#battle of Stamford Bridge

[grayjoy15]

Day 24: Elisiv (or Elisaveta) of Kyiv. Potentially the eldest daughter of Prince Yaroslav, Elisiv married Harald Hardrada who had also been in exile at Yaroslav’s court. During his time in the Byzantine Varangian guard (and before they were married), Hardrada would compose love poetry addressed to Elisiv. She is sadly the sister we know least about despite her husband being by far the most famous of Yaroslav’s in-laws. The sagas say she accompanied her daughters and husband as far as Orkney in 1066, but even that is debated.

[maypoleman1]

14th October

St Selevan’s Day

Harold Rex Interfectus Est; scene from the Bayeux Tapestry. Source: Wikipedia

Today is St Selevan’s Day, but unfortunately this saint almost certainly didn’t exist. His only claim to fame is to have caught two fish on the same single line on three consecutive occasions. It is thought this story was invented to explain two fish carvings on a bench-end at the chapel in St Levan, near Land’s End in Cornwall.

What definitely did take place on this day in 1066 was the momentous Battle of Hastings, which saw King Harold Godwinsson’s army decisively defeated by that of the invading Normans under Duke William. Although the resultant Norman Conquest forever altered the dynastic, political, linguistic and land ownership characteristics of England, it was no foregone conclusion. Harold’s army had already comprehensively defeated a Norwegian Viking army under King Harald Hardrada at Stamford Bridge in the north east. The English levies then made a forced march to meet William’s soldiers who had in the meantime landed at Pevensey Bay. The battle was lost when the English fell for a Norman feint and abandoned their advantageous position on Senlac Hill to pursue apparently fleeing Normans only to be cut down by William’s cavalry when the trap was sprung. In Anglo-Saxon martial tradition, Harold’s elite nobles, his housecarls, refused to desert him and they died to a man alongside their king. This was very valorous, but made the ultimate conquest much easier for William as all who may have resisted the Normans perished on the battlefield.

Although the English Witan made Harold’s heir, Edgar, king, he immediately abdicated in favour of William, who was crowned King William I on Christmas Day, bringing to an end what historians term “Anglo-Saxon England”.

[microsff]

"Here are the illustrations for your history book," the artist said.

"Thanks, very g- Is this man using an iPod?"

"Very iconic of the early 21st."

"This is a history of the Post-Capitalism Neorenaissance, starting 2027! The iPod was outmoded then."

"It's centuries ago, who will notice?"

"Me!"

[theancientwise]

My honest and humble opinions(i don't mean to offend anyone) about the teaser trailer of "Vikings Valhalla Season 3"

Emma and Canute are the most brilliant and interesting as always. They steal every scene they are in, whether they are together or not.

Freydis is "Lagertha 2.0" more and more... and i don't mean it in a good way.

Well, Leif seems like becoming more interesting than he was in season 2. I hope they will do this character some justice.

Harald and Helena = Bjorn and Elsewith... Am i having a dejà-vu?

And the most important thing: No Harold Godwison, No Battle of Stamford Bridge, but above all, No Battle of Hastings and No William the Goddammit Conqueror.

I think this gif embodies perfectly my idea and feelings about it:

[delusional-dinosaurr]

10 Laps - Aitana Bonmati x Reader

“Don’t even bother Y/N, she’s out of our league. I mean look at her!” Niamh nudges you whilst you are standing drooling over the goddess that is Aitana Bonmati. Her hair blowing gently in the wind, it feels almost like something you’d see in a movie. You’ve definitely watched her more than you should have, but who on earth could resist looking at her? Obviously not you.

“Focus on the competition Y/LN” Millie says also nudging you whilst grinning at your lovestruck look. You sigh and nod, continuing your pre-match team walk of the stadium whilst Barcelona do the same, eventually the two teams combine and conversations amongst the teams start.

“Y/N!” Keira gives you the biggest hug, you’re also finding Ona and Ingrid’s arms around you too.

“Ah I’ve missed you guys! How are you doing in sunny Spain?” You ask, you continue a nice conversation between the three of you. You’re then introduced properly to some of their teammates, one in particular you were obviously more inclined to get to know.

“Aita! C’mere!” Keira hollers over to Aitana to come and meet you, she offers you a gentle smile and gives you a hug in greeting, which you obviously hug her back, even with her being slightly shorter than you.

“Aita this is Y/N, Y/N this is the Ballon D’or winner, World Cup champion –” She is cut off by an elbow to the ribs from Aitana.

“Please, there’s no need to say all that, I’m just normal Aitana” She smiles.

“Pfff, that’s a lie, have you seen yourself? You’re beautiful, talented, the list could go on” You say, causing Aitana to break out in a blush.

“God nevermind I'm splitting this up already” Lucy says joining the conversation with her old teammates, jokingly shoving you away from Aitana.

“Lucy you never said your friend was this charming” Aitana grins at you.

“Yeah there’s a reason for that, now c’mon, we’ve gotta get going now Y/N” Lucy says as she tugs you away.

“What was that for?” You ask Millie joining her side, who sighs in response.

“Luce is quite protective of Aitana from her time in Barcelona, she’s had some rocky relationships and knows what you can be like” She says.

“Mills, you know I’m not like that, I’ve just had some rather unlucky relationships too” You groan back to her. She hugs you as the teams continue to split apart to carry on the walk around the pitch at Stamford Bridge.

━━━━━

The day is here, your big match. You’re already ahead in the first leg so you know you’ve just gotta keep that same energy going.

“You okay?” Guro nudges you, you’re sitting, bouncing your knee in the locker room whilst all your teammates are chatting or dancing about after your warm ups.

“Nervous” You say quietly to her. “I know I’m not normally a nervy person but today just, I have that weird feeling y'know?”. Guro gives you a hug and reassures you for a few minutes before you head out.

You start lining up and look over to the Barca team who are also making their way out to line up with you. You look at their line and see Aitana, also looking nervous beside you.

“I would try to say things to help you win and reassure you, but you’re dangerous to us” You say in spanish whilst nudging her, a quiet laugh coming from the spaniard.

“I appreciate the sentiment. But also good luck marking me” Aitana smiles up at you also speaking in Spanish, causing you to chuckle.

“No luck needed Bonmati” You wink back at her, making her laugh.

━━━━━

Safe to say luck was needed. You lost 2-0 after a long fought battle with marking Aitana, who proved difficult to mark. In the last few minutes the exhaustion really hit when you were struck with a strong tackle from Fridolina Rolfo, meaning you were helped off the pitch by some teammates for your substitution. The Spanish side celebrated their win, you and your teammates collapsed in sadness and exhaustion. You hobbled over, kneeling down on the grass attempting to console your sad teammates. You feel a gentle pat on your back, causing you to lift your head up and look at who it was, Alexia Putellas herself.

