Wulfwyn’s Blōdbōc (Part 1)

I stole this book when I realised I would long outlive my memories. For decades, I had only scraps - parchments, loose papers, even the backs of market receipts - bundled together with string, fading as quickly as the ink itself. At first, it seemed enough. But it soon became clear I would need something more permanent. A true record. A proof that I had once been more than the monster I have become.

Now, as I sort through those fragments, I hardly recognise them. The words are mine, but the life they describe feels foreign, as though I were copying the story of a stranger. Still, I set them down in order, as best I can remember, binding my life together in these pages. It is a record of a life eternal, of blood, death and loneliness. A book of blood.

I do not ask for belief, or pity, or forgiveness. I ask only that you bear witness.

A Hostile Takeover

I am Princess Wulfwyn of Wessex, born in the year of our Lord 1005. My mother, Ealdgyth, was delicate and fair, and my father was Edmund Ironside, King of England. I was the middle child, between two brothers - Edward, the eldest, and little Edmund, the youngest.

On the thirtieth day of November, in the year 1016, my father died, and with him ended our peace. A Danish conqueror, King Cnut, seized the throne and set himself as ruler of England. Our family was broken. My mother was taken as a consort into his harem, while my brothers and I were made his servants.

Cnut feared my brothers, for in them he saw threats to his crown. He planned their exile when they came of age: Edward to Hungary, and Edmund to Sweden. When I learned this, I wept bitterly. I did not know what fate he had in mind for me, only that it would be cruel.

Yet he treated me strangely. He never laid a hand upon me, nor did he force himself upon my body. Instead, he kept me near, speaking often of waiting for my beauty to “ripen.” I did not understand his words, for I had already reached womanhood. At times, I feared he meant to offer me in sacrifice, kept pure until the knife.

Years passed beneath his shadow until, in the year 1023, he summoned me to his chamber. The room was newly cleansed and adorned with candles, as if for some ceremony. My heart pounded with dread. I thought he meant at last to take my body. Instead, he took something far worse.

He seized me and sank his teeth into my neck. I fought, but the strength bled from me, and darkness closed in.

When I woke, I lay on the floor. My wounds were gone, but I was not as I had been. He crouched over me, lips stained crimson, eyes bright with triumph. He told me what I had become, though I scarcely grasped the words. He spoke of eternity, of hunger unending, of purity preserved. I was to be his perpetual virgin, his untouched bride forever. The name of the creature he had made me meant nothing to me then, but his design was clear enough.

Then he forced himself upon me. My body tensed in terror, every muscle clamped as though some hidden instinct rebelled. I felt a sharpness within me, like a bite made without a mouth. He shrieked and tore himself away, blood pouring from his crotch. I lay trembling, certain I was ruined, yet even as I wept, my flesh knit itself whole again. I did not know what had happened - only that something inside me had struck back.

In that moment, I understood all too well. He had shaped me like a lamb for slaughter, preserved and guarded not from pity but for his own foul plan. He meant to bind me to him for eternity, but he had failed. He had wounded me, yes - but I had wounded him in return.

I fled to my chamber, broken in spirit and body, though my body healed faster than my heart could fathom. My mother found me weeping and came to comfort me. But when I reached for her, a deep hunger consumed me. Before I could think, my hands had seized her, and my teeth were in her throat. Her blood filled my mouth, a taste both sharp and sweet, so delicious that I couldn't stop drinking, drinking, drinking...

The worst part was not the act itself, but how natural it felt. I almost enjoyed it. When at last her body went still, I stared down at her, horrified, yet strangely empty. I had lost my mother and something of myself in one moment. I knew then that I must flee before Cnut - or worse, my brothers - discovered what I had done.

I ran. I ran from the palace, through the city, across the flatlands to the moors. Near dawn, I reached Kingsmound, the ancient stone barrow where my father and forebears lay. Crawling through the low, narrow tunnel, I entered the chamber at its heart.

My eyes seemed to give off a soft orange glow, illuminating a fraction of the dark space. There, by the faint glow of my cursed new sight, I dug at the earth. My fingers uncovered the Family Chest, a hardwood coffer containing the treasures of our line. It seemed empty at first, but a hidden compartment revealed the true wealth: the crown, the medallion and chain, a jewelled gauntlet, and a small ceremonial knife. Each wrought of precious metals and stones.

I felt swollen, restless, unable to sleep. My stomach ached with a pain I did not wish to name. I feared it was hunger, though of what I dared not ask. Worse still, I could feel the stain of Cnut’s essence inside me, reshaping me even as I writhed in loathing. Yet I discovered that new tongues spilled from my lips as though I had always known them. I could speak many languages now. I hated the gift, yet I clung to it, for it was the only thing that felt useful.

Nine days passed in the mound. On the ninth, I heard shouting - my brother’s voice, calling my name. Edmund. I rushed to the tunnel’s mouth, but the daylight seared my skin, halting me.

I watched as he fought with a man outside, unable to help. But Edmund was young and spry, holding the older man back with just one hand. I realised he wasn't showing off, he was carrying a thick roll of black cloth under the other arm. Breaking free for a moment, he threw me a heavy cloth. His opponent seized the opportunity to rush him, and Edmund was knocked to the ground, dagger still gripped tight.

Wrapped in the dark, dense cloth, I emerged just long enough to daze my brother’s attacker with a power I did not yet understand. Edmund hurriedly explained that King Cnut had sent a mob to find me, exposing my new nature to hide his own. The mob were on their way over the moors, and Edmund had escaped the palace to come warn me and help me flee. I scurried back into the mound to grab the Family Chest, and we fled across the country.

It took three months for us to run out of land, and we found ourselves on the Northern coast of Scotland. There, we took new names to hide ourselves amongst the Picts. I was Modwenna, and Edmund became Drest, and thus began our exile.