#tlk fics

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Saved

Part 1 – Sihtric x reader

Authors note: while rewatching the Season 2 of TLK and going wild with exploring my newly acquired skill of taking and editing screenshots I became obsessed with the idea of writing my own version of how Sihtric met Uhtred. Please bear with me as I'm working on learning to concentrate on the essentials and leave out unnecessary details, but I also believe that small details can make the characters more vivid.

Summary: reader is Uhtred’s sister and a skilled healer. She travels with her brother’s men and after the unsuccessful attempt on Uhtred’s life gets curious about the young prisoner, the sole Dane from the group of assailants that is left alive.

Warnings: violence and mention of blood

Word Count: 1,129

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Sihtric found you sitting in your favourite spot near the lake, beneath the shade of the ancient oak tree whose sprawling branches provided protection from the scorching sun. He hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage, before taking a seat beside you. In your presence, he still retained an endearing shyness, as if uncertain of how to navigate the depths of his feelings. Sihtric stole glances in your direction, admiring your strength and beauty. His mind raced with the desire to strike up a conversation, but he couldn't find the right words. Finally, he mustered the courage to speak.

"I just wanted to thank you for saving me," Sihtric said, his expression serious as he turned to you.

"Saving you? What did I save you from?" you asked, puzzled.

"From feeling miserable, unwanted, and like I didn't belong anywhere," Sihtric replied, glancing into your eyes for a moment before lowering his gaze, his fingers fidgeting with the Thor's hammer amulet hanging around his neck. Nervousness radiated from him, mingled with a charming blend of insecurity and shyness that made a smile curl on your lips.

"You had every reason to hate me for attempting to kill your brother, but you never did. Instead you showed me kindness that I never truly deserved," Sihtric continued.

He had changed so much since the day you first met. You could still recall that evening as vividly as if it were yesterday, when Kjartan's men had tried to take Uhtred's life. They might have succeeded if not for Halig, who noticed the suspicious absence of the newly arrived Danes and urged the others to search for them. You had been on the verge of sleep after a long and busy day. Being a healer in a warrior's camp meant there was always an abundance of injuries to tend to, even without a battle. Men would hurt themselves during sword training, get kicked by horses, or foolishly engage in fights over trivial matters. Today, you had to fix a dislocated shoulder all because of an argument about the best whore at the White Goose tavern in Lundene. The shouts and clash of swords roused you from your slumber, causing you to hastily dress and rush out of your tent. Expecting yet another drunken brawl, you sought to find Uhtred and put an end to it. However, by the time you arrived, the fighting was already over. You approached the gathering of men, only to discover five lifeless Danes being dragged away from the lawn behind the stables.

"Uhtred!" you called out, fear lacing your voice as you saw him leaning against a stable pillar, breathing heavily. "Are you hurt?"

"All is fine. Don't worry, little sis. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for our Danish guests, but don't fret, they won't be needing your attention," Uhtred grinned, attempting to lighten the atmosphere as he noticed your concerned expression.

"Let me check on you," you insisted, pulling him closer to the torchlight so you could assess his injuries. At first glance, there were some bruises and a swollen eye, but no apparent serious damage. His movements lacked any signs of pain or hesitation, indicating that he likely didn't have any broken ribs. Still, you were reluctant to let him go, but Uhtred firmly took hold of your hands, kissing your palms, and with a determined voice, called out to the men dealing with the corpses behind you: "Secure the prisoner. I'll need answers from him later."

"I'm fine, sis. Truly, I am. Please don't worry," he reassured you, turning to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. Apart from Ragnar, Uhtred's Danish brother, the two of you were all that remained of your family, and the bond between you had always been remarkably strong. You loved this proud, stubborn, and courageous young man, and he cared deeply for you.

Reluctantly, you turned your head to catch a glimpse of the young, bruised Dane, his hands awkwardly tied before him as Clapa dragged him away. The Dane was in a pitiful state, with fresh cuts and scrapes covering his arms, a split eyebrow, and a bleeding lip and nose. Anxiety radiated from his tense body. In a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours, and you detected a flicker of despair within them. It struck you how young and handsome he appeared, despite his current circumstances.

Uhtred's men returned to their respective fireplaces, the evening just beginning. You knew all too well that this minor incident wouldn't deter them from their usual activities of drinking, gambling, and arguing about the “best whores”, as they did almost every night. You had no desire to be part of that. Tomorrow, there would be more dislocated shoulders and broken fingers to tend to, and since Uhtred seemed fine you eagerly longed to return to your tent and go back to sleep.

As you made your way past an empty wagon, you noticed Clapa and Halig engaged in what seemed like an argument. Initially, you hesitated to involve yourself, suspecting it was another petty quarrel you didn't want to be dragged into. However, as you attempted to quietly pass by, your eyes caught sight of the silhouette seated by the wagon. It was the young prisoner, the sole Dane who had survived today's assault on Uhtred's life. His gaze, as he was being dragged away from the small battlefield by Clapa, his hands bound and his face smeared with blood, lingered in your memory. An unexplainable feeling stirred within you, prompting a change of heart, and you headed straight for Clapa and Halig.

“What are you two arguing about? Aren't you supposed to be guarding the prisoner?" you asked with frustration evident in your voice.

"We are, lady!" Clapa replied defensively. "Uhtred ordered us to decapitate the corpses, but Halig lacks the courage to do it."

“That's not true, lady!" Halig interjected hastily. "I just needed a drink first. You can't deny a man a drink, especially one who's tasked with severing heads from still-warm bodies. Besides, it's better to do it later when the blood has thickened. And there's no need for two men to guard a securely tied-up prisoner”

"Alright, enough quarrelling, lads. Halig, go and fetch your drink, and Clapa, get yourself an axe or do you plan on using your eating knife? I'll keep an eye on the prisoner," you ordered firmly. As Uhtred's sister and a skilled healer, you were accustomed to giving orders, and his men knew better than to argue with you. Both departed without hesitation, not bothering to question your decision, although it must have seemed peculiar to them that you wished to remain alone with the prisoner. Turning your gaze towards him, you approached cautiously, maintaining a safe distance just in case.

“Are you hurt?" you inquired, observing the Dane who sat beside the wagon, his back resting against the wheel. He raised his head, confusion, and distress evident in his eyes. He didn't respond just shook his head.

“Your lip and nose have been bleeding quite profusely. Wait here, I'll fetch my bag," you said with a chuckle. "How foolish of me, as if he had much choice in the matter," you thought to yourself while making your way to your tent to retrieve your medical supplies. You always kept a bag prepared, stocked with clean rags, salves, potions, and other necessities, ensuring you wouldn't waste time searching when urgently needed.

Returning with your bag and a piece of bread in hand, you offered it to the prisoner, but he made no move to accept. Leaning his head back against the wagon wheel, he closed his eyes. Shrugging your shoulders, you placed the bread back in your bag and instead took out some clean rags and a leather flask filled with water. The Dane opened his eyes, watching your every move. Kneeling before him, you dampened the rags and reached out your hand to cleanse his face. Startled, he instinctively flinched and jerked his head back, accidentally striking it against the wheel, eliciting a groan of pain.

"Hey, stay still. I only want to clean your face," you said, perplexed by his sudden reaction. His whole body tensed as you gently touched his forehead and continued to clean his bruised cheekbones.

"The brow will require stitches," you informed him.

“Why are you doing this?" the Dane spoke, his voice husky but soft. "I am a dead man. Why would you bother stitching my brow if your husband will later torture me for information and then kill me anyway.”

Tilting your head to the side, you continued to wipe away the blood from his face, now focusing on his busted lip and chin.

“I don't have a husband. I have a brother whom you sought to kill tonight," you said, finished with cleaning his face you observed his features intently. "And if there's one thing I know for certain about my brother, it's that he has never tortured anyone, nor will he ever," you couldn't help but think about how handsome this young man was and you felt a pang of sympathy for his unfortunate circumstances. He believed his fate was sealed and had resigned himself to it. His gaze remained fixed on the ground, as if he dared not meet your eyes.

“I didn't want to kill him. I just did not have much choice about it," the Dane's voice remained calm, resolute, and tinged with sincerity. "I only wish Lord Uhtred would grant me the honour of dying as a warrior, sword in hand. And I would willingly share everything I know with him.”

“Not that I fear the pain," he hastily added, "I simply owe no allegiance to Kjartan.”

Unexplainably, you found yourself believing this man. Every word he spoke carried weight, and you suddenly felt deeply sorry for him.

“You are very kind to me, lady," the Dane continued, his voice filled with a sense of shame for being here, for being a part of what had happened. "I don't deserve your attention, but I am immensely grateful for it."

"What's your name?" you found yourself asking, driven by an inexplicable curiosity. It was as if fate had brought this unfortunate young warrior across your path, and a growing resolve began to take shape within you. You did not want to let him to the fate he thought inevitable.

“I am called Sihtric, lady,” the Dane answered with no hesitation. “Would you like to live?" you suddenly asked, as a seemingly absurd idea took hold in your mind.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #arnas fedaravicius #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #tlk fics #Sihtric fics #sihtric x you #violence

[jacevelaryonswife]

After dark | Masterlist

Like all things in adult life, the day in question happened because of a lost bet, however, from a certain angle, everyone involved won a nice surprise at the end of the day.

pairing: female stripper!reader x modern!osferth, finan and sihtric.

warnings: smut, p in v sex, tiddy sucking, oral sex (m and f receiving) and anal sex.

═════════════════════

Prologue

Part one: Osferth x Stripper!reader

“Watching her strolling in the night so white, wondering: Why It's only after dark?”

Part two: Sihtric x Stripper!reader

“In her eyes a distant fire light burns bright, wondering: Why It's only after dark?”

Part three: Finan x Stripper!reader

“In the dawn I wake up to find her gone, and the note says: Only after dark.”

Part four: Osferth, Sihtric and Finan x Stripper!reader | COMING SOON.

“In my heart, a deep and dark and lonely part wants her and waits for after dark”

═════════════════════

—taglists:

general: @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

ewanverse: @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @schniiipsel @fan-goddess

this fic: @gemini-mama @lexwolfhale @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @tssf-imagines

═════════════════════

The inspiration for this fic is Salma Hayek dancing in From Dusk Till Dawn.

#osferth x fem!reader #osferth #sihtric #finan #finan x reader #osferth x you #osferth smut #osferth fanfic #Osferth x reader #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartanson #sihtric smut #smut fics #finan smut #finan x you #finan tlk #tlk osferth #osferth fics #fics #tlk fics #modern osferth #modern sihtric #modern finan #after dark masterlist

[timetravelingpenguin1066]

Valhalla

Inspired by this gif from @destinyisall-tlk

If Sigtryggr and Ragnar met in Valhalla...

Valhalla was just like the stories. The rafters made with spears, and the roof with shields. Mail and furs lined the benches. Food was piled up on the tables, tables that also seemed to be made from shields. The pillars were intricately carved with tales of all kinds. Tales of the gods, and of men. Some were carved with the faces of the gods themselves. Men and women began pouring in from the doors, sitting at the tables while the Valkyries poured the ale. 

It was a strange feeling, to be dead, and yet feel alive. 

Sigtryggr stepped into the enormous hall. He watched as Danes and Norsemen and others sat at the table, all of them talking and laughing. 

For a moment, he stood at the door and looked around, searching for someone he recognised. He saw Cnut. And there was someone else.

Someone who looked up and saw him. And smiled, beckoning. 

It was like he had no control over his feet, but he found himself walking towards that man and sitting next to him. He picked up his cup of ale.

“To the gods!” the man toasted. Sigtryggr raised his cup and drank. The ale had to be the sweetest he’d ever tasted. It warmed him up from the inside.

“I’m Ragnar Ragnarsson,” the man introduced. “I believe you know Cnut.”

“Welcome to Valhalla, cousin,” said Cnut. 

Sigtryggr ignored him, just as Cnut had ignored his pleas for help. “You are Uhtred’s brother?”

“I am.”

“I am Sigtryggr.”

Ragnar raised his cup again. “Welcome to Valhalla, Sigtryggr.”

Sigtryggr tore off a piece of the meat in front of him and sniffed it. Then he tasted it. It was like someone set a fire inside his mouth. The taste was exquisite. Was everything in Valhalla this good?

“Tell me, Sigtryggr,” Ragnar said, “how is my brother?”

He swallowed. “Last I saw him, he stabbed me in the heart.”

Ragnar’s brow knotted in confusion. “That’s strange. I have been told that you married his daughter. Why he kill his son-in-law?”

“It wasn’t his choice,” Sigtryggr explained.

“Saxons doing shit in the name of their god?” Ragnar guessed.

“Yes. King Edward offered me terms. I refused. I would not convert.”

Ragnar nodded. “I can understand that. You are not like Guthrum. Look around you,” he gestured around. “Have you seen him here?”

Sigtryggr said nothing, but bit into another piece of the meat. 

“Do you ever feel like you left much behind?” he asked

“All the time,” Ragnar said. “I left behind my woman, my children, my brother. You left behind a wife.”

“I promised I would wait for her.”

“Good. I’m sure she will.”

Ragnar stood then. “In the meantime, someone has to show you around. It might as well be me.”

Sigtryggr stood, surprised at how much taller than him the son of Ragnar the Fearless was. 

“You are my family, Sigtryggr. Don’t forget that.”

Sigtryggr smiled, shaking the hand offered to him. Ragnar pulled him into a hug.

He picked up his full cup of ale and yelled, “To Sigtryggr!”

The toast was echoed by nearly all of the warriors who had heard him. 

Perhaps the wait for her would not be as unbearable as he thought it would.

#the last kingdom #tlk fics #sigtryggr #eysteinn sigurðarson #ragnar ragnarsson #tobias santelmann

[transfinan]

Looking for fic recs

Anyone got tlk recs? I'm wanting to break into reading more fics on tumblr (i normally read on ao3 but I want to support the community)

I can see there's no lack of it around but unfortunately as a gay trans man I struggle to read f/m fics (I'm so sorry ladies, I love your work in spirit)

Interested mainly in reading gay or platonic m/m in the coocham crew type area

Fluff

Whump

Angst

Headcanons

Romance

Would love to read some silly shenanigans!

Pls feel free to rep your own stuff too if you've got it! Shameless self promotion is always a good thing!

#the last kingdom #Tlk fics #Fic recs

[aemondsbabe]

Love is Patient and Kind

summary: hand holding & dry humping || you aren't ready to take the next step with your monk, luckily for you he has the patience of a saint

pairing: osferth x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dry humping, very fluffy, osferth being cute and understanding and ruining other men for everyone, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.5k

a/n: welcome to day one of 12 days of smuff!! hope y'all enjoy this one! Can be read as part 1 to Wind’s Howling or as a stand alone!

12 days of smuff masterlist

gif creds to @thecruel!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to carry that, my lady?” Osferth asks for the millionth time, nodding his head at the basket, laden with various herbs and medicinal plants, in the crook of your elbow. 

For the millionth time, you merely shake your head with a crooked smile. “I wish only for your company, monk,” you glance over at him as the two of you walk through the forest, admiring the way the early afternoon sun casts a golden halo through his hair, “I told you as much when we left camp this morning.”

Osferth merely nods in reply; your man is one of few words. A soft blush blooms across your cheeks at the thought – your man, but it was as good as true. Osferth was the first man in Uhtred’s company you felt comfortable with when you joined their cause all those months ago when they’d stopped in your small hamlet in need of a healer; you’d been by their side ever since.

In the months since, your relationship with the monk had steadily grown from hushed whispers around the campfire in the dead of night, when sleep eluded the both of you, to heated glances, delicate touches, and stolen kisses. More recently, Osferth had all but insisted on accompanying you nearly everywhere you went, which is how he’d come to follow you as you walked through the forest to gather the variety of curative plants you need.

A content sigh passes your lips as you tilt your head up, taking in the way the tips of the trees stretch up toward the blue sky. “I had almost forgotten what the sun looked like,” you joke, your heart squeezing proudly in your chest as the monk chuckles next to you, “But hopefully this summer will be dryer than the last.”

