Trigger warning:
Violence.

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The air was thick with the remnants of battle as faint whispers of the buried screams of war carried through the cold winds. Sihtric sat cleaning his sword, they had won but had lost men which was inevitable-- far too many men were injured with both sharp and blunt force wounds. Sihtric had wanted to return to Winchester as soon as possible but the ride back would take two days at most and at least a day if he rode fast enough but with the wounded men and sickly king they had to keep stopping to take respite, the bruised needed to be tended to. Sihtric himself had suffered a few injuries here and there, one was a cut on his cheek which was not too deep but still enough to have drawn blood. The ache in his muscles was numbing and he only wished to fall into Lynette's embrace to feel even an ounce of sensation.

As of now, they had taken yet another break in their journey back. Sihtric contemplated for the briefest of moments if he should just keep riding his horse forward-- he does not need to wait for anyone here when there is someone of greater importance waiting leagues ahead.

Everard had his upper arm wrapped in a bandage, the cut was deep and it throbbed, he is sure to never forget such a pain yet the rush of battle still surged in his veins and powered his fatigued muscles. He did not want to be back on the battlefield, he knew that for sure, but the thrill he had felt when the men charged onto them-- a fusion of fear and some sort of strange excitement had filled him, a feeling he had never known before now.

"Just know that this is taking a lot for me to do." Everard mumbled as he sat beside Sihtric, the Dane glanced at him for a moment before he continued cleaning the sword, "I wanted to give you my gratitude-" Sihtric blinked upon hearing his words, "On the field, I would have died."

"You would not have." Sihtric replied.

Everard shook his head, "He was behind me, I was distracted-"

"You were fighting."

"Still, he would have struck me down with his sword- so I thank you."

Sihtric placed the sword down throwing the cloth on top of the steel blade, "I did it for Lynette."

"I had thought that was your way of implying, it's our moment to begin a prosperous friendship." Everard jested.

"No."

"No?" Everard furrowed, "So undisguised and frank. I must have really pissed you off."

Sihtric sighed, "I just about tolerate you, do not make me regret it."

"Let me guess, for Lynn." Everard raised his brows.

The raven-haired Dane narrowed his stare onto Everard with unequivocal annoyance, there was no doubt about his irritation, Everard could feel the sting of it upon his skin and somehow it hurt more that the cut on his upper arm.

"Jealousy does not suit you, friend."

"I am not jealous." Sihtric scoffed, "I have no reason to be." He wanted to believe that but he would be lying if he said he was not envious-- he hadn't taken a fond liking toward Everard for the Frankish man held a dear place in Lynette's heart and for some aggravating reason she, too, held a place in his. It felt childish to him but it bothered him, immensely-- he disliked feeling like that.

"Then you would be right." Everard exhaled, "You are a fucking fool Sihtric. I do not care for her as you do."

Sihtric tilted his head, ignoring that Everard had called him a fucking fool he enclosed his attention onto the last few words the blonde had spoken.

"I admit, I do care for her but in a manner a brother does a sister." Everard stated, "My affections are plainly different than yours. I simply say all those things to pester you- although it is astonishing how you have managed to not punch me yet."

"Do you want me to punch you because that can be arranged?..." Sihtric asked.

"No." Everard shuffled back, "The point I make is clear, you are wedded to her and she is your wife. Lynette is a friend to me, a companion- a sister even." Everard explained, "When I had first met her, I was nothing-- barely even scraping it by. Somehow I had found my way into working for these Dane brothers, that is where we met. She was so kind, tended to my wound- it was slight but she helped and then she continued to lend a hand with the horses which she was not good at. She is dear to me but in ways that will never amount to what you feel for her."

Sihtric blinked as he pondered on his words for a moment, "She has always been too helpful." He muttered.

"What?" Sihtric did not respond, "I can assume you hate me a little less now?" Everard quipped.

"No, I still hate you."

Everard furrowed his brows and then rolled his eyes, "Fine, I had only said those things so you would stop glaring at me. Perhaps you should have coloured yourself green to really sell the notion."

"I said I was not jealous."

"Alright, and I was a king." He fired back.

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The wheel of the wain had broken. Lynette stood impatiently beside Rowena who for some odd reason was in a rather exceptionally strange and ecstatic mood. They were far into Mercia, she knew that for definite-- Lynette had suggested they walk but Rowena scoffed at that and shook her head, she had mentioned how she cannot walk such long distances to which Lynette had informed her it was not too far yet Rowena remained firm on her decision about staying situated until the wain was secured once again.

Ceol was the name of the man that was on his knees fixing the wheel, his pants surely covered in dirt for they had abruptly stopped upon a rather filthy ground, tiny sharp-edged rocks covered the grime--Lynette tilted her head as she observed the man fumble with the wood.

