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Do you know the most painful loss that anyone could ever experience?
You might think it is the loss of a loved one, perhaps the loss of dignity, of innocence, of joy, of love.
But it's not.
It's the degrading loss of freedom.
I wasn't born royal. I wasn't born a Queen. Yes, I had to take it all at the sharp edge of a sword and the threat of magick. My father wasn't a bad man, but he wasn't educated either. He knew only that magick was forbidden, that it was evil and dark. But how could I, a scared ten year old girl, have been evil just because of how I was born? It wasn't fair. It never was.
Once, magick had ruled my people. Druids lived in peace and harmony, people respected them and their powers. Hell, the magician Merlin was famed throughout the lands. But now, after many years of outside influence, we were cast aside. And I blamed the Christians. Their damn beliefs were what locked me away in a dungeon for eight years, simply for the crime of being alive. They were the ones that beat me, that tormented me and turned my own father against me.
And I swore, when I was young, that I would have my revenge.
But now look at me. I'm Queen, my father and our old King are both dead. Anyone who defies me is killed. I have fought hard for me freedom and then for my respect and power. But the Saxons still rule their lands as though nothing happened. There is no recompense to the Christians.
And even still, I chose not to side with the Northmen. Even though, with their assistance... All of Britannia would belong to me.
Again, the night was sleepless. Each night was the same. Though you toss and turn and try your best to sleep, the terrors of the mind always seem to keep you awake. You would think, with all my gifts, I'd find a way to sleep. And yet, it seemed that all I managed to do was bring pain to others, to bring death. Though I tried to love my powers, to see the light, sometimes I wondered whether I was anything more than a machine of destruction.
As always, when I could not sleep, I pulled a cloak around my shoulders and wandered the halls in darkness. Where needed, I could always spark the torches to light upon the wall, though I usually preferred the moonlight to guide my way.
"She's a monster!" My father yelled, throwing me to the ground. "She's in league with the devil!"
"Father!" I cried, my hands held up in defense from any further beating. "It was an accident!"
"You got your mother killed, you and your sorcery. You're a witch. A foul demon. You'll only ever bring pain and misery!"
A bolt of lightning made me jolt away from my memories, the rain against the windows like a soft song. Outside, the birds sheltered from the onslaught of the storm, cooing towards their young. Each couple paired, each family huddled, while I shivered alone in the dark stone hallway.
My fingers traced the wall, finally reaching the cold touch of the window, lightning reflecting in my gaze like an enchanting embrace. The darkness had become my blanket, my comfort. They say that those who dwell in the darkness are too afraid to embrace the light, and I suppose they're right. After so many years living in the dark, I could no longer see the light. My father had chained me up, locked me away, left me for dead. My father had tormented me, wished for my death, tried to kill me. My own damn father. All those years locked away, not a window in sight, no speck of sunlight to guide me, had changed me. Made me who I was, this creature of the dark, this lonely figure in the night.
"Queen Gwenllian?" A vaguely unfamiliar voice startled me, quickly making me turn to face them. In the moonlight I could see him, the Ragnarsson... Hvitserk, was it? Clearly noting my expression, the shock at his intrusion, he began to speak again. "I heard a noise..." He explained. "Are you alright?"
It was only then that I noticed the dampness of my cheeks, the small glitter of sadness that I had let escape. "I'm fine." I answered bluntly, turning back towards the window in the hopes to push him away.
I'm not quite sure what was going through his head at this point. Anyone else would've left at my surliness. Perhaps he was used to Ivar's moods by then already, or perhaps he saw something deep within my eyes that told him I wasn't fine. Nevertheless, he didn't leave. Just as anyone else would have, he didn't.
"I have nightmares sometimes too." He spoke through the darkness. And, for some odd reason, such a simple sentence seemed to sooth my tired soul. In all my time, no one had ever even attempted to comfort me. No one had ever cared.
"They're just dreams." I tried, closing my eyes in attempt to make myself believe it too. "They're not real."
"What are they about?" He questioned curiously, making me turn my head. This was the longest conversation I'd had about myself in years. And with a stranger, a man I barely knew. Even in the moonlight, I could see the small sparkle in his eyes, the little smile everpresent on his lips. And there was something so oddly comforting about the young man that I didn't quite understand.
"Nothing." I forced my eyes back to the window. "Just the past. What do you and your brothers plan to do when you return to England?" I changed the subject entirely, a curiosity sparking within me.
"Raid York." He shrugged plainly. "Take it from the Saxons."
"York?" I queried, intrigue sparking within me. "Why York?"
"It's further north, defensible, has a river running through the center so that we can easily access it." He explained.
"But the Roman walls are old and worn, it won't be easy to defend the whole city when you're surrounded by Saxons. No matter how large your army. And then there's the issue of food, what if the cut you off? What if they kill your hunting parties? How will you defend them when all your men are defending the city itself?"
My sudden burst of curiosity seemed to make Hvitserk smile, laughing quietly at my eagerness. "Are you interested now?"
"Yes," I answered, looking at him closely. But York was merely an afterthought. In all my life, people had never treated me this way before. I was always hated or feared. They wanted to kill me or cowered. But he didn't. He held respect and fearlessness in equal measure. And his company was even enjoyable. Of course, that was something I would never say out loud. "Tell your brothers we have a deal."
For a moment, he seemed a little confused. "Why?"
It was a good question. Why was I helping them? I had a kingdom to run, people to care for. Why was I waging pointless wars, wars that didn't involve me? "What can I say," I shrugged, walking past him. "You've interested me."
