Chapter Warnings for: colonialism, racism and talk of rape.
I've edited the warnings at the beginning because it just occurred to me that I should probably warn about some stuff that to me is very obviously going to occur, like colonialism, but also to clarify the talk of rape warning.
Only took me 5 months to post. I'm having trouble with the Normans, so I backtracked. Have Scotland's tragic backstory and identity crisis first. It's going to cause problems later.
If you're unaware besides England, Ireland (both), Scotland and Wales, within the British Isles there are also 3 Crown Dependencies: The Isle of Mann/Ellan Vannin in the Irish Sea and the Channel Islands, the Bailiwick of Guernsey/Bailliage dé Guernési and the Bailiwick of Jersey/Bailliage dé Jèrri in the English Channel. They are separate countries to the UK and ROI.
Within England there is also Cornwall which was a separate kingdom before the Normans incorporated it into England but while it's slowly anglicised over the last 1000 years, half the population still identifies as Cornish not English and there's a small nationalist movement to create a Cornish Assembly and become independent from England but not the UK. In Scotland, Orkney and Shetland were Norwegian from 847 to 1471. Again, there're attempts to become independent of Scotland but not the UK and in 2020 their governments announced that if Scotland voted to for independence, they would become a British Overseas Territory and started preparing to do so while everybody else just pretends they're not because they don't want to be the one to deal with that.
I imagine that personification's take a lot of effort to be born and to stabilise into actual Nations but once one exists, they're incredibly difficult to get rid of. Basically, a very high infant mortality to counteract the near immortality, which is how you sometimes end up with Nations representing lots of different groups of people, because the Nations are old enough that they were the same group when they were born or because their competition died or the Nations persuaded people they were their nation so they didn't need another, or lots of Nations representing very specific people all around the same age.
Cornwall popped up last chapter, but the rest will show up too. Thought I should probably explain who they are.
Nations
Alba - Scotland
Sasainn/Englarīce - England
Bhreatain - Wales
Éire - Ireland
Vannin/Manaw - Mann
An Danmhairc - Denmark
Nirribhidh/Norge - Norway
Mòr-thìr/Mainland, Arcaibh/Orkney, May 971
Alba was halfway through an argument with Arcaibh on fishing rights when he felt his king die.
A flash of heat in his chest and then nothing. Just the cold void of an empty throne. A pinprick at first, but the longer it went on, the colder it would get as chaos decent. For a Nation a leaderless time was not particularly pleasant, especially when there had been no warning.
"-rights and you cannot take them from me. I will continue as I am, and you can take your problems up with Norge. For Odin's sake, you're not even paying attention, are you?" Arcaibh crossed his arms and glared at him. Alba mimicked him; identical green eyes glared at each other before Alba huffed.
"Look Arcaibh."
"Orkneyjar!"
"I don't care about what you fish, just stop chasing off my fishermen."
"They should stop stealing my fish!"
"They're not your fish."
"They're in my waters." Alba rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air.
"Fine. I will take the issue up with Nirribhidh. He can deal with your impertinence." Alba turned on heel and walked out the hall, leaving Arcaibh gaping after him. He knew Alba hated getting Nirribhidh involved. If Nirribhidh got involved An Danmhairc would get involved, and if An Danmhairc got involved Sasainn would get involved and Alba didn't want Sasainn involved. But a minor dispute with Arcaibh would be easily solvable in the way regicide could not and Cuilén mac Illuilb had been fit and healthy when Alba saw him the week before.
Sgàin/Scone, Rìoghachd na h-Alba, June 971
"It was Rhydderch, the King of Strathclyde's son." Amlaíb mac Illuilb greeted when Alba stepped into his room. "Strathclyde is refusing to hand him over." Alba raised an eyebrow.
"Strathclyde is under our authority."
"That does not appear to have stopped them murdering my brother, their overlord." Amlaíb snapped. Alba raised his hands in a placating manner.
"Do we know why?"
"I did not ask." Amlaíb snorted. "But they've been jumpy ever since Father took Dùn Èideann. Sasainn can afford to lose a border town, Strathclyde cannot and while Winchester is on the other side of the island, Govan is just across the hills."
"And what are you going to do about it?" Alba asked.
"I'm going to enter diplomatic talks with Dyfnwal ab Owain. He hands over his son and I don't raze his kingdom."
"Talk?" Alba stared at him incredulously. "You're going to talk?"
"You sound like Cináed mac Maíl Coluim." Amlaíb glared at him. "Yes, I'm going to talk to him. The kingdom is unstable and adding troops to the mix won't help. If he refuses again, then I'll attack but I need time." Alba nodded and cast an eye over his new king.
"Of course Sir. I'll leave you to your planning." He backed out of the room and had barely made it down the corridor when he was ambushed by Cináed mac Maíl Coluim, who gave him a cordial smile and pulled him into the first empty room they came across.
"Amlaíb mac Illuilb will be a weak king." He said.
"Do you have somebody else in mind?" Alba asked, shaking off his grip.
"My father was king before his father, my brother before his brother. I have the right."
