Trigger Warning: Violence

Dunholm
Kingdom of Northumbria

It had been days since Sihtric had departed Dunholm and Lynette had found herself, often, in prayer for his safety and for his quick return, her hand fisted around the crucifix in a hushed desperate prayer. It was as if this occurrence had evoked a sudden desire for Lynette to embrace what she had always known, even as it drifted away from her reach, the will still flourished in the hidden depths of her soul.

Roots planted so firm, the words of her mother a distant cry, one Lynette had spent much a time on trying to grasp, to keep her clenched fingers firmly wrapped around the thorns that had grown over the years, the blood that travelled her pale skin, the crimson red a stark contrast to it.

No, it had to be answered this time she just needed to grip on tighter and the blood needed to drip darker.

Each time her lips would utter praises that need be said, her mind enshrouded in the shadows of a past that seemed a lifetime ago- a forgotten eternity. It is as if these words are tied to a thread pulling her back harshly only for Lynette to find herself back where she- in days past had begged to return to, but now that place is a dimmed memory she no longer wishes to lighten.

The same damp room, a sewing needle in one hand a prayer book in the other.

"The hour is getting late." Claennis whispered as Fria placed the basket away securely, "Lynette come on!" She called out.

Blinking her eyelids to rid away any fatigue she felt Lynette nodded her head when Fria pointed to the door before she proceeded towards it Lynette bended down to fix the dagger that is wrapped around her ankle, securing it in position- where it had been all day.

Claennis grabbed her upper arm causing Lynette to turn to her, "Is that safe?" She inquired.

"It is, Sihtric showed me how to secure it before he left." Lynette softly answered.

"He did, did he?" Claennis smiled.

"He wanted us to be safe." Lynette rolled her eyes.

Claennis nudged her, "Of course- us." She giggled.

Lynette sighed, amused but she would not admit that, "Must you always do this?"

"Do what, Lynette?" Claennis feigned innocence, she knew her teasing without fail would result in a pinkish-rosy blush upon Lynette's cheeks and a roll of the eyes accompanied by a shove or a sigh of exasperation either way it was amusing and Claennis thoroughly enjoyed jesting.

Lynette shook her head with an exasperated sigh and Claennis scrunched her nose holding back her laughter.

"I think it to be quite romantic." She said.

Lynette raised her brows, "What?"

"How he looks out for us." Claennis bit back a smile.

"You find this humorous but I assure you Claennis, he does care." Lynette stated.

The sun was on the verge of full submersion behind the vast horizon as they stepped outside, the air was dressed in a bitterness- the chill, by no means, relenting its iciness. Hues of elapsed sunshine lingered in the grounds veiling towering trees and the leaves that call branches their home.

"Here, now tie it around like this." Sihtric's voice ordered, it echoed as a memory in Lynette's mind, reminiscence of their last conversation.

"A dagger?" Lynette looked to him, amused she used her hand to hide her smile.

Sihtric found not even the smallest fragment of amusement his features hard and stern, "What is funny about this?" He snapped.

"Nothing Sihtric." She whispered failing to hold back her laugh.

Sihtric rolled his eyes.

"You're giving me a dagger, I don't even know how to use it." Lynette explained, flustered

Sihtric placed the dagger in her hands, his touch lingering "You think of yourself too lowly...you do know how to use it." He proclaimed, his tone fierce as to ignite the spark of strength within Lynette, the weightiness of their situation.

"And you think of me too highly, need I remind you of our one and only sword-training lesson?" She sighed pushing the dagger back into his hold, rubbing her hand over her stressed features and then turning away for a brief moment before fixing her gaze back onto the green-grey eyes of the desperate man before her.

"It ended well, did it not?" Sihtric raised his brows "Do what you did then, imagine that fucking turd for all I care -actually- I would much prefer it if you did." He jested though his tone was still tinted with an abundance of austerity.

"I just need to know you have something Lynette...to protect yourself with." He whispered, gentle tone now with soft heartedness.

Lynette felt her heart swell blending together in a mix of fondness and sadness, for one he was worried about her just as much as she is for him the mere thought of Sihtric- may he be a great sword wielder or not- out there killing someone who might be better than him troubled her immensely and two she hated seeing him go, it was not like a hunting trip as Sihtric had told her this would take longer, she despised it.

Reaching over Lynette grabbed the dagger back from Sihtric's hand, it fit perfectly in her grasp and she held it with a new found fierceness, she needed to be strong- and she will be- "I'll just imagine the turd." She stated with a shrug.

