―♛―

CHAPTER IX:

✧. ⋆ strings of destiny

     𝕿HE CLOSER THEY GOT TO EOFERWIC, THE ANGRIER UHTRED SEEMED TO BECOME. So much so, that as they crossed the courtyard and headed for the palace, the fire within his eyes burned fierce enough for the guards to let them pass without protest. Still, her hand hovered near her sword in case the guards decided to change their mind. Or in case some monk would be stupid enough to give them the order to fight.

After defeating Sigefrid in battle, they'd returned to Loidis and told their men to wait while they went to visit King Guthred. The news of Sigefrid and Erik's defeat had strengthened the spirit of their warriors and they were content to revel in this victory for a while. Soon enough, though, they would grow restless. Eldrid hoped they were marching to Dunholm before that happened. Sadly, that decision depended on a man she wouldn't even trust with the choice of what to eat for dinner.

"We are here at the request of Alfred of Wessex. The king will wish to see us!" Beocca introduced their rather strange travelling party. He was running to keep up with Uhtred's angry stride. "Uhtred, I will speak first."

"Father, you will say nothing," Uhtred snarled.

They marched into the hall. Only one table was placed at the far end of it. There, seated on his throne of stone, sat the turd king. His face seemed to turn even more pale when he saw who had entered his palace. He all but jumped to his feet, nervously grasping a hold of the armrest of his chair to keep himself upright.

Uhtred came to a halt in front of the table, his eyes holding a thunderstorm. Behind her, Finan and Rollo turned around to stop the guards inside the hall from doing anything stupid. Though, merely reaching for their swords turned out to be enough. Guthred's men were either afraid to fight, or they did not wish to turn against Uhtred, who had been their commander after all. Considering the task that awaited them, Eldrid could only hope it was the latter.

"Uhtred, Father Beocca, I..." the king stammered. "I had heard that you were close. I had...I had not realised how close."

Beocca stepped forward. "Lord, King Alfred has sent us here to-"

"Father Beocca!" Uhtred snapped, silencing the monk. "You will allow King Guthred to speak first."

The man in question swallowed nervously. "I had also heard that you had been recovered, Uhtred. I am glad, believe me." He chuckled, though it sounded more like he was choking on his nerves. "Well, if you are here to kill me, I don't blame you, I would kill me too. But it would be a mistake, another mistake."

In the silence that followed, it was Aethelwold who stepped forward. "Lord Guthred. I am Lord Aethelwold. I come in King Alfred's stead, we have gifts-" He was stopped by Uhtred placing a firm hand against his chest.

The dane slayer reached into the bag he'd been holding and pulled out a hand, Sigefrid's hand. He tossed it towards the table, where it landed on Guthred's plate. "Sigefrid's sword hand," Uhtred said. "The brothers won't trouble you again."

"They are dead?"

"In return you will give me your army," Uhtred continued as though he hadn't heard him. "You will ready them to march."

"But-"

"You will do as I ask, Guthred, or I shall kill you."

"He does not know what he says, Lord." Once again it was father Beocca who tried to extinguish the fire. But this time he had made it worse instead.

In the blink of an eye, Uhtred had crossed the remaining distance between him and Guthred, climbed over the table and pushed the man down into his chair. He hovered over him, anger pouring out of him in waves. Steapa took a step forward, but Finan reacted faster and warned him to stay where he was with his hand around the hilt of his sword.

"I will kill you and take every consequence," Uhtred said through clenched teeth. "What you did to me" -he leaned in closer, barely able to speak without choking on his tears- "what you did to Halig, I can never forget. I shall never forgive."

Eldrid felt an odd sort of satisfaction watching the fear on Guthred's face. He deserved nothing less than death for selling his friends into slavery.

Uhtred turned around and climbed back over the table, not bothering to look at the king any longer as he repeated his earlier command. "You will ready your men to march."

Wherever else she expected to happen, it certainly wasn't Guthred suddenly finding some shred of courage. The king leaped to his feet and shouted: "How do I know that the brothers are gone?"

