#osferth x original character

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

Osferth and Brynja from As It Was by @moris-auri - for Miranda, whose stories deserve to be told.

#osferth x original character #osferth x oc #the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom #osferth fic #osferth edit #the last kingdom edit #miranda tag #my edit #usermiranda

[writervaul-t]

The Ruined and its Damned

Summary: The mysterious death of certain individuals causes a Rose and her family's safety on the line. Desperate for answers, Rose must work with a group of warriors within Rumcofa to prevent her family from meeting an early death. The only problem: their presence was never made known to the settlement so now they must not only understand the reasoning behind the deaths but to also gain the trust of the suspicious settlers, specifically the newly placed Uhtred and his group of warriors sent to protect Rumcofa from any oncoming threats.

Pairing: Osferth x OC

Warning: Non-canon, spoilers if you're not caught up to s5, blood and wounds, lots of fighting

ao3 post | next chapter | masterlist

Chapter One: Amber

- ROSE -

The air was cold, but not cold enough to keep Rose from wishing to go back in the confines of her home. If she had the option, she was sure she’d like to stay outside, basking in the silence from nature in turn for the constant ruckus her brothers and father made back in their humble cabin.

Rose closed her eyes, breathing in the crisp morning air as she let her horse trot against the horribly beaten trail she was accustomed to. Only the gentle crunch of snow and muted calls from animals greeted her. Yes, she would definitely trade days like this with her noisy family if it meant she was able to savor more of this silence, even for just a moment.

Though, she knew that would not be an option in a very long time. She was needed at home, taking care of the younger half of her brothers when she is not where she is now. Like her brothers, Rose had a duty to uphold for her family and, to some extent, even those who would ever come by the areas she always crossed through.

“Rose.” The voice, annoyingly familiar, called out to her from ahead. Rose continued to close her eyes, ignoring the familiar voice as she took in the smell of the snow and the sound of her horse trotting. “Rose—”

“Jehan if you speak once more, I will certainly make sure you come home with no game and a split lip if you continue to disrupt me.” The girl said sharply, giving her twin brother a scathing look for ruining what little time she had with the outside world. Her irritation subsided, however, when her brother cast her a look that indicated anything but jesting—eyes wide, jaw tense—that she was not most favorable to: a threat was nearby.

Quickly, Rose’s fingers thumbed at the daggers attached to her back before checking for the ones hidden in her arms and boots before pulling her hood over her eyes. “Where.” Was all she asked, head whipping around until she finally spotted the billowing smoke rising from below a cliff just several feet away.

“Sounds like there's many. Almost fifteen…” Jehan whispered in his usual low, steady voice. He halted his own horse, effectively stopping Rose’s own from moving as well. “We can’t take that many if they really are a threat…”

“Definitely not.” Rose mutters back. “How do you know it’s a threat, though?”

“I don’t.” Her brother replied honestly, his jet black hair brushing against her own set of curls as she drew closer. “But the sound of swords being sharpened is enough of a warning.”

Rose nodded, scarily impressed by Jehan’s sharp hearing. If she were alone, Rose was sure she would hear the crunching of the snow beneath her horse’s hooves instead of blades being sharpened. “Do you need me to look?” She asked, though she had already been off her horse and throwing the rope to her twin in smooth succession.

Jehan nodded. “Just get a glimpse of them, see who they are: Dane or Saxon.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Both are threats to us no matter which one they are…”

Her brother only urged her forward with a warning look, Rose taking note that he hadn’t corrected her behavior statement. She was right, is all Rose could conclude from the silence, fingers dropping to the cross on her neck before brushing her fingers at the Yggdrasil hair beads woven into strands of her hair.

Dane or Saxon, they were surely in need to run away if they ever were to ever catch sight of Rose and Jehan’s appearance. The very thought made Rose tuck away the cross and pull her cloak’s hood further over her head as she carefully made her way over the cliff, not a sound being made by her as she glanced over the cliff.

Jehan had been almost correct; there was a camp full of men under the cliff, sixteen or seventeen to count from what Rose could spot, fingers signaling a succession of numbers behind her back for her brother to understand what was happening. They all looked worn out, tired from marching around in the freezing cold, she could only presume.

Her eyes narrowed in on six men sitting around the middle of a fire—well, four men and two boys, from the looks of things. Rose made sure to signal that to her brother as well. They were all unique in look and Rose’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she finally took notice of the group.

A mix of Danes and Saxons, she concluded, frowning as she spotted two of the six to be wearing Mjolnir around their necks and another two bearing Christian crosses. Curiously, her eyes drifted to one of the Christians; the tallest of the six, a blonde wearing garbs she only sees on monks.

It was modified, the sides ripped so he could possibly sit easier instead of being restricted by the long fabric, a sword hanging off his hips and a chestplate over the drabby beige clothing. Rose wasn’t sure what to signal, but she did her best to tell her brother what she saw with her hands.

"A… Warrior monk?” Jehan asked, voice echoing in their empty space. “The hell does that mean...”

Rose whipped her head, finger pressing against her lips harshly, heart pounding. She had yet to determine if they actually were trouble or not for them. She was too caught up in the group’s strangeness to notice the amount of weapons all of them had attached to themselves. Jehan’s eyes widened, shocked at his own loudness as well, slapping a hand over his lips.

Though that was too late.

“Whoever’s there, come out. Now.” A sharp voice, annoyingly familiar as well, ordered from below.

Sounds like Father. Rose would have mused to her brother if she hadn’t been on edge about watching these men. Her eyes glared at Jehan, who moved forward toward the cliff. Rose stayed as still as possible, body closely wrapped against the large boulders she had been laying her stomach against. Surely, she couldn’t be spotted—

“The same goes to your companion as well. Come out now.”

Rose let out an aggravated groan.

I just wanted to go outside…

- OSFERTH -

“How did he know someone else was with him?” Aethelstan asked, staring at Uhtred in wonder before turning his gaze back to the pair standing over them.

“Intuition.” Was all Osferth could offer, hand ghosting the hilt of his sword as the second figure maneuvered their way to their horse. The man already on his horse offered a stiff smile to Uhtred and Finan’s suspicious gazes.

“A fine morning to hunt, don’t you think?” The man tried to offer, the hooded figure beside him turning their head to them. Seems that even they found his ice breaker strange. From the corner of his eye, he could spot Sihtric move backward a bit, as if ready to melt into the shadows and come closer to them.

Looking back, Osferth could see the hooded figure trot their horse backward as well, as if sensing Sihtric’s movement. Osferth held a hand out to his friend, shaking his head. “The hooded one is watching you. Stay cautious.” He advised. Sihtric only nodded, keeping himself still instead.

Uhtred, always so blunt and brute, was quick to stay on the topic. “Who are you? What are you doing on this trail?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but we’re clearly all here for one thing: hunting, correct?” The man said. His dark hair, long and straight, blew with the wind as he motioned at the bow and arrow attached to him under his cloak. “What else can you do around here besides trade at Rumcofa? Besides, Blood Month is coming soon and we all know the pressures of that celebration as men, do we not?”

Cynlaef and Aethelstan nodded, making Osferth shake his head. Clearly, the man was trying to convince them of something else but he made a good argument; around this time men did go out hunting to practice. Finan was the next to speak up.

“You know of Rumcofa, yet we’ve never seen you.” Finan said, eyes glancing at the hooded figure. “And it seems like we have yet to see your friend as well.”

“She is hardly a friend. Torturer would be a better word.” The man states, earning a harsh slap in the arm by the figure. Finan snorted at the action. “She is my sister; wanted to accompany me and possibly hunt something as well.”

The man motioned for his sister to pull down the hood and Osferth was in no need to convince himself the pair were siblings. Their hair was jet black, both of their tan skin showing under the sunlight. Osferth was more focused on the girl, however, noticing the curls that were hardly contained when it gathered at the nape of her neck.

Still, Osferth can detect the discomfort on her face despite keeping it so still since she had removed her hood, unlike her brother, who seemed to be smooth at every motion he made as they continued their standoff. They were like day and night, despite their appearance clearly indicating they were possibly twins.

Finally, she spoke, eyes trained on Uhtred. “I apologize for my brother’s long winded explanations but he is not wrong; we are meant to hunt. We follow this trail often but it is a bit of a ways away and we never see anyone. Forgive us for not being too friendly at the beginning, lords. We like to remain cautious, especially in times like this.”

Uhtred nodded in understanding. Living in a village was troublesome enough; only those who have lived on their own outside of promised protection knew how much more dangerous it was to willingly trust random strangers on the road.

“I hope we didn’t scare any of the game you are seeking then. A few of our men hunted and managed to hunt quite a few animals.” An amused chuckle escaped from Cynleaf’s lips. Years of accompanying Uhtred let Osferth know it was a boast masked under a jesting. He watched as the siblings gazes settled on the dead animals stacked next to the fire.

The girl was seamless with her reaction, only offering an unreadable expression to Uhtred before saying, “I’m sure we’ll find something.”

Her voice was soft but Osferth could sense a bit of rigidness behind it, almost like the snowflakes gently coming off from the trees above and landing on warm skin; similarly, it sent shivers down his back when her voice came out. His mind wandered for a moment, questions arising left and right from his mind until he finally asked a question as the siblings pulled off from the cliffside.

“You didn’t answer the question.” He suddenly pronounces, catching everyone’s attention. His eyes locked on the girl’s own, widening as he noticed they were almost glowing from the rays of light. He was sure they were almost like gold, the color seemingly paling against the stone at the pommel of Uhtred’s sword. Gold. It looked like molten gold.

“You know of Rumcofa, yet we have never seen you there.”

A few men nodded, others looking expectantly at the set of siblings, knowing Osferth wasn’t wrong. It had been years since Rumcofa was built, Aethelstan being only a boy when they settled in the trading village. Now he was accompanying hunts, carrying steel weapons instead of practicing with wooden ones within the safety of the village walls. Throughout all those years, Osferth was sure he’d remember eyes that seemed to shine under sunlight.

He watched as the girl’s lips twitched, to a smile or a frown, he wasn’t so sure. Still, he garnered a reaction out of her and some sense of satisfaction consumed him. “We have lived here since before Rumcofa’s construction. We just wished to stay outside the village borders since we are self serving ourselves.”

Osferth nodded, taking her words to value, seemingly knowing she wasn't lying. Still, he wondered one more thing.

“What are your names?” It was Uhtred who asked the question, seemingly reading the ex-monk’s mind.

The girl opened her mouth, then closed it. She turned to her brother, who shrugged before they responded, one after the other.

“My name is Jehan.”

“My name is Rosemonde. I go by Rose.”

Rose. Osferth thought, staring at the woman thoughtfully. Rose.

Somehow he couldn’t keep the name out of his head, even when her brother, Jehan decided to speak. “It is not safe to be out here too long, lords. Even in broad daylight, there are many dangers out there you should keep watch for. My sister and I must go now. Bountiful luck to you all during your hunt.”

With that, both siblings rode off, before anyone could ask any more questions.

"Strange people.” Finan mused, Osferth nodding

Silence returned on the group, though Osferth’s mind seemed to be somewhere else, Rose’s name still repeating in his head, not wishing to forget it.

- ROSE -

“Bountiful luck?”

“Shut up.”

A look of amusement crossed Rose’s face as she eyed her brother. “You sure love hearing your voice, brother.”

Jehan sent a glare her way. “As if you could do any better, sister. You talk sweetly but look as if you’re ready to go into battle. I hardly think I’d be ever able to believe you if I were those men out there.”

Rose shrugged. “If they detect a lie, they would have had us taken away. Clearly they believed us. Besides, it’s not as if we aren’t hunting.”

She dismounted from her horse as she said this, walking toward one of their hidden traps set up not far from the trail. She listened for the crunch of the snow, ignoring Jehan’s call from behind.

“That monk sounded like he didn’t believe you!”

A smile made its way to her lips again, the idea of the blonde man wishing to know them so much amusing her. He was peculiar, she remembered thinking, watching his expression intently when she had given her name. She could see his lips moving, though she wasn’t sure what she could make him out from saying.

Rose was ready to speak once more, before a muffled scream had brought her back, the memories of the crunching snow and the warrior monk pushed to the back of her mind. She narrowed her eyes, realizing the trap she set up the night before had worked. The muffled screams turned to a panicked one as Rose made herself visible to the man trapped by the spikes dug under the soft piles of snow that were carefully packed together as if to seem stronger.

“Nasty wound you have there.” Rose responded, eyes narrowing in on the man’s leg, which had the five wooden spikes jutting out from it at the start of his ankle to just below his knees. His hair was matted and frosted over, clearly having been there for several hours. “Would be a shame if we left you here.”

“Please,” the man begged. “Let me free.”

Rose ignored him, procuring a dagger hidden beneath her sleeve. “Since you said please, I will.” The man sighed in relief. “But not before you answer some questions.”

The men let out another wail, only to be silenced as Rose struck the back of his head with the hilt of her dagger. She didn’t waste time to take out a sack from the bag hanging off her, bringing it over the unconscious man’s head. A four toned whistle was heard from a distance and Rose was quick to send a two toned one back.

From a large pile of snow close by, another dark head popped up. “He’s been screaming all day. I had to come around and shut him up a few times before he could spot me.”

“It was a good thing you did.” Rose says to her younger brother, remembering the warrior monk and his warrior friends. “Help me out, won’t you Saewin? This man probably weighs like a horse.”

Saewin only nodded, making his way around the pile of snow so quickly, Rose felt like some sense of time disappeared on her when he made his way over. They lifted the man by his arms and legs, Saewin huffing out of anger after taking careful steps closer to the road. “This man weighs more than a horse; he’s probably the same weight as Jehan…”

“Hey!” Was all Jehan offered, running to help his siblings drag the man onto the large cloth he spread out and attached to his and Rose’s horse. All three of them heaved sighs, looking at one another before nodding to one another in understanding as they stared at the unconscious man in front of them.

“Let’s go home.” Jehan mused. “Looks like we’ll be having a busy night.”

Rose only nodded, her gaze lingering longer on the man while Saewin moved to mount her horse, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach as she spotted a cross around his neck. Faintly, her fingers brushed against her own and a prayer was sent out silently, Rose praying that her way to Hell was as painless as possible before she finally made her way to her horse.

next chapter | masterlist

#osferth x original character #osferth x oc #osferth fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom x original character #the last kingdom x oc #enjoy this you deprived ewan mitchell fans #tlk osferth x oc #tlk osferth x original character #tlk x oc #tlk x original character

[smollangrycat]

Liv Of Bebbanburg

Name : Liv of Bebbanburg / Liv the Savage

age : 17 (Current)

Parents : Uhtred/Gisela

✨likes✨

warm fires, cozy beds Lightning (Thinks it’s pretty) Cooking joking Around with friends and family

✨Dislikes/Fears✨

Archers Big bodies of water ie, lakes (She can’t swim) Nuns (They scare her) childbirth (Her mother died birthing her brother)

“Liv is fiercely protective of those she loves and won’t let anything get in the way of there safety or happiness but that said she is always there to lend a helping hand and tries to make everyone smile.” -Uhtred

#tlk uhtred #uhtred of bebbanburg #uhtred x finan #ocs #daughter oc #original character #finan the last kingdom #the last kingdom #osferth #finan

[psycheflame]

Aemond Targaryen Fanfics

(GIFs not mine)

- I've been reading way too many fanfics about Aemond lately, so here is a list to all the fics I’ve read here on tumblr and ao3. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Some fics listed have dark themes.

✦ - smut

♡ - personal fav

Aemond x Reader (one shot)

Cherry (modern au) by slayhousehightower | ♡ ✦

The Missing Piece by heartysworld

Your beauty never scared me by heartysworld

Just like you by heartysworld

The Northener who tamed the dragon by heartysworld | ♡

A woman’s power by heartysworld | ♡ ✦ (?)

Strong Words by osferth

The Sweetest Betrayal by ladyviserra

Pretty Thing by aemondtargaryenswhore

Sleepily in love by thestoryden

A family divided by osferth

Family Dinner by afro-hispwriter | ✦

The Next Morning by thestoryden

Jealous Tendency by aemondtargaryenswhore

Old World Blues by tinfairies

Act Fool by cullenswife | ♡

Amusement by theficthatwaspromised | ♡

You Belong To Me by mybeautifuldelirium

To Have and To Hold by lilibethwrites | ♡ ✦

I like me better when I’m with you (modern au) by humongouscatfan | ♡

A Precious Language by aemonds-wifey | ♡

Multi-chaptered fics

Blood of the Dragon by jmjoneswriter | ♡

That one-eyed bastard by cullenswife

Savior by thestoryden

The Wildflower from The East by mybeautifuldelirium

Little Secrets by qarl-grimes

Living with the Green (modern au) by syzrina

Striving by mllemarianne

Aemond x original character

Blood of the Dragon - alternate scene by shootingthroughthemoon

Aemons x reader x other HOTD characters

Not a one time thing (Aemond + reader + Jace) by justanotherkpopstanlol | ✦

Headcanon/Imagine

Aemond with a shy s/o by cullenswife | ♡

Modern University AU by stargirlstudio | ♡

Feel free to send me a message on my ask if you want a fanfic that isn’t on this list to be added so everyone can check it out. Sharing is caring, folks!

#I’m adding more don’t worry! #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #house of the dragon hbo #aemond x reader #hotd fanfics #aemond targaryen x reader

[humanpurposes]

From Eden

Chapter 1: Little Novice

Danes attack Wincombe Abbey and a young novice crosses paths with a group of mercenaries and their Baby Monk // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Osferth x Original Female Character

Warnings: bit of violence and death, suggestive themes if you squint, there will eventually be smut

Words: 4000

A/n: not me starting another series oops but i can't resist the baby monk

Today saw the first snowfall of the year. A few flakes landed on Bridget’s sleeves as she sauntered past the hard and frosted soil of the vegetable garden, past the pigsty and towards the stream that circled Wincombe Abbey. She swung an empty pitcher back and forth as she hummed the least melancholy hymn she could think of.

They had guests currently. Lady Aethelflaed of Mercia had arrived two days ago, bringing with her a group of guards who were camping at outside the Abbey. Bridget had been tempted to walk past the men on her errand, but the Abbess was already in a foul mood and she didn’t fancy testing her temper. Not unless it was for something interesting.

She had spent her morning as she always did. Prayers first. Her knees were never not bruised by the flagstone floor of the chapel, but with winter settling in they were numb too. Then she saw to the goats and the pigs. Then she helped in the kitchen. Finally, she got to eat in the hall with her Sisters. Bread with some winter preserves and slices of cured ham.

When she got to the stream, she placed the pitcher by her feet. With a final glance over her shoulder to the solitary stone building of the Abbey, she hopped across the water on a sparse path of rocks and made for the line of trees ahead of her.

The woods were the only place she felt like a living person and not simply a novice in a habit.

Bridget couldn’t stand how quiet life the Abbey could be. The Abbess, a stern but fair woman, told her it was because she was restless and unappreciative, but perhaps she was simply not well suited to mindfulness and prayer. Sometimes she could find things to laugh about with the younger girls, but then the Abbess would scold her for her “impiety”.

Once she was amongst the trees she tugged at her habit. In the summer she might take it off, but it offered some extra warmth in the colder months.

Her preferred weapon was where she left it, leaning against the trunk of a young oak tree. A broken bit of a branch, small enough for her to wield and heavy enough to hit against the trees.

She twirled it through her hands, just as her brother used to show her. From the few memories she had, she remembered he could do all sorts of impressive tricks with his sword. He could spin it and slice it through the air in controlled and precise movements.

It had been a decade since she had seen her brother, but she tried to keep his teachings with her, swinging branches at tree trunks, imagining she was a great warrior, like David slaying Goliath. Technically David had slayed Goliath with a rock and a sling, a detail the Abbess insisted was important. Bridget could invent a thousand reasons why, but she didn’t care to.

Especially when she was younger, she liked to imagine herself as a warrior when she was tasked with cutting wood or slaughtering and butchering the pigs. They were both hard work, but she was always willing to do it, if only to have an excuse to be destructive for once. She found it could be quite cathartic.

After a particularly harsh blow against a tree that cracked the branch almost in two, she froze. She heard horses. She hoped they would move on, but she made out a few figures in the distance, figures who appeared to have spotted her and were moving closer.

She dropped the branch and fixed her habit, to find a lock of her hair hovering over her forehead. She tucked it back in as the faces of the riders came into view.

There were five who rode at the front, four men and a woman with pale, blonde hair and strange markings on her face. A larger group, no more than twenty, hung back a little.

“A nun,” one of the men called. He rode in front of the group, their leader, she supposed.

“There we are then, you’ll feel right at home, Baby Monk,” another said. He had a gruff voice and an Irish accent. One of the other men laughed. The woman didn’t react at all.

“Is the Abbey nearby?” The leader asked.

Bridget frowned. He had an accent she could not place. “You are Danish?” She looked amongst the rest of their group, and they each seemed to find her accusation amusing.

“What is my religion to you, girl?”

“I would like to know if you would seek to do us harm.”

He raised a brow. “And you believe the best measure of a man to be the gods he follows?”

“I believe the best measure of a man is his intentions,” she said, meeting his eye and determined to keep her expression stoic.

But apparently he was pleased with her response. “You and I are similar in this respect,” he said, loosening the grip of his reins. “We seek the Lady Aethelflaed.”

“Would you seek to do her harm?”

“Only the good kind,” the Irishman mumbled with a smirk.

The leader rolled his eyes. “She and I are friends. I have come to offer her my protection.”

Bridget looked into the eyes of each of their group, the leader, the Irishman, the one who from his hair also looked to be a Dane, and the younger man riding at the back of the group. The woman had an unsettling gaze, she was the only one Bridget felt she felt compelled to look away from. The Abbess would call the markings on her face the markings of a heathen.

“There is a bridge over the stream,” she said, pointing through the trees. “Cross there. There will be room for your horses in the stables.”

She watched the men move away, each of them offering thankful smiles. She concealed her own, and headed back the way she came, across the stream and to the abbey with the empty pitcher.

Lady Aethelflaed welcomed them warmly and named their leader as Lord Uhtred. After it was agreed that they were decidedly not Danes (not the kind who would attack an Abbey anyhow), they settled in the hall, where Bridget and the nuns brought them bowls of stew and bread.

She expected them to eat like the Mercian guards, wolfing down bread and stew like they hadn’t seen food in days, but Lord Uhtred and his men thanked her graciously as she placed bowls on the table and went round to ladle out more stew for them.

Until she came to the man sitting at the end of the table, beside Lady Aethelflaed. He was the youngest of the group, with wide blue eyes and a sharp jaw. He kept to himself, slightly hunched over his stew.

She was rather fascinated by his robes and the small silver cross around his neck. If he had a slightly worse haircut he would look like a monk. But that was ridiculous, why would a monk be travelling with a group of mercenaries?

She approached him and waited for him to notice her. He looked up at her a smiled vaguely.

She indicated to the pot she was carrying.

“Please,” he muttered, holding out his bowl.

She dished a few spoonfuls for him and he smiled again, a little wider this time. She smiled back.

She wondered where he might be from, why he served a Dane if he wore a cross, how far their group had travelled and how many tales they might have.

“May I ask your name?” He asked.

She had been so distracted trying to think of something to say that his question took her by surprise.

“Oh… Bridget,” she said. “And you?”

“I am Osferth,” he said. He was very softly spoken, she thought. There was something so gentle and subdued about him.

“Are you a monk, Osferth?” She asked.

He glanced down at the cross hanging from his neck. “I was, I left my order to serve Lord Uhtred.”

“And now you are, what, a mercenary?”

Osferth chuckled to himself and shook his head lightly. “I am not much of a fighter just yet.”

“But you have a sword, and your friends are warriors.”

“I am still learning. In the meantime I can only practice and pray to God for courage and strength.”

She felt a light feeling in her chest she was sure she hadn’t felt in years. That’s what she prayed for too, even when the nuns told her she should be praying for patience and forgiveness.

“How did you—”

“Bridget.” The Abbess called, glaring at her from across the table.

Bridget nodded her head to Osferth, a farewell, she supposed, and headed back to the kitchen. One of the girls followed behind her, with a now empty pitcher of ale.

“The Irishman is handsome,” Bridget whispered into her ear once they were through the doors.

The other girl’s mouth fell open.

“What? Surely it is not a sin to look?”

The next morning, the Abbess ensured Bridget stayed in the kitchen. “So you might not be so easily distracted,” she warned, leaving her to peel and slice an endless amount of vegetables.

The Abbess seemed rather distressed at hosting Lord Uhtred and his men. “Ravenous permanently,” she grumbled, marching in through the kitchen with the remains of their breakfast. “They are eating into our winter stores.”

“So why let them stay?” Bridget muttered, dragging the edge of her knife over the skin of a few carrots.

“Because it is our place to show kindness,” the Abbess insisted through her teeth. She emptied the plate into a bucket by Bridget’s feet. “Take that out to the pigs.”

Bridget made no verbal protest. She placed the knife down and left through a small door that led out to the side of the Abbey, just as she had done the previous day. The skin of her cheeks stung when it met the icy morning air. The snow was heavier today. She blinked a few flakes out of her eyes and marched quickly towards the pigsty.

She made sure to scratch them behind the ears, poor things, left out in the cold.

She made her way around the building, to the front doors of the Abbey, and blinked.

And blinked again.

No, there was defineately an army of Danes lined up on the other side of the bridge.

“Good morning, nun!” One cried from atop a grey horse.

“Who are you?” Bridget demanded, but her voice came out a little more broken than intended.

The man chuckled and nodded to the bridge.

They had three hostages, each with a knife being held to their throats.

But with the order from their leader, the first hostage’s throat was sliced open, his body carelessly left to fall to the floor.

Bridget couldn’t bring herself to scream and choked out a broken sort of gasp.

They made no demands, made no moves towards her, and there was no indication they intended to kill the other two hostages. Not yet.

She slowly stalked towards the doors, unable to keep her eyes away from the danger.

“We will wait!” The man on the horse called, “for Aethelflaed!”

She ran to the kitchen first.

“To the hall!” She cried, moving to shut the windows.

The others all stared at her for a moment.

“Now!”

“What is the meaning of this?” The Abbess asked, bolting the door to the gardens as the others fled the kitchen.

“Danes,” Bridget breathed. She hadn’t realised her lack of breath or the restless feeling creeping under her skin.

The Abbess’s skin turned pale. She placed her hand on Bridget’s shoulder and ushered her towards the hall.

The nuns and novices had raised alarm amongst the men. Half of them were already reaching for their weapons.

Bridget and the Abbess slammed the doors of the hall with an ominous thud.

“What is it?” Lord Uhtred demanded.

“Danes. Outside.”

Every man was on his feet in an instant, and the sound of unsheathed swords rang through the hall.

“How many Danes?” The Irishman asked.

Bridget faltered. She hadn’t thought to count them. “More than twenty. Less than fifty.”

A few men moved towards the doors and the windows, but Lord Uhtred ordered them to hold for the time being.

He turned to Bridget. “Do you know what they want?”

“He asked for Lady Aethelflaed.”

“But they may not know we are here,” he said to his men.

“They know someone is here,” Osferth’s voice came. He was still sat at the table and had not drawn his sword.

“But they have hostages,” Bridget said. “They killed one man and they have two more.”

“We remain inside, and we remain silent,” Uhtred ordered, coming towards Bridget and the Abbess. “They must believe you are unprotected,” he said.

He looked between them for a moment, and turned back to Bridget. “Would you speak with them?”

Her heart must have stopped for a moment. “What?”

“We cannot save the hostages, but you can save the lives of the men and women here.”

“And Aethelflaed,” Osferth added.

“You must deny she is here; convince them you have nothing to offer.”

Her restlessness was starting to feel like fear, but she understood Lord Uhtred’s plan, and she could not say why, but she was inclined to trust him.

Until the Abbess interjected. “No!”

Bridget’s heart sank a little. “Abbess, I can do it—”

“No, child, this is my house. This will be my responsibility.” She turned to Lord Uhtred. “I will do it.”

Bridget followed Uhtred and some of the other men into the entrance hall. She stood by one of the windows, out of sight of the Danes, occasionally stealing glances of the Abbess as she stepped out to attempt a negotiation.

“We know him,” a voice muttered beside her. She looked up to see Osferth’s jaw hovering over her. “His name is Haesten.”

The Abbess made her plea for mercy.

In turn, a second man had his throat slit.

“Deny her presence again and a third man dies. And I will burn down your nunnery, and everyone in it.”

Bridget placed her hand on her throat. She could feel her heart pulsing.

A hand gently came onto her shoulder, but Osferth said nothing. His hands were larger than she realised. It wasn’t exactly calming, but she liked it.

True to the words of the Dane, the third man was slain, and when the Abbess reached for an axe she was met with a spear to her chest.

Bridget flinched into Osferth’s chest, keeping her hands over her eyes.

“Aethelflaed!” Haesten cried. “How many more men and women must die to save your bony arse?”

“To the hall,” Osferth said, taking one of her hands in his.

When she glanced once more out the window, Haesten and his men were moving past the bodies of the hostages and the Abbess, towards the doors.

Bridget, Osferth and Aethelflaed gathered the nuns and novices to the back of the hall, while Uhtred and his men lined up behind the doors with shields, spears and swords.

“Will you not fight?” Bridget asked Osferth.

“I told you, I am not much of a warrior,” he said solemnly, as he and Lady Aethelflaed positioned themselves before the others.

Bridget frowned, but tried to distract herself by whispering assurances to some of the younger girls.

When the doors finally burst open she felt utterly helpless. The fighting was kept by the doors and the entrance hall, while Osferth and Lady Aethelflaed watched with their swords drawn.

And when two of the Danes broke through the line protecting the door, they moved together. Lady Aethelflaed fought better than the monk, she thought.

She watched as a third man fought through, overwhelming Osferth while Aethelflaed was still preoccupied.

Bridget couldn’t stop herself. She darted towards the table and grabbed a knife. She supposed the man could have easily turned to her and lodged his axe in her chest, but he didn’t get a chance to even look at her before she rammed the knife into his neck, sending a spray of blood through the air.

The rest of the room was a haze. Something warm and wet landed on and dripped down her cheek.

Suddenly she felt two hands against her shoulders. She blinked.

Osferth’s blue eyes were glaring at her. “That was foolish,” he said.

Three men lay dead on the floor. Swords continued to clash in the entrance hall but Haesten and his men were retreating.

Osferth and Aethelflaed moved out to join Uhtred, while some of the nuns came to wipe the blood from Bridget’s face.

She told them of the Danes and the Abbess’ death. Some of the girls cried, some prayed. She came to clutch her own cross around her neck. But her hands would not stop shaking and her heart would not rest.

She killed a man. Really, it hadn’t been much harder than slaughtering a pig, but at least it felt a little more justified.

If the Abbess were not dead, she would have screamed at her, told her she was ungodly, no better than a cold-blooded murderer, or any of the Danes who ravaged villages and stole from innocent Mercians.

They stayed huddled in the hall until dusk, when Lord Uhtred seemed to finally come to a resolution.

The woman with the markings on her face, Skade, was a seer, and Haesten agreed to take her in Aethelflaed’s place.

Bridget watched the exchange from the doors to the main hall, and a shiver slipped down her spine when Skade turned to Uhtred with a dark look in her eyes.

“You are cursed once more, Uhtred of Bebbanburg.”

Bridget had hardly slept that night. She lay eyes closed, still in her robes and the white headscarf she wore under her habit, listening to the gentle snores of the girls in the beds around her and aware of the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

The moment she heard the first whistle of birdsong at dawn, she was up. She pulled on a pair of boots and looked around her bed. But it occurred to her she owned nothing, save for her little silver cross.

She hurried through the abbey, past the open doors of the hall, now empty.

The men were outside, securing their saddles and mounting their horses.

She spotted Lord Uhtred as he was helping Lady Aethelflaed pack her own mount.

Osferth was by his horse, talking to the Irishman.

“Lord Uhtred!” Bridget called over the noise of the horses.

He turned to her with a small smile. “Fear not, we have not emptied your food stores—”

“I want to come with you,” she said.

She had the attention of the others now.

Uhtred chuckled to himself. “I already have a stray monk, I have no need for a little novice.”

Bridget’s skin still felt strange where it had been stained with blood. “I fought better than him.”

“Not a particularly high standard,” the Irishman joked. Osferth’s head sunk, but he was smirking too.

“So you killed one man and now you offer yourself as a warrior?” Uhtred asked.

Her breath caught in her throat as she finally realised the ridiculousness of her proposition. She could swing a branch, cut firewood and bury a knife into an unsuspecting man, but that would hardly help her in a true battle.

“With practice, perhaps?” She said, pressing her nails into her palm. “But I have some skills as a healer also. I’ve assisted the Abbess with all sorts of ailments, no doubt you encounter your fair share of injuries?”

“She’s got spirit, Uhtred, at least give her that,” Aethelflaed said.

“Please,” Bridget said, “give me the chance and I will prove myself to you.”

They each shared a few pointed glances.

“I admire your determination, but I cannot bring a girl onto the battlefield against armies of Danes. I cannot guarantee your protection and I cannot even offer you a horse.”

“Lord? She can ride with me,” Osferth said quietly. “With your permission of course. I can look out her.”

Uhtred raised his eyebrows. “Very well.”

Bridget felt herself smile, wide and showing off her top row of teeth. It felt uncomfortable but she didn’t try to stop herself.

The others were already starting to move off as she approached Osferth as he stroked the nose of his horse.

“Have you ridden before?” He asked.

“No.”

“You’ll sit behind me; I’ll help you up.”

Bridget nodded.

She watched as he placed his left foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over to the other side. “Easy,” he insisted, holding out his hand to her. “Don’t be afraid to use your strength.”

She followed his movements as best she could, but her skirt wouldn’t allow her to bring her leg to the other side of the saddle. She fell back onto her feet with a disgruntled huff.

“Other foot then, and slot both legs onto one side of the saddle.” He held out his hand again. “Ready?”

“Wait.” Bridget looked back to the space around her. The stream, the woods, the doors to the place that had never really felt like home. She reached for her headscarf and pulled it off her head, letting it fall to the ground. She didn’t suppose she would have any use for it now. Her hair fell down her back in a messy braid.

She looked back up at Osferth, between his hand, his eyes, and briefly to the curve of his upper lip. She held his hand tightly and hauled herself up onto the horse, her arms and legs trembling slightly at the effort.

Once the horse was settled Osferth gave it a gentle kick and they began to move. Bridget latched onto his shoulders as they began to sway with the movement.

“What if I fall off?” She asked, suddenly horrified at the prospect.

“You won’t fall off,” Osferth said, “use your thighs.”

“What?”

“Grip with your thighs,” he said.

She did so instinctively. Something about it felt… strange.

They cantered to catch up with the group and Bridget gripped Osferth’s shoulders a little tighter. Until he took one of her hands and placed it on his waist, so she wouldn’t impede on his arms. She muttered an apology and unsurely placed her other hand around him.

