Forbidden Thoughts

ㅤ Ivar couldn't help himself. What had once been just a bad dream, disturbing by its very existence, was gradually becoming reality. He lost control of his thoughts and body… Milla was everything to him, and to everyone, she was a goddess. His meaning in life was always close by, grew with him and… acquired new features. Very distinct features, to which the growing-up Ivar was already reacting, for his body, too, was not slowing down in its development, even if it had no connection to the divine. Willpower and meditation alone were no longer enough to restrain the raging youthful blood rushing to a specific area of ​​his body. 'No! I can't think like that! I have no right to tarnish the image of Lady Milla!' The inappropriate desire transformed from mental torture into physical. The pain was so intense that Ivar felt as if he was truly ready to explode. Clenching his teeth and breathing exercises didn't help. Out of helplessness, he finally succumbed to temptation. 'Just don't think about her… Just don't think about her…' he repeated like a mantra, trying with all his might not to taint the bright image with his thoughts, diverting them as best he could. But in the end, he lost to himself. 'Lady Milla!' He was crushed. He felt empty. Powerless. Nasty and useless. 'I mustn't…' The emotions were overwhelming, turning into a lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow. Ivar covered his face with his hands, helpless and ashamed. And Milla continued to grow. To become more beautiful. Arousing ever more desire. Experiencing the urge in the middle of the village, in full view of the most sacred, Ivar immediately jumped into the icy water flowing from the sacred mountain itself—it sobered a little. 'I nearly brought shame on Lady Milla and myself! How can I be a worthy priest when I lust after the object of my worship!?' But images of an impossible future kept creeping into his head. An ordinary, human one. With Milla… In them, Ivar was simply beside her, holding her hand, resting his head on her shoulder or knees, gazing at the beautiful landscapes or the sky. And in the mystery of night… 'No!' he shook his head, clearing it of all unnecessary thoughts. Gradually, he managed to calm his thoughts and occupy himself with his daily routine. Having completed his task, Ivar waited in the temple for Lady Milla, immersed in a trance, to finish listening to the spirits' voices. "Oh, Ivar," she smiled, opening her eyes, still sitting in the lotus position. "You're back so quickly." "Getting what you asked for was easier than I thought!" Ivar said contentedly, practically bragging that the simplest task had turned out to be even simpler, without even realizing it. Just as he was about to hand over the item, a splinter fell from the ceiling, followed by a beam rotted by moisture. Ivar hurried to cover Milla, covering her with his body. "Are you alright, Ivar?" Milla expressed concern, trying to gauge her priest's condition with a light touch of her hand to his back, as if embracing him. "Are you hurt?" Milla felt no fear: she always had four spirits. It was Efreet who saved them both. Ivar froze, inhaling Milla's scent. Never before had he been close enough to touch her skin, nuzzling his nose into her neck. Lifting slightly, he looked into her eyes with a hazy gaze. Her lips were so close, so enticing. A fleeting movement—and Ivar could have touched them with his own. And she wouldn't even have judged him or resisted! She would have shown an absurd interest in the mundane. Perhaps she would even have agreed to continue, experimenting with the human body, testing its limits, gaining a variety of curious experiences. And in her naivety and ignorance, she would never have fully understood what had happened… Ivar didn't dare… He lowered his head, burying it once again in the soft skin of her neck. Milla turned in his direction, teasing him with her breath. "If something's wrong, don't torture yourself—rest." "I…" Ivar said reservedly, "I'm fine." Clenching his fist painfully, Ivar suddenly sat up, unable to stand, his whole demeanor demonstrating that all was well. His wide smile tried to resemble his usual natural one, but the falseness was easily detected. However, it wasn't this that caught Milla's attention. "Are you sure?" she said, directing her gaze below the crooked smile, closer to the floor. Ivar covered the object of his mistress's attention with his hands, blushing deeply and rushing toward the exit. "I think I'll take a break after all! I'll definitely patch up the roof later!" he shouted from outside. 'What's wrong with me!?' The fast running and stress had dampened his ardor. And now it was unclear why his heart was beating so fast. His heavy breathing calmed, his mind painfully sobering. 'I love Lady Milla,' Ivar admitted. 'She is everything to me. My deepest secret. A goddess. And my desire is unworthy of a priest. To desire her is to succumb to blasphemous thoughts. I love her… With the purest love of which a wretched mortal is capable,' he continued to torment his heart. 'The way a man loves a god. Lady Milla loves all people and spirits equally; in her heart, all are equal. And I am only a man. One of many,' he convinced himself of what he believed to be the correct thought. 'I love Lady Milla. And let this love remain pure and unblemished. Unrequited… But pure. I am Lady Milla’s priest. I was born to serve her. I am already closer to the deity than anyone else. If I succumb to temptation, then my destiny is a lie, and I am unworthy of it. In that case, I will have to leave in disgrace. And I can’t afford to let down Lady Milla…' For a long time, Ivar convinced himself that his love was purely platonic, pushing his sense of duty to the limit, trying to force a thought that would stop his body from betraying him. He convinced himself until he believed it. Until he resigned himself and renounced his sinful feelings. 'But…' a not-so-pure thought slipped through his mind. 'I should give Lady Milla a romance novel to read, so she'd have at least a little idea of ​​what close physical contact with the opposite sex can lead to and what she shouldn't do… I didn't take advantage of the situation!' he allowed a surge of pride in his reimagined title of priest to flare. 'What if someone else dares get closer to Lady Milla than is appropriate!? Having overcome one obsession, Ivar inadvertently and unwittingly acquired another: to protect Lady Milla, no matter what. From anyone who even glanced at her sideways or failed to show her due respect. Because only he, a priest, was worthy of being a little closer to her than a mere mortal…' ㅤ