#Aethelred x Aethelflaed

[mirdaniaa]

[kingslionheart]

alfred x uhtred + alfred's poorly hidden jealousy

[lord-aldhelm]

Aldhelm, Aethelred and Aethelflaed | The Last Kingdom 3.07 (Part 2)

Aethelred: Where is your daughter, the half-Dane? Aethelflaed: Your daughter is not half-Dane. Aethelred: She looks like a Dane. Aldhelm snickers. Aethelred: Do we amuse you, Aldhelm? Aldhelm: I was briefly thinking, lord, that you, too, look like a Dane.

[justasightseer]

I love this so much 😭. It's a bit spicy though, so be warned.

[lanastromborn]

RHAELLA TARGARYEN

[emilyhufflepufftlk]

Dear John by Taylor Swift

@morosemagick @solinarimoon @magravenwrites @lauwrite1225 @93xdiagonxalley @trenko-heart @anotherwinchesterfangirl @muddleofnervouswords @medievalfangirl @persephones-journey @aadmelioraa @aelflaeds

[wheres-mylove]

damsel in distress | sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

Summary: Sihtric arrives in Winchester for Aethelflaed’s wedding, and finds a princess for himself by the way - the bride’s younger sister with a feisty temper and an overpowering desire to break Aethelred's nose. But there’s a little more to the story than just that.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 2.9k

The young warrior stared at the ground, not daring to look his lord in the eye. He had warned him. Everyone had.

“She's gone?” Uhtred asked, trying out a sympathetic tone, realizing it was not the time to mock his friend's misplaced feelings.

“Yes, my lord,” Sihtric confirmed quietly. “The silver too, before you question me about it. Gone with her.”

“No woman, no silver,” Uhtred summarized and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just so we're clear, I would have agreed to the marriage. Suffer if you're foolish. But not for too long. You need to find someone decent.”

“We would have named our first son Uhtred, lord,” he said, absentmindedly staring ahead.

“No, you would not,” the older warrior replied, visibly grimacing.

“It doesn't matter now,” Sihtric muttered, earning a comforting pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile from Uhtred.

“Find Finan, we'll meet in the main square.”

Sihtric Kjartansson walked gloomily ahead, pondering why he had such bad luck in life. He took out his anger on a few pebbles scattered on the dusty road. The gods were not too kind when it came to sending him a woman who...

“Sorry, sorry!” He heard a girl's voice behind him and several other irritated grunts or a hushed 'Watch out.' He turned his head slightly and it was a miracle he avoided colliding with a cloaked figure in a visible hurry.

“If you'll excuse me, lord,” the girl quickly spoke, not even bothering to give him a passing glance, squeezing past him and running into a narrow passage between a stable and a nearby dwelling.

Sihtric furrowed his brow and observed the stranger leaning against the wall, anxiously looking towards the main street. With her slightly tilted hood, he was certain she was a young woman, clearly running away from something or someone.

What was he if not a hero?

“My lady,” he began, but faltered at the sight of her angry gaze.

“Are you crazy? Go away,” she snapped, waving her hand at him dismissively. The hood fell back, revealing the girl's face in all its glory.

Sihtric didn't know what to do. The lady was beautiful. But also pissed off.

“God, you idiot,” the girl said with a heavy sigh. Then she grabbed his arm forcefully, pulling him into a dark alley with her and positioning him with his back to the street.

Sihtric still didn't quite understand what was happening. Being pushed around by a mad gorgeous woman was not part of his plans for today. He didn't have any plans at all since the last one ran off with the remnants of his wealth.

“If someone is hiding, they have a reason for it and don't want someone standing in front of them, announcing it to the world,” she scolded him like a disobedient child, and Sihtric felt himself blushing.

“Right. Makes sense. I apologize, my lady,” he stammered, not taking his eyes off her.

She was even more beautiful up close.

“Discreetly look behind you and see if a monk is coming this way,” she instructed him gravely, to which he gave her a half-surprised, half-amused look.

“A monk is leading the chase?”

“Yes, you see, I'm a witch, and I was about to be burned at the stake this afternoon.”

Sihtric chuckled softly, but he complied with her request. He thought the girl was joking, but indeed, a monk was heading their way. Slightly bewildered but definitely annoyed, he was looking around vigilantly.

