DREAM OF ME, sihtric & finan

3. sihtric

CHAPTER THREE; sihtric

          The force of the punch rocked her face to the side, a pained hiss rushing past her lips before Tova could contain it, eyes squeezing shut to try block it out — she was being punished for her refusal to answer honestly.  She was being punished for a lot, it happened to seem, for past punishments rightfully given that Sven had caused, and now for surviving a fire that had been created to kill her family off. Perhaps they'd only planned on Thyra surviving, the one that Sven had always seem to want, but Kjartan had seen something in her. 

Whatever it was, he didn't care about it all that much now from the way he was beating her, demanding answers to his questions that she would never give.

Uhtred was alive, Ragnar was alive, her brothers would come and find her, they'd avenge their Father and save them all.

That's what she kept telling herself after every punch and kick for not doing as she was told, for not speaking, for not being a traitor to her own siblings and Brida — the people she cared about more than anything.  Thyra, too, but Kjartan had refused to tell her about her sister's condition until she spoke.

Tova would rather die than speak of Uhtred, the one Kjartan wanted information more most on.

"Tell me, girl, before I do something to you that you'll be sure to never forget." He's threatening to reach a level that she expected from such a man — threatening to rape her, to take the last thing she had to her.  His answer is spitting in his face, saliva and blood mixed and landing straight onto his cheek, immediately he's throwing a punch right to her face.

Yet he never reaches the level he is threatening her with.

"You little whore!" He's furious, wiping his cheek to rid himself of her angered response, catching the way she still manages to stare up at him with bright blue eyes filled with rage.  Kjartan couldn't ignore how she would make a fitting warrior, but she could never be trusted, yet her loyalty to her brothers made her admirable. He was no fool to believe his men portrayed the same type of loyalty.

She near choked on the kick he sends to her throat, head dropping against the dirt and dripping blood, forehead soaking it in as Kjartan begins to leave. 

"You will tell me where Uhtred is," Kjartan warns her as he slams the door shut, unaware of his bastard son lingering around the corner, listening to the entire thing — he had wanted nothing more than to save her, but he was putting a plan together to get Tova out of here completely, and making Kjartan think anything differently of him other than what he already did was the last thing Sihtric intended on doing.

Tova shook her head, forcing her head up to glare at the man that had destroyed her life.  "I would rather burn you where you stand, coward!" She shouts toward the end, angrily, despite the crack in her voice. 

The man just chuckles, before disappearing from her view and away from the cell, a scream following from her at how little she was treated.  Didn't they know who she was? The daughter of Ragnar the Fearless! And yet, they had beat and started to starve her, an utter shame to her Father's blood and memory.

Pushing her body up, so she could sit and lean on her legs, knees digging into the mud as she wore the same night dress, Tova breathed heavily as she shut her eyes, refusing to touch the wounds along her broken skin.

She was a Dane, taught how to fight, how to kill and she would survive such treatments by returning them.

The sound of a tap against one of the metal bars of the cage made her force a chuckle, believing it was Kjartan coming back with something more brutal to use against her in attempts to talk. This time, she would not even open her mouth to scream or spit at him.