"But Amlaíb is already on the throne."
"Yes." Cináed nodded. "Which is why I'm going to invade Strathclyde and kill our king killer."
Monadh Chamaisidh, Rìoghachd na h-Alba, August 971
Máel Coluim ap Dyfnwal met them in the hills alone.
He stood by his horse, blocking the valley path, and watched as Cináed and Alba approached him.
"Go home." He said when they came within hearing range. "We have no fight with you."
"Your brother murdered our king." Cináed replied, not getting off his horse and forcing Máel Coluim to continue looking up at them.
"Your king raped my niece." Cináed didn't show any reaction to the news, although he had no way of knowing it. Alba's stomach twisted. It would explain a lot and Máel Coluim had no reason to lie, but directly attacking the daughter of the heir to the Strathclyde throne was grounds for war. Amlaíb's wish for diplomacy made more sense. "She has been avenged. You do not need to bring anybody else into it. We didn't declare war on you although we had every right, you don't declare one on us."
"We cannot let a king killer run free." Cináed warned. Máel Coluim stared up at him.
"You are my godbrother, and you have been good to me. As was your father, whose name I bear. He was a good king and I have no doubt you will be too." He took a deep breath. "But my first duty is to my brother and my kingdom, and I will not let familiarly and your bid for kingship get between that."
"Where is my brother?" Alba asked.
"The Roman Fort. He won't be joining us."
"Helpful." Alba shifted in his saddle and glanced back at his men behind them. Máel Coluim rolled his eyes.
"The Roman Fort. Cair Legion. Deverdoeu. There's been trouble with Manaw." Alba could use that. If Vannin was causing enough trouble that Bhreatain wasn't coming to visit when one of his kingdoms almost started a war maybe he could diplomatically untangle the situation.
"In which case, let's hope we can sort this situation out and save him the trip."
"That would be in all our best interests, yes." Máel Coluim agreed.
"Certainly. As would bringing justice to my fallen king." Cináed smiled tightly and the two men engaged in a staring competition until Máel Coluim finally nodded.
"I have played my part. What happens next is on you." He turned on heel and mounted his horse. Alba shot Cináed a look as Máel Coluim waved farewell and rode off, leaving them sitting in silence.
"Did you know-?" Alba trailed off.
"No." Cináed. "But it's too late to stop now." He raised a hand and waved the army over to them as they followed Máel Coluim down the valley only to round the hill and run into the Strathclyde army flying Rhydderch ap Dyfnwal's banner.
Sgàin/Scone, Rìoghachd na h-Alba, September 971
"And after that, the battle was over. We should hear about Rhydderch ap Dyfnwal's death very soon." Cináed grinned and held his arms out as the room erupted into cheers. Alba clapped politely to his embellished story from his corner and watched his nobles as they gossiped amongst themselves. On his throne Amlaíb also clapped politely, as did his supporters around the room. The King's eyes tracked each of Cináed's supporters as he slowly turned his gaze until he rested them on Alba. Alba raised an eyebrow at him until Amlaíb turned back to Cináed.
Alba was a Nation. He does what is best for his people.
"Fantastic story." Amlaíb called out. "But if you won the battle, why are you here with us and not in Govan with Dyfnwal?"
"Well, we did almost reach Govan when we ran into Dyfnwal." Cináed lowered his hands and clasped them together. "However, we were outnumbered and had already fought once, so whilst we stopped them crossing the border, we could not take the Kingdom. It is for this reason I propose we fortify our border. We have halted the advance and brought time, but they have attacked us once already and we don't know when they will do so again."
"Fortify the border?" Amlaíb laughed. "You lost a war and now to protect you from the consequences of your actions you wish to build a wall along the hills to hide behind?"
"A wall along the hills yes." Cináed said. "And along the Forth as well." Whispers started up in a flurry.
"The Forth?" Amlaíb sat up and Alba's heart skipped a beat. Cináed hadn't mentioned Sasainn, and he had no desire to have a rematch of Brunanburh. "Are you expecting an English invasion?"
"Are Sasainn and Strathclyde not allied?"
"If the English have not involved themselves by now, they won't involve themselves at all. And let's not be hasty and make hostile moves against a non-hostile neighbour. I will talk to Dyfnwal." Cináed sighed like he had just made the hardest decision in the world. Alba's gut twisted.
"My fellows. I wish I didn't have to do this, but the king has left me with no choice." Amlaíb stood up at his words, hand creeping to his sword, and the entire room went silent. "You have been given every chance to act but have taken none of them. You have been given the opportunity to protect your people and have chosen to talk instead. You are a weak king at a time we need a strong one and so I challenge you to your title." Cináed drew his sword and a round of gasps filled the room as people backed away.
"You lying cheat." Amlaíb drew his own sword.
"My Lords!" The priest stepped forwards, hands out placatingly. "Surly there is a calmer way we can do this. You could share the crown? Or split the land? Is more bloodshed really necessary?" The two kings-to-be glared at each other for another moment before they raised their weapons as one.