“Are you really a witch?” Sihtric suddenly asked with a hint of uncertainty.

“I sacrifice boys like you,” she replied without a trace of a smile, but mischievous sparks danced in her eyes. He smirked. “But seriously, you might come in handy. The holy man won't sniff around here for long. Let’s make him look away.”

She threw her arms around his neck, and without hesitation, Sihtric placed his hands on her hips.

Only after a few heartbeats did the absurdity of the situation dawn on him. He stood very close in a dark alley with a girl whose name he didn't know, protecting her from the wrath of a monk.

“But honestly, what about your troubles?” he asked gently.

“Brother Ceolwulf sometimes gives me calligraphy lessons. My father says I scribble rather terribly. I ran away to avoid that pleasure. And apparently, Lord Aethelred is due to arrive soon,” she almost spat the name as if it left a foul taste. “Maybe I'll go see that prick. Quite a commotion over a simple farce.”

“You don't fancy lords from Mercia and royal weddings, my lady?”

The girl didn't answer; instead, she scrutinized Sihtric intently. He felt a wave of embarrassment under the piercing gaze of her sharp eyes.

“And what business does a Dane have here?” she asked after a while, smiling slightly at the sight of his blush. Brother Ceolwulf flashed behind Sihtric, so she tightened her grip and rested her head on his chest. The warrior held his breath. A stream of muffled words reached him. “No, no, you can talk; that rascal is just behind you. You could also use a bath, you know? Great, he went searching on the other side. You could also tell me your name, for the sake of appearances and decency.”

“I'm Sihtric, lady,” he said with a laugh, which (Y/N) not only heard but also felt. “Together with my lord Uhtred, we arrived…”

“Uhtred?” the girl interrupted, raising her head with surprise. “You serve Uhtred?”

“Do you know him?” Sihtric tilted his head, intrigued.

“Oh, I'm in trouble,” she said barely audible, more to herself than to him. “I have to go. I apologize for the assault.”

She took a few steps back before Sihtric panicked. He didn't know her name. He didn't know where to find her. And he definitely wanted to see her again.

“What's your name, lady?” he called after her, but she had already blended into the crowd heading to the main square. He wasn't sure if she had gone to greet Aethelred. Even if she had, he wouldn't find her in that mass.

Brother Ceolwulf came to the same conclusion. The reprimand for the princess of Wessex would have to wait.

The delicate fabric of her blue dress fluttered with each touch of the wind as she gracefully crossed the courtyard. They strolled towards the main hall.

“I only have two options: jump out the window or become a nun,” Princess (Y/N) announced in a calm manner.

“Only jump out the window, my dear,” Father Beocca specified. “Nuns would chase you with crosses and torches in their hands.”

(Y/N) looked at the priest. He had an amused expression. And a soft spot for the princess. According to Alfred's commands, he shouldn't tolerate certain behaviors and opinions. But how dull it would be if he asked her to stifle her carefreeness and restrain her sharp tongue.

“I was just praying a moment ago.”

“Yes, with the intention of our heavenly father making your sister run away from the altar.”

Aethelflaed didn't run away from the altar. She paid no mind to her sister's efforts, who, with sheer willpower, tried to steer her away from it. (Y/N) saw that the bride was enchanted by her groom, and she wanted nothing but all the happiness this world could fit for her. But something in the back of her mind warned her about Aethelred. An unbearable premonition. She blinked a few times, telling herself that she simply didn't consider any man worthy of her dearest sister's hand.

She scanned the gathered guests with her gaze. At the back of the hall, she spotted Uhtred. She nodded at him slightly. He raised an eyebrow with a smile. They had last seen each other when she was a little girl and kicked him in the leg. She wondered if he still limps.

And then she noticed Sihtric.

The warrior paled the moment he saw her standing side by side with the king.

His stranger. The king's daughter. The princess.

Only he could have such damn luck.

“It's her. The girl I told you about. It's her!” He nudged Finan's arm, to which the latter chuckled.

“Sure. Your whole story sounds shady already. Don't involve noble families in it.”

“I'm telling the truth!”

“I believe ya. Yesterday, for example, when little ol’ me was drinking beer with king Alfred…”

Sihtric sighed, but he didn't try to convince his friend anymore. He didn't register the entrance of the bride or a word spoken during the ceremony, and especially not Finan's mocking. His eyes were fixed on the princess in the blue gown. He held his breath when she finally looked at him. She smiled faintly but immediately averted her gaze, with a violent blush on her cheeks.

Sihtric Kjartansson felt his heart beat stronger.

Uhtred embraced the princess with laughter, still wondering how she had transformed so quickly from a snotty child into a breathtaking woman.

Sihtric paid special attention to that breathtaking part, as he was having trouble with that.

“The older you get, the uglier you become. Good to see you, Uhtred,” she greeted him politely. The man snorted and gestured towards his companions.

“Princess (Y/N), these are my friends…”

“Sihtric,” she greeted, bowing her head. He smiled widely, and Finan's jaw dropped, before he realized he should probably bow too. The idiot wasn't lying. Unbelievable.

“Do you know each other?” Uhtred furrowed his brow, looking at the young Dane, then at the princess. “Is there something I don't know?”

“Yes, we've been secret lovers for the past year,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Sihtric's face took on various shades of red, much to Finan's delight.

“You haven't changed at all,” Uhtred commented with a wave of his hand.

“I would be more at ease if this reception wasn't so dull,” she said, wistfully glancing at the cup in Uhtred's hand. “Is he watching?”

Uhtred glanced at the king and nodded. (Y/N) groaned.

“So, after Edward, it's your turn?” Uhtred inquired, earning himself a murderous glance from the princess.

“He'll probably be a twat or at least hundred years old,” she grumbled in disappointment. “Beocca presented me with a list of potential candidates. About each one, he says they are pious, as if I were looking for a personal priest and not a husband. Why can't he say that one of them is kind? Wise? Or handsome.”

She shifted her gaze to Sihtric and smiled mischieviously.

“We only hope to be invited to your wedding, Princess,” Finan laughed, observing his friend's bashful demeanor. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he'll be no older than ninety-nine.”

“That's kind of you. By the way, Sihtric, did you take that bath-”

“Princess!” Father Beocca called out as he passed by. “Maybe nunnery isn't the worst idea.”

Humorous remarks and a grin froze on her lips when (Y/N) looked into her sister's eyes. The food tray nearly slipped from her hands.

Aethelflaed didn't have to say anything. She didn't have to scream or complain about her misfortune. (Y/N) understood everything from that one look and felt the unpleasant sting of tears.

“I will kill him,” she declared forcefully, slamming the tray onto the wooden table with a loud bang. “I will kill that arse.”

“(Y/N), please...” Aethelflaed whispered. “It won't do any good. And I am capable of handling it myself.”

“You shouldn't even say that,” her sister protested, getting closer and gently placing her hands on Aethelflaed's cheeks. They were wet. “It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright.”

She planted a kiss on the top of her head and headed towards the door.

“Don't tell anyone, (Y/N). Especially not father,” she begged, getting up.

“I'll only speak to those who already know,” (Y/N) replied, barely containing her anger towards Aethelflaed's pathetic husband. “You're the Princess of Wessex, for God's sake. You're his woman, and he shouldn't treat you like this. He won't have a cock if he lays a hand on you again, trust me.”

“You'll get into trouble, (Y/N),” Aethelflaed warned, shaking her head nervously. “He can hurt you as well-”

The princess didn't listen, for she had already left the chamber. Blind rage consumed her, but so did a sadness so great that it was even more dangerous than her anger. She knew there was something wrong with him. She shouldn't have allowed this marriage to happen.

She should have protected her sister.

Aethelred appeared just in time. He strode down the corridor, his posture straight, absentmindedly trailing his hand along one of the tapestries.

“Lord Aethelred,” she snarled, making no effort to be polite. “I was hoping to have a word with you.”

The man turned slowly, bestowing upon her the sweetest and most deceitful smile.

“Little princess.”

(Y/N) tried to calm herself, but she wasn't making much progress.

“Let's get to the point,” she hissed, finally getting Aethelred to reveal his true face from behind the mask he wore daily at the royal court. “I saw my sister and the state she's in. I will not tolerate such insolence or cruelty. Who do you think you are? Hurt her again and I...”

