#battle of tettenhall

[lord-aldhelm]

Aldhelm and Aethelflaed | The Last Kingdom 4.04

[tlk-kingdomsource]

The Battle of Tettenhall // The Last Kingdom // S4E4

[whitedarkmoonflower]

The Battle of Tettenhall // The Last Kingdom // S4E4 Part 1

[destinyisall-tlk]

uhtred + 4.04 - battle of tettenhall

[ancestorsalive]

Photo: Statue of Aethelflaed, Lady of the Mercians, who passed away in 918. Her nephew Aethelstan, future king of all England, looks up at her.

"Aethelflaed was one of three daughters of Alfred the Great, and her name meant "noble beauty". She married Aethelraed of Mercia at some point during the 880s and while this union meant a strong alliance between Wessex and Mercia the pair embarked on a "Mercian revival" with the city of Worcester at its centre.

When Aethelraed died in 911 after years of ill-health Aethelflaed remained as Lady of Mercia and held this position until her death, making her the only female ruler of a kingdom during the entire Anglo-Saxon era. The only compromise she made was to agree to her brother Edward, now king of Wessex, taking some of Mercia's southern lands under his control.

Their father Alfred the Great had fortified dozens of Wessex towns as "burhs" and Edward continued this work, connecting his burhs with those in Mercia to represent a united front against viking incursions, and it wasn't long before this was put to the test.

A force of vikings, pushed out of Ireland, landed in the mouth of the Dee after unsuccessfully trying to take land in Wales, and asked Aethelflaed if they could settle for a time outside the old Roman walled town of Chester. Permission was granted but the Norsemen raided and robbed the area at will so Aethelflaed led a force to shut them down. She had Chester fortified and waited for the inevitable viking attack, it came and was repulsed, the Scandinavian chancers sent packing in complete disarray.

This same Norse army was brought to battle at Tettenhall near Wolverhampton where Aethelflaed's forces destroyed them. The writing was now on the wall - the vikings had to go. Together with Edward she raided deep into Danelaw territory on a mission to rescue the bones of St Oswald - who had been killed and ritually dismembered by the pagan king of Mercia Penda - from a church in Lincolnshire then brought the relics down to Gloucestershire where a new church was built to house them...more on that presently.

The burhs continued to be built, and the Dane strongholds fell as Aethelflaed campaigned hard against them. Her forces defeated three Norse armies before finally taking the city of Derby, then Leicester, before the Danes of York came to her to pledge their loyalty. The vikings in Anglia capitulated to Edward and so all of England south of Northumbria was now back under Anglo-Saxon rule.

Aethelflaed died at Tamworth in 918 and so will be forever associated with the town, but she was carried down to Gloucestershire to be buried in the church she had built for St Oswald. Unfortunately the monastery there fell into decline over the centuries, was dissolved in 1536, then almost completely destroyed during the English Civil War. Nobody knows where Aethelflaed's resting place is now, but the ruins of St Oswalds are as good a place as any as a pilgrimage destination for those wishing to follow in the footsteps of the Lady of Mercia." - Source: Hugh Williams via Medieval England on FB.

Photo: Statue of Aethelflaed and Aethelstan at Tamworth Castle, by EG Bramwell, unveiled in 1913.

[transfinan]

Watching the battle of Tettenhall at 0.5x speed rn cause otherwise I can't tell wtf is happening

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 8.5 (before 1860)

AD 25 – Guangwu claims the throne as Emperor of China, restoring the Han dynasty after the collapse of the short-lived Xin dynasty. 70 – Fires resulting from the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem are extinguished. 642 – Battle of Maserfield: Penda of Mercia defeats and kills Oswald of Northumbria. 910 – The last major Danish army to raid England for nearly a century is defeated at the Battle of Tettenhall by the allied forces of Mercia and Wessex, led by King Edward the Elder and Æthelred, Lord of the Mercians. 939 – The Battle of Alhandic is fought between Ramiro II of León and Abd-ar-Rahman III at Zamora in the context of the Spanish Reconquista. The battle resulted in a victory for the Emirate of Córdoba. 1068 – Byzantine–Norman wars: Italo-Normans begin a nearly-three-year siege of Bari. 1100 – Henry I is crowned King of England in Westminster Abbey. 1278 – Spanish Reconquista: the forces of the Kingdom of Castile initiate the ultimately futile Siege of Algeciras against the Emirate of Granada. 1305 – First Scottish War of Independence: Sir John Stewart of Menteith, the pro-English Sheriff of Dumbarton, successfully manages to capture Sir William Wallace of Scotland, leading to Wallace's subsequent execution by hanging, evisceration, drawing and quartering, and beheading 18 days later. 1388 – The Battle of Otterburn, a border skirmish between the Scottish and the English in Northern England, is fought near Otterburn. 1460 – The Kingdom of Scotland captures Roxburgh, one of the last English strongholds in Scotland, following a siege. 1506 – The Grand Duchy of Lithuania defeats the Crimean Khanate in the Battle of Kletsk. 1583 – Sir Humphrey Gilbert establishes the first English colony in North America, at what is now St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador. 1600 – The Gowrie Conspiracy against King James VI of Scotland (later to become King James I of England) takes place. 1620 – The Mayflower departs from Southampton, England, carrying would-be settlers, on its first attempt to reach North America; it is forced to dock in Dartmouth when its companion ship, the Speedwell, springs a leak. 1689 – Beaver Wars: Fifteen hundred Iroquois attack Lachine in New France. 1716 – Austro-Turkish War (1716–1718): One-fifth of a Turkish army and the Grand Vizier are killed in the Battle of Petrovaradin. 1735 – Freedom of the press: New York Weekly Journal writer John Peter Zenger is acquitted of seditious libel against the royal governor of New York, on the basis that what he had published was true. 1772 – First Partition of Poland: The representatives of Austria, Prussia, and Russia sign three bilateral conventions condemning the ‘anarchy’ of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and imputing to the three powers ‘ancient and legitimate rights’ to the territories of the Commonwealth. The conventions allow each of the three great powers to annex a part of the Commonwealth, which they proceed to do over the course of the following two months. 1763 – Pontiac's War: Battle of Bushy Run: British forces led by Henry Bouquet defeat Chief Pontiac's Indians at Bushy Run. 1781 – The Battle of Dogger Bank takes place. 1796 – The Battle of Castiglione in Napoleon's first Italian campaigns of the French Revolutionary Wars. 1816 – The British Admiralty dismisses Francis Ronalds's new invention of the first working electric telegraph as "wholly unnecessary", preferring to continue using the semaphore. 1824 – Greek War of Independence: Konstantinos Kanaris leads a Greek fleet to victory against Ottoman and Egyptian naval forces in the Battle of Samos. 1858 – Cyrus West Field and others complete the first transatlantic telegraph cable after several unsuccessful attempts. It will operate for less than a month.

