-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 -
ʙᴇᴀᴍꜰʟᴇᴏᴛ.
ᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ - ɢʟᴏʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏʀᴇ

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

THEY WERE TOO LATE.
The camp had already been ransacked. Attack. Maimed and torn down to nothing but billowing smoke, gusts of it coiling a dark grey into the air.

There was not a soul in sight. No Dane's, no Aelthelflaed, no Thyra. No one. Not a single living, breathing person alive. No one that wasn't already dead and waiting to rot away into the unforgiving earth.

Her heartbeat leaped inside her chest, the rhythm coming to a lingering still as it jumped into her throat.

Her eyes scanned as far and as wide as she could, hoping, praying to the gods above to see a head of red hair - alive or dead, it was better than not knowing.

Her boots slipped out from the stirrups and her leg swung above, allowing for her body to slide on down from the mares back. She didn't stop to brush her hand against the horse, to kiss the Mares cheek like she had always done as a show of her appreciation.

She took a few weary steps forward, her lips parting with words that couldn't seem to formulate, until finally, the restraint on her mind snapped and her voice strung together. "Thyra!"

Beocca followed quickly behind her, his eyes wide, his face unsettled. "Thyra!"

"Lady aelthelflaed!" Steapa shouted moments after, his feet carrying him towards another direction, trailing further and further from the priest and the dane.

"Thyra!" Freyja shouted louder, her face pinching with something bitter. She turned her head from left to right, gazing through the tents, over the bodies that lay at her feet. She walked in the direction of the tree's - Thyra was smart, she would head for the woods in order to lose the Danes.

"Thyra!" Beoccas voice cracked with fear, catching in his throat, his eyes sweeping with the threat of incoming tears. "Please be alive. Please be alive."

"Lady Aelthelflaed!"

Uhtred's eyes swelled with sadness, with grief and guilt as he and Finan slid down from the horses. His lips shook with unease.

"Thyra!" Freyja called out, her voice beginning to strain with worry. She stepped over a corpse, her eyes falling upon a head of red hair pocked with blood.

Quickly, she rushed over, stepping over the woman as carefully as she could before dropping to her knees. Gently, she peeled back the bloody strands to reveal the woman's face. Freyja's shoulders dropped in relief.

It wasn't Thyra.

"We'll find her." Finan spoke, standing over the woman and Freyja with his arms respectfully crossed in front of him, fingers woven around his wrist. "We will."

"Beocca!" A voice shouted into the open, erupted from the trees that loomed like a bad omen, sounding an awful lot like Thyra's strained, panicked voice.

Freyja's head snapped up, her eye's tearing away from the corpse of the woman. Relief pooled her expression, consuming it completely as she found her sister rushing out from the woods.

She stood to her feet but did not move an inch from her place as Thyra ran straight for Beocca.

"Beocca!"

"Thyra!" The priest shouted with a relieving laugh, his face becoming red with tears as he ran towards his wife, meeting her half way and caving into her arms.

"I thought you were dead and I wanted to die!" He sobbed, crying into her shoulder, gripping her as his life depending solely on it, as if she'd suddenly vanish and all he'd be holding was her corpse. "I thought you were dead."

Thyra cooed into his ear, settling his shaken self as she smoothed her palms across his head and shoulders. From over the priest shoulder, her eyes locked with Freyja and she gave a reassuring smile as if to say that she was okay, that she was alive.

Freyja swallowed thick and squeezed her eyes, blinking the stinging sensation back from breeching the surface.

She's alive.

"Thyra." Uhtred approached his sister's side, his hand reach for Thyra's, fingertips brushing across her hair with worry. "Thyra. Thyra, where is aelthelflaed?"

Thyra parted her lips, unable to string the words together as she replayed the last recent events.

Aethelred stepped forward, his jaw clenching with frustration - but it was not in the concern of his missing wife. "You will answer."

"Of course she will answer!" Beocca snapped, reluctantly pulling from the embrace and glaring over at the young lord.

Thyra slowly brought her eyes towards Uhtred, gasping for breath, her voice weak and strained. "I do not know."

