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gudvina · 1 year

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The sea fig, ch. III, Godwin.

(third chapter, slightly shorter for now ;))

Fog crept in the towers as the city awakened. Godwin watched it slowly come to life below him, as he had done for many years since becoming AEthelred’s chief counsellor. Being there as the people roused and went about their day, almost like puppets in a play, reminded him of how different things can seem if viewed from a different perspective. Down there he’d be like them, indistinguishable in the crowds.

The centre of the town was the main object of his sight, though on the horizon he could easily distinguish the walls that protected Londinium. From up there he could see the exact place where Priest Cynleaf’s body was found, a brownish-coloured area of cobblestone where the blood couldn’t be properly washed as the only tell-tale sign of what had happened.

The first to find him had been a guard, followed by the victim’s wife. Her cries of despair had attracted the attention of the Alehouse clients, who had encircled the body. When Godwin showed up and was told of the victim’s identity, he rushed to the homestead, knowing that not a moment could be wasted.

He still remembered Queen Emma’s arrival at the scene, how her shoulders went rigid at the sight. He had been behind her, but could imagine her eyes widening as she looked at the butchered body. The Priest would have been unrecognisable had it not been for the necklace around his neck.

On the surface, the city didn’t appear particularly affected by the gruesome event, but the tension between Christians and Pagans, Danes and English alike, was tangible. It was starting slowly, with a suspicious look and voices in the streets of how the Christians were betraying the Pagans, or that the Pagans killed each other without remorse. Both branches were asking the same question- Why trust them? - and he watched the play, curious about what the next act would bring.

Sounds of footsteps he didn’t recognise pulled him away from the scenery, and turning around he saw Lady Adela. Unlike the night before, when he had seen her in the company of Princess Gytha, the woman in front of him was the perfect picture of the proper lady. Not a hair out of place, not a braid falling off, her posture as impeccable as it had been when she first crossed the halls of the Queen’s throne.

She curtsied with a nod, walking silently to stand beside him.

“M’Lady, good morning”, he acknowledged her greeting.

“Not so good of a morning for your people, Lord. My Aunt and Agnarr await you”.

He didn’t respond. It wouldn’t have been wise, and he still wasn’t used to her scrutiny. He remembered when he had first been introduced to King Aethelred, after his father’s death. How hard he had found having to withstand the Queen’s piercing stare. At the time he was but a boy, but growing up had not helped his unease with people’s eyes. How dirty they made him feel. He kept looking at the city.

The woman sighed, her breath condensing into a little cloud because of the cold temperatures.

“Why are all eyes on you?”.

Her voice was edged with curiosity, and he smiled. Though he couldn’t see her, he was resolved to avoid her stare as much as he could, he imagined her hanging from whatever he would say next.

“What are you asking, exactly?”

“You are my aunt’s right hand. Why would she suspect you, of all people?”

“Why not? Am I not but a man still? Anything could sway any man to betray their vows, as long as it’s shinier than his King’s crown.”

“I don’t think anyone to be so easily swayed from riches, my Lord. Loyalty is what has kept and keeps Normandy alive. And in this case, the betrayal wasn’t only against a King. It was against a welcomed people.”

“A people welcomed by whom, exactly?”

He heard her chuckle, almost amused by his answer.

“Oh, that’s why. You are one of them”.

Godwin knew what she meant; the Saxon Lords would have done anything to keep the Danes away from their lands. And she wasn’t wrong, though Wessex was the least of his concerns. As the sky cleared up, leaving a small ray of sun and some blue pry through the clouds, he decided he couldn’t let the Queen and Agnarr wait any longer.

A morbid curiosity spread through him, turning to see what expression the woman’s features were morphing into. She seemed to be enjoying Londinium’s clearing sky, almost as if he wasn’t there. Being able to go unseen had saved his life more than once in the past, he was used to being invisible, yet at that moment he felt a pang of disappointment hitting him.

He excused himself bowing to the lady as he headed the way to the castle, when he heard her voice.

“I’m watching you, Lord Godwin”.

She had turned to him, her threatening words spelt with a neutral tone. And he knew they should have worried him, that he shouldn’t have taken them lightly. Because Queen Emma’s eyes on him were already enough to make up for the whole city. The whole Kingdom. Yet for once he didn’t let his past shrink him away from someone’s stare, leaving him feeling like a rat. Let her watch, he thought. And with a sick satisfaction, for what he did not know, he left the towers.