[brain-rot-things]

Damn I tried to check out the first Warrior cat book on Libby and they're all checked out with multiple holds on each copy 😂😂 good to know the books are still popular tho.

Just finished The Pagan Lord and it ended with the battle at Tettenhall (probs not spelled right) but like Uhtred's NOT DOING GOOD at the the of this book and I'm like ??? There are like 6 more books what up??

So I'm still waiting to finish Gathering Blue bc I'm supposed to be waiting for my kid to read it, so I'll give it a few more days and then I'll finish that one. 😂😂😂

Soooo I guess we're reading the third book in The Sing of Ice and Fire, A Storm of Swords!!

Also on the docket is reading the Inkheart series & the Life As We Knew It series, reading The First Law trilogy, I have to finish the second Lord of the Rings book, and I'd like to re-read two of my FAVORITE BOOKS, The Grapes of Wrath & East of Eden.

[skatingthinandice]

Hi! For the fic ask you reblogged ages ago that I just got around to answering the questions you asked of me - right back at you! ★ ✿ ✦ (you choose the fics!) (as it was a while ago now, if you already answered these, answer a question on the list that you want to answer and haven't yet been asked!)

awh thank you! i really liked these questions and no one else asked me any 😅

★ what was the scene you most wanted to write in [fic]? what was the hardest scene to write?

I thought it was gonna be difficult to pick a fic for this, but actually it turned out to be incredibly easy. Perseverance was a massive undertaking for me, seeing as it was the payoff of three years worth of writing building up to it, and I was excited and nervous to bring that story to its conclusion.

The scene that I most wanted to write was the desk scene where Aethelflaed and Aldhelm are discussing sending troops to Eoferwic, which leads to the first intimate moment between them, and it has a bit of everything I love as a writer. I feel like I really nailed their characterisation and the humour in their dialogue, as well as building the atmosphere. I think it was actually the first scene I drafted in full and essentially it stayed the same with very little editing, which is rare for me!

The hardest scene to write was 100% the Tettenhall battle scene! Considering it's one of biggest moments for them in canon, it needed to deliver the same emotional punch to read as it did to watch. Keeping a consistent tone across scenes when some are my own moments and some are the canon events they sit between is often difficult, and none more so than Tettenhall.

✿ did anything major change when you started writing [fic] to when you finished?

A few of my fics started out as daydreams first before I actually decided to write them, usually stories I'd tell myself before I went to sleep, which were essentially just me imagining the characters going off in a completely random direction and doing whatever my brain made up. At some point I'd be like ooh hang on I could actually write this, at which point it needs to be in character and make sense in canon and stand on its own. So the finished product ends up completely different to the original daydream, but that's all part of the process!

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?

I don't quite know what was in the water while I was watching Victoria, but two years in a row I churned out more fic week after week than I've written in recent years combined 🤣

The hardest to write are the fics that are the longest, simply because it takes a lot of plotting and discipline and inspiration to write them. My current multi-chapter WIP is definitely up there on all three counts right now.

[magravenwrites]

"The war to end all wars" by Stanley Cooper

For the @tlkafterparty celebration

Tags:

Prompt - inspired by poetry

(Click on images for better quality)

@tlkafterparty @emilyhufflepufftlk @solinarimoon @morosemagick @lauwrite1225 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

[lord-aldhelm]

Aldhelm and Aethelflaed | The Last Kingdom 4.04

[kitkatscabinet]

Temper temper

Osferth x reader

Summary: tempers flare and hurtful words are thrown

Word count: 1k

Requested by anon. It took me a while to think of what they could be fighting about, I almost made it about all the other women thirsting over him tbh

From the moment you met Osferth your relationship had been nothing short of perfect. You had been one of Uhtred's before the baby monk joined the crew and had been the first to truly accept him with no judgement.

After all, you weren't exactly the type of person many expected to be associated with Lord Uhtred yourself. While you had certainly relished in teasing the shy and inexperienced boy you always knew when to stop.

You had been the one to comfort him after his first battle, then his first kill. You were there every step of the way throughout the years, never one without the other. In short, inseparable, knowing each other's minds better than your own.

Sure you had had slight disagreements here and there but you never fought. That was why when he yells at you for the first time it is completely unexpected.

