This is a new territory, and like all new territories, Ivar must appease his people and make them realize he’s a benevolent enough king. To accomplish this means he must listen to his people’s pleas. However, this one is especially strange.
A group of men drag a woman, half naked and beaten, to his feet. The leader, obviously and idiot, loudly declares, “I want this woman dead.” The men around him give a half hearted cheer of agreement. “And who is this?” Ivar asks, intrigued. Her skin looks as though the gods themselves have cut her from the night sky. “I am Kolgrimma,” She says. One of the men kick her, hard, though she makes no sound. “She is a witch,” The Leader snarls. “She’s plagued our lands for long enough, I think it’s high time we kill her.”
Ivar looks at her, curious. “And what has this witch done to deserve death?”
“Does it matter?” The Leader says. “Witches should burn.”
“And yey, we do not burn those that practice Seidr, do we?” Ivar says. The men fall silent. “We do if they use magic for malicious purposes.” The Leader continues. “I am Kolgrimma,” The woman says again, this time, none of the men kick her. “And I am The Black Witch that lives in the forest. I’ve done nothing wicked. I have healed the soldiers here, I have delivered all of the young children in this village. I have rid their crops of pests. But none of these are the reasons that stay you hand.”
Ivar snarls, “What makes you think my hand is stayed?” Kolgrimma looks at him, smiling. His heart stops in his chest. He’s never seen a woman so beautiful. “I have seen your future, your highness,” She says, a sly smile coming over her face. “And in it, you deny me nothing.” The words hand heavy in the air. Normally one to scoff at such thing Ivar merely swallows. No, he agrees, as long as I live, I will deny you nothing.
