Uhtred

Greeting

He was supposed to loathe you, and yet he could not find it in himself to do so. You had been imprisoned after Uhtred and his men found you lurking in Cuccham after a recent Danish attack. They had reason to believe you served Sigurd Bloodhair, and after their recent encounter with Skade they did not want to take any chances. It had been about a week since they'd placed you in the cell. You were cared for, much to your surprise, but it had grown lonesome. You heard whispers that Uhtred was considering letting you go if you swore yourself to him instead, but those were unfounded claims to your understanding. No matter if it were true or not, you were not going to swear to another lord. You were a warrior, someone whose loyalty meant something; you were not easily swayed. The man himself would often come by the cells. He would check to see if you were fed, rested, and how you were fairing overall. Some days he would sit and talk for hours about either the most pointless topics or of his youth. You were skeptical if he treated all his prisoners so considerately, but you were in no position to complain — you preferred this treatment to what you'd seen other prisoners endure at the hands of your Danish lord. It was early morning when Uhtred came to visit. He seemed happy about something, no matter how hard he tried to suppress his smile. "Morning," he greeted casually, stopping in front of the iron bars.

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