Chapter Text
A Queen should not be sat idle nor alone on her throne. Yet that is how Elinor had spent the last week and a half.
She idly tapped against the arm of the chair, watching as servants moved in and out of the grand hall. Burly people of the past, commonly not of this land. She knew the stories well enough.
Once, the Berkians had thundered across the seas on dragonback like a storm, proud and untamed. Now they bent their backs beneath DunBroch’s banners, their strength poured into the kitchens, the training yards, the stables. Their voices carried through these halls like thunder nowadays, and still Elinor felt the undercurrent of wildness that no crown nor treaty could quite tame.
It was a long time ago, those same hung and aging tapestries proved it so. The people of Berk were on the run from the very creatures they now ride. So conquerors attempted to do what they did best. Alas, a simple people was no match for the armed and combined forces of the DunBroch clan and its allies. So a hard and heavy battle was won, their might broken upon Scottish soil.
Now, over a century later, generations are bound to the will of the crown.
Elinor’s eyes, with nothing better to do, surveyed her several guards positioned parallel across the room. A little piece of eye candy here and there, a mix of loyal DunBroch and Berkian alike amongst her loyal guards. Yet, one seemed to be slack, at ease with her helmet tucked under the pit of her arm.
The knight’s name reached her more through memory rather than introduction.
Valka.
This woman was taller than the rest that stood by her side, it was hard not to linger on her frame. She had the bearing of a wolf in human skin. Not a servant, not truly. The Queen found herself straightening at the throne, for how dare such a handsome woman put on such a lax facade?
So Elinor stood, stepping down from her throne. Right towards the knight who seemed lost in her own world.
Heels clacked against fine stone, each step measured and poised as a Queen’s should be. Attention drawn, bustling servants froze in their tracks, and the knights who cared had their backs straightened. Uncertain eyes unsubtly looked between the Queen and the knight who’d drawn her interest.
Valka did not stir until Elinor’s shadow was upon her.
“Your Majesty,” Valka’s voice croaked out as she blinked back into the present, a palm against her chest as she bowed before her Queen.
“Rise,” Was a simple enough word for Elinor to speak back, as she regarded the other. “Tell me, Sir Valka, do ye often drift so far into thought, even upon duty?”
“Thought has ever been a companion of mine,” The knight had dared to murmur back, like she held a grudge for her ancestors. “Though never a thought did cross my mind it’d garner your attention, Your Majesty.”
“It has,” Elinor said simply, though the words lingered in the air longer than they should, heavy with meaning neither dared name. “It’s improper of a Knighted such as yerself to undress in any shape or manner whilst actively serving.”
Valka, in that moment, looked down to her helm, then back up. Like a challenge, she smirked.
“You call this undress?” She bit back, her tone low. “I’d hate to see the way your husband treats you in bed.”
The air snapped tight as a bowstring. Gasps rippled through the servants, a few ducking their heads in horror at the knight’s insolence.
But Elinor did not flinch.
Instead she tilted her chin, head held high as always, eyes narrowing just enough to show steel beneath her calm, “Ye speak boldly for one sworn to guard, not provoke.”
“I’m sure your ancestors and mine would agree, Your Majesty,” Valka began, as she placed the helm over her head, though the smirk in her voice didn’t help at all. “That this is of natural order.”
Elinor was, quite frankly, dumbfounded. This lowly filth of Viking origins, of whom she recalls knighting herself, was willing to display such audacities? For a moment she could only glare at her.
“If ye are to bring up the old habits of yer ancestry,” Elinor raised a hand inverse to her lowering voice, grabbing hold of the edge of the other’s helm. “Then perhaps, ye’d prefer traditional punishment? Public shame and gallows? Aih hear the people find beheadings spectacles these days.”
It was Valka’s turn to freeze, this time out of fear. True, heart-clenching fear. When the Queen says she’s willing to carry out an action, it was certain she actually would. So the Knight stood down, her shoulders straightened again as Elinor fiddled with the other’s helm.
“No, Your Majesty,” A nervous gulp.
Elinor let go, but not before huffing out a sigh.
“Ye’re dismissed, Sir Valka,” Was all she said, turning her back to her. “Aih expect a more favourable behaviour tomorrow.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Followed by the steady retreat of steel. The distant creak of a door, and it’s booming close.
The hall fell into an even heavier silence.
>~ ⚔️👑 ~<
“Damned, her!” Valka yelled towards the ceiling of the barracks, her still gloved hands over her face. “Damned royals, and their rule! And her especially so!”
A grunt of acknowledgment from her bunkmate, currently off-shift until the evening. Valka and Stoick didn’t interact all that much due to their conflicting times. Then again, this wasn’t the first time she’d been kicked from her duties.
“Her eyes, so sharp, like she’s always searching for a crack in your armour. And that… that smug look in ‘em too,” She had then collapsed against the sheets of Stoick’s bed (for hers was the top bunk, not the bottom), completely exasperated. “Ack, makes a woman want to- to-”
“Ah calm your tits, woman,” Stoick rumbled, not even bothering to look up from polishing his axe. “You complain more about Her Majesty than a dragon with a toothache.”
Stoick ended up chuckling at his own words, which made Valka all warm in the face. She shook her head, willing the feelings away.
“It’s just, you’d think she’d be less of a torment after a century of our folk serving this clan,” Valka’s complaining, despite Stoick’s previous protest, had not been slowed. “But no, the Queen enjoys her little games. Always, constantly picking on me, she is.”
Stoick finally set the axe propped against their bed post with a thunk, his brow raised beneath his mess of red hair. “Or maybe, lass, she picks on ya because you rise to it. Like a hatchling gnawin’ on baited meat.”
