𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 | 𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

Slaughtering Peredur's men was easy enough, especially since most of his men had never seen a true battle before. There were a few, however, that put up a decent fight, and while Bryn was dispatching the deserting stragglers with her bow from her perch behind Leofric, one of those decent fighters managed to catch her off guard. He grabbed her by the ankle and yanked her leg out from beneath her with all his might and Bryn, not expecting the assault in the slightest, fell all too easily, crashing down onto Filder's haunches so hard that it spooked the horse into a sprint. Bryn all but bounced off of Fidler's bum, landing facedown in the dirt.

"Bryn!" She heard someone call. It could have been Vikar or Orri, or perhaps even Aloc. Whoever it was, their voice was muffled by the ringing in her ears. "Get up, Bryn!"

Despite the wind having been knocked from her lungs, Bryn rolled onto her back, pulling her sax blade from her belt as she did so. Just as the man who had grabbed her descended upon her, she swiped her blade out at his shins, easily slicing through his flesh and directly to the bone. His grip naturally loosened on his spear as he dropped to his knees, making it easy enough for Bryn to disarm him completely with the swing of her blade. Unfortunately, the move she used to disarm him left her vulnerable and he had her pinned to the ground within seconds.

"Uhtred!" Bryn shrieked, thrashing around beneath the Briton. He grinned as he collected her wrists into one hand, prying her sax blade from her fingertips with the other. Bryn's heart dropped into her stomach. "Uhtred!"

The Briton man placed Bryn's sax blade against her throat, but before he could deliver the final blow, Uhtred came barreling towards them atop his horse. He swung his sword in the nick of time, severing the man's head clean from his shoulders. Bryn grunted when the body landed on top of her, bathing her in blood. She frantically shimmied out from beneath the corpse and scrambled onto her knees, spitting out whatever blood managed to land in her mouth from the beheading. Once she was sure she wasn't going to hurl up her breakfast, she snatched her blade from the corpse and scanned the area around her for her bow. She found it in the hands of another Briton man.

"Looking for this?" He asked, holding the bow up for her to see as if she couldn't already see it.

Bryn merely nodded and shoved herself up onto her feet, the blood staining her skin and clothes already long forgotten now that her beloved bow was in the hands of a stranger.

The Briton jutted his chin at the corpse behind Bryn. "That was my brother that yours just killed. It seems only fair that I return the favor—a sister for a brother. It's hardly an even trade, but one I am willing to accept."

Bryn scoffed at him, twirling her sax blade around in her hand. "Tell me, did you pray to your god before this battle, or shall I give you a moment to make your peace?"

"Do not speak of His name, pagan bitch," he sneered, spitting at her feet.

Bryn snorted at the childish insult. She twirled her blade once again. "Shall we? Or would you like to talk some more? I've noticed your people like to do that before a fight."

The man's response came in the form of a battle cry as he charged at her, Bryn's bow in one hand and a spear in the other. He must not have had a proper plan of attack, because the moment he was within reach, he reeled his arm back, fully intent on hitting Bryn with the spear. Only, as he did this, his belly was left completely exposed. Bryn dropped to her knee and thrusted her sax blade into his gut. The Briton man's face contorted in agony as a strangled breath was forced from his body at the impact. When the man dropped to his own knees beside her, she twisted the blade for good measure.

"That's mine," she hissed through her teeth, snatching her bow from him. She waited until the light left his eyes to remove her blade, wiping it on his thigh to rid it of blood. "Tell you brother that mine says 'hello'."

"Bryn! Bryn, where are you?!" Leofric's panic-stricken voice called out from across the carnage. Bryn would later come to find out that he had been searching for her the entire battle after she fell, and while they might have only been separated for a few minutes, it had felt like a lifetime to Leofric.

"I'm here!" Bryn called back, lifting her bow above her head so that he would be able to spot her. "Leofric, I'm here!"

"Bryn? Oh, God," Leofric blurted upon reaching her. He quickly dismounted Fidler and tossed his sword into the dirt, taking her face into his hands. His eyes frantically searched her neck. "What happened? Are you hurt? Is this your blood? Where is it coming from?" Leofric rattled off. He'd said it so quickly that had she not have known him as well as she did, she might not have understood him at all.

"I'm fine, it's not mine. Uhtred got him," Bryn quickly told him. She grabbed his wrists and tugged, not enough to remove his hands from her face, but just enough to get him to look her in the eye. "It's not mine, Leofric. I swear."

"Good," Leofric sighed, nodding as Bryn's words finally registered in his mind. He slipped his foot under the hilt of his blade and jerked his knee up towards his chest, snatching his blade from the air by its hilt.

"Show off," Bryn grumbled, glowering at him.

Leofric dutifully ignored Bryn's comment, spinning around so that his back was facing Bryn. "'Til the death."

"'Til the death," Bryn repeated, copying his actions by pressing her back up against his.

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ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ as always, not proofread. let me know if you see any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes