SIX YEARS LATER

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Dunholm
Kingdom of Northumbria

The years had passed blurred and hazy and Lynette, whose eyes were ever unclear, had woven herself into a form she scarcely recognised yet it was all she now knew of herself. Broken pieces of her sorrow strewn together in force by a thread into a distorted shape, one which could bear witness for her- to endure all the pain that had come and is yet to come with a secure and stable core. Blood boiled and tethered to the deepest parts of her very essence; Lynette had found a way to exist banishing the fear that had fostered in her, entombing the memories of past days and forgetting the shadows of years ago. She threw herself into the role she was scorched with here, Dunholm, the place that she had to force herself to declare as a home.

Amidst the years that passed Lynette had grown older and quieter she screeched less and her defiance withered as did her hope of any escape, having morphed into an anchor of strength for her own liveliness or any piece of it within her she had left. A false form of contentedness she had to repeat to herself each dawn like a vehement prayer entrenched into her flesh, hardened and ingrained at a depth so lasting.

The crescent moon shape pierced into the palm of her hands, pressed into each engraved line serving as a reminder of her strength- the force it took for her to not cry as she had done before.

"I want to go back!" Her voice trembled.

"You cannot go back, you fucking pest, your father gave you away, he cares not for you." It was the same Dane that had brought her to Dunholm, the one she had ridden on a horse with- the one who had held her with a grip so firm she could still feel it on her skin.

Lynette looked away as tears drowned her face beneath them, draining her yet they did not relent- she knew her father did not want her, she needed no reminder of the fact. "Please, I want to go, let me go." She pleaded.

He sneered "And where will precious little Lynette go? That is your name, I heard you tell it to the bastard boy."

Bastard boy? Lynette thought for a moment and then she remembered the dark haired boy, slightly taller than her and not much older- Sihtric, his name is, he was kind to her.

"Lynette, Lynette, Lynette...." The man repeated the name- testing it on his mouth, his foul lips as he grabbed her face in his hold and leaned down so close his forehead could almost touch hers. Lynette squeezed her eyes shut, and dug her nails into the skin of the palm of her hands- fiercely. "I happen to like your eyes and now you hide them from me?" The man mocked her, "Open them."

She did not, she took comfort from the darkness and so she just shut them even more tightly. The Dane did not like that and so he let go of her face and his hand, roughly, tried to pry open her eyelids. Lynette gasped in pain at his harsh grip, her eyes opened and she stepped back- fear radiating off her.

"Your place is here now, best get used to it or we will have to force you to." He taunted.

Her hands shook and her stomach filled with a dread she had felt first a few days ago when her mother had left her- she had left her to this, she cannot have. She wanted to scream at the man, kick and cry like a child in hopes he would tire of her and let her go but the sneer on his face stopped her from doing so.

And so she did.

She who had taken stillness as a companion witnessed each sunrise and set with a hidden vulnerability to her irises. Yet the silence, too, is not faithful in the dark of the sombre nights it would form into a shape that would bring with it whispers of sorrow and pity as if to mock her and deceive her, ripping at her skin to unveil the rot underneath, into believing it was comfort it carried, all for her.

And now the sounds of birds humming, and the honeyed smell of the meadow faintly passed through the open window and into the room, soothing hints of floral masked between them, painting the walls in hues of amber.

Lynette worked her hands along the fabric as she sat on the chair her back hunched over and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, occasionally she would sit up to stretch her back and then fall back into her previous position of comfort.

"I do prefer the colour red it suits me more; do you not think so?" The silence in the room was interrupted as Lynette looked up toward the auburn-haired lady, Dahlia, she then tilted her head as her eyes roamed the dress.

Dahlia, sister to Kjartan, was a beauty in herself with long auburn-brown hair and sharp features she was the complete opposite of her older brother in that sense, far prettier.

"I do think so, my lady." Lynette answered.

The chalice in her hand was filled with a fruity substance, the smell intoxicating. Dahlia sighed, as she sat down she took a long sip from the silver cup. Lynette resumed her workings, "I had told you to address me as Dahlia, Lynette." The woman kindly responded, a sense of gentleness residing within the words spoken.

With her eyes solely focused on the needle and its path, Lynette simply nodded her head.

Flower.

That is what Dahlia had named Lynette.

