#Eadgifu of Wessex

[bforbetterthanyou]

[docpiplup]

The Bastard Kings and their families

This is series of posts are complementary to this historical parallels post from the JON SNOW FORTNIGHT EVENT, and it's purpouse to discover the lives of medieval bastard kings, and the following posts are meant to collect portraits of those kings and their close relatives.

In many cases it's difficult to find contemporary art of their period, so some of the portrayals are subsequent.

1) Aethelstan I of England (894 – 939), son of Edward the Elder and his wife Ecgwynn

2) Edward the Elder (c. 874 –924), son of Alfred the Great and his wife Ealhswith

3) Æthelflæd of Mercia (c. 870 – 918), daughter of Alfred the Great and his wife Ealhswith

4) Eadgifu of Wessex (? - c. 951), daughter of Edward the Elder and his wife Ælfflæd; and her son with Charles III of France, Louis IV of France (920/921 – 954)

5) Edmund I of England (920/921 – 946), son of Edward the Elder and his wife Eadgifu of Kent

6) Eadwig I "All-Fair" of England (c. 940 – 959), son of Edmund I of England and his wife Ælfgifu of Shaftesbury

7) Edgar I of England (944 – 975), son of Edmund I of England and his wife Ælfgifu of Shaftesbury

8) Eadred I of England (c. 923 – 955), son of Edward the Elder and his wife Eadgifu of Kent

9) Eadburh of Winchester (921/924-951/953), daughter of Edward the Elder and his wife Eadgifu of Kent

10) Eadgyth of England (910–946), daughter of Edward the Elder and his wife Ælfflæd

[wonder-worker]

“The condition of the dowager queen in early Anglo-Saxon England seems less secure than among the Franks, but this appears to result from political implications rather than loss of the dignity of queenship. There were few active queen-regents, but the mature succession and semi-elective nature of Anglo-Saxon monarchy virtually eliminated this avenue of occupation for a king's widow.”

Julie Anne Smith, “Queen-Making and Queenship in Early Medieval England and Francia” / Stefany Wragg, "Early English Queens, 650-850: Speculum Reginae"

"Several mothers of kings were influential [in early Anglo-Saxon England] but examples of queens serving as regents seem rare […]. This is a major difference from, for example, Frankish queens, because of the nature of early English kingship. Frankish kings were more strictly patrilineal, descending in the first instance from father to son and, only in their absence, then to other male relatives. Kingship in early England, on the other hand, derived from two major principles. Firstly, a candidate for the throne had to be a male descended from the royal stock, usually with a mythic progenitor. Secondly, he had to be a proven and effective military leader. There are almost no examples of kings younger than their late teens. Ecgfrith of Mercia [son of Offa and Cynethryth] is a notable counterexample, but the circumstances of his accession were remarkable […]. Queens in early England, then, were sometimes mothers, though rarely continued as dowager queens, but were always defined by their close proximity to kings."

[myocsfanfictions]

Under the Devil’s Eye - [Vikings Fanfiction]

MASTERLIST

Selethryth, a young lady with strange eyes and prophetic dreams, is both feared and revered in King Ecbert's court. Though he sees her as a powerful tool for his ambitions, it is Ivar, the brutal and unpredictable son of Ragnar, who is drawn to her. As their fates collide, Selethryth finds herself entangled in a dangerous game where her gifts may lead her into the arms of darkness.

Next 》

Chapter 1

The dim light of the sunset filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting long shadows across the room. That light was the most beautiful of the day, yet Selethryth was not looking at the orange sky visible from the window. Instead, the young woman was staring at her reflection in the mirror. She wished she could focus on how the white dress she wore clung to her form so perfectly or admire the way the jewels around her neck sparkled in the fading light. Perhaps she longed to notice how her servant had combed her long hair, making it shine under the warm glow. But she didn't.

Selethryth's gaze was fixed on her own eyes reflected in the glass. How she would have loved to simply look at herself and indulge in the vanity so common among girls her age, like her older sister Eadgifu. But instead, she could only stare and despise what she saw: two eyes, each a different color. One was blue, as clear as the winter sky, while the other was deep brown, like the earth after rain. They never seemed to meet, never seemed to belong together, and in their strange contrast, she was forced to remember how everybody saw her. What everybody called her.

The Witch of Wessex, they whispered behind her back.

Selethryth could feel their stares—the cold eyes that followed her every time she entered the church to pray, as if everyone were waiting for her to burst into flames the moment her feet crossed the threshold of God's house. But it wasn't just in the church where she felt their gaze. At court, the nobles watched her with the same cold curiosity. They tried to hide it behind forced smiles and polite conversation, but she could see the hesitation in their eyes, the way they looked at her as though she might somehow ruin their day with a single glance. They spoke in low voices, making sure their words didn't reach her, but she knew they were discussing her—her strange eyes, the rumors that surrounded her, the whispers that always followed her wherever she went. Their attention was heavy, almost suffocating, and it made her skin prickle with discomfort.