"Should we not at least ask if he needs any assistance?" Lynette leaned into Rowena as she whispered.

Rowena shook her head, "I am not getting on my knees, this happens to be one of my favourite gowns."

Lynette observed Rowena's dress-- it was a beautiful deep blue, rich with a diffused radiance not easily forgotten, the neckline was a square shape it boarded her chest and dipped low enough to show the chemise underneath. The arms were long, wide and full with striking embroidery threaded through like ivy exquisitely pulling the gown together.

"It is quite elegant."

"Quite?" Rowena raised her brows, "I had this specifically made, it is said to be of the latest fashion."

Lynette smiled as she grabbed Rowena's arm, her stare wandered over the stitching as she ran her finger over the clothing, "The stitch here is well done."

"I would hope so." Rowena breathlessly laughed.

"It is even, a steady hand is required for it to be like that--" Lynette let go of her arm, "I like it."

Rowena thought for a moment, "Do you embroider?"

"I do, I made the dress I am wearing now." Lynette ran the palm of her hand down her forest green dress, the running stitch evenly seamed and the backstitch firmly holding together the overlapping threads, it had taken her a while but she adored doing so-- stitching fabrics together, watching as the clothing comes together into a perfect shape. It had taken her years of relentless practice.

"Then you must imbue your talent upon me, it would make my sister ever so delighted if I could finally embroider." Rowena stated, "Even if it were to be of modest design."

Lynette shook her head amused by Rowena's ramblings as the lady continued to talk about how her sister had this need to frame Rowena into an exact pattern of herself, learn how to embroider and do needlework, how to read and be knowledgeable in the arts of herbal medicine and most importantly, the one Rowena greatly struggles with, is to have the social graces of a woman of her standing. She had come to find it all tiresome and tedious. Rowena spent much of her time engrossed in challenges, mischief and swordsmanship the activities that brought her vast joy and satisfaction those which, in turn, would bore her sister.

The blades of grass arose to touch upon the rays of faint sunlight as it seeped down from the sky, sparse greenery barely covered the land with rare sightings of flowers, the thorns from the ice touched roses-- sharp and serrated waiting for someone to pluck the rouge coloured bloom from the weak verdure, anticipating the imminent cut of the soft flesh as warm crimson red pools out. The air was cool, afresh but numbing, a note to the harsh months that are to come. Lynette had become thoroughly enthralled in her surroundings she watched the remaining leaves on the branches sway-- saw as they, too, fell to the leaf covered ground below.

She had hoped that Coel would hasten for she so desperately wanted to get to the Lady Aethelflaed's estate, she had been repeating questions ceaselessly in her mind the whole time since they had left Winchester-- What to say? How to ask? How to make sense of something that even to herself seemed utterly absurd? There was no other way to name it, what she felt and thought, except that it is senseless and wrongful-- she had known that yet the entire journey she had pushed it afar, anytime she would feel herself fall she would look to Rowena as a distraction in the confidence that she may momentarily forget. And Rowena unbeknownst to Lynette's affliction spoke to her, made jests and laughed alongside her. Lynette had asked herself, in a slight heartbeat, if she should unveil the truth of this sudden departure to Rowena but ultimately she had decided to hold her tongue.

"You must tell me more about your husband." Rowena proclaimed.

"I should? What do you wish to know?" Lynette asked.

Rowena sighed, "How am I to know? I was expecting you to just tell me how dreamy he is and how much he--"

"Dreamy?" Lynette cut her off with a laugh.

"Well is he?"

"Hm.." Lynette thought, of course Sihtric is dreamy-- so very handsome and unearthly as if he was not meant for this world but rather for somewhere entirely other-worldly. Lynette had always admired his beauty, she hopes she will see him soon so she may tell him just how beautiful he really is-- she wishes she had said it more often. "I do not know, what is your description of dreamy?"

"Mine, I do not have one-- you are the one that is married, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Lynette's chest heaved with the abrupt laughter that escaped passed her lips.

Rowena rolled her eyes as she moved closer to Lynette, "That is what I see marriage as, an unfortunate circumstance, I suppose you do not."

"I do not." Lynette nodded her head, "I have been blessed with someone that changed my perception of marriage, you may also find-"

"No." Rowena calmly replied, though her pace was quick and fast like she had not wanted Lynette to finish the sentence.

"Does he have short hair or long hair, brown eyes or blue, is he tall or short?" Lynette jested.

"Who do you speak of?" Rowena frowned with confusion upon Lynette's perplexing inquiry.

"Not anyone specific as of now." Lynette quipped, "We are forming your description of dreamy, since you do not have one."

Rowena shook her head, "No need- I do not care for that."

"You prefer short hair, I can see." Lynette pointed out.

"Oh really?" Rowena playfully scoffed.