Sgàin/Scone, Rìoghachd na h-Alba, February 973
"That lying, cheating son of a bitch is undermining my power again." Amlaíb fumed the moment Alba entered the room. "He's solving disputes in Aberfeldy. That's in my land. That was the deal we made. I was king of the East and Cináed mac Maíl Coluim was king of the West." Alba made the appropriate sympathetic sound then blocked out the rest of what he was saying so he could go through the letters collected on the table: five from priests, seven from loyal men and one in neat curly handwriting bearing the seal of the Royal House of Wessex. Alba picked up the last one and turned it over. Amlaíb's name was written clearly on the front, but there was no title.
"You can open it." Alba jumped and smiled guiltily at Amlaíb over his shoulder. The king had calmed down and was sitting in a chair by the fire, watching him with tired eyes. Alba gently broke the seal as he walked over to join him in the other chair. He glanced at Amlaíb once before reading the letter.
"Étgar of Sasainn is inviting you to a meeting of kings at the Roman Fort on the summer solstice to witness his coronation and 'discuss issues facing our islands' namely about how Vannin keeps raiding the western coast and running off with gold and slaves." He summarised, Amlaíb hummed in acknowledgement and held out his hand for the letter. Alba handed it over, and Amlaíb glanced over the words before throwing the parchment into the fire.
"I do not have time for English pedantry." Alba gave a huff of laughter and they settled down in comfortable silence until Amlaíb broke it.
"Is it painful?" Alba blinked at him.
"Is what painful?"
"Being split in half. Having one king rule the east and another the west, but both being King of Alba?" Amlaíb stared at him, something unreadable in his eyes. Alba laughed.
"Two hundred years ago that was the status quo."
"But does it hurt?" Alba shifted uncomfortably.
"It aches." He admitted. "Like a wound that's stopped bleeding." Amlaíb nodded, and they went back to the silence.
"So, you were both, then?" Amlaíb broke it again shortly after. "Dál Riada and the Picts?"
"Yes." Alba blinked and squinted suspiciously.
"But you were the Picts first?"
"Yes." Alba said slowly, and Amlaíb nodded.
"I thought so, if you had been born with Dál Riada you would be the same age as Sasainn."
"Younger." Alba corrected automatically. "My brother is Roman."
"Oh." Amlaíb glanced at the fire, then sat up. "Are you even related by something so mortal as blood? You are Nations not humans."
Alba settled back in his seat and tried to get comfortable. Dealing with humans who wanted to know what they were was an occupational hazard of not being human, but it didn't make the interrogations about his power or loyalty any easier.
"By blood. We share a mother. Nations can be born the same way as humans, we mostly are, but sometimes spilt Nation blood and strong belief is enough." Amlaíb's eyes lit up.
"So Nations can have only one parent?"
"Or a hundred, if enough Nations are present in say a battle." Alba stopped shifting. "Or one Nation parent and one human parent." He answered the next question.
"When you say you share a mother-?" Amlaíb raised an eyebrow.
"My mother was Albion. The island upon which we stand. My father was Éire, our neighbouring island."
"I thought Éire was your sister."
"She is. She is named after our father." Amlaíb's mouth twisted.
"So, you share a mother with your brothers and a father with your sister?"
"Éire and I are full siblings; our parents were Éire and Albion. As I said: I am both Gaelic and Brythonic. Dál Riada and the Picts. All of Alba." Amlaíb gave him a nod of acknowledgement and finally asked the question he had been dancing around.
"In this royal dispute of ours, do you support me or Cináed mac Maíl Coluim? East or West? Pict or Dál Riada?" Alba looked him in the eye.
"I will support whoever is best for my people. Both East and West."
Dùn Ad, Rìoghachd na h-Alba, March 973
"What was his reaction to Aberfeldy?" Cináed asked the moment Alba sat down in his hall. Cináed men leaned forward as Alba rolled his eyes and took a drink.
"That would be playing favourites." He chastised, "but he took it badly." Cináed and his men roared with laughter.
"Alright, alright." Cináed said after a minute, "we have business to attend, we can catch up later." The men walked out of the hall, still laughing, and Cináed gave a final chortle before sitting down opposite Alba and let him finish his drink to talk again.
"Will he retaliate?"
"Obviously." Alba snorted.
"Where?"
"That would be playing favourites." Alba repeated. "And I don't know, he hadn't decided when I left."
"But you'd tell me if you knew, wouldn't you?" Cináed said. "He's a weak king and we need a strong one. A conqueror." Alba trailed his eyes around the hall.
"A conqueror." He repeated. "Is that why you've placed your court at the old capital of Dál Riada?" Cináed shrugged.
"Amlaíb has his court at the capital of the Picts. We are co-kings, are we not? If he's going to claim legitimacy from the Picts, I will from the Gaels."
"If you're trying to win my favour, you should know that Fearghas Mòr's invasion was very painful for me." Alba said, drawing his eyes back to Cináed.
