#uhtred x oc

[bhxrdy]

ocean eyes | introduction

author's note: just a little something for Uhtred because he needs some lovin'. This contains fluff-ish moments, angst, and some smut-ish moments (18+ MDNI). Not big on the action but hopefully this will still be enjoyable. If you are interested and want to be part of the taglist, please let me know! thank you to @persephones-journey & @itbmojojoejo, my darlings, for helping me out 💜

Main Characters: Uhtred x Cwen (OC)

Length: 3 chapters

Summary: Dealing with the grief of his latest lost relationship, Uhtred and his men make a new home in Mercia's small town of Rumcofa. Old flames are rekindled when he comes across someone he never thought he would see again, let alone someone he had not thought of in a very long time. Reunited again, Uhtred and Cwen make do, navigating a new path together as the dubbed Lord and Lady of the village.

CHAPTERS - ONE | TWO | THREE

Lots of love & stay safe 💕

thank you @arcielee, for the lovely banners 💜

Playlist under the cut

#the last kingdom #uhtred #uhtred x oc #uhtred of bebbanburg #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #uhtred fanfic #uhtred fic #tlk #the last kingdom fic #mywriting

[persephones-journey]

It was Rare, I was There

Just a one shot about Uhtred and an OC ... and knifeplay....

Listen... I am not an Uhtred girlie but... Man, can get it... Sometimes lol

Eadburg sat in her dining room eyeing the empty chair at the head of the table.

It was where her husband use to sit.

He did not dine anymore.

No, he laid in a wooden casket outside of the walls of the estate, dead, his body rotting away.

Eadburg ran the estate now, for her son was much too young and she refused to allow her daughter to be bethrothed, even if every single man who rode through said at eight, she needed to think of these things.

“Lady,” her head house guard said as he walked into the room. He bowed. “Riders headed our way.”

She sighed. She rubbed her brow and nodded. “Can you tell who it is?” she asked. He eyed her. “Edmund?” she asked.

He nodded. “I believe it is Uhtred, the Dane-Slayer,” he said.

Eadburg's heart pounded in her chest. Memories broke forth from the dam she had built around them in her mind.

“You taste like sunshine,” Uhtred whispered as his tongue licked her inner thigh, cleaning her wetness away. “I will need to bury my head in you more often,” he looked up at her, his ice blue eyes filled with desire.

Eadburg knew she should not be here. She was meant to be in the palace, serving Alfred's widow and Edward's new wife.

Not servicing Uhtred, the Dane-Slayer.

“Please,” she whispered as he stood. She saw his cock out of his trousers, ready for her. She had already had it in her mouth, in her hand, but it would seem Uhtred was finally ready to complete her ruination and take her virginity as well.

“Shh,” he whispered as he kissed her. “I swear, I will not hurt you.”

And he thrusted deep into her...

“YOU SWORE NEVER TO HURT ME!” Eadburg screamed as she shoved Uhtred.

He grabbed her wrists and yanked her close to him. His ice blue eyes cold as they looked at her. “And I didn't.”

“You liar,” she spat at him. “You have hurt me here, right now. Telling me you have moved on.”

“I have,” he insisted. “It is not my fault that you let yourself believe we could be more.”

Eadburg looked at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. The pain tore at her heart. She swallowed it, deep within her. Along with any words she had planned to tell him about the babe she carried.

His babe.

“Lady Eadburg,” Edmund's voice pulled her out of her memories. “Do you wish to let them in?”

She nodded. “I do, Edmund,” she answered. She stood. “Allow them to enter the courtyard. I will go and tell the children to stay in their rooms,” she said.

“Do you not trust them, lady?” Edmund asked.

Eadburg looked at him. She shook her head. “Some of the men, yes, but others,” she thought of Uhtred, “no, I do not trust them at all.”

Edmund nodded and she turned and left the room. She walked down the halls towards the nursery where her two children, Edla, her daughter and, Cenhelm, her son. They were all she had left in the world. Her husband had been killed in Aegelesburg along with his eldest son, which left little Cenhelm as the heir and lord of the estate. Aethelflaed, the new Lady of Mercia, had granted Eadburg custody of her son and daughter and a parchment allowing her to run the estate until her son became of age.

Eadburg was under no illusions though, she knew she was not really safe. A piece of paper would not stop men for taking her son or daughter, kidnapping them away in the hopes and stealing her land, her home.

She would keep them safe.

Even from warriors she had known for years.

“Momma, shouldn't you be eating?” Edla asked as Eadburg leaned in the doorway of the rooms.

She took in her daughter's ice blue eyes and dark hair. She was almost a perfect picture of Uhtred. It hurt at times to look at her but Eadburg would never let her daughter know it.

“I ate already, love,” she said smiling. She walked into the room and stood behind Cenhelm, as the young boy ate his meal. She stroked his dark hair, the only thing he shared with his sister and her. She leaned down and kissed his head. “Visitors have arrived and I-.”

“You want us to stay here,” Edla sighed. She got up and walked over to Eadburg and wrapped her arms around her waist. She was tall for her age; something else she got from Uhtred. “You wish to protect us,” she muttered.

Eadburg nodded. “I do,” she answered. She leaned down and kissed Edla on the forehead. “I do not trust these men.”

“Everyone you trust already lives here,” Cenhelm said as he hung his head upside down to look at them. Eadburg saw his dark brown eyes looking at her. She sighed and patted the four year old on the cheek.

“Yes, Cen, everyone I trust already lives here,” she answered. “Now sit probably before you hurt yourself.”

“Yes, Momma,” he answered.

“All right,” Edla said. “We will stay here,” she added.

Eadburg nodded. She stroked her daughter's hair. “Good,” she kissed her cheek. “I love you, my sweet.”

“I love you too, Momma,” Edla answered.

“I luv you too!” Cenhelm exclaimed his mouth filled with bread.

Eadburg chuckled. She pulled away from Edla and turned towards Cenhelm. She kissed him on the cheek as well. He laughed as she tickled and pinched his side. She pulled away and walked to the doorway. She turned back and watched Edla sit beside Cenhelm and the two of them laughing together.

One would never think they had separate fathers.

Eadburg took a slow breath and closed the door. It was time to go face her past.

***

Uhtred dismounted from his horse and walked over to the cart. He looked over the side and saw Athelstan huddled in Finan's cloak and wool blankets. Finan sat beside the boy and Uhtred saw the Irishman stroke Athelstan's dark hair.

“How is he?” Uhtred asked, knowing it would do them no good to have the son of the king die while they were moving him to safety.

“He fell asleep a while ago,” Finan answered. “He said he was not hungry,” he added as he continued to stroke the boy's hair.

Uhtred could see the worry on Finan's face; the Irishman had bonded quite fiercely with the boy. So had Sihtric. Uhtred nodded.

“Well, hopefully, the lord of this estate can offer us shelter here while Athelstan recovers,” Uhtred turned, “Osferth, you have enough herbs or will you-.”

“I may have to make a trip to the local market, depending on what the lord has in their household,” Osferth answered as he dismounted.

“If you wait for the lord to give you permission, you will be waiting a very long time,” a voice echoed in the courtyard.

Uhtred felt a chill roll down his spine. He saw Finan frown, meaning that he had not schooled his features as much as he had hoped. He took a slow breath and turned around.

Walking towards him was a ghost from his past. A love he had pushed aside to have Aethelflaed.

Eadburg, third daughter of an alderman of Mercia. She had been sent to Wessex to serve Aelswith when Alfred grew sicker, and she was also a friend to Aethelflaed when Aethelflaed took refuge in Wessex from Aethelred on occasion.

She had become a friend to Aethelflaed and Uhtred had even seen her laughing in the company of Finan and Osferth at times.

He had been grieving from losing Gisela. So, when she had whispered words of comfort to him, he had turned and kissed her. And a kiss had lead to more.

That more had lead to Uhtred breaking her heart, and lying to himself about his own feelings, while he went off and bedded Aethelflaed.

“Eadburg,” he said.

“That is Lady Eadburg to you, Uhtred,” she stated coldly.

Finan sighed. “Out of all the estates in Mercia,” he muttered.

Uhtred ignored him and turned his attention completely towards Eadburg. She was beautiful, even then; when she was looking at him wishing him dead.

“Lady Eadburg,” he said softly and carefully. “I would ask you give shelter to myself and my men for a few days. We have a boy with us, who is sick and needs time to recover,” he stated.

She frowned. She walked closer and towards the cart. She smiled when she saw Finan. “Finan,” she said, her voice filled with happiness, “you are looking well,” she said.

Uhtred turned and saw Finan nod at her and smirked. “Lady, you are looking ravishing as always,” he said with a wink.

Eadburg snorted. “I see you are still a flirt, Finan,” Finan laughed and Uhtred felt jealousy course through him as Eadburg chuckled as well. She looked into the cart more. “Who is this boy?” she asked.

“Athelstan,” Osferth answered as he walked over to Eadburg. Again, Eadburg had a smile for Osferth. “Lady,” he bowed his head, “he is King Edward's first born son,” he added softly.

Uhtred heard the curses Eadburg muttered. She turned and looked at him. “You brought Edward's bastard to my doorstep?” she demanded.

“In my defence, lady, I did not know it was your doorstep,” he said carefully.

Eadburg eyed him. “Your men and the boy can stay. You, however,” she stepped closer, “I think you should sleep outside the gate. I might provide you a blanket.”

Uhtred stepped closer to her. He saw her hand reached down to her belt but he glanced back up at her face. “Lady Eadburg,” he stepped closer to her, “perhaps you could move on from our past. After all, you are married and I doubt your husband would be happy to see his wife acting like a common whore.”

He heard Finan sigh. “If she kills ya, lord, I am telling Lady Aethelflaed ya deserved it,” he muttered.

Uhtred glanced at Finan and it was his mistake; he underestimated just how angry Eadburg was at him. When he turned back to look at her, he hissed as he felt cold steel against his neck. He looked down and saw that she had a dagger, with a large ruby stone on it's pommel, held up against his neck. He looked at her eyes.

And all he saw was cold rage.

“My husband, lord Uhtred, was recently killed by the Danes. He took his older son with him and I lost both of them. I am holding this estate and running it for my little son, who is four, all the while trying to stop men from suggesting it is time I betrothed my daughter, who is barely older than her brother. So, lord, if you wish to call me names, continue to do so, but know that it is I who run this estate and I have no husband to answer to,” she stated her voice cold as stone.

Silence echoed around them. Uhtred stared into her eyes. He tried to see the girl he had once known; once loved. He couldn't see her anymore.

He wondered if that was his doing. If him breaking her heart had torn away a part of herself; the soft, kind part that he had fallen for.

“Lady,” Osferth said, his voice so soft and gentle as he stepped beside Uhtred, “Lord Uhtred meant no offence. He is worried about Athelstan and we have been travelling and-.”

Uhtred hissed as he felt the dagger press a tad deeper into his neck. “Do you always let your men apologize for you?” she asked.

“Only Osferth,” Uhtred muttered. “He is the only one it seems who would not like to see me gutted like a fish by you.”

He heard Finan chuckle. “Aye, well, baby monk is soft like that.”

“Do you apologize, Lord Uhtred?” Eadburg asked.

Uhtred looked at her, her once welcoming bright grey eyes were now cold and stormy. He swallowed and knew that she would cut him. Finan might not think she would but form where Uhtred stood, he could see that she truly would slit his throat if he said the wrong thing.

“I do, lady,” he whispered. “I apologize for my crude remarks, I meant no harm,” he added.

She snorted. “I doubt that,” she muttered. She pulled her dagger away. “Come, Finan, I will show you where you can bring the boy to stay. You, Osferth, and Sihtric are welcomed to stay in the little cottage I have beside the main manor house as well. It is well maintained.”

“And I?” Uhtred asked.

Eadburg looked at him. “I told you where you were staying, lord. The barn has an extra side room. I am sure you will enjoy it.”

And with that, she turned and walked back towards the main house. Uhtred turned and saw Finan climbing out of the cart. He lifted Athelstan in his arms and held the boy close.

“Uhtred-,” he started.

Uhtred held up his hand and shook his head. “Go, stay in the little cottage. I will give her some time to cool and go plead my case again,” he looked around and saw servants and men watching, “and perhaps when most of her people are asleep. I will have a serious conversation with her.”

Finan snorted. “Ya are going to end up with that dagger in ya chest, lord,” he muttered. “I know what an angry scorned woman looks like, and Eadburg looked scarier,” he added.

Uhtred patted Finan on the shoulder. “I can handle Eadburg.”

Sihtric snorted. “Famous last words,” he muttered as he walked by.

Uhtred watched them go. He turned and saw Osferth watching him. “Please be nice to her,” Osferth whispered. “She is a kind lady and I would not want her to be hurt more when we leave.”

Uhtred grabbed Osferth's shoulder. “I do not wish to hurt her either. I am just trying to make sure that we can all get along while we stay here.”

Osferth gave him a look. “You said that last time right before you broke her heart and Lady Aethelflaed arranged for her to be married off,” he said. He looked down and glanced back up at Uhtred with a sad look on his face. “She was kind before, lord and now,” he shrugged, “I do not see that kindness any longer.”

Uhtred let Osferth walk away. He closed his eyes and cursed. Osferth was right. Eadburg's kindness was gone and Uhtred had a feeling deep down that he was the cause.

He felt the urge to fix it.

***

Eadburg sat in the chair by the fire in the hall. She was in her thin silk nightdress with a knitted shawl draped over her as she sipped her wine and watched the fire.

Her mind wandered to Uhtred and the men. They had been there going on three days. Osferth and her healer had worked together and little Athelstan was getting better. Finan was like a mother hen as she expected watching over the boy. Edla and Cenhelm had heard their was a boy in the estate and wished to befriend him. Eadburg had allowed them to visit with Finan and Osferth keeping watch; if either of them noticed how Edla resembled Uhtred, they said nothing. Sihtric busied himself with helping Edmund do repairs that he had not had the man power to do before, which Eadburg knew he had worried about but did not wish to trouble her with it.

She could not sleep though. Every time she closed her eyes, she fell back into memories of before; of her and Uhtred together humping in dark corners of the palace of Winchester and in the inn. Before he had broken her heart; and in the process broken her.

She had avoided him, and the barn by extension. Finan had tried a few times to get her to speak to Uhtred but she had brushed him off and to his credit, he had smiled bowed his head and muttered a “Trust me, lady, I understand” under his breath.

She stood and her shawl fell to the floor. She hugged herself with one arm as she finished her wine. She heard the doors to the hall open and she closed her eyes and cursed.

“Edmund, whatever it is, it can wait until morning,” she muttered as she opened her eyes and looked at him.

Except it wasn't Edmund, who stood there; it was Uhtred.

She snorted and turned back and placed her empty wine glass on the large wooden mantle her husband had commissioned; one of the last editions to the manor house he had oversaw before he had left for Aegelesburg. She knew she was lucky to live in one of the older Roman villas that was still standing and in excellent shape. It meant that she had gorgeous large fire places that kept the rooms warm even in the coldest of winters.

Beside the wine glass, was her dagger. She picked it up and turned to look at Uhtred. He saw the dagger in the fire and lantern light of the room and sighed.

“I am not a threat to you, Eadburg,” he whispered as he walked closer to her.

Again, she snorted. “Oh, you are a threat,” she muttered. She walked over and bend down to pick up her shawl. She draped it over her shoulders, trying to cover her breasts; she knew that the thin silk meant if he got close enough, he would be able to see her nipples through it. “A threat I should have recognized earlier.”

Uhtred walked closer to her and stood in front of her. “I have never been a threat to you, ever,” he looked at her. His eyes raking over her from the top of her head down to her feet. His eyes focusing solely on her; it felt she was naked in front of him. He looked back up, his cold ice eyes looking into hers. “You use to know that,” he whispered softly.

He sounds hurt and it caused her anger to rise. She clutched the hilt of her dagger and held it close to her. “I was wrong,” she spat out at him. “I was so very wrong about you,” she added.

His eyes filled with sadness. “What happened to you, min søde?” he whispered using the nickname he had given to her; the one he had whispered in her ear when he had been buried deep inside of her. My sweet one. “Why are so so cold and distant?” he added as he stepped closer to her. He reached up and gently took her hand, the one not holding the dagger. “You use to be so kind and caring. So soft and-.”

She brought the dagger up and pressed it, the blade up against Uhtred's neck again. He stilled and held her hand tighter. She pressed the dagger more and he backup so she pressed it more. On and on it went, him backing up and her pressing the dagger harder into his neck. He backed up to the table, kicking a chair with the back of his foot; he had no where else to go.

“You wish to know what happened to me?” she demanded her voice low but filled with rage. “You, Uhtred of Bebbanburg, you are what happened to me,” she stated coldly.

“Eadburg-,” he started.

“NO!” she said pressed the dagger harder against his neck. Uhtred hissed and she saw blood trickle down from a nick she had caused. Her shawl, once again fell to the floor. She kicked it away. “You happened to me!” she stated again. “I was one of nine children, the third daughter. I knew I was never meant for greatness, I would be lucky if my father did not place me in a convent and forgot I existed,” she stated. “When I was called to serve Lady Aelswith, and later Aethelflaed and Aelflaed, I felt like perhaps I could have a good husband. I could have a good life. And then,” she looked at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, “there was you. The Dane-Slayer and the pagan. Everyone whispered how I needed to stay away from you, but you were nothing but kind to me. As were your men. You tried me like I was, some precious jewel,” she laughed coldly, “and I fell for it. I fell for you.”

She felt Uhtred's fingers stroke the back of her hand that he still held. “Do you not think I fell for you as well?” he whispered softly. “That I did not see you and think of how kind and loving you were and wish for-.”

“Wish for what?” she demanded. “Marriage and children?” she asked. “Because that is what I began to wish for. But then you pushed me away so you could bed Alfred's daughter,” she hated how filled with hurt and pain her voice became. She had spent years telling herself she was over it; she was over him. But apparently she had been lying to herself; just as he had lied to her years before. “And I was reminded once again, that I was no one special. Especially not special enough for the Dane-Slayer.”

“Stop,” he ordered as he looked at her. “You were special to me, min søde. Too special,” he whispered. “It was why I let you go.”

She snorted and laughed. “You truly expect me to believe that, Uhtred?” she demanded. She shook her head. “You never called it love,” she whispered to him. “I did. I remember whispering in your ear as you plowed me how much I loved you, how much I loved the feel of you against me, the feel of you in me, but you never said the same. So how was I special exactly? I was not special enough for you to whisper you loved me, no Aethelflaed was the one who no doubt got that as well.”

“I love you,” he told her. She looked in her eyes and wanted to tell him she could see he was lying. But she couldn't; because it appeared that he was telling her the truth. He let go of her hand and pressed his hand at her side. He pulled her closer and she pressed the dagger harder against his neck, the blood still trickling, a few drops at a time, from the cut. Uhtred did not seem to care. “I loved you then as well,” he whispered. “But I knew your father would not let me marry you so I did not even try to ask. That was my mistake, Eadburg, I will admit that. I am sorry I did not tell you that. I should have but I didn't. I am sorry that I didn't and broke your heart instead. If I could go back, I would do it differently. But I cannot go back. I cannot erase your hurt.”

Eadburg felt herself wanting to give in to him. She felt herself leaning in towards him, her face moving closer to his. She saw how sincere he was, how much he hurt that he had done that to her. She closed her eyes when her nose brushed his.

“It is in the past and I do not care any longer about any of it,” she found herself whispered.

Uhtred, chuckled a bit at that. “You have a dagger at my throat, Eadburg, I do believe you care about it still.”

She opened her eyes and looked into his deep ones. “I am no longer that girl and I do not believe in love and happy endings any longer.”

She saw Uhtred's eyes fill with sadness. “Pity,” he whispered. “I was about to show you how much I still ache for you,” he added.

Silence echoed around them as did the tension; this time not angry tension, no sexual tension. Eadburg's eyes looked down to his lips and she was lost. She found herself leaning forward and pressing her lips against his, still holding the dagger against his neck. He kissed her back, not caring about the dagger any longer. She felt both of his hands grip her hips and he pulled her forward.

“Uhtred-,” she started.

“Shh,” he whispered as his lips kissed her harder. His hands grabbed her thin nightdress and pulled it up. He slotted a leg between her thighs and she whimpered as she felt him press it up against her wet cunt. He pulled her down and moved her back and forth on his thigh. His finger dug into her hips as he held her. “It does not matter. Let us just have tonight,” he added.

Eadburg kissed him harder at that. That was her agreement to it all. She began to move her hips, causing friction that she ached for. She ran her other hand down his chest to his trousers. She grabbed the ties and pulled on the ties, needing to feel him inside of her once again. She moaned as his hands grabbed her bare ass cheeks.

She kept the dagger at his neck as he moved his lips to her neck. His teeth nipped her skin there as she snaked her into his trousers and stroked his cock. He lifted her, holding her against him. She stroked his cock as she nipped at his ear, her dagger still against his neck. She was not going to move it.

She still did not trust him.

But this time, she was using him as much as he was using her.

He sat on the chair and placed her on his lap. She moaned as one of his hands slipped between them, stroking her cunt, rubbing his hand against her pleasure nub. Pleasure flooded through her and she grinded down on his hand. She reached down and pulled his trousers open more and he helped her with his free hand. Once his cock was free he grabbed her wrist and held it.

She rested her forehead against his and looked in his eyes.

“Tell me you need my cock,” he ordered.

She raised an eyebrow. “I do not need to tell you anything,” she whispered as she gently pressed the dagger against his neck more, “this makes sure of it,” she added with a smile.

He smirked. “You are going to keep that at my neck the entire time?” he asked.

She nodded. “I am,” she whispered. She leaned in and kissed him. “And to remind you that this time, I am using you for pleasure, not the other way around,” she added. “So, Uhtred of Bebbanburg,” she breathed out. “Tell me you need my cunt.”

She felt him move his hand from between her folds and gripped her hips with both his hands. He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching hers.

“And if I don't?” he asked softly.

