𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 || ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 - ʙᴊᴏʀɴ.

—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 –
ʙᴊᴏʀɴ.
ᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ – ɢʟᴏʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏʀᴇ
—— • ° ☽ ★ ☾ ° • ——

ALL THE KINGS MEN
and his horses strolled further and further down the weaving path trailing down the centre of coccham, clearing the way of their journey, escaping the place they deemed too pagan for their liking. Dozens upon dozens of priests filled the stretch of dirt path, one priest for each day of the year, enough to fill a whole village.

Freyja watched them leave, relief coiling through her now that she no longer had to be crammed in any longer, no longer having to suffer through Christianity being shoved down her throat.

"They say it is an honour to have the king stay," Gisela began, her eyes drifting over Uhtred, Freyja and Finan as she stalked up from behind them and came to stand beside her husband. "But his men and his priest's have eaten almost a winters worth of food."

Finan grasped his hands around the leather of his belt and gaze towards the siblings. "Uhtred, Freyja, how can you serve a man who doesn't see your value?"

"I ask myself the same thing." Freyja muttered, casting a side glance towards her brother.

Uhtred lingered in his silence, eyed the grass by his feet and placed his hands upon his hips. "Oh, he sees it. His god won't allow him to embrace it. He dislikes me more by the day."

"Then you should ask him to release you both." Gisela tilted her head, glancing hopefully toward her husband. "And we will go north, to my brother and to Ragnar. I am content here but we cannot become an enemy of Alfred." With a parting look, she turned and wandered away.

"It is not a bad idea." Freyja trailed off, keeping her gaze ahead as to avoid Uhtred's pointing stare. "We can see Ragnar again." She whispered, the words barely reaching nearby ears, a coil of hope weighing heavily on her words. Then her eyes settled on another, moving through the crowded street, his chin held high, arms folded behind his back, his steps as large as his green year old body could muster.

"Ravn!" She called out to her son, capturing his attention. Bending her knees, she crouched to the ground and beckoned him over with a wave of her finger. She knew the look on his face, the mockery of innocence he plastered himself in.

Smiling in amusement, her eyes held a lightness about them as she gazed upon her son. "What are you doing?" She spoke gently, with a suspicious underlining tone.

"Nothing, mama." The little boy shrugged, his lips pursing together with a sheepish look as his hands raised in a mock surrender.

"Finan, I do hope you are not encouraging my son." Freyja arched a brow in the Irishman's direction. Despite her words, there was malice in her tone, no complaint.

"I am simply doing what the little prince asks, lady." Finan grinned, his accent weighing heavy on his tongue. Looking away from Freyja, he spared a wink towards Ravn, causing the little boy to beam. "No encouragement needed."

Raising his hand, Ravn beckoned his finger much like Freyja had done moments ago and leaned in towards her. Cupping his mouth, he whispered into her ear. "I may have put a bug in the priests bag."

Freyja leaned back, her eyes swelling with humourous surprise. She smiled lightly. "What kind of bug?"

"One with," Ravn paused, holding both hands in front of him. It took him a lingering moment, the three adults waiting patiently as he flexed three fingers on his left hand and five on the right. "Otte legs!"

Shaking her head, Freyja pinched Ravn's cheek. "You are a little fox, my boy." Standing to her full height, she listened to Ravn's bubble of laughter and slid her hands beneath his arms, lifting him into her own.