"But Dál Riada conquered the Picts. Twice. And it is strength I am trying to imitate." Cináed drew in a deep breath, eyes alight. "When Fearghas Mòr sailed over from Éire half a millennium ago, he did so with purpose. To expand his country into foreign shores and he succeeded. The Picts fell, having overexerted themselves trying to expand south while the English were causing trouble for the Britons. For their military incompetence, they lost their lands to Strathclyde; to Northumbria and to Dál Riada. Then a century ago when Cináed mac Ailpín came and diplomatically installed himself as king of the Picts. He conquered them again. If I'm going to need to choose between Dál Riada or the Picts, I know which horse I'm backing. We are superior to them in every way and as long as Amlaíb ties his authority to a weaker people, I will win this fight." Alba raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself, and leaned forward.
"And what is your plan for dealing with him? You have no ships to go by sea and Vannin is causing trouble anyway. You cannot go over the hills as he will expect that, and the way is dangerous and your trip to Strathclyde shows how stupid going through them is. You forget how long the Picts stood for and that the conquering was not all one sided." Cináed grinned, ignoring what he didn't want to hear, and pulled out a letter with his name and no title on the front in neat curly handwriting and the seal of Wessex on the back.
"When was the last time you saw your brother?"
The Roman Fort, Rìoghachd na Sasainn, June 973
Bhreatain did not look pleased to see him. Sasainn, ever the polite host, had showed up to greet them when they arrived, Alba, his king and two guards who had met them at the border.
"Welcome to Chester!" Sasainn beamed. "I hope your journey went well."
"Wonderfully, the… escort was most thoughtful." Cináed replied, stepping off his horse. Alba rolled his eyes and followed suit. Sasainn's smile sharpened slightly.
"We didn't want you to get lost."
"Cináed." Sasainn's king stepped out from the adjacent street and smiled wildly. "How good of you to join us. I wasn't expecting any of our northern neighbours."
"Nirribhidh had a little too short notice to attend, so it's only us." Cináed greeted. Étgar's eyes flicked to Alba before going back to Cináed.
"Have you and Amlaíb come to an agreement then?"
"Not yet."
"Boys." Étgar said, and Alba's brothers turned to him. "Why don't you show your brother where he'll be sleeping." Sasainn huffed but nodded and gestured for Alba to follow him when he marched off. Bhreatain glared at him and stalked off after Sasainn. Alba shot a look at Cináed, who shooed him off and disappeared with Étgar. Alba hovered in the street for a moment before running after his brothers, his longer legs allowing him to catch up easily.
It still took him a minute to realise that the two were having a silent conversation, complete with faces and nods and frequent glances back at him.
"Not expecting me to come?" Alba asked as they ducked into an empty inn. Sasainn jumped at his voice while Bhreatain just scowled.
"We heard you were busy." Sasainn replied.
"Vannin is causing me problems too."
"More or less than you are?" Bhreatain asked.
"Seeing as we're having a big meeting for Vannin but not me, I'd say less." Alba grinned Bhreatain glared at him.
"You've never shown any inclination for cooperation before." Sasainn said, stopping in front of a door and pulling a key ring from his pocket. He didn't look up at Alba while he sorted the keys.
"The opportunity has never presented itself before." Alba replied. Sasainn hummed and unlocked the door, vanishing inside. Alba didn't wait for Bhreatain and followed him in. His middle brother stepped in after closing the door behind him.
"And the real reason you're here?" Bhreatain asked.
"You're both very suspicious." Alba grinned, dropping his bag by the bed and turning to face them.
"Our kings say that you're having trouble with your king." Sasainn answered, crossing his arms.
"Kings." Alba corrected. "I have two at the moment. One is claiming the east and the other the west. But Cináed, who I came with, who claimed the west wants to claim all of Alba, so we're here to make an agreement with our neighbours and have you recognise him as the sole King of Alba." Sasainn raised an eyebrow.
"That it?"
"Oh, there are a few snags to sort out. Amlaíb won't just accept the ruling, he'll need military persuasion." Alba shrugged.
"So, you support Cináed then?" Bhreatain asked.
"I think." Alba rolled his next words on his tongue. "I think he will help make me strong. He believes in military tradition; he is keen on emphasising Dál Riada's continuation."
"But you are not Dál Riada." Sasainn frowned. "Dál Riada was Éireland's before Fergus crossed from Ulster."
"Was Hengist not An Danmhairc's before he came to your shores and proclaimed them his?" Alba shot back.
"Nobody is claiming to continue Hengist's legacy." Sasainn rolled his eyes. "The Kentish Men and Men of Kent do as they please, always have done, always will do. We claim the Cerdic, Ida and Icel. Cymry claims Rome. You were the Picts until they showed up. Why would you claim to follow their legacy?"
"Because Dál Riada is me. They became Alba, and I became Dál Riada and the two halves of me torn between two islands merged." Alba sat down on the bed; he'd explained this before, but none of his siblings understood what he meant. Éire was an island unto herself, Bhreatain was a collection of states but ones who shared a common culture and origin with Rome and Caesar and Sasainn, whose early memories came and went as he emphasised this or that kingdom, was held together by language and religion and threats from the sea. Halving two halves whose greatest threats were each other and whose stability relied on ensuring that peace was between them, either through a careful balancing or through total domination, was not something any of them could understand. "Dál Riada was militarily strong, and that is what I need right now. So it is Dál Riada's legacy I will encourage."
