Thy Serpentine Glorious: Redux

WorldWarZ

The original thread stalled. My writing style I felt wan't exactly what I wanted & so I have restarted with the same outline and story and will add more detail to the original posts and craft a more detailed tale. Here I have several factors and POD's happening. Alfred The Great is unable to have a child and thus no heir. Rhodri Mawr survives his battle with the Mercians & King Doniert of Cornwall doe not drown in battle.




Chapter One: Origins

The Crusades. Crusader & Saracen locked in battle for the heart and supposed soul of the Holy Land. The armies of Saladin as we have preferred to call him, has united the Muslims and forged them into an even deadlier foe than we have faced many times since Islam & Christianity began to trade blows. Can the two people of the book exist side by side?
Holed up inside the walls of Jerusalem sat a man, no ordinary man, but in this moment he was just another Christian soldier awaiting the inevitable. His name was Owain of Cymru, son of the King of Cymru & Master of the Order of St. David. It is here, on the eve of Saladin taking the city he would write the story of his family, from the rise of Rhodri Mawr & King Anarawd to the trials and tribulations of the Crusading endeavours he would participate in.

"As I sit here awaiting what possibly could be my final hours, I recall the stories that have been passed down from every father to son and a great part of me wishes that I could have passed the stories on of my forefathers.
This is why I write these words onto parchment, the oral history of my line written by my own hand, the hand of Prince Owain of Cymru[1], Prince of Ystrad Clud[2], Lord of Yr Hen Ogledd[3] & son of King Aneiron of Cymru.
As I sit here, protected by the ancient walls of Jerusalem herself, having held back the Saracens as best I or any man could, I fear that the next time they return we shall be undone, and so I write. I wriote the tales of my life and the tales of my ancestors. I shall not fade away with a wimper, but a single solid bang that will echo throughout the hills and valleys of my dear Cymru"

-Prince Owain of Cymru





August 876.
An unknown location alongside the Mercian/Gwynedd border

Shields clashed, arrows flew and lances spear their intended victims. The day had been lost, Rhodri Mawr, King of the Britons & Gwynedd was wounded, nearer to death than many thought and alongside him Gwriad, the King's eldest son.

The day was Alfred's and the Saxon King had the last laugh, but history had it's own design for the King of all Saxons. But for now, Alfred ruled over a strong and united kingdom of the Saxons and despite the threat of the Norse Kingdom of York & the Cornish to the south, he felt stronger than ever, knowing his one true enemy Rhodri may have perished.

Days passed, rain howled and winds blew hard and cold. Rhodri had not yet passed from this mortal realm, but Gwriad had, the son of the King had passed away, his wounds from battle had become infected and after four days and nights spent battling a high fever, Gwriad succumbed to the wretched infection and in the late autumn of 876 in the year of our lord the King's son passed.

Winter. The harshest of the seasons, especially in the mountainous northern lands of Gwynedd. Rhodri had regained a sliver of his health and stature & in his stead another son had arisen, the young Anarawd ap Rhodri. Bitten by the fury of watching one brother die and seeing his father being punished by illness and heartbreak had forced Anarawd to grow up fast, and at 16 years old he was on the verge of adulthood. His 'ascension' to becoming a man would start at the Afon Conwy[4].



"Dduw's ddial achos Rhodri! Dduw's ddial achos Rhodri cyflawnedig!"[5]




Late winter. Anarawd had won his first victory, sending the Mercians running back to their lands. He had returned the favour with an almost unnatural fervor and glee. There upon the battlefield the young Prince and the not so old King clashed, both armies claiming God on their side yet relishing the Hell they were creating.
Unlike last time it would not be Anarawd injured, nor dying or even retreating with his tail between his legs. The young prince had done much to stifle and quash the discontent held by many in the court of Rhodri who felt this young, brash and inexperienced boy was unfit to fight Alfred and lead the men. They now kept their tongues firmly behind their teeth.
The isles of Brittania now faced their biggest upheaval since the Romans.
To the north, the peoples of Alba & the Norse of York. To the east, the Mercians and all Saxons. The south lay the Cornish, who despite lacking the grandeur of old now began to look forward rather than look back and lament. And finally, the west. The people of Cymru.