Sihtric smiled, "Do not be so careless, this is important." He light-heartedly scolded, "Take it seriously." He demanded.

Lynette nodded her head "I will." She whispered, "You just need to came back, alive, otherwise this dagger will be in you." She jested, although, the gleam in her eyes conveyed the opposite of her playful tone.

Sihtric tilted his head watching Lynette as she admired the dagger, "I will come back that is my promise to you." He softly whispered.

"It has rained enough for the next ten years." Claennis complained, Lynette looked to her with an adoring smile.

"I am sure the flowers are most grateful." Lynette cheerfully said.

"They may-be but I do not wish to be soaked in this water. " Claennis exhaled, peeved, to this Lynette laughed it echoed as she tilted her head back.

"Perhaps you can dance in it, this may change your view." Lynette shook her head.

Claennis laced her arm with Lynette's before she replied, "You would enjoy that, would you not?"

Lynette rolled her eyes, "I suppose, then I'll have another thing to tease you about."

"You will not, I'm an excellent dancer."

As they neared their damp small rooms Lynette and Claennis caught sight of Fria stood a few steps outside quickening their pace they reached the other girl who was shaking but this was not the type of shiver caused by the iciness that surrounds them from the cold winds but more so a tremble of fear, before Claennis could inquire a loud bang was heard behind the door.

Lynette swiftly leaned down and pulled the dagger from its place around her ankle joint grasping it tightly in her hand holding it closely beside her as if it were a part of her skin, stitched in.

"Stay behind me." Lynette whispered as she entered inside first.

A gasp broke past her closed lips as her widened eyes roamed the room, the mess it had become, beds thrown apart, what little clothing they had littered the floor. Lynette rushed further inside and turned a corner, the small tiny corner which was supposed to be hidden from villainous eyes, the saintly corner for worship was torn apart. The small wooden crucifixes, hand made by Fria in secret, were broken- completely splintered- Lynette's eyes landed on two men, one of them tall and gruesome held the larger crucifix in his hold, it was fine.

"We thought we would surprise you but it seems like you left us a surprise instead, how kind." Arne chuckled.

Claennis and Fria stood beside Lynette silent as lambs except Claennis's eyes held a fury in them like no other, a fire that can only been extinguished by a quenching of a thirst- the very need to see those before her, Arne and whoever the other ugly man is, perish brutally.

"What are you doing in here?" Lynette asked, hiding the dagger behind her.

Arne tilted his head continuing to swing the crucifix, mockingly "I was bored, we came searching for amusement." He replied.

"Get the fuck out!" Claennis snapped, her voice trembled but she kept her stance tall.

"I would advise you, little girl, to hold your tongue." The other one snarled standing up from his seat on a broken-worn out table.

Claennis clenched her jaw, "I told you to-" Fria pinched Claennis's side causing the girl to turn to her with a glare- determined to snap at her but Claennis was met with Fria's eyes, they held a pleading look in them- begging Claennis to be quiet, silently beseeching her to back away to not say another word for she feared for their safety.

Lynette blinked her fingers tightened their hold around the hilt of the small dagger, "Please put down the crucifix." She said.

"Oh, this thing?" Arne smirked, "Here Frode, do you want it I have become bored by it?" Frode raised his hand up allowing for the crucifix to fly across the air and land into his ghastly hands.

Lynette sighed she was becoming irritated, "Okay-just please leave." She wearily demanded, it did not matter that she had a weapon in her grasp the fear was still evident hanging over her like a thunder cloud.

"You do speak, silence was just a choice for you then, never-mind do go on- it's quite amusing." Arne tauntingly jested, the spark of evil glimmering nastily in his eyes. "I do happen to admire your voice..." He looked to Frode, "Never thought I would." He laughed.

Lynette hardened her stare she kept her mouth locked and refused to say another word this, in turn, angered Arne- he expects all to answer his demands and when defiance is shown he seeks what he deems as justice through measures of pure terror.

"Fine you don't want to speak." He snapped approaching her, "How about I just take your clothes- that'll get you speaking, will it not-"

As he neared Lynette Claennis stepped in front of her but Lynette had already lunged forward, before the man could finish his sentence, the hand grasping the dagger as if it were a wound of her own palm plunged itself into Arne's shoulder. The scream that tore through his mouth was strained before it ripped through as a loud echo of uncontrollable agony, she heard it pierce his flesh and for a quick moment she allowed herself to find the situation amusing- for it was because she had wanted to do this for a long while now, too long.

The sight of seeing him scream out in complete and utter anguish evoked something sinful within Lynette the desire to pull back and plunge the dagger somewhere where it would take his life gnawed at her.