“I have prayed many times for sun,” Osferth says with a nod, blue eyes soft as he gazes at you, “Unfortunately, the Lord seems to ignore those requests.” The corner of his lips tilts up as he huffs a laugh at his own joke. 

Suddenly, a branch snaps loudly not too far off the winding path the two of you have been strolling down. Osferth acts quickly, ever vigilant, and takes your hand to usher you behind him as he draws his sword. Your breath quickens as you peek around his shoulder, pressing yourself tightly against his back as your hand grips his; you’d been assured by Uhtred’s scouts that the forest surrounding camp was perfectly safe, but in these times danger seemed to creep up from every corner. 

A buck appears a little ways down the path, followed by two more deer, each sparing you and the monk only a quick glance before scampering into the forest once more. The two of you let out a collective sigh of relief as Osferth sheaths his sword with a shy smile. 

“Perhaps now would be a good time for a break, my lady?” He suggests with a soft smile, “We’ve been walking since morning.”

“I think we’ve earned a break,” you nod, gazing up at him through your lashes, the two of you still close enough that you could make out soft flecks of green in his blue eyes, “I believe I saw a clearing a few paces back.” 

“Lead the way.” Osferth nods, keeping in pace with you as you backtrack to where you’d spotted a lush clearing through the trees only moments ago. As you walk, nearly shoulder to shoulder, the monk silently takes your hand again, his rough fingers threading together with yours. Neither of you speaks, though you can nearly feel his pleased smile from your periphery, twin to your own. 

After only a few moments, you veer off the path as the two of you step into a sizable glade, the trees giving way to a field of tall grass. Your hands stay clasped as you walk together, basket still tucked in your elbow as you lift the skirts of your linen gown to prevent it from snagging on the high blades of grass; your chest tightens once more when you glance down and notice how Osferth takes great care to step over any flowers in his path, the ones that sprinkle the meadow with pops of yellow and lilac. 

Soon, you come to a spot where the ground seems to be drier, however the monk grasps your forearm to stop you as he slips the thin, grey wool cloak off his shoulders and drapes it over the ground.

“Osferth,” you gently admonish, though a smile does creep across your lips at the sweet gesture, “I am perfectly capable of sitting on the ground.”

“A lady should not have to,” he says simply, nodding to the cloak, “Please.”

With a final glance, and a good-natured roll of your eyes, you comply, setting your basket down before relaxing atop his robe. After making sure you’re settled, the monk joins you, setting his sword to the side as he sits and leans back on his hands, scanning the treeline. 

“It’s so lovely here…” you smile as you glance around, a soft breeze causing the grass to rustle around you.

Osferth sits up beside you, a relaxed smile on his lips as he takes your hand and pulls you closer to him. “I find the company to be far lovelier,” he whispers before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, never taking more than you seem keen to give. The two of you easily fall into a lazy rhythm, your lips moving together as he guides you to lie against his chest. You lay your hand against his chest, right over his heart, thankful that he’s forgone his usual leather armor and chainmail today as you feel his warmth through the soft tunic he wears. 

He sighs against your lips, his fingers gently weaving into the locks of hair at the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and making you cling to him all the more tightly, his other hand wrapping around your waist before settling in the small of your back, holding you to him. 

After a few moments, the two of you part to catch your breath and he studies you with a warm gaze as you relax against his chest. “We are meant to be stopping in a town tonight.” Osferth says simply. 

“That we are.” 

“We could get a room together,” he breathes, making you gasp as he trails kisses across your jaw, “Just the two of us.” 

Immediately, you tense up and untangle yourself from him, sitting up with a sigh. He quickly sits up next to you and you can feel him eyeing you with concern, though you dare not meet his gaze. 

“My lady, I didn't mean to offend you…” He says hesitantly, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“You didn’t offend me, sweet monk,” you turn to him with a bashful smile, “I am simply…I don’t know if i’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” His head tilts to the side as he eyes you curiously. 

You chuckle nervously, unsure of how to broach the topic. “Osferth, I have heard enough tales of your…prowess around the campfire to know that my skills do not match your own.” 

The crease between his brows only deepens as he continues staring at you, blue eyes flitting between your own. “My prowess?” 

“With more…intimate relations…” You say slowly, glancing away from him. 

“Oh,” he says softly before his eyes widen comically, a dark blush cascading over his fair cheeks, “Oh!”

You can’t help but laugh softly at his dumbstruck expression, your lips quirking up into a soft smile despite your nerves. 

The hand on your shoulder tightens as he leans closer to you. “My love, you need not fret over it,” he whispers, blue eyes conveying a deep seriousness, “We can get a room at the tavern and not do anything at all.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion – you’ve always been told to expect a very different answer from men. “What?”

He huffs out a soft laugh and pulls you back down to lie on the grass with him once more. “I mean what I say,” he says softly, one hand stroking your hair, “We can get a room and just kiss or cuddle or merely talk, I don’t care.” You look up from where you’ve had your cheek laying against his chest, the emotion in his eyes shocking you for a second, “I just want to be with you.” He whispers finally.

You can feel yourself blushing as he speaks, the apples of your cheeks heating up deliciously under his kind gaze. A girlish giggle erupts from your lips before you can stop it, which only makes him laugh too as you bury your head against his chest and bite your lip, breathing in his familiar scent of leather and campfire smoke. 

After a moment, the two of you calm down and you finally look back up at him, “Kissing sounds good…” you nearly whisper, suddenly shy as he surveys your face.

Osferth merely chuckles, low in his throat, and rolls the two of you over. Normally, this is when you’d be pushing any other man off of you with some mumbled excuse, but you can’t help but feel safe with the sandy haired monk, taking him at his word that whatever you were willing to give would be enough.

“We have time, and plenty of herbs already,” he rasps, his voice thick with an arousal you’d only heard on a very scant few occasions when the two of you had shared frantic kisses in the night once the rest of the men were asleep, “Why wait until tonight?”

A small giggle escapes you once again as the blush on your cheeks extends down, almost all the way to your chest, but you nod nonetheless, your arms coming up to snake around his neck as you pull him down to you. A small whimpery breath escapes you when his lips touch yours yet again, and he responds in kind with a low groan, the sound rumbling from his chest. His lips are soft against your own as the two of you move leisurely; once again, he lets you set the pace, only licking at your bottom lip after you do the same to him first. 

Your thighs spread as your kiss deepens and you moan again when he slots himself between your thighs, the linen of your dress hiked up just above your knees. A shiver rolls through you at the feel of him on top of you, so warm and weighty.

“Is this alright?” He breathes, navy eyes blinking between each of yours as he checks for any signs of discomfort from you, visibly relaxing when he finds none.

Wordlessly, you nod, bobbing your head eagerly as you pull him back down. His hands roam carefully over your body as your lips and tongues move together, breathlessly licking into each other's mouths. You whine into his mouth when you feel a hardness pressing against your center, a pleased hum emanating from your chest at the realization that you’ve affected him this much with only a kiss; the pride in your heart twists into something different, something deeper as a knot forms and begins tightening in your belly.

“My lady –” Osferth mumbles as he starts to pull away from you, an apologetic smile on his handsome face.

“Don’t!” You say quickly, tugging him back to you and surprising even yourself as you wrap your legs around his trim waist, “Please, I – It’s good.” You confirm breathlessly, eyebrows quirked up with need as you look up at him through your lashes. 

“Yeah?” He asks, unable to wipe the pleased grin off his face as he settles back on top of you, careful to keep most of his weight off of you as he presses against your center again.

You nod, already threading your fingers into the short hair at the back of his head to draw his lips back to yours. A breathy, high-pitched moan leaves you at the feel of his clothed length pressing against you, the ties at the front of his breeches only adding to the pleasurable sensations that zap through you as he starts rolling his hips against your own.

His pace quickens as he breaks away from you, panting against your skin as he traces wet kisses down your jaw to your neck. Your head lolls to the side as you whimper and whine underneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel his hard cock twitch against you, even through the fabric of your smallclothes.

You’re quick to match his pace, using the leverage of your legs wrapped around his middle to ruck yourself up into each thrust, earning grunts of pleasure from the monk. 

“My lady,” he groans, one hand fisting into your hair as the other trails down to run appreciatively over the bare skin of your thigh, “Y-You are bewitching.” He gasps, mouthing at your neck, his cock no doubt leaking into the leather of his trousers. 

Your only reply is a choked out moan of his name as your back arches underneath him, the knot in your belly winding tighter and tighter as the ties of his breeches rub over your pearl deliciously, your smallclothes no doubt soaked. 

Blessedly, Osferth seems to understand the desperation in your voice and movements and pulls back to look at you, both of his hands quickly grasping yours, fingers threading together as he holds them to the earth beside your head.

 “Sweet girl,” he grunts as he gazes down at you, a rosy blush cascading beautifully over his high cheekbones, “P-Peak, my lady, please,” he pants as his fingers tighten against your own, “I’m, God be good, I’m right behind you.”

You nod frantically, your only sound a choked out sob as you tense underneath him when his hips rut perfectly against yours, the knots of his pants catching against your sensitive bud in just the right way to tip you over the edge. You twitch underneath him, white knuckling his hands when you feel your center clenching helplessly around nothing as pleasure buzzes through you. 

Osferth reaches his end mere seconds after you, humping against you two or three more times before tensing, his eyes squeezing shut as his own high washes over him, cock spasming in his breeches as his spend leaks into the waiting fabric. 

“You’re beautiful,” you declare softly, the words tumbling from your lips as soon as you think of them.

The monk blushes somehow more heavily above you, though a soft smile graces his lips. With a soft sigh, he falls to his side, bringing you with him. Your cheek once again finds its home against his chest and you smile at the sound of his heart thumping wildly as he pulls you closely to him, one arm wrapping protectively around you as he tucks the other under his head, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“You flatter me, my lady,” he says lowly, a pleased rasp to his voice. “You are truly an angel,” he continues after a moment, “A beautiful, precious angel.”

You smile contentedly, his heart thudding steadily in your ear as you let your eyes drift shut, happy to stay in this still, safe bubble with your monk for as long as the outside world will allow.

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#osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth smut #osferth fanfic #osferth fic #osferth fanfiction #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom smut #tlk fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk fic #tlk smut #tlk #12 days of smuff #my writing #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #ewan nation

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Osferth x f!reader Warnings: Religious guilt. Canon-typical violence. Mild angst. Loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: Part two of Deathless Death. Osferth has a crisis of conscience and faith, however, an attack on their party by the Danes makes him realise what's at stake. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @valeskafics. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Osferth rouses slowly into wakefulness, blinking his eyes open. For a moment, his mind is blissfully silent, focusing only on the canopy of green leaves above and the chirping of the birds in the woodland that surrounds him and his travel companions.

That is until the memory of the previous evening floods back to him; the taste of her upon his tongue, her cries of pleasure that had echoed through the trees and up into the night sky. He can still feel the smoothness of her thighs beneath his fingertips, the way the softness of her flesh had yielded beneath his hands as she’d hovered above his face while he’d devoured her like a man starved.

His throat tightens at the thought, his cock stirring in his breeches. He turns on his bed roll to face her, expecting to see her peacefully sleeping next to him, just as she usually is, her features a vision of angelic beauty. However, the space beside him lays empty and his brow furrows in concern as he props himself up on his elbow to look around for her.

He spots her. She kneels at a fallen log, her hands clasped in prayer against it. The early morning sunlight filters through the branches casting the top of her head in golden light. She is the picture of innocence, truly angelic, and guilt and shame wash over Osferth in thick, hot waves. He would have sullied her upon the filthy forest floor, if the others had not come back and interrupted them. Worse still, she would have allowed him to. This pure, devout, impressionable girl had been a vessel for his lust. Seeing her as she is now, Osferth vows to keep his distance; he must do better by her, despite his yearning for her.

He is startled momentarily when she opens her eyes and looks directly at him, clearly having sensed his gaze upon her. Her smile is warm, making her eyes soften with fondness as she looks at him.

“You’re awake,” she says, her voice gentle. Osferth will never have enough of that dulcet sound, it is sweeter than honeyed wine. “Will you join me?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak and makes his way over to her, kneeling on the opposite side of the log. It’s a deliberate choice, a need to place a physical barrier between the two of them so that he is not tempted to reach out for her, to feel her lips upon his once more.

If she is offended by his decision, she does not show it, lowering her head once more and closing her eyes. Osferth wonders what she prays for. Had she awoken this morning filled with regret for what they’d done and is now praying for God to cleanse her of her misdeeds?

Pressing his own hands together, he closes his eyes and bows his head.

Please, Lord, give me the strength to resist her. Do not allow me to sully her innocence with my sinful behaviour any more than I already have. Forgive her for transgressions, for she does not understand fully what she has done, and was led astray by my lust.

“First one awake’s meant to light the fire,” he hears Finan grumble sleepily in annoyance from a few feet away.

He sighs, standing and walking towards the pit that had been dug the day before. “Apologies, Finan, I’ll do it now.”

The rest of the morning passes peacefully. Uhtred’s talk of their travel plans serves as a welcome distraction, though he is unable to stop himself from glancing over at her. She looks at him with such adoration that it makes his heart squeeze. He is not worthy of basking in the affection of her gaze, yet he craves it all the same.

When it comes time to move on, she leans back against his chest as they ride, and it takes everything he has not to wrap his arms around her waist. His knuckles turn white from the intensity with which he keeps a hold of his horse’s reins, knowing that if he lets go his hands will be upon her in an instant.

She tucks herself against his chest as they bed down again that night and he is glad to wrap his arms loosely around her, keeping her close. He reasons he is simply keeping her warm, nothing more, until she looks up at him doe-eyed and expectant.

“Will you kiss me again?” She whispers into the darkness and he feels a pit open in his stomach.

“Not tonight, my lady”, he tells her quietly, “get some rest.”

He hates telling her no. The way her face crumples in disappointed sadness feels like a dagger to his chest, but it is for her own good. A kiss would lead to more and he cannot do that to her. He must control himself for the both of them.

She nuzzles into him, closing her eyes and he allows himself a moment to simply let his hands stroke through the silken strands of her hair, soft as angel’s wings.

He is thankful that the constant presence of Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric during the day prevents her from asking about the night he had tasted her. He can see it in her face each time she looks at him, longing in her eyes and questions on the tip of her tongue, but she’d never dare speak of it in company, so he always ensures they are never alone.

Come nightfall she clutches against his robes as they lay together, and he savours her closeness, her warmth, her scent, pretending his actions are a matter of duty that he derives no pleasure from.

She catches him off guard a few mornings later, excitement in her eyes as she approaches him.

“There is a river close by. I’d like to bathe. Will you join me?”

Osferth feels himself flush scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears. The thought rivulets of water running down her skin, tracing the curves of her body, has him swallowing thickly in order to maintain his composure. But he cannot give in.

He picks up his sword, fastening it to his belt. “I will keep watch to ensure you are safe, my lady.”

Her gaze lowers, he can see he has disappointed her yet again and guilt gnaws at him. He detests that doing the right thing makes her so sad.

She turns and walks off in the direction of the riverbank, and he dutifully follows her. He has to physically force himself to turn away when she begins to undress. Never having seen her fully bare before, he is desperate to look, but knows he will not be able to control himself if he does.

In his peripheral vision he sees her form illuminated by sunlight as she steps from the bank and into the water. Her movements are slow, deliberate, and he glances quickly at her, seeing how her hands move through the water, over her hair and down her body. 

Looking quickly away, he wonders how someone so angelic can be such a temptress. He wants to protect her virtue, yet ravage her at the same time, and it seems she is attempting to lure the latter half of him out to play. She does not know the full weight of what she is asking, however, and Osferth could not live with himself if he laid with her, only for her to regret it.

He keeps his focus on the surrounding woodland, to make sure no one approaches or sees her as she is bathing. He does not look upon her again until she returns to him, dressed once more, her hair damp from the river.

She looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes and Osferth feels panic flutter in his chest. They are alone. They are alone, and she is going to ask him about what happened between them and he will not know what to tell her. What could he possibly say? That he is a sinner? That he cannot control himself? That he swore to protect her and has taken advantage of her instead?

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks sadly.

