.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。.

THE
PROMISE

Year: 878
Location: Cair Ligualid, Cumbraland

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

When Ragni returned to the army's encampment she was sworn to Uthred, reluctantly bending her knee to the man that slaughtered her kin. It was sickening, between the words she was forced to speak, and the smile he wore. He was proud, his eyes shining with mirth and pride. In those moments she found the seed of hate she nurtured in her heart blossom, blooming into a thorny rose. A flower born of loathe, watered in agony and sorrow. It was him that destined her to the horrors of man, and left her cursing the gods those years ago.

And now she sat before him, glaring into the depths of his soul. The sun fell from the sky by the time they joined the army, the hours they spent in Cair Ligualid were wasted on Guthred and Uthred's efforts of appeasing the monks and Abbot. They had to atone for the mistakes they made, listen to the scolding of the pious. A scolding that left Uthred and Guthred both scowling and tight-jawed. The men that once surrounded Uthred and her dispersed, leaving them alone in the bosom of the army encampment.

There was silence between them, only glares and unspoken hate filling the air. Mostly from Ragni, for Uthred looked unbothered. It was infuriating, disrespectful almost. "You do not remember me, do you?" She asked, the flicking flames of the fire between them illuminating his face.

"I do not," Uthred answered. "Didn't until my men informed me."

Ragni was silent for a moment, searching the man's face. He was calm, relaxed almost. "Do you remember my brother?" She asked, before leaning against the log she had rested against. "He screamed for our father when you rammed your sword into his chest." She whispered, forcing the words through her teeth. "He was but fourteen, not a single hair on his chin." She hinted.

Uthred finally moved, his gaze meeting hers. "I have killed many Danes and Saxons," he reminded, staring back into Ragni's eyes. "But I remember them. Your father fought well-."

"You took his sword," She interjected. "Peeled it from his dead hands. I remember Uthred, every detail of that night. It haunted me for a year, continues to plague my dreams."

"What happened, after their deaths?" He asked, bravely dismissing her bitter words. "To you."

Ragni scoffed, her hand raising to run down her face in distress. "The spoils of victory," she laughed, her voice cracking with the words. "I was passed amongst your men for a month or so before I was left to die. I prayed for death then, wished your men would've finished what they started." Her voice weakened, words caught in her throat. "That is the cruelest part of it all. I wanted death, but it never came."

Uthred listened, his gaze slipping from Ragni to settle on the fire. There was silence then, the only sound that passed between them being of the army's men.

Uthred nodded. "And you want to kill me, for what I've done to your kin?"

"I do."

"I cannot fault you for it," he explained, nurturing the fire between them with twigs. "Many men want me dead for the same reason."

Ragni was sure of it, after all, it was Uthred who was given the nickname 'Dane Slayer' just as Kjartan was 'The Cruel'. False titles did not come without reason, not amongst her people anyhow. "I am not a man." She corrected, her gaze unwavering. "When the time comes Uthred Ragnerson, I will kill you." She spoke softly now, her voice regaining its tone of indifference.

"When the time comes I will grant you a fair fight." He murmured, his words lacking the cruelty or harshness she was prepared to receive. Uthred seemed to understand her words, if not he pretended to.

But Ragni was not satisfied, had been perplexed by Uthred's decision to spare her. It was a question that nipped and ate at her mind since they left the church. "Why did you stop the Abbot?" The question that bothered her the most. He was a clever man, surely he knew such a decision would come with consequences, even if he did not see them now.

"Killing you was what Kjartan wanted," He breathed, throwing the last twig he held in the fire. "You were a captive of Kjartan, not one of his men. Killing you with the purpose of appeasing the Christians would've disrupted the army. The Danes would've left or raised in arms against us."

"And my part as one of your men?"

"Men followed your father, I hope they will hear your name and do the same." He stated, feeding Ragni the answers she had been ravenous for. "I could not let you roam across Northambria with that thought in mind."

"You knew the Danes would spare my life." A statement, rather than an answer.

"I did not." Uthred whispered.

Without another word Uthred rose to his feet, giving Ragni one last frown before leaving. She watched as he walked away, moving toward Guthred's tent. Being left by herself, she gave into the memories the short conversation brought back to life. Recall the way her brother pleaded, and screamed. It was Ragni who held him as he died, pulled him to her chest as his green eyes lost their flame, and his small body went limp. As he died he begged for life, words slurred and chopped as he choked on blood.

Then it was her father, the man dying but a few paces away. He fought Uthred, raised his sword, and bared his teeth. Ragni watched as he too met the end of Uthred's blade, his body dropping to his knees, and his hands pressed to the wound in his gut. He had stared at Ragni when he hit the ground, eyes filled with confusion.

"Ragni." A hand fell on her shoulder, spurring Ragni to turn in haste, her hand instinctively reaching for a weapon. The weapon of choice being a sturdy branch, its tip hot with the fire's touch.

Yanking his hand back, Sihtric stared at Ragni. "It's me," he spoke quickly, raising his hands upward in surrender. "Only me." He emphasized, his hands slowly lowering as Ragni dropped the flaming branch.

