Uhtred of Bebbanburg has never been a stranger to legends. Throughout his life, he’s walked the thin line between myth and flesh, fighting for kingdoms, honor, and the home ripped from him as a boy. But in Netflix’s stunning new chapter, The Wyrm King, destiny’s claws sink deeper than ever. Here, Uhtred stands on the edge of a world not merely threatened by mortal ambition, but haunted by beasts of lore and dark omens that whisper of a fate crueler than any Saxon blade.
When Alexander Dreymon first strides back onto the screen as Uhtred, it’s as though time itself bows in respect. Older now, every line on his face tells of past wars, lost loves, and hard-won victories. Yet his blue eyes burn with that same defiant spark—a warrior still ready to spit in the face of prophecy. Only this time, prophecy has grown monstrous. Rumors ripple through the kingdoms of a wyrm—an ancient dragon-like terror said to stalk the high fells of Northumbria. Some scoff, calling it a drunken tale. But when entire villages are found scorched and gutted, laughter dies on trembling lips.
It is here that Uhtred’s saga finds fresh, chilling breath. The political tides of England still swirl dangerously, with rival lords seeking advantage and Christian zealots muttering of God’s wrath. But layered atop these old rivalries is a sense of the uncanny, a shiver in the land itself. Even Uhtred’s loyal band—Finan, Sihtric, and a handful of grizzled warriors who have bled beside him for years—seem more somber, haunted by dreams of fire and wings.
What makes The Wyrm King so compelling is how effortlessly it folds these dark new elements into Uhtred’s storied world. The lush forests and storm-lashed cliffs of Northumbria feel alive, hiding secrets that echo with the screams of the past. When Uhtred rides through these mist-wreathed lands, viewers sense that every shadow might conceal something with fangs and a hunger older than any crown.
Alexander Dreymon delivers perhaps his most nuanced performance yet. The Uhtred we see here is still bold, still reckless at times, but there is a weight pressing on his shoulders that fans will instantly recognize. Destiny has stalked him all his life—now it roars, more feral and inscrutable than ever. The scenes where Uhtred sits alone by the campfire, clutching a tarnished amulet, eyes distant as if seeing ghosts, remind us why this character has become a towering figure in modern historical drama.
The series does not abandon its roots. Steel still clashes against steel in breathtakingly choreographed battles, shield walls buckle and break, and war cries rise like hymns to pagan gods. But amid this, there are moments of eerie quiet. Tracks through blackened fields, claw marks carved into ancient stones, a guttural roar echoing over moonlit moors—all of it serves to pull us into a story where the line between history and nightmare has truly blurred.
Fans of The Last Kingdom will revel in the return of familiar faces and bonds that feel forged in the marrow. Finan’s gruff loyalty cuts through the encroaching darkness, while Sihtric’s quiet ferocity reminds us that some devotions go beyond mere oaths. Yet there are new players too—mysterious druids who speak of the wyrm in hushed tones, Saxon lords eager to twist terror into power plays, and a young seer whose visions of Uhtred’s end are as intoxicating as they are horrific.
The score deserves special praise, weaving haunting chants with low, throbbing drums that seem to mirror the wyrm’s distant heartbeat. When Uhtred finally comes face to face with the monstrous force at the center of all these dark portents, the moment is so charged it feels almost mythic—like something torn from the pages of a saga older than England itself.
Above all, The Wyrm King remains deeply human. Even as dragons haunt the edges of the tale, it is Uhtred’s struggle with his own nature—his pride, his love, his guilt—that grips us most fiercely. In quiet conversations with Finan or tender glances exchanged with a healer who might yet heal more than just wounds of the flesh, we see the fragile man beneath the warlord’s scars.
Netflix has crafted a chapter that feels both a resurrection and a reckoning. The stakes are no longer confined to thrones or land; they reach into the soul of Uhtred himself. Will he continue to defy destiny, to carve his own bloody path through every prophecy? Or has the wyrm come not just for kingdoms, but for the very essence of the man who dared claim his fate as his alone?
When the final credits roll, one is left breathless—not only by the scale of the battles or the chilling beauty of Northumbria’s haunted landscapes, but by the realization that Uhtred’s war has always been with something larger than rival kings. The Wyrm King makes it terrifyingly clear: sometimes destiny does not come as a whisper or a crown, but as jaws wide enough to swallow even the fiercest of men. And yet, Uhtred still rides toward it, sword drawn, eyes alight, daring the wyrm—and fate itself—to try.
