Dunholm
Kingdom of Northumbria

Most times when Lynette would close her eyes she would do so in search of quietude she does not know why- but when her eyelashes touch her cheeks and darkness engulfs her everything outside seems to fade away, she finds herself behind a veil of calmness and such is why she -often times- found herself in this manner. Though, Lynette quickly realised that the darkness does not always remain just silent sometimes it had a lot to whisper, she would find herself surrendering to those tenebrous parts of her mind, relenting herself and allowing for it to canopy her entirely.

When she had been in Bebbanburg all those years ago, when her mother was too consumed by her doings Lynette's mind had become her friend frequently she would find herself immerged in the intricacies her soul would conjure up for her. Almost like an umbrella shielding her from harsh rainfall of the perpetual vileness that surrounded her.

Despite that hope it was different now, at first Lynette blamed it on Dunholm and Kjartan she pointed a finger towards the wickedness that lurks vividly in the air its talons clawed. But now the finger had twisted and turned its aim on her, as if to remind her of what really matters just like her mother would.

Remembrance of the Lord is important, you must pray.

And it had occurred to her that those are the only words her mother would say, sentences steeped in the reminding of prayer.

Lynette wondered how different her mother's life would have been if she had never been born? Admittedly it is a thought she frequently pondered on, maybe it is the tenebrous part of her mind allowing itself to canopy her in darkness, steal away your faith as her mother would put it.

"If you were to do that in another's chambers, they would not take to it kindly." Lynette snaped out of her thoughts upon hearing the voice of Dahlia, her stare fixing on the chalice she had overfilled with wine. With a gasp she placed down the jar and rushed to grab something to clean the mess.

"I apologise." Lynette stressed "I did not mean it."

The cloth soaked up the wine as Lynette patted it in.

"Wine is a rare commodity but do not fret I won't say a word." Dahlia teased trying to ease Lynette's visible anxiousness.

The days had not been as they once were, where sunshine illuminated the grounds rainfall had made a swift inception the clouds now full of the oval shaped precipitation.

"Where do you go?" Dahlia inquired with a smile.

Lynette furrowed, "I do not understand." She said.

"Your eyes hold this vacancy, the world a mere-" Her voice trailed off until she found a word "Shadow, I only endeavour to know what it is that consumes you?"

Lynette had found herself yet again picking at the skin that surrounds her nails "Nothing of importance, my lady, just a mess of thoughts." Lynette replied.

Dahlia blinks, "Women are taught not to think." She stated "Though I am sure you've undoubtedly been told that before." She breathlessly laughed.

Lynette slowly nodded her head in agreement.

"Gives us a bit of an advantage, if you think about it." Dahlia took a sip from her chalice, the rim of the cup hiding her smirk.

"Advantage because..." Lynette sat down across from Dahlia who tilted her head in the direction of the girl, "The men do not expect us to do as such?"

"Precisely so, my sweet girl." Dahlia acclaimed "Let me tell you something, men are but simple beings Lynette they love being told how strong they are, how quick-witted they are and don't forget to mention their dashing looks." She listed counting it off on her fingers

Finding amusement in Dahlia's words Lynette smiled, she had always admired Dahlia with the way the woman kept herself so headstrong and confident.

"We, of course, know it to not be true." Dahlia leaned back on her seat allowing herself some comfort.

Lynette brushed back her hair as she looked to the auburn haired woman before her, "What if there were a man?" She said her cheeks beginning to heat up, "- he truly matched all those things, strong and quick witted....perhaps even handsome." Lynette asked.

"Perhaps handsome?" Dahlia humoured. "You don't know for sure?"

Sighing Lynette shook her head, "That is yet to be determined." and Dahlia admired the pink that appeared on her cheeks, rosy and blooming.

"Yet to be determined?" She laughed under her breath, "No man I have ever known has truly matched those qualities, not even my husband." Dahlia replied with a shrug.

"Husband?" Lynette's stare snapped back up to look at Dahlia.

"Yes, I was married and a most unfortunate match it had been." Dahlia scoffed placing down the now empty chalice, "He was neither of those things- stupid, definitely- strong, not so much and he did not appear easy on the eyes either."

"Did he die?" Lynette inquired in a whisper.

Dahlia nodded her head, "Something like that."