A few days ago she hadn’t so much as spoken to a man in years, except an incident where a nearby farmer had broken his leg, and even then she only wordlessly assisted the Abbess to bandage his limb.

Now she had her arms around a man’s torso, close enough to feel his warmth from under his winter cloak as her body rocked against his back.

“You’re frozen,” Osferth said, briefly brushing his thumb over her hand.

“It’s winter.”

“Did you not have anything warmer to wear?”

“We don’t attach ourselves to material items,” she said in a mockingly wistful voice.

He huffed a small laugh and pulled the horse to a stop before swinging his leg around the its head, landing on the ground in one smooth movement.

He undid the clasp on his cloak and held it up to her.

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her shoulders, “but I don’t want you to get cold.”

He mounted again, a little awkwardly with Bridget already in the saddle. “Hold it around me. We can keep each other warm.”

She shuffled closer into him. Osferth brought one hand off the reins and pulled the corner of the cloak around his arm as Bridget settled against his back, resting her head at the base of his neck.

Thank God he couldn’t see her as her cheeks started to burn against the cold and the snow.

#my fics #osferth x reader #osferth fanfiction #osferth fanfic #osferth smut #the last kingdom #tlk #seven kings must die #baby monk #osferth x oc #osferth x y/n #osferth x ofc #ewan mitchell

[queers-gambit]

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Now and at the Hour of His Death

any who say, "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," were never loved by him.

pairing: Osferth x female!pregnant!wife!reader

word count: 6.1k+

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[foxyanon]

The Vampiress and The Dane: Part 2

Summary: The long awaited part 2, this went wildly different than what I had originally intended but I am happy with what came out.

Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Corvina

Word Count: 4117

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

TW: Older woman/younger man dynamic, monsterfucking, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, blood sucking, blood play, no beta we die like Wihtger

Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Last Kingdom nor do I own any of the images used.

Dividers by @arcielee and @saradika-graphics

When Sihtric found his way back to his friends, they immediately noticed his sour mood and decided to press him about it, his temper be damned. All of them had seen the way he practically sprinted off the battlefield with an injured Corvina in his arms, but they didn’t know what happened after. He really wasn’t in the mood for them, but Uhtred gave him that stare and Sihtric knew he was about to hear it from them.

“How is she?” Uhtred asked simply, deciding to ease into the dressing down that was for sure headed Sihtric’s way from the three of them.

Sihtric clenched his jaw and breathed heavily through his nose before responding tersely. “She will live, as you well know. It was just a silver dagger, nothing she hasn’t dealt with before. Damn hunters must have slipped in with the rest of Wihtger’s men. Thankfully it was just the two on the field and both are dead now.”

Osferth, the former baby monk turned lordling, looked between all present before looking back at Uhtred and speaking. “You don’t think any of those hunters made their way into our ranks, do you, Lord? Corvina isn’t going to be threatened while she remains here, is she?”

Sihtric knew Osferth had a soft spot for Corvina, especially after she helped defend Rumcofa from Aethelhelm’s men which ultimately prevented his death. While he hadn’t been there personally, Uhtred later told them that she had her people scouting the lands after hearing some very concerning rumors from some powerful people. It was sheer luck she happened to be in the area when the attack happened, quickly eliminating Bresal and the others. Sihtric remembered when they met back up with Finan and Osferth later, the two telling them that she had dispatched a clean up crew and was following another lead. Not long afterwards, Aethelhelm was delivered, bound and gagged to Uhtred’s camp by her most trusted captain, a big surly man named Leonidas, a former king of Sparta. Apparently, Aethelhelm was wanted for the death of his own daughter and King Edward's second wife, Queen Aelflaed. Justice was served quickly that day.

“No, but we should do a sweep of the camp. Check for any new faces and keep an eye out for those little amulets the hunters wear,” Uhtred said, before looking back at Sihtric. “As for you, what is with this look? What happened between you two?”

Sihtric looked at the ground and sighed heavily, knowing this was inevitable. He looked back up into the waiting men’s faces before admitting what he did both just now and last night. He spoke the truth, fully accepting responsibility for the hurtful things he said to Corvina. When he finished speaking, the silence was almost too much for him, the sudden urge to crawl out of his skin becoming more tempting as the seconds ticked by. Finan broke it first thankfully, because Uhtred looked downright livid and even Osferth had a disappointed look on his face.

“You are one foolish man. Vina is a good and kind lady, a bloody Queen amongst her people, and yet you can’tu even get yer head out of yer arse long enough to even thank her!” Finan threw his hands up and muttered under his breath in Gaelic, likely cursing Sihtric for being an idiot.

Uhtred took a deep breath before speaking, anger and disappointment etched onto his features. “Sihtric, we have been friends for a long time now. You have been a loyal friend to me, but today you have shamed me. Corvina has been my friend since I was a young man, has been our friend for many years. She has sheltered and aided us, never asking for anything but our company in return and yet you have treated her worse than she ever deserved. All for what, your inability to accept who she is?”

That stung, but it was warranted. Sihtric had behaved abhorrently, and had been on and off with his feelings surrounding Corvina for far too long. Frankly, he wouldn’t blame her if she never spoke to him again. He looked back at his feet, feeling like a chastised boy again in front of his friends. Uhtred sighed heavily before running a hand down his face and speaking again.

“We will discuss this later, Sihtric. For now, we need to check the camp for potential hunters and actually get into the castle. This is a time for celebration for our victory, I intend to enjoy it,” Uhtred says with a nod before turning and walking away, barking orders at some of his men to sweep the battlefield one last time.

Sihtric inhales slowly before turning to Finan and Osferth, both men shaking their head but slapping him on the back before they too leave. It was clear on Sihtric’s face that he already felt like shit and they weren't going to pile on any further. At least, not right now.

After officially confirming Wihtger’s death with a hasty burial and actually getting into the castle for Uhtred to fully reclaim his ancestral home, night had fallen and the celebrations were in full swing. It wasn’t a grand feast, since those take more time to prepare than they had and Uhtred knew Northumbria was already dealing with the aftermath of the battle and Wihtger’s devastating rule. Corvina had already promised aid to ease the transition, saying she would reach out to her family around the world to get trade started back up in the land. Thankfully, the battle occurred before King Constantin was planned to arrive which meant that Uhtred had time to figure out how to deal with the Scots and ultimately King Edward before claims to land caused further tension.

Uhtred had given a speech on the steps leading into the castle, giving thanks to everyone for their support and encouragement to make this happen. He made sure he raised a mug to Corvina, thanking her for her unwavering support and belief in him over the years, cracking a joke about how he wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t saved his ass from some rogue werewolf that nearly got him when he was younger and more handsome. She laughed and raised her goblet of wine in response, accepting his kind words with a simple nod of her head before everyone went to eating, drinking and telling stories of the years past.

As the night wore on, Sihtric saw Corvina standing off to the side of the great hall, her wine in hand while she spoke with Aethelstan and Young Uhtred, both boys likely asking her about her long and colorful past. He took that moment to really look at her, noticing the way she traded her armor for a black dress with red angel wing sleeves, the beading on the sleeves and neckline more elaborate than anything he’s ever seen before. Her hair was freed of its braid and hanging loose, the kinks from the braid causing her brown locks to tumble down her back and shoulders in uneven waves. Sihtric takes note of how beautiful she looks tonight, her pale face radiant and her crimson eyes alight with joy, despite the darkness that lies within her. It occurs to him that perhaps this is what true beauty looks like – a combination of light and shadows, both equally important in creating a stunning whole.

How could he have ever doubted his feelings for her? How foolish has he been to allow fear and prejudice to keep him chained away from her side? He prays to any god that will listen that she will forgive him, that she might let him spend whatever time he has left in this life making it up to her. He is a proud man and would never do degrading things for anyone, but for her? He will beg and grovel to the ends of the earth for just a glimpse of her smile. That revelation brought with it the realization that he was deeply and truly in love with her.

Almost as if she read his mind, her eyes found his across the room and suddenly all the air left his lungs. He grips the mug in his hand a little tighter before looking away after a moment, taking a long swig of ale to calm his nerves. He wasn’t sure what to make of this discovery, part of him elated to have finally put a name on the feelings he’s had for so long and the other reeling from the idea that he loved a creature of the night. Then the guilt for his harsh words and unnecessary behavior towards her came back and he swallowed down more ale to wash the horrible taste of regret out of his mouth.

After taking a few steadying breaths, he looked over to where she had been standing and found Corvina was no longer there. His eyes scanned the room searching for her, confusion setting in when he couldn’t find her.

”She is out on the ramparts,” the calm voice of Young Uhtred came from beside Sihtric, startling him momentarily before he looked over at the boy. There was kindness in his eyes, the young bishop giving him an encouraging smile as if to let the warrior know that everything would be alright. No more words needed to be said, and Sihtric gave him a quick nod before weaving through the crowd, making his way towards the door that led outside as he left his empty mug on a passing table.

He found Corvina standing along the wall overlooking the sea, the sounds of the waves crashing into the rocks below a soothing melody. The wind blew gently, causing the few torches to flicker wildly as they cast a warm glow on her pale skin and her hair to blow around her shoulders. He walked up beside her, casting a quick glance at her beautiful face before looking out to sea. He struggled to find the words to start, fidgeting with his fingers and the weapons at his side before Corvina blissfully spoke first.

”It had been some time since I smelled pure joy permeating a room like tonight, as deceit and jealousy oft make homes in the people at feasts like this. As much as I missed it, I did not feel in the mood to celebrate with the others,” her voice was clear, but there was a hint of sorrow lacing her words.

Sihtric leaned forward and gripped the wooden posts of the outer wall tightly between his hands, taking a deep breath and speaking in a low voice. “I wanted to say-“

”Save your breath, Sihtric. I have no interest in anything you have to say at all,” she cut him off, giving him a hard stare.

Anger flared up beneath his skin, causing him to snap back at her. “Will you let me say my piece before you write me off for good? I am trying to apologize to you,” Sihtric ground out, facing her and clenching his hands tightly to rein in his emotions.

Corvina scoffed at him, her arms crossed across her chest as she glared at him. “Why should I even believe you, let alone hear you out? You made your feelings about me quite clear and I see no reason to continue with this conversation,” she poked his chest harshly, driving home her point.

”You know nothing about my feelings, Corvina, so do not pretend you do,” he growled down at her, his nostrils flaring as anger and desire war within him. She’s standing just a foot away, the faint scent of blood on her mouth mingling with the salty sea air.

“Enlighten me then, because clearly you cannot show emotion in any reasonable way,” Corvina snarled, fury dancing in her red eyes as she met his glare unflinchingly.

”You drive me to madness, woman! I do not know what it is about you that draws me in and causes me to lose all reason. It is like…every time you are near I cannot think straight and when you are gone, I cannot breathe. I am-“ he stopped abruptly, catching himself before he confessed his feelings but she wasn’t having any of that.

”Say it,” she challenged.

Sihtric took a breath and looked away briefly, his shoulders drooping slightly as he whispered. “I am in love with you, Corvina.”

”And there it is, the crux of the issue. You love me and it irks you, does it not?” she asked angrily, refusing to back down from this confrontation.

“Yes! Because I wanted a wife and family-“ he starts but she cuts him off again.

”You had that with Sidgeflaed before the divorce,” Corvina said incredulously and threw her hands up, aggravated with the Dane. “By the gods-“

”She was not you!” He shouted at her, breathing heavy as the air between them tensed further. He continued when she blinked up at him, a little taken back. “Sidgeflaed was not you, Corvina. I wanted it all, but I wanted it with you,” he reached out to brush a flyaway out of her face but stopped himself, his hand falling back to his side.

There was a beat of silence before Corvina spoke again, this time much quieter. ”Sihtric, you know that…” she trailed off, not needing to say that she couldn’t have given him that. Marriage, yes, but children? That could never be, despite her wanting it at one time many years ago. A drawback of vampirism was being barren, even if it pained her to admit it.

He sighed, looking back out towards the black ocean as he spoke softly. “I know. I know and it kills me inside, because I wanted to know the feeling of waking upside beside you in the morning and seeing the sun play off your hair as we walked along the river. I wanted to live a bright life with you, but you are cursed to live yours in the dark,” he turns back to her, regret clear in his eyes. “I am truly sorry, Corvina. I know my apology is not nearly enough to make up for everything I have said and done over the years, but it is genuine.”

”I do not view my existence as cursed, you know. How could I? I have lived a long time, yes, but I have truly lived. I have loved and lost, learned and seen fascinating things. I have had the pleasure of watching humanity change and evolve from primitive to modern. You see my lack of mortality as a curse, I see it as a blessing, and I wish you would see it that way too,” she spoke softly, looking directly into his eyes as she silently willed him to listen for once.

After watching him grapple with her words quietly, she licked her lips, running her hands along the front of her skirts as she collected the rest of her thoughts. There was always the suspicion that Sihtric’s feeling ran deeper than fleeting lust, that scent having lingered on his skin in the past clueing her into his unspoken thoughts, but to hear him admit it? That was something else entirely. In truth, she had wanted him in some selfish way, finding him to be a fascinating man with an intoxicating scent. Corvina wasn’t one to usually feel envy, but the day she learned he married his ex-wife, the bitter taste in her mouth had been overwhelming. Everything after just seemed to confuse her further, his hot and cold mentality giving her whiplash. No better time than now to set it right, life was a fleeting thing after all.

Looking back at him with a perplexed expression, she asked the question that came to mind. “I have to ask, why did you never tell me, Sihtric? I had always suspected, but humans are so…contradictory with their own emotions and you never really know what one’s intentions are.”

Sihtric chuckled and shook his head, his voice coming out amused. “Like you said, I cannot show emotion in any reasonable way. And just between us, I was scared. These feelings…they are so intense and I did not know how to handle it, gods I still do not. I meant it when I said you drive me to madness, because there is no other word to describe the all-encompassing feeling of being when I am with you. This does not excuse my behavior, and I should have done better for you. If you give me a chance, I will beg for your forgiveness and spend every night I have left making it up to you.”

A half-grin and a giggle was the response he received from Corvina before she started walking back towards the castle and called out over her shoulder. “Well then, let’s see how pretty you beg, warrior,” she laughed, the sound causing the hairs on Sihtric’s arms to stand on end. He followed after her quickly, his mind running wild with less than innocent thoughts and the memory of their heavy conversation floating to the back of his mind.

He thought she was beautiful before, but he knew with certainty that she was beyond magnificent now. The moment they made it to her room, she made him actually get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness for quite a long while. As embarrassing as it was at first, Sihtric found himself doing it all almost without hesitation for that pretty smile she gave him. His reward for his act? Fulfilling one fantasy he had wanted for so long. She let him taste her.

At first, her skin was cold and caused his own to tingle wherever they made contact, but he soon started to crave that cool feeling as he heated up, his lips placing reverent kisses along her inner thighs as he pushed her dress up to her hips and exposed her core to his gaze. His mouth literally watered and he had to take several breaks to calm down, wanting to savor this moment as long as he could. The moment his lips made contact with her folds, he audibly groaned at the slightly sweet taste and buried his face further between her thighs. His large hands gripped her legs, placing them over his shoulders as he feasted on her, spurred on by the sounds she made and the way her fingers scratched at his scalp as she pulled his dark hair. He refused to let her squirm away, shifting one arm over her hips and sliding two fingers inside, searching for that sweet spot that had her back arching off the bed and hissing in pleasure.

He nearly finished in his trousers when Corvina came on his tongue, the lewd sounds of his mouth on her while he brought her down causing him to twitch uncomfortably against the leather. Sihtric whined when she pushed his head away from her, but before he could protest, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him with such ferocity that his complaints died on his tongue as she swallowed it. Nothing about it was gentle, the tips of her fangs scraping along his lower lip and their teeth clashing against the others. Hands pulled at laces and straps, their clothes and his weapons finding new homes on the floor as everything was spoken in actions rather than words. He shivered again, both from the air in the room and the feel of her skin against his.

Corvina laid back on the bed and he wasted no time crawling over her, kissing up her pale body and paying special attention to the scars that told her story haphazardly across her skin. Hooking her leg over his hip, he lined up with her entrance and pressed forward slowly, groaning at the way she took him as if she was always meant to. His mismatched eyes locked on her crimson ones, his hips moving slowly and deeply at first as he pulled the most beautiful noises from the vampire beneath him. Muttered praises fell from her lips, her hands cupping his face tenderly before she whispered against his lips to go faster. He complied readily, the guttural groan Corvina made echoing off the stone walls of her chambers. He felt her nails digging into the skin of his back harshly, but the pain was nothing compared to the feeling of seeing her start to lose control.

With a wicked grin and insane strength, she flipped the both of them over, Sihtric letting out a soft gasp as his back was suddenly against the mattress and she looked down at him with the most enticing expression he’d ever seen on her face. The change in position had him deeper than before and she moaned loudly as she rode him hard and fast, the two of them rapidly approaching their climaxes as their hips snapped against each other, finding a rhythm as Sihtric’s hands grasped at her hips and sides. Without missing a beat, Corvina leaned forward and kissed his pulse point, a silent request to let her bite him as her hand came up to cradle the back of his head tenderly, a stark contrast to the rough way they took the other. He breathed his consent in her ear and leaned his head back against the bed to give her better access, the responding rumble that escaped her throat vibrating through his entire being deliciously.

