Dunholm
Kingdom of Northumbria

Lynette glanced ahead her chest heaved, up and down, exhale and then inhale. All the while her hands remained ever firm with the tiny wooden bowl of food grasped in her shaky hands. Every morn she would find herself before the door with a heavy heart and each time she would open and descend the dilapidated stairs, the wood unstable as if with one wrong step the whole thing would collapse to the ground. The room would bring a weighty drift upon her, with each step forward. The basement painted in an eerie darkness, not a trace of light except from a miniscule caged window broken into the brick wall.

Lynette knew why, she understood the reasons but that did not mean they were right, she knew each and every one to be bred of evil yet here she was once again.

The smell of rain carved the morning, the outside shrouded by a thick veil of fog and her feet took small timid steps down the stairs, the door had creaked and its sound travelled down fading into the darkness. Her eyes trained firmly on the next step she took making sure she does not topple down.

Lynette could hear nothing but the sound of the breeze among the darkness.

The far back of the opaque room was slightly lit by wavering candles only allowing just enough light for a person to see a few steps ahead but not enough for the comfort of the soul. Lynette held tighter onto the tray as she walked further in, further towards the bars that kept her locked behind.

"Who is it?" The panicked voice called, "Lynette is that you?"

With an exhale Lynette felt her heart drop and shatter at the tone of Thyra's voice.

She stepped forward and placed the tray down, "Yes it is me." She replied in a soft whisper.

Thyra rushed toward the bars her hands grabbed them as she looked to Lynette with a smile, "I missed you." Her voice was quiet and tired.

Lynette could not bare to see her like this, through all her time here Lynette had only ever known Thyra to be caged- locked away like a vicious animal. Hidden away in the coldest corner of a cruel fortress in a way Lynette thought Thyra was concealed from the grotesqueness above but each time she would find herself in the vileness below the thought would dwindle away. Her body folded toward any shreds of light she could find, the quiet down here it was unnerving not a solitude one would seek out for comfort but one which is deathly, whispers roam free to madden.

"I missed you too." Lynette quietly responded.

"Why are you speaking so quietly?" Thyra frowned.

Lynette shook her head "I am not, here I have brought food please eat." Lynette pushed the food towards the bar and she passed it through, first the bread and then a bowl of soup and finally some water. Lynette smiled as she watched Thyra take a small bite once she was content that Thyra would eat Lynette sat down on the cold damp floor in-front of the bars.

"Lynette, stand up the floor is cold you will get sick!" Thyra snapped sighing.

"You should not worry because I do not." Lynette simpered.

Fear crippled at Lynette the candles barely lit the unwelcoming room she could not comprehend how Thyra stayed down here, day in and day out, spending a few minutes down here already had uneasiness flourishing in Lynette's veins taking control of her blood and steering it towards complete dread, panic roamed her mind freely.

Lynette leaned in closer, "I can try bring you another covering I-"

"Do not be a fool if you are caught then..." Thyra shook her head biting into the bread.

Lynette sighed with a groan "I won't be, I will make sure of it." She urged. The chill in the room was felt vehemently, so bitter and unrelenting, "Thyra it is freezing down here forget that I will get sick., you definitely will." Lynette pressed distressingly.

"Good maybe then I will die." Thyra murmured- as if it were a ordinary thing to say.

Without knowing what to say Lynette allowed silence to overcome once again as Thyra slurped on the soup. The girl spoke of death so easily welcoming its grasp as if she was awaiting its hold so desperately, the immense end she is longing for. Lynette could remember how she also wished for death in the early days of when she was thrown into this hell, the days where she pushed back God and prayer and the days where everything seemed to be harrowing but she could never amount it to how Thyra must be feeling only knowing the cruelty of this hell.

"Now tell me what has been going on up there?" Thyra asked, tiredness seeped in her cadence, as she took a large sip of the water.

Lynette lightly laughed, "Nothing. It is the same as always."

"And you?" Thyra whispered.

Lynette smiled kindly, "I am fine, really you mustn't worry about me."

"I do worry you are my only friend here Lynette." Thyra proclaimed.

"Oh." Lynette gasped, "I have taught myself a new stitch, I was working on a new dress and-"

Before Lynette could continue the door creaked open the sound loud and alarmingly horrifying. Lynette rushed to stand up almost tripping from the length of her dress, she exhaled then held her breath watching a tall figure descend the stairs.