“Keep your head up, you were fantastic. I’d kill to have you play for us one day” She says to you in spanish and smiles at you whilst crouching down with her arm around you.

“It’d be a dream to represent Barca at some point in my life, I’ll take you up on that one day” You smile, knowing your contract ends soon and you’ve been gunning for going abroad at some point whilst you’re still young and with your dad being spanish, meant you’ve had to learn two languages growing up to appease both parents.

“Contract expires soon, no?” Alexia winks, causing you to chuckle and hug her back, she lifts you up so that you’re not sat in the mud. “Go thank your fans, they need you” She smiles sadly at you, you nod in response and hobble along to join the rest of the team doing the rounds.

“You and Alexia aye?” Erin nudges you gently, so that she doesn’t knock you over in your temporary crutches and boot.

“Not my type, but she did mention wanting to steal me for Barcelona one day” You joke, Erin's eyes widened at the statement, causing her to latch onto your arm.

“Absolutely not! You’re blue through and through Y/N!” She says frowning slightly, her accent somehow seeming even thicker with the added frustration.

“Erin, don’t be so hard on her. Y/N we will support you no matter what happens this year okay?” Guro says knowingly from the other side of you. She holds her hand out for you to hold onto her instead of using the crutches.

“Thanks Guro, I didn’t know how to break it to you all but, Chelsea hasn’t offered me a contract extension, they’re looking for newer talent apparently” You give a sad smile with them both visibly looking upset.

━━━━━

A few weeks later you played your final match for Chelsea, getting a proper send off from your childhood club and the best teammates. After a few days of back and forth with negotiating contracts with other teams, your eyes widen at an offer from the club you’ve dreamt about playing for, Barcelona.

You arrive at Camp Nou to do your pre-season and signing photoshoot ready for the announcement. You haven’t told your Chelsea mates that you in fact did end up signing for the team as you’ve been so busy with England friendlies whilst others were playing in the Olympics.

“Y/N Y/LN, about time” Alexia greets you whilst you’re having your photos taken in your new kit and number.

“Who did you kill to get me here then?” You banter back and forth for a few minutes whilst you’re still having your photos sorted.

“Come, let me show you the team, in nicer circumstances than the last?” She smiles gently. The girls are all at training at the other pitch which Alexia takes you off to, also kitted up ready alongside you.

“Girls, there’s someone you need to meet!” She yells from the sideline as the team is warming up.

“NO FUCKING WAY” Keira runs over to you and lifts you up, your national teammate always being this affectionate with you.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you Ke, it was all up in the air until, well I was in the air” You smile.

“Best surprise ever” Mapi comes over to hug you as well.

“Sorry again for that tackle” Frido gives you a big squeeze.

“Ah I’m just glad I’m on your side now” You joke, elbowing her.

“God you look good in a Barca shirt” Ona comes over and says, turning you around to see your name and number on the back whilst whistling appreciatively.

“Not already hitting on me when your girlfriend isn’t around” You jokingly roll your eyes at Ona.

“Ah we all know who you’d want to flirt with you mate” Keira winks.

“Y/N hi!” Aitana greets you with a big hug, Keira giving you a knowing look from behind Aitana as you blush at the interaction, causing Keira to roll her eyes at you with a smirk. You get called in by the coach to start training with the girls, luckily with Spanish being your second language you’ve managed to gel quickly into the session.

“Want some friendly competition Y/N?” Aitana nudges you. “I bet my team wins in our scrimmage”.

“Yeah? And what do I get if I win?” You smile.

“Mmm anything you want” She smiles “But if I win, I want to go on a date with you, even if it’s just a coffee before training”.

“Deal” You shake her hand, being split onto opposite teams and starting the friendly match between Aitana’s team and Frido’s team (you being on Frido’s). You’re already marking Aitana, working as hard as you can to defend your side's goal, knowing fully what Aitana is capable of.

“You’re not making this easy for me are you?” Aitana chuckles as you help her up from the grass after being tackled by you.

“Nuh uh, I’m serious about winning bets Bonmati” You wink as you run back to your position. After another 10 minutes you accidentally got too into your friendly bet that you tug Aitana by the training bib, causing her to go tumbling into you, knocking both of you onto the ground, luckily you softened her fall with your body.

“Caught you” You laugh at her shocked expression.

“Wouldn’t have fallen if you didn’t pull me so hard!” She says lifting herself up from you, instantly causing your face to become flushed.

The match ends 3-2 to your side, managing to get two assists for your team.

“I told you I was serious” You smirk going over to get water with her.

“It’s like you didn’t want to go on that date” She looks a bit deflated.

“Nah, because for my win, I’d like for you to take me out on a date, a tour of Barcelona on a day off” You smile nervously.

“Oh…OH! Yes! I mean, yeah sounds good I can do that” She tries to play it off cool and fails massively.

━━━━━ A few days later you find yourself on a tour with Aitana as your guide, you’ve already done most of the tourist attractions and historical parts but after a few hours she drags you to the top of the Montjuic mountain area by taking you up the cable cars. You both stand there admiring the view.

“It never gets old” She smiles over at the view, you take a photo of her admiring the view to which she doesn’t notice you taking the photo in the first place.

“Thank you by the way” You smile at her.

“Eh?” Aitana tilts her head at you.

“Thank you for giving me the tour of Barcelona, it’s been really nice to spend time with you…and not the rest of our teammates” You blush trying to not be awkward with your answer. Aitana grins at you and squeezes you into a hug.

“We should do this more often, yes?” Aitana says enthusiastically, you nod back at her and hug her even tighter.

Once your hug breaks apart you move closer to the wall and peer over at the vast landscape of the city, spotting the landmarks you’d toured earlier in the day, with Aitana pointing them out for you.

“So I was thinking we could always-” You cut her off with a kiss, hoping you had read the situation correctly. Luckily for you, you felt her soft lips moving in sync with yours, giving you the butterflies in an instant.

“-Go back to mine for food? And we can do more of that” She continues, looking quite flustered.

“I’d love that” You smile, feeling much more shy than before.

━━━━━ Around 3 months later you were out for a night out at a club with the Barca girls as a celebration of a win against Madrid CFF. You and Aitana have been dating since the day of your first kiss but you’ve chosen to keep it fairly quiet so you can start with privacy and keep away from prying eyes, but you haven’t necessarily been hiding it, still some obvious signs. Your teammates still think you’re just pining after Aitana after all of this time and still to this day, are trying their best to put you two together for training, or even media duties.

“You look beautiful by the way” You kiss Aitana on the cheek as she turns up to the group outing, a greeting that is normal amongst the Spaniards, with them being so affectionate with each other. Aitana quietly thanks you, smiling away at the compliment even after 3 months you’re still making her blush. After a few hours, and a few drinks, the majority of the squad are either on the dancefloor or sat in the reserved seating area you have. Aitana comes along and sits on your lap, and leans her head on your shoulder.

“Tired, my love?” You ask her.

“Mm, I’d much rather be at home right now, you, me and the bed sound great for many reasons” Aitana says just loud enough for you to hear.

“Fuck Aitana, why would you say that!” You groan, wiping your hand over your face in an attempt to clear the dirty thoughts of your girlfriend out of your mind, which you obviously fail at every time.

“Maybe I want you to take me home?” She smirks cheekily.

“Love, someone will catch on” You say seriously.

“Who cares, if it was up to me, I’d kiss you right now” She says confidently for once.

“Then do it” You challenge her, as soon as she hears those words your lips are connected, hands tangled in each other's hair and gripping the others clothes.

“Bathroom?” Aitana nods over to the bathroom which you both run off to, knowing that the team have definitely just seen what happened. You arrive in the bathroom and continue from where you left off minus a few items of clothing, until you’re interrupted by yelling.

“I KNOW WHAT YOU TWO ARE DOING, OUT!” Ona yells, banging on the outside of the bathroom cubicle door. You and Aitana both rush to put your discarded clothing back on and give her a quick peck before a lecture from Ona and most likely Alexia.

“I’m taking you home, now. And you, we will be talking about this” Ona frowns pointing at you, dragging Aitana away from you and outside of the club. Ingrid comes over and takes you away from the doorway whilst you’re protesting.

“Explain what the fuck just happened?” You say to Ingrid.

“Ona saw you two kissing out of nowhere and you both going off to the bathroom to do what she thought you would be doing, and she didn’t like it” Ingrid sighs with a sad smile.

“What did she think I was just gonna take advantage of Aitana?” You sigh.

“She’s protective of her best friend, you know that. She likes to keep an eye on Aitana for herself and Lucy and make sure she’s okay” Alexia chimes in, overhearing your conversation in the quiet corridor.

“Well clearly she’s not that observant” You laugh to yourself, the two girls look at you quizzically.

“We’ve been dating since that time I got her to take me on a tour of Barcelona?” You say to them, hoping they understand what you mean now. You can see the switch of them realising all of the signs they ignored over the last few months.

“Hold on, so it wasn’t some one night stand? The marks you had all over you the other week at training was from little innocent Aitana?” Alexia says shocked but seemingly impressed.

“Oh god, she’s far from innocent” You chuckle, thinking back to that night before training before receiving an elbow to the ribs from Mapi, who managed to sneak into the conversation behind you, without you realising. “I mean, no, we are saving it for marriage?” You joke.

“Someone needs to talk to Ona, our little Aitana has grown up” Mapi says whilst pretending to wipe a tear from her eye, Ingrid is already getting her phone out to call Ona to meet up and discuss the situation. After a while she finishes on the phone and says it’ll be best for you to all continue the conversation tomorrow before training, so you all call it a night after all of the drama.

━━━━━

The next day at training, luckily no one drank heavily so you’re all relatively in a good mood and good spirits for the training session you’re about to have. That is at least until Ona arrives with Aitana.

“Aita” You mumble quietly as she walks over to hug you tightly.

“Y/N, a word, alone?” Ona says sternly, nodding over to the side, you nod and follow her for privacy, your girlfriend giving you a look of concern as you walk away from her.

“Right, Aitana refused to talk about it, so go on Y/LN” Ona folds her arms.

“Aitana is my girlfriend and has been for a few months now” You bite back.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about it?” She asks.

“Because one, we wanted some privacy, and two, because I knew you’d act like this” You say, shaking your head at her.

“Like what?” She says angrily.

“Like someone who thinks I’m a fucking monster that’s going to break her heart? Ona, you’ve known me for years, come on now” You say “I know she’s your best friend but really?”. Ona’s head drops in realisation.

“Firstly…I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. Aitana was a mess after her last break up and I supported her the whole way, I couldn’t even imagine the thought of seeing her like that again. You’ve had your moments over the years but it was definitely wrong of me to assume the worst, I’m sorry” She sighs, realising you’re right.

“Thank you Ona, I really do care about her. Like a lot” You smile, leaning into the open arms of the girl.

“I know, come on, let's go see her then” She nods over at a worried looking Aitana, after hearing your raised voices.

“Hola bebita” She kisses your cheek and links her arm in yours.

“Ground rules, no pulling stunts like last night again” Ona says sternly to the both of you.

“What the sneaking off or the fact we were going to..well you know” You say embarrassed.

“Both” She smirks.

“Well unfortunately we regularly break one of those rules” Aitana winks at you, watching Ona work out which she meant.

“BONMATI NO” Ona yells after the shorter girl who has run off. Alexia comes over giggling at the sight of the two running around.

“What caused that?” Alexia chuckles.

“Oh Aita told Ona that we have sex regularly” You laugh, Alexia going wide eyed.

“Wait, you’ve had sex? Y/N ABSOLUTELY NOT!” She says now chasing after you. “You’re too young!”.

“ALE WE ARE BOTH 25 WHAT DO YOU MEAAAAAN” You yell laughing, trying to avoid the captain. Mapi stops you in your path.

“What is going on?” Frido asks from the side of Mapi.

“Y/N and Aitana are girlfriends AND they’ve had sex” Alexia says shocked with you rolling your eyes, Frido gasps.

“You’re too young for that!” Frido smacks your shoulder.

“We are both 25!” You frown laughing at the girl.

“You know what she means, we are all protective of our two babies, and now they’re….” Alexia shudders.

“Oh come on” You groan, Ona bringing Aitana over by her collar and many protests from Aitana.

“Come here often, chica?” You wink and flirt with Aitana who laughs.

“Actually quite a lot today it seems” She jokes.

“I think we’ve broken them all” You say looking around at your friends who are still confused by the relationship.

“Si, but not me. I had a feeling you two were up to something these last few weeks” Mapi grins.

“Wait what?” Ingrid says confused.

“Oh come on, no one noticed that at the last few parties they’d somehow manage to sneak off? Always together for everything? They have sleepovers?” Mapi says, shocked that no one else caught on. Everyone seems to hum in agreement and realisation. You grin at the group of girls around you whilst holding Aitana’s hand.

“What do you think they do at those sleepovers!” Ingrid says, groaning.

“WE ARE ADULTS WHO HAVE NEEDS” Aitana raises her voice.

“Exactly, and lucky for Aita I’m very good at fulfilling her needs” You tease, watching the older women of the group glare at you and Aitana grin.

“Right that’s enough” Alexia launches in your direction, grabbing the scruff of your shirt.

“Alexia please no!” You whine.

