GLORY OR VALHALLA
— 4. Madness

It was the middle of the night and Ylva laid in bed fast asleep beside Gunnhild, who had her head rested on Ylva's chest.

As her eyes were closed, Ylva seemed to flinch, which Gunnhild could feel as she laid with her head on the woman's chest. She was clearly having a nightmare, which she had never seen occur with Ylva butter.

Ylva was eight years old at the time. She wore a smile upon her face as she walked through the woods between Kattegat and Ashton alone.

She carried a small basket, picking up berries as she went along. She always enjoyed doing such things to pass the time. It allowed her to get away from her father's constant cruelty for the day and she was able to lie and say she spent all that time in the woods training when she actually wasn't.

Suddenly hearing a man yelling out, Ylva turned and frowned in confusion. She dropped her basket on the ground and walked forward, the sound of two swords clashing together filling her ears. She heard horses as well, which concerned her even more.

Without a care in the world, she began to walk in the direction of the commotion, tightly grasping the handle of the dagger she wore on the belt attached to her dress.

Her movements became slower as her eyes laid upon the numerous bodies lying at her feet. There were at least a dozen of them, each of them dead with their clothes covered in blood. Many had axes and swords rested near them as well.

She found herself horrified by the sight, only to suddenly hear a man coughing. She turned her head to see that the sounds had come from a man who was pinned to a tree by the sword embedded in his chest. He was covered in blood and the moment he laid eyes on her, he reached his hand out toward her.

Her eyes widened at the sight, a part of her trembling since she didn't know what to do.

"Please," He pleaded as he coughed up blood, "Please, I beg of you. Mercy!"

Hearing footsteps, Ylva whipped herself around to see her father walking in her direction. She felt uneasy, watching as he disregarded her and walked toward the dying man, who screamed in fear.

Without a moment of hesitation, her father stabbed the man in the neck and killed him instantly. He ripped the blade out of the man and turned to Ylva, pointing his bloody sword in her direction.

"You dare grant mercy to our foe?" He snapped at her angrily and Ylva felt uneasy as the tip of the sword brushed against her throat, "A traitor who dared to attempt to raid our home?"

"No, Father, I—" Ylva began to say, only to be cut off when her father slapped her across the face.

She gasped in pain as her face whipped to the side. Her eyes widened and she turned to face him once more as she pressed her hand against her aching cheek.

"Mercy is for the weak, Ylva," He told her in a low, threatening tone. He moved toward her and Ylva backed away fearfully, not knowing what he was about to do, "And you...are the weakest of them all. You do not deserve your name. You are no she-wolf. You are the runt of the pack and it is a miracle you have survived this long. Look at you, girl. You're trembling. You are pathetic and weak and I am ashamed to call you daughter."

"I am not weak!" Ylva suddenly growled as she turned to glare at her father coldly, "You are the weak one. Daring to bully a little girl because she reminds you of the wife you killed and replaced with a lying whore who can't even fulfill her sole promise of giving you a son. I swear by all the gods, father, one day I will not be so easily subdued and on that day, I will make you suffer," She explained and her father's face become unreadable, "I swear to you, a day will come where I am grown and I will be a better ruler than you will ever be."

"A ruler?" He asked, letting out a loud, hysterical laugh, "What, you want to be the Earl of Ashton? You couldn't last a day. You're weak, just like your brother Sihtric."

"I am not weak," Ylva argued in a stern tone, "I endure you, don't I? That takes strength. And endurance. If I can endure you, I can endure anything. And I will. I will endure and then when I am grown, I will be ruler of Ashton and I will be a better ruler than any came before me, especially you. And when I am strong and powerful, I will aim to be Queen of all Norway next. I will be a ruler for Norway that is fierce and brilliant and strong. I will never let a man rule through me as my mother did and unlike a man, I will not have what is in my breeches control me. In time, the name Sigfrid the Mad will fade and be forgotten. But no one will ever forget Ylva the Dread. I'll make sure of it."

At the end of her rant, Sigefrid had raised his hand and backhanded Ylva. She fell back against the tree but instead of crying out as she usually did, she smiled. And it wasn't a normal smile. It was one that looked almost maniacal.

"You strike me because I am right. You whip me, beat me, and do all that you do to me because you try to make me weak. You know I have the potential to be more than you could ever be and you are afraid. And you should be. Because my only goal in life is to be better than you and I will be. I promise you that, Father. And nothing you can do will stop me. The people of Ashton fear you. I will make them fear me, too. But unlike you, I will make sure they love me. You think mercy is for the weak but it isn't. I will prove just that."

Just then, Ylva woke with a gasp, finding herself lying beside Gunnhild. She rubbed her head slightly, remembering her dream vividly. It wasn't a dream, though. It had actually happened. It was the last conversation she had with her father before he had sent assassins to kill her. She had fled Ashton that same night and hadn't returned until the day she took Ashton from him and fulfilled her promise to him.

Ylva sighed, sitting up from the bed before she walked out of the room. She stepped into the main room of the Great Hall, deciding to check on Halig. It had been odd that he hadn't woken up that night screaming as he usually did. Perhaps the nightmares were finally over.