He walked forward allowing the candles to illuminate his face and Lynette gulped, with a large cloth covering his eye and a disdainful look on his face aimed at Lynette he walked further in until he was just mere steps away from Lynette and the bars containing Thyra behind them.

"You, down here again." Sven, the one-eyed, snapped.

"I was bringing Thyra food." Lynette whispered avoiding eye contact.

Sven's stare moved from Lynette over towards Thyra who was stood practically glued to the bars her hands grasping them as she shot daggers at the revolting man before them. Behind her two hounds appear very slowly inching closer towards Thyra and glaring at Sven, Lynette knows the hounds despise him just as much as herself and Thyra do.

"She has been fed so leave now." Sven scowled turning his gaze back to Lynette.

Lynette turned back grabbing the tray, quickly glancing at Thyra before turning around and scurrying towards the stairs. As she reaches for them a hand aggressively grabs her upper arm.

Sven pulled her in closer to him his lips mere inches from her ear and his breath a sickening smell, it was almost nauseating, "Next time leave the fucking food and get out." He snarled, momentarily tightening his hold on her arm and then letting go.

Lynette did not spare a glance at him and just left rushing up the stairs her arm began to instantly ache the pain travelling her muscles but over that pain, she felt immense anger the sinful want to smash the tray against his thick head and watch as he falls to the ground. The violent thought to bang his head vigorously against the wall his blood would taint the ground it litters but Lynette would not care the satisfaction of death would be pure enough if she forced herself to believe the lie hard enough.

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The candles flickering in the corner of the room casted shadows along the back wall though the light outside itself was striking and strong the candles served no purpose but its fire to warm the room. Sihtric stood tall his hands by his side and his gaze locked onto the small shadows. Kjartan was silent, eerily silent, lost in whatever stupidity his mind had conjured up and Sihtric hatred this, he much preferred it when his father would ignore him but that was not possible Kjartan is a foul man who relishes in even fouler acts.

His eyes held a masked look of hatred in them, a pool of ever growing detestation, for the man he refuses to call father. To Sihtric, Kjartan was not even a man someone with such a fragile and tarnished ego one which he covers with acts of suffering and torment towards others much weaker than him to feed the hungry hound he is, he is the worst of it. And his son the one he claims his heir, the legitimate one, a fool and an idiotic creature no better than the man that he calls father. Sihtric detests them both with a hatred fierce enough to match that of fire, a blazing searing flame.

Focusing on the thought that he has Lynette, a rose full hearted and kind, kept Sihtric afloat atop this chaos thriving ship among the cruellest of men.

"You think too much, boy!" Kjartan snapped his voice unruly and aggressive.

Sihtric blinked and then moved his gaze to lock onto the only other person in the room.

Kjartan shook his head as he stepped forward and Sihtric felt the same fear inch deeper into his flesh, one which had planted roots so deep into his soul he could not rid of them, not even if he tried. His eyes fixed themselves to the ground as he pushed away a memory, a remnant of a harsh past, a young boy terrified.

Grabbing a chalice Kjartan filled it to the brim with ale, the jug he keeps for his own selfish pleasure in his own large chamber, he took a huge sip sighing afterward.

Shouts of men could be heard outside as they continued about their tiring yet repetitive days. Turning to look at Sihtric, Kjartan felt irritation he acknowledged the boy's existence little and less as each day passed.

"Do you enjoy fighting?" Kjartan scowled yet his tone held a hint of clear laced mockery as if he were taunting Sihtric, making him out to be a fool which he is not.

Sihtric just clenched his jaw, "No Lord." He replied.

"That is not what I am hearing." Kjartan taunted taking further steps until he halts and seats himself down on a comfortable chair. "I do need men that enjoy fighting more than they do humping, do you?" He raised his brows as he took another sip from his chalice, eyes locked onto Sihtric from above the rim of the cup.

The urge to plunge his sword into Kjartan's neck was monstrous, a ravenousness need, it griped at Sihtric who just remained silent.

Kjartan finding this amusing leaned forward on his seat, "Nothing to say." He joked but Sihtric did not take it as such for he knew that the man meant only harm, "I have heard from whispers that you have taken a liking towards a certain serving girl." This caught Sihtric's attention firmly his stare hardening, his hands clenching by his side and his chest heaving.

Abhorrence toward the monster sat before him veiled Sihtric, he despised that he would even mention her it did not sound right. Lynette is the embodiment of all that is good, a beautiful soul bathed in hymns sang by angels. Kjartan mentioning her took that and twisted it into something tainted as if his lips had defiled her by even speaking of her.

