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chantylay · 2 years

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Since it’s Happy Murder a Bitch day I decided to actually tell some people whomst the Caesar was at the time of his murder, since a lot of, you know, ‘para-historical’ facts about Caesar go around, although the memes are funny. So the first thing to note is that our bitch Gaius Jules Salad was not the first dictator the Roman Republic had within his lifetime. Sulla, another bitch, had taken power in Rome by force and made himself dictator whilst Salad boi was a young man, in a bitter power struggle with his opponent, Salad boi’s uncle (also Gaius because Romans are shit at names). This resulted in a lot of bloody political purges and violence and bad shit and was generally regarded as bad. Since Salad boi was, ya know, Sulla’s archnemesis’s nephew he got the fuck out of dodge and went into the military instead of becoming a priest, which he was initially, and became very good at the le stab. Anyway after experiencing the shitty clusterfuck that was Sulla and other Gaius’s rivalry, Salad boi got into politics, and got a reputation for two things: being an anti-corruption campaigner, and having a squeaky voice that sounded like what happens when an Italian man completely smashed on red wine huffs a bunch of helium. Since he was fucking over people who were fucking over The Poors this got him a lot of political support from said The Poors. He also ordered lavish games and other expensive shit to get him more support from The Poors, which was expensivus on his walletus so he got into a lot of debt. To get out of such debt, he became politically indebted to one evil fucko named Crassus, who was having a political spat with another fucko named Pompeius. So anyway because Caesar is very popular (he’s also the governor of Spain at this point and did some conquesting thereabouts, which also got him political points because This Is Rome and conquest=good to the average Roman because the rich fuckos get more slaves and the poor fuckos get more land to live on that isn’t made of urban decay, poverty, and rat feces) he gets made consul. Basically co-president, because the Romans decided that one president was Not Enough so they had two. At this point because he was the president and evil fucko Crassus was his money daddy, he basically went up to Pompeius and said in a voice that would make Mickey Mouse cry ‘yo how about we all rule this bitch together because that Sulla shit was terrible’. So they do and the three of them are basically Rome’s political overlording Big Men at that point. This was unpopular with The Aristocrats because Caesar favoured policies like ‘what if we gave the poors more land so they don’t fucking starve’ to which The Aristocrats responded ‘But my slaaaave plantations’ to which the Big Men replied ‘we have swords’. So the policy went through. However Caesar was still big fucking in debt and although his money daddy Crassus was staving the debt collectors off, he still needed a payout. So naturally, Caesar decides to commit a massive genocide, enslavement, and conquesting on all of Fronce the available nearby Celtic people to get rich quick because he was still in control of an army. This worked and was a catastrophe and made him a fuckwad of epic proportions. This unfortunately did not make his testicles drop and his voice got no deeper. There’s a bunch of history wankers who like to go on about how good of a general and politician Caesar was here but in reality he was pretty mid and got by on genocide, getting lucky, and abusing Rome’s political allies among the Celtic states. Oh yeah that meant he was in biggums trouble because he’d abused Rome’s political allies and conquested a bunch of people who were meant to be Rome’s friends. Ooops. Money tho. Whilst he was conquesting his money daddy Crassus was killed in Epic Style by the Persian Parthian Empire trying to do his own get richer quick scheme, and Pompeius, being the voice of The Aristocracy in the Big Men alliance to Caesar’s The Poors and Crassus’s ‘I’m Rich’, was Not Happy, also because Caesar had outstripped him in power. In the ensuing political struggle, Pompeius and The Aristocracy faction stripped Caesar of power, yote him from Rome and declared him Publicus Enemius Primarius. So naturally Caesar invaded Rome with his army because fuck those bitches, and said something along the lines of ‘I always roll 20s’. His enemies, not expecting such a move (for some reason? the man had a fucking army) lol noped out of Rome and fled Italy. After a brief civil war that Salad boi nearly cocked up but Pompeius cocked up first, Pompeius legged it to Egypt and was assassinated by the 15-year-old Greek Pharaoh for being a bitch. During this time Caesar was made temporary dictator, a position he resigned from and was elected co-president again instead, because it was kind of redundant to have a 1-year dictatorship when you can just be elected co-president. Anyway he beat the shit out of that fifteen year old for assassinating his former Big Men buddy and banged the kid’s sister, who was also the new Pharaoh, and honestly a more competent ruler than Salad boi. ‘I always roll 20s’ was seeming to be a pretty good statement at this point. Team Salad-Poors then proceeded to beat the shit out of anyone still trying to be Team Aristocracy and There Was Peace. People were so happy about There Was Peace that Salad boi was made a 1-year dictator. For 10 years in a row. Also because The Aristocrats probably had brown togas, despite Caesar declaring that ‘all will be forgiven, I really don’t care that you guys all supported my Best Friend and fellow Biggus Mannus Pompeius, hwo is dead, over me’. So anyway with his newly gained massive political power he undermines every other political institution in Rome to increase the size of his salad his own political power to institute Massive and Sweeping Social Reforms that basically centralised provincial political power to make governing the Roman Republic’s Empire easier, gave governors term limits, got rid of a quarter of Rome’s private debt (which made The Poors very happy), cracked down on various corruption issues, passed restrictions on the purchasing of luxury goods (which made The Aristocrats very upset), made a child tax credit (kinda), did a bunch of land reform and repopulation efforts after all the wars, and extended the political rights of The Poors Not Of Roman Origin Whomst Were Not Slaves. Also he made the calendar less shit so it was the same day every year at the same time. He was then made Dictatorius Foreverius because at this point he basically ran Roman politics and was more popular with the average Roman than if he had singlehandedly invented pasta and meat sauce 1000 years early. This made The Aristocracy, uh, mad, because then none of them would get to be Rome Co-President and all these reforms benefiting The Poors were not benefiting Them. So basically Salad boi shows up to the Senate on the day of Halfway Through Mars’ Month Day, and is fucking stab-stabbed to death-fuck by all the Rich boi Senators on the STEPS of the Senate (not in the debating chamber like in all the paintings, they did this in public) and declared they had Brought Peace To Rome and Brought Freedom And Liberty because the dictator was dead and now they could go back to the old ways of fucking The Poors over and rotating who got to be Rome Presidents. So naturally they had just started the Biggest Fucking Political Bloodbath In Roman History Up To That Point Which Few Of Them Would Survive. Happy Stab A Salad day!