"Did they take her?" Aethelred's eyes snapped towards Uhtred expectantly, as if he held all the answers to his endless string of questions. He swallowed thick, portraying the image of a grieving husband, of a guilt-ridden man.

But they all saw through it.

"We ran and," Thyra choked on her words, stumbling across each syllable. "Then she was - gone."

Freyja shook her head, and shifted between her feet. She gazed across the endless piles of corpses, slowly, slowly beginning to deteriorate. Then she gazed across the treeline, trees sprouting with an endless sea of darkness.

She clenched her fist tight, her jaw sealing firmly in thought. She took a step towards the woods, her gaze determined.

Uhtred reached out, capturing her elbow and gave a stern look. "You are not going out there."

Freyja tore her arm from his grasped and stepped towards him. They were practically nose to nose. Her stare faltered, eyes flickering around the side of his face, finding aethelred watching them closely.

She lowered her voice with a bitter whisper. "We should find her - perhaps then you can fall back into the king's better graces." She raised her hand, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"We will find her."

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

FIRE LIT THE NIGHT.
A flicker of orange crackling against the wooden flesh of logs and twigs, popping the skin from its bones, rendering them to nothing but the silver of ash.

Freyja stared into the abyss of the blinding light, her eyes capturing the motioning silhouette of its reflection. She leaned her arm against the bend of her right knee, her left hand holding the stick that poked and protruded the glowing embers sparking within the pit.

There was thoughtful expression swirling through Finans expression, his body splayed out across the cold earth, his weight leaned against the bend of his arm, his front warmed from the heat of the fire. A frown tugged at his lips, something knowing as his gaze flickered upwards towards Uhtred.

"If you believe her to be alive, you will not abandon her." He spoke, stating the words as if they were truth, a foresight into the near future ahead. "You will not, that is a fact."

"No, he will not." Freyja muttered. There was a tiredness in her expression, a blanket of exhaustion that hollowed out her marble-like appearance. Her eyes slowly drew up, peering over at her brother through brows. "Because Uhtred is far to loyal to his king to abandon the princess."

Finan gazed across her, his eyes lingering on the stones of her green ones. Half shadows lingered on the edges of her face where the light of the fire couldn't. He was curious by her bitterness, the harshness in her tone that seemed to linger in Uhtred's presence.

Forcing himself to look away from Freyja, he tilted his head slightly upwards to gauge Uhtred's expression. There was a glare settled in his eyes, a clench of his jaw. Finan swallowed thick. "What is the real reason we're travelling home to coccham and not to Winchester?"

Uhtred shook his head, his gaze downcast towards the loaf of bread in his lap, the crust slowly being torn away and ripped apart by his fingertips. "There's nothing to be said in Winchester. I won't be part of a whispering court. We'll go when I have something to say, not before."

There was a great pause where silence slipped it's way into the night. Nothing but exhausted sighs tumbling from lips was heard, the slow crackle and pop of the fire, until Uhtred spoke.

"Freyja." He called her name, a gentle but stern whisper that stretched across the few people gathered around the flames. All eyes settled upon him, as if their names had been called. Curiousity swirled within their stares as they had all felt the tension between the two siblings. "You will take sihtric and Rypere to beamfleot. That is where Erik and Sigefrids fleet lie. That is where they'll be."

Freyja knew the meaning behind his words - he wanted her to spy, to seek out Aelthelflaed and hopefully discover any other useful information they could use against the brothers. She glanced towards him, her expression troubled - all she wanted was to go home, to sleep and hold her son in her arms. "I wish to go home to my son."

"And I wish for you to do what I ask." Uhtred pleaded softly, his eyes widening sternly upon her expression. "Ravn will understand why when he is older." Uhtred spoke of his nephew, his eyes drawing away from his sister back towards the flames, as if they held the very sign to his future.

"They know my face." Freyja offered, tucking away the sneer that tugged at her lips. She blinked once to force away the glare from her expression.

