.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。.

THE RAMBLING
OF A FOOL

Year: 878
Location: Onhripum, Northambria

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

Ragni had kept a close eye on Ivarr the Younger and Sihtric, had taken to watching their training and lingered to overhear their conversations. Ivarr did not ask questions outright, but rather beat around the bush. Done so with such grace, Ragni at times questioned herself in regards to his words. But Sihtric was smart, cunning in ways Ivarr was unaware. He answered those riddled questions with his own, giving him slivers of himself.

It had been two days since she warned Sihtric, in those two days she saw little of Ivarr the Older. It was after their argument she saw less of him, the man waving her away or cursing her with silence. He was on his feet, walking about the monastery alongside Guthred or his son. He was not fully recovered, lacked the strength to wield a spear or axe. But he was persistent, and such strength would return.

It was morning when Sihtric and Ivarr took to practicing, their bodies dancing about the field paces from the armies campsites. It was not a intimate dance, or even one of glee. It was harsh, metal clashing against metal, sweat staining jerkins, and curses sounding through the air. Ivarr did not need training, and Sihtric knew it. As did everyone else that witnessed, and watched with curiosity.

Ragni sat paces from them, chewing at the dead skin that plagued the corner of her thumb. A nasty habit, one she once believed was behind her. But with stress, comes habits she had forgotten. Ivarr knew Sihtric could not be used against Kjartan, and would surly not attempt to sway him. But what more could he be used for? What would she use him for?

Now the last question was one she was quick to dismiss, shoving it far from the brim of her mind. Only Freyja would know of her wants, and the extent of her imagination when it came to the man. And even then, she feared the goddess of sex would blush. No, she would not ask that question.

"Hungry, Ragni?" Hild asked, sitting down beside Ragni.

Ragni's face smushed together in confusion, her thumb falling from her teeth. She was in fact starved, ravenous but not in the manner of morsels or bread. "What?" She asked, giving the nun a look of utter bewilderment. Breakfast had been served, and she had ate. Saw Hild herself eating, shoving small bits of meat into her mouth.

"Your thumb," she pointed to the blood drawn digit, with a frown. "You'll get an infection."

"An infection is the least of my worries." She shrugged off, turning her focus back to the two men that moved in circles before them. Sihtric and Ulfhild were her main concern, not her thumb or any other singular digit.

Hild took her hand, ignoring Ragni's loose attempt to snatch her hand back. "You've already drew blood." The nun scolded, drawing her thumb closer to her face in inspection. "Will do much worse if you continue." She frowned, before releasing her hand.

"Yes, infection." Ragni reminded, drawing her hand away from the holy women. "Do not act like you care, nun." She added, making a point to wipe away the women's touch.

"I have a name other than nun," Hild remarked, while tearing a bit of cloth off the hem of her robes. "Hildegyth." She educated, before snatching Ragni's hand once more.

Ragni did not fight it, decided to let the nun have her moment of nurtured fulfillment. "I prefer nun, it's less of a mouthful." She threw at the woman, keeping to the movements Sihtric possessed. Saxon's and their horrid names, all the same when it came down to the last few letters. Nothing unique.

"It's less personal," Hild corrected, wrapping the bit of cloth around Ragni's bloodied thumb. "A title. If you do not wish to call me Hild or Hildegyth, than call me-."

"Nun." Ragni answered.

"Friend." Hild countered, tying off the cloth.

Ragni's nose scrunched up, her hand returning to it's rightful place in her lap. "We are not friends." She grumbled, glancing at her thumb to take in the woman's handy work.

Hild leaned back, propping herself on the palms of her hands. "I am one of very few people who would call you such, if you have not noticed everyone else avoids you."

Ragni thought about that for a moment, her face turning sour. The women had a point, she had spoke to very few. Uthred had been wrong, she did not have ally's here. Only those she made through her own whims, and motives. "I prefer it that way, the avoidance of idiotic."

Hild frowned, her head shaking in disagreement. "Mhm, and I am St. Cuthbert." She jested with sarcasm.

"Who?"

"The Saint we carried to Eoferwic," Hild informed, before shaking her head again. "But that is not the point."

"Then what is?"

Hild sighed, her head rolling back against her shoulders. "After Dunholm, what do you plan to do?"

A few days ago she would've told Hild she'd stay with her cousins, with Ulfhild. And a month prior she would've said Danmark, or any other Norse land across the sea. But now, she did not know. "Serve Uthred." That was what she wanted to hear, wasn't it? At least, that was what Ragni assumed.

"Be truthful, Ragni. You hate him, and serve him unwillingly." Hild caught on, turning her head to glare at the young Dane.

"I do not know, will not know until then." Ragni admitted.

Hild closed her eyes, turning back to the sun. "You will not stay with Ivarr, then?"