That pile of shit started laughing.

“Terrifying is the barking of an angry bitch.” He took a few lazy steps in her direction. “I almost pissed myself in fear.”

“And you should, because I promise that...”

Aethelred rushed forward, pressing her against the wall with a hand around her throat.

“Well, what? What will you do? Maybe you'll switch places with her to spice up this tedious life of mine a little bit."

Sihtric wandered through the palace, looking for lord Uhtred his excuse, but in reality he hoped for an encounter with the princess. They were about to head out from Winchester soon. Leaving without saying goodbye was not something he wanted.

He found them just in time as (Y/N) pushed Aethelred back with all her might and punched him in the face. They all heard the unmistakable crunching sound.

Lord of Mercia was trying to regain his balance, clinging to his bloody face in shock.

“You whore,” he snapped, but Sihtric was already nearby, placing his hand warningly on the axe.

“Hope I misheard something,” he said to Aethelred, voice dripping with venom, and then looked at the princess. “Are you alright?”

“She broke my nose, of course she’s fine,” the man snorted, trying to stop the flow of blood. “You will answer for it. Just wait. And your heathen friends won’t rush to your rescue, I assure you.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, holding on to the fist that struck Aethelred. She watched him leave with an absent look in her eyes, and then as if she finally registered Sihtric's presence.

If he had come a few moments earlier, he'd surely fling himself at that arsehole in her defense. But it turns out she was perfectly able to fight back. Sihtric felt a sudden surge of admiration and respect for the princess in a beautifully embroidered dress, who did not hesitate to throw a punch.

“Are you sure he didn’t do anything to you? Shall I go after him?” he asked, but instead of answering, (Y/N) slid slowly down the wall. Sihtric crouched beside her, worried as never before. He gently held the injured hand. He raised her bruised knuckles to his lips, but left only the ghost of touch on them. “Princess?”

“He hurt her,” (Y/N) sobbed helplessly. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but she had a feeling Sihtric would know how to keep a secret. “He hurt her and he will hurt her again, and there’s nothing I can do. He will hide behind his title, behind his lands, wealth and nobility. He was right. I can't do anything."

She was shaken by a wave of tears, and Sihtric instinctively embraced her with one arm and supported the back of her head with the other. She cried there on the cold floor, in the arms of a warrior who couldn't stand the sight.

He knew what was going on. And his heart ached at the thought.

“You were very brave,” he whispered, letting her lean on his chest. “Others would look away. You confronted him. You are a brave, brave girl.”

He kept saying it like a mantra, holding her in his arms until the crying subsided. He wiped the tears from her face with the thumb of his hand when she finally lifted her head.

“I won’t run away from that either,” she whispered in a faint voice. Sihtric raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture. “I can laugh about it and put it off, but I’m just a woman with a cursed title before my name. They'll hand me over to a man I won't choose. And he will have the right to violence as soon as we tie the knot.”

Sihtric shook his head. This fate wasn’t meant for her. There was strength and courage in this lady’s heart that demanded freedom. And demanded love, the wild and untamed kind. 

“It can not be like that. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t have much power in this matter, Sihtric. You don’t make the rules.”

“Let me decide for myself.”

He looked into the eyes of the princess and knew that the battle he would have to face was beyond his means. The only witnesses to this promise were the faces on the ancient tapestries. Men's faces behind unbreakable laws, traditions and customs.

But Sihtric Kjartansson was a warrior. And if there’s one thing that warriors can do, they can fight.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Caged bird

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: I felt so sorry for the load of angst I dumped on you this week. Have this little treat as a compensation.

Warnings: SMUT 18+

Summary: It had been only a week since the handsome Dane, strength and danger emanating from his every pore, had evaded your secluded life, turning it upside down in the blink of an eye. 

Word Count: 2,3 K

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you felt two strong arms encircle your waist, swiftly pulling you into one of the nearby empty rooms. Your arms were laden with fresh beddings as you were swept away. 

A hand promptly covered your mouth, muffling any sound, while searingly hot breath caressed your neck, followed by hungry lips that sent shivers coursing up and down your spine,  as you struggled to catch your breath. Words were unnecessary; you would always recognise those lips, the rough yet tender touch of those hands, and the heat of that familiar breath against your skin.