The question hits him like a punch to the gut. How could she assume she is to blame for anything?

He opens his mouth to reply, but she beats him to it. “Was it not good…the other night? Have you decided you don’t want me after all?”

Her tone is filled with insecure hurt and Osferth feels as though he wants to cry. He had never meant to make her feel unwanted. If only she knew that she is everything he has ever wanted and everything he does not deserve simultaneously.

“Osferth?” Sihtric’s voice echoing through the trees interrupts them, as the crackle of branches heralds his approaching footsteps.

He turns to face the direction he is coming from, brows rising in concern as he sees the hardened look upon Sihtric’s face. This is serious.

“Get ready to go,” he tells them both. “We are being tracked by Harald’s men.”

Without thinking, Osferth grabs her hand, rushing her back to camp. They hurriedly pack away their belongings, kicking out the fire, before mounting up and moving on at speed.

She rests wordlessly against his chest, and he knows they will eventually need to continue their conversation from earlier, but right now his only focus is on keeping her safe. If he cannot do that then he has failed in his entire reason for taking her with him from Alton in the first place.

Their horses are brought to an abrupt halt, rearing up slightly when Danes ambush them in a clearing, surrounding them. Bile rises in Osferth’s throat, icy fingers of fear wrapping around his heart - not for himself, but for what may happen to her.

As Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric dismount, withdrawing their weapons, he leans forward whispering quickly to her. “Run. Run away and don’t look back. I will find you after.”

He feels her trembling like a leaf, and wishes he could do more to comfort her, but in this moment the best source of comfort is to protect her and, so as she flees, he jumps down from his horse and unsheathes his own weapon.

Osferth is not a masterful warrior, but travelling with Uhtred has sharpened his skills and he fights with more confidence than terror with each passing day. 

Allowing pure instinct and adrenaline ro guide his movements, he drives forward, slashing with his blade, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and the wet, dull sounds of steel biting into flesh.

A sharp sting against his temple happens so quickly that he barely registers he is cut, until he feels the warm trickle of blood in his eye. He blinks it away in time to see Uhtred run through the Dane responsible for causing the injury.

He is panting, sweaty, sight in one eye reddened by ichor by the time they have cut down Harald’s men. Those not killed have fled, but any solace he feels is short lived as dread and regret spur him into action, he runs through the woods in search of her.

Stupid fool.

If he’d have known better, he’d have taken her and rode away, not left her to fend for herself. What if some of Harald’s men have come after her? What if she’s dead?

As Osferth races through the trees he can no longer tell if the warmth upon his cheeks is blood or tears, he simply knows he has to find her.

His heart soars, relief and exhilaration flooding through him when he spots her cowering in a thicket, fresh tears pricking his eyes.

She is safe.

He calls out to her and she raises her head, her eyes wide with fright, though she visibly relaxes when she sees him, stepping out from her hiding place.

His jaw clenches in anger when he sees the slash in the sleeve of her dress, a long, angry looking red gash adorns the flesh of her forearm.

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, unable to mask the worry in his voice.

She shakes her head. “I caught myself on a low hanging branch when I ran away. It is my own clumsiness that is at fault, no one else.”

Reaching up, her fingers brush over the cut to his temple. “You are hurt…”

Osferth winces, though does his best to sound brave in spite of the pain. “It’s only a scratch. The fact that you are safe is all that matters to me.”

They stare at each other unblinking for a moment, her thumb tenderly wipes away the tears that have tracked down his cheeks. 

If they are not meant to be together then why would God deliver her safely back to him? They both could have died today and all he wants to do is kiss her.

Before he can second guess himself, he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, smiling into the kiss as he feels her return the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close.

She is alive, they both are, and he has never felt more so than in this moment.

That night, they do not sleep upon the forest floor. Uhtred finds them lodgings at a village alehouse, stating they have all suffered enough for one day and deserve the comfort of a decent night’s rest.

Retreating upstairs, bellies filled with ale and stew, Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric pile into one room, leaving Osferth and her to the other. It is humble, simply furnished, with a small double bed.

Osferth’s pulse races, keeping his back to her as he removes the light leather armour from his wrists and chest, leaving himself in just his robes. They have never spent the night alone together like this before. What would she be expecting of him?

He lips part involuntarily as he turns back to see her dressed only in her cotton shift. She has removed her dress, and tended to the cut upon her arm. She is beautiful, so beautiful, and he feels himself redden with embarrassment as she looks up and smiles, clearly having caught him staring.

She squeezes water from a cloth into a basin, before turning back to him. “Here, let me,” she says, gesturing to the wound on his temple.

Osferth approaches her slowly, his breathing unsteady. He hisses lightly at the sting of it as she gently presses the dampened cloth to his injury.

“Forgive me,” she whispers, lightening her touch, and his chest tightens.

As if my forgiveness is something you would ever need to seek.

She dabs at his face, placing the cloth into the bowl several more times as she goes, wringing it out, until she is satisfied he is clean.

Dropping the cloth back into the bowl, she places her hands against his face. She regards him with such tenderness that he has to close his eyes, unable to stand the way it makes it feel as though his heart will burst out of his chest.

Her fingertips move lightly over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, over his lips, chin and jaw. If this is what it feels like to be worshiped then the satisfaction God must experience is beyond gratification.

He gasps as he feels her lips press eagerly his once more and moves his mouth hungrily against hers, tangling his fingers into her hair and walking her back towards the bed.

Pushing her back, he hovers over his, his lips trailing a path down her neck to her collarbones, before kissing the rest of her body through her shift. Eagerly, he pushes the cotton above her hips, finding her wet and wanting, eager to be tasted again.

Osferth’s gaze flickers back up to her face. Her eyes are glossy and darkened by desire, her lips swollen with kisses and parted as she breathes heavily through them.

If he had died today, he is certain the grave he ended up in would not be enough to hold him back from crawling back to her, if only to see her like this. But in that same moment, he remembers the men he has killed today, his hands sullied by blood, lives ended by his hand.

He is unfit to touch her. He cannot besmirch her virtue with his uncleanliness.

He bows his head, exhaling sadly. “I–I cannot go any further, my lady,” he whispers, “I would not dirty you with hands that are not worthy of you.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “And what about what I want? It is my virtue to give away, don’t I get to decide who takes it?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, you cannot give me this,” he argues, eyebrows drawn together in a pleading expression.

“I know perfectly well what it is that I want,” she replies, her tone defiant.

She shifts on the bed, pushing him onto his back, and he lets her. All his fight has left him, so he simply lays there, watching her with curiosity as she sits astride him.

Carefully, her hands pull at his clothes, stripping him of his robe, trousers and breeches. He quietly allows her to do so, lifting his body as needed to aid her task until he lays utterly naked before him.

Osferth has never been nude in front of anyone before. He had anticipated feeling shame and embarrassment, wanting to curl in on himself to hide from her. However, her gaze is filled with such warmth and innocence, she looks upon him in wonder, the way that people gaze at sunsets and meadows of wildflowers. It makes pride swell within his chest to be looked upon as though he is worthy.

Her lips brush gently against his, and as quickly as he leans up to kiss her back, she is moving away. Her mouth trails a path down his neck, across his chest and over his abdomen, before she allows her fingertips to take the same journey. He shivers, feeling his manhood pulsate under her attention.

He sucks in a breath when he feels her hand wrap around his cock, testing the weight and feel of it in her palm, eyeing it reverently, before she lets go and comes to lay beside him.

She pulls her shift over her head, discarding it upon the floor, and his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of her. Not even the most diligent monks in his days at the monastery could illuminate visions as lovely as she is.

“I do not know what I am doing. I’ve never done this before, but I want to. Osferth, please.”

Her quiet plea is all he needs to hear. He turns her onto her back, hovering over her and kisses her deeply. A rumble of appreciation vibrates through him as he feels her instinctively part her thighs.

Pulling away, he grasps the base of himself, guiding his tip to her waiting entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes locking with hers.

“I have never wanted anything more. Please.”

Her words make his stones ache and he presses forwards, jaw going slack at the feeling of how tight she is as his length forces apart her walls.

She whines quietly at the intrusion, though as he studies her face he is met with desire rather than the discomfort that he had anticipated. It excites him to know that she wants him, though he fears he would not be able to stop now even if he wanted to.

If lying with other women has been the closest he has come to seeing the face of God before, then in this moment he has truly died and gone to heaven.

His thrusts into her are slow and soft, his lips linger against hers, exchanging sticky kisses and laboured breaths. As his passage eases, his movements become slightly harder and faster, groaning as she grows wetter, clenching around him as the wooden bed frame creaks with their efforts.

This is his forbidden fruit. He has tasted her and now there is no going back. He loses himself in the sensation of her, his grip on her tight as she writhes beneath him, the sounds she makes are sweeter than any music.

Noticing her tensing when his thrusts are shallower, he repeats the motion in earnest until suddenly she is crying out, pulsating around him, pulling him quickly towards release. He pulls out, stroking himself to completion, watching the way his spend paints her bare flesh in pearlescent ropes.

Breathlessly he falls back against the mattress, pulling her to him, wanting her close. She is pliable, eager, and snuggles against him, her head upon his chest.

He looks down at her through hooded eyes and she smiles back up at him, her gaze filled with warm affection.

“I love you,” she whispers.

The words stick in his throat. They are not enough to convey the depth of his feelings for her. They are just words, much like heaven and hell, and they are worthless. He will never want for anything, as long as he has her.

So, he simply kisses her, hoping that it is enough for her to understand just how precious she is to him.

#osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth x y/n #osferth imagine #osferth smut #osferth angst #ewan mitchell #TLK #osferth the last kingdom #osferth tlk #the last kingdom #tlk osferth #the last kingdom osferth #baby monk #osferth fan fiction #osferth fanfiction #osferth fan fic #osferth fanfic #the last kingdom fan fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fan fiction

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: requested by @tinumiel! as always; thank you! it's been a pleasure to write this one!

Warnings: 18+! fluff/smut/poor comedy attempt.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You and your husband, Sihtric, desperately needed some alone time. But having a herd of children, which were the result of those pleasant alone times, made it nearly impossible.

wordcount: 2,6k

Masterlist

'It's urgent, darling.'

'My wife,' Sihtric sighed, smiling as he watched you climb on top of him, 'my sweet, beautiful wife.'

You chuckled softly, raking your fingers through your husband's long, wild hair as he laid back on the wooden dinner table, in the middle of the great hall, his breeches down to his knees.

Sihtric was a Lord now, well respected and loved by the people of Dunholm, yet also feared by many brave men. But to you, he was still that sweet, lighthearted yet fierce loyal boy you fell in love with when you were younger. Except Sihtric wasn't a boy anymore, he was a whole man by now. But he never quite lost his boyish behaviour. Even after becoming a father, multiple times, he was still young at heart; playful and… incredibly horny. All the time. And you weren't complaining about that, it just wasn't that easy to find the time to do the deed.

'Get out of that dress,' Sihtric husked, tugging at the front laces, desperately wanting to free your bosom.

'We don't have much time,' you whispered with a chuckle.

You both knew your maids were preparing dinner, and it could be served any moment now.

'I don't need much time,' Sihtric grinned as you guided his fingers, helping to untie your dress, 'I'll be fast, I swear it.'

'And me?' you frowned, knowing your husband could finish in no time, but you couldn't, 'what if there's not enough time for me?'

The last thing you wanted was being left unsatisfied, even though that never happened if Sihtric could help it.

'Then I'll have you for dessert, darling,' Sihtric puckered his lips and blew you a kiss.

You gave him a cheeky smile. Sihtric knew all too well how to make it up to you if he couldn't get you to finish along with him, or before your children interrupted. The way he could make you feel by just using his tongue was incredible, and always enough to make you a moaning, begging mess in no time.

You pulled your skirt up, ready to sink down on your husband's perfect, deliciously sized length, but then a familiar crying sound suddenly seemed to close in, fast. You and Sihtric froze, stared at each other with big eyes and both got up as quickly as you could. You adjusted your skirt as smoothly as possible, while covering Sihtric behind you as he pulled up his breeches. You had only barely fixed up your clothes when the big, wooden doors to the great hall flew open, and your five children ran in.

Your youngest son was crying, your eldest son laughing, your daughter looked annoyed while your two other sons looked frightened. And you immediately knew what happened.

'What did I tell you about telling scary stories?' you gave your oldest a disapproving look as they all neared you.

Then, the maids walked out from the kitchen, and all seemed well again amongst the children as they got seated, ready for dinner. You looked at Sihtric, who shifted uncomfortably in the chair next to you, while his face carried the look of a man who regretted having this many children. It's been weeks since he last had you, and it started to gnaw at him.

After your youngest was born, several years ago, you had both agreed to not have any more kids. In truth, you and Sihtric would have been fine with only three pups, but alas, the gods had blessed you twice more. 

The real problem was that Sihtric simply loved the act that had led up to having a child, but at least you now knew of ways to prevent pregnancy. However, the most effective way lately was simply the way that you and Sihtric couldn't hump at all, because you could hardly ever get that needed alone time. You don't know what it was but, these last few seasons, the children only seem to grow more and more demanding of your time and attention, leaving you and Sihtric deprived of each other's touch and pleasure.

Later that night, when the kids were finally asleep, your husband found you in the bedroom, folding some leftover laundry. You knew you had maids for that task, but you found it relaxing sometimes after a long day.

'How about that dessert?' Sihtric whispered in your ear with his arms snuck around you from behind, and his painful arousal pressing against your buttocks.

You giggled as Sihtric spun you around, taking your face in his hands and kissing your lips eagerly. He knew he didn't really need to ask if you wanted to hump or if he could please you, you had made it clear several times already that you were as desperate as he was, especially after being interrupted earlier that day. But Sihtric simply enjoyed the foreplay. He loved to tease you with his lips and tongue, making you beg for him, before he'd give you his all.

Sihtric smiled at you, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth while he took your hands in his. He pulled you onto the bed with him, where he was quick to wrap his arms around you, and rolled you over onto your back. Sihtric may be retired from battle, but he still used a move or two in the bedroom whenever he could, much to your delight, as you loved how small you felt in his strong arms. He pushed your skirt up, his warm hands slowly moving up your thighs, to your undergarments, which he removed with a smirk on his face. He pushed himself back up to meet your eyes, and gently kissed your lips.

'I love you,' Sihtric whispered, 'just as much as I loved you when we first met.'

'And I love you all the same,' you smiled, 'my love.'

'My life,' he replied, smiling.

You stole another kiss before Sihtric brought his face back between your thighs, and you let your head fall back when you felt him press a soft kiss to your wet folds, followed by a swirl of his tongue.

'Oh, gods,' you breathed, already feeling your soul leave your body.

Your hands moved into his hair as Sihtric held your hips in place, your leg resting over his broad shoulders. You felt the strokes of his tongue become firmer, but never faster. He simply knew how to drive you wild, and that's exactly what he was doing now, before he would finally hump you. You tugged his hair, earning a deep moan from your husband, which sent a pleasant vibration through your body.

'Oh, gods, Sihtric,' you moaned, 'yes-'

'Mommy!' your youngest suddenly called outside your door while he tried to open the heavy piece of wood at the same time, rattling the handle.

'Wha- Shit!' you hissed and perked up.

Sihtric quickly sat up in bed, and as you pushed him away in your panic to cover yourself up as fast as you could, you accidentally pushed him off the bed. Sihtric cursed loudly and rubbed the hip he fell on, while you ran to the door, answering your child's call.

'What is it, boy?' you breathed hard while feeling a little dizzy, and your legs were shaky.

'I… I threw up,' the child mumbled.

You looked back at Sihtric, who sat on the floor with his face in his hands, and you both muttered under your breath.

'Just go and find them,' Sihtric said to your daughter, trying to encourage her, 'it will be fun, I swear it.'

'Fun?' she frowned, 'they're stupid! I don't like to play with them. Why do I have such dumb brothers?'

'Hey!' you gave your seven year old a disapproving look as you walked over to the commotion.

'Sorry,' she mumbled.

'Just, please,' Sihtric said, 'go out and find them?'