Silence fell between them as Lynette thought on Dahlia's words, she had never considered the prospect of marriage, not even once. Lynette happened to be quite comfortable with how she spends her days although they do tend to be repetitive and monotonous her heart and self favoured the order of it. She had not much time to dwell on thoughts of romance and all that it brought, her efforts were spent elsewhere.

"Here, have a drink." Dahlia pushed the chalice towards Lynette.

Lynette shook her head, "I couldn't." She rushed.

"And why is that?" Dahlia questioned, confused. "If you are worried of trouble? there won't be any you're in my company, be free of all other nonsense." She eased, placing the chalice in Lynette's hands gently forcing her fingers to wrap around the cold metal. Dahlia squeezed Lynette's hand kindly before leaning back.

Her lips wrapped around the rim of the cup as she tipped it upward allowing a small drop of it to enter her mouth. The rush of flavour overwhelmed her, crisp and fresh a chorus of fruity ballads filtered through tasting splendidly floral.

Lynette liked it as she took another sip and then another.

Looking up she smiled, "It tastes much better than ale." Lynette informed, her voice already slightly sloshed.

Dahlia laughs, "Apparently it works quicker as well."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The grass was soft below their feet as the sounds of swords clashing echoed in the wind. Sihtric's hand wrapped firmly around the hilt of the sword in his grasp as he lunged forward, "Careful there I almost got you." He jested.

"Almost." Herald laughed back.

Sihtric could tell Herald was beginning to become weary of the duelling his limbs displayed fatigue as they were no longer firm in their movements as they were when they had began. A chaotic tidal wind rushed in, cold in its rouse as it chilled upon their skin. Herald shivered yet he lunged forward again tripping because of his speedy move. Sihtric, amused, offered his hand for Herald to grab but he just pushed it away with a scowl standing up with his back now turned to Sihtric.

"Herald-you are rushing too much it doesn't aid your fighting." Sihtric stated placing his hands on the boys shoulders and turning him around.

"Bullshit." He snapped sighing aggressively.

"No no-." Sihtric leaned down "Listen to me, stop this temperament of yours. I mean it."

Herald clenched his jaw his displeasure clear.

"You asked for my help and I'll do that, but you need to drop this act or I will leave you as you were." Sihtric demanded, standing up and stepping back his eyes still holding a sternness in them.

Herald rolled his eyes, eased his jaw and leaned down grabbing his sword once again "I'm sorry, it just angers me my father expects so much and yet I haven't been able to best anyone in a duel." He explained, stressed and irritated.

Sihtric blinked, he understood undeniably well the pressures Herald must be facing. Born a Dane, a Viking fighting is meant to run in the very blood that travels their bodies it is their life's fulfilment and joy to be able to hold and wield a sword. Not being accomplished in what canvases being a Viking is a disgrace and a humiliation.

"You will soon enough but no more of that foul attitude, not with me at least." Sihtric ordered, grabbing his sword "We'll continue tomorrow, go rest."

"No Sihtric please, just until I best you." Herald implored.

Sihtric tilted his head "I don't think that will be happening today."

Herald shook his head, "One more duel- one more!" He pleaded.

As Sihtric was about to answer the sounds of booted feet resounded in the air, his stare turning towards it as his gaze fell upon Sven, the one eye. Sihtric glared his jaw clenching as he signals for Herald to leave but the boy just stands solid where he is.

"I'll duel with the boy." Sven smirks.

"He is done for the day." Sihtric responded.

Sven turned to look at him with a scowl "I don't care, if you are tired then you are free to fuck off."

Sihtric's stare only hardened as he felt the anger rise in the pit of his stomach.

"It's okay Sihtric, you should go rest." Herald said with a quick nod of his head.

With a sigh of annoyance Sihtric dropped the sword and turned on his heel walking away from them, his mind ablaze with terrible thoughts of things he wishes would befall Sven things worse than death. The burning desire for the worst to unleash itself upon him in the most horrific of ways and even then it may not be enough, he had endured enough of his teasing over the years.

Ragnar should have taken both eyes, Sihtric maliciously thought

"You grip the sword like a gutless craven." Kjartan spat.

The boy held on tighter, his fingers curled around the hilt and he dug his nails into the steel.

"You will be a warrior or else you are useless to me!"

Shivers, cold and harsh, arose upon his skin as he simply nodded his head and held up the sword once more. His gaze drifted toward the boys beside him and he mimicked their stance, using his left foot he stepped forward and breathed out expanding his chest. Sihtric gazed ahead admiring the sky as it fell into a fusion of yellows and oranges, the sun merging into the grass of the land.

