When Uhtred first told her of their raid along the Thames, Aestas was absolutely fuming when he told her she wouldn't be joining them and all but grinned when she was left unable to argue. She would have punched him and forced her way onto his boat if it weren't for Uhtred admitting he wanted her to stay and look over his wife and two children, a task she usually ended up doing even without being asked.
It was how they ended up sitting in a field by the river to avoid their unwanted guest, who ended up arriving yesterday, to their dismay. Gisela attempted to play the role of proper host, but Aestas didn't let her get the chance. Aethelwold was confined to the main hall, and two men were put on guard to ensure he didn't do anything stupid.
"Did you really have to lock him in my house?" Gisela questioned as she lay on her back, her head on Aestas's leg as a pillow, her baby, Stiorra, splayed across her chest.
"You said I wasn't allowed to kill him." Aestas defended while keeping an eye on young Uhtred as he played by the edge of the river.
Gisela sighed and nodded in agreement to her own request. Small moments like this made her wish Aestas hadn't grown so comfortable with her. The young woman's tongue was as sharp as her blades. "It would have been better if you confined him to the barn; he is only one man." She attempted to reason before soothing the cooing babe against her chest.
"Weasel." Aestas corrected with a grin that mirrored her brother's.
The correction caused Gisela to let out a laugh before looking up at the young brunette, grinning in self-amusement while keeping a keen eye on her son. The gods had truly blessed her with their friendship. "Will you teach me more of your language?" she questioned after a moment of bliss filled with the sound of playing children, the wind through the grass, and the gentle rush of the river. "Young Uhtred has learned it so quickly I sometimes have trouble keeping up with what he is saying when he starts using it. Especially when he is throwing a fit"
At the mention of one of his fits, Aestas snorted in amusement. "Just this morning, he called you a sheep fart."
A defeated sigh slipped past Gisela's lips as she shook her head. "He is becoming so much like his father with each passing day. I don't know whether I should be proud or worried."
"Both," Aestas answered without hesitation before looking down at Gisela's peaceful expression. Eyes closed with a gentle smile on her lips, all while she absently rubbed calming circles on her growing babe's back. Aestas couldn't even fathom her own mother doing such a thing when she had been an infant. Rumor was that she had been left to the wolves on one occasion, only to be returned home by her eldest half-brother. It was such a shame all that kindness died as soon as he turned eleven. Hopefully, the same thing didn't happen to her younger half-brother.
"At least he listens to you," Gisela hummed, unaware that her comment had disturbed Aestas's reverie.
The idea the young boy actually listened to her was enough to bring Aestas to uncontrollable laughter. "It is the brùnaidh he behaves for." She admitted before explaining the story about the hobgoblin that would help with his chores when he behaved but would cause mischief if he didn't. "It's his favorite story," Aestas revealed.
"Well, that explains the weird behavior between you and Finan." Gisela realized as she started to point out all their sneaking around and her child's missing shoes or socks. "Tell me a story instead. We have known each other for quite some time now, and I still don't know anything about you beyond your name, and even that isn't entirely true."
There were many she could tell her. The tales of her travels were numerous, but none all too pleasant. The Síth were young Uhtred's favorite topic, but Aestas doubted Gisela would find the same amusement in such creatures. "Once there was a king with two queens." She spoke almost cautiously as her eye-line never wavered from the river's horizon. "He was a great and mighty ruler who earned the throne he sat upon through combat. A crown of carved antlers rests upon his stern brow, and by his side stands his wife, who is adorned with the finest furs and warmest of wools. She didn't like to let any of the northern cold touch her skin." Aestas explained almost in amusement as she remembered how the woman would constantly be huddling by the fire and continue to complain no matter how many furs the king had lavished upon her. "One season, his borders were threatened by invaders, and he was forced to join his men in battle and leave his pregnant wife to give birth to his firstborn son alone."