“10 laps, both of you” She says as you both groan. “And after training, you’re coming over to my apartment so we can go over some ground rules, and I want to get to know Y/N more as she is dating my Aitana” Alexia says.

After getting through the gruelling 10 laps underneath the Barcelona sun, you did keep your word and went over to Alexia’s apartment that same evening, to your surprise, it was a pleasant evening in which you gained her trust, and her blessing with ‘her Aitana’.

[mapiforpresident]

Could you please do a Leah Williamson x Reader fic? Enemies to lovers. Reader captains Germany & as a striker often gets into exchanges with Leah during international games. The reader eventually transfers to Chelsea & now that they're in the same city a relationship starts to blossom.

New Beginning

Leah Williamson x reader

~~~

The streets of London buzzed with life as you navigated through the chaos. Your phone had decided to malfunction just when you needed it most, leaving you hopelessly lost in a city that felt foreign despite the countless times you had dreamed of playing here. With each turn you grew more and more confused and lost.

You had recently transferred to Chelsea after a stellar career with Wolfsburg, where you had captained the team to multiple titles. Leaving your old club had been bittersweet, the camaraderie and success you had shared with your teammates were hard to let go of. Yet the thrill of a new challenge in a city that loved football was exciting. You were excited for the big games at Stamford Bridge against big teams like Arsenal

Leah had always been a formidable presence on the pitch. As the captain of the Lionesses and a standout defender, she was known for her strategic mind and adorable frown. Your history with her was complex, marked by battles on the field where you often found yourselves in heated exchanges. As a striker, you had tangled with her more times than you could count. The tension between your national teams was intense especially after your loss to her in the Euros final, but there was also a mutual respect.

As you turned a corner, a familiar figure caught your eye, Leah was strolling casually down the street. You felt surprise mixed with apprehension, your rivalry had always felt more like a sports one than a personal one. But here she was, looking effortlessly put together, her hair slightly tousled in the cool breeze.

“Lost, are we?” Leah’s voice broke through the noise, a teasing smirk on her face.

You hesitated. “Yeah, my phone decided to give up on me,” you admitted, a hint of annoyance creeping into your voice.

“Need a hand?” she offered, the warmth in her tone surprising you.

“Uh, sure,” you replied, skeptical about if she was actual going to help you or lead you in the wrong direction. “I’m trying to find my way to Stamford Bridge for my tour. ”

“Not far from here, actually. Follow me,” Leah said, turning on her heel. You fell into step beside her, the initial tension still hanging in the air.

As you walked, the awkwardness began to dissipate. Leah was surprisingly engaging, telling you things about London and pointing out places she likes. You found yourself laughing with her, completely forgetting your previous apprehension. The cheeky smile that played on her lips lingered in your mind long after you parted ways.

You exchanged numbers, before she said goodbye outside of the stadium. But as the days turned into weeks, you encountered Leah more often than you anticipated—at a charity photoshoot, in a café after training, even at a local grocery store. Each time, the energy between you shifted slightly, subtle flirting and teasing becoming more frequent.

The real turning point came during a match between Chelsea and Arsenal at the Arsenal. The atmosphere was amazing, fans of both teams had sold out the stadium. But as the match unfolded and Arsenal won 3-2, you felt incredibly frustrated that you couldn't score a second goal.

Just as you turned to leave the pitch, you heard Leah call your name, her voice cutting through the noise of the stadium. You spun around, catching her gaze. “Hey! You played amazing out there,” she said, her expression softer than you had seen before.

“Yeah, you played well too,” you conceded, trying to keep your tone light, masking the disappointment of the loss.

“Want to grab a drink?” she suggested, her signature frown on her face even though her team just won an important game.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out?”

“Maybe” she replied, her frown turning into a slight smirk.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, your mind racing through all the possible implications. “Alright, I’m in,” you finally said, a rush of excitement coursing through you.

As you walked to a nearby bar, you shared stories and laughter, the conversation flowing easily as you discussed everything from football tactics to your favorite cities you have traveled to. There was a very calm and comfortable atmosphere between you, and you felt at ease.

You had an amazing night at the bar only having a drink each before switching to water, but still spending hours talking.

That night, as you parted ways, Leah leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. “We should do this again. This was even more fun than beating Chelsea?”

“Deal as long as you stop bringing up that we lost,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face.

In the weeks that followed, you began to see Leah in a new light. You found yourself thinking about her more and more often, replaying moments from your night at the bar. Embarrassingly you also found yourself stalking her instagram and watching tiktok edits of her.

~~~

The streets of London were draped in a misty rain as you sat curled up on your couch, lost in a novel Lucy had recommended you. It had been a day off for you, having won a game the previous day against Roma. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, pulling you from your book.

It was a text from Leah: “Hey want to grab a drink? I could use the company.” You knew that she had just lost a game against Real Madrid at the Emirates, having gotten a notification that the score was 2-1.

A mix of excitement and nervousness fluttered in your stomach. You quickly typed back, “Of course. Where do you want to meet?”

Less than an hour later, you found yourself at a small, intimate bar in the heart of London. You remembered Leah saying this was the bar she came to Leah walked in, her shoulders slightly hunched against the rain, but she gave you a small, shy smile as her eyes met yours.

As she settled into the seat next to you, you quickly fell into easy conversation. Leah spoke candidly about the disappointment of Arsenal's recent loss in the Champions League, and her frustration with Jonas and their tactics not working. You listened wishing you could help her and make her feel better or take her mind off the loss.

After a drink and a water, you both decided to head out, the rain still misting in the wind. “Let me walk you home,” you offered, and Leah nodded appreciatively and secretly just wanting to spend as much time with you as possible.

“Thanks for walking with me,” Leah said, her voice quiet. Throughout the walk your hand kept accidentally brushing hers and you blushed as Leah didn't pull her hand away. As you approached the door of her flat, the mood shifted slightly, and Leah turned to you, her eyes searching yours. “Can I kiss you?” she asked, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, heart racing.

She leaned in, and your lips met in a gentle kiss. The world around you faded—the rain, the city, everything but the two of you in that moment. When you pulled away, Leah’s cheeks were flushed, and a grin spread across her face. Just then the rain started to pour down soaking both of you as you shrieked and Leah let out a genuine laugh.

“Want to come inside?” she asked trying to quickly find her key and get out of the rain.

You stepped into her flat, the warmth enveloping you like a comforting hug. “It’s cozy in here,” you remarked as you kicked off your shoes.

“Let me get us some tea,” Leah said, moving toward the kitchen. You went to the bathroom to freshen up and came back and sat at her small dining table.

After a few minutes, she returned with two steaming mugs, and sat across from you. “You know, I really enjoy spending time with you,” Leah said, her gaze sincere.

“Same here. This has probably been my favorite night in London so far,” you replied.

As the rain continued to pour outside, Leah glanced nervously at the couch. “I can take the couch if you want to stay the night,” she offered hesitantly.

