Trigger Warning:
Mentions of violence.
Descriptions of a difficult labour.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Aescengum
Kingdom of Wessex

His skin was warmed by the fire ignited before him, the bright flames towered and embers sparked freely, Sihtric caught sight of Uhtred as he led the king and Beocca towards where the seer, Skade, was kept. Finan parted from the group and made his way toward them, almost instantly he raised his hands and let the heat of the fire warm the cold skin of his palms. 

"What are they doing?" Sihtric asked, as he leaned over out of curiosity. Everard followed his line of sight as they watched Uhtred guide Alfred down to the darkened prisons.

"Alfred said he'd like to hump the witch." Finan replied as he leaned his elbow onto Valaena's shoulder, she rolled her eyes at him, "No word of a lie."

"She is dangerous..." Valaena spoke, "We may never see the king again."

Her words had captured eager notice in one person as he made way to the small group huddled around the growing fire. Everard caught sight first and he simply made space for the man, not knowing much about him except that he is a bothersome nuisance and a drunk but the winds are cold this dreary night and the fire blazed ever ferocious enough to shield many from the chill. Aethelwold stood as his gazed fixed itself upon the blonde Dane in the Irishman's arms, he noticed how Finan had his arm wrapped around her shoulder almost resting upon Valaena's heart as her head rested on his chest.

"You would be quite pleased--" He quipped and this caught their attention.

Valaena turned and she sighed as she looked to Aethelwold, "Do not ruin the quiet." She muttered.

"I had meant, you would be quite pleased if the King of Wessex was never to be seen again." He raised his brows.

"I am sure, it is no more than you would be." She snapped back.

Aethelwold raised his hand toward the flaming fire, the flow of warmth pierced his flesh as he shook his head-amused, "How could I be? my dearest uncle, gone." He mumbled, "That would be heavens gift to you Danes, no? Wessex unprotected."

"Stop your mutterings." Finan exhaled.

"So quick to defend."

Sihtric observed how the Irishman's jaw clenched from irritation yet Finan kept quiet choosing to ignore Aethelwold's aggravating words. From the far corner he saw Uhtred walk out from where the seer is kept, by himself. King Alfred was not beside him and Sihtric furrowed his brows in confusion. He would not leave the King down there alone unless Alfred wished to speak of a matter much too important not even Uhtred could be privy to the hidden details.

The night had blanketed much of the once cyan sky with an allure ever consuming. Sihtric felt its pull as the moon shone a vivid pale light downward, its beams rested upon the grass. He quietly listened to the chatter of men that traipsed around amidst the expanding uncertainty of the morrow as it loomed over them with a weight so heavy. If there was to be a battle, which he was sure there would be, he wished for it to be over soon-- each prolonged moment stuck in one place only rooted the impatience he felt deeper into him. Ease came in the form of sleep which doused the restlessness he felt so intensely, he supposed her memory is what incited his need to succeed and return. Though this time it was vastly different unlike how, in the past, they had parted much too unsure about what will befall the other-- now it was calm, a trust they had rebuilt.

He did not worry as he once had done, at least not exactly how it had been then.

It was the contentment he felt, the happiness that he would be retuning back to his wife, she is not just Lynette-- no, she is his wife and he can call her that as many times as he wishes, as many times as he had once dreamt. 

It was strange. Before he had known Lynette he thought the prospect of love never existed, not truly, he had seen the manner in which his mother perished, the harsh brutality of his father's words and actions and he had then pledged to himself, a mere boy of eight, that he would never allow himself to become his father's shadow-- they shared no likeness, none at all.

"Still, you are more than welcome at my wedding." Aethelwold grinned at Finan.

Finan scoffed, "Is your intended aware of this or are you talking out your arse?"

Aethelwold scowled, "She is aware."

"Then she is no sane woman." Valaena uttered, "Or she is being held against her wish, which seems more likely."

"Is it I who is being held against their wish." Aethelwold pressed with annoyance, "Which man would want to wed a woman such as her? Known to be a--harlot."

