#edith eadig

She had left them here only a few hours ago, even though it felt like days. Edith had helped her dress, tightening the laces of her brocade gown, adjusting the clasps of her rabbit-fur cape, and then Emma had kissed the tops of her sons’ heads, bidding them farewell before she made her way to the old Roman defenses. She had hoped to return with good news, to tell them that the enemy had been defeated and the danger now past. 

Seeing Emma, her lady-in-waiting quickly rose to her feet, her blue eyes full of unspoken questions. 

Emma shook her head, lips parting to let her catch her breath. 

“All is lost,” she murmured. “They are coming.”

At the sight of their mother, Edward and Alfred quickly forgot their game and scrambled toward her, eager for her attention. She smoothed the silky strands of their hair along their heads and pulled them close, not wanting to think of when she might be able to do so again.

“Edith was telling us stories,” Alfred began to babble, “about Arthur and his men and how they killed giants and dragons and then how he became king...”

Emma glanced up at her lady-in-waiting, their gazes meeting in a shared look that conveyed much in the few moments it spanned. But Edith was always so clever; it never took long for her to understand what needed to be done—and then to do it. 

“Shall I ready them to leave?” she asked.

Emma nodded. “Find them plain tunics, and traveling coats. If anyone asks, they are orphans or the children of a city merchant. Anything but the sons of Æthelred.”

“You are not coming with us?”

“I am a prize,” Emma said, unable to mask the waver in her breath. “The Vikings will be looking for me, and they will not stop. You are safer without me.”

Edith’s eyes widened in partial horror, then narrowed in defiance. 

“I will not leave you to face them alone, my lady.”

Emma reached out, clasping the other woman’s hand in hers. There were few others she trusted as she did Edith, not just with her sons’ lives, but with her own. Even from those first abject days, when she could only speak in broken English, when silent tears gathered in her eyes with each visit of the king to the marital bed, Edith had been her only friend. Perhaps it was because Edith, too, was friendless, the eldest daughter of an impoverished, disgraced ealdorman. But in the years since, no one had proven themselves more loyal and more brave. More than anyone else, it was Edith who she could entrust Edward and Alfred to, knowing that she loved them as if they were her own. 

“But you must. It will be enough for me to know that you have kept them safe.”

Edith pressed her lips together, her gaze fearful yet resolute. 

“Where will you go?” she asked. 

Emma paused, considering the question. Hiding would do no good—the Vikings knew well how to find their quarry and bring it to ground—and she refused to cower or to beg. She was a queen, after all, so perhaps she could simply let herself be found. And if she demanded protection from the king, even a Viking king like Canute, he would be honor-bound to grant it. 

“If they want the Queen of England as their prize, I will make sure they know what they are getting.” She let out a rough breath, then squeezed along Edith’s hand, offering her a confiding smile. “Get them out of the palace, if you can. If not, somewhere quiet and hidden, where you will not draw attention.”

Edith nodded, the corners of her mouth quirking up. “I know well how to hide.”

“I know you do,” she said, thoughts sharpening with realization. Dearest Edith, you may have tried to keep yourself hidden. But I’ve always seen you. 

Emma knelt down, clasping her sons along their shoulders. Their eyes were wide, trusting in the way that only children could be, and she wanted nothing more than to hold them in her arms and keep them there forever, protected from the evils of the world.

“I want you both to go with Lady Edith, and I want you to be good for her. Perhaps she will tell you more stories about King Arthur and his bravery.”

“Are you going away again, mother?” Edward asked.

She gently brushed his hair back from his face. “Only for a little while,” she said. Was it a lie if she did not know what the truth was? Was it enough simply to pray it would be true? “I will see you both again, very soon.”

Emma kissed her sons, and held them one more time, their bodies so small and soft next to hers. She could feel tears forming and she was determined not to let them show. 

She stood, watching as Edith took the children’s hands in her own and gathered them to her side. There was nothing left to say, no words to convey the depth of her love and fear or of the gratitude she felt at this final act of service. Emma let her eyes take their fill of all three of them, knowing it might be the last time she did so on this earth.

“Thank you, Edith. God keep you safe.”

“Bless you, my lady,” she replied, unshed tears pooling in the corners of her sky-blue eyes. With one final glance, she ushered the children from the room, the sound of skirts and small footsteps swiftly receding. 

The quiet was deafening, a chasm in Emma’s heart, the silence slowly punctuated by the distant ringing of alarum bells. The Vikings had made it into the city, their cruelty and berserker rage about to be unleashed on all its inhabitants. But she could do little to protect her people unless she managed to keep herself alive—and for that she would need all her wits.

Slipping out the door, she followed the path of the stone-lined corridor, heading in the opposite direction that Edith and her sons had fled just a moment earlier. Emma knew where she would wait for the Vikings, and when they came for her she would meet them head on, as the Queen of England and everything that stood for. 

