► @pfadlos // Stiorra
Cookham was a pleasant place to live ; Uhtred knew that from experience. It was small, but it was peaceful and he could live his life as he wished : as a free man. A couple of years had passed since Æthelflaed was named king of Mercia after he stepped down. Though undiminished, the threat of the Danes had lessened ever since Sigtrygger was gifted Eoferwic. The Northman had kept his word to remain peaceful and prosper in the land he bargained for. All in all, life was quiet for the denizens of England, living in seeming harmony. The once great warrior – the Dane-Slayer – reveled in his freedom, but also found himself a bit restless at the sudden stillness that was thrust upon him.
Young Uhtred had returned to the monastery and Stiorra lived presumably happy in Eoferwic. Although his men would provide company from time to time, Uhtred found himself growing more lonely by each passing day. He’d meant to create a safe and quiet home for his family, and now all that remained was himself.
It wasn’t until news of a possible growing threat reached his ears that Uhtred knew he could lay idle for no longer. Danes were gathering in Northumbria and while no army had begun to march yet, Uhtred knew that speaking to Sigtrygger before that army could be completed and entice him as an ally was the best way to diffuse the situation ; it also provided the perfect excuse to see his daughter once again.
The ride to Eoferwic was uninterrupted and Uhtred stopped only when was necessary. When he arrived at the Dane ruled town, he was allowed entry, though suspicious looked followed him through the streets. Though Uhtred played an important role in getting the land for them, they still only saw the famed Dane-Slayer when they looked at him and his legendary sword. Keeping his mind focused on the goal at hand, he entered the main square where fighters were sparring and practicing. There, in the center, was his very own Stiorra, making him proud. Uhtred grinned and jumped down from his horse before tying it off. Then he leaned against the column of an alehouse, watching her spar, waiting for her to notice him. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt when she appeared to be doing so well.