She leaned forward and bit his bottom lip. She smiled and tugged on it. “I will nick you a tad more and call Edmund in here to have you thrown back in the barn,” she whispered. She grabbed his tunic with her hand and moved her hips so her wet folds brushed his hard cock. “It's one little sentence, Uhtred.”

She felt his hands move down to her thighs. He lifted her and she felt the tip of his cock press against her entrance. “I need,” he whispered as he pulled her down so his cock slid into her, “your cunt,” he finished as he thrusted up into her, filling her completely.

She moaned and kissed him hard as she began to move against him and he thrusted up into her. She kept the dagger at his neck as she rode him and rode him hard. Uhtred knew her body better than her husband ever did. He knew exactly how fast and hard to thrust up into her, where to press his hands on her body to stroke the fire that was building inside of her. And his cock, it filled her in a way her husband's never had.

“More,” she breathed into his mouth.

He understood. He reached between them and his nimble fingers, calloused from years of fighting and carrying a sword, but also so skilled and rubbing her pleasure nub. His other hand cupped her breast and squeezed it. She shoved him with her hand on his chest back against the chair back. He, in turn pulled her closer to him and she kissed him deeply.

She rode the wave of pleasure and the fire that was building and building inside of her. She pressed her face into Uhtred's and felt his cock pulsate and twitch inside of her; she knew he was close as well. She began to move faster moaning loudly into Uhtred's face. He thrusted up into her harder, reaching behind him with one hand and grabbing the back of the chair for leverage, leaving her breast missing and aching for his touch again.

Her legs began to tingle and shake. Uhtred rubbed her nub faster and she finally moved the dagger so she could grab his shoulders with both hands. She griped them tight as she moved up and down on his cock, feeling it press hard into that spot inside of her that only Uhtred had ever been able to find.

“Yes,” she moaned as Uhtred's cock pressed hard into that spot one more time and her world shattered into pleasure.

She closed her eyes as she saw a bright white light. Her whole body shook. She slowed in her pace of moving up and down on his cock. She felt Uhtred's body begin to tremble as well. A moment later, he filled her with his seed; the warmth spreading in her womb. She slumped against his body as he sat down in the chair holding her tight.

They breathing echoed in the now silent room. Huffs and puffs. Eadburg blinked and felt her body beginning to stop trembling. She moved, lifting herself off of his cock and pressing her bare feet on the cold stone floor. She moved off of Uhtred, feeling his seed and her wetness drip down and smear on her inner thighs. Uhtred stood and grabbed her. She pressed her dagger to his chest and he leaned down and kissed her. She kissed him back and smiled as he hissed when she dragged the dagger up and down his tunic, scraping the skin where he had left it open and untied at the neck and chest.

“Can I stay in the little cottage now?” he whispered against her lips.

She shrugged. “I do not care where you sleep,” she nipped his bottom lip, “just know it will not be with me.”

She pushed him away and turned and left the room. She smiled as she walked away.

She had what she wanted, she didn't need anything else.

***

Uhtred walked into the small cottage. He smiled when Finan glanced up at him from his spot by the fireplace. Uhtred saw Athelstan's tunic in Finan's hands along with a needle a thread.

“Mother Finan mending her little chick's tunic?” he teased as he tossed his bags of belongings in the corner.

Finan snorted and shook his head. “I would ask ya how ya got Eadburg to agree to allow ya out of the barn, but I don't think I wanna know,” he muttered as he went back to mending.

Uhtred shrugged as he walked closer to the fire. He rubbed his hands together and held them out. “What can I say, Finan, I have a way with women.”

Finan chuckled. He stood from the chair. He patted Uhtred on the shoulder. “Lord, ya seem to have cut yourself,” he added as he pressed his finger against Uhtred's neck when Eadburg's dagger had cut him a couple of times. “And ya have bled on ya last clean tunic,” he leaned in closer, “next time tell Lady Eadburg to hold her dagger at ya cock. Ya might learn ya lesson better and it will be less washing for Osferth.”

Uhtred shoved Finan but Finan laughed more. Finan turned and left him standing there as he walked into the back of the cottage. Uhtred reached up and pressed his own fingers to the cuts. He pulled his fingers away and looked at them and looked at the blood. He rubbed his thumb in it.

“If there is a next time,” he whispered to himself.

But oh if there was...

He smirked.

He might like being stationed in Mercia after all.

#the last kingdom #uhtred of bebbanburg #the last kingdom fic #uhtred x oc #uhtred fic

[omgkatherine01]

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#the last kingdom #uhtred of bebbanburg #uhtred x reader #uhtred imagine #uhtred x oc #ragnar the younger #ragnar the younger x reader #ragnar the younger imagine #ragnar the younger x oc #osferth #osferth x reader #osferth imagine #osferth x oc #finan the agile #finan x oc #finan imagine #finan x reader #sihtric x reader #sihtric #sihtric x oc #sihtric kjartansson

[marsconer]

I AM KING, the last kingdom fanfic

Lady Miriam believes in England, wants to be Queen of it. She was promised to Uhtred of Bebbanburg but Bebbanburg is no more and Uhtred is gone. She possess ambition unbefitting to a woman, even if as a devout christian

“You say, Eve was weak, and i believe Father, she was not. Being tempted is already hard enough when there’s thousands, imagine what Hell the devil can make of the human mind when there’s only two. Yet we remember Eve, we must not forget Deborah, Lydia, Phoebe, Priscilla, and of course, Queen Esther” — Lady Miriam to Father Beocca.

#oc fanfiction #the last kingdom #uhtred of bebbanburg #uhtred #the last kingdom fanfic #uhtred x oc #the last kingdom oc #fic ideas #oc: lady miriam #fic: King #Spotify

[morosemagick]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

HOOO HOO HOO BRAGGIN' RIGHTS YOU SAY?!

Thank you Ana for sending this to me ! I appreciate it so much! 💜

If I'm gonna toot my own horn over anything, it'll be these fics right hurrrr:

Songs of The Unbroken: obv. #1. It's my 77 Chapter, Completed Finan x OC fic that follows along with the plot of TLK from S2 - S5 ft my baby OC: Sigrid Kjartansdottir. The older half sister of our favorite rat lemon boy, Citrus - I mean Sihtric. If you like all of the angst and 3 years of really stupid people pining over each other this is the fic for you. Working on the sequel currently: Children of the Unbroken!

Lost Voices: this is my current baby!!! A Sihtric x OC fic about a girl named Rosaline Blaine who accidentally gets yeeted through time with nothing but her iPod. Friends to lovers, full of music references, may be an actual comedy idk this fic writes itself lmao

The For My Sisters Series: this is actually two separate fics (and one I have yet to finish because I am a clown) but these fics are about my OC Sigrid and my friends OCs, Lucinda (@emilyhufflepufftlk ), Saegyth (@lauwrite1225) and Cwen (@solinarimoon ) who here are sisters who've traveled to England from Frankia to find peace with their father, Frode. Fic one is Valhalla May Find Me and fic two is My Heart Will Mend. The third will come out.... Eventually 🤡

Finally Woken: A short 10 Chapter fic about, you guessed it, Finan and my OC: Sigrid, but with a modern twist. This is a story of how they fell in love, except told backwards. Also with a tone of music references. And two idiots pining. You see I have my thing.

From The Skies, Watch Them Fall: So this short 5 chapter fic is probably really niche but I am really happy with it. The story is a TLK x Original Works cross over featuring a character from a book I'm writing in my spare time who accidentally ends up in TLK world. It's very very niche and has like 50 hits on AO3 but I really love this fix okay?! 😭

#fic recs #but theyre all my fics lol #thank you Ana!!!! #asks #ask mernie #the last kingdom #tlk #finan x oc #Sihtric x OC #uhtred x oc #songs of the unbroken #finally woken #lost Voices #for my sisters #from the skies watch them fall #mcloveproductions #read on ao3

[assortedseaglass]

We Have This Hope - III

Osferth x Lady-in-Waiting

[Masterlist]

Story Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Mentions of Violence, Strong Language, Religious Guilt, Smut

Notes: Barely proofed. Will do later. Hope you enjoy my loves. H x

Aefry and Osferth’s mutual fascination continued over the week and, much to Aefry’s delight, she was provided with plenty of chances to see him, for wherever Aethelflaed went, Uhtred seemed to follow. What’s more, wherever Aethelflaed and Uhtred went, so too did her ladies and his band of warriors. 

Following their fleeting meeting after mass, Aefry had glimpsed Osferth on her way back from the meadows just beyond the keep’s edge. She’d spent the day there with her book of psalms and her pages of drawings. Butterflies, plants, the skies above her and the ripple of the Itchen river. Wrapped in a shawl and sat beneath the old oak that guarded the grassland, Aefry was content to draw, read and daydream. Of her parents, of life beyond the keep, of warriors, of the boy with rough-shorn hair and worried eyes…

The day was drawing in when she made her way back to the warmth of the keep, the grey sky purpling as the sun descended below the trees. A brisk coolness settled on her cheeks, and she felt them turn red. These transitory days of autumn, like those of spring, brought a promise of something on the horizon that only the birds above them could see. In a life so still and, though she was grateful of her position, monotonous, Aefry found the quiet adventure in them thrilling. She thrilled too when, against the darkening sky, a white horse gleamed. Walking slowly, it’s head bobbing with each step, it looked like a spectre. Her cheeks burned all the hotter when she saw the man leading the horse to the stables. 

Head downcast like that of his steed, he too seemed aglow in the twilight. Pale skin smooth as clay, his breath taking flight against the cold air. With his shoulders slumped, Aefry saw not the shy yet brave warrior monk she had become so intrigued by those last days, but a boy. Somehow, despite his quiet courage, he seemed defeated. Not once had he looked up to see his progress towards the stable, glancing only at his feet as they shuffled across the hard earth. He was missing the gentle sunset, had not stopped to look in the direction of the blackbird singing in the hedgerow, not noticed how she stood at the edge of the field, watching. She had to know what troubled him. Spurred on by that desire, any decorum left Aefry as she hurried forward. 

At the rustle of leaves underfoot nearby, Osferth glanced up. Catching each other’s eyes, they both abruptly stood still. Osferth, hand at his sword, gawked at her. Aefry wobbled on the spot, having been caught rushing towards him. The white horse huffed and a great cloud of its breath rose into the sky. 

The look that lingered between them was a second longer than proper, and Aefry became once more a young lady of propriety. Smiling gently, she moved slowly towards Osferth. He glanced quickly at the white horse, patting its thick neck as if finding something to do. Not even Uhtred or the King stirred this much nervousness in him. 

“Forgive me, Sir-” 

“Osferth,” he corrected. Aefry was relieved to see a small smile curve his lips. 

“Osferth,” she whispered his name. To say it aloud, with no title, seemed indecent. “I am on my way back to my mistress, but when I saw you-” Aefry teetered on the precipice of this confession. Did it reveal too much? “Forgive me. I thought you looked sad.” 

Osferth looked straight at her then, and the hand that rubbed the horse’s neck fell to his side. “Not sad, my Lady, just defeated.” 

“Defeated?” She took a step closer to him, eager to know what caused the good man’s disappointment.

Osferth saw the worried crease of her brow and hurried to reassure her.

“Finan, he has been teaching me to spar. ‘Properly,’ he says.” It was as though the moon had risen early. All at once, Aefry saw the purple blooming under his eyes and the small grazes to his cheeks. When he held out his hands, dropping the reins of his horse to reveal the smattering of bruises across his knuckles, she gasped and took hold of them. 

How intoxicating it was, this woman’s worry for him. Excitement, rapidly followed by shame, overcame Osferth and with all the effort he could muster he took his hands back from her. How wanton, to crave more of it. 

“Wait, please,” Aefry said, turning in the direction she arrived from. Osferth watched her reach the edge of the meadow and crouch by a green mat of vegetation. In the low light, it was as if watching someone ascend from deep water. As she walked back to him, a handful of green clutched in her hand, she slowly came back into focus. Osferth shuffled from foot to foot and swallowed, looking quickly back to the horse. Blinking quickly, he saw the outline of her inside his eyelids. The ripple of her long hair, the sturdy footsteps towards him, her silhouette growing ever closer as her hips swayed side to side beneath the modest tunic she wore. He knew at once he would recount the image of her walking slowly towards him in the twilight. That night, in all likelihood. Osferth blushed and bowed his head. His boots were caked in mud, no doubt his tunic torn and much the same. He flattened the hair on his forehead and, shame yet again welling up inside him, hastily dropped his arm. 

“I acknowledge my sin to you, and hide not my inequity-”

“Pardon?” Aefry had begun tearing the leaves in her hand as she stopped before Osferth.

“I-er, she is-she is restless,” Osferth gestured to the horse.

Even with his head bowed, his body stooping to appear small, he towered over her. Aefry came eye level with his leather cuirass, and the cross the rested there. A good man indeed. Funny, Aefry thought, that she found the holy men of the keep so pious they bordered on arrogance, boring to the point of inertia, or else more sinful than those they preached to. Power, she supposed, was the currency of man, and there was plenty for those who had taken holy orders under the command of the King. In Osferth, however, the presence of the cross at his chest calmed her, for she had seen the truth that he was a good man. Ruled not by power, but by his kindness and conscience. A true man of God. He was still shuffling uncomfortably at her side.

“Well then,” Aefry said with a gentle smile. “We best get you both inside.” Her twinkling eyes met his and Osferth’s heart drummed unsteadily in his chest. She turned on her heel and made her way towards the stables. With the click of his teeth, Osferth and his steed followed eagerly in her wake.

The closer they drew to the dimly lit stable, the clearer the voices within it became. That is to say, one voice. The two men inside barely noticed as Aefry pushed open the door and slipped inside. Instead, it was the sound of horse hooves on the dampened ground that told the men they were no longer alone. 

“Hurt your bollocks as well as the rest of your body?” Finan said to Osferth, indicating the horse he hadn’t ridden and laughing heartily. Sihtric smirked but continued brushing the dark horse he rode. Beside them, Aefry appeared from a small stall with a bowl of water.

“Fuck!” Finan jumped back at the small woman’s seemingly sudden arrival. 

Blushing at the language, Aefry laughed. “Perhaps, Osferth, you should take sparring lessons from me. He may be the brute but I clearly have the cunning.” She playfully nudged Finan’s shoulder and found he didn’t budge. It made her giggle all the more and the three men stared at her. Sihtric in question, Osferth in amazement and Finan in mirthful admiration. Unaware, Aefry continued tearing the plant in her hand and adding it to the bowl.

“What have you there?” Sihtric’s voice was quiet. 

“Yarrow,” Aefry offered him one of the flowering stems. “It helps to soothe swelling.” She watched as Sihtric turned the flower between his fingers. Despite his height, his fearsome, bicolour gaze and endless stoicism, there was gentleness to this man she was certain many overlooked. To all of them. Whereas it was plain in Osferth, behind the tough exteriors of Sihtric and Finan lay good-hearted souls. Sihtric with his childlike wonder, Finan with his easy humour. Uhtred too possessed a tenderness, if the way he looked at Aethelflaed was anything to judge. 

Silence, but for the huffing and shuffling of the horses, settled about the stable. Aefry worked the yarrow and water into a paste, unaware of the silent exchange occurring above her head. 

Osferth, still shy around his adoptive comrades and overcome with an emotion entirely foreign to him in the presence of Aefry, looked everywhere in the stable but her. Occasionally, as he glanced between the ceiling’s beams or the hay-strewn floor, he caught either Finan or Sihtric’s eyes. Sihtric, in his usual way, fixed him with a knowing stare somewhere between teasing and curiosity. Each time Osferth caught Finan’s eye, however, he entered into a silent battle with the Gael. 

Finan indicated Aefry with his head, encouraging Osferth to step closer, or else would mouth instructions. “Talk to her!” “Say something!”. Once or twice, he even caught Finan making lewd gestures. When the Gael balled his fist before his crotch, Osferth’s eyes widened and he darted into one of the stalls. In doing so he brushed against Aefry’s shoulder, and the warmth he felt beneath her shawl sent a surge of lightning through him. 

Flustered by the commotion of his own sudden movement, Osferth almost lost track of where he was and what he was doing. He span around. “I’m sorry, my Lady-” Osferth’s voice died. Aefry was watching him with a smile. No annoyance at his carelessness, worry no longer knitting her brow. Simply smiling at him. 

Though bolder than he was, Osferth had noticed in his few meetings with the lady-in-waiting, of which this was the third, that, like him, Aefry was content with silence. He wished then that he had the courage for idle chatter. This lingering silence was torturous. The more she looked at him, and the more he looked at her, the more likely it seemed to him that heaven truly was real and not just a tool to frighten men into subjection.

“Let me see your hand again,” Behind Aefry, Finan walked past the stall and winked. Osferth didn’t move, and so Aefry came to him. Mistaking his infatuation for his earlier disappointment, she reached out and took his hand. Osferth almost whimpered. He bit the inside of his cheek to silence himself and released a ragged breath through his nose. 

“I’m sorry, but the yarrow will help.” 

Osferth let out a shaky laugh at her unknowing sweetness. “‘Tis fine.” When she began massaging the yarrow into his knuckles, Osferth held his breath, for never before could he remember being touched with such gentleness. 

He barely remembered his mother. Sometimes, he thought of her running her hand over his head, but was unsure if this was a memory or merely something his mind had conjured up in the absence of her. When he entered the monastery, it was with the clap of his uncle Leofric’s hand at his back and a promise that he would always be near. 

In their memory, Osferth touched the cross at his chest. Aefry’s eyes flickered there but she asked no questions, and began rolling a torn piece of cloth about his hand.

Behind the walls of the monastery, Osferth knew nothing but prayer and penance. 

The blond hair his mother had allowed to grow long was roughly shorn, his clothes were replaced with itchy hand-me-down robes, and despite having lived so meagrely before, he would have given anything to sleep on the hay mattress of his uncle Leofric’s rather than the wooden board and blanket of his shared quarters. 

That first room he shared with two other boys, Arric and Hablendan. He did not need to ask why they were sent to the monastery. The abbots looked at the three boys with an obvious disdain that they did not show the other novitiates. They were woken between matins and prime, then set to work preparing breakfast for the sleeping monastery. After a long day of work and prayer, Osferth and his companions would say compline, or vigil before Sunnundaeg, and await the abbot to permiss them sleep, long after everyone else had retired. 

Bastards. Shame of father and family. That was why. 

“A stain upon the good King’s virtue.” 

“Nothing but a whore’s shame.”

“It would have been far better if you had never been born.”

When Hablendan succumbed to a fever aged eleven, the penitential psalms were hurried, his anointing near forgot, and the abbots slung him in a haphazard grave beyond the monastery wall. Only Osferth and Aerric kept vigil.

Arric left the monastery suddenly, and from time to time Osferth imagined he had run away with a tradesman or visiting abbess. That way he could believe a life beyond that harsh place existed. A monastery in a warmer climate perhaps, or a new life altogether. 

“Osferth?” 

So tender was her voice that Osferth thought he’d imagined it. The voice of Hablendan or Arric. Perhaps even his uncle or mother. 

He blinked in the dim light, and felt a warmth about his hands. She had taken both in her own, and held them gently before her. Her eyes, a muddy mixture of browns, were looking up at him with concern. 

“‘Tis fine,” he said again, although the lump in his throat betrayed any attempt at ease. Aefry nodded, held his hand a moment longer, then let go. Osferth twitched awkwardly before coughing and clearing the stall to make way for his horse. That he had been about to take her hand once more, Aefry did not know.  

“Will your mistress not worry where you are?” Sihtric was heaving his horse’s saddle onto one of the stable beams.

“If Lord Uhtred is with her, I doubt it entirely,” Aefry said with a smile. “Her mother, however-” The men laughed. “I am away. Remove the dressing in the morning and the swelling should have gone down,” she addressed Osferth. “If not, seek me out and I will gather more.” 

“He surely will,” Finan stepped forward with yet another gleeful glance in Osferth’s direction as he wrapped a cloak around his shoulders. “I’ll walk you back.”

Osferth’s heart sank. He had not known Finan long, but it was enough to see the long looks women gave him. Wit, kindness, honour, strength. How could he possibly compete? Aefry and Finan were backing out of the door when Sihtric nudged Osferth’s shoulder and nodded in their direction. Aefry was looking hopefully at him over Finan’s shoulder.

“Goodnight Osferth, goodnight Sir,” Sihtric nodded his head at Aefry. Osferth bowed a little. 

“Come,” Sihtric said to him. “You have more to learn than swordsmanship.” And together they trudged towards the inn on the outskirts of town, Osferth hanging off his every word. 

In the opposite direction, Finan and Aefry walked in comfortable silence. The sun had set fully and torches flickered at the welcoming gates of the keep. In a few moments, they would be sheltered in its warmth. Aefry’s stomach gave a rumble and she laughed. 

“Thank you, Sir, for walking me back,” Finan smiled and Aefry continued. “Though, and I do not mean to offend, I suspect it was not for my safety.” Expecting to see annoyance in her eyes, Finan looked at her. To his pleasant surprise, he saw her eyes twinkle in the low light. A broad smile stretched across his bonny face. “I do believe Saeflaed will have returned from her father’s by now.”

“I would not have let you walk back alone, lady-”

“Aefry.” She corrected, holding a hand to her chest. He copied the movement.

“Finan.” Aefry nodded and Finan continued. “But a glimpse of her would not go amiss.” 

Aefry’s smile widened. Finan had thought her a meek little thing at first, smaller than her companions, not so pretty as Saeflaed or outspoken as Adburh. But he saw now that he was wrong. Behind the round cheeks and rosy complexion, pleasing manner and quiet reserve, a brightness burned within her. Quick to help and to laugh just as he. The youngest of Aethelflaed’s ladies, he thought perhaps, despite Saeflaed’s beauty, that Aefry was his favourite.

“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Aefry said, her voice full of that longing awe one heard in a girl recalling a princess, or a little boy dreaming of the battlefield.