"You will remain hidden." He spoke in a tone that left no room for argument, no room for complaint. He glanced to the space opposite Freyja, his eyes finding sihtric. "You are to confirm the lady aelthelflaed is alive and how they're treating her."

"Uhtred." Freyja pressed on his name, her eyes widening with subtle plea. She in no way was doubting her capabilities, but they had all seen her face. They all knew what Freyja Ragnarsdóttir looked like. "You know what will happen if they find me."

They would kill her, possibly a battle to the death, or a hanging or even dismember her head in front of everyone - or worse, they would hold her prisoner and gods knows what would happen then.

"Then do not allow them to see your face." Uhtred gazed across her, his eyes so promising, so believing. He held his entire trust in her, placed his entire faith in her. "You will send Rypere back to me at coccham." He glanced back and forth between Freyja and Sihtric. "You and Freyja will remain there and yes, you are to spy. I will need to know every part of beamfleot, every blade of grass that surrounds their fortress."

Excitement pooled through the stones of sihtric's mismatched eyes, a slow, weary smile tugging on a single corner of his lips. "Yes, lord."

Freyja shook her head, her eyes glaring at the flames that flickered before her. She could feel Uhtred's eyes on the side of her face, Finans and Sihtric's piercing into her front.

"Yes, lord." She spoke bitterly and stood, her body turning away from the fire and the others. She marched through the night with no moon in sight, the silvery pool masked by a thick overcast of clouds.

The light of the fire gradually melted away and she stepped over the border where the light came to an end. She allowed her eyes to adjust and approached the mare grazing through a pasture of earth.

Feet scrambled in her direction, a heavy weight moving across the ground in quick, eager strides - she knew it wasn't sihtric as his steps were light and clumsy, like a baby deer's first steps.

"Lady." A heavy Irish voice brushed across her ear and the broad silhouette of Finan fell into step with her own quick pace. "Do you really think it best for you to go to beamfleot?"

"I don't think, Finan." She spoke, avoiding the piercing of his stare that she could feel digging into the side of her face. She slowed her stride and stepped beside the mare, hands reaching into the saddle bag. "I do what I am told and I have been told to go to beamfleot - so that is where I'm going."

"They know your face." He voice stretched with a hint of plea, a splash and douse of worry and concern. He came to a stop when she had, the side of his arm brushing along the horses neck as he turned his body to face the Dane woman. "We both know what'll happened if they recognise you."

Freyja gave a haphazard shrug, seemingly not caring for the potential consequences if she was to be found out. "Take up complaint with Uhtred."

With a tug of her hand, she withdrew a charcoal coloured fabric, the material thin enough to see a light shine through its soft texture, a cloak or shrawl of some sort.

"What is going on with you two?" Finan gave into his curiosities, his eyes narrowed with suspicion as he followed the movement of her arms as she draped the fabric over her shoulders, folding it in a way that was secure over her shoulders and chest.

"If you are so curious - then ask him yourself." She gave him a look that said she would not reveal much else on the tension between her and Uhtred. Pinching the edge of the cloth, she pulled the hood up over her head, hiding the fawn coloured strands of her hair. "Look after Ravn while I'm gone."

"Always." He promised, his eyes shining with honesty, but there was a hint of something troubled, an unease that dragged and lingered in the subtleties of his expression. He did not like the thought of her going to beamfleot, the thought of what could happen if the brothers or anyone else found her out.

He did not doubt her capabilities, but she was one woman against hundreds of men and Sihtric and Rypere were merely twigs wielding swords, they did not share her same experiences.

Freyja was satisfied with his response and she glanced to the left as she heard sihtric and Rypere approach. She looked one last, lingering time at the weary Irishman before gathering the leather reins and hooking her foot in through the stirrup. Pulling herself up onto the mares back, she briefly, barely swept her eyes across Finan through the night. "See you soon."

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

The sun was slowly dwindling deep into the horizon by the time they arrived at beamfleot, casting the sky in a faint pinkish hue that smeared beneath the clouds.

Freyja tilted her head back to gaze across it, a weary expression stretched across her face - if anything were to happen where they needed Uhtred's assist, it would be a whole days ride before one of them arrived back at coccham and another days ride back.