Before Lynette could respond they had both heard a loud and rather terrifying yell. Lynette turned with wide eyes as she glanced around, Rowena follow pursuit gazing in the opposite direction with a quickened heartbeat. Worry crept through their veins from the mystifying silence that followed after, there was no other yell nor a screech-- nothing but complete and utter silence had shrouded them. Rowena grabbed Lynette's wrist and pulled her closer to herself, Lynette quietly shuffled as she turned to the Lady.

"I am sure it was nothing." Lynette whispered.

Rowena frowned, "The wheel?"

Lynette nodded her head, "Of course- it must have fallen, those things are weighty."

"How much do you think she is worth?" A deep voice called out, in a mocking tone.

Rowena and Lynette, both, snapped their gazes towards where the derisive tone resonated from. Their stares fell upon two men, one tall and the other short but he carried a daunting expression upon his features. Lynette realised they were Danes-- she had heard there was a battle that had occurred at Fearnham, perhaps those are the Danes from that conflict.

The taller man looked down at Rowena his gaze travelled the expanse of her gown, the clothing was of pure rich fabric anyone could make that out and Lynette gripped onto the lady's hand firmly. The other, the one who had spoken, observed Lynette with a taunt in his eyes that chilled her. Lynette blinked, she quietly and as discreetly as possible sauntered her gaze elsewhere-- when a vivid scarlet pool caught her irises, she rushed from Rowena's side to where Coel was working and instead of his bright blonde hair flowing from the winds he lay on the ground, a deep cut slashed across his stomach.

Lynette gasped her hand flew to her mouth to hold back a terrified scream of horror, she felt Rowena's presence behind her and she turned to her with a slow shake of her head.

"Do not mind him, he was a fool." The taller man laughed.

Rowena glared at him, "We have no silver if that is what your deprived selves have come to seek?"

"That is no bother." The shorter one shrugged, "Women are not only good for silver." He stepped forward.

"I would not take another step." Rowena threatened.

The taller man smirked, the shape that his lips had taken spoke of his amusement-- the immense humour he felt from Rowena's threat which he had deemed ineffective.

"Unless you wish to come to me, I shall do as I please." The shorter one snapped.

Lynette glanced around, the Dane's were far too consumed with Rowena and she had to find something to protect themselves with-- she is such a fool, how could she had ventured out without a dagger or even some sort of sword? She scolded herself as she hectically gazed around, across the muddied ground and over the blades of grass.

"You may not have silver but whoever your father is, he is sure to have heaps."

"You cannot be sure." Rowena snarled.

The taller Dane bit his lip from frustration, "I can rip that dress off your body and sell it, then we shall see your worth."

Lynette had fixed her intense gaze upon a large rock, big enough for her to grab and use to hit them across the head-- she knows she is to do that with force, from the very depths of her body and flesh.

"If you wish it so, we can take you back to our Lord."

"I would rather you kill me here." Rowena scowled.

"Do you mean it?"

"Bloodhair would appreciate her, she is good amusement." The shorter one leaned back. His gaze, though, it was on Lynette and she had hers locked onto the rock.

He watched as Lynette took a tiny step, he caught that, then she took another and he still did nothing until she had ran and grabbed it in her hold that is when he had pounced toward her grabbing her by her waist. Lynette tightened her hold on the large rock, it was evidently much too big for her hands but she held on.

"You have not spoken." He whispered into her ear.

Lynette squirmed in his hold but he just rigidified his grasp on her, he dug his nails into her stomach-- they were sharp enough to pierce through the thin fabric of her dress and she winced.

He placed something sharp against her neck, Lynette froze as he trailed the blade down the skin of her throat, to her chest and then it came to a sudden stop at her stomach. "Please." She muttered.

"What was that?" He taunted, he had heard her plea, "Say it again--" He grabbed her face and turned it towards his eyes, "You are pretty, when you're quiet."

Rowena had tried to reach Lynette but the other Dane had grabbed a hold of her, placing his large hand above her mouth to shut her up but that did not stop Rowena as she watched the shorter Dane torment Lynette with his steel blade, he glided it around her body slowly in a manner to viciously tease her.

"Please do not do it." Lynette said, trying to keep her tone strong and forceful but her beating heart and the sweat that had now began to cover her did more to stress her fear than anything else.

"Do what?" He ran the tip of the blade, the sharp point, over her arm. Lynette breathed out shakily.

Before the man could torment Lynette further Rowena had bit into the hand of the other Dane so hardly blood had appeared upon the flesh of his palm-- she then took the man's sword and pointed it at him with a frenzied gaze.

"Let her go." Rowena demanded, "She did nothing, we have done nothing."

The Dane who had Lynette in his hold simply pulled Lynette closer into himself, placing the steel against the flesh of her neck "You do anything rash and I will slit her throat open."

Lynette gripped the rock, "Please, I am with child--let me go."