“I’ve never seen a fairer lass,” 

“And here she is,” she indicated the keep gates, where a golden haired girl stood waiting. Aefry turned to Finan, a knowing glint in her eye. “Almost as if this meeting were planned.” 

“Not a word to your mistress of Uhtred,” Finan held her arm gently. 

Aefry held a finger to her lips as she slipped away, and Finan watched as she clasped Saeflaed’s hand before disappearing through the gate. 

Over the next few days, the three men and three women followed their leaders like a gaggle of children. 

Having told Aefry how much she liked the man, Saeflaed either clung to her arm or Finan’s, whispering hurried observations in the former’s ear, flirtations in the latter’s.

“His wit is as sharp as his sword!”

“There’s something about his eyes,”

“I watched him train the monk,” Aefry’s ears pricked. “His arms, Aefry!” 

Poor Adburh was quite taken as ever by the silent Sihtric, but the discovery of his wife had left her quite bereft. 

“Many a man takes a mistress, Adburh,” Saeflaed had said.

“I’ll not be a man’s whore,” Adburh snapped from beneath her bedsheets.

“Not even a man so beautiful?”

Adburh sniffled and Aefry silenced her friend with a quick glance. 

When next they saw Uhtred and his men, all walking the halls and corridors of the keep as he spoke to Aethelflaed in hushed tones, Aefry was forced to abandon her position by the monk to remind Adburh that she was at court. At once, the red-headed girl’s shoulders straightened, the crease of her forehead vanished and her steps became lighter. 

“He is a handsome man, ‘tis true,” Aefry whispered to Adburh. “But not the man for you, my friend.” Adburh’s face soured at once and she made to protest. Aefry didn’t allow it. “Aside from his marital status, he is far too quiet and serious. Imagine the household you would run together! You, fearsome and outspoken. He, fearsome and silent. That poor man would not stand a chance.” Adburh laughed sadly and linked her arm through Aefry’s. Together, they processed behind the others.

Uhtred and Aethelflaed were a way ahead now. Uhtred too, seemed equally bewitched by Aethelflaed as Adburh was with Sihtric, and Aefry was glad to see a man bestow her mistress some compassion. The image of a gentleman in her presence, Uhtred listened to Aethelflaed’s words as though she were bestowing upon him a prophecy. He walked half a step behind her at all times, and always, his gaze was directed toward her. 

Finan and Saeflaed, still holding his arm, were a few paces behind them with Sihtric. Aefry giggled as Saeflaed’s golden curls bounced animatedly as she spoke to him, and Finan looked over his shoulder at the noise and winked. 

Osferth saw him do so and glanced to where Aefry and Adburh walked. The moment he looked at her, Aefry’s steps faltered. 

“Are you alright?” It was Adburh who sounded concerned now. 

“Yes. Yes, fine,” Aefry resumed her steps and looked to Osferth. He had turned back to face the front. Let him look round again, please. The strange sensation that had made its home in Aefry’s chest ever since she met the monk stirred, and she gulped a few times to steady her breath. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Adburh,” Aefry lay a hand atop her friends. “Believe me when I say, I am fine.” Adburh eyed her suspiciously but they continued ahead. 

Osferth walked alone between the groups, hands clasped behind his back. As people passed them in the corridors, going about their business, Aefry found a new appreciation for his height. She had seen few men so tall. He was taller than Finan, that was certain. Now, she saw he was taller than Uhtred and much the same height as Sihtric. She thought of the three warriors and their broad backs, and her mind wandered to what lay beneath Osferth’s robes. Whether he would become as muscled as them as he continued his training- 

I’m sorry. Let him look at me, and I’ll spend Sunnandaeg in the chapel. 

Aefry did not know precisely what it was that she longed to see, but when Osferth turned to look at her again, his mellow eyes brightening when he saw her already watching him, she felt a small part of her desire to be seen by him sated. 

“Aefry, your cheeks are flushed. Are you certain-”

“Adburh!” Aefry dropped her friend’s arm in annoyance and took a few rushed steps forward before realising where she was; a step or so behind Osferth. When Adburh stomped past them, her temper flaring, Osferth startled and gazed back. Upon seeing Aefry so close, he startled again but smiled all the same.

“Her fires are burning rather hot today,” Aefry mumbled, giving Osferth a small curtsy. 

“Is everything well?” said Osferth as he watched Adburh storm ahead.

“She had some bad news,” Aefry wouldn’t betray Adburh’s feelings, no matter her annoyance.

Osferth hummed and waited for Aefry to fall into step beside him. Unlike that which she had shared with Finan, Aefry could not say their silence was comfortable. On the contrary, both seemed strained to think of something to say and altogether uneasy. 

“The yarrow worked-”

“How is your practice-”

Both spoke together, blushed and allowed the quiet to resume. After a moment, Aefry took Osferth’s hand. Perhaps it was an excuse just to touch him, but she brought his knuckles to the light of a passing window and examined his bruises. The yarrow had worked indeed, for she could make out the bone and blue veins of his hands. His hands. How small hers suddenly felt underneath his. When she looked up at him, she saw he was still staring down at their entwined hands. 

“Do you need anything more of me?” she whispered.

Osferth’s eyes flickered to hers. “Lady, I-”

“Come on, Osferth!” 

Finan’s voice boomed down the corridor and Aefry stepped quickly away from Osferth. Onward they walked. 

“That is much like how he speaks to me when teaching,” Osferth said lowly and Aefry laughed. “But he is kind do it, and a good man.”

“That he is.” 

Osferth watched her from the corner of his eye. She smiled as she looked in Finan’s direction and he tried to quell his jealousy. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” he whispered. 

Ahead, Uhtred and Aethelflaed had stopped outside a large cabinet of rooms at the fore of the keep, and Aefry, distracted on their journey there, noticed at once that it was the study of the King. She quickened her steps, leaving Osferth’s side, to stand behind her mistress. It would not do for Lady Aelswith to see her at the side of one of Uhtred’s men and not her daughter. 

No sooner had she, Saeflaed and Adburh settled behind Aethelflaed did the door to the cabinet open. Father Beocca stepped out and grasped Uhtred’s hand. A moment after, the King entered the corridor and all in his presence bowed their heads. Aethelflaed kissed his cheek. 

“You are ready?” He said to his daughter and Uhtred, to which they nodded and entered his private chambers with Beocca. As Aefry bowed once more, she noticed the King’s intelligent eyes carry over Finan and Sihtric, before flicking to the man stood still in the corridor.

Subtly, so imperceptibly, Aefry saw Alfred falter. From her reverent position, she looked sideways through the veil of her hair.

Osferth was looking pointedly at the ground, his shoulders a little stooped, his head a little bowed.

When the King turned away, Osferth looked up and saw that Aefry was watching him again. With a sad smile and nod of his head, he retraced his steps, away from his fellows, and out of sight. A haunting sadness had returned to his eyes, and Aefry thought of little else all evening.

Early one morning under the guise of prayer, Aethelflaed brought her ladies-in-waiting to the town chapel so she may share some secret with Uhtred before he and his men left for the north.

Finan and Sihtric were stood at the door, happily talking when they arrived. They bowed to Aethelflaed as she passed, sharing a knowing look, and greeted the ladies. Saeflaed placed herself by Finan and leant gaily against the stone wall so that her hip jutted just so. Adburh, too, stood scandalously close to Sihtric. He said nothing. Aefry did not worry about Osferth’s own whereabouts, for she knew he would be inside.

Sure enough, when she pushed open the chapel’s great doors, daylight streaked into the chamber and set him aglow. Sat on a simple wooden bench at the back of the chapel, his head was bent in prayer. Like a moth to a flame, she drifted towards him, sitting carefully beside him as he prayed.

The creaking of the wood gave her away, and Osferth opened one eye. When he saw her sat beside him, he smiled and relaxed in his seat. Together, the monk and the young lady sat in contended silence at the back of the chapel. After a while he looked at her fully and saw the happiness on her face.

“What has you smiling, my Lady?” Osferth whispered in her ear as they sat side by side. Aefry looked up at him. His hands were clasped in his lap, his head bowed slightly to hear her answer. Wherever he went, he always looked in prayer, and she wondered if it was the same on the battlefield. If he fought with as much grace as he did everything else.

“Those two,” she indicated Uhtred and Aethelflaed with her eyes. “It is good to see her smile again.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched her face glow with tenderness. It seemed her permanent state. On occasion, he had seen her about the keep with Aethelflaed and her other companions. Where Adburh and Saeflaed seemed suited to keeping the princess jovial, the lady beside him must have been picked as a companion for her quiet sincerity. When Aethelflaed fell into clouds of despair, it was Aefry she went to to lift her spirits.

When Osferth stumbled upon Aefry in the town, or sat in the meadow beyond the keep, she moved with serenity, like river buttercup in a stream. It struck him that she was prayer incarnate; contemplative, curious, calm.

When tending to the horses, he watched her in the meadow. She gathered flowers, read beneath the oak tree, or when not alone, talked spiritedly with her companions. Just as fascinated as she was with the monk, he too was with the lady-in-waiting.

“Though she doesn’t show it, not to Lord Uhtred, she is sad.” The monk titled his head towards her as she spoke. “You are away tomorrow, are you not?”

He nodded, eyes scanning hers. Would she be sad when he left? As Aethelflaed was for Uhtred?

“Take care, Just Osferth,” she smiled. His mouth twitched at the corners, and she knew he wanted to smile. “What?”

“My lady, do you think perhaps you could simply call me Osferth? The others have given me their own name, I should like to hear mine just plainly.”

The lady’s eyes lit with mirth. “What do the others call you?”

He sighed and looked at the cross atop the alter, as if pleading for help. “‘Baby monk.’” He whispered it in her ear like he was at confession, and she would have shuddered were it not for the ridiculousness of the name. She sniggered and the monk pinched his nose.

“Are you a monk anymore?” She had turned to him slightly, though she still glanced at her mistress every now and again. “Now that you are in Uhtred’s company?”

He thought a moment and watched his hands. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

She took his hand in hers and faced him directly.

“You are Osferth.”

“That I am.” There it was again. Pride. Looking at her pretty face, open with kindness and judging of nothing as she watched him, Osferth felt that whatever he had been, or would be, was fine because she saw him. She.

“What do you think life would have held for you? Had you the choice?” Aefry knew the question was intimate, and should he rebuke her, she would understand. To her happiness, he did not.

“I do not think it matters, lady.” Visions of himself as a prince, or an ealdorman with wife and child flashed before his eyes. “My lot was chosen long before I was born.” Aefry knew he was thinking of his father’s actions but said nothing, only let him continue. “With another mother, another father, in a different realm perhaps my life would have been different, but it does not do to dwell. I am thankful for what I have been given.”

He watched her side, for she had turned to face Uhtred and Aethelflaed solemnly. Her lips parted delicately, plainly thinking over what he had said. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from the braid knotted at her nape, revealing the pulse point on the elegant column of her neck. Osferth was struck with the desire to run his finger along it and the britches beneath his tunic tightened. He shifted on the hard pew. Damn. Faintly, as though listening through water, he heard her say something similar to “we should leave them be.” He looked up to see Uhtred and Aethelflaed departing through the door behind the chancel.

“Will you pray with me?”

Her hand was still in his and she squeezed it before clasping her own in prayer. “Of course.”

Aefry knelt before him and he swallowed, shifting his hands beneath his tunic before kneeling beside her. Osferth wasn’t sure how long they prayed. Or rather, how long she prayed and he tried to. Her devoted mutterings and deeps sighs of breath were beautifully distracting, so he settled on watching her pray instead.

She leant her head on her hands, as though this would open a direct channel to help her commune with the divine. She glanced up on occasion, to gaze at the altar, before casting her eyes down. When she hastily wiped a tear from her cheek between devotions, he found he could take it no more and moved towards the offertory shrine next to the tabernacle. He hadn’t seen someone so moved by prayer since the monastery, and even then he believed the abbot did it to scare the oblates into servitude.

He took a candle and, placing it next to its fellows, lit it with a taper. Closing his eyes with the flame in hand, a moment’s solace finally found him, and he prayed for that which he always could. When he opened them, she was there beside him, placing her own candle upon the shrine having silently finished her prayers. As if in slow motion, he watched as she covered his hand with hers and moved the taper he still held to the wick. The candle flickered into life, and she let go.

“Who did you light your candle for?” she whispered, watching the flames dance together.

“My mother.”

“I lit mine for you. I want to see you safely back in Wintancaester.” Sadness befell Aefry’s eyes and Osferth said the only thing he could think that would ease her unhappiness.

“I shall try, my lady.”

She nodded. “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”

His lips parted with barely supressed awe. “Psalm ninety-one.”

Aefry nodded again. “The psalms are my favourites.”

“My lips praise you, because your faithful love is better than life itself.” Osferth whispered, his eyes intent on hers.

“Psalm sixty-three.”

“Yes,” Each time he was near her, his voice floundered. It seemed it was not just he who struggled. The light of the chapel cast Osferth in a soft glow and his eyes, pierced by the sun, looked aflame. Aefry watched as his tongue ran slowly over his bottom lip and, mindful of their place in God’s house, pressed the back of her hand to his so as to feel close to him.

“I must away, my lady.” His words were abrupt, their sudden intimacy overwhelming.

“Yes, you must,”

Osferth swallowed, and with some urgency said, “But I will see you soon.” Her beautiful face became doleful as she looked at the bidding candles and he stepped closer to her. Her eyes, brimming with tears, took in his face and as he made to brush them away, she stood on her toes to place a chaste kiss against his cheek.

Frozen before the shrine, Osferth listened as her steps carried her from the chapel, away from Adburh and Saeflaed, from Finan and Sihtric, and from him.

In the meadow beyond the town, beneath the oak tree, Aefry let her tears fall.

“The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night,” she said aloud to the grasses and the birds. Please, she begged, please let him come back.

Notes: Matins, prime, compline and vigil are part of the liturgical hours in the catholic faith, and are prayers that are said throughout the day. Typically for a monk, there would be matines, prime, lauds, none, sext, vespers and compline. Vigil came before holy days and some even took nocturnes which is around 1am. I used to live with a monk (true!) and sometimes I would do lauds with him. Fifteen minutes of quiet is a lovely way to start the day!

Tags: @arcielee @babyblue711 @elizarbell @chilling-in-my-head @skikikikiikhhjuuh @fan-goddess @sylas-the-grim @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @targaryenrealnessdarling @doomwhathouwilt @gemini-mama @myfandomprompts @bcon24 @humanpurposes @wise-owl @bookwyrmsblog @yentroucnagol @allthefandomtherapy @hightowhxre @elizarbell

#ewan mitchell #osferth #osferth x oc #osferth x reader #the last kingdom #tlk #aethelflaed #uhtred #finan #sihtric #alfred the great #we have this hope #ewan mitchell x reader

[scorpionrising]

there is love that doesn't have a place to rest — ch. 3

pairing: finan x fem!oc word count: 3556 content warning: this fic deals explicitly with the trauma of sexual assault. while there are no drawn out, graphic scenes, it is made explicitly clear what is going on. for context: oc is uhtred's daughter and was captive in dunholm for all her childhood. proceed with caution. additionally, expect canon typical attitudes, behaviors, violence, etc.

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“i wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery and i can wish that all i want, but it won't bring us together plus, i know whatever happens to me, i know it's for the better" –phoebe bridgers, waiting room

A week had passed since her father left at the behest of King Alfred, and Ravna spent each day with Osferth in the woods, allowing him to teach her all about the Christian religion. She was not sure she believed any of it— a pregnant virgin was just a bit too absurd for her— but they made for good stories. She thought of the Romans, and the Greeks before them. How many different gods had they believed in? How many gods before them had been worshiped? For this reason alone, Ravna could not count anything out. Or could she believe in anything at all? 

“Monk! I had a thought,” Ravna said, finding Osferth in the alehouse. 

He was sitting with Finan, but she chose to ignore the other man. Osferth’s brows shot up upon seeing her. She did not make a habit of entering the alehouse, often finding it too loud and the men too abrasive. Osferth put down his mug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You say your god is good, yes?”

“Uh, yes. He is all good, just as He is all powerful.” 

“If He is both, then how can He allow evil to exist?”  

This was what Ravna did not understand. She had long since accepted that her father’s gods, if they did exist, cared little for her. Her father’s gods never claimed to be all good. But Osferth’s god did. Osferth’s god positioned himself as a father who loved his children. If she was this all-good and all-powerful god’s child, she could not fathom why he allowed for her to be abused as she was. 

“He did not create evil,” Osferth said.

She scrunched her face at him. “But you said evil and sin comes from Eve eating the apple because Satan told her to, and Satan was created by God, was he not?” 

“But God also created free will. He does not control us, Ravna.” 

“If God created free will and bestowed it upon people with the option and opportunity for evil, then He created evil!” 

A few eyes were looking their way, certainly whispering about her outburst. Finan glanced around the alehouse and leaned across the table. 

“Hey, just take a breath now, ceann bheag.”

She rounded on him, eyes narrowed. What gave him the right to tell her to do anything? 

“I believe I was talking to Osferth, not you,” she hissed, relishing in the fact that he actually leaned back in shock from her ire being turned on him. Sniffing, she looked back at Osferth. “I do not find myself satisfied with your response. Think on it some more and find me in the morning with better answers.” 

Osferth cracked a smile, despite the uncomfortable tension between her and Finan.

“Are you hoping to convert, Lady?” Osferth asked teasingly.

“Maybe if I find you convincing enough,” Ravna responded in the same tone. She stuck her tongue out briefly and smacked the tabletop. “Right, then. I’m getting myself a drink.” 

Both men looked shocked, which she took some pride in. Still, it was rather annoying. But, if it took her sitting in the alehouse for hours on end and drinking until her vision blurred for them to see her as the grown woman she was, she would do it. She would show her father and Finan both. She had no need for a nursemaid. 

Coin purse in hand, she sidled up to the counter and held her chin high. Men were crowded all around her, but she refused to waver. She had something to prove. 

“Lady Ravna.” 

Ceolmund, the second son to the alehouse and tavern owners, stood behind the counter. His older brother, Alewulf, was somewhat of a warrior and had gone north with her father. 

“Hello,” she said. “I would… like a pitcher of ale, please.” 

Ceolmund’s smile was a bit crooked. “You drink with your father’s men, lady?”

She pursed her lips. “And what of it?”

“I am surprised,” he said. 

Then, he looked around and leaned in, beckoning her closer. Confused, Ravna complied. Ceolmund’s lips brushed along her ear and she bit back a gasp in surprise. 

“Tonight is the full moon, Lady. When the moon is at its peak, come to the mouth of the river so you need not drink with your father’s men.” 

She pulled back and arched an eyebrow. “What happens tonight?” 

He grinned ear to freckly ear. It would be a bitter lie to say she was not intrigued. 

“Us young people get to live,” he said. 

“Very well,” Ravna said. “I will join you.”

“Good!” He smacked the counter for good measure. “I’ll go get your ale now, Lady.” 

When she returned, she must have been grinning as well. Osferth’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead and he turned to Finan, who was staring at Ravna with his mouth agape. 

“What?” she asked. 

“What did he say to you?” Osferth asked. 

“Nothing,” Ravna said simply, pouring herself a mug of ale. 

“No, he said something!” 

She rolled her eyes. “Osferth, I am allowed to have friends other than you, no?” 

He deflated a bit and took a deep sip from his mug. Smirking to herself, Ravna poured some ale from her pitcher into his now empty cup. With a grin, he knocked his mug against hers and they took large gulps in tandem. Finan looked decidedly put out. Good, she thought, not feeling guilty in the least. 

The ale was strong, but she knew it would be. Her father encouraged Ceolmund’s father to brew it the way Danes did, as Saxon ale was often so weak. Ravna’s head was spinning a bit, but she found she did not mind it. She quite liked the feeling, actually. With Osferth’s aid, she drank the entire contents of the pitcher rather quickly. Delighting in the way the whole world around her seemed to tilt as she stood up, Ravna placed her palms on the table to steady herself as she giggled shrilly. 

“I… am going to…” She trailed off, losing the thought. “Oh! Yes, I will get more ale.” 

Finan grabbed the now empty pitcher and pulled it out of her reach. “Perhaps not, Lady.”

Annoyed but less angry than before— thanks to the ale, in all likelihood— Ravna turned on Finan. Feeling her lips curling into a grin, she snorted and lunged for the pitcher, but he was too quick for her and pulled it further away. 

“Finan,” she said shortly, rolling her eyes, “I am grown. I am no child, and you are no nursemaid.” 

He reared back as though she had struck him, and it granted her the opportunity to steal back the pitcher. Clutching it to her chest, she swiveled around to go back to the counter, but Ceolmund was already a few paces away. 

“Lady Ravna,” he greeted, walking to meet her where she stood. “I’m off now. Would you like me to accompany you on your way?” 

Blood rushed to her face, pooling in her cheeks. A bit carelessly, she tossed the pitcher aside and nodded. 

“That would do,” she said. 

He grinned quite charmingly and offered her his arm. 

“Oi!” Finan interrupted. “What’s this about?” 

“Ceolmund is accompanying me on my way so I do not need to walk alone in the dark,” Ravna said, cocking her head to the side. “Do you find that unacceptable, Finan?” 

Osferth was hiding a grin behind his hands and very pointedly looking away from Finan. Finan, however, seemed downright perplexed and his face was turning a bit red; dark eyes obscured by the scrunch of his eyebrows. When he did not respond, Ravna turned back to Ceolmund, victorious, and took his arm. 

“So, will you tell me now what it is that you’re bringing me to?” 

“Revelry,” Ceolmund said simply. 

And revelry indeed it was. With a large fire going and bodies milling about, Ravna thought back to the many festivities held over the years at Dunholm in honor of the gods. While these were Christians around her, they were not so different. 

“We drink mead instead of ale here,” Ceolmund said. “Beatrice makes it with the honey from her father’s bees.” 