When her teeth pierced her skin, Sihtric swore he blacked out from the intensity of the feelings. Pain at first, then pleasure he had never before experienced flooded his veins and he came violently, his body shaking and twitching as she held him down to prevent wasting his life force. She moaned at the addicting taste, following after him into ecstasy and her walls clamping down on him as the warmth of his spend filled her womb. She released his neck with a wet pop after one final swallow, running her tongue along the wound to clean up the thin line of blood that trickled free. As she started to sit back, Sihtric reached up with a trembling hand to cup her cheek, his eyes following the movement of her tongue along her lips to grab any lingering blood around her mouth. He spotted a bit she missed on the corner of her mouth and he pulled her down to him, his tongue darting out as he licked it clean, the metallic taste of his own blood causing both their pupils to dilate at the act. A breath passed before their lips clashed again, causing desire to burn hot once again.

They laid in bed some time later, having had their fill of each other for the moment. Corvina was pressed against Sihtric’s side, the coolness of her skin something he found soothing now that the initial shock had subsided. His fingers danced along her side, her head resting on his chest as her arm was draped across his waist. Their breathing had long since settled, the post coital bliss having yet to release them from its hold. His mind wandered with questions of what if and what next, his mouth refusing to let him break the intimate silence first.

”I can hear you thinking, you know. Speak your mind,” Corvina asked in an amused tone.

”Where do we go from here? What does this make us?” He met her questions with his own, looking down at her as she turned her head to look up at him. Fear of her rejection came crawling back into his mind, the need to know the answer holding him in place.

”What do you want this to be?” She responded, resting her chin on his chest as she gave him a small smile. She was willing to move past all the anger from the past, knowing that he was a man of his word and he would make it up to her. Besides, he was not the worst man she had ever dealt with, Sihtric was a far cry better than egotistical Julius.

He took a deep breath, mulling over her question before landing on an answer. “I want us to be together, but could we maybe…start over? No lingering animosity, just two people wanting to be?”

Corvina sat up and smiled down at him, offering her hand and speaking in a sweet voice. “My name is Corvina. What is your name, warrior?”

He chuckled and kissed the back of her hand, his lips lingering against her pale skin. “I am called Sihtric,” he responded in his low voice, feeling the start of something new take root in his mind.

Tag List: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @valeskafics @mrsarnasdelicious @bouncehousedemons @gemini-mama @whitedarkmoonflower @synintheraven @zaldritzosrose @alexagirlie @fallingintoyourlilaceyes

#sihtric kjartansson #Sihtric x vampire!OC #sihtric #vampire!oc

[dedicatednotobsessed]

alright, I was wondering if could maybe do an ewan x fem!reader where reader is a fairly new actress but some of her roles have garnered massive attention. she and ewan star in a movie together and soon fall for eachother on set. it's really sweet and nice and they just absolutely adore eachother. please?

(side note: loving the tom glynn carney fic so far, so good!)

Of course you may! 🥰🥰 I hope you enjoy!! 💚💚 If you ever have any future requests, my inbox is always open 😌

Star Crossed Lovers [Ewan Mitchell x Fem!Reader One shot]

Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: You are an up and coming actress, already becoming popular through some major roles. You have gained a recent role in an upcoming movie, your costar being Ewan Mitchell, another up and coming English actor. Throughout your time filming, the two of you becoming closer and possibly something more….

You pushed your sunglasses on the top of your head while walking onto the set of your latest project, a romance film. You may have been a little late because you slept in and you also decided coffee was more of a priority than showing up on time. It was only about ten minutes so you believed it wasn’t a big deal.

You were a big and upcoming actress in England, already having a few roles under your belt that caused your stardom to rise. You were young and beautiful, your manager stating that those two features combined with your talent, you were going places.

“There you are!”

You turned hearing a voice and smiled wide seeing the director. “Hey, Robert!” You greeted, waving.

As he walked closer, a chuckle leaving his lips seeing the coffee in your other hand. “Was the traffic bad?”

“Oh, so bad,” You joked walking closer with a smile. “But I am sorry, I will be on time tomorrow.”

“You better be,” Robert said chuckling and began to walk with you. “At least your costar was nice enough to be on time.”

“Oh, you mean Ewan?”

“The only other costar you have.”

You giggled at the attitude he gave as he led you to a building where you would be doing a quick table read. Your costar was another up and coming young actor by the name of Ewan Mitchell. He was mainly known right now for his big role on the show, The Last Kingdom. You watched it and thought his character, Osferth was the sweetest one ever.

You walked in and smiled seeing the brunette boy turn to you. “It’s about time,” He teased laughing. “Where’s my coffee?”

You smirked and shrugged. “You didn’t ask,” You replied with a small smirk and walked closer, setting your cup down before giving him a tight hug. “It is so good to see you again.”

Ewan smiled, returning your hug. “You too, love.”

Robert clapped his hands together when you released the hug. “So, as the two of you know this is supposed to be a six month long project. Possibly seven.”

You nodded as Robert continued to explain what he wanted the next six months to entail, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Now, your chemistry test was the best, but the best way to be a convincing couple is to get closer,” Robert began to explain. “How about you take a pretty lady out to dinner, Ewan?”

Ewan chuckled a bit and smiled. “I mean, I would love to, but my mum isn’t here.”

You gasped and smiled up at Ewan when he gave you a cheeky smile. “Does seven work for you?” You asked softly.

Ewan nodded a bit. “Seven works perfect, love.”

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You looked in the mirror, fixing your hair a bit. Ewan had texted you to wear something casual and that is exactly what you were planning on doing. You only really dressed up for premieres and interviews. For your original screen test, you wore a plain t-shirt and yoga pants with minimal makeup.

You hummed lightly to the music blasting through your phone, fixing your eye makeup quickly before walking out. You lived in a small two bedroom apartment with one and a half beds. It wasn’t too big but it was perfect for you. You did imagine having a family soon enough, but first you needed a boyfriend. Your mother always said you should get married before having a child, but you needed a boyfriend in order to get married.

You looked down, hearing your phone go off and smiled seeing Ewan’s name come on the screen.

“I can’t really find your flat,” Ewan spoke on the other side.

“First off,” You began with furrowed brows sitting on the couch after grabbing your favorite pair of boots. “Are you on the phone while driving? That is dangerous, sir.”

“No,” Ewan replied laughing. “I’m pulled off to the side, but I’m wondering where your flat is.”

“How can you not find it? I sent you the address.”

“So hostile,” Ewan said jokingly.

“How about we just meet at the restaurant?” You suggested giggling, putting your phone on speaker so you could put your shoes on.

“Now that is not very gentleman like,” Ewan replied with a smirk. He glanced at his phone looking over his maps and furrowed his brows. “Wait, I think I found it. I’ll be there soon.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your lips. “Okay, Ewan.”

About fifteen minutes have passed since Ewan’s phone call before you heard a knock at your door. You opened it and smiled wide at the sight of your costar.

“It really took you that long to find my place?” You questioned with a raised brow.

“Yes!” Ewan exclaimed. “It was so damn confusing,” He said chuckling while running a hand through his hair.

“Well,” You began lightly punching his arm. “I give you a bronze star.”

“What?” He asked, shocked. “Not even a silver?”

“Nope,” You replied with a small smirk while grabbing your purse.

“Rude,” Ewan mumbled but he chuckled, leading you down after you locked the door and opened the passenger door for you.

“Awe such a gentleman,” You said while smiling lightly as you got in. “But you’re still not getting a silver star,” You added with a wink.

The two of you went to a diner not far from your house, sitting across from Ewan. You twirled the straw of your tea, smiling lightly as the two of you just talked.

“So, what made you want to get this role?” He asked after a moment.

You looked up at his blue eyes, smiling softly. “I was interested by the story,” You admitted with a nod. “Something different too from what I normally do,” You added. “What about you?”

“Same for me,” Ewan replied with a nod and a small smile. He took a sip of his water. “I just wanted to try and get more projects, get out there.”

“Well, you are on that show. I love your character by the way,” You said with a wide smile. “Osferth is just the sweetest character ever.”

Ewan laughed a bit. “Well, thank you.” He glanced over you a bit, a small smile on his lips. “I have seen a couple of your projects as well. You’re a wonderful actress.”

“Thank you,” You said with a small smile looking down noticing the way he was looking you over, a small blush creeping onto your cheeks. “It means a lot to me.”

You glanced up when you saw the waitress coming over, setting your cheeseburger and fries down in front of you. You thanked her, watching her leave after a moment and lightly picked at your fries.

“How do you feel about the bedroom scenes?” You asked after a moment.

Ewan shrugged a bit. “I think I’m going to be okay with it,” He replied with a small smile. “It’s easy to do those scenes when your costar is gorgeous,” He said casually.

You laughed at that, your face turning a darker red. “Thank you,” You replied, tilting your head. “I agree with you on that though.”

Ewan chuckled, glancing down at his own food as the two of you went silent while you ate. You noticed the little glances he was giving you causing your heart to flutter a bit. He was really handsome, but you knew he was only flirting with you to get closer, as Robert’s instructions.

Within a month of filming, you and Ewan seemed to have grown extremely close. Other costars have teased the two of you about the little flirting you had going on, yet you still denied any feelings you had for him.

You yawned being on set early, running a hand through your hair. You were there earlier than normal, having promised that you would try to show up on time since you have still showed up late quite a few times.

“Wow, you actually showed up on time,” Ewan teased walking over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes and giggled. “I did sacrifice my coffee of course,” You said with a slight pout.

Ewan snickered at that. “Well, if you go into your trailer, you’d see that someone has gifted you a coffee from your favorite place.”

You furrowed your brows at Ewan. “How did you know—“

“I pay attention,” He replied with a shrug. “I noticed you always got the same coffee from the same shop every day so, I found it and brought you a coffee.”

“Awe, Ewan!” You gushed, walking into your trailer and there sitting on the table was an iced caramel macchiato from your favorite coffee shop in London. “You really are the best fake boyfriend ever.”

Ewan laughed at that. “I try my best,” He said with a smirk, kissing your cheek before letting you go as you headed inside.

You smiled, taking a sip of your coffee while Ewan leaned against the doorway. He had a small smile on his lips as he looked over you, turning away when you caught him.

“You know,” You began, crossing your arms as you fully turned towards your costar. “You’re pretty adorable when you’re nervous,” You teased.

Ewan’s cheeks heated up, chuckling a bit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.”

“Mmm-hmm.” You set your coffee down and walked over, wrapping your arms around his neck, smiling when you met his blue eyes. “You are still adorable, Mr. Mitchell.”

Ewan placed his hands on your waist, looking over you once more. “Well if you insist on me being adorable, I think I know someone who’s more adorable.”

“Oh really now?”

“Yep,” He replied, rubbing your side lightly.

“And who is that?”

Ewan smirked lightly. “I don’t feel like telling you right now.”

You audibly groaned. “I take back my compliment.”

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You blew out a breath, having a plush white robe wrapped around you. You stood beside Ewan, who was wearing a matching robe, while an intimacy instructor went over the scene for the day. There weren’t many intimate scenes, but they still made you nervous.

You nibbled on your lip lightly, a nervous habit you have had since you were a child. You didn’t even realize you were bleeding until you felt something lightly run down your chin.

“Are you alright?” Ewan asked you softly.

You looked up at him, giving him a small smile while furrowing your brows. “Y-yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Ewan reached over, lightly wiping the blood off of your chin. “You gave yourself a bloody lip, love.”

You turned away while wiping at your bottom lip, making sure it was okay. You looked down with a small smile and shook your head. “I’m okay, Ewan. I promise.”

“We can use body doubles if you’re more comfortable with that,” Robert spoke up.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “I’ll be okay.”

“Me too,” Ewan replied, nodding a bit.

Robert nodded a bit before he began instructing how he wanted the scene to start. You reached over, your hand lightly touching Ewan’s before he intertwined his fingers with yours. When he squeezed your hand, it gave you comfort, even when Robert instructed the two of you to take your robes off.

You kept your eyes on Ewan as you slowly untied your robe, him doing the same. The two of you were wearing padding in your most intimate parts for some of your modesty. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as you began to run through the scene, leaning up and kissing him lightly on the lips.

You never really rehearsed the scene with Ewan, Robert having wanting to make it as real as possible between you and your costar. You felt Ewan push you back onto the bed, the camera following every one of your movements, your lips never leaving his.

The scene got heated rather quickly, a small laugh passing your lips when Robert called cut. You quickly covered yourself with the sheet, looking over at Ewan seeing his cheeks heated red.

“What did I say, you guys?” Robert laughed. “The two of you have some real chemistry.”

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“You know, I think you’re supposed to dine a woman out before you decide to fuck her.”

Ewan laughed, his cheeks never really fading from the red color since the bedroom scene. “Well, I never said I was a full on gentleman,” He joked with a wink.

You laughed, looking over him with a soft smile on your face. You tilted your head while furrowing your brows a bit. You were about halfway done with the project and every day, it seemed to be something new between the two of you. The glances and the way he wraps his arms around you to keep you warm. It always made your stomach do somersaults and you were slowly understanding why.

“Is everything okay, love?”

You blinked a bit, Ewan’s voice pulling you back into reality. You looked at him and nodded, laughing a bit. “Sorry, I get lost in my own world sometimes.”

Ewan chuckled a bit and rubbed the back of his neck. “You are truly more adorable than me,” He said, smiling more.

You giggled a bit. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious,” You said jokingly.

When Ewan looked at you though, he wasn’t laughing with you. “You remember when I told you there was someone more adorable than me?”

You nodded a bit, furrowing your brows. “Are you saying I’m more adorable than you? I thought we just discussed this,” You said, laughing a bit.

Ewan laughed a bit. “That’s not what I’m saying, Y/N,” He began, reaching over and taking your hand gently. “In the short amount of time that I’ve known you, I have fallen so much for you.”

You smiled lightly. “Where are you going with this?”

“Where I’m going with this is….” Ewan took a deep breath before he continued. “I wanted to know if you would be willing to go on a proper date with me.”

You stared at your friend, a bit shocked. You never expected this from him. You looked down, nodding a bit with a soft smile on your lips. “I would love to go on a date with you, Ewan.”

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The first date turned into two dates which turned into four quickly. By the time filming was over, you and Ewan became an official couple. It was the last day on set and you had your arms wrapped around Ewan’s neck as he carried you around on his back.

“You know, I’m going to miss working with you,” You said with a pout.

“You act like I’m never going to see you again,” Ewan stated with furrowed brows while chuckling. “We have literally been dating for four months now.”

“Yeah, but,” You whined and laughed when he whined with you.

“We’re still going to see each other every day, love,” He said kissing your cheek lightly when you jumped off his back and wrapped an arm around you.

You looked up at Ewan, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Until we have to go off to do our own projects.”

Ewan laughed and smiled lovingly down at you. “Guess, you’ll just have to come in my suitcase when I’m off filming,” He said with a wink.

You smiled and leaned up, kissing him gently on the lips. You never expected to fall for your costar, but you were head over heels for Ewan and it seemed as though he was the same way. You couldn’t ask for anyone better though or anyone sweeter. It was as though it was meant to be that you were to do this project with Ewan and you were to meet him.

#house of the dragon #HOTD #HBO house of the dragon #HBO HOTD #house of the dragon cast #hotd cast #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd Fanfiction #hotd fanfic #Aemond targaryen #Prince Aemond targaryen #Prince Aemond #Aemond kinslayer #Aemond one eye #Ewan Mitchell #Ewan mitchell fanfiction #Ewan mitchell fanfic #Ewan mitchell one shot #Ewan mitchell x reader #Ewan mitchell x female reader #Ewan mitchell x Fem!reader #Ewan mitchell x you #Ewan mitchell x y/n #fire and blood #team green #house of the dragon Ewan mitchell #hotd Ewan mitchell #house of the dragon Aemond #hotd Aemond

[popcorn1989]

Could you write one with Sihtric and the prompt “is that an order?”

Note: You didn't write me whether with Reader or another character, so I chose Reader. Hope you enjoy

Pairing: Sihtric x Reader

Summary: Always the same, when Uhtred got tired of you, you got on his nerves, or he just wanted to annoy you, he gave the order that Sihtric should not leave your side. It seemed like no matter where you went, he was there and not far away, mostly shoulder to shoulder. Sihtric mostly said orders are orders, with a sneer. You secretly knew that Uhtred and Sihtric knew how much you hated it. No matter what you do, you just can't get rid of him. And Sihtric made no secret of showing you that he enjoyed it.

Prompt List - here

Like today, Sihtric shouldn't leave your side, but he was tired and briefly distracted by Finan and you were able to sneak away. "That was easy" you said to yourself and grinned successfully as you took the reins of your horse and wanted to leave the steel, now only quickly away from Coccham and you have survived this day.

Halfway through the steel, Osferth came through a narrow entrance, he looked at you questioningly and crossed his arms over his chest. "Where are you going?" you sigh, but it was Osferth, he wouldn't run to Sihtric, you knew that. "Dunno, just get out of Coccam" - "Escape your punishment?" You just nod. Osferth grinned, a little too much for your liking, "What?" you asked impatiently.

"Oh, nothing," he said, still not looking at you directly, he smiled and shook his head, "I wish you the best of luck," he put a hand on your shoulder and walked away smiling. No idea what happened to him, but you continued on your way as quickly as possible. "Oh, before I forget," Osferth called after you, slowly turning to face him. "Don't think it would be so easy"

You didn't say anything and walked out of the big steel door when you saw someone you knew and stopped. "Shit" you said, so you saw the smiling faces of Sihtric and Finan. Sihtric ready on his horse, "Where are we going?" annoyed, you gave the reins to a steel boy and walked towards the main square without a word. You hear Finan say "Probably nowhere after all" and soon after, he and Sihtric appeared at your side.

