Bjorn didn't expect to be interested in the women Wessex had to offer. They were so different from the women in his land. They were more submissive, more uptight. Who would be attracted to that? The lady would have to be extremely, enchantingly attractive for him to be interested to make up for her dull personality. It would be like bedding with a statue.

Apparently Bjorn's perceptive of woman from Wessex was somewhat flawed. How did he know this? Well, currently, he was pinned against a tree, a blade against his throat, and a fiery young woman in front of him doing the pinning. Bjorn was shocked to say the least. This Saxon fought better than some shield-maidens. Then again, she looked different than most of the ladies in Wessex. She wore trousers instead of a skirt, an instead of tending to children, she cleaned a sword. It was intriguing.

Bjorn dropped his sword and held his hands up. "Eg gef eftir (I yield)," he said, speaking in his native tongue.

The woman raised an eyebrow as she glared up at him. When she opened her mouth, Bjorn didn't expect his own language to be spoken. Who was this woman, and why did he was to know everything about a Saxon? He would never let her know this, gods forbid. She was his enemy, woman or not, right?