.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。.

A RECALLING
OF MEMORIES

Year: 878
Location: Unknown, Northambria

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

It was noon by the time Ragni returned to the overlook, her body cleansed of both anger and muck. It was not Sihtric alone that made her snap, bend, and break. She couldn't blame her anger purely on the bastard, there was more to the words she threw in his direction. More than his inability to share details, and inform her of things that related to her being. There was that helplessness that burrowed itself into every inch of her being, and a nipping fear that pierced her soul. It was not Sihtric's words that lead her into a tangent but it was those two crippling emotions, each pulling and tearing at her like ravenous beasts of Helheim.

It was not him, and yet she continued to damn him. But he would not flee, wouldn't throw his arms up and wash his hands of her presence. He remained, trading for her forgiveness. Ulfhild said she could trust him, a vision from Loki proclaiming him to be a third to their circle. The vision Loki blessed Ulfhild with based on a serpent and ink, both of which Sihtric carried.

The tattoo itself captured Ragni's attention as she tore into the roasted hare he provided, the black ink fading into tan skin. It was intricate in shape, and form. The snake slithering from his hairline, down his neck, and disappearing beneath the collar of his tunic. A sign Ulfhild deemed to be a mark of her father and a singular reason to lend him a hand of trust.

"Do you forgive me?" Sihtric spoke up from his position before her, his head cocking to the side obstructing her view of the serpent.

Eyes of imperfection clashed against one another. "Do you believe I should?" She questioned, setting aside the bones of the roasted hare he provided.

Sihtric stared into her eyes for a moment, his brooding expression twisting into one of thought. "A trick question." He murmured, reclining back onto his elbows, his long legs stretching out across fallen leaves.

"Or a genuine one."

He was silent for a moment, scrutinizing Ragni with narrowing eyes. "What is it you want, Ragni?" He questioned, her name falling from his lips in a slow breath. "I own nothing more than what you've already taken from me."

"Your trust." She began, letting the words slide past her teeth. "Do not hide things from me." That was what she wanted, his trust amongst many of things. If she was to follow Ulfhild's advice, it could not be one-sided. She could not take another secret or concealed truth. Not from him, when she was willing to openly trust him. 

Sihtric was silent for a moment, drawing himself upward from his elbows to further match her eye level. "Why?" He began, the word murmured just as every other. "Why do you trust me?" He asked again, eyebrows furrowing together for a brief few seconds.

"You've saved me, Sihtric."

It was the truth, Sihtric saved her both in Northambria and in Eoferwic. The bastard held her together, mended the gaping wounds caused by worry and fear. The bastard's presence brought peace to her soul and freed her of the chains of malice that wrapped around her mind. His hesitant touches bringing light to her darkness, calloused fingertips burning away the monsters beneath her skin with every fleeting caress and grasp.

"I have lied to you," Sihtric spoke up, breaking apart Ragni's thoughts. Refocusing on the man before her, she watched as the mask of brooding he wore faded away. His shoulders slumped, and his lips melted into a tormented frown. "When we met."

"About what?"

Sihtric's face twisted, his eyes drifting from Ragni. "My mother did not die in childbirth," he began, slowly drawing out the words. "She died when Kjartan threw her to the hounds. He said she had poisoned him, filled his ale with a deathly plant. I was eleven when he made me watch her death, and twelve when he promised to do the same to me. It was Tekil who stopped him, saved me from Kjartan. I vowed to kill him eight years ago," he explained, looking at the woman who had once been his captive. "He is my Uthred, Ragni." He whispered the last couple of words. "He is the reason I swore to Uthred, asked to be one of his men. She is the reason."

"What was her name?"

"Elflæd." He answered, with a light smile. "She was from Hocchale."

"I am sorry-."

"Do not be," Sihtric interrupted, with a fading smile. "I have not spoken her name to another since I was a boy. It is nice to speak it without consequence."

It made sense then. He was not Kjartan's son, bastard, or noble. He was a boy unwanted and plagued. A servant of Tekil, and Kjartan. He had lived a life unloved, untouched, and uncared for. A life empty of affection, and the softest of touches. He improvised every caress of his finger and every gentle grasp of his hand. He was hesitant, not for Ragni's sake but for his apprehension. He did not know how show his affection, even if it was in the most innocent of forms.

The realization broke Ragni, made her chest twist unlike it ever had before. It felt as if a sword was plunging its way through her chest, burying itself into the thumping heart beneath. "I forgive you." She spoke up, lulling Sihtric out of his own thoughts. "For earlier." She added, hoping to drag him further from the torment that reigned over his features.

Sihtric rose to his feet, hands running together in an effort to wipe the dirt from his palms. "And I will tell you everything, Ragni." He replied, before turning toward the horses. "I am going to ride further up, scout the hills."