Ravna nodded, amazed by the sight before her. In her years of living in Coccham, how had she been so vastly unaware of this happening every month? Since she mostly kept to herself, there were a great many people she realized she did not know as unfamiliar faces swam past her. Even Beatrice, who Ceolmund was still talking about, Ravna did not know. She felt bad for it, as clearly everyone knew who she was. 

“Lady Ravna!” 

Sybil, the blacksmith’s daughter, ran over with a wild grin on her face, a crown of flowers askew on her head. Of the people in the village, Sybil was perhaps one of the only people outside of Ravna’s family that she would consider a friend. Even then, she was unsure. 

“Sybil, I’ve said many times, you need not call me Lady,” Ravna said. She glanced at Ceolmund and bowed her head. “Nor do you, friend.” 

Sybil reached out and grabbed both of Ravna’s hands. “Well, Ravna, you must come join me for a dance!” 

Ravna did not even have the chance to respond before Sybil pulled her away from Ceolmund. Though there was no music, aside from three men who were hardly more than boys drunkenly singing, those who were dancing around the large bonfire seemed to have a tune in their minds. Giggling, Ravna twirled around Sybil as the two of them created their own tune. 

“I’m quite pleased you’re here!” Sybil said, swiping a mug from a young man’s hand and taking a deep sip. “You must join us more often.”

She offered out the mug and Ravna took it. The mead was delightful, far superior to any ale she ever had. It tasted of honey and fruit and spices; it tasted of the gods. 

“I would like that,” Ravna said, now used to the buzzing feeling the drink gave her. “It might be hard once my father returns.” 

“It is the same for the rest of us,” Sybil said. “Many of our fathers joined yours, and we do this with our freedom!” 

Sybil flung her arms out and spun around freely. It amazed Ravna. The looseness, the recklessness, the carelessness. It was all she ever wanted to be. She drank until she was stumbling over her own feet, but Ravna was unsure if she could say she ever had such fun. 

Ceolmund found her some time later, just as drunk as she was. 

“Lady!” he said, all too loudly. “Would you like to take a walk with me?” 

On the very far depths of the horizon, Ravna could see the beginnings of sunrise, lightening the dark sky above. 

“Perhaps you could walk me back to town,” she said. 

“Of course, Lady.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ceolmund, please, I wish for you to only call me Ravna.” 

They walked hand-in-hand, tripping over one another, their own feet, and tree roots alike. The village center was deserted entirely by the time they finally found their way back. For some reason unknown to her, Ravna was giggling loudly and constantly. Ceolmund did not seem to mind, however, and instead grinned at her with that crooked smile of his. She stopped to stare at him, and perhaps count the freckles on his face. There were a great many, and she was fascinated by them. 

“Ravna,” he whispered, “may I kiss you?” 

It was perhaps because no one had ever asked her that question before that she did say yes. Ceolmund was not the most experienced or skilled of kissers, but him asking her permission made it the best kiss of her life. She curled a hand around the back of his neck and clutched him close, letting her bodily knowledge take over. 

They stumbled back against a tree, his hands roaming all over her body and lips trailing down her neck. This, she thought, was what being young was for. She clutched his curls in hand while his fingers fumbled for the strings on her breeches. She giggled some more, but this time it came out as half a moan. 

“Ceolmund,” she whispered, tugging at the root of his hair. “We’re too exposed.” 

The mere fact that he paused and pulled away from her to look around almost made her want to drop to her knees and push all fears of being caught aside. But to do so, would be to act like a child. She wanted to be treated like the woman she was, so even in her drunken haze she knew she could not. Not right now, at least. 

“Yes.” He sighed, chest heaving. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Anyone could stumble upon us,” she reasoned. 

But, then, she kissed him again. She kissed him over and over and over again until the sky turned orange with sunrise. Drunkenness abating and replacing itself with a throbbing head, Ravna began to pull her hands from Ceolmund’s hair. 

“I should return home,” she mumbled against his lips. 

“That would be for the best,” he agreed, still kissing her. 

She dragged her teeth along his bottom lip and forced herself away. She did not look back at him as she walked home. If she did, it was likely her self restraint would fall apart, and she really needed to be home before Gisela awoke to tend to Stiorra, who always rose with the sun. 

Another week passed, and Ceolmund, who was not so interesting or smart as he seemed that night of the full moon, proved himself to be a kind young man who was undoubtedly fond of her and never tried to touch her more than she liked him to. (It was the kindest a man had ever treated her, so it surely meant something.) Unable to deny the fact that she liked it when he kissed her, even when she was not mind numbingly intoxicated, she found herself sneaking around to press her lips to his at any given opportunity— which naturally led to her pressed up against the back of the alehouse with his hands creeping up underneath her tunic. And that was when and how Finan found them. 

“Oi!” 

The brogue was undeniable, forcing them to separate at the sound of his voice alone. Lips wet and swollen, Ravna cursed quietly. Ceolmund looked as though he were about to shit his breeches. 

“What do ya’ think yer doing?” Finan barked, marching over to them and grabbing Ceolmund by the collar of his tunic.  

“Nothing,” Ceolmund said loudly. “We were doing nothing!”

“That’s your lord’s daughter, boy,” Finan said.

“Y-yes, I— I know.” 

Ravna groaned. She was well aware of her father’s orders to Finan to keep her safe and make sure she was well, but this was absurd. 

“Finan,” she said, wrenching his hand away from Ceolmund, “let him go!” 

When his fingers released the fabric, Ceolmund stumbled backwards and then began to run. She rolled her eyes and rounded on Finan. 

“What is wrong with you?” she screamed, flinging her hands into the air. “He was doing nothing wrong!”

“Oh, he was doing plenty wrong, lady,” Finan said. 

“How is what he was doing any different from what you do to the women in the tavern?” 

He stared at her in shock, but she was not finished. 

“And how is what I was doing any different from what those women do to you? I am a woman, Finan, not a girl! I know very well what that was. I am not stupid, nor am I the naive child everyone believes me to be!” 

Seething, she stomped in the opposite direction Ceolmund ran. She needed to be far away from everyone, Finan especially. How dare he embarrass her like that? Who did he think he was? Her hands shook in her anger, vision blurring at the edges. She was unsure whether she wanted to scream or sob more, so she would go into the woods and do both. She would beat her knuckles bloody on the tree bark if she desired. 

Her fury remained. She stood at the riverside, throwing rocks as far as she could to force it to leave her. A twig snapped behind her and then there was the telltale rustle of leaves. She gritted her teeth and let out a groaning shout as she threw another rock. She would not acknowledge him. She refused. He would have to come to her and force himself into her line of sight. 

“I apologize, ceann bheag. I should not have grabbed the boy like that.”

How she hated that nickname now. Less than a month ago, she found it sweet. Little one. Now, she knew what it meant. She was a small child, and always would be. Tears of anger and resentment flooded her eyes, stinging in the wind as she tried to hold them back. She sniffed and sat down on the embankment, knees pulled to her chest. She closed her eyes as she heard Finan move closer and sit down beside her. 

“You’ve barely spoken to me since your father left, ya’ know,” Finan said. 

Ravna pursed her lips. 

“And I don’ know why,” he continued. “Seems like ya’ will talk to anyone an’ everyone but me.” 

Anger getting the best of her, she snapped, “I heard you, you idiot!” 

Her cheeks were wet, the tears finally having spilled out. A deep crease appeared between Finan’s eyebrows.

“The day before my father left, I heard what you said to him,” Ravna elaborated. “And you were right, Finan. I do not take kindly to it.” She swiped at her face and sniffled loudly. “I do apologize for being such a burden when I was foolish enough to believe we were friends.” 

He swore in a low voice, more a grumble than words, and ran a hand over his beard. She watched him from the corner of her eye, wanting to turn to him but wanting to be steadfast more.

“Ravna,” he said quietly, softly. “Ya’ never should’ve heard that.” 

“And yet,” she muttered, a bitter and sour taste in her mouth. 

“I do not think ya’ to be a burden.” His voice was gentle and slow, as though he were trying to find his footing. 

“What do you think of me, then?” she asked, finally turning to look at him fully with blazing eyes. “Because I do not think you see a woman.”

“Well, I don’ see a man!” 

She rolled her eyes, curbing the urge to kick him. 

“You know quite well that is not what I meant!” 

She shot up and moved to stomp away, but got up just as fast and grabbed her arm to stop her from walking away. His hand had a tight grip on her, just above the crook of her elbow. 

“What ya’ need to understand is, on the ship all your father talked about was his little girl who had been taken from him.” 

She was not proud of the manner in which she gasped— both at his touch and the subject of the slave ship being raised. Neither he nor her father ever spoke of their time enslaved, and she could not blame them. How often did she discuss her time at Dunholm, after all? 

“And that’s what ya’ were when I met ya’!” 

“But I am no longer a child!” she exclaimed. 

“No,” he agreed solemnly. “Yer a woman, to be sure, and ya’ have been since the time ya’ stepped foot in Coccham.” 

“Then why do you all continue to treat me as one?” She glared up at him, furious. “You likened yourself to a nursemaid and begged my father to change his mind. If you are so unhappy here, I grant you leave to join my father. Go! If you wish it, go, and I will hold no anger in my heart.”

“Lady,” he said, “I would not do that.”

“Why? Because my father asked you to?”

“Because I care about ya’!”

She watched as his eyes crinkled at the corners and his hand not holding her arm lifted, perhaps of its own accord judging by the shock in his eyes, to take hold of her face. The calluses on his palms, made from years of training with swords and pulling oars, were rough against her cheek, but she was too preoccupied by her surprise at the sudden touch to care. 

“You’re not just Uhtred’s daughter. You’re far more than that.” 

His hand slipped past her cheek to cradle the back of her head, and then he pulled her into a tight hug. Sniffling once more, she tucked her face into his chest and slipped her arms around his torso. After a moment, she pulled her arms away and took a large step backwards with a burning face. She really ought not to have allowed herself to step so close. It was inappropriate. 

“I am glad you see me as I am,” she said quietly. 

Above their heads, a cloud shifted and sent a bright beam of light directly upon Finan’s head. It illuminated him in a brilliant shade of gold, and she needed to look away from how bright he was, lest she do or say something absurd.    

#finan x oc #finan fanfic #finan x reader #finan the agile #the last kingdom #tlk fandom #osferth #sihtric kjartansson #uhtred of bebbanburg #finan tlk #tlk fanfic #finan #tlk uhtred #tlk season 3 #mark rowley #the last kingdom fic #osferth x reader

[icarusignite]

Okok hear me out, this story has been festering in my head for a while.

King Alfred loses his beloved wife, Lady Aelswith, in childbirth of their only son, Edward. While he is still mourning, his eldormen pressure him to take a second wife to produce more heirs and spares, but really, they just hope to push forward their own daughters as candidates for the King to select. The most vocal amongst them is power hungry Lord Augustine, whose lands and wealth make him impossible to say no to, because even the king needs allies. So Alfred agrees to marry his daughter, Lady Joanna, but he vows never to touch her so that Augustine's dream of having his blood upon the throne will never be realized. Alfred knows that the moment he has children with Joanna, his children with Aelswith will meet fatal "accidents" and be removed.

Joanna is very different from what Alfred is used to in Aelswith and its part of why he hates her. While his previous queen was quiet and gentle, guiding his decisions with a non commanding suggestions, Joanna is bolder and more disagreeable. She isn't as careful as Aelswith was and Alfred hates that she isn't her.

He also hates her obviously cuz hes forced into the marriage and her father is always breathing down their necks waiting for them to have kids. Alfred thinks that Joanna is a spy for her father sent to torment him and his children.

But eventually he sees that Joanna hates her dad too cuz he's a prick and he actually has more in common with his new wife than he previously thought. He begins to find her candor and brashness refreshing, and she's always so gentle and good with Aelswiths kids, so he can't make himself continue hating her, but then he feels guilty for beginning to care for her cuz he still clings on to the memory of Aelswith.

Alfred is deeply religious but Joanna is lowkey abit of a secret agnostic cuz ✨️religious trauma ✨️ and they beef over that for abit too. Alfred feels even more religious guilt about falling for what he considers basically a Heathen in disguise

One day Alfred comes accross Joanna's father like being cruel to her and just yelling at her for not yet bearing the king's children and he barges in to their private conversation to defend her by being all "she is your queen, and you will respect her as you would respect me, your king." And Joanna is speechless cuz this is the first time he has stood up for her or said anything remotely polite or kind about her. But then Alfred ruins it by saying that he needed to atleast keep up the appearances or else the eldormen would shackle him to another useless bride of their choosing so he had to pretend to be somewhat content with Joanna. And obvi Joanna is hurt cuz she thought he was finally beginning to care for her.

Essentially a slow burn, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, angsty King Alfred fic?

Would anyone be interested in that? Alfred is such an underrated character and I have barely seen any fics for him, so I thought I might try and remedy that lol.

Credit to @justasightseer for getting me into the Alfred squad lol, I can't stop thinking about him now.

#icarusignite writes #icarus ignite ocs #the last kingdom alfred #the last kingdom #sihtric kjartansson #tlk uhtred #tlk alfred x reader #tlk alfred #tlk fanfic #tlk finan #finan the agile #tlk osferth #osferth x reader #sihtric x reader #alfred the great x reader

[happilyhertale]

Fuck you Osferth, that’s what you get for ignoring and hurting us with those bitches 😤

Right?! And now reader may kiss Uhtred 👀😄

#osferth x y/n #osferth x you #osferth x reader #osferth #the last kingdom #osferth tlk #osferth x oc #tlk fanfic #uhtred of bebbanburg #seven kings must die #ewan mitchell

[daenaera-t]

"BETRAYAL"

Uhthred x oc F!reader

CHAPTER 1/?

summary: revna and uhtred grew up together but the gods decided to play a cruel game on both of them what will happen.

WARNINGS:none at the moment

I remember the first time I saw him he looked scared. I mean what child wouldn't at the sight in front of him women and men being killed without hesitation. Soon I learned father had bought him from ubba he then told mother he was to help her around with chores and anything we needed. As we grew older i became more fond of him especially after my brother had left to ireland he was there for me taking care of me and protecting me but i knew no matter what i did he would always have eyes for one women in his life and that was brida and i hated it growing up how they would steal secret glances at each other how his eyes light up whenever he saw her but never for me how they would sneak away  together whenever they could thinking no one knew but of course everyone saw it how in love they both were with each other even father encouraged him so soon i had realized she made him happy and i didnt want  to ruin his happiness for my own selfish desire so painfully had to learned to love him from afar and kept quite the more we got older.

TIME JUMP 

 Here i sat next to my older sister our hands bound together by a rope as we watched our home get raided and burned down by none other danes but not just any danes kjarta and his men i scream trying to rid myself of the ropes and help my people but no matter how hard i tried  i just couldn't get the ropes off only managing to draw blood from wrist.

Soon the sight in front of me had me freeze in my spot as i watched my father make his way through the fire his body burning as he screamed then i saw his body fall right there and then i felt like my life had been taken from me tears made there way down my face like a waterfall without me noticing then i started to pray to the gods that uthred would appear and help me and thyra as i looked into the woods trying to see if i could hear or see anything indicating they were there i saw him and brida crouched down by some trees i soon felt some hope inside of me and my eyes light up at the sight of them as i saw them i told myself they were here too save us and everything would be alright but the next thing i saw broke my heart more he and brida quietly and quickly sneaking away from the scene.

I sat there in shock after everything that happened i then saw someone coming our way as i looked up i saw sven i glared at him he then bend down towards my sister then started whispering to her what i had no idea everything he said to me sounded muffled but then i smirked when she spit on his face and then i whispered “deserve you asshole” he then turned and glared at me then turned his attention back to my sister as he groped her tit and then again lost it and started screaming at him to keep his filthy hands away from my sister which in return he punched me hard knocking me out completely lat thing i was before passing out was my sister being dragged away against her will then everything went pitch black.

#fanfic #sihtric kjartansson x reader #the last kingdom fic #uhtredfanfic #uhtred of bebbanburg #uhtred ragnarsson #fanfiction #oc

[bhxrdy]

ocean eyes | chapter one

author's note: first chapter to my new Uhtred mini-series. This has some smut(ish), so MDNI please. My first attempt at focusing on Uthred and not gonna lie, this was tough but still fun. hopefully whoever reads this, you will enjoy :) thank you to @itbmojojoejo for being my beta reader 💜 banner credit to @arcielee! lots of love & stay safe 💕

      They were a long way from Cookham when Uhtred and his men arrived at their new settlement of Rumcofa. 

As they made their way through the open gates, they incited stares and whispers, the villagers wondering what troubles such intruders would bring to their quaint homes.  

People were on their guard while the boys provided them with polite smiles and nods at every eye and curious stares that came their way. 

They knew such an alteration would be an adjustment, that a warm welcome to warriors like themselves would take time to digest.  

For Uhtred, moving away from Cookham did not prove to be as hard as he thought.  

Bittersweet memories had been left behind, his attempt to ignore their claws grasping at his shadow. 

The loss of his wife years prior, the end of his affair with the Lady of Mercia – Cookham had bathed in ache, the crimson of its afterglow scarring him, body and soul.  

Rumcofa was a welcome change, he thought, needing the air to clear his mind and start anew. 

He did not care for the strategic significance of this move – whether it was Rumcofa or Cookham, Uhtred needed to be away from Wessex, and from Winchester.  

He was brought out of his thoughts when he halted, his horse by his side letting out a hefty breath. 

“And may I ask, who are ya?”  

His eyes settled on an older man, burly looking with his blond mustache thickening around his upper lip. The Danish accent heavy in his voice, he stood tall - the illusion hiding the slight shortness in his height – with his double-faced sledgehammer balanced between his hands. The stance for attack was at his toes, ready to use his weapon in potential combat. 

A faint snicker whispered behind Uhtred; from the sound of it, he knew his men were amused by the display in front of them.  

He took a quick look around before his eyes settled back on the blacksmith in front of him. “I am Uhtred of Bebbanburg.” He fixed his posture, placing his arms across his chest, his head slightly tilted sideways. “We have orders from the Lady of Aethelflaed that my men and I are to move here and oversee the village. I am to be the new Lord.” 

The Dane scoffed as he lowered his weapon, a smirk resting at the corner of his lips. “You’ll want to see the Lady of the village.” 

At his words, Finan leaned closer to his friend as he whispered, brows arched. “Are ya sure we’re in the right place, Uhtred?” 

The man ignored the Irishman’s comment, his gaze settling on confusion in front of the villager. “The Lady of Rumcofa?” 

The ears itching coincidentally, the woman in question had appeared in his view, her silhouette standing a few feet away from the Dane. 

It wasn’t the sight of strangers with their horses that left her breathless, nor was it the sight of her friend that seemed to have taken on the role of village protector that made her stop in her tracks. 

Her heart caught in her throat, latching on to dear life as her eyes focused on the main figure, her mind unconvinced of such reality. 

It was the grin on his face, the sound of his voice that traipsed across her body, shivering under her dress. 

The instinct settling itself into her nerves, a slight curve slid at the corner of her lips as a short breath finally escaped her. 

She had started walking towards the small hurdle of men, her voice reaching the boys with a breathy smile. “Well, if it isn’t Uhtred of Bebbanburg.” 

They turned towards the new sound; the man in question was left winded, the air knocked out of him in shock. He furrowed his brows, thinking his eyes might be deceiving him. 

“Cwen?” 

“Still alive, then?”  

Reaching them, she approached the blacksmith and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, quietly letting him know all was good and that she would care for the new guests.  

The Dane gave Cwen a nod before slowly walking away, leaving them be though not before disappearing without giving them warning crossing the brown in his eyes. 

Uncaring for it, Uhtred had spoken again with a soft chuckle slipping through at her welcoming words, his attention placed solely on the woman. “You look well.” He stepped forward and leaned in, his arms wrapping around her figure as he hugged her.  

The others, surprised at such unexpected familiarity, had remained quiet – simple observants.  

She had reciprocated the gesture, gently patting his back before pulling away. “And you look old.” 

Her remark got his men quietly sniggering behind their Lord. Uhtred turned to them, raising a brow at their reaction before looking back at Cwen, who was smiling from amusement at the little annoyance sprayed as a shadow across his face.  

Satisfied with herself, she pursued her little taunts, the jesting sparking up old flickers of residue from their past. “Word is, you are the new Lord of Rumcofa.”  

“I am.” Uhtred handed her a sealed parchment without another word, letting the letter speak for itself as Cwen opened it and started reading the content. 

She scoffed, her eyes meeting his again. “Her Ladyship couldn’t find another village for you to terrorize?” The sarcasm in her tone did not go unnoticed, leaving Uhtred to smile again, the rhythm of their exchange becoming a familiar routine for the ages. 

“It’s nice to see you again.” 

She gave him a grin. “You too, old friend.” The softness of the gesture left them to linger for a split second, forgetting for that moment where they stood. 

The interruption came from a little boy; he moved from where he stood next to Finan and partially hid behind Uhtred as he gazed upwards at the two adults, curiosity picking at him.  

She glanced at the boy before tilting her head up to her friend. “Your son?” Without looking away, Uhtred rested his hand on the child’s head. “My ward.” 

Cwen frowned, playfully skeptical of the painting in front of her; she bent down, meeting the little one at his eye level. “And what is your name, darling?” 

Unsure, the boy looked up to the man next to him for permission to speak. With a simple nod from Uhtred, he met Cwen’s gaze, his voice soft and timid. 

“Aethelstan.” 

She gave a friendly beam to the shy boy. “A good, strong name. I like it.” Her compliment made him smile, his timidity silently reaching his cheeks as he leaned closer towards Uhtred.  

Cwen leaned closer, whispering secretive words to the boy, away from grown-ups' ears; Uhtred watched the interaction, a soft curious smile reaching him. 

A moment later, she pulled away from him as he nodded to her. She shared a childish wink and lightly poked his nose – a simple tap of her fingertip, earning a chuckle as the child remained attentive to her. 

Ruffling the boy’s hair as she stood back up, Cwen eyed Uhtred. “I wonder what you slipped in her Ladyship’s water for you to have become Lord of this place.” 

