They had waited by the house all night, watching the fire burn itself out with defeated looks on their faces.
Beocca was broken; he had not eaten, drank, or said a word in hours. Hild had tried to comfort him when dawn broke, whilst Finan had encouraged him to drink something.

"This fire did not just happen. It did not." Beocca had a wild look in his eyes.

Shaking out from under Sihtric's cloak, Ghylena took a shaky breath, her lungs still feeling the strain of last night's smoke.
"Tidman," She croaked, "It was Tidman."

Lena began coughing, and Sihtric fluttered around her in worry, stroking her back as he gave her some more water.

Finan looked on in a mess of confusion and concern, "'Tidman'? What happened?"

"He was harassing her again, wasn't her?" Beocca looked self-destructive.

"He upset her in the palace, so I offered to walk her home. I thought we'd be safe," Ghylena faltered in her guilt, "He followed us. Threw food and stones. I- I tried to stop him, closed the door after her, but he cornered me."

Ghylena looked to Sihtric for strength, finding only an ocean of chaos in his eyes.
"He had a knife, and I'd left my weapons at the palace. I should have brought them with me, but I wasn't thinking. I didn't think we'd need them. I was stupid. I remember him pinning me down, and I couldn't move, couldn't fight him off—"

Sihtric went stiff, "He didn't—"

"No, no!" Her eyes widened as she realised what it sounded like, recognising Finan's worried look as his jaw tensed, "No, he didn't... I swear. He knocked me out, and then I woke up and the house was already... I'm sorry, Father, I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry."

<>

Uhtred had been imprisoned during the funeral, his pardon from Alfred revoked by Aelswith's order. Only when stood in the courtyard, about to be exiled from Wessex once more, did Uhtred make his speech in plain view of the rich and poor of Winchester. The entire city.
His speech worked, his pardon reimposed by Edward Rex, and then they were travelling yet again, journeying for Bedanford to face the armies of Cnut, Haesten and Brida.

They had made camp that night in Wicumb, taking note of Aethelwold's absence.
Edward, Uhtred and his inner circle, (including his 2 favourite priests), were gathered around their fire, eating a stew Osferth had made.

"This is good food, Osferth," Ghylena had praised him with a smile, "You make a better cook than me."

Sihtric snorted, "That is not an impressive feat."

"Seeing as I hunt the food, husband, I think it only fair that someone else prepares it." Ghylena nudged her knee with his.

"Sihtric is not much better at that than you, Lena," Finan chipped in.

"Perhaps we should get some help then..." Ghylena pondered.

"Perhaps we should just hire Finan as our maid." Sihtric joked.

"I'd rather suck my own toes after this battle than live with the two of you. I'd never get any sleep."

Uhtred laughed, Osferth went red, and Pyrlig chided Finan as Ghylena choked on her stew.

<>

The morning before battle, Uhtred had taken Edward to scout the forest— their chosen field of battle— whilst Lena's boys were sent to kill any potential spies on the roads.
Ghylena had taken her opportunity of peace and gone to the waterside, just beyond eyesight of the men of camp but within shouting distance, just in case.

She was stood knee-deep in the lapping water, her clothes damp and floating at her feet. She held her hands in front of her, palms down to the water, eyes closed.
Opening her other senses to the world around her, Lena cleared her mind. This was her fleeting chance to be Lady Ghylena, the wife and sister, the woman who grieves and mourns, and she had little time left before she would have to be Lena the Warrior once again. Taking out her knife, Ghylena pricked the tip of her finger, just enough to draw slow, thick blood.
The shining crimson dripped down into the river.

One drop.
"Gisela," she breathed, "My beautiful, powerful sister. Valhalla is not worthy of you."

Another drop.
"My baby— my perfect, undying son."

A final drop.
"Thyra, my friend, may you find peace. I'm sorry I could not save you," Lena sniffed, her voice thick, "Forgive me."

Opening her eyes slowly, Ghylena admired the beauty of her surroundings, finding comfort in the soulful song of birds. River mist clung to the water, the opposite banks flanked with verdant woodland that stuck straight into the rich blue sky. Raising the knife still clutched in her hand, she struck a small braid of hair from its end, clasping it in hand before throwing it into the water.
"Protect me, and let me protect those that I love."

<>

The battle came quickly.
Ghlyena was crouched beside her boys— Sihtric, Finan, Uhtred and Osferth. In the hours before, she had re-braided her hair tightly, applying war paint across her eyes and sharpened her weapons which hung from her torso.
They went through their usual rituals; Finan and Sihtric clashing weapons, Osferth praying, Uhtred staring so hard he might shit himself, and Sihtric pressing his lips to Lena's forehead.

Ghylena moved to the archers, joining the bowmen as they prepared to initiate the attack. Haesten and Cnut's men soon came riding through the woods, horses clattering on the old road, Ghylena sending word down her line— it was time.
Knocking her first arrow, Lena made sure to see that the others had followed suit before letting her death fly. Her curse flew true, finding its mark and killing the unremarkable Dane instantly. Chaos and panic erupted as their prey realised they had been ambushed. Roars and yells of scared men poured from over the ditch as Ghylena called for a second volley of arrows.
Then Uhtred's men charged, and soon soldiers collided like waves against a cliffside.

The line of Danes were being shredded by arrows, with some of them lifting their shields to protect themselves. Ghylena sent arrow after arrow into the pile of flesh and fur, each landing fatal blows.
When her quiver eventually ran empty, as was unavoidable, Ghylena strung her bow over her torso, unsheathing her sword in a fluid motion as she stood.
With a clamorous outcry, Ghylena led the second charge of men into the fray.

Running full speed into the fighting, Lena didn't have time to focus on anything but killing her enemies and staying alive. Unlike most of the men around her, Ghylena didn't have a shield, instead swinging with her axe and sword— her now-typical fighting style thanks to Sihtric's teachings.

Dodging away from a blood-soaked axe that was swung at her neck, Ghylena turned to face her newest opponent. He was huge, as big as her friend Clapa had been, with arms like an oak tree and a deadly double-edged axe in his hands.

Seeing her size him up, he steadied his footing and lunged for her again, forcing her further backwards with each arching swipe of his axe. This leering dance continued for 5 or so paces, with Ghylena nearly stumbling over a root before she saw it. Her chance.

Lena stepped to the side, clashing her axe into his with a yell and twisting it from his grip before bringing her sword up to his thigh and cleaving his leg down to the bone. He fell to his knees, letting out a resounding scream before she sunk her sword into his shoulder, digging down into his heart.
Panting with exertion, Lena tightened her grip before withdrawing her weapons, her eyes reassessing the battlefield like a hawk. Her gaze was mad, the black dust framing her wild eyes with fury.

"Where are the Mercians?!" Sihtric's voice rang out, and Ghylena's neck twisted in its direction.

She saw him them, fighting furiously and as gracefully as ever. Finan was close by.
"Sihtric!" She called out to him, but he didn't hear. Her throat was sore, the crisp air burning with every forceful inhale, "Sihtric!"

Carving a path to him wasn't easy, but Ghylena wasn't to be stopped. Moving through the bloodied mass of brawling like a leaf flowing down a river, Ghylena dodged and parried, periodically diving away from the swing of an axe or the swipe of a sword.

Eventually, a little worse for her, she caught his attention.
"Lena!" His eyes lit up, clearly happy to see her.

Seeing the Dane behind her husband, Lena's face grew fierce as she yelled for him to duck, hurling her axe over his back with one arm, and straight into the skull of his attacker.
Now with just her sword, Ghylena drew close to Sihtric and drew her dagger, pressing her side into his taller frame.
"Gods, I love you." He said, a manic grin on his face.

Huffing a laugh as she parried a blow, Ghylena threw him a hectic grin as she swore, "Not now, my love! Men to kill, battles to win—"

"Husbands to kiss?" Sihtric pushed his luck, slitting someone's throat with the tip of his axe as he gazed at his wife from the corner of his eye.

Lena shoved into him laughing, "Not now, Sihtric!"

"Uhtred! The line is breaking!" Finan was fighting fiercely, but they were all about to be overwhelmed if they didn't do something.

"Push back!" Came the reply, "Where is Sigebriht?"

Now stood with her boys, once again fighting against the odds and being painted with blood and gore, Lena heard horns of the approaching cavalry.

"Lord! Horses!" Sihtric called, "Horses!"

Uhtred rejoiced, "It is Aethelflaed! It is Mercia!"

The arrival of Mercia turned the tides drastically in their favour, the whip-fast horses ploughing through the men and the riders using deadly force with their weapons. Aethelflaed was leading the charge, and Ghylena momentarily looked in awe at the inspiring woman. She was power unto herself, and clearly good with a sword, a woman worthy of being a Queen.

The subsequent arrival of Lord Sigebriht and his men solidified the result of the battle, ensuring victory for Uhtred and his men.
Many died that day, though none who Ghylena loved and none who she need mourn for.

The following week was spent healing minor wounds and resting tired bones. Osferth cooked more stew for them, and Finan cracked his usual jokes, telling stories of battles past and battles that never happened. Sihtric finally got his hard fought kiss, and more.

Ghylena wore Gisela's earrings with pride, scrubbed her body of blood and allowed her tattoos pride of place on her neck, framing the braid Sihtric had knotted in her newly cleaned hair.
She had lost much, and gained much. But she was still here, and she still had family.

Uhtred, the brother given to her by Gisela...
Finan, the Irishman who could always make her laugh...
The baby monk, Osferth, a new and welcome addition to their group...

Sihtric. The man she loved, the man who loved her. Her husband. Her heart.

Word Count: 1860
END OF SEASON 3

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