Painted Blade || sihtric

40.

   YEARS later, Coccham was thriving with food and livestock, children always smiling in the estate as they chased each other.

The heart of Coccham seemed to be Bemia Ragnarsdottir who always baked sugary sweets, giving them away for free with her young daughter. When she wasn't baking, then you could either find her by listening to the winds that carried her songs through Coccham or at Aethelflaed's Mercian estate where she had been raising Stiorra with her daughter, teaching them what she knew to survive.

Stiorra Uhtredsdottir and Katja Sihtricsdottir had many years separating their ages, but Bemia still taught them together, raising the two girls as sisters.

After the death of Aethelwold, Bemia's life felt free, unshackled. And every day she felt truly blessed, especially with little Katja running around. It was no surprise that the young girl was a splitting image of her father with dark down hair, tanned skin, and a love for hunting. But her most prominent trait was that she never gave up and she was very stubborn like her mother— Finan had stated that many times.

Since the battle of Holme, Bemia's wounds had healed. A few scars littered her skin but after the first two years, she had grown to be used to them. What she wasn't used to was that her left wrist couldn't form into a fist properly, the nerves never fully healing since that day. Now that pissed her off whenever she had to fight.

"Mother! Mother!" a small, energetic voice called out, pulling Bemia from her thoughts to see hazel brown hair blowing back in the breeze in front of her before that innocently beautiful face looked back at her with a wide smile. "Uncle Uhtred!"

Bemia smiled, holding the reins of the horse in her hands as she looked ahead to see Uhtred chuckling while walking toward them, leaving the gates of Coccham.

For the last two weeks, Sihtric had been scouting Bebbenburg with Finan and Osferth, figuring out the defenses so Uhtred could claim back his birthright. During those two weeks away, Bemia and Katja had been in Mercia with Stiorra, every day filled with their usual lessons and the nights filled with laughter as they lay in the grass, watching the stars.

"I was worried you two wouldn't return," Uhtred hummed, patting the head of Bemia's horse as they came to a stop beside him. "Some of the folks were complaining about the treats they missed."

"Well, lucky I brought some back with me," Bemia laughed, sliding her hands up Katja's armpits before pulling her off the saddle and handing her down to Uhtred who was smiling at her fit of giggles. "Stiorra sends her regards."

Uhtred placed Katja on his hip, raising a brow as he watched his sister dismount the horse with ease. "No, she does not," he stated with an amused look.

Bemia dusted off the many purple skirts of her dress with a small cringe. "Well, I tried to sound believable."

"No, you didn't, Mother," Katja laughed, her brown eyes bright with mischief while her mother and uncle laughed.

Uhtred placed her back on the ground before taking her little hand in his. "You're the only one who can make your mother laugh while being cheeky," he whispered with a wink.

"Don't encourage her." Bemia playfully slapped his arm as warm winds blew back her unbounded hair. "Encourage her to be cheeky to Finan and Osferth," she teased, taking Katja's other hand while a stableboy took her horse, pulling it toward the gates. "Speaking of which, have the men returned?"

Uhtred went to answer, but a thick Irish accent echoed, bringing a smile to Bemia's face and another fit of giggles to leave Katja when they turned toward the docks to see Finan seated at the front of the boat, arms open wide. "Women of Coccham! We are back!"