Finan let out a choked cough, his breath stuck in his throat at the woman’s sudden comment – the hidden undertone only understood by him and his friend.  

Unfamiliar with the look in Uhtred’s eyes, Cwen moved on and leaned sideways, greeting the rest of the men that quietly stood by their horses. “Hi, boys.” She then shifted her eyes back to her friend. “Wards of yours as well, Lord?” She bore a teasing smirk, the sided upward curve of her lips making the Saxon smile again. 

She quickly followed by looking back at his men. “You can take the horses to the stable boy, and he’ll take care of them while you get acquainted with the village.” She turned to Uhtred once again, already taking a step back. “You, come with me.” 

He did as told and went her way while Finan and the rest went in the opposite direction. 

By her side, he followed her and looked around, taking in the sight of villagers going on about their businesses while children were carefree and running around, playing with each other.  

She let him be for a moment, watching him before looking in front of her again.  

“Have you ever overseen a village before?” 

Tilting his head to his left, he glanced at her before turning away again. “I have.”  

“A village with people, right? Not just an empty patch of mud and grass?” The sided coy look, the sarcasm enlaced in her tone made him chuckle. 

“Yes.” He turned his head again to her, leaving her to do the same as they stopped in their steps. “We were in Cookham for a long time. People liked me there.”  

She softly snickered, a slight snort catching up to her. “Sure. I’ll get those testimony myself if you don’t mind.” With a mischievous wink, she had started walking again, taking steps backwards as he watched her while shaking his head, amused.  

Turning back around, the lightness surrounding them had lowered slightly, though not completely as to dampen the mood. “How long has it been? Since we last saw each other?” She had asked, nostalgia slowly filling as blood cells in her body. 

He did not think long about her inquiry, not having the heart to answer with the truth. “It’s been way too long.” 

“Mhmm.” A small huff from her, parted as a snicker. She then pivoted to him, her tone into her words meant to be light. “You are only saying that to flatter me, Uhtred.” Looking away, her eyes unfocused on the path in front of them as they kept going, almost reaching the finishing point. “I have not crossed your mind since you left. Do not lie.” 

He did not sense anything somber in her pitch, which was what she was going for. She had not been one for sentimentality, trying to portray herself with a more playful demeanor than bereavement. 

Especially to him. 

Knowing him from their past, or at least the younger version of him – the arrogant, restless, fierce, and at times, slightly egotistic Uhtred – was not helping though, his presence stirring a part of her she had buried long ago. 

They had only met after the battle of Edington; losing Iseult to Skorpa, that period of his life, of his youth, had turned hazy due to his grief.  

And so, Cwen’s words were not a lie. Or almost, he believed.  

She might not have been in his everyday thought, and he might have forgotten about her over the years, but the second he saw her again, the second he heard her voice and laid eyes on her – she had not left him, he had noticed, knocking the air out of his chest.  

It was mouth to mouth resuscitation. 

She brought him out of his thoughts, her remarks letting out a deep breath from his lungs.  

“I do not say that to make you feel bad.” A sympathetic smile across her features, she continued. “You are not the only one who’s forgotten us. You were not very memorable.” 

“I did not plague your dreams, then?” Laced with mirth, he eyed her with a little glint discernable in his eyes. 

She played along, always up for a little bit of jest. “Actually, just this once.” She pretended to go deep in thought, her lips pursing in response. “More of a nightmare though.” 

Uhtred arched his brow, curious and waiting for her follow up. 

She lingered in silence a little bit longer – a split second that seemed to dwell forever. She then bit her bottom lip, proceeding to tease her friend. “You had become Lord of a village. It was horrible!” 

Laughing at her words, she watched and quietly followed suit, content with such response at her attempt at humor.  

They reached the hall, Uhtred’s new house, with the place almost empty apart from a handful of people who were sitting in the main room, drinking and making conversation.  

He watched them, quizzical; Cwen sensed he wanted to speak of what they encountered and so, she intervened, softly speaking to him. “Do not worry. Now that you are here, they will not be coming back.” 

She silently greeted the men at the table as she guided Uhtred inside, showing him around. A sigh left her, small – almost soundless.  

He could see, she had come down from her playful behavior and looked to her, intrigued. 

She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to bring herself to glance at him in a more serious manner. She had still been on edge, masked by their backchat, unwilling yet to completely trust him. 

“Uhtred...” She looked for words, the pensive look she bore making him wonder what could have changed between them. “This may not be the home you dreamed of, but it is for the people here. So, please, do care for this village as you did with Cookham and as you would have with Bebbanburg.” 

He remained still, his gaze unwavering as he examined her.  

She had been wary, and it was clearly written across her face.  

He could not decipher if discomfort had run him down, or maybe it was her hues staring right back at him as if she looked for the soul that hid behind his own eyes.  

He silently nodded, glancing quickly around him before turning to her once again. “I promise, I will care for this place.” 

She remained still for a second, taking in his words – the sincerity splayed across his tongue. 

“Mhmm.” She nodded as well, taking a step away from him, her arms behind her back. “I’ll be watching you, Lord.” Emphasizing on the last word had brought back the lighter air, her mocking him with his title, giving him back the upward curves of her lips. 

She turned around and walked away, leaving him to chuckle to himself as he watched her go, his blue eyes lingering on her figure until she was out of sight. 

      “She must have been something...” 

Weeks had passed since Uhtred and his men settled in their new home, taking the reins of overseeing the village – from its people to the borders surrounding the land. 

Though things were quiet, peaceful and content even, Cwen remained on her toes, cautious of his presence; she had been paying close attention to him, watching from afar and exchanging quips and words from time to time, but on the occasions they were distant, she kept her eyes on him – on guard. 

She did not mind the others as they did not seem to have whatever affliction was hitting their Lord, leaving them to be merry on their own and bring some enjoyment around them. 

But for some reason, Uhtred had been the one she could not settle on – whatever hung above him had created dreaded heaviness in her chest. 

And so that’s how she found him, sipping on his ale in front of his fireplace watching the flames dance to the percussing sounds of their crackles.  

To her voice, he turned his head to her. “Who?”  

She took a step closer, gently closing the door behind her. 

“The woman who broke your heart.” 

He turned away, shifting in his seat as he leaned against the back of his chair.  

“What makes you think a woman broke my heart?” 

He had been mourning the end of his relationship with Aethelflaed, his mind overwhelmed by the events leading up to their separation. He had been silent about it – grieving in the dark, not realizing his ache was visible to the people around him.  

“You have that look in your eyes.” 

He huffed, not caring for the intrusion; he turned his head again to her, showing her the slight bothersome gaze he wore. “It is none of your business.” 

She sucked in a breath, rolling her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling, her hands on her hips in annoyance. She then turned to him again with a soft scowl, her head falling slightly sideways. “It is when you are scaring the villagers with that face of yours.” 

For the true nature of her visit, she had received grievances. Words dripped in bourgeoning fear as people came to see her about him, revealing their hesitancy to make contact with the man, partially afraid of him; whatever gripped at him, Uhtred could not see it had been affecting his day to day, his state visible through his mannerism and facial stance. 

She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing as she took a seat next to him; he had been staring at her, not understanding her complaint. 

She softened, gentle for him. “I understand the pain of heartbreak. I know what it does to someone.” She turned to face the fire, unable to meet his gaze just as he caught her profile, her skin timidly glowing against the light. She gathered her breath and spoke again. “Just... don’t let it affect your duty as Lord.” She tilted her head to her right, catching sight of his blues. “You have people who need you, who depend on you to be the lead of their village.”  

He could only nod, agreeing with her words. He took another sip of his ale with his eyes falling onto the cup as he remained silent.  

She let out another breath and stood up, her steps already leading her to the exit. 

“She must have been one hell of a woman...” 

She lingered, slightly leaning against the door as she gave Uhtred one last glance.  

“She is.” His response was somber, nostalgic. He did not turn her way, unable to look at her; he did not have the strength to be held by her gaze.  

Instead, he kept staring at his fire as he followed the flames’ routine, an intimate dance meant just for him. 

He was hurting and it broke her heart.  

She did not push, not wanting to disturb his tormented peace.  

Instead, she quietly walked out, gently closing the door behind her before making her way back to her home, contemplative. 

      The hassle of the people had become background noise as Uhtred and Cwen walked, with the Lady adding insight to the comings and goings of the trades happening by the edge of the village. 

His ears were tickling at the sound of her voice, the vibration seeping through and warmly coating his insides; he chased for it, taking in every single way the words would spill out of her, the syllables smoothly running down her tongue and painting her lips.  

He found himself smiling as he listened to her guide him on the workarounds of the trades happening by the port, the names of the people passing through knowingly spoken by the sweetness in throat. 

Over time, they had been growing closer.  

Cwen took notice of Uhtred’s behavioral change; he had been trying to put his grief behind, sealing his heart tightly against his chest.  

He held his head high, holding his promise to her and wanting to prove he could be counted on, not just as a warrior, but also as a Lord who people could turn to in times of need – as he had been in Cookham. 

As for that night, the subject was never brought up again. Cwen did not push on it, out of irritating him, as well as out of disinterest in the matter. 

But even though she believed he was putting in an effort, it had not stopped the thoughts at the back of her mind, pushing her to remain guarded by his side. She still lent a hand where she could, the villagers still regarding her as their Lady, ignoring the mismatch between the title and her person. 

Uhtred did not mind it; it was fitting to her persona, and found he enjoyed calling her this way – the first time he did, in jest, he had noticed the way her cheeks blushed, her skin turning a shade of red from shyness. 

“You tease too much, Uhtred!”  

“I apologize, Lady.” He was holding back his laughter, loving her fluster. She hit him, a simple slap across his chest, unable to contain her own cackles, making him smile as well. “Stop it!” 

This might have been the moment that changed things between them. 

They could not tell. 

Either way, he tried ignoring whatever sentiment gnawed at him from her presence – for fear of loss again, his heart had decided.  

It proved difficult though, unbeknownst to him. Even sealed in the dark, wanting to remain away from experiencing amorous grief all over again, wonder pricked at him the way a rose pricks at your finger; it had not hurt, but curiosity was holding its own, desperate for some shade under the light. 

They were now standing at the top of the tower overlooking the river. Cwen had been detailing the when’s and where’s from each present boat that lied underneath them; she had not realized Uhtred earned some of the knowledge of Rumcofa’s trade through Finan, the Irishman having studied the routes as well. 

He did not want to interrupt her – so he let her be, staring at her as his subconscious mind shadowed the movements of his hues while they followed her silhouette, observing the way her soft blond locks flowed with the gentle autumn breeze, the way her tongue would subtly lick her lips for refreshment, or how her fingers would pick at her sleeves, pulling them to cover her palms while she had been facing the waters, names of traders spoken with delight.  

His icy blues remained stuck to her, a soft smile picking up at the corner of his lips – unknowingly. 

She leaned against the wooden railing with her arms stretched out as she looked ahead, enjoying the way the light puff of wind gently traipsed through her hair – increasing the floral scent that danced around her. It caught Uhtred’s breath, leaving him to deeply inhale, the fragrance coating his inside in pure contentment. 

His eyes, unfaltering, followed the form of her dress, taking in the subtle ways the thick dark green linen hugged her; it had been mended, noticing the seam along the sleeve of her inner arm. 

“You are not married?” He already knew the answer to his question, as he had not seen her attached to another man since his arrival, nor did he think she was promised to another, his eyes keeping to the gentle re-work of her dress, the different color thread laced intricately and subtly into the existing fabric.  

He could not understand why he was pushed to ask her such an inquiry. 

From the small horizon, she turned her head to him, a mellowing smile to her lips. “No, Lord.” 

The question did not seem to faze her, he thought. But her answer only pushed him into wanting to know more. “I think my father gave up all hope of having me married.” 

He frowned, curious. “What happened?” 

She tugged the inside of her lip, a smirk forming across. She pivoted to lay her back against the railing with her elbows resting on top while turning her head back to him. 

“I bite.” 

He let out a small chortle, making her grin – she had grown used to hearing the quiver of laughter in his voice, not realizing she had grown attached to it, warmth settling across her chest at the sound of it. 

He approached her, leaning sideways against the edge of the tower, his expression softening. “And your mother? Is she faring well?” 

He had not seen the other woman, making him wonder if she had remained in Cetreht with only Cwen moving to Rumcofa. He remembered his initial encounter with her mother, the woman having quickly grown fond of him – which not all Saxon women had. Cwen’s mother had been one of the rare exceptions where she used to push her daughter to him as a prospect wife. 

Her smile faded, avoiding his stare as she looked in front of her, her eyes reaching the village. “She... passed on a few years ago.” Her shoulders slightly depleted as a heavy breath escaped her. “With my siblings away with their own families, I am the only one left.” 

“No children, then?” He did not mean to pry, but he wanted to know more, to re-discover a lost friendship that had been pushed into the mud long ago. She may have had a child tucked somewhere in the village he had yet to meet, he thought. She could still be holding some parts of her life secrets to him, secrets for her to keep her own. 

“No. Not for me.” Relief might not have been what he felt, but he let a sigh out. Silent to her ears, she gave him a sympathetic smile before she pushed herself to stand up, taking the downwards steps to leave the tower. 

As they reached the bottom, he was about to speak again when they got interrupted by another woman looking for her. 

“Cwen!” The intruder was almost out of breath, her feet having forced her into a run. “It’s time!” 

Before Cwen got the chance to answer, Uhtred intervened, standing taller – his stature almost imposing to both ladies. “I am Lord here. Anything that needs assistance, I can take care of.” 

The Danish woman stared at Uhtred, growing impatient. “Sorry, Lord, but I do not think you can help with this one.” 

Cwen was restraining a snicker as she stood in the middle, watching the duo close to battling it out.  

Uhtred eyed his friend before looking back to the other woman. “Why do you require Cwen, then?” 

Cwen looked at the woman. “Ingrith, you can tell him.” She spoke with an amused grin on her face, holding back her laughter.  

Ingrith sighed, looking towards Uhtred. “We need a midwife.” She spoke with a straight face. “We have a woman in labor, and she has requested Cwen’s presence. Unless you know how to birth a child, Lord, I believe you are not required for such task.” 

Uhtred’s face dropped, slightly embarrassed while Cwen giggled again. He tried not to let Ingrith’s words rough him up and instead looked back at Cwen, swallowing his fluster. “You are excused.” 

She was still grinning, her voice sweetly speaking his name. “Thank you, Uhtred.”  

She started walking away, giving him one more head turn his way. “Later, then?” She had sounded hopeful, almost. 

He nodded and watched her as she took Ingrith’s arm in her own and left, both ladies laughing between themselves. 

Uhtred had not moved, entranced by Cwen as she gave him another last look, a simple glance as she tilted her head before disappearing to the other side of the walls. 

“Everything alright?” Finan having left the traders and found his friend, stood next to him, following the line of vision the other man was plagued with. 

“Yes, just a birth.” 

Finan frowned, paying closer attention to the other woman. “Who’s the lady with Cwen?” 

Uhtred eyed him, a look of surprise on his face. “Has someone finally caught your eye, Finan?” 

The Irishman chuckled, shaking his head. “I could say the same to you.” He patted him on the back, knowing Uhtred had grown smitten with Cwen.  

      “Sulking again, I see?” She was leaning against the entrance to his home, finding him sitting in front of a warm fire, ale in his hand. 

He smiled at the sound of her voice, the softness of her words sweeping gently through his ears. 

He did not answer her question – instead, he turned to her, changing the subject. “How is she?” 

“She is well. Just tired, as any woman would be.” Night had fallen by the time Cwen helped deliver the newborn. The village was quiet, safe for the household that welcomed the baby into their home. 

It had been an arduous delivery, but the results had been worth it. 

“And the babe?” 

Cwen smiled, appreciative of the care he placed in his queries. “The babe is well. A healthy baby boy.” 

Uhtred acknowledged her answer with a nod before he turned and leaned against the back of his chair. 

Carefully closing the door behind her, she quietly approached him, taking a seat by his side before pouring herself a cup. 

He did not mind her presence – feeling a little better already. Tension would wash away whenever they were near; she had turned out to become one of the very few people he kept close to his heart. 

“Uhtred.” The way his name spilled out, cautiously and caringly – as if she was afraid to break him; he kept it, already carrying it within him, the letters to her cords tied to his ribcage. 

He met her gaze, noticing the worry etched across her features. “Do you want to win her back?” 

A sadness across his lips, he felt his heart squeeze just a little bit at the thought of Aethelflaed. 

He sighed, his head falling against the top of his seat. “I cannot... She has...” 

She quickly caught on, the syllable of his response striking her like lightning, the realization of his loss reaching the pit of her stomach. “She did not choose you.” 

He tried to hold his lips upwards. “Something like that.” But she could see he was only doing it for her, as if he was attempting to hide behind it – like a shield. 

“I am sorry.” She looked away, her mind swirling in front of the hearth while her fingers traced the cup that rested on her lap.  

She was lost in thought, trying to find ways to lift his spirits.  

She did not know who this woman was, but she swore to herself that if they ever crossed path, she would not be so gentle towards her. A bitter aftertaste had simmered at the back of her throat to that imagery. 

Cwen did not understand the strange feeling that boiled in her; unfamiliar and bothersome, she tried to let it go, her focus placed on the feel of her fingers against her cup. 

She bit the inside of lip, speaking once again where her soft voice carried intimately within their space. “Have you thought about being with someone else?” 

The puzzling look on his face pushed her to proceed with what infested her mind. 

“I don’t mean giving your heart or to marry, even.” A small sigh left her as she leaned against her seat, gripping tightly onto the ale on her lap. “But to share your bed with another woman. To ease the suffering of your grief and simply find yourself some enjoyment.” 

He fixated on her, taken aback by her words. He placed his cup on the table behind him, before tilting back to Cwen.  

“It is not often Saxon women tell men to hump whoever they please.” He sported a smirk on his face as he spoke, inciting a chuckle on her end. She got up from her seat, placing the mug back on the table, ready to leave – the grin unable to leave her cheeks. “I did not mean to pry. It is just...” 

A small huff of laughter escaped her, cringing to herself as she pinched her nose bridge, regretting bringing up such a subject. 

She took a moment, all the while Uhtred watching her patiently – he found it too amusing, relishing in the way she seemed to be looking for tact in such conversation.  

“Have you seen the way the women in the village look at you? Married or not, they are all wanting to climb you.” Her arms crossed over her chest, she was leaning on her hip, imitating the way his lips curved into a smirk – picking up on his enjoyment of the situation. 

He tempted his chance, the way she phrased her words pushing him to his feet. 

His figure – looking taller than usual, she thought, loomed over her despite the distance that separated them. He did not give up the sly grin on his face, pursuing the conversation. “And what of you? Do you want to climb me as you so eloquently said?” 

She suddenly felt unable to swallow. Her throat dried as his eyes intently stared at her, leaving her frozen in her spot.  

She cursed herself at her inability to leave, as if he had been holding her by a rope, tying her to him. She was taken by the way he seemed to have lowered the levity of their talk, everything shifting to a more serious undertone. 

If there was a woman he would tempt Fate with, it would be with her. It was ringing in his ears, his want of her growing by the day, his need to have her close etching itself right between his ribs – like a stomach hungry, desperate for nourishment. 

She rolled her eyes, attempting to hide her blushing cheeks. She had been denying the way she felt for him, the way her body would silently call out for him, in an attempt to fall under lustful bliss. 

The smugness on his face was not helping her; the teasing smile made her heart flutter. 

Approaching her, Cwen tilted her head upwards as he towered over her. 

The air grew thicker by the second, her lungs begging to grasp what it could as it laid heavy under her chest. 

It had been the way he stared at her – how the blues of his irises tightly wrapped around her, like furs keeping her warm, lowering any inhibition that could ignite – inciting a bold response to roll down her tongue, while grasping onto the fallen threads of the playfulness of their exchange. 

“I don’t climb, Lord. Men usually do the lifting for me.” 

“They do?” 

“Or women, if you prefer.” He chuckled, taken by the matter-of-fact light tone she had chosen. “I tend to be swept off my feet.” 

She had no expectation from him for her words; it should have continued as their regular banter, the swift back and forth between them. 

“Like this?” The tone of his voice dropped, the vibration pulling her seductively. 

She did not realize how close he had gotten; his breath swept against her own as his eyes cast downwards towards her, inspecting every spec of the darker blue that colored her orbs. She lost her breath for a moment, unable to comprehend the unraveling of steps as they overtook her, controlling the strings attached to her veins running across her body. 

He lifted her up and wrapped her legs around him before sitting back down, placing her on his lap with her legs by his sides, her toes grazing the ground. 

The tip of his nose brushed against hers, a tickle to her skin as her breath stuttered.  

Slowly grasping at reality, she frowned while trying to catch up in the race between her body, her mind and her heart; all elements moving at separate speeds.  

“Uhtred...” She was uncertain, her heart beating loudly between her ears, she could barely hear herself think. She tried focusing on her breathing, but all that she could do was take in the way his hands felt on her waist, his fingers digging into her as he observed her, waiting for her to speak.  

She placed her hands on his chest, a silent motion to stop him – though, it might have been to stop herself. 

“Am I really the woman you want to share your bed with?” Gathering her courage, she finally looked him in the eyes, the icy shade of his hues leaving her breathless. “There are better options in the whole of this place-” His hands trailed up her back until he cupped her cheeks, his thumb softly grazing her bottom lip. She tried to ignore the gesture, forcing her voice to push beyond her tongue. “I can introduce you to-”  

He cut her off by leaning to capture her lips, silently answering her question and sweeping the air out of her lungs into his own. 

She did not push him back, nor did she pull away to stop. 

She was slowly succumbing to the feel of his lips gliding against her own, the feel of him pressed against her, her body growing warmer by the second.  

A soft frown rested across her face as confusion settled under her chest; lips lingered against one another until she finally slowly pulled away from him, her limbs starving. 

Rendered speechless, she could only feel the flavor of him numbing her tongue as a bittersweet aftertaste. 