While he walked towards the homestead, through the archways and the guards keeping their watch, he could still sense Lady Adela’s gaze on his skin. He was mainly engaged in predicting what the Queen would ask of him, and how he should respond. But another part of him, a small one but present nonetheless, felt like for once in his life he wasn’t the only spectator of the play that animated everything around him.

Like he was joined by someone to watch the story develop before them, and all they had to do was keep silent and watch.

#godwin of wessex #godwin #godwin x oc #queen emma #emma of normandy #vikings valhalla #vikings valhalla fanfiction #vikings valhalla s2 #vkfanfiction #vikings fanfiction #writing #The Sea Fig #vikings

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gudvina · 1 year

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The sea fig, ch. II, Adela.

(second chapter <3)

The sun was setting when Adelaide returned to her room. It had been a week since she first stepped into her aunt’s homestead, and she was still adjusting to how different London was to her homeland. The room was still showered with remnants of twilight, brightened by the light green of the walls. It didn’t have much furniture; by the south side was a bed, supplied with a swan feathered mattress and pillows and furred covers that contrasted nicely with the wood of the headboard. A wardrobe stood by the west well, and where the floor raised in a platform sat a simple bathtub. The north side held most of the windows, and a desk with a looking glass and some parchment alongside it. Though it was different from her room in Normandy, she enjoyed how simple it was.

Had she been in Normandy she would have lulled herself to sleep listening to the crashing waves, or the sounds of the city filling the air. London wasn’t much different, admittedly. While during the day it seemed dull and uninteresting, when darkness set its rule and the moon showed her face the city lit up. The alehouses represented much of the night’s entertainment, and the bustling sounds reached her windows, leaving her longing for something other than the stillness of the castle.

Her aunt and her ladies in waiting provided a good distraction, and quickly she had sparked up a friendship with Gytha, with which she spent the nights in pleasant conversation. Sometimes they were joined by Aelfwynn, though she appeared busier than Gytha.

Adela undressed and put on her nightgown, waiting for Gytha’s company as she brushed her hair by the desk. After a few minutes of silence finally the door opened, and she smiled as she saw Gytha enter her room.

“I am sorry if I couldn’t wait for you, I just needed to get out of that dress”.

Gytha let out a soft chuckle as she closed the door and she sat on her bed, her blonde hair now goldened by the candle’s lights.

“I imagined, sorry if I was late, your aunt needed me and Aelfwynn to sort out some fabrics.”

In a moment Gytha and Adela were deep in conversation, talking about each other and their lives until then. Gytha had much to tell about Denmark, how different it was from England and its people, and Adela in return talked about Normandy and how different they were from Frankia as a whole, how her people lived in relative peace and convivence.

“Of course it isn’t all sunshine, admittedly many Frankish Lords dislike us, but we also have some powerful allies like our cousins in Aquitaine”.

“Oh, so I guess there are Earls like Godwin everywhere”.

Adelaide’s interest was sparked when Gytha mentioned that name, and she couldn’t help but want to satisfy her curiosity.

“Isn’t he the right hand of the Queen and King alike?”

Gytha scrunched up her nose, shaking her head. “He certainly plays the part. He does his job well, but never trust him too much”.

Adela’s mind went back to something her Aunt Maude once told her. It was about her grandfather’s father: William Longsword. He had been a good ruler, but too trusting of the other. That was his demise.

Gytha suddenly shifted and looked at her with a glimmer in her eyes.

“You ask an awful lot of questions, but never tell anything about yourself. All this talk of Normandy won’t fool me! Now you shall tell me about this Duke of Lyonnaise”.

Adela laughed a little and shrugged, not very entertained by the tale of the less amusing nuisance in all of Frankia.

“There is not much to tell, he is uninteresting but a good party. There is a man who I like much more, the Duke of Blois. But my family dislikes his, and my father would not have that union.”

“Did you love him?”

“No, I wouldn’t say I did. I just liked him far better. It wouldn’t be wise for a woman such as me or you to do more than like any man”.

“And yet Queen Emma and my uncle seem to have found more than just liking in each other”

“You are not wrong. But that’s rare, and the one exception that confirms the rule.”

“And don’t you hope to have… something more?”