#wife post #history #roman history #ides of march #I love Roman history it's basically a bunch of over-dramatic Italians committing the worst war crimes possible #and being slaving bastards #but gods forbid one of those bastards think of the poors

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teddyniffler · 6 months

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Mercy in Defeat

Chapter 9

“With the issue solved on East Anglia’s naval defenses against the Northmen, I hereby call this Witan closed. I do believe this year, Wessex and England as a whole will be much safer with added protection and defenses should any Northman dare visit these shores in spring. The Northmen will find themselves defeated in the water before they even catch glimpse of this fair land. Lastly, I wish to announce some joyous news before you all, my Lords and churchmen, it brings me great joy to announce Hvitserk, the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, has agreed to join our faith and leave behind his Pagan ways”

Hvitserk listened to Alfred’s words, as normal he was trying not to look at anybody, he was never comfortable standing by Alfred’s throne, in front of many pairs of eyes all watching him, judging him. When Alfred mentioned him, the crowd all started talking but this time they sounded happy, a few of them broke into applause.

“I will be welcoming Hvitserk into my family, as a member of the royal household” Alfred announced, which resulted in many mutterings from the nobles. Alfred spoke over them. “He will hold the title of a Saxon Prince, along with a new Saxon name. I bring him into my family warmly and as such I expect everybody to do the same too, and to show the new Prince the respect you would have shown me when I was still a prince, and my father before me. The baptism shall happen at Easter in the royal chapel, until that time, please still address him as Hvitserk.”

