proof of his unfaithfulness. She had spent the majority of her life living outside of the castle with her mother. Once her mother died, King Admar saw it as his "christian duty" to provide his eldest daughter with a home.

And he had been paying for it ever since. She was too much like her mother. She was wild and seemingly impossible to tame. She often left the castle with no explanation of where she was going.

She even looked like her mother. She was beautiful. Her dark brown hair fell to her lower back in loose waves. Her skin was tanned from the sun. Her eyes were a beautiful green color with golden halos around her pupils. He often caught the men in the castle looking at her.

Her mother had been a woman of the night—a well-known one at that. And in a drunken stupor, Admar had sought her entertainment.

He often wondered if his daughter knew the tricks of her mother's trade. When she first arrived at the court, she had begun to dance at the celebration. She danced the way her mother had obviously taught her. She smiled as she twirled her hips and men watched the fourteen-year old girl with lustful eyes. She was too innocent to understand the sexuality behind her dancing, but the beating she received from her father taught her not to dance again.

He had tried to marry her off. He knew her beauty could be used to his advantage. But she was still a bastard. She had no ranking, and therefore no one of worth would ever take her.

Elora's thoughts were halted as she felt a nudge against her shoulder. One of her captors stood beside her holding a horn shaped as a drinking mug. He lowered the cup to her mouth, allowed her to drink. She grimaced at the foul taste of the liquid but continued to drink. She was thirsty. With every wave that hit the boat, the mead spilt on her chest.

The man took the cup away from the Elora as his eyes lowered to the wet spots where the drink had split. His large hand touched her breast as he rubbed the drink off of her chest. She flinched at his touch and stared intensely as he brought his thumb to his lips and licked at the mead that he had wiped from her skin.

They were all going to rape her. And once they had used her body to the point of death, they would throw her lifeless body into the water.

Her questions all suddenly seemed to have answers.

Ragnar had been watching the woman from afar. If it wasn't for the dirty hair and the dark circles under her eyes, he was sure she would have been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He had watched Rollo offer her a drink and he had noticed her flinch at his touch.

He pondered her role in the castle. She did not seem like a slave. Nor did she seem to be royalty. Her dress was too plain to be royalty, yet her spirit seemed too wild to be that of a slave.

Floki was the one who had grabbed her as they raided. Ragnar smirked as he remembered Floki's story of taking the woman. She had kicked, clawed, and even bit him while attempting to escape. Though the bite mark had begun to heal, a purple and red scab was still noticeable on his friend's wrist.

For the first few days on the boat, she spit or screamed at any man who approached her. If he had not ordered the men to leave her alone, he was sure that her temper would have gotten her beaten or worse by now. As they continued to travel back to Kattegat, the brunette woman had given up her fight. Now she simply rested as though she had accepted her fate.

Ragnar approached the woman for the first time. His piercing blue eyes stared into her light green orbs and he began to speak in her language.

"What is your name?" he asked as he kneeled down to be closer to eye level.

The brunette paused before she spoke.

"Elora," she finally answered.

Ragnar gave her a small smile in hopes of easing her nerves as he continued to speak.

"What do you do in the castle, Elora?" Ragnar asked yet another question.

"I live there," the woman attempted to answer smoothly. She wasn't ignorant enough to lie to him. From what she had observed, he was the ruler of these men. However, she also didn't want him to know any more information about her than he had to.

"You are royalty?" the words seemed to roll off the attractive man's tongue.

This was the question she dreaded. If she told him she was only a bastard, he would know she was worthless. He would know no money would be given to him for her return. She would be killed or used as a slave.

Yet, if she told him a lie, she would risk being caught. And the only think worse than being a worthless, illegitimate bastard is being a lying, worthless, illegitimate bastard. She would surely be sent to death once the man found out that she had lied about her worth.

"I am King Admar's bastard daughter."

Ragnar listened to her. He understood what being a bastard meant in her culture. What he was not sure of was her standing with her father. If they were on good terms, then he would go to great lengths to have his daughter returned home. If they were not on good terms, the woman would be kept in Kattegat.

"If I free your wrists will you obey?" Ragnar asked at he looked down at the woman.

Elora saw the kind seriousness in his eyes. She knew that his offer was made out of kindness. But it was apparent that if she were to rebel, she would find the rope tied around her hands again.

"Yes," she answered softly.

She watched his fingertips graze against her skin as he removed her restraints. A strange feeling took over her as she felt his warm touch.

