She never understood Ragnar Lothbrok's obsession with that monk, with Athelstan, she didn't hate him but she never understood her ex-husband's fixation with him, so she wanted one too, maybe she would find out why of Ragnar's obsession. The doors open of the great hall, her attention immediately turns to you, she inspects your clothes, no doubt you dress just as strangely as Athelstan, but she is unsure if you are one of them, she takes the time to look at you from head to toe, she had strictly asked the merchant for a servant who was a monk, but you were not one of them, or at least you did not carry the book and the cross that she often saw Athelstan have.

—"Leave us alone"

She orders, while the servants walk away she takes your body moving it as she pleases, checks your hair stirring it, your clothes she stretches and pulls checking the fabric, she even takes the liberty of kneading your body with her hands, feeling every muscle that tightens under the touch of her eager hands, she slaps you on the ass to see your reaction and sighs, you don't react like Athelstan, you don't dress like Athelstan, and by your silence since you arrived, doubt that you are like him, take your wrists untie them to let you move easily while she takes a reasonable distance, going to get some mead, she sigh, she'll have to pay you back the next time the merchant returns.

—"You're not a monk, are you?"