Freyja pursed her lips together thinly at the thought and tore her stare away from the setting sun. Her attention fell to sihtric and Rypere, gauging at her expression as if waiting for clear orders on what to do next.

Looking away from them, she turned her head and gazed across the crowded yard, filled and scattered with stragglers living within the town and those who belonged to the brothers.

"Blend in the other Danes." Freyja ordered in a steady tone, her feet leaving the stirrups as she slid down from the horses back. "Try to not make it obvious that you are spying." Her eyes settled carefully on the two men, unsure of just how skillful they were when it came to spying.

"And what of you, lady?" Rypere's face twitched with concern, his eyes carefully set upon the side of her face.

Freyja didn't reply, merely looked away as she handed the reins of her horse to sihtric, silently ordering for him to take the creature to the stables. When she took the first step, sihtric's voice cut through the air, curious, low enough to not draw unwanted attention. "Lady Freyja?"

"I have a plan." She spoke ominously, tilting her chin towards her right shoulder as she held the Dane's stare. With a weary smirk, she tugged the hood further over her face and began walking through the busy yard, leaving the men to stand in her absence, watching as she so easily disappeared into the town, like a shadow when shining a light.

She followed the path further into the village, unsure of where exactly she was headed. There was a hall at the head of the path, it's wooden structure tall and towering in front of her.

Freyja swallowed a breath and lifted her chin up as a way of appearing confident. The hood still masked her face, keeping her appearance cloaked as she approached the double door.

She could hear voices inside from where she stood, Sigefrids the loudest as his words naturally boomed through the hall followed by a cold, echoing laugh that rumbled deeply in his chest.

Taking a moment to think to herself, she slowly reached her hands for the doors, palms laying flat against the aged wood. Drawing in a breath, she shoved the doors open with a ricocheting creak, drawing a heavy silence across the room.

Without a trace of weary, Freyja marched herself into the hall and stopped before the brothers who's eyes snapped onto her.

The Dane woman lifted her arms, pinching the edge of the hood and pulling it back from her face. Surprise painted the brothers expression, followed quickly with suspicion.

"Freyja Ragnarsdóttir." Sigefrid boomed, a smirk twisting at his lips as his eyes instinctively ran across her silhouette. "Might I speak on behalf of my brother and I, we were not expecting you."

Freyja smiled sharply in response. "I find the element of surprise works best." She took a step forward, resulting in the two readied men standing guard to inch towards her, hands flying towards the axes in their belts.

Erik stood from his chair, a weary smile on his lips, his eyes narrowed with caution as he gazed across her then behind her, as if expecting Uhtred to stroll through the doors at any second.

"He is not here." Freyja spoke, her head tilting in Erik's direction, though her eyes remained still, trained carefully on Sigefrid who had yet to rise from his chair. She felt Erik's eyes fall back to her and Freyja took the moment to find his stare. "I assume you are looking for Uhtred."

"My apologies," Erik smiled lowly, his palms facing outwards in a show of mock surrender. He took a step towards her and another and another until he was at a two foot distance. "You and Uhtred are always at eachothers sides, it is easy for me to assume he is here now."

Freyja smiled weakly, her gaze drawing away from the blonde haired brother towards Sigefrid once more. She felt Erik step around her, his gaze suspicious.

"What are you doing here in beamfleot?" Sigefrid tilted his head, eyes narrowing with a glare once he took note of her sharp expression. "I'm sure you are aware we have the princess. Are you here to fetch her back?" He chuckled at his words, as if it were the most funniest of jokes.

Freyja failed to crack a smile.

"Not in the slightest, lord." She spoke, her silky tone melting across the room as she lifted her chin up. From the corner of her eye, Erik moved back to his seat beside his brother.

She took another step and the guards were quick to step in front of her, axes drawn out as a precaution only to be tucked away by a wave of Erik's hand.

Freyja glared at the men in response before softening her gaze and looking between the brothers. "I've come to offer you something else."

"And what have you come to offer us?" Erik grinned sharply, his hand waving between himself and his brother.