And then, there were the servants. She could sense their wariness as they brought her food, prepared her bath, or combed her hair. Their movements were careful, hesitant, as if afraid that to meet her gaze might invite some curse. As though her eyes alone could condemn them with a glance

The only curse was the one God had cast upon Selethryth the day she was born. The reality of her deformity had shaped her life from an early age. God did not like differences. Any mark, any strange physical feature, was a sign—a sign that the Devil had touched her soul. And nothing could take that away. Her mother, Lady Oswyth, had always told her that, especially when she tried to make Selethryth wash her face with holy water. But it never worked. The water only made her eyes sting. Not even the long days of fasting, meant to regain God's favor, had done any good. And the countless hours of holy lessons—prayers, chants, teachings—hadn't changed anything. If anything, they only made how people perceived her worse.

She remembered the days in her father Lord Godric's castle as sad and lonely, a time when the walls seemed to close in on her, filled with whispers and fearful glances. Her family, devout and strict, had never known how to treat her.

It was during one of those lonely days that they had traveled to King Ecbert's court, as guests. Selethryth's father, eager to seek favor with the King, had hoped the visit would bring some benefit to his lands. And it did—but not in the way her family had expected. For it was Selethryth, not her father, who caught the favor of the King of Wessex.

"My lady is ready," the voice of the woman behind her made Selethryth look up.

"Thank you, Hilda," she said, gathering the skirt of her gown so she could rise more comfortably. "The King awaits."

Selethryth had met the King at the age of five, during a feast. King Ecbert had summoned his loyal lords, as was custom in their lands, to share meals, words, and strategy. Ensuring the loyalty of his lords was something a monarch had to do if he wished to keep the peace.

Selethryth still remembered the first time she entered the Royal Villa. She had been so small back then. The walls seemed to stretch endlessly, towering above her like silent sentinels. But they were nothing like the dark, oppressive walls of her father's castle. There, in Lord Godric's home, every corner seemed to hold a whisper, every shadow a secret. The air was thick with the weight of superstition and fear. But the Royal Villa—Ecbert's villa—was different. The light filtered in through high windows, warm and inviting. The laughter of nobles and the clink of goblets filled the air, and for a moment, she had felt like just another child at a feast, surrounded by the bright colors and sounds of the court. She held no memory of whispers; she was too focused on her dress and the many noble people around her.

Now, after ten years, she had lived many feasts like those, and the whispers had returned. Perhaps they had even grown louder.

"My dear, Selethryth," the King's voice reached her as she opened the door to his chambers.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she answered, bowing with elegance.

King Ecbert was seated on a carved wooden chair in front of a table laden with a simple but rich spread—enough for two, yet lavish for such an intimate setting. There was a roast pheasant, its golden skin crisped to perfection, surrounded by steamed root vegetables—parsnips and carrots—that had been lightly seasoned with herbs. A dish of pickled onions and cabbage sat beside it, the tangy scent cutting through the richness of the meat. To one side, there was a small bowl of soft, warm bread, the edges still steaming, and a wheel of cheese made from the finest milk of the local farms. A flagon of dark red wine gleamed in the dim light of the chamber.

The King gestured for her to sit. "Come, child. You must be hungry."

Selethryth smiled at him before making her way toward the chair set aside for her.

"Forgive me for being late," she said, but the King waved his hand dismissively, signaling that there was no need for apologies.

She nodded in acknowledgment, then reached out to fill her plate with the dishes in front of her. As her hand hovered over the food, her gaze drifted to the empty chair on the other side of the King. Lady Judith was not there. That meant he must have heard.

Selethryth was frequently invited to dine with the King, his daughter-in-law and mistress, Judith, and sometimes with his son, Prince Alfred. But tonight, the table was set for two.

Selethryth was the ward of the King, which granted her many privileges and advantages. And she knew that people were sure she had bewitched the monarch to elevate the position of her family and herself. She could swear she had never done anything on purpose to earn the King's favor. But that didn't mean he didn't believe she had some power—that she was, in fact, a witch...

"The physician told me you had trouble sleeping last night," the King said, chewing a piece of chicken, his gaze intent upon her.

Selethryth averted her eyes, knowing full well that the King didn't want her taking any tonic to ease her troubled dreams. The medicine would dull her memory of them, and she would not be able to recall the visions that haunted her.

"I had a bad headache, Your Grace," she explained quietly, her voice carefully neutral. "My sister thought it best that I take something to ease it."

"So it was not a dream?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

Selethryth shook her head, a faint, practiced smile on her lips. "No, Your Grace," she replied softly. "I was simply not feeling well."

