You are Ivar’s personal thrall, tending to his needs, cooking for him, feeding him, preparing his pain reducing teas.

It’s late at night when Ivar sneaks into the barn where you sleep. He drags himself across the floor quietly, crawling towards you. He slowly leans over you, watching your sleeping face before he slowly reaches out to caress your lips. He’s quick to cover your mouth as you awake, shrieking into his hand.

“Shh,” he shushes, “did you tell him? Did you tell Sigurd?” He growls,