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putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty · 4 years

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The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 3

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate.

A/N: Ciao dolcezze! Hope your doing well! I’ve been super busy with my master’s degree but the chapter’s here! Hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. There’s a lot of Finan here, finally! Have the nicest week! Bacetti, Cate!

Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior.

General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence

Chapter’s warning: Mention of blood, angst, fluff

Words: 4455 Chapter Two.

Chapter Three: Injures and betrayal

“I will not let you fight this battle, Aoife.” Uthred repeated. Aoife had tried all day long to convince him to let her fight, and even now that they were preparing the horses to leave Aylesbury, she was not desisting. She had pleaded him to the point where she knew she was appearing pathetic, but she wanted to begin her new life as a warrior and that battle was an opportunity for her to prove her strength. She was scared of course, every time she closed her eyes she could see the young Dane she had killed; she wasn’t very sure she liked to kill, but she had spent too much time doing nothing but standing next to Aethelflaed, feeling an intruder in such important manners. And more than that, killing Haesten – or being part of the battle that would eventually kill him – was the only way for her to revenge her Abbess’ death. She was aware that her mind and attitude was quickly changing; she had always had a temper, but she was one for peace and forgiveness; of course, a fight in the nunnery was nothing compared to the siege she had found herself fighting back, but she was still scared of how quickly that dark part of her was emerging and she had to learn how to control it. Not now, though, now she needed that darkness to keep giving her the courage to plead the Dane warrior to bring her into battle. “Lord Uthred, let me fight!” Exasperated, Uthred held her shoulders tight, shaking her just enough to catch her attention and shut her up. “You will listen to me now, woman. You had sworn your sword to Aethelflaed and she’s still in danger. You will prove your value by protecting her. It is and order, have I been clear?” The warriors had left that same evening, bidding their goodbyes to the two women as if they were going for a hunt and not to face death. Finan had smoothly kissed the back of Aoife’s hand before mounting on his horse, and she had felt her cheeks turning red and warm at the contact. He was so confident, Aoife could easily guess that he was experienced with women; he knew the tricks to make a lady fall at his feet. Not that he needed tricks, he was a warrior, a handsome one to say the least; and while his scars promised troubles, his smile could soothe the most turbulent soul. Father Beocca was right, he could well be a prince of the dark and she would follow him to hell without complaints. Standing next to Aethelflaed and Edward, she watched the warriors leave the security of the fortress and disappear in the distance. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever see them again, if they would fight together again or if they would just greet her the few times they would meet, until forgetting her name. She was sure she could never forget that weird group of warriors, especially the mysterious prince of the night. That same night, Aoife effectively took on the role of guard of Aethelflaed. At supper time, she was even able to make Steapa smile with her overprotective attitude. The Lady herself cracked a smile and asked her to relax, they were safe there and she should enjoy the food as much as she could; who knew how long it would take before they would taste meat like that again. Aethelflaed then asked for her to wait outside her rooms while she ate and confronted her husband. She was playing with her dagger, sat on a chair, ear pricked and muscles ready to step in if required. In that moment she felt like a true guard. She wondered if Uthred would be proud of her keeping her promise as well as she could. Anyway, she was confident – and again she was being arrogant – she could win over “Lord” Aethelred smoothly, she had subdue braver pigs. She could hear talking, even some commotion, but nothing to be afraid of, and before the moon reached the peak of the sky, the Lord of Mercia had already left the rooms, without acknowledging the presence of the warrior lady against the wall. When they woke up the morning after, they discovered that Alfred had reluctantly accepted to support Uthred in the battle. Aoife was relieved, Alfred’s numbers would increase the chances of success of Uthred’s plan. A plan that she thought was quite stupid: too much was being left to fate and probability, but what did she know? She was just a nun after all. When the