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CHAPTER VII:

✧. ⋆ the will of a king

     𝕿HE KING'S HALL AT WINCHESTER WAS DECORATED WITH COUNTLESS COLORS. Eldrid was led through the hallways by the priest who, she'd learned because of the many people greeting him, was called Father Beocca. As she walked both paintings and tapestries kept greeting her around every corner. They depicted the stories of wars, of a god hanging from a cross and of men with circles surrounding their heads while the common folk kneeled for them.

Even as her eyes traced the intricate lines of the paintings, Eldrid stayed aware of the route they had taken so far, always prepared for a fight. Especially because she'd been forced to leave her weapons at the door. She respected the reason but still wasn't very fond of having to separate with her beloved sword. Walking through the castle without it felt like an itch she couldn't scratch. But it wasn't like she had any other choice than to obey.

Beocca led her into a large hall, where he finally came to a halt. "Wait here, king Alfred shall be here shortly."

She nodded at him and watched as he left through a door on the opposite side of the room.

With a sigh her eyes turned back to look at the many paintings. Once again, she found herself torn between curiosity and loathing for the Saxons and their strange ways. She couldn't understand worshiping a god who allowed himself to be killed by humans. Nor could she understand how people could gain an almost god-like status themselves by becoming a saint.

Yet despite her disgust, there was one painting in particular that caught her attention. Many soldiers were gathered upon a hill, their spears raised behind their king, who was seated upon a white horse. They were facing a shield wall with many angry Danes cowering behind it. The very sight of it made her blood boil. Her people would never cower during battle. Yet that wasn't what had drawn her attention about it.

It was the golden rays shining through the clouds above the heads of the soldiers. While on the side of their enemies, the sky was dark. She supposed it was meant to symbolize the presence of their god. The ironic thing was, by painting dark clouds at the side of the Danes, they had placed their god on their side as well. Thor's storm clouds surrounded them like a shield wall, protecting them just as fiercely. How was it that the Saxons knew so little about their religion, while the Danes knew everything about theirs? It seemed like a rather strange and unfair situation to her.

"I wasn't aware the Danes appreciated art," a voice spoke from her right; soft spoken, yet filled with undeniable authority. "Their homes always appear so empty."

Every muscle in her body tensed. She couldn't help herself, not when facing the man who'd killed so many of her people. With her nails pressing into her palms, she turned to look at him.

King Alfred was lean but not very tall. He appeared calm and trustworthy, yet there was a vigilance within his eyes that made him look older than he probably was. It gave him an air of confidence that made it easy to see why so many people spoke of his name with both respect and fear. He wore a simple red robe, his hands folded in front of him as though he was forever in prayer.

"We're a much more...practical people." Eldrid was barely able to hide the edge in her voice. If the only reason she'd been summoned here was to be insulted, she would rather leave. And she didn't plan on going quietly...

Her eyes flickered towards the door where Steapa was standing guard. His gray eyes were following her closely, hands resting on the hilt of his sword. No matter how many drinks they'd shared over the winter, she had to remind herself he was still Alfred's man and forever would be. He wouldn't hesitate to kill her if she so much as blinked the wrong way.

"Such is the life of a people always on the move," Alfred said as he studied the painting. Then, he finally turned to face her, his eyes suddenly cold as he added: "Of a people not belonging anywhere."

"Such is the life of a Viking," she said, throwing his words back at him with venom dripping from her tongue.

The king didn't comment on her lack of respect. Instead he merely nodded, saying without needing words they simply disagreed on the matter.

"Is there a reason you wanted to speak with me, Lord?" She questioned, her eyes briefly wandering to Steapa. Even after all this time, he still couldn't hide the disgust on his face at the way she managed to say the king's title with such burning mockery. It only made it that much more fun to continue doing so.

"Indeed there is," Alfred said as he finally turned away from the painting and walked towards the table in the middle of the room. He took a seat and gestured for her to do the same.

She did, though not willingly. If she had to defend herself, a seating position would only make it harder to do so. She clenched her jaw, her muscles wound more tight than the string of her bow. She simply couldn't allow herself to relax within the lion's den. Even if her men had been here, ready to storm the castle at the first sign of trouble, she still would have been unable to let go of her nerves.

"I have been told Earl Ragnar went to you for help to find his brother Uhtred," Alfred spoke calmly, though his eyes were drilling into hers, as if trying to read her soul like a book.

"You have been told correctly," she replied, holding his gaze steadily.

"I take it the two of you know each other?"

"We do." She leaned back into her chair, hoping to fool him into thinking she was slowly letting her guard down. "We spent a lot of time together in our youth."

Alfred mirrored her movements, immediately letting her know he would not be fooled. "Is that the reason you decided to help him?"

Eldrid narrowed her eyes at him, deciding to stop dancing around what he truly wanted to know. She wasn't one for playing games and she absolutely despised politics. "You wish to know why I helped to free Uhtred Ragnarsson?"

"I admit the thought has crossed my mind," the king said with a nod. "A Dane who helps to free a man fighting for the Saxons. It seems quite an enigma."