You let go of the bundle of linens, allowing them to scatter across the floor, disregarding them entirely. Your fingers found solace in the soft, thick strands of hair, urging the eager mouth closer as you arched your back against the sturdy wooden door.

"This is madness, Sihtric," you murmured softly, barely audible, as the hand that had covered your mouth now ventured downward, caressing your breasts through the fabric of your dress. Hot lips followed, leaving a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your shoulder and back down to the curve of your cleavage.

"We can't... I can't... Oh, God, Sihtric," your protest dissolved into a gasp as an eager hand boldly gathered the fabric of your skirt, slipped beneath it and delved behind the hem of your undergarment, reaching your core.

"Don't deny me," a throaty whisper, laden with longing, brushed against your ear, eliciting a soft whine from your lips, as your legs spread on their own, without waiting any conscious command from you, the heat in your belly hitting you with the force of a thunderstorm. "I know you crave me as much as I crave you."

Thick fingers parted your folds, ravenously ravaging your dripping cunt. As much as you tried, you were unable to suppress the lewd moan, clawing through you as Sihtric pushed one finger inside you. 

"God, forgive me," you panted breathlessly, your fingers entwining in Sihtric's hair, pulling firmly, as you shamelessly rolled your hips into his hand. "More... I need you. Please, give me more," you pleaded into Sihtric's ear. With a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, he obliged, adding another digit and starting to pump them in and out of your tightness, his thumb brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves..

“Such a needy little girl. Missed me so much,” Sihtric’s breath was picking up, a low groan reverberating in his throat, as you clenched around his fingers. “Let it go, my little bird. My sweet, beautiful girl. Give it to me. I want to see you flying again, I want to hear you calling my name.” 

And you did as you were told, not that you had any choice, you were already crumbling, falling apart, your eyes rolling back in your head, his power over you beyond your comprehension, as you had never felt anything like this before. Breath catching, you dug your fingers into the thick leather covering Sihtric’s shoulders, whimpering his name between panting breaths.

It had been only a week since the handsome Dane, strength and danger emanating from his every pore, had evaded your secluded life, turning it upside down in the blink of an eye. 

The looming threat of war hung heavy in the air. A large army of Danes was gathering at the borders of Mercia. The word had been spread that Lady Aethelflaed was rallying forces to defend the kingdom from the impending Danish invasion. The prospects appeared grim, with Lord Aethelred and his household troops delayed in East Anglia. Your husband, wary of sending his men to certain death, as he repeatedly voiced, preferred to await the outcome from the shadows. 

The choice was taken from him one rainy day with Lady Aethelflaed at his doorsteps, demanding lodging for herself and her war council, the scarce army setting up a camp in the nearby field.

As the lady of the house, you stood in the yard, welcoming esteemed guests and trying to offset your husband's stern demeanour with a warm smile. You courtseyed Lady Aethelflaed and greeted Lord Aldhelm, and Lord Uhtred, as introduced by the Lady. Your attention then shifted to the three other men dismounting their horses, and it was then that you saw him for the first time.

Tall, athletic, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, he stood in stark contrast to your husband and any other man you had encountered, not that you had encountered many.  

You couldn't help but stare at him, feeling a blush creeping onto your cheeks and a slight shiver down your spine, as your eyes scanned his handsome sharply defined face with a strong jawline, involuntary stopping at his crazy haircut - dark curls cascaded to his right eye, while the other side of the head was shaved with beads and pearls woven into the hairline. 

He casually handed the reins to a stable boy and joined his companions, his hearty laughter momentarily distracting you from the solemn reason for their presence in your husband’s estate.

Sihtric’s lips crushed against your parted ones, eagerly swallowing your moans and whines, his kiss searingly hot, as he kept fucking you with his fingers through your high. 

"We must stop this, Sihtric. It's not right. It's a sin," you whimpered, your chest rising and falling heavily. Yet your hands spoke a different language, clutching onto him, drawing him nearer, a soft whine escaping your lips as Sihtric withdrew his fingers.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Say you are happy in your gilded cage, that you don’t love me, don’t desire me, and I'll disappear from your life forever," Sihtric's forehead pressed against yours, his hands on your waist. Was he holding his breath?

