Chapter Thirty-One: Olaf the White

                                    

                                          
Hedwig's POV 
                          
I stand beside Ivar on the beach, we watch while many long boats row up to the shore. I can tell in the most elaborate one held Olaf the white. From afar I can tell he is very wide. He must eat many rich foods, I'll be surprised if he could walk. When his long boat made it to the beach, he exited with many thralls and warriors. He had a white mustache and a bald head. His head was very round and he was dripping with gold accessories. I certainly wondered how he could move with all that gold, he made a big target for a thief. 
                          
He smiled big at Ivar and his brothers. "Ivar!" He cheered. "Hvitserk and Sigurd, it's good to see you all." He seemed very... eccentric, but I didn't mind it. He turned to me. "Do you have a sister that I didn't know about?" 
                          
"No," Ivar replied politely. "She is my companion." 
                          
"Oh!" He took my hand and kissed it. "Pardon me, I've had a long voyage. I am Olaf the White." 
                          
"I am Hedwig the Völva." I replied with a sweet grin. 
                          
His eyes grew wide. "A Völva? Could you prophesize my future?" 
                          
"Perhaps another time. I know you and the Ragnarssons have lots to discuss." I replied politely. 
                          
"Yes, you are quite right, dear." He looked to at Ivar. "Get me a big horn of your finest wines and we can get started!" He chuckled.
                          
"Of course, right this way." Hvitserk responded with a smirk. He guided the man back with his best guards following and his prettiest thralls. 
                          
I joined that evening for the feast, when I entered, it was filled wall to wall with warriors and beautiful women in ugly dresses. 
                          
I squeezed through the crowd to find Ivar drinking from a tall horn. He smiled big and pat a seat he had place beside him for me. I happily joined his side. 
                          
"What is up with all this racket?" I hollered in Ivar's ear over the noise.
                          
"Olaf knows how to party." He shrugged. I could tell he was getting drunk. 
                          
"That I can see." I mumbled to myself. 
                          
I felt Ivar pull my hand into his lap. He leaned towards my ear. "You look beautiful in that dress." He words were beginning to slur. He had a relaxed smile on his face, one I hoped behaved.
                          
"Thank you." I mouthed. He kissed my knuckles, his lips were wet from his drink. 
                          
We had our attention drawn to what I didn't want to see. Olaf was standing on top of a bench with a face redder than a tomato and spread his arms wide, causing his drink to spill on the people around him. Luckily for him, they laughed it off. They may have only reacted that way because he's powerful and a puzzle piece we needed. 
                          
"Everyone!" He shouted. "I introduce the most beautiful women you've ever seen!" Many more gorgeous women flood in, in thin fabric dresses to show their curves. The crowd was mostly adults, which was for the best. They were barely wearing any clothes. They carried large trays of delicious foods. "You may touch, look and bed these women tonight, but only tonight. Enjoy!" 
                          
The men erupted into loud cheers. Even Ivar joined in, which I didn't like one bit. I stared daggers into him but that only fueled him more. 
                          
I watched as Olaf grabbed the most attractive woman I've ever seen, it was a shame I was angry because she carried my favorite pies. But I was livid because I knew what that old fool was up to, and it broke my heart. 
                          
I already never had the highest of self-esteem but seeing him directing the prettiest woman here towards Ivar, destroyed me. Ivar could easily leave me, or fuck her in the bed we share. The thought of him mounting her and her screaming his name angered me. What if she could please him in ways I couldn't. I didn't like my hair pulled or Ivar moaning naughty thing in my ear like calling my a dirty whore or a little slut. What if she liked more sadistic things that I knew Ivar liked. What if she got off at him humiliating her in the bedroom or doing rough things that cause bruises.