"Fuck!- You whore." He shouted but the words were somewhat incoherent, the ache from the stab wound had began to take control of his senses- all he knew now was the throbbing anguish as blood began to exude out.

Lynette pulled the dagger out and stepped back, blood trickled onto the floor in small oval droplets- odd shaped- the steel was drenched in a dark scarlet colour, tainted and corrupted.

Frode rushed towards Arne and grabbed him but the injured man pushed him away angrily.

"Get the bitch, you idiot!" He frustratedly yelled.

Fria screamed in pure shock as she rushed back to the door hiding herself.

Frode looked up with the intense rage of irritation in his stare, "Who the fuck was it?" His eyes roamed both girls, the dagger was still clasped firmly in Lynette's hand.

Frode tsked before approaching her but as he advanced Claennis grabbed the dagger from Lynette, "It was me!" She snapped.

Lynette wide-eyed shook her head but in her state of refined astonishment she was unable to function, her words were not leaving her thoughts, she felt her heart rate quicken immensely and it pounded against her ribs, the cage, the room was spinning she was sure of it-or maybe it was a trick, she hoped this whole thing was a jest, that she had imagined it all.

A trick, a punishment- she had not been praying, her mother had seen it all. Elodie had always told her to pray, wholeheartedly.

Lynette finally realised what Claennis had done, "No! she is lying I stabbed him." Lynette rushed out her words stuttered slightly and why would they not? Lynette was petrified, she- for a quick moment as if it were a reflex imbedded into her soul- thought of Sihtric and how she wished he was here, infinitely so.

But he isn't and she is here alone, with Claennis, she must do something-reliance on others can no longer save her, not when they cannot always be around.

"We'll just take the both of you then." Frode sneered as he grabbed Lynette and Claennis with force, his nails digging into their skin the sleeves covering their arms doing next to nothing to protect them from the razor sharpness that had pierced their skin.

The fire burned caged in its bed of iron-it hissed as it danced in a wicked prance with the bitter winds, doing little and less to warm the large hall. The darkness that covered the skies outside in a vivid silence that demanded a revered awe did the precise opposite- instead- for the two girls they felt naught but trepidation, the dread of what is to come. Lynette stood close to Claennis their fingers brushing momentarily as a silent trace of their friendship- I am here, as are you- together.

"It appears as if you have done some damage to Arne's shoulder." Kjartan said his stare locked on Claennis. When the girl did not reply his stare moved across and onto Lynette "Or shall I say you?" He raised his brows.

Sven stood to the side, the eye patch a clear distinction that it is him, his lips were twisted in the shape of wicked smirk.

"Who is to answer for this?" Kjartan asked, his tone was uncomfortably calm and this only enhanced their fear.

Lynette did not want to give Claennis a chance to speak up- so she quickly opened her mouth, "It was me." She announced, though her voice was quiet and it shook.

Kjartan looked to her, jaw clenched, "Speak up!" He shouted.

Lynette flinched biting her lip before she transferred her gaze from the ground to Kjartan's face, he looked irritated, "It was-"

"I did it and I am fucking glad I did." Claennis rushed out, loud and clear, something Lynette was unable to do.

"Is that so?" Kjartan drawled out slow, seething, as he stood up.

Lynette looked to her friend with wide eyes she grabbed Claennis's hand and squeezed it harshly, "Stop it." Lynette hissed and Claennis only squeezed back twice as harsh an indication for Lynette to be quiet, but she would not.

"Lord, she is lying the dagger belongs to me." Lynette said this time she ensured her voice was clear and that it resounded through the hall, so that all in this hellhole had heard her.

Kjartan stopped before them, the anger he is feeling could be felt its waves being emitted- the emotion a fierce volcano of terror, "I hate liars." He said excruciatingly slow "And I hate disobedience."

Lynette blinked, her breathing escalating -no- she gasped in a hushed whisper under her breath.

His stare stayed locked on Claennis, he did not acknowledge Lynette and this frustrated her- for she was the culprit, she was the one that had brutally and with vicious wrath plunged the dagger into Arne's shoulder and basked in his melody of flawless anguish- the song of a devil.

"You are to go." Kjartan revealed.

Lynette furrowed her brows.

Claennis clenched her jaw in defiance.

Kjartan leaned into Claennis, "I shall get a large sum for you." He smirked, wicked and devilish, he truly is Kjartan the cruel.