"You do not deserve a harlot either." Valaena sanpped, "If I was you, I would happily sit and thank your God that you have a woman."

"I do thank him. She is beautiful and daughter to a wealthy man." Aethelwold beamed, "I suppose you have never visited Wiltshire."

Everard narrowed his gaze onto Aethelwold, Wiltshire? Daughter to a wealthy man?

"You will. Days from today if we emerge victorious, there will be a grand celebration--"

"More than you deserve I am sure."

"Regardless." Aethelwold snapped, "You will see. She is exquisite, that is but the only reason I am content...with an allure such as hers I would be a fool not to be." He expressed, "Though she is yet to learn the true manners of a lady and I am certain that is because of her unbecoming nature."

"Perhaps she is only unbecoming towards you..." Valaena suggested smugly, "I do not fault her." She then whispered under her breath.

"No, as I had said she has a sharp tongue-- that will change." He retorted.

Sihtric did not particularly like the manner in which he spoke of the woman he is to wed, with such a wicked venom laced into his tone, it bothered him. He had taken keen notice when Everard narrowed his eyes into slits, staring with an unusually peeved expression upon his commonly relaxed face.

"Do you talk of women in such a manner often?" Everard asked.

Aethelwold turned to him with confusion, "I do not know you."

"No matter, you don't need to know me to answer."

"I said nothing wrong-- nevertheless, I don't need to explain myself. Whatever I say does not beg for your concern." Aethelwold spoke brusquely.

"I think it does when you choose to speak so freely-- Lord." He mocked, "And it is plain to me, that not one person here cares to listen to what you have to say."

"Still, you have taken interest."

"That is only because, my lord, you speak loud-- how could I ignore it?" Everard bluntly responded.

"You decide to address me as Lord yet in the same sentence you insult me."

"My apologises." Everard curtly replied.

Aethelwold frowned, "Say it like you mean it."

Everard scoffed, a blend of amusement and annoyance woven together outlined his irises as he stared at Aethelwold. Before Everard could respond to his obnoxious demand a vociferous voice bellowed out, the words echoed through the ice of the night air.

It was the seer as she beckoned for her Lord, "Sigurd free me-- there is a king in this camp! Come to me! Desire me!" She thundered out, louder and louder with each word that passed her lips.

King Alfred walked out from the prisons toward Uhtred who stood before the steps, the ringing of Skade's summons travelled not far behind.

"Bloodhair, free me! Desire me!" She repeated, her words faster each time as the gravity of her desperation grew. Her hands which were chained tugged on the metal as she tried to free herself from the shackles.

Uhtred turned to Alfred, "If she insists upon calling, we should make use of her." He suggested.

And so she had ended up on the ramparts of the fortress, her voice harsher now and more thunderous as she bellowed out the same words, "Bloodhair!" She aggressively yelled as she tugged on the chains, "Come for me, avenge me, free me! I demand it!"

Sihtric rubbed at the temples of his forehead as he shakily exhaled out, her voice had began to cause his head to throb-- turning to the group he groaned out, "When can we bind her mouth shut?"

Uhtred, who was now leaning up against a wooden beam, replied "Let her sing."

"That is not singing." Osferth jested as a smile of humour curved upon his lips.

"We will get no rest tonight." Everard complained as he tried to keep his eyes open.

"Lord Uhtred!" An irritated voice called out as the man approached the Dane-slayer, "Are you going to allow that woman to wail all night long?" Sigebriht hissed.

Uhtred nodded his head, "For a little while longer, yes Sigebriht."

Everard exasperatedly sighed once Sigebriht had left and Aethelwold, who had before left for a moments time, returned once more this time he stood beside Uhtred who did not appear to look pleased yet said nothing of it.

"Here is a bit of loose talk for you." He turned to Uhtred, "Sigebriht there, son of whoever, would like to rip the innards from young Edward's belly--"

"I would like to rip the innards from your belly, why are you back?" Valaena sighed, her head rested upon Finan's shoulder as the Irishman's rested on the other side of the wooden beam that Uhtred stood against. Each of them coloured with the stains of fatigue.