The time has come for the chase, the time has come for the hunt, the time has come for the challenge...​






[1] OTL Wales
[2] OTL Strathclyde, specifically the Brythonic Kingdom of Strathclyde
[3] 'The Old North' OTL Northern England/Southern Scotland
[4] River Conwy, Wales
[5] "God's vengeance for Rhodri. God's vengeance for Rhodri fulfilled"
 
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WorldWarZ

Chapter Two: The Hunt, The Chase, the Challenge​



"Like many deeds in history, there needed to be a catalyst for them. The victory over Alfred of Mercia should have been it for the Kingdom of Gwynedd...but it was not. The catalyst for the resurgence of the Britons was death, and specifically the deaths of Cadell ap Rhodri & Merfyn ap Rhodri[1].
The New Year brought new strife to these shores of old & new. War had come to all who laid claim to its land. War would touch all those who had yet to see battle"

-Prince Owain.



January-February 877 A.D.

Bitter winds and even more bitter rains lashed down on the northeren hills of Gwynedd, it was a day of mourning for all, especially the King Rhodri & Prince Anarawd for their sons and brothers respectively had been slain defending Ynys Mon[2] from the Dublin Norse raiders.

The brothers were not as well versed as Anarawd, nore shared his wit and intelligence, but neither were they fools and idiots. Blessed with strength and cunning on the battlefield they would surely have bested Anarawd and Rhodri on their day but they would and could not live up to the high standards set by their sibling. And their passing, met by all with great sorrow and regret would be remembered for all time.

"They. They will pay for this father, I promise you, not one single Norse shall live after I am done with them" raged Anarawd, still young he had not learned composure and tact, skills he would have to master on his own. Rhodri watched as his sons were carried to the churchyard and placed into the ground beside Rhodri's dearly departed wife. One day they too would be beside them.

"Anarawd. I sense your pain and I share it, but the larger picture is one you do not see yet. Do not let anger blind you, their time will come and at your hands mercy will be offered or taken away, but for now watch, learn and understand your surroundings. Your enemies can teach you more than you friends." whispered the old King, his recent battle with illness forgotten, he seemed the picture perfection of health. But no doubts inside he was crumbling, three sons had now perished in war and with only Anarawd left[3], his line was secured.



February - March 877


The lamenting and mourning had finished. No more sorrow over the lost princes. Attention must turn to Mercia and Alfred must be paid back for his 'kindness' towards Rhodri. Afon Conwy was just the start, the Mercian realm and it's peoples were not ready for Anarawd nor where they ready for the events that would follow.

But the recorded history of Cymru excludes much of Mercian and extended Saxon history save one person, Alfred himself. Regarded by all as a fair and noble king, Alfred suffered tragedy in his life more than any man should, the loss of his first child[4] and the inability to reproduce any heirs[5] later on bore greatly on the King and as a result his pain grew but so did his love of the arts and law. From tragedy to triumph.

"A PLAGUE! A CURSE!" What have I done to suffer this!?" the words roared by Alfred upon the death of his infant child aged just three years old. He had suffered a pain no father should, to outlive your own child, using this pain as his catalyst he set about creating a new heir, a new child to nurture and raise, not one of the physical world but something hopefully everlasting. The Law. Mercia & all realsm under hius rule would be bound to his laws and every man, noble or peasant would be bound to them.



March 877

The passing of Rhodri Mawr was unexpected by many, he had defied death not but three months previous and now when it seemed he was alive truly once more he was taken from this mortal coil of existence leaving Anarawd, young prince Anarawd as King.