"And after west crushes east?" Bhreatain asked.
"I will be unified again." Alba said.
"And how is your military going to get to Pictland?" Sasainn asked. "You can't go overland." Bhreatain hissed through his teeth as he realised what Alba was going to ask before he did so.
"This whole pageantry has two purposes, does it not?" Alba smiled sweetly at his youngest brother. "To make a non-aggression pact and to swear an oath of submission to you. The second comes with conditions. Mine is that Amlaíb is removed from his throne and the only way I can do that is to invade from the south." Sasainn scowled at him.
"You want to march an army through my territory."
"No." Alba corrected. "I want to march an army through my territory."
"No." Sasainn said immediately. "Absolutely not. You already took Edinburgh in 950. I'm not letting you take any more of Northumbria."
"Your king might have a different answer." Alba leaned back against the wall as Sasainn glared at him.
"It took me lifetimes to build this." He hissed. "I'm not letting you take it from me." Sasainn huffed and stormed out of the room. Alba rolled his eyes and turned to his other brother.
"Something you want to say?" Bhreatain glared at him.
"Stay out of Strathclyde. I want no part in your internal crisis."
"Don't kill my kings then." Alba shot back.
"You know why Cuilén mac Illuilb died. Don't make the same mistake again, or next time you won't have an army to return home with." Bhreatain stormed off after Sasainn and Alba let out a long breath. Children were so dramatic. He shook his head and pushed himself off the wall and over to close the door. Luckily, Sasainn had left the key on the table.
Festivities filled the next day. Nobody mentioned why they were there and kept the dark looks thrown Vannin's way to a minimum when he arrived, although they avoided him like the plague. Alba was happy to take full advantage of this, to catch up with his brother while not being disturbed by anybody else. Vannin was easy going and perfectly civil when he wasn't bearing down at you on a pirate ship. They made it to dinner before the conversation drifted over to why they were there.
"This is quite a big show for something I can easily agree to." Vannin commented idly, picking at the grass next to him where they sat by the river. "Attack Éire not Breatainn Mhòr. Not like it'll be difficult. I'm not any bigger a fan of Dubhlinn than you are."
"Sasainn just enjoys putting on a show." Vannin laughed.
"Where is he, by the way? I've been here, as guest of honour, for half a day now and he hasn't shown up."
"He's sulking because I'm demanding he gives me part of his land to attack Amlaíb through and he knows his king will agree." Alba took the moment of silence to check to see if anybody he knew had appeared before looking at Vannin. Vannin frowned at him.
"How much of his land?"
"Just the top." Alba answered.
"And after? When you've got just the top?" Alba paused. He hadn't thought about after, long-term planning was not his forte.
"Just the top." He repeated. Vannin tilted his head at him.
"That's not like you."
"I am a Nation."
"You are a split Nation." Vannin emphasised. "What do you think will happen to you when you add another faction?" Alba hadn't thought of that. It must have shown on his face, because Vannin gave a hollow laugh.
"I was a Brythonic Nation and now I am a Gaelic one. But the Norse have left their mark in places I still haven't found. What do you think adding an unwilling population of foreign peoples will do to you?" Vannin grinned at him. Alba glared back until Vannin gave another laugh and clambered to his feet. "I'm going to find our brothers. Excuse me." Alba ignored him as he left, picking at the pile of grass to his side and staring at the river.
Vannin had a point. If he accepted parts of Northumbria, it would leave him balancing a third part of himself and he would have no idea how that would turn out. Alba snorted and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Vannin was talking about his own experiences, but Alba's would be different. For starters he had experience dealing with split parts of himself, he would just continue with the first plan, emphasis Dál Riada and Gaelicise Sasainn. Besides, he would be the one doing the conquering, not being conquered.
The next day was the solstice which is how Alba found himself standing next to a grinning Vannin and a grumpy Sasainn watching Étgar's coronation and Maccus mac Arailt swear to stop bothering the ships of all those present and go bother Amlaíb mac Sitric in Dublin instead followed by the agreement of a defence pact between them all. Then Máel Coluim ap Dyfnwal for Strathclyde stepped up and swore an oath to Étgar, then Iago ab Idwal, Morgan Hen ab Owain, Owain ap Hywel and Arthfael ap Nowy before finally Cináed stepped forward.
Both Alba and Sasainn tensed, and Étgar's small smile stuck on his face.
"My Lord." Cináed began. "I would swear to you, but unfortunately a blight is upon my land, and I cannot make any such promises until such a time he is driven away. Amlaíb mac Illuilb claims the throne of Alba and until he is deposed, I can make no promises as King of Alba, as such I ask for land in the north so that I might strike him across the Forth where he does not expect it." Étgar took a deep breath.
