sin » finan the agile | the last kingdom

TWENTY SEVEN

"Is that you, Morwenna?" Finan's voice was cracked from grief and emotion. I let out a giggle but winced immediately, realising the pain that it caused.

"Who else would it be?" I teased, looking at him with furrowed brows. "Perhaps you were expecting a prettier, kinder, more obedient woman," I said.

"I prefer your stubbornness," He winked, reassuring me. "Though for a time, there was a knife-wielding, fever inflicted girl who has taken a liking to stabbing herself." He teased. I groaned,

"She's gone... for now," I said, jesting with him. My breath hitched a little as a jolt of pain shot up my stomach, causing Finan to become tensed, more concerned, but I shook my head. "She won't return, not for a while, I'm sure."

"Hopefully never," Finan muttered. "Sihtric certainly had something to say about it,"

"What do you mean?" I questioned, unable to decipher the meaning behind his words.

"How did you think we got you calm again?" Finan smirked, jesting with me

I sighed, remembering the pain on the back of my head. "What did he hit me with?" I frowned. My head ached from the drama of it all; it was more than I had experienced in months.

"His bowl." He grinned, "He hasn't eaten out of it since."

"Yes, well, my head does not thank him. He hit me twice, I think it is likely I will develop a brain fever of some sort." I murmured. "What exactly have I been doing, Finan?"

"You've been talking to people for hours on end, Morwenna. You were delusional. Osferth thought the devil had possessed you and that we needed to perform an exorcism." Finan paused. "You said Thorfinn was here to take you to hell."

"He was here, Finan," I said. "He may have been a ghost but he was here."

"A ghost?" He asked, confusion painting his face. Oh, that face. I had missed it so dearly. I had forgotten the little hairs that lined his beard, or the tiny gap between the bottom of his moustache and the beginning of his upper lip. His eyes had a small, tiny speck of contrasting colour that I had forgotten. Oh, how I had missed the Irishman. My Irishman.

I nodded slowly, "He is dead," I admitted, feeling guilt swarm me. "I... I killed him." I said. Finan gave me a knowing look and I knew he understood. "But he was here, Finan, I felt it." I persisted.

Finan nodded slowly. "It is the fever."

"It was him." I insisted on it in a stern tone. "I know it."

There was a silence before I spoke again. "Finan,"

"Morwenna?"

"Would you just stay with me, for a while. I.. I do not feel safe in truth and at this moment I lack the ability to defend myself. Just talk to me, Finan."

"I will always be with you, Morwenna, even if my body is not."

I settled in his arms and listened to him speak softly, telling me of the most random things. From gossip to the politics of Winchester. I felt myself drift in and out of sleep but he remained each time I woke, still chattering about the most obscure topic. I was thankful. If I survived, I would thank him a thousand times over. I loved him wholeheartedly and he knew it. He was my home and I was his.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It was not long before the men were to go to battle. The men trotted about as they awaited their fates, praying, talking and doing many other things that were akin to that.

I remained bed bound. I was more conscious than previously but my fever had not broken. I was awake most of the night and if I was not, I was soon woken from a night terror. Finan refused to leave my side so that, when I did wake, screaming and crying, he would be there to comfort me, to reassure me, to remind me that all was well; it was just a dream.