Your husband was desperate. The boys were all playing in the woods, near the river, and Sihtric tried to convince the young girl to go outside and play with them too. Sihtric had some plans of his own; playing with you. He just needed to get you alone for that.

'No!' she said, arms crossed, 'they're stupid! They only want to play warrior, and I always have to be the princess who needs to be rescued,' she yelled, 'but I want to be a warrior too!'

Sihtric looked up at you, not knowing what to say anymore, but you smiled proudly at your daughter, giving your husband a light shrug. Sihtric huffed and rolled his eyes, then faced the little warrior princess again.

'Well… just… I-,' Sihtric stammered, then looked back up at you, 'love?' he begged you.

Sihtric clearly needed your help here, to which you rolled your eyes this time.

'Honey,' you sighed and kneeled down next to your daughter, 'why don't you go and pick some flowers for me?' you tried, 'and then we can dry them and make a nice wreath tomorrow?'

'No!' she huffed, 'I want to stay here!'

'Okay,' you smiled at her stubbornness, which she could've inherited from either one of her parents, and you kissed her forehead.

You got up and turned to Sihtric, who was now leaning back against the dinner table, clearly frustrated. Sexually frustrated to be precise, and you walked over, feeling just as agitated as him about the situation.

'Darling,' you spoke softly, resting your hand on his chest while you pushed some loose strands of hair behind his ear, 'I know, my love,' you kissed his cheek, 'I feel the same, but we can't force her out of the house just because we want to… you know.'

'Are you sure?' he whispered, 'I mean, we could force her to work the fields-''

'Sihtric!' you hissed and kicked his shin, 'she's seven! How very dare you?'

'Sorry,' Sihtric mumbled and looked down at his feet, 'I'll just… go and find the boys.'

A few days later your kids had all finally left home, to play outside, near the river again. Even your daughter had joined them, after your eldest said he had seen frogs last time he was there.

'Remember what uncle Finan said about licking frogs!' Sihtric yelled after the children as they ran off.

'Finally,' he sighed, and closed the doors with a loud slam.

He immediately stalked over to you, in the kitchen, where you were talking with one of your maids. Sihtric nearly kicked in the door and cleared his throat when he saw you weren't alone.

'I, eh, excuse me,' he apologised to the maid, 'I need my wife, it's an emergency.'

'Oh, my. Can I help?' the maid loyally asked, concerned.

You fought a grin, knowing the so-called emergency would be taking care of your husband's hard cock. But your poor maid had no idea.

'What? Oh, eh, no,' Sihtric said, surprised and confused by the sudden question, 'it's a… private matter.'

Sihtric held his hand out to you, and you dropped the rag you had in your hands while excusing yourself to your maid.

'It's urgent, darling,' Sihtric stressed, impatiently waving his hand, beckoning you to come with him, now.

You smiled, took his hand, and he was quick to pull you out of the kitchen, through the great hall, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. He closed the heavy wooden door while you quickly closed the curtains, and you both wasted no time loosening your belts. After all the interruptions, Sihtric didn't even want the foreplay today, and you both also didn't even need it. Your core was heated, tightened and you were simply soaked by the time your husband had pulled you up the stairs. And as every day since he last had you, Sihtric was already hard when he only did as much as think of your bare body on top of him. Or underneath him, he didn't have a preference today, he just needed to feel you.

You both dropped your leather belts onto the floor and nearly attacked each other. Lips pressed against each other, your hands in his hair, his hands squeezing your hips, while both your desperate, soft moans filled the air around you. Sihtric picked you up in his strong arms, easily, and he threw you onto the bed. He climbed on top of you, bared his teeth and ran his tongue over them. He was hungry, like a wild beast, and you weren't going to defend yourself. Instead, you wanted to be devoured completely by him.

And just when Sihtric brought his lips back to yours, you heard the maid call from downstairs, and you both froze.

'I know y-you have a private conversation,' she yelled innocently, 'but your children just returned, and… eh… three of them fell in swamp water.'

You groaned and Sihtric cursed once again.

'That's it,' he huffed and jumped out of bed.

Sihtric quickly tied his belt around his waist, keeping his leather tunic in place, and he stormed down the stairs. He picked up your youngest son and your daughter, holding one in each arm, while he angrily ordered those who were soaked with swamp water to follow him. 

You desperately tried to hold your laugh. This was just ridiculous. It was impossible to get your man alone and it was driving you to the brink of insanity, but it seemed that Sihtric had already crossed it, hissing like a mad man at his children, because he desperately needed to hump their mother.

'Where are we going?' your youngest cried in Sihtric's arm.

'Uncle Finan!' Sihtric huffed, walking as fast as he could across town, towards the Irish man.

Once there, he kicked the door with his leather boot before putting the two children back on their feet. And without waiting for Finan to open the door, Sihtric turned on his heels and stormed back home.

'Oi!' Finan shouted after the Dane, 'what's this!?' he looked down at the three drowned rats and the two wide-eyed youngsters in front of him.

'They're yours until nightfall!' Sihtric snarled over his shoulder, and Finan got the hint.

Once back again, Sihtric forcefully opened the doors to the hall and locked eyes with the maid.

'Out,' Sihtric said firmly, 'you have the day off. Close the doors behind you,' he said while sprinting up the stairs.

'Oh. Thank you, lor-' the maid was cut off by the hard slam of your bedroom door.

'Sihtric? Where did you bring the childre-' 

You were cut off by Sihtric's lips, capturing you in an angry, heated kiss. He ripped his belt off again and you quickly took off his tunic, after which Sihtric took off your dress in a rush. You had barely laid eyes on his impressive, muscular body, or he was already on top of you, pulling the furs up to cover the both of you.

'We could take it slow now,' you suggested, smiling as his lips sucked and kissed your neck eagerly.

'I can't,' Sihtric said with a desperate tone, 'and I won't,' he growled.

And before you could even prepare yourself, he already entered you with ease.

A pleased gasp left you both, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Sihtric leaned in, his body pressed onto yours while propped up on his elbows, his hands in your hair and his face buried in your neck. He started to violently thrust into you, with a head spinning pace, doing exactly what you both needed. Your nails dug into his muscular back, but soon they found their way to the bed's headboard, desperately clinging onto the wooden beams as your husband showed no mercy. The bed rhythmically creaked underneath you and thumped loudly against the wall, in sync with each deep thrust. 

You both ran out of breath fast, and where you usually kissed each other all through your love making, you now just murmured while gazing into each other's half-open eyes.

'Needed this,' Sihtric breathed, 'needed to feel you around me, ah, gods,' he hissed, 'so tight.'

'Gods,' you moaned, 'I've been dreaming of your cock for weeks now,' you confessed with a light chuckle.

'Is this as good as in your dreams?' he husked in your ear, slamming into you even harder and faster.

'Better,' you cried out, nails scratching at the wood your fingers were curled around, 'so good,' you sighed, barely audible over the thumping sound of the bed and the sound of skin slamming against each other with force.

Then Sihtric suddenly pulled back. He sat up and grabbed your ankles, pulling you towards him, then threw your legs over his shoulders. He sheathed back inside you, smoothly, and the way your husband felt, made your cheeks heat up instantly. His groans, his hard thrusts and the intensity in his eyes were enough to push you over your edge within minutes, and Sihtric followed fast. 

He collapsed on top of you. Both breathing hard while being wrapped into each other's arms, recovering from your high as your warm, sweaty bodies were pressed together, underneath the furs. Sihtric peppered your neck and face with kisses while you played with his messy hair. You finally both felt calm again, after the hard, impatient and angry humping that had just occurred. 

And since it was still early in the afternoon, and the children were not to be brought home by Finan until the evening, you'd soon make up for all those times you were interrupted before.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

[witchthewriter]

𝐒𝐢𝐡𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: some spoilers for the series xx

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISTP

Hufflepuff

Chaotic Good

Scorpio Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Cancer Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・The most sweetest, most gentle and most loyal husband you could ever imagine.

・Exactly like the ones in the romance novels - you are his world.

・And he would do ANYTHING for you. Sounds cliche but he would literally climb the tallest mountain, ask Uhtred to help him bring down the moon, Sihtric is crazy in love with you. And it doesn't stop after the honeymoon phase.

・Any part of your body that you dislike, Sihtric is the first one to be like "what? I don't get it. You are ... the most glorious person to ever walk on midguard."

・Has cried while alone when he's away from you.

・Not when he's been asked by Uhtred to spy though - he just thinks about you when it's safe to do so (he takes caring for his friends very seriously. He's big on loyalty.)

・Further with the loyalty comment; it's actually hilarious that it was he and Uhtred who set up that ruse in season 3. Sihtric would rather die than actually be that person

・Buys you any and every kind of jewellery; bracelets, rings, earrings, necklaces. If you follow his religion/way of life, then he buys you your own thor's hammer pendant.

・When he places it around your neck, he tugs you forward and leans his head against your forehead.

・Calls you, "sweetheart," "my love," "beautiful/handsome". But also likes to call you cheeky ones too: "troublemaker," "danger."

・Puppy god eyes, puppy dog eyes, PUPPY DOG EYES. He doesn't even know he's doing it. It was practically beaten out of him when he was younger by his father and half-brother.

・But when he realised he was doing it, Sihtric thought, 'I have never felt safe enough to act like this. With anyone.'

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Calm bf (Sihtric) x Hyper gf/bf/non-binary partner (You)

Gives Jewellery (Sihtric) x Tries To Wear Everything Every Day To Make Them Happy (You)

Black Cat (You) x Black Bat (Sihtric)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Enemies to Lovers

You first saw Sihtric when he was living with his wretched father. You never expected to find him tied up under Uhtred's command.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Lady of the Dawn by Peter Gundry

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point.

・When he first gets back from being away from you, he's hungry - like a dog in heat, he's rough, he needs to feel you, all of you.

・Sihtric's favourite thing to do is go down on you. Your juices, your smells; it drives him mad.

・After he's made you cum thrice, he rubs your cum/juices on his clothes just in case he has to leave again. He wants to be able to smell you.

・It has become a ritual now - if he doesn't then it's bad luck in his mind.

・If Sihtric is home for a while then his fucking turns into love making. Gentle, loving, slow, passionate.

・Long strokes, in and out of you while kissing every part of your face from above, nuzzling his face into your neck.

・Has a massive breeding kink (even if your body does not have the means to create a child); he likes to talk dirty while pumping into you.

"That's it, let me cum inside you my love. I want to put a child in you."

・When you agree with a whimper, it sends him over the edge. Hot ropes of cum shooting inside you.

・Sihtric keeps pumping though. The fantasy of having a large family with you made his cock hard again.

#witchthewriter #headcanons #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom #sihtric fic #sihtric headcanons #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric x y/n #mbti #relationship tropes #romantic plot tropes #theme song #character tropes #tropes #the last kingdon #tlk #tlk headcanons #witch the writer's headcanons #uhtred of bebbanburg #finan the agile #finan tlk #osferth #the last kingdom fanfic

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Saved Part 2

Part 2 – Sihtric x reader

Authors note: while rewatching the Season 2 of TLK and going wild with exploring my newly acquired skill of taking and editing screenshots I became obsessed with the idea of writing my own version of how Sihtric met Uhtred. The story seems somehow complete, but from the other side there is still something missing. I am thinking about an epilogue…

I hope you will like it.

Summary: reader is Uhtred’s sister and a skilled healer. She travels with her brother’s men and after the unsuccessful attempt on Uhtred’s life gets curious about the young prisoner, the sole Dane from the group of assailants that is left alive.

Word Count: 2,615

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3

Sihtric raised his head, his eyes filled with surprise as he looked at you.

"Okay, I know it was somewhat strange question," you chuckled, a sense of curiosity driving you forward, "but what would you be willing to do to earn mercy from my brother?"

Without a moment of hesitation, Sihtric's response was firm and resolute, devoid of any doubt. "Everything, lady," he replied, sincerity and commitment lacing his voice, "I would offer Lord Uhtred my life and my sword until death and beyond, if only he would accept. It would be an honour to serve him and to die for him."

You continued to question him, your eyes searching for the truth. "And what about your current lord, Kjartan? Will you break your oath to him?"

"Kjartan is not my lord. I am his bastard son, and my mother was a slave at Dunholm. I have never sworn an oath to Kjartan; he never deemed it necessary. I was merely his property, nothing more than a dog to be whipped into obedience," Sihtric's voice trembled with a mix of shame and vulnerability, as if he feared that revealing this truth would repel you. "I will understand if you now consider me unworthy to serve your brother." As he spoke, his handsome face underwent a transformation, his jaw tightened, and a look of disgust etched upon his features when he mentioned Kjartan being his father. Once again, he averted his gaze, lowering his eyes in submission.

Unable to ignore his distress, you instinctively reached out, gently gripping his chin, and raised his face to meet your gaze.

 "Gods, I am sorry... I couldn't know. But why would I judge you for that?" you were wondering and wanted to reassure him.

"I didn't want you to pity me either," Sihtric sighed, refusing to meet your gaze, and instead keeping his eyes lowered so that his line of sight unintentionally fell upon your breasts. As soon as he realized this, he quickly lifted his eyes in embarrassment, finally meeting yours. Though the dim lighting prevented you from seeing it clearly, you could sense a slight blush colouring his cheeks.

"That's not the case either," you smiled reassuringly. "And I do have a plan," you continued, maintaining your smile. "But first, we need to stitch your brow."

As you began stitching his brow, Sihtric didn't even flinch, proving that he wasn't exaggerating when he claimed not to fear pain. With eyes wide in surprise and awe he kept following your movements his anxiety and impatience openly visible to hear more about your idea. The whole time you worked on his pretty face, you had been kneeling just beside him, so close that you could feel his breath on your neck and feel the tension of his body. Nothing could have prevented him from grabbing you at your throat even with his hands tied up and demand to release him. But there was not even a single motion from him that could hint that he was even considering it. Your closeness and your touch on his skin made his breath accelerate and his heart to pound faster, betraying the effect your presence had on him and the air between the two of you seemed to be getting electrified with anticipation. He did not move as if afraid to distort the magic of the moment. Knowing that he could have used your kindness and forced his escape any moment, but never made a single move to do so made you even more sure you wanted to help him.

"Are you skilled with the sword?" you asked once finished tending to his wound. You retrieved some honey salve and gently applied it to his brow, knowing it would aid in healing and reduce the visibility of the scar.

"I am a warrior, lady," Sihtric replied with a hint of pride in his voice.

"But you were captured, weren't you?" you pressed further, not going easy on him.

"I was fetching the horses. I wasn't even there when the fighting started, and by the time I arrived, it was already over. There was no point in fighting your brother's men alone. I didn't even draw my sword before that big Dane struck me down," Sihtric explained, likely referring to Clapa.

You hadn't encountered a man larger than him thus far. At first glance, Clapa appeared terrifying and intimidating, but you were well aware that while he excelled in a shield wall due to his imposing size and strength, he lacked the speed and finesse required for a skilled sword fight. And though Halig was skilled in swordcraft, you were fairly certain that after completing the task entrusted to them by Uhtred, they would not limit themselves to just one drink, which would inevitably affect their agility the following morning. This knowledge brought a smile to your face, and you proceeded to share your plan with Sihtric. However, his response caught you off guard.

"No, lady," he firmly responded, leaving you surprised.

"No?" you repeated, unsure if you had heard correctly.

"No, there is no way I would endanger your life. You may not believe me, but you are the first person who has shown me kindness in as long as I can remember. Perhaps apart from my mother, but she passed away so long ago that sometimes I fear I can't recall her anymore. So, no, I cannot do this," Sihtric shook his head, his eyes darkening, resolute in his refusal.

"Are you intending to harm me?" you inquired.

"No, I would never..." he exclaimed.

"Then what's the problem?" you interjected, a sense of frustration creeping into your voice. "The only danger to my life would be you, and if you have no intention of harming me..."

"You would truly entrust your life to me, lady?" Sihtric remained hesitant, disbelief and uncertainty apparent in his tone.

"Why?" he asked, almost whispering, his voice trembling with perplexity and disbelief. From his tone, it was evident that he expected a trap, a deception. "Lady, please, don't be so cruel as to play with me."