He had recently broken his arm and as such, you hadn't wanted him to join the battle that was to occur at Tettenhall. Naturally, you had thought this was a reasonable ask but he hadn't agreed.

"Please my love, don't go, I don't want you to get hurt" you pleaded, holding his good hand within your own. Instantly he pulled away from your touch, a frown crossing his face. "Osferth what-" you start only to rear back as he harshly replies

"Why, do you think me weak?" you were incredibly taken aback by his tone, you had noticed the smell of ale on his clothes and his face hadn't lit up in a smile like it usually did when he saw you. Still, that was no reason for the sheer venom he had used to address you.

"What? No!" you were quick to deny but apparently, your response had only served to fuel the fire of his temper.

"Why'd you sound so uncertain then? You still think me that weak pathetic little boy you first met? you think I need you to protect me, to tell me what to do?" With each question, he had gotten louder and further into your personal space and for the first time in your life Osferth is making you nervous.

"Where is this coming from Os, you know I've never thought you weak. I'm just worried about you" you tried to keep your voice steady to placate him but once more you have the opposite effect.

"I don't need your worry! I'm so sick of you nagging me all the time!" You can feel the heat of his breath on your face, causing you to flinch back minutely before you can stop yourself.

A cold indifference suddenly washed over you, and even as you see Osferth's eyes widening in regret and his hand reaching out to grab you, you scoff and dodge aside.

"Fine, I won't waste my time on you anymore then" your words are like ice and before Osferth can realise what had happened you have already left. Once he realises what has just happened, what he has just done he is quick to try and follow but you are long gone.

You had retreated to the safety of your lord's side, taking up residence in his small house with red-rimmed eyes. Uhtred thankfully hadn't commented apart from a casual offer to kill someone and had simply let you curl up under his furs without complaint. Since you'd met Osferth he hadn't been the one you'd gone to for comfort for quite some time and a large part of him was happy that you were still content to do so.

Once he had been assured you were ok your lord had taken residence outside his hut, keeping vigil as he waited for Osferth to slink his way.

"Baby monk" he greeted coolly, watching as the boy shrunk in on himself slightly.

"Lord" he nodded, hands ringing together nervously, "are they here? Please, I really need to apologise." Uhtred continued to stare for a little while longer hand resting threateningly on the hilt of his dagger. To his credit, Osferth did not back down and as such Uhtred eventually relented and let him pass.

"Baby monk" he called over his shoulder, "I will not be so lenient next time" he promised.

"There will not be a next time Lord, I swear it." With those final words, Osferth stepped into the room you had sequestered yourself in. Upon seeing your form curled up into a ball under the covers he allows his lips to quirk up slightly at the adorable sight before it drops when he remembers he's the cause.

"Love-" he gently calls only to be cut off by your muffled voice.

"Go away Osferth" the usage of his full name was a testament to how truly upset you were, you only ever called him by pet names these days.

"I can't do that love. Not until you can find it in yourself to forgive me" he gently said, perching himself on the edge of the bed before leaning down to entrap the lump that was you within his good arm. Thankfully you didn't squirm too much in an attempt to get away, laying silently as he whispered feverish apologies on repeat. Eventually, you broke the silence mumbling

"I'm still really angry at you."

"I know love, I'm angry at me too"

"If you ever say anything like that to me again I'll kill you" you murmured angrily before turning aggressively under the covers, burying your face into his chest despite the layer of blankets and furs.

"I'll hand you the blade myself" he solemnly promises, smiling slightly in triumph as he hears you huff a laugh. The two of you stayed wrapped up in each other for what felt like hours. Neither speaking or moving, as tempers cooled. In your comfort you were on the verge of falling asleep when you heard Uhtred's yell

"You better not be humping in my bed!"

Taglist: @eudximoniakr

[whitedarkmoonflower]

The Battle of Tettenhall // The Last Kingdom // S4E4 Part 2

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Feel.

Note: A lovely request by another lovely anon. Thank you so much for this, I hope you'll enjoy it as I really loved to write it!

Warnings: fluff/slight angst; mention of blood/battle/wounds/death.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

Summary: Sihtric wasn't the only one who suffered after the battle of Tettenhall.

Word count: 2,9k 

Masterlist

You had never seen so much blood in your life. 

Being Sihtric's wife was often a frightening life as you never knew how your beloved Dane would return to you after battle, or if he even would. You had patched him up time after time, from minor bruises on his pretty face to deep cuts on his arms and legs, resulting in more scars on his body. You knew today wouldn't be any different, but when Uhtred and what was left of his army returned after the battle of Tettenhall, you felt yourself become sick at the sight of your husband. So much blood. The shaved side of his head was covered with blood, a mixture of his own and those of the men he had killed himself, and it dripped down his neck, drenching his tunic and running down to his arms and hands. The closer he came to you, the more blood you saw and the more unwell you began to feel… until everything turned black

You opened your eyes again moments later, after Sihtric had caught you in his arms when your legs had given out underneath you at the sight of him. But even though you knew your eyes were open, everything was still black, pitch black. And you felt the warm sun on your face while you laid in the tall grass, feeling your husband's arms around you as he cradled you.

'Temporary blindness,' the healer told Sihtric.

'Temporary?' Sihtric asked, and you heard the panic in his voice, 'what does that mean?'

There was a silence, and even though you couldn't see, you could feel it was an awkward silence before the healer spoke again.

'It means,' she scoffed, 'that it is temporary. This is the result of a sudden trauma and it will heal itself over time.'

'But what if it doesn't?' your husband asked.

The healer didn't reply, instead you only heard your husband's heavy, panicked breathing above you as he held you in his arms.