You shook your head, your heart racing at the thought of sharing a bed. “I don’t mind sharing with you, I promise not to bite.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, wanting to make sure you were completely comfortable.

“Definitely,” you affirmed, a grin spreading across your face.

In her bedroom, you changed into a pair of her pajamas—soft and cozy, and they smelled like Leah. As you climbed into bed, Leah nestled beside you, her body warm and inviting.

The silence that followed was comfortable yet you could feel the nervous energy radiating from her. You glanced over, noticing the way she bit her lip, and decided to break the silence. “I really like you, Leah. I’d love to go on more dates and see where this goes.”

Her eyes lit up, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I’d like that too,” she replied, her voice soft and genuine.

You leaned in, capturing her lips again in a tender kiss, but this time she deepened it loving the feeling of your lips on hers.. When you finally pulled away, a content smile spread across your face.

The rain continued to fall outside, the sound soothing as you cuddled together under the covers. As you drifted off to sleep, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace, knowing that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You realized that you would love nothing more than to fall asleep next to Leah every night.

[ouiouibaguettt]

Under The Lights

YN -> your name

2,5k of words!!

masterlist (1) - (2) - (3) - (4)

request from @liverpoolfan96

Hear is Jana one Jana and reader both play for Barcelona and she aitana younger sister and are Together but scared to tell aitana but do after Chelsea second leg has celebrate and kiss on pitch

Being Aitana Bonmatí’s little sister was a blessing. And a curse.

People always smiled the same way when they saw you in the Barça kit. "You’re her sister?" they’d ask, as if your name came second to your bloodline. As if everything you did had to pass through the filter of who she was—midfield maestro, Ballon d’Or winner, club icon.

You didn’t resent her. Not for a second. Aitana was brilliant, and she loved you more than anything. But she was intense. Fiercely loyal, brutally honest, and protective in ways that were both sweet and, at times, impossible.

Which is exactly why you hadn’t told her about Jana.

It had started slow. A few extra touches during rondos. A shared laugh on the bench. Then came the lingering glances after training, the late-night texts, the excuses to sit next to each other on team flights. Eventually, Jana kissed you in the locker room after a late recovery session, when the rest of the team had already gone home.

You kissed her back. Hard.

The secrecy wasn't because you were ashamed—it was because of Aitana. You knew how she’d react. Not because she didn’t like Jana. She adored her. Had practically helped bring her into the first team. But she would scrutinize everything. The age gap. The power dynamics. The effect on the squad. On you.

So you and Jana agreed to keep it quiet.

But hiding something like that—something so real—was like holding your breath in a game that never stopped.

April 19 – Champions League Semi-Final, First Leg at Stamford Bridge

You could barely hear the whistle over the roar of the English crowd.

The first leg against Chelsea was always going to be a battle, but nobody had expected Barça to come out that dominant. By halftime, you were up 3–1. Ewa had scored a screamer. claudia with a first one and Irene.

You sat on the bench in the first half, nerves coiling in your stomach. You weren’t in the starting XI often, not yet. But Coach Pere trusted you more and more each week.

“Warm up,” he said midway through the second half.

Your heart skipped.

You jogged down the touchline, glancing at the pitch. Jana caught your eye. Just a second. A small nod. That was all it took to steady your pulse.

You subbed in for Keira with fifteen minutes left. A tactical switch—more speed, more pressure. You chased down a ball from Patri, danced past a tackle from Erin Cuthbert, and squared it to Claudia for the fourth goal.

4–1.

The away end exploded.

You ran toward the bench, arms wide, but your eyes went to the one person who mattered. Jana met you halfway, throwing her arms around you in a hug that lingered just a second too long to be “just teammates.” You pulled away quickly. Cameras were everywhere. And Aitana was watching.

Back in the locker room, the atmosphere buzzed. Music. Laughter. Shouts in Catalan and Spanish. Jana stood a few feet away, pretending to scroll her phone. You drifted close enough to brush your pinky finger against hers.

“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly.

You smiled. “Back at you.”

You stayed late to do recovery. Jana, too. You were careful. Always careful. You left ten minutes apart. But still, you shared the same hotel room later that night. And when the door shut, you kissed her like the match was still going.

“Four–one,” she whispered against your lips. “Maybe we should celebrate like this every time.”

You laughed, breathless. “If it gets us to the final? I’ll take that deal.”

But beneath the jokes, a quiet truth tugged at your chest: you were falling in love.

And at some point, you were going to have to stop hiding it.

Three days after Stamford Bridge, the high still hadn’t worn off.

Everyone at the Ciutat Esportiva was smiling. Journalists called it a “masterclass.” Analysts couldn’t stop praising your assist. And the locker room felt electric. One step closer to the final.

But you barely noticed the headlines. Your mind was on Jana.

And on Aitana.

She had been quiet since London—quieter than usual, even for her. Something simmered beneath her sharp glances and half-finished sentences. You caught her watching you in training. Watching Jana, too.

You weren’t sure if she knew. But she felt something.

In the gym, you lay on a mat doing post-training stretches when she dropped down beside you.

“You played well,” she said, finally.

“Thanks.” You kept your tone casual. “You too.”

She nodded. “Ingrid said you’ve been staying late for recovery sessions a lot.”

Your heart jumped. “Yeah. I’m trying to be more consistent.”

She gave a soft hum. “With Jana?”

There it was. Not a question. A quiet challenge.

You looked over—but her eyes were on the ceiling.

“She’s a good influence,” you said, carefully. “She pushes me.”

Aitana’s brow tightened for a second. She sat up, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Be careful,” she said, standing.

You blinked. “Of what?”

“Of confusing things that feel good with things that are good.”

Then she walked away.

You sat in stunned silence.

That night, you told Jana everything—about the conversation, about the way Aitana had looked at you.

“She knows,” you said.

Jana exhaled slowly, hands tightening on her water bottle. “Do you think she’ll say something to the coaches?”

You shook your head. “No. Not unless she thinks I’m losing focus. But she doesn’t approve.”

“I figured that would happen eventually,” Jana said quietly.

You leaned into her shoulder. “I’m tired of hiding.”

Jana stayed quiet for a long time.

Then: “What if we didn’t anymore?”

You looked up.

“What if we didn’t hide?” she asked, voice soft but steady. “What if, after the next match… we stopped pretending?”

You hesitated. “In front of everyone? On the pitch?”

“Yes.”

It sounded reckless. Risky. But something inside you lit up at the thought.

“We’d have to win,” you whispered.

“We will,” she said. “We’ll beat Chelsea. Then we’ll kiss under the lights, and let everyone else catch up.”

You smiled.

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s do it.”

April 27 – Match Day, Second Leg at Barcelona

The crowd roared from the first whistle.