"Good," he said, his voice pleased. "If that's the case, I'm glad you've found a remedy for your headache."

Selethryth bowed her head in silent acknowledgment, before reaching for her goblet and taking a sip of water. King Ecbert could be kind, but she knew he was also a man of immense ambition, and the reason for her position at court was a clear example of that.

Since the Witch of Wessex had entered the King's court, the power of Wessex had grown immeasurably. Before that, no one would have thought that the King with the smallest lands would become the ruler of both Wessex and Mercia. But the whispers—those whispers that never ceased—spoke of superstition. The people believed that her strange appearance, her eyes that were unlike any other, had played a part in Ecbert's rise. They said she had cursed the late Queen Kwenthrith, causing her subjects to turn against her, allowing the King to seize his opportunity and fulfill his ambition.

But that wasn't what had happened.

Selethryth had cast no spell. She had made no curse. She had been five years old. A child, too young to know the weight of ambition or power. She had simply had a nightmare—a terrifying dream of the end of Queen Kwenthrith's reign.

That night, terrified, she had confided in King Ecbert. A few days later, the message arrived: the Queen's position in Mercia had become precarious, and her rule soon crumbled. Ecbert, ever the strategist, saw it as a sign. From that day forward, he had taken her as his ward, believing that she had been touched by God—that her strange eyes were a blessing, not a curse. He was sure that she had been sent to him for some reason; she was a tool for his greater ambitions, a pawn he could use to shape the future of his kingdom.

Selethryth had never quite agreed with him though. His words, even if not touched by hate, were still saying that there was something different in her. To him, she possessed magic, and that was not a sign that God favored her. But the very contrary. The Devil was behind those manifestations, her mother had always told her that.

Lady Oswyth never understood why the King held her daughter in such high regard. She had always seen Selethryth's eyes and dreams to be a sign that the Devil loved her daughter. And she had begged her husband to leave the child to the mad King and never return. She did not want to be surrounded by sinners who favored the way of the Devil. But Lord Godric cared more about the position of his family than sins. That didn't mean that he was grateful to Selethryth. She barely saw him.

Even if she didn't quite understand if King Ecbert was a man with a deep, open mind, or a mad one, she knew that even if he didn't want her to take proper sleep and wanted to know everything about her dreams, he had, in his own way, taken care of her, ensuring that she was well-educated and well-protected. Over the years, his affection for her had grown, not just for her dreams, but for her mind. "You are very intelligent, Selethryth," he often said. She had become more than just a ward to him; she had become a confidante, a quiet observer in his court, someone whose opinion he valued, if only in secret.

Her position granted her privileges—privileges that many other women of her station would never know. She had been given access to the finest tutors in the kingdom, and through them, she had learned many things. She knew Latin and Greek, languages that were considered the foundation of knowledge. She had studied rhetoric and philosophy, learning the basics of logic and debate. She had even studied herbs and medicine with the court physician, who practically lived at her side.

Ecbert had seen the potential in her not only as a vessel for prophecy but as a sharp mind capable of understanding the world beyond the court. Her education was his way of preparing her for something greater. He believed she would be an important ally—an asset to his cause, an asset to his cause, and to the future of his kingdom.

"Alfred told me you are teaching him how to dance," the King said with fondness, as he always did when speaking of Alfred. Everyone knew that Prince Alfred was not Ecbert's nephew, since Judith had conceived him with a monk allied with the Heathens. Just thinking about it made Selethryth hear her mother's disapproving tone, as if Judith were her own daughter. But Selethryth had grown up with Alfred, and he was kind and intelligent. She enjoyed spending time with the Prince and hated the way her mother whispered about him and Judith.

The King's mistress was a very different woman from the rest of the court. She valued culture and opinions, regardless of whether they came from a man or a woman. Judith carried herself with such confidence that Selethryth often found herself admiring the lady. She had committed adultery, and for that, one of her ears had been cut off, but she held her head high, proud and undeterred. Selethryth often wondered how she managed. The young lady still felt everything around her so heavy, both the weight of courtly politics and the harshness of her religious family.

"He wanted to play chess," she answered the King, who smiled. "I asked for a dance in return."

Ecbert chuckled. "He is quite fond of you," he said, taking a sip from his goblet. "I'm glad that you've grown to become such a precious friend to one another."

Selethryth smiled. "As do I."

"Tomorrow morning we are going hunting," the King announced. "Would you like to come hawking with us?"

It wasn't unusual for the King to ask her that, and Selethryth liked riding across the prairies, even though she knew that King Ecbert's son would also be coming. Aethelwulf was never rude to her, but out of all the King's family, he was the one who trusted her the least. He looked at her with suspicion and weariness. Selethryth was used to it, but it was easier to hide in the castle when someone looked at her that way. Out on the open plains, however, there was nowhere to go; she would just have to endure. She knew she couldn't refuse the King, or her father would not be pleased.

