† in which a young girl has been saved by the one and only, Uhtred Ragnarsson, which leaves her to be indebted to him. while serving by his side, love begins to blossom, and families are formed and born. she finds herself not only falling into t...
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❝ just someone who wants my company. ❞ °✦.° ( damage gets done — act one ) °✦.° 『 chapter three 』 ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
𝟐𝟏 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫
"Hand it over." The monotone voice sounds from behind the woman who is hurriedly walking away, leaving an inn after having spent the night with an unknown man who has paid to hump her. Narcissa is outside of that very same room the woman has just walked out of, seated at an empty table with her breakfast placed in front of her. The young girl had woken up no more than thirty minutes ago, and in that time, she found her good friend, Halig, still fast asleep, laying outside at one of the few tables beside her, Uhtred in bed with an ale-house whore at his side, and Hild fetching barrels of water and food for the horses. Whilst the two men sleep and the nun occupies herself, Narcissa thinks to treat herself to a nice breakfast using Uhtred's silver. Unfortunately, she now finds her peaceful morning getting cut short due to the whore stealing from her closest friend.
At the sound of her voice, the woman who Uhtred had just finished humping only hours ago stops in her tracks. Slowly, she hides the belongings in her hands behind her back, then turns around to face the black-haired teenager. "Pardon?" She softens her voice, trying to play dumb to appear innocent.
"The sword, it's not yours." This time, Narcissa's voice hardens, becoming much more stern with her words. "Hand it over." She repeats herself, enunciating each word. Not willing to say it for a third time, Narcissa places her elbows on the wooden table in front of her, then leans forward, moving closer to the woman who is much older than she is.
"Or what?"
A subtle smile flickers across her face, a spark of excitement rising within her at the woman's audacity to stand against her. It is a rare thing, and Narcissa welcomes the challenge. Since the battle of Ethandun over a year ago, she has been searching for opportunities to put her newfound skills to the test. It isn't the need to kill or the desire to harm that drives her, but rather the thrill of combat and the need to feel the rhythm of a good fight, to sharpen her techniques with someone beside Halig or an Uhtred still nursing the effects of last night's ale. She craves the chance to feel the weight of the sword in her hand and the satisfaction of meeting a worthy opponent.
Narcissa sets her cup of milk down gently on the table, her movements slow and deliberate, ensuring not to disturb the sleeping boy beside her. She rises to her feet with quiet grace, her eyes already locked on the trembling woman ahead — the whore who holds Serpent's Breath, Uhtred's sword, with unsteady hands. The blade's tip quivers as it points directly at Narcissa's face, a feeble attempt at a threat. But Narcissa doesn't flinch; she doesn't even pretend to be afraid. Instead, a calm resolve settles over her features. She takes a step forward, her gaze never wavering from the woman, studying her grip on the hilt, the fear in her eyes, and the slight tremor running through her arm.