So this is interesting - because in my head, and I think in what exists on paper, they've never gotten to that level of physical intimacy. They've both thought about it, but never committed to it. (I know exactly which piece gave you that idea, though.)

I had thought that after the need to deceive Aelfgifu has passed, it would be natural for them to look at the lie they just spent a few weeks selling and realize they both weren't lying and then have sex. Knowing that Godwin does eventually marry Gytha, even before S2 aired, I also had thought that Edith might be his mistress for a little while.

Season 2 presents a problem in that regard, though. For starters - Aelfwynn was new. She kind of fills in the space Edith occupied in my fanon timeline. Godwin's love life was going to be a little crowded with the both of them there. If Godwin has this plan to make himself indispensable to Canute and undermine Emma by creating suspicion around Aelfwynn, a plan that it seems like he has been sitting on for a long time, if I'm interpreting the show correctly, it seems to me that he wouldn't stop to have or start that relationship with Edith. Too many loose ends.

It felt cleaner for them to have never gotten physical, for him to say 'okay, that's one thing finished, on to the next' and leave Edith sad, frustrated, and now highly suspicious. (Emma, of course, was out of town for all of this and has no idea it happened, so she skips immediately to 'oh so Aelfwynn is a thing now' and Edith never tells her about it. If Edith had said something, it seems to me that would be one more reason for Emma to be suspicious of Godwin quicker than she is.)

I did write one or two small things for season 2, which I think you've already ready - but I think I'd have to watch the show again to figure out where Edith is during Godwin and Gytha's wedding.

A car had squealed up the drive at nearly midnight, rain pelting the windshield, and several men had gotten out, banging down the door and bundling someone inside as they shouted for bandages and a doctor and heaven only knows what else, and waking up the entire house while they did it. Edith was quickly out on the landing in her dressing gown, joined almost immediately by Emma, looking around to see what was wrong. "Mama?" Two bleary-eyed boys emerged from the nursery.

"Hush, my darlings, there's nothing to worry about," Emma said, picking the younger up and walking back to the nursery. She turned around to Edith and her eyes gestured downstairs. Go and see.

Edith tightened the belt of her dressing gown and took a deep breath. If her lady wanted answers, then answers she would get.

Lord Edmund had been shot. The details hardly mattered to Edith - at a club, or a bar, or his mistress' house made no difference whatsoever. He was presently laid on the dining room table, wounds staunched with dishtowels and being seen to by the doctor, and some of the minders he'd had with him were in his stepfather's study letting their clothes dry, helping themselves to Canute's whiskey and - perhaps, in one instance - the charms of one of the parlor maids, who'd been summoned to lay a fire for them.

Edith did not know yet why Godwin had been there, though she had some ideas. He and the young lord had been very close lately, hatching plans for his inheritance. Edmund liked to live larger than his funds sometimes allowed, and some disreputable friends often helped him do it. Since his stepmother's marriage to Canute he'd delighted in joining his stepfather's bullyboys for their jaunts around town, and they, in turn, delighted in his foolish ability to spend money.

But that still didn't explain the lawyer - who had quietly removed himself from the group in the study and joined Edith in the hall. "Miss Eden, I wonder if you might help me with my shirt."

Which was how they had come to be in the first floor butler's pantry, Godwin currently leaning, shirtless, against the counter while Edith blotted the blood out of his shirtfront with cold water and salt.

"I'm also not sure why you think I would care, Mr. Saxon-West." The silence had been bothering her, and she felt it needed to be said. I'm a secretary at best and lady's maid at worst.

"Because you're Lady Emma's creature, and she never met a piece of information she couldn't use."

A creature, am I? See how you like me, then. "And you never met someone you couldn't blackmail, sir."

He chuckled at that. "So you're not afraid of being found with me in your dressing gown?"

"You don't appear to be afraid of being found fucking the help." A thread of laughter stumbled through the slightly open door. "Although if that's really what you're after, sir, I'm sure what's in the study is more to your taste."

Godwin was very close to her now, his shoulder close with hers. "I don't really go for shared goods," he said, voice supremely casual. "Or public pleasure, for that matter." He watched her closely, and she did not want to meet his eye. She knew Canute's men speculated about her - she could see their eyes following her as they came and went from the house. "That's where we were, before coming here. A club, you might call it. Now I daresay they're all in a bit of a mood."

She could see it now, the sort of place he meant - Edmund had been dressed for dinner and so was Godwin, so it somewhere for men with money, being lenient to let in Edmund's 'friends'. "And was Lord Edmund getting shot part of the mood?" She parried back. "Or an unfortunate consequence?"

But he did not answer her immediately - instead he kissed her, full on the lips, and she was so surprised she let him, his shirt slipping into the damp sink along with the brush. They had been in close quarters before, but never this close, while both were barely clothed. If you're going to taunt me, fine.