Claennis kept her features stoic but Lynette knew her- she was trembling inside- her fists though they are clenched beside her showing strength Lynette knew she was doing this to force back her tears, her teeth most likely gritted to prevent her from saying anything now. Though her stance is tall and unwavering Lynette knew, truly, that Claennis wished to be in the comfort of solitude- maybe she would allow Lynette inside- so she can cry.

"Lord, let me have her." Arne's voice piqued up, he stepped forward eyes locked onto Lynette.

Kjartan did not reply he kept his devilish stare on Claennis and she too in her defiance glared back. Arne continued his path until he was mere steps away from Lynette she could feel his ghastly breath linger onto her skin piercing and jabbing, his presence brought a heavy burden upon Lynette's chest as she took a small -barely noticeable- step away.

"I will teach the whore the importance of obedience." He snarled, his shoulder was now bandaged up though when Lynette glanced toward him she could see pools of deep red emerge atop the white of the wrapping.

She gulped and remained silent, hands fisted tightly.

Ignoring Arne, Kjartan turned to Lynette "And you." - she told herself no more flinching and instead tried her best to stand identical to Claennis- in posture- "Get out." He demanded.

Lynette turned to look at Claennis which Kjartan did not take lightly to, "I said get the fuck out now! or do you wish to be dragged out?" He shouted, seething, a vein protruding from his forehead.

Claennis quickly squeezed Lynette's hand in a quiet show of adoration and secret feather of gentle fondness, before she let go. Lynette blinked back her tears -no- she would not cry here, she turned around and hurried out the hall.

Pure blackness canvased Lynette the instant she stepped outside- her breathing releasing from her chapped lips in frantic waves, in and then out, in and then out, in and then out. Tears tore out from Lynette's eyes, gushing in an uncontrolled manner, her soul bleeding an ocean of pain, the enormity of her guilt- it was her fault.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Cumbraland
Kingdom of Northumbria

The night that canvased Sihtric was a stark contrast to that of Lynette's- his was alive with raw energy, the sparks of fire swaying into the depths of the obscured night. A quilt of stars, illuminating the black panorama, the moons gleams shone through and across the shadowed field. 

Shouts of excited men, celebrating and cheering, resounded through the thick darkness of the night as Sihtric sat across from Tekil and the few other men they had brought with them for this idiotic errand. His hand was wrapped around a large jug of ale, sipping rather obnoxiously- trails of the drink would run down his chin.

Uhtred of Bebbanburg.

His name echoed in Sihtric's mind- Lynette of Bebbanburg- her name, as always, had weaved its way to the centre of his thoughts, the unfading essence, of it, a boundless architecture she had crafted herself.

Lynette, the bastard daughter of the man who stole Uhtred's inheritance- he calls himself of Bebbanburg, the rightful heir in contrast Lynette had decided she was not of Bebbanburg, she never spoke of that place, not even a whisper of it had drifted in the air- as if she had vanquished any memory of it from even the innermost parts of her spirit. And Sihtric Kjartansson- he would scoff, there was a familiarity between them, an understanding- she desired to be known as Lynette, not of somewhere- no father, and he as just Sihtric.

It would be an unfaithful deception if Sihtric were to say he had not thought of Lynette, from the first moment the horse's hooves had trodden out of Dunholm the gates shutting with a reverberating bang Sihtric had been consumed-even more so than usual- by her memory, it was the only thought guiding him forward.

Tekil leaned forward pushing the ale cup to the side, "We capture this Uhtred first it will make killing that foolish king easier." He mocked the word, king, it slithered out from his mouth in a caper of frank disdain.

"If we could just get him on his own." Another Dane murmured.

Tekil shook his head, "Patience idiot." He snapped, "Just enjoy yourself, drink." He pushed the cup to him.

Sihtric decided it was best for him not to drink, he sat quietly.

"You." Tekil nudged Sihtric, "...think of yourself too highly for a drink?"

Sihtric sighed, "No... you do not want to be drunk when you approach Uhtred, he is said to be a fierce warrior."

Tekil scoffed and the other men surrounding the table laughed tauntingly, "We will see." He snarled.

The tumultuous shouts of excitement resonated louder as the night went on, it had weaved itself into the atmosphere with no escape.

"Do you think we would be rewarded for this?" One of them spoke up in a hushed whisper.

"What? bringing back that turd." Tekil laughed.

"Yes, I think we ought to be." He continued.

"Halfdan, I advise you to say this to Lord Kjartan." Telkil smirked.

Another Dane by the name of Baldar scoffed amused tremendously, "Tekil you know Kjartan would have his tongue out that is if his eye does not take preference."