"Thank you," she said as he finished. Her hand immediately rubbed against the sore spot on her wrist.

The man gave her a soft smile before returning to his spot by Floki, where he would continue to watch the girl.

Elora watched as her captors laughed heartily, drank their mead, and chewed with their mouths open. They had finally returned home and a feast had been prepared in their honor.

She stood by the wall and waited. She was clueless as to what she was supposed to be doing. She has assumed that the king had decided to keep her as a slave, but she had not been given any chores.

She had not spoken to the king since the day he had untied her wrists. Though she still could not understand their language, she had learned that his people called him Ragnar.

She had heard many stories about this brave king from her homeland. He was infamous for his strength and power. Yet the man who untied her hands seemed so soft and gentle.

She had caught him staring at her many times.

She often saw men looking at her at the castle but when their glances met, they would always look away. Ragnar was different. When she caught him looking at her, he would stare back into her eyes until she would blush and look down.

As she looked across the tables of men feasting, she could see him looking at her now.

She wanted to approach him and ask him if she was supposed to be serving food and drink like the slaves. But if she were a slave, approaching a king during a feast would be seen as an insult. She remembered seeing a servant beaten for talking to her father once, and she did not want to experience the same fate.

She took a deep breath as she walked closer to the king. Once she had reached his table, all eyes were on her.

A blush rose to her cheeks as she noticed the unwanted attention she was receiving. She quickly bowed her head and curtsied, hoping that her bold steps were not taken as an insult.

King Ragnar's brother loudly spoke in his language and table bursted with laughter, causing Elora's cheeks to redden more. She could clearly see that she was the brunt of the joke.

"King Ragnar," she spoke meekly. "May I please speak with you."

Ragnar looked at her and she talked, and then quickly turned his attention back to his friends and family who surrounded the table.

He wiggled his brow as he spoke in his native language. Laughter once again erupted at the comment that he had made.

"Follow me," he said as he rose from his seat and began to walk briskly. Ragnar opened the door to what appeared to be his bedroom and Elora slowly entered the room as her breath caught in her throat.

Don't let him see your fear.

"I wanted to speak to you about my role," Elora explained as she held her held high. She hoped that her stance would make her look stronger.

"And what is your role?" Ragnar asked.

She felt even more intimidated by the attractive man in front of her. The lighting seemed to make his muscles look larger and more defined at the same time.

"I do not know," she answered honestly. "Am I a servant?"

"Have I treated you as a servant?" Ragnar asked. Elora swore she saw hurt in his eyes for a mere second.

"No", she replied as her eyes met the floor.

She noticed him slowly inching closer to her.

"You are a free woman here," he told her as his hand looped around to the small of her back.

She felt her body tense up and she suddenly realized why the king had taken her to his bedroom. Her heart raised at the thought of him taking her to bed. She had kissed many boys at the castle, but the kissing never turned into anything more. She had never laid with a man.

She assumed that the man in front of her had taken many women to bed. Women with experience.

Her pulse began to race and she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Could she refuse to sleep with a king? If she refused would she be turned into a servant or killed? If she went to bed with him and he became bored of her would she suffer the same fate?

His rough thumb brushed her collarbone as his lips met hers. The kiss was slow, yet strong. Her entire body felt warm. She couldn't deny that she was attracted to the older man. But she feared him. Her entire life seemed to depend on his interest in her. She knew he had saved her from harm from the other Norsemen when they were traveling to Kattegat. And she knew that she must continue to intrigue him if she wanted her stay in Kattegat to be pleasant.

As his begin to palm at her breast Elora broke the kiss. She opened her eyes to see his piercing orbs staring into her.

"I am not your slave?" Elora asked quietly as she felt his grip on her breast tighten.

"No," Ragnar growled quietly as he moved closer and rapped his arms around her waist. His hands rested firmly on her rear.

"Then I am not a woman of your property," Elora stated as she pulled his hands away.

Ragnar's expression told her that he had not expected her to reject his offer. The shock on his face was quickly replaced by aggravation.

He stomped out of his room and rejoined the friends that he had left at the feast—leaving the young woman standing in his bedroom, already regretting what she had done.

And that's the first chapter! Thanks for reading!

I know the OC seems a bit dry right now. But you have to consider her background. Elora is quite the survivor, and I hope I did a decent job of showing why she acts the way she does.

Please leave a review to tell me your honest opinions of this story.