"I do not know." She repeated, before turning on the nun. "Concerned with my whereabouts after?" She inquired, staring at the closed eyed nun. She was a beautiful woman, older there Ragni by many years but still youthful in the face. Angelic. That is how Ragni would describe the woman, had done so mentally when encountering the holy woman.

"You could come with me to Wessex." She noted, opening a single eye to peer at the Dane.

"And be in the audience of King Alfred," Ragni scoffed, while twisting away from the nun. "I suppose you'd want me to make a oath to your God then? Abandon my own, and wear ragged cloths." She'd sooner die than step into Wessex, would let the nearest Saxon shove a sword through her heart before she turned her back on her people's Gods.

"Alfred has Danes in his service," Hild informed. "And you would not have to be Christian. Uthred-."

"Uthred is a christian, and more Saxon than Dane." Ragni spat, facing Sihtric then. "Do not compare us." She warned, blue eyes shamelessly consuming the man of her recent damnation.

"Service to Alfred is not without it's moments of displeasure, but it would be better than surviving would it not?" She questioned, tilting her head upright to scrutinize the blonde.

"I will not kill my people for your faith or King." Ragni voiced with sharpness, the very words poisoned with denouncement.

"What do you believe you're doing here, Ragni?" Hild countered. "You're doing the very same now, only under the direct hand of Uthred and Guthred. Alfred is the one influencing this campaign, instructing Guthred who to rage war against."

Ragni hated how right, Hild was. But it did not change her mind, didn't even tilt the scale. She would not serve Alfred, would much sooner bend her knee to Kjartan. The King of Wessex was a plague on her people and religion, the true enemy of the Danish people. If only the Danes could put their energy, and point their swords toward the common enemy rather than themselves.

But Hild was right, Alfred was the head of the snake. "I will not, serve Alfred." She stated, rather defiantly.

Hild nodded, while standing to her feet. "The option will be available for as long as I travel with Uthred." She explained, before taking a step back toward the walled holy building. "But I will not ask again, Ragni." She shot out, before making her venture back the way she had came.

Ragni groaned internally, her hand raising to run down her face. None of that mattered, at least not now. It would be something she could worry about later, when they reached Dunholm. She'd make a decision based on how things played out, would make a decision based off Ulfhild. Perhaps, she would continued to be bound to Uthred? Ragni was uncertain, had the feeling the man would not release her from her oath so easily. Ivarr the Older was not a option, for he denied Ulfhild. And Alfred? Ragni would much rather eat a bowl of rusted nails.

Uthred was her best option.

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

Night came quicker than Ragni expected, the sun racing through the sky and down beyond the grassy hills of Northambria. Unlike the past several days, Ragni did not stalk the walls of the monastery, or stand idle at it's gate. Though in that particular moment she wished she had, wanted nothing more than to escape the situation she was forced into.

Beside her King Guthred walked unattended by guard or man, his fingers laced behind his back. He called upon Ragni, insisted that she accompany him outside his holy fortress and through the labyrinth of his armies holdings. An unusual sentiment, one Ragni could not help but find an oddity in. She had spoke to Guthred but once, believed the man found her ill in company. Uthred had his ear after all, making conquest over the King's mind.

"You're cousin has made a remarkable recovery," The King finally spoke aloud, his head tilting in acknowledgment of a group of passing Saxons warriors. "I feared he would've died within the first day of his stay." He admitted, while they passed through the first row of tents.

"My cousin is a stubborn man, he would not die so easily." Ragni remarked, choosing her words carefully. "If so, he would've died at the hand of Aed." A fact, for even the Scottish bastard could not bring down Ivarr the Older. Though Guthred was right, nonetheless Ivarr should've died from his wounds. The Gods must've favored her cousin, or at least his motives.

"So I've heard," Guthred smiled. "Stubborn is your kin, perhaps it is in your blood? To fickle to perish, and far to diligent to roll over."

"I hope you're correct in that thought, Lord." Ragni complimented.

"Have you been betrothed, Ragni? I failed to ask your cousin, and doubted he'd know the answer considering the time you've been apart."

Ragni wanted to walk away in that moment, turn on her heels and flee. "I have not." She gave a short answer, and further prayed to Odin nothing more would come of the conversation. A lie, but only she would know. Nonetheless she hoped he was merely curious, and held no true reason behind his words.

"It is a shame, then." Guthred continued, giving Ragni a sidelong examination. "That you are not a Saxon, I'd marry you myself. But I suppose it would be pointless, then." He thought aloud.

Ragni swallowed, thanking the Gods she was born a Dane. She'd soon battle a hundred men, than marry the horses arse that walked beside her. "Yes, it is a real shame." She carried on, keeping the sarcasm at bay.

"Hild is pretty, don't you think?"