'Hey!' Sihtric suddenly shouted, causing you to flinch at the sound of his hard, hoarse voice, 'I asked what happens if it doesn't heal!'

You once again didn't hear the healer anymore, and you suddenly felt the familiar rough fingers of your husband gently caressing your face. You carefully brought your hand to his as he touched your face, and you slowly moved it up his arm, feeling the already dried and thickly crusted blood that had painted him in battle underneath your fingers. Your breath hitched upon the feeling and Sihtric leaned his forehead gently against yours, while your hand reached the neck of his armour and you curled your fingers around the leather, keeping him close.

'Sihtric,' you cried softly, 'what if… what if I can never see again? What if,' you said with a sob, 'what if I can never see you again?'

'It will heal,' he whispered, but the tremble in his voice told you he wasn't convinced, 'I promise, it will heal. I'll… I'll find a way.'

'But it is up to the Gods,' you sniffled, 'they will have to decide-'

'Then we shall let them decide,' Sihtric hushed you, 'but until then,' he took both your hands and slipped one under his leather armour, upon his heart, and the other on his face, allowing you to feel his coarse facial hair, 'you can always feel me, my love. You will always be able to feel me.'

You felt the movements of Sihtric's horse you were mounted on. You still couldn't see Sihtric, nor his horse, but you were seated facing your husband as he had climbed upon the horse after you. Two days had passed since the battle of Tettenhall and you were now all on your way back home again. You had wrapped your arms around Sihtric and buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his earthy scent and feeling the warmth of his skin against your own.

'I'm scared,' you suddenly whispered.

'I know,' Sihtric said, and you felt the vibration of his low voice as he spoke softly, 'but we will fix this, I promise. Just let us first reach home.'

You hummed softly in agreement, as there was not much else either of you could do in this very moment.

'How much longer?'

'One more day of travel, my love,' he answered, 'we will stop and set up camp soon, before the sun sets.'

You felt the texture of his clothing beneath your fingertips while you both swayed lightly as the horse carried you. Sihtric's leather armour was hard, thick, and you were thankful that Lord Uhtred paid your husband well enough to be able to own a piece of such fine craftsmanship. You silently counted the rivets you felt as you traced your fingers up and down; hundredth and thirty one rivets protected your husband's chest during battle. Hundredth and thirty one rivets kept his leather armour together up front, while all it would take was only one sword to his throat or only one axe to his face to have him taken away from you. You slid your hands up further, feeling the pleasantly warm pendant Sihtric wore around his neck as the sun had been shining its light upon it, and then you felt the warmth of his skin again. You slowly trailed your fingers up and over his throat, merely grazing his Adam's apple and feeling it move as he swallowed. You explored further, feeling his pleasant, but sometimes painfully harsh and short facial hair as you touched his chin. You moved your slightly trembling fingers up to his lips, feeling they were slightly dry and a little chapped here and there, and then you felt his lips curl into a smile. 

Sihtric moved his hand from the small of your back up to your neck, and after you moved your hands carefully up to touch the sides of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair on one side while feeling the stubble on his other, shaved side, he pulled you closer until his lips collided with yours into a gentle but long and firm kiss.

'Promise not to leave my side?' you asked, lips still touching.

'I promise,' Sihtric murmured, his warm breath on your lips and his hands on your skin making you feel safe despite your lack of vision.

The camp was made not much later and Sihtric kept his promise to you. He did feel bad that he wasn't helping out the other men setting everything up, but every time he only slightly moved, causing you to suddenly feel the loss of him close by, you panicked and clung onto his hand or arm, whichever you managed to get a hold of first. And so Uhtred had given Sihtric a nod that he just had to stay put next to you, as no one could imagine what it must be like to suddenly lose your eyesight.

It had been two days already, and now you were going into your third night of sudden blindness. As the previous nights, Sihtric had gathered several blankets and other soft materials that made for a bed for you. As it was summer, most people simply slept in the grass or on the sand under the stars, but your husband wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. You usually didn't mind sleeping on the ground if you had to, but now that you couldn't see what it was that suddenly slithered by or crawled over your hand, Sihtric refused to let you go through that kind of unpleasantry. 

He helped you out of your clothes and then took off his own, leaving you both in only your undergarments. And once you were comfortably on the improvised bed, Sihtric knew what you needed to feel safe and secure and he carefully moved to lay on top of you. Without putting his entire weight on you, but just enough to make you feel as if nothing could harm you, he settled between your thighs and wrapped his arms around you. Even though you couldn't see, Sihtric had tried his hardest to make the tent you were in as cosy as possible. He firmly believed you could feel the energy of a place, and since he only wanted you to feel positivity, safety and love, he had lit a few candles that were meant to guide one in the darkest of the night if needed.

Sihtric looked at you, slowly tracing your cheek with his rough fingers while he felt his emotions were about to overwhelm him. Everything that had happened the past few days was finally catching up on him, but the worst feeling was that he felt absolutely powerless when it came to you. He buried his face in your neck and nuzzled your soft skin slowly while he fought his tears.

You heard a sudden change in his breathing as he held you, a soft hitch in his throat before he inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. You felt his beating heart underneath your hand as it was placed upon his bare chest, and its pace began to speed up. You listened carefully while you allowed the warmth of his body to embrace you, like form fitting armour, and you trailed your other hand over his back, feeling every scar he had ever earned. Your eyes were closed as you breathed in his scent, and you moved your hand from his back up into his soft curls, feeling the cold silver beads that were braided into his hair. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, you felt something warm trickle down your neck just before you heard your husband sniffle, and you wrapped both your arms tightly around him.

