𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 || ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 - ᴘɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀᴡ.

Kind of a spoiler but...

This chapter is by no means trying to romanticise abuse (I deeply apologise if it comes off that way or is triggering) – this situation is however different as Alfred had forced them to fight and it would be very unlike Freyja if she didn't take Uhtred's place.

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —
ᴘɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀᴡ.
ᴀᴄᴛ ᴏɴᴇ — ᴏᴍᴇɴꜱ

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

SHE HAD FELT THE
rocks crumble beneath her fingers, the grey that dusted her fingertips, the soft clusters of moss that gathered within the crevices of stone. She had watched the moon sink further and further down the sky and the sun became a line of orange horizon.

She had felt the temperature change, had removed the furs that decorated her shoulders just so she could feel the cold melt away against the subtle warmth. The way the breeze brushed along the bumps decorating her skin. How the trees and hills coloured golden beneath the rising sun.

She had watched it all, felt it all, gathering her surroundings into every sense as if she were experiencing it for the very first time. Today, it would be her last.

She had waited and waited. Time seemed to become only a word as she lost track of it. The earth playing tricks on her mind – riddles she couldn't even begin to understand.

But she had come to notice one thing – there were no crows that loomed overhead as an omen to her death. No ravens that swept the sky. Nothing godsent to reveal the path of her future.

But she didn't need crows or ravens or any other black feathered birds for the moment the guard's showed up to retrieve both her and Uhtred, that had become her sign – the path that led to her inevitable death.

Freyja knew well enough, that even if the gods didn't send an omen for her, that they had taken the seeds of her story and sprouted them further across the earth to continue her destiny, that she would make a choice.

If Uhtred died today, then she would die right along with him.

That was her hope, the destiny she had written for herself. At this moment, her life laid in the palms of her own hands, her own doing, not any god of higher power.

She had followed the guard that would ultimately lead them to their deathbed all the while clutching Uhtred's hand within her own. He too was silent, caught in the contraption of his own mind as he strolled alongside her. Every so often he'd pressed a squeeze to her hand – it said that no matter – no matter what happened, they were going to be together in death or in living.

Freyja had seen him for the first time since she walked away the night prior. She couldn't bring herself to allow her eyes a proper look – his eyes however, were a different story entirely. They remained glued to her completely, staring at her with a look she couldn't decipher, nore would she want to decipher it.

If she did, it would make this whole ordeal all the more difficult, it would express things to her she couldn't even begin to understand.

And so, she refused to keep him anymore than just a shy of her peripheral vision.

The people of Wessex gathered across the vast clearing, clusters clinging together to form a shape of a circle. Dust kicked beneath feet, incoherent whispers stretched across the space.