#heorte til heorte

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

ch. 9 — behat (to promise)

notes: timeskip of a few months! also, guysss so ummm i really hate the last two chapters i wrote so i'll have to scratch them and start again... but im also in the middle of some pretty important stuff so yah. sorry about that.

summary: alethia meets thorunn. athelstan and ragnar talk about ragnar, promises are made.

warnings: mentions of depression, ppd and other mental health issues, ragnar is a bit of a dick tbh

tagged: @levithestripper @demon-of-the-ancient-world @grantairescurls

series masterlist | general masterlist

Alethia

It was getting colder in Kattegat. The temperatures had dropped in the past week, and Alethia could not help noticing that the days were shorter as well. But, there was a prolonged sense of gentleness within the cold days. Aslaug had given Alethia proper furs, Ragnar returned an old sword to her. She looked as if she was back in Winterfell, right after taking the castle back from the Boltons.

Sometimes, her heart tugged when Alethia thought of the North. Kattegat was similar to it, though the people were not. When Alethia woke up in Athelstan’s longhouse, she sometimes thought that she was back there, in Westeros. The thought seldom filled her with distress.

Still, Kattegat was a place that she thought she could call home. And as word spread that she was taken, that she really was Athelstan’s woman, Alethia had the sort of automatic respect she never did receive in England. 

That morning, she was the first free woman to push into the Great Hall. A few thralls were already working, setting the table and cleaning the floors. Alethia felt guilty each time she met the eyes of any of them. She was saving money to free them, but she knew it was a pointless endeavor.

But she and Athelstan agreed that they would never buy a thrall, or make someone a slave.

Hvitserk bounced up to Alethia before she could see him, crashing into her. Alethia stumbled backwards, landing on her back, and Hvitserk giggled, hugging Alethia tightly. While she was supposedly just a guard to Aslaug, Alethia had quickly become caretaker to Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd. Aslaug was too preoccupied with Ivar, and Ragnar…

Alethia lost some respect for him each time she thought on the matter. His three middle sons exhausted her thoroughly every day. It was not her responsibility, and yet, Alethia reveled in taking care of them, just as she had with Clothilda, Godwin and John in England.

“Are we going to play today?” Hvitserk asked.

“Like always.” Alethia promised. Hvitserk took her by the hand, pulling her to the table. He was always hungry, always the first to eat. Alethia had given up on trying to teach him any tablemanners, not that the Northmen took those particularly seriously.

“What are we going to do?”

“I was thinking of taking you hunting. Your brother’s skills with a bow have improved considerably, and Sigurd loves climbing the trees in the woods.”

“But it’s cold!” Hvitserk complained.

“Your mother bought new furs from the merchant three days ago. I’ll bundle you up so you stay nice and warm. And if your brother shoots a rabbit, you could have stew for dinner. How does that sound?” 

Hvitserk’s eyes brightened at the thought of his favourite food, and Alethia smiled. While Ubbe was responsible, taking himself quite seriously for a boy of eight, and would no doubt make it his mission to provide for his brothers tonight. Hvitserk, however, was the sort of playful that reminded Alethia of Rickon and Arya sometimes.

He was a wolf-child. 

Alethia hoped life would be kind to him. She tried to make it as much as she could. 

And Sigurd… however little the small boy liked to admit it, he was the one that took after his mother most. Already, Sigurd was drawn to bouts of anger and frustration, the only thing seemingly able to soothe him being when his mother sung to him. But Aslaug did not do that often.

Alethia sighed, handing Hvitserk a bowl of porridge.

“Where are Siggy and Thorunn?” she asked.

Hvitserk took a bite, gulping down his food without eating, before he answered. “I don’t know. Thorunn was crying again yesterday. She’s always so sad.”

“Okay. Do you know where she is?”

“No.” Hvitserk said. “I don’t really like her. She looks scary.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“You also look like her, but you don’t scare me.” Hvitserk continued anyway. “You aren’t so gloomy all the time.”

“I’m about to be very fucking gloomy.”

Hvitserk giggled, smiling widely as he saw his brother trudge towards the table. Ubbe was wearing a frown, hands rubbing his eyes.

“What is it, Ubbe?” Alethia asked.

“Ivar was crying again. I couldn’t sleep.” Ubbe complained. He climbed the bench next to Alethia. It did not escape her that he leaned against her, his hand searching for hers. Her heart broke a little.

“I will try to find something to help your little brother. And we are going hunting today.” Alethia said. “Is it alright if Thorunn comes along? I cannot take care of all of you at the same time.” 

Hvitserk frowned. “She’ll ruin it. She’s like Sigurd when he’s angry.”

“Will she be crying?” Ubbe said.

“Maybe.”

“I want her to be happy. She is our sister-in-law.”

“That’s right.” Alethia smiled. “Good job, Ubbe.”

“Maybe we can just send her back if she is very sad.” Hvitserk suggested. “Then it won’t be so scary to take her along.

“I promise you, you will have a great day.” Alethia said. “You two finish dinner, and help Sigurd get dressed, alright? Make sure he eats too, and give him some pears for his porridge. Ask the thralls for more in case you finish all the fruit. It’s important he has some. Can you do that?”

“I can!” Ubbe said.

Alethia ruffled his hair, and the boy hugged her quickly, before he looked away. Hvitserk stared up at her from his spot at the bench, before a cheeky grin appeared on his face.

“I hope you’ve gotten better at archery since last time.” he said, sticking out his tongue. Alethia raised her brows.

“Careful little man, or I’ll have to eat all the rabbit stew in the world by myself.”

Hvitserk’s insulted gasp was the last thing she heard as she slipped out of the Great Hall again. In the center of Kattegat, around the Great Hall, merchants were setting up their stalls. Alethia took note of one merchant who displayed little trinkets. As she stepped closer, her heart skipped a beat. There, amidst mostly worthless playthings and souvenirs, was a small collection of coins with what had to be Chinese symbols.

Alethia bought one of them quickly. She slipped the coin into her pocket, turning it over in her hand as she walked. 

Perhaps she could hide it somewhere, with a message of some kind. Perhaps archeologists would find it in a century. Then, she would have been here.

No. It was too dangerous.

Alethia stepped up to Bjorn’s longhouse. She knew that Bjorn would be away. He had been sleeping at Rollo’s house for the past two weeks, taking Siggy with him. Thorunn was alone here.

She knocked. There was nothing, not a single sound from within the house, but still, Alethia waited.

She knocked again. And again, there was nothing. But then, Alethia caught a quiet sniffle.

“I’m coming in now.”

No response. Alethia opened the door slowly, but closed it behind her as fast as she could. Inside the longhouse, it was dark, but there was a rank smell that permeated the walls. Alethia lit a candle, walking towards Thorunn. The girl was a little younger than her, and so similar to Alethia in so many ways. Alethia thought that, maybe, she could understand her.

If anyone.

Thorunn was backed into a corner like an animal, and as Alethia raised the candle, she cowered away. Alethia sat down a few steps away from her, putting the candle onto the ground. Thorunn shielded the scarred side of her face, knees drawn up to her chest. All she was wearing was a shift, and that was crusted with dark red blood. It was around her abdomen, and so, Alethia guessed that it stemmed from some kind of complication with birth. She tried to ignore the smell, tried not to focus on the way that Thorunn’s hair had turned into a matted mess.

Had no one taken care of her, Alethia would have been the same.

“Hello, Thorunn.”

“Who are you?” Thorunn asked. “Are you real? Did the Gods send you to mock me?”

“I am real. I am Alethia.” she said quietly. “Athelstan’s woman.”

“The priest has a woman?”

“Now he does.” Alethia replied. “And you are Thorunn, right? Bjorn told me all about you.”

At the mention of his name, Thorunn looked away. “He does not love me anymore.”

“I think he does. I think he simply does not know how to handle… you.”

“I warned him about that when I was still a thrall. He didn’t get it.”

“Lothbrok men.”

Thorunn’s expression changed. It wasn’t a smile, not yet, but Alethia was getting there.

“Would you like to come hunting with me? I’m taking care of Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd for today. I hear you’re good with a bow.”

Thorunn eyed Alethia suspiciously. “Bjorn set you up to this, didn’t he? He wants me to feel better about myself.”

“I don’t know Bjorn very well. All I know is that he’s an angry young man with a babe he does not know how to care for. You said it yourself, you thought the Gods sent me to mock you. I came because…  I had a feeling we were similar.”

“You’re not a monster.” Thorunn whispered.

“And what makes you one?”

“Have you seen my face?”

“Have you seen mine?” Alethia countered. “You have done nothing that would make you a monster.”

“I abandoned my daughter.”

“Not yet.”

“I don’t want to take care of her. I’m scared I’ll mess things up.”

“Every mother is.”

“Do you have a child?” Thorunn asked.

“I lost mine.” Alethia admitted. “I have no child that came from my own body, but I have been raising those of others, those that are lost for many years.”

“Can you raise my daughter?”

“You can do that yourself.”

“I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. Whatever I do for those children, it is never enough. I am never quite right. That is because I am not truly a mother, only a stand-in. And I don’t want that for Siggy.”

“I cannot do it. Look at me! She’ll grow up afraid.”

“Because of what? That scar?”

“Yes!” Thorunn cried out. “Do you not see what we are? How ugly and deformed we look?”

“Rude.” Alethia mumbled. “But I am loved. I know it. And not in spite of my scar, but because it is part of me. Bjorn will love you with or without it.”

“How do you know?”

“Just a feeling.” Alethia replied. 

“And what if I don’t deserve it? He’s the son of Lagertha! He could have anyone!”

“Your beauty does not make you any more deserving of love.” Alethia countered. She shuffled closer, and took Thorunn’s hand. “And even if we are monsters, are we not still women? We feel pain just as we feel love, and hate, and anger, and happiness. We are human, and therefore, we love. Let them point fingers. Dare them in your defiance of holding your head up high. Therein lies strength some will never understand. Do not let them take your spirit.”

“Them?”

“Those that would tear you down. You are a fortress, Thorunn. It is alright to feel weak, to want to hide away and never see the sun again. But the sun is beautiful, Thorunn. Outside is beautiful. Life is beautiful, just as it is terrible. You have a daughter, and you have the chance to raise her in a way that she shall always feel safe and loved.”

“It is so much.”

“I know it is. I am not asking you to feel alright. All I am asking is that you come hunt with me and the boys today. Let me help you. Let Aslaug, and Bjorn, and everyone else help you. I know asking for that help is hard, and so I will do it for you. All you must do is accept.”

Thorunn withdrew her hand, hiding her face in her palms, and for a moment, Alethia was afraid.

“Alright.” she said finally. “But I do not know where to start.”

“I do.”

Alethia stood, her joints aching as she did, and she thought that she was getting old. How silly, considering that she was only twenty. The thought of it excited her. Growing old! She never really thought she would, not even when she had still lived in her time. A life beyond twenty seemed unfathomable, and yet, here she was. Living. Breathing.

She took the bucket that stood in the corner of the longhouse and carried it outside, filling it with water. Returning to the longhouse, Alethia opened the shutters to let some light inside. It took time, but the wooden tub filled with cold water. When it was full, Alethia helped Thorunn up. She ignored the smell, the blood, the dirt.

Thorunn sat in the water, and Alethia threw the shift into a corner with dirty bedding and molding food. While Thorunn scraped the dirt off of her skin, Alethia took to work with her hair. Slowly, the mats disappeared. They weren’t as bad as Alethia thought they would be, and she thanked every higher power that Thorunn was a blonde, and not a brunette, where her hair would have been thicker, and likely impossibly tangled.

Alethia wanted to shriek as lice crawled onto her hands, and her scalp felt itchy while she flicked them off, crushing them under her boot. Using a comb, Alethia tried to rid Thorunn of the rest of them. Finally, she handed the other woman a towel, letting her dry herself while Alethia set out new clothes.

When Thorunn was dressed, the sun was considerably higher in the sky, and she looked like she was going to be okay. Hopefully.

“We’ll take care of the house later, but the boys are waiting for us. It’s almost noon already, and they’re likely fighting.” Alethia said.

“Thank you.” Thorunn replied. “I don’t know if I…”

“It’s nothing. I had help as well.”

“Can we be friends?” Thorunn blurted out. “I don’t really have… friends. I don’t think Bjorn counts – he’s more than that after all.”

Her eyes were so wide as she grabbed Alethia’s hands again, holding them in the space between the two of them. For the first time since they’d met, Alethia saw Thorunn smile. It suited her. As Alethia looked at her, she felt like a girl again. God, how she loved that. 

“Yes. I would like that.” Alethia replied.

Thorunn linked her arm in Alethia’s, strolling out into the street as if she was alright, and Alethia felt her heart beat in her throat out of happiness. She had a friend! How she’d missed that.

And Thorunn looked like she felt the same way.

Athelstan

Ragnar sat on the beach, watching as Athelstan drew up the walls of Paris. When he looked at Ragnar, Athelstan knew that his friend was somewhere else in his mind. Somewhere where there were no children, no wives, no kingdom, only Ragnar and the boat.

Then, Ragnar hissed through his teeth. “Tell me about Paris.”

Athelstan rolled his eyes. Paris, Paris, Paris. Since they’d returned from England, Paris was all that Ragnar wanted to talk about. “Again?”

“Please?”

Athelstan shook his head, smiling lightly. “I only went there once.”

“Continue.”

“I was visiting a monastery in Frankia, right outside of Paris, and one day, the monks there took me to see it.”

Ragnar had closed his eyes. He looked like he was sleeping, but Athelstan knew exactly what to say so that he would pay attention again. “But what I remember more, is the beautiful women.”

He had a feeling Alethia would not have liked those words. Alethia. Athelstan wanted to disappear into his mind, but then, Ragnar leaned forward with so much interest that Athelstan had to continue. “I almost… questioned my vows of celibacy.”

“You never told me that part before.” Ragnar said. And then, a wolfish grin appeared on his face. “Speaking of celibacy…”

Athelstan sighed. “Yes?”

“You and her… hmm?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Athelstan lied.

“She lives in your house. You have to have done something . Or did you get a second bed, you sad, sad man.” Ragnar teased. Athelstan considered his choice of words for a moment.

“What do you think?” 

Ragnar squinted, blue eyes disappearing momentarily. “Two weeks ago.”

Athelstan could not help but laugh, and Ragnar’s eyes widened. “You did not tell me?”

“The night we returned to Kattegat.”

“AND YOU DID NOT TELL ME?” he shouted.

“I thought it unimportant.”

“Next you’ll tell me you plan to make her your wife.”

“I am, actually. Planning it, I mean.” Athelstan mumbled. Ragnar’s eyes widened slightly, before he huffed.

“Why? Why bind yourself in such a way?”

“Because I love her.”

“I love Lagertha. And yet, I never should have married her.”

“You and I, Ragnar, we are not the same.”

“I know.” Ragnar replied. “Then you have my blessing. Though Kattegat does not have a church, so I do not know how…”

“She would refuse to marry me in a church. The Christian way, it binds her too much.” Athelstan shrugged. “It would have to be a Norse marriage ceremony anyway.”

“Good. Good. And now you have to tell me, what did you do when… you know?”

“Well, we uh…” Athelstan began. He knew he was reddening. At the same time, there was the warm feeling of satisfaction at the base of his stomach when he thought back to that first night. And all the nights that followed. “We did it, and then we did it again.”

Ragnar rolled his eyes. “You are such a Christian sometimes.”

“What is it precisely that you wish to know?” 

His friend’s eyes gleamed, and Athelstan regretted ever saying anything. “Has she ever gotten on her knees for you?”

Athelstan’s mouth turned dry. “I’m not- I am not answering that.” He stuttered out, and Ragnar laughed.

“I knew it. She’s corrupting you! My Athelstan, corrupted by some godless girl from England!”

“She is not from England.”

“No? Where then?”

“It is… complicated.” Athelstan sighed. “I suppose the land is comparable to Eastern Frankia.”

“Perfect. Then she’ll know how to help us with Paris.”

“Ragnar, no.” Athelstan said firmly. Ragnar froze, before he turned to stare at Athelstan.

“What do you mean, no?”

“Do not involve her in your raiding plans. Don’t. Do not offer her to plan it, to come to Paris, or to fight. I will not be your friend if you do.”

“You’re afraid she’ll die.” Ragnar mused. An itch of annoyance spread through Athelstan. Ragnar was being too unserious about this.

“No. I know her body would survive. But… if she goes to Paris, she will not come back the same. She has fought enough, Ragnar. And I suppose, in that way, you and her are the same. I know you take no joy in it anymore.”

“I am a Northman, of course I take joy in it.” 

“You do not have to lie to me, Ragnar. And I know I do not understand, but she will. You can talk to her. Many soldiers have.”

“What does she do with them? Some magic ritual? Or maybe she is a witch, and sleeps with them to wipe their memory and make them her slaves?”

“You’re trying to rile me up. You don’t believe in any of that.”

“Well maybe I do.” Ragnar said, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“Stop it.”

“Alright, fine. What does she do with them? Why do they go to her if not for… her womanly charms?”

“I hear she listens to them. Not that you need that, Ragnar. You talk so much anyway.”

Ragnar snorted, but Athelstan could see the emptiness behind his eyes. He knew that Alethia would be talking to him tonight.

Then, his friend scratched the back of his head, quickly changing the topics again. “So, marriage. What comes next? Children?”

“I haven’t thought about that.”

“But you want it.” Ragnar noticed. His eyes bore into Athelstan’s, and it felt as if he could read his mind.

“I do.” Athelstan said. There was something in his heart that ached when he thought of it. His own family.

“Perhaps your sons will fihgt alongside mine one day.”

“I want daughters.” Athelstan blurted out. “I want them to be like her, like Lagertha, like Siggy when they grow up. Like Aslaug and Judith.”

“Why?”

“Because they are stronger than we are.”

Ragnar paused for a moment, before he looked down at the sand. HIs hands dug into the ochre, disappearing below the surface that rippled like the ocean.

“If I do have a daughter…” Athelstan began. “I want to name her Gyda.”

When Ragnar looked up again, there were tears in his eyes.

Alethia

Thorunn was smiling by the time that dinner was being served by the thralls. Alethia watched as she talked to Aslaug, Sigurd tugging at her hand. Alethia was glad that she had gotten to help her. The look of deference slowly disappeared from Thorunn the longer she spoke to Aslaug, and, when Bjorn entered the Great Hall, trailed by Lagertha, who had Siggy in her arms, Thorunn did not turn away.

Alethia sighed with relief, picking up Hvitserk, who was attempting to fight Ubbe over her shoulder.

“If you want to hit your brother, try not to hit my head as well.” She told Hvitserk. He had the audacity to pout, crossing his arms before his chest.

“And why are you two fighting anyway?

Hvitserk only shrugged, stomping his foot to emphasize his point. Alethia tried to bite down the laughter that bubbled up her throat.

“He’s your brother, Hvitserk. I know Ubbe can be overbearing, but he means well.”

“Fine. I won’t hit him I guess.” Hvitserk complained. “I’ll play with Bjorn instead.”

When Athelstan walked into the Great Hall together with Ragnar, Alethia could not help but smile at him. Athelstan turned her way almost immediately, as if he was a dog that could sniff her out.

Ragnar followed Athelstan as he made his way towards Alethia, and now, Alethia was a little concerned. Ragnar never bothered talking to her.

“Hi.” Alethia said, and Athelstan hugged her without another word. He was uncharacteristically quiet, even for him. 

“He’s planning a raid.” Athelstan whispered in the hug.

“It’s okay. Thank you.” Alethia replied. She let him go, smiling amiably at Ragnar.

“Your sons are admirable hunters.” She said.

“I’d hope so.” Ragnar replied. His tone was so dry, so flat, so uninterested, that Alethia felt reminded of her own father.

“It wouldn’t hurt to take some interest.” She hissed. “They notice that, you know.”

Ragnar raised a brow, looking over to Athelstan as if they were sharing some kind of inside joke. Alethia was glad that Athelstan did not try to reciprocate his all-knowing smirk.

The king of Kattegat stared at Alethia a moment longer, as if he was trying to read her soul, eat her heart. Alethia tried not to look away as best she could, but when Ubbe tugged at her hand to gain her attention, Alethia did not care enough to continue their little contest. 

Ubbe was holding out a bowl of stew, filled with the prizes of their hunt today.

“Thank you Ubbe.” Alethia said. “Would you like to eat with me and Athelstan today?”

Ubbe nodded shyly, and Alethia patted the free space next to her. Athelstan sat, taking a bowl of stew out of the hands of one of the thralls. Alethia ate quietly, waiting until Athelstan had finished his quick prayer. It was the kind of domesticity they could only begin to afford.

Alethia’s hands found purchase in Athelstan’s and as she looked to him, she had a moment of peace between lifetimes of war. Athelstan was quick to kiss her cheek, before anyone could catch them in their little display. Alethia’s hand stroked his jaw automatically, and Athelstan smiled at her with such adoration that she thought she might die.

So much, for her. God, had there ever been a sweeter joke?

She ate her stew, and Alethia knew that, months earlier, she would not have tasted it. But there it was, and it satisfied her. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

There was a thought in the back of her mind, one that Alethia had not thought explicitly, but one she thought she’d known about for a while. She smiled at Athelstan, who did not know.

Later, Alethia helped Aslaug settle Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd down. The hunt had exhausted them, but they were brothers, and in such, always found a reason to fight. Aslaug had only a tired smile to spare Alethia as the three of them had finally fallen asleep. Ivar was still in Aslaug’s arms.

“Thank you.”

“I enjoy taking care of the boys.” Alethia assured.

“I meant Thorunn, and me. We did not want to ask for…” Aslaug began. “You have a place in my queendom.”

“And I shall defend it as if it were my own.” 

Aslaug smiled, nodding at Alethia as she made her way out of the Great Hall. It was starting to darken in Kattegat, and Alethia’s hand was never far from her belt. Athelstan’s longhouse was on the outskirts of town, where it became quiet. Alethia knew it was there not only because of the tranquility, but also because the forest reminded him of home.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alethia caught Ragnar, staring at her from afar. His eyes were unfocused, and Alethia knew he wanted something from her. Comfort, perhaps. 

In Wessex, Alethia would have opened her home to him. But Hagar had been nothing, had had nothing, and Alethia had used up all of her energy today already. She wanted to go home, to Athelstan. 

“Tomorrow.” Alethia called.

Ragnar jumped, as if he had not expected Alethia to speak to him. Then, he nodded through the fog that had to cloud his mind. Alethia closed her eyes, breathing out. Whatever Ragnar carried with him, Alethia knew it hurt. She had watched the king enough to know he felt about his crown the same way that Jon had. 

She did not feel guilty forgetting about that when she stepped into her and Athelstan’s house. 

And there he was, sitting at the desk, charcoal scratching over parchment.

“What are you drawing?” Alethia asked.

“You.” 

Alethia smiled, hugging Athelstan while leaning over him. She put her chin on his shoulder, her own face reflected on the parchment. It was her from a few days ago, hair still wet from swimming in the bay of Kattegat. Alethia knew that it would be the last swim she would take for a while. It was getting too cold for her to swim.

Winter was coming.

The thought of House Stark’s words no longer made her heart ache for Jon. There was the dull echo of a boy she’d loved as a girl, but no more. Not when Athelstan was right there with her.

Athelstan seemed to read her thoughts. “When it gets cold, we’ll be forced to spend more time inside.”

“The boys will be a lot.” Alethia sighed. 

“I was thinking… with all the time we’ll be spending inside,” Athelstan began. “Could you teach me? Your language, I mean.”

“Why?”

“I want to love you in your language.” Athelstan said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he pushed his chair back and stood in front of Alethia. There was a trace of fear in his eyes as he looked at her. 

“What is wrong?” Alethia asked.

“Nothing.” Athelstan replied. “Nothing at all. But, the truth is, my reasons for learning your tongue are more selfish than not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I want to sing to my children in the language of their mother. If she’ll have me.”

Alethia’s mouth turned dry, and suddenly, her heart was beating in her chest. It was kissing Athelstan the first time all over again. “What are you saying?” she whispered. Athelstan’s hands grabbed hers a little more tightly, and he let out a shaky breath.

“Will you marry me?”

The sound Alethia let out was a half-laugh, half-sob, half-squeal. She threw herself around Athelstan’s neck, laughing. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, and I’ll have you. Just as you are, speaking my language or not.”

Athelstan enveloped her, hands holding her tight, safe, warm. His lips brushed her cheekbone, dusting a kiss there where a scar split her face. Alethia felt loved.

[levithestripper]

“And suddenly, Athelstan understood. ‘God,’ he whispered. ‘Lord, how have I been so blind?’”

—Athelstan in HEORTE TIL HEORTE by @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics

[demon-of-the-ancient-world]

Anyway, it's time for an Athelstan fic rec list:

So Deep the Water by themus This one has got to be up there with my favourite Vikings fics I've read so far. I don't want to spoil it too much (though I know I've mentioned it elsewhere on my blog in a bit more detail) but it centers around Athelstan, Gyda, and Bjorn and it is INTENSE. Talk about everything that could go wrong, going wrong. As I understand it it's also the first part in an unfinished series, so fingers crossed for a part 2 one day!!

Under Cover of Night by Librarina Modern AU time!!! It's funny, its In Character As Fuck, it's sweet, it's sexy, if you're looking for an Athelstan/Ragnar/Lagertha university AU you're in for a treat.

Viking Death Trip by Guede Ok LISTEN this one is, as the tags say, crack treated seriously. Semi-canon-compliant-world-AU. I don't want to give it away too much. it's SO WELL WRITTEN though. And a little bit insane. Yeah. It's a fun one.

Where It's Wild by MoreProfoundSwan Another WIP, and this one really blew me away with how intensely researched it was. The author clearly Knows what they're talking about and it's so so engaging to read.

a season for all things by with_the_monsters This one is unfinished and hasn't been updated since 2013 DX but it's so worth it. Basically my inspiration for that modern skiing AU I'm totally not working on. It's what it sounds like -- Athelstan tries to teach the Lothbrok kids how to ski, and gets absorbed into their slightly unhinged family dynamic. It's adorable.

Dragged into the Undertow by @eriexplosion A VERY angst filled account of Athelstan's journey from England to the north, that I was captivated by at every turn. It made my brain rotate violently inside my skull.

Just One Thing the Martyr Wants to Say by @eriexplosion Gah yes it's you again. More angst (this time with a smidge more of hurt/comfort?), nightmares, Fun Stuff. I go back to this one time and again to sate my need to make Athelstan suffer.

Storm-tossed by @angesradieux I had to include this one because it was one of the first Vikings fics I ever read!! ! More angst and h/c, of course. All their work is fantastic, PLEASE check them out.

And of course I gotta shout out Heorte til Heorte by @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics and See You Tomorrow by @starrose17, both recent multichapters that rewired my brain chemistry. Former is Athelstan/OC, latter is Athelnar.

Enjoy y'all! I've read plenty of great Athelstan fic out there and I'm sure there's more I haven't read yet, so feel free to add if you like!

[ivarthebadbitch]

“Who are you?” Athelstan asked after a while, his words echoing the hundred times he had asked the question before. Alethia took a breath. Next to her, Athelstan tensed. No doubt he expected her to lash out again. The guilt of it rose in her throat like bile. “A traveler.” She said finally. “A soldier. A healer, a librarian, a bride and a widow. A Christian and a Godless person. A sister, and a mother-to-be. But most of all, I am far from home, Athelstan. So far.”

-- Heorte til Heorte by @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

heorte til heorte: ch. 3 — cnawan (to know)

summary: alethia offers ecbert her terms. athelstan falls ill. when he recovers, fate strikes alethia down instead.

warnings: cw for pregnancy related stuff and illness. also angst. again.

tagged: @levithestripper @demon-of-the-ancient-world

series masterlist | general masterlist

Alethia

She looked from Ecbert to Athelstan. He had prepared her for this, that the day would come where Ecbert would want a return from his investment. And one month after her arrival, she could express herself well enough for Ecbert to pull her to the table of reckoning.

A scroll was laid out in front of her, one of Ancient Roman Gods.

“Can you name them?” Ecbert asked her. The king was the only other person outside of Athelstan who did not speak with her like a child.

“I can.” Alethia replied. The king made a gesture for her to begin. Alethia only shook her head.

“Are you refusing?” Ecbert asked.

“No, but I will not give you all this knowledge for nothing.”

“Is it gold you want?” 

“You still think me an idiot?” Alethia continued. “Come on.”

“Name your terms.” Ecbert replied with narrowed eyes.

“A sword. The right to carry it. Autonomy, not that of an Anglo-Saxon woman, but that of a man.”

Ecbert laughed, and next to her, Athelstan tensed. “Some would call that blasphemy.”

“I am not Anglo-Saxon. There is your explanation.”

“Done. You will have autonomy.” Ecbert replied. “Though I do wonder where you learned a word you have no use for.”

“I wish to train in the courtyard, and to have food and shelter provided in this villa. Athelstan has similar intellectual abilities, and I want to work and be provided for as such.”

“Athelstan has been much more useful to me than you.” Ecbert said.

“And you consider him your equal, at least when it comes to gender.” Alethia replied bitterly. She was lucky to have him as her teacher. He had taught her all the terms she needed to win this argument. ���You do not know what I do.”

“Done and done.” Ecbert finally agreed. “You overreach.”

“I will continue to do so. You have given me the tools to survive outside your villa. Let me return the favor you gave me instead of making me leave.” Alethia shot back. For a moment, she looked to Athelstan for reassurance, who only nodded with a small smile. “I am a healer. I must admit that I snooped around in your monk’s storages. They are shit. I can do far more than that. In return, there is one thing of utmost importance.”

“You insult my monks and their skills, and yet you wish to ask for more.” Ecbert replied nasally.

“God, King Ecbert, please get off your high horse.” Alethia sighed. Ecbert raised a brow at the unfamiliar phrase, but she ignored him. Her heart beat in her chest, and she wished that Athelstan would say something to give her strength, or courage.

“I am with child.” Alethia confessed. There was a pregnant pause in the room, Ecbert looking to Athelstan, no doubt to see if he had known.

“Interesting.” He commented dryly, so arrogantly that Alethia wanted to strangle him. This was about her livelyhood, and he did not give a singular flying fuck.

“I was married. The child is not one born out of wedlock.”

“And even if it was, you would make sure that that would not matter.” Ecbert noted, his voice now dripping with arrogance. He was so proud of himself for thinking Alethia predictive that it almost made her laugh.

“My child will be seen as a trueborn one.” Alethia continued anyway. “I will decide if they shall be christened, and if the child is a girl, she will be granted the same autonomy as me. My child will enjoy the same safety as me.”

“And in return?” Ecbert asked.

“I will pass on my education to them.” Alethia replied.

“That is not enough.” Ecbert said. Alethia thought for a moment. She knew what he wanted. Safety, security that she would keep her word. There was one thing Ecbert meant for her to put on the table.

“The child will be a ward of the crown of Wessex.” Alethia blurted out, offering up her own baby. Next to her, Athelstan tensed. Ecbert’s eyes glinted with amusement, and Alethia knew the deal was closed.

“What do I want of your child?”

“A child with such knowledge? You know what you want from them.” Alethia replied. “Isn’t that all you want?”

“Great men are those in pursuit of power.” Ecbert drawled again.

Alethia stood, holding out her hand. “Done?”

“Done.” Ecbert said, taking it. Alethia shook his firmly, squeezing too tightly for just a second. Next to her, Athelstan had balled his hands into fists. Alethia stayed where she was, watching Ecbert turn his back and close the door of the library behind him to leave her and Athelstan to their lessons.

She steadied herself on the wooden surface of the table.

“What did you do?” Athelstan asked.

“I saved my child.” Alethia replied. “Now, what of our lessons?” 

“You are cold.”

“Calculating. Cold is what men like Ecbert use to insult women like me.” Alethia said quietly. “I did this because I know that I can save my child.”

“Can you?” Athelstan asked.

“You lived amongst the Vikings, did you not?” Alethia countered, and he nodded. “There, I have a chance to be safe with my child. There, my skill at arms may count for something.”

“How?”

“Teach me their language. I know yours now. Instruct me in theirs, and when the Northmen return, help me go with them.”

“I’d rather you stay here.” Athelstan mumbled quietly. 

“Why?”

Athelstan did not reply. Alethia wrung her hands together, sitting down on the tabletop and looking at Athelstan. 

“Will you go North again if you get the chance?” she asked finally. 

“I don’t know.”

“Would you, for me?” Alethia prodded carefully. It was too far, and they both knew it. Athelstan had no reason to go with her. Alethia had no reason to ask.

“Not for a stranger. I would go for Alethia Stahl, if I knew who she was.” Athelstan said.

“I told you already.”

“You told me everything and nothing at all.” Athelstan argued. “I will not force you, for that would be like forcing the sun not to rise in the morning sky. Yet, the sun can kill and she can nourish. It all comes down to the man beneath her, and whether he can understand her.”

Alethia took a breath, and it felt like the first in months. Athelstan cared, she understood with a sudden warmth that made her feel a little less angry.

“I am not from anywhere here. I am… from a place that is unreachable. It is beautiful and terrible, and it is my home. I have been parted from it for years now. Back then, I never understood that that place was my home. I do now.” Alethia began.

“I know.” Athelstan said, and Alethia understood it was the truth.

“I was taken from that place by forces I could not understand. The place I went was… more brutal. Cold. It was so cold, Athelstan, you would not believe it. I fought in a war that was pointless, and then one that saved humanity. But that was pointless too, because I lost him . I married Jon the day before the battle. I did not know I’d be with child. We were… we were so careful except for once and now I am… well, you know. His sister threatened me into keeping it, so I did. I thought I’d stay in Winterfell- I thought I’d be able to raise my child there. But here I am, pregnant and with only one friend.” she said quickly.

“Who?” Athelstan asked.

“You.” Alethia replied. “We are friends, right?”

“Yes. Yes, I think we are.” Athelstan said slowly. “But you just told me what happened to you, not who you are. What do you love, Alethia?”

“The water. I like to swim.” she said, perhaps too quickly, because Athelstan gave her a small smile. Alethia felt her face grow warm, and she looked at her hands, neatly collected in her lap.

“I like to sit in the sun sometimes. Not for too long, just for a little while. I like sparring with my friends. Not for war, but for fun. To get the energy out, you know? I prefer cats over dogs, but wolves over cats. I have two tattoos!” she said, quickly pulling back the sleeve of her dress to reveal the direwolf tattoo above her elbow. Athelstan examined it in awe, but as she made to show him the one on her leg, he demonstratively looked away.

“How respectful.” Alethia teased.

“No, uh, just very celibate.” Athelstan stuttered. Alethia snorted, then, she grew more serious.

“Can you fight, Athelstan?” she asked.

“Yes. With axes.”

“Will you spar with me? Not in the courtyard, outside the villa. Perhaps we can go to the woods.” Alethia asked.

“There are guards, you know?” Athelstan reminded. Alethia leaned down, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I am a soldier, and a ranger. Trust me, I know just how good King Ecbert’s guards are.”

“Worrying.” Athelstan commented.

Alethia pushed herself off the table, and stood in front of him, holding out her hand. “Yes or no?”

“Fine.” Athelstan agreed.

And indeed, Alethia had little difficulty to slip past guards, taking with her a sword and two small axes. Athelstan nervously looked around, but followed her regardless. Outside of the villa, he began to smile.

Alethia twirled the guard’s sword in her hand, testing out the somewhat terrible balance. Across from the little clearing Athelstan had pointed out to her, he tried the axes. 

“Ready?” Alethia asked.

“We’ll see.” Athelstan simply replied, stepping closer. Alethia swung, and there was a quick exchange of blows, Athelstan parrying her swings as best he could. Alethia stepped backward, observing him.

“You normally fight with a shield.” she said.

“They don’t store viking shields in the villa.” Athelstan replied. “This’ll do.”

“Then keep your bad hand up. Make the second axe your defense, not your attack.”

“I thought this was for fun?” Athelstan asked, and Alethia stepped forward, trying a few swings.

“Thought I’d help you stay alive a bit longer.” Alethia replied. She parried two of his blows, stepping out under the third, and held the blade to his throat. Athelstan raised his hands.

“Let’s go again.” Athelstan said, eyes set onto her sword with determination. Alethia noticed that it had begun to rain (again), but she nodded. 

Three rounds later, and the ground had turned into a muddy slide. Athelstan was starting to get warmed up, his axes becoming a bigger and bigger pest to Alethia. To her surprise, he swiped at her feet in the fourth round, trying to kick them out under her.

Alethia stumbled backwards, surprised. The mud was making her slip, and before she could go down in defeat, she grabbed Athelstan by the collar. He let out a surprised shout, but went down with her.

On the ground, his hands stopped him from colliding with Alethia next to her shoulders, his face mere centimeters from hers.

Alethia could read the surprise written in his features, and smirked, legs wrapping around his waist, flipping Athelstan into the mud until he was under her. Quickly, she grabbed her sword, and pointed it at his throat again.

“Yield?”

“Fine, you win.” Athelstan replied, half-rolling his eyes. Alethia got up, relieving the pressure from his stomach. Athelstan stayed in the mud for a moment, closing his eyes. His face was tense.

“Are you hurt?” she asked. Athelstan shook his head, getting up.

“Just cold.” 

It sounded like a lie, and that worried Alethia.

Athelstan

He was alone again, back in the monastery in Lindisfarne. The storm outside made waves crash against the coast, lightning illuminating his bedchamber. Athelstan stood, making his way to the common room.

There, his brothers were huddled in a circle, praying. Father Cuthbert looked up as he entered, staring at Athelstan with accusing eyes.

“You have forsaken your vow, Brother Athelstan. What have you done?” he spat. “You have turned away from us, and condemned us. Judgement is upon us all!”

Athelstan wanted to turn away, to run from Father Cuthbert and his dead brothers, but the doorway was blocked by a hulking figure clad in furs.

The eyemakeup told him it was Floki, the hair Rollo, the shield Lagertha - but the eyes, those were Ragnar’s.

“Leave me alone.” he told the Norseman. The creature did not respond, his mouth splitting into a cruel grin. That was Ecbert’s.

The Viking raised his sword above his head, ready to bring it down like an executioner. Athelstan closed his eyes, unable to move. He was going to die.

But the killing blow never came. When Athelstan opened his eyes, a monstrous wolf fought with the Viking.

Fenrir, Athelstan thought distantly. That is Fenrir. This is Ragnarök. He shuddered as he thought of the end of the world.

Which godly father would judge him, a traveler?

The wolf consumed everything around him, and Athelstan waited for it to consume him too, but the pain never came. Just as the sword had never cut him, the wolf never bit. Instead, it sat back on its haunches, and stared at Athelstan.

Athelstan noticed Fenrir’s eyes were red. Demonic.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Athelstan whispered. Around him, the melody of an unfamiliar song filled the air, and Athelstan turned towards the door again. He slipped outside without a problem this time. He took the steps down the coast, until he stood on the beach.

Athelstan was afraid of the ocean. The melody grew louder, and he took a step, and then another, until the cold water was just about to touch his skin. He looked down, at the scars on his feet. 

“Why are you afraid?” 

Athelstan turned, looking at Alethia.

“The ocean makes me afraid.” he said. “It is so… endless.”

“Aren’t we all?” Alethia whispered. She offered her hand, and Athelstan took it, letting her pull him towards the water. It was not cold.

Alethia let herself fall backwards into the waves, diving into the water, and Athelstan followed. There was no need to come up for air. Under the water, he could suddenly open his eyes.

Alethia was right in front of him. Her hair floated around her like a halo, and still, the melody continued. She smiled, pulling him towards her again. There was no need for words. Her white nightgown billowed out around her, hiding her legs as she swam past him.

Still, Athelstan felt himself blush.

She sunk lower and lower, and Athelstan wanted to follow. But Father Cuthbert’s words echoed in his mind, and immediately, his throat tightened and his lungs were empty.

Athelstan swam to the water’s surface, where it was cold. The melody was still there, but Alethia was nowhere to be seen.

He took another deep breath, looking for the melody.

When he opened his eyes, it was still there. Athelstan felt his muscles tighten uncomfortably as he turned, trying to remember where he was. Foggily, he recalled that he had caught a cold after staying in the rain too long. After that, there was not much, only that he had stayed in bed and had some young monk watch over him.

The monk was gone now, replaced by Alethia, who was still humming. She was half-turned away, the scar not visible on this side of her face. It wouldn’t have made her any less beautiful.

Athelstan pushed away the thought. He tried to remember his dream. He knew that she had been in it, too. God, what was going on?

He focused on her hair, a blond so dark that it was almost brown. She braided it a little like Lagertha, only less extravagant. Some of it fell down her back, and Athelstan thought for a moment that he would like to brush it.

It was almost unbearably shameful that he remembered precisely how she smelt - of fresh linen and the sea, and perhaps something medicinal beneath that. He knew how that smell came about because he knew she had a strange obsession with bathing, one that she observed almost every day - even worse than the vikings. 

Athelstan knew that she preferred lavender soap, and he had smelt that, too. It was too easy to be close to her when he spent so much time sitting next to Alethia and teaching her how to speak.

And, God, he wished he did not know that her eyes were green like the leaves of an apple tree in the orchards. Athelstan wondered if her lips would taste like lavender or apples, too.

No. He did not. He could not. He turned, and the sound made Alethia pause.

“You’re awake.” she chirped. She turned, and from where he was lying, Athelstan could see the small bump beginning to protrude her dress. It was a good reminder of who she was.

“Yes. The song…” he began.

“Oh, you heard me. Thank God I wasn’t singing.” Alethia laughed nervously, grabbing something from a place he could not see.

“What is the song… what is it called? What is it about?”

“It’s just some old love song. ‘Wicked games’ or something.” Alethia shrugged. “My friend liked that type of music, and I just had it playing again and again in my head.”

“Can you translate the lyrics?” Athelstan asked, and Alethia smiled. She sat down on the side of the cot, the mattress dipping under her weight. Athelstan tried to move away without her noticing, but of course, she did. Her green eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Athelstan could see the hurt in her eyes, and he wanted to take it back.

He needed to preserve his dignity. The state he was in… the fever…

“A lot of it is just ‘What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way’. Around that lyric.” Alethia told him. “But the song itself begins with ‘the world was on fire, and no one could save me but you.’ I guess I like that part.”

“Waiting for a saviour?” Athelstan asked.

“Not in the story way.” Alethia replied.

“In what way?” Athelstan continued. He needed to know. Just in case something happened to her. 

“Want someone to take care of me.” Alethia muttered under her breath. Then, she helped him sit. “Here, I made you some tea. Sweetened it so the taste will be alright.”

Athelstan took a sip, tears immediately pooling in his eyes as he swallowed. “Oh God.” he muttered.

“Too spicy? I can add milk, but that’ll reduce the effect.” Alethia replied.

“Why would you burn my tongue like that?” Athelstan sighed. Alethia stood, quickly grabbing something before she returned.

“You’re congested. Heard you struggle to breathe in your sleep, and the spice will make your nose run, but it might help with the symptoms.” Alethia explained, handing him a cup of milk. “There, kiss to make it better.”

She was joking, Athelstan reminded himself, and he was a monk.

Had been once, at least.

“Are you alright?” Alethia asked worriedly, and Athelstan was quick to nod.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of your lessons.” he teased.

.*.*.*.

A day later, he was able to crawl from the cot to get dressed, finally not shivering whenever a gust of wind hit him. Athelstan went to the library first, searching for the last few scrolls he’d transcribed, before he waited for Alethia to arrive. 

Usually, she was overly punctual, joining him long before the lessons already began, but today, an empty seat next to Athelstan and a plain piece of parchment told him that she was late.

Athelstan felt nervous at the thought. He picked at his skin, pulling it up for a moment. 

Where was she?

He smoothed out the parchment, straightening out the place the chair stood and got up, wandering around the library. By now, Alethia was truly late.

He waited. He waited until the church bells tolled and it was eleven in the morning. Now, Alethia was an hour late. 

Athelstan’s feet carried him to the roman bath first. They hurt, the scars almost itching. It was not a real sensation, but telling himself that did not make it any better.

The roman bath was empty, and as Athelstan walked into the courtyard, all he saw were the guards and the farmers, but not Alethia. It was a beuatiful day, the sun shining brightly and Athelstan was reminded that Alethia loved the sun.

It was easy to imagine her standing there, in the middle of the courtyard, green eyes closed as she turned her face to the light and held her palms out with that small, abashed smile on her face.

And yet, her phantom shadow made him worry.

Athelstan rushed back inside, practically running through the villa. Alethia was nowhere to be found.

Had she overslept? Perhaps she had caught his fever, and was still in bed. The monks had told him that Alethia had practically spent all of her waking hours looking after him and scolding them for not treating his fever properly. Yes, it was possible that she had come down with it.

He’d never been in her bedchamber. It was not right of him to go there, to invade her space.

Athelstan walked the long corridor towards it anyway, pausing at her door to knock. When he did, there was no response.

“Alethia?” He asked. “Are you well?”

There was a sound of rushed movement from within, and Athelstan sighed with relief. 

“You’re late, you know?” He teased lightly.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Alethia replied from within, her voice sounding thick. There were a few fast steps, and the door opened, Alethia’s face appearing on the other side.

Her skin was blotchy, as if she had spent the entire night crying, eyes swollen and puffy. 

“Are you alright?” Athelstan asked. Alethia nodded quickly, turning away from him and disappearing back into the room. The door swung open, and Athelstan allowed himself to lean onto the doorframe.