When she saw her first rushing about the fortress, a dainty little girl that kept to herself- her eyes always seemed to be held downward as if she was afraid to look up. Like a flower bud unfolding between the summer air, the blushed pink hue of its petals Dahlia had sought to unveil the mask that covered her. A girl back then, but twelve years of age, eyes beholding a shade of terror and unease had called out to Dahlia in a hidden whisper which sprang forth, as if the small child who had been thrown, abandoned, given away spoke an inkling of the same feeling she herself had once known. Whether the fates had brought this child to her through means unknown or if it were just another cruel game, Dahlia did not care.

The day had only just begun, and Lynette was already hoping for the comfort of her bed it was not the most lavish of sleeping chambers but it did what she needed it to and that was to allow her respite from the days hardships, hidden away in the dark and damp -poorly kept- corner of the fortress, it was more than they deserved she had been told.

"I see you less and less as each day passes." Dahlia said.

"Forgive me, as the season grows closer to winter the work has doubled." Lynette explained.

"Much of it does not require your specific attention Lynette."

"...it is that I enjoy it." Lynette replied.

"You could have much more amusement here, with me." Dahlia laughed.

Or mayhaps it is the distraction such things bring, they are loud and noisy the exact atmosphere Lynette seeks out so that she can immersive herself in it and let slip the void of her mind, the blaring environment a shield to it.

"The dress you are wearing now." Dahlia remarked and Lynette looked to her, "Did you make it or was it made by another seamstress?" She inquired with raised brows.

Lynette looked down to her dress it was nothing special, not at all like the ones she would make for Dahlia those would be carefully crafted of the best clothing and wool. The one she is wearing now is a simple brown colour with minimal stitching nothing extraordinary at all.

"Yes I made this one." Lynette replied smiling slightly.

"Such talent. I should like one like that." Dahlia expressed

Lynette wondered if it was just Dahlia's way to make her work harder and for longer, why would she want such a boring dress and that which was worn by a serving girl?

"The way the fabric catches the light, it is...unique, perfect to be worn outside." Dahlia proclaimed tipping the chalice towards her lips.

Ah that is it, Lynette thought, of course.

It was a foolish thought but Lynette had hoped she would go out of these walls or at least be allowed to but alas it was a thought steeped in too much hope, she was to be confined in the walls of Dunholm never to leave and always to serve.

Like her father had promised, payment.

As a ghost haunts a cemetery, a restless spirit on a path of never-fulfilling rectification the words of her father by no means leaving her mind but rather clung to her as a dog does to a bone. Not a day goes by where in one moment or another she does not remember her father, scoffing in pure hatred each time the memory of that wretched day appears to taunt her.

Take the girl I do not care

Over and over again as if to wear her down to nothing but an outline of what she truly is, a tainted and dirty sin.

Lynette, lost deep in a world of thought, did not realise she had pinched her finger with the needle until Dahlia had grabbed her hand. "Oh dear Lynette you must pay more attention child." She tenderly scolded.

And Lynette simply nodded her head yet again watching with curious eyes as Dahlia the ever fearsome woman tended to her bloodied finger with such diligence and care. When she had done Lynette suddenly remembered the dress and she rushed down to pick it up with haste her eyes wide as she inspected it for any blood stains.

There, she sighed with annoyance.

"I apologise my lady." Lynette spoke.

But before Dahlia could answer, the woman would not voice it but she had become irritated herself she only wished Lynette would pay attention, the door slammed open Dahlia stood up with the same annoyance filled eyes now directed toward another.

"There must be a brick in your head rather than a brain since you evidently lack the common courtesy to knock!" Dahlia snapped exhaling.

Lynette could tell the man was agitated at her response, "I-"

"Do not answer." Dahlia sighed.

Averting her eyes from the guard Lynette found sudden interest in her hands observing the red skin around the nails of her fingers where she had picked relentlessly over the years.

"What is it you want?" Dahlia took a seat once again the chalice clasped in her hands.

"Lord Kjartan wishes to speak." He informed.

"Is that so? Tell my dearest brother, I am engaged in some rather busy work." Standing to usher him out the door with her demand she turned to look at Lynette. "My brother, always picking the wrong moments."

"I can wash the clothing and have the dress stitched and ready in two days." Lynette rushed out.

