The Rise of Wales and the Ruin of England in the 13th Century
June 1255, Bryn Derwin, Gwynedd
Llywelyn grimaced as he stared at the gray clouds gathering overhead. A low rumble of thunder could be heard off in the distance. It appeared the long awaited day of reckoning with his brother Owain was due to be quite the grim day indeed. It disgusted him however, what he had to do. Ever since he had become a man he had been fighting the English to defend his homeland, fighting for his uncle Davydd, the man who should've been Prince of Wales. But Gruffydd, brother to Davydd and father to Llywelyn opposed the man who he should've been fighting alongside, and so their little kingdom of Gwynedd continued to dwindle. Gruffydd may have died in English captivity, but his brother Owain was let back out to claim even more of what was left of Gwynedd. The entire country east of the river Conwy had already been stolen by the English Crown and now Owain wanted more of what was left. He had never liked Llywelyn, but he thought he still would've wanted what was best for their people. But now he had poisoned the mind of their younger brother Davydd into staking an equal share and demanding Llywelyn give up some land to him.
It was the ancient custom that a prince's sons divide the land equally amongst themselves, but there was just so little left and their enemies far to strong to be squabbling amongst themselves. Llywelyn's grandfather and namesake, Llywelyn ap Iorwerth, had recognized this weakness and declared his son Davydd to be sole heir to the kingdom in the English manner, despite Davydd being a younger son. And despite this departure from tradition, people were now calling him Llywelyn Fawr, Llywelyn the Great. He was dead but 15 years now and yet he was already becoming a legend among the Cymry, some had called him Y Mab Darogan, the Prophesied Son who would drive out the Saxons and restore Britain to its former glory. It was the example Dafydd ap Llywelyn had aspired to, and Llywelyn ap Gruffydd knew it was his duty to take the place of his uncle and grandfather in the fight for his countrymen, even if he doubted anyone would ever call him Mab Darogan or the Great. What mattered was duty, but that duty now called for brother to fight brother weighed heavy on his heart.
The galloping horse of a coming messenger immediately grabbed his attention, and Llywelyn waited to hear what his seneschal Goronwy would have to say. "They've walked right into our trap, my lord, they've brought their entire army with them. Not the most terribly fearsome lot, if I say so myself, but they've a goodly number of scrappers, much more than we have to be sure."
Llywelyn smirked. "You really think they have a chance?" Goronwy ap Ednyved returned the smirk.
"Not a chance in hell, lord. They're veterans of what? Plundering the abbeys and homesteads of Eiffionydd for the last week? They must be getting desperate if their recourse is open battle. Our scouts report they've been on a forced march here and Owain hasn't been getting them into order."
"Good, make sure we don't follow his mistakes and-" Just then a shout rose up as a herald of Owain's rode forth, hollering for Llywelyn to come out in the name of Prince Owain Goch ap Gruffydd of Gwynedd. "Well, I suppose that's my cue," Llywelyn finished, and nodded for Goronwy to get the troops in order while Llywelyn donned his red wolf-crested helmet and rode forth to answer the herald, followed closely by a knight and a banner-bearer. "I am here," he called out, "Does Owain speak for himself or am I bandy words with his lackeys? You'd best go home ere you find yourself on the wrong end of history!"
The herald ignored this jibe and declared, "You are called by the true heir of Gwynedd, first-born of Gruffydd, and he seeks only the justified claim of his brother Davydd, a claim you have stolen unjustly!"
Llywelyn decided to let his full fury be known now. "You call me unjust, and yet you have come here at the behest of Owain, who kept company with King Henry while Cymry swung from gibbets," came his hot reply, "and took part in English plots to shrink our lands! You seek the rights to Gwynedd while I stand here fighting for the rights of Gwynedd!"
Even from here Llywelyn could see the herald squirm, but he continued nevertheless, "Yet we say to you, you will face only defeat today! Our ranks have swelled and we've more spears than you have hands!"
"Hollow words and empty threats don't win fights, let Red Owain know that I shall fight the righteous fight and God will see me the victor!" With that he left the heated parley and returned to his cheering ranks. Buzzing with anger, Owain sent forth his host in a full-on charge to meet Llywelyn's smaller yet more experienced army. The banners of Owain he could see going straight towards him in the main battle in the center, while Davydd was on Owain's left, heading for the vanguard under Goronwy's command. Llywelyn felt a sharp pang of worry for his younger brother, but let duty prevail and ordered the archers to let loose their arrows and a rain of steel put Owain's host into even further disarray before they clashed along the line and chaos broke out.