The Estadi Olímpic was packed. Home soil. Home noise. Home pride.

Aitana led the team out with that fire in her eyes, the kind that made defenders flinch before the first touch. Jana ran beside her. You jogged out right behind them, your chest full of nerves and adrenaline and something that felt like fate.

The 4–1 advantage from the first leg didn’t mean comfort. It meant expectation. Chelsea played like they had nothing to lose.

But Barça was Barça.

Aitana scored first—an explosive burst down the left and a near-post finish. Then Ewa, with her usual grace, and Claudi made it 3–0 before the half.

You didn’t start, but you were warming up from the 55th minute. Coach nodded. You came in for Claudia in the 62nd.

It was 3–1 in the match now, but 6–2 on aggregate.

You pressed. You tackled. You fed Alexia a perfect through ball. And then, in the 90rd minute, Salma broke down the wing. You sprinted to the edge of the box.

She looked up—and there it was. That silent connection.

The cross came in. You hit it first time. Top corner. Net.

Goal.

8–2 on aggregate. Game over.

You screamed. You ran.

Straight to Jana.

And this time—you didn’t stop.

You wrapped your arms around her neck and kissed her, right there, under the floodlights, in front of the cameras, the crowd, and your sister.

Gasps rippled through the stands. Then cheers. Then roars.

Jana grinned against your lips. “Told you we’d win.”

You laughed. “Told you I’d stop hiding.”

Post-Match Locker Room

The music was loud. Players were shouting, dancing, spraying water like it was champagne.

Aitana sat in the corner, peeling off her socks. You approached slowly, heart thumping.

She looked up at you.

“You’re not subtle,” she said.

You winced. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I noticed.”

She stood. For a moment, you were ten again, about to be scolded for sneaking into her training sessions without permission.

But then her expression shifted.

“Is it serious?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She looked over your shoulder—at Jana.

Then back at you.

“She makes you better,” Aitana said. “On the pitch. That’s all I care about.”

Your eyes stung.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“But,” she added, smirking now, “if you break her heart, I’ll two-foot you in training.”

You laughed, relieved and full of something warm and old and familiar.

“Deal.”

The locker room emptied slowly after the win, but your head was still buzzing.

You had done it. Made it to the Champions League final. Scored in both legs. And kissed your girlfriend in front of the world.

The kiss was already trending online. Headlines flooded social media. “Bonmatí’s sister and Fernández seal victory—and their relationship—with a kiss.” Photos of you and Jana, arms tangled, bathed in stadium light, were everywhere.

And it didn’t feel scary anymore.

Back at the Team Hotel – 1:12 AM

You lay in bed next to Jana, still wearing your Barça hoodie, hair damp from a quick shower. She was scrolling through her phone beside you, glowing in the dim light of the screen.

“Everyone’s talking about it,” she murmured. “We broke the internet.”

You turned toward her. “Good. Let them talk.”

She smiled—soft and slow. “I still can’t believe you did that.”

“You dared me.”

“Half the team was crying. I think Patri yelled ‘finally!’ loud enough for London to hear.”

You laughed, then went quiet.

“I meant it,” you said. “No more hiding.”

She set her phone down and leaned over, brushing her lips against yours. The kiss was slower this time—quiet, private, full of everything that didn’t need to be said.

She pulled back just enough to speak.

“We should probably sleep.”

“Probably,” you whispered, fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.

But neither of you moved.

You kissed again, slower still, letting the adrenaline melt into something warmer, something safer. She cupped your cheek, her other hand slipping around your waist, grounding you. The match was over, but this—this—felt like the real victory.

You eventually drifted off in her arms, tangled in sheets and limbs, as the sound of celebration outside faded into silence.

The Next Morning

You found Aitana at the hotel breakfast bar, already halfway through a plate of fruit and eggs. She looked up, raised an eyebrow.

“Sleep well?”

You coughed into your coffee. “Fine.”

She smirked.

Jana slid in beside you, nodding respectfully. Aitana didn’t blink.

“You’re sitting with us now?” she asked Jana, still with that same dry tone.

Jana cleared her throat. “If that’s alright.”

Aitana looked between you, then speared a piece of pineapple with her fork.

“As long as she eats enough before training,” she said. “You’re not allowed to wear her out.”

You choked. Jana froze.

“Aitana!”

She grinned, unapologetic. “What? I’m just looking out for my teammate.”

Jana turned bright red. You buried your face in your hands.

It was chaotic. It was embarrassing. But it was love—the kind only family could offer.

Your parents had watched the match, of course. Everyone had.

They had seen the kiss.

You weren’t sure what to expect when your phone buzzed with Mama 💛 on the screen. Jana sat beside you on the couch in your apartment as you answered.

“Mama?” you said.

“Hola, estrella!” her voice rang, full of joy. “You scored! And that kiss, mi niña…”

You blinked. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad? For loving someone brave enough to kiss you on the pitch? Never. You looked so happy. And Jana? We like her. Your father said she has good footwork and good manners.”

You laughed, teary-eyed. “I love you.”

“We love you, too. Bring her home for dinner.”

You looked at Jana. She was biting her lip, trying not to smile too wide.

“She’d love to.”

Later, when the house was quiet and the city lights blinked through your window, you curled into bed with Jana again—only this time, no secrets clung to the dark.

She kissed the inside of your wrist, then your collarbone.

You breathed her name like a prayer.

She leaned over you, fingers tracing your skin like she was memorizing you, all over again. The rhythm between you was unhurried. Soft laughter. Quiet gasps. Sheets twisted around ankles. Skin against skin.

“Stay,” you whispered afterward, your forehead pressed to hers.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured.

And you believed her.

The apartment was dim and quiet, the city humming softly outside the window. You’d been quiet too—soaked in the kind of stillness that comes only after something seismic. After you change your life in one choice. One kiss.

You’d taken off your hoodie. Then your shirt. And now you were straddling Jana in the middle of your bed, knees pressed to either side of her hips, skin flushed warm from the weight of her gaze.

Her hands sat still on your thighs, reverent, like she was afraid to move too fast now that the world knew. Now that it was real.

“I can’t believe you kissed me,” she whispered, voice husky from celebration and emotion. “Right there, on the pitch.”

“I’ve been waiting to kiss you like that for months,” you said, brushing your fingers into her hair. “But I wanted to wait until I knew I could keep you.”

Her expression softened, and then she pulled you down, your lips catching hers with heat and certainty.

There was nothing gentle about the way her hands moved this time—sliding up your back, under your sports bra, fingers memorizing the way your breath caught. You leaned into her touch, hungry, teeth grazing her bottom lip before your mouths deepened the kiss.

Your hips rocked forward, and she groaned softly into your mouth.

