Even after her eyes became weary she still continued to dry heave, exhausted and broken. She had to use the tree as leverage to get up and she stumbled home to her manor, her face a mess as she did.
Rayya took one look at her before she hauled her inside, forcing a cloth against her nose as she started sobbing again, her fingers shaking. “My Thane? What’s happened?”
She heaved. “…S…Siddgeir’s… betrothed…” was all she could cough out and her housecarl gave her a look of pity. She sighed and went to the kitchen.
“I’ll make some tea,” was all she said and Kjersti continued to cry, burying her face in her arms. By the time she had the strength to drink, the tea was cold and bitter making her cough. Rayya said nothing from her spot opposite of her, her eyes on the fire and she tapped her fingers on the table.
“Do you feel better, my Thane?”
Her bottom lip shook. “No.”
Rayya sighed. “I must get back to my duties. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, leaving and Kjersti sat alone, her shoulders still shaking erratically every few seconds. She ended up going to bed, stripping down to her undergarments as she buried herself under her blankets.
She didn’t sleep for days.
--
She wanted to hate her, she really did and she acted as cold as she could but the more she was forced to interact with the woman, the more she knew she was being unreasonable. Brynhilda was wonderful refined Nord.
She was graceful as she moved about the Longhouse, her golden hair tied in a bow at the back giving her a youthful, generous look. Her skin was fair, her clothes expensive but she dressed modestly and she seemed to ease into the life of Falkreath without an incident, her enthusiasm for the countryside contagious as she went out into the town. She was kind to the townsfolk, Bolund taking a liking to her right away and genuinely was interested in them and their lives, her personality bright which counteracted Siddgeir’s moodiness.
Kjersti said nothing over it, watching from her place by the fire or door when she was called in. Though she was still a part of the court, she felt out of place as the new woman moved in. Her Jarl was still moody, not speaking to her but he softened considerably around his fiancée making her heart ache. Even Nenya warmed immediately to the new addition but her glances at her were always out of pity or judgement.
She knew she was the one imposing and after she went to fetch some supplies, carefully packing it away in the cellar where the Legate stood watching her with sadness, she approached her Jarl and his new lover.
She bowed deep making them look. “My Jarl,” she started, thinking hard about her decision. “I am about to leave to refill the coffers. Do you need anything?”
He was tense as he looked down at her and she didn’t insult him by looking up. He waved her off. “No. Just go.”
She was about to leave when Brynhilda spoke. “Wait, Siddgeir. Maybe…? Maybe she can fetch something?” she said and he looked to her making Kjersti purse her lips. “The rings?”
Her heart plummeted. Rings? Her Jarl sighed and looked back down at her. “I suppose. Thane, get two rings of the finest make while you’re out. I won’t take anything less than emerald.”
“Oh, no, Siddgeir, it can just be plain gold. Please,” Brynhila stressed. “And only if you can, dear Thane. It’s not a requirement.”
The Hardest Part [7/?]
Rayya took one look at her before she hauled her inside, forcing a cloth against her nose as she started sobbing again, her fingers shaking. “My Thane? What’s happened?”
She heaved. “…S…Siddgeir’s… betrothed…” was all she could cough out and her housecarl gave her a look of pity. She sighed and went to the kitchen.
“I’ll make some tea,” was all she said and Kjersti continued to cry, burying her face in her arms. By the time she had the strength to drink, the tea was cold and bitter making her cough. Rayya said nothing from her spot opposite of her, her eyes on the fire and she tapped her fingers on the table.
“Do you feel better, my Thane?”
Her bottom lip shook. “No.”
Rayya sighed. “I must get back to my duties. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, leaving and Kjersti sat alone, her shoulders still shaking erratically every few seconds. She ended up going to bed, stripping down to her undergarments as she buried herself under her blankets.
She didn’t sleep for days.
--
She wanted to hate her, she really did and she acted as cold as she could but the more she was forced to interact with the woman, the more she knew she was being unreasonable. Brynhilda was wonderful refined Nord.
She was graceful as she moved about the Longhouse, her golden hair tied in a bow at the back giving her a youthful, generous look. Her skin was fair, her clothes expensive but she dressed modestly and she seemed to ease into the life of Falkreath without an incident, her enthusiasm for the countryside contagious as she went out into the town. She was kind to the townsfolk, Bolund taking a liking to her right away and genuinely was interested in them and their lives, her personality bright which counteracted Siddgeir’s moodiness.
Kjersti said nothing over it, watching from her place by the fire or door when she was called in. Though she was still a part of the court, she felt out of place as the new woman moved in. Her Jarl was still moody, not speaking to her but he softened considerably around his fiancée making her heart ache. Even Nenya warmed immediately to the new addition but her glances at her were always out of pity or judgement.
She knew she was the one imposing and after she went to fetch some supplies, carefully packing it away in the cellar where the Legate stood watching her with sadness, she approached her Jarl and his new lover.
She bowed deep making them look. “My Jarl,” she started, thinking hard about her decision. “I am about to leave to refill the coffers. Do you need anything?”
He was tense as he looked down at her and she didn’t insult him by looking up. He waved her off. “No. Just go.”
She was about to leave when Brynhilda spoke. “Wait, Siddgeir. Maybe…? Maybe she can fetch something?” she said and he looked to her making Kjersti purse her lips. “The rings?”
Her heart plummeted. Rings? Her Jarl sighed and looked back down at her. “I suppose. Thane, get two rings of the finest make while you’re out. I won’t take anything less than emerald.”
“Oh, no, Siddgeir, it can just be plain gold. Please,” Brynhila stressed. “And only if you can, dear Thane. It’s not a requirement.”