He used it as a distraction.

He was exhausted, worried and tense no more did he wish to see the girl, Lynette, than he had wanted to be free of this. Four years, he thought, it had been since she had arrived at the fortress, Four years, 1460 days, he knew that for his mother had taught him how to count before she died. He would catch these glimpses appearing now and then in her, there was something he had noticed upon each glance that she was much too solemn he did not fault her for it, anyone would be even after all these years, he is too.

A sound echoed through the stiff air, Sihtric blinked his eyeslids to the two young boys sparring before him as the others huddled into a circle shouting mocking words that were supposed to be encouragement.

"You." He felt himself being pulled back, Sven glared at him. "Fight me, bastard." He smirked.

Sihtric furrowed his brows and then stepped back but he was pushed forward by another boy.

"Or are you a gutless craven as my father says you are?" He derisively teased.

"I am not going to fight you."

"Coward." He smirked.

Sihtric breathed out and then raised his sword before he rushed toward Sven, one-eye, the blonde Dane quickly raised his sword in retaliation and then the sound of the metals fiercely clashing together in a violent stroke of anger resonated through the trees. Sihtric grunted as he stepped back and striked once more, gutless craven, the word echoed in his mind over and over fuelling each of his attacks against the boy before him. They were quick and swift, powered by resentment that boiled his blood. Sven groaned the faster Sihtric moved.

"I am no gutless craven, one eye." He seethed.

Sven narrowed his gaze with animosity as his breathing quickened, "You are a bastard though and bastards are weak, frail things."

Sihtric with one last forceful strike hit his sword against Sven's sword which caused the blonde Dane to trip over his two feet, as he tried to shield himself, he fell to the ground.

"I am not weak or frail." Sihtric breathed out, "You are the one on the ground."

He could feel his beathing slow down but it was all too sudden when a rough hand pushed him to the ground, "You fight like a coward, you cheat." Another boy snapped.

"I did not cheat." Sihtric brushed back his hair, "What? too ashamed that a bastard won?"

"I would not be so proud if I were you."

"I think I deserve to be although--" He turned and looked to Sven as he stood up, "You do not look half as embarrassed as I had hoped."

"Fight me with your fists then." Sven snapped.

Sihtric threw down the sword and shook his head, "You would be wasting your time on a frail, weak thing as you, yourself, called me."

"Are you mocking me?"

"No."

"I have decided that you are." Sven glared, he twisted his hand into a fist and raised it up to roughly land onto Sihtric's cheek.

Lynette was adrift in the ocean of her mind, slowly floating through thought upon thought, as she sat on the uncomfortable bed across from another girl named Claennis, she was older not by many years but Lynette, sixteen now, thought she was regardless. The night had unfolded beautifully, Lynette had watched it unravel and tint the sky in colours of purples and soft darkened blues. She had been here, amidst the cold of the obscured room for hours, she hoped no one would notice her gone and no-one did, she was ever grateful.

"You ran off quite quickly, left all the work to me." Claennis whispered, her smile etched into a form much too large.

Lynette blinked as she sighed, "I was tired."

"I will let it slide this once, but you must not do this again."

The girl simply nodded her head in a compliant nod before she took to leaning back. Tiny embers sparked from the candle fire that lightened the room, warming the bitter walls. It's bite was ever sharp, the memory tied to her, a strange sentiment almost eroded yet it clung to her with a fierce grip as if she was the rocky edge of a shattered cliff. She felt herself succumb to the tears, the dark of the night a veil to hide her away, she hated it here, everything felt odd and dubious. She, still, wanted to go back. Lynette had once believed her mother alive, that she had imagined everything, that Elodie and Tayte were punishing her, testing her but not anymore, not for a while. Yet the memory swathed itself over her, sinking into her and crushing her chest forcing out harsh breaths in gasps as she held back the sound of her cry, she will be quiet--she had to be.

Four years was too long. Nothing had changed.

Home is a foreign word to her but Bebbanburg was still a form of it, a piece where she can feel safe for no one cared for her much there and it mattered not to her.

A knock came at the door she almost missed it for it was muffled and faint. Claennis opened the door, Lynette turned to watch with curiosity.

"You cannot be here." Claennis raised her brows.

"I know." An inaudible voice flowed passed the door and into the room.

"So I can presume you knocked on the wrong door?"

"No."

"Then?"