The room looked entirely as he had imagined it would. Alethia had tossed her bedsheets around messily, barely covering the mattress and leaving her cot unmade. In her window, she’d hung dried flowers, her sword leaning against the foot of the bed. There was a small table, covered in scraps of parchment, a vase of flowers pushed into one corner, a small candle into the other.

What Athelstan had not expected is for the room to smell of blood. He paused, watching as Alethia limped towards her trunk and pulled out fresh sheets, carelessly throwing them onto the cot.

Athelstan made his decision. He crossed the doorstep, and entered her room. Alethia turned, her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him.

“What is going on?” Athelstan asked. Her lip quivered, and she shook her head, balls of her hands digging into her eyes. Alethia turned herself away from him in an act of self-preservation that he understood only too well. 

He touched her shoulder, gently taking her hand. Alethia pulled away, but he saw the speck of blood on her sleeve anyway.

“Alethia what did you…?” He began. When she walked away from him, a trail of blood followed her. Athelstan felt sick, suddenly. 

Image be damned, he closed the door of her room, shutting the world out before he turned back to Alethia. She was sitting on her cot, staring at the wall opposite of her somewhat lethargically. Athelstan could not look away from the red stain on her sleeve.

He knew Alethia had been covered in blood before. She was a soldier, she had fought. Still, that had never seemed quite real to him. Not when he knew who she was. 

A girl that loved the sun should not be touched by violence.

“I’m sorry.” Athelstan said, because he did not know what else to say. On the wooden floor, blood began to dry into the planks.

“Oh, stop saying that. You don’t even know what you are saying when you do.” Alethia whispered. She was trying to sound mean, but it was not working. Athelstan knew he had to make a choice, right here.

He could continue to be frozen to the ground and stare, eventually leaving Alethia to resolve her pain by herself. Or, he could show her the same compassion she had when she’d barely known him.

Athelstan wanted to be someone important to her. He crossed the distance, taking Alethia’s hands. This time, she let him. Athelstan noticed the dried blood that was crusted under her fingernails, but he said nothing.

Then, he noticed that the basin of water at the head of her bed was red too, a small pile of pinkish fabric piled up next to it. The same dark-stained fabric peeked out under the haphazardly thrown sheets on her cot. 

Athelstan leaned over the edge of the cot, carefully lifting the clean linen and old sheets up. His heart dropped as he pulled the sheets away.

Alethia’s mattress was stained a dark red, blood spreading out from the center.

“What…? Alethia, are you hurt?” He asked, turning back to her, trying to search for any visible injuries.

She did not reply. Instead, Alethia stood and hugged him. Her hands wrapped around him, but she was trying to hold on, not to hold. She was shaking like a leaf, and, when Athelstan returned the hug, she sobbed.

Athelstan did not ask. He did not apologize. He waited.

The sobs only got worse, and Athelstan, hesitantly, let his hand touch the back of her head, cradling it gently. He had seen Ragnar, Floki, Lagertha, even Rollo, do it with the people they loved. It was the right thing to do, right?

He wished he knew. This was one of the things the monastery had not been able to teach him.

When Alethia cried even more, he thought he’d done something wrong. Instead, Alethia hid her face in his chest. She was warm, like always, but Alethia did not smelt like lavender soap today.

She smelt like blood. 

The injury was hers. How was she still standing after so much bloodloss?

“You have to tell me where you are hurt. I am afraid you’ll die.” Athelstan whispered. 

“I lost it.” Alethia replied. She was still holding onto him.

“I don’t understand.” Athelstan said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

Alethia let go of him, and Athelstan immediately felt guilty. Sadness for her constricted his throat, making it hard to breathe. He wanted to see her smile again. Why did he want to see her smile?

Slowly, Alethia pulled up her dress to her knees. Athelstan looked away. 

“Didn’t have time to clean all of it.” Alethia said. “I’m sorry. I was going to come to the lessons, but I… I don’t know why this- it hurts my soul more than my body.”

Athelstan looked, then. Her legs were covered in blood. It ran down her calves, and from time to time, some of it would drip on the ground. What injury hurt the soul more than the body?

This… it looked excruciating.

And then, Athelstan remembered something.

Once, when he was still very little, his mother had spent three days in the straw, barely moving. He’d helped get rid of it afterwards, and noticed how red it had turned under her. Not soon after, his father had sent him to the monastery.

His mother had never said goodbye. She hadn’t been able to, his father explained.

Lagertha had acted like that once, for a little while. She’d lost her son, and Alethia had lost- she’d lost-

Athelstan tried to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, and God, he wished he knew what to say. “Alethia, I am… I wish I knew what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

They sat in silence, shoulders barely touching. Alethia was still crying silently. 

When the bells tolled for midday, Athelstan stood, his joints cracking. Another hour had passed, and he knew that today, there would be no lessons. He was glad that he’d been forced to notice what had happened to her.

Athelstan did not say anything as he collected her dirty linens, piling them in one corner of the room. He left quietly, returning with fresh water to clean the blood off of her floor. Alethia watched him with tired eyes. 

When Athelstan found her bloodied shift, the one she’d presumably changed out of quickly to hide what had happened, his heart broke for Alethia. Both the sleeves and the skirt were still drenched in red, and the smell of death clung to the garment. Alethia blinked as Athelstan tossed it to the dirty sheets.

“Burn it, please.” She whispered. He nodded. When all of it was done, the only reminder of what had happened was Alethia. The blood was still clinging to her ankles, her fingertips, her legs. Athelstan helped her up from the cot.

“What is it?” She asked. “Don’t make me eat now. I cannot face the rest of them.”

“You will not.” Athelstan promised. He helped her out of her room, and they slipped out of the villa quietly. The sun still shone, spring beginning to make itself known in Wessex.

In a few months, the Northmen would return to raid. Athelstan still had time to prepare Alethia, and himself.

Alethia still struggled to walk, so Athelstan hoisted her arm over his shoulder, taking her to the small creek where the washerwoman scrubbed the linens and the wool. They were all eating now, taking their break. 

Still, Athelstan found a more secluded area, hidden by trees and tall grass, where he set Alethia down. He turned away, sitting on the rocks around the creek but looking away from the water.

“Thank you.” Alethia said, and from behind him, Athelstan heard water splashing. He pushed the soap towards her blindly, preparing the towel so that Alethia would not have to think about it.

“Athelstan?”

“Yes?” He asked. There were a few beats of silence, and Athelstan waited for them to pass as they stretched into eternity, making his heart beat painfully quickly. Was she alright?

“Do you think I am ugly?”

Alethia sounded earnest. There was no teasing, no light tone, but the sadness from before had disappeared a little.

“Who called you ugly?” Athelstan asked. He knew what the guards whispered. He had heard Prince Aethelwulf talk down on Alethia. They all looked down on her scar, her roughness. She was not pious, not soft - at least, that was what they thought.

Athelstan was almost proud that he had found out about her gentleness, one that was so similar to that of Lagertha or Helga. 

“Am I?” Alethia asked again.

“No, I don’t think so.”

She laughed softly. Athelstan wished that he could wake up to that sound.

No. No, he was just letting the events of the day getting to his head. Besides, he was barely healthy again.

“Turn around.” Alethia said, and Athelstan almost choked on his spit.

“Don’t worry.” She laughed. “I’m still in the water. You won’t see anything. Not here to make you stray from the righteous path.”

You already have, he thought. Still, slowly and cautiously, he turned. Alethia had rested her head on her hands, blue ink coloring the space above her right elbow.

“Thank you.” She said. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me, Athelstan. I am sure you have saved me.”

Athelstan felt his cheeks grow warm under her praise.

“Let me help you.” He said, nodding to the tangled knots in her hair. Alethia raised a brow, but she nodded, turning her back to him. Athelstan touched her cautiously, as if she was fragile. He knew she was not, but he thought that, in that moment, she would appreciate it.

It was almost impossible to detangle the knots in her hair, but Athelstan had time, and water. However cold it was, Alethia had not yet begun to chatter, so he worked with gentleness opposed to efficiency, combing out her hair until it fell down her back. Alethia dipped under the surface of the water, presenting her hair to him for soap.

He touched it again, and still, the action felt so right and so utterly depraved at the same time that Athelstan wanted to disappear. The foam hid her hair, and Athelstan carefully swiped water over it until her hair was clean again. 

“Thank you.” Alethia repeated, and Athelstan thought that he wanted to get used to that phrase from her.

In the villa, Alethia disappeared into her room again, but only after Athelstan had made her assure him of the fact that she was alright. Alethia had promised.

He barely made it out of the corridor before King Ecbert turned the corner, stopping Athelstan with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“How interesting,” the king began. “That you should make your student your companion, Athelstan.”

“She is nothing to me.”

“Nothing?” Ecbert asked, his features unbelieving. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing but a friend.” Athelstan replied. 

“In England, men and women do not intermingle like that.” Ecbert said. “I understand. Those who do not know of the Norse culture you absorbed may not. Remember that.”

“Of course.” Athelstan said. “Apologies, my king.”

“No worries. There was something else I wanted to ask you about…” Ecbert began, and Athelstan followed the king with a sigh. He only hoped that Alethia would feel better soon. 

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

ch. 2 — mælan (to speak)

notes: content warning for religious imagery is getting real in this chapter :]

summary: Athelstan's soul cannot rest. Neither can Alethia's.

tagged: @levithestripper @demon-of-the-ancient-world (msg me to be added/removed!)

masterlist | chapter one

Athelstan

He set the quill down on paper, the soft scratching sound soothing his nerves. Nervously, Athelstan tried to swallow his fear. It was as if something was watching him, following his every step. The week of Alethia Stahl’s arrival had marked a month since he’d been taken to Ecbert’s court, and since then, Athelstan had not had a night of full rest.

Carefully, he started the new line on the parchment, writing a ‘D’. He paused when it turned red.

“What…?” He muttered under his breath. Athelstan shook his head, writing the next letter when the red ink began bleeding down the parchment, ruining the document. He cursed under his breath. Athelstan looked around the library, suddenly unable to find the door. His vision blurred in front of him, and shadows flitted past in the corner of his eye.

Cold fear ran down his spine, a sweat making him shiver. His throat tightened, and Athelstan took another step back. A hiss next to his ear made him whirl around, only for the creature that met his gaze to make him shake with fear. Again, Athelstan stumbled backwards, a silent scream lodged in his throat. There was no true, lawful explanation for any of this.

Blood dripped from his forehead into his eyes, blinding him against whatever demons haunted him. Athelstan stepped onto something, twisting his ankle and falling to the ground. A weight was on his chest, and Athelstan could finally see the creature that had been following him. Its claws dug into his tunic, sharp talons piercing his skin like thorns. It was going to kill him, he was going to-

“Athelstan?” 

The creature leaned forward, and Athelstan let out a shout for help. Then, someone else was by his side, helping him up.

“Are you… healthy?” Alethia asked him clumsily.

“Alright.” Athelstan corrected. “Yes, I am alright.”

His pupil eyed him suspiciously, her hand still stabilizing his back. In the past week, Athelstan had learned little about her. Usually, he was much better at observing people, but he did not see her much outside of his lessons. He had a feeling Alethia understood him far more than he her.

Not to mention that she.was beginning to grasp the fundamentals of his mother tongue and he… he did not know a single word of hers.

Athelstan looked away, avoiding her gaze and instead staring at her earrings. There were far more than usual, some of them high up on her ear. They looked like those some shieldmaidens wore, but if Athelstan had learned anything, it was that Alethia was not Norse. She did not speak the language, she did not keep their Gods. 

“I have bad dreams a lot.” Alethia continued, her voice careful as she tried to construct correct sentences. “I see… people. They do not live. My friends are in the sky.”

“In heaven. Your friends are dead?” Athelstan asked. Alethia tilted her head, looking down at him curiously. She made a motion drawing her thumb across her neck, and Athelstan nodded.

“They are dead.” she affirmed. “What of yours?”

“I’m not sure.” Athelstan replied.

“Is that why you… have bad dreams?”

“Hallucinations.” Athelstan said, making the confession for the first time. Alethia nodded again, thinking for a moment.

“I know. I understand. Who?”

“It is me.”

“You are not dead.” Alethia replied, gently pushing against his shoulder. It was meant to be playful, and Athelstan could have appreciated that at any other time. Instead, he said nothing, only looking at his scarred hands. Alethia’s arm left his back, withdrawing for a moment, and Athelstan was ashamed to find himself missing her support.

“What happened?”

“Jesus’ death was almost mine.”

Alethia’s face scrunched up in concentration as she translated his words. Then, her eyes widened, and she pulled Athelstan into her arms. He froze. No one but his younger sister, and then Gyda had hugged him like that. Both were dead.

“I apologize for your pain.” Alethia said sincerely when they broke apart. Once again, Athelstan found himself astonished at what she had learnt in little more than a week. Then again, she had no choice and spent half her day in lessons with him.

She seemed to notice how he was still in the same position as before, and her hands wrung in her lap like they always did when she was anxious. That, he knew of Alethia. “Am I… too close?”

“You are open.” Athelstan said. “Affectionate.”

“Affectionate?”

“You care.” he replied. “You take your time to speak with others.”

“Isn’t that what Christians are supposed to do?” Alethia laughed after a few moments. She pulled herself up from the floor, offering her hand to Athelstan. He shrugged.

“I think so. Many do not.”

“They are just [...] Christians.” she replied, throwing in a word that he did not understand.

“What did you mean by that?” Athelstan asked, letting her help him up. His joints felt stiff and he wondered how much time he had spent on the floor before Alethia had found him. The tips of her ears reddened as she heard his question.

“It is a bad word.” Alethia replied. “An adjective for… pooping?” 

Athelstan had to laugh. “You mean shitty?” 

Alethia nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, shitty! They are just shitty Christians!”

Athelstan shook his head at that, trying to suppress another wave of laughter. This woman, this shieldmaiden - there was nothing simple about her, and yet, she could be so unserious. Alethia had not acted piously when she had drawn up her dress to her knees to dip them into the bath, and Athelstan tried his best not to think of it – and yet, she behaved more kindly than other, well, for lack of better words, shitty Christians.

He pushed his hallucinations aside as best he could, and pulled a scroll from the shelves.

“New words?” Alethia asked.

“New grammar.” Athelstan replied, and Alethia let out a sigh. Athelstan continued anyway. “You will speak of the past, so you can tell us who you are.”

“What if I do not want that?” Alethia asked, her hands crossing in front of her chest. She stepped closer to Athelstan, looking around as if she was expecting someone to hear her. “I do not… what is the word? Ecbert makes me… uneasy.”

“Trust? To give someone your… secrets?” Athelstan tried to explain. Alethia nodded.

“I do not want to tell him… who I am.”

“You do not trust the man that saved you? The king?” Athelstan replied.

“Do you? He saved you. I do not think you… trust him. You look at him with… confusion?” Alethia tried, her tongue struggling to make the words sound right. Athelstan only stayed silent at that. He could not say that he mistrusted the king, not out loud. Alethia waited for a few beats, the silence between them stretching more than what was comfortable.

“I will tell you.” she said finally. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Athelstan nodded. “Do you trust me, Alethia?”

She paused for a moment. “No. But I think I will. Tomorrow.”

“In the future.”

“Yes, that.” Alethia continued. “I have need of time.”

Athelstan thought he understood that.

By the end of the lesson, Alethia was using the past tense somewhat comfortably, although Athelstan noted that she still stumbled over weak and strong verbs. As Athelstan stood from the table, he noticed that Alethia was nervously jerking her leg up and down.

“What is it?” He asked, and she paused, a hand going to her knee.

“Nothing. Bad - what is the word? For an activity you do a lot?”

“Habit.”

“It is a bad habit.” Alethia said, pushing her chair backwards. “What is it?”

“It is Sunday.” Athelstan replied. “Time for mass.”

Alethia seemed to almost recoil at that. “You go. I do not think I shall go.”

“To mass? Everyone goes.” Athelstan replied. “You must.”

“No.” Alethia replied, her lips suddenly pressed into a thin line. “Do not… force me to do something. I wish to stay away. You can go and attend that… ceremony.”

Athelstan wanted to say something to convince Alethia to come, and yet, deep down, he knew that he wanted to go just about as much as she, though probably for entirely different reasons.

Alethia

She roamed around in the empty villa as the court of King Ecbert confined itself into the church. At first, the venture seemed somewhat interesting. Alethia nosed around in King Ecbert’s belongings, and then those of the healer, but both were not particularly interesting.

Mentally, she made a note to go out and collect her own supplies as those of the healer were… less than ideal.

She slunk out of the room, and towards the church. It had been a religious education book she’d sworn her ‘vow’ to the Night’s Watch on, it had been a church she had first seen when she’d arrived here. It was those thoughts that drew her towards the church now, feet moving on their own accord as Alethia stared at the closed wooden doors.

Her stomach turned.

She could not run from this.

Alethia stood close to the door, waiting in the courtyard until the church doors opened and the people streamed outside. She watched as King Ecbert, Prince Aethelwulf and Princess Judith exited, none of them noticing her. Alethia guessed that her attendance had not been missed.

Athelstan left the church last. He was staring at the ground, avoiding coming to close to any of the other people around her. Alethia bit the inside of her cheek. From what she’d gathered, Athelstan was feeling the same way she had when Grenn and Pyp died. She’d been so utterly alone, and even then, she’d had Sam, Jon and Satin - who did Athelstan have?

She was not his friend, but neither was Ecbert, and certainly not Aethelwulf. 

He was pulling his leg behind him. It was not obvious, not like the one lame servant that worked in the villa, but Athelstan’s gait was definitely off. She wondered if it was because of his cruxificion. Alethia remembered being tied to a skinning cross - how the blood had slowly drained from her hands, how her limbs had become so horrendously heavy. She’d been pierced by an arrow, impaled by a spear - and yet, she could not imagine the pain of nails slowly being driven through your hands and feet.

Quickly, she looked to the ground, slinking into the church. Beneath her, the ground turned from trampled dirt to cobbled stone. When she looked up, she was alone in the church, the doors falling shut behind her. Alethia stared at the cross on the altar.

What had God done to save her?

Anger boiled up beneath her skin with a suddeness that Alethia almost stepped forward to do something rash. Instead, she kept her feet planted to the ground and took a few deep breaths. Only then did she allow herself to move.

She was not supposed to climb the stairs to the altar. Then again, Alethia was not supposed to do a whole lot of things. Keeping to the rules had done nothing for her, and neither had breaking them. There was very little in her own hands.

One, two, three, four - that was all it took to stand where the priest held mass. The golden cross was right in front of her, inlaid with gems and placed upon a disgustingly clean white tablecloth.

Alethia knew the cost of war, and how much of it would be fought in the name of God.

The Gods are cruel, that’s why they’re Gods, Cersei Lannister whispered in her ear.

Alethia raised her hand, fingers ready to curl around the cross and rip it from the altar. The religion of her ancestors, and yet, Alethia could not swallow the anger she felt each time she thought of a possible God.

The religion of her ancestors. She’d prayed to God when she was sure she was going to die, and then again when she could not find Jon. Once, her prayer had been heard.

Maybe religion was simpler than she thought. Maybe it was just a fifty-fifty chance. Athelstan still believed, right? Were she in his place, Alethia knew she would not. Maybe that was proof enough.

She drew back her hand quickly, still staring at the cross. Tears filled her eyes again, and Alethia had no idea why. Why was she always on the verge of tears? She walked back down the stairs backwards, almost missing the last. The cross seemed even larger, even more looming from the bottom of the stairs.

Kneeling was an automatic, not a habit. Alethia did not know why she did it. The cold stone under her bit her knees, but she’d felt much worse. Alethia found comfort in it.

“I wanted to go home.” She whispered. “That is all I wanted. Why couldn’t you let me go?”

She was not sure why she’d expected an answer, but the silence hurt her even more. Alethia tried to swallow her quiet sob, but instead, her palms found the ground as well, and she leaned forward.

“I wanted to go home! You’re keeping me here! Please, I want to- I want to-“ she gasped. “Why can I go anywhere I want, but not home? I wanted to keep my baby safe. I want my child to be safe. How will they be safe here? What if they’re a girl? What then? Please, please let me go home.”

Her hand curled into a fist on the cobbled stone, and Alethia let her tears fall there where no one would see. She felt stupid, stupid for what she’d just done.

Alethia stood from the floor, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She needed to get back to her room, there was still some cleaning she wanted to get done.

But when she turned, she saw that there was someone else was in the church, staring at her with wide eyes.

Athelstan.

Anger overtook Alethia with a suddenness that was all too natural. She crossed the distance between them, her hands grabbing the former monk by his shoulders and pushing him backwards.

“What the fuck are you doing here, huh?” She shouted, too caught up in the moment to remember that he could not understand her. Then, Alethia stumbled backwards, the regret already sinking in.

“What did you see?” She asked him, this time in his language. Her voice was shaking, and Alethia wondered where her strength had gone. 

“Most of it. You almost tore the cross from the altar like a-“ he began, before he stopped himself. It took Alethia a few moments to understand Athelstan, like always. That only served to frustrate her more. 

“Like a what?” She finally snapped.

“Like a Viking. Are you?”

“No.” Alethia replied.

“What are you?” He asked.

“I don’t… I won’t tell you. I already said that.”

Athelstan sighed. He shook his head where he stood, a tiny smile on his face. It was a sad one, and Alethia wished she could ask him properly, understand his language and his being in a way where she’d know what it meant. 

“I am sorry.” Athelstan replied finally. “For all the pain you feel.”

“There is nothing there.” Alethia said. “Only fear for my child. What if it is a girl? What then?”

“You believe in God.” Athelstan stated as if he knew it. “I saw it. If she is a girl, she shall be christened and protected.”

“I was christened!” Alethia replied, her voice rising steadily. She searched for the words before she continued. “I was christened, I was supposed to be protected. Look at me!”

Athelstan looked away.

“Look at me!” Alethia spat, her hand shooting out to grab him again. It halted right in front of his face. “Look at me. Do you think I was protected? Hmm?”

“The christening does not protect the body, but the soul.” Athelstan replied. He sounded as if he was repeating a sentence he knew by heart but did not mean.

“And has yours been protected? Has God made sure that you feel whole?” Alethia laughed, her lip quivering. “I should think not. I see you, Athelstan.”

The tears that dripped onto her cheeks made her feel stupid once more, and Alethia brushed them away so hastily that she felt the rough fabric of her sleeve tug on her skin painfully. 

“Fuck.” She hissed, going over the aggravated skin with her fingers. Athelstan reached out carefully, as if she was a wild animal, and stopped her wrist. Had he been anyone else, she’d have lashed out, but Athelstan was the only anchor she had in this villa, in this time.

She let him pull her hand away from her face.

“Why do you injure yourself like this? Why are you this hasty, this angry all the time?” Athelstan asked quietly. Alethia looked to the cross on the altar. Though she did not know if she believed, it felt wrong to lie here. 

That was what she wanted to tell herself. The truth was that Alethia wanted to have someone here who knew. Someone who understood her pain. Athelstan looked like, maybe, just maybe, he could.