Alfred stood up from this throne, Hvitserk watched him from the corner of his eye, he seen Alfred was walking away from his throne so turned and followed the king out, it always threw him how the king would just leave after a Witan, back home any meeting with his parents ended with his parents still in the room, just not paying any attention anymore. They could still hear muttering coming from the court, Alfred had certainly given his people something to talk about.

“That went well” Hvitserk said uneasy, the voices behind them faded.

“They are never happy, no matter what is said, if it wasn’t you they were gossiping about, it would have been taxes or mandates for soldiers” Alfred reassured Hvitserk.

It had only been a week since Hvitserk told Alfred his choice, but much had happened since then, for Hvitserk anyway.

He had started to feel the emptiness where once was his connection to the gods, it was as if they had left him and wished to make their absence known to him, but also the nightmares had ended, as if the Christ god had stopped trying to punish Hvitserk now he knew he had won. Part of Hvitserk’s mind, the part he didn’t want to explore wondered if the nightmares had been from his own gods, it felt too similar to the madness, lifted too sudden. Either way, he was happy they were gone, he didn’t like seeing his dead loved ones walking away from him, tired of waking up in a state of terror or grief.

They came to a new room, one Hvitserk knew well as he had raided the place once with his brothers, the first time he had came back here just a few days ago, Alfred had shown him around. There was a look of intense enthusiasm as Alfred walked Hvitserk around the room, showing him the ancient Roman scrolls that were in Latin. There were two identical marble busts of the same man, Alfred had explained it was Caesar to him, before telling Hvitserk all about him. Hvitserk stood listening, he knew a little who Caesar was from Bishop Heahmund, but he didn’t want to tell Alfred that when Alfred looked so happy to tell him personally.

“- Then at the Theater of Pompey, he was–“

“ –stabbed to death – “ Hvitserk finished.

Alfred’s mouth opened a little “Yes, you knew already?”

“I heard something about him once” Hvitserk half lied.

“Yes, he was ambushed and stabbed twenty-three times. I respected Caesar all my life, he was a fine Roman, a good leader, I respected both his good and poor choices and tried to learn from them, but since my own brother tried to have me assassinated, I look upon his story with true horror that I had not previously apricated”

Something then happened to make things awkward for Hvitserk, Alfred mentioned the missing scrolls that should have been here but were destroyed in the raid from the Great Heathen Army. He looked at the empty spaces with so much sadness and loss, Hvitserk vowed never to confess to being the one who burned those scrolls, remembering the way he had leaped around in joy at burning them.

Now, they sat at the long table and Alfred got to work introducing Hvitserk to his religion, all the important people and places, all the stories. He explained the older books and the newer books, how another religion followed the earlier books, but how Christians follow the second mostly. He learned about Jewish people, Romans and their pagan gods which he already knew a bit about and about the Greeks who came before them, he learned about Alfred’s God. He learned about beings called Angels and their fallen brothers who were devils. Hvitserk guessed not even Floki could make up stories like these, it was almost too farfetched to be true, but he reminded himself, so was his religion. He tried to compare what Christians must think of Jormungandr to what his thoughts were of a magical baby who offered eternal life, he even found a talking donkey in one book, Alfred didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with that. There were pictures in the books from saints, holy people and certain events, and Alfred explained how the monks would illuminate them with precious paints. Hvitserk read them all, book after book, scroll after scroll. Still he couldn’t help but notice certain things were almost an exact copy of a pagan celebration and that puzzled him greatly. Alfred explained things as he seen them, often giving Hvitserk his own thoughts which he knew the king would never speak out loud if they were in company of others.

Reading in English was just as tiring as speaking it all of the time, he looked at words and forgot what they meant, often he had to ask Alfred to read a line or explain it clearer to him. Day after day, he studied over these books, he was given plenty of time to relax too, any free time he spent in his room or playing chess with Alfred.

The snow had gone and the weather was slowly turning warmer, he took books to sit under the tree in the royal courtyard to read. He was tired of reading, he had never read so much in his life, he could feel his eye lids closing, when Alfred appeared over him.

“Hvitserk?” He asked, hiding a smile. His eyes snapped open and Hvitserk pretended to have been reading. It surprised Hvitserk at how fast the weeks had passed, it was now closer to Easter than it had been Christmas and the days were growing longer, the sky was often bright and blue and buds and leaves had started growing on the trees, spring time was here and Wessex looked very different to how it had in winter. It alarmed him too at the fact he had almost been here at the villa for an entire year, in just a few months it would be a full year since he last spoke to Ivar.

“How’s the reading?” Alfred asked, breaking Hvitserk from his drowsiness.

“Why did your grandfather think so much of Charlemagne if he killed so many Saxons, you are Saxons?” Hvitserk asked, lowering the very large volume of scrips before him that detailed just a small amount of Saxon history held at the villa.

“They were Pagan though, not Christian. In my grandfather’s eyes they were not the same, he witnessed a lot of the killing while he was in Charlemagne’s court. My ancestors left those areas a very long time ago, so again to my grandfather, they were very different.”

Alfred sat down next to Hvitserk, on the furs Hvitserk was sitting on and leaned on his side, they both watched as soldiers moved around, before leaving through the gate. Hvitserk watched them, he was allowed out into the other courtyard now, but not near the outer gate, he was still watched out there by the guards on the outer wall, but he had mostly freedom to come and go in the villa and the grounds now. Hvitserk placed the book down on the furs and glanced over at the king, it seemed Alfred had come to join him for a little while.

“Are you nervous about Sunday?” Alfred asked.

“No” Hvitserk lied as he too laid back, but on his back, looking up at the blue sky. In the far distance he could see the trees that lined the skyline behind the villa, the branches blowing slightly, in truth he was anxious. Very anxious. What would it be like to no longer be himself once the Christ god entered him, Alfred said it was just water and oil touching his skin and Hvitserk trusted him, but his dark imagination showed him being crushed under an invisible force, as everything that made him Hvitserk was burned away with oil and fire.

Was the Christ god like Odin? Visible to only those he wished to show himself too and when they did whatever they were going to do to him, would he suddenly see Alfred’s god? Hvitserk had once seen Odin when nobody else had, what if the Christ god attacked him when nobody else could see him. Hvitserk’s stomach clenched up, his eyebrows scrunching up slightly.

“Your clothing will be delivered to your room on Sunday morning, I will have a servant help you dress, then you’ll be taken to the royal chapel. Me and Elsewith will be there, as will the bishop. You remember what to say?”

Hvitserk nodded

“That I renounce my gods and my former life and then ask the Bishop for baptism” he replied, Alfred and him had gone through this plenty of times. Hvitserk’s anxiety rose even more.

Alfred tapped Hvitserk’s arm. Hvitserk looked over at him.

“You’ll be fine, try not to worry about it. It’s a joyous occasion, not something to fear.”

Hvitserk wasn’t so sure, compared to the ceremonies he was familiar with back home, this one felt intimidating, almost dangerous. He nodded and reminded himself nobody was going to kill him, this wasn’t a sacrifice, yet the person he was would be no more, Hvitserk Ragnarsson would cease to be, so perhaps it was a sacrifice. Alfred was still looking at him, so Hvitserk faked a smile; one he knew Alfred would see through for sure. He glanced down by his side at the accounts of 4,500 Saxons who were all killed because they didn’t want to convert to Alfred’s religion and felt a suffocating feeling in his throat.

On Saturday night, Hvitserk was alone in his room. He sat on his bed at the far end and turned his back to the crucifix on the wall, ever since he had agreed to leave his Pagan ways behind he had stopped covering it up with a shirt. Right now he felt if he looked at it, he would be sick. He thought for a second, then reached out to somebody he had known all his life.

‘Odin, Allfather. I only have tonight, then I will have no choice but to become a Christian. I am your descendent, is this really what you want for me? I know I haven’t always seen you and the other gods with friendly eyes since I felt so unfulfilled as a Viking, but I ask you now, as your descendent, to just give me a sign that this is the right path for me? Do you want me to join the Christians? Do you want me to flee and find a way back home? What do you want me to do?’

There was nothing.

No sign.

Not even the wind blew against the window.

He waited in silence, listening and waiting. Half hoping a sign would show itself, anything.

He was still sitting there an hour later and nothing had happened.

The silene alone was his answer.

He had been abandoned by his own people and his gods.

He laid back on his bed, his eyes glancing up at the cross, before he rolled over and pulled the furs over his face.

He would be joining the Christians tomorrow, this was his last night being Hvitserk, even his name was being stripped from him, he would no longer have a place in Valhalla, the doors were close to him, if they had ever been open in the first place.

‘It’s a good thing, it’s a good thing’ he kept telling himself. ‘I will have a happier life. I can have a family, they won’t ever have to kill for glory or fame. I can be happy.’

Yet why did he dread the sun rising?

“I’m sorry I won’t be joining you in Valhalla” He whispered, he was speaking to all of them, everybody he had lost. “Mother, Father, please forgive me, I only ever wanted your love. My brothers, I only ever wanted your approval but I made a miserable mess of things and I can’t ever redeem myself in your eyes. Margrethe, Thora, you brought some light to my life and made me smile. Amma, I never did thank you for caring for me at my lowest, it meant a lot to me, even if I couldn’t find the words at the time. I hope you all understand my reasons, I don’t want to die, you may think of me as cowardly but I want to live, so I have no choice but to join Alfred and his god.”

Whatever happened to him tomorrow, whatever they did to him, it couldn’t be worse than being walked out to a pyre in chains, knowing it would be set on fire with him upon it.

He was led down to the royal chapel, it was outside of the main villa, through a walkway he had never been before, then he noticed the tree as he came around the corner, this was below his chamber window, he guessed he had finally found the little courtyard he seen everyday from his window. He followed the man who was sent to bring him to the chapel, they walked more, Hvitserk noticed how cold the air was feeling today, or maybe it was just his own body being extra sensitive, he felt numb as they kept walking before coming to a small building. A door was open and he followed the man into a dark and cold entrance, it smelt weird, he could smell the building was very old, but there was also an odd smell and he noticed what looked like thin smoke blowing out of another room ahead. It was cold in here, as if the sun from outside didn’t reach it, he shivered yet his hands were sweating. There was a strange feeling as if he was being watched and Hvitserk was all too aware that he had walked right into the space of the Christian god, he was here in this place, a place Odin couldn’t save him from, he was totally now at this other god’s mercy. Odin wouldn’t save him anyway, they had all made it clear to Hvitserk they had used him and abandoned him. Hvitserk’s instincts screamed at him that this was a place he should have avoided at all costs, the church of the god who had defeated his own, but now this would be his religion from today. He fought the urge to look behind him, back in the sun, where he wanted to be and not in this building.

The next day came all too soon, Hvitserk was awake before the servant came to his room, he noticed it was the same one who had helped him dress months ago when Alfred took him to that first Witan, it felt like years ago. In his arms was another beautiful item of clothing, Hvitserk had gotten used to the finery the Saxons had, although it still surprised him at how rich England was compared to Kattegat and other places in Scandinavia. This one was pure white except for golden buttons, he noticed too how the fabric had a pattern that only showed up when the light hit it. As the servant pulled it over his head and started fastening all the small buttons to his neck, Hvitserk couldn’t help but notice another similarity between the Pagans and the Christians, back home, they wore white when carrying out ceremonies too, no matter if it were a sacrifice or a marriage.