"For your loyalty and for the good of All Britain, I grant you northern Bernicia for so long as I live so you might strike your enemies at their weakest." Next to him Sasainn let out a long deep breath, hands curled into fists and knuckles white. Alba grinned. The effect wouldn't be immediate, but he knew that slowly, as word spread, he would become a little stronger and a little more powerful, and he'd start feeling his new land and hearing his new people.
Cináed knelt, lips curled up into a smirk.
"I thank you my Lord and swear to you my fealty."
Sasainn stomped off the moment the ceremony ended, and Alba didn't wait to see what Bhreatain or Vannin did before striding over to Cináed.
"Northern Bernicia will certainly do the job." Alba said grinning, Cináed grinned back, eyes alight and looking past Alba to some point in the future.
"I told him to fortify the Forth. It is lucky he did not. We will need to send a messenger to our troops immediately to prepare the launching site before Amlaíb hears of this and sends his own troops south." Cináed looked him in the eye. "I will reclaim the east and make Alba whole again. I told you we needed Dál Riada. Our military tactics are far superior. Stop listening to the Picts." Alba nodded.
"I can do that. Will we leave tonight? It will take almost a fortnight to return."
"Send the messenger now, we will leave at dawn tomorrow." Cináed glanced down to the river. "By the time we arrive the army should be in place and we can attack immediately. Once we take Sgàin, I will declare myself king of all Alba and depose Amlaíb. After that we just need to ensure he doesn't raise another army and hold on to the Bernician farmlands."
Alba nodded and stepped back.
"Good luck." He said, the grin still etched firmly on his face before he turned to find a messenger and prepare to go home.
Abhainn Thuaidh, Carham, Bernicia, [Rìoghachd na Sasainn] Rìoghachd na h-Alba, March 1016
The command tent was stifling, and Alba wished he had taken the time to remove his armour before coming over, not just washing off the worst of the blood. Not that any of his companions looked any better, Máel Coluim mac Cináeda stood in the centre of the room, sword still dripping, and eyes still alight with bloodlust.
He'd removed his helmet and crown which were set on the desk next to Owain Foel's sword, the King of Strathclyde was sitting in the chair next to it, his chest plate on the floor next to him as he held his wounded side the bandages already soaked in blood, cheeks pale despite the heat.
On his knees at Máel Coluim's feet, Uhtred of Northumbria looked the worst of them all. Nobody had cleaned him up, so his hair was slick with sweat, and his bound hands caked in mud where he'd fallen on the riverbank. He was staring up at Máel Coluim with begrudging respect and more than a little annoyance.
"I'm going to need you to pass on a message to your king." Máel Coluim smirked. "Whichever one wins your war."
"Cnut." Uhtred grunted. "Cnut will win."
"How do you know?" Máel Coluim asked.
"Because you just destroyed my army?" Uhtred snapped. "The next time he comes here, we won't be able to defend ourselves. I'll have no choice but to submit and while London can hold out for now, it cannot do so forever. Cnut holds all other lands. Congratulations. I've always wanted to belong to a Danish province. All because you needed a rematch of that time I beat you in 1006 when you last tried claiming Northumbrian land." Máel Coluim ignored him and looked over at Owain, then back at Uhtred.
"Then tell Cnut that Bernicia is Scottish, and I will not appreciate an attempt to claim it." The Englishman blinked at him in surprise.
"A few of my men will be expanding their landholding's along the border." Owain said. Uhtred looked over at him, the surprise disappearing.
"Of course they will." He rolled his eyes. "Anything else you'd like me to pass along?" Máel Coluim thought for a second, then hauled Uhtred to his feet.
"Just tell him his new border is at the River Tweed."
"I swear so, before God and upon my life." Uhtred intoned.
"Guard!" Máel Coluim called, and a soldier came in, taking Uhtred's other arm. "Return him to his army and then send them on their way. They're on the wrong side of the river border." The soldier flashed a small smile, gave a bow, and marched the prisoner off, leaving the two kings and Alba in the room.
"That went much better than expected." Owain shifted and winced as his wounds rubbed.
"I told you, Uhtred has no reinforcements to call on, Mercia is in Danish hands and if he wants to keep his land he will need to submit as well." Máel Coluim rolled his shoulders and unstrapped his armour. "How's the wound?"
"Could be better." Owain smiled. "But I should go find a doctor." He stood up and sucked in a deep breath as he swayed on his feet. Alba had stepped forward and held out an arm to catch him if he fell when he opened his eyes and looked straight at Máel Coluim. "Our agreement still stands?"
"It does. Your military help for your kingdom. I will not interfere with the politics of Strathclyde until your death, and I will not make any claim upon your kingdom until then either." Owain nodded and half marched, half dragged himself out of the tent flap.
"How much do you want to bet he dies of blood loss tonight?" Alba asked, undoing his own armour straps. Máel Coluim snorted.
"Nothing. I'm not even going to bother making his wound any worse." Máel Coluim removed his armour plate and groaned in relief. "I was thinking about letting my cousin, Suibne, have the Firth of Clyde. Stop him bothering me. Then when the Irish kill him over Galloway, I can claim all of Strathclyde." Alba thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
"If you claim Strathclyde right away, he will want some and we're already competing with the English and the Irish over the southern area. Bhreatain cannot do much."