"I shall tell my father, Your Grace," she said, bowing to show gratitude. "Thank you, for your kind invitation."

When she returned to the chambers she shared with her family, her mother's gaze was immediately upon her, sharp and disapproving. Oswyth always found it improper for her daughter to have private audiences with the King. It was a matter of status, of propriety—things Selethryth had little control over. But her father, Lord Godric, would never allow her to turn down Ecbert. To him, she was a tool—already labeled a witch—and it was better that she be used by the King than not used at all. He cared little if her reputation was further tarnished, as long as their family grew in power.

Selethryth didn't bother to try and explain herself anymore. There were too many people pulling her in different directions, seeking to manipulate her for their own gain—the King, her father, even her mother. And when it came to the court, she preferred not to think about how they saw her. She could see it in her mother's eyes every day, and it was a pain she didn't want to endure. Selethryth felt like she was tied to a log, floating helplessly down a rushing river. She couldn't escape, and she couldn't drown; she could only keep drifting along on endless, merciless days.

"Mother thinks the King wants you in his bed," Selethryth heard her sister Eadgifu murmur, her voice heavy with an accusation as Hilda combed Selethryth's hair before bed.

"She should quit speaking such madness," Selethryth replied sharply, gesturing for Hilda to leave them alone. Once the door clicked shut behind the servant, Selethryth turned to face her sister fully. "And she shouldn't speak such things when servants are around."

"They already speak about you," Eadgifu said, her eyes narrow with concern, though there was a hint of something else there—something darker that made Selethryth's chest tighten.

"So we should give them more reason to?" Selethryth retorted, rising from her chair and pacing a little, her frustration rising. "Let them gossip, let them talk. It's what they do best, after all."

Eadgifu's face was pale, her lips pressed tightly together, and her eyes flickered nervously toward the door. "You should pray it is the truth," she answered, her voice trembling slightly with worry. "No one but our family and the King know about your dreams, Selethryth. And if he adores you without ulterior motives, people will surely start to believe you're a witch."

Selethryth froze, the word hanging in the air like a curse. Her heart beat louder in her chest. Witch.

"I'm not a witch!" she hissed, her voice a harsh whisper, her eyes darting quickly to the door. She could feel the cold stone walls closing in on her as if the entire castle was listening, waiting for her to make a mistake. She stepped closer to her sister, her face tight with panic. "Please, Eadgifu, don't speak of such things. Don't speak of me that way."

Eadgifu's face softened for a moment, but her expression was still tinged with worry. "Selethryth," she said, her voice laced with a kind of fearful tenderness that only a deeply religious person could have. "You know how dangerous this is. Just a word from Rome and you'll be accused of witchcraft."

Selethryth could feel her eyes fill with tears, "I have done nothing," she whispered to her sister, "They are nothing but dreams. Just dreams. And my eyes..."

"The Lord gives us signs, sister," in her voice Selethryth could feel all her sadness, "Your eyes and dreams are signs." Then she took Selethryth's face in her hands, "I love you sister, I do."

Selethryth looked at her with pleading eyes, "I'm not a witch." She insisted in a whisper.

Eadgifu didn't respond immediately. Instead, she lowered her gaze and crossed herself, as though praying for guidance. It was a ritual, almost automatic for her, as if asking God for protection—something Selethryth had long ago stopped believing in. Not when she had seen the way God treated her.

"The physician will be here soon," Eadgifu murmured, her voice softer now. The physician, assigned to her by King Ecbert, had been a quiet, ever-watchful presence. He helped her, but he also spied on her for the King.

"I know," she said flatly, getting away from her sister so that she could walk towards her bed. Selethryth lied down pulling the covers up to her chin. The night felt colder than usual, and the weight of her own thoughts pressed down on her like a stone.

Her sister hesitated before getting into her own bed, as if unsure whether to speak again. After a long silence, Eadgifu whispered, almost as if to herself, "I pray for you everyday, dear sister." She said, "I love you, no matter what."

Selethryth's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't answer. Instead, she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sickening feeling in her stomach. Tomorrow would come with its own burdens. It always did.

After the physician's visit, Selethryth managed to fell asleep. But this time it was not an empty slumber.

She was flying. It felt beautiful to fly.

The wind tugged at her, wild and unrelenting, as the land beneath her shifted, a vast, endless stretch of green trees and towering mountains. The sky above was a brilliant blue, the likes of which she had never seen before. No castles. No walls. Just people—small wooden houses dotting the landscape, their inhabitants running freely, laughing, untouched by fear.

Selethryth felt the wind in her hair, the vastness of the world spread beneath her, but something was wrong. There was an emptiness in the air, a void that gnawed at her.