Your teeth grazed your lower lip as you reached out, tracing your fingers along the scars on his face. How could you deny what was so obvious?

"I love you," you breathed, drawing him into another kiss, allowing the fervour of his eager lips to carry you away from this place, from the mundanity of your existence, into another world where you were free to choose your own path, where you were free to love and be loved, if only for this fleeting moment of happiness.

“I want you to be mine,” Sihtric groaned against your mouth, “I want you to come with me, to leave this place and that old coot you call your husband. I’ll provide for you, care for you,  worship the ground you walk on.” His covetous hands roamed your body, words flowing from his lips like a sweet wine, dizzying and inebriating. 

He lifted you effortlessly in his strong arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the table at the back of the room and settled you onto it, hastily pulling your undergarment down your legs.

"The mere thought of him touching you, makes my blood run cold," he hissed, positioning himself between your thighs. "You are mine. Do you hear me? Mine to claim, mine to cherish, mine to love. I need you like I need air to breathe. You cannot deny me."

You licked your lips as you watched him freeing his hard cock from his breeches, giving it a few strokes and aligning himself with your entrance.

“Come to me, claim me,” you purred, your eyes half lid as you reached out for him.

The force with which Sihtric sinked into you made you whine out loud, your nails digging into his shoulders for support. With a throaty moan he sheathed himself to the very end of his shaft, his lips on your neck, arm around your waist to hold you in place, and started thrusting into you with a maddening pace. 

“Say it again,” he demanded, voice low and hoarse, his hips moving against yours, forcing himself deeper and deeper with each thrust, “I need to hear it.”

“I love you,“ you whimpered between your panting breaths.

“Say that you are mine.”

"I'm yours," you mewled, clinging to him as if your life depended on it. Lost in the throes of pleasure, you would have said anything he desired without a second thought. Yet, it was not a lie, in this fleeting moment you were indeed his, wholly and willingly.

You were but a girl, tightly gripping your mother's hand, your curious gaze fixed upon the stranger seated at the table with your father.  You had no idea that this was the moment your future was decided, sealed with a simple handshake.

Your father had meant well, eager to secure a husband and livelihood for his youngest daughter. Grateful, as a dutiful daughter ought to be, you accepted his decision. Five years later, just after your first bleeding, you found yourself murmuring prayers outside the church, pondering what your husband might be like.

The slight silver glinting in his hair and the wrinkles etched around his eyes went unnoticed by you as you placed your hand in his, obediently casting your eyes downward—a dutiful daughter transforming into a dutiful wife.

Apart from the vows exchanged at the altar, he hadn't truly spoken to you; instead, he observed you with the detached gaze of a horse trader appraising a fine mare. It was only later in the night as your new wed husband grunted in your ear, slapping his hips at your bare ass from behind, that you wondered whether this was how love was supposed to feel. 

He wasn't cruel, nor was he kind. He simply possessed you. Your life flowed on like a tranquil river—no hidden currents, no waterfalls, not even the playful splash of waves against a rocky shore. There was no affection, only indifference and emptiness. But you had nothing to compare to, you couldn’t even tell why those hot tears trailed down your cheeks in the evenings as you curled up in your bed, watching your husband tug himself back in his breeches and depart without a backward glance. 

"I'm yours. I'll always be yours," the words flowed effortlessly from your lips, not daring to think, not daring to tear your eyes away from the mismatched gaze, burning you, consuming you. The throaty groan they coaxed from Sihtric made a smile curl on your parted lips and you rolled your hips against him, meeting his thrusts with eagerness matching his.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the small room, your moans mingling with Sihtric’s panting breaths. His hand slipped between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing against it. You bit your lip trying at least to somewhat muffle the cries of pleasure pulsing through you.

“My greedy princess, my little caged bird, taking my cock so well,” Sihtric breathed in your ear. “So fucking tight around me. You are made for my cock, you are made for me. Made to be fucked into oblivion every night, to be filled up with my seed, to carry my children.”

You had never been loved like this. In truth, you had never really been loved at all. You were starving and you were lost from that very first moment your eyes locked with his piercing gaze.