"My sword."

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

Finan often thought about his life before, before he had met Uhtred and Freyja. At the time, he was just a slave on a ship, so broken, so lost, so close to that line of giving up and letting his self be beaten to death.

That was what slavery does to a man. It breaks them, makes them loose all sense of self preservation. It causes the soul to shatter and crumble till it was near unrecognisable.

Finan was hanging on by a mere string by the time they found him, and even then, he was so ready to give, to give into the hands death.

And he knew, when he watched as they fought on that beach, the way Freyja fought as if her very life depended on it - it had - even when she was drowning and being strangled and she managed to pull herself from the edge of it - he knew that they would break too.

It was inevitable.

And that was what they did, they broke and broke and broke. Finan was almost certain he knew that exact moment that they had lost everything, all composure, all sense of fight.

Uhtred's soul became shattered the moment they were recaptured on that beach.

And Freyja - she broke the moment she had been stripped bare in front of them all. As if the embarrassment and the shame was enough weight to leave her crumbling. And from then on, he watched as pieces of her were chipped away, like peeling bark off of a tree only this was her dignity, her soul, her entire being.

And as her stomach proceeded to swell with unwanted life, the chunks grew larger and larger till she was left with nothing.

Finan didn't understand how she managed to hang on so long,

To find that grip even while her brother was barely on his feet, even while he himself was loosing grip. Her strength inspired him, it was the tether that kept him going, kept him holding on only by his mere fingertips.

But what kept her fighting continues to allude him.

He thought, perhaps it was Ravn, the life of the child she hadn't at the time had a chance to meet - but then he thought not as the boy was just another reminder of the pain she had gone through, the agony that was forced upon her.

Looking at him now, it was hard to picture such cruelty being the cause behind such an innocent sweet face.

"Finn?" Ravn uttered out, a quiet whisper that filled the desolate room, so loud in comparison to the silence, so quiet compared to his endless string of thoughts.

"Hmm?" The Irishman hummed in acknowledgement, a faint, barely there smile turning at his lips as his palms pressed into his eye socket, rubbing away the lingering tiredness that threatened to pull him under.

"Will ma be safe?" He asked in such a sweet, genuinely curious voice. His tiny little hands fisted the edge of the blanket, fingers curling into the material as he pulled the sheet higher upon his body till it rest just beneath his chin.

"She will." Finan promised, not only to the boy but to himself. She had to be safe, she had to be - lord only knows what would happen if they had sought her out. Finan didn't want to think about it. "You know why?" He shifted in his position on the floor beside the single bed, his body partially rising up to brush his fingertips through the boys fawn coloured hair.

Everything about him was Freyja from the color of his hair to the dimples in his cheeks, to the shape of his cheekbones, prominent beneath soft skin, to the color of his eyes, not quite an emerald green but a soft green, like sage.

"Because your mother is the bravest woman I know." He poked Ravn's side, smiling as he squirmed and placed his hands flat on the mattress to pull himself up from the cold, hard floor.

"Scary too." Ravn voiced, a humourous tone in his words as his eyes lit up in the dim light of the lantern, his gaze carefully following the movements of the Irishman. "Uncle Uhtred is frightened by her."

"He'd be a fool not to." Finan chuckled, deeply, the noise gradually fading out as he fixed at the blankets draped over Ravn's body, making sure the boy was safely tucked in. "You want the light on?"

Ravn shook his head and rolled onto his side, his eyelids becoming heavy as they fluttered against his cheeks, his gaze still watching Finan through the thick of his lashes.

Finan leaned over, distinguishing the flame causing the room to fall dark. As quietly as he could muster with his heavy weight steps, Finan walked across the room towards the exit.

"Night, da." Mumbled the boy sleepily, causing the Irish to stop in his steps. Finan turned, his hand on the doorway, his eyes searching through the dark towards the bed. A soft chorus of snores reached his ears, signalling Ravn had already settled into a deep sleep.

"Night, little man." Finan whispered back despite knowing he couldn't hear. Walking completely out of the room and into the next, Finan collapsed onto Freyja's bed, the bed that he would temporarily call his own while Ravn was under his care.