Rowena blinked with wide eyes as she looked from the expression on Lynette's face of pure panic and alarm to her stomach trying to decipher if she is telling the truth or if it was to be a lie fabricated to get her out of this.

The man did not believe her instead he dug the steel deeper into her neck, "I hate fucking liars."

"It is the truth, I swear it on my God--" Lynette rushed out.

The Dane held the blade to her neck, Lynette was not going to wait for his response so she raised her leg and slammed her foot harshly down onto his-- he released his grasp on her waist as he looked down to his foot Lynette stepped back and glared at him. Without thinking she raised her hand up and smashed the rock against the Dane's head with might, she watched as he screeched and fell to the ground, she continued to watch as he writhed in pain-- the ringing from the hit had began to consume him tormentingly. Lynette did not move, not even when blood had began to seep from his head and form a halo like pool around the Dane's hair.

She knelt down and placed the rock beside his head, her fingertips dotted with the blood. He watched her with red eyes, his face a similar colour-- she gazed into his irises with a blank expression. As she stood back up she wiped the blood on her dress, rushing to get rid of the evil upon her flesh.

Rowena grabbed her wrist and dragged her, "Come on!" She hurried.

"I think I have killed him." Lynette muttered, in a daze as if she could not believe she had done such a thing.

They had ran. Lynette did not know how long for only that her heart would not stop its beating-- it was too loud, she heard it in her ear, in the flesh of her fingertips she even felt the throbbing in her legs as they ached with each step she took.

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Winchester
Kingdom of Wessex

A tumultuous rhythm of cheers resounded in the air as Sihtric rode into Winchester. The people of the city were raving and applauding their victory, word of Fearnham had reached them quick and Sihtric wondered if Lynette had heard. Sihtric jumped off his horse just as Uhtred did the same, his stare directed toward Hild who stood afar with a solemn expression upon her features. Beside her stood a woman holding a Babe and behind them was Dahlia-- Sihtric had caught sight of the aurburn coloured hair, vivid against the dull atmosphere.

Uhtred rushed towards Hild he looked to her with confusion, perplexed upon the sorrowful tint in her irises, "Uhtred." She began as she tried to find the words, "She is gone."

He blinked, dumfounded into a shocked silence. Hild wrapped her arms around Uhtred and pulled him into a hug, that is when he had started to quietly weep. The babe, grasped in the gentle embrace of the midwife began to coo and Uhtred, just for a moment, could not bare to look at the child for all he saw was his wife.

Sihtric breathed out as he took quiet steps toward Dahlia, he had realised what unfortunate misfortune had befallen Uhtred and his heart ached for him. It was the curse. The one that the seer, Skade, had tainted Uhtred with-- it is true and it is real. The raven-haired Dane then looked to Dahlia she stared back and then motioned for him to follow her inside the home to which he did earnestly, perhaps Lynette did not wish to be outside among all the noise he knows how she despises blaring cacophonies.

Inside the fire blazed in the hearth and Sihtric felt the iciness that once coated him slowly begin to melt, he felt himself become relaxed as he welcomed the heat. His eyes roamed the room and he furrowed his brows when he did not catch the familiar silhouette of his wife-- the curls of her hair. He glanced back to his aunt with confusion.

"Have you had that looked at?" She gestured toward the cut on his cheek.

Sihtric nodded his head, "I have." He looked, again, around the room before he turned to leave for the staircase.

"She is not here Sihtric."

He paused, exhaled and then turned to look at Dahlia with stupefaction, "Alright, so then where may I find her?"

Dahlia gripped onto the parchment in her hand as she took a few steps closer towards her nephew, "She has gone to visit the Lady Aethelflaed."

"She has gone to Mercia?" He slowly drawled out.

"It was upon the Lady's calling, a matter needs to be tended to but she is well."

"How do you know that?" Sihtric snapped.

"Because I know Lynette, she is capable--"

Sihtric frowned, "You think I do not know my wife?"

"That is not what I had meant." Dahlia stated, "She is an intelligent girl, capable of handling herself-- she kept me afloat all these years, just trust her."

Sihtric turned to leave for the door with a determined stance and quick pace.

"Where are you going?" His aunt called out.

He did not answer but instead he simply reached for the door handle suddenly, before he could open it and step once more into the chilling air, he was abruptly stopped when Dahlia slammed the door shut, "You are not to leave for Mercia."

"And why not?" He turned to glance at her, "I will go where-ever I want and as of now, I want to see Lynette so if she is in Mercia that is where I will go." Sihtric firmly pressed reaching for the door again, Dahlia pushed it shut with irritation.

"You will listen to me." She snapped, "You will stay here and wait for her-- do you understand?"

Sihtric clenched his jaw before he stepped back, "You talk to me as if I am a little boy."

"Do not behave as one then I will not have to." Dahlia sighed.