“You will need to take this off” The servant said. “It’s a Pagan item”

He indicated the pendent around Hvitserk’s neck, the one he had worn for a very long time. So far the Saxons had allowed him to keep that, even when everything else was replaced for Saxon clothing. Hvitserk reached up and touched the pendent, then feeling detached from himself, he touched the cord and pulled it up over his head. He felt so bare without it, the place where it normally sat on his chest felt too light. The servant took it from his hands and placed it onto the bedside table.

“It may be for the best if you throw it away, it will just serve to tempt you back to Pagan ways.”

Hvitserk didn’t speak as the last button was tied just under his neck, the last few around his throat were left untied but the collar was raised to cover the space. It was all becoming too real now, he had found his mouth had gone very dry and his heartbeat was very noticeable. The clothing felt rather cold against his skin and really constricting, not at all like the lose clothing he wore back home, this garment was meant to cover him as much as possible, it honestly felt like wearing a long dress or night garment. He felt uneasy in these clothes. He was then left alone to wait, he went over to the table and picked up his pendent. Him and Ivar both had pendants, a gift from each other. This had always been with him, but now he had no choice but to leave it behind, just like his name, just like his entire identity.

There was a knock on his door and he put the pendent into the drawer out of site, he didn’t want to just throw it away but he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to keep this after today. The door opened, it was time for him to leave Hvitserk behind.

“Go ahead into the next room and kneel before the alter” The man said and Hvitserk took a breath and with shaky legs, he walked into the next room.

There was total silence as he walked in, the room was lit with many candles all burning around the room, with men on either side of the doors waving boxes on chains, the smoke was coming from them, Hvitserk could smell the smoke in his nose, it didn’t smell right to him. He also noticed the Christ god was on his cross in the room too, a very large version of him, watching on as he finally claimed Hvitserk for his own.

Alfred and Elsewith where there by one wall watching, Hvitserk felt comforted by their presence in the room, at least there was a friendly face. He reached the alter and got down onto his knees, trying to calm himself and his racing heart with another breath.

It was far too late to back out now.

The bishop stood before him and behind him was the alter, there was things on the alter. Hvitserk couldn’t help but notice them when he looked up, his eyes glanced over them quickly. There was silence for a second as the Bishop waited.

“I renounce the worship of Odin, Thor, Frey and Freya” Hvitserk said, his voice was quite but in such an open space it felt loud and echoey, and as he listed the names that had once felt familiar and warm to him, he now felt betrayal and hollowness. They had all played a role in killing his family, in bringing him here today. They had done this to him and in a way they had killed him too, Hvitserk wouldn’t be Hvitserk after this. To his surprise, as he listed the name of his gods, he felt himself feeling angry at them. “And all other false gods” he ended, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

He took another breath.

Memories of him in happier times sprung up in his mind, he was running through Kattegat after his brothers in his younger teenage years, they were dragging Ivar in his wagon which he had grown far too large for, the wheels fell off and they all, Ivar included, had laughed. Then he remembered during his sickness being so drunk he had vomited in his bed and chose to lie in his own stomach content anyway. He remembered crying when his father left and his mother offered him no comfort as she was busy with Ivar, so Bjorn held him until he had no more tears left in him. He could hear Sigurd’s music playing in the room as Hvitserk listened to him play. Thora’s smile as they sat together watching the sun go down. He remembered raiding, the things he did that made him so ashamed now, that once brought excitement to him. The pleas, the blood, the screams of fear. He remembered the feel of blood splattering on his face, the taste of it on his lips.

“I renounce my former life.”

He would never let himself be that person ever again. If letting go of himself meant that part of him would never hurt anybody ever again, then he welcomed it in his last moments.

“Father, I ask for baptism” He finished, sure he had remembered everything. He waited and the Bishop turned from him, he tried not to tremble as he felt every muscle in his body tensing up. He had seconds left until he wouldn’t be himself anymore, the Christian magic would take him.

He watched as the Bishop did something he couldn’t see from where he kneeled, he heard the soft noise of water and the Bishop turned around.

