Fate Rebellion

Since that conversation, it took another week or two for Rurik to fully recover. At least, in relative terms. Unfortunately, he didn't get full motion back, with only about 90% functionality in his left arm. 

He suffered shooting pains when he tried to lift it up too high. Right now, he was standing in front of his cottage with a training sword in his grip and a frown on his brow. 

His upper body was uncovered, and prominently displayed the reason for his new moniker: Wolfscar. His chest clearly showed the wolf's raking claws, and his left arm the creature's fangs, in the form of vicious white scar tissue. Yet, it didn't detract from his charm, only adding to it. 

Slowly, he lifted the sword up with both hands, until his upper arm aligned with his shoulder. He took a few breaths, and then lifted the sword further. At first it was still fine, but after a few more inches his face started to wince in pain, and the sword began to tremble. 

Quickly, he lowered the blade again and scowled in annoyance, grabbing his left arm. 'That's going to make things a little more difficult,' he cursed inwardly. 

But then he sighed, 'Well, it could be worse, I guess. I'm still alive, my arm is mostly fine, and the right one is my dominant one anyway. It's just going to make some guards and overhead cuts a little more difficult.' 

Slowly, a grin spread across his lips, 'Which just means I'll have to work harder!' 

Surprisingly, rather than make his mood worse, these three months of recovery had actually improved his mood a little, and somewhat soothed the grief he felt over the loss of his partner. 

If he had to determine a reason, it could only be Maria's diligent care. He felt a little wry at the fact he couldn't even blame her for the injury to his arm. 'I'm not as hot-headed as I was in my youth,' he sighed, sounding almost wistful. 

Just as he was about to start doing some more practice swings, he noticed his mother and father walking up to him. Elisiv was carrying something in her arms, a fond smile on her face when she noticed her son. 

Rurik walked up to them and dipped his head in a respectful greeting. 

Harald grinned at him proudly, "Haha, it is good to see you up and about again, boy! Don't worry about your arm. I have no doubt you'll still become a warrior worthy of legend!" 

Rurik smiled wryly. He hadn't told him about his arm, but it wasn't a surprise an experienced warrior like his father would notice it. 

Beside him, Elisiv's fond smile made way for a hint of annoyance, "I'd rather he remains alive, rather than pass into legend, husband!" 

Harald sighed in a way that suggested he'd had this discussion with her before. "Everyone has to die someday, Elisiv. Better to die on the battlefield, weapon in hand, than in your bed, unable to even stand up anymore!" 

Elisiv scoffed, but she knew better than to argue about this with either her husband or her son. Even Maria gravitating towards such a mindset, and she'd been hopelessly unable to convince her otherwise. So far, Ingegerd was her only hope of leading a relatively safe life. 

Although many Norse woman would be proud of their husband and children being powerful warriors, Elisiv had grown up in Kiev, not Scandinavia. 

Still, she loved both her husband and her children and wouldn't deny them that love just because they made choices she didn't agree with. Instead, she supported them with all her heart. Besides, despite the danger it involved, she couldn't deny to feeling immense pride and gratitude at her son's actions. 

Thus, she handed her son the item she held. "Here, Rurik," she smiled warmly. "I may not have grown up in Norway, but I learned the local techniques to make you this, in honour of your deed. May it keep you safe when I'm not with you." 

Curious, Rurik took the package and quickly realized what it was. A strange grin spread across his face, "Thank you, Mother. I'll need to grow into it a little more, but I have no doubt it will protect me against elements and weapons both." 

What he held in his arms was a hooded cloak made from the pelt of the wolf he killed. Even the wolf's head was used—it adorned the hood, giving it quite a fearsome look. He felt a little strange about it, but not unhappy. 

Still, the cloak was intended for a fully-grown man, and although Rurik was quite tall for his age, he wasn't quite at adult level yet. 

"Now, come!" Harald commanded as he waved his arm and left. "It's time for the second reward you asked me for." 

Instantly, Elisiv's face fell again. "Can't we just forget about that part? Rurik, my child, is this really necessary?" 

Rurik sighed as he followed his father, doing his best to look conflicted, rather than excited, "It would have happened in a few months anyway, Mother. You know that. Besides, I'll be close by!" 

Indeed, they walked only a few minutes, before stopping in front of another, slightly smaller cottage. This had been Rurik's second request: his own place. 

Although he was still young, it was tradition for children to leave the nest at ten years old and move into a new cottage, separate from their family, but still in the same compound. 

Usually, this place would be shared by several other children of similar age and social standing, but as his second reward, Rurik had asked for his own place instead. Now, it was finally time for him to get some privacy again. 

"This place is yours from now on, Rurik," Harald grumbled pleasantly. "You'll have a servant to help take care of you, but for the most part you'll be on your own. Remember: this is a test as much as it is a reward. If you fail to take care of yourself, your home, and your servant, your reward will be taken away" 

Next to him, Elisiv felt conflicted. She obviously wanted her son to succeed at everything he did, but why couldn't he do so from her warm bosom? 

"A servant, Father?" Rurik asked, curiously. This was news to him, even if he wasn't opposed. That said, he hoped they weren't old, as someone younger would be far easier to manipulate. 

Harald nodded calmly, "She's the youngest daughter of an allied Jarl. From now on, she's assigned to you exclusively. Her main task will be to take care of your home and your meals, but you can assign her other tasks as well, if you wish. She's there to serve you." 

"Be careful, though," he continued with a frown. "She's not a thrall for you to do with as you please. Furthermore, she might try to further the goals of her family by influencing you." 

It wasn't strange to assign long-time servants to high-born Viking children, although it was a little unusual he was given a woman, rather than a man. 

Yet, Rurik didn't care about that. He preferred it this way. 

"What's her name?" he asked, curiously. 

Harald answered indifferently, but Rurik's eyes instantly widened. Shock emanating throughout his body. 

"There's no way… right?" he muttered softly, but not so soft that his parents couldn't hear him. 

"Rurik? What's wrong?" Elisiv asked, feeling a little worried about the haunted look in her son's eyes. 

But Rurik didn't listen. He rushed into the cottage, dropped the cloak he was carrying on the first flat surface he saw, and then scanned the room. 

Almost instantly, he found what he was looking for…