I have renounced my title as queen of Mercia and appointed Aethelbald as its new king. The church has abdicated King Beornwulf of his titleship due to rumors spreading about his sexuality because no heir has been reared.
Eventually, he will have no other choice but to stand down because his soldiers will not side with a king whose interests stray off the path of what is considered “conventional.”
Most of England will be under Aethelbald's rule. No one will question this decision by me because Aethelbald is a man. It does not matter that he is a monster and corrupt. All will be overlooked because of his gender.
It’s overlooked that we women bear children, run a household, and are expected not to speak but merely obey, when we know men are, in fact, the inferior race. This is why I did what I did, for I was a voice for every woman subdued by any man who thought he could siphon her light, all because of what was shriveled between his legs.
I feel I have failed not only England but also every woman out there.
So when I sign away my freedom, I can’t help but feel I am dooming every female out there, too. And what makes this even worse is that this is happening because of three of the strongest women I know. They sided with a man, and look what has happened.
The fight in me has perished. I do not have it in me any longer.
All I want are my children and Skarth.
But I know I will not be granted such luxuries for some time to come because this is merely the beginning. Aethelbald will not be content until I am nothing but a husk of who I once was.
As much as I hate to confess, I am halfway there.
Sigrith’s betrayal was so unexpected. It has destroyed me and made me question everything I thought I knew. I cannot imagine what it has done to Skarth.
I wonder what they have done to him.
Never in my entire life have I ever felt this helpless, and that’s because it’s not only me who is suffering. It’s the suffering of those I love that eats away at me. So many people are affected, and ironically, the only way to save them is to surrender to evil.
Aethelbald sits beside me, relishing the attention of the ealdormen who want to be his right-hand man. He watches everything I do, clearly not trusting me. And he shouldn’t.
I sign document after document, briefly reading over each one. But even if I didn’t agree, I don’t have a choice. These changes are all in Aethelbald’s favor. Each signature is signing away England’s freedom.
The last parchment is the most important, and the tension is high when Lord Rufus presents it to me.
It’s signing my throne over to Aethelbald.
I read over the terms, my heart sinking because this is worse than I thought. If I sign this, I will be Aethelbald’s slave. I will not have a say over anything, my freedom included. The clause of him selling me like I am nothing but cattle has me curling my fists on my thighs in anger.
“What’s the matter, sweetling?”
All I can do is glare at him.
Even though I don’t have a choice, there is no way I’m signing this without a clause of my own.
So underneath the last line, I add my own term. If it is not fulfilled, then we have no deal. I present it to Aethelbald. He reads it over, his jaw clenching. The men gasp. Some cross themselves, hoping to save their souls from exposing their eyes to such sins.
I merely challenge them to deny me.
The silence is deafening, and Aethelbald does this as a scare tactic. But little does he know that when someone has nothing left to lose, they become dangerous.
“This is your only clause?”
I nod.
He picks up the quill and dips it into the black ink. He presses the tip to paper but doesn’t sign. He is doing this for dramatic purposes.
I am not moved in the slightest because I have dealt with far worse villains than this snotty-nosed little boy.
He senses my apathy and sighs.
I quietly let out the breath I was holding because my clause was that if I were to announce Aethelbald as king of Northumbria, then he was to release my children and Skarth. I will not contest any of his decisions and will dethrone myself.
