The Viking King and his Dear Servant (JustOnePairofPants and SamuraiKing

Royal Castle, Denmark 1014.

The skies were growing darker and the wind brought frost and cold with it. Winter was coming, and so was war. After several long years of war with England, the Danish found victory. But now, another war threatens as rebellions start across the English countryside.
With both King Sven Forkbeard and Prince Harald dead, Canute became the King of Denmark, Norway and parts of Sweden. With the first war over, he also became King of England.

As Canute sat upon his throne, his chin resting on his hand and crown upon a troubled brow, he found himself deep in thought. Memories ran through his head. Many were bad, adding to his already troubled mind.

He remembered how he once was just two years ago. A lad of 17. So timid and quiet. He hardly spoke to anyone and was by no means ready to be a king.
He had been sent onto the battlefield by his own father as a way to get rid of him.
But luck and the Gods were on Canute's side for his death was not to be. Instead Canute found himself with a group of vagabond soldiers who protected him and showed him what it meant to be a warrior.

After that, Canute was never the same. He was ready to become King.

A loud noise shook Canute from his thoughts. He looked up and around at the vast empty throne room.
"Who is there?" He demanded.

Milo was nothing special. He was just another servant boy, another peasant face that had the great luck to be working in the castle. It was his duty to be neither seen nor heard, and to keep the castle clean and running well, whether he be spreading fresh rushes, lighting torches, tending the livestock, or setting the feast table. He was good at what he did, apart from his appalling clumsiness.

It was the sound of him stumbling and stubbing a barefoot against a stone urn filled with unlit coals that startled the king. And it was the sound of his king's authoritative voice, echoing around the throne room, that caused the boy to let out a yelp of shock and drop the bucket of water and soap he'd been carrying to clean the windows with. It fell on his injured foot, causing Milo to yelp again in pain before he fell to his knees and began babbling his apologies in a frightened, high-pitched voice.

"My apologies, milord! I'm sorry, so sorry! I didn't know you were still here!" Milo began frantically trying to mop up the water with the sponge, but it did very little good and continued to spread across the stone. Finally, he threw himself upon the ground in a deep bow and continued to apologize. "Forgive me sir, I'll clean it up. i didn't mean to disturb your night."

Canute let out a sigh as he saw what made the noise. It seems it was just Milo. He gave the boy a small, yet warm smile. Milo was very easy on the eyes. Hell, most assumed Milo was a woman. Canute was inclined to agree. Milo was very feminine and, dare he say pretty. Canute had actually hand picked Milo, saving the poor boy from a slave's life. That was, what four months ago? Odin's Beard, how time flies.
"Rise, Milo. You are not disturbing me.", Canute said in a friendly tone, "You just startled me is all, there is no need for you to apologize. I am sorry to have scared you. I was just deep in thought and did not notice you there. " He noticed the bruise on Milo's foot and could not help but wince. "Is your foot alright, Milo?"
His voice was full of worry at the question. While it may seem odd for some that a King is worried for his servant, Canute was not like other kings. And anyway, Milo was too lovely a creature NOT to worry about

Milo felt himself relax and slowly got to his feet. He'd been on the end of a boot or fist for much less, but he was coming to realize that King Canute was far kinder and more lenient than any master he'd ever had. He picked up his bucket and sponge and slowly shuffled forward.

The concerned question from his king had Milo lifting his foot out in front of him to examine the faint blue bruise already spreading from his pinky toe to cover part of his foot. With a shrug, he flexed his toes and set the foot down again. "S'alright, milord. Just a little bruise. I've had worse." He giggled lightly at that and then cocked his head, looking up at his king. "Are you alright sir? You seem somewhat disturbed this night." A bright flush suddenly spread across the young man's face and he hurriedly dropped his head. "I mean... What I... I apologize, sir, it's not my palce. I just meant... was there anything I could do... for you?" He asked weakly, shuffling nervously on his feet.