To many present, it seemed like hell on earth as the armies became entagled in a bloody life or death struggle, but through the chaos both sides could see the unmistakable figure of Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, red-cloaked and red-helmed, cleaving a path through the ranks followed by his Teulu with a sword that may have well been Dyrnwyn out of legend for the ease with which Llywelyn dispatched his foes. And for all the chaos the entire fight lasted but an hour until the victorious soldiers of Llywelyn were down chasing down their routing opponents. For all his bluster, Owain found himself now a prisoner of his brother after surrendering to an uchelwyr, a lord, who had unhorsed him. To Llywelyn's relief, Davydd had been taken prisoner, just as unharmed as his brothers. The luck of Gruffydd's children ran much higher than their father's, it seemed. After being taken to Llywelyn's tent and offered water, a long, awkward moment of silence passed between the three brothers before Davydd found the courage to speak, and getting straight to the question that ran through both his and Owain's minds. "You're not going to kill us, are you?"
Llywelyn grimaced at the idea. Davydd's eyes looked hollow and entirely unlike the child Llywelyn had known. "No. I am not like Owain, nor am I Cain."
Owain couldn't help but rise to the insult. "You think you are the most precious scion of Aberfrraw, don't you? The next Llywelyn Fawr? Well you're nothing like our grandfather, and if he were still alive, father would be ashamed of you!"
"Our father was ashamed of me ever since I stayed by uncle's side to defend our country while you and him marched with Henry. I wouldn't take father's disapproval to heavily, though to his credit he at least died trying to escape. What did you do after he fell from that tower, Owain? It certainly wasn't getting revenge on the English. You knew full well what Henry was going to do to our country but you just couldn't resist spiting me and taking what little uncle Davydd had left to give us."
"You are the one who betrayed our traditions! You and uncle Dafydd are quite the pair, scheming younger sons who took what rightfully belonged to their brothers and vaingloriously painted themselves 'Princes of Wales'. Well Hell can take you a put you with all the other thieves where you belong! You think I'm the traitor? It's not treason to take back what's mine!"
"It's treason if you lose. I believe you've lost."
Davydd, getting increasingly worried by the debate, felt the need to ask, "Please, just tell us Llywelyn, what are you going to do to us?"
With the most cold and impassive face Davydd had ever seen, he answered, "You shall be confined until such a time as I see fit that you are ready to be released." Davydd's heart sank, it wasn't death but imprisonment, now matter how cushy, seemed a nightmare, especially after seeing the gruesome fate of his father's botched escape attempt. "And you, Owain, shall be sent to Dolbadarn Castle. You will remain there for the rest of your days, I swear by God-"
At this Owain finally lost his temper completely, and drawing a hidden dagger and leaping upon Llywelyn, shoving to the ground as he tried against Llywelyn's struggling to shove the dagger straight into his gullet. "It could've been mine," Owain shouted deliriously, "It should be mine!" Davydd shouted in shock as Goronwy and Llywelyn's teulu moved to help their lord, but as they pulled Owain back he rolled limply off Llywelyn onto the ground, bleeding from the throat as Llywelyn had stabbed him back. All in the room were speechless, most of all Llywelyn and Davydd, as their elder brother died right in front of them all. Llywelyn tried his best to regain his composure, though his voice wavered ever so slightly for some guards to take Davydd to his castle where he'd be confined. Davydd didn't resist, breaking down and weeping as the realization hit him. "It was all my fault," he muttered, "my fault. If only I wasn't greedy, all these people, Owain, my fault..."
Goronwy wanted to break the silence by congratulating Llywelyn on his victory and status as sole Prince of Gwynedd, but seeing his lord's hollow gaze thought better of it. However despondent Llywelyn might be though, Goronwy thought, Gwynedd, perhaps the whole of Wales, was just saved this day.
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So I had this TL idea for a while now and finally deciding on writing it. I've made some choices that I want feedback on, namely the use of the medieval 'v' in certain Welsh names. I will also need help later on should this TL progress beyond a certain point but that's something for a later time. Until then, I hope you can subsist on the promise of a TL about a big change in medieval British history. In case you didn't know, the POD here is that Owain ap Gruffydd tries to kill Llywelyn but is himself killed instead. This will have certain changes in the psyche of his brothers that in the coming years will lead to enormous changes in the history of Wales. Llywelyn ap Gruffydd himself was very much the epitome of a chivalrous hero by modern standards. Successful in war, monumentally badass, but also fair, polite, forgiving, and all that. Unfortunately it was his forgiving nature that caused problems. However his outlook has now been changed by his forced killing of a brother. I already have the next couple of updates planned (unlike my other TL where I kind just play it by ear with only a long-term vision in mind) so they'll come soon as long as this isn't completely ignored.
Also felt like mentioning the parley scene I had. It was inspired by this poem written by Ieuan Cilgwri, which I thought was pretty cool.
