#AND KWENTHRITH DESERVED AETHELWULF MOURNING HER!!!!!!

[goldentailedmermaids]

Characters from Vikings that I miss very much: Aslaug, Rollo, Thorunn, Kwenthrith, Gisla, Siggy(jr) and Gyda

[wristic]

Hey Yo! I still have nothing to post after all these months so I’m gonna throw an old wip I never finished into your face and hope you enjoy the idea I once had.

I might just like, do that, start throwing old wip’s in your face. Let me know if ya’ll are down with that.

Bittersweet Sea

So the idea was: Kwenthrith’s first born daughter, Moira, receives tragedy after tragedy. Mercia being sacked, her brother taking the line of succession, and then her mothers death. The pain of these events shapes her as it shaped Aethelwulf, into a vindictive and lethal individual, but Moira has one purpose to fulfill in her life. To follow in her mothers footsteps:  take Mercia back for herself, slay all enemies in between, and bring her promised country into greatness.

Sounds SO epic right? And I got like, a chapter and a sliver done. I’m glad I hadn’t posted the first chapter cause that would of disappointed so many people.

“No, you, you must live-”

Moira snapped her head up and saw a treacherous sight, as treacherous as those words. A girl of ten years, a Princess of Mercia, first born to Queen Kwenthrith, yet it was her younger brother being held close in a cloak and being shared the last bit of food where she was to starve.

The ice fall had been biting at her fingertips as badly as the hunger in her gut. Now, while they shared a coat, Moira hung a step behind, the heat of her near delirious rage had her feeling like walking through a midsummer's day. She kept so quiet they hadn’t thought to look back on her and she was glad for it. Moira wasn’t sure if she could keep to her courtesies and hide her newfound hatred for Prince Aethelwulf. He cared so much for her mother and brother did he, but not sweet little Moira, not the promised future Queen of Mercia. Moira would remember this day, if not for how grueling and terrifying it’s been, then to spite Aethelwulf in her court.

When nightfall came and it was too dark to venture further. Her mother left the tent instead of sleep, as she’d always been wanton to do. Moira knew why and it only infuriated her more. Sitting up in the pitch dark, Moira listened as the footsteps lead to the Prince's tent. Moira wasn’t sure if her heart could slam any harder in the heat of her fury. The insults just kept coming, again and again, Princess Moira being spurred to the side to entertain others.

“Mama?”

Moira couldn’t answer Magnus, could barely hear him. The droning sound of her teacher rehearsing laws filled her head. The laws, the damn laws, that was why her brother was more important. She’d show them. Mercia is already promised and no one was going to take away her mother's legacy.

Magnus tugged at her sleeve and she snapped at him.

“You’ve nothing but the blood of savages in you.” she snarled before slamming back down to the ground and tossing the blankets over her. Her breath was fast for the minutes of silence, until she heard Magnus start to sniffle. His sniffling turned to whimpering and finally the cold broke through her skin. Moira sighed, guilt bringing its own bout of cold to her stomach and rolled over to grab her brother and pull him close. She let him cry in her chest but she didn’t apologize. To calm him she ran her hand through the foreign sandy hair so opposite of hers and her mother's. The boy was soon back to sleep, or at least quiet, she’d be surprised if anyone could sleep in such cold with the nightmares of the past week running through their heads.

They started the walk before the sun was even out, the world held in a dim faded blue. The announcement they were almost in Wessex was a blessing to everyone, the journey going to be much easier than the past two nights.

Aethelwulf nudged Moira, “You’ve been very quiet.” She resisted glaring at him by looking in the opposite direction. “I’m sorry Princess. I know you’re hungry and cold-”

“I wonder why.” she grumbled, half hoping only she would hear. It was hard to keep her tongue bit with so much happening in so few hours. He glanced back at Kwenthrith who only smirked at him, he got himself in that mess.

“I don’t want you to hate me Princess, will you really not be sweet for me?”

Aethelwulf sighed and gripped her arms to face him when she didn’t answer, Moira a little surprised to find him on one knee. “If you feel like you’re suffering at your brother’s expense...I suppose it’s because you are. But I’m not doing it to hurt you, I’m doing it because I know you can take it. He’s a small boy, he can’t handle the elements like you can.”

Moira crossed her arms, straightening her back in defiance. “And the favor towards my Mother? I suppose that’s because she is small and weak too? Or would you call it my imagining.”

Aethelwulf scratched his beard trying to think of a good answer. “You...you know that as Queen she will always take precedence-”

“So I’m stuck in a limbo of unimportance is that it?!”

He squeezed her little riled up form attempting to ease Moira, so mad she looked like she was about to start kicking him, “No! No not at all!” Pulling her a little closer he bade her to listen. “Do not treat this as any sort of reveal on our nature, but yours.”

Moira crinkled her face clearly confused. “We’ve been treading through snow and enemy territory, no sleep, no food and you’ve still enough heat and energy to hate me like you do.” He was laughing a bit at the end but Moira only felt it was the hate itself that kept her going as it did.

“-and when Magnus comes of age-”

Moira ground her teeth, staring wide eyed in anger at the table.

“No, I think it best for Magnus to stay here-”

Her grip turned white on the chair, her feet threatening to kick the nearest leg.

“-but if Magnus-”

Moira slammed her fists on the table and stood. “Magnus, Magnus, Magnus!” she shouted at the top of her young lungs, “Always Magnus! I am the Princess of Mercia, I am the firstborn but you all talk of him like I don’t exist! Like I don’t matter now that he’s born!-”

Her mother put a gentle hand on Moira’s closed fist. “My sweet little Moira,” she almost smiled waiting for Kwenthrith to tell them wrong, to spur the laws and the years spent promising Moira would be Queen one day,

“You don’t.”