'My dearest,' you whispered, feeling your lips graze his ear, 'do not cry, please.'

'But I did this to you,' he said softly, his pain broke his voice like it broke your heart, 'I didn't know how much blood-'

'We both didn't know this would happen,' you hushed him, holding him as close as you possibly could, 'it was not the first time I have seen you fresh out of battle. It was not the first time I have seen you wounded or covered in blood…'

'But it affected you this time,' he sniffled, 'and I am sorry.'

'You do not have to be sorry,' you whispered and searched for the pendant around his neck, 'all we can do is pray to the Gods,' you clutched the protection symbol in your fist, 'we can only pray.'

Sihtric didn't speak, but he hummed softly in agreement and sniffled again. You felt him move slightly and figured he was propped up on his elbows after you gradually lost the feeling of his body weight pressed onto you, which was shielding you. You opened your eyes but everything was still dark, and you quietly listened when you heard his soft whispers and something move in the sand next to you. You couldn't quite place the sound you heard above his inaudible whispers, but you knew it was a familiar one. It was a sound you had heard many times before, mainly when you were still a child, but you couldn't recall what caused it exactly. It wasn't a harsh sound, it was rather soft, but every now and then the soft soothing sound was interrupted by a sharper, scratching sound.

'What are you doing?' you whispered while your hands searched his biceps, then trailing up to his shoulders and back onto his chest; feeling his heartbeat underneath your hands again, reassuring you that your other half was really there with you and still alive.

Sihtric's whispers then stopped along with the familiar yet unknown sound close to your ear, and for a few long seconds you only heard the crickets outside and the soft chatter of men outside your tent.

'Praying,' your husband then said.

Sihtric sniffled again, and you swore you heard the sound of a single teardrop fall down onto the uncovered earth just next to your face. You heard it just before you felt his body being lowered down onto yours again, and then another single teardrop fell quietly, and you felt it land onto your cheek just before you felt his lips pressed onto yours. He then kissed your face all over, gently, and softly hummed childhood lullabies in your ear until you fell asleep.

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of someone cursing after having dropped a bowl of food right outside your tent and you immediately clung onto Sihtric, who had shifted to lay underneath you while you were asleep. He had held you, sleeping on top of him, tightly wrapped into his arms through the night, with a blanket pulled up all over you. Everything was still dark, so you closed your eyes again and buried your face in his neck, slowly waking him up as you peppered his skin with soft kisses. You heard Sihtric hum quietly and pleased as he began to wake up at the feeling of your lips all over him. He then accidentally pulled the blanket, uncovering your face, and when you mindlessly opened your eyes again you froze and stared at him. Your husband blinked, attempting to wake up when he lost the feeling of your mouth on his neck, and his eyes grew as big as yours when he noticed a shift in you.

'What?' he whispered and carefully cupped your cheeks to not startle you, while his eyes darted rapidly over your face, 'what's… what's wrong, darling?'

You didn't speak for a moment, you just kept your eyes fixated on your husband. And just when Sihtric's heart skipped a panicked beat, he saw your lips curl into a smile.

'I just… realised,' you whispered, 'that my husband is even more handsome than I remembered him to be.'

Sihtric stared at you, and then sighed in relief before he smiled too and kissed you lovingly. And he will always believe that the old Gods had healed you, after he had drawn a bindrune in the sand right next to you the night before, while he had whispered his prayers.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @succnfuccubus @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @diiickbrainn @sihtricsafin @lexwolfhale @dixie-elocin @m-a-s-h-k-a

[osferth]

shieldmaiden

summary: Eydís has long been the most loyal of Brida’s shieldmaidens. They have always been close, but Brida’s enslavement following their defeat at Tettenhall changes everything. For Eydís, it means reuniting with a boy - no, a man - she never once thought she would see again.

pairing: sigtryggr x oc

tagging: @levithestripper @morosemagick @timetravelingpenguin1066 @volvaaslaug (thank you for your help!!!) @treasures-of-jorvik @1blue-green1 @fallingintomagic

Many Danes lie dead on the battlefield at Tettenhall. Those that survive have no leader: Cnut’s body has been found in the woods, and Brida is missing. Eydís sits awake well into the night, for sleep does not have the decency to spare her from the memories of all that she has lost. 

A rumour begins to swirl around their depleted camp that Brida has been enslaved by the Welsh, that Uhtred Ragnarson had been seen nearby, and suddenly Eydís feels a hot rush of anger towards the Dane-Slayer for letting it happen. She knows Brida will have wished for Valhalla, and he - despite all that he has suffered - did not fulfil that wish.

But there is little to be done. The Saxons have the victory, the numbers, and the Danes have neither. It is with a heavy heart that Eydís sends her prayers to the gods, even though she knows that recovering Brida will be close to impossible.

After months of bleak news, a report of Danes sighted in Wealas sends Eydís all but flying down to the kingdom with only a few men in tow. She doesn’t stop until she reaches Deheubarth, where she finally sees these Danes for herself.

The first to greet her is Brida, whose stomach is significantly rounder than when Eydís had seen her last. She is pathetically relieved to see that both Brida and her child appear to be as well as possible under the circumstances.

“I did not see you after the battle… I feared you hadn’t survived,” says Brida, drawing Eydís into a hug.

Eydís holds her tightly. “I was worried myself,” she weakly grins, although she sobers upon noticing the angry bruises marking Brida’s neck and wrists. “I hope you killed the bastards that did this to you.”

Brida smirks. “You arrived in time, then.”