"Consequence," he said, finally, his eyes fixed on hers. "Are you sure I can't tempt you to something stronger, Miss Eden? Perhaps somewhere more private?"

"You'll have to forgive me, Mr. Saxon-West. My mistress needs me and creatures," she used his word with deliberate sharpness, "must go where they're called." She stepped away. "I believe your shirt is finished - it'll just need to dry."

Godwin hardly needed the spectacle - there were fleshhouses aplenty in WInchester, if one knew where to look and had the coin to pay. Pilgrims came seeking many things in that city, and not everyone regarded the ways of the flesh as a sin. But it was here, and it was easy enough to watch, hidden as he was by the thicket. He should have been watching Aelfwynn, splashing with the other younger girls, but try as he might she could not hold his eye - it kept wandering to another woman, near the edge, her hair just as dark and long and lovely.

He'd never seen Edith undressed- their subterfuge with Aelfgifu had hardly needed to go that far. Even now, he could not see all of her, standing in the pond in her shift, the water making it cling to her. But he knew the feeling of her body, the curve of her hips and her buttocks, the softness of her breasts. And there had been a time when he'd wanted - wanted all of it, and more.

If he were closer he might see the color of her nipples behind the wet linen, how they stood when she was cold - how her smile might change if he took one in his hand. And if he closed his eyes for just a moment he could conjure her closer - standing here in the shadows, wet and in her shift.

You could have had me, her voice reminded. I was close and quick for you and you could have said a word and made me yours. But you were greedy, Godwin. Her voice was soft and seductive in his ear. And you didn't think I could give you want you wanted.

You couldn't.

Power, perhaps - but you want other things, too.

Other women could give me those.

Oh, what a ripple of laughter then! Aelfwynn could try - and Gytha, too. But they'll never be what you really want - and you already know that. You want salt and silk - and someone who's not afraid to say no.

And if she spoke of it, who would believe her? The queen knew her to be indifferent to him, their attachment one of necessity only. And if he took another lover, well, Edith was known to be cold and changeable, wasn't she? It would be her fault he had been spurned.

Edith looked at the sewing in her hands and took a deep breath. She hadn't made much progress this morning - hadn't made any progress at all, actually. There were more ladies now, in Emma's retinue, new faces to liven up the court so that new fathers could be appeased and brought into the Queen's favor. The royal chambers were hardly as quiet as they were wont to be of old, and that somehow left more time for getting lost in thought. She was hardly paying attention to the others when she heard her name.

"How pretty! You must show Edith."

God bless Gytha and her sweetness. It was hard to believe, some days, that she was Canute's neice. They hardly seemed related. "Show me what?" Edith asked, putting aside her thoughts and the shirt she was mending for Emma to see what was being talked of.

Aelfwynn, one of the new girls, beamed. "Earl Godwin has given me a carving, from near my home in Northumbria. We were talking the other day about having to leave home. He saw it in the market and said he thought of me."

She handed over a small wooden bear - a child's toy or votive object, but beautifully carved, its surface waxed dark and smooth. Edith tried to keep her expression serene. "Very pretty indeed. How thoughtful of the Earl."

"You know him well, Edith, do you not?" Elfrith was another newcomer, quick-witted and quick-eyed. Men liked her laugh, Edith had noticed, and Elfrith liked to be liked.

"I don't know that anyone could claim to know him well," Edith said, noncommital. "The Earl keeps his own counsel."

"But you have been at court longer," Elfrith pressed, always looking for a morsel of gossip to "Has he favored anyone before?"

She took a breath, her heart hammering in her chest. "No, not that I recall." What use is a favor? Lies and pretty words were all he ever gave me. And the touch of a hand on a cheek, the press of a body -

The comment sent the girls into giggles, Aelfwynn pressing the little animal to her chest and looking pleased. "The Earl of Wessex! What a match!"

"You would do better to keep that to yourself," Edith said quickly, a pain burning in her chest. "You are the queen's servant before your own. She will have an opinion - on your match and on the Earl's." She rose from her seat, setting aside her mending. "I should go see the kitchen - the Queen has guests tonight and will expect a fine table."

She was only a few steps into the hallway when someone spoke. "Does the Lady Edith also need a carving from the market?"

Edith snorted, ashamed that she could be found wanting such a little thing. It wasn't much like Agnarr to make jokes, as far as she was aware - but the king's chief advisor, it seemed, was a man of hidden depths. "I hope I'm not a girl who needs to be bribed with trinkets."

The burly Viking gave a brief nod. "You are a woman who knows her worth. And he is a fool not to see it."

He would know - of course he knew. He and Emma were close now, since his return with Forkbeard, and she would have told him what Godwin had done to turn Aelfgifu. "The Queen now has what she required. I am but her servant." The only fool here is me, for thinking a man like that could love me - or love anything, except power.

"I hope she knows what you do for her, Lady Edith."