In truth, you weren't fully prepared for this question, as you yourself were unsure of why you were doing this. You were captivated by this stranger, by his soft voice, his composure despite his dire circumstances, and his despair. Moreover, you were captivated by his honesty and gratitude, which radiated from him. The way he looked at you with awe and indebtedness left you spellbound.

"Believe me, there is no deception in what I am proposing, and I am not toying with you. That would be unnecessarily cruel. However, I cannot explain why," you spoke honestly. "I simply have a strong feeling that you deserve a second chance. Fate is relentless, as my brother loves to say, and it seems that destiny brought us together tonight."

"And you are far too handsome and young to be killed by Uhtred for a mere task of fetching horses," you silently reflected.

"You desire my brother's undivided attention, and I can offer you that. But first, you will have to prove yourself against Clapa and Halig. Consider it a test of your sword skills. I won't deny that my life will be somewhat in your hands, but if you were to harm me, you know that your fate would be far worse. So, what is your decision? Actually, you don't have to answer now. I will learn it tomorrow when I come to see you," you smiled at him, taking again the bread from your bag, and placing it, along with the leather water flask, on his lap.

"Good night, warrior!" With that, you turned away and headed to your tent, leaving the young Dane looking after you, his face filled with confusion and indecision.

Your mind whirled with thoughts of the plan you had set in motion, and your heart raced with anticipation. Once inside your tent, a wave of nausea washed over you, causing your stomach to churn. "Why did I come up with this? Is he truly worth it?" you questioned yourself. "I still have the chance to change my mind until tomorrow," you attempted to calm your anxious mind, but deep down, you knew you wouldn't. Sihtric hadn't asked for your help, nor did he want it. It was your own idea, and there was no way you could betray him and leave him thinking you were toying with his unfortunate situation.

You had a restless night, unable to find sleep as your mind raced with thoughts of what you had proposed to Sihtric. You had to admit to yourself that your life would be in his hands and there were no guarantees that he wouldn't attempt to kill you and make his escape. However, you took solace in the fact that you were prepared for such a scenario, concealed behind your seemingly fragile appearance, but harboring a wealth of experience with a blade that Sihtric was unaware of. Over and over again, you contemplated your actions, unable to stop marveling at yourself why you felt responsible for the young Danes life, not wanting to admit to yourself that perhaps, beyond all else, you had simply fallen in love with that youthful and handsome warrior.

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

"Good morning, lads!" you greeted the groggy Clapa and Halig. Clapa had dozed off, leaning his back against the side of the wagon, while Halig was curled up on the ground, still clutching an ale cup in his hands. "I must inform Uhtred of your remarkable skills in guarding our prisoner while asleep," you couldn't resist teasing them a bit.

You cast a glance at Sihtric, who remained seated by the wagon wheel with his eyes closed. He showed no signs of acknowledging or hearing you, leading you to believe that he had likely stuck to his resolve of rejecting your unconventional proposal. Clapa and Halig stumbled to their feet, startled awake by your voice.

"We weren't sleeping, lady!" they protested, attempting to maintain their composure. However, their sudden awakening had left them visibly disoriented, unsure of their surroundings and their intended duties.

"The prisoner requires your attention," you informed them as you passed by the wagon. At that moment, Sihtric opened his eyes and his gaze met yours. His expression was one of bewilderment, as if he had glimpsed a ghost. He instinctively raised his hands to touch his stitched brow, shaking his head in disbelief. It seemed as though he struggled to accept the reality before him, unable to believe that you were truly standing there. Perhaps he thought that your conversation from the previous day had been nothing more than a dream.

"He says he needs to go to the woods!" you called out to Clapa and Halig, continuing your way. It was not unusual for you to venture out of the camp early in the morning to gather herbs and mushrooms. You quickened your pace and, once out of sight and concealed by the bushes, you stopped to observe what would happen next.

Clapa and Halig engaged in a brief argument, as expected. Their tendency to disagree with each other was a familiar trait, yet it never hindered their deep friendship. You heard them approaching, and when you peered through the foliage, you saw Sihtric being dragged behind them. Remaining hidden, you silently followed them through the underbrush, eager to see where their path would lead. They didn't go far before reaching a secluded clearing, hidden from direct view of the camp.

"Could you untie my hands?" you heard Sihtric ask. "There are two of you, and I am not armed anyway," he continued.

"No way," Halig cut him off. "You need to piss, so you'll have to manage it the way you are."

And then, you heard it—the clash of swords. Sihtric had somehow disarmed Halig and was desperately attempting to defend himself against Clapa, wielding the sword with his still-bound hands. Halig had fallen to the ground but was scrambling to get back on his feet. At that moment, you approached the scene, wearing a surprised expression as if you were completely oblivious to what was unfolding.

"What's happening? Halig, why are you rolling on the ground?" you demanded, pausing amid the brawl. You stood just a step away from Sihtric, who let out a fierce growl as he kicked Clapa with all his strength in the stomach. He swiftly moved to your side, putting Halig's sword at your throat and positioning himself behind you.

"Don't come any closer!" Sihtric commanded with a firm voice, though it was unnecessary as Halig and Clapa remained frozen on the ground, their eyes wide with shock at the sight of Sihtric holding you hostage.

"Go, fetch Lord Uhtred!" he demanded, his voice commanding, unwavering, and filled with determination. There was no trace of the insecurity that had emanated from him the day before.

"Tell him that I mean no harm, I simply wish to speak with him," Sihtric continued, while Halig swiftly ran towards the camp to alert Uhtred.

"Lady, I swear upon my life, I will not harm you. I would rather die than hurt you," Sihtric reassuringly whispered in your ear and so far, everything was unfolding according to your plan.

You could see Uhtred rushing towards you, accompanied by several warriors, with Halig trailing behind.

"Harm her, and I will flay you alive," were Uhtred's first words as he reached the clearing.

"Lord Uhtred, I merely wish for you to listen to me," Sihtric asserted. "I offer you my life and my sword. Look, I disarmed them both," he nodded toward Clapa and Halig, "with my hands bound. I am a skilled warrior, and I can be of use to you. Please accept my oath, and I will be honoured to serve you. And lord…, I would never bring harm to your sister. I swear it on the Thor's hammer. She is the kindest person I have ever known in my entire life," Sihtric clenched his fingers around the Thor's amulet that hung on his chest and his voice carried sincerity and determination, with a slight quiver as he spoke the last words. He lowered the sword, driving it into the ground with all his strength, and knelt down with a bowed head.

"Sis!" Uhtred called to you with a worried tone, and you rushed into his arms.

"I am fine," you reassured him as you embraced him, feeling him draw his sword.

"I will kill that little bastard here and now," he snorted in anger, but you firmly took hold of his sword hand.

"Uhtred, no harm has been done. Can't you see how desperate he is? He's offering you his life and sword. Listen to what he has to say," you spoke softly yet assertively, causing Uhtred to pause.

"Sis, do you even understand what you're suggesting? I can never trust him. He's Kjartan's man and he just took you hostage," Uhtred replied, completely taken aback.

"Talk to him," you took your brother by the hand and approached Sihtric, who remained kneeling, awaiting his fate.

"Are you Kjartan's man?" you asked Sihtric, already knowing the answer.

"No, I am Kjartan's bastard son and there is nothing that ties me to him," Sihtric stated firmly, his voice carrying a hint of defiance. "I have no loyalty to him," he answered, raising his head to meet Uhtred's gaze.

Looking incredulously between you and Sihtric, Uhtred suddenly laughed.

"Kindest person, my sister?” he repeated Sihtrics words suspiciously. “Sis, you already knew! Don't pretend you didn't. I will want the whole story later," he shook his head at you.

"But those two deserve a beating for allowing the prisoner to disarm them," he gestured to Clapa and Halig.

“What’s your name, young warrior?” Uhtred asked.

“Sihtric, lord!”

"Place your hands on the sword, Sihtric," Uhtred instructed and Sihtric obeyed instantly. Uhtred then placed his palms over his, and Sihtric spoke his oath. As soon as he had finished you took the knife from the small scabbard at your waist and freed Sihtric's hands, sensing that you were now bound together, and only the future would reveal whether it was for good or ill.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric fics #tlk #sihtric x reader #tlk fics #sihtric x you

[wrenwrongs]

Worth More Than Silver

Sihtric/fem!Reader

Summary: Sihtric has been frequenting the brothel in Winchester. Osferth and Uhtred investigate why he still pays for your company despite his claim that you love him.

Word Count: 1.3k

cw: afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of the word whore (2x), childbirth (not described in detail), slight deviations from canon timeline, Sihtric and his football team of kids

“Have you made a decision yet?” asked Sihtric, his horse striding alongside Uhtred’s own. “Have you given it thought?”

“Given thought to what?” His Lord answered in false ignorance. It gnawed at Sihtric’s insides. He would not give up in his quest, yet he knew if he pushed the subject too hard Uhtred was wont to set his denial in stone. Lady Gisela seemed to take pity on him.

“Uhtred,” she warned from her place next to her husband.

With her aid, Sihtric continued, “My request to marry, Lord. I wish to have a family.” It was true. More true was that he wished to have a family with you.

He had been captivated from the first night he met you. Your laugh ringing out as he threw you on to the bed. How your brushed your fingers through his hair as you caught your breath. Still, he knew it was nothing more than he had payed for.

It was almost a fortnight later when he saw you walking down the road, the frost had tinged your cheeks red. Your arms were overburdened with logs as you trudged though the ankle high snow. He carried them for you to your home; a small room with a bed and a hearth. When you invited him in for tea, he saw how you had decorated with herbs drying from the ceiling, furs, and paint all along the walls. It was a proper home in his eyes, not just the place you rested your head as he had become accustomed to.

You laughed as he regaled the time he and Finan strapped fake legs to a horse and convinced a drunk Uhtred that it was Sleipnir, the chip in your front tooth evident, and he knew he was yours.

A voice broke through his thoughts.

“Lord, you will answer the man.” It was Gisela again. In that moment Sihtric thought her sent by Freyja herself.

Uhtred sighed before turning his head to speak, “I will speak to her at Winchester and give you my decision.”

“Thank you, Lord.” With a grin, he fell back into line as Uhtred shouted back at him.

“But you are to give her no more of your arm-rings, nor silver!”

A gentle breeze swept through the valley, cooling the sweat on their brows. The sun, now past its highest point in the sky, warmed the earth as they arrived in Winchester. Finnan and Sihtric accompanied Uhtred while Osferth was sent out on his own quest.

After visiting your home and inquiring at the brothel, he was directed outside the walls of the capital. There, he spotted a figure emerging from the surrounding trees. The glint of silver around your biceps confirmed your identity.

“My lady,” he spoke softly as he approached, not wanting to startle you.

“I am no Lady,” you responded, the wind rustling your hair. “And I’m not working today.”

“No,” he blushed. “You misunderstand me. I am one of Lord Uhtred’s men.”

You said nothing, but looked upon him with suspicion and doubt.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, “You are Sihtric’s woman are you not?”

“That I am." You stepped closer to him so that the two of you could hear each other clearly. Osferth took a glimpse into the basket you carried. Elderberries and yarrow sat among a myriad of herbs. "You must be the Baby Monk I’ve heard about.”

“You love him?”

“Yes." There was an edge to your voice.

“Yet, you still take his silver?” The hurt in your eyes sent guilt rampaging through him.

“He is not the first man to make promises of love in hopes of a free night. I have seen the heartbreak and shame those girls are left with too many times to allow myself to fall for the same trick.”

“It is no trick. He wishes to marry you.”

“So he says.” You began walking back to the gates leaving Osferth to follow.

“You don’t believe him?”

“I wish to." You nodded to the guards as you passed them. "As much as I believe that Sihtric is different, I know those other women thought the same of the men that left them.”

“He has asked for permission from Lord Uhtred.”

You paused, hands tightening on the basket till your knuckles turned white. “He will not get it,” your voice was cold as you spoke. Osferth opened his mouth to argue, but you had already disappeared into the crowd of the afternoon market.

It was the next morning when Uhtred came to you. Sihtric had already departed after reluctantly leaving your bed and breaking fast together.

“Osferth spoke to me last night. He says your heart is true." Uhtred's words did little to calm your nerves. He sat across from you at your small table, drinking your own blend of vervain and violet tea. You could see his eyes flicker down to watch you tug at loose threads of your sleeve. "I will give my permission for you to marry.”

“Thank you, Lord Uhtred,” you said. Meeting his eyes was no easy feat, still you managed. “Sihtric mentioned last night, that if given your blessing, he wished to marry by the time your company leaves next.”

Uhtred shook his head. “You will come with us.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped before you could contain it. “A Saxon who fights with Irishmen, Danes, and monks now wants a whore to accompany them?”

“Not a whore, a healer. Osferth told me you where gathering herbs.”

“Mathilda’s son has a fever. I just made something to help bring it down.”

“Gisela said you often assist the læce. Do you know how to sew a wound?”

“Yes, Lord.” Though your experiences in doing so were less than pleasant as you struggled with the sight of open flesh. In truth, you would rather never do it again, but if it meant you could be with Sihtric perhaps it would be worth the sting of bile in your throat.

“Then you will be of use to us,” Uhtred said firmly, and you got the impression that he was not one to easily change his mind once it was set. “I will inform Sihtric of my decision. When we depart from Winchester next, you will accompany us.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” You could no longer contain your smile as Uhtred took his leave. As he bade you farewell he took notice of your thumb absent-mindedly stroking one of the rings while you stirred your tea.

Perhaps it should have become routine at this point. Woefully, that was not the case. You had birthed six of your eight children with Sihtric and while the boys joked that pregnant was your perpetual state of being, the labor remained grueling.

“I swear this is the last one,” you said through clenched teeth as the midwife rushed around you.

Sihtric knelt by your side, cringing as you squeezed his hand, “You said that during the last one.”

“I mean it this time. Seven is more than enough.” You suspected Sihtric would have as many as you allowed.

Aethelstan had come into your lives just after you had discovered you were pregnant. You agreed it was best for you to stay back, even after your first daughter was born. Sihtric brought Cynlaef shortly after that, he was less than ten years old at the time. 

It seemed that if you weren’t with child when he and the others returned you would be by the time they left. True to the promise he made on your wedding night, he was present for as many of the births as he could be. Because then came the twins and later your youngest daughter, named Fianna after Finan who had pestered you one too many times about naming a son after him. Truthfully, if Osferth had been any younger you would have counted him among them.

It felt like ages before the midwife placed the boy in your arms. Sihtric turned to Uhtred and spoke, “Last chance to have one named after you Lord.”

“No.” Both Uhtred and you said at once. But you supposed your husband was right, it was the last chance to name your child after someone you both loved so dearly.

You turned back to the babe pressed against your skin, your words barely above a whisper, “His name is Osferth.”

#s: fic #sihtric x reader #sihtric imagine #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric kjartansson imagine #sihtric kjartansson x reader #tlk x reader #tlk imagine #tlk fic #my posts #what is a queue like me doing in a post like this?

[timetravelingpenguin1066]

Of Irland, Chapter 22

Chapter 1 \\ Chapter 21 \\ Series Masterlist

Instead of being taken captive in Winchester, Stiorra leaves for Irland with a friend of her father’s. There she meets Sigtryggr, a Dane, the grandson of Ivar the Boneless.

Chapter 22: My Love

Chapter warnings: smut 18+ Words: 2286 AO3

The door thudded quietly as it shut.

She turned and found herself staring directly into his warm, blue eyes. She could feel herself falling for him already.

He leaned closer, his hand creeping up her neck to rest against her cheek. Heat blossomed where his palm touched her skin. He shifted closer, and his other hand slid around her waist.

“Stiorra.” It was barely more than a whisper. He kissed her again, pushing her gently backwards until her back hit the door. She clung desperately to the soft linen of his tunic, pulling him closer.

“Stiorra,” he whispered again. “Stiorra, my love.”

Wait. My love? Did he really say that?

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips. There was no mistaking that.

“What?” She pulled back, gazing up at him. Did those words really come out of his mouth or was he talking to someone else?

“I am in love with you, Stiorra. I have loved you since the day Drifa brought you here. And I swear, by all the gods, that my heart will never waver, never falter. I love only you, and I will love you always. Even in Valhalla, I will wait for you.”