"For a Saxon." Ragni agreed.

"But she is old," he dismissed, a frown darkening his face. "Wouldn't bare many children." He rambled, causing Ragni to internally groan in mental agony.

"May I ask a question, Lord?" She wanted desperately to stir the conversation away from marriage, and whatever none sense that would come after his pointless chatter. She did not care who he married, didn't want to know who he had marked for future prospects. Well, as long as it wasn't her.

"You may." Guthred nodded.

"Why did you spare my cousins?" She quizzed, her failure to ask Sihtric the detail's leading her mind to wonder. She'd ask Sihtric the same, prod him with questions regarding his persuasive hand over the King.

Guthred hummed in thought for a few heartbeats, his head craning toward Ragni. "I did not believe it wise to kill a man with a similar goal," he explained, the words on the edge of a whisper. "As you stated he is an enemy of Kjartan, and one that many of men fear. I am sure you're aware of his oath?"

It was Ragni's turn to nod, her face drawn forward away from the King's. He reeked of ale, both his body and breath. It was a vile scent, one mixed with a masculine odor. "He told me, a few days ago." She stated, inhaling a breath through parted lips.

"Than he has also told you of our plans after Dunholm?" Guthred inquired, keeping himself near.

Ragni knew she should've answered honestly, dismissed the notion of gaining information. But it was Sihtric's words of advice that raddled through her skull, inklings of lessons he granted Ragni when they spoke of Gods and deceit. "He spoke of your generosity, and his fondness." Ragni began, twisting her tongue in the simple lie. "Wanted me to discuss things with yourself in regards to the events after Dunholm. I fear he does not favor his son in the terms of planning, and diplomatic debate." Honesty fled Ragni, carried away with the Northumbrian breeze.

"I am a King of my people, aim to me kind just as God would intend." A lie, but she'd let Guthred believe it. "Yes, it would only make sense if we discussed it further. You after all are a big part of our discussion, it is a shame you were not there when we spoke." He sighed, his lips clamping shut as they passed another group of armed men. "He told you of my intention to restore his place in Eoferwic?"

That was a bewildering bit of information, one that made the rivers of Ragni's mind run wild. What did he propose in return? Ivarr already promised his sword, and men. "Yes." Another lie. If only Sihtric was near to hear, and celebrate the success of the twisted lie she spoke. "He rejoiced when he told me."

"I hope you rejoiced as well," Guthred smiled. "You will be rejoined with your kin, given freedom in Eoferwic." He further explained, pulling away from Ragni. "Freed of Uthred's oath."

Freed of Uthred's oath? Ragni's eyebrows pinched together, confusion drawn across her features. Did Uthred discuss her release to Guthred? Perhaps Ivarr? He had grown tired of Ragni after all, regardless of who gathered the information she would in fact rejoice. "And I thank you for that, Lord." Ragni forced a smile, and a glance toward the man.

"Do not thank me," Guthred hummed, hands raising to run down his jutted out chest. "Thank the Gods for their favor." He whispered, with a wink.

"You mean God and his Christian magic." Ragni stated carelessly, far to caught up in her own mind to retract the statement before it slipped from the tip of her tongue. "Forgive me, Lord." She uttered, providing him another smile. He may of been a fool, but he was one that was becoming increasingly helpful. If only every King was as weak minded, and delusional.

"Do not apologize," he leaned back in, causing Ragni to abruptly turn her face away. "I meant what I said, Ragni. Gods. I do not believe in the Saxons faith, to a extent I despise it. But do not tell the Abbot I worship our Gods with discretion, hm?" He pulled away then, allowing Ragni to breath in the fresh air absent of his stench.

"I will not, Lord." Ragni whispered. Another lie, one she'd keep to herself for when it proved useful. A Christian King, hand of Alfred, and a pretender of Faith? It would be a bitter shame for Guthred if the knowledge was made apparent.

"Ah, Sihtric." Guthred called out, dragging Ragni from the wicked string of thoughts. "How are you faring this evening?" Guthred asked, giving Sihtric a quick hug. A masculine hug, one that involved the awkward parting of backs, and weird arm calculations.

"Well, Lord. Very well." Sihtric chimed, stepping away from the King.

"I must take my leave, it's near noon." Guthred sighed, looking absolutely displeased with the realization. "The Abbot insists that I pray every evening for the battle that is to come." He informed, giving Ragni a roll of his eyes.

As Guthred began his trek away from both Sihtric and Ragni, a handful of men moved to his side. Men that shared the title Household Guard, their names at a loss to Ragni. It was obvious then. Hild had been right, she had very little connections. Couldn't even name the men she shared occupations with, despite the time they spent together.

"What was that about?" Sihtric asked, once Guthred was a good distance away.

"My cousins."

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。.

INDEX

~