He frustratedly exhaled as he walked further into the home coming to a stop when he had taken a seat on a chair, he held his head in the palm of his hands as he rubbed the fatigue from his eyes before he leaned back allowing his limbs to loosen so he may ease up the apparent rising tension he is feeling. The palm of his hand drifted passed the scar that had began to lightly form on his cheek from the cut, it was slightly sore and the skin still raw-- the sounds of the people cheering and laughing outside the door continued but to Sihtric the multiple voices all merged into one discordant uproar that made his head pound.

"Place this against your cheek." Dahlia passed him a wet cloth, Sihtric awkwardly took it from her, "I am sure there is some salve here." She mumbled to herself as she looked through the shelves.

Sihtric could hear her shuffle the jars, he gently pressed the cloth against the cut and breathed out calmly when he felt some alleviation from the once persistent sting. The disappointment interlinked with the worry he felt was abysmal he had wanted to return and take Lynette into his arms and hold her-- to not let go, not until he had amounted for their missed time. It hounded him, he felt as if Dahlia was not telling him the whole truth she was far too resolved, determined, in preventing him from going to Mercia. The longer he questioned it the more curious he became.

"What needs tending to?" Sihtric asked as he placed the cloth down.

Dahlia turned, the jar of salve in her hold, she walked toward the table and placed it before Sihtric "Put this on."

Sihtric tilted his head, moments later Dahlia had not answered him, "I had asked a question."

"I know you did." Dahlia exhaustedly uttered, "It has been a long two nights for you, Sihtric--you should go rest."

He rubbed at his forehead, "I am not tired--" And then he looked to his aunt, "How can I be, when the one person I had so desperately wanted to see is not here and you will not let me leave so I can go to her?" He remarked with an undertone of sarcasm.

"You mustn't let this stress you. Lynette had heeded to the Lady Aethelflaed's summoning and she was happy about it, does that make you feel better?"

"Then why is it I cannot follow?" He urged.

"Have you perhaps thought this may not concern you?" Dahlia raised her brows.

Sihtric breathlessly scoffed, "That is amusing-- if it is to do with my wife's whereabouts then it does concern me."

"If this was not important to her I would have never let her go, at least not until you had returned but she needs this." Dahlia softly expressed keeping her tone a mere whisper, a mellow cadence forcing Sihtric to compose his hectic and ever forceful mind, to rein in his thoughts.

He blinked his gaze down to his hands as he breathed out and then in, important, what had to be so important she could not wait for him to return? To speak and confide in him, he is after-all her husband and he would do anything for her. That simple yet profuse thought had steeped him in distress, an unrest slipped through the cracks of his hollow mind as he contemplated the sentiment over and over.

"It is important?" He muttered.

"For her this is, a choice--" Dahlia had been so consumed in the fact that she is talking to Sihtric, her nephew, actually having a real conversation that has lasted longer than a few words or even glances of acknowledgement. She had wanted to make up for the sins of her brother, the evil he had etched onto Sihtric's skin and mind, the terror he had bestowed upon him. She had almost let it slip, that is not for her to say-- it is for Lynette and only her.

"Choice about what?"

"About many things of which I do not truly know. You stress far too much, it is not good for the health now stop that and go rest." She demanded as she urged him to leave.

Sihtric nodded his head and then left to go up the stairs, his head had somehow began to pound fiercer and he felt a weariness wash over his body as he opened the door to their rooms. The faint remnants of her aroma lingered weakly in the air, a mix of springtime air and the petals of summertime flowers-- a gentle saccharine scent that had intoxicated him, an ambrosial threaded into the laces of the cover and a delicate tinge scattered the pillows as he rested his head upon it. A soothing tranquillity consumed him and he felt his heavy eyelids shut as a darkness surrounded him.

—————-

As night had fallen upon them it had concealed the blue haze of the day to reveal the inky canvas of dark, the stars emerged ever effervescent and vibrant against the backdrop of the cool winter winds. Sihtric had found himself beside Finan and Valaena, a pyre burned before them filled with the flames of fury. Uhtred's face contorted into a look of despair, an ache that gripped him so painfully Sihtric had never seen him like this before, so drained.

"Lord." Finan breathed out as Uhtred released a grief consumed cry, the Irishman grabbed Uhtred as Valaena held onto Uhtred's other arm to steady the man. He had almost collapsed, each muscle in his body empty yet so alive with sorrow. The Dane turned from the blazing inferno, sparks of flames spitting into the air and vanishing-- Valaena felt a tear escape her eyes and she quickly wiped it away.

Hild reached her hand forward and wrapped it in Uhtred's pulling him toward herself, she could hear his sobs they were quiet still they sounded like a thousand voices weeping, "It's beautiful." She whispered.