As she walked in the direction of her son's room, she stopped when she saw a shadowed figure nearby. She turned, frowning as the shadow became still. It belonged to someone unbeknownst to her.

"Who is there?" She called out and yet, the figure did not reveal itself, "Show yourself. I order it. Show yourself and perhaps you'll be spared for daring to come into my home uninvited."

A few moments had passed before the figure stepped out of the shadows. However, as they did so, Ylva let out a loud, startled gasp at the sight of the last person she ever thought to see again. "Father?"

The older man stared back at her, a sinister smile appearing on his face that brought chills down Ylva's spine.

Ylva sat up from her lying position with a loud gasp. She frantically looked around, only to frown when she found herself lying on the beach. How did she get there?

She shivered, lightly rubbing her arms as she forced herself up and off the ground. She sighed, shaking her head slightly as she came to terms with it all. Her father wasn't alive. It was just a dream. He couldn't have been alive. She killed him herself.

_____

It was morning time and Ylva sat at a table with Bjorn, Gunnhild, and Ubbe. At the main room of the Great Hall, the crowds cheered as they watched two men fight, one of them being Rorik.

"I need your advice, Ubbe," Bjorn told his brother in a calm tone, "You know what has happened with King Harald. Should I rescue him or not?"

"It's your decision," Ubbe vaguely answered as he shrugged his shoulders, "But you spoke about making Kattegat great through trade, not conquest. Why would your first decision be to go on a foreign adventure?"

"But King Harald saved my life," Bjorn admitted in a soft tone and Ylva sighed, "He fought with us to regain Kattegat. What kind of King would turn a blind eye to such obligation?"

"It just makes me glad I'm not king," Ubbe shrugged as he turned to share a smile with Ylva while Bjorn scoffed and rolled his eyes, "What do you say, Hvitserk?"

Ylva sighed and slowly turned, locking eyes with Hvitserk. He sat a few feet away from them, holding a cup of mead in his hand.

"I don't say anything," He answered in a low tone.

"Well, you have to have an opinion," Bjorn complained and Hvitserk leaned back in his seat.

"Why?" Hvitserk asked, sounding bored.

"Because it would help me," Bjorn complained and Ylva smiled slightly.

"It would help all of us if we knew where Ivar was," Hvitserk argued and Ylva sighed since it seemed to be all Hvitserk thought about lately, "Who cares about Harald, or Olaf, or any of them? Only Ivar matters."

"Just to you, brother," Ubbe retorted, looking annoyed.

Glaring at Ubbe, Hvitserk tossed his cup filled with mead on the ground before standing up. He walked toward the exit and Ylva sighed, on the verge of following after him.

She stood up and went to walk in the direction Hvitserk had left in, only to have Bjorn grab her arm. "Don't even think about him. Leave him be," Bjorn insisted and Ylva turned to give him a hesitant look, "He needs time to calm down."

Reluctantly, Ylva sighed. She nodded her head and sat back down while Ubbe rose from his seat.

"I don't know, Bjorn," Ubbe replied softly before walking away, "I don't know."

Ylva sighed when she, Gunnhild, and Bjorn became the only ones left at the table. She looked around, only to frown when she saw one of the servants eying Bjorn.

Bjorn turned, noticing as well. He only glanced at the servant Ingrid a brief moment before looking directly at Ylva. "I see I must make up my own mind," He commented, referring to his difficulty deciding what to do about King Harald.

"What did you expect? You are King, after all," Ylva replied, an obvious look on her face.

______

The following day, Ylva was standing in the room of the Great Hall where she usually took her meals with her children and Bjorn.

She watched as Bjorn walked in and moved past Ingrid, who was staring at him intently with a smirk on her face.

Once he walked away, she smiled, on the verge of following after him when Ylva appeared. "Ingrid, was it?" She called out and Ingrid immediately turned to face her.

"Yes, Queen Ylva?" She asked curiously and Ylva shamelessly walked toward her with a cold look on her face.

"I have seen you looking at my husband. You know, the way that women sometimes look at men when they have certain...intentions," Ylva explained, an almost threatening smile on her face.

"I don't know what you mean," Ingrid replied as she shook her head.

Ylva smiled, shaking her head slightly as she moved closer to the younger woman. "Of course you do. You can't be that much of a fool," She responded, her smile instantly fading, "You are not a child, Ingrid. If you feel what I think you feel, then I feel sorry for you. It makes you the biggest fool of them all. However, I cannot stop you from feeling it. I have been with my husband for over twenty years now. He has never had eyes for anyone but me. You are a fool to think that will change now. Perhaps find someone more suitable for you. A stable boy, maybe. But not a king. He is mine and always will be. Not yours."

Ylva stared down at Ingrid, smiling at the woman. The younger girl looked uneasy, which Ylva found amazing. "Go on, now," She encouraged her, smirking as she watched Ingrid rush to walk away.

Slowly, Ylva's smile faded and she turned, chills running down her spine when she saw her father standing in a dark corner with a sinister smile on his face. Why did she keep seeing him?

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Ylva is hallucinating her father oop-