The raven appeared, its dark wings cutting through the sky like a shadow. It was not a young bird, but old and tired, its flight heavy with exhaustion. Selethryth's heart tightened as she watched it fly, slow and deliberate, its eyes distant. It was alone. It had no place to land.

She followed, drawn to the raven as if it had some purpose that she could not understand. Below, four figures moved about their lives, unbothered by the raven's presence. But one—one figure, lying on the ground—looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers. She felt a strange pull toward him, but the raven beckoned her onward.

She followed.

The raven soared across the sky, leading her over forests and waters, through lands she did not recognize but somehow knew. The landscape changed, familiar yet foreign. She could not place it. The raven's wings beat slowly, as though it had been flying for too long, its journey near its end.

It was joined by an owl. White, graceful, the owl flew beside the raven, as if they had known each other for years, perhaps even lifetimes. Their wings brushed in a final, bittersweet dance. But then the raven broke away, and Selethryth felt the shift in the air. The sadness was palpable, thickening the sky around them.

She could not stop. She followed. She had to.

The raven flew on. For days? For weeks? The passage of time felt irrelevant. Only the raven mattered, its flight, its weariness, its sorrow.

And then, with no warning, the raven faltered. Its wings failed. It could fly no more. Selethryth watched as it struggled, helpless against the force of its own exhaustion. It landed, clumsy and slow, and the earth seemed to swallow it whole. The raven collapsed.

A snake appeared, slithering from the earth, its scales glistening in the dim light. It circled the fallen bird, and without hesitation, it devoured it whole.

Selethryth's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream, to stop it, but she could do nothing. She was powerless.

And then, the land began to change.

The earth rotted, turning black and foul. The sun disappeared, leaving only darkness. The world around her trembled with fear and despair. The cries of the dying echoed in the distance, the air thick with sorrow.

Selethryth wanted to flee, but she couldn't move. Her wings had failed her, too.

"How have we come to this?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

The darkness closed in around her. Everything was lost.

And then, as if the world itself were ending, Selethryth felt herself falling. Her wings could not save her. She was plummeting, faster and faster, toward the ground. The earth rushed up to meet her, and she closed her eyes, bracing for impact. She knew what was coming.

And then, as she hit the ground, she woke up screaming.

*******

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[palecleverdoll]

Ages of English Queens at First Marriage

I have only included women whose birth dates and dates of marriage are known within at least 1-2 years, therefore, this is not a comprehensive list. For this reason, women such as Philippa of Hainault and Anne Boleyn have been omitted.

This list is composed of Queens of England when it was a sovereign state, prior to the Acts of Union in 1707. Using the youngest possible age for each woman, the average age at first marriage was 17.

Eadgifu (Edgiva/Ediva) of Kent, third and final wife of Edward the Elder: age 17 when she married in 919 CE

Ælfthryth (Alfrida/Elfrida), second wife of Edgar the Peaceful: age 19/20 when she married in 964/965 CE

Emma of Normandy, second wife of Æthelred the Unready: age 18 when she married in 1002 CE

Ælfgifu of Northampton, first wife of Cnut the Great: age 23/24 when she married in 1013/1014 CE

Edith of Wessex, wife of Edward the Confessor: age 20 when she married in 1045 CE

Matilda of Flanders, wife of William the Conqueror: age 20/21 when she married in 1031/1032 CE

Matilda of Scotland, first wife of Henry I: age 20 when she married in 1100 CE

Adeliza of Louvain, second wife of Henry I: age 18 when she married in 1121 CE

Matilda of Boulogne, wife of Stephen: age 20 when she married in 1125 CE

Empress Matilda, wife of Henry V, HRE, and later Geoffrey V of Anjou: age 12 when she married Henry in 1114 CE

Eleanor of Aquitaine, first wife of Louis VII of France and later Henry II of England: age 15 when she married Louis in 1137 CE

Isabella of Gloucester, first wife of John Lackland: age 15/16 when she married John in 1189 CE

Isabella of Angoulême, second wife of John Lackland: between the ages of 12-14 when she married John in 1200 CE

Eleanor of Provence, wife of Henry III: age 13 when she married Henry in 1236 CE

Eleanor of Castile, first wife of Edward I: age 13 when she married Edward in 1254 CE

Margaret of France, second wife of Edward I: age 20 when she married Edward in 1299 CE

Isabella of France, wife of Edward II: age 13 when she married Edward in 1308 CE

Anne of Bohemia, first wife of Richard II: age 16 when she married Richard in 1382 CE

Isabella of Valois, second wife of Richard II: age 6 when she married Richard in 1396 CE

Joanna of Navarre, wife of John IV of Brittany, second wife of Henry IV: age 18 when she married John in 1386 CE

Catherine of Valois, wife of Henry V: age 19 when she married Henry in 1420 CE

Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry VI: age 15 when she married Henry in 1445 CE