Sihtric and Valaena followed behind, the blonde haired Dane rushed toward Finan and the Irishman had taken her into his embrace, she engulfed herself in his hold and rested her head against his chest as they watched the fire burn. Sihtric stood beside Uhtred, offering a silent form of regard.

"She is drifting away from the earth and upward to the heavens." Hild had gently spoken, Uhtred sniffled back a cry.

"We have done a good thing here." Finan reassured, "God knows it."

Uhtred had said nothing except the unspoken words of pain and grief, he continued to silently sob and cry as the sounds of roaring fire filtered around them-- the whisps of rushing winds and the snapping of burnt wood crackling amid the obscurity of the night.

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Dahlia brushed though Stiorra's hair, untangling the strands with gentle hands. The young girl was quiet, not her usual self and it pained Dahlia to see this-- she had lost her mother and at such a young age, this would change the young girl. Stiorra fumbled with her hands as Dahlia had began to braid her hair-- her slender fingers worked meticulously to form a beautiful intricate pattern, "Where is aunt Lynette?" She mumbled.

Dahlia tied off the braid quickly and then turned the girl around, she knelt down before her with a compassionate and sympathetic smile "She has something to do but you will see her again soon."

"I miss mother." She muttered.

The Dane-lady glanced down for a mere moment before she looked to Stiorra, she placed her hand against her cheek rubbing the skin to calm the girl "Your mother is watching over you Stiorra, and she is so very proud of you." She whispered gently.

Before the young girl could respond the door had opened and they both turned to see who had entered bringing with them the piercing chill of the morning air, it curled its way inside. Uhtred blinked as he saw his daughter, Dahlia stood up and cleared her throat. Stiorra hurried toward her father and waited for him to pick her up which he did instantly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head onto his shoulder. Dahlia could see she was cold, shivers had dotted themselves upon her skin and so she grabbed a covering before she made her way towards them, she placed it over Stiorra.

"Sihtric told me Lynette is with the Lady Aethelflaed." Uhtred disclosed.

"She is, she will return to Coccoham soon." Dahlia reassured.

"I am sure she will or Sihtric will bring her."

"I had told him not to do that."

"I see." Uhtred concluded, "You have everything, we are to leave now?" He inquired.

Dahlia nodded her head and followed him outside-- the rays of dawn had morphed into daylight as they pulsed through the imposing trees, the clouds blossomed and held a weight of downpour in them. They walked toward the horses, Sihtric stood beside Osferth fixing the saddle of the horses. She had turned and glanced back at the home for a split second and that is when she had caught sight of Father Beocca rushing through the people as if he were being chased by a fearsome entity the expression of stress lay evident on his features.

"Uhtred!" He yelled repeatedly until it had caught the Dane-slayer's attention, Uhtred turned around and looked to Beocca with confusion and worry, "You are needed at the palace by the king." He informed him.

"For what reason?" He asked as he walked towards Beocca, "We are about to return to Coccham."

Beocca looked towards them, Finan and Valaena watched with furrowed brows and Sihtric tilted his head with curiousity. Osferth leaned over Sihtric to hear better, Father Beocca then glanced back to Uhtred, "It would be better if you heard it from him yourself-- you alone."

Uhtred sighed before he turned and placed Stiorra on the ground, he told her to go to Dahlia and she refused to do so at first but then she had eventually left and took her place beside the auburn-haired lady as her father left with Beocca.

————-

Uhtred had returned from the castle a while back and now men, warriors, guards, swarmed before the home. He had slapped Father Godwin, a mere slap to quieten the man of his insulting and heinous words against his wife, which had resulted in his death.

Uhtred had killed Brother Godwin, he had killed a monk.

Outside, Sihtric, Valaena and Finan stood before the home, on guard with the rest of his men--Uhtred inside. The King's men were shouting and calling for him to come out for the king sought him, they stood with spears and swords cladded in armour ready for fighting if it were to arise. Sihtric caught sight of Everard as he stood behind Steapa, he raised his brows to which the blonde man rolled his eyes.

"Uhtred!" Steapa had yelled again, his tone thunderous.

Valaena exhaled from the immense irritation she felt, "I fear I may lose my hearing soon."

The Irishman glanced at her with a shake of his head, amused, before he turned to Steapa-- he brought his finger up to his lips and shushed the man "I told ya, big man, he's resting." Finan told him as he clasped his hands before him.

Steapa ignored him and took another step forth, "Uhtred! Do not make me fire the house." He bellowed, "That is what I will do."

"Steapa do not make me kill you first, that is what I will do." Finan threatened in a cold tone as a stern expression covered his face.

"Uhtred!" He roared once more, "Do not make me step on your Irishman, that is what I will do." He turned to look at Finan with a glare.

