In which Ylva Sigefridsdottir, also known as Ylva the Dread, had been an earl since she was a young girl, despite having two brothers, following the death of her mad father and power-hungry stepmother.
Hearing of the girl's feared reputation and...
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Where they had set up camp, Ylva sat alone, struggling to tend to the wound due to it being on her dominant arm. She sighed in defeat and reached for the metal poker she had placed in the fire in front of her to close up the wound.
"Allow me," A voice suddenly called out, causing Ylva to turn to see Prince Æthelwulf walking over to her.
She gave him a weird look but hesitantly nodded. He took a seat beside her and removed his belt. "Bite on this," He insisted and Ylva immediately obeyed him.
He picked up the hot metal and after a moment, he pressed it down on her wound. She squeezed her eyes shut, biting down on the leather as hard as she could as she tried to conceal her cries.
Once it was over, she removed the belt from her mouth, panting for breath as she glanced down at the wound, which was now closed. "Thank you," She told him softly and Athelwulf simply nodded.
"What is your name?" He suddenly asked her and for a brief moment, Ylva gave him a suspicious look.
"Ylva," She simply stated in a calm tone.
"You're the one they call the she-wolf," He realized and Ylva nodded in confirmation, "Why?"
"My mother was the first called the she-wolf. As I grew older, people could see that I was indeed her daughter. I had her ferocity in battle. I was bold, brave, fierce, and protective of those closest to me. Because of that, they began to call me the she-wolf," Ylva explained in a calm tone, "If I had been born a boy, I would have been called Máni, like the Moon God."
"Moon God?" He questioned her in confusion and Ylva sighed in defeat, forgetting that Christians knew nothing about their Gods.
"Would you like some wine?" He suddenly asked as he lifted a wineskin and Ylva wasted no time nodding since she was in deep need of alcohol at that moment.
Several months had passed and Ylva was laughing at something Æthelwulf had said when she spotted Bjorn walking over to them. "Here we go," She muttered under her breath, exchanging a look with the Prince before she looked up at Bjorn, "Hello, Bjorn."
"We need to talk," He demanded as he held his hand out to her.
"Alright, alright," She replied, grabbing his hand before he led her away from Æthelwulf, "It was good today, Bjorn. It was good to be fighting again."
"You fought well today, I watched," Bjorn replied as he nodded his head in agreement, "But you took many risks."
"When do I not take risks?" Ylva retorted as she gave Bjorn a weird look.
"You jumped into battle, you did not stay by my side as we agreed to do," Bjorn explained, sighing in defeat as he grabbed her hand, "Don't do that, Ylva. Things aren't the same anymore. You are with child. It won't be long before it takes a toll on your body. You won't be able to fight as you used to. Are you really willing to risk our child's life?"
