Little wolf - Ivar Lothbrok

III

The nights are the most profound, where silence surrounds. The silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters, with the only sound to be heard in her room being from the incessant movement of bedsheets.

Was she thankful for Aslaug's generosity? Yes.
Did she have any loyalties towards her? No.

The room to herself seemed almost pointless, since she was never able to sleep through the night, having night terrors that plague her sleep.

Bloodcurdling screams filled the air. The chill of the night crept from the street, as did men, from every corner it seemed, ransacking the few families living there. Tears of outrage blurred her vision at how helpless she was.

She was a meer child trapped in fathomless depths of suffering. Even from a young age when her mother abandoned her and she found a loving family that allowed her to stay with them. That glimmer of happiness and prosperity that she began to feel was now gone, lost in a sea of oppression.

"If we can't escape you can, RUN YLVA!" Those were the only words that she could comprehend as she sprinted in the opposite direction.

The household that accepted her gave their lives for her escape, that is true compassion.

Realistically there was nothing she could have done to save them, but she was too stunned to react in any way other than run.

Their cries for aid echoed for miles in a haunting melody, a great pang gripping her heart as she sobbed at her failure.

Her eyes snap open. Her cheeks damp and her body bathed in a cold sweat. Her soft sheets were twisted around her limbs, probably from thrashing in her sleep. She trembled, with her heart pounding against her chest as the remnants of the nightmare still clung to her mind.

Her ebony lashes flutter against her lids as she blinks, the intensity of her exhaustion coming over her, but she couldn't bring herself to go back to sleep.

She lay on the mattress, debating whether or not to get up like she usually did when she was unable to sleep. But her muscles felt weak, like her energy. She let out an exasperated sigh, groaning as she sat up.

What time is it? She thought to herself as she looked outside, it must have been very early, which she didn't mind as this meant that she wasn't likely to bump into anyone.

She combed her fingers through her sweaty hair and let out a shaky breath. Ylva pushed herself out of her bed and went straight outside where the fresh morning air met with her, the coldness seeming to cool down her hot and sweaty body thankfully. She made a note in her head that she would have a bath in a bit, as right now she just needed to be out of the grasp of anyone and everything.

A bitterness crept into her face as she thought back to the contents of her nightmare. She would rather die than be as helpless as she was during her 'family''s time of peril. Since then she had matured into a young woman, from a delicate child, she was in control now.

The November air caressed her skin like a whisper, soothing her soul and taking away her jagged edges, even if it was just for a moment, she was thankful.

Ivar watched the girl before him with curiosity as he lay hidden behind a bush, why was she awake at this time?

She was in the way of his usual route to a sanctuary in the woods, where he went when he was unable to sleep, to clear his mind. He could have gone around her and taken a different route, but watching the mysterious girl was sufficient enough as a distraction from his thoughts.

Her breathing was now steady, and she was calm, sitting against the door of her hut, watching the sunlight rise above the trees. She sensed someone's presence, yet allowed them to believe her to be completely unaware of them being there as she was so engulfed in her memories to put energy in it.

writers note:
sorry for the lack of updates!! i just haven't made time to write the imagine hahah!

this chapter was quite slow so apologies but i wanted to give a bit more background into Ylva's life.

please vote and comment if you enjoyed the story x