“I lost him.” Alethia mumbled quietly.

“Him?” Athelstan asked. Alethia’s hand went to her stomach automatically.

“The father?” 

“His name was Jon, and he was good.” Alethia said. 

“That is a rare thing in a man.” 

“You are good, I think.” Alethia replied.

“I try.” Athelstan said. The distance between them was only a step, and yet, talking to him seemed so surreal. Still, Alethia wondered if she’d wake up back home in Winterfell.

“I do too. I don’t think it is enough.” Alethia confessed. Her heart hurt. Her head hurt. She was so awfully tired, her brain buzzing with a language she’d been forced to learn in mere days. 

She lied down on the floor, letting Athelstan eye her like a curiosity.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Taking a break.” Alethia replied.

He squatted next to her, shaking his head, before he followed her lead.

Alethia rolled her eyes at him. 

“What? I am taking a break?”

“From what?” Alethia snorted. 

“Teaching you.”

She let out a pretend-gasp, turning towards Athelstan. “I am not a bad student.”

“The best I ever had.” Athelstan replied.

“How many people have you taught?” Alethia said, proud of her use of the past tense. She did not spend her entire day with it for nothing.

“Two.” Athelstan admitted. She snorted.

“Then how do I give you such pains?”

“Figuring you out is… impossible.” Athelstan replied. Alethia quieted down, and turned onto her back again. She stared at the ceiling and pretended it was the sky. Her palms were pressed onto the cobblestone as they had been, finding stability into the stone.

“Who are you?” Athelstan asked after a while, his words echoing the hundred times he had asked the question before.

Alethia took a breath. Next to her, Athelstan tensed. No doubt he expected her to lash out again. The guilt of it rose in her throat like bile.

“A traveler.” She said finally. “A soldier. A healer, a librarian, a bride and a widow. A Christian and a Godless person. A sister, and a mother-to-be. But most of all, I am far from home, Athelstan. So far.”

“So am I.” He told her. “My home is gone. I think I understand.”

Alethia considered if she could tell him for a moment. She wanted to. He had no idea that she was from the future. That she’d been to another bloody world. All he knew was that she was a stranger. Dangerous, potentially.

She could not.

“Thank you.” She said instead. 

“Come,” Athelstan replied, offering his hand in a reflection of her earlier that day. “We are surely missed at lunch.”

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

ch. 7 – heald (to hold)

notes: i lowk hate the second half of this...

summary: goodbyes and hellos

warnings: none i think? minor mentions of trauma, ecbert is a bitch but whats new

tagged: @demon-of-the-ancient-world @levithestripper @grantairescurls

general masterlist | series masterlist

Alethia

Godwin’s chubby fingers grasped her hand, the boy trying to bite Alethia’s hand. She let him, rocking him absentmindedly as she stared into the bonfire. Next to her sat Eadith, John in her arms and Finnian next to her, drifting off to sleep. Insects chirped from the field, and Ethelfleda’s children were chasing each other around the flames. Clothilda sat at Alethia’s feet, her head leaning against Alethia’s knee. The girl stared up into the sky, eyes desperate to grasp a last look at the stars.

It was a cool spring night, just on the cusp of summer, and the air smelled of it. Ethelfleda had said that this night would be their last reprieve of the heat that the village would have for a while. Alethia knew what that meant.

She had to leave soon.

Tomorrow, Heahmund would take Clothilda to the nunnery in Wroughton. Alethia would accompany them, carry Clothilda’s few belongings and help the girl find her place amongst the nuns. And when she was done, she’d slip away. She’d give Heahmund a message, but she would not say goodbye. Not to him, nor to Finnian or Eadith or Godwin or John. It felt like betrayal, even if she had told them what was going to happen.

“What’s wrong?” Eadith asked. She was playing peek-a-boo with John, who only gave his mother a few happy laughs. When her hands covered her eyes again, Alethia spoke.

“Nothing. I just…” Alethia trailed off. Quietly, she adjusted Godwin in her lap. “I miss home.”

“Is this not home?” Eadith replied.

“You know what I mean. And besides, I do not belong here. I think I shall try to return to Frankia. To my family.”

“I love you. We all love you.” Eadith said. “You could stay. Remarry. None of us would think any less of you for it.”

“And who would I marry?” Alethia asked dryly.

“Heahmund.”

Alethia looked to the priest across from her, watching intently as she and Eadith spoke. His sword was lain across his lap, blade glinting with the flames. Perhaps she should take it. 

Instead of answering, Alethia snorted. Eadith giggled with her, like the girl she truly was. 

“I’m going to miss you.” Alethia said suddenly, and immediately, she wished she hadn’t.

“You’ll only be gone for a few days.” Eadith replied, brows furrowing with worry. She knew something was wrong with Alethia, but she did not say anything. Yet.

“Still. You are my best friend here.”

Eadith smiled at that, leaning towards Alethia.

“And you mine. But do not tell that to Titha or Darelene.”

Alethia committed her face to memory, then. The freckles on the bridge of her nose, the reddish-brown hair, the delicate lashes and crooked nose, the small scar and low-set brows. 

“I could never.” She said finally. 

Five days later, Alethia betrayed Eadith. She waited until Heahmund was fast asleep, and then, she took his cloak and dagger, drawing the hood into her face before she began running. Heahmund did not have a horse, and so, he would not be able to catch her as quickly as Aethelwulf would have, had he looked in the right direction. If anything, he’d have to run into the forest right after Alethia.

She trudged South where the village was East, wiping her face as the tears began to spill. There was no reason for her to cry. Alethia, and only Alethia, had made the choice to leave. It was something good, she was going back to Athelstan, but the fact that she was leaving still left a bitter taste on her tongue.

Perhaps leaving hurt because she was afraid Athelstan had found someone else, that he was not willing to forgive her and the Northmen would chase her away. Perhaps, though it was good she was leaving, she could still allow herself to let it hurt.  

All alone in the forest, Alethia had too much time to think. So, she began running until her lungs burned and her feet ached. It made her feel a little better.

And then, she was all alone again.

Athelstan

He stepped into Ecbert’s villa with the same fear he’d felt when he’d come there the first time. Athelstan forced himself to remember that he was with Ragnar and Lagertha, with the Northmen. That he was safe. Still, he could not help the fact that his hand curled around the head of his axe a little more tightly as he passed under the gates. 

Ragnar looked around, taking in all details of the villa, while Lagertha kept her eyes trained on Ecbert and Aethelwulf, eyeing both with suspicion. She pushed herself in front of Athelstan, and he knew precisely why she did it.

“Thank you.” Athelstan said quietly. Lagertha barely nodded. Still, he ducked away from Ecbert, painfully careful to keep his distance from him. It did not work.

“Welcome here! I bid you all welcome.” Ecbert said, turning to Ragnar. “Earl Ragnar.”

“He is King now.” Athelstan smirked.

“King Ragnar Lothbrok. What happened to King Horik?” Ecbert asked.

“He met with a, uh… unfortunate accident.” Ragnar mumbled, trying, and failing, not to smile.

“Then we are truly equal.” Ecbert replied, clapping Ragnar on the back before he turned to the other Northmen. “It is my pleasure to feed you and prove the bounty of our Earth.”

“What has happened to our people who chose to fight for Mercia?” Lagertha asked impatiently.

Kwentrith stepped forward. “Unfortunately, the forces of my uncle and younger brother have prevailed. But if you, Ragnar Lothbrok, and you, Lagertha, would join with us I am sure of victory.”

“King Ragnar,” Ecbert began again, and Athelstan noticed that he had the decency to look embarassed. “I have given you land. Let me tell you the truth, as God is my witness, some of my nobles do not agree with what I have done. They are afraid. But, I am determined to honor our treaty. In return, some of you, at least must fight for Princess Kwenthrith.”

“That is not part of our original agreement, but… in good faith, and in hopes of creating a long and prosperous… friendship,I will fight. But I cannot speak for the others.” Ragnar said.

“I will fight, alongside these pagans. For Mercia.” Aethelwulf agreed as well.

“Bjorn?”

The young man nodded, and Athelstan thought of his… woman. Sometimes, Porunn’s willfulness reminded him of Alethia.

“All have agreed, except Lagertha.” Athelstan announced.

“Go and translate to Lagertha for me.” Ecbert commanded, and Athelstan noticed how easy it was for the king to slip back into commanding him. “In order to establish the settlement here in Wessex, I need the help of one of your leaders. A strong leader. Someone that my nobles will respect.” Ecbert said. Quickly, Athelstan translated.

“Why does he see me as a leader?” Lagertha asked. “Is he not a Christian?”

Ecbert thought before he answered her translated question. 

“Alethia showed me that women can be more than just dangerously stupid.” he said finally. “That woman could have torn down this villa, and it is good she is dead.”

Athelstan’s heart sunk. Still, he told Lagertha. The shieldmaiden seemed to consider for a moment, before she agreed with a nod.

“She agrees to remain in Wessex, to establish the settlement and to help farm the land.” Athelstan said.

“And you also must stay, Athelstan. You can speak for all sides. We need you. I need you.I trust you more than anyone else.”

“You killed Alethia.” Athelstan bit out. “You just admitted it.”

“I did not. I would not have. She managed that all by herself, running off into the woods to get torn apart by the wolves. We never even found a trace of her! As if she vanished.” Ecbert said, eyes narrow. The king’s fury was barely concealed and Athelstan guessed that, in her attempt to escape, Alethia had embarrassed him. It gave Athelstan some satisfaction. “I think you should stay.”

Did he have a choice? “Then I shall stay.” Athelstan agreed.

The feast was not for him. Athelstan slipped away when Kwentrith tried to play cat and mouse with Lagertha and Ecbert’s eyes began following his figure more than he was comfortable with. Instead, Athelstan walked into empty hallways and snuck away into the library, where he knew he would find solace amongst scrolls.

Amongst his work.

It was no use. The library was no longer a safe haven, instead reminding him of Alethia. There, at the table that was now coated in a layer of dust, he had taught her his languages. First English, then Norse. There, a few steps away, he had kissed her for the first and last time.

His hand reached up, fingers ghosting over his lips absentmindedly. Then, Athelstan pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes until small sparks began to fly behind his closed lids. Why was he always thinking like this? So destructively, so stupidly pointless in a way that only made everything hurt. 

Leaving the library was harder than it should have been, and yet, Athelstan dragged himself out of it, past the roman bath and back up the stairs into the courtyard. There, the faint sound of a Norse drinking song spilled outside, but the summer heat had cooled down into a considerably more bearable night.

Athelstan did not know why he walked to the church. He supposed that it was his nature, as a monk, to go there. It was easy to walk the path there, habit even, and even if the church doors were heavy, they swung open for him, almost invitingly.

He breathed in, smelling the incense. This was better. At least here, Alethia was not the only one haunting him. Athelstan walked towards the altar, staring at the gleaming golden cross. Then, suddenly, he heard footsteps and froze.

Behind him, a serving girl smiled timidly. 

“Who are you?” Athelstan asked. 

The girl smiled, and Athelstan noticed the small gap between her front teeth. She was young, maybe ten years old, and yet, a scar made a gap in her lip. It caused her to lisp when she spoke.

“I’m Miriam. Hagar sends me.”

“Hagar?” Athelstan asked.

“She fixed my lip. I could not eat properly before. She’s the healer in the woods. She said to bring the monk from the Norsemen to her when I see him. You are that monk, right? Athelstan?” the girl said, the words practically tumbling out. Perhaps, she was trying to make up for all the years she could not express herself properly.

“Yes, but who is she?” Athelstan asked.

“I don’t know. But she is nice, even if some of the servants call her a witch. It’s because she never comes for mass.”

Without asking him, Miriam grabbed his hand and pulled Athelstan out of the church. A witch in the woods sounded terrible, like something his mother would have warned him about, and yet, Athelstan followed Miriam.

“Hagar is Frankian.” Miriam continued. “She married some Mercian, but he’s dead, so she left Mercia and came here. Said she wanted to go home over the summer.”

“A Frankian in Mercia?” Athelstan asked. “How do you know she’s Frankian?”

“She talks funny. Her husband taught her English, at least that’s what she said. She misses him very much. His name is Athelstan. What is your name?”

“Athelstan.” he replied slowly. Miriam giggled at that, her laugh stopping her from spilling out more and more words. 

“That’s funny. I’ll tell her all about it when we get there.” Miriam said, pulling Athelstan past the gate and out into the dark. When he paused at the border of the forest, Miriam tugged his hand.

“Come on, the dark doesn’t have to scare you. Hagar can cure you from that, if you want. She can give you some medicine, or you can talk to her. Some of the soldiers go to her every week, and they always come back with red eyes. I think she allows them to cry.” Miriam prattled on, and Athelstan nodded dimly.

“Why does she want to meet me?” Athelstan asked.

“I don’t know.” Miriam shrugged. “But it’s very important. She made me promise not to tell anyone about my mission. She said I should treat it like an adventure, and it’s been very fun. I almost gave up because waiting for you was so boring. You should have shown up earlier! But she told me that you would probably be waiting in the church for something, so I followed you when you left the feast. I hope you’re the right person, because if you’re not, my adventure is ruined.”

“I hope I’m the right person as well, then.” Athelstan replied. When Miriam let go of his wrist, he looked down at her. She stood to his right, in the middle of the thicket. In the dark, Athelstan could see a thin trail leading into the woods, where it was so dark that there was almost no light.

“You have to go to her alone, she said.” Miriam explained. “It’s right behind the trees, her house. You can’t miss it, just stay on the trail. I’ll be in the villa in case you’re not the right person.”

“Alright.” Athelstan replied hesitantly. He should have refused, should have stayed in the church and prayed, repented, but it was too late for that now. The trail felt smooth under his feet, trampled down by countless others that had made their way to Hagar.

Athelstan knew the story of her namesake. Father Cuthbert had made him copy it seventeen times, and each time, Athelstan had refused to give her a happy expression in the decoration that accompanied her story. Eventually, Cuthbert had given up, and another monk had copied the story. Everyone in the monastery had always found it to be a good story, and Hagar a good example of a Christian woman.

Athelstan could not imagine how she could have felt happy, forced to have Abraham’s child, only for it to be taken from her again. 

He almost stumbled into the clearing in front of the hut before he could regain his footing. Athelstan looked around, noticing the stack of firewood, as well as a black cat that slunk past him, and into the hut. A flap had been built into the door of it, through which the cat disappeared. Athelstan stared with fascination. 

Inside, a strangely familiar laugh rung out, probably at Hagar finding the cat. Hesitantly, Athelstan stepped closer, reaching up to knock when Hagar began singing. He paused. 

Athelstan knew that melody. He knew it, and he knew the laugh. He knew Hagar, and yet, Hagar was not the woman’s name. Athelstan did not knock. Instead, he simply pulled the door open and froze in the doorway.

“Alethia.” he said. Athelstan exhaled, and suddenly, a weight disappeared from his shoulders.

“Athelstan.” she replied. The cat was in her arms, and Alethia set it down gently, staring at Athelstan with those accursed green eyes, before she broke out of her trance, crossing the space between them and hugging him. Her arms enveloped Athelstan, and God, she was warm. She was home.

Alethia buried her face in the crook of his neck, saying nothing at all. She did not need to. Athelstan returned the embrace, arms coiling around her waist as he held her close. His hand found her hair, gently stroking, and Athelstan could finally close his eyes. Alethia smelled of lavender soap and rain and herbs. It was right.

Home, finally.

Alethia

“I am sorry.” she whispered after a while. “I wanted to… I couldn’t… Ecbert would have found me, and I did not want to be a prisoner.”

Athelstan broke their embrace, and stepped back. He did not say anything for a while, and Alethia let Salem jump up onto the table to her left, scratching the cat’s ears. Athelstan took a few moments before he spoke, and Alethia let him. She could only smile, at him for returning, at Miriam for bringing him here. At God, for letting it happen.

“You needed to be free.” Athelstan replied. “I understand. I should have known he would…”

“We should have known. It is not your fault. I only… I wish I had been brave enough to face them all.” Alethia whispered.

“Had you tried, Ecbert would have chained you to a wall in his dungeons. Your mind being intact matters to me the most, far more than finding you in the villa, Alethia.”

At the sound of her name, Alethia shed her disguise like wings, and laughed. It was good to be free.

Her hand slipped into Athelstan’s with practiced ease. She noticed the new callouses.

“Have you been training?” She asked, her voice soft.

“I have. Ragnar insisted I steal you away.” Athelstan replied, smiling at her. “But… Ragnar does not know you. I know you. I will not steal you, I know that I could not.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear, fingers brushing her cheek. Alethia strung out his words into their full length, reveling in them. Athelstan did not want to steal her away, he wanted her to come by her own accord. How badly she wanted to kiss him. 

Alethia bit the inside of her cheek, throwing the thought away. She could not. She did not know if he still would want her to. Instead, she hugged him again, squeezing Athelstan until the blood drained from her arms and he huffed in her embrace. Alethia wondered if loving her hurt Athelstan.

“I have to return.” Athelstan said as Alethia let him go, and she wished he hadn’t.

“I understand.”

“Come with me, Alethia. What could Ecbert do to you now, apart from stare angrily?”

“He would chain me again, and you know it.” Alethia replied. “I understand that you… nothing can protect us from Ecbert here. I will stay in the forest, and I will go with you wherever you want, but not back to the villa.”

“He wants me to work as a translator.” Athelstan admitted. “We will be in England for a while so that the Vikings can establish their settlement here.”

“What of Mercia?” Alethia asked.

“Mercia will tear itself apart over and over, and Ecbert will send the Northmen to fix it.”

Alethia wanted to reply before Athelstan stopped her.

“Don’t fight, Alethia. Don’t do it. If you go to war, I am afraid you will not come back.”

“I won’t die.”

“That is not what I mean.” Athelstan said. The room was so quiet that Alethia swore she could hear him blink and the grass outside grow. “That is not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Then I will come with you.”

“That is where Ecbert will go.”

“It is not his villa, right? Not Winchester?” Alethia asked.

“No. It will be further south, closer to the coast. More to the East.”

“Will any of the Northmen come? Any that are important?”

“Lagertha will.” Athelstan replied. “And she will keep you from Ecbert if I tell her.”

“There is no need. I just think… here, I am nothing but Hagar. Even if I go by my own name, I will never be free in Winchester.”

“I understand.” Athelstan said.

“I know you do.”

Athelstan smiled, then. Alethia wished he would more often.

***

Alethia stayed away from Ecbert, Lagertha and Athelstan when the Northmen travelled to the new settlement. Up until today, Ecbert did not know that she was alive, and she had been living in the woods close to Winchester for two months. In a way, she prided herself on disappearing like that.

In a way, she was scared of how easy it was for her to slip into insignificance. Was it like that back home, in Winterfell? Was she already becoming a ghost, a footnote in the annals of Northern history? What had she done, really, apart from fighting in a few battles?

For the hundredth time that day, Alethia checked to see if the dagger in her boot and the knife in her belt were still in the right place. Somehow, she was still afraid that Ecbert had taken some force of soldiers with him to capture her. 

And then, when the king was finally away from Athelstan and Lagertha, Alethia felt her heart pounding in her throat. Would she remember any of the Norse Athelstan had taught her? Would Lagertha even be able to understand her through her accent, or would the shieldmaiden simply laugh? 

Beneath the hood of her cloak, she met Athelstan’s eyes, and the monk directed Lagertha further away from Ecbert, where they were hidden from sight. Alethia followed them, slipping away.

As soon as she rounded the corner, she pulled her hood down and smiled. Lagertha was almost forgotten, secondary as Alethia pulled Athelstan into a hug.

“Athelstan.”

“Alethia.” Athelstan replied, continuing in Norse. “Lagertha, this is Alethia, the woman I told you about.”

Lagertha looked her up and down, and Alethia felt as if she was reading her soul like a book, before she smiled with the warmth of an early summer evening, and embraced Alethia.

“It is good to meet you. Athelstan has told me much about you.” She said. Then, Lagertha’s eyes narrowed. “But why did you not come to Kattegat with us? Athelstan tells me that Ecbert would have chained you.”

“It is true.” Alethia said. Her head was already spinning, too much time having passed since she practiced Norse. She was finding it difficult to find the right words. “I went North instead of South, so that I could be free. I stayed with a few farmers. I returned for the summer, when the Northmen would come to raid.”

“So you are a farmer?” Lagertha asked.

“A healer, and a shieldmaiden. Though neither happened by choice.”

“But more by fate.” Lagertha finished. “I understand. I should like to spar with you.”

Alethia looked down, twiddling her hands. “I have not practiced in a year. I am quite rusty.”

“No matter.” Lagertha said, before looking to Athelstan. “Ragnar will hear an earful from me. ‘As fickle as the moon’, rather fitting for him, but not for him to say.”

Alethia laughed before she could catch herself. For a moment, she worried that Lagertha would be angry at her, but then, the other woman smiled too.

She leaned to Athelstan, only half-whispering. “You chose well, my friend.”

Athelstan blushed, a mirror image of Alethia. He cleared his throat before he spoke again.

“Will you face Ecbert?”

“Don’t you want to see his face when he realises I am still alive?”

“What if he makes you a prisoner?” Lagertha interjected. “I am already willing to vouch for you, and Ragnar will too, but that may very well not be enough.”

“He can try.” Alethia said. “I have put crowns on women’s heads. Let him attempt to chain me again.”

And so, she pulled the hood back up over her face, shadowing Lagertha and Athelstan as the shieldmaiden prepared herself for the sacrifice. Ecbert stood closeby, not sparing her another glance. Alethia was glad for his arrogance, oozing off of him in waves today like always. If he thought her a peasant, she would let him.

All the better for her.

During the sacrifice, Alethia stood close to Athelstan, her hand finding his in the crowd. He squeezed it in reassurance.

“You did well today. Your Norse has remained strong, but we need to work on your grammar and vocabulary.” Athelstan whispered. 

“How good is it really, then?” Alethia jabbed. 

“It has… worsened.” Athelstan said.

“You can be blunt with me.”

“It has become quite bad. Lagertha is admirable for her control over her facial features.”

“Thanks.” Alethia snorted. 

“I was joking.”

“I doubt that.”

“I was!” Athelstan said. “You are a good student. I did not expect anything less.”

“A good student?” Alethia asked with a smirk.

“And an even better warrior.”

Alethia looked to Lagertha, who drew two stripes of blood down her throat calmly. She exuded such confidence, such strength, that it almost made Alethia shiver.

“She is magnificent.” Alethia whispered.

“So are you.” Athelstan replied. Alethia froze, turning to Athelstan abruptly. 

“I…”

“I’m sorry.” Athelstan said immediately. 

“No, don’t be.” Alethia replied. “I was just not… expecting that.”

“I was telling the truth.” He reiterated. “You are magnificent. That is why King Ecbert was so afraid of you.”

“Afraid?” Alethia asked with a laugh. “He is the king of Wessex, and he will be king of England one day.”

