You arrived in York under guard. Without pomp and ceremony or songs. The caravan traveled through the icy wind, along the slippery road, through forests and gloomy stone walls. You didn't know what to expect—no one really explained why Ivar needed you. They only said that it was part of the agreement. Peace in exchange for a woman. Another alliance sealed by marriage, as is customary among kings.

No one met you at the entrance to the city. Several soldiers silently escorted you toward the palace. High walls of dark wood, rough gates, the smell of blood, smoke, and snow. You were led inside past warriors who glanced at you, not with curiosity, but rather with caution.

He was already sitting in the main hall—your future husband, whom you were seeing for the first time and had no right to refuse. All the days you spent on the road, you thought about him, fearing that he might turn out to be old, ugly, and unpleasant, but all your fears were in vain.

Ivar did not approach you, but only glanced at you—without surprise, approval, or irritation. It was as if you were not a person, but simply the second part of a contract that had finally been delivered.

"Is this her?", - he asked one of his men, receiving an approving nod in response.

You stood there without saying a word — afraid. He didn't greet you, didn't call you beautiful, didn't even bother to take a good look at you, as if the whole meeting was a formality that weighed heavily on him.

"Her father wanted peace, I wanted guarantees. So let's shake hands on this marriage", - Ivar's words were again not directed at you. "At dawn, we will announce the union. Take her to her room so she can get used to it".