𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑

15

( 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 ! )
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AETHELSTAN'S NERVES
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Aethelstan had been anxiously awaiting Solvi's arrival since a missive had been sent to Rumcofa informing them of her plans of travel. It had been years since they'd been able to see each other face to face, let alone spend months on end together again.

Life in Runcofa had been training and hunting and scouting and drinking ale with the men. He was teased for being young, for being a virgin, for his larger than life affections for Solvi... but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Life for Solvi was just as busy. She shared duties of ruling Jorvik with Stiorra and Sigtryggr, as their heir. She also apparently studied healing and the mystic arts of Seidr, something that Aethelstan did not truly understand, but respected because of the stories the men with Uhtred told of Skade, Solvi's mother. Solvi trained with the sword, the bow, with close quarter combat, just like him, but she also participated in community hunts, visited the neighboring farms and helped plant and harvest, surveyed the land as well as managed small scale disputes that did not need Sigtryggr and Stiorra's attention.

They were all greatly loved by their people, something that Aethelstan admired about them. Jorvik was lovely, so peaceful, where Saxons and Danes lived in cohabitation and harmony, and thrived. They had been doing so for a little less than ten years now.

Solvi was on her way to becoming a Queen of Jorvik, while Aethelstan... wasn't sure what was written in his destiny. He was sure there was some purpose in his life to be fulfilled, he just wasn't sure what. Some of the men expected him to one day become King after his father, while others believed he would amount to no more than a soldier. He wasn't a fool, he had heard the whisperings of those who knew him.

He was well aware of the complications of his legitimacy, had been since he was young and in the care of priests at the monastery. He was raised under the protection of Uhtred, trained to be the best warrior he could be, maybe even one day best the master swordsman himself. He was steeped in his Christian teachings with the help of Osferth and others, but he was also raised like a Dane. Treated like a Dane– er, or rather, like one of Uhtred's men. They were different. There was a distinction there.

The men who followed Uhtred came from all walks of life, and all of it was respected. Finan was an Irishman and Christian, Osferth was a monk before joining Uhtred's men to serve as a warrior, Sihtric was a half-Dane, half-Saxon, though he was steeped in his Danish lineage and culture. Uhtred himself was born a Saxon and raised a Dane. He would never convert, and Aethelstan cannot ever imagine him doing so.

Life with these men was freeing, respected for skill and merit and loyalty rather than the seemingly arbitrary aspects of one's blood and culture and country. Loyalty to Uhtred was more tangible and ever reliable than one's religion or beliefs. It mattered not to Uhtred, though Aethelstan knew he favored the Dane way.

People were recognized for their differences, not erased from them, and were accepted without much fuss. Their differences were what made them unique and they found a fit in the group or in the noble mission of Uhtred to reclaim his ancestral home, and they were celebrated for what they brought to the table.

Aethelstan could not contain his excitement and nervousness when scouts had spotted the traveling party, only a group of three, close to Rumcofa. Mostly nerves, though, as his thoughts overwhelmed him and his body refused to stay still or focus on any tasks. So Osferth had taken him and Cynlaef into the town over for some work he had been tasked with, just to get the young excitable boys out of everyone else's hair.