“No more hiding,” you murmured into the kiss, pulling back just enough to strip off your bra, your chest bare now under the soft streetlight that spilled through the window.

Jana’s breath hitched. Her eyes roamed—slow and deliberate—like she wanted to remember this exact version of you for the rest of her life.

“You’re so—” she started, but stopped.

You kissed her before she could finish.

Her hands cupped your waist as she sat up, kissing down your neck, across your collarbone, down the curve of your chest—each press of her lips reverent, slow, as if worshipping not just your body, but what you gave her with it: trust, love, vulnerability.

You sighed her name when her mouth found the places you ached for.

Time blurred. Clothes disappeared. The heat between you grew unsteady, frenzied, sacred.

She whispered how much she loved you between every breath.

You answered with your hands, your mouth, your hips—every part of you learning the shape of her all over again, but this time without fear. This time with the doors open and your names out loud.

It was slow and then fast, gentle and then not, but it was always real.

You reached for her hand as everything inside you broke into starlight, her name falling from your lips like a secret no longer needing to be kept.

Later, breathless and tangled in each other’s limbs, you rested your head on her chest, her heartbeat still quick beneath your ear.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, your voice raw. “Not of us—just… of how fast it’s going. How deep.”

Jana kissed your temple.

“I’m not scared,” she said softly. “Not anymore.”

She pulled the blanket over your shoulders, and with her arms tight around your waist, you fell asleep again—body warm, heart full, no secrets left between you and the one you loved.

[blueiscoool]

1,100-Year-Old Viking Sword Found in UK River

A corroded sword pulled from an English river by a magnet fisher is a Viking weapon dating to between A.D. 850 and 975, experts have confirmed.

Trevor Penny was searching for lost and discarded objects in the River Cherwell in Oxfordshire in November 2023 when he made the discovery. The magnet fisher had been down on his luck that day and only pulled scaffolding poles from the water, he said in a message on Facebook. When Penny lugged out the sword, he didn't immediately recognize what it was.

"I was on the side of the bridge and shouted to a friend on the other side of the bridge, 'What is this?'" Penny, who is a member of the Thame Magnet Fishing Facebook group, recalled in the message. "He came running over shouting, 'It looks like a sword!'"

Penny immediately uploaded images of the sword to Google to try to identify it. "Whatever photo angle I tried was coming up with Viking sword," Penny said. The magnet fisher then contacted the Oxfordshire county liaison officer responsible for recording archaeological finds made by the public, and took the sword to be examined by experts.

The sword, only provisionally dated until now, has been authenticated as Viking and estimated to date as far back as 1,200 years ago.

The weapon dates to a period when the Vikings, who were originally pagans from Scandinavia, traveled to the British Isles to plunder, conquer and trade with the ruling Saxons. The Vikings set foot on British soil in the eighth century, having raided a monastery on Lindisfarne, an island off Britain's northeast coast, in 793. Similar raids in Britain occurred for several centuries and escalated after 835, when larger Viking fleets started arriving and fighting royal armies. British kings gradually reconquered territory seized by the Vikings throughout the 10th century and unified what was a patchwork of kingdoms into a new realm called Englalond.

Viking incursions and periods of rule continued until the 11th century, but the Viking Age ended following the Battle of Stamford Bridge in 1066, with the defeat of the king of Norway, Harald III Sigurdsson, by the Saxons.

The newly discovered Viking sword is in the care of Oxford museum services and may eventually be put on display, the Oxford Mail reported.

"The officer said it was archaeologically rare to find whole swords and treasure of historical importance still intact," Penny told the regional newspaper last week. "There was a little dispute with the landowner and the rivers trust who don't permit magnet fishing. The latter sent a legal document saying they wouldn't take action on the condition that the sword was passed to a museum, which I had done."

By Sascha Pare.

[eldolmendelabruja]

watching the uwcl chelsea vs barça game as a historian everytime they say stamford bridge I can only think about vikings and medieval battles. Chelsea ended in Harald Hadrada style.

Visca el Barça!

[zaldritzosrose]

Tumblr-versary: Week Three (The Last Kingdom)

Artwork Aesthetics:

What artworks matches the character's vibe?

Osferth: From Left to Right:

(L) The Battle of Stamford Bridge by Peter Nicolai Arbo.

(M) Haakon the Good by Peter Nicolai Arbo.

(R) The Vigil by John Pettie.

[alexbkrieger13]

“We Know What Lyon Can Do” Magdalena Eriksson on Bayern’s Champions League Mission

The former Chelsea captain on facing familiar foes, Bayern’s European ambitions, and how Lyon’s evolution keeps them Europe’s most dangerous test.

Magdalena Eriksson knows exactly what Bayern Munich will be walking into when they step onto the Bayern Campus on Wednesday. The defender has stood in this arena before, under different colours, against the same familiar threat: Olympique Lyonnais, Europe’s most decorated side. Now, as Bayern prepare to face Lyon in the UEFA Women’s Champions League quarter-final, Eriksson’s past encounters are front of mind. 

“I remember how tough they made it for us when I was at Chelsea,” she says of Olympique Lyonnais, Bayern’s UEFA Women’s Champions League quarter-final opponent. “You think you’ve got them. But they don’t go away.” 

It’s the kind of warning that only experience delivers. Back in the 22/23 season, Eriksson captained Chelsea through a gruelling tie with Lyon that stretched to penalties at Stamford Bridge. Chelsea survived, barely, but Lyon’s persistence still lingers in her mind. 

“They’re just a powerhouse,” she says. “They’ve been in every scenario you can think of, and they always find a way to stay in the game.” 

That experience has shaped how Eriksson views the challenge ahead. Where others might see 90-minute matches split across two legs, she sees something more demanding. 

A Game of Four Halves

“It’s not just one game,” she explains. “It’s a game of four halves. Lyon are too experienced and too dangerous to think you can finish them off early. You have to manage every moment, over both nights.” 

This is no generic media line. Eriksson has lived through Lyon’s late surges, their uncanny ability to grind opponents down across two legs. “Even if you think you’re on top in the first game, they’ll adjust and come at you in the second,” she adds. “We have to be ready for both nights.” 

Back at the Top Table

Bayern are back in the Champions League quarterfinals after a frustrating absence last season. Eriksson arrived last summer to help plug that gap, bringing title-winning experience from her years at Chelsea. 

“We were gutted to miss out,” she admits. “A club like Bayern belongs in these kinds of games.” 

Eriksson has helped Bayern reach the top of the Frauen-Bundesliga this season, ahead of rivals Wolfsburg. But Europe, she insists, is where the club wants to prove itself. 

“We’ve shown what we can do domestically,” she says. “But if you want to be seen as one of the top clubs, you have to compete against the best in Europe.” 