This was it, the end.

‘Goodbye’ he said in his head to his family.

The Bishop held up his hand to Hvitserk’s head. Hvitserk’s heart was beating so fast. Is this also what Ubbe faced? At least he had Torvi by his side. He wished Ubbe was with him now.

“I anoint you with the oil of sanctification” The Bishop said, his fingers touched Hvitserk’s forehead. Hvitserk’s eyes closed on instinct, he didn’t like this at all.

“In the name of the Father” He moved his fingers fast as he spoke, tracing a cross on Hvitserk’s forehead. Hvitserk opened his eyes again once it was done, so far nothing had happened, but he knew the ritual wasn’t over yet.

“And of the son” The Bishop then did the same movement on his chest, Hvitserk could feel him touching certain places of his chest. He tried to keep still, but he trembled slightly no matter how much he tried not too.

The Bishop moved around to his back, Hvitserk was already tensed up, but having somebody behind him, out of his line of vision, caused every part of his will power to remain as still as possible and not look behind to see what was going on.

“And of the Holy Spirit”

He felt light touches again on certain parts of his back this time, one touch went over one of his wounds and he was happy they didn’t itch him anymore when touched.

“From now on, you will be known as Athelstan, our brother in Christ.”

Something came into his mind then, he was breathing fast and shallow at the touches, his nerves on edge for something to start happening, and in his fear a vision sprung into his mind, one that he had never seen before, it was not from his own memories either.

He could see his father kneeling on the ground at the place he had buried Athelstan, his head was bowed as he placed Athelstan’s cross over his head, he ran his hands down the chain and looked up. His father had willingly chosen to wear that symbol of Athelstan’s god, of Alfred’s god. He remembered a far off rumour he had heard when he was still a boy, that his father had joined the Christian god during his first raid to Paris. His mother angerly had silenced those rumours, but they kept coming no matter what she did. Hvitserk even witnesses Lagatha and Bjorn muttered about it when they thought the room was empty, they hadn’t noticed Hvitserk hiding nearby. Why was he remembering this now? In that moment, it was like another presence was with Hvitserk, he could feel himself slowly calming down, some of his panic about this situation eased, he couldn’t explain it, but he just knew maybe someday he would see his father again at least, he also knew he wasn’t entirely alone, he knew his father was there with him, just out of sight.

“Amen” The Bishop said

“Amen” Hvitserk repeated a second later, that was the word the Christians used when they had finished their connections to their god. If anything was going to happen, it would be now. Hvitserk waited, however all he could feel was his fear slowly going away as the seconds went by, nothing was happening to him, the Bishop moved away from him and Hvitserk kept breathing slowly. Alfred moved forward and into the space where the Bishop had stood moments before. Hvitserk looked up at him, he tried to hide it but seeing him reassured Hvitserk more than anything else at the moment.

“Welcome to our Holy Church” Alfred beamed. The kind expression on his face was welcome to Hvitserk.

“You entered here as a Pagan, and you will leave here as a Christian Saxon Prince” The smile on Alfred’s face was enough to light the room. “As your Godfather, I've chosen a new name for you”

Hvitserk listened, he had been wondering what Alfred would pick for him, what new name would he get, he just hoped it wouldn’t be one of those really confusing Saxon names he would never remember.

Alfred paused, he had thought long and hard about the name he would give Hvitserk once he had joined them, but the idea for what name to choose had been really easy for him, and the reason behind that was currently standing by the doors to the Chapel, watching but unseen by everybody there but Alfred. This time he wasn’t alone, there was another man there with him, the other man’s light blue eyes fixed on the young man at Alfred’s feet. Athelstan looked at Alfred one last time before they both vanished, it would be many, many years until Alfred would see him again, because Alfred would no longer need his reassurance now, he had the son of Ragnar by his side. They would guide each other now.

