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solinarimoon · 3 years

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Fields of Wildflowers

Chapter 15

A Sihtric x OC story

AN: Well loves, this is the final chapter for this story. Depending on how season 5 of the show goes, I may do more and I may do one-shots for Cwen and Sihtric later too. I am honestly incredibly proud of myself for finishing my very first multi-chapter story. And I am beyond thankful for each and every one of you who thought it was worth your time to read. Thank you! From the bottom of my Dane loving heart. I have more stories planned featuring our favorite cinnamon role Dane and some new OCs so be on the lookout! The moodboards provided by the lovely @serasvictoria

Warnings: Smut. Smut with feelings. (So this also counts as my outdoors entry for @tlkfanficfest bingo axe card)

Word Count: 3877

Fields of Wildflowers Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

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Hild found Cwen some old novice robes that fit comfortably enough. The abbess then cleaned Cwen’s face and put a soothing poultice on some of the deeper scrapes and bruises before sending her off to bed.

The room was plain, holding only a bed and a small table. And there was a lingering aroma of some floral fragrance Cwen couldn’t place. She laid down and was asleep within a matter of minutes.

When she awoke, it was with a start to find an arm weightily draped across her waist.

Turning from her side to lay on her back, Cwen saw Sihtric dozing soundly next to her.

He had found a moment to clean the grime and gore from his face and body, she noticed as she took in his features. His armor and tunic lay discarded by the door to the room and Cwen took a moment to take in his resting form. The line of his jaw and the length of his neck. His shoulder, rounded and firm, with long muscles leading along the arm hooked around her waist. She felt the heat radiating off his bare chest.

In his sleep, the warrior’s face was relaxed and his breathing even and shallow. His mouth hung slightly open, a quiet snore escaping him every few breaths.

Cwen raised a hand to brush the hair from his forehead and trace the lines along his brow.

She smiled when she felt him stir under her touch. Without opening his eyes, he reached a hand up to grasp her own and bring her palm to his lips.

“I am glad you took my advice and rested,” he hummed against her palm before pulling her body closer into his embrace.

“Is there peace?” she questioned after nuzzling against his neck and trailing her fingers along his collarbone.

“For now, it seems.”

“Tell me.” Cwen asked, sleep still clouding her voice.

Sihtric rolled onto his back, sliding his arm to rest under Cwen’s neck as she nestled into his side.

“They’ve given Sigtryggr Eofiwich. And he promises to remain peaceful and in alliance with Wessex and Mercia.” Sihtric paused, running his fingers gently through Cwen’s long hair. Hild had also spent time using a brush and comb to work through the knots and tangles that had accumulated during the siege.

“That can’t be all though,” Cwen asked while turning her face up to meet his, “What about Stiorra?”

Cwen felt as a rumble passed through Sihtric’s chest as he laughed.

“And what about Stiorra?”

Cwen propped herself up on to her arm, her mirthful smile mirroring his.

“Is she part of the bargain?”

“Why would she be?” Sihtric’s eyes glittered mischievously.

“Because they have fallen for one another. Stiorra and Sigtryggr.” Cwen’s words were sure and matter of fact.

Sihtric moved to place a strand of hair that had fallen across Cwen’s face before he asked, “Now what would make you say that?”

Sighing, Cwen laid herself back down and nestled into his side. Her fingers absent-mindedly finding the hammer amulet draped across his chest. Tracing the intricate designs.

“Well I don’t know exactly. I have never even seen them in the same room together,” and her words were interrupted by a scoff from Sihtric. She hushed him playfully before continuing, “but it is in the way they speak about each other. As if he truly sees her. And she, him.”

Here she paused, her hand stopping it’s fidgeting with the hammer. She took a breath then continued, vulnerability lacing her words, “It is not much different from the way I believe you see me. From the way you have watched me and seen me since the fields of Saltwich. You see me and know me. The true me. And that is love. To have someone see through you to your soul. Or your spirit, your essence. Whatever term you wish to give it. When a person can see your rough edges, the parts that are broken, the fragile things…” her fingers began fiddling with the pendant once more, nervous as she continued, “a person who can see that in another and appreciate it, accept it. That is love. That is what will help someone to heal. Find peace. Happiness. I see who you are and you see me for who I am. I see that mirrored in the way Stiorra and Sigtryggr speak about one another.”

Cwen’s voice got quieter as she stopped her rambling. Her fingers continued to place their anxious energy into toying with the necklace until she felt his strong hand wrap around her own, stopping her movements. He moved to place his knuckles below her chin, tilting her head up so he could catch her eyes.

“What have I done in my life to deserve you, my lady?”

Now it was Cwen’s turn to scoff at his use of the term lady once more before he continued, interrupting her.

“It is true. I have been blessed by the gods and I do not know why. I am nothing but a bastard son who has killed more men than I can count. Many who were probably good men.”

