The Nephilim & The Maiden

T e n s i o n

Every day was exactly the same. I wake up alone in his bed. The healer would make her way into the room and assess my wounds, saying very little aside from how lucky I am to be alive. Some time after the healer left, a nervous looking brunette serf would come through the door and help me change out of my cotton under dress that was stained from my bandages. I would spend the rest of my mornings moving awkwardly around the room trying to gain back some of my energy and strength.

The only other time I wasn't alone in this room was midday. The door would open and a few serfs would clamber in with plates of food and drink and set them down on the large table in the middle of the room. Once the table was set they quickly moved so their backs were against the wall while King Ivar made his way in and to the table. This was the one time during the day that we were together. We would sit in uncomfortable silence for most of our meal while I struggled to make small talk with him. His responses were short, usually just one word, while he kept his gaze fixed on his meal. Rarely would he look me in the eyes and when he did, they were emotionless, leaving my heart to slowly sink in my chest. After a few weeks of this, I gave up trying to talk to him altogether.

Though I slept in his bed, he always made a point to leave before I woke up and not come back until I was asleep. I've never felt more alone in my life.

The healer had left not long ago. She said today would be the last day she had to check on me. My wound closed nicely and there was no chance that it would open up again. She said I would still have to be careful when moving around and no combat practice or horseback riding for a while. I thanked the Gods I pushed myself to walk around this room, now that I have the okay from the healer I was leaving this cage. I would walk the town, sit on the beach or maybe try and walk the woods. Anything to be out of this room.

When the serf girl came in she looked shocked to see me standing by the hearth. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and made her way into the space, closing the door behind her.

"What's your name, girl?" I asked, turning and moving towards her.

"Thyra, my lady." She answered, her gaze casted down to the floor.

My lips pulled into a tight, close lipped smile. I remember how it felt to be a slave in this hall. I couldn't imagine what it must be like for this girl now that Ivar is king.

I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched as soon as my hand touched her. "Just Briet."

She smiled at me and nodded her head then quickly turned and went to where my dresses were kept.

"Thyra, I plan to walk to the town. Can I please have a warm dress and a cloak?"

Thyra turned towards me, her lips parting and then closing as she tried to find her words. "My Lady- I... I mean Briet. King Ivar said you are to stay here while you heal."

"The healer just left. She told me I am fine to leave." I answered.

"Does... does King Ivar know you plan to leave?"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her question. "King Ivar hasn't spoken to me in weeks. Besides, I am a free woman and I can do as I please." As soon as I spoke the words I immediately regretted them. It didn't help seeing the poor girl's broken hearted expression painted on her face.

I rubbed my hand over my face to try and rid myself of the awkward feeling but to no avail. "I'm sorry, Thyra. I- I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright." Thyra said with a forced smile. "Here," she held out a grey wool dress for me to take. She grabbed another one of my clean under dresses and then helped me change.