"What a wonderful day, I think I'll go to Eadith afterward in peace and - alone - she wanted to cook something nice today" You heard Finan's teasing very clearly, because he insisted on emphasizing "alone". Sihtric laughed, "The second date?" he asked curiously and nudged his shoulder against yours. You push him away from you. Finan nodded "Yes, I tell you, there is nothing nicer than knowing that someone is on - your side -" again... you groaned and headed towards the main gate that led to the water.

Arriving at the door, Finan stopped "I'll do my Tasks then - alone - see you later" he said and started to laugh when Sihtric walked backwards and made a sign, but you couldn't see it. Because you looked stubbornly straight ahead and continued on your way.

Sihtric didn't speak the whole time through the forest, and slowly you felt like you had to relieve yourself. Just what you didn't need. You didn't feel like crouching behind a tree, and Sihtric stood by and watched. With the words "Anything could happen, imagine you're about to defecate, and then a brown bear comes and wants to eat you" - once and never again.

"Sihtric, don't you have an order to carry out?" The second sentence, since this morning when you told him he's a rat in bacon, not an original insult, and it didn't seem to have bothered him either, which only made you angry.

He pondered for a long mh before speaking "Well, actually I am, Uhtred's orders were to protect you and not leave your side, and I'm going to fucking do that" Just then you reached the little pond "Don't you get bored protecting someone who doesn't need protection?" after all you were just as good a fighter as Sihtric. To the question, he just shook his head and looked at you, grinning broadly. "I wonder if you don't get bored asking the same thing over and over again".

You looked at him angrily, which made him grin even wider "Go wash yourself" you said out of nowhere and pointed to the pond. Confused, he looked at you, "What does that mean?" - "You stink like a rat" you had been calling him that since Father Beocca had said it to him, and usually it had an effect, like now, you saw his eyes light up briefly.

You spend so much time with Sihtric that you immediately recognized these little signs. And if you didn't beat him to it, he would annoy you, and you were not good at hiding the fact that you were angry. "I don't stink," he said, raising his head vainly for a moment. "I smell like a man" he spoke and put his hands on the sword belt.

You point to the pond, "Go" he looked briefly at the pond and shook his head. "I am not to leave your side, the pond is too far away, so you would have to go in with me. Do you need too, little puppy" There it is, he tried to fight back, as soon as he insults you as a puppy he was ready to fight. Puppy… That word used to offend you, but somehow it didn't bother you anymore when he said it. "I wash myself every day, which is more than can be said for you".

You walked slowly to the pond and Sihtric followed you, washing here was also rather pointless, but you wanted him as close as possible. "Take your clothes off," you said as you looked from the pond to him, and his face changed from disgusted to surprised. Besides, you wanted to run as fast as you could, crisscrossing the forest, to finally relieve your squeezing bladder, he wouldn't be able to put his clothes on that fast, and he wouldn't be able to find you then either.

"Is that an order?" he asked slowly, looking at you with a look you had never seen on him before. "Yes" you said hesitantly and he nodded. "Go ahead then" he stood in front of you and grinned, "What?" - "Do you really think I'm going to take my clothes off?" - "Yes" - "In front of you?" - "Yes" - "So you want me to stand naked in front of you" you thought for a moment "Yes" - "Do you really think I'm fucking stupid?" you almost answered yes again, but you knew it was pointless.

You had to think of something else, you squeeze your eyebrows together for a moment. "Sihtric…." no, you couldn't tell him you had to pee. You immediately grabbed him by the shoulders and tripped him up as you pushed him aside, it came as such a surprise to him that, with a loud yelp of surprise, he fell over your leg and landed in the pond.

The pond was deeper than you thought, for a moment you were startled to see him sink. Your chance, but something stopped you from running. But he reappeared, ducks weed all over his hair, even his armour was covered, and he looked at you so bitterly that you couldn't hold back your laughter. Which wasn't really an advantage. Sihtric turned up his nose and stomped out of the dirty pond, where he stirred up the water and caused a stench of stagnant water and dead plants.

"You're fucking…" he spoke as he stood beside you, and you doubled over in laughter. "You…" he wanted so much to insult you, but he didn't, why you didn't know. "I wanted to … I wanted to run away… but… then I would have missed the best" you spoke while laughing. He just nodded with a stony look, "I'll pay you back for that, puppy" he said through gritted teeth while stroking his armor and removing some duckweed.

"Whew, so now you really stink" you spoke and screwed up your face. His different eyes shone dangerously. "One more word" he hissed sternly. "Okay… Okay look, I really have to pee or something will go wrong, and then I'll help you clean it up" you said and pointed at him, careful not to laugh again "We'll go bathing together if you like, I won't run away either" his face softened at these words "Really?" he asked cautiously "Together?" - "Of course, that's the only way I can get you clean."

As expected, he watched you relieve yourself, "As punishment" were his words, but you got the feeling it was something else. Maybe he didn't trust your words. While bathing, in front of Coccham you decided not to take everything off, and he did the same, and it took Sihtric to get rid of the stench, and you cleaned his armor from the little green leaves.

You felt like you had punished yourself, you had to put up with Sihtric's smell, and you were allowed to spend most of the afternoon with the armor, so there wasn't a green leaf to be seen, according to Sihtric He kept calling you puppy and explaining what you did wrong on this and that day. And in the evening came the nasty surprise. After Uhtred asked how you behaved, Sihtric told him everything in detail. "So? Then I order another day, Sihtric do not leave her side" Sihtric looked at you with a wide grin.

"Fuck," you murmur, nodding as you agreed with Uhtred. You need a plan!

#sihtric x reader #sihtric imagines #Sihtric #sihtric the last kingdom #the last kingdom imagine #The last kingdom #Tlk #Finan #Uhtred #dialogue prompt #thanks for reading #thanks for requesting!

[thethyri]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐰𝐲𝐧𝐧❟ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞❟ ❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 ❞

𖦹. 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ Wulfwynn wouldn't have believed it if someone had told her that her greatest loss would bring her her greatest joy.

𖦹. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 *𖧧₊‧ It has been days and days. But Wulfwynn kept fleeing and hiding. Until she stumbled upon her saviours, in depths of the woods.

𖦹. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson x Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Sihtric Kjartansson x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Uhtred of Bebbanburg x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Osferth x Ealhflæd of Cent (Original Female Character), Leofric x Mereswyth of Wessex (Original Female Character).

𖦹. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Show Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Not Show Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Show Rewrite, Show Dialogues, Canonical Character Death, Non-Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Wounds, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Battles And Post-Battles, Blood On Several Occasions, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Burn, Sexual Content, Mild-Sexual Content, Multiple Graphic Smuts (Ratings Specified In Concerned Chapters), Multiple Non-Graphic Smuts, Protective Finan, Possessive Finan, Finan Needs A Hug, Finan Backstory, Protective Sihtric, Jealous Sihtric, Adorable Sihtric, Sihtric Backstory, Protective Uhtred, Uhtred Is A Little Shit, Soft Osferth, Adorable Osferth, Osferth Backstory, Leofric Lives, Clapa Lives.

𖦹. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ Mild-Graphic Description of Bruises And Injuries.

𖦹. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ 2,912k.

𖦹. 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 *𖧧₊‧ 892-895 AD ⵓ 6th November 892 AD - 9th November 892 AD ⨾ Uhtred is 34-37 yo ⨾ Finan is 37-40 yo ⨾ Sihtric is 24-27 yo ⨾ Clapa is 43-44 yo ⨾ Osferth is 29-32 yo ⨾ Wulfwynn is 18-21 yo.

THE VODKAS MENU. + THE SERIE MENU. + CHAPTER TWO. + Archive Of Our Own.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN CIPPANHAMM AND MELKSHAMM, WESSEX, 892 AD.

      Fear. Dread . It crept its way into the heart, maliciously, viciously, its hideous claws jagged, and hooked, burrowing in its throbbing flesh. It gnawed venomously into the guts, tangled into hundreds of hundreds of tightly knitted knots. It crawled malevolently into the lungs, its coarse scales scraping, and into the throat, its rugged tongue scratching. It soaked bitterly into the bones, into the marrow, cold, terribly cold.

      Wulfwynn was devoured with fear. Wrecked with dread. She felt the ache in her limbs, the burn in her lungs. She felt the cold whipping at the crusted scratches that littered her knuckles, her palms, her knees and her muddy heels. She felt the soreness of the swelled bruises that dotted her thighs, her arms and her wrists, her neck and her ankles, and her cheeks. They scattered across her body, mingled with her freckled flesh, scarlet and maroon, melded with her delicate moles, purply and olive.

      Wulfwynn felt utterly terrified.

      Twiddled branches and tangled roots scrapped at her calves and knees as she delved into the depths of the woods. Breathy sobs escaped her chapped lips, while the cold that chilled her lungs licked at the salty tears that soaked her cheeks. The writhed birches swallowed the misty, gloomy skies, engulfed the pallid gleam that shimmered between their leaves. And they’d swallow Wulfwynn too. They'd swallow her whimpers, and they'd choke her with their branches, they’d throttle her with their roots—

      Wulfwynn sobbed panickedly, as she whisked hurriedly between the pines and the bushes, her heart onto her tongue.

      They’d scratch, and scrape, and rasp, and snarl and sneer and—

      A strangled yelp choked in her throat as she stumbled onto a root. She swayed abruptly and fell. Whimpers and whines of throbbing anguish and nauseous panic swirled through the cinnamon and crimson leaves that twirled around Wulfwynn as she hurtled down the muddy hill. And she gasped breathlessly as she slammed into a thick trunk.

      Wulfwynn clutched the bark, chafing her fingers, and wobbled, then rose quiveringly, but rose nonetheless, before her heel slipped in the mud and she tumbled again. She grunted as she fell, and fell, and fell, down the hill, down, down, until she landed into the dirt. Wulfwynn laid into the leaves and the dirt, perhaps an eternity, perhaps an instant, furled and shuddering, her heart throbbing into her temples and her knees and elbows aching.

      But, though she struggled, arose onto her palms. Bitter tears fell from her reddened cheeks, from her chin, onto her scratched, scarred fingers and between her knuckles. And then, a shout resonated through the pines, 

      “Lord !”

      Fear gripped at Wulfwynn’s heart with it crooked claws. She fumbled panickedly with her kirtles and skirts, shuffled and tumbled, and wobblily arose, but fell onto her knees with a frustrated whine. She huffed shakily.

      “Lord !” Wulfwynn prayed. She prayed fervently, as the worried yell swivelled in the chilly whiff. “Are ye— Are ye alright?” She’d have chuckled, but Wulfwynn merely sobbed. “Ye’re— Uhtred !”

      She peered hesitantly and her glance landed onto the cross that dangled before her teary eyes. A heavy huff tickled her cheek.

      “Ye’re alright, lass, ye’re alright,” He murmured quietly as he knelt. She felt his pity, his gentleness and his kindheartedness, and she sniffled. Her heart swelled. “Ye’ll be alright, I promise.”

      Wulfwynn nodded meekly. His soft promise poured onto her sore scratches and scrapes, syrupy and smooth and warm. Her heart seared with a sour tincture of gratitude and lament, with a driblet of reassurance and a splatter of solace. Her glance anchored into umber orbs, tinged with warmth and kindness, and worry.

      “Finan.” A whistle tickled Wulfwynn's guts. “ Finan !”

      “Lord,” Finan startled, as he leapt onto his muddy boots. Wulfwynn shivered as the chill tickled at her neck. "She's hurt, Lord."

      “Hurt?” The Lord —Uhtred, she assumed— inquired, with doubt and incertitude. And a tinge of scepticism. “Quite hurt.” Finan affirmed, and nodded.

      A chiffchaff chirped. “Lord?” Queried a soft murmur. “She indeed seems quite unwell.”

      The Lord’s glance landed unto the salty tears that streaked her cheeks, unto her bruises, and her scratches and scrapes, and she felt oddly, yet agreeably, absorbed into the frosty depths her eyes plunged into. His stare felt cold, but she embraced that cold. She felt queerly reassured, comforted, shrouded into that cold. The Lord hummed quietly. And nodded. Wulfwynn huffed a breath of relief.

      Finan knelt beside her, his knees in the mud, and she felt his warmth caress her as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Wulfwynn grabbed her tattered kirtles, and Finan muttered, “ Jesus .” as he glanced at her legs. She grasped his hand, hers frail and fragile in his callused palm. She grunted with anguish, as she struggled to arise, but her knees buckled.  

      Finan's hold tightened, "Gently, gently." he reassured her softly, "Osferth!" he beckoned with a whistle and a nod. Saddle buckles rattled, leaves rustled and an arm slithered across her back. “Apologies, Lady.” and Wulfwynn uttered a quavery huff. 

      “Gently.” Finan repeated as Wulfwynn arose slowly. “Alright. We’ll get ye onto Sihtric’s horse.” 

      Osferth nodded. He gently took ahold of her elbow, and they strode to the horses. They approached Sihtric’s horse, and Wulfwynn glanced at the silhouette sat astride its saddle, shrouded in furs, as Sihtric’s stare anchored into hers. She felt Finan’s warmth fade when he stepped back and unbuckled his cloak's buckle, before he wrapped the warm, woollen garment around Wulfwynn’s shuddery shoulders. 

      “It’ll keep ye warm.” Finan murmured as he tucked the hood on Wulfwynn's messy, tousled curls and tresses. “Ye’ll ride with Sihtric. Alright?” 

      She nodded. Finan approached the horse and leaned down. He cupped his callused hands, fingers knotted, and Wulfwynn grasped his arm as she hesitantly placed her heel in his palm. "Alright. I'll hoist ye there and Sihtric will get ye, huh?" Wulfwynn hummed and, quite facilely, Finan lifted her. She gracelessly threw her leg across the saddle and, as he told her, Sihtric grabbed her. “Ye’re good?”

      “Good.” Wulfwynn muttered with a nod. Finan’s eyes widened at the hoarseness of her mutter but he nodded nonetheless. 

      He and Osferth hopped back onto their horses. Wulfwynn fidgeted a bit, and grabbed Sihtric's thick, woolly ebony mantle with her fingertips. But he felt it and turned, and gently grasped her wrist before he wrapped it across his chest. 

      Wulfwynn jolted when he softly spoke, “You may hold on.” And, although timidly, Wulfwynn slipped her arms around Sihtric’s waist. Her fingers gripped the crisscrossed leather of his cotte, and her fingertips stroked the fur that flanked its edges. The scents of cinders and smoke, of dust and caked mud and hay tickled her nostrils. Yet she felt oddly soothed as she faintly breathed into the heavy wool. 

      “We ride!” then hailed Uhtred. 

      Wulfwynn’s legs dangled from the horse’s rump, and swayed slightly with his sturdy strides. The muffled thud of hooves as they rustled dead leaves, the snorts of the horses, the chirps of the birds and the warmth of Sihtric's furs cradled Wulfwynn. And slowly, as she fell into slumber, her head lolled and bobbed, and then, settled between Sihtric's shoulders. 

      And Wulfwynn slept, as much as she hadn't slept in weeks.

₊‧𒀭⋆₊

      The noisy hustle and bustle of Wintanceaster was quite pleasant. With the yells of its merchants, as they tempted the villagers with their trouts and lampreys, their hot loaves of oat breads, their goat cheeses, and their turnips and parsnips, and their pears. The bright, merry talks of the villagers. The jolly chuckles and giggles of the children. 

      Wintanceaster was noisy and Finan basked in its noisiness.

      He particularly appreciated this noisiness, as it differed considerably from the howls and yells that engulfed the field. As well as the smells. The scents of mud sodden, thickened with blood, of tangy sweat and barf were, at Wintanceaster, the scents of roasted pork and latterly brewed barley ale that wafted from the taverns. 

      Yet, this bustle hadn't awakened the lass, whose scratched and scraped arms were wrapped across Sihtric's chest, and whose reddened, bruised cheek was squooshed against his back, although she was shrouded with Finan’s hood. But Sihtric wasn’t bothered in the least. 

      “We'll take her to mine." declared Finan, as they strided towards the stables. 

      A snort. "Really? Huh." Clapa chuckled wickedly. He glared at the Dane. "Well, we're not gonna get her to yers, are we?" Finan retorted. 

      “He’d frighten her.” Uhtred sniggered, as he glanced at the giant. Clapa smirked.

      “Frighten her? I’m but meek, sweet and gentle as a lamb, Lord.” He protested, and Uhtred chuckled, “Huh-uh.”

      They approached the stables and alighted from their steeds. Finan felt the soreness in his legs as he neared Sihtric’s horse. He nodded towards Clapa, “Can ye take her?” and the Dane contourned the horse. He held his arms towards the lass, and Sihtric gently peeled her hands from the crisscrosses of his cotte, before Clapa slithered an arm across her back, as she slipped into his arms, and then slithered a hand beneath her legs. “I’ve got her.”

      "Alright." Finan nodded. The muddy strands of straw of the stables crumpled beneath the soles of Sihtric's boots, when he leaped from his horse.

      The lass’ forehead was nestled in Clapa’s neck, and the hood had flopped back a tad from her head. Finan’s glance fell onto the maroon and olive bruises that dotted her cheeks and chin, the scarlet slit that carved in the slope of her nose and the split etched into her plump, chapped lip.  

      He then turned to Osferth, “We’ll need yer balms and herbs.” 

      “Aye.” he nodded and hurried to fetch the leather satchel on his saddle. 

      They then took her to Finan's. He didn't quite considered it— well, considered it what? A haven? His? His haven? Nah, his haven was Coccham. This was but a humble, wooden hut, scarcely adorned, with a bed padded with straw and wool, draped with a few woollen and linen pillows and blankets, and a few furs. A table, scattered with bowls, melted candles and a hutch of trinkets, stood in the corner, with three stools. Light linen sheers flanked the walls, near the bed, while a wooden chest sat beside it, and a bench stood in the corner, near the entrance. 