day came, Aoife woke up with bad feelings clenching her stomach. She was fearing for the life of Uthred and his men. Aethelflaed had then asked her to get ready to help the injured. She cut pieces of clothes and drawn water from the well all day long, but it had not put her mind to rest. She was spending too much time by herself, thinking of how many men could have already fallen under Danes’ strokes. She had spent most of her monastic life helping the physician of the monastery, growing healing plants, cauterizing wounds and staying next to the dying patients until their last breath, it was not the idea of blood and death to make her hands shake, it was the fear of finding out that her new friends were injured and being unable to save them In the afternoon, she was praying in the chapel when a messenger came. He was bringing a letter from Uthred. The battle had been won, and they were invited to ride to Aethelflaed’s estate, where they would be joined by him and his men. “I’m surprised he knew how to write!” Aoife commented and they laughed, until the laughs became tears, of relief and happiness. In less than an hour, they gathered the horses, belongings and guards and before dawn they left Aylesbury. Aoife couldn’t stop smiling. Saltwic, Mercia Saltwic was a welcoming place. Aoife’s room was right next to Aethelflaed’s, of course. Inside, there was a big, comfortable bed, with a clean chamber pot next to it. There was also a fireplace, with a small wooden tub and a kettle filled with fresh water. She put the kettle on the fire and let the water warm up while she undressed. After the stay in Aylesbury and the ride to Saltwic, her clothes needed to be washed; she, too, was covered in dust and sweat and she sat in the tub for a long time, rubbing her body with a clean cloth until her skin turned red; she took her time to wash her hair and brush it with the small wooden comb she had taken from her room in the nunnery. It made her sad to think of what she had left there: her books, her chessboard, her mother’s doll. However, she smiled thinking about the Abbess, which would have lectured her on the volatility of earthly goods, “All we need – she would have said – is God’s love and mercy.” On the opposite, Sister Aeskel, the physician, would have laughed and hugged her, reassuring her: she would not have the time to read, nor to play chess, living as a warrior, and she was too old to still own a doll. Her belonging would have forever been a remainder of that young girl that had grown up with them and then had left the nest. Only thinking about her, Aoife was happy again. She hoped Aeskel was all right. There was a light knock on the door and Aethelflaed came in without waiting for an answer; she looked happy, almost excited, not at all bothered by Aoife’s nakedness. She, on the opposite, was quickly becoming red from embarrassment. “I have something for you.” the Lady chirped and only then Aoife noticed she was holding something in her arms. “Lady.” she protested “You have to stop buying me gifts, you’ve done enough for a lifetime.” “Oh hush. I noticed that you looked very uncomfortable in my dress and I wanted you to wear something more… appropriate to your role.” she sat on the bed and, with a proud smile, showed her friend what she had brought. They were clothes, as Aoife had already guessed from her words, but not the common clothes of a lady. There were two tunics, one red and one blue, a linen shirt, two pairs of brown trousers and brown shoes. “I asked my seamstresses to have them ready for our arrival” Aethelflaed said “are you happy?” Aoife was at loss of words “Happy? Lady, this is too much!” “It is not.” her friend assured “Also, the blacksmith is working on your warrior clothes, but it is going to take some time. And here” she threw are a small leather bag “your first payment.” Inside the bag there were five pieces of silver, Aoife shook her head vigorously “Lady, this is too much!” and she tried to give the money back. Aethelflaed held her hands, closing Aoife’s fingers around the bag “You have been a great guard and a great friend, Aoife. You deserve all of this and more for risking your life for me. Stop being stubborn and accept my way to say thank you.” For the first time since they had met, Aoife hugged Aethelflaed. There was a stream within walking distance from Aethelflaed’s estate. After two days of doing nothing, Aoife decided that she needed some type of normalcy in her life and, when the sun reached its peak, she walked to the stream, a basket of dirty clothes under her arm. It was a cold winter day, of course, and her hands, dipped in the water, soon turned blue. Nonetheless, she found quite calming to rub the linen on the stones, smoothed by the repetitive movement of the stream. The sun was almost setting when she heard the soft drumming of hooves on snow. And there they were, the men of Cookham, covered in dirt and blood and riding slowly towards Saltwic. There were also prisoners, Danes, who were