Uhtred froze, and everyone in the room seemed to freeze as well. The turd must've realised speaking out like this could very well cost him his life. Still, he continued: "How do I know this hand belongs to Sigefrid? Like your uncle, I would have preferred a head, two heads-"

"Another word, lord, and it will be your own head," Ragnar said, walking forward with slow and deliberate steps, hands casually stroking the hilt of his sword. "You will do as my brother asks or I will take Eoferwic and the army for myself. Beocca!" He turned to the monk suddenly. It seemed like Beocca would go above and beyond to make sure Guthred wouldn't be harmed. Though whether it was because of Alfred's orders or because of his cross, she didn't know.

Ragner set his cold gaze upon Guthred once again, smiling with malicious delight. "The King has a decision to make. He's either with us, or against us."

With those words they left the king behind, shivering with fear as he was seated upon a throne that never should've been his.

When they stepped outside, she noticed it was already growing dark. Hopefully the king would make up his mind before sunset, or else it might take them yet another day before they could march upon Dunholm. And the longer it took them, the bigger the chances of Kjartan catching word of their approach would be. It would give him time to prepare, time that could cost them their victory...

"Stop your worrying," Ragnar said as he came standing at her side, having noticed her worried frown as she watched the horizon. "He has no choice but to join us."

She scoffed. "He's made foolish decisions before."

"He won't," Uhtred spoke from behind them, making the two of them turn around. "Not this time."

As she looked into his eyes, she had no choice but to believe him. If Guthred wouldn't grant them his army, Uhtred would kill him. That much was certain. Consequences be damned.

A slender figure slipped from the shadows and joined Uhtred's side. She recognised the boy as the one who had given Hilt the note from Gisela, telling them the name of slaver Uhtred had been sold to. He moved almost without sound, as though he was made of the very shadows he liked to walk in.

"Lord," he spoke with a Danish accent. "I am glad to see you well."

For the first time since they set foot in Eoferwic, a smile appeared on Uhtred's face. "Did I not say I would return?"

The boy smiled. "Yes, lord."

Uhtred gestured at the boy. "This is Sihtric Kjartansson."

It should have been his father's name that shocked her, like it so clearly did Ragnar. But, it was his first name that cut through her heart instead. Memories of a rainy day flashed unwillingly before her eyes. A body, small and broken, lying upon the stones of the courtyard below the tower. The scream of her little brother as he fell and the sudden silence afterwards...

"Kjartansson?" Ragnar questioned, his voice pulling her from the depths of her memories.

"Bastard son, Lord," Sihtric replied. "My mother is a slave. I have no loyalty or love for my father."

For a moment, the rebellious spark within his gaze made him look exactly like her younger brother. It couldn't possibly be true, but the words left her lips before she could stop herself. "Your mother, the slave...what's her name?" she questioned, fear and anticipation for his answer battling within her, growing stronger with every beat of her heart.

Sihtric looked at her, a frown on his face as if he was putting together a puzzle of his own. "She is called Asfrid, Lady."

A shock went through her very bones, as though Thor had struck her with his lightning. She shivered and curled her fingers around the hilt of her sword. The feeling of the weapon was the only thing that kept her standing. The slab of steel had been her anchor through many storms but this time the storm was too overwhelming.

"Asfrid," Ragnar said slowly. Eldrid could feel his gaze resting upon her but couldn't find the strength within her to look at him. "Eldrid, is that not your mother's name?"

The longer she looked at the boy standing in front of her, the more the similarities she noticed. The high cheekbones, the sharp lines of his nose, his bright eyes...

Suddenly, she turned on her feet and walked away with quick strides, ignoring Ragnar's call of her name. Her breath was quickened, the walls of Eoferwic seemed to close in on her. She pushed men and women aside as she sought open air, to breathe. Her feet hurried up the stairs and came to a halt on top of the city walls. There, with the sky spreading out around her, she could finally breathe again.

After all these years, of searching, of living in hope and despair, this was how she discovered her mother was alive. She is called Asfrid, the boy had said. Is, not was. Though she couldn't find it within herself to be relieved. Instead, she felt a crushing weight on her shoulders. Now she knew for certain she'd failed her family. All this time her mother had been living under the cruelty of Kjartan and Eldrid had wasted so much time finding her. And what of her sister? Sihtric hadn't mentioned her.

Sihtric.

As if the boy had heard her thinking about him, he came walking onto the ramparts. When he saw her, he hesitated. Only when she nodded at him did he dare to venture closer.

"May I speak, Lady?" he asked.

