Hall of Flames | 𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

18

[ 4 x 16 ]

Crossing

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"This is ridiculous," Tyra muttered walking next to Cedric. Both had their hands tied together as they were tugged along behind a horse. The blonde had at least been given a tunic by the healer, the woman had approached her before and told her to keep covered. According to Cedric that is. The woman didn't seem to belong with the men here, she seemed rather melancholic and barely spoke to the men. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know," Cedric sighed. His wrists burned and were rubbed raw, the Prince had never been treated such a way in his life. He jerked his head to get a piece of hair from his eyes and Tyra gave him an odd look, he did the strangest things. His feet crunched against the dirt, "they must have bases all around these woods. Keep us moving so we're harder to find."

Tyra chuckled but there was no humour in her tone, "Oh, wonderful, so when we turn up dead no one will be able to find us!" She shuddered at the thought, her body rotting away where her brothers could never find her.

"Tyra," her blue connected with his green and the Prince gave a soft smile, hoping it was convincing. "I promise you, we are going to live through this." She didn't believe him at all.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." The blonde warned. Far too many promises went unkept in their day and age, it's why Tyra didn't take them lightly. She had promised to protect Ivar to their mother and she would until her last breath, the only issue was getting back to him. Maybe it wouldn't be a problem if she didn't survive this at all. Flashes of her body crumpled in a ditch ran through her mind, she shivered at the sight.

"Shut up, both of you." The Saxon man turned around on his horse, disliking the language immensely. The horse walked faster at the kick in his side and the two prisoners lurched forwards at the sudden increase. Luckily remaining on their feet. "Cursed Pagan tongue."

Upon the glare on Cedric's face, Tyra turned to the man she was beginning to see as more than the handsome son of her father's enemy. "What did he say?"

"He doesn't want us speaking Norse," the Prince lowered his voice and subtly glanced at the rider before speaking again. "I think he's nervous because he can't understand what we're saying."

Tyra snorted, "welcome to my world." Cedric frowned realising just how difficult this was for her. The only person she could speak to was him and whilst he considered himself in high regard, it had surely been hard for her. The blonde was unaware to his train of thought and peaked around at the soldiers. Three horses, two in front of the one dragging them alone, each with a rider. The other Saxons including the women walked behind them at a much more reasonable pace. "So how are we getting out of this?"

"I don't know yet," Cedric licked his lips, dehydrated and hungry wasn't the best combination for him to gather ideas. "He plans to random me to me father."