coughing and stumbling in the white cold ground. Aoife collected the wet clothes in the hamper and run back to the estate. Her heart was beating fast, and she tried to suppress the desire to see the Irishman again. She had thought that being away from him would ease her passion, but she was wrong, and she run faster to reach him, to be sure he was fine. Aethelflaed was already in the hall when Aoife arrived, and invited her to leave the wet clothes to the servants and prepare herself to assist the injured. On her time in Wincelcumb, she had the pleasure to assist Aoife during her working hours in the infirmary. Most of the injured had been nuns who had hurt themselves working, but, once or twice, peasants had come asking for help with more serious injuries. Aethelflaed had watched Aoife cauterize wounds and heal ulcers without flinching. “God guides my hand.” she used to answer to her amazed face. It had been her strength and composure to play a fundamental role in her decision to bring Aoife with her. Aethelflaed watched her sweetly; that and the instant fondness she felt for her. Uthred was the first to enter the hall, followed closely by Sithric and Finan and then by the rest of his men. Aoife could see that a couple of warriors were missing, but the presents didn’t look injured. They were tired, cold and hungry, however, and Aethelflaed invited them all to sit. Aoife had waited to see the warrior for days and yet, now that he was right in front of her, she couldn’t look him in the eyes. Had she done that, she would have found him already watching her fondly, yet tiredly. He had found himself thinking about her, once or twice during the mission. She had been a pleasant surprise from the beginning, and he would be a fool not to be attracted by pretty women. And she was, without doubt, extremely pretty. Seeing her, all busy in her role of healer, with her dark hair back in a braid – single braid for a unmarried woman, her cheeks and nose all red for the cold, he had forgot about more urgent manners. Manners that Uthred spare no time to address. “Osferth is at the alehouse. He’s injured.” Uthred said and before he could even sit down, Aoife had grabbed her cloak and was already running outside. She had grown fond of the monk, and without more information, she could not help but imagine the worst. Was her too late? She hoped not, she had yet to know him well and she did not want to lose a friend, or a potential friend. “Aoife wait!” someone shouted from behind her and she slowed down to let Finan reach her. She didn’t ask him why he followed her, he needed food and to sit near the fire for a while, but she could see how worried he looked. Knowing that he would not rest until Osferth was safe, she let him come her to the alehouse. He showed her the way up the stairs, to the last room down the corridor, one of the few with a door. Aoife tried not to show interest in the unholy events that were taking place in the other rooms but Finan caught her peeking in one of them and couldn’t repress a smile. Such an innocent creature she was. Osferth was laying on the bed, looking more tired than in pain, but probably he was just trying to be strong; the left part of his tunic was covered in blood, most of it dark enough to be dry, some of it a bright red. She needed to stop the bleeding. “Hi Osferth.” she greeted, taking off her cloak and kneeling at his side. She smiled sweetly, as Sister Aeskel had taught her, to appear calm and confident “Do you mind if I take a look at your wound?”. The boy nodded weakly, smiling lightly and she pulled out a knife from under her tunic to cut apart the fabric of his robe; slowly, being it stuck to his skin. The wound was wide but not deep, thank goodness. The bleeding was easy to stop, but she had to carefully clean it to prevent the infection. With a good bandage and some poultice he would be as good as new in no time. She had the kindness to tell him to, patting his cheek as if he was still a young boy. Finan was amused by the interaction, never had he seen Osferth at such ease with someone he had barely met. There was something about that girl that made everyone feel safe in taking their guard down with her. It was a powerful weapon. Only then, he noticed that she wasn’t wearing a dress anymore but the clothes of a warrior: tunic, trousers and the belt with weapons around her waist. There was something about masculine clothes around her feminine curves that aroused him greatly and he was more than happy to leave the room when she asked him to fetch some fresh water to clean the wound. “I do not deserve your assistance, lady.” the monk mumbled when they were left alone, his voice was barely audible “I cannot even use a sword.” She was checking for others injures, but there were just bruises and light cuts, and pondered for a moment whether to answer him or pretend not to have heard him. She opted for the first “But you fought, didn’t you? And with great disadvantage.” She raised her eyes to his face, he was already watching her “I’m sure you’ve been great help and I am even more sure that Lord Uthred would tell the same. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been so worried about you.” Before he could argue, Finan came back with a pot of water and a cloth. “To clean.” he explained, waving the peace of fabric, and Osferth could swear he was blushing. Aoife shot the warrior one of her already infamous smile “What a brilliant helper.” she murmured and took both things from Finan’s hands “Thank you.” Both men had heard that, and while Osferth tried to dissimulate a laugh with a cough, Finan couldn’t really care about his friend making fun of him – he would surely have told it to the others later – because he had recognized that tone of voice, many women had addressed him with such tone. She was playing at courtship. From that moment on, he became a source of distraction, following her around and staring at her openly. If she wanted to play that game, she had to know who she was competing against. Soon, she was too shy to keep working knowing that Finan was watching every move she made, touching her ever so slightly when she was close enough; all with that charming smile of him. And when she risked to make Osferth bleed again – she pushed too hard on his stomach, making him scream in pain and the wound stretched dangerously – Finan was sent downstairs again to ask for broth and ale while Aoife finished her work. She smeared some poultice, the one that helped fasten the healing and prevent infection, on the cut before covering it with a clean piece of fabric. When Finan came back, Aoife and him had to force Osferth, with threats and pleas, to eat and drink something before falling asleep. He was acting like a child, really, but he was not to blame; he had lost much blood and experienced very traumatic events; he was scared and unable to sleep. Finan and Aoife sat next to him, one on each side, and talked with him, about everything and nothing, until his breath became regular and he fell asleep. And then, they were left alone. Finan, who until that moment had acted confident and smug, suddenly found himself at loss of word and shied away from her eyes, so deep yet open, so clear yet unreadable. “You should rest too, Finan.” Aoife said, standing up to clean the room. She turned around when he didn’t answer and he shot her a tired smile under his unkept beard. “Don’t worry, lady. It’s not my first battle.” He said “And it’s not easy for a warrior to rest after such events.” Only then Aoife noticed the trickle of fresh blood running down his forehead and on his cheek. “You’re hurt!” she cried out, running to him and taking his face in her hands. Finan was shaken to the core by that touch and unwound against the palm of her hand. He hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in a long time, but that didn’t justify the fastening of his heart, nor the complete inability to control his body. “Let me clean you up.” she whispered sweetly, and he simply nodded, closing his eyes and leaning against the chair. While cleaning the cut she could see her hands shaking, it was not the blood, nor the wound, it was touching him. With one hand she was keeping his hair back, away from his forehead, and it was softer that she expected from someone who spent most time outside and riding his horse. The thumb of her other hand brushed against his skin every time she patted on the cut, his skin rough for the wind and the battle. What surprised her the most was that, under the smell of the battle – of sweat and blood and iron, there was such a sweet scent of wood and salt water, and she wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck and smell him, and taste his skin with the tip of her tongue. The nun in her was outraged by those unholy, impure thoughts; the woman in her was laughing, finally free by the chain of the Abbey. She was young and he was desirable, she was more then justified in those thoughts. Finan enjoyed every touch of her soft skin and somewhere in his mind he knew she was taking her time too. He was suppressing himself from reasoning; she was young, innocent and inexperienced; while he was older, malicious and he was taking advantage of her juvenile feelings because, after such a long time alone, he needed the affection. He did not really want to think about the fact that no other woman had made his heart pump as strong and his skin crawl as she was doing right there, only by cleaning a cut. He would have worried about it later. Too soon, however, Osferth burst their bubble, groaning and turning in his sleep. Aoife stumble backwards, suddenly aware of her actions. She turned away from the Irishman, cutting, perhaps forever, the thread of complicity and intimacy that they had just created. She bended over Osferth, covering her face with her hair, to shield him from seeing how affected she was by what had just happened. When he tried to say something, she stopped him, raising a hand, and with the