"I want to speak with Lynette."

Lynette stood up while Claennis tilted her head, "At this late hour? if you are seen--"

"We will not be, I know a place-we know a place." He reassured.

Claennis breathed out in amusement, "A place, Lynette what place?"

"It is well hidden." She answered.

Claennis shook her head, "That much I had assumed."

Lynette turned and caught sight of Sihtric, it was dark in the corridor she could not make out much except his silhouette and his hair. She stepped out and gave Claennis a reassuring nod before she left with Sihtric, it was silent between them they remained so until they got to the hiding place. It was concealed accordingly, a place where they could talk for hours without being caught.

The moon's gleam shone down upon them and Lynette took a seat first Sihtric following pursuit not soon after shuffling until he was comfortable and then he turned to Lynette and she caught sight of his bruised face, her lips parted as her irises examined each trace of his face.

"You are hurt?"

"I am." He smiled.

"It looks painful..." She whispered.

"I can attest to that, it fucking hurts." He groaned.

Lynette shook her head, "What happened?"

"Nothing." He muttered.

"So you beat yourself up then?"

Sihtric laughed out breathily, "You are amusing--"

The wind blew silently, ever calm and gentle yet touched with a tinge of iciness that drifted and rested upon their skin and they had unknowingly shuffled closer to warm themselves from the cold. Four years swayed by in a blink of an eye and in those years Lynette and Sihtric had, through many conversations, grown closer at first Lynette was slightly reluctant and did not speak much Sihtric did not mind it, he waited. Then as if it was normal, like the air they breathe, Lynette felt reassured enough to ease up and let herself know him, the Dane with two different coloured eyes.

"You still have not answered my question." She looked to him, her hand raised up and tilted his head to the side, his left eye was bruising pretty badly turning a deep purple, She hissed almost as if she had been hit herself.

"It is not as bad as you are thinking it to be."

Lynette scoffed, "I can attest to that, it hurts." She mocked him in a deep voice, repeating what he had said only moments ago. Her hand dropped back into her lap.

"Fucking..." He leaned into her, "It fucking hurts, that is what I had said-no?" He asked in a breathless mutter.

"That is obscene language, Sihtric."

"So you have never said such words, not even when you are so angry that it could almost slip passed?" He jested.

"No, idiot."

"Is that not obscene?" He raised his brows.

Lynette rolled her eyes, "If you have nothing important to say I shall take my leave." She began to sit up but Sihtric leaned forward so quick she had barely even caught his movement, his hand wrapped itself around her wrist- soft, delicate, "Stay."

"I could be sleeping right now, dreaming off-"

"Me."

"I'd rather not dream."

"Way to hurt a person on their name-day" He jestingly scoffed.

Lynette looked to him as she placed her hand over her mouth, her eyes widened, she sat back down "I forgot. Sihtric I am so very sorry, I do not know-"

"I am really hurt." He said, "I remembered yours."

"I am sorry." She whispered.

He grabbed her hand and brought it up to his face placing the palm against his cheek, making her cup his face as she looked to him with widened eyes of confusion. He had never done that, it felt different, a good different. "I was teasing you, Lynn."  She went to remove her hand so she could smack him but he just held it there against his cheek, as he leaned into her palm, "Let us stay like this, just for a moment- it can be your gift to me." He whispered.

"Only because it is your name-day." She muttered back, ignoring the warmth that chilled under her skin, roaming each vein and tingling her bones.

Lynette tilted her head, her eyes wandered over his mellow bruised features and his eyes were closed. He appeared peaceful, serene so very restful and Lynette felt her heart race at the possibility that it was because of her. In a manner to rid herself of such a feeling she asked, "You are seven and ten years of age, now?"

"Mhm, I am." He replied.

"And what does your name mean? I have always wondered- Sihtric, it sounds..."

The raven-haired Dane leaned back, taking her hand and just intertwining her fingers with his, "It means King."

Lynette blinked, she slightly smiled her lips curved into the shape, "I like it."

"Why? do you think I am kingly- think I could be a king?" He mumbled, tone muted.

"In another life, yes-you could be."

Sihtric nodded his head, "Will you be in that life with me?"

"Mayhaps."

"I do not want another life if you are not in it." He spoke softly.

Lynette blinked as his words dawned over her, she wanted to tell him to be quiet, do not say such things so effortlessly without considering her, how she may feel? How saying that has caused her stomach to squeeze and flutter, how those words are now going to reign over her thoughts for days and days to come, how she will hear his kind voice in her dreams. She felt odd.

