Lady Luck| Finan The Agile| The Last Kingdom

SIX

A/N: In honour of the fact I blurted out a ridiculous number of words for my dissertation and finished it, here's another chapter.

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I had given in in the end and allowed Uhtred and Finan to take the children from me. I could not walk quickly with both of them, and my dress weighed me down enough as it was. We were now in a field somewhere, with long grass and wildflowers that I let slide between my fingers.

"You never did answer me," Stiorra mused as she walked beside me.

"I'm sorry?" I breathed out, raising my hand to wipe the specks of sweat off my forehead.

"When you found us," Stiorra reminded me, "I asked how it was possible for someone to spend their whole life never having encountered a Dane."

"Oh," was my brilliant response to her perfectly valid question.

"Have you always been sheltered?" Stiorra, who had no regard for beating around the bush, continued her interrogation.

"Not particularly," I frowned slightly, shaking my head, "I heard plenty about the Danes and what they did, mostly from Aethelflaed and Aldhelm but whenever they attacked, I always seemed to be somewhere else." I shrugged slightly, my dress moving up as I did as I had the fabric bundled in my palms, "It is a blessing, I am told."

"Told by who?" Stiorra mimicked my frown, "Not all Danes are bad people."

"Priests," I snorted softly, "and they are bitter men, all of them, so I doubted their words often, but I never had the proof to support my doubts."

"You have it now," Stiorra countered, "you've met Danes now."

"Indeed," I agreed, "and from what I have seen so far, the Danes are no better and no worse than Mercians or Saxons."

"That is a bold statement," Stiorra's voice weakened, and she wrinkled her nose before sneezing softly.

Finan whipped around in an instant, his face laced with horror, "What's wrong with you?"

"I have a fever from the grasses," Stiorra protested swiftly, "I do not have it!"

"Of course not," I assured her as well, "and if you have it, then by now, I surely do too."

"Good God, do not say such things," Finan groaned, turning back around.

"Finan, the sickness would not strike this fast," Uhtred sighed, shaking his head at Finan and adjusting Aelfwynn in his hold.

Finan's face fell, "You've not seen what I have, Lord—Oh, hey!" He cut off to grab the boy's hands as they reached to cover his eyes while he held him on his shoulders, "How many times do I have to tell you? You can not do that!" He paused with a huff, "Who are you anyway?"

Silently, I admitted that I wanted to know, too.

"I am no one," the little boy muttered the same response he had given me when I had first asked him the same question.

"He's Aethelstan, Edward's firstborn son," Uhtred revealed calmly, falling back so we could all walk closer to one another.

"Hidden child of Edward!" Finan's face fell into a soft concern, "How did he survive this long?"