lower, tiniest voice she had ever used, she said “Go back to the hall, Finan. I shall stay a little longer with Osferth.” There was no answer but a slam and when she turned around, he was gone. They day after was spent in celebration. Finan was not sure how Osferth and Aethelflaed had managed to convince Aoife to participate, but he was very grateful. Firstly, because she looked particularly pretty in that specific day; a clean green vest was embracing her body in such a lovely way that Finan had to discreetly adjust himself in his trousers more than once. Secondly, it looked like she was enjoying drinking ale, the redness spreading on her full cheeks. She was laughing loudly with Aethelflaed and even if he cannot hear what they were talking about, he was grateful to be standing right in front of her. He had smoothly withdrawn himself from the conversation with Sithric and other warriors and leant against the back of the chair, staring at her. And everybody had noticed that, including her. He didn’t care, though, he liked how she was squirming under his gaze. He knew that she too was thinking about the day before, about how their bodies had searched each other. He had felt something unusual, a need of a deeper and more intimate connection, and while part of him was scared, the other was intrigued, almost happy to be back on having feelings of the sort. He had imagined, once or twice, how his life would be with a wife and children, but the ghosts of his past were still hunting him, and they would probably be hunting him forever. They were the reason he had left abruptly the day before; those and knowing that she was ashamed of being that close to him. Of course, she was not to blame, she could have – and she deserved – a better man, a younger, smarter, easier man than him. And it made his heart ache. As always, he was rushing his feelings; he had only known her for a few days and there was also the possibility that all that desire was just a consequence of his need to give into his urges. As the right hand of Uthred of Bebbanburg, he spent long periods of time without touching a woman, especially now, with the outlaw situation and everything. Aoife was young and beautiful and such a complicated combination of strength and innocence; it was not unusual that he was aroused by her. As did most of the men in the room; he could say. He could not blame them for looking at her hungrily, but he could surely hate them. He was proud, however, that it was not their gazes to get her on edge, only his. Their eyes met, and he raised his cup in her direction, making her smile a little and blush profusely. Pretty girl. Before dawn, Aoife had helped Osferth to his room. Dinner was being serve in the hall and Uthred had ordered for the prisoners to be fed too; Aoife did not like the idea of eating under the same roof as them and she was feeling more tired than hungry; therefore, she retreated in her room and was fast asleep. Had she known, she would have never left Finan’s side. She woke up at first light, as every other day. She decided to go pray before visiting Osferth and when she left church, people were already working. After her time alone with God, she was feeling peaceful and she walked to the alehouse singing under her breath. Her spirit changed when she entered Osferth’s room. He was not alone, Finan was sitting on the bed next to the monk, head in his hands. Osferth too looked shaken. “What’s wrong?” she asked concerned, running to her patient “Are you feeling sick?” The young monk shook his head, but it was the Irishman to answer. “Sithric is gone.” Aoife shot Osferth a confused look “He betrayed us, lady.” the monk explained “He fought with Uthred yesterday and this morning he was gone. And with him, the prisoners.” His voice was plain, but she could see in his eyes that he was suffering. Finan wasn’t even trying to hide how much the betrayal had affected him; he was clearly upset, and Aoife could understand why. Among all Uthred’s men, Sithric was Finan closest friend and his betrayal was making him doubt that relation. Aoife too was shaken; she did not know the man well, but she was sure about his loyalty to Uthred and his companions. She had seen him laugh his heart out, joking and playing with the others as if they were family. It was weird. And by the face of the two men in front of her, it was worse that if he was dead. Aoife could not find the right words to comfort them and she hoped that her presence would be enough, or at least well accepted. With a small smile to Osferth, she sat down next to Finan, as close as possible, and she delicately reached to hold his hand in hers. His skin was warm and rough, as she remembered, and he stiffened under her touch, not used to affection. Then he slowly relaxed, his thumb grazing over her knuckles. The three spent hours in silence on that uncomfortable bed in that bad smelling room, Osferth laying on one side, Finan and Aoife sitting on the other, hand in hand. Chapter Four.

