Allure | The Last Kingdom

Nine

"Why don't you just approach her?"

"Whoever has their hand on my ass has five seconds to remove it before I cut off their balls and feed them to you,"

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

Seated in the comforting confines of Thyra and Beocca's home, I found myself surrounded by Finan, Sihtric, Osferth, Uhtred, and Beocca.

"You know, you look human, almost angelic," Finan remarked with a playful twinkle in his eye, gesturing towards the light blue dress adorning my frame. His comment elicited a chuckle from me.

"In something other than black," Uhtred added with a wry smile, his observation drawing a teasing retort from me.

"What can I say, black is my favourite colour," I shrugged, smoothing out the delicate fabric of the dress.

"Black is the colour of death and evil," Beocca interjected solemnly. I met his scrutiny with a mischievous smile, a flicker of boldness dancing in my eyes.

"Which is why I love it," I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur, savouring the subtle rebellion against convention. Beocca's disapproving tut only served to deepen the amusement in me.

The joyous atmosphere shattered the moment Thyra returned home, her tear-stained face a contrast to the mirth that had filled the air just moments before.

My smile faltered as concern etched lines of worry across my brow. "Thyra, what happened?" I implored urgently, rising to my feet as a wave of unease swept through the room, drawing the attention of everyone present.

Her words cut through the silence like a knife, filling me with an indescribable rage, a fire burning fiercely within me. "Where is he?" I demanded, my voice trembling with barely contained fury, my eyes ablaze with righteous indignation.

Before Thyra could reply, the door burst open, and Beocca stormed out, his expression a tumult of anger and resolve. Without hesitation, I followed in his wake, as we confronted the source of Thyra's distress.

"You will steer clear of my wife, or else I will personally see to it that you are no longer a concern!" Beocca's voice rang out, sharp and resolute, as he faced off against Tidman, Aethelwold, and their cohorts. Instinctively, I held back Finan, who moved to intervene, shaking my head in silent instruction to allow Beocca to express the depth of his emotions.

Tensions simmered as Tidman continued his berating, the air thick with the promise of imminent conflict. Yet, Beocca surprised us all, his restraint shattered as he lunged forward, delivering a swift and decisive blow that sent Tidman sprawling to the ground.

For a moment, chaos reigned as fists flew and tempers flared, until Finan, Uhtred, Osferth, and Sihtric stepped in. Stepping back, I watched as they separated the two, the air heavy with the weight of simmering animosity.

"This is your fault," I accused, my voice a cold blade slicing through the tension, as I fixed Aethelwold with a withering glare. Beocca's words echoed mine "You're the one stirring up trouble and turning the citizens of Wessex against each other" his voice heavy with disappointment and reproach.

"Your father would be ashamed of you," Beocca concluded, his words a final indictment before we turned and left.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

I left the tumult behind, leading Thyra away from the chaos that had erupted among the men, their voices fading into the distance as we sought solace in the tranquillity of an empty field.