Hall of Flames | 𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

13

[ 4 x 14 ]

In the Uncertain Hour Before the Morning 

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Horses circled them, riders looking ready to strike them down if they even moved wrong. Not the best feeling in the world. Not to mention the fact that she couldn't understand a word that was being said was really starting to annoy her, the Saxon and her father conversed. 

"Who are you?" The officer on the wall shouted. 

"My children and I have come to see a good friend, King Ecbert." The officer didn't look like he quite believed whatever her father had said. Tyra tried to remember about seeming weak but it wasn't in her nature, her glare never wavered as she stood next to Ivar. "We have travelled a long way! And my poor son and daughter are hungry and they are thirsty! I have no doubt that your King would like to know of our arrival." 

The same officer didn't waver. "The King is not here."

"I am still sure that he'd like to know that his good friend has been treated kindly." Ragnar stepped forward, and on the slim chance that they were in fact friends with the king the officer seemed to nod. If the man was lying they could always kill him later. 

"Let them in!" The men dismounted and Ivar shuffled on his hands, more anxious than he had ever been. Guards stepped towards Ivar and Tyra glanced at their father, he nodded subtly the message clear, do not interfere. With that resolve the blonde stepped backwards and her brother was hauled over a horse. Tyra was nudged forward so she walked behind her father into the fort. The Saxons openly stared at the three, it wasn't everyday they got a close look at the people who had been pillaging their lands for years. 

A small girl tugged on her mothers dress, "Mama, the girl looks like an angel!" 

"She's a devil! Practically the spawn of Satan." 

Tyra walked forward with her head held high, trying hard not to look around. At this  moment she just wished for her family, to be at home, messing around with Agmuntr and Bjartr. 

Two men walked towards them, looking like they had far more power than anyone else. Their clothes were nicer, and their weapons were decorated with gold and silver. They both had brown hair, though one had hints of blonde. The dark haired one looked older, he had a beard and carried himself arrogantly, she hated him already. The other one however looked younger, he was probably one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Tyra could see the green of his eyes from here and his hair went just below his ears, he didn't have a beard but wasn't freshly shaven, a few bits of stubble lined his jaw highlighting the definition of the bone structure. 

A soldier approached the two men striding towards the party of three, "Prince Aethelwulf, we may have captured..."

"For the love of God! Do you not know who this is?" The brown haired one yelled, Tyra couldn't understand but based on how loud he was getting he definitely wasn't happy. "It's Ragnar Lothbrok! The King of the Northmen!" Silence dropped in the courtyard and the blonde itched to grab the daggers on her thighs. "SEIZE HIM!"  Spit flew from the mans mouth as all the officers circled her father.