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Of late, Alfild knew that she'd been neglecting some of her duties. One of which was the training of new young warriors that wished to fight in her army, those who would one day be her right hand and that of her heir's.
So, she decided it was time. Though York wasn't totally secure, it was a place to remain in safety for the time being. And so, she decided she would train.
She fought calmly and with a control that few around her possessed. To Alfild, battle was an art form. When one mastered the sword, they could do beautiful things.
Ivar thought the same when he watched her fight. Effortless, beautiful. She was like Freyja herself. Though, the boy would never admit that to her out of foolish pride. Her grip tightened on the training sword as she swung it towards the boy that she was training with. She hadn't noticed the rich blue eyes of the would be king, or the faint smile that danced across him when he watched. Instead, she focused on the task at hand.
Her opponent was strong for his age, showing great promise already.
"Good, but you must still work on your stance. No one will need a sword if they can knock you to the ground without one." The Queen smiled, taking the boy by the hand. "Remember what I taught you, keep training, I will continue this next week."
The boy nodded eagerly, smiling cheerfully as he said goodbye to the young woman. Alfild slowly sat down, a small sigh leaving her lips as she caught her breath.
"I see you challenging everyone else, but who are you fighting?" The dark haired Prince spoke up, his tone oozing a certain confidence.
Alfild turned to him, a playful smile moving to her lips, "Are you challenging me, Ivar?"
The boy shrugged, eyes like fire filled with determination, "Perhaps."
"Then I accept your challenge." She answered, unable to stop the large grin from appearing on her lips.
It was true, it had been a rather long time since anyone had presented a challenge to her. As of late, nothing interested her. She'd conquered countries, fought every warrior and subjugated every king. What more was there to do? Nothing challenged her anymore, and it was the challenge that she craved.
Slowly she stood, unsheathing her sword. Ivar watched her gleeful expression warmly. Few had seen her like this. Like she was before her mother died.
The boy sat, knowing he could not exactly move from his position. Though, his axe remained in his grip.
As always, Alfild made the first move. Her emerald eyes looked alive, alive like they hadn't been in such a long time. She charged forwards, swinging the blade over her head and striking it down. But, with ease, Ivar blocked her attack with a smirk.
Soon, the girl was pushed back, having to quickly find her footing. The sword remained firm in her grip.
"Not expecting so much from a cripple?" Ivar gloated.
Alfild gave a chuckle, her pride just as unwavering as that of her partner's. "On the contrary," She grinned. "I expected more."
With this, the boy swung his axe. This time, however, it was Alfild's turn to block. She pushed him back. With this movement, the duo landed upon the ground. Alfild pressed her sword to his neck with a boastful expression. But, before she could utter a word to piss the boy off, Ivar had tossed her off him and pinned her down with his axe now aimed at her. The girl was shocked, though grinned as she gently tapped her knife at his side to let him know that he had not won.
The two remained in that position for a while, both stubbornly glaring at one another.
"Was that better?" He asked with a sarcastic grin.
Alfild smiled giving a small nod in response before the young Prince let her move free. "Perhaps" She answered, both of them smiling now.