Stiorra gasped, tears filling her eyes. No-one had ever said such words to her before.

“I love you,” she whispered back. He smiled gently.

“My love.”

He brushed her tears away with a swipe of his thumb, and then bent to touch his lips to hers once more. She moaned quietly into his mouth.

His hands tangled in her hair, hers curled against his broad chest. His tongue licked across her lower lip. She sighed, opening her mouth to grant him entrance.

 He backed her up against the door again, his lips leaving hers to trail across her jaw and then down her neck. Stiorra couldn’t hold in the soft mewl that escaped her. His lips on her neck felt so good, there were no words to describe the exquisite sensation.

His hands made their way to the ties at the top of her shirt. Her breath hitched. He paused, pulling back. As she stared into his eyes, she was struck by how the blue of his irises was eclipsed by the dilation of his pupils. His gaze was lust filled and hungry.

Stiorra smiled at him, pulling him back to her by the front of his tunic. Eager to feel his touch, she untied the laces at the top of his shirt, while he finished untying hers.

He bent down and undid her belt, before he carefully unwrapped her skirt and let it fall to the floor, he then tugged her petticoats down. Stiorra gasped as the winter air hit her legs. Still kneeling, Sigtryggr gently pulled off her shoes, followed by her stockings, leaving her bare from the waist down.

 He stood back up, joining his lips with hers once again. She could feel the same hardness poking at her thigh that she had felt all those months ago on the training square.

Stiorra tugged at the hem of his shirt, trying to pull it over his head, but he was too tall for her to reach. He retreated for a moment, ducking out of it, and allowed her to relish in the sight of his muscular chest once again. The definition of his muscles seemed so much sharper in the flickering candlelight. She stretched out a hand, hesitantly. He came closer, taking her hand and placing it back on his chest.

His skin was warm, and firm under her touch. Scars were scattered across him. As she traced one, Stiorra wondered how many of these had been deep enough to nearly kill him. She trailed a hand across his most recent one, tears forming in her eyes again as she remembered his cries of agony, the blood everywhere.

She shook her head, banishing the memories.

She moved down to his belt, noting how tight his trousers seemed to be. He let her undo it, but when she reached for the ties that confined him, he placed his hand over hers, stopping her from going any further. She glanced up at him confused. Didn’t he want this? His eyes were boring into hers, searching for… permission?

Stiorra nodded. “I want this.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded again, pulling him back down to her, stretching up on tiptoe to meet him half-way.

“I want you.”

He kissed her, their tongues meeting. His arms wrapped around her, and she sighed. Inside the circle of his arms, it was as warm and safe as she had imagined. He dropped his hand to her waist and lifted her up. She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms tightening around his neck. He slowly lowered her onto the bed, his lips never leaving hers.

As he pulled them up, his feet got caught on his boots. He let go of her, standing to yank them off. Stiorra couldn’t help but chuckle at his hopping around as he pulled them off.

As soon as they were off, he covered her body with own, trapping her in his warmth. His lips pressed against the soft skin of her neck once again, placing small, sweet kisses.

His hands began to make their way up her top, still soft and warm as always, and careful as though she would break the moment he applied any pressure.

He pulled her up off the bed and pulled the top over her head, leaving her bare. Her hands instantly moved to cover her breasts. He discarded the top on the floor and leaned back over her. His hands trailed once more up her body. She abandoned covering herself to wind her fingers into his wild hair, pulling him as close as she could.

She gasped as his hand cupped her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple. Her back arched as she sought his hand.

He smiled above her, a soft smile, one that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. His black gaze was filled with desire..

He leaned forwards, pressing his lips to her neck while his hand massaged her breast. Stiorra whimpered and writhed underneath him, both seeking to escape the overstimulation and desperately searching for more. Every part of her body felt like it was burning.

“More,” she begged, unsure of what she was begging for.

His hand moved away from her breast and down between her thighs, which had been pressed together until now, but as his hand crept closer, she relaxed, opening them for him.

Before moving any further, he pulled away from her neck, looking at her seriously..

“Are you sure?” he whispered. Stiorra nodded, she wanted this.

His fingers brushed against her folds. A small jolt of pleasure went through her. He pressed further, and Stiorra gasped as his finger brushed the little bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex.. She clung to his neck, yanking him down for a hard kiss. He kept on with that same movement, and she started to moan.

“Shh,” he hushed, gently placing his hand over her mouth. “We don’t want my brother to hear.”

“Well, you had better kiss me then.” She said with a smirk, pulling his hand away. He happily complies.

A single finger pushed inside her, testing to see how she reacted to the intrusion. His lips on hers made it difficult. As much as she wanted to let him hear what this was doing to her, the pleasure wracking through her body, his lips silenced her. Instead she clung to him, moving her hips to encourage him to continue.

A second pressed inside. Stiorra initially felt a little discomfort, but that feeling quickly vanished. His fingers scissored around inside her, stretching her open. She wanted to moan, to scream his name. He moved to kiss her neck, biting gently and licking. He muffled her sounds in the rounded muscle of his shoulder.

The fingers inside felt like they were searching for something, then they found it; that spot inside her that made her arch her back. The moan that erupted from her mouth would have brought someone running if it weren’t for the palmthat clamped over her mouth once more.

Sigtryggr stilled his fingers inside her.

“If I continue,” he said, smirking, “will you promise to be quiet?”

Stiorra nodded, wanting more than anything for him to do that again. He did and she couldn’t hold  back. This time it was his lips that swallowed her sounds. His mouth remained on hers while he brushed his finger on that spot inside, muffling every moan that attempted to escape her. Again, and again he did that, until, out of nowhere, she felt blinding pleasure overtake her in waves. Her back arched, his hand clamped over her mouth again, as her vision blurred.. Even on those quiet nights where she had touched herself to the thought of him, she had never felt this.

All too soon, the feelings became an afterthought. She was panting hard, her flesh damp with perspiration. Her mind felt hazy with pleasure. There were no coherent thoughts in her head, except one.

“Sigtryggr,” she whispered, reaching for him again. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” he replied.

He kissed her, deeply.

When their mouths parted, she clung to the messy wild strands of his hair.

“I want you,” she breathed. “Please,” she repeated, seeing his hesitation. “I need you, Sigtryggr.”

“Stiorra, are you certain?”

“Yes, I am. I want you,” she implored.

“I will be your first?”

“My first,” she promised.

He kissed her then, a certain hunger behind it. He got up again, hurriedly undoing the ties on his breeches. He took that moment to gaze at her naked form. Stiorra squirmed, but did not hide.

Then he lowered his trousers, but the soft light from the candles was not enough for her to see him properly. He lay back over her on the bed, pressing his erection against her folds.

He was big. At least, he felt big.

“You are certain?” he asked again, holding her gaze in his eyes, black with lust, and soft with love for her.

Stiorra nodded.

He held her hands in one of his own, using the other to hold himself above her so she wasn’t crushed under his weight.

And he pushed inside.

Initially, there was only a little discomfort, having never taken something as big as him. But as he pushed further, slowly but surely, she felt pain.

It was like she was being split open. She squeezed his hand tightly, closing her eyes and breathing heavily.

“Do you want me to stop?” he fretted.

“No,” she said, sniffling. “Just don’t move for a moment, please.”

He kissed her cheek softly, then her jaw and her neck. The pain slowly faded, leaving her with a pleasant sense of fullness.

“You can move now,” she instructed, “but gently, please.”

He kissed her, again. Gods, she would never grow tired of his sweet kisses.

The first few tentative pumps of his hips made her wince, but the pain faded more each time. She squeezed his hand encouragingly, and he moved again.

Once the pain vanished completely, she could only feel an overwhelming dissatisfaction.

“Would you go faster?” she panted.

“Whatever my love desires,” he responded, grinning.

With that, the speed of his thrusts increased. And with the increase of the speed, so did the volume of her moans, all of which were quickly muffled by his hand.

Even he made noises now though. Quiet grunts for the most part, as he kissed her. Her insides clenched around him. His thrust faltered, and the same devastating wave of pleasure crashed over her. He kept thrusting into her as his own release came, moaning softly into her mouth. He slowed, then stilled, panting.

He pulled out, making her wince, and laid by her side, hair fanned out over the pillow.

She felt him shift to look at her, and a single finger coming up to stroke her cheek.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

It took a moment for her to reply. “I think so.”

He chuckled.

She was not sure what was funny.

“Was I…”

“You,” he said, rolling over her again, “were wonderful.”

She grinned slyly. “Just wonderful?”

“What do you want me to say?” he chuckled. “That you are the best, a gift from the gods. Perhaps a goddess yourself?”

She laughed, then winced.

“Are you sore?” he asked, noticing her discomfort.

“A little” she admitted.

“Let me clean you up,” he said, getting up from the bed.

She heard him shuffling around somewhere in the room, the candle had burned down to a small pin prick.

There was a sloshing sound, like cloth being soaked in water. Then he came back, a damp rag in hand.

He sat on the edge of the bed, illuminated by the moonlight that shone through the window. The cool cloth felt good on her aching centre. He held it there for a moment.

“How does that feel?”

“Good.”

“Hmm.”

He adjusted the cloth as it warmed, putting the cooler part of it on her skin.

“I have to clean myself,” he said.

She held the cloth to herself as he rose to fetch another. As he came back, wiping himself down, she got her first real look at a naked Sigtryggr.

He was big. Her thoughts were confirmed..

“You like what you see,” he said, teasingly.

“I love what I see.”

He finished cleaning himself and got back into the bed beside her, tugging her into his arms.

“Sleep well, my love.” The combination of his warm arms and the exhaustion of the night meant she slept very well, indeed.

#the last kingdom #tlk fics #sigtryggr #stiorra

[silens-oro]

My Lady

Osferth x f!Dane!reader

Synopsis: Feeling are requited and Osferth takes the leap of faith.

Word Count: 5,994

Content Warning: 18+, battle, blood, gore, wounds, mention of slavery, mention of being a bed slave, mentions of religion. this is so soft 🥺

AN: idk man it’s always loving Osferth hours in this house. This was posted on my phone so the layout might be a little wonky.

No mention of “y/n”

“Lord,” Osferth choked out as Uhtred entered the tent. You pushed the cloth against the wound in his abdomen to stem the flow of blood. He gasped in pain, clenching at the furs under him. “Did you see me fight?”

“I did,” Uhtred responded, surveying the injury. “You fought bravely.” Osferth gave a weak nod of his head.

“Am I going to die, Lord?” Osferth asked after a brief moment of silence. His eyes were directed to the top of the tent, wincing with each press from your working hands. “I do not fear it.”

“No. I forbid it,” Uhtred placed a gentle hand on Osferth’s chest. Uhtred looked down to you and you nodded with a sigh. One of your hands moved up to grasp Osferth's. He squeezed back, though it was weak.

“If we can get him into a wagon and deliver him to Lady Aethelflaed’s estate -and should a fever not set- he will live to see the next battle.” You assured Uhtred, though you were not entirely confident. You kept the negative thoughts to yourself.

“You hear that? You shall spark fear into the hearts of Danes once more, Baby Monk.” Finan joked from behind you, bringing a pained smile to the monk’s face as you swung an arm back to hit Finan in the stomach. The man grunted and moved backwards to save himself from a second blow.

“He will need plenty of furs to stay warm. We need to move quickly,” You called to Sihtric who nodded from his place at the entrance of the healing tent and left to ready the wagon without question.

The tent cleared as everyone saw Osferth was in good hands. This left you, Finan, and Osferth as the sole occupants.

“Help me sit him up,” You directed Finan. “I need to wrap him securely before we leave. Finan nodded and did as was instructed. Osferth tried to keep his groans of agony to himself, but the pain was so severe that shouts left his lips before he could stop them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” You tried to soothe him with a palm cupping his sharp jawline. Osferth leaned his cheek into it naturally, looking for any comfort he could get. Your hands worked quickly to wrap the cloth around the makeshift bandage just under his ribs. Once you were happy with your work, you brought his shirt back down and returned the furs to keep him warm.

“Gently,” You instructed Finan as he guided Osferth back onto his cot by his shoulders. The monk’s hand sought yours out as he settled. “Rest,” You gently pushed the sweaty hair from his forehead. “I will stay with you until we are ready to leave.” Osferth nodded with a soft tilt of his lips, closed his eyes, and succumbed to the darkness for rest. Finan waited a few moments, making sure the Baby Monk’s chest was rising and falling with slowed, sleeping breaths before he spoke.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Finan’s grin was wider than you had ever seen it. Shooting the Irishman with a pointed glare, you made sure your threat was loud and clear.

“Say another word and you will not have eyes to deceive you.” You promised, grunting as you stood from your kneeling position on the ground. You didn’t bother trying to clean the mud from the knees of her breeches. They were soaked in blood and other more vile liquids that spilled on a battlefield. Mud was the least of your worries.

“I am merely an observer.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. “He’s fond of you.” You rolled your eyes, wiping your hands with a discarded rag. “And you are fond of him if I’m to believe what I’m seeing?”

“The man could very well be on his deathbed, Finan. The last thing he needs right now is your meddling.” Finan took a few steps closer with a thick brow raised.

“If I was lyin’ as he is now, would you hold my hand too?” He baited.

“I’d hold a pillow over your face and be free of your endless torment.” You replied with a smirk. Of course he was right. You knew this and absolutely hated it.

“Ah! My point is proven!” Finan’s grin softened the longer he looked between the sleeping monk and yourself. “This isn’t a bad thing.” He whispered with a gentle shrug of his shoulders. “You’ll chew up the poor lad and spit him out, but there are worse ways to die…you could make this work.” Your stomach turned in anxiety. There seemed to be some truth in Finan’s words, otherwise he wouldn’t be fighting so hard for you to take the proverbial leap into the unknown. Still, the walls around your heart were fortified. You hadn’t laid with a man willingly since before your enslavement, and the idea of giving yourself physically and emotionally to anybody filled you with a certain kind of dread that was all encompassing.

You did not speak to anyone other than Uhtred and Gisela about your year as a bed slave and you were sure the rest of the group knew something, but they were not privy to the details. You wanted to keep it that way.

If Osferth knew how deep the rot festered, how ruined you had truly been, he would want nothing to do with you -you were sure of it. Your stomach clenched painfully once more and it was decided that if you did not take the chance, he would never look at you differently. Things would stay just as they were.

“Finan,” You shot him a warning look. “I’m sure you can find some other poor souls to play matchmaker on. Outside. And make sure the wagon is ready while you’re at it.”

“Alright, alright. I can take a hint.” He dodged a bowl that was aimed at his head as he ran from the tent with a laugh. Now that you had the tent to yourself and the sleeping monk, you sighed heavily and looked down at him resting peacefully. A few tears fell freely.

You will not be tainted by me, you thought.

The gray sky was moving above Osferth when he opened his eyes. His body rocked back and forth within the back of the wagon he had been safely placed in for transport to Saltwic.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Baby Monk.” Finan said with a laugh. Osferth smiled back at the Irishman before his eyes naturally found yours. Riding your horses to Finan’s left, Osferth’s right, it took everything to not give into the temptation to kick the Irishman off of his steed and into the bushes on his other side. Osferth’s smile softened into something that could be described as adoration the longer his gaze stayed on you. A pang twisted in your heart, but you returned the smile all the same.

Finan caught your eyes and he shot you a look that clearly said ‘You see? I am not wrong.’ Osferth’s eyes were questioning as Finan nudged his horse to move up to Uhtred at the front of the group to give you privacy.

“Pay the idiot no mind,” You reassured Osferth with a gentle smile. “Relax. We should arrive at Lady Aethelfled’s estate by nightfall. They’ll be able to fix you up better than I can.”

“Your efforts do not go unappreciated, my lady,” Osferth stared up at you, openly and without a care, as he spoke raspily. He noted that you looked exhausted. Your hair was loose from the twists and braids it was in previously to keep it tamed in battle. Your right eye was shadowed with the deep bruising of a black eye, a deep, painful looking cut marred the left side of your upper lip and small scratches and bruises littered your face, but you had never looked more beautiful to Osferth as you did in that moment.