      Clapa settled the lass onto the bed, with greater gentleness than Finan had hoped, and, with care, Finan unbuckled the buckle of his coat and slipped the wool from the lass' frail, delicate silhouette, before Clapa laid her tousled head onto the pillows. 

      “‘Tis still as modest as it was the last I was here.” enthused Uhtred, as he entered the hut with Osferth and Sihtric. 

      Finan stared at the lass an instant, and then turned to Osferth. He startled and hurried to the table and, amongst the wooden bowls, grabbed the dusty pestle and mortar. He then brought the herbs onto the table from his satchel, and glanced at the sleeper before he took the yarrow. 

      They stared quietly at the monk, as he grabbed the pestle and mashed the dried yarrow into the mortar. He then grabbed a bowl and poured a quaff of his gourd, and sprinkled the dried plant. Osferth then took the bowl and told Finan, “It’ll soothe her body.” 

      Finan took the bowl and nodded. Softly, he knelt onto the bed's edge, and slowly tickled the beverage between the lass' chapped lips. 

      “Then?” Sihtric queried as he neared the table. Osferth took the bowl back. "Then," he mumbled, as he tossed plants in the wooden bowl, and took the pestle, "I'll tend to those scrapes and scratches with chamomile," he grimaced, as though he was scraped and scratched, "and soothe her bruises with nettle." 

      Sihtric glanced at the lass and the frown between her brows. And a tinge of concern tickled his chest. Osferth grinded the chamomile and the nettle in the bowl, and then poured a quaff, “She’ll heal.” he assured, as he approached the bed and settled on the edge. 

      “But she’ll need a while. She’s quite enfeebled.” he murmured softly, and placed the bowl onto the woollen blankets. “But she’ll heal.”

₊‧𒀭⋆₊

      Wulfwynn felt cradled. 

      Shrouded in the softness of the wool of Cynefrith's sleeves across her hips, and swaddled in the warmth of Eadgyth's skirts and kirtles, her legs entangled with hers. She felt utterly well.

      She hadn’t felt well in quite a while. But between Cynefrith and Eadgyth, she felt soothed. 

      Yet, Wulfwynn stirred in her slumber. She nestled her nose in Eadgyth's tangled and tousled tresses, and hummed with contentment when the scents of chamomile tickled her nostrils. She felt Cynefrith’s gentle breath tickle the back of her neck. 

      Wulfwynn sighed with delight. She laced her fingers with Cynefrith’s, and Eadgyth wrapped her arm around them, and cuddled them. 

      And an ache clutched at her chest.  

      Wulfwynn’s brows furrowed. She huddled and clutched Cynefrith's lithe fingers, and snuggled into Eadgyth's neck. But she gasped as her chest tightened. 

      And she sobbed. Whiffs of cinders and embers, of nettle and of dust swamped her nostrils and tickled her guts. She sobbed, and sobbed, as the ache clawed at her heart. 

      Sleep left her, slowly, so slowly it felt an eternity. 

      Her sight remained blurred a moment before she discerned the shutters, and the pale gleams of the morn that crept between them. Then she glanced beside her. But Eadgyth wasn't there. And when she turned and peered above her shoulder, Cynefrith wasn't there either. And then, she remembered. 

      The yells, the tears. The lake. The sobs, the pleas. The plains. The blood. 

      Cynefrith wasn’t there. 

      Eadgyth wasn’t there.

      They weren’t here.

      Wulfwynn whimpered. There was neither Eadgyth nor Cynefrith. There weren't their embraces, merely linen blankets and furs. There wasn't their warmth, just a woollen and straw mattress. They weren't there. 

      She sobbed, her hands clutched at her chest. She sobbed, her scraped and scratched knees beneath her chin. She sobbed, muffled into the blankets. She didn't hear the squeak of the wooden door and the creak of the boots onto the floorboards. 

      “Lass?” 

      Wulfwynn perked and winced. "Ye're awake, at last." Finan huffed, as the concern that etched his face melted into relief. Wulfwynn's tears trickled from her cheeks and wetted the blankets. Finan approached the bed. 

      “Ye’re alright, lass. Ye’re alright.” he reassured her. But Wulfwynn wasn’t alright. 

      Her lips quivered, “I,” she huffed quietly, feebly, “I fled, but I—” and faltered, “I fled,” 

      “Hey, hey,” Finan neared her, and she felt her heart thump, "I— I fled but I—" she sobbed, "But—" And Finan gently seated at the bed's edge, “Hey, ye’re alright, lass, ye’re alright.” he repeated. “Ye’re fine,” he murmured softly. 

      Alright. She was alright. Wulfwynn nodded. Was she alright? She wasn’t quite. But she nodded nonetheless. Her sobs ebbed. She felt, as she had felt with Uhtred, oddly, yet agreeably, comforted and reassured when her eyes anchored into Finan’s. But she felt terribly feeble too. And sore. 

      “Ye shouldn't tire yerself too much. Ye're still weak and ye haven't eaten yet.” he uttered prudently, as though he feared he might frighten her. “Ye’ve slept quite a bit and Osferth has tended to yer,” he swallowed, “wounds.”

      Wulfwynn glanced down at her hands, wrapped in thin strips of linen, folded around her thumbs and knotted in the crook of her palms. The whiffs of chamomile and nettle wafted to her nose when she wiggled her fingers. She noticed she was no longer garbed in her shredded skirts and kirtles, drenched with sweat, sullied with guts and smeared with mud and dust, but a linen shift that smelt of sage. Hence why she had felt so comfortable in her slumber. And she frowned. If she’d been changed, then had they—

      “We haven’t.” Finan assured, halting her thoughts, as though he knew what she was wondering. “Osferth merely tended to the wounds on yer arms and legs. Yer virtue is untarnished. Lord Uhtred's sister and Abbess Hild tended to those he couldn't. And then changed ye.” 

      She nodded shyly. “W-Where,” she licked her lips, “Where are we?” 

      “Wintanceaster, Lady.”

      He stood from the bed and went to the table, in the corner, where there were three stools and, scattered onto the table, dusty baubles and wooden plates, bowls and cups. “Have I,” she straightened slightly and grimaced, “H-Have slept long?”

      He picked a goblet and grabbed the jug, near a plate in which there were the scraps of a meal. Wulfwynn then wondered if they had remained there while she slept. “About three days. Since we arrived.” 

      “Oh.” she murmured. Finan returned to the bed and handed her the goblet. She whispered her thanks, and wondered if he had heard her, but as he nodded, she thought he must have. She took a sip and felt the soreness of her throat. 

      Then her stomach rumbled.

      Her cheeks dusted with embarrassment and she coughed. She hadn't eaten but a few berries in days, and hadn't eaten aught but stale bread in weeks. The mere sight of the scraps of a meal had her stomach growl. 

      "Ye must be famished." Finan frowned, as if concerned. He then nodded, as though approving a thought he'd just had. "Alright. I'll get Hild fer ye and we'll take ye to the tavern. I'll be quick." 

      He then turned on his heels and strode out of the hut.

CHAPTER TWO. + Archive Of Our Own.

©TheThyri. All rights content belong to @thethyri​​. Do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works in any way or on any other platform without my permission. Gifs rightfully belong to @dailytlk.

#˗ˏˋ — the vodkas.🍷 #˗ˏˋ — the tales of wulfwynn. ☄️ #the last kingdom fic #tlk fic #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #tlk fanfiction #the last kingdom x oc #tlk x oc #finan fic #finan fanfic #finan fanfiction #finan x oc #sihtric fic #sihtric fanfic #sihtric fanfiction #sihtric x oc #uhtred fic #uhtred fanfic #uhtred fanfiction #uhtred x oc #the last kingdom oc #tlk oc

[writervaul-t]

The Ruined and its Damned

Summary: The mysterious death of certain individuals causes a Rose and her family's safety on the line. Desperate for answers, Rose must work with a group of warriors within Rumcofa to prevent her family from meeting an early death. The only problem: their presence was never made known to the settlement so now they must not only understand the reasoning behind the deaths but to also gain the trust of the suspicious settlers, specifically the newly placed Uhtred and his group of warriors sent to protect Rumcofa from any oncoming threats.

Pairing: Osferth x OC

Warning: Non-canon, spoilers if you’re not caught up to s5, blood and wounds, lots of fighting

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Chapter Two: Godless Heathens

- OSFERTH -

Of all his years being part of Uhtred’s party, Osferth was quite used to being pulled out of slumber in the dead of night for whatever reason. He did his best to fight off sleep as he stood in the hall, eyes glazing over to his companions, who were also most likely pulled out of sleep from the way Sihtric leaned against a pillar and from Finan rubbing at his eyes.

Uhtred and Aethelstan, the latter of which had been the one in charge of manning the night’s watch, were the only ones wide awake, eyes alert. “A body has been found. Again.” Was all Uhtred announced. “Just outside the village entrance. His body was burned to the point of no return so no one knows who he is. Heavy cuts were all over his body, like he was tortured.”

“Just like last time.” Osferth muttered to no in particular, but it was heard nonetheless from the way Uhtred shot him a glance and offered a nod in confirmation.

“Just like last time.” Was all that was echoed. “He’s been buried already.”

Osferth only nodded at the notion, signing a cross silently out of respect but also in selfish relief. The last time he had seen a body similar to that condition, he nearly vomited out all the ale he had consumed that day. The day had been unfortunately etched into his memory. The snow hadn’t fallen, but the ground was cold. A day he expected to be no different than before had been interrupted when a child’s scream was heard past the borders.

Everyone, especially Uhtred and his men, ran immediately to the sound, only to find what seemed to be the remains of a man laying on the dirt, strewn about as if he had been tossed to the ground haphazardly. Osferth and Cynleaf had been the ones to bury the first man, but found it difficult to bury him in such conditions. As mentioned, the ground had been cold.

The dead man had put everyone on edge; mothers making sure their children never wandered far and when it was time to go to sleep, nearly everyone had been locked into their home. The only ones brave enough to stay up and out in the middle of the night were men who couldn’t sleep without ale or Uhtred’s men (though, Osferth could argue that it didn’t make much of a difference).

Uhtred ordered a select few of men to scout the areas, most of them finding nothing before he had decided to make a small party of men, saying larger groups should try and find something. All that was found was a pathetic excuse of a dirt trail that had not been seen by anyone, just far enough from Rumcofa for anyone to notice. They followed the trail for half the day, only going back to the village after Uhtred had said there was no use of wasting good men to hunt for something that might not even be there.

Days had since passed from their first party scouting and Osferth had a sense of innocent hope that nothing else was to come of this incident anymore. How naive that was of him to think, watching as the great hall in Rumcofa was near dead silent, despite it being consistent of the loudest men he has ever made an acquaintance with. 

“What do you want us to do?” Finan finally asked.

“Secure the area. See if anyone knows anything else.” Uhtred commands, grabbing his riding gear. A look of contemplation was evident on his face, clearly something else on his mind. “Come back here when the sun breaks; another search party. We can’t waste time.”

Everyone nodded, turning toward the door. The only ones who stayed were Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth, who seemed to have sensed something in the way Uhtred stared off into the distance. Once it felt as if the room was cleared, Uhtred turned to the three men, ready to speak his mind.

“That girl and her brother. They might be in on this.” Uhtred admits, holding his hand out to show a familiar bead in his hand. Osferth frowned, narrowing his eyes on the symbol, which had a tree inscribed on it. “This was found in the man’s beard. The same one I saw in the girl’s hair when we met them.”

The notion made Osferth frown even more, but didn’t question it. His mind drifted to that moment, when the girl pulled her hood down, to her long black hair. She did have beads in her hair and he hadn’t seen anything like them; encrusted in gold instead of the usual silver he sees and no doubt a valuable item to have. So why was it found on a dead man? An unsettling churn was finding itself in his stomach as he examined the bead between his fingers.

Passing it along to Finan and Sihtric, he looked at Uhtred. “What do you need us to do?” He asked, ready to follow whatever it was Uhtred had to say. 

“I need you and Finan to check the trails where we met the girl and her brother. See if there’s something from the trail that could possibly lead to the man. Stay hidden as best as possible..” Uhtred commands, pausing for a moment, lips set in a tight line before turning his attention on Osferth. “You spoke to the girl the longest, almost even got a reaction out of her. If you find her, do your best to keep a distance from her, baby monk.”

Osferth felt as if his mouth had been sewn shut at the warning, embarrassment flooding through him as he only offered a nod of understanding, the implication behind Uhtred’s words as clear as day. He was used to it by now, the jesting and teasing of his disposition around women from his companions after all these years. For some reason, he felt like the young monk that had just left the monastery once again as he watched Finan and Sihtric send him a teasing look.

He only let out an annoyed sigh, making sure to send a harmless punch at Finan’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing for him to not say anything anymore as they made their way to the stables.

- ROSE -

“Nice to see you here.” Rose calls, making the figure several feet ahead of her nearly jump from his spot. The man heaved a great sigh, giving the girl an irritated glance while she supplied an amused one as she trudged through the snow.

“Scared me half to death, Rosemonde.” The man said sternly as the girl stood beside him.

“Do you ever venture outside those walls nowadays, Father Ricard?” Rose asks. “You were never this afraid before the settlement was built. Rumcofa’s made you soft.”

“Rumcofa’s made me realise there's a lot more dangers to fear than what I initially thought.” The priest counters, lip stiffening as he glanced back at what was in front of them. “I still would like to come see my sister, however. That, I am more than willing to leave the settlement for.”

Rose offered a sullen smile, glancing at the tombstone in front of them. “I'm sure my mother enjoys your company.”

“Do you enjoy my presence, Rosemonde?”

“I do, uncle.”

“But not as much to visit me at Rumcofa.”

At those words, Rose bristles. She opts to stay silent, looking at the wooden cross staked into the ground, her eyes focused on the carvings she made last year; a mix of Christian symbols and Danish runes littered the cross, most for protection for her mother’s journey to Heaven and a few prayers that essentially begged God to allow such a woman in to the gates.

If she had to beg God to let her mother into Heaven, then what of Rose? Her mother didn't have to do what she did. Would there even be a place for her in Heaven? She would most definitely not find herself in Odin’s hall, either. At this point, the reminder of having a lack of possible salvation made her send her uncle a look of lost hope.

“I do not believe I will be happily accepted into your home.” She responds, matter-of-fact. “Last I remember, Friar Timult practically damned us to your Hell when I accidentally pushed over the offering candles.”

Ricard sighed. “You were eleven and Friar Timult is, and pardon my language, as tight as the devil’s arse about procedures done at the church.”

Rose smiled. “Nearly passed a decade and I still hear from Saewin that he warns townspeople about ‘godless heathens’ outside the gates.” She watched as her uncle’s lips set to a harder line. His eyes, so similar to her mother’s, become foggy at the mention of godless heathens.

She raised an eyebrow. “What news has come now?”

“Vragi. He was found dead just this morning.” Ricard says, staring at the wooden cross solemnly before casting a glance at Rose. “They're suspecting a couple of godless heathens had done it.”

The implication was as subtle as a knife to the throat. A sense of worry had her mind running all the possibilities of what could come over her. Worry laid over Rose, her stomach lurching as she processed the information. 

She had just seen Vragi, the old man, stopping by her family’s home almost a week ago, asking to be lent some gold to buy more feed for their shared cattle. Rose had given one of her hair beads to him, a joke about giving more feed for her family surfacing in the midst of drinks being passed around that night before he bid them goodnight.

She had only assumed he travelled far, not being able to return for the next few weeks due to the amount of feed he would have had to buy. The last thing she expected was for him to turn up dead. Her mind thought back to him, committing to memory his kindness and how beloved by their small community. His wife must still be waiting for him, she thinks to herself, letting out a sigh as she realized that she would be the one who has to break the news to her family to signal warnings to the others.

Rose shakes her head, unsure how to continue as she feels Ricard look at her expectantly.

“These godless heathens they’re mentioning…” Rose implies, Saewin crossing her mind. He had been the one always willing to venture into Rumcofa while her and Jehan stood near the settlement instead. If they had seen him then he would have to stay inside the home for a while.

“Mainly town gossip,” Father Ricard reassures. “Sounds like they’re just saying it to warn their children to not walk past settlement boundaries.”

“But they’re still talking about godless heathens…” Rose trails off, making her uncle nod. “That’s not good for us. Surely, some believe it?”

“A few months ago, a man was found the same way Vragi was. It left the town shaken and wanting answers. Talks around the town were saying they spotted someone dressed like a Dane just outside the walls; they were quick to settle on that suspicion and continue to believe it.” Ricard explained, looking at Rose’s wool and fur lined shawl peeking beneath her cloak.

Silence settled over them, the young girl finding her mother’s grave more interesting than whatever she just heard for a while, savouring the milliseconds of blissful ignorance before speaking once more. “My family is not safe.” She denounces, an alertness finding itself in her once more as she looks around, panicked.

“The warriors posted around the settlement are starting to believe it. They’ve been coming around the trail you and your brothers frequent. People have been restricted from leaving recently as well. I only managed to leave after the day's break.” He explains, confirming Rose’s concerns. “I cannot stay here for too long, but I just wished for you to know.”

Rose nodded. “Thank you, uncle. You must have travelled here against your own safety so I’ll make sure to let my brothers know.”