"Well--" She coughed, "You may have to so..."

"Not even if you could be queen?" He raised his brows urging her.

"I do not care for such titles."

"Princess?"

"I don't care."

"Court jest?" He suggested with a subtle smirk upon his lips.

Lynette scoffed, "No!"

"You do make me laugh though."

"You resemble a court jest more than I do." She retorted back forcing back a smile.

"If I could do nothing else but make you laugh all day, I would."

"No need, the mere thought of you amuses me." She fired back.

"You are unkind."

As he walked though the fortress, the sun had began its descent casting hues of shadows across the land, the clouds tinted purple casting roseate reflections through the branches of leafed trees that stood rising tall. Even though the sun had been adorning the sky for most of the day that had passed there was no warmth in the air as icy winds reigned cruelly.

The corridor was lit with candles and Sihtric could feel the warmth radiate from the fire, it slowly melted the bitterness that covered his skin.

"You." A voice called Sihtric turned, his stare roaming the space "Sihtric is it? Come here." Dahlia ordered and Sihtric furrowed his brows in confusion his feet steadily carrying him towards her door. "Walk quicker will you." She snapped.

He stood before her with a blank expression. Sihtric did not take well to Dahlia he had never spoken to her before but his opinion was pretty much already formulated she is his sister, Kjartans, he expects nothing but wickedness from her. Sihtric suspects it to run in the family.

"I trust you to take her to her room." Dahlia opened the door wide enough for Sihtric to peer inside, the room was clean not a speck in the air and cushion out of place even the room in itself smelt divine. His stare landed on brown wavy hair sprawled across a chaise, glancing for a moment back at Dahlia who looked to him impatiently. "Or am I mistaken?"

"If I may?" Sihtric asked and Dahlia stepped aside allowing for him to enter, determined in his walk he approached Lynette and gently pulled her upwards. Lynette swatted at the hand that had grabbed her and Sihtric just held on tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to have a firm grip on her. His stare faintly roamed her face, he brushed away a stray curl from her cheek and pushed it behind her ear his fingers lingering there for a split moment.

"What happened?" He inquired.

Dahlia looked to him with a defeated stare, "She is obviously drunk." Sihtric raised his brows, "I may have offered her some wine and she may have enjoyed it a fair amount." Dahlia smiled, her eyes holding amusement and humour in them.

He placed one arm around Lynette's waist and the other around her shoulders carefully and smoothly assisting her onto her feet, she swayed into his side slightly and Sihtric slowly began to walk them out of the room.

Dahlia looked to him as he entered into the corridor, "You are nothing like him at all." She announced in a whisper.

"Like who?" Sihtric questioned, perplexed.

Dahlia smiled kindly, she shook her head "Take her back and be quick about it." She demanded before shutting the door.

Sihtric's hold on Lynette tightened the further they walked as she had began to sway from his grasp, "How much did you drink?" He whispered clearly stressed at the situation.

Lynette groaned, her head resting back onto his shoulder.

Old and worn the door to her small room creaked as it opened, the hinges strident, he shut the door with one hand the other holding onto her. As it shut he rushed her to her bed seating her down she fell straight onto her back and Sihtric sighed, although he was slightly amused. Lynette rarely ever drinks therefore she is never drunk, she had only ever drank ale twice and it was not much.

"Sihtric, is that you?" She groaned her voice muffled by the covers, he sat down beside her helping her up. Her eyes were barely open yet she could make him out, her hand raised up and she prodded his cheek, once and then again and then once more "Have I told you that you are strong Sihtric, quick witted...wait there is one-" Lynette fussed rubbing her forehead. "Perhaps even handsome." She hushed.

Sihtric tilted his head to stare at her properly, "Perhaps?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You are drunk." He stood up helping her comfortably and safely into her bed not allowing her to lay down just yet. "Don't leave this room! I will be back." He demanded.

"Wait!" She called out, Sihtric looked to her "I take it back, you are handsome."

"I'm glad you think so." Sihtric said forcing himself to ignore the heat that engulfed his skin, he shook his head but before he could turn around Lynette called out once more.

"No! Wait." She stressed.

"What?" He rushed over to her side, stood next to her bed, his hand placed itself on her forehead for a moment before he pulled back.