June 1255, Bryn Derwin, Gwynedd
Llywelyn grimaced as he stared at the gray clouds gathering overhead. A low rumble of thunder could be heard off in the distance. It appeared the long awaited day of reckoning with his brother Owain was due to be quite the grim day indeed. It disgusted him however, what he had to do. Ever since he had become a man he had been fighting the English to defend his homeland, fighting for his uncle Davydd, the man who should've been Prince of Wales. But Gruffydd, brother to Davydd and father to Llywelyn opposed the man who he should've been fighting alongside, and so their little kingdom of Gwynedd continued to dwindle. Gruffydd may have died in English captivity, but his brother Owain was let back out to claim even more of what was left of Gwynedd. The entire country east of the river Conwy had already been stolen by the English Crown and now Owain wanted more of what was left. He had never liked Llywelyn, but he thought he still would've wanted what was best for their people. But now he had poisoned the mind of their younger brother Davydd into staking an equal share and demanding Llywelyn give up some land to him.
It was the ancient custom that a prince's sons divide the land equally amongst themselves, but there was just so little left and their enemies far to strong to be squabbling amongst themselves. Llywelyn's grandfather and namesake, Llywelyn ap Iorwerth, had recognized this weakness and declared his son Davydd to be sole heir to the kingdom in the English manner, despite Davydd being a younger son. And despite this departure from tradition, people were now calling him Llywelyn Fawr, Llywelyn the Great. He was dead but 15 years now and yet he was already becoming a legend among the Cymry, some had called him Y Mab Darogan, the Prophesied Son who would drive out the Saxons and restore Britain to its former glory. It was the example Dafydd ap Llywelyn had aspired to, and Llywelyn ap Gruffydd knew it was his duty to take the place of his uncle and grandfather in the fight for his countrymen, even if he doubted anyone would ever call him Mab Darogan or the Great. What mattered was duty, but that duty now called for brother to fight brother weighed heavy on his heart.
The galloping horse of a coming messenger immediately grabbed his attention, and Llywelyn waited to hear what his seneschal Goronwy would have to say. "They've walked right into our trap, my lord, they've brought their entire army with them. Not the most terribly fearsome lot, if I say so myself, but they've a goodly number of scrappers, much more than we have to be sure."
Llywelyn smirked. "You really think they have a chance?" Goronwy ap Ednyved returned the smirk.
"Not a chance in hell, lord. They're veterans of what? Plundering the abbeys and homesteads of Eiffionydd for the last week? They must be getting desperate if their recourse is open battle. Our scouts report they've been on a forced march here and Owain hasn't been getting them into order."
"Good, make sure we don't follow his mistakes and-" Just then a shout rose up as a herald of Owain's rode forth, hollering for Llywelyn to come out in the name of Prince Owain Goch ap Gruffydd of Gwynedd. "Well, I suppose that's my cue," Llywelyn finished, and nodded for Goronwy to get the troops in order while Llywelyn donned his red wolf-crested helmet and rode forth to answer the herald, followed closely by a knight and a banner-bearer. "I am here," he called out, "Does Owain speak for himself or am I bandy words with his lackeys? You'd best go home ere you find yourself on the wrong end of history!"
The herald ignored this jibe and declared, "You are called by the true heir of Gwynedd, first-born of Gruffydd, and he seeks only the justified claim of his brother Davydd, a claim you have stolen unjustly!"
Llywelyn decided to let his full fury be known now. "You call me unjust, and yet you have come here at the behest of Owain, who kept company with King Henry while Cymry swung from gibbets," came his hot reply, "and took part in English plots to shrink our lands! You seek the rights to Gwynedd while I stand here fighting for the rights of Gwynedd!"
Even from here Llywelyn could see the herald squirm, but he continued nevertheless, "Yet we say to you, you will face only defeat today! Our ranks have swelled and we've more spears than you have hands!"
"Hollow words and empty threats don't win fights, let Red Owain know that I shall fight the righteous fight and God will see me the victor!" With that he left the heated parley and returned to his cheering ranks. Buzzing with anger, Owain sent forth his host in a full-on charge to meet Llywelyn's smaller yet more experienced army. The banners of Owain he could see going straight towards him in the main battle in the center, while Davydd was on Owain's left, heading for the vanguard under Goronwy's command. Llywelyn felt a sharp pang of worry for his younger brother, but let duty prevail and ordered the archers to let loose their arrows and a rain of steel put Owain's host into even further disarray before they clashed along the line and chaos broke out.