Elizabeth Woodville, wife of Sir John Grey and later Edward IV: age 15 when she married John in 1452 CE

Anne Neville, wife of Edward of Lancaster and later Richard III: age 14 when she married Edward in 1470 CE

Elizabeth of York, wife of Henry VII: age 20 when she married Henry in 1486 CE

Catherine of Aragon, wife of Arthur Tudor and later Henry VIII: age 15 when she married Arthur in 1501 CE

Jane Seymour, third wife of Henry VIII: age 24 when she married Henry in 1536 CE

Anne of Cleves, fourth wife of Henry VIII: age 25 when she married Henry in 1540 CE

Catherine Howard, fifth wife of Henry VIII: age 17 when she married Henry in 1540 CE

Jane Grey, wife of Guildford Dudley: age 16/17 when she married Guildford in 1553 CE

Mary I, wife of Philip II of Spain: age 38 when she married Philip in 1554 CE

Anne of Denmark, wife of James VI & I: age 15 when she married James in 1589 CE

Henrietta Maria of France, wife of Charles I: age 16 when she married Charles in 1625 CE

Catherine of Braganza, wife of Charles II: age 24 when she married Charles in 1662 CE

Anne Hyde, first wife of James II & VII: age 23 when she married James in 1660 CE

Mary of Modena, second wife of James II & VII: age 15 when she married James in 1673 CE

Mary II of England, wife of William III: age 15 when she married William in 1677 CE

[coloursofunison]

Kingmaker is this week's kindle countdown deal at 99p/99c UK/US

Kingmaker is this week's kindle countdown deal at 99p/99c UK/US #histfic #Eadgifu #TheTenthCentury #bookbargain

Kingmaker is this week’s kindle countdown deal. I’ve written about Lady Eadgifu here, but I thought I’d share some of my frustrations with writing about the lives of these ‘lost women’ of the tenth century, for Eadgifu is one of the much better known. The Tenth Century in Saxon England is often seen as heralding the triumph of Wessex to form England and to drive the Viking raiders far from…

[alienas]

The English Queens of France 👸⚜

requested by anonymous

[mirandahamilton]

Oh, you have not had the chance to meet properly. Mother, this is your— 

[ladybebbanburg]

Introduccing Eadgifu of Wessex

Christian | Saxon | Queen of Wessex, East Anglia & Mercia

( ╳┊❝ Int: Eadgifu of Wessex ❞. )

( ╳┊❝ Photo: Eadgifu of Wessex ❞. )

( ╳┊❝ Musing: Eadgifu of Wessex ❞. )

( ╳┊❝ Pairing: Eadgifu & Edward ❞. )

[uhtredxbebbanburg]

Continua de aquí feat @siihtric​

No había esperado que el rey recordará todo lo que habían vivido de niños, menos cuando era claro que tenía tantas obligaciones como un rey aunque se le hacía demasiado generoso con ese hecho por lo que ni siquiera había dudado ante esa petición. Al escuchar sus primeras palabras se sorprendió ante ese hecho, notaba sus intenciones, no era ciega más nunca espero que llegará a ser tan directo ante ese aspecto aunque soltó una ligera risa cuando terminó por corregir. “Se lo agradezco, mi Lord” y asintió con la cabeza. “Sería un honor” aceptó para terminar por unirse con él y emprender el viaje a la habitación que le otorgaría. 

[bforbetterthanyou]

Eadgifu of Wessex, Queen consort of West Francia (?—c. 951)

[kjartaansson]

𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔. . .

* edward of wessex | christian | saxon

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[catherinesboleyn]

Every Queen of France Ever

Other posts in this series: Every Queen of England ever, Every English Princess ever

Richilde of Provence - Queen consort of West Francia from 870 to 877 (wife of Charles the Bald)

Adelaide of Paris - Queen consort of West Francia from October 6th 877 to April 10th 879 (wife of Louis the Stammerer)

Richardis of Swabia - Queen consort of West Francis from 884 to 887 (wife of Charles the Fat)

Richardis of Swabia - Queen consort of West Francis from 884 to 887 (wife of Charles the Fat)

Théodrate of Troyes - Queen consort of West Francia from 888 to 898 (wife of Odo of France)

Frederuna - Queen consort of West Francia from 907 to 917 (wife of Charles the Simple)

Eadgifu of Wessex - Queen consort of West Francia from 919 to 922 (wife of Charles the Simple)

Beatrice of Vermandois - Queen consort of West Francia from 922 to 923 (wife of Robert I)

Emma of France - Queen consort of West Francia from 923 to 935 (wife of Rudolph of France)

Gerberga of Saxony - Queen consort of West Francia from 939 to 954 (wife of Louis IV)

Emma of Italy - Queen consort of West Francia from 965 to 986 (wife of Lothair of France)