"I forgot my sewing things in Dahlia's chamber." She complained with irritation, her voice was deep.

Sihtric looked away with a defeated sigh, he bit his lip "I will get them for you." He exhaled as he stepped back.

"Do not move from here! I mean it Lynette." He instructed firmly, his tone definitive.

Lynette just nodded her head before resting it against the wall he glanced at her once more and then left the room, shutting the door as quietly as he could.

The quiet that surrounded him as he walked the fortress allowed for Lynette's words to echo in his mind over and over again the word handsome having taken much significance. He was completely ignoring, or rather he knew but decided to not care, that she was drunk when she had said that, he wanted to believe she meant it and that it was not the wine speaking.

Her voice even when laced with wine, slurred and incoherent, sounded gentle and blissful as always, making the word handsome appear that much more vivid in his thoughts. His hand ringed with the feeling of her skin against his, the feel of her hair as he brushed it back and the way she subconsciously leaned into his side, he shook his head willing himself forcibly to forget it for a moment which seemed harder than it had sounded to him.

Sihtric's glance fell upon the hall as he saw Sven rush towards it, he seemed frantic and agitated in his movements so much so it had intrigued Sihtric and for a quick moment he allowed himself to follow after.

Upon reaching the hall he quietly like a wraith, barely noticeable, entered hiding himself to the side of the large room. The fire was blazing fierce and Kjartan was sat beside him.

"Father, Father!" Sven rushed.

Kjartan looked to him with an empty expression save for the slight irritation that peeked through.

"I have news of the slave, Guthred." He informed, his tone clear with urgency, "He has been made a king...of Cumbraland."

Kjartan spoke but one word and it was a name, "Fiske?" his stare on the man.

"It is true, Lord, we heard it from traders." Fiske answered.

Sihtric walked in further, completely intrigued by the conversation. A slave that Kjartan once had up for ransom was now a king. This fact was sure to fuel Kjartan's wrath immensely, a volcano so wicked, violence awaiting to erupt and cover all in its searing flames of terror.

Kjartan, however, seemed calm as he sighed "Where are these traders?" He asked, annoyed.

"We heard the same story, three times, five times-"

Sven was cut off abruptly by Fiske "We heard it three times."

"This Guthred is now a king!" Sven stressed, his tone harsh and loud depicting the seriousness of it, entirely.

"What of the dead horseman?" Kjartan inquired, the anger boiling.

Sven ignored the question, "King Guthred is building up an army made up of both Danes and Saxons." Sihtric was suddenly pulled completely into the conversation, an army? "And the commander of this army is just that: both Dane and Saxon, his name is Uhtred." Sven informed and as the name fell from his horrid lips Kjartan's eyes snapped up immediately despite the fact of his sudden complete interest Kjartan remained eerily silent for a while.

Uhtred? The name sounded familiar to Sihtric.

"Are you certain of this?" Kjartan inquired.

"Yes." Sven replied, a smile appearing villainously upon his sluggish lips.

"Tekil." Kjartan called out and another Dane, tall, blonde and bearded stepped forward uttering the word, "Lord?"

"If the King of Cumbraland is building an army, you will join him." Kjartan demanded, "If you get the chance, you can kill the King but you will bring his commander back here, to me."

Sven laughed, "Take his eye."

"Yes." Kjartan happily agreed, "You can take his eye."

Sihtric then remembered, it was Uhtred he was the reason as to why Sven lost an eye that is what was rumoured in the air here at Dunholm. This servant boy who burned and killed his lord, Ragnar the fearless, was the one who caused Sven to lose his eye. Sihtric does not doubt that it was deserved he knew entirely in himself that whatever the reason may-be as to why Ragnar took the eye, the one eyed scoundrel probably deserved much worse a fate.

"But I want him here and I want him alive." Kjartan ordered, the rage in his eyes forming into a look of wild violence as if he cannot wait to have Uhtred in his grasp, "I will take him piece by piece, I will make him suffer."

Sven's smile kept growing the more his father spoke of the terror he desires to inflict upon the man.

"Uhtred Ragnarson." Kjartan seethed, malevolently.

___________________

A/N: Heyy, here's another chapter! Lol Dahlia not knowing her nephew's name but knowing the name of the girl she has subconsciously adopted, is so funny to me! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter!

I love Dahlia and Lynette's relationship!

Don't forget to comment and vote, thank you for reading 🫶

Lynette aesthetic!

It's time to evacuate the world.....