Valaena raised he brows, "You will not do that." She calmly responded yet there lay a cadence of disdain weaved throughout as she sneered at the big man, "Unless you are hoping for a fight to break, then in that case I'd be happy to-"

"Oh, for goodness sake- stop behaving like children." Hild emerged from within the crowd of Saxon warriors suddenly cutting Valaena off, she moved past them "You both are goading him." She looked to Valaena with exasperation to which the blonde Dane simply gave her a smug smile of amusement.

Finan leaned into Hild with a smirk of humour, "I was, Hild and enjoying it." The Abbess rolled her eyes before she entered inside the home.

Steapa exhaled from frustration, "So the Abbess may enter, but I may not?"

"We're afraid of the Abbess." Finan stated, the men erupted in laughter.

—————

Dahlia watched as Stiorra sat on her father's lap, head placed on his shoulder as his arm lay resting around the young girl. Her eyes kept shutting and then opening in a repetitive ceaseless cycle as if she was forcing herself not to doze off, not to sleep. The door creaked open and Dahlia turned around her chest heaved, it was Hild, she exhaled with a deep sigh.

"Sister Hild." Young Uhtred happily cheered as he stood up, he wrapped his arms around her taking her into a hug and she leaned down to place a kiss upon his head.

"Go to bed, you must sleep." She said as she pulled him back. Hild glanced to Dahlia and then to Stiorra, the Dane lady understood and she quietly advanced toward Stiorra as she leaned down to her. Uhtred watched Stiorra squirm, "She should not be hearing this." Dahlia told him. Moments later Dahlia had taken Stiorra and Young Uhtred and she had let the midwife take them up the stairs to rest for the night.

Dahlia had noticed the seer sat in the far corner so quiet and silent for most of the evening that had passed, she did not even blink or perhaps she did but just not as much. The fire harshly crackled casting an amber hue of comfort across the tense infused room.

"There will be no bloodshed." Uhtred droned out from exhaustion, it had been a long and tiresome night.

Hild turned to him with a sigh, "You must say that to Steapa, his head is hurting from thinking." She jested before she looked to him with a seriousness in her tone, "Is there a solution?"

Uhtred was evidently distressed and peeved by the situation, "I did nothing wrong."

"Uhtred, you killed a monk, a holy man and not for the first time." She whispered reminding him of the Abbot Eadred yet another man that had insulted Gisela. Hild turned to Skade with a scowl as she rushed out, "And why in God's name is she still here?"

"I am not your concern, witch." Skade sneered out to Hild.

Dahlia looked to her with a narrowed gaze-- that is the first time she had heard her speak and she did not take to the sound, she deemed it wicked. As if Skade could feel Dahlia's penetrating gaze on her she turned to look at the auburn-haired lady with a blank expression. Dahlia had found out from Valaena about the curse that this seer had stricken Uhtred with, to chain him to herself and to torment him. It was the curse that had taken Gisela and Dahlia worried for Lynette, being of the same blood as Uhtred.

"I did not intend to kill the monk." Uhtred explained with frustration, he had said that far too many times this dreary night, "Nor do I regret it."

Skade blinked away from Dahlia and looked to Uhtred, "It was fate." She proclaimed.

Uhtred ignored her words, "Fetch Beocca, ask him to bring the demands of the king." He told Hild.

"I will tell Beocca that you are ready to talk and to listen. Be sure that you do." She demanded as she turned to leave, Dahlia decided to leave with her-- she wished to breathe in the fresh night-tide air, the room had become much too suffocating. "It would help if you cut her throat." Hild muttered to him.

"He cannot. He dare not." Dahlia had heard her evil tone faintly just as she stepped outside. She felt the chill dance through her hair as she pulled up the hood of her cloak. Sihtric stood a few steps away from her beside Finan-- a sword grasped in his hand as he let it rest on his shoulder. This night is going to be a long and arduous one.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Saltwic
Kingdom of Mercia

The echoes of Lynette's beating heart thundered against her ribs sinking a deep feeling of perturbation into the hollow vessel of her chest-- the memory but a rough spike piercing the tender flesh and filling the empty space with trepidation. She had shaken it from herself or at least had earnestly tried to do so. It had happened and she is alive, Rowena is alive and they are unharmed-- she should forget, but it was gripping onto her unwilling to diminish nor lessen, forcing her to relive it in pieces. She wondered if Rowena was doing the same, or if the Lady had managed to rid the memory from herself.

She was awfully pleased that they had arrived at the Lady Aethelflaed's Mercian estate, beholden to Rowena for keeping her sane Lynette was now dressed in something new. Aethelflaed had insisted that she wear one of her own and Lynette had tried to decline but the lady was ever persistent. It was a soft, muted blue-- dim in colour, the rich embroidery enhanced the elegance, it was a lower neckline almost falling off the shoulders with long tight form sleeves, at the wrist it had a beautiful ivory needlework stitched in silk that refined the grace of the gown.

