#th.mara

“SIT,” mara commands, pointing to the bar. “DON’T WORRY. I WON’T CHARGE YOU.” she offers a smile to her new companion. “I’M JUST CURIOUS. WERE YOU ON THAT LITTLE EXCURSION TO THE CASTLE? SILLY BUSINESS, THAT.” seems all they’d done was gotten people killed. fat lot of good it was getting the castle back if no one was really alive to live in it. 

she could not believe it... ragnar was gone. he was gone. dead. the next few days had been a haze, and it came time for her meeting with lysander. as much as she wanted to stay home, she needed normalcy. she goes to his home and enters as she wishes

“LYSANDER?” she calls, voice so soft and meek. very unlike her. when she finds him, she goes to him, trying not to weep openly. but she feels comfortable with him. he and aodhan are the closest things to family she has left.

“GIRL, STOP STANDING ABOUT. THERE ARE PEOPLE DYING, AND HERE YOU ARE SITTING ABOUT. THERE ARE WOUNDED WHO NEED TENDING TOO. COME.” her voice had lost the kindness it held in aoife’s first days. the little bitch had stolen ragnar from her.

and it was stolen. ragnar was a man. men were idiots. she could not truly blame him for his foolishness. for aoife did have tits and walked. therefore.

“MANY DIE IN WAR. LIFE IS CHEAP. THEY ARE GONE AND WE ARE NOT.” mara stared out at ragna—at her brothel, and she scowled. crossing her arms, she looked at the fruit of her labors. years on her back only to be put in charge of it all. seemed funny. 

mara shuffles from the bed, rubbing her dark eyes. she pulls on a robe laying on the chair in his room (no doubt tossed there last night), and she goes out to the window where he stands, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“YOU LOOK LIKE A WICKED BITCH,” mara remarked quietly to the girl.