Despite their warm reunion, guilt continues to eat away at Eydís. “I am sorry we didn’t come back for you. We wanted to, truly-”

“There was little you could have done,” Brida says. “I understand. Please don’t think that I’m angry with you, I could never be.”

Eydís knows she speaks the truth, but still tears well up in her eyes. “Forgive me-”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Brida assures her, embracing her regardless. “Now come,” she adds, wiping Eydís’ face with a smile.

She beckons Eydís into the great Welsh palace, although it has been all but desecrated. Several warriors sit idly chewing on the food scattered across tables, following them with her eyes. There is something strangely familiar about some of them, but Eydís cannot seem to put her finger on it. 

“I came as soon as I heard talk of Danes here,” she admits, watching the men she brought sit alongside the others. Soon, they are talking and laughing as though they have known each other for longer than a few minutes, and the sight brings a smile to her face.

“Yes. They sailed over from Irland,” Brida says, giving her a knowing look, and at once Eydís’ head snaps up. 

She had once counted herself as one of them, back before they moved across the sea. Her childhood spent in Irland is now little more than a memory, although one she often looks back on with a great deal of fondness. 

To now be faced with it is something else entirely.

“Eydís,” a somewhat-familiar voice asks, “is that really you?”

His hair is longer, she thinks, and his voice has deepened. While such change is to be expected after a decade, it still manages to come as a shock to her.

“Indeed it is, Sigtryggr,” she answers finally. “You’ve grown.”

“While you have not,” he replies with a tinge of amusement, and she rolls her eyes. 

“Rognvaldr is not with you?” she questions, looking around unsuccessfully for his brother. 

Sigtryggr shakes his head, regret seeping into his features. “I had no time to go back for him, but… I have been told he is alive.” 

“Did you hear where he could be?” 

“Iceland,” he answers. “I understand he has joined the Danes there.”

Eydís sighs. She grew up with both brothers, and as idiotic as Rognvaldr was back then, she knows the love Sigtryggr has for him. Being separated like this must be a terrible burden to bear.

“You miss him,” she says finally. He nods. “Then, we can miss him together.”

The corners of Sigtryggr’s lips turn upward and Eydís returns his smile. 

“When will we be leaving here, then?” she asks eventually.

Strangely, he frowns. “Leaving? To go where?”

“To Wessex or Mercia,” says Brida, chewing on a leg of chicken as she strolls over to them. “I'm tired of killing farmers and their wives.”

Her thoughts mirror Eydís’ own.

“My men have travelled from Irland after months of battle,” Sigtryggr points out. “They are tired. And where better to rest than here? We have food. We are safe. There's no reason to leave.”

Eydís wills herself to understand his perspective, but she simply cannot - the Sigtryggr she knew would have leapt at the chance to avenge them. “Edward and Uhtred slaughtered our kin. They must pay for that! Surely you-”

“And they will,” Sigtryggr says, calmly cutting across her.

Eydís does not know where this new attitude is coming from, but right now it is beyond infuriating.

“When?” Brida demands.

“When the time is right,” he replies simply.

Eydís rolls her eyes to the heavens. For once, can he not be so fucking serene?

“I did not keep myself alive in that hole in the ground to watch your men get fat here while the Saxons grow stronger,” Brida spits.

“They are weak now after Tettenhall,” Eydís adds. “They will not expect us to attack.” Although her words are reasonable, her tone is clipped. 

Sigtryggr sighs.

“You have a warrior's spirit, and this is good,” he says. “But if I ask my men to fight, it must be for a reason I believe in. They will fight to protect their families, or for food, or for land. But vengeance for Tettenhall... it is not enough.”

Incredulously, Eydís stares at him. “So we will wait until the Saxons grow stronger and risk another Tettenhall, then.”

“Eydís-”

“What?” she snaps. “Is that not what will happen?”

“I-”

“I will go to find our allies to the north,” Brida interjects before they can argue, although her own irritation is tangible. “They will fight the Saxons.”

Sigtryggr exhales and nods. “Then that is what you must do.”

“I will need ten men to escort me on my journey. You owe me that.”

“You can have five.”

Eydís glares at him, and storms off without a word.

Wandering the halls of the palace surprisingly helps to soothe her temper. The noise in the room she left fades with every step she takes, until soon she is embraced with silence. It gives her time to think.

Eydís simply cannot equate the reckless, ambitious boy she had grown up alongside with the cool, indifferent man she has just clashed with after ten years apart, no matter how hard she tries.

She takes a left and finds herself in the largest bedroom she has ever seen. It must have belonged to a princess or a queen, if the silk dresses scattered across the ornate furniture are anything to go by. 

Eydís looks completely out of place in comparison. Her braid is messy, her armour worn, her eyes tired and sad. Sighing, she kicks her boots off and sits cross-legged on the bed, staring at the pendant of Thor’s hammer in her hands. It had belonged to a friend of hers, one who had died at Tettenhall. Eydís half-believed she would never stop mourning him.

“Eydís?”

It is Sigtryggr, awkwardly standing in the doorway as though he is unsure whether to enter or not. The uncharacteristic sight almost makes Eydís smile.

“Brida is going to kill her captor. Will you watch?”

Despite her happiness at being reunited with Brida, Eydís has no intention of doing so. “Do not delay her,” she says simply. “I’ll stay here.”

“As you wish,” Sigtryggr replies. “I will send for you when she leaves.”

Eydís nods. “Thank you,” she says curtly.

He gives her a crooked smile that she inexplicably returns before he turns to leave - and just for a moment, she sees the boy she had once adored.