The man raised his hand to smooth out the unruly curls that escaped from her hood. “My niece, the diplomat.” He mentioned, laughing when Rose rolled her eyes as she whispered something about diplomats not hiding blades in their sleeves. “I must leave. I’ll make sure you have your alone time with Melissande.”

He walked away, leaving Rose and her mother alone, the wind carrying any sense of voice Rose had previously. She lifted a hand to brush off the piles of snow settled on the cross, a whisper of a prayer leaving her lips as she continued to clean the area around her, the snow being pushed aside until the ground beneath the sheet of white was finally revealed.

She sat down after a hushed Amen. Her mouth opened, words never finding itself settling on her lips as she examined her mother’s grave. Rose couldn't remember a time where she spoke to her mother; her voice was as lost as she is whenever she tried to conjure the will to speak.

Instead, she wiped her cross and grave so it can see the sky better and offered a prayer—Christian or pagan, whichever one suited the day—before trekking back home. Today was no different, though Rose made sure to add extra carefulness to her prayers as her uncle’s words repeated itself in her head.

“Saewin.” Rose calls out, the earth and snow almost silencing her already soft call. “Saewin, I know you are there.”

She spun around, glaring at the treeline her brother was most definitely hiding behind. Narrowing her eyes, she glared at the farther end of the trees, her vision failing to distinguish if the movement nearby was a person or a large branch.

Faintly, she was sure she saw brown cloth tugging against the trunk of a tree she was focused on. Taking a step forward, she leaned closer as she did her best to focus better on it.

“Are you just going to watch the trees all day?” Saewin’s voice cuts through from behind, making Rose jump. 

She hadn’t given herself a second to think as her hands automatically signalled for the blades hidden in her wrists to release itself, only stopping herself from pressing the knife against Saewin after recognizing a familiar set of gold-brown eyes.

“Idiot.” She snaps at him, retracting her blade and punching his bony shoulder. “I could have killed you, Saewin.”

“What were you looking at?” Her brother asks, ignoring Rose’s chastising glance over her shoulder. Rose turned back, looking back at the treeline, narrowing at the empty space. “Rose?”

She only shook her head in response, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. “How much did you hear?” She asks him, watching him glaze his fingers over the cross in front of them.

“Everything.” He admits, offering a concerned glance back at her as he walks past her. “I’m assuming we should have our honoured guest released?”

“No. If Vragi is dead, then he really does know something and we need to pry that out of him.” Rose says, manoeuvring around the trees carefully as they try to make their way back to the beaten path back home. “Has he said anything about why he was near the borders?”

Saewin gave a disappointed grunt. “Only a few things. Said he was just out hunting for—”

“Blood Month, right.” Rose said with an eye roll, remembering Jehan’s words from a few weeks ago. The man had most definitely not been out hunting, Rose recalling the man hadn’t had any gloves—a small detail to note, but an important one nonetheless if someone was going to practise hunting for hours for an important event like Blood Month. “What else?”

“He said he’s one of the warriors at Rumcofa.” Saewin says, making Rose nearly whip her head around at him. They stared at one another, their uncle’s warning fresh in their minds.

The sudden crunch in the snow caught both siblings’ attention. Rose reached for her blades behind her. From the corner of her eyes, she spotted Saewin reaching for the axes strapped to his hips, though she kept her eyes forward, staring at the treeline she had looked at earlier.

“Rose—” Saewin started, ready to tug at her hands as she crept closer to the trees, squinting in the darkness ahead. Within moments, the snap of a twig caused both siblings to nearly jump out of their skin.

Without a second thought, Rose found herself shoving her brother forward, screaming, “Run. RUN!”

Rose felt like her heart had dropped to her chest as she darted around the trees, only keeping focus on Saewin’s back and the hurried steps just behind her. Faintly, she could hear someone calling for them to stop. Rose could only hear the blood rushing to her ears as the calls continued, adrenaline and fear overshadowing anything else she had to process.

Her body felt like it wasn’t her own. Weaving around the countless trees in the snowy woods was something she was familiar with, though the countless times she had been running this course, it was her laughing as her brothers chased after her. If she wasn’t attempting to save her own life, she would have found this situation more amusing that she was doing the same thing but for different purposes.

“Stop!” A voice called out, the sharpness to it unfamiliar to Rose as she darted around a mass of trees in an attempt to slow them down. Her ears perched as she heard the voice yell something to someone else and fading footsteps.

There’s more than one person, but how many? Rose thought as her eyes darted around where she could see, trying her best to spot any suspecting shadows or people manoeuvring around from beside them.

A grunt from Saewin made Rose pause completely, turning to see his foot catch onto a branch, flinching as his chin brushed harshly against a stone. Quickly, she grabbed his arm, giving him a once over (his chin had been completely red, though she was sure it was just a deep cut) before helping him on his feet to keep him running. A set of footsteps approached them and Rose found herself reaching behind for her daggers with one hand, the other grasping her brother’s arm tightly.

She pushed herself in front of Saewin, blade pressed against the side of her arm as she watched a growing shadow come forward in the clearing they were at. Rose grit her teeth as she felt Saewin press against her. “Do not approach.” Rose snapped, making the shadow pause at the sound of her voice.

“We just need to talk, lady.” The shadow calls out, this one familiar to her. “You mentioned the dead bodies—”

“We know nothing.” Rose counters. “We only heard about them.”

“You said one of the men’s names.” The voice says. “We hadn’t even known about his name. Not to mention, you apparently have one of our men.”

“Christ, how much did he hear?” Saewin whispers into Rose’s ear, who only shook her head as she backed them away when the man slowly exited from the shadows, a weathered brown tunic familiarising itself to her.

The warrior monk was much taller than Rose had anticipated, the man nearly towering over Rose and her brother as he held his hands up to her when he spied her blade. “I only need to ask questions.”

“Like hell.” Rose quips again, pointing her blade forward to the monk. “You’ll have us killed.”

“I promise I will not.” The man responds, keeping his hands up and motioning to his sheathed sword. “My sword is away, as you can see, yes? My hands are also up. Let us—”

Whatever words he had yet to say were quickly silenced by Saewin, who had been constantly whipping his head from side to side, as he swung his axe behind him, the metal of the blade offering a shrap clink! as it collided with another man’s blade. She recognized him as the one who stood beside the warrior monk all those weeks ago. She also remembered how ready he was to draw his sword if Jehan were to say something suspicious during their conversation.

Saewin’s actions alone made Rose move as well, pulling out her second dagger from behind to swing at the warrior monk, who dodged her swipes. From behind, the sharp smacking of swords could be heard, though it was faint to Rose as she kept a heavy gaze on the warrior monk, waiting for his next move as he withdrew his sword.

“I only wish to speak!” He repeats, bringing his sword up to block a dagger, quickly manoeuvring away when Rose brings her other one up to aim at an opening he left.

A curse nearly spits out of Rose as she motions toward the fighting men behind them. “Your friend didn’t seem to think the same way.” She responds before turning and throwing one of her daggers toward the short haired brunette still fighting Saewin. She watched as the edge of the knife caught against his sword, almost ready to strike down against Saewin if she waited any longer to throw her dagger at him.

“Christ—” The brunette curses, the sudden movement nearly causing him to tip over before dodging another one of Saewin’s swings.

“Wait!” The warrior monk starts, ready to grab her arm but was stopped when Rose ducked under his arms. The blade remaining on her other hand found its way to his throat, seemingly seizing the fight at the notion of someone’s life could be finished with just a swipe. Regardless if a blade is placed on him, the monk held Rose’s murderous gaze. Faintly, she could feel Saewin press his back against her’s, most likely having his axe pointed at the brunette.

“Lady, please—” The monk starts.

“No. You do not speak with my blade to your throat.” She snaps, not taking her eyes off him as she nudged her brother’s foot, her voice switching to their father’s Norwegian tongue. “Take my blade and go.”

Saewin snaps his head at her. “What—?”

“Take my blade and give it to Father.” Rose instructs again, using both men’s confusion to her advantage.

“Rose—” Saewin says, but stops when Rose shoves him away from the men, sending him a hardened glare as she swipes at Saewin’s opponent with the blade hidden under her sleeve.

“How many knives you got you?” The man snaps, hissing when the edge catches his arm.

“Run!” Rose snaps at Saewin, swiping her larger dagger at the monk, knicking him slightly on the neck and cheek when he hadn’t moved fast enough.

“Hold her down.” The brunette snaps, voice sharper now that she had struck both of them. There seemed to be an unspoken conversation going on between the two, much like how Rose had with her brothers, as there was a pause between the two of them when the shorter man gave the order. “Osferth, hold her down!”

What sounded like a groan mixed with a struggling sigh escaped the monk as he grasped Rose by her arms tightly. She was sure she felt her shoulder connect to his collarbone from the hiss of pain when tried to swing herself away from his grasp, trying to see if Saewin had managed to run off yet.

She was sure she saw a flit of his cloak brush past a tree, far away from where they are, making her feel better a little as she felt something hard hit the back of her head, sending her into a void of darkness.

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@mischiefmanaged71

#osferth x original character #osferth x oc #osferth fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom x original character #the last kingdom x oc #tlk osferth x oc #tlk osferth x original character #tlk x oc #tlk x original character #i finished this at 3am plz dont judge me im begging

[morosemagick]

Songs of The Unbroken | Chapter Forty Three

Grateful for the chance to go home, Sigrid realigns herself with the path of Uhtred of Bebbanburg and the rest of the Coccham boys.

Or start from the beginning

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[lettersofwrittencollective]

I am now only accepting requests if submitted to my ask box.  

I am willing to push the limits in just about anything but I will not write about anything that has to do with bodily fluid/ excrement as a kink (no scat play, no golden showers etc)  and absolutely no Pedophilia.

If you want smut, I need you to tell me what kinks are a no no for you.

If you ask me to write for a character that is underage, there will be no smut unless they are aged up.  (My big one is Teen Wolf, as you see there is no real smut for the in cannon times but I will definitely write smut for the characters)

If it’s on my Masterlist I will most likely write for it - some of these state that  there are characters I won’t work with however. I also have a list of Characters below that I will for sure write for if you wanna ask about a specific fandom or character feel free to :)  

Unless otherwise stated, I will work under female reader requests. You want gender neutral or male!reader please clarify that- I can also do cannon ships but those don’t seem as popular here.

If you want an OC - I am going to need details (name, nicknames, general personality, hair length, eye color, etc) this can be sent in more than one ask if you are Anon or if you request from your own Tumblr, we can chat

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Please give me a little bit to work with - if it’s something like “Stiles x Reader, friends to lovers trope” this can be interpreted in lot of ways… try something like “Stiles x reader, Friends to lovers  where the two have been friends since they were children and after seeing her at homecoming, Stiles manages to confess his feelings- happy ending”  If you don’t know what you want, feel free to send that too but I will take full creative license. with it.

Book Series: 

ACOTAR (Sarah J. Maas)

Grishaverse (Leigh Bardugo)

 Dark Hunter Series (Sherrilyn Kenyon)

House of Night (P.C. Cast)

Twilight (Stephanie Meyer)

Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins)

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Weasley Boys

The Last Kingdom 

Aethelflaed

Aldhelm

Erik

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Osferth

Sihtric

Young Ragnar

Uthred 

Law & Order: SVU

Chester Lake

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Nick Amaro

Peter Stone

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John Munch

Marvel & DC

Aquaman

Constantine

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Vampire Diaries (Including The Originals and Legacies)

Damon Salvatore

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Enzo

Hope Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Landon Kirby

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Tyler Lockwood

Vikings

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Floki

Halfdan the Black

Ivar the Boneless

King Harald Finehari

Ragnar

Ubbe Thomas

#request rules #request guideline #fic guidelines

[humanpurposes]

From Eden

Chapter 2: Some part of me came alive

Danes attack Wincombe Abbey and a young novice crosses paths with a group of mercenaries and their Baby Monk // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Osferth x Original Female Character

Warnings: 18+, suggestive themes, religious guilt, pathetic yearning

Words: 3400

A/n: I did not spellcheck the names. Also available to read on AO3.

Since joining Lord Uhtred, Osferth had seen enough of the back of his horse’s head to make him sick. They moved constantly, never settling anywhere for long. So he savoured each stop, and every night he spent in a bed rather than a forest floor or a field, he made sure to express his gratitude in his prayers.

Only the ride from Wincombe was anything but dull. The girl from the abbey, Bridget, was rather impossible to ignore, pressed tightly against his back and shrouding his cloak around his shoulders to keep them both warm.

He slowed the horse once they had caught up with the rest of the group. She settled then, holding her hands on his shoulders, turning her head and resting her temple at the base of his neck through the thick material of his tunic. A thrill ran down his spine, one he hardly allowed himself to feel. 

The snow was starting to settle now, crunching under the hooves of the horses. The sky was overcast with grey clouds, yet the world seemed so bright. Bridget marvelled at the sight of the land beyond the abbey, letting out breathless little gasps at hills and woodlands.

“When was the last time you were this far from the abbey?” Osferth asked, turning over his shoulder a little.

Her wide eyes glanced up at him before she lifted her head. He suddenly felt cold with the absence.

“I haven’t been beyond the woods in over a decade,” she said, her voice was light, finding its place between wonder and sadness. 

He had much been the same, hardly venturing from the walls of the minster in Winchester, until he decided to seek out Lord Uhtred.

“Is that how long you have been at the abbey?” he asked.

“Yes,” is all she said. He had half expected a tale of her life, of her mother and father, but she simply sighed and looked ahead, peering over his shoulder to the others riding in front of them.

He told her of their company, of Lord Uhtred, a man born to a Northumbrian Lord and raised by Danes, hoping to reclaim his home. He told her how he had found himself tied to other matters. He was a warrior, a loyal servant and friend of King Alfred, but most recently he had become intent on his pursuit of the seer, Skade.

“What is his interest in her?” Bridget asked.

Osferth tutted to himself. Uhtred’s obsession with Skade had brought them nothing but misfortune and death thus far. “He believes himself to be cursed.”

“And do you believe that?”

“She is of the devil,” he said, “sent to tempt the hearts of men. That is all I care to know of it.”

And yet Uhtred remained intent on finding her.

As they rode on, he told her of the other men, Finan, the Irishman, and Shitric, the Dane, the greatest and the bravest warriors he had ever known– save for his Lord, of course.

“And what of you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

She nodded ahead. “Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Finan the Irishman and Shitric the Dane. Where do you come from?”

He frowned and suddenly his cross felt heavier around his neck. He had been left to the monastery with no name, no title, just the weight of his father’s sins. “I am simply Osferth,” he said. 

“That can’t be true,” Bridget said. “What was it Finan called you? Baby Monk?”

His body went rigid. God, he hated that name, even more so now that she had said it.

She chuckled softly. “That makes you something,” she said.

He doubted she would soon forget the topic. “I was born in Winchester,” he said with a reluctant sigh.

“And how did you come to serve Lord Uhtred?”

“My uncle said he was a great man. I sought him out, to join him.”

“So you do have a family?”

Hardly. He had few memories of Leofric, even less of his mother.

One of Bridget’s hands slipped from his shoulder, resting against his arm. “I can stay silent if you’d prefer, seeing as you’re so intent on remaining mysterious,” she said.

“No– no,” he insisted as he cleared the tight feeling in his throat. “My life is anything but mysterious, I assure you.”

“A simple man, formerly of the cloth,” she mused.

He sounded painfully dull with the way she put it, but what was the alternative? Bastard… coward… boy.

“I suppose so,” he muttered.

As the sun slipped below the hills and night crept into the sky, Lady Aethelflaed at last decided they would make camp for the night, despite Uhtred’s determination to press on to Saltwic.

They found cover under a grove of trees where they could tie the horses, gather firewood and seek some shelter from the snow.

Osferth dismounted first, swinging his leg over the horse’s head before he turned back to Bridget. She braced herself on his shoulders as he put his hands on her waist and guided her down. Perhaps the fall was further than she anticipated; her hands tightened their grip on his shoulders and she took a sharp breath before her feet touched the ground.

“Are you alright?” Osferth asked.

“Yes, of course,” she mumbled. Her eyes flittered between his face and the ground. He had an awful feeling he had done something wrong and quickly released his hands from her.

He made quick work of unloading the canvas, bedroll and furs from his horse before he went about his usual duties, building the fire, beginning on the broth to feed the men. Bridget stood restlessly, fiddling with her hands in front of her skirts, reaching for her hair to fix a habit she no longer wore. He watched her in the corner of his eye as he worked, and gestured for her to join him by the fire once the flames came alive.

She still had his cloak on her and when she moved to take it off he stopped her. She smiled in thanks and pulled it back over her shoulders.

Even then she was unsettled. Her head turned everywhere, watching Uhtred setting up a tent for himself and Lady Aethelflaed, Finan and Shitric as they sharpened their swords and poured themselves cups of ale. 

“Your first night away from the abbey,” Osferth said and bit his tongue immediately after. It was a rather obvious thing to point out.

She cautiously eyed the other men around them, setting up their own beds and fires.

“You needn’t fear them,” Osferth said. “They will not harm you.”

As she turned towards him, her eyes and skin caught the light of the fire. In that moment she was golden and radiant, the very image of the angels he praised in his prayers. Suddenly his mouth felt dry– perhaps he needed a drink of ale.

She smiled softly. “I am not afraid, Osferth.”

His eyes were drawn to her lips and her teeth as she said it. He had never known his own name to sound so pleasant.

Lord Uhtred appeared from the tent to fetch a bowl of broth for Lady Aethelflaed, before he, Finan and Shitric joined them by the fire to eat and drink.

Finan handed Bridget a cup of ale. “The more you drink the easier it is to fall asleep,” he said, “you’ll need it with the cold.”

