Unholy Confessions ~ Sihtric Kjartansson

Dos/Two bit of three

Melancholia/mel-un-koh-lee-uh
A feeling of sadness and depression.

Torvi was tired, so tired. She had been riding for hours as she came South, and into Cumberland. She was trying to not think of her ruined home.

Almost there, she called to her horse a Friesian called Obsidian. Her father had gifted her the large Friesian stallion before he took her to her first battle, he said that the horse would keep her safe when she needed him too.

As her father said, the Friesian had guided her. To the camp. (Very large time skip, so I wrote in my notes and when I tried to copy it here it disappeared 😕 go with please)

Torvi followed the sound of shouting and cheering to the meadow where she had first met Uhtred, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she located Hild. The nun stood with a priest, Beocca, and another soldier, Hailg, both of whom had known Uhtred for then her.

"What is happening?" The younger woman asked, leaning against the fence. She had been at their war camp for a few weeks, taking advantage of the safety and protection to her stomach full and body rested. "Why is Uhtred fighting?"

"He's showing off," Hild replied, smiling at the younger girl. "For the Lady Giesla."

"He fancies her?" Father Beocca nodded at the young Adults words. "Then why does he not just say it? Wouldn't it be simpler."

The three adults chuckled at the young Adults naive words. Torvi might have more battle experience, but in knowledge of other things unrelated to war, the girl knew nothing.

"You will know when you start to like someone child," Beocca nodded at Hailg's words, unaware of Torvi's scowl and the rolls of her eyes. She hated being referred as a child by the others around her, a name they had taken a liking to calling her that for her young years.
"I believe the lady feels the same." Hild pointed out, as Torvi titled her head and watches Lady Giesla's facial expressions, wondering how they knew that they likes one another. Was it defined feeling or a combination?

"They usually do. Even his scars are handsome," Beocca scowl again, as Torvi continued to think of what they spoke of. The big man yelled, running at Uhtred who bashed him out of the way, before kicking his ankles and holding a sword at his throat.
"Not every sword stroke is a kill!" Uhtred yelled over the cheering crowd, as Torvi smiled. This was a topic she was more familiar with. Put a bow, or even a sword or an axe, in her hands, and Torvi was in her element. "A kill is something you must fashion! Whether man against man, or within a shield wall, anything below the knee is vulnerable. A strike to an ankle won't kill you.

"I once short a rival lord in the ankle whilst he was on his horse," Torvi revealed, as Beocca sent her a concerned look. "Don't worry, he died quickly after that, "I did not torture him."

"That's-" he was cut off as a group of horsemen approach their camp, around six on the large animals and Danes if Torvi ever had seen them. She hoped over the fence, her hand on her sword, that rested on her hip, as she stood beside Hailg, her head titled as she watched them. Even after being here for weeks, Torvi hadn't truly seen any other Danes, just Saxons.

"Forgive me, we are looking for Uhtred, the commander of the king's army." The oldest could have easily been her father's age, whilst the youngest looked the same age as her. They were dressed in leather amour, swords and axe's hanging on their hip. "We are here to offer our swords."

"Excellent! Excellent!" It was not Uhtred who has replied, but the turd king Guthred with his squeaky voice and Torvi scrunched her nose up as he spoke, crossing her arm. Still, she held her tongue, refusing to let her words spill out. "to whom do you belong too."

"We serve the Dane, Earl Brynjar. We are settled north and east of here." The one in charge spoke calmly, which was a complete opposite of his imposing figure and stained amour. The younger one, the one Torvi believed to be close to her age, was also stepping forward cautiously.
"I know of Brynjar," Guthred begin to speak again, as Torvi grounded her teeth together and huffed. "Well I am Guthred, King of Cumberland."

"Lord, forgive me," the man bowed his head as the remainder of the party watched on.

"Oh, no, no. If you are here to join me, there's nothing to forgive." In all truth, Torvi could not blame the Dane for not knowing that Guthred, was a king. The man was small, thin, and did not look like a king or the warrior King he was suppose to be. In fact, he barely looked like a warrior.
"Brynjar is not with you?" Uhtred stepped forward, his arms crossed as he prevented Guthred from speaking, a blessing really.

"My lord is a old, man now."

"He sends you here, why?"

"He is worried the like of Kjartan will take his lands," Torvi tensed at the name, before turning away from the clearing and walking off. She had no longer needed, not wished to be there, especially if they spoke of the Bastard or his one-eyed son she hated so much.

The cheers and shouts of drunks surrounded Torvi, as she sat and ate with Clapa, Hailg and Beocca, later that evening. Uhtred had disappeard a moment earlier to go and follow the Lady Gisela into the chapel, leaving the rest outside.

"Have more food, Torvi," Hild pushed more bread and stew into in Torvi's plate. "You are too skinny."

"Yes, lady," the girl grinned, chewing on the food as she smiled at the nun, eating the food in front of her until her stomach could handle no more.

"And Ale to send it down."

"She is too young for Ale, Hailg!" Hild growed, hitting the soldier as Torvi laughed and drank the ale anyway. She'd been drinking Ale since she was fourteen at least. "Torvi!"
"It is fine, Lady." Torvi replied, chuckling to herself as Hailg and Clapa cheered, the latter patting her on the back so hard that Torvi felt eyes would fall straight out of her head.

"There we go, little lady," Clapa replied, Torvi coughed the ale, her cheeks heating up as she did.

"No more, Torvi," Hild stole the cup from her hand, hanging it back to Hailg as she shook her and pointed a finger at the girl. "You had enough."

Torvi laughed again, before narrowing her eyes as she watched Uhtred running from the building towards to the stables.
"Something do with his horse," Clapa guessed, belching as Torvi turned around. She paused, her eyes narrowing as she looked for the other Danes, slapping Hailg in the process.

"The Danes."

"What?"

"Where are the Danes?" She hissed in response, grabbing her bow and quiver from where it lay below the table and running off after Uhtred, the adults following along behind her.
She turned the corner, drawing a arrow from her quiver and only missing a moment beat, pulled it back to her cheeks and let it fly. She watched with satisfaction as it hit the young Dane in the arm, making him cry out it in pain as he clutched the wound. The adults all stopped, turning to look where the shot was fired from.

There was a moment pause, before everything erupted into shouts, metal clanging against metal as Torvi drew her sword and slammed the young Dane, that she shot.

"No! I need one of them alive!" Torvi heard Uhtred's yell, kicking the Dane's leg out from underneath him and slamming her knee into his chest, one hand on the arrow and the other holding a dagger to his throat. If he moved, she'd twist the arrow or slit his throat.
"Stay down," he struggled for a moment, Torvi could his eyes wide with fear, before relenting as the adults took care of the rest.

A/n; thoughts on the chapter?
Please comment I love reading them 😊❣️this is chapter two and three