They did not move, as if suspended, the strings of gravity pulling and tugging at each other for closeness. 

She leaned her forehead to his, her gaze on his lips. 

She then quietly licked her own before tilting closer until he caught up to her, kissing her fervently. 

His hands wandered her body, retracing the curves hiding under her clothes. The strength of his hold weakened her knees; imagining the ways he could embrace her against him, the ways he could make her enfold within him, fitting every part to one another, had made her dizzy. The thoughts generated a soft moan between tongues, a need to make them come true overtaking her senses. 

With a mind of their own, her fingers reached for his shirt, tugging at the fabric as they pulled him closer, the rumbling of hunger tremoring at the tip. 

They stopped once again, heavy breathing escaping them both.  

She took this moment to remove his shirt, leaving his upper body bare. 

Her fingers rested on his cheeks, tracing down to his lips and further down, looking over the scars he had accumulated over the years. 

She bit down her bottom lip, swollen, as pictures of battles crossed her mind in a race.  

She was brought out of thought when she felt him tugging at her dress; his hands on her shoulders, he pulled down the fabric gently, her sleeves uncovering her arms until she sat exposed to him. 

A chill ran down her spine from the tepid air in the room, the fire burning her back.  

The softening beige of her locks rested around her shoulders, caressing the swell of her breasts. He gazed at her, making her hold her breath in wait, unable to read him. Would he reject her? Want her less?  

Without turning away, his knuckles grazed her skin, leaving her to silently shudder under his touch, her lips parted. 

Uhtred wrapped his arms around her, pulling her upwards before he leaned against her upper body, his lips wetting her chest as he placed teasing kisses along and across her breasts. 

Her head fell back at the sensation, grabbing onto him as his teeth nibbled in the valley between, as if to mark her as his. 

Her scent intoxicated him – the soft floral aroma, the hinted mint interlaced with roses, had left him lingering, breathing her in with all his might as he savored every inch he could taste. She shivered under his tongue, adding to his delight.  

He then reached her collarbone, his teeth gently clashing against the bone underneath her skin. She hissed in response just as he softly tickled her, placing peppered kisses along her shoulders. 

He gathered her hair to one side of her neck, swiftly and quietly, and buried his face in, caressing her skin with every press of his mouth to the pinching of his teeth – famished. 

She sighed, the warmth growing in the pit of her stomach, inch by inch.  

She closed her eyes, focusing on the way he toyed with the column of her neck; being held so close to him, with the friction between their bare chests, how slowly he moved – he enjoyed the slight torture he was putting her through, feeling her impatience slowly growing as it crawled through her blood stream, pumping her vessels with haste. 

He repeated the motion on the other side, pushing her locks away before he nestled against her neck again, cherishing her. 

She hung onto him with her nails biting into his back, softly sighing into the air by his side; her sense of smell heightened, tasting the hint of marjoram – the mild mint and the sweetening woody scent – at the tip of her tongue, thirst budding in her mouth. 

Sitting on his lap, her legs parted on each side of him – in retaliation, she teased him, pressing herself further against him. She earned another nip at her neck, his muted groaned masked behind his teeth. She rolled her hips again, a simple faint movement that made his throat rumble, his muscle twitch in want. 

His hand wandered to her hair, gently grabbing a handful from the back of her head, pulling away to look at her; meeting her gaze, he was stricken by the way her eyes swallowed him. 

He was caught by the depth of her pupils, unable to turn away – enthralled by such a palette. 

He could swim through these waters, drown in them and still feel like he was floating, the drops hydrating his scarred flesh anew. 

The silence behind her eyes, the desire imbued across every wave, had taken the air out of his lungs, his chest unmoving at the sight. 

The ache, emergent, hastened his movements; letting go of her hair, he went for her dress, hiking her skirt from the bottom while he remained glued to her, his stare unwavering. Resting it around her hips, her thighs were now exposed to his touch. 

A stuttered breath left her to the feeling of his warm palms on her while thoroughly rubbing her skin; movements to ensure she remained carved into his hands. 

She noticed a coy glimmer in his blues; she reached for them, her fingertips softly tracing them before leaning to press her forehead against his, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  

She was parched for his lips, the taste of them having lingered like a craving unable to be sated. His lower lip between her teeth, she gave a light tug before kissing him, catching his breath with the air of his lungs weakening her knees. 

In a trance, relishing in the gluttonous caress of his tongue with her own, she had not felt the tightening grip to her body. 

He rolled her hips, wanting to toy with her in reprisal from just a few moments earlier; she gasped at the sensation, her mouth apart between his, her eyes attached to his own with yearning stitched within her hues.  

He repeated the movement, controlling the motion sensuously as his fingers dug into her flesh. He then pulled her in again, tugging at her mane as he kissed her fervently, her chest pressed firmly against his as his other arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her in place, his muscles molded into her back. 

Nestling in his embrace, she reached for the curve of his jaw, her nails faintly scratching his cheeks with her thumbs retracing his lips. She hung onto him, the chafing of their bodies causing her to shiver as he rolled her hips – firmer than the last, hungrier. 

A breathless moan fell into his mouth, her jaw slack as he repeated the motion, chasing his own incipient pleasure, the claws scraping at the base of his spine; it was the reaction stitched across her features, the wanton look on her face that left him besotted.  

Her fingertips traipsed down his chest as she slightly pulled away from him. Reaching his breeches, she started unlacing them while keeping her eyes on him – he followed her with a locked gaze, unmoving. 

Freeing her from his hold, he reached for her hands, leaving her to think he would aid in her quest. 

Instead, he caressed them before sliding his palm forward, hiding under the scrunched-up skirt that laid around her hips. 

An instant gasp out of her lungs, the feel of his callous fingers nestled between her thighs with his left hand placed at the junction of her pelvis. 

He was toying with her, the fluttered touch grazing her warmth as he watched her intently, taking in every single trait of pleasure that echoed across her face. 

Her knuckles whitened as they held onto the laces of his pants, her strength ready to break them from their confine. The lump in her throat remained stuck, her vocal cords silently shaking at the heat that seeped from his touch. 

He held onto his willpower with all his might, wanting first to have her crumble under him, to taste first such divinity coating his digits. He slid in deeper, his thumb circling her apex while his finger stroked her wantonly; her head fell on his shoulder as her hips chased for his strokes, instinctively rolling her body against him. He lingered in his pacing, purposely, famished by the soft whimpers that left her mouth for his ears – silently begging him, pleading for relief. 

And the more he could hear her, the more her faint voice – the musical strings tying him with every note infused into his veins, blood pumping and coursing with quickened steps – had been inebriating him, impatience was flourishing, its bones and flesh taking hold as it stirred restless in the pit of his stomach.  

He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, nipping at her skin and breathing her in; her scent incited a soft groan hidden behind his throat, increasing his pace as he stroked her continuously in such a way her knees were starting to shake – he felt her tremble against him and it only hardened his resolve, to have her fall apart at his touch, to be the reason she needed relief, to watch her and know he was the cause of such desperation. 

With whatever strength resided in her, she started undoing his trousers; she pulled her head away from him, her gaze cast down towards her actions. Glancing at the way his hand and wrist remained concealed under her dress made her shudder, stopping for a moment as her teeth slightly took in her lower lip. She met his gaze again, trying to fall back into focus while his tantalizing ministrations steadied at a now faster pace, the smirk ghostly settling across his face. 

He felt himself slowly unraveling, simmering from the bottom as his body grew warmer against her.  

He was ready to quit mid-task, simply wanting to undress and take her, to feel her take him and melt at her touch. 

She struggled to voice any sort of comprehensible words – she went for his mouth, his lips clashing with hers as she kissed him again, the gesture feeding into the thrill residing between her thighs. The look of concentration on her face, taking in the way his fingers grazed and curled inside her, shook at the back of her throat as they reached for her moans over and over again.  

He swallowed her sound, the euphoric sob warmly settling under his bones. 

A chill then ran up her legs, the sudden loss of contact forcing his name out of her mouth in complaint. 

Her chest expanded from her heavy breaths, a frown ghosting over her brows as she fell into his eyes.  

Uhtred said nothing as his fingers – slick, moved away from her; another whimper left her from annoyance, void intruding and unwanted. 

Stare locked in, she was stuck into the blue of his eyes as her body moved to his whim, his hand resettling her on his lap. His pants had slid down far enough to feel her wet and dripping above him, skin to skin. 

They did not look away from each other as the air thickened around them – opaque in its composition; labored breaths grew, his fingers digging into her hips with a slow shift.  

He used his strength to slightly lift her up until he was guiding her back to his lap as she sunk onto him, ever so slowly. 

She grabbed the back of his chair, her nails grasping at the wood as shivers ran down her spine, the air in her lungs dancing into her chest.  

Her mouth ajar, voiceless, to every sweet inch she could take. The soft groan rumbling at the edge of his throat had only added to the overwhelmed sensation that struck her.  

And he had watched her, enamored by the way she was blissfully taking him, by the way his name had finally reached her lips again – pronounced with longing etched across her tongue. The tremors of her muscles echoed, leaving him to feel every spec of raised skin against his, from the way her breasts stroked his chest, to the way her thighs had tightened on his sides, clutching at her seat. 

Joint hips, he stilled, shuddering under her touch as her arms gathered around him, gently caressing the nape of his neck; he whispered her name, the sound inciting control over her body.  

They were catching their breaths, the suspense of imminent ecstasy nipping at their flesh.  

The minute had hung in the air, in wait – Cwen needed her moment, her limbs adjusting to his presence, to the way he was buried inside her. The pinch of discomfort had faded, heat coiling under her ribs, trapped and dissipating ferociously throughout her blood stream in perfervid greed. 

Uhtred caressed her, gingerly pushing her locks away from her face. She leaned into his touch, kissing the heel of his palm, her teeth grazing the skin – slowly, lingering almost. His fingers lost in her hair, he pulled her in and captured her lips with his own, laying claim to her in an unbridled manner. 

Feeling her throb around him, he was gentle at first as he started thrusting. The rhythm of her hips, rolling – moving in want – was but a taste, a flicker of ember before the fire was set ablaze. A stuttered moan whispered under her breath, rushed an electrical spark to course through his veins, heating his skin with beads of sweat coating his body. 

He was merciful, giving her what she was desiring as he controlled her hips; he was hypnotized by the way her body fitted with his – every muscle knitted together in such sweet harmony – by the way she was taking him, her soft cries thrumming under his chest, rushing down to him.  

Unabashed, he whispered dirty nothings in her ear. The muttering of his words, as he declared how perfectly she molded around him, how enraptured he was by the warmth set between their hips, how starved she was for him – coaxed her teeth into his shoulder, her body shifting accordingly as she gradually hastened her pace, the percussion of his voice leaving her flushed and breathless. 

In response, her tongue was only capable of whispering his name repeatedly, a mantra stuck at the back of her throat as every letter to his lustful lullaby coming out of his mouth came to her in waves. 

The rawness of the act, the unadulterated pleasure seeping to their core – she cursed under her breath, her head falling backwards; she was overwhelmed, her mind clouded by the way he was stripping down her senses. 

She clenched around him at the feel of his fingers finding their way back to her, squirming under her skirt. The added pressure faltered her movements for a moment, getting re-acquainted with the way he toyed with her pearl; her pupils blown, rapture pulsing erratically in her gut, scratched into the marrow of her bones for sweet release. 

Her gaze fixated on him, his icy blues captured her in a haze, in complete wonder. Two oceans collided, dancing side by side as the soft waves wrapped them in a waltz, the caring movements gliding through seamlessly. 

Swallowed into each other’s shades, submerged under the depth of such color, he found himself never tiring at the way she was looking at him. 

Into the months he had settled in Rumcofa, he had stopped denying the way he felt about her – how attracted he had grown to become. He cared for her despite still loving Aethelflaed. 

She would always be holding a part of him, but the woman in his arms, the one that clung to him for dear life as they chased joint ecstasy, had been plaguing his mind since arriving in the village – and he was not good at hiding it. Finan had teased him whenever he caught his friend making coquettish glances at Cwen. For Uhtred, it was not thought about it much – the gazes having intricately become part of their dynamic. 

Yet tonight, drinking her ocean eyes into his own, drinking the cries of pleasure that rippled through their bodies, he wondered if it was time to truly move on from his past, to hang on to the woman who could give him what he wanted. 

Peace and companionship. 

      The growing winter sun was reaching him, pulling him out of his slumber.  

He stretched his arm towards the other side of the bed in the hopes of pulling her back against him. 

He found it empty instead.  

It woke him up. 

He saw the void next to him and pushed himself up, resting on his elbows as he looked around his room; her clothes were nowhere in sight. 

A routine that had been ongoing for the past few weeks – Cwen had taken the habit of waking up early and sneaking out of Uhtred’s home, not wanting to spark gossip amongst the villagers. 

Such a dance had to remain private, an intimate affair between the two friends. 

From the crack of dawn to nightfall, the steps to their serenade had secrecy involved – from the illusion of normalcy in the public eye, pretending as if no strings tied them together, as if Uhtred had not spent the better part of the previous night with his head between her thighs, in the throes of sweet euphoria. 

And as much as they tried to remain subtle, as much as they tried to stay away, tempting danger with lingering stares and knowing looks shared from a distance, subtle smiles hiding behind their cheeks – the false imagery did not go unnoticed to their closest allies. 

And as much for their attempt to remain in the dark, for their relationship resuming only behind closed doors – as much as Uhtred and Cwen cared for one another, their hearts were kept at bay, unable to fully crumble under the weight of their emotions. 

The companionship at their feet was all it was – two people seeking warmth in each other’s embrace, away from the loneliness that pried into their daily lives while ignoring the faint screams singing in the back of their minds. 

They were content with how things were – it was meant to stay easy, matters of the heart to be caged away under their bones. 

But for Cwen, a shadow gnawed at her, unable to hide the way his heartbreak tore at her now that she was sharing his bed – it was worry filling her, frustrating her almost on the days Uhtred seemed to have fallen back into his old ways, on the days where his grief had guided his movements. 

Her own grief sometimes haunted her like a ghost in the night – but with Uhtred around, having him by her side had resolved the ache she had been carrying on her shoulders. 

It had created tension at times, a budding argument between them at the thoughts of their pasts hovering between the sheets. 

“Can I not want you, and still love someone else?” He had protested, leaving her to sigh while looking at him with her frustration dying down, knowing he was right. 

“Yes, you can.” She held herself back from him, her arms wrapped around herself, trying to hide away from him. “Just... I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t look for her – whoever she is – in my bed.” 

He nodded, agreeing with her complaints. “That’s fair.” He tried to lighten the mood, reaching out for her, his fingers grazing the fabric of her dress. 

“Uhtred.” His name was heavy on her tongue. “I mean it.” She ignored his attempt at touching her, needing to get her words out. “I’m fine with whatever this is, truly, but please do not think I am her. Do not hold me and care for me thinking you are holding and caring for her.”  

He looked at her, attempting to approach her again as he caressed her cheek, his knuckles stroking her skin in silent suckling affection.  

She sighed, closing her eyes as the warmth of his touch soothed her.  

“I know who you are, Cwen.” She silently met his irises; he held onto her saddening gaze, desperate to wash it away. “And you are right. As much as I miss her, I do not invite her in my bed, or in yours.” He leaned closer, tilting her head up with his forefinger, closely whispering to her. “It’s just us.” 

He gently pressed his lips against her own, kissing her with softness lingering into his touch – an attempt to ease her ache. 

He then pulled away, just far enough to still feel the tickle of her lips. “I will only ever want to please you.” He smiled to her, his try at seducing her – leaving her to chuckle as she broke away from his embrace. 

“Then you still have work to do, Lord.” She patted his cheek, teasingly, and managed to back away before he could catch her, leaving him to look at her dumbfounded to her comment where the sound of her sweet laughter echoed within the walls of his home. 

-------------------------------------

xoxo

taglist @justanother-sihtricgirlie

#the last kingdom #uhtred #uhtred x oc #uhtred of bebbanburg #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #uhtred fanfic #uhtred fic #tlk #the last kingdom fic

[asa-do-your-thing]

An Eye for an Eye - 01

“The Rescue” 

Osferth x F! OC - 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1,4k

Warnings: Blood, Injury, Unconsciousness, allusion to violence / rape / kidnapping, angst

Chapter Summary: Osferth's patrol around Uhtred's camp takes an unexpected turn when he discovers the injured and feverish Aemma in a roadside ditch. Concerned for her well-being, Osferth brings her back to camp, where Uhtred identifies her as the young daughter of Coccham's alehouse owner. Determined to help her recover, Osferth, Finan, Uhtred, and Sihtric rally together to provide care and support.

Osferth had seen a lot of things in his days but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that lay before him. Peering down into the cold, muddy ditch he saw a young woman, not older than eight and ten years, cowering in the corner clutching her knees to her chest, all muddy and bloody. He couldn’t make out her face in the darkness but he could barely hear her whimpering from where he stood.

He scrambled down into the ditch and crouched beside her. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could make out more details about her appearance; she was wearing a filthy dress with tattered edges and her waist long hair was knotted up atop her head. She was trembling as if someone had just shook her awake from a deep sleep and it looked like she hadn’t eaten in days. Osferth had no idea who this woman was or how she ended up here but there was something about her that made him stay put despite all the dangers outside their little camp.

She was barely conscious, her face filthy and her clothes travel-stained and tattered. Her body was frail and her breathing labored, indicating that she must have been feverish for a longer while. Under her breath, he heard fragments of sentences, "I... water... who? What was I doing here? What are you doing here?"

He gently leaned forward and touched her arm cautiously as if trying not to startle her. The woman flinched away at first then slowly raised her head to look at Osferth with huge, fearful eyes that brimmed with tears threatening to trickle down any moment now. Seeing this, Osferth felt pain twist inside of him like a thorny vine— something told him this poor soul had been through a lot of suffering in order for it to lead up to this very moment of desperation and despair. He brushed aside some stray strands of hair from eyes, so she could see properly.

"Who are you?", he asked. He got out a flask of water and brought it to her bloody, cracked lips. "Drink this, you must be parched from the heat and your fever. Where is your family? What happened?"

She greedily took long sips. It felt like it had been months since she last had something to drink. "I... I don't know... I can't remember... my back hurts a lot...," she mumbled though her fever. "Are... are you an angel? Since.. when.. are angels... so handsome?"

He chuckled, his voice full of worry. "As much as I'd love to be called an angel I'm just a mortal. You've been through a lot haven't you? Where did you come from? What do you last remember?", he asked, dabbing away the sweat on her face with the sleeve of his shirt.

With shaky, unsteady movements she nodded her head, trying to stand up but stumbling backward into the ditch. The impact sent a shockwave through her body, reverberating down every nerve ending until she was lost in a daze of pain. Her hand shot out instinctively, grasping for something to steady herself - anything- but it was too late as she fell backwards into the pool of her own blood.

 The sticky substance coated her skin and hair with an oily thickness that refused to be wiped away. With each movement she made, more blood flowed forth from the wounds on her back, staining the ground beneath her with a deep red hue.

"I... I can't remember a lot.. but... please help...", she managed to stutter out, between deep, pained gasps for air. She felt her skin burning up with the fever, trying her hardest to stay awake and conscious.

Osferth felt his heart sink as he saw the girl's limp body, almost lifeless against the ground. He quickly lifted her up, not caring that her blood had now spread to his hands and clothes. His voice was filled with desperation as he shouted for help, running back into the camp. "Don't do this to me! Don't you dare die on me!", he begged, squeezing her tightly in his arms as he ran.

As he reached the camp, he frantically ran up to Uhtred, who had been sharpening his dagger together with Finan and Sihtric. They all jumped up and readied themselves for attack, but relaxed when they saw that it was just Osferth. "Uhtred, please... I know not what to do, she's injured and burning up... I...," he stuttered and held her even tighter.

Uhtred's mouth drew into a tight line and his eyes narrowed as he glared down at the battered girl. "Aemma?! But that's the daughter of the alehouse owner in Coccham! What is she doing here?! Sihtric, get our herbs! Lay her on some furs Osferth, we need to stop her wounds from bleeding!" His voice was tinged with concern. "Just a child, barely reaching adulthood... so many things could have happened to her..."

Osferth tenderly laid her on the thick furs of his tent and nodded to Finan, who ground Sihtric's herbs into a fine powder and put them into a tiny pot of steaming water over the campfire. "Yes my Lord, I recall seeing her scrubbing the floors but I just stumbled upon her in a ditch - lost in an incoherent delirium and blazing with fever. She's been fading in and out of consciousness ever since...," he rambled, gripping Aemma's hand for dear life.

Uhtred exchanged a worried look with Finan and pressed his fingers onto his lips, silencing the Irishmen from saying anything. Osferth took out his flask and placed it gently to Aemma's lips. "Drink this, I want you to try and stay awake.. Please..."

Aemma weakly opened her eyes and took a few small sips, coughing in between. "I... I went to fetch herbs and berries... then... I can't remember...," She muttered and fliched, as she touched her back."I'm so sore..."

Sihtric stalked into the tent, his jaw clenched in determination as he ripped Aemma's dress away and slathered herbal paste onto her wounds with harsh strokes. He muttered a silent prayer of thanks to the gods as he saw that the injury did not appear to be infected. Her cries of agony filled the tent as Sihtric shushed her with a gentle yet firm tone. "She should recover in a few days if we can keep her hydrated and nourished," he declared with a steely voice.

Osferth's tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with her own blood. He tenderly brushed away a clump of matted hair from her face, trying to ignore the deep gashes that crisscrossed her skin. "What kind of monster would do this to you? I wish I could take away your pain." His heart ached as he crouched before her, pressing a cold rag on her forehead in an effort to soothe her agony. 

Aemma opened her eyes and looked up into Osferth's worried gaze, feeling like she was spinning in a never ending circle of despair. "Yes... please.... just take away the pain," she murmured softly. She forced herself to focus on Osferth's ragged breaths and the chill of his touch against her skin, desperately needing the distraction from her misery.