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

The fire glistened against her face, touching her skin with a spreading warmth as she sat across from the large pit of flames as they crackled and popped against the legs of furniture that had been carelessly tossed from the houses that surrounded the courtyard.

A gathering Dane's raced across the dirt, huddled together as they used sticks to push around a ball, knocking it from one another's grip with a slamming of the long objects in their hands.

Freyja watched on, unamused by the game at hand. There was once a time she would have smiled at it, perhaps even joined the game if she had enough ale in her bloodstream.

"So," Sigefrid breathed out, a smile curling at his lips as he stared at the side of her face, highlighted by the fire a mere feet away from her. He shifted his position, his shoulders rolling with a pop as he turned in his chair to partially face her. "You never told us why you offered your sword - Uhtred not giving you enough attention?"

"His loyalty to his king is demanding." Freyja muttered, barely sparing the brother a glance as she observed the night. From where she sat, she could catch glimpses of sihtric and Rypere within the seated crowd, laughing at the game before them.

Forcing a smile to her lips, she relaxed her back against the chair and folded her hands in her lap. She gazed at the Dane lord. "But I'm certain you were well aware of that already."

Sigefrid hummed in agreement, his lips pressing together as he stared into her captivating eyes.

Footsteps approached, scuffing against the ground beneath them. "Erik." A voice spoke beneath the chorus of celebration and Freyja tilted her head curiously towards the brother standing a little ways behind her and Sigefrid.

"What is it?" Erik questioned with a subtle snap of annoyance, his eyes rolling towards the shorter Dane standing at his side.

"It's the princess." The nameless Dane easily spoke, gesturing his head in the direction he had came.

Immediately, Erik shot from his spot, crossing the dirt path with long strides and disappearing into the darkness.

"Freyja." Sigefrid called her name again as he set down his cup of ale, drawing her attention back to him as he gazed longley in her direction. "Or shall I say, Lady Freyja."

"Yes, Sigefrid?" She spoke with a false sense of curiosity, a sweetened smile on her lips as if she already knew what words were to tumble from his lips.

"Have you a man back home?" He asked, reaching across the arm of his chair and setting his hand boldly against her thigh. "Not that it matters now that you're with us."

Freyja played along despite the taste twisting in her throat. She smirked, gently laying her hand upon his arm, squeezing for reassurance. "I assure you I do not."

"Then perhaps after, I shall show you what all those men are too stupid to do."

A feeling of nausea settled deep within her stomach.

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

Deep snores rumbled through the room, tumbled from the parted lips of Sigefrid as he slept on the bed in the middle of the room.

Freyja laid wide awake, disgust coiling inside of her from the actions that had just taken place. She was disgusted with herself - not that she had given herself much other choice.

The lengths she'd go to for her brother.

The room was near pitch black, shadows lurking deep in the corners, a slither of moonlight pooling through the cracked open window, shining across the foot of the bed in a hue of silver.

Freyja looked out, her eyes captured by the scattering of stars hung above the small village of beamfleot.

It was a pretty sight, one that made her cold heart ache.

It had been a long while since she was fully able to enjoy the nights sky.

She clenched the amulet at her naked chest, fingers hooking around Thor's hammer and squeezing tight.

She felt the bed shift beside her and from the corner of her eye, Sigefrid rolled onto his side, back to her, his arm slipping from her waist.

Freyja swallowed thickly and pinched the edge of the sheet. She pried the fabric from her body, standing bare from the bed. A coldness spread across her skin, prickling the scarred flesh with bumps.

Tiptoeing across the room, she carefully approached the pile of her clothes that lay on the ground. Glancing once over the large man in a deep sleep, she quickly slid the clothes and shoes back over her naked body, relief pooling through her bones at the safety net they brought.

Freyja pulled the black hood over her head, shielding her appearance in a cloak of darkness and as silently as she could, slipped her sword into its sheath.

She crossed the room, featherlight steps falling deaf to Sigefrids ears. Her hand curled around the door handle with a twist and with a narrow gap, she stepped out of the room, making her quick and silent escape.