To many present, it seemed like hell on earth as the armies became entagled in a bloody life or death struggle, but through the chaos both sides could see the unmistakable figure of Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, red-cloaked and red-helmed, cleaving a path through the ranks followed by his Teulu with a sword that may have well been Dyrnwyn out of legend for the ease with which Llywelyn dispatched his foes. And for all the chaos the entire fight lasted but an hour until the victorious soldiers of Llywelyn were down chasing down their routing opponents. For all his bluster, Owain found himself now a prisoner of his brother after surrendering to an uchelwyr, a lord, who had unhorsed him. To Llywelyn's relief, Davydd had been taken prisoner, just as unharmed as his brothers. The luck of Gruffydd's children ran much higher than their father's, it seemed. After being taken to Llywelyn's tent and offered water, a long, awkward moment of silence passed between the three brothers before Davydd found the courage to speak, and getting straight to the question that ran through both his and Owain's minds. "You're not going to kill us, are you?"
Llywelyn grimaced at the idea. Davydd's eyes looked hollow and entirely unlike the child Llywelyn had known. "No. I am not like Owain, nor am I Cain."
Owain couldn't help but rise to the insult. "You think you are the most precious scion of Aberfrraw, don't you? The next Llywelyn Fawr? Well you're nothing like our grandfather, and if he were still alive, father would be ashamed of you!"
"Our father was ashamed of me ever since I stayed by uncle's side to defend our country while you and him marched with Henry. I wouldn't take father's disapproval to heavily, though to his credit he at least died trying to escape. What did you do after he fell from that tower, Owain? It certainly wasn't getting revenge on the English. You knew full well what Henry was going to do to our country but you just couldn't resist spiting me and taking what little uncle Davydd had left to give us."
"You are the one who betrayed our traditions! You and uncle Dafydd are quite the pair, scheming younger sons who took what rightfully belonged to their brothers and vaingloriously painted themselves 'Princes of Wales'. Well Hell can take you a put you with all the other thieves where you belong! You think I'm the traitor? It's not treason to take back what's mine!"
"It's treason if you lose. I believe you've lost."
Davydd, getting increasingly worried by the debate, felt the need to ask, "Please, just tell us Llywelyn, what are you going to do to us?"
With the most cold and impassive face Davydd had ever seen, he answered, "You shall be confined until such a time as I see fit that you are ready to be released." Davydd's heart sank, it wasn't death but imprisonment, now matter how cushy, seemed a nightmare, especially after seeing the gruesome fate of his father's botched escape attempt. "And you, Owain, shall be sent to Dolbadarn Castle. You will remain there for the rest of your days, I swear by God-"
At this Owain finally lost his temper completely, and drawing a hidden dagger and leaping upon Llywelyn, shoving to the ground as he tried against Llywelyn's struggling to shove the dagger straight into his gullet. "It could've been mine," Owain shouted deliriously, "It should be mine!" Davydd shouted in shock as Goronwy and Llywelyn's teulu moved to help their lord, but as they pulled Owain back he rolled limply off Llywelyn onto the ground, bleeding from the throat as Llywelyn had stabbed him back. All in the room were speechless, most of all Llywelyn and Davydd, as their elder brother died right in front of them all. Llywelyn tried his best to regain his composure, though his voice wavered ever so slightly for some guards to take Davydd to his castle where he'd be confined. Davydd didn't resist, breaking down and weeping as the realization hit him. "It was all my fault," he muttered, "my fault. If only I wasn't greedy, all these people, Owain, my fault..."
Goronwy wanted to break the silence by congratulating Llywelyn on his victory and status as sole Prince of Gwynedd, but seeing his lord's hollow gaze thought better of it. However despondent Llywelyn might be though, Goronwy thought, Gwynedd, perhaps the whole of Wales, was just saved this day.
___________________________
So I had this TL idea for a while now and finally deciding on writing it. I've made some choices that I want feedback on, namely the use of the medieval 'v' in certain Welsh names. I will also need help later on should this TL progress beyond a certain point but that's something for a later time. Until then, I hope you can subsist on the promise of a TL about a big change in medieval British history. In case you didn't know, the POD here is that Owain ap Gruffydd tries to kill Llywelyn but is himself killed instead. This will have certain changes in the psyche of his brothers that in the coming years will lead to enormous changes in the history of Wales. Llywelyn ap Gruffydd himself was very much the epitome of a chivalrous hero by modern standards. Successful in war, monumentally badass, but also fair, polite, forgiving, and all that. Unfortunately it was his forgiving nature that caused problems. However his outlook has now been changed by his forced killing of a brother. I already have the next couple of updates planned (unlike my other TL where I kind just play it by ear with only a long-term vision in mind) so they'll come soon as long as this isn't completely ignored.
Also felt like mentioning the parley scene I had. It was inspired by this poem written by Ieuan Cilgwri, which I thought was pretty cool.
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In any case, while I plan on having the next update focus on Llywelyn's mostly IOTL shenanigans (with a few key differences) after having made himself sole Prince of Gwynedd, I'll be bringing a lot of attention to England. That's where the "Second Anarchy" part of the title comes in after all...