The two words were like a lance through Moira’s love. Tears filled her eyes out of pure shock, without a doubt the cruelest thing her mother had ever said before. Moira snapped back her hand and charged out of the room to cry.

Ecbert scoffed, tried to hide the disturbed lump in his throat. Little girls didn’t deserve such callousness. “That was a bit harsh wasn’t it?”

Kwenthrith only sighed into her cup, “If she wants to be smart enough to notice her irrelevance then she must learn to be strong enough to handle the truth.” she halfheartedly laughed before finishing her drink. “Why do you think I named her Moira. The second I saw no piece between her legs I knew. One day she’ll become her namesake, one day she would be like me,” Kwenthrith shook her head, “...a sea of bitterness.”

Moira refused to see her mother and brother after that. It was hard enough not crying while she was alone, how could she walk around the castle? It felt like betrayal. Having been told her whole life she would be Queen, to suddenly be told she was anything but.

A knock came on her room. “Go away!” She sniffled. But they didn’t, sneaking their way in.

It was King Ecbert, and the first thing he did was sigh. “I’m sorry Moira, that was cruel of your mother.”

“My mother is a cruel woman, to her enemies.” Moira’s voice caught and tears heated again. “She never lies to me and I’ve always thanked her for it. I feel her honesty has made me smarter than most.”

But the honesty was cruel sometimes, and the words you don’t taunted her. All a sudden Moira broke. She dropped the embroidery she was trying to focus on to ease her mind and covered her face sobbing again.

Ecbert was quick to be by her side, a fatherly hand pushing back her unkempt hair. “Oh gentle, sweet Moira. It was not honestly she gave you, it was only cruelty. To say you don’t matter…”

“But she's right,” Moira choked, “I might be first born but I’m no boy. They would never accept me. My mother is strong and cruel and they still don't accept her. How can I imagine a world any different-”

“Moira, you don’t need to be a Queen to be important. The people love you, we love you, the heart of Kingdoms will always be yours.” She looked to him and he smiled. “You don’t need a title for that.”

“But I want to be a Queen. The people need me to be their Queen.”

“Why do they need you to be their Queen?”

“It is my destiny to bring Mercia into greatness!”

The look he gave was pitying. It took everything in her little body not to glower at him. “Maybe it is...but it won’t be as a Queen.” Moira went to defend but his manner shifted, continuing, “The reason I came in here…” he pet her hair again, so nervous it made Moira uneasy. “Your mother has passed.”

She fretted in her seat, Ecbert holding her still as he talked over her again. “It happened in the night, it was very peaceful-”

“I want to see.” Moira demanded.

“I’m afraid that's not possible-”

“I want to see her!”

“Moira, listen to me,” he cupped her cheek, brushing her fresh tears. “Mercia and Wessex have united...under my rule.” It felt wrong to hear those words. The more she fought to deny what she knew he meant, the more sick she felt. Ecbert could see the conflict in her face, petting again. “But fear not, I will protect you and your brother. You are now my ward. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear it.”

One last tear fell and her sorrow turned to rage. Ecbert was her ally and he betrayed Kwenthrith, just like she said he would. He killed her mother, he carved out her lands for himself. And now he sat on his knees petting Moira because that's what she was now, a pet.

Gulping hard she had nothing left to say to him. “Please leave me to mourn then.”

Ecbert's hand slowly fell in disappointment. “I am...truly sorry.” Gracefully he rose. “I will take care of you as if you were my own daughter. I hope in time you will be happy here.”

The day Kwenthrith descended into her tomb, Moira cried, loudly and pitifully. She wanted them to see her so weak and fragile and broken. It was what they wanted to see too. Sweet little Moira crying from all the heartbreak in the world.

Ecbert was there, petting her away. Looking up at them Ecbert was pitying her with a grim smile. But Aethelwulf interested her more. He bore no light in his eyes, not even the twinkling of tears. She was surprised Ecbert didn’t feel the hole being burned into the back of his head.

Moira reached past Ecbert and tugged on Aethelwulf’s shirt. He blinked but that amount of hatred was hard to leave. Something told Moira his eyes would always be like that now, a hint of madness behind them. But he bent down to her, letting her bury her face in his chest and wrap her arms around his neck. She felt him sigh, picking her up and holding her tight.

He didn't put her down, not even as they walked back. With his distance from the others Moira dared to ask. “Did they kill my mother?”

Feeling him tense and look in the direction of his father, she didn’t have to explain. Voice carrying a vicious edge he was honest. “I believe so.”

Moira shuddered. “I thought as much. They said she died peacefully. Mother would never accept death with peace.” There was a moment, juggling an idea, whether she should or not. With a shifty eye she spoke evenly. “Did you know she was pregnant?”

Aethelwulf abruptly stopped, still as stone.

“I don't know if she knew, but there were some changes she was going through, like when she was pregnant with Magnus. There should have been two graves today.”

For a moment she could swear she felt the slamming of his heart, or maybe that was it shattering. Either way he held her tighter, burying his face in her shoulder to hide it, and she held him close. “Don’t cry Aethelwulf. It’s going to be okay. We’ll be alright, someday.”

Something mixed between a laugh and a cry bubbled up from him. Raising his head she could hear him smiling, “Oh Moira, Sweet little Moira. I am blessed everyday to know you.”

I will be Queen. Moira turned to him with a gentle smile and kissed his cheek. Even if I have to wear a crown of bones and sit on a throne of ash. Mercia will be mine.