"Don't fear. I will protect you with my life, so sleep now and forget the pain of your wounds. It's alright to close your eyes now, to rest. You'll get through this, and I will be here for you." When he told her that she would make it out alive, that courage filled his eyes. His voice was strong but sincere. As the men saw her slipping away into a deep slumber, they walked out of the tent and sat down by the fire; shocked by what had just happened.

The men started speculating what could have happened and remembered the times they had seen her in the ale house in Coccham. Uhtred spoke first, recalling a time when he'd seen her talking to a shady looking Mercian with an moon shaped scar on his face. Finan nodded solemnly, remembering another time she had mentioned something about a stranger coming to visit her. All of them pondered over these events, trying to figure out how it could tie into Aemma's current condition. 

Osferth felt overwhelmed with guilt for not being there to protect her; he only wished that he could make it up to her somehow.

They all agreed that this was no mere accident or misadventure, and that it was indeed possible that someone had deliberately done this to Aemma. Outrage filled their veins as they discussed who could be behind this heinous act and what their plan might be. They all made a silent vow at that very moment—to do whatever it took to bring justice for Aemma, even if it meant risking their own lives in the process.

Taglist: @valerie977

#fanfiction #tlk fanfic #tlk fanfiction #the last kingdom #osferth #osferth fanfic #osferth x oc #osferth smut #uhtred of bebbanburg #uhtred tlk #finan tlk #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric tlk #asa writes #asas fics #ewan mitchell

[omgkatherine01]

Heart of Darkness: Chapter 2 - Freya Ragnarsdottir

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Pairing: Osferth x female reader

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Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you lost your father and brothers.

Your uncle was now the new lord of Bebbanburg, to your and your mother's disappointment.

For two weeks, you had been keeping yourself inside your room, not speaking to anyone except your mother. Your uncle tried to reach out to you, but you closed yourself from him and anyone else besides the woman who gave you life.

"I was told you still haven't return eating properly," your mother muttered, both of you sat on your bed one morning.

You shrugged, and looked at the handcraft figure in your hand. It was supposed to be a warrior figure, but in your eyes, it wasn't very good. Your big brother however, complimented your work, and asked you for one weeks ago, which brought a smile to your pouty face and you immediately went on to work on making one for him.

Did he died holding your gift? you asked yourself sadly, not realizing a tear slip down your cheek while staring down at the wooden figure until your mother brushed the tear away.

"I know, my love, I miss them as well," she said softly. You released a shaky breath and glanced at her before looking down. "I will go tell the cook to make us breakfast, we'll eat here together, alright?"

You shrugged, and your mother took it as an agreement. She left you alone.

--

"What would you do with the little lady, my lord?" Scallion, your uncle's close ally, asked him when they and Father Beocca were alone in the Great Hall.

"Nothing yet," your uncle Aelfric said, "She is only seven, she needs to grow before I'll marry her off to a lord."

Father Beocca noticed a small smirk appearing on Scallion's face, and he didn't like it at all. "And who do you think of marring her to?" Scallion asked.

"Don't know, I'll find someone," Aelfric said.

Beocca opened his mouth, as if you remind them he was there but a guard walked in, "Excuse me, my lord, but you have a visiter. He claims to be a messenger."

"Let him in," Aelfric said. A man walked in and Beocca tensed, recognising him as one of the Vikings.

Aelfric tilted his head, "I don't know you. You don't have the appearance of a messenger. And Ubba's payment's not yet due."

Beocca frowned, Ubba's payment's not yet due? Did he... His blood was boiling by this thought and new information.

"No, lord," the viking said, "I was a ship's master."

"Ah, well. I have no ships. I need no ship's master."

"I have news that you will want to hear," the Viking said. Aelfric raised an eyebrow, "Well."

"I would want something in return, lord," the Viking said. Aelfric scoffed as he turned away. "Not now, not quite. But perhaps we could continue to help each other."

"Perhaps," Aelfric shrugged.

"Two days south of here..." the viking started, "Is a rat with the man I used to serve. Until he banished me. He has a slave. He treats him well. This is a slave you're entitled to buy back, if you wish to."

Aelfric frowned and repeated, "Buy back?"

"He's your nephew," the Viking said, surprising the men. "Uhtred, lord. He lives."

Aelfric had a calm expression of his face, but Beocca knew now that he was angry that the young lord had survived. He had to get to him, but first, he had to get you out of the castle, he did not trust your uncle around you. He quietly stepped out without anyone noticing, he had to inform your mother what was happening.

--

You were watching the sun setting down from your window when your mother had returned to your room again, you turned and frowned when you noticed her expression.

"Mother?" you asked quietly, blinking when she peered outside and then quickly closed the door.

"Grab your cloak," she immediately said in a hash tone as she hurried toward your bed. You stood from your window seat and stepped forward, confused and worried when she grabbed your cloak and started to tie it around you.

"What is it?" you asked, "Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, you are leaving this place," she said. You frowned again, not understanding, "Why? Where am I going? Does uncle taking me away?"

"No," she said, placing her hand on your cheek as she kneeled down, "You listen to me, never trust your uncle. You going with your brother to Winchester, you will be safe there."

"My brother?" you repeated. "Uhtred is alive," she said quietly, "Come." She took your hand as she stood up, and quickly moved to the door. You held your wooden figure on your left hand tightly, shocked by the information while your mother peered outside before pulling you out to the hall with her.

The two of you reached to the barn where Father Beocca was waiting with Uhtred's horse, which had returned alone that day Uhtred disappeared. A guard was by his side, and when he saw you coming in, he walked out to guard outside.

"Quickly," he said in a hush tone. You turned to your mother, looking up at her with a frown and tears in your eyes, "You not coming?"

"No, my love," she said softly and bend down to kiss your forehead, "I must stay here."

"But why?" you asked. "There's no time, my dear," Beocca said and looked at your mother, "I'm sorry, but you must go now before Aelfric will notice you not there to see him off."

Your mother nodded and looked at you again. She quickly pulled you into her arms, kissing your head, "My sweetheart," she muttered and pulled away, clearing your eyes and cheeks from your tears, "Be strong. Alright? Be strong."

You nodded, "I love you, mother," you muttered. "I love you too," she said and kissed your forehead again as she gently held your cheeks, "Tell your brother, that I love him as well. Alright?" You nodded quickly and sniffed as she pulled away from you.

With one last look at you, she turned and quickly left the barn. You turned to Beocca as he placed a small bag on the back of the horse and he turned to you. He placed his hands on your arms as he bend down, looking at you with a soft expression.

"It's alright, listen to me, carefully, alright?" he asked and you nodded. He pulled the hood of your cloak on your head, "I will be riding with your uncle to meet with your brother and the Danes that have him, you will ride from a distance, alright? You must not been seen."

You nodded quickly and he continued, "You will hid far from the trees in the forest. When we get Uhtred, he will ran to your direction, you two ride to Winchester. Uhtred knows where it is. You will ride there, and I will met you both there."

You nodded again, "All right," you said quietly. He lifted you up on the horse and handed you the reins. "Remember; follow from a distance."

You nodded and watched him leaving quickly.

--

"What if I'm against being ransomed?" Uhtred asked Ravn, the blind older Dane as he led him forward in the forest by the hand. The old man who was kind to the young boy since the day he was captured by him and his clan, gently held onto his hand and spoke, "Your family has discovered that you're still alive. And they wish for you to be returned. But they must pay."

Uhtred glanced back toward the leader, who he grew to like and look up to, "Pay Ragnar?"

"Ubba takes more than half," Ravn explained quietly, referring to the blond man with tattoo on the side of his face. "It's normal."

Uhtred gently let go of Ravn's hand and watched him step away. He frowned slightly, the only one he missed in his family was you. His little sister... and Uhtred hated to admit it, but he also missed your mother.

His step mother, who he never really tried to get along despite her kind words and protectiveness over him. He knew since he was little that Gytha wasn't his birth mother, and that his true mother died when he was a babe.

But she still viewed him like her own son.

Uhtred suddenly felt guilt thinking about the past. He should have been nicer, he should have called her 'mother' with more kinder tone, and be more of a son to her like she viewed him.

Uhtred never treated you coldly like he treated your mother, you were his sister, you both shared the same father, and he loved you since the moment you came into the world.

For two weeks that he been captured, he didn't try to escape and come back to you. He now felt like he had abandoned you.

You must now know that he was alive. He was worried that you thought that he had abandoned you.

He hoped not.

Uhtred forced a small smile when Father Beocca approached. "Uhtred," Beocca greeted with a smile. "They're treating you well?"

Uhtred nodded lightly, "I am fed, yes."

Beocca nodded, "Good, good. That's all we ask." He noticed something around the boy's neck, "What is that around your neck? Some symbol?"

"Oh, this?" he asked and lifted the necklace up, showing Thor's hammer that was gifted to him by Ravn's son, the leader, Ragnar Ravnsson, "They... they make me wear it."

"May I see it?" Beocca asked, looking at Ragnar who was leaning against a tree. With a nod, the priest approached. He took the necklace, and glanced behind him to see Aelfric speaking to Scallion, so he turned to the boy and spoke quietly, "Look, I will speak plainly, your uncle will kill you. Right, you cannot go back to Bebbanburg. You must escape. He wants to be the ealdorman. He wants to be the king, in fact, like the pathetic Egbert over there. A puppet king for his Danish masters. Your sister is waiting on the north side from here, behind you--don't look back." He stopped Uhtred from turning. "She can't go back too, she will be sold off when she will grow older. You two go to Wessex. King Aethelred, real king Aethelred... and his brother, the prince Alfred... they're good men, good Christian men--"

Ragnar stepped forward, "That's enough whispering in his ear, priest." Uhtred turned to him, breathing heavily. Beocca grabbed his arms, making him turn back, "Uhtred--"

"One more word, I'll have your ball bag for a purse," Ragnar threated calmly. "I'll meet you there," Beocca whispered before stepping back and speaking calmly, "That will not be necessary."

Ragnar watched him stepping away and looked down at the boy, noticing him staring at his uncle. "What did he say?"

"He... he asked if you were treating me well," he lied, glancing up at the man before stepping back, looking a little shaken up which Ragnar and his son noticed.

They looked at each other, knowing something was off. Uhtred glanced around, and finally spotted you before you moved away to hid.

His little sister.

Uhtred let out a soft shaky breath before he quickly turned away and looked at Ragnar and Ragnar the Younger to speak quietly, "I need to go for a moment to pee."

Ragnar clearly saw through him but didn't speak of it and instead looked at his son, "Go with him."

"I can go by myself," Uhtred said. "Not at this moment," Ragnar said as he shook his head a little. Uhtred hesitated but turned and walked away with Ragnar the Younger walking beside him.

The boy let out a soft sigh and nervously looked around as they walked a little far away from the group. "So, who is the little lady who is hiding around?" Ragnar the Younger asked, a little amused when the boy looked up at him worriedly.

"She's not in trouble," he said. "No, not from you," Uhtred muttered, "She will be if my uncle finds out she's here."

Ragnar the Younger hummed, "Well, then, bring her out. I won't tell and I won't bite." Uhtred looked up at him for a moment before looking around, "You can come out, y/n," he said softly.

You stepped out from behind one of the trees, leaving the horse farther away from where the three of you were at. You looked from the young man in hesitation to your brother. He nodded and gave you a small smile, as if he was scared you weren't happy to see him.

You walked closer quickly and jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. Uhtred hugged you back tightly, closing his eyes in relief. After a moment you two pulled away from the hug, but you grabbed into his arm when he turned to the young man.

"That's my little sister, y/n," he said and glanced at you, "This is Ragnar the Younger. I was with him and his family all that time."

You looked up at Ragnar the Younger and took a step behind Uhtred to hid behind him when the young man kneeled down. "Do not fear me, I won't harm you," he said.

"Are you going to tell them I'm here?" you asked in a small voice, "Because if you will, I will be in trouble." He nodded, "All right then. Then I won't." You looked a little relief and he looked at Uhtred, "What did the priest say to you?"

"My uncle will kill me," he said, "He's not here to bring me back, he's going to kill me as soon as he will get his hands on me, and he will get rid of my sister. He can't find out she's here."

Ragnar the Younger looked from him to you, watching you lowering your gaze to your wooden figure in your hand. He held his hand out, "Can I see it?"

You hesitantly handed your wooden figure, and he recognized it since he saw Uhtred with one like this a few times. "That's a very nice warrior figure," he complimented, remembering Uhtred saying you had made one for him. "Who made it?"

"I did," you answered. Ragnar the Younger smiled a little, "That is very good. Perhaps you would make me one as well."

That actually made you smile a little. He handed the wooden figure back to you, and let out a breath before nodding to the side, "You see that bridge?"

You and Uhtred looked to where he nodded and looked at the bridge farther away with a pond under it. "Yes," you answered softly and looked back at the young man.

"Go there, and wait for us," he said. "Am I to go with you?" you asked a little nervous as you looked from your brother to him. "Perhaps," he said, "After I will speak to my father, I am sure he will speak up to stop the ransom."

"So, will I be able to come with my sister?" Uhtred asked, his voice sounded a little hopeful. Ragnar the Younger simply smirked, "Who knows. Come on." He stood up and looked at you, nodding to the bridge, "Off you go."

You looked at Uhtred and he nodded to you. You quickly moved up the small hill and turned to watch them walking back to the others. You turned and ran to get Uhtred's horse to the bridge.

Ragnar watched his son and Uhtred walking closer. Ragnar the Younger walked toward him while Uhtred stood by a Viking, glaring at his uncle.

"Father?" Ragnar the Younger spoke quietly as he leaned closer to him. With a hum, he spoke again, this time much quieter so no one could listen, "That lord is going to kill him." Ragnar glanced at his son and then away, listening. "His little sister is waiting by the bridge, she can't go back."

Ragnar the Younger moved away a little and turned back to the rest. As they watched the ransom in fold, Ragnar was looking between Uhtred and Aelfric.

"How much?" his uncle asked. "300," Ravn said, sitting next to Ubba. Aelfric looked at them, scoffing, "That is a ridiculous amount. How can a boy be worth 300 pieces of silver?"

"Because I say so," Ravn said. "Because he is a lord and an ealdorman." Aelfric shook his head a little, "No, he is a boy. I am the ealdorman of Bebbanburg. I carry the seal and the banner."

"That seal is my father's, which is now mine!" Uhtred said, glaring at him.

"You be silent," Ubba said, "You are for sale, nothing more."

"For ransom, lord," Ravn corrected. Ubba nodded, "That's what I said."

"My lords, I have given up land, horses," Aelfric said as he sat down, "I've offered a generous supply of food as well as my sword. All I ask in return is a fair price for my only nephew."

Uhtred shook his head a little. "What would you say is a fair price?" Ravn asked.

"I will offer 100 pieces of silver," Aelfric said. "200," Ravn said. "My allegiance and 100 pieces is surely a fair price," Aelfric said.

"It is not," Ravn said. "I will give 120 pieces of silver for the boy," Aelfric said. Ravn laughed softly and shook his head, "Not enough."

Aelfric looked down for a moment, "Very well." He looked at Ubba and Ravn, "200 pieces. I agree to your terms." Ravn seemed disappointed that he agreed, since he was found of the boy and deep down he didn't want Aelfric to get him back.

Ubba opened his mouth to agree with the deal, but then Ragnar bend down and whispered something to his ear. He moved away and Ubba looked at him, surprised by what he was giving up.

Ragnar nodded, and Ubba turned to Aelfric, raising an eyebrow, "The boy is sold to Earl Ragnar."

Aelfric frowned, shocked, "What?" Beocca turned to Uhtred in surprise, and frowned when he noticed a relief expression on the boy's face.

"Ransomed, lord," Ravn corrected but he did show he was glad Uhtred will be staying with him and his family.

Ubba nodded, "That's what I said. The matter is closed." He stood up and Aelfric did as well, "My lords, I have come a long way. I have offered my allegiance."

Ragnar stepped forward, "Which is why you're allowed to breathe. If you have an argument, it's with me now." They stared at each other for a long moment, and when Ragnar saw Aelfric backing down, he smirked and walked past him, "If business is done, we have ale to drink."

"And King Egbert needs to shit!" Ubba joked and laughed at his own joke. Ragnar stopped in front of Uhtred, who looked up at him with a small relief smile.

"Let's get your sister," he said quietly and ruffled the boy's hair as he walked past him.

You waited with Uhtred's horse by the bridge for a little bit until you heard horses approaching. You stood by the horse and hold tightly into the reins as you saw people approaching on horses.

Ragnar the Younger and your brother were one of them. Uhtred was riding with the man you recognized from before the battle, who seemed to be the leader.

"Hold," he said and the four people with him stopped their horses. Uhtred jumped down from the horse and rushed closer to you, giving you a bright smile.

"It's okay," he said, "We'll be safe now." He looked at his horse and patted it softly as the leader got off of his horse with Ragnar the Younger and another blonde man with a tattoo on the side of his face.

"What is this?" the blonde man asked, frowning down at you. The leader approached to you and your brother, and stared down at you for a few seconds before kneeling down in front of you.

"Your name?" he asked. You hesitated and glanced at your brother before back at the man, "Y/n..."

He nodded and looked at Uhtred, who was staring at him. It seemed that they both were speaking with each other with only their eyes, and then, the man looked at you, and gave you a small smile, "Let's go home."

You looked at your brother who smiled brightly again, and looked at you, nodding. He stepped to his horse and got on it. You looked at the man as he got up and he offered you his hand. You hesitatingly placed your small hand on his larger hand, and let him led you to his horse.

It was a beautiful dark horse, and when you reached your hand up to it, it lowered its face so you can touch its nose. The man lifted you up to sit on his horse.

"Ragnar, you taking another?" the blonde man asked, raising an eyebrow. "She shouldn't be living apart from her brother," the man, Ragnar, said and got on the horse, sitting behind you.

"If that lord will find out the sister is with you, then what?" the man asked. "That won't happen, because she will be given a different name," Ragnar said and with that, the horse started to walk off, with Uhtred and Ragnar the Younger followed.

--

"Mother, they back!"

You lifted your gaze forward when you heard a girl calling happily. When you, Uhtred, Ragnar, Ragnar the Younger and the old man who was blind and named Ravn reached to the village, to one of the houses, two girls were outside playing when they saw you.

A woman walked outside and smiled. She looked at Uhtred as he got off of his horse and smiled at him as he moved closer. The two girls rushed closer to him and embraced him, which surprised him.

"You're back too!"

Ragnar got off of his horse before turning to you. He lifted you up from the horse and placed you down on your feet. He then led you closer to the woman, the two girls and Uhtred.

Ragnar the Younger helped his grandfather off of his horse and the two walked closer. The woman kissed Ragnar's cheek before looking down at you, giving you a kind smile.

"Hello," the young girl told you, giving you a smile, which you returned with a small shy one. "This is y/n, Uhtred's little sister," Ragnar said and looked at the woman, his wife, "And as from now on, they both will be living with us. As family."

She nodded slowly, agreeing with it. "We going to have to give her a different name," Ragnar the Younger reminded as he nodded to you, "Just in case their uncle won't find out she is here."

The woman kneeled down and reached for your arm, gently pulling you over to her. "I'm sure we'll find something that will fit you," she said softly as she brushed your hair. Her touch was soft and motherly, which made you think of your mother. "Brida, please get a fur coat for her."

The young girl nodded and ran into the house. "This is my wife, Sigrid," Ragnar said, and nodded to the other girl who greeted you, "And my daughter, Thyra."

Thyra smiled at you again as Brida ran outside. She put the fur around your shoulders to keep you warm. "Thank you," you muttered softly.

Sigrid watched you with a soft smile, "I had a sister when I was little," she suddenly said softly, "Her name was Freya."

"It's a pretty name," you said. Sigrid nodded a little, "Yes. She was also pretty as her name."

"Freya Ragnarsdottir," Ragnar said with a nod, "How would you like that?" You glanced at Sigrid to see if was alright, and she smiled at you. "I think it suits you well," she said softly. You gave her a small smile and looked at Uhtred, who smiled back at you.

#the last kingdom #osferth x you #osferth x oc #osferth x reader #osferth imagine #osferth #osferth fanfic #osferth x y/n #baby monk #ragnar the younger imagine #uhtred imagine #finan imagine #sihtric the last kingdom

[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

[anoncat6]

PETRICHOR | sihtric x oc | part one

The Last Kingdom

Sihtric x f!oc

Season 2-?

Updated every Tuesday and Friday

Cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part nine part ten part eleven part twelve part thirteen

1. the beginning

Ghylena was exhausted. Her hunting had been poor that day, and with only a few measly rabbits to show for her efforts, she was in a surly mood. She had been up since dawn and riding for hours to find her desired prey, and yet still no sign of the elusive stag.

Sliding from her saddle, she dropped to the ground with aching joints and a tired bow arm. Patting her horse, she led him to the stables that sat behind the nunnery’s hall.

“Alright Shaeda, let’s get you some food and water, huh boy?” 

Ghylena and her elder sister Gisela had been in hiding at the convent for months now, shielding themselves from their brother the King.

Some months ago he had sold their friend and ally Uhtred of Bebbanburg into slavery, leaving Gisela and Ghylena unprotected from being sold as brides against their wishes.

Not only had they left Eoferwic behind in the hopes that Uhtred would one day be found by Hild and return, but Ghylena had been separated from her friend Sihtric; ever since he had sworn himself to Uhtred, Ghylena had persuaded Sihtric into teaching her how to fight with a sword.

Each day, without fail, they had trained together- starting first with daggers and knife-throwing before moving on to swordplay. 

At first he had seemed unsure of her, seeking Uhtred’s permission on whether he was even allowed to be teaching her, but Gisela had already spoken with Uhtred about it, and Sihtric was reassured. 

After that, a close friendship soon formed between them, one that led to knowing smiles between Uhtred and Gisela, and a constant stream of teasing from Hild and Halig.