She winced at the first sip but laughed it off with the others. “Stronger than I’m used to,” she said.

“Does she have a bed?” said Uhtred.

“She’ll have mine,” Osferth said without hesitation. 

Finan and Shitric shared an amused look. Bridget tilted her head at him. There was that strange feeling in his stomach again, like he’d done something wrong.

“I’ll just sleep on the ground,” he clarified.

The fire kept them warm enough for an hour or so, but as the night grew darker it brought heavier snow and wind, nipping at the bare bits of Osferth’s skin, his face and fingertips. Without his cloak he felt the cold seeping through to his very bones.

He was as quiet as usual, while Finan and Sihtric reminisced back on battles and nights spent in alehouses. Bridget watched them with wide eyes and wonder.

He hardly noticed Lord Uhtred’s departure and subsequent return with a bedroll, dropping it at his feet.

“Lord?”

“You’ll sleep better with it,” Uhtred said. “Now retire, all of you, we leave at first light.”

Osferth pointed Bridget towards the tent he had set up and told her to use as many furs as she needed.

Once he had taken the broth pot from the fire and gathered Lord Uhtred’s bedroll, he made towards the tent. Until a firm hand stopped him by his shoulder.

“You’re a better man than I, Baby Monk,” Finan muttered into his ear with an audible grin. “I’d have her sharing my bed.”

He brushed Finan’s hand away and clenched his jaw to stop himself smiling.

Was he truly being that obvious? He wanted to think that he wasn’t, but with every step he took towards the tent, the more he thought of her, lying on his bedroll, wrapped in his cloak and his furs to keep out the cold, the more he began to doubt himself.

She only caught his attention back at Wincombe when she approached him in the hall– the girl from the woods who had directed them towards the abbey. She seemed curious, fascinated at the prospect of him having left his order in Winchester, and when Haesten had attacked, she had acted courageously in spite of her fear. Heaven above, she had killed one of the men, which was one more than he could claim from his first battle.

He was acting by the guidance of the Lord, he told himself, in offering her his care and protection. He intended to honour his word. 

He was glad to be out of the snowfall and under the canvas. His cloak had been left on the branch of a tree, hanging within the tent, and Bridget had settled on the bedroll, huddling in a single layer of fur. He could see her shivering.

He laid out Lord Uhtred’s bedroll, in what small space he had. He fastened the cloak around himself, leaving his boots and his gloves on as he settled. It was too cold for anything less.

Bridget was on her side and facing him, fur pulled up to her chin, eyes squeezed shut, teeth chattering and lips trembling as she let out shaky, icy breaths.

Even as the snores of the other men sounded from the other tents, she was still shivering.

He whispered her name, and she responded with a short “hmm.”

“You’re cold,” he said.

She opened her eyes. “Finan’s trick with the ale didn’t work,” she grumbled.

He smiled. “Don’t trust everything Finan tells you.”

She angled her brows in a helpless expression and smiled back.

An idea crossed his mind, one that would have Finan grinning like a devil, but he couldn’t just leave her to the cold. He adjusted the fur around him and held it out. 

“May I?” he asked at the questioning frown on Bridget’s face.

She shuffled closer to him, dragging the fur with her as she settled herself under his arm and against his chest.

Osferth brought the fur around her, pulling her in a little closer, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. He felt the gentle force of her breath against the collar of his cloak, leaving his skin feeling deprived of her. 

She fell asleep quickly. A subtle feeling of pride swelled in his chest, but sleep did not come as easily to him. He could hardly rest, he had to make sure the furs were wrapped around her, that his arm wasn’t pressing in too harshly to her body, but that his hold was firm enough to keep her warm.

And then there were her little hums and heavy breaths. They were soft sounds, unobtrusive, soothing in a way, and his heart leapt at each one.

He tried to think of the last time he had been this close to someone. He and Finan and Shitric had found themselves in uncomfortably close proximity, finding sleep where they could on their travels. Having Bridget by his side, nestled against him, her face delicately fallen and a picture of peace in his embrace, was entirely different.

He let his hand trace over the curve of her waist and settle against her back. He liked the feel of her under his touch, their breaths moving together, her body pressed against his.

But what was it the holy book preached? The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace.

He clenched his jaw and tucked the edge of the fur under his hand so his palm would not touch her, not directly at least.

Bridget insisted she was used to rising early, especially after she had slept so well– a detail which had earnt Osferth a smug look from Finan, which he met with another frown.

The mind governed by the flesh is death.

He recited those words in his head over and over again, as he helped Bridget into the saddle, as she put her hands around his waist, as her hips gently rocked against him with the movement of the horse, but he kept his head high and his hands tight on the reins.

It took a matter of hours to reach Saltwic. The men were all glad to be under a roof with some more substantial food in their bellies; spit-roasted meat, bread and more than a few mouthfuls of ale. 

Though before long, Osferth found himself being dragged out of the hall by his shoulders and Finan’s insistence that they should make use of their time to train.

Bridget was already waiting for them in the courtyard. She had shed her nun’s robes now, dressed in garments she must have been given by Lady Aethelflaed; a shirt, tunic and breeches. Modest, but he doubted her sisters at the abbey would approve. She wore them well. 

By her side she held a sword, shorter and slimmer compared to the blades wielded by Lord Uhtred and his men. Osferth looked down at his own weapon, long and slight, made to match his body.

“Which would win in a fight, a Baby Monk or a Little Novice?” Finan said cherrily, striding between them.

Osferth and Bridget shared a look of confusion.

Finan held his arms out as though he were expecting an answer. “Let's find out, shall we?” Then he withdrew, leaving nothing but empty space and a few settled snowflakes between them.

Surely he did not mean for them to attack each other without even showing Bridget how to properly wield a sword. Not that Osferth was a well seasoned fighter himself. He had seen battle, but he often let himself fall into the background unless it was necessary. 

Bridget had a fighter’s instincts at least. She had hardly hesitated to slay one of the attackers at Wincombe. He might have been dead if she hadn’t. With that he felt a little less guilt about taking a single step forward as he adjusted the grip on his sword. 

She reacted sharply, like an animal to a hunter. In a heartbeat her posture had completely changed. She was poised, her eyes wide and alert, her feet in a fighting stance and her sword at her side.

It was easy to pick up on her movements, the little signs of instinct in every reaction. Finan had often told him this was a weak point of his, the inability to read his opponent, but with her, he was acutely aware of where she was putting her weight, where her eyes were looking, each little intake of breath as they stalked around each other.

When she moved first, he raised his blade to block her, then matched her again when she took a swing at his middle.

Their swords met with a ringing clash. The metal hissed as he drew his blade along hers until they fell apart.

His heart was racing and his breaths shallow. He was becoming impossibly warm under the weight of his robes and chainmail.

Bridget was poised again, a gleam in her eyes and a small smile playing in the corner of her mouth.

“The girl’s a natural,” Finan called, “she’s picking this up faster than you did, Baby Monk!”

Osferth meant to shoot his friend a glum glare until he saw a flash of movement, her hair and the wave of her sword. He looked back to Bridget in time to parry her strike, but not before she moved around him and delicately placed her blade on his shoulder, over his chainmail, close enough to his neck to affirm her victory.

She was close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin. 

She smiled, proud of herself but without cruelty. It made his chest ache, not unpleasantly.

“Where did you learn to fight?” Finan asked.

A small part of Osferth died as she turned her eyes away from him. She lowered her sword and stepped away.

“I learnt a little from my brother,” she said.

“Good man himself,” Finan said, drawing his own blade and nodding for them to follow his lead as he brought them through a few stances.

“Yes,” she said softly, “yes he was.”

Osferth hardly let himself look upon her as they trained, unless Finan asked them to spar. They became less evenly matched each time they did so. He found himself slipping further and further into his own mind. Each time she smiled at him it awakened something bright and unnerving within him. He clasped at the memory of having her waist in his hand, her breath against his neck, her body pressed into his.

He excused himself once Finan decided they were done and decided to forgo the suggestion that they replenish themselves in the hall with more meat and ale.

He went to the chapel, tucked away in the corner of the estate within Lady Aethelflaed’s private apartments. It was far from the noise of the stables, the rowdiness of the hall, the heat creeping under his skin every time his eyes met Bridget’s.

The chapel was small, cold and dark, lit only by a collection of candles at the altar. He came to his knees on the stone floor before it, clutching his cross in his hands. 

He asked for peace of mind, for clarity, for an answer.

Why her? Why had the Lord seen fit to guide them to Wincombe and urge her to join them? Why had his mind become so utterly consumed by her, not some lewd temptress of cruel intention or evil spirit, but a woman of beauty, warmth and courage? Perhaps it was a tempting of faith, a lure to sin and depravity.

“The mind governed by the flesh is death,” he whispered to himself, “but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace.”

A breeze blew through the chapel, ceasing when the door was quietly closed.

Osferth froze, stroking his thumb over his cross.

Soft footsteps moved against the flagstones until a figure stood at the altar. She was still in her training clothes, her hair flowing freely down her back. Most of her face was obscured in shadow, save for the edges of her cheek and her nose. He watched her hands as she lit a taper and brought it to the wick of a new candle. 

She bowed her head in a silent prayer, the flames lighting the curve of her lips. She whispered something to herself but the words eluded him. He wondered what she might be praying for, if she felt the same turmoil as he did.

The room remained silent, save for the hum of the flames. Ordinarily he found peace in silence, but now it felt unbearable.

Bridget turned around, still bathed in darkness, an intangible vision, like a ghost, untouchable. The colour of her eyes were lost to darkness but he felt them boring into his.

She took a step closer to where he knelt. He held his cross a little tighter as traced the shape of her slightly parted lips, and felt a restless urge rising in his gut.

“What are you praying for, Osferth,” she said.

Without thinking he flexed his hand to regain some feeling in it. He might as well have been a lifeless entity otherwise.

The mind governed by the flesh is death.

“Strength,” he uttered, desperately keeping his eyes on her face, not the curves of her body and the belt cinching in her waist. “And courage also.”

Bridget suddenly retreated into herself. She kept her hands clasped in front of her and smiled. “I pray for that too.”

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#my fics #osferth x reader #osferth fanfiction #osferth fanfic #osferth smut #the last kingdom #tlk #seven kings must die #baby monk #osferth x oc #osferth x y/n #osferth x ofc #ewan mitchell

[skatingthinandice]

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@zuvlelhype asked: THE LAST KINGDOM - thanks greta! 💛

the first character i ever fell in love with:

i haven't rewatched for years (i know, i know) so i can't really remember, but i started watching the show because david dawson and matthew macfadyen were in it, so tbf it was probably alfred. aethelwold, leofric and odda the elder came pretty soon after though

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not:

honestly, it's probably alfred?? i don't not like him, but other characters have by far surpassed my original love for him

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not:

ooh this one is cruel, and again i don't not like them, but in terms of how i felt about them at the time vs how i feel about them now, probably, unexpectedly, aethelflaed x erik

my ultimate favourite character™:

leofric! though aldhelm is a very close second. those boys live in my head rent free

prettiest character:

my girls slay me with their beauty every time, but aethelflaed sits as queen

my most hated character / character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate:

if you know, you know

my OTP:

aethelflaed x aldhelm, until the end of my days, and leofric x uhtred, beyond the end of theirs

my NOTP:

uhtred x aethelflaed. just no.

favourite episode:

it’s the moments that stand out for me, not any particular episode. “if it is valhalla you want, i will do my best to give it” / “i will not do it, lord” / “should i sing you a song?” / “you are not dying” / “i probably wasn’t the man for that task” for instance, random example

saddest death:

i'm still traumatised by poor halig, oh god

favourite season:

season 3, for many reasons, but mostly for the aldflaed moments and getting to see leofric again

least favourite season:

idk really, they all have standout moments, good and bad, and it's been a while since i've rewatched

my 'you're a piece of trash, but you're still a fave' fave:

this is a description of haesten if ever i saw one

my 'beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this' fave:

thyra! my bby girl who is too sweet for this world, too pure

my 'this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it' ship:

erik x haesten, and it's all christian and jeppe's fault. also aethelwold x cnut bc i’m full trash and what of it

my 'they're kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i'm not too invested' ship:

probably finan x osferth (now with bonus eadith). ‘baby monk’ is a cute nickname okay

#thank youuuu ily #ask

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Coming Around

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings x The Last Kingdom) Pairing: Ubbe/Uhtred/Reader Warnings: mentons of smut Rating: PG13 Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Some more Ubbe and Uhtred? Happy New Year ;) 

Catch Up Here

New Year's Day, the morning after the night before. The fresh start to the next 365 days. A cruel awakening after a night spent soaking yourself in every alcohol known to man. Today was the day people spent making a list of things they would never accomplish - only saying they would do them, because they liked the idea while drinking.

Drunk resolutions were loathsome on their own, never mind the ones who made them to be vain. You hated those people even more. The ones who made lofty resolutions for no other reason than to be smug. Nobody liked those people, anyway.

In your experience, January 1st was a day to stay in bed with zero intentions of crawling out. This year was no different, the hammering in your head was dictating that quite well at the moment. The room was too bright and Ubbe was radiating more heat than Hell itself.

A downside to him drinking, he always became a sweaty, burning mess the next morning. With a heavy groan, you pull together the strength to squirm out of his grasp and back away, immediately hitting another body behind you. Arms snaking around you and dragging you closer.

Fuck!

They had managed to talk you into it...again.

Away from Ubbe and straight into Uhtred's grasp.

Uhtred had been lying awake for some time, waiting for some of this alcohol to wear off, there was a ways to go yet. Eyes closed, he could feel the moment you had woke, the bed had shifted as you stirred and your snoring had ceased. He used to think it only happened when you were drinking, poor Ubbe how did he ever share a bed with all that noise?

Locked in his grasp, Uhtred was reluctant to let you go. Your skin was soft and warm against him, bathed in sex and sweat, he was going to enjoy his portion of the morning after. Ubbe had a habit of kicking him out soon after, but last night he'd fell asleep before you and Uhtred had finished.

"Morning, Milady." His voice was rough and possibly sexier having just woke.

"Good morning, Bebbanburg."

"Sleep well?" He asked, his lips tickling your shoulder. He'd trimmed that pitiful excuse of a beard, but the wispy hairs on his chin were enough to send a shiver through you.

"Well enough." You can't help notice the growing excitement between the two of you. "Uhtred." You don't sound half as stern as you want.

"Mmm." He hums, his lips slowly tasting your salty skin.

"You-you need to." You swallow the lump in your throat, damn him. "Stop." You half whisper, half hiss.

"That is not what you said last night."

"Gin makes me say things I don't really mean." You roll your eyes, sighing.

There isn't an ounce of energy in you to move right now. It had taken all of your conserved effort to scoot away from Ubbe. Besides, you kind of liked the way Uhtred's body curved to yours. His height isn't as towering as Ubbe, which is a welcome relief in your current state.

"Gin makes us all do things we tend to regret, later." Uhtred's chuckle vibrates his body and yours. "At the same time, it turns some people into the life of the party. You were on fire last night."

"Don't." You shut your eyes in horror, shielding your face in shame. "I'd prefer not to know."

"It's not all bad." Uhtred is all but giggling. "Although, don't be surprised if Finan doesn't speak to you for a while."

You had no recollection of Finan being at Hvitserk's party. The last time you remember seeing the handsome Irishman was well over a week ago. Outgoing, Finan has as tendency to go shy when things get randy.

"Oh no, I didn't give another strip tease did I?" Giving Finan a strip tease would be far more forgivable than giving one to Osferth. Poor Osferth, despite the company he kept, was the sweetest and most innocent person in the world. Yet, none of that stopped you from once trying to show him everything you had.

Somebody has to be a saint among these heathens.

"No, but you did ask if he wanted to go home with Torvi." Uhtred recalled the previous events. You wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out. Bjorn was generous, but not nearly enough to share his wife. "It's okay, he'll recover."

"I didn't so anything really stupid, did I?"

You're not entirely sure that you want to know the answer. Hvitserk's parties often had an effect on people, the carefree and safe atmosphere led to some interesting adventures.

"Not unless you include inviting that arseling to bed with us." Ubbe grumbles from his side of the bed.

Looking over his shoulder to get a better view of you and his best friend, he frowns. Eyes red from the festivities and his voice hoarse from the joyfulness. Ubbe looks as though he's been hit by a truck.

"You're the one who started this." Uhtred reminds with a cocky grin.

When Ubbe had first suggested inviting the impulsive Dane into your bed, you had been hesitant, curious, and cautious. A part of you was beginning to think Ubbe and Uhtred were turning this into a game.

Damn them.

Who were you kidding? You had willingly walked into this and now you were the pawn they desired. If this were a winner takes all, it would no doubt leave Uhtred alone and still wanting. Thankfully you were mature enough to keep such an arrangement, for the time being, in a manner everyone benefited. Outside of the bedroom, Ubbe and Uhtred were still solid friends and you were comfortable enough to be around Uhtred with no awkwardness.

"You're the one who was horny and couldn't get your own girl." Ubbe's face was half hidden, but the good nature was evident in his tone.

"Boys, boys." You tut at them, playfully shaking your head. "If you're going to fight, then please let's make it worth our time. Winner gets a blow job."

"You heard her." Ubbe spoke up. "Winner gets what's his, now get out.  My woman has something for me."

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#ubbe ragnarsson #uhtred of bebbanburg #ubbe lothbrok #uhtred son of uhtred #modern ubbe #modern uhtred #ubbe's wolfpack #uhtred ragnarson #vikings #the last kingdom #vikings x the last kingdom #ubbe ragnarsson imagine #uhtred imagine