Hall of Flames | 𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

14

[ 4 x 14 ]

In the Uncertain Hour Before the Morning

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Tyra grunted as she pushed against the cell door. She was going crazy in this tiny abode. From her knowledge it had only been a few hours from when she had last seen her father, at least he was alive. Ivar sat silently on the floor next to her, he had been more violently angry since they returned, Tyra had never seen him like this before. 

Her little brother had always been angry, but not to this extent. He spoke of torture, pillaging and revenge, and whilst the blonde agreed with some parts of it, she was far less sadistic than her brother. Their guards were stood around a table, fiddling with gold coins and talking loudly in their Saxon language. If she had to guess, Tyra would bet they were placing bets on which one of them would die first. 

Occasionally, one would look over at a pacing Tyra, no doubt deciding whether she was worth anything. The vile looks they gave her body was enough to make her skin crawl, that also seemed to fuel Ivar's hate. But the blonde would never be able to relate to her little brother in a sad way, she didn't know what a struggle it was to live daily. To move, fight, exist. In that sense, Tyra tried not to judge her brother, but still thoughts lingered in her mind. 

Her pacing was practically wearing a hole into the ground. 

"The Prince wants to see you." The guard spoke, unlocking her cell. Tyra glared and didn't move from her place against the back wall. The Saxon rolled his eyes and repeated his words again but slower. 

Tyra scoffed, eyes flickering to Ivar with an eyebrow raised. "Does he think I will understand if he repeats it slower?" 

Ivar shook his head at his sister, her smart mouth would get her in trouble one day for sure. The Saxon took a step inside her cell, it would be easy to overpower him and run. Fight their way out, find their father and escape back to Norway. But it would not be easy, she risked leaving her swords and daggers behind. It would prove whether the Gods did indeed favour her or her father. 

"Fight him Tyra," Ivar whispered as the guard stepped closer, it was said so quietly both were unsure whether he actually said it. 

If her little brother agreed with her thoughts then surely they were flawed. Fighting would get her nowhere in this situation, it took a maturity to realise that. "Not today little brother, there is a time for fighting and that time has not yet come." With no struggle the guard grabbed her arm and dragged her from the cell. 

Ivar watched them go, crawling forward as to see her further. Even though Tyra was older, sometimes it felt to him that he was the older sibling. He often chalked it up to her being a woman and therefore more vulnerable in a sense, but seeing her go was always hard.