One brief pause, as Stoick tries to send Valka a pointed glance. “She smirks, you bristle. She prods, you snap. A cycle, that.”
Valka pulled her gloves from her face, glaring at him through the strands of her hair from where she laid. “What, you think she’s doin’ it for sport? What am I? Some sort of a stag?”
“Aye, but not the sort of sport you’re thinking,” Stoick replied simply, leaning back against the wall, thick arms crossed. “No, something of a whole different variety.”
She blinked at him, trying to catch his meaning.
“By Thor’s beard, Valka,” Stoick snorted through his bush of a beard. “You’ve fought dragons, stared down storms, and yet you cannot see when a woman looks at ya like you’re the only one in the room?”
Valka sat up sharply, immediately clocking Stoick in the shoulder. “Why would you even suggest such a- You madman!”
“More observant than mad, lass,” He had grinned, further amused by her blindness. “That Hobblegrunt you rescued could see further past its nose than you could. Afterall…”
By this point, Stoick had leaned in towards Valka, his voice low as a secret.
“Stranger things’ve taken root in castle DunBroch than Her Majesty’s eye on a wolf.”
>~ ⚔️👑 ~<
Elinor’s back was still turned away from where Valka had earlier been by the time the throne doors were shut. She had remained there in this state of regal fury until the last echo of the knight’s retreat faded into the outer hallways.
Elinor slowly turned, her gaze sweeping over the remaining guards and servants, who quickly averted their eyes, pretending to be engrossed in their duties. One maid, at the time feeling particularly unlucky, had met eyes with the Queen anyway.
“Miss Maudie,” Elinor called. “To Aih at once.”
A squeak of surprise from the plump little woman, who trotted over as soon as she could. She curtsied, her head bowed slight.
“Maih assistance, Yer Majesty?”
“Aih require full reports on Sir Valka's duties of ‘morrow onwards. Every patrol, every post, every moment,” Elinor’s command slipped past her lips with ease as always. “Ye’ll pass them t’ Aih sundown as her shift changes. Am Aih clear, Miss Maudie?”
“Yes, Yer Majesty,” The maid nodded quickly, though her eyes flickered with confusion at the sudden meticulous interest in a single knight the Queen had earlier reprimanded.
“And Maudie, one last request,” Elinor added, her voice dropped low like steel concealed by silk. “Do ensure Sir Valka continues to be assigned the most... visible posts. A knight of her ‘calibre’ should be… seen."
Maudie dipped into another curtsy, wisely holding her tongue. Off she scurried, likely off to the barracks herself, leaving Elinor within this graveyard quiet throne room.
The Queen made her way back up the staircase, settling against the wood and cushion of her throne. Her thighs pressed together, her hands rest against her lap. Her expression remained composed.
A Queen should not be sat idle nor alone on her throne. Yet Elinor looked forward to the next month’s worth of doing just that.
>~ ⚔️👑 ~<
By this point Stoick was off on his shift, and those of Valka’s own were out for dinner. So it was just her, fuming within the barracks. She felt like a grounded child, not even wanting to show her face out there even if she was allowed. Putting her armour back on felt too much of a chore anyway.
Instead, she paced. Back and forth across the cramped floorboards until her boots scuffed a pattern into its grain like a caged beast. Her hands clenched and unclenched like she was itching for a fight, but the past had told her to stay calm and not claw at wooden bed frames.
Valka once again flung herself onto Stoick’s bottom bunk.
“Queen Elinor…” She spat under her breath, the name crackling like fire on her tongue.
“Sharp-eyed, smug, pompous,” She broke off, kicking the post by her side hard enough that it made the whole bed scrape sharp against the floor. “Blasted woman!”
She stood again. And resumed pacing, again.
“Why I mighta,” She grabbed at the bed post with two hands and shook. “Gragh!! Don’t target me!”
Valka swung herself up onto the top bunk, her actual sleeping area, and started sulking. Really, going through the five stages of grief. Or rather, she was feeling so much she couldn’t think straight, and thinking so much she couldn’t feel right.
Then the barrack door creaked open, and snapped Valka out of this feral trance immediately. Valka’s head whipped toward it, the hair hanging loose across her face must’ve made her such a picture of grace and elegance.
No one’s supposed to be back just yet.
“Sir Valka?” Miss Maudie’s voice wavered as she peeked in, a small bowl of broth sided with bread clutched near her chest. “Maih apologies, if Aih’m interrupting.”
Valka’s shoulders loosened slight. Maudie, the only reasonable DunBroch in this damned castle.
“Miss Maudie,” Valka greeted back with a tired smile. “If it’s the dinner I wasn’t allowed, do leave it for me on the bench. And if it’s more orders from Her Majesty, as kindly as is possible, do shove it.”
“Both, Sir,” Spoke the servant as she dared to enter further into the barracks. “Her Majesty wishes ye to post personal guard as shift ‘morrow morning.”
Valka groaned, rolling her shoulders before hopping down to the ground. The woman towered above little miss Maudie. Well, she towered over most of those DunBroch blooded, this was no new information to her. Still, it was nice to not feel looked down on from at least one perspective.
“‘Course she does,” A shake of her head, as she looked down to her fetched supper. “She at least explain t’ ya why?”
“Visible post, Her Majesty said.”
Maudie could sense the way Valka’s frustration started to build again, and so she left a dragon to her feast and nest, slinking back towards and out the barrack doorway.
“Visible posts,” She muttered bitterly, staring down at the bowl of broth before her. “Visible to her, more like.”
She scooped up a bread slice, tearing it in half in her mouth.
“Hope she likes the view.”