He thought of how you fought your way to him and pulled him to safety when he was sure to die on that battlefield. The sheer strength of you in the heat of battle was truly a sight to behold. He knew then, as he lay in the back of that wagon, that he loved you.

It had to be love.

Even in the clutches of death, it felt like he was floating every time he looked upon you. A pagan woman who was so different from him, in life and in constitution, who was deemed his enemy in principle alone had enraptured him. You were not the heathen monster he had been taught about as he grew up within the monastery. You were a survivor in a cruel world that had only shown you pain and misery. Osferth knew that in your world -a world he was trying desperately to acclimate himself to- you persevered or you perished. You adapted to everything that had been thrown your way, and came out victorious at every turn.

You were everything Osferth wished he could be, what his own convictions would never allow him to truly be. He admired you, deeply and wholly. You were not a soft lady, wilting at the thought of impropriety -though that is what he was taught what a lady should be. Modest, God-fearing, dutiful, quiet were not descriptors that corresponded with you. Dutiful, maybe, but not in the sense of what standard Saxon women were held to.

Your hands were rough and calloused, Osferth noted when you held his hand in the tent, from a lifetime with a sword in your hands. If it was the last you were to touch him, he would have the feeling engraved in his memory. He could vividly remember how those very hands felt as his cheek was nestled in your palm to comfort him and it nearly took his breath away then. The feeling of your skin upon his felt as natural as breathing air into his lungs.

Osferth could feel the heat rising within his cheeks at the thought. He closed his eyes once more and let the rocking of the wagon lull him to sleep lest he make a complete fool out of himself.

“You care for him,” It was more of a statement than a question. The group had made its way into the safety of the estate in the cover of night. The healers immediately took Osferth to be worked on the moment the wagon wheels came to a halt. Now, as the first pink rays of the morning sun were just starting to peek over the horizon, he was asleep in a healing room with you watching over him dutifully.

Your legs stretched out before you as you teetered in your chair. Clean breeches rubbed against your skin. A much needed bath and a change of clothing could make a world of a difference. You threw a side-eye at Uhtred as he approached your side to look upon the sleeping monk.

“You’ve been conspiring with Finan?” A grin grew on Uhtred’s lips at your accusation.

“No,” He said simply with a chuckle. “Your affections are not subtle, my friend.”

“No…they are not.” You stated plainly, looking over at Osferth’s resting form. You knew he would be okay, but the stress within you still lingered unpleasantly.

His eyes were closed, face relaxed as he slept soundly. Lady Aethelfled’s healers had cleaned and stitched up Osferth’s wound, and gave him a tea that would allow him to sleep so he could rebuild his strength. His steady, deep breaths were a comfort.

Uhtred’s hand rested on your shoulder. He squeezed gently in reassurance.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of.” He said softly as to not disturb Osferth. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d open up, and with a monk no less, but you have my support. Always.” He grinned at you, but his lips quickly downturned when you looked anything but happy. Uhtred came around to kneel in front of you.

“I thank you for your blessing, Uhtred, but it does not matter.” You replied with a heavy sigh. “I cannot allow myself to sully him.” Your voice was soft, the emotion behind the words was nothing Uhtred had heard from you in many years of service you had given to him. “We could not be any more different.” You looked down at her hands clasped in her lap, thumb tracing the deep blue hues of the rune tattooed within your left palm. “I’m afraid my time in East Anglia has left me more damaged than I would like to admit. No man, even as good and kind as Osferth is, will want me once they learn of what has happened.” You shook your head and Uhtred felt his heart shatter within his chest. He took your hands in his and held tight. “His God would not allow him to see me as I see him, I’m sure of it.”

“Then you are blind.” Your brows furrowed as you picked up your head to look Uhtred in the eyes.

“I do not understand.” You shook your head, looking back to Osferth. Uhtred guided your head back in his direction with a gentle tilt from his finger under your chin.

“No man worth their weight would ever turn you away. What happened…was not your fault. My decisions led you to that fate, and there will never be a day that passes that I do not hate myself for it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. “You lived, you survived, and you came back from it. You cannot be faulted for surviving.” Uhtred squeezed your trembling hands. “I cannot tell you what he feels, but I see how he looks to you.”

“In fear,” you said, looking away from Uhtred. The shadow of self-doubt loomed heavily over you, shrouding you in darkness. That was how men looked at you, with nefarious eyes or with total fear. Osferth did not have a lecherous bone in his body, and the day he ever showed you blatant disrespect would be the very day he turned a sword onto himself.

“Perhaps,” Uhtred chuckled softly, though it wasn’t to taunt you. “or perhaps it is admiration. I had looked upon Gisela as he looks upon you now. I know it very well.” Your eyes met Uhtred’s. To bring up the late Gisela was painful for him, you knew that. Squeezing Uhtred’s hands in return, you let them go as he stood.

Uhtred could tell how uncomfortable you were with this whole conversation. Even before your enslavement, Uhtred knew you had taken the occasional lover. You never married, and had never taken a man steadily.

This was something else entirely.

“It is a fleeting thought that I will dwell upon no longer.” You picked up the bowl of water that was tinted pink from the bedside table and held it to your abdomen. Looking back at Uhtred as you reached the door, Uhtred looked back at you with a deep sadness in his eyes at the torment he could see flooding through you like an internal tidal wave.

She was self-destructing before the poor monk ever had the opportunity to fight for his own heart, he thought.

“I just wish him to recover.” You whispered, looking to Osferth once more before taking your leave.

“Osferth!” You shouted as the monk fell to the ground after he had thrown another off of a horse. You continued to cut down the surrounding Danes to make your way to the monk. “Get up!” You slayed any man that stepped before you with a ferocity that was unmatched. “Get up now, Osferth! You will stand or I will kill you myself! AH!” You kicked a Dane in the balls and shoved your sword through his neck as he hunched over.

“Osferth?” You called again, panting profusely, but the monk did not move from where he fell. The salt of your sweat burned your eyes with each drop that fell from your brows.

“Sihtric!” The man in question whipped his head around to find you. “Clear a path!” There weren’t many Danes left who hadn’t fled with their tails tucked between their legs, but there were still a good number that wished for the glory of Valhalla. Sihtric nodded, clearing any upright Danes as you unburied Osferth from the men who fell above him.

“He lives,” You breathed in relief as your eyes met his. “Get up,” You demanded.

“I cannot,” Osferth’s breaths were heavy and quick as he brought shaking hands to his bleeding abdomen. “My Lady.” The sight took the breath from your lungs, but it didn’t take long to jump into action.

“You must,” You grunted. Osferth shouted in pain as you pulled the larger man to his feet. He leaned heavily on you as you tried to keep him from toppling over. Osferth’s pale facade turned an ashen color from the blood loss and it made you move even quicker. Sihtric cut down anyone who saw you and the injured monk as open targets with little effort.

“I will get you to the healing tent, but you must first have the courage to live!” You grunted as you all but hefted the towering monk over your shoulder. His feet dragged through the mud and muck of the field as you put the last of your energy into getting him to safety.

Sihtric took Osferth’s other shoulder to assist in carrying the half dead man to the tent.

“Empty a cot! Now!” Your voice boomed, striking the woman inside into action.

“Here!” She instructed, allowing Sihtric and you to gently place Osferth onto the furs.

“I need cloth, bandages -anything to stem the bleeding. Quickly,” You instructed Sihtric. The woman who acted as a healer was already overwhelmed, bouncing between the various tents, and you could not afford any wasted time if Osferth was to live.

Shoving his modesty to the side, you started cutting anything off of him that obstructed your view of the wound. Fresh blood quickly coated your shaking hands as it flowed without intention of stopping.

“Find Uhtred. Quickly!” You instructed Sihtric as he dropped an arm full of supplies onto the cot between Osferth’s writhing legs. Sihtric flew out of the tent once more, screams of pain and anguish followed behind him, nipping at his heels.

Osferth fought against you as you pressed a bandage to the gaping wound that resided just under his ribs.

“I know this hurts, but I must stem the flow!” You gritted your teeth as you pressed your weight down on him to stop his thrashing.

Your eyes opened. Inhaling a deep breath through your nose, you groaned at the stiffness in your back from your second night sleeping on the chair next to Osferth’s bed. Fingers deftly rubbed the back of your neck to soothe the pain that lingered. The sky was dark, you noted. Night had fallen. Two candles were lit in the room, basking it in a soft, comfortable glow.

“My lady,” Osferth’s gentle voice startled you. Your head whipped to look at him. “Though I could never repay you for your kindness, you need not waste your time and energy on me. Please.”

“Stop.” You raised a hand to silence Osferth. “Need I remind you that I am no lady. My name will do just fine.” You groaned as you stood, the joints of your spine popping as you extended your arms up in a deep stretch.

“But you are, my Lady,” Osferth groaned as he shifted in the bed uncomfortably. You took a few steps over to help, but he held his hand out to stop you. “You have done enough for me. Please, get some rest. You needn’t worry about me any longer.”

“So it seems.” A moment of silence passed between the both of you before you cleared your throat. “You must be hungry. I will see if I can scrounge anything from the kitchens.” You fled before he had a chance to respond.

Uhtred had left to go on a solo mission. He was adamant that whatever he had to do, he had to do it alone. Though it pained you to not be at his side, as you had sworn you would, you stayed put within the confines of Saltwic.

Osferth had been using the idle time to regain his strength, but the rest of you were going stir-crazy. You did your best to keep your distance from Osferth, more for your own sanity than anything else. You noticed his longing glances, and if you noticed them, then so did Finan and Sihtric. After a nearly successful pillow smothering attempt on Finan’s life, the pair kept their mouths shut regarding any good-natured teasing they threw your way.

It was late into the night during the seventh day of Uhtred’s absence that you sat in the hall before the fireplace. Everyone had gone to bed, leaving you to listen to the rain pitter across the high ceiling as it came down in torrents outside. A cup of ale was clutched in your hands, you felt the warmth of it settle in your belly as you sat on the floor with your back rested against the bench of the table behind you. A quilt was wrapped around your shoulders snugly, bringing a comfort that you longed for. This was the only time you truly got the peace you craved to do absolutely nothing. You didn’t think, you didn’t feel -you just existed and it was a reset you so desperately craved.

“May I?” Osferth’s soft voice broke your silence. Looking up, his face gave away nothing. You nodded, expecting him to sit upon the bench, but he gently lowered himself to the floor beside you with a grunt. When he got situated, you offered your cup to him. He thought for a moment before taking it, the tips of his fingers just brushing against yours as he took it from you. Osferth gulped a mouthful before handing it back to you, nodding in thanks. You set the cup between you before looking back into the fire, pulling the quilt tighter around your shoulders -painfully aware of just how close he sat beside you.

No man, Dane or Saxon, made you feel the way he did with a single glance. When you initially met the shy monk, you did not give him a second glance. He was -is- a holy man, and your past experiences with holy men hadn’t been great up until that point. Beocca excluded.

When Osferth insisted on joining your little rag-tag group, you had scoffed. He would be someone you’d have to constantly babysit as he had no experience with a sword. Why would he? He had God to protect him, you remember thinking ruefully. He took all of the teasing words you all threw at him and let them roll off his back with a grin, and against your will he had grown on you. All of you.

Osferth, with his kindness and willingness to learn and adapt, had become an integral piece of Uhtred’s group of warriors. He had found his place in a world that had shunned him since his birth. As time went on, he had gravitated towards you and all you taught him of wielding a weapon and survival. The once lanky young man had begun to fill out as his own strength grew.

It was noticeable enough for you to give him a second glance when he decided to shyly she’d his robes for the night while you, Osferth, and Finan were camping mid-journey the summer previous. The plains of his abdomen were grooved with muscle definition that was only exacerbated by the shadows the flames of the fire between you casted upon him. A cough from Finan broke your gaze and you didn’t think you blinked for the rest of the night as your brain tried to comprehend just what you were feeling.

You may as well have strapped yourself to a catapult and pulled the lever yourself, for it would’ve felt just as insane as you currently felt.

A monk, you thought to yourself. He wasn’t much of a monk anymore at that point, and he was even less one now.

You brought the edge of the quilt up to over your cheeks, hoping he didn’t catch on to you going through a silent crisis in his presence.

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, my lady, I will take my leave and return your peace.” Osferth made to get up, but your quick hand stopped him before he made the effort to stand.

With just a single glance, it felt like you were bare before him.

“You do not make me uncomfortable, Osferth.” You decided to forego chastising him over calling you ‘my lady’ as it was a moot point. “Your presence is…comforting.” It was a half truth, not necessarily a lie. His presence was comforting, but your heart felt like it would beat straight through your chest.

“I am pleased to hear it.” He replied with a gentle grin as he looked down at you. He brought his right knee up so he could rest his forearms atop it comfortably.

You wondered what he was thinking in that moment. Did he come out of his room to see solace before the fire as you had? Did he hear you up and make the conscious decision to join you? His face gave away nothing as you looked at his profile as it glowed before the flames.

“May I ask you something, Osferth?” Your voice hasn’t reached above a faint whisper. The peace that settled between the both of you had calmed your heart of its reckless pounding, but you still craved just how intimate this felt.

“Anything, my lady.” His lips tilted at the corner facing you in an almost teasing fashion. You understood then that he continued to call you that because you got a rise out of it. He was teasing you.

“Do you fear me?” Your question hung in the air for a brief moment. Osferth, through his ever growing confidence, turned his head and locked his gentle eyes with yours. The glow of the fire before you illuminated both of your features, casting sharp shadows where the light of the flames did not touch.

“Would you think me weak if I said yes?” Osferth’s words were soft, as was his expression. You were the first to break contact, your eyes moving to the fire, then down to your hands, once more picking over the inked skin in your palm.

“No,” You breathed, looking back up to Osferth earnestly. “I have never thought you as weak, Osferth. Foolish in the beginning, perhaps, but never weak.” You licked your bottom lip in nervousness, your anxieties trying to take over. He chuckled breathily as he saw your foot shake anxiously. He let his leg fall flat next to your leg and tapped your shaking foot with his. You looked back to Osferth and he was already watching you.

It was strange for Osferth to see your stone facade crack. For the time he’d known you, up until very recently, you were unshakable. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what the glances you gave him meant. He knew why you were watching him in the battlefield that day, why you were there to pull him out. Why you had saved his life when he would have surely died otherwise. Osferth felt the bloom of affection swell in his chest. His longing wasn’t quite so…noticeable. Or so he thought. Finan and Uhtred’s hawk-like gazes caught every glance he threw in your direction, every proud look he graced you with. Osferth had eyes for you and only you, and you were too stuck in your own mind to see it.

You continued, “I do hope you understand that if there is ever a man to walk this realm without fear of me…it is you, Osferth.” You confessed. Osferth held his breath as he stared at you with his jaw dropped ever so slightly.

“Me?” He found the courage to speak. Emotions were swirling within him in a tsunami. The waves of possible rejection were receding, and hope surged forward in an unrelenting crash.

“Yes.” You took a moment to gather your thoughts as they fled your mind. “You are not like them, Osferth.” He knew the reference was to your companions and he couldn’t help but deflate just a little at your words. You still saw him as less than, he thought. The hope that had surged just moments prior had all but left as he thought on what you said.

Osferth was far from a true warrior, he’d admit, but he did his very best with each day to grow stronger, faster, and more cunning. Training alongside you, with your guidance, had pushed him to want to be the warrior that was worthy of just a glance from you, and he felt as if he had been stabbed through his heart to learn that it wasn’t enough.

“Though you try to be like them, I wish you wouldn’t.” Oh, he thought in confusion. You let a few more moments pass between you.

Osferth waited on baited breath for every word that left your lips. A sharp gasp left his lips as you brought a hand to his chest and pushed it against his heart gently. Oh, he realized. You could feel the beating of his heart increase instantly.

“There is something within you, Osferth. Something good -pure- that takes a hold of me in moments such as this.” Your voice cracked and Osferth saw tears line your kohl lined eyes as his hands came to cup over yours on his chest affectionately. “So close, yet just far enough that I cannot reach.”