“And he was afraid that you were going to tear down his kingdom. You could have. You should.”

“Oh?”

“I am beginning to grow sick of his little smirks.” Athelstan said. This time, Alethia had to laugh out loud. A few heads turned, and Athelstan turned to her, half-obscuring her from view. 

“I would like to reiterate former comments and tell you that, for you, I would commit regicide. Without question.” Alethia replied.

“Why?”

“I am willing to do just about anything to keep you safe.” Alethia said. “Remember that, Athelstan.”

“I never forget anything about you.”

Alethia felt as if she could not breathe.

“You are the only thing that is holding me in this world.” she whispered. Blood ran into the earth, soaking the ground on which she stood. In that moment, the sky could have fallen on their heads, and Alethia would have kept looking at Athelstan.

“I never should have run. I was willing to do anything to get back to you, but it was not enough. I should have… I don’t know. I should have swam across the sea for you. I know I could have. I apologize.” Alethia said.

“You are here.” Athelstan replied. He had turned his back to the sacrifice, only looking at her. “You are here, and that is all that matters.”

She wished she had the courage to do more than feel tears sting in her eyes. 

***

Ecbert only recognized her days later, when all the Northmen have returned to the villa to celebrate. Alethia stood in the courtyard, watching from her usual spot as the warriors streamed inside. She thought she recognized Ragnar, talking to Athelstan like they were brothers. Lagertha gave her a small smile as she slipped inside, accompanied by her shieldmaidens. Then, there were Floki and Rollo, presumably. Alethia was confused to not see Torstein with them. Had he not raided this year?

The first of the Saxons that noticed her was not Ecbert, but Aethelwulf. The prince had developed deep shadows under his eyes in her absence, looking as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When he saw her, he made to point and shout, but Alethia raised a finger to her lips, and, surprisingly, Aethelwulf did not rat her out immediately. Instead, he slipped away from his soldiers, crossing his arms as he approached her.

“We could have used you out there, in Mercia.” Aethelwulf said. 

“But then again, your father would have chained me to a wall to keep me compliant. And anyway, I would not have come back the same.”

“I know. You fight like a demon.” Aethelwulf replied. “I have never met anyone, neither Northman nor Saxon. Do you know what the Mercians call you?”

“What? Is it something silly?” Alethia asked, her tone sharp.

“Demon of death. I saw you that time we fought the Northmen with the Northumbrians, covered in blood. I saw the corpse of the man whose throat you tore out with your bare teeth. I saw you do it, and I think my father had good reason to try and chain you.”

“How long did you search for me?” Alethia continued.

“Three moons.”

“How silly.”

“And why is that?”

“I was less than a day’s ride away. The only thing I did to throw you off was walk North, and upstream. Was that really enough?”

“We expected you to follow… your monk.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?” Aethelwulf asked.

“Kill your father, perhaps.” Alethia replied. The prince’s hand dropped to the grip of his sword. “Don’t worry, I don’t have my sword anymore. But, you know, I have this weird feeling that you respect me. Why is that?”

“Because I do.” Aethelwulf admitted.

“You do?”

“You do not try to hide the monster you are. My father is a liar, and at the very least, you are honest about yourself. And you are a warrior, one that does not take pleasure in killing. Like a Christian should.”

Alethia smirked cruelly. She felt the bile rise in the back of her throat at being called a monster. “Oh? Do you take pleasure in killing, Prince Aethelwulf? Go on then, run to the church and give yourself some lashes. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Why should I?”

Alethia leaned forward. “I have a king to kill.”

Aethelwulf ran after her as she made for the villa, and Alethia could not help but laugh dryly. “Oh my fucking God! I was joking! I don’t care about Ecbert enough for that. And, for what it’s worth, the people of Wessex are good if they happen to live outside this villa. Ecbert is keeping them safe. Go, atone for your sins, or whatever it is you do in your free time.”

“Why the fuck would you joke about that?” Aethelwulf snarled. 

“Why are you so cruel? Why do you think your wife does not love you?” Alethia replied, hurling insults back at the Prince. She was glad they were alone in the courtyard, and that no one else could see the tears beginning to fall down her face. “You are so… why? I am twenty! Twenty! I took my first life when I was fifteen! I still think about that man, every single day! I am not a monster! Why does everyone think I am? I wish… I thought you’d understand! You of all people, used by your father to be nothing more than a weapon! Stop respecting me for the killer you say I am and see me as the person I am. I promise you, I will do the same for you.”

Aethelwulf stared at her, the hurt written across his face as Alethia said aloud what he knew to be true about his father. 

“I wish… oh, I don’t fucking know. What does it matter?” Alethia sighed, dropping her hands at her sides. “I’m going inside, gonna scare your father shitless. Want to see?”

Aethelwulf considered for a moment. “You are impossible. Thank you.”

“Here.” Alethia said, handing Aethelwulf Heahmund’s dagger. “I stole this from some priest called Heahmund. Feel kind of bad about it. He’s a good guy, so if he ever comes to court… give it back to him from me.”

“You could return it to him.” Aethelwulf replied.

“Fuck no. I’m leaving England, and I am not coming back.”

“You don’t believe that.” 

“Take the fucking dagger before I stick you with it.” Alethia hissed. Aethelwulf laughed, and the shadows under his eyes seemed a little lighter.

Athelstan

Of all people, Athelstan had not expected Alethia to join the feast together with Prince Aethelwulf. Ragnar looked up, spotting the prince before he could and clicking his tongue in distaste. 

“Cannot stand that man.” he mumbled. “But his new mistress looks quite rough for an English lady.”

Athelstan felt his jaw tighten. “That is not Aethelwulf’s mistress. She is not anyone’s mistress.”

Ragnar’s eyes snapped up, suddenly examining Alethia much more closely. “And why do you care so much about her?”

Then, his friend’s eyes widened. With the scars and her angry eyes, it was not hard to guess who this strange woman amongst Saxons was. 

“Is that-” Ragnar began. 

“Alethia!” Kwentrith called out, standing with a pitcher of wine in one hand and a cup in the other. She looked dangerously close to falling over. Immediately, Athelstan’s eyes went to Ecbert. 

The king looked visibly pallid. Still, he forced himself to smile. “Look at what my son dragged inside!”

“King Ecbert. What a pleasure.” Alethia replied, her voice so dry that Ragnar had to laugh.

“Some woman you chose. She looks like she’s about to castrate King Ecbert.”

“She might.” Athelstan replied honestly. “He tried to kill her last summer. It is the reason she could not come with us.”

“Truly? If he wanted to kill her, then she must be quite dangerous.” Ragnar said. Suddenly, there was an interested glint in his eyes.

“That is what I am always telling you.” Athelstan replied calmly. “And you never quite seemed to believe me.”

“I did not think your type to be the dangerous sort of woman.” Ragnar shrugged.

“What did you think it was?”

“Someone softer.”

Alethia looked over to Athelstan with an unsure smile, and he gave her an encouraging nod. Perhaps it would have been smart to shake his head, to try and stop her, but Athelstan wanted her to rain hellfire on Ecbert. And still, he thought that Alethia was the sort of soft that Ragnar could not see. For all his genius, Athelstan’s friend did not understand that people were just many facets of one thing.

Next to him, Ragnar gasped through his teeth.

“Her face is split in half.” he observed. “Interesting.”

“Spit it out.” Athelstan said, never taking his eyes off of Alethia. She was looking at Ecbert as if he was her prey. 

“Why did she choose you?” Ragnar asked. “She looks like she has seen more battles than Rollo, Lagertha and I combined. No offense, but you do not have the look of a warrior.”

“She is tired of war.”

“Why?”

“You want to return to the farm.” Athelstan said, his voice a sharp hiss. “I see it in your eyes. Do not pretend otherwise. She is the same, but her farm is even more unreachable than yours.”

Ragnar fell silent. 

Alethia’s voice cut through the great hall of Winchester like a sword drew blood. “You owe me, King Ecbert.”

The sounds of the feast quieted as the Saxon heads turned first, and then, at the silence, the Northern ones did too.

“And what would that be? What would you demand?” Ecbert asked, his tone cold. His eyes were void of any emotion, apart from an icy anger that sent a chill down Athelstan’s spine.

Alethia climbed the stairs towards Ecbert, but before she could reach him, two guards stopped her, crossing their spears. Still, even from where he stood, Athelstan could see the way she stared Ecbert down. It was a wonder the king could still keep himself on his feet.

“You tried to take my freedom.”

“You swore to serve me.”

“And the reason for it disappeared before I could fulfill my vow. You know that.”

“What is she talking about?” Ragnar asked.

“She lost her child.” Athelstan whispered. Ragnar grimaced, jaw suddenly set.

“She is determined.” He praised.

“Alethia would be dead were she not.” Athelstan said, his tone simple as it should have been for all those years he’d been a monk. Was he still? When he looked at Alethia, Athelstan could not imagine being a man of God any longer, only hers.

“I will leave England.” Alethia said. Her hands were shaking, but Athelstan thought that he was the only one who noticed. “And you will not stop me. If you do…”

“If I do?” Ecbert challenged.

“Sic semper tyrannis. I will tear down this villa, and the sky that hangs above Wessex with it.”

Ecbert laughed, but Alethia simply stared at him, and the King quieted again. Athelstan swore that there was a glint of fear in his eyes. 

No longer interested, the guests in attendance turned away, resuming their chatter. Alethia’s shoulders dropped as she stepped away from the guards, away from the king, and her test was finally over.

Athelstan wanted to comfort her. To hold her.

Would she still want him to? So much time had passed, and she could have any man… As Alethia approached the table, he quickly forced a smile on his face. She looked confused as her gaze landed on him, but she shook it quickly. 

With Alethia, Lagertha followed, and soon thereafter, Floki and Rollo slipped onto the bench as well. The Northmen looked at each other, as if they needed to decide upon what to ask Alethia, before Lagertha smiled.

“Athelstan is lucky to have a friend like you.” She said, and Floki giggled.

“Friends. The poor priest.” He laughed. Athelstan wanted him to shut up, but he was Floki, and never would.

“Do you mean to tell me the two of you have never fucked?” Rollo asked, blunt in the way only he could be. Athelstan felt heat rise to his cheeks immediately. 

“Quite the contrary. We fucked in the church.” Alethia said, her tone flat. Everyone but Rollo got the joke, and even so, Athelstan tried to stop blushing even more. The suggestion was… blasphemy at best.

“So you are not a Christian?” Floki asked.

“I don’t really know.” Alethia admitted. “I suppose I’ll see when I’m old and afraid.”

Floki clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he still side-eyed Athelstan. “Better to be godless than a priest.”

“Of course.” Athelstan bit back. Ragnar was staring at Alethia, eyes flitting between her and Lagertha, and suddenly, Athelstan felt his hands ball to fists. He gave Ragnar a sharp look, one at which Ragnar’s eyes widened, before his mouth pulled into a smirk. The same smirk did not disappear for the rest of the night.

Alethia left with a soft touch to Athelstan’s shoulder.

“I’ll go home for the night.” She said, her eyes glancing over to Ecbert.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Athelstan asked.

“He has no idea where it is, and I do believe Prince Aethelwulf is on my side.”

“Alright. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight Athelstan.”

Alethia smiled back at him as she slipped out of the great hall, and as soon as she was gone, Floki, Rollo, Lagertha and Ragnar all turned on him.

“What do you mean, you haven’t even fucked?” Ragnar blurted out. Athelstan shifted under his gaze, but he knew that Ragnar had him pinned.

“Well…”

“He is a bloody priest. Only a priest would wait so long with a woman like that.” Rollo said.

“A woman like what?” Lagertha asked.

“A shieldmaiden. I saw her, last year, as she tore out a soldier’s throat when she had no sword, no dagger, no shield.” Rollo explained. 

“Really? What is she doing giving you heart eyes, priest?” Floki asked.

“I don’t… know? But, she did choose me. Though I do not know if she is giving me ‘heart eyes’ as you say, Floki.”

Ragnar snorted. “Are you blind?”

“Give him a break.” Lagertha said, and Athelstan was glad for it. Until he saw her give him that look.

“I think I understand her better than you men.” Lagertha continued. “She needs to be wooed. No doubt she could seduce our dear Athelstan… but where is the fun in that?”

“To woo a shieldmaiden.” Ragnar mused. “Good luck with that, Athelstan.”

“It is not luck he needs. Only courage.” Lagertha said. “Go on, Athelstan. Find her.”

“I am a monk.” Athelstan pressed out. He knew it was a lie. It had been a long time since he had been a monk, and even longer since he had been a true man of God.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

ch. 4 — timbran (to build)

summary: the arrival of princess kwentrith only brings chaos

notes: cw for graphic violence, drinking

tagged: @levithestripper, @demon-of-the-ancient-world

series masterlist | general masterlist | ao3

Alethia

The arrival of Princess Kwentrith was of such staged grandeur that Alethia almost had to laugh. She knew her kind of nobility - the one that grasped for power where it was not the right place to do so. When she looked at Kwentrith, she saw a flicker of madness.

Alethia was not sure what to think of it.

Still, she smiled at the other woman courteously as she joined King Ecbert for dinner. Seated next to Athelstan, Alethia knew she was only there because king Ecbert planned to soon make use of her. Threats surrounded Wessex, and Ecbert had already poked holes into her when it came to strategies. 

The king seemed to like what she said, but Alethia was always careful not to say too much. He knew that she had lost her child, and was not happy with it - it gave him one less thing to control over her.

“A monk amongst Northmen.” Kwenrith began, amused. “How interesting.”

The princess leaned towards Athelstan, smirking at him with a lazy smile. Alethia grabbed her knife a little tighter, reminding herself that this Kwentrith was seeking allies in every opportunity.

“Indeed.” Athelstan replied. “I learned a great deal.”

“I hear Northmen do not believe in marital fidelity.” Kwentrith continued, and Alethia watched as Athelstan grew more and more flustered. The Mercian princess did not seem to care. “It seems much more natural, no?”

“I do not know.” Athelstan replied curtly.

“But isn’t it?” 

“Their way of life is simply different.” Athelstan forced out, and Kwentrith rolled her eyes.

“How boring.” she said, and Alethia thought the discussion would end there. Instead, the princess’ eyes landed on her. 

“And you are?”

“Alethia Stahl. The woman that arrived in Wessex one day?” Alethia suggested.

“Arrived? From where?”

“I do not remember.” Alethia replied smoothly. “Many details of my home remain foggy to me until now.”

“But the English tongue is not your own.” Kwentrith noted. Alethia looked to Athelstan, who smiled in reassurance. She hoped her accent was not too strong.

“No.” Alethia admitted. “I have been learning from Athelstan.”

Kwentrith glanced back to him, and Alethia forced herself to breathe. Why was this princess so interested in Athelstan? She was staring at him like a piece of meat.

“How do they love where you are from?” Kwentrith asked in a sardonic tone. The bishop at the table cleared his throat, but Alethia ignored his pretentious holiness.

“We choose whom we love, and we can love whoever we choose, as long as they are old enough for that love.” Alethia explained curtly. Kwentrith smirked.

“What does that mean?” she inquired, her hands traveling towards Alethia’s. She drew her fingers back, forcing a smile onto her face.

“That I bed whomever I please.” Alethia replied. The bishop choked, and she thought she heard King Ecbert chuckle. “But I must disappoint you, princess. I am a widow.”

“God, how old are you?” Kwentrith continued.

“Eighteen.” Alethia said calmly. “But I have the wisdom to not throw myself into reckless danger.”

“That is debatable.” Athelstan mumbled next to her, and Alethia elbowed him playfully. She hated that Ecbert noticed the movement.

“I was shocked to hear of the death of your brother.” Ecbert said quickly, redirecting the attention of the restless princess.

“Don't worry about my brother.” Kwentrith replied. “Did you know that the Pope

has already made him a Saint? Saint Kenelm! Apparently, he lived an exemplary life!”

“Do you mean to say that he was not altogether virtuous?” Ecbert asked carefully.

“Well, he raped me when I was about 12, so you must make up your own mind.” Kwentrith said, too casually if anything. There was another choking noise from the bishop, and Alethia suddenly understood the madness in the eyes of the Mercian. She remembered when it had been reflected in her own.

A woman’s grief, a woman’s pain.

“I am sorry, princess.” Alethia said. “What was done to you was entirely and utterly wrong. If there is a hell, I would hope your brother burns in it.”

“Thank you.” Kwentrith said. “I do not think anyone has ever apologized to me for what happened. Yet, I tell so many people! They all do not seem to care!”

Kwentrith laughed again, and Alethia looked to Athelstan worriedly. She let the evening conversation trickle on for a bit longer, and when there was a small pause, Alethia took her chance.

“I am quite tired. This evening has been so eventful. If I may be excused, I wish you all well for the negotiations.”

“Of course, Alethia. You may go.” Aethelwulf said, before his father could speak. He was trying to get her to leave, and Alethia was glad for it.

“Me as well.” Athelstan said quickly, getting up too. In her mind, Alethia cursed him a bit. Could he not try to make them look a little less like they were leaving to fuck?

As soon as they were out of the room, Alethia turned to Athelstan.

“I don’t like the way she looks at you.” she said.

“Why?” Athelstan asked, walking next to her quietly.

“Because… do you really not know?”

“No… what is it?” Athelstan continued.

“She wants to fuck you. That’s why she was asking about the Northmen.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”  Alethia said, exasperated.

“Well… alright. I won’t.” Athelstan said slowly. “There’s a whole vow I am keeping to, after all.”

“Good.”  Alethia replied.

“Does it bother you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.” Athelstan observed.

Alethia hated that he was right. She shouldn’t care, really. Why did she care? “It’s disrespectful.”

“To who?” Athelstan replied. “She’s just a little insane.”

“First of all, so am I. Respect that please. Second of all, I find it disrespectful. To your… vow.”

“Alright.” Athelstan said slowly, staring at Alethia with confusion. “I won’t sleep with her, just like before.”

“Please, stay away from her.” Alethia sighed tiredly. Perhaps it was fatigue that was driving her crazy like this. Perhaps it was simply the fact that Athelstan was her only friend in the whole entire world. 

The weight of being alone made Alethia feel like something was crushing her soul.

“Alethia?”

Athelstan’s voice brought her back to reality.

“Goodnight Athelstan.” She mumbled, turning away already. All she wanted was to bury her face in her pillow and sleep. Hopefully for a long time.

Behind her, Athelstan sighed in defeat. Alethia wanted to run to him and apologize. Instead, she went to bed.

The next morning, she ate her breakfast alone.

Athelstan

Whenever he thought he understood Alethia, she wiggled out of his grasp, changing again. It was as if she was not willing to be understood.

As if she wanted to hide herself from the world by always changing, always becoming someone else. The things that did not change about her were few. 

Her scars, her quiet smiles, her teasing jokes. Her will to learn, her eagerness to understand. That certain something in her eyes he still could not place. 

The territorial understanding of him, that was new. Athelstan thought he understood. He did not like her speaking with Prince Aethelwulf or King Ecbert either. It made sense though - they were both outsiders here, her even more than he.

Still, it hurt that she was distant after the day of Kwentrith’s arrival.

It took Athelstan a week to gather up the courage to ask her about it.

“Why does her being here bother you so much?” Athelstan asked towards the end of one of their lessons. Alethia was still struggling to understand the grammar of the Norse tongue, and Athelstan could not blame her. She mixed it up with English grammar quite often, and that was how he could tell she’d learned uite a few languages in her time.

“A Mercian princess seeking an army to win a civil war? As a woman? This means war.” Alethia replied gloomily.

“I thought you would support her claim.” Athelstan said carefully.

“I do. But the Mercians will never accept her as their ruler, not if she is a woman. Her life will not end well, and her legacy pulled through the dirt for generations to come. And I do not wish to fight in a war that is not my own. Why should I?”

“You serve the king, so you must fight for him. That is simply how it works.” Athelstan shrugged.

“Will you?”

He did not have an answer for her.

“I’ve had my share of war.” Alethia replied simply. Her green eyes looked everywhere but at him, and he knew she had gone to another place in her mind.

Athelstan returned the scrolls to their proper places in the shelves, watching as Alethia did not move from her seat. Suddenly, he noticed that she had begun to braid her hair more tightly ever since Kwentrith arrived, making it form a crown around her head. What was more, she hadn’t worn a dress since that dinner, and a knife was secured in her boot.

She truly was preparing for war, then.

Still, Alethia stuck to Athelstan like a shadow as he climbed the stairs to the main hall of the villa. 

“I am sorry for the way I’ve been treating you.” She said suddenly. “It isn’t right.”

“It’s alright.” Athelstan replied.

“No it’s not. It won’t happen again.” Alethia promised. Athelstan smiled softly. The words were kind, and had not been spoken to him often enough in his life. He reminded himself that this was what he was supposed to hear sometimes.

“Do you need me to forgive you?” He teased carefully.

“Yes, please.” Alethia replied snarkily, a smile reappearing on her face.

“Then, my lady, you are forgiven.”

“I am not a lady.” Alethia laughed.

“Oh Alethia. I knew you were one the moment you stepped foot into the courtyard.” Athelstan sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… the way you act. You set boundaries some of us could not afford to set.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose I’ve always been a bit stubborn.”

Athelstan laughed. “A little?”

“Maybe a bit more than a little. Is it very bad?” Alethia asked.

“No, I like it. You know who you are and you aren’t afraid to say it.” Athelstan replied.

Alethia smiled at him, her ears turning a little red from his words. The way she looked at him made his stomach flutter uncomfortably. 

“Thank God for my stubbornness then.” She mumbled. As the two of them rounded the corner into the Great Hall, Athelstan froze. Someone was speaking Norse, just a few paces away.

Alethia had noticed it too, and it did not take Athelstan long to recognize the voice.

“Torstein?” He asked, and the Viking man turned around, a wide smile appearing on his face.

“Priest! ” He called loudly. Athelstan could feel Alethia tense behind him, her hand wandering towards her sword.

“And who are you, shieldmaiden? ” Torstein continued, speaking to her. Looking at Alethia, Athelstan knew she had understood Torstein.

“Good job.” He praised, and Alethia blushed.

“She is not a Viking woman. ” Athelstan replied. 

“What a pity. ” Torstein laughed, and Athelstan felt his hands ball into fists before he could stop the action. 

“Has Ragnar returned, then? ” Athelstan asked, and Torstein nodded.

“He sent me as an envoy… ” Torstein began, before he trailed off, staring at Alethia again. “ So, you and that woman, priest? ”

“She is my student. ” Athelstan replied calmly. “Are you still following, Alethia?”

“I am trying. I think he thinks we are together.” Alethia said. “Why does everyone seem to think that?”

Athelstan could only shrug in response.

“Torstein, what is your purpose here? ” Athelstan asked again, but before the Norseman could reply, King Ecbert strolled into the Great Hall, his son in tow.

“Athelstan, translate.” King Ecbert said, turning to Torstein. Next to Athelstan, Alethia snorted quietly.

