This one is just as long, if not longer then the previous one, so be prepared!
Sorry for any spelling/ grammar errors!
Enjoy my loves!
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You were going to strangle Hvitserk yourself if you got out of this alive, you swore to the Gods by that.
He had the brilliant plan of spying on the enemy while they were supposedly sleeping in the middle of the night, except they weren't asleep, they were wide awake planning their next attack on your people. Both of you were caught not moments after you arrived and dragged into a tent where they left you for 50 minutes or so.
"This is your fault Hvitserk!" You quietly whisper to him as you look over and silently scold the man.
He looks over at you, rather relaxed even in your situation and pokes his tongue into his cheek and glares harshly at you.
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"You think I don't know this!" He hisses and you scoff at him, "Bjorn will have my head and I'll never hear the end of it from Ivar and Ubbe." He finishes a little lower and looks down at his hands.
You both were sitting on a bench like chair with no back, straw flooring covered the ground and candles lit the tent up. Hvitserk kicked around the straw a little before sighing.
"If we get out of this, then I'll find a way to make it up to you. I promise." Hvitserks says softly as he continues to move the straw. You go to say something to him when men burst through the entrance to the tent and a rather familiar face makes itself present.
Two men walk up to you and Hvitserk and point their swords at your neck, or on your neck if you will. Heahmund smirks as he walks right up to the two of you, a rather sinful look on his face for a supposed Holy Man.
He looks you in the eyes as you scowl back at him, a dark glare to your eyes and a similar one in his. He leans down and picks up a discarded cleaver, grabbing it between the blade and handle.
It looked old and rusted, the handle had a metal wrapping around it with dark chipped wood holding as the handle. He stands himself up again and goes to turn towards one of the guards, gripping the cleaver in his hand.
Then he roughly whips around and hits you on the side of the head. The whiplash of the hit sends you onto the ground and your head right into Hvitserks lap, a sword still pressed to his throat.
You grab onto his hands as he closes his eyes and you grunt out, keeping your forehead pressed to the man's stomach. Hvitserk bites his tongue as he looks at Heahmund, anger pushing through the man.
You weakly pull your head back up to look at the Bishop and he winds his hand back and repeats the action once more, sending your head flying back into Hvitserks lap. His face contorts into pain as his eyebrows push together and he closes his eyes, gritting his teeth as the sound of the hit makes itself present to his ears.
