.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。.

A FATHER'S
DAUGHTER

Year: 878
Location: Onhripum, Northambria

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

The words that the three shared did not last much longer after Ragni's agreement, the woman herself finding little words to follow her acceptance of the arrangement. She'd marry this Eric, would do so for Ulfhild. And Guthred would uphold his side of the deal, would save Ulfhild from the wraith of the Christian holy men. That is what mattered, Ulfhild's safety and not Ragni's disgust. It was a marriage, a union of man and woman. A union Ulfhilld was currently trapped in with Sven, a marriage Ragni should've been forced into.

"We should talk, more about this." Ivarr the Older stated, his voice piercing through the silence that came with Guthred's departure.

Ragni who had aimed to follow Guthred, obediently dropped back into the seat she had occupied throughout the arrangement. "What are you getting out of this?" She murmured, finding her tongue wiggling carelessly in the absence of the Fool King. Perhaps not for the best, but Ragni crossed the bridge of anxiety and nervousness. She was bitter, angry at the undeniable choice. "Gold or more land?"

"A little bit of both," he answered carelessly, pushing the cup of ale he had been nursing toward Ragni. "You knew this would be your fate, always has been. Even before this, your father searched for men to take your hand in marriage. You'll be married, have children, and raise them. It's your purpose in life, just as it was your mother's."

"But I am not my mother, did not-."

"No, you're the spitting image of your father, which makes my point stand even more." His green eyes searched Ragni's taking in the wraith that laid in her imperfect pupils. "You're the daughter of Sigurd Thorrson, and many men wish to claim your hand for their own ambitions. This Dane is perhaps one of them, but he will be better than the others. Better than Kjartan, or any other Danish bastard, no?"

Ragni thought on his words while taking the ale he had offered. He was right, she knew marriage was inevitable. "Have you met him? This Eric." She questioned, retiring to a more careful front. She'd let Ivarr speak, and spew his horse shit.

"I have not, but Guthred has assured me he is a decent man."

"And you take that into account? He believes you're a decent man, and you razed Eoferwic and slaughtered the city's people." drawing the ale to her nose. It reeked, then again everything in this forsaken land had. "He is not a man of accurate judgment." She took a drink, watching Ivarr grin from above the rim of the wooden cup. It was a truth, her older cousin was not a decent man. He was a warrior, bloodthirsty, and untrusting. But he was kin, one of the last she had seen since her father's death.

"After your marriage, I will come to you for a favor," he began, eyes flickering across Ragni. "Will request your husband's men. Do try to take the reigns of the house, in the first few months."

Ragni drew the cup from her mouth, swallowing the horrid liquid that lay across her tongue. Eoferwic's ale was indeed worse, but Onhripum's ale was weak. "I will not aid you," She began, calming the nerves that began to bubble in the pit of her stomach with the declaration. "And you will do best not to ask me for a favor." She stated, keeping her focus of caution upon the man before her.

"I am your kin," Ivarr began, serpentine eyes boring through her. "One that you owe Guthred's arrangement for."

"No, you're not my family." She rose to her feet, pushing the cup of ale toward Ivarr the Older. "That hook lost its worm when you exchanged my fate for land and gold." She tucked her quivering hands behind her back, her face obtaining a mask of nonchalance.

She had expected Ivarr to scowl, perhaps raise a hand but he did neither. The man only smiled, crooked teeth revealed, and bony features drew taunt. "You are your father's daughter," His eyes glowed, green hues lightening with sickening excitement. "But even that does not warrant your future. Take back those nasty words, and I will forgive you for saying them."

"I will not take back my words, for they were spoken with honesty," she murmured then, staring into the green depths of Ivarr the Older. "I denounce our kinship and that of your sons. You wish me to marry without reluctance, then I will do so from this day forward." Her voice grew, the fire in her chest stoked with a newfound rage. "I owe you nothing, will grant you nothing. It would be in your best interest not to come seeking my goodwill."

And then came the scowl, the smile slipping to reveal the ambitious monster that raveled beneath his bony exterior. "When I raise an army, and march with your Seer I will remind you of this moment." He began, slowly rising from the chair he lounged in. "Repeat the very words you share with me now when you plead for my forgiveness." He was inches from her face, his malodorous breath pervading throughout the room.

"Then I will see you in battle," she whispered, eyes fluttering between the pools of anger that burnt bright before her. "And I will finish what the Scotts could not." She seethed, her shaking hands calmed beneath the weight of the anger that flushed through her veins like volcanic fire.

