† 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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❝blood runs thicker than water. ❞ °✦.° ( damage gets done — act one ) °✦.° 『 chapter four 』 ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
The following morning, a diverse group — a mix of warriors, priests, and the diseased — come together with a crucial mission: to rescue the soon-to-be king of Northumbria, Guthred, from a Dane named Kjartan's slave traders. After an everlasting day of traveling on horseback, stretching from the first light of dawn to the dimming hues of the late afternoon, the older men in the group finally decide to set up camp. Their weariness is evident as they find a secluded spot deep within the heart of a forest, away from wandering eyes. With practiced efficiency, they unload their gear and arrange their campsite, the crackling campfire soon providing a semblance of warmth and light against the encroaching darkness. As the men settle in, the weariness of the journey weighs heavily on them, their conversation minimal and their movements somewhat slow, save for the occasional clink of metal and the rustle of food being served.
In contrast to the group's lethargic ease, Narcissa --- who is driven by a desperate need for solitude and a cleansing bath --- ventures further into the forest. The dense underbrush and tangled branches form a challenging obstacle course, her progress impeded by the growing fatigue of the day. She follows the sound of a swiftly flowing creek, its persistent rush offering a promise of relief. Navigating through the thick, encroaching vegetation, each step becomes increasingly strenuous, yet her determination propels her forward. Her search for a secluded bathing spot is a determined quest for solace amidst the chaos of their journey.
After wandering for what feels like an hour, the forest thick with shadows and the rustling of leaves, Narcissa stumbles upon what seems to be a hidden oasis. Less than half a mile from camp, almost as if guided by a subtle force of fate or divine intervention, she finds a small pond where the brisk creek she has been following finally pools into a serene, glassy basin. The soft trickling of water fills the air, the pond's surface reflecting the last hints of daylight filtering through the trees. Though modest in size, it is more than just enough for her to swim in — a luxury she hasn't indulged in for what seems like an eternity. Compared to the cold, impersonal wells and makeshift buckets she's grown used to on the road, this secluded body of water feels like a gift.
Narcissa wastes no time. Without even bothering to test the water's temperature, she strips off her clothes hurriedly, her body eager for relief. She stands at the edge for a moment, feeling the cool earth beneath her feet, before diving in headfirst, her body cutting through the water in a fluid, graceful motion. The pond's embrace is immediate and perfect — neither the biting chill she feared nor the uncomfortable warmth that could weigh her down. Instead, the temperature is an ideal balance, cool enough to refresh her travel-weary skin but not so cold to send shivers up her spine. As she surfaces, the water feels like a cleansing balm, washing away not just the grime of the journey, but the weight of the past days spent on the road.