Aethelwold shook his head, of course he was disgruntled at what Valaena had said but he choose to disregard it, "Would you like to know why?" He asked Uhtred.

"Um..." Uhtred uninterestedly responded, "No."

"I'll tell you. Edward, the none bastard son of Alfred-"

Sihtric glared at Aethelwold knowing exactly why he had pointed the obvious specifics out, all stood here knew Edward to be the legitimate son of the king, yet the only reason he would have to make it be known was because Osferth was among them and Sihtric despised Aethelwold for that. He noted how Osferth quietened down and fumblingly averted his stare to the ground, as if to mask himself from the conversation.

"--has whelped twins on the girl whom Sigebriht did love."

"And does Sigebriht still love this girl?" Osferth abruptly asked. His eyes, although, they remained latched to the wet mud of the ground he had mustered the confidence to inquire out of curiosity or perhaps the need to be accepeted.

Aethelwold proceeded to continue as if he had not heard Osferth, like the boy's voice was but a faint whisper of the winds in the shade, he began to warm his hands on the fire as he muttered "Can someone not just cut her throat?" The shouts of the seer still alive in the air.

"Why are you telling me this?" Uhtred asked, "It is of no concern to me."

Aethelwold looked to him, "They will make it your concern, Uhtred. They will find a way and Edward shall become your charge." He looked down, at the glow of the fire on the nails of his fingers as he uttered, "You are a kingmaker, my friend. And Alfred knows it."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The dawn crashed down upon them, the first threads of sunlight seeped into the endless azure, as blaring sounds of metal upon metal boomed through the air, pain filled screams drained alongside the clamour. It was only minutes ago that they had witnessed the brutal death of innocent peoples at the hands of Sigurd--Bloodhair. He had approached out of the thickness of the cool morning with men and hostages, he stood outside the gates of the fortified town of Ascengum beckoning for his seer to be released and demanding for her to be given back to him.

"Lord we need to change our plan." Uhtred urgently pressed as they walked inside, "We cannot wait for him to attack because he will not."

Everard stood in the far corner of the room as he tried to forsake the sight he had witnessed only minutes prior. The slit of the tender flesh of the throat and the blood that seeped out gushing and torrential, it dotted itself inside his mind-- smeared itself, a dark and terrible crimson red.

Sihtric caught sight and made his way toward him, "You will eventually forget it." From the look on the Frankish man's face, the raven haired Dane could easily decipher what he was thinking. Sihtric, himself, thought much the same when he was a young boy-- by now he had become accustomed to the sight of blood and death, he had to for survival.

"You will be a warrior or else you are useless to me!" Kjartan's menacing voice screeched in the distant corners of Sihtric's mind-- he had pushed astray the man's taunts as they were on their path to torment him yet every now and then he would recall them. Kjartan was after-all his father, as much as he despised that truth.

"I do not think I will." Everard muttered back.

Sihtric glanced to him, "You want to fight? You are here to do that, are you not?" Everard blinked and just gave him a simple nod, no words, just a nod indicating he agreed-- that is what he is here for. "Then, you must learn to get used to this and quick."

"My beginnings were humble, simple- I was never taught to wield a sword. My father worked and continued to do so until he died. Not soon after my mother fell sick, she too died, and then I was thrown aside." Everard disclosed, it was a side Sihtric had never seen in the ordinarily cheerful man.

"You can learn. There is always time to progress, you have not run out of it." Sihtric remarked, in a manner to set ablaze confidence in Everard for battle is no sheltered haven but an open inferno of blood and death ravaging all in its path as the flames burn away any memory of a life lived before.

"And I suppose you will do that?"

Sihtric raised his brows, "Is this you acknowledging I am a great warrior, a fierce fighter?" The look of amusement upon Sihtric's feature told enough.

"I think you have already deceived yourself into believing that." Everard retorted.

"Then I am safe to presume you can find somebody else."

Everard shook his head, breathlessly laughing, "Lynette has gotten quite accomplished with her swordsmanship."

"I know." Sihtric slowly replied.

"She will make an exceptional mentor." He teased.

Sihtric narrowed his stare at him, barely obvious, he bit his lip as he nodded his head "Here is something else, you could ask Valaena- she was the one that taught Lynn."

"Lynn?" Everard repeated and Sihtric shook his head at that, "Lynette." The Dane stated correcting Everard and the blonde, in turn, raised his brows knowingly.

"But what we must do is stop them on the road. I can send Finan and Valaena to do just that, and then we must join them." Uhtred's dominating voice caught the attention of both Sihtric and Everard pulling them back to the matter at hand, Bloodhair.

"We must choose the place of battle, Lord--but we must act quickly while his blood burns."

"Join Aethelred where?" The King asked.

Uhtred momentarily thought before he revealed the battle place he considers would give them the most advantage, "I am thinking Fearnham. There's a hill."

"I know it Lord. It gives us an advantage." Beocca reassured, agreeing with Uhtred.

"But how do we join Aethelred at this hill?" Alfred's stare roamed from Beocca back to Uhtred, "And how do ensure Earl Sigurd will follow, if that is to be the plan?"

"Finan and Valaena will find the Mearcians and we will ensure Bloodhair follows." Uhtred answered, looking to the Irishman and the Dane beside him. Valaena nodded her head at Uhtred, a sign that showed him that she is ready.

He turned back to the King, "You and I, Lord, we will draw him."

"And if Aethelred cannot be found?"

"Then we fight alone." Uhtred proclaimed, "But we must act quickly. It must be today."

Finan sat up and Valaena followed pursuit after just as quick, "We are ready Lords!" He announced, "It won't take us long to find the Mercians."

The king pondered for a moment before he gave a subtle yet largely pronounced nod affirming that he had agreed and Uhtred smiled at that, he then looked to the Irishman and the blonde Dane-- "To Fearnham. Go!" He urged.

Everard briefly, just for a split moment, looked to Sihtric and then back at Uhtred as he felt his heartbeat accelerate.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Fearnham

The sound of hooves rumbled upon the ground mixing together into a tuneless rhythm as they rode ahead, the hill of Fearnham neared ever grand before them-- the place of battle. The arrows of sunlight seeping through the haze of clouds shone across the hill, irradiating the rising ground. Sihtric held onto the reins of his horse as he steadied the animal, his gaze bound straight ahead so he could take in the field. Due to the harsh weather of late, the grass was moist from the rain each blade dripped with morning dew as the earth breathed in the lingering remnants of rainfall. Curling in, the mist encompassed much of the land as Sihtric tried to behold the view.

He could not see either Finan nor Valaena and definitely not Aethelred with the Mercian army.

"Is this the place, Lord?" Osferth called out, "Is this Fearnham?"

"It is." Uhtred replied.

Sihtric turned and looked to Uhtred, "Perhaps Finan and Valaena did not make the journey."

It was silent for a moment, "Do we wait for the Danes to catch us?" Osferth casually inquired as his gaze wandered the brumous atmosphere that almost veiled them.

Everard snapped his stare to him with a glare, "They will come, Finan and Valaena."

Everard wanted to believe that --no, he had to believe that. He cannot perish at his first battle, he will see himself prevail. Yet finding the field empty, abandoned almost like it had been purposefully deserted did less to enhance his confidence and more to inflate the very evident fear he felt, it was too apparent almost as if the feeling had taken a humanly shape of its own. The silence was a looming heft, a burden of great strength and imminent terror. Still-- regardless of the need to remain composed, the Frankish man could not help but succumb to the hints of whispers that maundered about. They could be born of his own creation or maybe they were the taciturn voices of men that had previously fallen here, warriors that bled to death on the very grass below him.

It remained as such, silent-- not one person uttered a word for they were caged by the worries their minds had thrown at them. And Sihtric was no different he, too, felt tense and bothered by the sight before his eyes. A sentiment that percolated into his flesh and trickled through to his veins yet he will endure as he had always done, now even more so because he has a woman waiting for him, his woman--his wife. And she had demanded for his safe return, he cannot deny her that.

"Your men are here. I know it." Skade revealed.

Then in an instant the air filled with the thunder of hooves and the sounds of horses neighing, far ahead upon the peak of the hill appeared a man and then beside him came a woman. "It is Finan and Valaena." Uhtred informed, watching how the hill quickly swarmed with men and more men, "And the Mercians. We are an army!" Uhtred yelled with fervour as he unsheathed his sword and raised it to the sky, "Glory shall be ours!"

Shouts of exhilaration rumbled through the harsh breeze, men yelled and cheered for victory.

The Mercian men followed after, loud and deafening roars swathed the field as Valaena turned and looked to the Lady Aethelflaed with a glimmer of amusement and restlessness in her irirses.

"Victory shall be ours, Lady."

"That it will be and please, it is Aethelflaed." She said.

The sun beamed down, unrelenting with its fury as Uhtred rode from one end of the hill to the other sat upon his horse, "Shield wall!" He yelled and the men instantaneously raised their shields and formed a wall. Everard stood beside Sihtric with Valaena on his other side, Finan positioned himself in the free space adjoined to the raven-haired Dane. The Lady Aethelfladed alongside Osferth sat upon their horses behind the army of men, similarly the seer Skade was kept safe beyond the shield wall.

A horde of Danish men-- Vikings, rode onto the field at the bottom of the hill. Everard could hear the exceedingly quick beating of heart pounding in his ears as his gaze fixed itself upon the warriors.

"Ready!" Uhtred thundered.

The men secured their positions, raising their swords, axes or spears.

As Bloodhair and his men hollered with the anger and excitement of battle-- Uhtred shouted out, "We stand our ground! They will come to us, and we will take their heads from their shoulders!" And with that came a prolonged lasting shout indicating battle, the Danish warriors began to charge all the while they screamed with the rage of attack.

"Just point the sharp end at the enemy and hit them with it." Valaena leaned into Everard as she yelled.

He scowled at her, "I am not a fool."

"You look terrified."

"Hold firm!" Uhtred demanded as archers raised above and fired arrows at the advancing army that stormed at them. It hit some of the Danes causing them to fall, breaking their position as men clamoured over the bodies--tripping. "We do not break! We stand our ground!" Uhtred yelled.

"For Mercia!" Aldhelm bellowed.

With an animalistic roar the enemy army cannonballed into their shield wall breaking it apart. Everard raised his sword he gripped it firmly at the hilt, he used all the strength he could muster and swung the blade. He could hear it, the squelching of skin as his sword pierced through flesh. The silver steel was quick to be coated in scarlet red, blood dripped off the end as he felt himself be pushed from the left to the right, pushed behind and then thrown forward through that he forced himself to remain tough. Do not fall or trip and do not drop your sword.

Sihtric impaled his sword into the stomach of a Dane then instantly he pulled it out and aggressively shoved the man away from him, causing the now bleeding body to fall to the ground. The echoes and ricochets of battle sounds and shouts revibrated through the air, waves of them blaringly crashed together, it was almost deafening. He slashed his sword at the neck of another man causing the blood to rapidly seep out, drops of it splashed onto his clothes-- he gave it no mind as he continued to fight.

After a moment his gaze drifted through the sea of men, not being able to distinguish between Saxon and Dane for the two armies had now merged into each other, he searched for the dirtied honey hair of Everard.

When he caught sight of the golden strands Sihtric swiftly fought his way closer as he neared he noticed Everard was swamped and that a Dane behind him with his sword raised was about to plunge it into the back of Everard. The raven haired Dane, speedily approached the other Dane and raised his sword piercing it into the side of their stomach as it was just mere moments from Everard's back. The Dane screeched in anguish as he fell to the ground, his sword only just skimmed Everard's back as it toppled to the ground. Everard turned around and saw Sihtric, his eyes shifted to the ground where the Dane lay in pain and the French man let out a breath of air, relieved.

A horn blared and Everard snapped his head in the direction of the blast, Sihtric furrowed his brows as the horn bellowed again.

"It is Alfred." Uhtred muttered and then he turned "It is Alfred and the men of Wessex!" He now yelled much louder, blood seeped down the side of his head.

Everard saw the men of Wessex, an army large and strong, the king at the head as his men surrounded him-- the Aetheling beside him. "Steapa." Alfred demanded and the man yelled, "Shield wall!"

They were trapped, Bloodhair and his men were caged-- on one end with the Mercian army and on the other with the men of Wessex. And as the Mercian's charged forward the Viking army went backwards to free themselves more space but they were fighting straight into another army. Bloodhair noticed this, his widened eyes saw defeat now and so he forcibly with haste and evident urgency pushed passed the men and onto a horse. He rode away from the battle, from Skade as she sat upon a horse behind the fighting her eyes glued to her former Lord as she whispered under her breath, "Bloodhair, you do not yield." Her gaze followed the Dane as he fled, "Do not yield."

"Give them no ground!" Uhtred shouted as he fought.

"They are running scared!" Aldhelm plunged his sword into a Dane and then pulled it out, the crimson blood trickled down the steel as he raised the sword to the sky "They are beaten!" He vociferously cheered.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Winchester
Kingdom of Wessex

The arch of the bitter yet gentle breeze curved into the room bringing with it a comforting stroke that painted over Lynette's anxious body as she stood before the bed. She picked at the skin around her nails, tugging on the flesh as she bit on her bottom lip-- the groans of discomfort gradually built up as Gisela sat heavily breathing. Sweat dripped down each inch of Gisela's body as she grunted, "I cannot bear this." The Lady Gisela had gone into her labours a few hours ago, Lynette remembered how the woman had shrieked out as she felt the first contraction. Dahlia had told her to grab water and a cloth whilst Thyra rushed to call for Hild.

As the pain intensified Gisela quivered her breathing strained as if even that was too much of a strenuous task for her. Lynette blinked in worry she resorted to biting on the nail of her thumb, her teeth dug into the flesh as she kept chewing at the skin-- the louder the grunts became the deeper Lynette would bite and she kept doing so until she tasted the metallic taste of blood that is when she pulled her hand back and saw the blood seep out and trickle down her thumb.

Dahlia soaked the cloth in water and leaned forward as she patted it delicately on Gisela's throbbing forehead, she did so for a moment before she pulled back and allowed the pregnant lady some air to breathe. Her gaze drifted toward Lynette who stood at the end of the bed, concern and distress etched plainly onto her irises as she tried to avert her gaze to anything, everything but Gisela.

"Your thumb is bleeding." Dahlia approached her, she whispered softly before she passed her something to tend to the blood with, "You are biting at your nails again."

Lynette blinked down at her thumb, "It is nothing."

Dahlia could see it, evident, written candidly on Lynette's features. The biting at her nails, the furrowed brows and her reluctance to allow her eyes to set upon Gisela for too long. The auburn-haired lady noticed Lynette for a split second place her hand upon her stomach and just as it rested there it had gone in a flash.

"The Lady Gisela is a strong woman, Lynette. She will be fine." Dahlia reassured.

Lynette nodded her head. Over the stretch of time Lynette had known her cousin's wife she had come to develop an immense adoration for her. Gisela was quick to accepting Lynette, to showing her kindness and love-- it is something Lynette profusely admired about her and will not soon forget, in truth she never will.

"I cannot do this, it hurts-" Gisela gasped out, her body convulsed as sharp labour pains overtook her.

Thyra grabbed her hand ever gently so as not to add to Gisela's pains, "Gisela please-- you must remain strong, breathe. Here, from the nose." Thyra guided Gisela assisting her with the breathing.

Lynette clasped her hands together. This was entrenched into her-- her lips parted as she, in breathless whispers barely audible, began to pray. She recited for The Lady Gisela's health, so she may prosper and deliver the child with no problem, that she may gain her strength and emerge from this triumphantly. She repeated the words over and over it began to form into a plea, begging for God to favour Gisela, to be merciful and to not tear her away.

"I cannot breathe, the babe-" A sweat droplet trickled down Gisela's face from her forehead, it landed onto her chest as she groaned-- she felt a herself fall into oblivion as darkness covered her eyes.

The midwife leaned forward, "You may start pushing now, please Lady." She compassionately instructed.

Lynette now sat at the end of the bed she tensely watched as Gisela pushed, using all her strength-- she strained and overexerted herself yet the Babe was stubborn. "Push Lady!" Gisela pushed again and again, she kept pushing until her breathing slowed down and her muscles felt feeble. Lynette continued to pray, she did not stop her pleading.

As time prolonged Lynette felt as if they were stuck, that the day was unmoving. In the room the looming weight of the birth crushed down upon them, Dahlia now sat back at the head of the bed beside Gisela she would momentarily pat the cool cloth onto the Lady's forehead in a manner to ease her.

Thyra leaned into Gisela and whispered something in her ear, words of solace.

"Lady, please if you can try and push once more-- the Babe must be born."

Gisela breathed out shakily as she sat up with the assistance of Hild and Dahlia, the Lady's eyes flickered onto Lynette and she managed a small weak smile- "Come Lynette, sit beside me." Lynette brushed back her hair and gently sat herself beside Gisela, "Do not let this frighten you." Gisela breathed out, "Your labours will be easy-- the birth will feel effortless." Lynette responded with a tender squeeze of Gisela's hand, the Lady intertwined her fingers with Lynette's as she began to push.

Not soon after the wail of a Babe filled the room, Lynette watched as the midwife held the boy and tended to him, cutting the umbilical cord. It was silent, Gisela had not breathed out in relief nor did she move, Lynette fixed her gaze upon the hand she held-- it was still, loosening. She remained still herself. Lynette did not know how long it had been, it felt as if she was in a trance but she felt Thyra place her hands on her shoulder and gently tug at her.

"Lynette." She whispered, "You have to let her go. Let her hand go."

She turned and looked to Thyra, "She must be sleeping-- I think she is sleeping."

Thyra glanced away as she fought back tears, "Please let her hand go."

"She grabbed my hand herself, how can I let go of it?"

Dahlia covered her mouth as sadness swept over her-- she saw the look on Lynette's features, the girl is in disbelief but underneath it Lynette knows that Gisela is not asleep, she is not even breathing.

"She is gone Lynette, you must step back." Hild whispered gently.

Lynette tightened her hold on Gisela's hand, she shook her head "No, no, no, she is sleeping-- did you see the pain she was in? She needs rest!" Lynette snapped.

Dahlia walked to Lynette and sat beside her on the bed, she placed her hand upon Lynette's other hand and tugged at it, "You must say your goodbye-"

"I will not!" She exhaled, "You told me- you! That she will be fine, is she?" A tear escaped and rolled down Lynette's cold cheek.

"I could not have known this would happen."

"Then don't speak on matters you do not know." Lynette sighed.

Lynette looked to the hand, it was still and lifeless. She could not feel a pulse even when she searched for it, there was nothing. Dahlia reached over and gently removed Lynette's hand from Gisela, the girl allowed for her to do so. The auburn-haired Lady took Lynette and guided her out of the room, to her chambers. Once inside Lynette felt her face drenched in a salty ocean of tears, she did not know Gisela for a long time but the time in which she had known her had affected Lynette greatly.

She turned to Dahlia with a gasp, "My cousin-Uhtred." Lynette had rarely spoken with Uhtred, it was a distant relationship they beheld but she will not deny the harrowing sadness she feels for him-- he truly loved Gisela.

"This will tear him apart, he-" Lynette cried, she is really and surely crying. Her head pounded, "And her children, oh- sweet Stiorra. Dahlia- why did this have to happen?"

"I do not know-" She muttered, "But don't worry her children have their father, they have you. Stiorra has you- I know you greatly care for her."

"She was too kind." Lynette mumbled.

Dahlia grabbed her hands, "She was."

Lynette pulled her hands back and wiped away the tears on her face she turned around for a moment yet again biting at her nails. Her breathing accelerated as she remembered, the one thought she had forgotten, stung her sharply-- as it plummeted down upon her. Her irises wandered down to her stomach she felt a paralysing fear strike her almost numb. Gisela had died in excruciating pain- she died giving birth and Lynette had witnessed it, she had seen the terror of it all. She did not care that this was a possibility and a known fact, that women unfortunately can perish giving birth- she wanted none of it.

Before Lynette could speak Dahlia stepped forward, "I know what you are thinking, you make it so easy-" She smiled, "That letter you had sent to the Lady Aethelflaed, you should go."

Lynette blinked.

"I can see it Lynette. You are not happy and you will not be."

The fear was eating her up from the inside, truly devouring each inch of her flesh as a babe does a mother, feasting on their body as the mother exerts herself-- toils in pain and at the end of it all she could possibly die, she will never hold her hungry child.

"Perhaps sadness is all that is written for me."

"No- you have hardships, you get through them and you emerge stronger." Dahlia consoled.

"I do not." Lynette muttered, "I am tired." And it was not the type of fatigue that will wash away as soon as she rests and sleeps it is one that had woven itself into her very being and soul, a constant she has never been able to rid herself of.

Dahlia tilted her head, "Go to the Lady Aethelflaed and do not be so harsh on yourself, Lynette. You are God's child-- as you, yourself, once told me."

Lynette fisted her hands, she had prayed- right there in that room on the same bed the Lady Gisela laid upon in anguish. She had prayed and pleaded and begged, it did nothing.

"I shall leave on the morrow." Lynette whispered.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

It was early, the birds had began their chirping singing melodies to welcome the dawn. Lynette stepped out, she had only just received a letter from the Lady of Merica-- Lynette felt content, she needed to leave, it is best for her at this moment for she cannot remain as she is, she must gain strength. Lynette had spoken with Dahlia, the Dane lady decided she will remain behind until Sihtric returns and the brunette agreed. Lynette had made Dahlia swear that she will not tell Sihtric anything except that she had gone to visit the Lady Aethelflaed upon her beckoning and that he is not to worry.

She is to ride to Mercia on a wagon with a few others and Lynette did not mind she just needed to get from one place to another, with the pennies she had stored she was set.

As she sat awaiting her eyes weighed heavy, the remnants of the previous night of tears had ingrained themselves onto her irises-- it was painful for her to open them. Out of her periphery she caught sight of a cloaked person, a woman she is sure. Lynette shuffled to the side and the woman made her way towards her. Not wasting a moment the hood of the cloak fell and Lynette saw that it was the Lady Rowena of Wiltshire.

"Where are you going?" She curiously inquired.

"It is early."

"I know that but you did not answer my question."

Lynette sighed, "How did you know I was here?"

"Deflecting again. I caught sight of you as I was leaving the castle-- I like to walk in the mornings." She replied, "Now you must answer."

"I am leaving Winchester."

"I can see that, where are you hoping to go?"

"Mercia."

Rowena furrowed her brows, "Do you have family there? Friends, you should not go alone."

"I am going to see someone."

Rowena blinked, she understood then that Lynette did not wish to disclose who. Lynette bit her lip in contemplation before she exhaled, "The Lady Aethelflaed."

A smile curved onto Rowena's lips as she pulled up the hood of her cloak and took a seat beside Lynette, "I am well acquainted with the Lady Aethelflaed. I shall accompany you."

Lynette frowned, "Will you not tell anyone you are leaving, what about your father?"

Rowena shook her head.

"You know how people are, they will make up rumours of your sudden disappearance." Lynette urgently pressed.

"I know. Let them." Rowena responded, humoured- "It keeps them entertained, why would I spoil their amusement?"

Lynette breathed out in a light laugh as she nodded her head in agreement. They both sat awaiting together and Lynette had found herself glad that Rowena had caught sight of her, that the Lady was here and that she would not be travelling alone.

_____________________

A/N: I sobbed. I love Gisela so much. Here is another chapter!!!! I assure you Lynette and Sihtric will be reuniting soon this is all for the plot and character development.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this chapter.

Do not forget to vote and comment, thank you for reading 🫶