Adelaide of Aquitaine - Queen consort of the Franks from 987 to 996 (wife of Hugh Capet)

Rozala of Italy - Queen consort of the Franks from 996 to 996 (wife of Robert II)

Bertha of Burgundy - Queen consort of the Franks from 996 to 1000 (wife of Robert II)

Constance of Arles - Queen consort of the Franks from 1001 to 1031 (wife of Robert II)

Matilda of Frisia - Queen consort of the Franks from 1034 to 1044 (wife of Henry I)

Anne of Kiev - Queen consort of the Franks from May 19th 1051 to August 4th 1060 (wife of Henry I)

Bertha of Holland - Queen consort of the Franks from 1072 to 1092 (wife of Philip I)

Bertrade de Montfort - Queen consort of the Franks from May 15th 1092 to July 29th 1108 (wife of Philip I)

Adelaide of Maurienne - Queen consort of the Franks from 1115 to August 1st 1137 (wife of Louis VI)

Eleanor of Aquitaine - Queen consort of the Franks from August 1st 1137 to March 21st 1152 (wife of Louis VII)

Constance of Castile - Queen consort of the Franks from 1154 to October 4th 1160 (wife of Louis VII)

Adela of Champagne - Queen consort of the Franks from November 13th 1160 to September 18th 1180 (wife of Louis VII)

Isabella of Hainault - Queen consort of France from April 28th 1180 to March 15th 1190 (wife of Philip II)

Ingeborg of Denmark - Queen consort of France from August 15th 1193 to November 5th 1193 (wife of Philip II

Agnes of Merania - Queen consort of France from 1196 to 1200 (wife of Philip II)

Ingeborg of Denmark - Queen consort of France from 1200 to July 14th 1223 (wife of Philip II)

Blanche of Castile - Queen consort of France from July 14th 1223 to November 1226 (wife of Louis VIII)

Margaret of Provence - Queen consort of France from May 27th 1234 to August 25th 1270 (wife of Louis IX)

Isabella of Aragon - Queen consort of France from August 25th 1270 to January 28th 1271 (wife of Philip III)

Marie of Brabant - Queen consort of France from August 21st 1274 to October 5th 1285 (wife of Philip III)

Joan I of Navarre - Queen consort of France from October 5th 1285 to April 2nd 1305 (wife of Philip IV)

Margaret of Burgundy - Queen consort of France from 1314 to 1315 (wife of Louis X)

Clementia of Hungary - Queen consort of France from August 19th 1315 to June 5th 1316 (wife of Louis X)

Joan II of Burgundy - Queen consort of France from 1316 to 1322 (wife of Philip V)

Blanche of Burgundy - Queen consort of France from January 3rd 1322 to May 19th 1322 (wife of Charles IV)

Marie of Luxembourg - Queen consort of France from September 21st 1322 to March 26th 1324 (wife of Charles IV)

Joan of Évreux - Queen consort of France from July 5th 1324 to February 1st 1328 (wife of Charles IV)

Joan of Burgundy - Queen consort of France from April 1st 1328 to December 12th 1349 (wife of Philip VI)

Blanche of Navarre - Queen consort of France from January 29th 1350 to August 22nd 1350 (wife of Philip VI)

Joan I of Auvergne - Queen consort of France from 1350 to 1360 (wife of John II)

Joanna of Bourbon - Queen consort of France from April 8th 1364 to February 6th 1378 (wife of Charles V)

Isabeau of Bavaria - Queen consort of France from July 17th 1385 to October 21st 1422 (wife of Charles VI)

Marie of Anjou - Queen consort of France from December 18th 1422 to July 14th 1461 (wife of Charles VII)

Charlotte of Savoy - Queen consort of France from July 22nd 1461 to August 30th 1483 (wife of Louis XI)

Anne of Brittany - Queen consort of France from December 6th 1491 to April 7th 1498 (wife of Charles VIII)

Joan of France - Queen consort of France from April 1498 to December 15th 1498 (wife of Louis XII)

Anne of Brittany - Queen consort of France from January 8th 1499 to January 9th 1515 (wife of Louis XII)

Mary Tudor - Queen consort of France from October 9th 1514 to January 1st 1515 (wife of Louis XII)

Claude of France - Queen consort of France from January 1st 1515 to July 20th 1524 (wife of Francis I)

Eleanor of Austria - Queen consort of France from July 4th 1530 to March 31st 1547 (wife of Francis I)

Catherine de' Medici - Queen consort of France from March 31st 1547 to July 10th 1559 (wife of Henry II)

Mary Stuart - Queen consort of France from July 10th 1559 to December 5th 1560 (wife of Francis II)

Elisabeth of Austria - Queen consort of France from November 26th 1570 um May 30th 1574 (wife of Charles IX)

