Vagabond | The Last Kingdom

Six

"Your friend over there has a staring problem."

"Maybe he's just admiring you."

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

After fervently pleading with Alfred to allow Ragnar to join me in the quest to rescue Uhtred, we found ourselves in Northumbria with Steapa by our side. Uhtred's figure, recognizable from a distance, held a sword thrust into his hands by none other than Sven, the one-eyed fool who couldn't seem to get a grip.

"Uhtred!" I cried, tears welling in my eyes as I sprinted towards him. It had taken two years, and after an arduous and exasperating search, we finally located him. Every moment of those two years felt like an eternity, filled with relentless pursuit and mounting desperation. Now, at last, our efforts had borne fruit, and he was within our grasp.

Ragnar's men engaged in a fierce battle against Sven's guards, but my sole focus was on reaching Uhtred.

At first, he appeared stunned, his expression a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion. Then, as if unable to contain the flood of feelings any longer, he broke down. With tears streaming down his face, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his body shaking with sobs. 

In that moment, I cradled his cheeks in my hands, tenderly wiping away the tears that cascaded from his eyes, feeling the weight of his vulnerability in my arms.

Emotions surged within me, an overwhelming mix of relief, joy, and sorrow. All I could do was share in his tears, offering understanding. Leaning in, I pressed a gentle kiss to his tear-stained cheek, a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity.

As Ragnar approached, I stepped back, allowing the brothers their long-awaited reunion. Despite my reluctance to leave my dear friend's side, I knew this moment belonged to them.

Moving down the line, I freed the other slaves. Hesitating at a man who locked eyes with me intensely, his eyes glanced at my sword, then at a man and back into my eyes again.

I unsheathed my sword, nudging it towards him with a nod. He grasped it shakily before strengthening his grip on it, stumbling a little towards the man, uttering words I couldn't decipher. Without warning, the sword plunged deep into the man's throat, and he fell to his knees in satisfaction.

I glanced at Ragnar and Uhtred talking before I approached the man. Kneeling beside him, I took my sword back, gently pulling him into me as he wept. No one would deny such comfort after everything they had been through.

"What's your name?" I murmured, pulling back and sitting across from him. "Finan," he mumbled with an accent, his voice was hoarse and weak. "Finan, do you happen to be Irish?" I asked with a small smile, and he nodded.

"How can you tell?" he inquired, and I chuckled. "It's the charming accent," I said, getting up and brushing the dirt off my legs. He looked up at me intensely studying my features and I let him briefly before offering my hand, he gracefully took it hoisting himself up as we joined the others.

Around a fire, Uhtred, Finan, Ragnar, Steapa, and I gathered. 

"What of Halig?" I asked quietly feeling Uhtred's arm wrap around me as we huddled together under my cape, attempting to keep warm from the biting wind.

"Halig fought relentlessly," Uhtred replied softly, his words carrying the weight of unspoken grief. I nodded in understanding, a pang of sorrow settling in the pit of my stomach. I blinked back tears, determined to maintain composure for the sake of these weary men. 

The memory of Halig's bravery weighed heavily on our hearts, yet I knew dwelling on his loss would only deepen the wounds we carried.

As Uhtred rested his head on my shoulder, I offered what little comfort I could, gently stroking his hair as his fingers traced the tattoo on my arm with a tenderness that spoke volumes.