Ragni rose to her feet, only for Sihtric to shake his head in dismissal. "It will be quicker if I ride alone."

"And Uthred?"

Sihtric turned to look at Ragni, his hand absently reaching out to grasp the reigns of her horse; well his horse. "He is in Eoferwic, not here." He smiled a bit, and yet his eyes remained solemn. "I trust you will be here when I get back."

"I will." She promised.

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

It was dusk by the time Sihtric arrived, his figure stalking quietly through the labyrinth of trees that sounded him. Behind him her horse trudged along, guided by his hand. The torment he left with had disappeared, leaving behind an expression of indifference. "Anything?" He questioned, loosely tying the horse off to wander closer to Ragni.

"Nothing." The road had been dead, not a soul living or dead venturing across its surface. Between Ivarr and Kjartan, many of men took to the forests in an effort not to be spotted. Feared the two men, and their cruelty. "And you?"

Sihtric stopped beside her, his attention turned toward the rolling hills and plans below. "Ivarr marched through here, just as Guthred predicated." He informed while crossing his arms over his chest. "A farmer along the road said he had an army of roughly two hundred men."

"You believe he will be defeated?" Ragni asked, turning to look up at the Dane.

Sihtric's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, his eyes falling back to her. "I hope," he breathed, his fingers idly tapping along his forearm. "Let the Scots finish him off before he returns to Eoferwic."

Ragni had hoped the same but found herself alone conflicted with the idea of Ivarr's death. She knew it would come, be it by Uthred or the Scots he departed Eoferwic to fight. But she did not want to hear his demise on the wind or witness it. "Uthred plans on killing Ivarr." She commented, glancing to Sihtric for verification.

"He does," he explained, his finger tapping coming to a stop. "I am not sure about Guthred. He allowed the King of Eoferwic to live, though I believe this is different."

"Because he is a Dane?" Guthred himself was a Dane, brought up beneath their laws and customs. Spoke their language, and bore the resemblance to the great many of Danmark. But he was Christian, a man possessed by King Alfred.

Sihtric was quiet, the silence alone answering the question she tossed into the air. Ragni knew the distaste a majority of the Saxons held for them, saw the hate in their eyes even in Eoferwic. They did not trust Danes, not those that refused their faith.

"You do not want him to die." He stated.

Ragni frowned, shifting to lean against one of the many trees that shielded them from the land below. "He is my cousin," she began, allowing herself to open up to Sihtric. "My father's uncle." It was odd, speaking of her kin. It was a boundary Ulfhild and her never crossed, their pasts and families avoided and left undiscussed.

Sihtric was quiet, listening to the words that slowly left her lips. He all but turned, his eyes finding Ragni's blue ones. There was curiosity swarming in the depths of his irises, pupils ablaze with a thirst for knowing more. But he did not push, did not question Ragni with the very subjects of his curiosity.

"I grew up with his grandson Sigtryggr," she smiled, recalling the memories they shared. "Can recall the nights Ivarr and his son filled our estate with stories of Danmark, and their ventures on the seas." She could almost hear Ivarr now, his bony figure shaking with his heaps of laughter. Could almost see Sigtryggr, round face, and blue eyes shining with childhood innocence. Always the most rambunctious of Ivar's grandchildren, finding mischief in every hour of the day.

Sihtric waited a few heartbeats before he spoke, his words falling in a whisper. "You were close to him?"

Ragni shook her head, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in waves. "I am not, but I will mourn his death all the same. I will do so for my cousin, and his brothers." She admitted, her chest constricting with the thought.

Sigtryggr was close to Ivarr, his grandfather encouraging his mischievous ways and pestering him all the same. Even as a child she could see the resemblance between the pair, saw the fire in their eyes, and heard the passion in which they spoke. She'd mourn Ivarr's approaching death but not for herself, but rather for her cousin.

"Perhaps, Guthred will spare him," Sihtric reassured, turning away from Ragni. "Can be convinced that his life is worth saving."

Ragni frowned, drawing himself from the tree she propped herself against. "I do not know if Uthred can be convinced." She remarked, her nose twitching with the name.

"Guthred holds power over Uthred," Sihtric informed. "Uthred may sway his decisions, but he does not make them."

"And how do you expect me to sway Guthred?" She asked, knowing all too well it would be impossible. There was no silver tongue in her mouth, or flattery tilt to her voice. Not a single bone in her body created to persuade or convince.

"Oh, you cannot." Sihtric smiled, pulling away from the tree line and toward the encampment. "You're too honest."

That was helpful. "Then who?" Rypere was clever, but would most certainly refuse. And Clapa? The poor man lacked what he did not carry in strength. Uthred, was out of the question. He would shout for Ivarr's death, convince Guthred to kill him at the drop of an axe.

"I will." Sihtric admitted.

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

INDEX

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