But I will not concede unless I see my children first.
And if he doesn’t meet his end of the deal, then I will ensure every Dane will wage war against England, avenging me and the wrongdoings done to my family. To prove to him that I am serious, I have written a passage using runes.
It’s an ode to Odin, asking for his protection.
Christian men are superstitious, which is why no one questions what I wrote. They just know that if defied, a wrath no God can save them from will befall them and their families.
The royal seal is stamped in red wax, sealing our fate forevermore.
I feel nothing, for I really am defeated.
The men congratulate Aethelbald, who gloats in victory.
He won.
I never take my eyes off him because we had a deal.
Once the men are done lapping at his arsehole, he saunters over, coming to a crouch before me. “Once I am coronated, your sons and your Viking will be set free. I am a man of my word.”
He condescendingly pats my cheek. “Until then, your new lodgings will be in the tower. Under watch, of course. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you…my queen. I will alert the kingdoms of the news. I expect all of England will want to witness history being made.”
He leans in close and whispers, “You were nothing but a fool to believe you could change what was fated by the Lord, for it is called history for a reason. You’re nothing but a woman. You are feeble and weak and only good for bearing our sons.”
Without thought, I headbutt him in the face, breaking his nose thanks to the metal of the bridle I wear.
He falls backward, blood pouring from his wound. His fingers are coated in red, and I relish the sight because perhaps I still have some fight left in me after all.
I sit by the small window so high up I feel as if I can pluck a twinkling star from the night sky.
The darkness has always allowed me to hide, but tonight, I just wish for it all to end. It’s hard to imagine that I’m looking forward to this coronation because that means this will all be over with. I can finally be with my family.
Shame will follow us, but falling in love with a Dane and having his children means I will never fit into society’s norms.
I do not know where we will go.
But honestly, I don’t care.
We make a home wherever we go because family is what makes a home, not a place or the structure. Skarth will want revenge, but I think we’re both tired of fighting a war we cannot win this time.
We only truly have one another.
Suddenly, my stomach drops.
What if Aethelbald was so accommodating to my terms because he plans on changing that?
The door opens, and Sigrith enters. There is no tenderness in her eyes. That time has come and gone.
My scold’s bridle has been removed, yet, I don’t bother with small talk because the reason she’s here will be revealed all in good time. And the time comes when voices echo from outside. Peering below, I see soldiers with flaming torches escorting a prisoner into the square.
It’s Skarth.
So reminiscent of a time when I was a mere babe. The ironic thing is that now, as an adult, I’m just as helpless as I once was.
Skarth doesn’t struggle when they tie him to a post in the middle of the square.
“Sigrith, please,” I beg, turning to look at her, hoping to see some humanity. “He’s your brother. Help him!”
“I am helping him,” she ambiguously replies. “I am also helping you to see that in the end, Danes and Saxons do not belong together.”