#finan #finan x oc #finan x ofc #finan fic #finan the agile #the last kingdom #the last kingdom finan #the last kingdom finan fic #the last kingdom fictions #tlk #tlk finan #uthred #sithric #osferth #aethelflaed #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfictions #writing

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lordavanti · 6 years

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Finan x Reader

Note: Here it is, my very first The Last Kingdom drabble, offcourse, Finan. <3 Words: 982

It has been months since you last saw the Lord Uhtred and his warriors. His children asked a lot about him, what he was doing, if he maybe was dying, if he was victorious. Gisela often told them stories about her husband and you just often sat alongside her, listening, remembering. You were saves once to, by one of Uhtred his man … Finan. He saved you before a ruthless dane had the chance to kill you, just as he killed your sister, your father and the rest of the village. You were lucky and you knew it. Ever since you worked here alongside of Gisela, taking care of the children as you every day hoped on the return of those warriors. Not only because they gave you that feeling of safety, you wanted to see Finan back, seeing him safe and healthy. There was nothing between the two of you, he was a warrior of Uhtred, yet you always caught him on watching or the other way around. The winter bite his way through Winchester, you wrapped a cloak tight around his eldest son while leading him towards the fire you just stoke. Hild came in, stretching her cold fingers as she turned herself towards Gisela. ‘A scout announced the arrival of Lord Uhtred.’ She announced with a smile. Gisela looked aside to you, suppressing her lover for her husband's return behind a small grin. ‘Come on, your father is on his way.’ She said to the children. You laid your hand against on his eldest son’s shoulders as you all stepped outside, looking for the horses through the streets. It didn’t took long before you recognized the big furry cloaks and the familiar faces. You looked down to his son, holding him from running of. Uhtred smiled as he saw his wife and children. They all seemed to be in good health. Your eyes went to Sithric and Steapa before they fell on Finan. You couldn’t resist the happy feeling on the inside of you seeing him loyal as always alongside of the lord. He held his arm a little stiffer against his chest what meant he was probably slightly wounded. ‘How did the months fare my lord?’ Hild asked. ‘As if you didn’t stopped praying Hild.’ He answered, letting himself fall out of the saddle. You eyes went back to Finan who was looking at you. ‘Did you miss me Y/n?’ He joked, groaning as he jumped from the horse. ‘Not as much as I missed your sense of humor.’ You answered with a polite nod. ‘He didn’t stopped winning along the way Y/n. Talking about how much he wanted a wife like you.’ Uhtred chuckled, giving his right hand a ferm shoulder pat before walking over his wife. ‘The stubborn ass has a injury, take a look at it.’ He followed, giving you a small nod before grabbing his eldest son from the ground. ‘He is lying.’ Finan said in his defense. You smiled, looking from one warrior to another, all family, all part of your life. ‘Let’s go all inside so I can take a look at who is wounded.’ You suggested to one of the houses. Hild joined you, given Finan wasn’t the only one. His hair and beard grew a lot bigger through the months. You poked the fire, giving them all a cup of ale. ‘She is such a sweet one.’ Sithric said. You knew they were taunting Finan, like they always did. ‘Don’t you need to go find your woman? She probably has already another child.’ Finan taunted him right back. Sithric slapped him against the head and Finan ducked away, causing a little pain to flare up in his expressions. ‘Let me take a look.’ You suggested, nodding towards his shoulder. ‘You may do that.’ He reacted. You shook your head on his wide inviting smile as you helped him out of his armor. His skin was still cold from the whole journey, yours on the other hand. ‘Always such a warm touch.’ He noticed. You softly smiled, looked him for a short moment in the eyes. He rolled his jaw, pulling his attention back to his cup of ale. You pulled his shirt aside and looked to his shoulder wound. ‘How old is this?’ You asked. ‘A week.’ Sithric answered in his place. You nodded, grabbing some herbs as you started to make a concoction out of it that would help him heal and fend of the infection. ‘Try to let this armrest for some days.’ You advised him, he just nodded, looking to your fingers smearing the concoction out on his wound, slowly massaging it into his skin. ‘We should take you with us next time, as a healer.’ Finan said, looking up to you to measure your reaction. ‘Are you leaving soon again?’ ‘Depends on what King Alfred wants from our lord.’ He answered, squeezing his eyes a little together. ‘Would you miss me Y/n?’ He asked. You laid a bandage around the wound, closing it neatly underneath his shirt. ‘Staying behind here, wondering how much of you have fallen isn’t always a nice thought.’ You answered him honestly. ‘Then pray.’ ‘It would be selfish to pray for the safety of one man alone.’ You whispered, smiling shortly as you stepped back, cleaning your herbs. You felt him watching, a very long time but you didn’t dare to look back after your confession. You had fallen for him, maybe already a long time ago. Just now, not seeing him for so long, gave you that realisation. As you looked back he had that content smile on his lips, laughing over something his friends sad. He was relaxed. Maybe they didn’t weren’t the only one giving you a safe feeling, maybe it was the same for them to be here among the woman that took care of them.

#The last Kingdom #The last kingdom x reader #Finan #Finan the agile #Finan x reader #Finan fic #The last kingdom fic #Finan drabble #Finan the agile x reader

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