Ironclad *A Bjorn Ironside Love Story*

One Fateful Night

She was tied to the bed. Again. After running away for the fourth time, trying to escape an arranged marriage to a 60-year-old man. She was a bastard of a duke or so her to be husband thought. She was a lowly maid, sold because the duke needed money. This time she would be forced to say "I Do"

That was until they came. The Northman. This was supposed to be the night before her wedding day, she was already in her dress they had practically sewn on her. However, before that could happen the town was set aflame.

Men shouted, the woman screamed, children cried. It wasn't until the fighting came from the next room was she really scared. She rocked the wooden bed again, slamming it into the wall, it didn't matter if she made noise now, either that or die. Finally, she had broken the wood holding her binds and ran to the door opening it and checking to see who was there.

The room was at the end of a long corridor, so she would run into trouble if she wasn't careful. However, this was not possible. A wall of a man was fighting the duke, the man looked wounded. The duke so sure of his victory laughed at the Northman. The same laugh as. he shoved her in a dark room when she was young. The same laugh as his daughters cut her off her rich brown hair. The same laugh as he sold her to a disgusting old man.

She picked up a sharp piece of wood from the broken bed and held it like a dagger. When the duke was off footed, she sprung from her hiding place and drove the wood deep into his neck. The duke gurgled and fell to the floor. The Northman looking surprised to see her. He scrunched his eyebrows and looked at her "weapon". In response, she dropped it and fell to her knees. Knowing that if she fought this man, she would die.

The Northman groaned and sat on the floor, sword in hand. He was wounded, a large gash on his side. Almost instinctively she ripped a piece of cloth from her dress and came towards him; she remembered the days she had to do the same for the duke's Knights after battles.

The Northman seemed to take her quick movement as a threat and held his sword to her neck. She held up her hands, and slowly pointed to his wound. He scrunched his eyebrows again but put his sword down. Cautiously, she put the cloth to his wound.

"Can you put your hand on this?" she said and he tilted his head. She grabbed his free hand and forced it onto his wound to hold the cloth in place, applying pressure. She got up and pointed at him, then pointed at the room with the bed she had broken. He needed to lie down. He nodded in compliance as she went under his good side and helped him walk.

Bjorn stared at the girl once more as he sat. She was making fire. He wondered why the girl had killed the man from her land, and more importantly, why she was helping him live. It didn't look like she had suffered a bad life. She wore fine clothes and had a pretty face. she lifted a poker from the fire and swallowed.

She asked him with her eyes to lift the cloth, he grunted painfully and complied. It wasn't the first time he felt the sting and smelled his own burning flesh, but it was certainly the most painful. He could make out apologies that came from her, but the pain was too great and he slipped into a deep sleep.