The Nephilim & The Maiden

L i t t l e O n e

Was I dreaming? I could feel the world spinning around me as I stood in Ivar's room feeling numb. Everything was silent as I just stood there, waiting. The minutes that were passing by felt like hours, days. My palms were clammy and my nerves were on edge. The memory of Ivar's hands gripping my neck kept replaying in my mind. He didn't think twice about his actions as he held my life in his hands. According to Sigurd he tried killing Margrethe as well. Now, like a fool, I'd made fun of his manhood in a room full of not only his family but servants and warriors. No doubt they had heard my comment as well as Sigurd's. If he had no regard for my life then in the woods, I knew he certainly didn't now. Ivar was going to kill me, or worse.

I listened for the sound of his dragging legs outside in the hallway but it was deafeningly silent. The only sound in this room was the crackling wood in the fireplace. Fussing with the hem of my apron I started to pace as I was trapped inside the four walls.

Ivar's bed was covered in furs and thick blankets. Compared to what I had been sleeping in my whole life I wanted nothing more than to crawl into the mess of comfort and sleep for days. Next to his bed was a wooden table holding a pitcher, a wooden cup with some runes carved into it and candles who's wax had melted onto the table it rested on. There was a tapestry hanging from another wall with a picture of Yggdrasil and Odin's ravens flying above it. The rest of the room was empty aside from furs covering the wooden floors here and there and a chair and another table by the fireplace.

Walking over to the bed I let my fingers spread into the furs, feeling how soft they were. Sighing deeply I collapsed into the bed, letting my arms spread out at my sides. I'd never known anything more luxurious and warm in my life. If I was to die tonight, at least I'd know some comfort before I died.

My ears perked at the sound I'd been dreading. Ivar was coming. I sprang to my feet, flattening my dress against my body with my palms. My heart was racing inside my chest the longer it took for the door to open. When it finally did, my world finally stopped spinning.

Ivar didn't look at me as he kept dragging himself inside the room. He stopped only to close the door behind him and then continued on until he reached a chair that was near the fireplace. He pulled himself up with a low grunt and positioned his legs that were bound by two leather straps into a comfortable position. Ivar reached over to the table next to where he was sitting and took the cup in his hand. Ivar finally looked in my direction as he held out his hand and shook the cup at me.

My body moved without my brain telling it to as I took the pitcher from the table by me and made my way to Ivar, obeying his silent command. With trembling hands I poured the liquid into his cup and watched as he took a sip.

"Prepare my bath, slave." Ivar commanded, looking me in the eyes for the first time since he sent me here.

The word 'slave' hit me hard, erupting some anger inside me that I hadn't realized was there. For the second time tonight my words left my lips before I could think it through. "I am not a slave and I am sure as hell not your slave." I spat.

Ivar's smirk grew as he saw that he clearly stuck a chord in me. "Prepare my bath and bathe me." He answered calmly, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"I'd rather die."

Ivar reached out, grabbing my forearm and pulled me to the ground in front of him. He held my arm up to his chest while his other grabbed the back of my head as his fingers tangled into my hair, bringing my face inches from his. "That can be arranged."

Our eyes were locked, the both of us not daring to be the one to blink first. My jaw was clenched and I could feel the muscles flex as his grip only became tighter. Tears started to pool in my eye as his grip started to become unbearable. His smirk grew as he saw that he was winning this silent battle.