Halfdan rolled his eyes, infuriated and agitated, "So?- we are to do this simply because he asked, what Sihtric here..." Halfdan patted Sihtric's back who in response shuffled away with a sigh of exasperation "...says is the truth, Uhtred is a fierce warrior the battle of Ethandun speaks for itself."

"Ah yes the famous battle of Ethandun- yet another fucking weak Viking lost to their false belief, we need not speak of such a battle." Tekil jeered.

"Let us speak of women!" Baldar cheered.

Sihtric leaned his head back exhaling his frustrations as his eyes roamed the stars embedded into the atramentous sky.

"You have left a woman behind, have you not Sihtric?" Baldar smirked.

Sihtric looked at him with boredom, no response was given- there isn't one he wished to give.

"Yes...the...what is her name?" Tekil nudged Halfdan who simply shrugged fixing himself back into his previous position, "Lynette, pretty." Tekil raised his brows silently urging Sihtric to react.

Baldar groaned in impatience finding the conversation tedious, "What this fool really wishes to ask is, have you humped her yet?"

"I did not take you all as the gossiping type." Sihtric replied clear annoyance laced his tone as his stare flashed with indignation.

"Call it mere curiosity." Baldar stated.

Before Sihtric could respond Halfdan stood up shaking the table, "Look there!" He pointed and the others stare followed across the darkened ground seeing the silhouette of Uhtred advance toward the horse stable.

"Get up you useless idiots, lets go get that fool!" Tekil demanded.

Sihtric stood up his hand grasping his sword as he followed behind the group of men making sure to stay hidden and appear as nothing but breezes of shadowed wind. As they neared the stable Uhtred was tending to his horse patting the fur gently, as if he sensed a drift of danger Uhtred turned rushing only to be met by the Danes.

With quick thinking he turned to leap over the wooden wall of the stable only for Tekil to grab him and roughly pull him back he fell to the ground with a pained grunt before swiftly standing up on his feet. Uhtred began to fight back without a weapon yet he still tried, one Dane approached the warrior and Uhtred pulled back his arm quickly his hand fisted he punched the Dane sending the man tumbling in agony, sounds of huffs and grunts resounded among the bleakness of the night, candle fire only briefly illuminating the space.

With a final kick Uhtred landed on the ground and Tekil leaned down placing a dagger at his neck, he whispered maliciously, "One cry and you're dead."

Uhtred shuffled uncomfortably anger evident on his features.

"My lords Kjartan and Sven send their greetings." Tekil smirked wickedly finding amusement from this, "Uhtred Ragnarson...we have a long journey ahead of us." Tekil remarked as he stood up.

Two Danes pulled Uhtred up by his arms holding him as he tried to break from their hold fuelled only by vehemence and resentment, the mention of Kjartan and Sven's names ignited a fire of refined fury in Uhtred it was clear from the way he glared at them with such animosity.

"And you will only see have of it." Tekil stated nearing Uhtred, "I am allowed to take an eye...which one would you like to keep?" He asked placing the dagger on Uhtred's cheek.

"The blue one." Uhtred grunted out, blood seeping from his busted lip "I swear I will kill you before we reach Kjartan." Uhtred seethed.

"I look forward to seeing you try." Tekil smiled, humoured by Uhtred's threat.

The silence was broken by loud shouts as men rushed in, Sihtric taken by surprise quickly turned swinging his sword but the darkness prevented him from seeing much as one man came from the front and another from the back attacking him and causing him to fall to the ground in a frustrated grunt.

Uhtred plunged the dagger into Tekil's thigh causing the Dane to release his deathly grip on Uhtred's neck. Sihtric, standing tall, tried to fight back but he had lost his sword and they was too many men, as one advanced toward him with a fiery glare their weapon ready to plunge into Sihtric.

Uhtred shouted, "No! I need one of them alive!" Turning back to Tekil "Not you." He snarled before plunging the dagger into Tekil's stomach, the Dane gasped in pain his body falling limp from the throbbing with a groan he fell to the ground the blood from his wound seeping onto the hay covering the stable in crimson red.

Sihtric breaths were fast as he tried to catch himself, all of them, the men he came with- Tekil, Halfdan, Baldar- all were dead, except for him.

He was grateful, though he did not know what was to happen now, he felt relief- he cannot die here, he cannot die at all.

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A/N: Heyy, here is another chapter! Uhtred is here!! I had so much fun exploring Lynette's character this chapter lol Sihtric just wanting to be left alone and not talk is so real.

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

She was: 😁
And then: 😨
- don't worry Sihtric would be proud!!