“Earl Ragnar, Earl Ingstad and King Horik wish to negotiate terms. ” Torstein said.

Athelstan translated his words, wondering who Earl Ingstad was. He had not heard of this ruler before.

“We should kill him and be done with it.” Aethelwulf said angrily. “These heathens should not touch our ground, much less raid on it.”

“Patience, my son.” Ecbert replied. Torstein looked between them nervously, and next to Athelstan, Alethia was almost holding her breath. “We shall not allow them to raid again. Athelstan, we will keep this Viking as a hostage while my son will go and negotiate with the Northmen.”

“Torstein, you must remain here while Prince Aethelwulf delivers the king’s terms to Earl Ragnar. ” Athelstan explained.

“How will the Northmen take your word seriously?” Alethia asked. “For all they know, Torstein may as well be dead.”

King Ecbert pulled something from his pocket, and Athelstan’s eyes widened.

“My arm ring!” He exclaimed. Had King Ecbert truly had it all this time?

“What is that?” Alethia asked quietly.

“It is a token of loyalty, to Ragnar. I thought I’d lost it, but evidently…” Athelstan replied.

Alethia said something in her tongue, and from her tone, it was evident she was cussing out King Ecbert in a way that she’d be able to keep her head.

“ Smart. ” Athelstan said in Norse. Alethia smirked. Athelstan really needed to learn her tongue. He could not imagine what it was like to not be able to speak your mother tongue for years on end. Living in Kattegat like that had been difficult enough, and Ragnar had made an effort to learn the language.

God, he would learn three languages for her. Alethia was so lonely sometimes, and Athelstan knew exactly how difficult that could be. If he could help her ward it off, he would. She was his friend, after all. 

In truth, Athelstan was not so sure all the time. She made him so nervous, so afraid at times. That was not the way friends were supposed to make you feel, right?

Athelstan could barely concentrate on his job as he thought about it, Torstein’s jabs not making the situation any better. He almost breathed with relief as it was done and Alethia disappeared towards the roman bath. 

“I want to go swimming.” She said, squeezing his arms gently. “Tell me if you need me to kill anyone for you.”

“What gave you the impression?” Athelstan replied lightly.

“You seemed stressed.” She shrugged.

“King Ecbert can be… intense.”

“Regicide. Haven’t had that one so far.” Alethia laughed. Athelstan looked around nervously.

“That’s treason.”

“Don’t worry. I’d only do it for you.” Alethia joked. Then, her expression grew more serious. “If someone bothered you, you’d tell me, right? I don’t know about regicide, but I’d do a lot to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why?”

“You’re my friend, Athelstan.” Alethia replied. “That’s what friends do.”

Athelstan shouldn’t have been disappointed at that, and yet, he was.

Alethia

The day was cold when Ecbert sent for her, a servant rousing her from her sleep and dragging Alethia to the library. She was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, disgruntled to be woken this early on a Saturday when she heard Athelstan’s voice and smiled.

“ Caesar had sent his cavalry a little in advance, and was following with the rest of his forces. The battlefront was not formed according to rules of military theory, but as necessitated by the emergency and the sloping ground of the hillside. The legions were facing different ways and fighting different actions. The 9th and 10th legions were on the left,and discharged a volley of spears at the Atrebates." Athelstan translated, his finger brushing over the old scroll when Alethia slipped into the room. He looked up at her for a moment, giving Alethia a small smile.

“Yes. Always thinking, always using the terrain. Go on.” Ecbert mumbled, and Athelstan looked back down at the document.

"At the same time, the Roman cavalry and light-armed troops, seeming to appear from nowhere-"

“Ah! But he knew where. They were in here.” Ecbert interrupted. “And what of his person? What of he himself?”

"As the situation was critical, Caesar moved to the front of the line, addressed each centurion by name...And shouted encouragement to...The fragment ends here.”

“We can imagine how it really ends. We must do battle with Ragnar

Lothbrok and his allies.” Ecbert finished. “Alethia, what of your grandeur of knowledge.”

“Well, Caesar was smart to use the terrain. That’s why he’s such a decorated strategist. The terrain around the villa is not suited perfectly to the plan though. In this battle, Caesar’s enemy was at the bottom of a valley, surrounded by hills from all sides. This is not the case here.” Alethia pointed out, grabbing a map of the surroundings of the villa. She wished there was a physical map at hand.

“The villa was built atop a hill by the Romans. They considered the terrain when they did. The Northmen will be attacking from the shores, which are South. They will fight an uphill battle. Therefore, it would be smart to send the archers out first, attack them with a barrage of arrows before they can form their shieldwall.” Alethia explained. “They cannot march in that formation, so that is where they are most vulnerable.”

“I like that.” Ecbert said. “Quite a bit.”

“Well,” Alethia continued. “What we could also do is send the soldiers in waves. The Northmen may underestimate the forces the first few times, and then, if we keep sending in troops, it’ll be impossible to estimate the true size of the army.”

She shuddered involuntarily, remembering when Ramsay Bolton had used that strategy on her. “It will be difficult to surround them as Caesar did, but your men know the land. If they can figure something out, then it will be even easier to defeat them.”

“I cannot believe that Ragnar does not want to negotiate. I know him too well. He's looking for land, farming land, for his people.” Athelstan argued. Alethia suddenly felt bad, remembering that those Northmen she was helping to kill were his friends. Selfishly, Alethia also did not want to imagine how lonely she would be once Athelstan was reunited with them. She could not imagine he’d be spending much more time with her, then. 

After all, Alethia knew Old English with some sufficiency now.

“His men killed all of my envoys, sparing only my son, by which they sent me a simple but clear message.” Ecbert replied calmly.

“Why not send me to speak to him?” Athelstan suggested. Alethia knew Ecbert’s true answer. Athelstan was a hostage. She could not bring herself to tell him that.

“You are already too dear to me, and too important. Which is why, I think, they would kill you.” Ecbert lied smoothly.

“When? When will you attack?” Alethia asked.

“As soon as King Aelle returns with his warriors.” Ecbert replied, before turning to Athelstan. “I'm sure you would prefer that Earl Ragnar and I made peace. Perhaps then you could be at peace with yourself.”

Athelstan looked to the scrolls, not answering King Ecbert. Alethia made to help him clear his things, but King Ecbert stopped her.

“You will lead the attack of my men together with my son.” He said.

“I do not think your son or King Aelle would appreciate that very much.” Alethia said. “They are pious men, after all.”

“A pity I am well aware of.” Ecbert replied. “But you will do so regardlessly. Today, in the courtyard, my son will assess your fighting skills.”

And while Alethia did not want to fight a battle, she did like the idea of wiping Prince Aethelwulf’s awfully arrogant expression off his face in the yard.

She nodded.

“Will Athelstan be there?”

“Do you wish it?” Ecbert asked, a smile playing on his face.

“I do not care.” Alethia replied. “But if I am to put myself in danger, I would like one sane opinion to assess the risk of it. Athelstan has seen your men and the Northmen fight. It would be good to see what he thinks of my own capabilities.”

In the yard, Alethia secured her leather armor with one last pull at the strings holding it together. Prince Aethelwulf stared at her with narrowed eyes, twirling his sword in his hand. Alethia held her own loosely, letting it point to the ground.

She’d spent hours arguing with the blacksmith to improve the balance, and thanks to her tenacity, it was almost perfect now.

Soldiers were strolling around the yard, pretending to prepare themselves for battle, but their stares were quite obvious. Athelstan had taken his place next to King Ecbert, Princess Kwentrith whispering something into the King’s ear as Alethia readied herself to spar with the Prince.

He was good, supposedly. 

Alethia had learnt to fight in Westeros, in a time that, compared to ninth century England, was far more modern. She hoped that it would be enough, and that she would not utterly embarrass herself in front of the entirety of the court.

She wasn’t sure if her pride as a woman allowed it.

But when the spar began, intuition took over, and Alethia’s instincts emptied her head of any doubts. Athelstan was alright, a strong fighter when he needed to be, but Aethelwulf was his father’s soldier.

His fighting style was harsh, aggressive, and Alethia reveled in it. He fought with honor.

She did not.

Alethia was not herself when she fought. She felt nothing as she parried the prince’s blows and made him dance around the yard. Nothing at all.

She wondered if, perhaps, that would change should she kill the Prince. In the blink of an eye, her blade was at his throat. All she had to do was cut.

“Yield.”

Alethia stepped back. Ecbert’s sarcastic clapping brought her back to reality. And still, she could not breathe. She could barely hear what Ecbert was saying, only that she needed to go.

There was a pain in her stomach, there where her child should have grown to be born. It was always there when Alethia had difficulties with her emotions. No one knew of it, not even Athelstan.

She did not want to burden him even more than she already did. She could not meet his eyes, not even when the riders prepared themselves for battle.

Athelstan kept his distance in turn. The palpable feeling of guilt hung between them, heavy in the air as in Alethia’s limbs. How could she fight again?

And then, the battle. Alethia swore it was all condensed into one deep breath, all the mud, all the blood, all the death. The blinding pain as a sword sliced her shoulder open, hot blood drowning in her armor.

A Northman under her hands, under her claws, dead before she knew it. Alethia had lost her sword, she realized numbly, somewhere among the masses. Where was her sword?

Could she still kill without it? Would she live without it?

Alethia kept on fighting, ducking out of the way of swords and picking up the weapons of fallen soldiers. She kept going, always driving forward. Prince Aethelwulf was somewhere closeby, slaughtering almost as much as she. He was enjoying himself.

When it was over, Alethia watched the Vikings retreat. She had led King Ecbert’s troops well, but still, some of them had died under her command. They dirtied her soul.

“You fought well today.” Aethelwulf told her, patting Alethia’s injured shoulder. It was not on purpose, still, a hiss of pain escaped her. She nodded, sitting down in the battlefield. There, closeby, lied a brown-haired Northman with scars similar to her own.

“ Does Odin come for your souls now? ” she asked numbly.

“ Ours, shieldmaiden. ” the man rasped.

“ I am no Northman. ” Alethia replied.

“ You are not Saxon. ”

“ No. ” 

The man only stared at her with confusion. Alethia helped him drink. She did not have the heart to kill him, neither for mercy, nor for cruelty.

The Northman closed his eyes, his breathing getting more laboured. Alethia thought of what it would be like to lie down in the mud for a little while. A soldier walked up to them. Alethia thought she knew him. He was one of Ecbert’s.

He raised his spear, ready to kill Rollo, when, suddenly, Athelstan stopped him.

“No! Wait! Stop!”

“Athelstan, who is it?” Alethia asked.

“His name is Rollo. He's Ragnar Lothbrok's brother. We baptized him, but it made no difference.”

“It is unfortunate that he's practically dead.” Alehtia sighed.

“No. He's still alive.” Athelstan argued. “This is an important man. See what you can do to save him.

“He's badly wounded. There.” Alethia pointed. Athelstan nodded, instructing the soldiers, before he turned to her.

“You left.”

“I did.”

“Come back.” Athelstan said. He held out his hand. All she had to do was take it. Alethia stared at the scars of his crucifixion. Then, she took it. It was firm. Safe.

She returned to the villa for Athelstan.

Athelstan

He stayed close to Rollo, afraid to leave him. What if they ended up killing him anyway? And yet, Athelstan was torn. Alethia was somewhere closeby, getting her injuries cleaned. He didn’t even know what had happened to her, only that he should have tried harder to keep her from the battlefield.

“ Athelstan ?”

Athelstan turned back to Rollo. “ Rollo .”

“ Priest? Look at you. Horik was right. You betrayed us. ” he spat. “ These are your folk. Christians. You look like them. ”

“ What am I to you ?” Athelstan asked quietly.

Rollo only grunted in response.

“ You are my family .” Athelstan mumbled.

“ If I had enough strength to kill you now, I would. ” Rollo spat. Athelstan felt his heart sink, and he turned towards the Great Hall. The sounds of celebration were beginning to bleed out of the villa, and he was expected to join.

“Allies! Hmm!” Ecbert cheered as Athelstan entered. Alethia was seated next to Prince Aethelwulf, toying with a cup of wine. She was staring at the King, eyes dull.

“Allies and friends, huh?" Aelle continued. “When shall we attack again our wounded foe, huh?”

“And wipe them out? That might not be a good idea.” Ecbert warned.

Aelle snorted. “Of course it's a good idea. We've won half a victory. Now, with God's help, we'll annihilate our enemies, hmm?”

“Forgive me, King Aelle, but I might suggest that even the complete destruction of one Northern army will not lead to the end of their incursions. Probably quite the opposite. Motivated by greed and by the need for revenge, they're very likely to return with renewed strength.” Ecbert warned. Alethia took a heavy sip from her cup, and Athelstan noticed that she was shaking when she set it down. Ecbert did not. He continued. 

“And not just once or twice, but again and again, times without number. The only way to bring an end to these incursions is to negotiate an agreement that is good for both sides. But, in the meantime, King Aelle, buying the services of these Northmen as mercenaries will certainly help us to overcome Mercia.” Ecbert suggested. Aelle seemed to think for a moment.

“Very well. As you say. But someone has to take this offer to the pagans. That is if they have not yet already sailed away.” Aelle agreed. Alethia’s eyes shot up, suddenly staring at Athelstan. They were red, the only sign that she had cried. 

“Indeed.”

“Considering their treatment of our envoys so far, you're not going to have too many volunteers.” Aelle mused.

“I have a suggestion.” Ecbert began. “I think we should send Athelstan.”

He looked up at Ecbert at the mention of his name, and yet, the tick in Alethia’s jaw did not escape him.

“But they may kill him.” King Aelle noted, staring at Athelstan as well. Athelstan wanted to run. There were entirely too many eyes on him.

“Oh, I doubt that.” Ecbert reassured. He was about to open his mouth again when Alethia suddenly stood. She swayed where she stood, and Athelstan noticed that there were winestains on her sleeves and the table.

How drunk was she?

Then, she stumbled past the men, all of them taking their eyes off of Athelstan and gluing them to her. Athelstan only gave King Ecbert an apologetic nod before he followed her out of the Great Hall and outside. 

Alethia still swayed unsteadily, back to Athelstan, before she steadied herself against a fence and emptied her stomach out onto the wet ground. Athelstan hated the noise of it, and yet, he rushed to her side, pulling her freshly washed her away and almost automatically rubbing her back.

When she was done, Alethia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Athelstan could feel his face wrinkle in disgust, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

He hated it when people vomited. It had bothered him so much when the Vikings had feasted, never disturbed by their own actions.

“M’ sorry.” Alethia slurred, her words flowing together. “Too much. Lost [...] blood too [...].”

She managed what he presumed to be a curse, before she turned back towards the ground and hurled again.

“You’re alright.” Athelstan told her. “Let it out, you’ll feel better.”

Alethia began to say something, interrupted by her own stomach again, white-knuckled hand curled around the fence.

“Ecbert’s sending y’to [...]. I don’t [...]” Alethia continued, and at this point, Athelstan was not sure what language she was speaking, if any at all.

.

He practically carried her to her room, the stench of wine clinging to Alethia. In that moment, Athelstan found it hard to be close to her. Still, he made sure no one saw Alethia, and when they were in her room, he helped her clean herself.

“Go sleep.” he said, wiping the vomit off her hands and mouth.

“M’alright.” Alethia replied. Athelstan still tucked her into bed like a child, right after helping her change out of her dirtied clothes. He did not even see the beginnings of her form, and yet, he was ashamed.

It felt like he was taking advantage of her.

“Bertie wants t’send you as an envoy.” she said, and Athelstan had to smile at the King’s new nickname. 

“I know.” Athelstan said softly.

“I want to accompany you.” she managed, her voice almost masterfully even. “Protect you.”

“Sure.” Athelstan lied. There was no way in hell she was coming with him tomorrow. He would not risk it, nor would she be in shape for it. Athelstan turned for the door when Alethia stopped him again.

“Athelstan?” she asked.

“Yes?”

Alethia hiccuped. “Stay?”

“Why?” Athelstan asked carefully.

“Afraid of the dark sometimes. Bad dreams.” she replied, patting the side of her cot. She missed, her hand slipping. Alethia sighed, before she giggled.

“I can’t. You’ll be fine.” Athelstan said. Of course, he did not know that.

“Why? Do you have a wife you didn’t tell me about? Or a husband. I don’t really care. Or I do.” Alethia mused.

Why did she care? Athelstan shook his head. “No, I  don’t. Have you ever seen me with a wife?”

“No. But you are a nice person. And handsome.” Alethia said, before she burst into a fit of giggles.

“Handsome?”

“Yeah.” she replied, before she blushed furiously. “Gosh, you have nice eyes. Has anyone ever told you you have nice eyes, Athelstan?”

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” Athelstan assented, sitting in her chair. Alethia waved him closer, and Athelstan obliged, chair scraping across wooden floor. She took his hand, head buried in her pillow. 

Athelstan took a few moments to gather the courage up before he asked his question. “You think I am handsome?” he asked finally.

No reply.

“Alethia?”

She was fast asleep, snoring softly. Athelstan shook his head. Gently, he pushed her nightgown out of the way where the wound on her shoulder had already soaked through bandages. Athelstan worked quickly, replacing them.

He saw the other scars, far more than Ragnar or Rollo had had. Athelstan ignored them. It was not his place to see, or to know.

And yet, he left her room with a heavy heart. A part of him wished that he could have stayed and soothed her scars.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

oc masterpost - a collection

spoilers for all oc fanfics under the cut!

folks from modern times:

woman of the watch / asoiaf ocs:

hand turns loom ocs:

heorte til heorte ocs:

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

ch. 6 – tyr (to teach)

summary: life apart

warnings: pregnancy stuff, angst (really? omg that's so crazy)

tagged: @levithestripper @demon-of-the-ancient-world

general masterlist | series masterlist

Athelstan

“Women are as fickle as the moon.” Ragnar had told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and smiling sympathetically. Athelstan had wanted to protest. What did Ragnar know of Alethia?

When Alethia had not come to the encampment of the Northmen, Bjorn, Rollo, Lagertha, Torstein - even Floki - had offered their sympathies, said a few kind words and assured him that it was not his fault.

Athelstan knew it was. He did not know why Alethia had not come after him, had perhaps chosen to stay in Wessex, with Ecbert, but he did know that he had left her behind, left in a rush to be reunited with his friends.

His family.

He would not blame her if she did not forgive him. Athelstan thought he could have, but he was Athelstan. There were not many people who thought like him, and Alethia had anger written into her very bones.

She would never forgive him.

The return to Kattegat felt flat without her. For months, Athelstan had thought of what to do here with Alethia, after showing her around and introducing her to everyone. He knew she would have gotten along well with Hvitserk and Ubbe, taking her time to play with them when Aslaug could not and Ragnar was too busy to. She would have known some remedy or another to soothe Ivar. 

He could have shown her his longhouse, the sketches he kept hidden away. She would have understood. Perhaps Athelstan could have shown Alethia the forests, climbed the cliffs surrounding the bay. He knew she would have liked to swim at the shores, to ride out into the lands surrounding Kattegat, to spend a few days doing nothing at all.

Perhaps he would have spent some of them kissing her. 

Absentmindedly, Athelstan held a hand out to Lagertha, helping her onto the docks. She only gave him another pitied smile.

“That girl has no idea what she was giving up.” She said quietly.

“I should have stayed.” Athelstan replied, voice thick. “She never would have… She is loyal, like you.”

“I left as well.” Lagertha reminded.

“That was different.”

“It was.” She nodded. “Perhaps your… perhaps she was simply afraid.”

“Then I should have given her courage!” Athelstan protested. He felt like a child, like he always did with Lagertha. 

“There will be another.”

Athelstan stayed quiet for a moment, anger making his skin burn. You know that is not true, Lagertha. You of all people.

He watched her leave, with her shieldmaidens, watched as the men carried the spoils of war to the great hall, watched the celebrations and numbly drank from his cup. Being a monk should have protected him from this. It was precisely why he had sworn a vow. So something like this would not happen.

Then again, when had his vow ever saved him from anything?

Athelstan was about to stand and leave when Aslaug sat down next to him, away from the music and the loud crowd. She gave him a rare smile.

“Princess.” Athelstan said quickly.

“Priest.” Aslaug mused, carefully adjusting Ivar in her arms. Athelstan had never told her how he admired her for her strength, for saving Ivar from the forest and the foxes. Alethia would have said that it was simply a mother’s love, and smiled at him for not understanding that kind of courage. Athelstan stayed quiet because he did not think it was his place.

“You are sad.” Aslaug observed. “About your woman.”

“How fast word spreads.”

“So it is true.” Aslaug replied. “I did not hear it from the mouth of Ragnar.”

“Who then?” Athelstan asked.

“The Gods. I dreamt of her, you know.” Aslaug told him. Athelstan paused, setting down his mead.

“Truly?”

“A girl in a dark forest.” Aslaug mused. “A shieldmaiden on a battlefield, surrounded by the dead. Her friends, her children, her lover. She is the storm, priest, and you the lone sailor. She deals in absolutes, in death and life. They are the only two things she can give. But you are willing to take both from her, aren’t you?”

The silence between them was uncomfortably quiet, but then, Aslaug laughed. “But since when do you believe in the Gods, priest?”

When it came to Alethia, Athelstan was ready to believe just about anything.

He only gave Aslaug a forced smile, and took another sip of his mead, until his world began to spin.

In the months to come, Aslaug was not the only one haunted by Alethia. Athelstan dreamt of her, the night he returned and many others.

It was always the same, even after more than half a year of his return, in the deepest of winters.

Athelstan opened his eyes to sunlight streaming through the cracks in the walls. It was warm, and specks of dust danced in the light. Gone were the heavy furs of winter, gone the cold. 

Summer had returned to Kattegat. He was not sure why he had not left with the others to raid, only that it was right he had remained.

He turned to his right, and there was his wife, still peacefully sleeping. Athelstan smiled, slipping out of bed quietly so that he would not wake her. From the longhouse, it was only a few steps to the shore of their hidden bay, where she loved to swim.

Athelstan had chosen the house for Alethia the day they’d returned to Kattegat together. He thought that she knew, the information hidden in her teasing smiles.

He prayed for her happiness that morning, just like every other, before he thanked God for his. 

The songbirds chirped, and somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed. One of Alethia’s cats brushed by his legs, and Athelstan petted it absentmindedly. It purred, languishing in the rising sun and under his touch, and Athelstan picked it up, setting it down in his lap.

“You’re getting fat.” he mused under his breath, and the cat purred in agreement. “My wife is much too kind to you. You know what she said? She said that you are our health insurance, and that is why she spoils you so. Though I am not sure how you’ll hunt rats when all you do is beg for pets all day.”

Alethia had named the cat ‘Garfield’, a word which Athelstan could barely pronounce, but as the ginger tabby grew more and more spoilt, Alethia’s grin over its name grew wider and wider, which was reason enough for Athelstan to keep to the name.