Cwen stared into his face as he spoke. She watched as his brows stitched together and the line of his jaw flexed. His eyes growing distant and clouded.

“Then you do not see what I see, Sihtric.” Her hand rose from his chest to caress his neck, fingers smoothing themselves through the curls of his hair, coaxing his eyes back from whatever unfocused horrors he was imagining, back to her.

“You are a man, devoted and loyal. I see your heart. A heart that is fierce and passionate, but also kind and warm. It is gentle when time or place calls for it. I see that in how you are with the children and with me. You have shown me time and time over that the quality of your heart is pure. It is all those things that make who you are. A warrior. A heathen but not a barbarian as some Christians would paint you. These are the reasons you follow Lord Uhtred. These are the reasons you fight. And they are good qualities.”

Cwen watched while he listened to her words. The lines of his face eased and the whites of his eyes glistened more brightly. The lovers brought their lips together, the language of a whispered kiss speaking more deeply than either could with words.

A subtle cough from the doorway broke them apart.

Hild stood, a kind smirk on her face.

“I would remind you that you are still in a church, Sihtric. And even though you are heathen I will have you respect this home of my God.”

Cwen rolled over, burying her face in her hands and stifling anxious giggles while she heard Sihtric apologize and then the rustle of Hild’s robes as she moved away from the door.

But Hild called over her shoulder to them before she had made it out of earshot, “Uhtred is looking for you. King Edward has spoken with him.”

“Tell my lord I am on my way.”

They heard Hild laugh before she replied, “He wishes to speak with Cwen.”

The pair glanced at each other, confusion on both of their faces. Slowly, they moved to sit up and make ready themselves.

“But Sihtric, you haven’t answered me!” Cwen exclaimed.

When he looked askance at her as he did the laces up on his tunic, she continued, “Stiorra? Is she leaving for Eofowich?”

Sihtric smirks without raising his eyes again to meet hers, instead focusing on his lacing.

“Well?” Cwen moved to help him secure the armour and interrupt his avoidance.

“She will be going as a hostage,” he replied. But the mirth behind his eyes showed his agreement with her notion that it was not a hostage arrangement.

“Lord Uhtred must be furious,” Cwen mused.

“He was quite, yes.”

Sihtric turned to grab his bracers off the floor and Cwen took them from him, sliding them onto each of his forearms in turn.

“So what does he need with me, I wonder?”

Sihtric shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as they walked out of the door to find Uhtred.

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“The king has charged me with the care of Aethelstan.”

Uhtred and Cwen were standing underneath the arches leading to the inner courtyard of the church.

Hild was walking with Eadith to stretch and warm some of her muscles, while an anxious Finan looked on. He was clearly only half listening to whatever Osfeth and Sihtric were discussing. It made Cwen smile, before turning her attention back to Uhtred.

“With care for Aethelstan? But Lady Aelswith had been planning to do that?”

Uhtred sighed, “Plans have changed. Apparently Lady Aelswith is in poor health after the siege. And Edward wants Aethelstan removed from Winchester. It will be safer for the boy.”

“Aelswith offered me a place in her household caring for him before we left Mercia. I turned her down but not because I don’t want to help Aethelstan. Did you wish to speak with me to ask for my help?”

Uhtred chuckled dryly and looked down at his boots, scuffing the dusty dirt.

“It is no secret, I am…,” he trailed off before clearing his throat and starting again, “I will be able to teach him the shield wall and battle tactics. And other life lessons but I am lacking in many skills when it comes to raising a child. I would ask you for help, yes.”

“And you will have it.” Cwen smiled, her words sincere and happy.

It was at that moment that Sihtric approached, wrapping his arm around Cwen’s waist and drawing her close to him as she leaned back into his embrace.

“You have chosen a good woman, Sihtric.” Uhtred clapped his friend on his shoulder.

“I have, indeed,” Sihtric paused, pressing a kiss against Cwen’s hairline making her grin despite herself.

“But may I have a word alone, Lord?”

Cwen glanced between the two men before excusing herself to go check in on Eadith and Hild.

After joining the two women, Cwen continued to glance back to where Sihtric stood speaking with Uhtred. The two men stood close together while Sihtric spoke, but his words did not travel and Cwen did not know what they discussed.

After only a few moments, she saw Uhtred embrace Sihtric and the two clapped each other on the back before breaking apart and Sihtric turned to walk to Finan and Osferth, who were standing in the path that Hild was guiding them along. Sihtric beamed at her as they approached, his smile filled with adoration.

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After eating a light lunch with everyone, Sihtric excused himself and asked Cwen to join him. He led her to the edge of Winchester and outside the walls. The Saxon camp of King Edward was still scattered across the surrounding field, but the couple walked beyond the scattered tents and cookfires. Here and there, men were mulling about, collecting their things, preparing to return to their homes.

