.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。.

KINDNESS
IN DEATH

Year: 878
Location: Unknown, Northambria

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

The boy spoke further about Ivarr when he calmed, answered every question Sihtric presented him with. Ivarr was defeated by the Scots, lost to Aed of Scotland in a bloody battle. Ivarr and Aed lost an abundance of men that day, both limping back to their heartlands with injuries. The boy also rambled on about the Scots, filling Sihtric's and Ragni's ears with the details of the battle itself.

Ivarr had been lured across a river and into a valley where he believed Aed had taken refuge, but it was a trap constructed by Aed and his commanders. The hills on either side of the valley were thick with tribesmen who came howling through the mist to hack into the Danish shield walls. The boy shook as he told them, his eyes hazed with reconciliation.

Ragni knew little about the Scots but had heard stories of their savagery when she was a girl. Believed the stories to be fables and exaggerations. Continued to believe such, until the young boy continued his description of the battle that took place.

He told them how the Ivarr's men had rallied from the first assault, and used sword and spear to cut the Scottish tribesmen down, and still they came shrieking in language and madness, they climbed over their own dead, hair red with blood, swords hissing, and Ivarr tried to climb north out of the dale to reach the high ground.

Ivarr attempted to cut and slash a path through flesh and bone, but he failed. Aed had then led his household troops against Ivarr's best men and the shields clashed and the blades rang and one by one the warriors died. Ivarr, the boy said, fought like a fiend, but he took a sword thrust to the chest and a spear cut in his leg and his household troops dragged him back from the shield wall. He raved at them, demanding to die in the face of his enemies, but his men held him back and fought off the devils and by then night was falling.

Most of Ivarr's army still held, survivors almost all of them bleeding, dragged their leader south toward the river. Ivarr's son, Ivar, had been amongst them, assembled the least wounded warriors and made a charge, and broke through the encircling Scots, but many of the wounded died as they tried to cross the river in the dark. Some, weighed down by their mail, drowned.

Others were butchered in the shallows, but few survived. Those that had such as the boy made it through the water, huddled on the bank where they listened to the cries of the dying and the howling of the devils. In the light of dawn, they made a shield wall, expecting the Scots to cross the river and complete the slaughter, but Aed's men were almost as bloodied and wearied as the defeated Danes.

Ivarr lived. He was wounded, but he lived. He was north, over the hills with his son. They hid from Kjartan with the fear of being captured, as did those who survived. But many traveled toward Eoferwic, the boy himself being one of ten that marched toward the city. He and the others left the group to hunt when they stumbled upon Sihtric. The group were an hour's ride or so away, waiting for the return of the boy.

"We need to leave for Eoferwic," Sihtric remarked beside Ragni, standing out of earshot of the paling boy. "Inform Uthred of Ivarr before Kjartan reaches him."

Ragni continued to stare at the battle-worn soul, his body propped up against a lone tree. The arrow remained in his thigh, the obsessive bleeding now flowing in a slow stream. "He will come with us." She remarked, turning to look at Sihtric.

"He is going to die," he frowned, looking at the boy. "He's lost too much blood."

"Eoferwic is a few hours away if you ride quickly." She countered.

Sihtric's frown only grew, his hand raising to scratch his jaw. She could see it, the wheels in his mind turning. "We're down a horse, Ragni." He finally spoke, turning to observe the dying boy. "I cannot return to Eoferwic without you, or you without me. He'd die before we reach Eoferwic, it would be pointless." He admitted coldly, the lack of emotion impossible to ignore.

It angered Ragni, not just Sihtric but the truth he spoke. The boy was as white as snow, the rosiness of his cheeks long but faded. With that anger, Ragni began to step away from Sihtric and toward the dying boy.

"Ragni," Sihtric spoke, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. "We do not have time."

Jerking out of his grasp, she strode toward the moribund boy. She did not know what to do, had not been adequate in the ways of healing. Never healed another, her skill set being only that of destruction. But as Sihtric stated, the boy was on the edge of death. She could see it in his eyes of green, the spark of life fading. "I am sorry." She whispered, crouching down before him.

"I am dying," He whispered those very pools of green filling with watery saltiness. "Aren't I?" His bottom lip trembled, limp hands shaking against his bent torso.

Ragni did not speak, finding a lump forming in her throat. No, she couldn't answer the question. Instead, she reached outward, gently picking up one of his hands. "What is your name?" She asked with a swallow, hoping such a question would lead him from the thought of death.

"Wyflaed." He answered, his fingers weakly coiling around her hand.

"It's beautiful." She smiled, praying such an expression would bring a glint of comfort.

"It's Saxon," He paused, his breath pulled with a growing effort. "I was born Christian, and will die a Dane." The water in his eyes began to spill over, droplets sliding down his cheeks.

"You will feast in Valhalla." She reassured, her fingers squeezing his hand. "Fight in Odin's hall." 

