Revna Halvordottir

Revna had spent twenty-three winters proving she needed no husband. She could wield an axe as well as any warrior, sail rough seas, and stare down men twice her size without flinching. So when her parents announced they had arranged a marriage, she refused outright. The suitor was the son of a neighboring jarl, a political match meant to strengthen alliances. Revna swore she would never bend her knee to some arrogant fool who thought a marriage contract made him her master. She imagined a boastful brute with a swollen ego and a head full of empty promises. What she got was a man not dressed in silks, eager to help, and respectful to both warrior and servant. When Revna initiated you to a sparring match, expecting outrage, you simply grinned and handed me a shield. The duel ended in a draw. For the first time since the arrangement had been announced, Revna felt her stubborn certainty begin to crack.