Sewing his lips shut seemed appropriate.

Kjartan threw the empty chalice aside, the sound of it hitting the ground loud and cacophonous, and strolled towards Sihtric. He stood before him with a stare deadly matching that of Sihtric's, his hand reached up and he grabbed Sihtric's face harshly his fingers digging into the skin of his cheeks with such strength it was sure to leave behind marks of terror.

Sihtric, though in pain, kept his face unflinching.

"That fucking stare, so much anger." Kjartan said, "I could take your eyes, boy." He seethed.

The air around them turned over, razors of wrath covered them, an unnerving and fury fuelled resentment settled between them a whisper urging one of them to attack. Sihtric split between the choices of falling prey to the voracious danger that revenge craved or prey to the continuous torment chose to side with the latter for he knew that he would not get away with slaying the lord of Dunholm, this hell.

"Or I could take her eyes?" Kjartan let go of Sihtric's face but stayed stood before him this time with a grim mischievous look on his hellish face.

Before Sihtric could answer the door flung open, beautiful locks of hair and a vibrant red dress lightened the room as Dahlia stepped inside, "You will do no such thing, Brother." She demanded.

Kjartan stepped back with a grunt turning his back to Sihtric who stood frustrated beyond relief. Dahlia pushed the door shut her eyes glancing over her brother to land on Sihtric, "You may leave." She ordered.

Taking one last quick look in the room Sihtric rushed out not sparing a glance towards the wicked man. Dahlia walked inside her gaze sent on the ale she poured herself a small amount her hands clasping the chalice as she turned to look at Kjartan with her brows raised in irritation. Leaning her back against the dresser, "You do enjoy taking eyes finding the right one for your son, are you?" Dahlia jested Kjartan however did not find this to be amusing.

"What is it you wished to speak about?" Dahlia inquired.

Kjartan stared at her with annoyance, "You happen to be a few days late, sister." He snapped.

"I know." She quipped taking a sip from her cup, "It seems we both have matters at hand." She informed.

"Of course, though I am not quite sure on the importance of yours." Kjartan rolled his eyes turning to look at her, "Tell me."

Dahlia scoffed, "And what do you do besides drinking like a fat man and humping like a dog?" She smirked.

Kjartan shook his head, he closed his eyes for a second before opening them once again, "You are to be wed again." He spoke his voice a clear ringing in the room, there was no other way to say it than to just drop it upon her.

The abrupt sound of laughter filled the room as Dahlia's amusement at her brother's words was made abundantly plain, "You jest." She snapped her laughter suddenly ceasing.

"No, I do not." Kjartan sighed. "You will remarry to whomever I decide." He raised his brows challenging her.

"Why....what brought this on?...I am perfectly fine as I am." Dahlia scowled placing the chalice down.

"Why do think Dahlia? Alliances need to be made." Kjartan frustratedly pressed.

"Alliances?" She sneered, "Fuck alliances." Dahlia stumbled as her brother's words echoed in her mind, you are to be wed, she would rather string herself than ever be tied to another man again.

"No! You listen to me sister." Kjartan shouted the vein in his forehead protruding out as the anger easily takes over his features "Father is dead therefore I will do with you as I wish, and you will remarry." His words are slow and fierce.

Her face held no emotion except that of pure and refined vehemence, "Fine do as you wish brother." She spoke quietly her tone eerily calm all of a sudden "Who knows this new husband of mine may also die in a mysterious way." She tilted her head.

Kjartan exhaled enragedly his sister was annoying him, "When the time comes you will listen Dahlia, I command it of you." He ordered, his stare daunting.

"Of course whatever you command." Dahlia spoke as she made her way towards the door, "Lord." Sarcasm weaved the word the door slamming shut behind her. Dahlia had no more patience to stand in the same room as Kjartan listening to his incessant voice, the power hungry fool.

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The sun illuminated the sea of vibrant colours along the field as Lynette sat beside Claennis. The waters of the river were freezing yet her hands were emerged deep rubbing the dirt off the clothes as she blows a stray piece of hair away from her face. Patterns of elapsed rainfall sculptured the winds as they swirled past them, choreographed in disarray yet felt almost calmingly.

Lynette's arm was aching the more she scrubbed discomfort evident on her face. It felt as if Sven's grasp was still firm on her upper arm his fingers bitterly digging into her skin the nails biting into the soft flesh as his infuriated gaze spoke only of his dislike of her.

"Maybe you should sit back for a short while." Claennis's suggested kindly.