The boy's eyes fluttered shut then, his nostrils flaring in effort. It was then that Sihtric squatted down beside her, wordlessly pulling Ragni's hand out of Wyflaed's grasp. She was on the verge of protesting until she realized his motives. Sihtric wrapped the boy's hands around a weapon, the axe being Sihtric's final possession.

Wyflaed heaved a final few breaths until his chest stilled and his eyes parted in dead crescent moons. He was gone, killed by Ragni's own hand. She did not intend to, hadn't meant to end his life. Had been certain her aim was true, but she had been wrong. It was inches shy of her target, the serrated tip of her arrow hitting a pulsing vein.

"We need to go," Sihtric spoke up, as he rose to his feet.

Ragni stayed unmoving as Sihtric readied their only horse, her focus drawn purely on Wyflaed. She examined every aspect of his features, consumed every scar and bruise that dotted his visible skin. There was blood on her hands long before Wyflaed, but his death felt different. And she knew why, understood why she tried to spare his life. He reminded her of her brother, from the innocence in his eyes, down to the greens of his irises. He was older than her brother when he died, but just as baby-faced. Too young to die, but old enough to wet his sword.

Ragni finally rose, her nose twitching as she approached a mounted Sihtric. He did not dare to speak, only offering Ragni a hand of help. Taking it, she was heaved onto the horse, her fingertips finding his ribs once she was situated behind them.

There was a heavy silence between them as they rode toward Eoferwic, not a word slipping past either of their lips. Ragni had no words to share, could not utter a single syllable. It was not Wyflaed alone that weighed down her heart, and brought soundless tears to her eyes, it was the heart-aching memories of her brother. His death replayed in her head, his final words ringing through her skull.

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

During the hour's ride back to Eoferwic, Ragni became mindful of the ease of gait the horse moved. Noticed the lack of urgency Sihtric commanded the horse, despite his earlier groveling. She had been on the verge of questioning him on the matter, but alas she did not care enough to bother her tongue with the commandment.

It had been three hours since they left the overlook, and Wyflaed when she finally spoke. "I killed him." She whispered from behind Sihtric, her cheek pressed firmly against the back of his shoulder.

"He would've died regardless of your arrow."

Ragni's eyes fluttered shut, her fingers loosely clinging to the fabric of his tunic. "You do not need to lie, Sihtric." She murmured, in response to his words of reassurance.

"It's the truth, he would've died in battle on the end of a stranger's sword. Perhaps he would've died a slave or a captive." He paused, his head briefly turning sideways. "Those deaths would've been worse than your arrow."

"But he would've lived."

"And died without comfort and your kindness." Sihtric retorted, one of his hands moving to his waist to capture her hand. "You gave him peace before death, Ragni, something many men do not have the curtsy of receiving in their final moments."

Ragni frowned, her forehead falling to the space between his shoulder blades. She understood the truth in his words, had witnessed the malevolence of humanity, and partook in it herself. "Do you believe he will be welcomed into Vahalla?"

"He was a Dane, regardless of his name."

With the loss of Sihtric's hand, she drew her arms around him pressing herself closer against his backside. "I hope." She whispered, taking in the scent that clung to the fabric of his tunic. He smelled of firewood, and everything green. It was a scent that Ragni could not describe in a single word, or compare to another. It was unique, intoxicating.

Sihtric relaxed against her arms, his hand returning to capture her own. "You should try to rest." His thumb began to run across the back of her hand, small transparent circles being created against her skin.

It was a touch that drew her away from Wyflaed, and back to Sihtric. A simple yet powerful gesture, that began to lure her back to reality. "Can I ask you a question?" She drew her head away from his back, and toward his shoulder.

"You have never asked before," he continued to trace her hand with his thumb, pausing but briefly with his following sentence. "I am half tempted to say 'no'."

"It's about Ryphere." It was not a lie, it involved Rypere to an extent.

"Then you can ask."

"Rypere said you denied a woman in Eoferwic."

Sihtric turned his head sideways, glancing at Ragni out of the corner of his eye. "That is not a question, Ragni it's a statement." He turned back, the circles he traced coming to a complete stop.

"Why?"

"I did not find her attractive." A simple answer, a far too simple of an answer. "Why do you ask?"

Ragni nodded against his shoulder, her gaze flickering to the rolling hills of green they rode through. "I was curious." A truth, a completely honest reply.

"Curious?" She did not need to look at his face to know he was smiling, had heard the mirth in the question. "There is only one reason a woman is ever curious about who a man sleeps with and it's when they're interested."

Ragni frowned, drawing back from his shoulder. "I am not interested," she scowled, withdrawing her arms from around him completely. "You've grown too full of yourself."

Sihtric's body shook with a small chuckle. "I am teasing, Ragni." He hummed, once his laughter calmed.

"You're a earsling, Sihtric."

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

INDEX

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