Mid March saw the provinces of Deheubarth & Powys strengthened and unified completely into the Kingdom of Gwynedd, only leaving the independent fiefdoms in Glamorgan not under the control of the King. They would soon be unable to resist,

By late March word had spread of Rhodri's passing and ascension of Anarawd and also of another event. Anarawd was gathering men to him from across the Kingdom, soldiers, peasants and nobles. He was embarking on what his father had called "The Hunt, The Chase, The Challenge".

"The hunt for what makes us men of Cymru and Britons true.
the chase for glory and bringing about a new dawn.
the challenge... the challenge is to combine what has come before with what will come and be he who makes the change."

On March 17th 877. King Anarawd ap Rhodri led a great host of 30,000 men across the Afon Conwy and towards Mercia, knowing full well the King was busy fighting the Norse of York elsewhere, Anarawd seized his chance.

Like the phoenix from legend that would rise from it's own ashen remains so too would the Kingdom of Gwynedd, reborn as Cymru, led by a young man with a vision, the only thing opposed to that vision was Alfred, who in the coming months would reveal why history would refer to him no and forever more as 'The Great'



Coming Soon - Chapter Three: A Dragon In The Lions Den​













[1] OTL they lived and ruled over Deheubarth & Powys respectively.
[2] OTL Anglesey
[3] Anarawd is left as the only surviving male heir. Eliminating the partitioning of the Welsh Kingdom into three entities as per OTL.
[4] Having Alfred lose his first child to ilnness at a young age, say 3 years old.
[5] Having Alfred become impotent enables this TL to cut dead in its tracks any heirs for the throne.
 

WorldWarZ

Chapter Three: A Dragon In A Lions Den Part 1​


The hills were long gone, the open plains and meadows of Lloegr[1] & Mercia were now before the feet of a thousand horses and many more men. Anarawd had not forgotten the defeat inflicted on his father and although a revenge victory had been attained the year previous he had not finished his work, nor had Alfred.

The two youthful momarchs began their plans, albeit two different plans. Anarawd was going to take Alfred by surprise and by force hoping to gain a victory that would send the Mercians backwards whilst Alfred was planning an attack on the Norse of York unaware of the growing threat from the west.

Alfred had recently survived another surprise assault from the Norse who after swearing a promise to him which they would not attack assaulted the Royal fort at Chippenham killing all inside save Alfred ad a few loyal survivors[2]. Led by Guthrum the Old, the Norse had now become stronger and a genuine threat to Mercia & Gwynedd too.

Now residing at Athelney in the realm of Somerset, Alfred planned his next move against the Viking menace, new tactics and new logic would have to be applied, the berserkers of the Norse proved the ruin of Alfred and many before him. The at times disorganized resistance to the Norse had proved frustrating and Alfred harkened back to a time when his people were the barbarian hordes sweeping across the old Roman Empire. And he would get the chance to test his tactics, Anarawd was sweeping across Mercia like a torrent rush heading to Athelney.

The local militias from Somerset, Wiltshire & Hampshire had been rallied to the Norse cause knowing full well the Danelaw must be repelled before the Kingdom falls or those within rise up and begin their own ambitious plans.
To him Alfred ralled 8,000 men to add to his small but loyal force of ten thousand. The militias were retrained quickly in the style of Alfred and of the Norse, making sure that if they broke the line and fear grew in the hearts of men that they would not perish too soon and hopefully take a few Viking scum with them at the same time.


March 20th, the midday sun bore down in the sky, Athelney was armed to the last man and child, this was Alfred's crusade against the heathen Norse. He would not allow defeat and would not relent until they were pushed to the furthest north possible or even better, back across the seas and to the Dane-Mark.[3]

Then they came, like locusts blocking out the sun, they filled the horizon. Thirty thousand men of Cymru marching towards a destiny unfulfilled, a chance to rewrite history and take back what once was home to their people.