Lynette shook her head, "I could but I think it may rain again soon, we should hurry." Her head turned back to stare at the Dane his eyes locked onto them with irritation and boredom.

"Have you ever thought about it?" Claennis whispered leaning into Lynette's side.

Lynette blinked shaking her head slightly, "Thought about what?"

"Escaping." Her voice was quieter now a mere hum among the winds.

Lynette bit her lip turning back to continue scrubbing the cloth in her hold, "I have." She admitted "But not anymore and anyway where would we go?" Lynette asked.

Claennis sighed "Anywhere is better than here." She murmured, "I just want to wring his fucking neck." Claennis snapped looking back at the Dane that was watching them.

Lynette bit back a smile as the dark blue shadows of the waters crept along the grass. Lynette pondered on her last words, Claennis is right Dunholm was evil on earth a glance into what true hell looks like. Every waking moment is endured in fear, unease that even the wrong move may result in horrors unknown. Lynette had learned to keep out of the way, her head always turned to the ground as she walks the path of the fortress, her mouth closed not even her breathing was audible and her eyes always avoided those of others.

Lynette turned around where she heard the soft flow of deep voices carry through the wind, a tiny smile graced her lips as she saw Sihtric walk towards herself and Claennis the other Dane rushing to leave.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered as he came to a stop next to her, he sat down his hand grabbing a tunic from inside the basket plunging it into the rivers water.

"Not happy to see me?" He jested, his gaze locked onto her face.

Claennis leaned over "She is, are you going to help?" She excitedly inquired.

Lynette glanced at her with amusement, "Yes are you Sihtric?" She turned to him with small grin.

"The answer depends on whether you are happy to see me or not?" He replied with raised brows slightly leaning into Lynette.

Lynette rolled her eyes looking back to the water she whispered "I am."

"Then I am here to help." He revealed and Lynette scoffed with humour.

Claennis smiled as she continued her work rubbing ferociously at the clothes, it was her outlet for all the anger she bottled inside. And Lynette would periodically take small glances toward the raven-haired Dane beside her, she remembered the first time that they had spoken properly a conversations she is not soon to forget.

The air was blissful and Lynette scorned it, she glared and scowled, hatred filled her veins and she was sure her blood was boiling although why she cannot feel her skin heat was confusing Lynette still carried the notion all the same. Her cheek, however, that was hot- red from when his palm has smacked against her soft flesh as she had cried relentlessly. Lynette had promised herself she would not stop until they tire of her so much so they would release her, she did not care that she was unaware of her surroundings, where she is, she will find her way back by herself.

The pain eased when a teardrop strayed down her cheek sinking into the skin and soothing it and before she could comprehend her face had become overcome with tears, silent, her throat ached and she could no longer find the strength to voice her sorrow.

The burn in her was ever intense, that was unwilling to dim, for its fervour had burned itself onto her, an anger so deep and betrayal so profound. She despised her father not like how she had done so before. This, no, this was real, something different and she knew it now to be true.

"This may help." A voice crashed through, it was quiet.

Lynette turned and her eyes fell upon the boy from a few days ago, how long had it been?, Lynette had lost count but she was sure it had been a few days, a week at most. His arm outstretched held a wet cloth in it and Lynette blinked her gaze back up to his face. He nodded his head urging her to grab it and so she did, her hand pressed it to her red cheek and she sighed in comfort.

The shadows of pine-branched trees coated the grass before them, she watched as the wind would distort the shape. "Thank you." She whispered.

Sihtric looked to her, he observed her hands- the skin surrounding her nails specifically, the flesh red and irritated from her nervous pinching and pulling.

"You are the bastard, right?" Her eyes locked with his and Sihtric frowned from her words.

"That is quite rude." Sihtric replied.

Lynette shook her head, taken aback, "Oh, my apologises I just--I heard one of the men say it."

"I am, do you harbour resentment towards bastards, should I take my leave?"

Lynette frowned, "No I do not, how can I when I am one myself?"

Sihtric blinked, "Do you know your father?" He inquired, his tone hushed.

Lynette scowled, "I do and I hate him."

"I hate my father too."

"Good, fathers are nothing pleasant anyway."

Sihtric let out an abrupt laugh at her frustrated tone, words swathed in pure irritation. Lynette looked to him with confusion and then she narrowed her stare and leaned closer to him her gaze locked onto his face Sihtric tilted his head because of her strange and bewildering character.

"You know I have just realised you have two different coloured eyes." She whispered in amazement her irises wandered over his face, his eyes, from the left to the right in awe.