“Where are you taking me, Sihtric,” Cwen looped her arm through his and leaned herself against him as they strolled.

She smiled when she felt his breath on her ear as he leaned close, “Do you remember the last time you asked me that question?”

His voice was low, husky.

The implication sent shivers along Cwen’s spine. Just as it had while riding in the fields outside of Aegelesburg, she felt her body stir.

They stayed quiet as they walked, both feeling the rising thrill in their energy.

Cwen tried to keep her breathing steady while her heart began beating steadily faster and faster. The feel of Sihtric’s movements against her as they walked gave her shivers, every place where his skin brushed hers leaving trails of gooseflesh.

Eventually, they moved off of the main road and began to cross onto hunting trails, through woods and fields. It may have been along the route they had come to Winchester. That seemed ages ago and had been in such haste, Cwen thought she would have no idea if she had been through this way before. And there was no way she could focus clearly on her surroundings with the anticipation of being with Sihtric again.

Finally, he stopped walking and Cwen took in their surroundings.

They were at the edge of a low lying glen, leading up to a small hill crested with trees. The glen was carpeted with tiny white and violet-blue flowers, all migling together. Cwen breathed deep, enjoying the musty aroma of the woods to their backs, earthy and solid. She tried to slow her pounding heart.

“I told you I wished to cherish you, Cwen,” Sihtric pulled her body flush against his before cupping her face, “and I mean to do just that.”

His lips ghosted across hers before he moved to nip underneath her ear, his tongue languidly tasting her skin in between gentle kisses down her neck.

“Sihtric,” she moaned out his name, her hands grasping hungrily at his hips and pulling him even closer to her.

“I will never grow tired of hearing you moan my name,” he whispered against her collarbone.

His fingers found their way up from her waist to begin undoing the laces at her collar, before moving the fabric apart to reveal the skin of her chest.

Despite the heat of the late summer, his fingers left goosebumps dancing along the trails they made, slowly fanning their way over to caress one of her breasts.

Cwen sighed as his kisses continued along her neck and his fingers lightly pinched at her erect nipple.

She could feel the swell in his trousers bulging against her hips and longed for more.

Slowly, she reached her hand down from his hip to cup along his length.

The groan her movements brought forth from him flushed Cwen with a sense of pride that she could cause him to make such noises.

“Mmmm, woman,” he growled, “I planned to be making these noises come from you,” but Cwen interrupted him.

“And what if I wish to show you how I cherish you too?”

Sihtric leaned back on his heels to stare at Cwen. Her shy smile and mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

In an instant, his mouth was on hers. All sense of calm replaced by fire.

Both sets of fingers fought to undo the buckles and ties holding cloth against skin.

All the pain, all the terror over the past weeks. Separated by barriers and words. All of the emotions of the heart came crashing out against each other.

Swiftly, Cwen slid her dress down from her shoulders to pool at her feet, leaving her chest bare and only a thin underskirt draped off of her curving hips.

Sihtric, breathing heavily, stood back to admire her form, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist up to the slope of her breasts.

While his hands roamed her body, Cwen undid the lacing holding his bracers and leathers on, removing them deftly.

Smoothly, he lifted his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it in the grass by their feet, only to then drop to his knees, peppering kisses along her abdomen while his hands reached behind her to grasp and gently knead her bottom.

Cwen sucked in a breath as the feel of heat pooled deep in her core, mingled with a throbbing pull at her opening. She wanted to feel him touch her there.

She ran her fingers along his head, nails scratching along his scalp, before he tilted his face up to hers to see the passion burning in her eyes.

“Come here, Cwen.” His voice was deep and sensual, causing another thrill to ripple through her swollen womanhood.

She slid her body down to meet him, feeling his lips trailing up now, to find her nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue against the hard nub. His hands bunched at her skirt, pulling it up around her as she lowered herself.

Once she was on her knees, he brought his face to hers, kissing her lips once more while growling, “Lay back for me.”

Cwen lowered herself back, while Sihtric’s body, hard and strong, loomed over her, sheltering her, enveloping her.

Again, he brought his lips to her skin, licking and sucking gently at the dips and shallows of her neck and shoulders.

She shuddered when his hands left the skirt, now rumpled around her waist to trail down her hip. He had slowed their pace once more, gradually bringing his fingers to rub against her swollen center. Slow, short strokes followed by an even slower long stroke circling the moist opening of her slit.

She moaned and arched under his hands, yearning for more but relishing the feel of his hands on her.

Slowly, his kisses moved lower, back to her nipple, drawing circles around it before he continued even lower.

Cwen opened her eyes, when he sat up, removing his hand from her wetness.

Sihtric leaned back on his knees and shifted Cwen’s hips as she watched him eye her hungrily.

He began to lean down to her, his breath hot and heavy on her aching core.