“My Lady,” There wasn’t a teasing tilt of his lips as he said it.

“Do not, Osferth.” You begged, rolling your eyes up to stop the tears from falling. You tried to bring your hand back, but Osferth held true, not allowing you to retreat when you had given him a shred of a rope to grasp onto. His hands held yours to his chest with purpose, looking into your eyes as he spoke.

“It is there for you to take,” He offered humbly, eyes pleading with you to understand his words. He was yours, and would always be yours.

“You do not mean that.”

“I do,” He breathed your name “Before the eyes and ears of God, I speak only the truth. My heart is yours. It has been for some time.” You shook your head, turning away from Osferth and pulling your hand from him.

“A heart as pure as yours is deserving of more than I can give.” You reasoned.

“You do not know that.”

“I do.” You argued vehemently. “It is you who does not know whom you give your affects so freely to.” The quilt was wrapped around you once more as a form of protection.

“Do you hold affection for me?” Osferth boldly asked.

“You know I do. You wouldn’t be sitting here if you thought otherwise.”

“Then why do you not allow yourself to receive mine?”

“Because I have been tainted in ways you could never imagine.” Your voice rose. “While Uhtred was sold into slavery with a shipmaster, I was not so lucky.” Tears slipped from your eyes as you curled further into yourself.

“Is this why you flee from me? You are ashamed of something tragic that befell you? That was of no fault of your own?” Osferth’s gentle touch met your chin to tilt your head in his direction. A deep sadness flooded his eyes as your lip trembled. “Have you spoken to anyone about what happened to you?”

“Uhtred knows…but Lady Gisela was the only one to truly know what I went through.” Osferth’s heart cracked at the mention of Gisela. A truly kind woman who only treated those around her with respect unless given reason otherwise. She was sorely missed.

Osferth pulled you to him, slotting your cocooned body between his legs and held your back to his chest. You were careful of disturbing his still healing wound as Osferth’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and held you tightly to him.

Osferth nestled his chin on your shoulder boldly. His lips were so close to your ear that you felt the vibrations as he spoke.

“I will take all that you will afford me and I will want for nothing more, my Lady. You will never bear this burden alone, so long as I live. I promise you this.”

“You would damn your soul?”

“I would ask for forgiveness, should he require it of me. God is forgiving. He is just. He is understanding…” Osferth looked into your eyes. “He would not turn me from you when it is He who led me on a path to you.”

One of your hands snaked out of the quilt and nudged itself between Osferth’s just over your chest. His fingers immediately intertwined with yours and he bravely kissed the side of your head, just above your ear. It was short and quick, but you felt like you were ascending.

“You would tempt it? With your God?” You questioned, turning your head ever so slightly to look at him.

“I would.” He replied without hesitation. His eyes lowered to your lips and he leaned down to rest his forehead against the side of yours.

“I would not ask this if you.” You whispered, your lips a hair’s width from his.

“Then do not ask.” Osferth closed the space and let his lips meet yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and intimate. Your hand untangled from his and found purchase on the column of his neck. His skin was soft and warm against your fingertips. His hands mirrored yours, pulling you impossibly closer to him as he could while his lips continued to take all they could from you.

Osferth could not believe the soft mewls you breathed against his open mouth, nor could he believe that this was truly happening. He was ready for the rug to be pulled out from beneath his, for his eyes to open from the dream he had so many times before where he confessed to you and caressed you into the late hours of the night.

You were the first to break free. Resting your forehead against his, both of you panted as you braved yourselves. Neither of you loosened your hold on one another as you caught your breath. Osferth pulled back just far enough to press a kiss between your brows. He let his lips linger for a moment before guiding your head down to rest on his chest.

Opening the quilt, you wrapped it around his torso with you sandwiched between. Not a single word was shared the remainder of the night as you both lulled to sleep. Osferth’s hands found themselves either nestled between your own or skimming up and down your back in comforting motions. By the time he closed his eyes, you were already asleep and the fire was dying down.

“Found ‘em.” Finan alerted Sihtric in a whisper as he rounded the table in the hall. He stared down at you and Osferth cradled in each others arms. Both early risers, you’d somehow slept through most of the morning and hadn’t moved as much as an inch in the night. Sihtric raised a dark brow at the scene before him when he stood next to Finan.

“Should we wake them?” Sihtric asked, looking to Finan.

“Nah, let’s just leave ‘em be.” He smiled conspiratorially at Sihtrid, who slowly mirrored his look. “There’ll be plenty of time for teasin’ when they decide to wake their lazy arses up.”

#osferth imagine #Osferth x reader #Osferth #the last kingdom #the last kingdom imagine #tlk imagine #tlk one shot #the last kingdom one shot #x reader #soft fic #ewan mitchell

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

All Things End

Pairing: Osferth (The Last Kingdom) x f!reader Warnings: Angst, smut. Word count: ~2.7k

Summary: Based on this request. Life has been blissful for Osferth since finding love with a Christian woman from Alton. However, he cannot shake the thought that she deserves better; if he loves her, he should want her to be happy, even if that happiness is not found with him... Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @blvckmvgicwoman. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Her breaths come in ragged pants that fan hotly against the sweat soaked skin of Osferth’s neck. She is pliant beneath him, thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, mirroring the spasming grip of her warm, wet walls, pulling him towards his end as she reaches her own. The pressure that has steadily been building at the base of his spine explodes in white hot intensity, and he screws his eyes shut as he pushes back into her with a final, deep thrust, spilling himself inside of her.

Inside of her.

He freezes as the sensation fades away, eyes snapping back open in stark realisation. He pulls back, breathing heavily, panic not allowing his heart rate to slow.

“I–I did not mean to…I’m sorry. That was careless of me, please forgive me, I–”

She places a palm against his cheek, caressing his face gently, halting his rambled apologies. Her expression is calm, though her eyes are glossy, lips parted as the afterglow of their tryst suffuses through her flesh.

“It is fine, my love, we will take care of it.”

He knows all too well what she means when she says that. She will take care of it. It would not be the first time that she has had to.

It has been a year since they shared their first night together, and they have enjoyed many more since then, under the cover of stars, or on the straw stuffed mattresses of the various ale reeking inns that they find themselves in when they have enough coin to seek proper shelter on their travels. Osferth is usually always careful, pulling out and coating her thighs, lower back or belly with his spend. However, there have been two occasions when he has gotten lost in her warmth, the intoxicating scent of her, and forgotten himself, finishing inside of her as he ascends to the height of bliss, before the gravity of his carelessness plummets him back to earth with horrifying cognizance. Tonight is the third time that this has happened.

His expression is sullen as he sits by the campfire the following morning, watching her brew the pungent roots and herbs in a steaming pot of water. The acrid stench makes his nostrils twitch in disgust, but he refuses to move or look away. She is the one that has to drink the noxious liquid, suffering the smell of it pales in comparison, and does little to assuage the guilt that weighs heavily upon his chest.

She grimaces as she gulps it down, brow furrowed as she struggles not to retch at the taste, and he swears silently to himself that this is a torment that he will never allow her to suffer again. She deserves better, he must be better for her.

The frightened young woman he had met in Alton has come a long way since he had rescued her. She is no longer shy and fearful and, though still steadfast in her faith, she shares herself with him freely and without shame. She drinks ale, laughs heartily at Finan’s dirty jokes and no longer displays any apprehension at interacting with Uhtred and the others. His heart swells with warmth and affection for the woman he has fallen in love with, she is truly the light of his life. Though in moments such as these he is left to ponder on how exactly he has changed hers, and if it is for the better.

He has basked in her warmth on chilly evenings, enjoyed the sinful pleasures of her flesh, found comfort and joy in the unconditional love that she showers him with, but what can he possibly offer her in return?

Osferth is her protector, but would she need that protection at all if she were not travelling with Uhtred and his men? He is the blade against the harm that he directly places her in the way of every time they prepare for battle. They have no home, no money, nothing but what they carry upon their horses. He loves her more than he ever thought himself capable of loving another person, but love alone will not provide for her.

The thoughts consume him as they ride south, towards the next village, and he clings tightly to her as she leans back against him in the saddle, as though he can feel the very essence of her slipping through his fingers. A man less selfish would simply let her go, but he cannot fathom a life without her. Deep down, despite trying his best, he knows he will never get it right.

Beocca and Æthelwold are awaiting them when they arrive, and she leaves him with a cheerful smile and a soft kiss on the lips, explaining that she wishes to explore, a polite means to excuse herself from the discussion that she knows does not concern her. He is ever grateful for her intuitive nature, but once more left disheartened that she is placed in that position to begin with.

He is barely able to focus as Beocca relays Alfred’s demands to Uhtred. There is a dawning sense of finality settling in the pit of his stomach, causing cold tendrils of dread to spread throughout his body, and it does not come from the news of the King’s order of one hundred pieces of wergild and an oath sworn to his son, Edward. There is a price he knows he will have to pay sooner rather than later, and it will come at a greater cost to him than any fealty sworn to a future ruler.

Osferth watches as she laughs breathlessly, the sound carrying softly on the breeze. The children scurry around her skirts, rosy faced and grinning, eager to play. She had obliged and agreed to join in on their game of chase when they had invited her, excited at having new people arrive in the village. Her playing with them feels effortless, natural even, and he thinks about how easily she would adapt to motherhood, to have a babe of her own to hold in her arms. It causes a lump in his throat, his gaze growing misty as his mouth tugs downward, knowing that’s something he will never be able to give her.

He is a bastard. He will not pass that curse on by marriage or parentage, that will die with him.

But what of her wants and needs? He is depriving her of the opportunity to be a wife, a mother. He can no longer subject her to a life of vagrancy and uncertainty, simply because of his heedless desire to have her at his side. She did not ask for this, it has been thrust upon her without her say so. Her life cannot truly begin until the one she leads with him comes to an end. With a heavy heart, he decides that when they reach the next town he will travel on without her.

The village they currently occupy seems too small, too dirty, not vibrant enough for her to call home, he reasons, she deserves to live somewhere bigger and as filled with exuberant life as she is. He knows he is lying to himself, he is simply unprepared to let her go, he is not ready. He is not sure he ever will be, but he will have to be for both of their sakes.

Over the coming days, he keeps her close, committing to memory the softness of her hair between his fingers and the way the sunlight dapples upon it like fresh spun silk. He inhales the fragrant scent of her skin every time he holds her close, as though trying to permanently imprint the faint floral smell upon his mind.

The way her eyes light up whenever she smiles is the sight he will miss most of all. He wishes for that to be the only expression he ever sees upon her beautiful face. He cannot bear the thought of parting ways and seeing the heartbreak in her eyes, or the tears that might fill them. It is craven, but he knows the only way he will ever be able to leave her is if he slips away without telling her.

His heart sits like a stone within his chest when they eventually arrive at the next town. He knows that when he departs it will no longer be in tact, torn asunder as he leaves half of it behind. He can see his future darkening as he looks into her eyes, knowing it may be the final time he ever gets the opportunity to do so.

Osferth makes love to her that night, his pace unhurried, every thrust drawn out slowly, memorising the subtle movements of her hips and each soft sigh that passes her lips. His hands stroke through her hair, caressing her face, before dragging over her curves. If this is to be his final time with her then he wants it to last, wants her to feel just how much she means to him, and to be left with the memory of how utterly divine she had felt pressed against him.

“I love you,” he whispers to her, as she cuddles against his chest afterwards.

“And I love you.”

Those simple words cause his throat to tighten, knowing he will never hear her utter them again.

It is for the best, he thinks sadly as he watches her sleep peacefully next to him. She deserves the opportunity to settle down, to get married, to have a family. She deserves everything he will never be able to give her.

He slips out of the bed as dawn breaks, casting a dusky orange glow through the gap in the threadbare curtains. The loss of her warmth is intensified by the knowledge that this is his final time experiencing it, the sensation of parting from her akin to being plunged into icy water. He has to force himself to look away from her in order to gather up his clothes and get dressed, careful not to disturb her.

Hovering by the door, he hesitates a moment, staring at her as she slumbers. If this is the right thing to do, then why does it feel so painful? His love for her is unconditional, however, and he longs for her to find happiness, even if that means he is not a part of it.

He hates the thought of her waking up alone, the inevitable betrayal she will feel when she realises what he has done, and it tempts him to stay, to continue to pretend that he could ever be enough for her. But he knows those feelings will pass for her, and when they do she will meet the man who will marry her and father children with her, a man who does not carry the curse of bastardry.

“There is a woman in the room upstairs,” he tells the innkeeper on his way out, handing him a coin purse containing all of the money that Osferth has to his name. “Please ensure she is well taken care of.”

His hands shake as he saddles up his horse, the void she has left behind seeming as though it will swallow him whole. He is incomplete without her, destined to go through life feeling like half of a person.

Finan raises an eyebrow at Osferth, as he tends to his own mount, eyeing him with suspicion. “She not coming with us?”

Osferth swallows thickly, an attempt to keep the emotion from his voice, as he keeps his eyes focused on the straps he buckles. “No.”

“Yes, I am!” She cries out, hurrying towards them, a bewildered look upon her face. Her hair is still tousled from sleep, suggesting she had dressed in a hurry to catch them up. “Osferth, why did you not wake me?”

His heart sinks, tears prickling his eyes as he turns to look at her, knowing he will now have to have the conversation he had been wanting to avoid all along. Finan clears his throat, looking between the two of them, before moving away towards where Uhtred and Sihtric are readying to leave.

“You are to stay here,” he says in a trembling voice, “I have left coin with the innkeeper to take care of you.”

“For how long?” She asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

He lowers his gaze, guilt pooling in his gut, unsure of how to word his response. There is no kind way to say “forever” in this instance.

“For how long, Osferth?!” She asks again, her voice wavering as it raises an octave.

His eyes are sad and filled with remorse as he looks back up at her, nausea swirling in his stomach as he watches a tear slip down her cheek. His fingers twitch uselessly by his sides with the urge to wipe it away.

“Do you not want me anymore?” 

Her voice is barely above a whisper as she asks this, and it feels as though a dagger has been twisted into Osferth’s heart. How could she possibly ever believe he didn’t want her? She means everything to him.

He shakes his head, the words feeling as though they will choke him as his vision blurs. “I will never stop wanting you,” he confesses, “but that is precisely the problem. You deserve better than the life I can provide for you. I will never be able to give you children, or marry you. I am trying to do what is best for you. I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy, you bloody fool!” She cries, the slightest hint of anger creeping into her tone. “And it is not for you to decide what is best for me. Why did you not tell me that this was how you were feeling?”

“I could not bear to have a conversation that I knew would break both of our hearts. I know that is cowardice, but I knew you would never agree to leave, and I cannot continue to hold you back from the life you deserve.”

He stares miserably at her, feeling the wetness of his tears upon his face as she swipes angrily at her own. This is not how this was supposed to go. He does not want this to be how they remember each other.

“You are right,” she says defiantly, “I would not have agreed to go. If a husband and children were what I wanted then I would have parted ways with you long ago. I am not the scared little girl you found a year ago. I make my own choices.” 

His lips part involuntarily, eyes widening slightly. “How can this possibly be the life that you would choose for yourself? How could I ever be enough?”

She sighs, reaching for his hand, clasping his fingers tightly in his. The gesture spreads warmth from the tips of his toes all the way to the top of his head.

“I love you, Osferth. You are enough for me. The life we have is enough for me. I do not wish to risk my life in childbirth, or spend my days tending to the needs of a husband who views me as something to be possessed. I want a life that is filled with adventure, I want to fall asleep under the stars, and I want to do it all with you at my side.”

A small, yet hopeful smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he steps closer, tenderly wiping away the wetness beneath her eyes with his thumb. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “God brought us together for a reason. All things must end, I know this, but not what we have, just the foolish way in which you perceive it.”

He rests his forehead against hers, relief and embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “I have been so stupid, can you ever forgive me? I do not know how to even begin to apologise.”

She leans in, pressing her lips to his, allowing them to linger for a moment before pulling away with a slight grin. “Save your apologies. You will need them for the innkeeper when you ask for your money back.”

He smiles. There is comfort in knowing that everything ends, because within it they have been given the opportunity to begin again.

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