Of Monsters and Flowers [Sihtric Kjartansson]

Act I: Chapter Nine

Dunholm
Kingdom of Northumbria

Lynette had fallen into a routine, she did all she could to veil her mind and prevent herself from falling deeper into the disastrous thoughts she would unwillingly perish at the altar of- yielding beneath its harsh hum. Sadness had become her as if it's grasp was a curse befallen unto her, wholly the sentiment is all she now knew. Many a days had passed slow and agonising all the same, all so draining and yet she prevailed albeit with much force for even she had contemplated whether it was worth it?

Waiting had become tedious akin to an affliction upon her and now she no longer desired to hear the word, fenced inside a burrow she had created herself dug with her own hands- the dirt making home beneath her nails, it was phantom to the eyes of others but to her it was all she could see. Dirt, stain, crud, impurity- filth a cycle that took it upon itself to continue.

With every breath Lynette drew passed her lips his name lay at the edge of each one, is he okay? what happened to him? Whispers carried through the cool winds, raw in nature for the words spoke of deceit he had become a traitor left his father and that he, Sihtric, wishes him dead. But who would not want such a cruel man dead? Lynette knew for sure that most people trapped behind the walls of this cage prayed upon it each night for she did the same, recited words of sin, she knew it but can God really condemn her? It was him, after-all, that had given her this life.

In the time that had come forth and passed Kjartan had placed a ban on ale and wine the fear had clawed through his heinous skin, passed cruel bones and wicked veins into his tainted blood and it had absorbed him entirely but still he ever more remained to all eyes strong and fierce, 'The fortress will hold and we will prevail, we are warriors.'

She would rather see this fortress be submerged in scorching flames, blazing each part of this land taking it and turning it into ash.

The winds had illustrated a rather harsh morning as Lynette saw, one by one, shivers arise on the pale skin of her arms. Clouds of white air travelled out from her lips with each exhale from her warm lungs yet she felt thoroughly enveloped by the bitterness that roamed. Her hands reached forth and she grabbed a warm wooden bowl of food before silently nodding her head to Bysen turning to leave without a word.

"Lynette- here wear this it is cold." She ordered as she draped a thin covering across her shoulders, it would not do much to curtain her from the cold but it was something.

Lynette mustered up a small smile forcing her fatigued muscles to curve in the shape, "Thank you." She whispered.

"It is the least that I could have done, now hurry." Bysen ushered the girl out of the kitchen.

The outside beckoned her onward with welcoming hands as she walked rather quickly, staying to the side she would appear to others as a quick shadow passing through barely noticeable. The night's faint call echoed behind the birds soft songs- Lynette awaited for the darkness each light with earnest longing.

"And where are you of to?" Lynette heard his voice, a screeching sound grating against her ears and she despised it.

Lynette turned to him she stood before a door- the door to a basement so cruel yet she wished she had walked quicker.

"To feed your prisoner." Lynette answered.

Sven scoffed walking closer, "How noble of you."

"If you would allow me to, lord, I must go." She said the word with such venom, it amused Sven but in a way where he desired to tear at her it was only fair to him.