Adelaide moved to answer but stopped herself. She had never thought about something more; yes, she had many examples in her family of people who married and loved each other, namely her forebearers Duke Rollo and Princess Gisla. She had been married to him by her father to form an alliance, and had fallen so deeply in love with each other that many Norman tales and songs still told of their love and how beneficial that union had been for both Normandy and each other. Their son William Longsword had found love in both his first wife Sprota and then Liuthgarda, who responded in treachery. Her grandfather Richard the Fearless had loved her grandmother Gunnora, and then his many mistresses, with which he had produced some of her uncles. And her parents themselves were very happy with each other. Despite coming from a line of people who had found love in their partners, that something more wasn’t what she saw in her life. Since she was a girl, she had been educated in all matters regarding the politics of her lands as was Norman costume. Her greatest desire had always been to form a beneficial alliance for Normandy, and maybe marry in the confines of Frankia, as to not stray away from her beloved Rouen.

Gytha’s question wasn’t one she had ever considered, that something more for her looked more like being fortunate to find a man who’d allow her to rule beside him whatever land would welcome her as its own. She found herself grow uncomfortable, her guts stirring for a question that had been innocent and yet had cracked a chasm where she had always found sure footing.

“I don’t know what’s more, Gytha. It isn’t in me. My Aunt was kissed by fortune, but I have never thought of more and I… don’t even know if I want it”.

Gytha looked at her with a knowing look, and smiled a little.

“Let me tell you, you resemble a lot your aunt when you make that face”.

They ended up giggling and changing subject, concentrating in lighter chatter. Adela was grateful to have Gytha with her, a friend with which she could be herself and not be judged as too harsh to be ladylike. Maybe her exposure to her aunt as her lady in waiting made it easier, or the fact that she was a Dane, but she didn’t seem to mind Adela’s sharp words and observation. And she genuinely liked Gytha, who was fun and gentle and kind.

When it was late enough they realized it was time to retire, and though they didn’t want to put a stop to their fun it was time to rest. They were exchanging the last few words before Gytha’s exit when a sound caught their attention.

They stopped talking and realized it came from the city. It was the scream of a woman, a horrifying wail that made Gytha and Adelaide rush to the window and open it. A few guards were already covering the area, and they couldn’t see what was happening behind the entrance arch that sheltered them from the view. In a mix of curiosity and fear the two made for the door so they could at the very least ask the guards some informations, when outside their corridor they met Earl Godwin.

“Ladies, stay in the room and do not get out for any reason. If in need of anything I will place guards outside your doors, though now I must hurry and call Queen Emma”.

Gytha nodded and moved to close the door, but Adela prevented it by holding the door in it’s place.

“What is happening?”

Earl Godwin was taken aback by her questioning, recognizing in her the same mannerisms he had only seen in the Queen before now.

“The Dane priest Cynleaf was killed; we are assuming the attack was provoked by another Dane in the alehouse”.

Adela could sense Gytha gasp and tense behind her, and soon the Earl left them. They ended up spending the night together in Adela’s room, with guards outside the door and the chaos of the city muffled by the windows now closed.

Gytha had succumbed to sleep almost instantly, leaving Adela alone with her thoughts. Before she fell asleep, her agitated mind kept circling between the events of the night and Gytha’s words.

He certainly plays the part.

#godwin x oc #godwin #earl godwin #emma of normandy #king canute #gytha thorkelsdottir #vikings valhalla #vkfanfiction #vikings fanfiction #vikings: valhalla #writing #The Sea Fig #rolisla mention #vikings

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gudvina · 1 year

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The sea fig, ch. I, Emma.

(First chapter of this series, posting just because I'm proud of this prologue)

It was an early morning when London was awakened by horns bellowing, accompanying ships that were approaching the city. The sky was of an ashy colour, darkening as the clouds filled with rain, and the Londinium’s sentinels struggled to identify the ships’ banner as water, sky and air blended and created an untouchable barrier. When the boat was finally visible, though, seeing the Norman banners filled them with release, and soon the visitor was let in.

When Queen Emma was alerted of a visit from Normandy, she was surprised. She hadn’t received a previous notice, and her brothers’ last letter had come just after Canute’s departure, congratulating for her new marriage. She sat on her throne, her niece in law Gytha by her right and her lady in wait Aelfwynn by her left, waiting for the visitor to come.