Lyon’s Evolution

What makes this quarter-final harder to predict is Lyon’s refreshed attack. “They’ve added Dumornay, Diani, Chawinga – players who can create something out of nothing,” Eriksson says. “You can defend perfectly, and they still find that moment.” 

Yet Lyon’s core is familiar. Wendie Renard, the towering figure in defense, still leads the squad. Lindsey Heaps (née Horan), Eugenie Le Sommer, and other seasoned winners provide the tournament savvy Eriksson fears most. “It’s not just the individuals,” she says. “It’s that they’ve been here so many times.” 

A New Foundation at Bayern

In Eriksson, Bayern have their own battle-hardened leader. Under Alexander Straus, the Bavarians boast one of Europe’s stingiest defensive lines this season. 

“Defensively, we’re disciplined and connected,” Eriksson says. “We know Lyon will challenge that with their pace and sharpness, but we’re ready.” 

The first leg will be played at Bayern’s FC Bayern Campus, with Eriksson emphasizing how critical it is to take something tangible to France. “You have to use your home advantage in the first game,” she says. “But also, not lose your head thinking it can all be won in one night.”

The Bigger Picture

Eriksson is entering the peak years for a centre-back. A Champions League medal still eludes her, despite a glittering club career in Sweden and England. “That’s why I came here,” she says with quiet resolve. “To help Bayern take that next step.” 

There’s no false bravado. Just a calm understanding that against Lyon, there’s no margin for error. 

“You learn quickly with them,” she says. “You blink, and it’s over.” 

[natequarter]

everyone's always like "well obviously if [the yorkists retained power in whatever fashion] england would've remained catholic because no tudors," demonstrating a fundamental misunderstanding of how alternate timelines work. sure, maybe england would remain catholic. but it could've easily remained catholic under henry viii. how do you know richard v's shock conversion to calvinism wouldn't have provoked civil war between the buckingham faction and the norfolk faction? how do you know harald hardrada winning the battle of stamford bridge wouldn't have led to the eventual establishment of the north sea republic? how do you know louis viii successfully invading england wouldn't have led to a plantagenet occitania, dividing france into two countries (three, if we're to count the independent duchy of brittany, headed by francis v) and in general significantly reducing france's power? we make assumptions about how history must have gone in the absence of a certain element because we know how they turned out for us. but that's not how history works; the vast majority of events are governed by chance.

[memewhore]

Battle of Stamford Bridge, 1066

[catsarehumanstoo]

Good morning /afternoon 🌻

good afternoon!!!

the varangian guard were an elite group of the byzantine army that formed in the 9th century. they were made up of norsemen and rus, and later anglo-saxons after the norman conquest in 1066. they were key to keeping the peace in constantinople, as the fact that they were foreigners without political ties meant that they could be used to put down revolts from rival byzantine factions. they lasted for several hundred years, and were part of the defence during the fourth crusade; it’s unclear when they fully disbanded, but they were definitely gone after the fall of constantinople in 1453.

one of the most prominent members of the varangian guard was harald hardrada, who would later become king of norway and attempt to invade england in 1066, before being defeated and killed by harold godwinson in the battle of stamford bridge. as a teenager, harald was exiled from norway as a result of an inheritance struggle, and eventually ended up in constantinople, which the norsemen knew as miklagarðr (literally “big city”). he was an extremely successful soldier and fought in multiple campaigns for the byzantines, which is notable because the varangian guard are supposed to be more of a bodyguard role, not an active fighting force.

according to snorri sturluson, writing in the heimskringla (saga of the kings of norway), harald was arrested and imprisoned because he fell in love with maria, niece of the empress zoe. zoe forbade this marriage because she was in love with harald and wanted to marry him instead. he escaped with the help of his fellow guards and eventually returned to norway.

according to every source that is not snorri sturluson, harald hardrada was imprisoned for murder, and there are no other sources that mention a niece of the empress called maria.

[beyondmistland]

Like Bjorn Ironside pretending to be dead and getting his coffin only to suppress attack, what’s the coolest battle/fight tactics in history?

I'm going to preface this with the fact that 1) There are too many to list here (or anywhere really) and 2) I'm limited to what I personally know.

That said, here are a few that spring to mind:

Richard III's last charge at the Battle of Bosworth Field. Not only did he get within a sword's length of killing Henry Tudor himself but Richard also killed Henry's standard-bearer, Sir William Brandon, AND unhorsed burly John Cheyne, his older brother's former standard-bearer. Not bad for a guy who would today qualify for the Special Olympics. (The Japanese equivalent would be Sanada Yukimura.)

Harold Godwinson marching his army 185 miles (or 298 km) in just four days to take the Norwegians by surprise at the Battle of Stamford Bridge. (Honorable mention goes to the soldier who got in a barrel and floated under the bridge to spear the Viking holding off the entire English army. Chevalier de Bayard, a real life knight in shining armor, later replicated this feat by holding off 200 Spanish knights single-handedly at the Battle of Garigliano.)

When the rebels started chanting "Henry Percy King" at the Battle of Shrewsbury, Henry IV shouted back "Henry Percy is dead." Needless to say, Henry Percy did not respond. (His eldest son, the future Henry V (or as Shakespeare names him in his youth, Prince Hal), took an arrow to the face in this same battle, which is why Henry V's portraits always depict him from his uninjured side.)

Hannibal crossing the Alps and whooping Rome's ass multiple times on its own turf. (There's a reason "Hannibal ad portas" became a saying. Also, Napoleon I later replicated this feat.)

At the Battle of Bremule, a Norman knight seized the reins of Louis the Fat's horse, shouting "the king is taken!" Louis' response? Hitting the guy with his mace and shouting "the king is not taken, neither at war, nor at chess!"

Alexander the Great turning the island city of Tyre into a peninsula.

Alexander Buchanan killing Thomas, Duke of Clarence at the Battle of Bauge and holding the dead duke's coronet aloft on his lance.

Thanks for the question, anon

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

Royal Deaths, 25th September.

1066 - Harald III, King of Norway (1047-66). 

1066 - Tostig Godwinson, Earl of Northumbria, brother of King Harold killed at the Battle of Stamford Bridge.

1086 - William VIII, Duke of Aquitaine.

1333 - Prince Morikuni, 9th shōgun of the Kamakura shogunate of Japan, dies at 32.

1506 - Philip I, the handsome, first Hapsburg King of Castile, dies of a fever at 28.

1615 - Lady Arabella Stuart, English great-great-granddaughter of King Henry VII and possible heir to the throne, dies imprisoned in the Tower of London at 39.

1617 - Emperor Go-Yozei of Japan.

1665 - Maria Anna of Austria, Electress of Bavaria.

1826 - Frederica of Baden, Queen of Sweden, former wife of King Gustav IV Adolf of Sweden.

1983 - Leopold III, King of the Belgians.