"Then it's a good thing that Sasainn is in no position to expand." Máel Coluim smiled. "We'll only have Éire to worry about."
"I wish I could see Sasainn's face when he hears the news though." Alba grinned at his king, who stared back at him, smile gone.
"Englarīce's face?" He asked. Alba stared at him.
"What?"
"You said Englarīce?" Alba blinked at him; he was pretty sure he hadn't but saying things he isn't thinking generally isn't a good thing.
"And if I did? It's his name."
"You called Bhreatain Bhreatain."
"He has about ten names, including Strathclyde. I need to keep track of him somehow." Alba snapped. "I'm going to get changed." He stormed out of the tent and made his way to the river to wash off. Unfortunately, he passed by a group of English prisoners being escorted the same way to their side of the river and one was singing a ditty about a milkmaid. Alba stalked off in the other direction when he reached the second verse and he realised he could vaguely grasp the lyrics. He threw himself at the ground when he reached the bank and instead of cupping it to his face stuck in head in the water so he couldn't hear anything but the roar of his blood in his ears and the voice in his head wondering when he'd started understanding English.
Worse news came later: Owain didn't die.
Fife, Rìoghachd na h-Alba, November 1031
Vannin arrived before Sasainn did, despite having further to go and Sasainn calling the meeting. Alba didn't mind, it gave him the opportunity to ask about his old king Haakon Ericsson and his fight with Arcaibh and if his new king Echmarcach mac Ragnaill was going to follow the same line since Haakon had been half acting on his uncle Cnut's orders to get Arcaibh to stop funding other claimants to the Norwegian throne before Sasainn and Cnut showed up.
It wasn't a particularly stimulating conversation, Vannin was doing his best impression of a brick wall, but it told him what he wanted to know so when Sasainn finally showed up, he was prepared to greet the King of all Sasainn and An Danmhairc and the Norwegians and of some of the Swedes with the politest smile he could muster.
It must not have been as polite as he thought, because Sasainn kept giving him concerned looks from his place by Cnut's side, dressed in a fine cloak and looking more comfortable with his Danish king than many of his earlier English ones.
"You Majesty!" Máel Coluim called out as the two entered the room, standing up. Mac Bethad mac Findlaích of Moray followed suit, not wanting to be sitting when his King was standing, although Vannin and Echmarcach stayed seated. "I trust your journey went well."
"As well as to be expected." Cnut replied, taking his seat and nodding to Echmarcach. The others followed suit. "It was just long."
"We have a feast tonight to honour your arrival."
"In the meantime, Strathclyde." Echmarcach said.
"Before dinner?" Mac Bethad asked.
"Strathclyde is why we're here. I'd rather we were all on the same page." Echmarcach turned to look at him.
"Nobody is arguing your claim to Na Rannaibh." Mac Bethad rolled his eyes.
"Well then, that was a simple conversation to have before dinner, wasn't it?" Echmarcach sneered, Vannin looked heavenward and let out a deep sigh. Of relief or frustration, Alba didn't know.
"Cherchebi Kendal is mine." Sasainn cut in and they all turned to him in surprise.
"Strathclyde was under my domain." Alba said, keeping his voice even. "By all rights, all of it should be mine. You should be aware of that, seeing as it was you who handed it over in 1045."
"And Bernicia is mine." Sasainn shot back, voice just as calm. Alba bit his tongue; this was not the time to fight about Bernicia. If he argued wrong, Sasainn would take it as acknowledging it as his.
"We have had claims to Kendal before now." Cnut said smoothly. "The obvious split is that Rannaibh goes to Mann, Kendal to us and the rest of Strathclyde to Scotia. Unless somebody has a problem with that, in which case we would be happy to negotiate for Bernicia." Máel Coluim placed a hand on Alba's arm and smiled tightly.
"No, I believe that is agreeable to us all." Alba swallowed back the reply on the tip of his tongue. While northern Strathclyde would greatly increase the amount of arable land at his disposal, all the good land was on the east coast, including in Bernicia. He couldn't afford to lose it. Sasainn could keep the pile of rocks that was Kendal to soothe over his pride if Alba's people could eat well.
Cnut grinned loosely and Sasainn looked briefly furious, a look that didn't quite work on his baby face, before he started pouting, which did.
"Then that I believe concludes our pre dinner business. How is your wife?" Cnut asked Echmarcach and the two of them slid into easy small talk. Alba glanced at his king to see him shaking his head at Mac Bethad, the movement barely noticeable, before turning to look at his brothers. Vannin held the staring contest for only a few moments before excusing himself to go and "confirm" his borders, a weak excuse if Alba had ever heard one.
Sasainn held his gaze longer, still pouting, before he tugged his king's sleeve and Cnut silently waved him off. Alba turned back to the conversation and contributed for a while until Mac Bethad left to go check how the feast was coming along and he slipped out with him.