They didn’t have to wait long, for soon the blue doors opened and let in her guards, Lord Godwin and a mass of Norman soldiers. In the midst of them a young woman came forth. She was tall with dark brown hair braided in a simple updo, clad with a brown furred coat that was fastened with a sun shaped golden broach. Emma instantly recognized the symbol; it was inspired by the oriflamme of Saint-Denis, once raised by her grandfather’s parents.

She bowed after her, and Emma got up from her sit to walk to the girl. One of the Norman soldiers approached her, greeted as due and spoke.

“My Queen, it is an honour to be before you. We are men of your brother, Duke Richard the Good, and we are accompanying your niece, Lady Adelaide. The duke wishes for her to stay with you and sends his best regards”.

Emma listened closely. She knew her niece, though last time she had met her was a long time ago. Now she was before her, bowing not anymore as a wild child but as a young woman with the usual Norman countenance. And she was surprised. Her brother loved his daughters, they were the jewels he prided around anytime he could, and her sister-in-law was a devoted mother. What could have prompted them from wishing to part from her?

Her curiosity needed to wait, and she got down to gently hold her niece and help her into a standing position. She could feel Godwin’s eyes on her, surprised of her sudden display of affection to the girl, but she ignored it and smiled softly at the young girl whose face was so familiar.

“Niece, welcome to London. Why would my brother part Normandy from one of their gems?”

“My Queen, my father wishes me to marry the Lord of Lyonnais. I refused.”

Queen Emma turned to see Godwin’s face drop, his expression showing how impressed he was with her niece. “As you can see, Lord Godwin, Norman Ladies have a tendency for impertinence”.

She saw the Lord regain his composure and come forth to curtsy, almost embarrassed to have lost his poise. “Adela, this is Lord Godwin, Jarl of Wessex. He is the right hand of King Canute”. Adelaide greeted him properly, and Emma couldn’t help but beam with pride, grateful that her brother had educated her niece in the same fashion as their father had.

“Adela, now tell me, do you have any good news from Normandy?” asked Emma as she sat down the throne.

“The good news is that my father’s work to legitimize our claim to the motherland is bearing its fruits. My sister is growing steadily, and my younger brothers have already started their training”.

“That’s very good. And my children?”

“They are well and are being trained by our Uncle Geoffrey. Before coming here I visited them, and I am happy to report that Edward is advancing in his studies and Alfred is following suit”.

Emma couldn’t have been happier to hear news of her children, and to know that they had a cousin such as Adela brought her much relief. Despite this she wasn’t blind to Adela’s shifting and rigid posture, showing some signs of the fatigue she tried to hide.

“Well Adela, we have much to share still, and I am delighted to have you here. I think you’ve earned your rest! Gytha, Aelfwynn, please show my niece to her rooms! Lord Godwin, please show the Norman soldiers for their quarters”.

Lord Godwin nodded and promptly left the room followed by the soldiers, as Adela was welcomed by her ladies in wait and swiftly taken to her quarters. She was pleased to see her niece become acquainted to Gytha, they were close in age and would have benefited greatly of each other’s company.

Left alone in the throne halls, Emma saw the potential of having under her wing her brother’s daughter to further Norman roots in London. Richard and Judith were busy with their younger children, but she could give Adela what they couldn’t. And if her brother didn’t have a change of heart she would provide for the girl.

Satisfied she got up and retired to her chambers. The corridor was dimly lit by the windows on the left walls, her steps loudly echoing on the stone floor. London wasn’t Normandy. When she married AEthelred the narrow corridors and deafening silence almost drove her mad. Normandy was colourful, and she and her siblings had filled its halls with laughter and mischief, but she had learnt quickly that London was the exact opposite. Where Normandy shined, London darkened. With time she adapted, and became a perfect English Lady, but she was still a Norman. And now that Viking rule was softening the English manners, she knew her niece would help dissolve that grip completely.

When she arrived at her rooms she sat on her desk, where parchment and ink awaited her. She took her pen, dipped it in the ink and started her letter to her husband. Little pleased her more than acquainting him of their new guest. And if the weather allowed, she’d also write to her brother and sister.

#godwin x oc #emma of normandy #godwin #canute #gytha thorkelsdottir #vikings valhalla #vk fanfiction #writing #vikings fanfiction #The Sea Fig #starting with Emma's pov bc why not #godwin of wessex

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