"Where were you?"

Sihtric slowly moved from behind Ragni, keeping a bit of distance between the pair. "Talking to the others," he whispered, lowering himself where Uthred had sat. "I have good news."

Sihtric gave her a fright, her hands shaking, and her heart thundering. In an attempt to hide both she shifted on the ground, tightly wrapping her arms around herself. "What is it?" 

"We march for Dunholm after Eoferwic."

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

It was Dawn when the army marched, Ragni amongst their ranks. They dressed Ragni in mail and gave her a sword. It wasn't a well-crafted weapon, unbalanced and chipped along the blade. But it was a weapon, and that was enough to appease. She'd need a weapon, for their destination was the chief city of Eoferwic. A fortress, with high towers, and stone walls. A city dominated by Ivarr, at least it had been before he departed, now it was returned to a King by the name of Egbert.

"It's the strangest army, isn't it?" A stick of a man spoke up from beside, Ragni. A Saxon, his Danish slow and drawn out. It was impressive, a Saxon learning the Danish language. Then again the two languages tended to merge and mix depending on which part of the land an individual was born in.

Ragni stared across the army that marched over the hills of Cumbraland, taking in the sight man had gestured toward. There were monks, priests, women, and children amongst the gaggle of men. But the most unique feature of the army was three boxes the churchmen surrounded. It was indeed a strange army. Guthred and Uthred rode behind the army. And with them two women, and an unfamiliar man. No, a woman and a nun. Truly an odd army.

"What do you want?" She asked, keeping her face forward.

"I do not want anything-." he paused, earning Ragni's attention. "I am Rypere."

"A thief?" She questioned. Rypere was a nickname that meant, thief or something of the variation. He was the perfect example of a thief after all, between his skinny stature and the clever look in his young eyes.

Rypere shrugged his bony shoulders, with a growing grin. "Of sorts," he hummed, before leaning in closer toward Ragni. "But do not worry, I prefer horses over trinkets." He winked, before pulling back.

"You're wasting your time, I own neither trinkets or horses."

"Oh I know, you own nothing. You were a captive before you became one of Uthred's men, and captives do not own property." Rypere spoke without bitterness or judgment. He knew what it was like to be a prisoner, and what it was like to have nothing. He was a thief in an army, an alternative punishment to whipping and branding. He'd die for his King. "I wouldn't steal from you, anyhow."

"And why is that?"

Rypere raised his hands, wiggling his fingers about. "I've learned long ago not to steal from a Dane-." He paused, showing Ragni a missing index finger. "It was my favorite." He jokingly mourned, staring at the little stump with a frown.

Ragni smiled a bit. "Better a finger than a hand."

"Huh," he looked perplexed for a moment. "Clapa had said the same thing."

Clapa? Another nickname, or perhaps it was genuinely the man's name. It meant Clumsy, just as Rypere's was thief. "Clapa?" Ragni asked, looking back to the Saxon.

"You've met him I believe? Tall bastard has the appearance of an ox. He was there when your lot was captured," he smiled. "He was quite happy with himself, brags about taking down Tekil."

Ah, the bear of a man that lead the charge. She had not properly met Clapa, at least not formally. But she could agree, the man was huge. "He done well." Ragni agreed.

Rypere nodded, before turning to walk sideways beside Ragni. "Do not tell him that, his head will grow too heavy for his shoulders." He hummed, keeping his balance against the uneven stones.

"Rypere," Sihtric appeared at her other side, walking in pace to her right. In his hand a green apple, his fingers curled lightly around the fresh fruit. "Clapa was asking for you." He informed, taking a bite out of the apple.

Rypere smiled at Ragni before he turned on his heels to find Clapa. "Did he?" She asked, looking at Sihtric with a knowing smile.

"I did not hear him, but who's to say he did not ask?" He mused, rewarded with a shake of Ragni's head.

"What did Uthred say, when you were in the square?"

"He asked about my mother," Sihtric frowned, offering Ragni the bitten apple. "And Kjartan."

Ragni understood Uthred's curiosity when it came to Kjartan, but Sihtric's mother? An odd thing to ask a man about, especially a bastard. "Tekil told him everything." She stated, pushing the apple back to him.

He rolled his shoulders beneath his armor. "He did," he guessed, with a purse of his lips. "At least from what I can figure."

Ragni had made the same guess. Tekil must've squealed like a stuck pig when he spoke to Uthred. Otherwise, Uthred wouldn't have known of Kjartan's plan to kill Ragni, or about Sihtric's parentage. "He should've hung or burnt," Ragni murmured, earning a frown from Sihtric.

"We would've followed him," he glanced to a group of Saxons that marched beside them, the men laughing and conversing amongst one another. "They view us all the same, we're all Tekil in their eyes." He made a valid point, they yelled for Sihtric's death just as they had for Tekil before Uthred saved him.

"Perhaps, we are all Tekil in some way." she breathed, looking to the sky.

"Perhaps." He repeated.

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。.

INDEX

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