The men of Alfred had not expected this. Nor had the king himself, shocked by the brazen attitude of the young upstart from the West and the sheer skill he had possessed in marching an army that large through Mercia to meet him at Athelnay. The King quickly organized the defences and gave the orders for the new tactics to be implemented. He would not die this day. He had a future to builf, a nation to forge and he would be damned should it fall apart now.

Hours passed and the clouds gathered overheard, a sense of foreboding swept over the horde of Cymry[4] with only two-thirds of them being professional fighters, the realization of events had quickly set in, knowing they would be killed if they fled and killed if they remained they had no real option but to stay and fight.

The clouds began to grow larger and more black with the passing moments, the sky which had been so full of hope now showed its true intent as the rain lashed across Cymry & Mercian alike. And from the fort rode a solitary figure carrying a banner of black with a single red lion upon it, trimmed with red & gold checks. It was Alfred of Mercia, lord of all the Anglo-Saxons.

Seeing this as a mindgame Anarawd returned the favour and too rode out into the empty fields surrounding Athelnay to meet and parley with the King. The two had not met yet had fought in battle even coming within a hairs breath to one another during the battle of Afon Conwy, now they would finally meet face to face. A man and a King still learning to be one.

"Well my dear Walles[5], I see you have the same courage and foolishness your father had God rest his soul. Now tell me, you didn't come all this way with all those men just to pay homage to me did you. No. Tell me your business here and go on your way home." Spoke Alfred as he circled the young King, the banners of the two snapping in the quickening winds. Alfred spoke in hushed tones, calm and assertive. Anarawd listened on but the elder King's words meant nothing to him, he had come for retribution and conquest echoing the desires of Alexander himself.

"My father was right. You talk far too much. I have come here King Sais[6] to seek the terms of your surrender. Will you comply?" sharply responded Anarawd with contempt.

"Surrender? Hahaha! My boy, before the day is out, you will be the one asking for terms. What makes you think I would sumbmit to a child, let alone a Walles child. Now I offer you my terms, leave. Or you will crash against my walls and suffer a hurt more than losing your father." Responded the Mercian with a tone that was a cross between anger and laughter, the young King was adept at mindgames but Alfred had come to expect this, he was after all the son of his biggest rival Rhodri Mawr. Anarawd heard Alfred's words, the though of ALfred giving contempt and to the young regent mocking his late father was unbearable, but this was a battle of the mind, not steel but a battle nonetheless.

"You will NOT speak ill of my father Alfred. I have not spoken ill of your loss, do not make the foolish mistake that because of my years I am a child playing soldier. I am a King, just like you, and as a King I have a duty, and unfortunately my duty clashes with your needs and wants."

His tone no longer jovial, more determined, assertive. He now knew his opponent was no child, he was in a similar vein to himself, and that was now his main concern. His reply was swift, honest & simple, "Then you already have my response child. Be prepared. The worst is yet to come"

The two looked dead straight into the eyes of one another, only seeing the threat they posed and nothing more, taunts had led to threats, threats would now lead to bloodshed. They were finished. As Alfred began to turn to leave Anarawd ended their parley with a single comment."And the days are getting shorter..."

And with that the two turned and raced off to their respective camps. The rainwater kicked up by the hooves of their steeds flew into the air, the battle of minds seemed to be in the favour of Alfred but nothing in this life was certain, especially life and death, the thin line between the two shortly to be broken asunder by the two Kings.




Coming Soon: A Dragon In A Lions Den Part 2.

Alfred & Anarawd clash in battle.
Lessons learned and a new threat to both Gwynedd & Mercia makes itself known.​










[1] Lloegr is OTL England but also means 'The Lost Lands"
[2] OTL the same happened.
[3] OTL Denmark
[4] Quick term for welshmen, might change it.
[5] Had to come up with a term for Welshman, basically a slur.
[6] Welsh term for English, slur.
 

WorldWarZ

For the time being this thread is inactive. I will redo it for a third time soon in a new thread. But I do require feedback on what has been written so far as to attain where my thread must go storywise
 
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