"You may," she said, unable to take her eyes off of him now that she'd seen the similarities between him and her little brother.

"I'm sorry if my mother's name offended you."

She shook her head. "It didn't."

He frowned. "Then why did you walk away?"

Taking a deep breath she turned to face him. There was only one way she could make him understand. She had to tell him the truth. Though it was a story she wished she could have kept hidden forever...

"Do you know who I am?"

The look on his face told her it was the last question he'd expected, yet he still answered. "I do, Lady Eldrid."

She nodded. "Then you also know my father is Earl Brynjar."

"Yes, Lady."

She turned her gaze to the forest surrounding the city. "My father used to have four children. My brother Bjorn, me, my sister Yrsa and our little brother. He was a handful." A small smile appeared on her face despite her efforts to hide it. "But we all loved him anyway. He was the reason for our laughter. Always playing pranks or telling jokes. He also loved to climb and by the gods was he good at it. My mother used to find him hiding in the highest of trees."

Sihtric smiled and the sight made her heart tremble. She didn't think she'd ever get to see that smile again.

Her grip on the hilt of her sword grew tighter. "One day, it was raining. The water made the stones slick. I'll never know why he picked that moment to climb. But he did. I stepped outside and I saw him, climbing on the outside of the highest tower. He slipped and I watched him fall." She cleared her throat. "He died instantly."

Finally she turned to look at the boy standing beside her. Her throat burned and yet she forced the words out of her mouth. "His name was Sihtric."

Slowly, realisation dawned upon the boy standing at her side. He opened his mouth, but couldn't seem to find the words and so pressed his lips together. He lifted his eyes to look at her, then shook his head. At last, he spoke: "I had a sister named Yrsa."

Her stomach turned with dread. "What happened to her?"

"She escaped," he muttered. "Kjartan punished my mother by having her sleep outside."

A shaky breath escaped her lips. Escaped...she could very well be alive but finding her would truly be impossible now. The path destiny had carved out for her had taken an unexpected turn. But at least she knew what she had to do now.

"I have sworn to my father I would find our family," she said. "And now I make a promise to you with the gods as my witness. I will save our mother from Kjartans' hold or I will die trying."

Sihtric grinned with what she could only describe as glee at what cruelty the future had in store for his father. He nodded at her, a fire ignited within his gaze. One that she could feel burning within her own heart as well.

Hurried footsteps came up the stairs and the two of them turned and watched as Bjorn came running towards them. Her brother came to a halt in front of Sihtric, staring wide-eyed at the boy who turned out to be their half brother.

"Ragnar told me what happened," he panted. "Is it true?"

"It is," Eldrid nodded.

With slow steps, Bjorn walked forward, then a wide smile appeared on his features. He put his hand on Sihtric's shoulder and gave him a firm shake. "I've been told you're sworn to Uhtred, but if you ever find yourself on a different path to follow. Know you are more than welcome with us."

Sihtric smiled, warmly this time. "Thank you."

"Now," Bjorn said, as he threw his arm over Sihtric's shoulders. "Let us drink together while we wait for the turd's decision."

Laughing together, the two men made their way down the stairs. Eldrid shook her head as she followed, smiling to herself with a happiness she wasn't sure how to describe. In one day she'd discovered her mother was alive and her sister was lost, but she'd gained a brother in return. The will of the gods was strange indeed.

Several tables had been put together in the courtyard. Ale and food had been readied for them. Bjorn and Sihtric sat down at a table where Finan and a large bald man with a moustache, who introduced himself as Clapa, were already attacking the food. For a moment Eldrid was torn, she'd been set on avoiding the Irishman, but seeing as there was no space elsewhere, she sat down next to her brother.

Finan handed her a mug filled with ale. "The taste here is much better than in Winchester," he said, a smile hidden beneath his beard.

"The further north you go, the better the ale," she replied, raising her mug before taking a swig.

He grinned and raised his mug in return.

"Maybe don't celebrate yet," Sihtric said as he pointed to where Uhtred was sitting.

Eldrid followed his gaze and watched as Hild inspected Uhtred's injuries from his fight with Sigefrid. For a moment everyone was quiet as they awaited the nun's verdict.

"You're lucky, nothing's broken," she said at least. "It will hurt wielding your sword, though."

"Well, we cannot wait for the wounded," Ragnar said, a teasing smile on his face.