Eventually, Athelstan returned to the longhouse, washing his hands before he slipped back under the covers.

Alethia complained in her sleep, but still rolled right into his arms. Automatically, his hands went to the small but growing bump on her stomach, and Athelstan smiled.

Right. That was why he’d stayed.

“Husband.” Alethia mumbled teasingly, sleep thickening her voice. “Can’t let your poor wife sleep, huh?”

“Do you wish to lounge in bed all day?” Athelstan asked in return. “You know my conscience does not allow it.”

“Workaholic.” Alethia replied, and Athelstan remembered precisely how she’d taught him the word when she’d first come to England. He knew those months as if they had been yesterday, even if, now, they were years behind.

Gently, he cupped her face, kissing her. Alethia returned the kiss with a fervor that still made Athelstan blush like a monk, languid and slow, throwing her leg over his waist and trying to get impossibly close to him.

“How is the little one?” he asked after a while.

“Wonderful, I’d say. Its mother however… she could use some care.” Alethia replied jokingly, and Athelstan pressed a few light kisses against her neck, to which Alethia giggled like a girl. His hands combed through her hair gently, scratching her scalp until Alethia was practically purring like their cat.

“Gyda will be complaining that she has to come back home. She likes sleeping over with Sigurd and Ivar far too much.” Alethia mumbled.

“Gyda also loves Garfield.” Athelstan reminded. “She is the reason the poor cat has to take baths.”

“One day, she’ll realise that cats don’t like water.” Alethia laughed, and Athelstan joined her. The thought of their daughter reminded him that there were reasons to get out of bed after all.

He threw the covers back, starting to get dressed. Alethia was still in bed, eyes closed and hair splayed out like a halo. A small smile was playing on her lips. Athelstan turned his back, washing his hands again before he grabbed his jacket from the cabinet.

Suddenly, Alethia caught his wrist.

“What is-” Athelstan began.

“You left me behind.” Alethia said, eyes filling with tears. “You left me behind!”

“I know. I’m sorry. God, Alethia, my love, I am so sorry.”

“Find me. Swear you’ll find me!”

Athelstan nodded, pulling her into his arms. She smelled of lavender and soap, and a hint of rain, like always, but to his horror, the smell was already beginning to fade. He held her tighter, as if that would stop her from disappearing. She was slipping through his fingers. He needed to- 

“Find me.” Alethia whispered. “Find me, or all your sins will have been for nothing.”

Athelstan awoke with a start, a pounding headache beginning to drill his head, and the screams of Ivar doing nothing to soothe the pain. His heart was pounding in his chest, as if he had just come out of battle, and his mouth was so dry he swore ha hadn’t had anything to drink in months.

With a groan, Athelstan pulled himself up from the edge of the table in search of water. Not long after he found it, Ragnar found him, staring at Athelstan with a smirk so amused that Athelstan would have liked to wipe it off of him very much.

“What?” Athelstan groaned, his world still spinning a little. Foggily, he began to remember that Torstein had challenged him to a drinking game and Athelstan had, for unknown reasons, accepted.

“You look like one of us.”

“Like a Viking?”

“Like a lovesick, hungover fool.”

“I am not lovesick, nor am I hungover.” Athelstan lied.

“The headache will pass,” Ragnar observed in that acutely unnerving manner he possessed. “The ailment of your heart will not.”

Little shit.

“Thank you, Ragnar. Helpful, as always.” Athelstan chewed out, and he swore his jaw clicked each time he spoke. 

“Come, we must train.” Ragnar said, and Athelstan let out a groan louder than he had intended.

“Do you not want to?” Ragnar asked.

“It is cold.” Athelstan pointed out.

“Ah, yes, the cold. But how else are you going to steal your bride in the coming summer?” Ragnar prodded. Athelstan could only stare blankly, before a somewhat smart thought came to mind.

“She’s not a woman that can be stolen.” Athelstan replied rather quietly, and he knew that it was true. For one, he could not steal Alethia because she was simply more skilled than him. And then, Athelstan knew that it was gentleness and love which she craved, not strength. Ragnar would not understand, for it had been the reason he had lost Lagertha.

“Then let us hope she does not loosen a bear on you.” Ragnar replied, clapping Athelstan on the back. Still, Ragnar dragged him into the cold. Athelstan heard Ivar wail again, the feeling that Ragnar was leaving the hall because of his child creeping up on him uncomfortably. Athelstan promised himself that he would help Ivar with his pains when he returned to the Great Hall.

Surely there was something Alethia had once mentioned in passign that could help. Were she here, she would have tried.

Alethia

Eadith’s labor began during a blizzard so terrible that one of the grain stores had broken under the pressure of the snow and wind. Still, Alethia had pulled herself from the humble abode she shared with a few other unmarried women and dragged herself through half the village, until, finally, a panting Heahmund raised his fist to knock on the door next to her.

It was Finnian who ripped open the door, face pale and hands shaking with fear. Eadith’s  groans of pains were to be heard from the background, and Alethia pushed her meagre supplies into Finnian’s hands.

Women squat in fucking fields to have babies and survive. she told herself, but it was a sorry excuse for not having the right medicine for Eadith. It was the middle of winter, and yet, Alethia could not help but feel that she had not done enough.

“Eadith?” Alethia asked, crossing the room. Heahmund was pressed against the door uncomfortably, but Alethia had no time to take care of a soldier uncomfortable with life. 

There was a groan from the back end of the house, where Eadith had lied down. Alethia pushed past a nervous, fidgeting Finnian, dropping her things at Eadith’s side.

“Breathe.” Alethia huffed, and Eadith nodded, vigorously trying to follow her advice through the pain. Alethia waved over Finnian, who stepped towards his wife gingerly.

“Hold her hand.” Alethia said.

Finnian paused. “It is not-“

“What? Common? Who cares, get over here and comfort your wife for Christ’s sake.” Alethia replied, cutting him off. Finnian hesitantly looked over to Heahmund, before he seemingly made a choice and sat on Eadith’s other side, grabbing her hand gently. 

“Am I alright?” Eadith asked nervously. A sheen layer of sweet covered her forehead, and she was somewhat pale, but other than that…

“What do you think?” Alethia replied gently, shuffling through her supplies and pulling out a small piece of leather.

“Well, it hurts but…” Eadith groaned. “God, it hurts so much.”

“I know. Well, there’s a baby wanting to come into the world, so it will hurt, but I promise you, you are doing just fine. Amazingly, for a woman whose contractions are so close together.” Alethia assured.

“How many babies have you delivered, Hagar?” Eadith asked.

“Many.” Alethia lied smoothly, and that seemed to soothe Eadith’s nerves. Truth was, Alethia was the only one who came close to knowing how to help Eadith, apart from the older women in the village.

Alethia turned to Heahmund. “Go get Ethelfleda.” She snapped, referring to Eadith’s aunt, and the woman with the most children in the village. Carefully, she helped Eadith lean back, before she checked for dilation.

“You’re doing good.” Alethia assured, and Eadith nodded, her face red as she concentrated on her breathing. Alethia took her hand almost automatically. Eadith was barely a year younger than her, and yet, they were immature in such different ways.

Alethia wished she could take her pain away. Eadith did not deserve it, not when she was so good, so kind. But, Alethia supposed, this was part of what Eadith wanted. She shuddered at the thought of going through it herself.

Almost, she would have had to.

Ethelfleda burst into the house with a sharp gust of cold wind, snow still dancing outside. Heahmund pressed himself back into the wall by the entrance, but to his credit, the young priest stayed. 

Alethia moved to make space for Ethelfleda, who gave her an acknowledging nod. The older woman’s look at Alethia’s supplies told her that they were satisfactory.

Like Alethia, Ethelfleda checked for dilation, before she helped Eadith count her contractions.

“You need to push.” Ethelfleda finally announced, and Alethia swallowed her fear. Eadith was going to be alright.

“Here.” Alethia said, offering Eadith a helping hand while Ethelfleda went through her supplies, pushing a thick band of leather into Eadith’s mouth. It was meant to keep men from biting off their tongues during amputations, but Alethia supposed it would suffice.

She let Eadith squeeze her wrist until Alethia was sure there was no blood left, and prayed, prayed to the God Eadith believed in that she would stay alive.

Hours later, the child was finally there. Alethia smiled at Eadith, then Ethelfleda, who did not return the expression, instead focusing on Eadith.

“There is another. You have to push again.” Ethelfleda told Eadith.

“I can’t.” Eadith cried, tear-tracks on her face, hair stuck to her skin in exhaustion.

“You have to.” Alethia said, taking the baby from Ethelfleda’s arms. She gave it to Eadith, who smiled.

“A boy.” She whispered, her face lighting up. Alethia let her bask in the moment for a few seconds, before she forced her out of it again.

“There is another.” She said, echoing Ethelfleda. Eadith shook her head.

“I’m so tired.”

“I know.” Alethia said. Carefully, she took the boy out of Eadith’s hands, who tried to struggle against Alethia. Alethia handed Finnian the baby, helping him hold his son for the first time. There was a beaming look of pride on Finnian’s face as he held the baby, unable to say anything.

Alethia’s heart ached.

She returned to Eadith’s side.

“Listen to me. I know you’re tired, Eadith, but you have to fight that now. There is another baby, just as beautiful as your son. You have to push.”

“I’ll die. It hurts so much.” Eadith replied, her hands struggling to hold onto Alethia.

“God is good. You’ll live, so will your son.” Alethia said.

“What else is there?” Eadith whispered. “If there is only God, I am still afraid. He is a man, and I am not.”

“We are women, and this is your battlefield.” Alethia replied. “Behind you, there is an army. All of them have survived what you survived. They are your sisters, your mothers, your daughters. In front of you is the darkness. Do you see it, Eadith?”

“Yes.” Eadith pressed out.

“Does it scare you?”

“Like nothing else.”

“Good. You must face that now. Go through the darkness, and come out on the other side. Fight. We are all here for you.” Alethia told her. To her right, Ethelfleda smiled up at Eadith, before squeezing her ankle in encouragement. Eadith seemed to consider Alethia’s words for a moment, before she nodded.

“Alright.” She said. 

“Push.” Ethelfleda encouraged again, and in that moment, Alethia knew she could have commanded an army. It was enough to give Eadith strength.

The second child came more quickly, and again, Alethia handed him to Eadith.

“Two sons!” Eadith exclaimed happily as both of them lied in her arms. She was pale, but as Alethia checked her again, she was not bleeding profusely, nor were there any worrying tears.

“She’s alright. Healthy.” Ethelfleda said, relieved. “She deserves it.”

It is not about deserving. Alethia thought to herself, but she only nodded.

“What shall we name them?” Finnian asked Eadith.

“Jon.” Alethia blurted out before she could stop herself. 

Eadith smiled. “John and Godwin.” She whispered. Heahmund, who had stayed closeby for the entire process stepped closer, quickly christening the children.

It was winter, and from the way Ethelfleda’s lips pressed together, Alethia knew the older woman did not think the two boys would make it very far.

…

By Easter, both boys were alive. Alethia helped Eadith where she could, when she did not attend to Baldwin’s bad leg or Clothilda, the little girl that was slowly losing her vision. Ethelfleda thought that she would die, too, but Alethia refused to accept that.

Her days were spent between Eadith’s house, and Clothilda’s, where she tried her best to find something the girl could do blind. She knew trying to have her work in the fields would only end in futility, and so would most of the other menial tasks in the village.

Which was how Alethia found herself speaking with Heahmund.

She had avoided the priest for a reason. He was unnerving, dangerous, and Alethia thought that he knew she did not truly believe in God.

“A nunnery?” Heahmund asked, his brows drawing together.

“Somewhere in the country where she’ll be safe from the Mercian war and the raids of the Northmen. Clothilda will never be able to work a field or herd sheep or know her way around cows properly. For all her life, the people around her will have to help her to find things, make sure she will not injure herself. What if a famine befalls the land? She’ll be the first they set out.” Alethia replied. 

“Is that what you think?”

“She is the oldest of five, but she is a girl. Her father sees her as a burden. But, Clothilda is a smart girl. She’s seven years old and understands far more of the world than her peers. In a nunnery, she could find her place. You know it, and you could find her a new home.”

“What do her parents think of it?” Heahmund asked, sharpening the blade of his sword carefully.

“I have not asked them.” Alethia admitted. “I have only spoken to Clothilda.”

“I see what you do here.” Heahmund replied.

“And what is that?”

“You try to save everyone. God will save us all, you do know that, right?” 

“At some point, yes.” Alethia replied rather dryly. “But he’s a little busy right now. So many poor Mercian souls.”

A smile tugged at Heahmund’s mouth as he heard her joke. Then, he regained control. 

“I shall consider your words.” He promised.

“Good.”

“In return, you have to teach me.”

“Teach you what?” Alethia asked.

“That which you have kept from us. I know you have secrets. I would like to know whatever you are hiding. Did your late husband gift you that pretty knife of yours, or did you steal that yourself?”

“Are you calling me a thief?” Alethia snapped.

“Only a liar.” Heahmund replied calmly. He was right, Alethia knew that, but she could not admit it plainly.

“I’ll teach you.” She promised.

“Good. We will begin after Easter.” Heahmund said. “Good day, Hagar.”

Her late husband. She thought.

Jon. Athelstan.

One was her true late husband, the other a man she had lied to and about.

Alethia felt the guilt creep in like the cold, slowly but no less uncomfortable. It was then that she was forced to think about just how evilly she’d betrayed Jon. How long had it been after he died? Half a year? A year, perhaps? She’d already moved on, had not even forced herself to mourn. 

She shook her head. No, she had mourned. She thought she still did. Jon was gone and Athelstan… he would not believed it had she told him, but he was easy to fall in love with. He was in Kattegat now, where he was free of Ecbert and the guilt of his God that haunted him here. Alethia hoped he was happy there. A part of her hoped that he would fall in love with some other woman, one that could love him as he deserved, and not one that was torn between people, times and worlds. 

But it would have been wrong to tell herself that she did not hope he would come back. Of course she did. Eadith, Clothilda, Finnian, even Ethelfleda, they were all a sort of family here. These people in the village, they had taken her in, as the widow of a good Christian man. 

Alethia had told them that she would leave, time and time again. None of them were thinking about that now. They were relying on her, with their aches and pains and bad legs and sore throats, and none of them were thinking about her leaving. Summer would come in a few months, and Alethia would go South. Her hair had grown back, her shoulder had healed, her scars had become more stark against her tan skin. She knew she looked even older than she had before.

Ecbert would recognize her if she shaved her head and disfigured her mouth. So would Athelstan. There was no use. Alethia knew she had to return to the villa, to Wessex, if she wanted to find the Northmen. 

She loved the people in this village, there was no doubting that. But this was not her place. Alethia was meant for something bigger, and she did not think that because she was confident in her ability of fulfilling fate, but because she had been thrown around in some multiversal chaos she never otherwise would have believed in. 

Alethia twirled her knife in her hands, looking back to where Heahmund had been. From the edge of the village, she could see Eadith and Finnian walking towards the fountain, and Ethelfleda guiding her children towards the church. The bells rung, and Alethia drew up her shoulders.

It was time for Easter mass.

***

Singapore was loud, hot and humid, the air heavy enough that if you came back home from holiday, you could have told you were home the moment you stepped into the airport. There was something about Alethia’s home that made it distinguishable from the rest of the world, a smell that told her just where she was.

But God, Singapore was busy as well. Alethia had gotten stuck somewhere near Orchard, on a Saturday, in a mall, and she swore that there were so many people she could barely breathe, let alone move. From the food court behind her, the smell of food made her stomach rumble, and yet, Alethia turned away, towards the escalators rolling into oblivion.

Now that she looked at them, they were kind of silly. Who came up with something like that? 

Regardless, Alethia stepped onto the moving stairs, letting them transport her up until she made it to the next level.  There’s a french café to her right. 

‘Paul’s’, Alethia thought, the name dim in the back of her mind. ‘The place is called Paul’s. I used to go there with my mom. She bought me one of those overpriced croissants, but at least they were crispy like they’re supposed to be, and not soggy and full of grease. Once, I got a nutella crepe. 

Alethia wasn’t sure why there was a lump in her throat. She just kept walking, and the brown logo over the doorway faded away. A few more turns, another hallway, and then, she stepped outside.

The street was buzzing, and Alethia was quick to cross it at a traffic light. A taxi driver stopped for her at the second road, and she raised her hand in a quick ‘thank you’ gesture. By the time she stood before the gates of the Botanical Gardens, sweat beaded her forehead.

Alethia plucked at the coat she was wearing. Why a coat? This was Singapore, not some cold, icy hellscape like the Wall, or, God forbid, Wessex in the winter.

She made a few more steps before she froze. Wessex. Singapore. The Wall. Alethia looked back up, and with a panic, she realized that the smell of home was gone. The heat was still there, and so was the greenery so typical to Botanical Gardens, but something wasn’t…

“Alethia?”

She turned around, and there stood Athelstan.

…right.

“Athelstan.” she breathed out. Each step she took towards him, the scenery changed. 

Athelstan was gone again, but Alethia stood in front of a church, and she knew who waited inside. Behind her, there was a hearttree, the weeping face of an Old God carved into its bark.

The choice was simple. The Old Gods, or God. The North or Earth. Jon or Athelstan.

But the Hearttree was dying, it was so simple to see from the mold that climbed its roots. Sansa had turned out to be like that, and Jon was already dead. The church stood tall, and Athelstan was inside.

Alethia slipped into the cool dark. It was safe there, though the cross loomed from the altar.

“Child, why have you come here?” a voice asked. It belonged to Athelstan. 

“I am not a child.”

“You are. A sweet summer child, a crone beyond her years.” Athelstan replied.

“I have come to… I have come to make a choice.”

“What choice?”

“I choose you, Athelstan. I am sorry.” Alethia whispered. Her words floated through the cool air, delicate whisps of nothing. The wind washed them away, and Alethia knew that they were meaningless. Athelstan wasn’t really there. There was nothing to truly confess.

Alethia walked towards the altar, too impatient to wait for Athelstan to appear. 

“I am here.” Athelstan said, and Alethia turned. There he was, right in the first row, dressed in the robe of a priest with pious, folded hands. Even from where she stood, Alethia could see the scars of his crucifixion.

She touched his hands gently, like always. “I choose you.” she repeated, and Athelstan smiled.

“I knew you would.”

“You’re not real.”

“Then I am you.” Athelstan said. “Which means you always knew your answer, too.”

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

this but alestan

not to spoiler but the fact that this is uhh... canon.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

ch. 8 — frician (to desire)

notes: margaret by lana del rey was a big inspo for this one

summary: alethia arrives in kattegat

warnings: i dont want to give it away tbh. in a good way i promise!!!! jack we talked about this literally last night (its not to that extent but still hehe)

tagged: @demon-of-the-ancient-world @levithestripper @grantairescurls

general masterlist | series masterlist

Alethia

Lagertha was kind to her. She was glad that she did not end up alone, as she had feared, and yet, there was the perpetual feeling of only being wanted because she was linked to Athelstan.

They all stared.

She knew they whispered.

Still, Alethia boarded ship, successfully this time, making for Kattegat. Ecbert could not stop her, and she was not inclined to stay any longer than she had to. If only she could have felt as if this was where she was meant to be.

In truth, Alethia had no idea if this was the right thing to do. What if she was messing everything up, ruining things for Athelstan? This was his life, not hers, and it felt like she was intruding.

And still, Alethia followed Athelstan like John the Baptist, quiet like a shadow. In Kattegat, Athelstan helped her onto the docks. It was only when she touched those wooden planks that Alethia felt free.

She breathed in the salty air that was no different from the sea mere moments ago, and yet, entirely something else. This was to be her new home. Alethia would make it work, she had practiced enough for this moment for the entirety of her childhood.

The eyes glued to her back were there when Athelstan squeezed her shoulder, her hand, looked into her eyes with that gaze meant to comfort were not lost on Alethia. Rollo, Floki, Ragnar, Lagertha – they would not look away. Alethia wanted to turn around and hiss at them as she would have with King Ecbert, but instead, she ducked away and towards the Great Hall, disappearing in the feast that was being hosted for the return of the Vikings.

Athelstan kept his distance, as he had since they had met again. Alethia knew that there would be a gap between them, some sort of irrevocable change upon reunion, and yet, she ached for things to return as they had been.

They never had, not since she’d been a girl. And in that moment, Alethia felt ancient. 

The woman with the feline eyes approached her a few hours into the feast, when Athelstan was still being held close by Ragnar, and most of the crowd had surmised to get drunk instead of doing anything meaningful for the remainder of the night. Alethia backed herself into a corner, where a cat curled around her ankles and she could nurse a cup of mead in peace.

Alethia knew that she was a queen the moment Aslaug approached her. She held herself with the same inherent dignity as Catelyn Stark had, as Sansa had. Alethia straightened her back, pushing herself up. The cat jumped away, disturbed by her sudden movements.

“Queen Aslaug.” Alethia said, bowing her head.

“How do you know who I am?” Aslaug asked. She was holding a bundle in her arms, the babe whom Alethia presumed to be Ivar sleeping lightly.

“You hold yourself as I would expect of a Götland princess.”

Aslaug raised one of those well-manicured brows, but she gave Alethia a small smile. 

“Then you are the woman that plagues my dreams.”

“Sorry about that.” Alethia said.

“You have an accent.”

“Sorry about that as well.”

“It is all fair and well. I expect Athelstan has been teaching you to the best of his abilities.” Aslaug said. She took a seat next to where Alethia had been, patting the free space. The cat returned to Alethia’s lap.

“I dreamt of you. I am not… friends with Athelstan as my husband is, but I think in this, I understand him better than Ragnar does.”

Alethia looked down, scratching the cat between his ears.

“He loves you.” Aslaug whispered. Alethia paused, her heart beating wildly in her chest. When she looked over to Aslaug, the Queen of Kattegat was smiling.

Alethia did not know what to say, swallowing. She looked back down, clearing her throat, and a small laugh escaped Aslaug.

“Do you love him?” she asked. Alethia wanted to say yes, but the guilt of it strangled her, and she could not say a single thing. Aslaug sighed. 

“You are good for him. He is not someone I understand very well, but Athelstan is a man who has suffered greatly. Even if he is a Christian, I can see that.”

“Thank you.”

“It is nothing.”

“It is everything.” Alethia protested. Then, she leaned back against the wall behind her, resting her head. “I was afraid of you, you know?”

“Me? I am not someone invocative of fear.” Aslaug replied.

“Please. You are a Götland princess. A völva. You see things others do not. I am not afraid of warriors. They all try to kill me, but so far, none of them have succeeded. Those that see beyond the fog of reality, they are the ones that scare me. You, Queen Aslaug, are one of them. You have my respect, and my admiration, no matter what others say about that.”

Now it was Aslaug’s turn to be speechless, but Alethia could not stay silent. She had to continue. The words built on the back of her tongue, forcing themselves out of her mouth.