Lynette had admired the gown, glancing in the mirror she ran her hand down the front of it ruffling up the clothing in her hand as she felt the fabric so smooth against her palm-- forming a fist as she quickly blinked.

Suddenly, from the depths of the silence that canvased the room, the sound of a door creaking open resounded and she felt a jolt shake her body, a shiver of terror consumed her as she hastily turned around to be met with the Lady Rowena, her chest lightened with relief. She, too, was arrayed in new clothing, a new dress-- Lynette had supposed it is also another one belonging to Aethelflaed.

"You should dress like this more often Lynette, you look beautiful." Rowena smiled as she shut the door behind her.

Lynette offered no response but a short barely even noticeable smile, a small curve of her lips before they fell back into a straight line. She then stepped back from the mirror and grabbed the dress she had worn before, a knife lay resting on the bedside table and she grabbed it by the hilt before beginning to tear at the green fabric.

Rowena imperceptibly gasped as she rushed toward Lynette, "Stop it, Lynette what are you doing? You will hurt yourself." She cried out. Lynette gave her no mind and continued to rip at the clothing, severing it into many pieces that then fell to the ground.

"I cannot bear to look at this dress, it makes me nauseous." Lynette snapped.

Rowena stressed, "So then throw it away, you do not need to tear it apart so viciously."

"I do, I must-- I have to." Lynette uttered.

"You have done enough damage." Rowena whispered.

Lynette observed the mess of fabric cluttered on the ground, some fell onto her feet and she kicked them away, she caught the deep crimson red of the blood upon one of the pieces as the shine from the candle-illuminated it. Lynette rushed to pick the pieces up, she then stuffed them into a bucket in the corner hiding them from her sight.

The Lady grabbed Lynette's wrist and sat her down, she continued to hold it in a gentle embrace "Lynette we are well, safe and breathing--"

"How can you forget so easily?" She blinked her gaze to Rowena.

"I have not forgotten and I fear I never will, but we have to try." It was the truth, when they had reached the estate Rowena had left on the pose she needed to use the privy chamber when instead she had spent her time in there crying tears of fear those which she had held back, her hair -a mess- falling in front of her to veil her from the light.

Lynette shakily sighed as she placed her head upon Rowena's shoulder, "I killed him, Rowena." She whispered.

Rowena stared down at her, "It does not matter that you had because you needed to, Lynette- you cannot let this possess you. I am telling you now that you needed to do that."

A tear fell from her eyes and onto Rowena's shoulder. Lynette should not have come here, it was a punishment from God-- those Danes were, for her ungodly and sinful thoughts, for the steps she had taken to rid herself of what most would deem a blessing and a reverence, an honour bestowed from God and she wished it away, she prayed for it to leave her.

"Oh, no, no Lynette." Rowena placed her hands on Lynette's cheeks wiping away her tears, She let her cry-- waited for the tears to cease their downpour and when they had done so Rowena wiped at her cheeks once more before shuffling back.

"God will think me wicked, an evil murderer, a sinner- he will..."

Rowena shook her head, "You did that to save yourself, to save us."

"No, no, Rowena- we could have ran, I did not need to-" She gulped.

"And if he chased after us, then what?" Rowena highlighted the danger, "If he had caught us, what do you think he would have done? You did that for a good reason, tell yourself that, believe it."

Lynette was breathing heavily, consumed by the memory of what she had done and the part that terrified her the most was-- when she had smashed that jagged rock against the man's head with force she felt nothing but satisfaction.

"There was no other way, you had no other choice." Rowena whispered kindly hoping to ease Lynette's distress.

The door opened once more, Lynette turned and wiped at her cheeks riding the skin of the tears she had cried she looked back and saw that the Lady Aethelflaed entered, "You, both, are here so comfortably conversing without me." She jested.

"We would not dare to do such a thing." Rowena teased as she stood up, she walked to the door as Aethelflaed entered, "I shall go get us something to drink."

Aethelflaed sat beside Lynette and engulfed her into a hug, Lynette wrapped her arms around her in turn, "The healer shall pay you a visit on the morrow, you must rest this night." She muttered to Lynette.

Lynette simply nodded her head in response, apprehension festering underneath her skin.

_________________

A/N: This is a longer chapter, I apologise. But it's a chaotic chapter, ALOT happened!! I wanted to focus on Lynette and explore how she can and will do anything if need be, obviously she is freaking out because she was raised with religion, it is instilled in her and she killed a person (it had to be done) anyway, Sihtric and Lynette are going to meet soon! I wanted to show Sihtric's relationship with Dahlia (Kjartan's sister) it is strained, less than before but Dahlia wants to fix it-- she regrets not doing more at Dunholm.

Do not forget to comment and vote, thank you for reading 🫶

Everard and Sihtric core: