All was finally over. The Earls Sigefrid and Erik were dead, and Aethelflaed was back in Winchester. It seemed a great victory of both the Mercian and Wessex army. To celebrate the victorious win, some of the men of the Mercian army rode down to Lunden to drink till they couldn't see. The Roman city was known for its bustling streets, especially with the not-so-secret tribe of Danish women that lived there. Whenever the soldiers came, the women would help the men gabble their money away, for their benefit of course. Most of the drunken men sat around the large fire singing songs, as the Danish women sat on their laps sneaking through their silver. However, Lord Aldhelm stood to the side with a wooden cup in his hand, lightly laughing at the stupidity. He knew the tricks and games that the Danes played. Himself, wanted to enjoy and relish in the moment of peace, but it was hard with the enemy so close.
Suspiciously, one of the women holding a pitcher of ale, saw how the lord stood further from the actives rather then joining in. Slowly, she approached holding the pitcher high to her chest, "More ale, Lord?" she asked.
Surprised, Aldhelm looked down to his cup, "Um, no. No, thank you. I should stop."
"Oh come now Lord, tonight is meant for celebration!" she nagged.
He smiled and scoffed at her. The lady was right, he should be celebrating the death of the brothers, but he still had responsibilities, "Yes, it is. But, I will still need to sit upright on my horse come first light."
She lowered the pitcher down, and looked him up and down. She noted how he still wore his chain-mail and sword, even though most had discarded theirs. When she reached his shoulder, his blue colored cloak, and bronze broach holding it in place, caught her eye.
"That boar, is it real bronze?" she pointed to it.
"What's it to you?" he questioned back.
They both looked to each others for a moment before bursting out in a laugh. Aldhelm looked to the floor hiding his face, while the women covered her mouth with a toothy grin.
That was the started of it, the two spent the rest of the night talking and sharing laughs. It seemed so different for the both of them. Astrid, the ale maid, was used to flashing a smile and batting her eyes, in order to get what she wanted. On the other hand, Aldhelm was meant to be watching over his men, making sure they wouldn't kill each other in such a state. Yet, both let down their guard and stood apart from the masses, enjoying the night.
By the end of the night while the embers where still bright, she took his hand and led him into the dark, "Come." she called.
They did not need to exchange words, for the both knew what was happening.
* *
6 months later...
A sharp pain shot through Astrid's back as she tried to bend down. Quickly, she reached to the pain groaning. It had been six moons since she had to deal with the pain, and she wondered how much longer it would last.
"Astrid! You should not be doing such things in your condition!" one of the women came to her aid.
"I will be fine", she straight her back, "He wants out, as much as I want him out."
The other women smiled and scoffed at the comment, taking the basket that Astrid was holding. Together they walked towards the town square where most of the women were. As they approached, the noise of horses stopped them in their tracks. All the women stopped their work, and curiously looked on to the men of Mercia. No war or battle had broken out recently, confusing all to why they where there. Anxiously, Astrid cradled her swollen belly, eyeing for a certain lord.
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Moon-Heart | The Last Kingdom |
Fanfiction"Lord, I would never say this to a Saxon, but she needs you. She is of two worlds, if someone were to find out, she'd be dead...She needs you, lord." Lord Aldhelm, one of the greatest warriors of Mercia, was a mysterious man. Not much was known abou...
