Ivar wakes up to you not by his side, he rolls over and sees you sitting in a chair, braiding your hair as you hum to yourself. Your thin night gown almost falling off your shoulders as you cross your legs.
You then stand up, failing to truly notice Ivar had woken up, and you strip of your gown, letting it drop to the ground. Your hands pick up the soft material of the dress Ivar had given you and you slip it on, tying the apron behind your back.
He stares at your bare back before you put your dress on and feels lust wanting to take control, but he fights it and sits himself up as you finish getting ready.
He grunts and throws his covered legs over the side of the bed and you turn around, giving him a soft smile before you perform the same action you had done every day since you met him.
You help him dress and stand and then you both head down to the throne room. A smirk pushes onto Ivars lips as he walks you outside and you spot a man in chains, no, it wasn't just any man.
It was the priest from before.
You turn your head to look at Ivar and he raises his hand and drops it, encouraging you to go to him. Worry goes through you as you make small steps to the man, a chain on his neck that had been nailed down into the ground. His hands face the same fate and he spits at your feet once you walk up.
Ivar pushes himself up behind you as he whispers in your ear, "Hann meiddi þig, öskraði lygar um þig." His tongue brushes over the shell of your ear and you shudder at the contact. (He hurt you, screamed lies about you.)
"Speak your fowl tongue, go ahead. I care not for I know God will bring his justice down on you." The priest snaps and you turn your head in shame as his words stab you like a knife.
"Ég þekki þig löngu eftir fall hans.... Viltu sjá blóð hans blettur á jörðinni sem hann biður um lífið á??" Ivar whispers into your ear, keeping his tongue out on it and you feel his chest press up against you. The sound of metal being pulled out slices through your ear as Ivar chuckles. (I know you long for his downfall....Want to see his blood stain on the earth on which he asks for life?)
Your eyes feel heavy as you feel his breath move down to your neck and his hand snakes around your waist, a sword pressed into his hand. He holds the sword out to you and you take it.
A chuckle escapes his lips as he puts his head on your shoulder and then wraps his hand around your own.
"Gerðu það, taktu líf hans. Taktu líf þessa ætlaða heilaga manns. Gerðu það fyrir mig." The words slide off his tongue, warming your ear. His hand lifts yours up, the sword gripped dangerously tight in your hand. (Do it, take his life. Take the life of this supposed holy man. Do it for me.)
His eyes watch in dark lust as you feel your legs shake. You feel pressure put down on your arm as Ivar helps you swing the sword down, it makes instant contact with the mans neck.
His blood spurts up at your face and you lean back into Ivars chest, holding back the urge of throwing back.
You quickly look away as the thump of his head makes you shudder. Ivar chuckles and you drop the sword on the ground as he grabs your hips and nips your neck.
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