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Upon my throne, I sat. This throne was like no other, no ordinary symbol of my importance. No, this throne was soaked in the blood of those who stood before me, decorated with their bones. Some say that I am a merciless woman, but how else does one rise to such heights in this awful world? No matter what they thought of me, I was forever a Queen. I was born to be a Queen, and I would die one. If I ever died at all.
"Your Grace," A servant spoke. "The men that you summoned are here."
My smile grew, ice cold gaze fixed on the door. "Then let them in."
When the men entered, I scanned each of them closely. Nothing ever escaped me. It was a talent of mine, these all seeing eyes. Every minute detail was mine, mind like a trap and a gaze to match.
The men seemed tall, strong, warriors born and bred. I was certain, upon seeing them, that they were Northmen. But what were they doing in my kingdom? I was, what the Saxons would call, an Outsider or Foreigner - Welsh. Cymru was in the West while the Northmen came from the North East. I had heard that they had been in Northumbria and Wessex recently, but what on Earth would bring them here? Surely, once they had achieved revenge against the Saxon Kings, they would return home as always.
The man at the front of them was tall, with long brown hair. Beside him, a young man of similar age and slightly lighter hair. Crawling on the floor beside them, a sharp look in his eyes, was a younger man with dark hair. Quickly, I deduced that they were sons of the infamous Ragnar Lothbrok. But which ones? The one on the left was clearly the brute known as Ivar The Boneless. Among them I saw no sign of anyone that matched the description of Bjorn Ironside. So three sons remained and I had to deduce which two were present.
"Your Majesty," The center one spoke in the tongue of the Saxon devils. I could see why he was the one that they had chosen to speak for them. Quickly, he appeared diplomatic and approachable. And, for their sakes, it was likely good that I did not converse with the youngest among them - who seemed hot tempered enough to stir rage within me. "We are the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. I am Ubbe, and these are my brothers; Ivar and Hvitserk." My gaze shifted to the other brother, Hvitserk. He seemed different again. I couldn't place whether he was a diplomat or a trouble causer, perhaps both. Though I would've liked to have heard him speak.
"You are not in England anymore, Prince Ubbe." I answered in their language, avoiding any use of Saxon words.
"We were heading North when our boats were blown off course, and he thought we could make an alliance with the locals." Ivar spoke up, glaring at his older brother.
"Well, we are certainly no friends of the Saxons, that is true." I agreed, lifting a goblet of wine from beside me and sipping it gently - still watching each of them with paranoid caution. "Welcome to Cymru. If you are looking for a place to stay, I will arrange rooms for you and your men here in the palace. Otherwise, I have no quarrel with your people and would prefer it to remain that way."
"Thank you..." Ubbe began, looking to me as though expecting my name.
Of course, a servant stepped forward. Why would I introduce myself as though I was a peasant? "Her Highness, The Lady Gwenllian of Aberffraw - Royal house of Gwynedd."
Ubbe nodded, looking as though he was still questioning how to address me.
"Seeming as I am in the presence of Princes, you may address me simply as Gwenllian." I spoke firmly, still holding all of the power in the room despite my patience with these attackers. If they had been Saxons, they'd all already be dead.
"Well, Gwenllian," Ivar spoke up before his brother could, his arrogance in my throne room making me wish to kill him then and there. "Since you hate the Saxons so much, why don't you join us on our war against them? Hm?"
"War against Saxons no longer interests me." I answered flatly. "That is child's play."
Beside the two, the other brother - Hvitserk - sniggered at the silence that I had instilled upon his little brother before quickly looking between the glare that Ivar sent him and the raised eyebrow that was received from myself.
"We appreciate your kindness, and we will leave your Kingdom as soon as our ships are ready." Ubbe quickly took control of the conversation again, diverting attention from his brothers.
"Well, any enemy of those wretches is a friend of mine." I smiled again, the cold stare still remaining in my lifeless eyes.
As they left, the brothers all exchanged glances. The last thing I heard as the doors slammed behind them, was Hvitserk informing his two siblings that I seemed... What was the word he used?
Ah, yes, "Scary".
In all honesty, being a ruler that was feared was far preferable to being one that was weak and easily dethroned. Nevertheless, I sent guards to watch over the men. One cannot be too cautious, and if they were to incite war then I would take no issue in ending each of their inconsequential lives then and there.
Death had, after all, always been a bedfellow of mine.