“Ghylena!” One of the younger nuns came running towards her as she settled Shaeda into the stables, “My Lady, come quick! The Abbot- he has come for you and the Lady Gisela!”

Suddenly alert and afraid, Ghlyena took her bow in hand before moving to dash into the hall behind the nun. Her heart was thumping inside her chest, feet slamming against the ground as she desperately ran to save her sister.

Bursting through the side door to the hall, Ghylena notched an arrow and drew her bowstring, aiming for the Lord Abbot as she yelled her threat: “Stop! Abbot, you have no right!”

��Lena! Run!” Gisela was held tight by two men, thrashing in their arms to be free as she begged her sister to save herself, “Run!”

Unfazed by the young woman’s threat, the weaselly holy-man simply sneering as he continued: “I hereby proclaim Lady Gisela of Cumbr-“ 

Ghylena let her arrow fly, hitting one of the holy men who held Gisela tight, before drawing another arrow, growling “A warning! Do not think I will not kill you Abbot! Let my sister go!”

The injured priest wailed in pain as he clutched his shoulder, Lena’s arrow protruding from it as blood seeped into his robes, yet still the Abbot only spoke faster.

“-Gisela of Cumbraland, and Lord Aelfric of Bebbanburg to be man and wife!” His ratty voice rushed out, finishing the proclamation before the doors to the hall once again burst open and Uhtred and his men marched in. 

Everything after that moved quickly, with Ghylena relaxing her bow and moving to pull Gisela to her side, standing behind Hild. When Uhtred killed the Abbot for his insistence that Gisela was indeed married, Ghylena felt only relief. 

This disaster was over, Uhtred had returned, and Ghylena could finally return to Eoferwic to see Sihtric. 

She had missed him fiercely in their time apart; longing for the feel of his calloused hands as he corrected her form in training, the admiring gleam in his mismatched eyes as she returned through the gates from a successful hunt, and the soft peace they shared during the evenings spent drinking ale with Hild, Clapa and Halig, (Uhtred and Gisela often being too busy with each other to join their companions).

When they finally did return to Eoferwic, with Uhtred now married to Gisela- and after far too many detours through Loidis, and Erik and Siegfried’s camp- Ghylena was antsy. 

Entering through the gates atop Shaeda, she couldn’t seem to sit still in her saddle, her stomach twisting with nerves and excitement as she looked through the crowds gathering, searching for a certain Dane with braided hair and muscled arms.

Hild seemed all too entertained by Ghylena’s obvious intentions, “He’ll be here, Ghylena. He swore to stay in Eoferwic and keep an eye on the King until we returned. I’m sure you will be reunited with him soon enough.” 

Turning to look at her friend, Ghylena felt her face flush, “So long as he agrees to continue training me, then I will be happy, Hild. That’s all I want from him.”

Hild breathed a laugh, “Of course, My Lady. You want him to teach you. That is all, I’m sure.”

Huffing at Hild’s teasing, Ghylena pulled at Shaeda’s reins, intent on leaving her horse at the stables as she searched for Sihtric. “I will hear no more of your taunting, Hild. I am going to find my friend. Make sure Uhtred doesn’t start a war whilst I’m away.”

“I make no promises.”

<>

Later that evening, after jumping at Sihtric in a hug when she had found him at the blacksmith’s, Ghylena was sat beside him at a table with Clapa and the Irishman, Finan. She found herself unable to focus on the debate of who should take Dunholm once they seized it, and of whether or not to kill Guthred, (she found herself uncaring at whether her shit stain of a brother lived or died).

Instead of listening to the conversations occurring around her, all Ghylena could focus on was the warm presence of Sihtric beside her, and the comforting feel of his bare arm pressed against hers. Each time she looked up from her food and ale, she would find herself stealing glances at him, and hiding a smile whenever she caught him doing the same.

Hild watched their childish antics from the other table, but shook her head and said nothing, content to let them enjoy their strange dance.

When the aforementioned arseling she defied to call brother called out to Uhtred, pleading to speak with him, Ghylena felt her back grow stiff, her jaw locking as she froze in anger. 

She stood up suddenly, shaking Sihtric’s hand from her arm and pacing over to the pair of men, unsure of what she was planning to do, only knowing that she needed to confront the man who had caused her so much pain.

“…in my defense, I was meant to kill you.” Guthred continued talking to Uhtred as his eyes flicked over to Lena and back again, “I- I spared your life—“

A resounding slap echoed around the yard, and Ghylena’s hand stung when she hissed at him, “You sold him as a slave, you killed Halig, and you hunted your own sisters down to be married against our wishes. You are no man, no brother of mine, and no King- only a milky turd who was squeezed out the arse of a goat.”

Uhtred took his sister-in-law’s hand once she was done speaking, the rest of their company shocked into silence at her display, and she settled back into her seat beside Sihtric. The Dane beside her was grinning- his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter- and when he took her hand in his, she found herself feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. 

Guthred seemed unable to look at her now, continuing instead to talk to Uhtred and the night soon passed once he left again.

Days later, Uhtred’s company left for Dunholm, and with no regret at leaving her past life behind, Ghylena followed her new brother, Uhtred, to Dunholm. She would make herself useful as an archer for now, but her skill with a blade had greatly improved, and someday she swore she would become a warrior.

If her being a warrior and learning to fight meant more time spent with Sihtric, then more the better- a happy addition to her plan. And most definitely not one of her biggest motivations. Not at all.

Ghylena was tired of leaving her fate in the hands of a man, no— this, this was for her, and her alone. Her friendship with Sihtric must simply be the Gods’ plan for her, and who was she to defy the Gods?

-> up next: '3 years later'...

#sihtric #sihtric x oc #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom #uhtred

[moonlight-rider25]

Saint among Sinners

Chapter 7, in the Eadiths lady series.

Word count:  3344

Warnings: Your guess is as good as mine

Read chapter 6 “Spill the beans’ leading up to this chapter...

Uhtred strokes your cheek where your tear has fallen. You grasp his hand and lean your cheek softly against his huge weather palm. 

“Please?” You ask again.

He casts his gaze down to his hand wrapped around yours and chuckles quietly to himself. He leans in against you, pressing his forehead to yours and you breathe in his safe familiar scent. You caress his cheek tenderly and peer into his blue sparkling eyes glimmering back at you. He slowly turns his head away from you and peers down at his lap.

“First…I need to know...” He says quietly avoiding your look.

Your heart quakes in your chest, you try desperately to remain calm as the butterflies in your belly begin to bounce around. He looks up to you with a wide grin.  Your eyes light up waiting to hear what he's to say.

“...How come you're so good at this, faking an ailment thing?” He asks, unable to keep his face even any longer.

You exhale heavily and laugh wholeheartedly at his remark. 

“Believe me, twas not an easy task!” You giggle.

You sit vibrating with laughter for a moment. He looks from your eyes back to your hand in his, laughter still thick in both your throats. 

Once you’ve finally settled, you squeeze his palm a bit and try to look him seriously in the eye.

“So?.. Do we have a deal, my Lord?” You ask him plainly, trying not to show too much eagerness on your face.

“…I suppose I could sacrifice…. a day or two?” He asks sarcastically. 

You giggle loudly at his remark. Clasping your hand over your mouth so as to not draw attention to you. 

“Three?!” He teases dramatically looking back to you.

His big hand comes down upon yours, grasping your hand now between his. He stokes tiny circles around your knuckles and smiles madly.

“Longer!?” He asks with a snicker. “Please tell me, how long, woman?!” he chuckles, leaning playfully against you.

He brings your hand up to his lips and plants a tender long kiss on your knuckles where he just rubbed tiny circles.  You gaze up into his stunning glimmering eyes and smile. 

“As long as it takes.” you tell him.

He watches you carefully, peering deeply into your eyes as you gaze back up at him.  His hand cups your chin softly and he slowly begins closing the gap between the two of you. Your eyes flutter shut and you hold your breath feeling him inch closer.

“I don’t think we have that much time..” He utters softly against your lips.

Your tender moment is quickly disrupted as you hear Eadith approaching, yelling her excitement of finding the herbs for your tea. Yours and Uhtred's eyes grow wide and you squeeze his hand tightly. 

“You better be as good at this, as I am…” You whisper against him before he stands quickly pacing away from you. 

“Eadith!” You call out, remembering to grasp your belly again. “Over here!”

She rushes over happily, Finan struggling to keep up with her, plops down next to you beside the tree, where Uhtred had just been. 

“I’ve got it!” she hums gleefully. “All we need now is a fire, some hot water, and your belly should be good as new!” 

You smile politely at her, remembering to keep your belly clasped. She spins around in her spot towards Finan, who's still huffing out of breath, and Uhtred, who's trying to hide the devilish smile dancing on his face. 

“Could you two, go gather some firewood?” She pleads kindly. 

Uhtred clears the laughter from his throat and smacks Finan on the back before heading off in the opposite direction.

“Of course my lady” Finan huffs, reluctantly following after Uhtred.

You sit trying to hide your own grin watching Uhtred's bad performance and quickly wipe it away as Eadith turns her attention back to you. 

“You know, Eadith…I think I’m fine now, really.” You tell her.

“Nonsense!” She assures you, “I’ve got everything you need right here!” She tells you calmly, sorting through the plants from her bag.

“No Eadith!” You tell her more eagerly.

She stops and looks confused at you.

“It was just…lady troubles.  That's all.” 

“Oh!” she replies. “Well, in that case…” she continues happily “..We mine as well have some tea!” 

~~~~~

Gathered around the fire, the day begins to drift away and the men; besides Uhtred, are visibly growing anxious. You try your best to act accordingly and Eadith tends lovingly to you, none the wiser. The fire crackles loudly and a spark drops out in front of you on the ground, you instinctively snuff it out with your shoe.

Uhtred sips water from his tin cup and meets Sihtrics eye. He swallows the sip dramatically, nodding towards him. 

Sihtric watches as you do, and stands to face Uhtred. 

"Lord, I believe lady Y/N is fine to travel, now's time to get moving before nightfall." He tells him in a concerned tone.

"Eh..you know Sihtric.." Uhtred begins.

The others turn their attention to him, including yourself.

"...I was thinking we might as well just make camp here for the night…" Uhtred replies stoically, peering off into the distance facing away from the group. "...Perhaps we could indulge ourselves a bit on the ale we have at hand…" 

In seconds the men's faces light up meeting one another's eye, with delight painted across their faces. Finan leaps over the campfire heading towards the bags loaded up with many bottles of ale.

"I thought you'd never ask, my Lord!" Finan cackles, holding bottles up in the air.

Osferth, Sihtric, and Eadith waste no time joining Finan in dishing out the ale. You peer around the group with a satisfied smile when your eyes lock with Uhtred. 

He stares in your direction, making no mind of hiding it from the others. You stare back watching and hoping the happiness you feel at this moment is also being felt by him as well. At least more so than any regret he may have; not be early on his arrival back to Wessex this time.

Eadith hands you a cup of ale and your stare with Uhtred breaks. You smile back at her as she giggles happily. 

"I wonder what's gotten into him?" She says before taking a sip, gesturing towards Uhtred.

"...Who knows?.." You reply, hiding your smirk as you bring your own cup to your lips; your eyes meeting back with Uhtred who's also being handed a full cup of ale.

~~~~~

The moon looms far overhead beyond the tree leaves while the fire roars before you. The group has and still is indulging themselves with the stolen ale Finan has been able to acquire from past towns. Regardless of how it became, you're glad to have another night under the stars with the group. 

Osferth, opening up from the drinks, has made himself quite comfortable beside Eadith. His arm wrapped gently around her neck as he wavers a bit back and forth listening to her as she speaks. Finan and Sihtric shout out a laugh in unison, seemingly sharing some grand story with Uhtred calmly beside them. Uhtred sits watching you from across the fire, and as if he's able to read your thoughts; looks around the group assuming they're all too intoxicated to make much note of his moment towards you.

Ale in hand, he seats himself beside you and pours you both a fresh cup. Eadith let's out a hearty cackle from beside you; you meet Uhreds look before laughing amusingly to yourselves. 

"Would be ashamed to cut all this short." He says softly with a chuckle.

You nod, joining him in his amusement; watching the others.

"Hopefully Finan has enough stored away for the next few nights," he adds, taking a sip. "Otherwise we will be in a hurry…to get to the next town at least and stock up!" 

You giggle madly at his words, unfortunately, drawing the attention of the others, over to the two of you in the process.

"AY!"  Finan calls out from across the fire. "What are you two love birds doing over there!?" 

Your heart sinks into your stomach and you feel your cheeks flush with red.  Uhtred, also feeling the tension, stirs uncomfortably and turns his body towards the fire a bit.

Finan gets up and hobbles over to Eadith and Osferth. You're sure he can hear the beating in your chest as you finally exhale the lump in your throat down slowly. 

Finan mocks the two entangled in each other before dramatically sitting himself blunting down between the two of them. Eadith cackles and scoots closer towards you, squishing you closer towards Uhtred.  You inch carefully as Uhtred does nothing to move away… but instead, gently places his hand on your lower back. You allow yourself to enjoy the moment for a few brief seconds before turning your head toward Uhtred, and peer up lustfully at his big blue eyes. He smiles gently down at you with a smirk dancing across his face…

You both jump when Sihtric places himself on the other side of Uhtred, breathing a hot wave of ale breath on you. Finan chews thoughtfully on the end of a stick then points playfully to Eadith.

"I'm watching you!" He says sarcastically, pointing between Osferth and Eadith. The crooked circle bellows in laughter as cups are refilled; Uhtred's hand refuses to leave its spot on your back… 

So badly you wish to spin your head around and grip his face between your hands and meet his lips with yours. Devouring his mouth, feeling his hot tongue against yours before pulling back and spying  his brilliant blue eyes sparking down at you asking not to stop…, but instead you sit still, feeling his huge warm body so close to yours, and the soft tickle of his beard scratching at your temple. Before you can hear the words he tries to mumble, Osferth casts his hand in your direction.

"Us?!" Osferth states, still swallowing down his mouthful of ale. "What about those two?!" He says with a laugh pointing towards you and Uhtred.

You freeze, feeling your throat swell up yet again. The fear makes its way down toward your stomach. 

"Can't I ask the lady if she's feeling better?" Uhtred quickly, and smoothly fibs.

His hand falling away from your back as the group seems to accept his lie well enough. The others mumble to themselves as you swallow hard, raising your cup to your mouth trying to hide the redness on your face that has formed.  You try to relax again back towards Uhtred's hand but it has disappeared; not as quickly along with the knot in your stomach. 

Osferth finishes his cup as Finan eagerly cheers him on. 

"Now… sleep," the baby monk replies, tipping his cup upside down. 

"Aw no, not yet!" You protest as eagerly as you can, trying not to sound too eager to spend more time next to Uhtred.

Sihtric drains the remains of his cup into his mouth before also agreeing and standing to join the baby monk.

"No! Come on, stay up with us!" You cry again; this time Eadith joining in your plea.

Uhtred makes no comment but begins to stand and walk towards his tent along with the others.

"Aw, forget them ladies…. They're not fun… we can have a good time just the three of us…"  Finan jokes.

You and Eadith make eye contact knowing being alone with Finan in the middle of the woods is the very last thing you should be doing…

"Please!" You both beg now. "Don't go, come on, stay here!" 

"And do what?" Sihtric snaps, his hands placed firmly on his waist.

You and Eadith sit quietly for a moment trying to come up with a reason…

"Oh I know!" Eadith cries out cheerfully. Let's play a game!"

Osferth strides back over the circle around the fire and seats himself, again by Finan who 'huraws' his return.

"What game?" The baby monk asks hopefully.

"Umm…" Eadith wavers a bit trying to think of one.

"Stones!" Finan pipes in.

"No, we are not playing your made up game Finan!" You tell him with a laugh.

"Oh I know!" Eadith says turning towards you. "What's that game we used to play in the field…back…when we were at…Madam Ells!?..." Eadith asks you through staggering words.

"Uhhhm…" you rack your brain trying to understand.

"Saint amongst Sinners!" She blurts out finally.

You raise an eyebrow at her and peer around the circle; clearly no one else has ever heard of the game. 

Sihtric and Uhtred make their way back over and sit down around the fire as well, Uhtred much further away than before, but still beside you. 

"Saint amongst Sinners? Well, clearly the Saint is baby monk..game over!" Sihtric states with a laugh.

"No, it's fun!" Eadith assures him all too gleefully. "We all go around the circle naming off ‘sins’ we've never partaken in…" She begins to inform the group.

"Oh yes, I do remember this." You add. "We all start with our hand out, palm open. One by one we all go around the circle and name something bad you’ve never done, but, believe the others may have. If you have, you close your palm and you're out for the rest of the game, but the last person with their palm open is the Saint!" 

"Oh… I get it," Sihtric says plainly.

"You do?” Finan says with a straight face.  “Well, could you explain it to the rest of us?" He shouts through a laugh across the circle.

"It's easy, watch, Eadith and I will start…" You tell them; sitting with your hand out palm open.

"I am a Saint, for I have never stolen…" you state. 

The others copy your open hand and look blankly at each other.

"Now, if you have ever stolen, you close your palm and you're out." Eadith tells them.

She looks to Finan whose hand is still open.

"So you're out Finan, close your hand." 

"Why! I've never stolen!" He argues.

"Where'd you get all this ale from?!" She asks with a cackle.

"That's not stealing…thats…its" He tries to reassure the group.

"Stealing, and you're out!" Replies Sihtric as the group roars in laughter.

"Dumb bloody game.." Finan spats sarcastically.

Eadith goes next, "I am a Saint, for I have never told a lie to my mother…" 

You reluctantly close your hand and eye the circle seeing you're the only one. 

"Dumb game isn't it!" Finan says with a smirk.

"How have you all never lied to your mothers?" You ask shocked, eyeing the others around the circle…

"Hard to lie to your mother when you haven't got one,” Osferth tells you apologetically.

The group roars with laughter, yet again.

~~~~~~~

After a few more rounds of the game it's clear; Osferth was in fact the leading Saint among Sinners in the group.  Leading with not having laid with anyone outside of wedlock, not having shamed another publicly, and never telling a white lie… Beyond killing another being in or out of war, that round you found yourself winning. It was now Eadiths turn again, and with the ale flowing steadily she flashed you a quick devilish look and began with her hand open in the circle. 

“I am the Saint among Sinners, for I have never lay beneath a blanket with Y/N..”

You’re sure the group could hear your heart slamming in your chest and you carefully eye the circle of hands before you, watching Uhtred reluctantly fold his hand closed and retract it from the view of the others.

You hold your breath  in your throat as eyes grow wide meeting each other's looks, quickly followed by inaudible stammering and shouting from across the circle. 

You flash Eadith a very disapproving look and try your best to be heard over all the men now shouting around the fire. Eadith, whos far too inebriated to appreciate your looks of terror, force you turn your attention to Uhtred; whose face is painted with a thick smirk as he takes a long sip of ale.  You flash him a look of ‘help’ while he eyes you and downs the rest of his cup's contents. 

Leading Eadith, the group begins chanting; “Uhtred, Y/N, tell us” while Uhtred and yourself grow restless in your seats.

“There's nothing to tell!” You shout desperately.  

Uhtred shakes his head towards the group and lays back against his elbows on the ground. You turn your attention back to him and anticipate with a heaving heartbeat his words. His eyes avoiding yours makes your pulse increase even more..

“It just so happens…”

“It was just one time!” You interrupt him, shaking noticeable. 

“...When we all thought Eadith was ill, and it was cold…we ended up under the same blanket in the horse stalls because it was cold!...” 

The others ‘ohh’ and ‘ahhing’ over the lie you choose.

“It was just that once…and I’m not sure why Eadith is so adamant on forcing my hand in sharing the story seeing as she already knows…”

You flash her quick look of ‘stop it’ before adding “Who needs another drink?!”

Everyones cup raises and you quickly take the chance to lock arms with Eadith, hoist her up, and begin making your way towards the tent, to grab another stolen bottle of ale.

Eadith laughs as you guide her towards the tent flap. 

“What in God's name are you doing?!” You ask in a rasped whisper.

Your heart; still beating rapidly in your chest as you cast the tent flap closed behind the two of you.  She leans against the thick tree limb holding the structure secure.  Laughter still in her throat, she shakes her head a bit from side to side. You pour her a cup, well knowing she doesn't need a refill and take a long sip from the long bottle neck.  You wipe your mouth in disapproval and stare back at her with rage and disapproval in your eyes.

…“I told you…You're playing a very dangerous game Y/N.” she says aftering taking her own gulp from her cup.

“Eadith!” You snap coldly.

She rolls her eyes dramatically, turning her back towards you slowly, peering out from the tents flap back towards the men gathered at the fire.

“You and I were once unbreakable…” she begins with a sad tone in her voice, still staring out towards the men around the fire.  “You’re like a sister to me… And still are… Or so I thought…”

You allow a heavy sigh to escape you before shaking your head. She turns back and your look has turned a bit softer now.

“...I’m not sure anymore…What I am sure of, is the secrets you’re are keeping from me these days…” Eadith says with a solemn look on her face.

“Eadith…If there was anything to tell… I would tell you…” You say slowly, before taking a long sip from the bottle. “The truth is I don’t know what to make of Uhtred and myself..”

She rolls her eyes yet again, gathering her dress ready to make her way back towards the group. You lock arms with her, carefully urging her back behind the faint barricade of the tent. 

“Alright yes…some things have happened…” You tell her quietly. 

She crossed her arms a bit, wavering in place balancing her cup in her crossed arms.

“I watched you slip into his tent last night…” she tells you with a look of drunken disapproval on her face.

You bite back your bottom lip unsure of what to say next.  She sighs and casts her look back out towards the group, you peel back the tent flap a smidge, and peer out with her.  Uhtred looks back towards the tent and smiles meeting your eye. Eadith, clearly seeing the interaction, no thanksthe lasto Uhtred, cranes her head towards you and allows the tent flap to shut.

“Alright you little Sinner…” Eadith says with a smirk.  “Story time…”

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