She was tired. Utterly exhausted from the game that was played around her, tired of being a pawn in their game of Kings and Queens. She had lived as a captive since Dunholm, be it by Tekil or Uthred. Had bent and fractured beneath the orders of others, tasted not a single drop of freedom. And it was then that she saw it, could see through the haze of her own selfish desire to recollect the pieces of herself she was once before. Ivarr was not family, had never been.

He was a snake, one that did not care for the kinship that connected them. He saw only the name of her father and the value that came with it. Ivarr had succeeded, would be granted land and wealth for his exchange with Guthred. But she'd be damned if she'd give him any more, would rather fall to Helheim and serve the Goddess Hel. She would no longer play the game, would no longer be drug across the board.

She'd live according to her ambitions.

She'd save Ulfhild from Dunholm and Eoferwic.

Be reunited with the fragment of herself she lost months ago. Would fulfill her failing duty as protector of Loki's blessed daughter.

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。

Ragni did not slow down as she made her way through the corridors of the monastery, didn't stop to exchange a passing Clapa and Ryphere greetings. The exasperation that traveled through her mellowed, each step bringing forth a stunning sense of self-realization. She'd marry the man, and follow through on her words to Ivarr. But before such things unfolded, she'd take what had been given to her in the moment. Would ravel in those fleeting moments she shoved aside, and tyrannized herself for.

Returning to Sihtric's assigned room, Ragni found the bed empty. The clothes that had been thrown across the room missing from the floor, along with his boots. He stood in the middle of the room, fingers fiddling with the instruments that held together his jerkin. "Where have you been?" He asked, taking in her smiling expression with a grin of his own.

Ragni did not speak, didn't force herself to think of words or even a proper excuse. She only acted, her hands gathering the front of Sihtric's jerkin pulling him downward to meet her lips. He did not pull away, or break the contact. He met her with the same abandon, matching the carnal urgency that withered through her body.

Sihtric moved according to Ragni, did not hesitate or question the sudden onslaught of desire. He only responded, ravaged Ragni upon the cold stone of the monastery until she was a weeping mess of stifled moans and muffled whimpers. It was after when their entwined bodies stilled, and their hearts calmed did he speak. His words spilled through the room, pouring across the woman who lay bound in his arms upon the floor.

"You missed me, huh?" He teased, his lips brushing across her forehead in a tender kiss. A drastic change from his earlier affections, kinder than the harsh thrusts, and bruising kisses.

Ragni opened her eyes to peer upon him, a jesting frown pulling at her mouth. "You're ruining the moment." She murmured, running an index finger across his sweat-drenched brow.

"Alright," he murmured, his fingers drifting from between her shoulder blades to settle on her waist. "Back to my question, before I was rabidly attacked. Where'd you go this morning?" He hummed, slowly uncoiling his arms from around Ragni to sit upward.

"I spoke to Guthred and Ivarr." She answered, watching intently as the muscles in his back rippled with the upward stretching of his arms. "About Eoferwic." She emphasized, her focus drifting to the aged scars that decorated the length of his upper and lower back. They were long, clean almost.

"I take it that the discussion went well, then?"

Ragni drew a finger to one of the scars, the pad of her finger running across its jagged surface. "Kjartan?" She asked, eyes averting back toward his face as he turned his head to answer. "Did he do this?" She murmured, suddenly understanding the burst of emotion he had displayed when he saw her own scars. There was something within her that snapped, the hatred she held for Kjartan soaring to a height Ragni did not know was possible.

"Among others, but it was long ago. I hardly remember them, can't recall the reason behind their infliction." He turned toward her, taking the hand that she held to his back. "I have forgotten they are there." He remarked, giving her a lopsided grin. "Now, tell me about Ivarr and Guthred." He drew her hand to his mouth, giving her knuckle a single kiss. "Explain to me why I should thank them, for the attack I endured this morning."

She'd forget about Eric and the marriage. Would keep the arrangement between herself and those that orchestrated it. It wasn't a matter Sihtric could help resolve or persuade. There was no point in telling him when it would only cause distress, and add another stone to their mountain of problems. She'd keep it to herself, and savior the time she had with Sihtric. He did not need to know. But he did need to know a singular detail, one that would resolve a heap of that mountain.

