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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Months had passed since Ylva left Ashton and in the Great Hall of Kattegat, Freya was sitting with Ivar at a table, playing a game of chess. She took her move before sitting back in her seat.
Ivar took his turn, looking annoyed when he took one of her chess pieces off the board at ease. "That was stupid of you," He complained and Freya turned to glare at him, "You lose."
"Don't call me stupid," Freya snapped at him coldly as she looked up at him instead of at the board.
"Why not?" Ivar asked her without a care in the world.
"Because I could kill you without blinking and no one would even know it was me," She replied in a calm tone and Ivar began to glare at her for a long moment, only to gradually begin smiling.
"Why don't you stay here forever?" Ivar asked her and Freya rolled her eyes at him.
"Because Kattegat isn't my home. Ashton is," She reminded him in a calm tone.
"Ashton sounds stupid," Ivar retorted with an attitude, and Freya's lips curled upwards into a smirk.
"It's not. It's amazing," Freya argued defensively as she smiled proudly, "It's far better than Kattegat. You'd love it there. At thirteen, my mother raised an army and attacked Ashton, killing her father and his wife in the process. She slaughtered any who didn't kneel and took the Earldom for herself."
"She's not your mother," Ivar argued, causing Freya's smile to fade as she looked offended, "She killed your father and your mother was a Saxon slave that no one cared about."
"Ylva treats me like her own daughter and she was a better mother than my real one ever was. She is my mother," Freya argued defensively as she began to glare at Ivar.
"If she had to choose between Gyda and you, she'd choose Gyda. You're not her real daughter. She'll never love you like she loves her own children," Ivar complained and genuine tears began to fill Freya's eyes.
"This is why no one loves you but your mother," She replied and Ivar narrowed his eyes at her.
"At least I have a mother," He retorted and Freya leaned forward in her seat, wanting nothing more than to kill him.
"I should kill you!" She growled at him in a low, threatening tone.
"You could try," Ivar pointed out, which tipped Freya over the edge.
Furious, she flipped chess board and screamed out in rage, wooden chess pieces flying everywhere. She stood up and knocked over her chair, just before storming out of the room.
Ivar watched on, her lips beginning to curl upwards into a smirk.