Dahlia laughed "Do not tire yourself out on it."

Lynette nodded her and began to leave the room with the clothes in her grasp securely, "Do be extra careful when working." Dahlia's voice called out in teaching.

Six years, it has been six years yet nothing has changed.

"I shall, thank you." Lynette smiled lightly before rushing out the room.

The winds outside were lingering with the cool of the early morning as Lynette walked with her head turned toward the ground, she had always walked this way avoiding eye contact with anyone and keeping to herself. This almost autumnal breeze pinched at the cheeks of her face she was sure they had turned red from the slight chill. Lynette had quickly and surely made her way toward her tiny chamber placing the clothing away safely her next stop was the kitchens, the noon was nearing and the rooms would undoubtedly be swarming with work needing to be tended to.

Lynette dreaded thinking about it.

The sun rays cascaded upon the faces of many, their shadows scattered on the stone filled ground and the fallen leaves from tall towering trees dispersed almost artistically above them. Lynette could feel sweat emerge like a chill on her forehead which she wiped away immediately.

Much laughter was heard all around that it had become a part of the air itself and Lynette despised it wholly, why were they laughing? they do not deserve to laugh.

"You fool is your aim that bad or are just that stupid?" Lynette turned toward the direction of the vile voice her eyes briefly passing by a man with a younger boy beside him it seems as if they are practicing archery or something of the sort, the man glares down at the boy.

"My hand slipped." The boy shakily replied.

"Next time it slips, I will cut it off." He snapped threateningly.

Turning away from the harrowing sight, Lynette felt terrible she cannot do much to remedy the situation and so she blocked that out of her mind. Upon reaching the kitchens she could feel the hot steam from the fire burning, instantly she wanted to turn back and leave. Her hand pushed the wooden door open the incoming of steam attacked her face and she turned around to cough.

"Ah Lynette, you are here!" An elderly woman's voice excitedly exclaimed.

Lynette turned back around brushing her face she walked in further "Yes Bysen I am." Lynette smiled faintly as she grabbed a wooden spoon. "Anything you need help with?" Her gaze wandered the small stuffy room.

"Here cut these for me would you." Bysen passed her some vegetables and a knife which Lynette took carefully, her hand grasped and placed it perfectly on the board as she began to cut away. Having done this since she could remember Lynette had gotten quite skilled in the art of cutting.

As Lynette worked the cutting knife with such precision she had found her way back into the maze that is her mind, a thousand intricate pathways of interwoven thoughts.

Lynette had taught herself not to cry as much for tears meant nothing here and instead used prayer as a distraction and a form of clinging to her mother who spent her last act being one bathed entirely in sin, it made Lynette question exactly how much God had meant to her mother?

Over the years that had passed Lynette had formed a peculiar relationship with religion and God. Born a Christian she had only ever known the crucifix and the words her mother would whisper so earnestly.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Such a surprise it was when Claennis, a blonde haired and rather foul mouthed girl years Lynette's senior, had rushed into the steamy room frantically mumbling words- intertangled with her harsh breaths, Sihtric is in trouble at the alehouse.

With a concerned sigh Lynette had rushed toward the alehouse with determination her mind fraught with anxiousness, she hated that place even more than she already despises being where she is. With a strained hand Lynette pushed open the door and kept her head down as she walked through the small mass of people, the air inside stooped thick with tension a weight that pressed down on Lynette the further she walked. The alehouse smelt heavy with ale and sweat the familiar mixture which Lynette strives to stray far from has now once again wrapped its odious arms around her, flickering candlelight in the far corners radiated wraith like shadows along the floor barely noticeable to the eyes and the sounds of chattering filtered in and out of Lynette's ears as much as she wished they would not.

Standing tall onto his feet Lynette caught sight of Sihtic her eyes instantly being drawn to the crimson colour dripping from a small but evident cut on his lips. Pushing pass people while still managing to somehow avoid being espied by those around her which she is so desperately hoping to avoid Lynette reaches Sihtric and grabs his hand this causes him to turn his head and look to her.

"Come on." Lynette exhales.

But as luck would have it her hopes were drained completely when, "Lynette, I was hoping you would appear." The man laughs obnoxiously.

Lynette ignores him and grabs Sihtric by his arm instead "You need to move Sihtric, put one leg in front and then do the same with the other." Lynette spoke.