Alfred looked down at Hvitserk, he was giving that big eyed look he did when unsure, Alfred knew that look so well by now. He smiled again to reassuring Hvitserk that it was all okay.

Athelstan…

What was left of Hvitserk’s fear left him as surprise took its place. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at all. It was perhaps the most fitting name Alfred could give him, he had loved Athelstan from when he was a boy, going to him for extra food or to play whenever Athelstan was sitting in their halls. Athelstan, who was always by his father’s side, his smile and the way he would pretend to sword fight with him and Ubbe. He often heard Athelstan speaking his regret to Ragnar for not having any children when Ubbe and Hvitserk grew tired, not ever knowing he had one all along in a faraway country.

Athelstan was taken by his father by force, years before Hvitserk was even born, but he had become part of their family, their community. It was no different as to how Hvitserk had been taken in by the Christians, but in the end had joined their family too. Their stories were so alike, it could have only been Athelstan that was the choice of name.

For Alfred, it was the greatest honour he could give Hvitserk, to show him how much he had come to mean to Alfred, to name him after the man who had given life to him, but Alfred had never met, save only in fleeting visions and dreams. Athelstan meant something deeply to both of them, to both of their people.

Alfred smiled again, he turned from Hvitserk and dipped his hand into the gold tray, he turned back and gently also traced his fingers on Hvitserk’s forehead, but this time it tickled when Alfred done it, goosebumps erupted over him but because of the feeling from Alfred’s fingers rather than the cold in the room, Hvitserk felt a little silly, why had he been so scared for, had he really been considering death over this and spent the last week racked with anxiety for something so small. He could still think, he still had thoughts, feelings, even his memories. Hvitserk thought of this as Alfred went back to stand with Elsewith, they were both smiling at him.

He got to his feet, he had stopped shaking, the Bishop had started talking to the king about Easter service that afternoon so Hvitserk glanced around the room, it didn’t look so dark anymore now his eyes had gotten used to the dim light. It still felt cold in here and now his forehead felt slightly damn, he wondered if he was allowed to rub it dry or if that was not something he should do. He noticed then the sun did shine in the room, beams of sunlight were shinny through the windows, one of them hit his face as he moved. It was bright, brighter than what it should be, it totally blinded him for a second as he stepped into its ray, until he blinked and then it was normal sunlight again.

How strange to him, it was as if he was feeling lighter than he had in such a long time, all the guilt and regret he had been carrying with him had faded into the background of his mind, it was still there, but now thinking of everything he had been through wasn’t so painful, it no longer weighted him down, he had done terrible things, but he wouldn’t now, he wasn’t that person anymore and he could move on. Even the traumatic things that had happened to him before, they felt like they happened to somebody else now, he knew he would never be hurt here. The sun was still shining on him, it was warm and for a moment he just watched as flecks of dust dance in the air, illuminated by the sunlight, as if nothing else mattered to him. He would have his entire life to live, no more fighting unless he had to protect England, Alfred had reassured him it would be unlikely with the new defenses. He would one day maybe have a family, they wouldn’t have to kill to get to the afterlife, he would live in peace in England.

“Athelstan” Alfred called out to him, Hvitserk knew Alfred meant him, it would take some getting used to being called that.

He turned and walked over to Alfred, he had finished talking to the Bishop and now the king placed his arms around Hvitserk, and then, to Hvitserk’s surprise, so did Elsewith. How weird to be hugged by the queen just inches from Alfred.

“Welcome to our family, Prince Athelstan” she said, also smiling at him.

“I have something to give you” Alfred said to him “It’s a gift to commemorate today”

From his pocket, he took something out.

It was a silver cross, one embedded in gems. It was reflecting the candle light and the sun, causing it to shine. Alfred reached over and put it over Hvitserk’s head.

Hvitserk looked at it, it came to rest on his chest, where once he wore a Pagan pendent, now it had been replaced with Saxon jewellery, just as his hair and clothing before, the final piece in his gradual transformation.

#MIDAHFABL

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