"Really? I had not noticed." He sarcastically responded. "Do tell me what colours they are."

Lynette rolled her eyes, "I won't if that is the tone you wish to speak to me with."

"I was aware Lynette." Sihtric responded.

"This is awfully terrible of me, since you remember my name, but I seem to have forgotten yours." She glanced away from the embarrassment.

"Sihtric." He answered, "My name is Sihtric."

Lynette smiled and she nodded her head, "Sihtric." She repeated, "Well do not worry I won't forget the name of the kind boy who gave me this cloth for my injury." She laughed.

"And I won't forget the name of the kind girl who told me I have two different coloured eyes."

"You knew that already."

"Yes but it felt nice to be noticed." Sihtric lightly smiled.

Lynette thought of that a lot, a memory she will never let drift- she had called him a bastard, it made her laugh even now.

As time went on the winds had began to howl ominously as the sun slowly started its descent casting shadows along the calm waters. Lynette placed the last washed cloth into the basket and stood up brushing at her clothes.

When she went to grab the basket Sihtric had it already in his grasp.

Sihtric watched as Lynette walked beside Claennis his eyes solely locked onto her, her hair whisking about from the winds the sun's shadows ivory and satin covered her. He thought of the flowers that surround them appearing in her hair, a wild dream brought to life as her eyes would glance up at him. It was crazy but he had imagined it, dreamt it even but never spoke of it. A longing he did not understand, or if he did, it was not the longing but rather its intensity which kept prospering in her presence that he could not comprehend.

"Just place it down there please." Claennis informed Sihtric, the basket was planted on the back table. Lynette shuffled through the dry clothes her hair now tied back. Sihtric admired her for a moment before turning around when he realised he was staring too hard and that Claennis had also noticed.

"I am going to go and get....some....thing." Claennis abruptly rushed out the room, Lynette turned around confused but she shrugged it off.

Grabbing the basket she tried to place it on the second highest shelf as soon as her arm arose up pain travelled the length of it, sharp and sudden, a yelp left her lips and she dropped the basket some of the clothes falling messily in front of the shelves. Sihtric grabbed them and shoved them into the basket standing up to securely and easily place it away, he looked to her with worry and suspicion grabbing her arm gently.

"Did you hurt your arm?" He asked as he delicately began to lift up the sleeve his fingers left shivers in their path as they carried on her skin, Lynette stopped him in his tracks.

"Yes I did, do you know how much heavy lifting I have to do?" She awkwardly laughed, "Quite a lot." Stepping back she took a seat at the table beside them. Sihtric, even though he had his suspicions, let it go and sat beside her.

Lynette was not blind to the subtle marks on Sihtric's face she just did not bring it up knowing entirely the reason for them. Kjartan was never a gentle man to even think him to be as such is a deceit in itself, with a mouth drenched in sin and hands doing the work of the devil Lynette hoped he would die burning.

Her eyes moved from their intense stare on the wood of the table to the man sat beside her to find him already taking her in.

"Have you somehow acquired the talent of sleeping with your eyes open or are you just staring at me that intensely for amusement?" Lynette jested.

Sihtric shook his head amused he nudged her then slightly shuffled his chair closer to her so now his shoulder is practically glued to hers, "I was thinking." He said.

"Well are you going to tell me what about?" She urged.

"We need to strengthen your arms." He suddenly spoke grabbing her arm shaking it about lightly

"Oh." She breathed out pulling her arm back from his grasp, "Is that so? I am what- not strong enough?" She squinted her stare at him.

"I didn't say that." He sighed amused, "You will need to have strong arms for the heavy lifting, no?" He raised his brows, smirk on his lips.

Lynette rolled her eyes leaning back in her chair, "And here I was thinking you would offer to do the lifting for me."

Sihtric breathed out a surprised chuckle, "If you ask nicely I might."

Lynette scowled yet she felt a sudden flutter in her stomach, her cheeks had slightly warmed and she did not know the reason why. Her eyes, which were once locked with Sihtric's, glanced elsewhere she could not stand the intensity his beautiful eyes held, as if he was drinking her in and reading her soul, her body a translucent gemstone of adoration which he filled with devotion.

Lynette felt shy, it was unlike her with him.

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A/N: Heyy here is another chapter! I wanted to write Lynette's relationship with Thyra (who I adore) and also dip slightly into Sihtric's relationship with Kjartan (who I despise). I hope you enjoyred this chapter.

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