It is not long before Sigtryggr returns, this time without a word that needs to be said. Eydís jumps up at once, secretly grateful for the distraction from her thoughts. Any longer and she feels she may go mad.

After a long embrace, Eydís sees Brida off. As her shieldmaiden, she offers to accompany her at first, but Brida quickly refuses, insisting that Eydís needs to remain behind and reacquaint herself with Sigtryggr… no matter how badly they have clashed at first.

“She will be safe,” Sigtryggr says, moving to stand beside her.

Eydís merely nods. She watches until they are out of sight, and wordlessly walks away to eat.

Eydís knows she has not been herself since Tettenhall, and nobody expects her to be. They all respect her reluctance to join in their conversation and her wish to be left alone. So it annoys her to no end when Sigtryggr catches up to her as she is about to return to her room.

“Can I speak with you?” he asks.

“About what?” But she already knows the answer.

His gaze is almost beseeching, willing her to shed her cold demeanour and allow him to explain himself. It is only, only because she had loved him once that she lets him in.

“Speak, then,” she says shortly. “Tell me why the loss of our people at Tettenhall is not a good enough reason to fight.”

“I am not minimising your loss,” sighed Sigtryggr. “But if I am to be a good leader to my men, I must be cautious.”

“My loss,” she scoffs.

The look he gives her hints at exasperation. “What use is an attempt at vengeance if it is not to our advantage?”

Eydís laughs derisively. “So you will content yourself with a Welsh fortress, then, and fight only to defend it against Hywel or invaders.”

“I have control here,” Sigtryggr counters her, “enough to create stability for the Danes that they will not find elsewhere.”

“And what about all those dreams you told me about?” Eydís says accusingly. “Time and time again! About how you would become a great warrior, how you would rule over your own kingdom! The Sigtryggr I knew would never settle for this, he would never miss an opportunity to avenge his fellow Danes!”

Sigtryggr exhales deeply. “That was the wishful thinking of a green boy,” he reasons after a moment. “Eydís, I understand your pain-”

“Do you?” Eydís shouts suddenly. “Do you really?”

His infuriatingly serene attitude towards her suffering thus far has not exactly proven that he has even a semblance of empathy.

“Yes,” he insists, “I do. More than you know.”

“No, you don’t,” Eydís hisses. “You have no idea. If you did, you would be angry. You would be raring to show the bastards exactly what happens to those who hurt us. You would feel the need to avenge those you lost, and instead-”

“I understand perfectly well,” Sigtryggr interjects, his voice a little louder than he perhaps intended it to be.

To Eydís, it finally sounds like his calm, collected mask is slipping. 

“Where is your anger, then?” she asks. “Where is your willingness to fight? ”

His jaw clenches for a second. “I promise you, it is there. But we cannot blindly rush to our deaths as Cnut rushed to his!”

“We will not be blindly rushing to our deaths!” she snaps. “Did you not hear Brida’s words? Tettenhall has weakened them. If we do not strike now, then we give them enough time to prepare themselves. This is the best chance we have, Sigtryggr. Only a fool would give it up.”

She is met with silence, and realises at once the truth behind his reluctance.

“You’re afraid.”

Sigtryggr’s head snaps up at this, and he gives her a hard stare. “Of what?”

“You’re afraid of repeating Cnut’s mistakes,” she says.

“It is not fear that drives me to make my decisions,” Sigtryggr counters, but his voice has risen again. 

Eydís merely shakes her head. “There’s no use in lying to me. This isn’t some tactical decision based purely on logic or strategy. No… you are afraid of repeating whatever took place in Irland, aren’t you?”

This mention of Irland is the final crack in Sigtryggr’s calm exterior.

“Then forgive me for not allowing myself to be ruled by my every whim!” he shouts. “Forgive me for not wanting to see my men share the same fate as your friends!”

His flippant language quickly reignites her anger. “My friends?”

“Yes, your friends!” he retorts. “I-”

“They were my family,” Eydís interrupts, her voice a guttural growl. “Don’t you dare speak of them when you cannot even find the courage to help us avenge them. Don’t you dare.”

He opens his mouth to speak, and she hopes his next words will be an apology, because if not-

“Why not? If I am the coward for keeping my men safe, then Cnut is the fool for allowing yours to be slaughtered.”

At this callous remark, Eydís finally loses all control. “Get the hell out of this room!” she screams. “I can’t even look at you right now!” 

Her breathing is ragged with rage as he gives her one final unreadable look before leaving, perhaps accepting that he has gone a step too far.

She slams the door behind him as soon as he has passed through the doorway. Much of her heated fury falls away in that instant and is replaced with grief. 

Eydís ignores the dirt on her boots soiling the fine linen sheets as she sits on the bed and cries for all that she has lost. Not just her friends, her family - but her friendship with Sigtryggr, too. She cannot help but recall the childhood she spent with him, questioning how something so happy and innocent can be destroyed so badly. Ten years spent apart has created distance between the two of them, and she wonders whether it can ever be closed.

As angry as she is with him, she misses him, too. Even when they quarrelled as children, the feeling it invoked has remained the same - it is unbearable.

After an indefinite amount of time, one of Sigtryggr’s men appears at her door.

“You are needed,” he says.

Eydís scowls. “What for?”

“Sigtryggr believes Hywel will return tonight to retake this place,” he answers, either indifferent or oblivious to her foul mood. “He is devising a plan as we speak.”

In truth, this is something she should have anticipated but, with the tumultuous events of the past few hours, their current situation has not crossed her mind even once.

Still, she reasons, this will be good. Battle will harden her weakened spirit.