"I cannot feel my legs." Sihtric slurred.

Rolling her eyes, "Of course you cannot." Lynette sighs.

Wrapping her arm around him Lynette manages to get Sihtric to walk a few steps before he falls over to the side leaning onto Lynette which causes her to groan in discomfort and frustration. "You are never to drink again or I will cut off your fingers." She snaps trying to get him to stand once again.

Something behind her had bothered her and Lynette whipped her head around to catch sight of that same man he trailed to the back of her far too close, as she always had learned to do, Lynette ignored this.

"That is the most I have heard you speak." The man walks around Lynette coming to a stop before her, "Why is it you always find your tongue when he is around?" His voice mocked.

Lynette bit her tongue.

"I can assure you I am far more entertaining than this toad." He scoffed as he nods his head toward Sihtric a look of displeasure apparent on his features.

"Fuck off Arne." Sihtric incoherently spat out.

Lynette pinched his side which caused Sihtric to groan.

As the repugnant man was about to open his foul mouth the door to the alehouse opened and Kjartan walked in. Lynette avoided his gaze and took this chance to rush Sihtric out of that wicked place as quick as she could without causing herself and him to trip and fall face flat onto the grating hash ground. That culminated as being a rather difficult task in itself as Sihtric made it his goal to trip every chance he saw fit.

"You are doing it on purpose, stop it!" Lynette snapped.

"I am not." Sihtric retorted.

"Then walk normally or I will leave you here." She flared as she grabbed his arm firmly.

"You are being mean." Sihtric murmured.

Lynette continued to assist her friend somewhere safe and quiet deciding her tiny room was to be the best option. Out of the two Lynette was the more level-headed persona calm and collected as opposed to Sihtric who tended to be rowdy especially when he had drowned himself in a few cups of ale.

Using all the strength she could muster Lynette had made it to her chamber pushing the door open with a heavy grunt she sits a very sleepy Sihtric down onto her bed as she turns to grab some water and a cloth. "Do not lie down." Her voice orders as her thin fingers rummage through the wooden draw, old and paler in regions that have had more wear, grabbing the cloth she slams the draw shut approaching Sihtric who sits with his eyes almost closed.

"It is just past midday Sihtric" Lynette nagged sighing as she places the water bowl down letting the cloth sit inside the water. Her finger gently tilted his head up from his chin and she observed the cut, the blood has slightly stopped leaving behind a coat of it on the edge of his lips.

As the wet cloth placed itself upon the edge of his lips Sihtric's eyes opened and he exhaled watching Lynette tenderly nurse the cut. "What had happened?" Her voice questioned with worry.

"I did not start it." Sihtric pointed out.

Lynette rolled her eyes, "That is not what I asked but good to know." Her eyes trained entirely on the cloth as she dabbed it gently washing away the stained crimson on his face.

The man before her avoids her stare his eyes moved past her to fall upon the thin curtains of the back tiny window suddenly finding them to be the most intriguing thing in the room.

"You did not start the brawl but were somehow involved in it, why?" Lynette asked yet again, she placed the bloodied cloth back into the water leaving it there as her eyes now take in the cleaned cut. Sihtric's hand reached up to touch the bruise and Lynette snapped out, "Do not touch!"

"They were saying..." Sihtric's eyes filled with irritation "Things about you." He scowled remembering the awful and derogatory words the men in the alehouse found amusement in uttering.

Lynette gulps looking down she knows the men here, Kjartan's men. The men she serves, cleans their dirty clothes and cooks food for them sometimes the thought crosses her mind an evil one a sin that she should poison the food and watch as they slowly die blood seeping out of each crevice of their body and covering the floor. It brought such satisfaction to her that sometimes she would be afraid that God would condemn her for such a thought.

The men behaved like untrained hounds, vile and disgusting, yet she had learned to ignore it let them say what wretched things they want.

Taking a seat beside him, "It does not matter let them say whatever they want." Lynette whispered

Sihtric turned to look at her "I do not like hearing it." He exhaled frustratedly "Especially about you."

"I have learned to ignore it you must do the same?" Lynette said.

"That will not work." He murmured leaning back on her bed.

"You give it too much significance." Lynette sighed

"And why should I not?" Sihtric scoffed.

