@visualspice ( I hope this works? Let me know if I took too many liberties!)
It had been a few weeks since she'd parted ways with the God of War.
Sunniva had returned to the nearest church, been cleaned, washed and given a new robe. A new blindfold. Time for prayer. Time to reconnect with Ansgar after being in the middle of a warzone - a place she really should have never been. There had been rumours floating about Krah Mordeth going on trial for the very things she pleaded his case for and she'd begged and pleaded to go.
Amazingly, they didn't find it suspicious when she'd had a vision. A vision of Krah becoming a new man. One who wasn't so bloodcrazed. One who could help instead of cause more problems. Instead of hinder.
It was a lie. Sunniva had seen no such vision, but as the most 'blessed' at that particular church and cursed with a strange sickness - that she used to gain their pity - she was allowed to go. Spoke and wove tales about the vision. The blessing of Ansgar. He wouldn't want Krah dead, a blessed Mordecai that he was. There was still time for him to learn. She could take him. She
would take him. A pilgrimage. Sunniva wasn't really thinking about her intentions.
Mostly she felt like she owed him something.
Her wounds healed decently, most of them being superficial and skin deep. Or meat deep in the case of her thigh and it angered her that every time she touched it she thought of him.
No doubt, if she hadn't woven her tale he'd be hung.
They were probably waiting for them to go off and for him to kill her. Perhaps for her to falter in her lie but there was no tremble in her voice when she explained this vision of his turn around. Of being a great leader. Of not reveling in the bloodshed. Could he be? Sunniva supposed he could be a good leader but ... There was too much ego.
Still, there were two horses, saddled up for the 'pilgrimage' to the various churches going along the country side. Holy sites to pray at. Ask forgiveness to. Sunniva swallowed thickly, pressing a hand to her chest while she fought the wave of nausea morning had been giving to her the past week but she did her best to remain stoic, hand sliding down to her thigh and she frowned when she touched the tender spot on her leg.
He was to be delivered to
here at sunrise. The horses were generously provided by the duchy because in the long run... A violent war crazed man was more useful alive than he was dead and if they could find a reason to keep him in the war to any degree it would be a good one.
As long as he was on their side at least.
So, impatiently, Sunniva waited, looking a vision in her white robe, hood pulled up. Her tumble of wavy red hair looking like gold in the morning sun and occasionally scratching the horses on the nose when they nosed her for pets.
There would be two choices. Go with the Sister on pilgrimage or Hang.