She would not tell him. Wouldn't. "I've spoken to Guthred, convinced him to let me stay in his court after Dunholm." She breathed, reminding herself of Sihtric's once lectured words. It was a truth, but not the extent of the whole. A sliver of information, one that she prayed would suffice. "I'll be in his service, with Ulfhild." Another truth, as crooked as it was.

"Let's pray Uthred does not need to leave then," he chimed, leaning forward to steal a kiss. "And that he is chained to Guthred like the dog he is." He mused against her lips, before pulling away to stand.

Ragni mirrored his expression, her gaze tracking him through the room as he collected the articles of clothing they had both thrown astray. "Are you supposed to meet with Uthred?" She asked, taking in the sight of his bare body. A view she was certain she would not forget or want to forget.

"No I'm going to pay the monks," He explained, while jumping into his trousers obstructing her view of one of her favorite physical attributes. "I do not want our secret getting out." He stopped to glance down at her. "Even the holiest of men will accept the shiniest of things." He remarked, with a twitch of his mouth.

Ragni nodded slowly, eyeing him with suspicion. "I thought you had nothing to exchange for my forgiveness?" She asked, reminding herself of the day back in the Northambria forest when he exchanged a horse for her empathy. He had nothing then, had stood on that very fact.

"I will after I visit Ryphere," he explained, slipping his jerkin over his head. "He owes me for a few lost bets."

She eyed the man further, blue eyes narrowing into suspicious slurs. "What bets did Ryphere lose to you?" She didn't know Ryphere had the gold to lose a bet, but the man continued to amaze Ragni. Perhaps it was gold from Clapa's losing bets, or from small acts of thievery. What ever the case, she did not care how the Saxon came across his small wealth. Not unless, it pertained to her and Sihtric.

"Nothing that comes to us," he reassured, stopping before Ragni. "He is a poor at Hnefatafl, especially when he is drunk." A soft grin appeared on his mouth, his hand lowering in an offer to help her to her feet.

Ragni nodded slowly, taking in the mess of a man that stood above. His dark hair unbraided and wild, clothes disheveled put. A rugged image, sloppy and simple. "He is a Saxon and a thief," Ragni murmured, taking his hand. "You shouldn't gamble with a man who doesn't know how to play the game." She chastised, once she was on her feet.

"That's the thing, Ragni." He mused, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "He believes he is the best, it would be a crime if I did not humble him." He excused his lips briefly grazing against hers.

With yearning, she leaned forward to end the teasing touch. But she did not meet his lips, only air. With opened eyes, she was met with the sight of a frowning bastard. "What?" She whispered, utterly confused by his sudden change.

"What else did you exchange for your stay with Guthred? Guthred got your service, but what did your cousin get?" he squinted, leaving Ragni to curse his sharp-wittedness. "And do not lie to me." He warned, disapproval overtaking the euphoric look he had worn seconds before.

"'My cousin sold me to Guthred," she answered with honesty, stepping away from his touch to gather her own articles of clothing. "Exchanged my service for land and gold." She expressed while attempting to dress.

"I am sorry, Ragni."

She did not need to look at him to know he was sincere, didn't need to turn to see the sympathy that riddled his face. It was in his words, laced through his tone. "Do not apologize," she frowned, slipping into her trousers. "It is for the best. I learned what my cousin is, found that our relationship held no bigger importance than the barter he made. Besides, I'll have Ulfhild and the protection of Guthred." It was a truth, an honest thought.

"But for what price," he breathed from somewhere behind her. "Do you know what Guthred intends to do with you? The promise of gold and land is a hefty price, especially for a King who has accumulated little."

Ragni turned to him them once she wiggled her way into her jerkin, her eyebrow-raising in bewilderment. "Am I not worth the land and gold, Sihtric?" She questioned, giving him a playful pull of her mouth. A jest, a final advance to pull Sihtric away from the topic.

"You know what I meant," he frowned. "You know nothing then?" And he did not bite, didn't find her attempt noteworthy.

"I know nothing." She lied.

.・。.・゜✭✫・゜・。.

INDEX

Hnefatafl ➳ Hnefatafl, also known as The Viking Game, The King's Table or simply Tafl, is one of those two-player games where the opposing sides are not equal in number. The defending side comprises twelve soldiers and a king, who start the game in a cross formation in the center of the board. Their objective is for the king to escape by reaching any of the four corner squares. ( https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/2932/hnefatafl )

For more information please refer to ( https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/what-is-hnefatafl-viking-board-game ) which discuss the game in depth along with archeological finds of the game.