Stepping onto the ground floor, her eyes caught the soft orange flicker from another flight of stairs dipping into the ground. She followed towards it, her hand steadily bracing the wall as she tiptoed down.

Carefully, she peered around the edge of the wall and into another room built in the shape of a prison.

It was not like the one she had been locked within at Winchester, there were no iron bars inside a cave, no water dripping from the ceiling.

There was a table in the centre of the room where three men sat, two of which dozed soundlessly in their chairs. The final sat wide awake, legs propped up against the table as he fiddled with a knife.

Parallel to the staircase, a pair of doors stood ominously, barred with a plank of wood, trapping whatever or whoever was inside.

Was Aelthelflaed in there?

Freyja narrowed her eyes and turned away from the basement. Pushing off the wall, she made her escape out into the cold nights air.

"Sihtric." She whispered his name like a chant from her lips as she loomed across the Dane's sleeping silhouette sprawled across the mattress. She raised her hand ever so slightly, flattening out her palm as she tapped his cheek. "Sihtric, wake up."

He refused to stir, his lips gently parted with soft, barely there snores as he dozed away, a small pinch between his brows that appeared as if he were thinking.

"Sihtric." She continued to speak his name, her patience wearing thin as her taps grew more frequent on his face. With a huff, she rolled her eyes in annoyance and leaned her body upwards to a stand.

Freyja's eyes glanced towards the cup of ale resting on the table beside the sleeping Dane and a look of amusement lit across her face. She grasped the cup, swirling the liquid slightly before tossing it over his face. Quickly, she drew her hand backwards as he began to stir and slapped her palm against his wet cheek.

The Dane sprung awake, a gasp escaping his lips as he reached for his knife beneath his pillow. He felt around only to be met with an empty spot.

"Looking for this?" Freyja hummed, twirling the knife to face outwards and holding the point of it against his neck.

"Lady Freyja?" Sihtric asked, confused as his brows sunk deeper, his mismatched eyes narrowing on her face through the ale that stung against him, through the ghostly reminisce of her hand slapping his cheek. He ignored the sharp point at his throat, brushing it off as another of her theatrics. "Why do you hit me?"

His face resembled that of a hurt child, as if she'd just stolen away his favourite toy. Freyja smirked humourously in response and withdrew the knife from his throat, setting it against the table beside them both. "You refuse to wake."

She took a step back to allow the Dane to sit upright and watched as he dragged a palm down his wet face. "There's a cellar - beneath the hall." She turned away, crossing the room with featherlight steps and approaching the window. She looked out into the night, at the soft, illuminating orange glow of the torches just outside of the hall building. She felt sihtric's eyes following her every movement. "Three guard's. A locked door. I believe that's where they keep the princess."

"Did you see her?" Sihtric scrambled to his feet, an eagerness in his expression as he followed her trail with bare feet. He stopped just to the right of her, shoulder brushing against hers as he tipped his chin to find her gaze. He was met with the side of her face.

"No." Freyja gave a single shake of her head. "Until we do, I will not send Rypere. But, if she is alive, I believe that is where they will keep her."

"Do you think they will kill her?"

Freyja gave a second to think. "No - least not at first. I believe they will keep her for negotiations. If they do not get what they want, they will keep her prisoner, breed her like a pup until she is no longer of use. Then they'll make a statement out of her for Alfred."

Another second passed, a stretch of silence that paused between them as sihtric glanced outside for a moment before looking back at her. "How do you know about the cellar beneath the hall?" Part of his knew, a sneaking suspicion as to how she managed to get into the hall - there was no way they brother's trusted her enough yet and it certainly had to be too well guarded for her to sneak in.

"I have my ways." The ominous words escaped her tongue into the cold air and she tilted her head to glare into his eyes, a signal that he was asking to many questions.

-- • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • --

word count: 5906

But of a short chapter but I really needed to publish. After this, GODS AND MONSTERS will be going on hold while I do some reconstructing and editing some of the chapters so look out for that!