"Not an interesting one I'm afraid, Lord. My men were tired of chasing ghosts and they respect Young Ragnar. I was simply providing them with a battle worth fighting."

"Ah yes, the matter of your enslaved family," Alfred said, resting his folded hands on the table in front of him. He appeared to be deeply lost in thought.

His knowledge of her motivations shouldn't have surprised her, yet she couldn't help but feel impressed. The man seated in front of her certainly wasn't the fool so many Danes had often made him out to be. Though she was very curious to the reason he had chosen to reveal the extent of his knowledge.

"Precisely," she said slowly.

"So, what have you decided to do with your time now that you're no longer chasing ghosts?"

Even if he had phrased it as a question, she knew it wasn't. It was a demand. Finally, the truth of the matter had been revealed. He wanted to make sure she wasn't planning on plundering his lands now that she no longer had a goal to pursue, or so he thought. Apparently his knowledge was limited after all, or he would've heard about her setting her sights on Kjartan. Or maybe that was what he wanted her to think.

"I have decided to join Earl Ragnar," she replied, seeing no point in hiding her plans. "He has a blood feud with a Dane in Northumbria, as do I."

"Another war," the king said, sounding suddenly exhausted.

"It must be done."

"Even if there's another choice?"

She frowned. "I don't see I have another choice, Lord."

He leaned his elbows on the table, still looking at her with that soul-piercing gaze. "Uhtred is my oathsman. He will fight to keep our borders safe and to do so he needs men."

Eldrid scoffed, unable to help herself. "You're asking me to fight for you? A Saxon king?"

"In freeing Uhtred you have already done so," he replied calmly, seemingly unfaced by her disdain. "What I'm asking is no different."

She got to her feet, pretending she hadn't seen Steapa reach for his sword. "It is different and I will not fight for a king who cannot see why." She bowed, never taking her eyes off of him. Then, without another word, she headed towards the door.

"Lady Eldrid?"

With a sigh she came to a halt, looking back with reluctance.

"If you do change your mind, the offer stands." He straightened his back. "If you don't, well, I would hate for us to become enemies."

"Lord," she said with a nod.

With quick steps she left the hall behind. This time, the colors on the walls passed her by in a blur, her eyes only focused ahead. When she finally reached the gate, she all but tore her weapons from the hands of the guard holding them. Even if the weight of her trusted sword made her breathe a little easier, she was still seething with anger by the time she'd found her way back to the stables.

The small-mindedness of the king infuriated her. Did he really believe she would betray her people, all of her values and beliefs, simply because he asked her to? Maybe she was missing something here. Maybe it was some sort of trick or challenge to measure her reaction. If so, she'd probably failed. Not that she cared much. She preferred fighting with her sword, not with words or tricks, that was her true strength.

"It went that well?" A mocking voice came from her left.

Eldrid came to a halt and turned to face Ragnar. He had just finished saddling his horse and was now watching her with amusement flickering within his gaze.

"As well as you can expect from a Saxon king," she replied bitterly, then frowned. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Alfred released us," Ragnar explained. "Brida has gone already. I told her to gather our men at Loidis, like you asked me to."

It felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest. Her anger disappeared like snow melting beneath the sun. "That is good news."

Ragnar nodded with a smile, though she couldn't help but notice it didn't quite reach his eyes. It was strange how quickly she had learned to recognize his facial expressions. Now, after spending several months together, it had become a habit.

"That is not all, is it?" She asked, taking a step towards him.

The man before her inhaled deeply, as though gathering strength for what he was about to say next. "Uhtred is Alfred's oathsman again."

"So I'm told," she muttered.

When Alfred said it, she hadn't even considered why. But when looking at his brother, who so clearly needed him, she wondered why Uhtred had chosen to give up his freedom once again. By swearing an oath, he remained a slave, tied to the wishes of someone else. He wouldn't be free to choose the fights he wanted, or needed, to fight. Perhaps Alfred had somehow forced him to, but she had no idea how.

"I feared Alfred would not allow him to join us, but he has. He's sending some men with us to restore Guthred's authority." He looked close to rolling his eyes.

A humorless chuckle escaped her lips. "I doubt even their god has the power to restore the authority of such a turd."

Ragnar grinned. "Brida said the same." Then his expression turned serious again. "But I do not care. All that matters now is killing Kjartan and freeing my sister."

She placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "Then let us do just that." She winked. "The will of the king be damned."

―♛―

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I can't believe it's been an actual year since I updated this story. I have no other reason than losing inspiration and motivation to write this fic. I also don't know how or why my inspiration suddenly came back but I'm really glad it did! I hope I manage to stay inspired because I have no intention of giving up on this story.

The Last Kingdom still is one of my favorite shows and I'm still completely in love with Eldrid. So the plan is to write as many chapters as possible while I still have inspiration and hopefully I'll be able to update again soon!

Please leave some comments or votes because I love to hear from you guys!

Much love,

Nelly