Sigtryggr’s plan is simple: they will fire up arrows and rain them down upon the Welsh force - thereby setting the field ablaze and trapping them within the flames, leaving what remains of them for his men to swiftly finish off.

Despite the icy atmosphere between the two of them, they silently elect to remain beside each other throughout the fight, which occurs nearby in Dinefwr. As predicted, King Hywel and his men return under the cover of darkness, and are promptly surprised by the Danes. 

Not being particularly proficient with a bow of any sort, Eydís waits with Sigtryggr until Hywel orders a retreat and is promptly thwarted by a second line of fire. She draws her sword and pushes her way through with the other men, hacking and slicing at what is left of Hywel’s men until there is no one left standing.

Breathing heavily with adrenaline, she lowers her sword and instinctively looks around until her eyes finally land on Sigtryggr. Her anger towards him is momentarily forgotten in favour of relief, although she always knew he would live today. 

He, too, is surveying the smouldering battlefield, and she lets herself admire him for a moment - how far he has come. Where once was a budding fighter now stands a true warrior. Although it is a natural progression, Eydís only wishes she could have been there to witness it.

His head turns while her eyes are still on him and they inexplicably share a long gaze, trying desperately to read the other’s expression. Eydís wonders whether it is just weariness in his eyes, or perhaps a longing for the same things as her. The simple security of childhood, the fledgling affection between them that may well have grown into something more had she not left so suddenly.

The moment is quickly shattered when someone approaches Sigtryggr to speak, and both turn away from each other with the same churning feeling in their stomachs.

As Eydís approaches the door to her room that night, she finds Sigtryggr already waiting there for her. Rather than turning him away, she enters and wordlessly bids him to follow her in. 

Sigtryggr begins to speak as soon as they are both seated at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he says. Eydís breaks her gaze from the floor to look at him, her expression unreadable. “It was thoughtless and stupid of me.”

“I know,” she replies, inadvertently making him smile.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” he continues, “but I know my words did the opposite. I’m truly sorry, Eydís.”

She regards him for a moment; his guilt is palpable, the sincerity in his eyes clear, and her heart yearns to forgive him in an instant. 

“I know,” she repeats. “It’s alright.”

A line appears between his brows. “You lost so many dear to you,” he says. “The last thing you needed was for me to-”

“Sigtryggr,” she says. “It is in the past now. What’s done is done.”

All she wants now is to forgive and forget, but before she can do the latter, there is something she needs to know.

“What happened in Irland?” she asks gently.

Sigtryggr swallows, and Eydís feels her stomach sink. Every warrior has experienced defeat in some form or another, but this feels much heavier than that.

“We were driven out of our settlements by the Irish,” he says eventually, staring at the floor. “What you see here is all that is left of us. Many were lost, they-”

He breaks off and puts his head in his hands. Eydís gently squeezes his shoulder until he can collect himself well enough to speak again.

“I dream about it sometimes,” he admits. “Everything that could go wrong, did. I am lucky that Rognvaldr survived, but everyone else, they…”

Eydís watches this brave, stoic warrior fall apart before her eyes, and she takes him in her arms without a second thought. Her heart breaks as she imagines the worst, and tears soon leave tracks in the soot on both their faces. His mother and father and little Ødger, who had been a second family to her during her time in Irland - they are no more.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t know.”

Sigtryggr sits back, but his hands linger on her forearms. “Exactly. Do not apologise, Eydís. You didn’t know.”

“Even so. I suppose we both feel like shit now.”

He smiles at that. “We don’t have to.”

In response, he receives a questioning look. 

“At the very least, we have each other now, don’t we?” he says. 

Eydís rolls her eyes at the sappy phrasing, but the corners of her lips turn upward slightly. He is right, they do - for better or for worse.

“I will not keep anything hidden from you any longer,” he promises. “We always used to quarrel as children because of that, and we have spent far too long apart to repeat that.”

Eydís grins - he never would have admitted this as a boy.

“While we have the time, I would like to get to know you again, Eydís.”

“Me too,” she says brightly. “What would you like to know first?”

Sigtryggr laughs. “Well, to begin with, how have you been?”

Eydís hums. “Lonely, mostly. I miss everyone.”

“I do, too,” he says softly. “So, we can miss them together.”

At the familiar phrasing, a smile tugs at Eydís’ features.

“I missed you,” she murmurs, resting her head on his chest. His arms wrap around her at once, as though they were always meant to be there. “You fought well today, you know. You’ve finally become quite the warrior.”

Sigtryggr presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I would hope so,” he grins. “Thank you, hjartað mitt. I missed you too… even your sharp tongue.”

Eydís snorts, but his words warm her cheeks. 

“You’ve always been quite the warrior,” he continues with a smile.

“Well, that only took you over a decade to admit,” she laughs, and he laughs too. 

Irland and Tettenhall may have changed the two of them in more ways than one, but not for the worse. Despite everything, the love they have for one another has survived - and no matter how stupidly sentimental that sounds to Eydís, she knows it is the truth.

.

hjartað mitt = my heart

[ancestorsalive]

August 5, 910: The last major Danish army to raid England for nearly a century was defeated at the Battle of Tettenhall by the allied forces of Mercia and Wessex. King Edward the Elder and Æthelred, Lord of the Mercians, led the Anglo-Saxon forces.

The battle took place near Tettenhall in Staffordshire. The Anglo-Saxons intercepted and decisively defeated the Viking raiders, and killed many of their leaders. This victory significantly weakened the Danish presence in England and ended major Viking raids for nearly a century.

Edward The Elder, King of Wessex

King Alfred, played by David Dawson in The Last Kingdom.