"You will not have to wait for the wounded," Uhtred replied.

"We should kill him," Brida said.

Uhtred chuckled humorlessly.

Brida grinned and shook her head. "Guthred, the turd King."

"Agreed," Eldrid said before taking a bite of her bread.

Beocca sighed. "Do you two never tire of menace?"

The two women shared a glance. "We do not," Brida replied.

"If we are successful in taking Dunholm," Finan interjected before Eldrid could throw an insult at the priest, "who gets to keep it?"

"Guthred," Beocca replied instantly. "Guthred naturally."

"He has Eoferwic," Clapa said. Which was a good reason. It would be almost impossible to guard two great fortresses like that, even with enough men.

"Ragnar should have it," Uhtred said.

"No," his brother replied with a shake of his head.

"It's Alfred's wish that it goes to Guthred," Beocca said.

Uhtred seemed close to rolling his eyes. "Alfred has never set one foot in Northumbria, it's not his decision to make. Kjartan built Dunholm on the blood of Ragnar the Fearless. It belongs to his blood-son, Ragnar."

"As long as my sword finds Kjartan's heart, I do not care," Ragnar said.

"I care," Brida said. "The arseling is right. For once."

"He's wrong."

Eldrid raised a brow when she saw it was Aethelwold who had spoken.

"Uhtred, you say Alfred has never set foot in Northumbria, he has no need. We are here, all of us, to do his bidding. He knows how each of us will think, what each of us will do."

She followed the lines of wood on the table with her finger as she listened. Before her visit to Winchester she would've laughed Aethelwold's words away. Now, after having spoken with the King, she was inclined to believe him. The King of Wessex was smart. He'd seen right through her after only speaking once and he was far better informed of her movements than she would've liked. She hated to admit it, but Alfred was a powerful adversary.

"Eoferwic can never be the seat of power in Northumbria whilst Dunholm remains strong and so he allows Uhtred to attack."

"He allows nothing," Uhtred snapped. "I'm here because it's my business to be here."

Aethelwold leaned forward. "Uhtred, you are his man! You more than anyone will bring about his dream of an England. Alfred's wish is for Guthred to become the one, true, lord of the north and you will make that happen."

Silence lingered at the table. No one liked to admit that his words held some part of the truth, but everyone was thinking it, of that she was sure.

"I say it as I now see it," Aethelwold added when the silence became too heavy.

"You have shit in your eye," Uhtred said.

Laughter rippled across the table, but it quickly died down when Aethelwold spoke again.

"I see it as a King would see it."

At those words, Uhtred paused, his gaze darkening at the thought of Alfred pulling the strings. Then he shook his head and picked up his drink, only to put it down when his gaze fell on something behind her.

Eldrid turned around and saw Guthred had approached them, though he remained a safe distance away from their table.

"Uhtred, will you join me, please?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Please?"

For a moment, he studied the King, weighing the options in his head. Then, he got to his feet and walked up to his former friend. They were standing too far away for her to hear what they were speaking about, as they deliberately kept their voices low. Still, none of them resumed their conversation. All eyes were turned toward the two men.

Whatever it was Guthred said, it must've been the wrong thing, because Uhtred raised his hand and slapped him across the cheek.

"Uhtred, no!" Beocca shouted, but he was the only one bothered, for everyone else laughed. She couldn't help herself but grin either. The humiliation of being slapped like one would a disobedient dog was far too amusing.

They talked some more and then he walked away. Uhtred turned to face them.

"What did he say?" Ragnar asked.

"He said Dunholm is yours, brother. He will order his men to march."

At his words, she felt a weight being lifted from her chest. They would march, they would fight and they would either get their revenge or die trying.

―♛―

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello again! It's been a while, but I'm excited to be back!

I'm very happy to finally reveal this plot point! Sihtric being Eldrid's half brother has been planned for a long time and now I finally get to share it with you guys. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments. I'd love to hear what you think. And also, yes the story of how her brother died is inspired by what happened to Bran in Game of Thrones :)

I hope you guys liked this chapter. I'm looking forward to writing the next one and hope to get around to it soon. Thank you guys so much for your support. I still love this story dearly and I've got lots of good things planned. Updates might be slow, but I'm not giving up on this fic!

xx Nelly