“Sihtric, what are you,” but her words were replaced with a rasping moan as she felt his tongue on her. He trailed his tongue up from the dripping moisture of her slit to press and flick against the nub of her sex making her gasp outloud.

Sihtric looked up to meet her eye, now sucking at the nerves before he answered, “I am cherishing my woman, every part of her.” And he then moved back to lap at her with the flat of his tongue.

Licking her lips, Cwen felt as her hips unconsciously rose to meet his actions, continuing the slow rhythm his fingers had started. Slow and small strokes followed by a longer stroke, the pressure always building then pulling back as he pulled her to the edge.

When he brought his fingers to her opening and slowly pushed one then another inside, Cwen felt herself arch and moan his name.

Her fingers found themselves raking through his hair as he moved his fingers inside her, matching the rhythm of his tongue.

Cwen felt herself rising to the edge, “Sihtric,” she groaned while his actions became faster, matching the pumping of her hips rising to meet him.

And she came undone, her legs tensing and squeezing as he brought her to her high.

When she opened her eyes, he had moved his face to stare at her, but was continuing the motions of his fingers, still feeling her clench around him.

“You are the most beautiful woman,” he whispered, his voice deep with lust.

“Can you take me?”

Noiselessly, Cwen nodded, holding her arms out for him to come to her.

He moved, lithe as a cat, to bring his face to hers, kissing her passionately. She could taste herself on his lips and feel her own moisture in his beard.

Cwen slipped her fingers between his pants and his hips and slid them down with his help to release his bulge. He rolled off of her just long enough to slide his trousers off completely, before he was on her once more, his manhood hard and ready for her.

Guiding himself to her entrance, Cwen shifted her hips to better meet him.

As he pushed himself inside her, she met his eyes. He filled her completely, pushing into the hilt before he paused to kiss her. Then slowly again, their bodys began rocking together in a rhythm building steadily. Her small moans and noises driving him to push harder.

He built her up once more, feeling her body tensing beneath him ready to crash in ecstasy. Cwen cried out his name once more when he pushed her over the edge, feeling her walls clench him tight driving his own climax to follow.

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They lay in the grass, a tangle of limbs as their breathing returned to normal. Cwen found her hand in Sihtric’s as he toyed with her fingers, weaving them together with his. He brought her hand up to place a gentle kiss on her thumb.

“Be my wife, Cwen.”

Surprised, Cwen turned her face to watch him. He was focused on their fingers, still lacing them gently together.

He continued after a moment's pause, “I want you for my woman. My wife. From now until the end of days. I told you that all of my roads will lead me to you, Cwen. And I meant it. You are warm and kind. You are brave. And you make me happy. Happier than any warrior deserves to be.

His words were strong. Sure.

Cwen felt her eyes prickle as tears formed, blurring her vision. She blinked to clear them away as she saw Sihtric’s head turn to look at her.

“Will you be my wife, Cwen?”

Smiling, Cwen nodded her head furiously, “Yes, Sihtric, I will be your wife.”

Grinning, Sihtric rolled Cwen on top of him and kissed her, deeply before he pulled away.

Still smiling, he laughed, “Then I have something I need to give to you.”

Cwen moved herself off of him as he reached into his pants, reaching into a small pocket, hidden in the waist.

He pulled out a tiny pouch. He emptied the pouch into his palm. It contained a small golden ring. Simple and delicate, with just a few markings and designs along the band.

“This belonged to my mother. It is the only possession I have from her. Before my father,” he glanced at Cwen before he continued, “before he killed her, she gave this to me. She knew he would find out about what she had been doing to help the children of Dunhilm. And she wanted for me to have this. She has been the only woman to ever hold my heart. Until now. And I want you to have it.”

Cwen was speechless as he placed it in her palm, before closing her fingers over it and kissing her hand.

The tears she had been able to stem before, now ran freely along her cheeks. Gingerly, she opened her hand and picked up the ring. She slid it onto her finger and it fit perfectly.

“She would have loved you,” Sihtric added, wrapping his arms around Cwen and resting his forehead against hers.

“Thank you, Sihtric. I will treasure it and hope to honor her by wearing it.”

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As they were getting dressed and beginning their walk back towards Winchester, Cwen gasped.

“Wait, won’t we need Uhtred’s approval to marry? When will you ask him?” Laughing, Sihtric took her hand, “I have already asked him, love. It is what I wished to speak with him about this morning.”

“Oh you planned all of this then?”

“I did”

“Oh you are quite the romantic, my soon-to-be husband.”

Sihtric chuckled once more along with Cwen, “I guess I am.”

As they continued walking, Cwen asked, “So what did Uhtred say when you asked him?” “He said that I would be a fool not to marry you.”

Sihtric pulled her close, kissing her temple as they walked, “And he is right.”

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