Louise of Lorraine - Queen consort of France from February 15th 1575 to August 2nd 1589 (wife of Henry III)

Margaret of Valois - Queen consort of France from August 2nd 1589 to 1599 (wife of Henry IV)

Marie de' Medici - Queen consort of France from December 17th 1600 to May 14th 1610 (wife of Henry IV)

Anne of Austria - Queen consort of France from November 24th 1615 to May 14th 1643 (wife of Louis XIII)

Maria Theresa of Spain - Queen consort of France from June 9th 1660 to July 30th 1683 (wife of Louis XIV)

Marie Leszczyńska - Queen consort of France from September 4th 1725 to June 24th 1768 (wife of Louis XV)

Marie Antoinette - Queen consort of France from May 10th 1774 to September 21st 1792 (wife of Louis XVI)

Maria Amalia of Naples and Sicily - Queen consort of the French from August 9th 1830 to February 24th 1848 (wife of Louis Philippe I)

[thebritishmonarchycouk]

I’m beginning an ambitious new series, a gallery of Kings and Queens, beginning here with Alfred the Great, added to each post will be key facts, and a focus on their spouse and their children. I have over a thousand years to cover so here goes 😊👑 . . Alfred the Great 👑 . Reign: King of the Anglo-Saxons: c. 886 – 26 October 899. King of the West Saxons: April 871 – c. 886. . Born: 848–49, Wantage, Berkshire. . Parents: Æthelwulf, King of Wessex & Osburh. . House of: Wessex . Married: Ealhswith or Ealswitha (died 5 December 902) in 868. . Children:

🔹Æthelflæd (died.12 June 918). Married Æthelred, Lord of the Mercians (d.911) c. 886 . 👑 Edward (born. c. 874 - died. 17 July 924) Married (1) Ecgwynn, (2) Ælfflæd, (3) 919 Eadgifu. . 🔹Æthelgifu (Abbess of Shaftesbury). . 🔹Æthelweard (d.16 October 922(?) . 🔹Ælfthryth (d.929) Married Baldwin II d. 918. . Died: 26 October 899 (aged 50 or 51). Burial: c. 1100, Hyde Abbey, Winchester, Hampshire, now lost. . Successor: Edward the Elder. (son) . . . #kingsandqueensofgreatbritain #kingsandqueens #Monarchy #RoyalHistory #Royalty #Royals #History #Portraitpainting #historyinpictures #Britishhistory #BritishMonarchy #Art #Painting #Monarch #EnglishHistory #EnglishMonarchy #Heritage #Medievalhistory #Medievaltimes #HistoryFacts #medieval #MedievalEngland #Anglosaxons #Anglosaxon #KingAlfred #AlfredtheGreat #Houseofwessex #Wessex #Westsaxons #Theking (at Winchester, Hampshire) https://www.instagram.com/p/CRfJH7jsPkC/?utm_medium=tumblr

[goldentailedmermaids]

What I hope gets mentionned/will happen in The Last Kingdom:

So the Orkneyingasaga mentions that Aethelstan was friend with Harald Fairhair and fostered his son Hakon and I want to see that! Because it would set up a good rivalry between the kingdom of Norway and that of the Danes.

A conflict between the kings of Juteland, Scania and Seeland which impacts Danelaw

A mention of the earls of Orkneys and how Turf-Einarr killed Harald’s son and how his relationship with the Scots is and how it ripples to Bebbanburg. Uhtred could very much ask the Norwegians to help him retake Bebbanburg but Einarr says he dislikes the Danes (he did)

A mention of Earl Ragnvald’s sons: the year is 911, you could AT LEAST give a mention of Rollo! Come on! Normandy’s just a ship away from Wessex!

I want them to have Aelfflaed give birth to Eadgifu and then send her to Frankia where she marries Charles the Simple and begets his son and heir, Louis d’Outremer and I want to have a mention of the coup by the Robertians and I want Louis to be sent to Wessex and be fostered by his uncle Athelstan.

Athelstan taking care of random kings because, damn! That kid LOVED to foster random princes! A teaching of Uhtred, perhaps.?

Sithric’s wife. I want to see Sithric’s wife.

I want Osferth to create a “bastard” club and take care of his nephew Athelstan.

A Norwegian vs Danes battle!

A Dane vs Jutes battle!

A Dane vs Swede battle!

COME ON! We know these were disparate groups! I WANT TO SEE THAT!

Einarr telling Uhtred he reminds him of his father.

More of the Celts being sassy bitches, not telling the difference between Saxons and Danes because they’re both Germanic invaders and they did not resist Rome to be handled by the Germans!

A reference to Boudicca, perhaps? Or Cartimandua? Y’know, in relation to Aethelflaed...

A Saxon pagan!

Uhtred son of Arseling!Uhtred being a proto-crusader