† 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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❝see, i am not your enemy. ❞ °✦.° ( damage gets done — act one ) °✦.° 『 chapter six 』 ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
At dawn, under King Guthred's command, the warriors and priests of Cumbraland assemble with a sense of anticipation and purpose, gathering like a tide before their journey toward Eoferwic, the once-prosperous, now half-abandoned city Guthred intends to claim as his new stronghold and future kingdom — it being Uhtred's idea. The air is thick with whispered prayers and the murmurs of seasoned warriors as they ready themselves, their figures silhouetted against the early morning light. As the procession mounts their horses, Narcissa, though among them, finds herself forcefully keeping distant from the captive. Despite her lingering curiosity about the spy who has stirred such a whirlwind of emotions within her, Halig and Clapa have resolved to keep her far from him, remaining tight-lipped about her intervention the previous night. Though unspoken, their brotherly-like protectiveness is rigid, their main priority is to shield the young woman from the dangers posed by the stranger in their midst. Riding under the stern watch of her guardians, Narcissa submits to their caution, the tension in her gaze hidden beneath the lowered brim of her hood.
The journey stretches onward beneath the wide expanse of the sky, the hours melting into a rhythmic cadence of hooves striking the hard, unyielding ground. Their pace is brisk, the air sharp and bracing with the coming chill of winter; yet, the men continue to press forward with unrelenting resolve, their focus unwavering despite the extensive amount of time that's being spent marching. The solemnity of their travels is broken only by the occasional glint of weapons, the creek of leather, or the steady murmur of soldiers exchanging words, their voices low but frequent, whilst the others in the company speak only in rare, brief moments. Each man is keenly aware that every step brings them closer to Eoferwic and the looming promise of conquest, laden with the uncertainty of what might lie ahead.
For most of the day, Narcissa remains silent, her thoughts completely consumed by the previous night's events and the weight of many spoken and unspoken warnings from both Halig and Clapa. She keeps to herself, stealing glimpses of the road ahead, the imposing figure of King Guthred leading the charge with a resolute expression. Every so often, she finds herself casting a quick, wary glance over her shoulder, toward the Danish prisoner, who rides under guard, his sullen face obscured by layers of mistrust and secrecy. Yet, Halig and Clapa's firm watch keeps her from any further intrigue.
As dusk finally begins to settle, painting the sky in cloudy shades of purple and grey, the company slows, and the weary assembly gradually comes to a halt in a wide clearing that's sheltered by ancient trees. Men dismount their horses and stretch their sore and aching muscles, talking in hushed tones about the day's journey and what might await them in the city to come. The camp quickly stirs to life as tents are pitched and fires are kindled to stave off the creeping chill. Uhtred, however, wastes no time organizing the camp, his voice calm but commanding as he assigns tasks to his new and loyal men, each responsibility calculated to ensure that their campsite is secure and provisions are ample for the night ahead.
