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Ivar had sat for hours in that dank cell, simply waiting for word on his father. It was torture. He'd never been particularly patient and that was only worsened by the fact he had to keep up this foolish facade of "just being a cripple". It was utterly infuriating.
At some point, a boy had appeared by the name of Alfred. Ivar had played chess with the boy for a little while, anything to take his mind off of this agonizing waiting. But, as it turned out, the Christian was smarter than he looked.
They'd been at a stalemate for about an hour when the door opened. At first, the small figure was shadowed in the overwhelming dark of the small cell, but as she stepped into the small rays of light she revealed herself as none other than the girl he'd seen as he was first dragged here.
Who was she? Why did she seem to look at him and his father with so little fear?
She made her way over to Alfred, her hand gently resting on his shoulder, making him smile. Without a word, the girl reached over the board and moved a bishop, quickly taking Ivar's queen.
He stared at her for a moment, her bold move taking him off guard for just a second. Neither he or Alfred had even thought of such a move for it would leave them both liable to attack from one another. And yet, she did it swiftly and seemed as though she had further plans.
"Check." She grinned in his language, only making the situation even more shocking for the young Viking.
In Odin's name, who was this woman?
Quickly, Ivar recovered himself to his formerly cocky persona. He quirked up and eyebrow at the girl, smirking as one of his pawns took Alfred's Bishop. The christians had a small number of pieces left, there was no way they could beat him.
Just as Alfred was about to retaliate, the girl leant down and whispered something in his ear. He looked back at her in confusion, only earning a glance that urged him on, and he stood and left quickly.
Where the boy had previously sat, Alvina replaced him. Her eyes watched the heathen closely, scanning his every feature and action.
"I hear you're King Ragnar's son." She spoke calmly, her accent being the only thing that betrayed the fact she wasn't a Viking herself.
"I've heard the same thing." He spoke sarcastically, not at all trusting this strange girl. The boy he didn't mind, he seemed timid but benign. But her? She seemed cunning and Ivar didn't trust her confidence while faced with 'heathens'.
"I'm Alvina." She greeted with a small smile, her face doing little to hide her excitement at meeting a true Viking. She'd often wondered what such men were like. She'd heard stories, but many had dubbed them as monsters or demons. And yet, as she sat across from this boy, all she saw was a slightly grumpy young man. "Daughter of Queen Kwenthrith and Prince Aethelwulf." He head motioned towards the door. "That was my little brother, Alfred."
"Ivar." He grumbled out a reluctant response, arms folded as he glared over at her.
"Well, Ivar, it's nice to meet you." She grinned at his surliness.
Ivar furrowed his brows at the girl, her utter lack of fear or trepidation. Perhaps she was just stupid and didn't grasp who he and his father were. But, judging by her sharp eye and apparent strategic ability, she seemed to still hold her wits. "Why aren't you scared of me?" He finally asked. "Is it because I am a cripple?"
Alvina chuckled, shaking her head at his bluntness, "I heard that your father was a giant who ate children and was followed by demons. I heard that the devil himself whispers in his ear at night."
Her response was rather frustrating as she had not at all answered him. But, before he could angrily interrupt, the girl was speaking again. "I am not calm because you are crippled, son of Ragnar. I am calm because the two of you are just men after all."
"Were you hoping for children eating giants?" Ivar scoffed in response.
Still, the girl remained unfazed. "I was hoping that you would beat Alfred, actually." Again, her words only confused Ivar further. She leaned in a little closer with a mischievous smirk as she whispered, "He always beats us at it."
Before he could even respond to this strange girl, she grinned at him again and stood to leave. Her long black hair fell down her back as she looked over her shoulder to smile at him again and finally exited the tiny room.
What did her father plan to do with these heathens? Would she ever be able to ask the boy's father about her mother?
But as she continued to walk back to her room, her mind was filled less with her previous curiosity and yearning for knowledge of her own family, and replaced with electric blue eyes that seemed to watch her every move with an intriguing intelligence. She'd never expected intelligence from the stories she'd heard of these savages. And this boy fascinated her.
We're learning about Anglo Saxon crime and punishment and I'm being a know it all.