He found Englarīce in the courtyard playing hopscotch with a few of the servant children, the small cluster giggling as they played. When Sasainn saw him watching him from the doorway, he ignored him, although he stopped giggling, playing a few more times until the cook came out of the kitchen and called the children to her. They obediently ran off, leaving Sasainn alone, and he faltered, eyes darting over to Alba before playing on his own. Alba sighed.
"There are more interesting games you can play by yourself." He called over, walking to him to stand at the top of the scotch.
"Yeah, but dinner's nearly ready." Sasainn said, stopping abruptly to not run into him and crossing his arms. Alba rolled his eyes.
"Grow up. This is how being a Nation works. I would have thought you'd got that by now." Englarīce glared at him.
"I can still feel them. They're still mine. It feels like… like… like I swallowed an ice cube, and I don't like it and I want it to stop, and I want my people back." Alba rolled his eyes again.
"That is exactly what I was talking about. Get used to it because that's what things are gonna be like for a very long time. How do you think Bhreatain feels?" Sasainn's glare changed slightly and after a moment he started smirking.
"He's mad at you."
"Me?" Alba said. "Like I said. You're the one handed off his land. And you're taking a chunk now."
"Yeah, and nothing came of it." Sasainn rocked back on the heels of his feet. "And Kendal has long been tied to Lancashire, but you conquered the rest of Strathclyde. Pretty violently. His scars took weeks to heal, even though mine only took a few days. Your harrowing wasn't very nice." Alba stared at him.
"You're a hypocrite." He said.
"I'm a Nation." Sasainn corrected. "I do what is best for my people. Which is why I want my people back home."
"Well, tough luck, because I want what's best for my people too, and you're not getting Bernicia back." He huffed and span on his heel to stalk to the dining hall. He ran into Mac Bethad at the doors, who took one look at his furious face and smiled.
"Brothers, aye? Or do we need to fortify our new border?"
"Yes." Alba huffed and didn't clarify which question he was answering before he stalked over to his seat.
Notes
Yep, Ireland is also a Junior. And technically, Alba comes from Albion, and Scotia was the Latin name for Ireland, so Scotland is too, twice. There weren't many names going around.
This part of history is really sketchy, so this is what works best for plot reasons and maximum family angst.
In either 500 under the conquest of legendary king Fearghas Mòr or, more likely, around 550 the immigration and trade of people from a king Reuda the Kingdom of Dál Riada was founded, crossing the Irish Channel from County Antrim in Northern Ireland to Argyll in Scotland. In 843 Cináed mac Ailpín of Dál Riada founded Scotland when he conquered Pictland.
In 971 Rhydderch ap Dyfnwal, probably the son of Dyfnwal ab Owain, King of Strathclyde, murdered King Cuilén mac Illuilb, causing a brief power struggle between Amlaíb mac Illuilb and Cináed mac Maíl Coluim. Cináed showcased his power by attempting to capture Rhydderch by invading Strathclyde, he was repelled but displaced Amlaíb's confidence and they appear to split power. Amlaíb got his old lands in the east and Cináed the west.
English King Edgar the Peaceful summoned a council to his show coronation and 6 kings pledged allegiance to him. This was mostly a power move on Edgar's part, but it was also to get the kings invited to agree to not fight each other, mainly aimed at Mann. Cináed went to the meeting, Amlaíb did not. Either to gain Cináed's alliance or overthrow Amlaíb, Edgar agreed to hand over northern Bernicia, now Lothian, to Scotland. Cináed used the land to surround Amlaíb and overthrow him, then promptly tried writing him out of history, so it's possible they never split lands at all and Cináed just overthrew Amlaíb or vice versa.
In 1015 Cunt the Great invaded England, ceasing his chance, Máel Coluim mac Cináeda settled the Lothian issue and invaded. Uhtred of Northumbria met him at the Tweed in the Battle of Carham and set the border there, which Cnut later confirmed. It has not moved since.
Where it gets really confusing is Strathclyde, which sort of just disappeared one day. Owain Foel is its last recorded king and his last appearance was at the Battle of Carham, we know it no longer existed by 1055 as southern Strathclyde is in England and the Earl of Northumbria tried to establish the "Son of the king of the Cumbrians" as king of Scottish held Strathclyde also that it was conquered and held through "violent subjugation" because, rather hypocritically, the Normans used it as an excuse to annex the rest of what was Strathclyde up to the modern border. There was also Suibne mac Cináeda King of the Gall Gaidheil who died in 1036 who ruled the Hebrides and possibly the Clyde to Galloway, which was northern Strathclyde, except that Echmarcach mac Ragnaill King of the Isles was supposed to also rule Galloway at the same time.
In 1030 there was a ravaging of somebody's lands and in 1031 Cnut called a meeting with all the northern kings presumably to gain their submission to his North Sea Empire and to get them to stop aiding Orkney in subverting his rule in Norway, there was no Strathclyde king.
Presumably Owain Foel either died at the Battle and was replaced by an unnamed weak king or he was seriously injured and weakened, and people kept taking chunks out of Strathclyde until he died probably in 1030 which led to the ravaging and the 1031 meeting was to split up his lands but nobody actually knows.
Frustratingly, nobody put this information in the same place.