“You are brave, too. I heard of Ivar and his disability. From what I understand of your culture, Northmen despise what they perceive to be weakness. I knew a boy like Ivar once. His name was Bran, and he was one of the most powerful men alive. No one thought he would survive what happened to him, but he did. Your Ivar… you have a right to love your son. He needs you.”

“Thank you.” Aslaug said. “And I… I know what happened to you. Most of it, anyway. The correct way to address you should be Queen, and not simply your name.”

“Please, do not.” Alethia replied.

“I won’t.” Aslaug promised. “I do not know how much the Gods showed me of your life, but I hoped that what I did see was all of the pain you experienced. It is enough for ten lifetimes.”

Alethia’s heart caught in her throat. She tried to stop the tears that pricked her eyes, right until she looked at Aslaug. When the Queen smiled at her, cold facade from a few hours ago gone, Alethia let them fall. She gave herself three minutes of respite before she cleared her throat.

“Queen Aslaug, may I ask a favour of you?”

“Almost any.” Aslaug replied.

“May I protect you? I would be honored to serve you and your children as a shieldmaiden, for I know you left many of yours behind when you came here. I do not wish to go to war anymore, but protecting a family, to protect children – that I can do. It is the sort of fierce gentleness I wish to embody.”

“Give it three moons. Rest. Then, we shall speak of what you have asked.” Aslaug promised. “But now, go. Find your priest. Do well by him.”

“I will.” Alethia promised. She did not expect Aslaug to cup her jaw, to lean forward the way she did, as if she was reading something behind Alethia’s eyes. The moment passed, Alethia shuddered, and then, she left. Aslaug turned to her son.

Athelstan

Ragnar whistled as Alethia approached them. Neither he nor she turned to look at the King. Alethia only stared at him, eyes somewhat bewildered. She looked lost, as if she’d forgotten where she was. Athelstan was fully aware that all eyes were on him as he crossed the distance between them and touched Alethia’s shoulder.

She looked right at him, green eyes boring into his own. 

“Are you alright?”

Alethia looked down, and then back up at him again. She closed her eyes. “I need a break please.”

“Of course.” Athelstan said. “Go wait outside for me. I’ll be out in a moment.”

Alethia nodded, slinking towards the door. Athelstan turned to Ragnar, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. In that moment, Athelstan could not laugh at it. 

“Nothing smart, Ragnar. Not tonight.” he said. Then, Athelstan followed Alethia outside. She was picking at her nails when he found her, and Athelstan watched as she hissed under one particularly painful tear. Suddenly, he was reminded of his mother. When Lillian had bad dreams, she would do the same thing. She had destroyed herself in the process.

Athelstan knew he was his mother’s child.

It was why he put an arm around Alethia, guiding her through the empty streets of Kattegat. Everyone was still in the Great Hall, celebrating. Everyone but the two of them.

He did not know why he brought her to his longhouse, but Athelstan felt the palpable sort of relief when the door to his home shut them out of the world outside.

Alethia spotted the portraits immediately. Athelstan had forgotten they were there, not having packed them away before he left for the raid. She went to them immediately, staring with wide eyes.

Gently, Alethia picked up a portrait of Floki, staring right at the viewer. Athelstan tried to swallow down his fear, stepping towards Alethia to explain.

“Athelstan these are…”

“I know I shouldn’t have.” Athelstan replied.

“What do you mean? They are beautiful. This one right here, it is exactly how Floki stares at you when you say something he does not like. And this one-” Alethia grabbed another piece of parchment, this time of Ecbert looking down at the subject. “It is exactly how King Ecbert sits his throne. Are there more?”

Athelstan hesitated. Of course there were. There was an entire sketchbook dedicated to Alethia , but he was not sure if he wanted to tell her that.

His silence was enough for her. “May I see them? Please? Your art is so beautiful.”

Art? His portraits were art?

“It is blasphemy.” Athelstan replied, shame making it difficult to breathe.

“Blasphemy? Athelstan, there are many things in this world that are blasphemy. This is not one of them. Trust me, I know.”

“How?”

“Because I love art. I have seen much of it. Van Gogh, Monet, Kahlo, Rubens, Gentileshi, Rembrandt, Michelangelo – you name it, I know it. Your portraits have spirit. Do you know the most important thing about art, Athelstan?”

“Portraiture must be used to portray the life of Christ. To display our belief to the world.”

“No.” Alethia shook her head. “No, that is not art. That is illustration. Art is that which makes you feel something. These portraits are that.”

Athelstan did not notice the tears until they tracked down his cheeks. He could not move, did not stop Alethia when she grabbed a small journal from his table. She looked at him with raised brows, and Athelstan nodded softly. Alethia opened it, and froze immediately.

He prayed she would not turn away from him for this. Alethia sat on his chair, looking at the first page. It was a portrait of her the day she had arrived in Ecbert’s villa. Alethia’s hand ghosted over her own features, careful not to touch the charcoal and smudge it. After a moment, she flipped to the next page. It was her side profile, this time sketched right after a long lesson of English grammar. 

Her sitting on the edge of the roman bath followed, then Alethia balancing a sword, then only a collection of her features that Athelstan had practiced with, all disconnected. There was a sketch of her hand on her shoulder, tugging on an old scar. That was from the bath after Alethia had lost her child. Then, there was Alethia sharpening a dagger, Alethia talking to a serving girl, Alethia, Alethia, Alethia…

She paused on the page where Athelstan had sketched her right after the battle against the Northmen. Athelstan had struggled with it, because he had never drawn someone with nothing in their eyes. Portraying someone’s gaze to be empty was a thing of the almost-impossible. Alethia set down the journal, returning it to its rightful place, and Athelstan awaited judgement.

“Thank you.” Alethia whispered. “You have made me immortal in the only way I wish to be.”

Athelstan was a selfish man. “Which way?”

“That of love. I see your devotion, Athelstan. I see it in every line of each portrait. And then I have to look back up to you with empty hands in search of some way to thank you, and I have nothing. I am a beggar. I wish I had something to show for mine own character.”

“You need nothing.”

“I know. I know, but I wish to give you something, Athelstan.”

“Why did you trust me? Why did you tell me your secrets when you could tell me nothing else?” Athelstan asked.

Alethia smiled lightly. “When you know, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

Alethia stood, the chair scraping on the wood. She took Athelstan’s hands. Gentle. The gesture should have felt repetitive. It never would, not to Athelstan.

“I saw you , standing behind King Ecbert in that damned courtyard. I saw you, Athelstan, and I saw your pain, your gentleness, your willingness to try, to give me a chance. Out of all the people there, you were the only one that did not regard me like an animal. Perhaps I saw my own pain reflected in you, but I do not want that to be it. I wanted… I knew that you would be right .”

Athelstan closed his eyes, trying to take another breath. Each one was harder than the one before, and the tears that had been isolated exceptions at first now ran down his face, hot and salty. He was not sure what they meant.

And then, Alethia’s hands were on his face again. They caressed his cheeks without guilt, with the gentleness of a million lifetimes that they did not have. Athelstan could have fallen at her feet right then and there.

She touched her forehead against his, wiping his tears. Athelstan let himself sob, only once, for all the pain he had let pass through him to avoid what he was doing now. He was ruining a moment, he was-

“It’s alright.” Alethia said. “Don’t force yourself to stop.”

Alethia was the only one he trusted to catch him if he fell, and so, he did. She held him as his senses left him and his shoulders buckled under the weight of everything he thought he’d forgotten about. Athelstan buried his face in the crook of her neck, there where the world meant nothing.

Time was meaningless where they stood, and for the first time in his life, Athelstan was not holding up the sky all by himself. The weight on his shoulders had not been lifted away entirely, but he was not carrying it alone, then. 

Athelstan felt the storm brew in his stomach. It coiled itself, beginning to boil and bubble up into his throat, and then, his mouth was forced open. His arms turned against him and he left Alethia’s shoulder, looking at her. With violence, the words were taken out of his mouth and into the air, and Athelstan trembled with fear as he said them. But they were right.

“I love you.”

Alethia’s eyes widened, she froze, and for a moment, she looked scared. Then, her eyes softened, her mouth broke into a wide smile, and there seemed to be some of that violent love that had forced his vocal cords moving within her as well. 

“I love you too.”

“How do you say it?” Athelstan said. The words broke out of him too.

“What do you mean?”

“Those words, how do you say them in your tongue? Your mother tongue, not any of the others. Your language. I want to say that to you in your language. If anything.”

“They mean more in my language. The way that you want to say them, they are impossibly heavy. It is not the same.”

“Good. I want it to mean something.”

“Ich liebe dich.” Alethia whispered. She said the words as if she was directing them at him, not teaching them to him.

“Ich liebe dich.” Athelstan repeated. Alethia laughed, air leaving her lungs, her chest rising in a rapid exchange of air.

“Ich dich auch.” Alethia replied. Athelstan knew what she had said, without any doubt. This time, it was Athelstan who moved first. Finally, he had the courage to kiss her. He was not so afraid  that he had to ask, he simply did it.

His lips touched hers, and Alethia melted into him, pulling him closer. She was slow, languid, patient, nothing like that first time, where it was as if they had tried to cram everything into one kiss. Athelstan felt lost, unsure what to do, but as Alethia’s hands wandered to tangle in his hair, caress his jaw and neck, and her tongue dared to move further, he found some of that confidence that only Northmen and Ecbert seemed to possess.

And then, Alethia pulled him even closer. Athelstan was flush to her, his head began to spin, and he suddenly became overly aware of just how close they were. He knew what came next.

“We don’t have to.” Alethia whispered suddenly. “This is enough for me.”

“I trust you.” Athelstan replied. He felt no guilt, and he was not surprised at that. It was Alethia. How could the most sinful of things be bad with someone as beautiful as her?

No God could convince him that everything he was doing was wrong.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret this.” Alethia said.

“I could not. Not with you.”

“But you… what about God?”

“Let God see that I love you, and if He condemns me then, I shall gladly accept the pain of it. It will have been worth it, for you.” Athelstan replied. Alethia’s eyes widened at his words, her hands digging into his tunic. 

“Athelstan…” she began, but he shook his head.

“No more, Alethia. I am sure.”

Alethia nodded, and she kissed him again, leading him towards the bed. Athelstan felt his heart beat in his chest. He had only ever done this once, and then it had been under the influence of whatever Floki had given him. He did not know…

But Alethia was gentle, slow. She lied down on his bed, and Athelstan allowed himself to lie atop her, kissing her slowly. Alethia’s hands wandered, undoing the laces of his tunic. He was somewhat relieved to see that her fingers trembled as well. She pulled it over his head, barely breaking the kiss, and Athelstan shuddered as her hands ghosted over his chest, before she reached back up, fingers combing through his hair.

Athelstan could not help the quiet groan that escaped him as she kissed his neck, leaving a small bit at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

There was something within him that snapped, and Athelstan flipped her around so that Alethia sat atop him. He reached up, pulling her closer. His hands wandered, undoing her tunic now. Alethia leaned down, kissing him with a fervent urgency that left Athelstan dizzy. He slid the tunic down her shoulders, watching as the fabric fell. Athelstan could not take his eyes off of her, determined to commit every scar, every raised bump, everything he could see to memory.

“My eyes are up here.” Alethia joked. He laughed nervously, looking up, and that made Alethia laugh in turn.

“You can look.” she whispered. 

“I’ll do a bit more if that’s okay with you.” he joked back.

“Oh?”

Athelstan let himself touch her, sins forgotten, let his mouth kiss her neck, kiss her collarbones, her shoulders, lower and lower, down her body. He dared to move her as if she was not immovable, a mountain against him, a man.

His hands found their place at her hips. Alethia rolled them with a knowing smirk, and Athelstan tried to suppress another groan.

“What are you staying quiet for?” Alethia asked, her hands travelling down his chest, his stomach, until- 

She reached inside his pants with no shame, fingers wrapping around him deftly and sealing any sounds that could have left his mouth with a kiss of brazen challenge. Athelstan sighed into her mouth, already bucking up into her hand. 

Gently, he stopped her by the wrist.

“What is it?” Alethia asked. “Do you want to stop? We can-”

“I want more. I want you.” Athelstan replied. Alethia nodded, making to undo her own breeches, but Athelstan knew with a firm suddenness that he wanted to do that himself. 

“Lie down.” he said, his voice calm. He did not know where he was taking it from, the courage, only that he suddenly had it.

Alethia followed his words, lifting her hips as Athelstan removed the remainder of her clothes, until she was bare before him.

“That’s not fair.” she whispered. “I want to see you, too.”

“Be patient.” Athelstan reminded.

“Oh, patient, are we now?” Alethia teased. “I thought you wanted me so badly.”

She is in his blood, he thought. In his very bones, in the foundations of his body, his soul. And yes, God, he wanted her badly. But Athelstan was not going to rip the clothes off of her body and fuck her like an animal.

Maybe he could if she taught him.

For now, there was only the gentleness that he had promised her. She tugged at his pants again, impatient and Athelstan noted that Alethia was needy . The thought made him think of things he was better off keeping to himself.

Alethia undressed the rest of him, and now, there was truly nothing that Athelstan could hide. Her hand returned to him , and Athelstan thought that he could not wait any longer, which surprised him, considering that he thought he was patient. Apparently not when it came to her.

He gave her a half-question in the form of raised brows and she gave him a half-answer in the tiniest of nods.

Alethia guided his hips, looking up at him once more, and Athelstan gulped down the rest of his fear. He pushed inside her, and almost immediately, his eyes rolled into the back of his skull. This was not what he had been waiting for for over a year, but, God, wasn’t it a good reward anyway?

“More.” Alethia whispered. “I want all of it.”

He obliged, giving her the rest of what he had, until his hips were slotted against her pelvis. There was a thought in the back of his mind, one of the sort that he was finally holding her the way a husband was supposed to hold his wife, and it made his blood rush. He had not wanted to have her because of this, but it was a gift Alethia had given him. 

Afterward, Alethia curled into his arms, still naked. Athelstan traced the scars on her back, the massive one on her abdomen, the ones on her thighs. There was an automatic anger as he saw the many small cuts that inched up towards her womanhood. Athelstan was not sure he wanted to know what had been done to her.

The cuts that littered her stomach scared him more. How was she still alive? It didn’t matter, what did was that she was alive.

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her collarbones, and, finally her lips, as if Athelstan had not done that enough already. He knew there was a dark bruise at the base of his neck where she had bit him. It was little surprise to him that Alethia liked to scratch and tear, and more that he had enjoyed it.

“Do you feel sinful?” Alethia asked.

“No. But I…”

Athelstan trailed off. It was not the right time, nor the right place. He would keep the question for another time.

“Did you like it?” he said instead.

“I did. I hope you…”

“Yes. It was… I do not know how to…”

“Call it mindblowing.” Alethia winked. Her smile was sardonical, and Athelstan snorted. 

“Worldchanging.”

“Thank you. I always knew I had superpowered…  you know what, I’m not finishing that joke.”

“Thank you.”

“Rude.” Alethia teased. Athelstan turned onto his back, pulling the blanket over him and Alethia. She put her head on his chest, and he knew that she was listening to his heartbeat. Athelstan thought that it was Alethia’s way of making sure he was alright. 

“Why did you draw me?”

“Because you are the light that illuminates my life.”

“Adoringly poetic.”

“Hmm.” Athelstan hummed. “I loved you since I laid eyes on you, I think.”

“Really?” Alethia asked. 

“Truly. And there is something about you that makes drawing you an utter joy.” Athelstan admitted. “Your eyes…”

“The eyes are the window to the soul.” Alethia recited.

“I like that.”

“I knew you would.”

“You are impossible to ignore.” Athelstan whispered. “I love you for it, my lady. My lady, my love, my light.”

Alethia smiled. There was no pain in her features, and her muscles were not tense. It was everything Athelstan could have asked for.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

about to drop something insane

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

oh I forgot to mention that everytime i read a new chapter i gush about it to my mom

one day. i am going to die

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

— sangbóc

from old english: a music book, notes marked for singing

a playlist for Heorte til Heorte, including the two songs that had a big part in inspiring it. if anyone's interested, i might make a longer version of this

tagging @levithestripper and @demon-of-the-ancient-world

— heart to heart (mac demarco)

— wicked game (chris isaak)

— to someone from a warm climate (hozier)

— iris (the goo goo dolls)

— je te laisserai des mots (patrick watson)

— fourth of july (sulfjan stevens)

— cry (cigarettes after sex)

— sea, swallow me (cocteau twins, harold budd)

— hotline (edit) (billie eilish)

— where is my mind? - remastered (pixies)

— idea 10 (gibran alcocer)

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Vikings (TV) Masterlist

my requests for vikings are currently partially OPEN! please only request imagines, and not oneshots. for those waiting for a continuation of ‘searching home’ or ‘unexpected’ i am so sorry... finishing those two is going to take me a while :/

hmu/msg me to be added to a taglist!

main masterlist | request guidelines

heorte til heorte

(msg me to be added to the taglist!)

relationship: athelstan x alethia stahl (oc) | summary: alethia wanted to go home, to return to her family. instead, she finds herself in ninth-century england. not speaking the language, and still processing the grief of her other life, she searches for an anchor - athelstan. | tags: angst, fluff, timetravel

masterlist | preview | read on ao3

No romantic relationships // character x character

Queendom - relationship: Lagertha x Aslaug | summary: They’ve both loved and they’ve both lost. Perhaps it was time that their hearts warmed again. | tags: angst, fluff

The Lothbroks, aka, the European version of the Kardashians - relationships: none | summary: When Barbie Murray time travels, she finds out that pink isn’t available in Viking times. Luckily, her new besties all understand that boobs are the best and slay (literally?!) with her. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

I may be a bimbo, but I’m not stupid - relationships: slight oc/ oc | summary: Ivar kills Sigurd in a fit of rage, but Barbie isn't so quick to forgive cruelness. | tags: angst, crack, timetravel

1st gen Vikings

Strange Woman  relationship: Rollo x timetraveler!reader | summary: The woman that appeared out of nowhere could be oh so dangerous, but even a stupid man would know that she was fascinating. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Friend of Thor - relationship: rollo x timetraveler!asgardian!reader | summary: The reader, a fellow Asgardian and friend of Thor and the new King of Asgard, Brunnhilde, falls through worlds as the new guardian of the Bifrost tampers with the magic. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

And the Gods wished they were me - relationship: Judith x viking!gn!reader | summary: Judith knows she should not mourn Athelstan. Nor should she even look at Norse heathens. She does both anyway, because Judith was named after a woman that had only rage and death, and she cannot escape her fate. | tags: angst, fluff

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Another day / part 2 - relationship: Ubbe x reader | prompt: we live to fight another day. | tags: angst

Oldest - relationship: Ubbe x timetraveler!reader; platonic!Ivar x reader | summary:  It seems that few things change about being the oldest sibling, no matter which place – or time | tags: fluff, timetravel, slight angst

Yggdrasil relationship: Ubbe x reader; platonic!Ivar x reader; dad!Harald x reader | summary:  How can you tell your father what happened to you when he’d done it to so many others. | tags: angst, dark/gory

Hvitserk 'Whiteshirt' Ragnarsson

Hvitserksdottir - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “I think we need to talk about the fact that I’m in love with you and also that I’m pregnant.” | tags: angst, fluff

Floki’s Cabin - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “Just trust me. Please. | tags: angst

Searching Home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader | summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, dark/gory, timetravel

Neither - relationship: genderfluid!reader x Hvitserk | Summary: Hvitserk finds out about genderfluidity and accepts he might not be completely straight | tags: fluff, timetravel

Law of conservation - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | summary: You’ve been working as a tutor at your high school for about a year now. When your parents throw a barbecue party for your new neighbors, their mother Aslaug asks you to tutor her son Hvitserk, who is already a notorious flirt at his school. | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

When in Bali... -  relationships: hvitserk x reader, ivar x freydís, sigurd x oc | summary: You were supposed to go to Bali with your partner for your one-year anniversary. Instead, you’re there alone, heartbroken. Will reuniting with a friend you know from a summer vacation in elementary school be able to fix it? | tags: fluff

Ivar 'the Boneless' Ragnarsson

Unholy Matrimony - A Sham in Four Acts / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationship: Ivar x reader | prompt: I’ve learnt to love you. | tags: angst, fluff smut

Insatiable Little Heathens  - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: drabble, for all of y’all who wanted more of Unholy Matrimony | tags: fluff

Resolve - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar’s legs hurt but he’s so fucking thickheaded | tags: fluff

My kind of witch - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. The man with blazing blue eyes fascinates you as soon as you see him and as you realize the struggles he faces every day, your admiration for him grows into something more. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Red - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar finally meets his match. | tags: smut, dark/gory

Serve - relationship: sub!ivar x buff!reader | summary: Ivar keeps teasing you. You finally have enough and give him a taste of his own medicine | tags: smut

Searching home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 -  relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader |  summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, smut, dark/gory, timetravel

Totally artistic -  relationship: ivar x reader | summary: When inspiration hits, you can’t stop it | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk, ivar x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

Brother - relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader, reader & oc | summary: You left your home and your brother behind for a reason. Now, a man is causing trouble at the borders of Kattegat, and as Ivar's queen, you take justice into your own hands. | tags: fluff

Unexpected / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 - relationship: ivar x thrall!reader | summary: Ivar finally decides to fuck the slave he’s been eyeing for so long, but when his angry side slips out, things take a turn for the wholly unexpected. | tags: smut

Tarot -  relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader | summary: Your day at the fair has been pretty slow – until a client like no other shows up. | tags: fluff

Imagines

How the Vikings would react to an accidental time traveler and a quiz to see if you’d survive: https://uquiz.com/dVXpgW

Ragnarssons (+Gyda): First Kiss

Social Media 

How the Vikings would react to guns and snapchat filters 

How the Vikings would react to modern dancing 

How the Vikings would react to modern music, and what they’d like

How the Vikings would react to modern concepts of astronomy and space 

How the Vikings react to modern haircare 

Vikings and Astrology

How Vikings would react to THEM timetraveling

Vikings + getting sick 

Vikings + Halloween 

Vikings + realizing you’re pregnant

Vikings characters + how they'd react to finding Accidental Time Traveler crying somewhere and not knowing why 

Vikings + you on your period  (+ more hcs about Ivar)

Vikings + Legos

Vikings + reader being much less stressed in their time

Vikings + single mother

Vikings + Gender Neutral Thor

Vikings + modern food

Vikings + touch avoidant cuddler

Vikings + Kids

Vikings + their history

Ragnarssons + being possesive

Vikings + Maleficent/Fae!reader

Vikings + curls and afros

Vikings + sleeping habits

Vikings + contortionist/super flexible reader

Vikings as modern!uni students

Vikings + affectionate drunk!reader

timetraveling!Vikings + modern tv/movies

Vikings + gen z slang

Vikings + curly haired kids

timetraveling!Vikings + Christmas

Vikings + eras other than their own

Vikings + ivar being remembered/famous