"Because you are an intelligent man and you will listen to me." Lynette remarked.

He tilted his head in her direction with a smirk, "Is that so?"

Lynette shoved him with a laugh before shuffling towards the wall resting her back against it seconds later Sihtric does the same seating himself beside her.

A comfortable silence surrounds them as they sit. Ever since that day in which Lynette was cowering into a corner so alone and frightened, Sihtric can remember how his eyes somehow had pulled themselves towards her direction, they had spent almost every day together the days when they were not were most likely because he was sent out with a scouring group.

The gleam from the illumination of their souls interacting had lighten their minds, made them happier in a place void of such an emotion.

Sihtric born the bastard son of the cruel Kjartan and Lynette the bastard daughter of the equally as cruel Aelfric.

"Let me see the cut?" Lynette spoke up Sihtric turned his head towards her and her blue eyes examined his lip, her hand reached up to gently touch it for a moment.

"You said not to touch it." Sihtric smiled

"I hovered over it. I did not touch it." She snapped back teasingly "Anyway, I do not want you involved in anymore brawls." She demanded.

Sihtric nodded his head and grabbed her hand softly "I do not know how you do it, ignore so easily."

Lynette breathed in, at the beginning when she had first come here the men would stare, occasionally some foul man would spew out vicious words meant to scare her and they did- they still do. Lynette would be lying if she said she completely ignores them how can she? when they speak of such filth, at night when the sky deepens into black the serenade of the winds pattering against any surface she would lie awake staring into the dark room as if it was a place out of time, discomforting, the words would run through her mind never letting her rest.

"I ignore them so easily because I am a woman Sihtric whatever I say will only cause harm rather than good..." Lynette responded, "...no matter how I will it." She whispered in a defeated exhale of air.

Sihtric was silent for he did not know what to say, he will never understand Lynette's hardships he cannot even begin to completely comprehend and for that reason he listened- through tender words of affection and gentle eyes of warmth.

Lynette turned to him, "If you drink less ale you may be able to think straight."

"So what you're saying is, you wish for me to refrain from drinking ale?" He raised his brows.

She scoffed entirely amused, "Not wholly, I know that is a substantially large ask."

"For you I could give it up, you know." He remarked, his voice a slight whisper.

Lynette blinked "I am in no mood for a jest, Sihtric." She nudged him.

"Why is it you always think I am jesting or lying, will you not believe me- ever?" He inquired with furrowed brows.

"Oh I don't know, maybe because of the many times you have tricked me growing up. Shall I list them?" Just as Lynette had raised her hand to count them off on her slender fingers Sihtric grabbed her hand pushing it back down into her lap with a sigh of amusement.

"Alright I concede but you have to realise we were children and it was amusing-  your eyes would go so wide." He laughed his head falling back, he looked to her mid-laugh "Like this." He widened his eyes mocking Lynette she, in turn, scoffed with annoyance masking her very evident hilarity, "Shut up."

He shook his head his laughter slowly coming to a halt, "Tell me truly Lynette do you wish it?" He asked

"What?" Her stare solely locked on him.

"For me to refrain from the ale?" His voice a whisper.

Lynette blinked "No- everyone drinks it and I do not wish to take that from you." She replied, "Just drink a little less so you may think straight" She sighed "You do know they take advantage of your disoriented state to tease you, right?"

He nodded, "I tend to keep my distance from the alehouse, today was a mistake."

"I know that."

"I think they say those things about you because they know it irritates me." He rolled his eyes.

"I am impressed." She cheered.

Sihtric frowned, "About what?"

"It only took you a few minutes to realise the obvious." Lynette laughed.

Sihtric groaned in annoyance, "I'm amused." He dulled.

"Although you are right, these men look for a reason to start a fight Sihtric just refrain from it." She remarked.

Sihtric nodded his head, a gentle smile upon his lips as he laid back comfortably beside Lynette. Silence consumed them entirely but it was a gentle, familiar tone something they both had always known- pleasant and serene.

The winds turned over sounding harsher as the day had began to fall into the noon.

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A/N: Yay chapter one!! The first few chapters are just setting the scene, exploring Lynette and Sihtric's relationship as well as how life at Dunholm is for both of them before everything happens, their silly conversation. Anyway I do hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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

EDITED!