You attempted to evade him, striving to stifle the tempest of emotions raging within you. Your knees throbbed from hours of prayer, beseeching salvation from the sinful yearning he ignited, yet your pleas remained unheard. 

In the evening, despite your efforts, your eyes kept seeking out his familiar figure in the grand hall, torn between dread and longing for your gazes to meet.

And meet they did. Initially, fleetingly, causing your cheeks to flush pink once more, just like the first time in the yard. Hastily, you averted your eyes, diverting yourself with meaningless conversations. Yet, as the evening unfolded, it happened repeatedly—the moments your gazes lingered on each other lengthening with each time.

You lacked the strength to turn him away when he found you later that night, seated in the small garden, seeking solace in the cool night air to banish thoughts of the handsome stranger from your mind. Your resolve crumbled as he tenderly kissed your palm, drawing you closer against his muscular frame. The touch of Sihtric's lips upon yours left you breathless and trembling, excitement coursing through your veins, torn between the desire to flee and the urge to surrender to his embrace.

That night you actually made love for the first time in your life, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you whispered his name into the darkness like a fervent prayer.

Never could you have imagined that this would evolve into something more than just a single night of passion and regret yet here you were struggling for breath, the most sinful sensation ripping you apart, as Sihtric was fucking you senseless, again. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his, moaning into Sihtric’s mouth, as your walls started clenching around him and you came on his cock, your head snapping back, his name rolling over your lips and mingling with the wild moans of pleasure you were unable to control. A few thrusts later he followed you, groaning in the crook of your neck as he spilled deep inside you.

"I love you, my little caged bird. I love you, and I'll come for you, take you with me," Sihtric breathed heavily, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes searching, pleading for agreement.

"Sihtric, you know it's impossible," you whispered, holding onto him tightly, wishing to prolong this moment just a little longer.

"I don't care about your husband. He doesn't deserve you. He treats you like you're a piece of furniture. He shows more affection to his horse than to you," venom dripped from Sihtric's voice. Though everything he said was true, it didn't change anything.

"Stop it!" you cried out, tears welling up in your eyes. "Stop it," you pleaded, your voice breaking into soft sobs. "If you truly care for me, then stop. It will be hard enough to see you leave for battle tomorrow."

"I will come back," there was not a hint of doubt in his voice as his lips sealed his promise with a tender kiss.

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[assortedseaglass]

We Have This Hope - II

Osferth x Lady-in-Waiting

[Masterlist]

Summary: Aefry heard much talk about young monk who joined Uhtred's ranks. When he rescues her lady, the King's own daughter, and appears at her door, Aefry finds her interest far from quelled. Instead, it is piqued tenfold.

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

In the days that followed Aethelflaed’s return, the city was awash with chatter about the rag-tag troupe of warrior men. Many had only heard tales of the men, of their leader’s clashes with the King, and of the brash Gael and stoic Dane that accompanied him wherever he went. Of the young monk that appeared at Aethelflaed’s door, however, Aefry knew nothing more than when they had first met. 

Indeed, such was the relief that Aethelflaed had returned, talk of Uhtred’s newest recruit, and his status as the King’s bastard, had dwindled from a simmer to little more than a stir. It wasn’t until a trip to the market, a day or so later, that Aefry heard mention of his name.

Since her return, Aethelflaed had spent much time in the company of her mother, and so Aefry and the other ladies were needed only when the King, Lady Aelswith or Aethelred were otherwise engaged. Saeflaed used her free days to visit her family. Adburh, whose own family lived in the very south of Wessex, spent her time at the market searching for threads and fabric fresh from the monastery. Aefry, with no family of her own, more often than not spent it in the meadows surrounding the castle, or else in a cabinet that Aethelflaed assured her no-one would use. This day however, Adburh insisted she didn’t want to be alone and so Aefry followed her into the stalls of the market.

It was full of the usual traders. Women selling dried herbs and woollen shawls, men flogging simple woodwork and crops. Adburh was her usual serious self, though Aefry was content to spend the day with her.

Many misunderstood her friend. Though she was only a few years older than Aefry and Saeflaed, Adburh had seen much in those years. Her hometown succumbed to fire, not by raiders but by mistake; the drunken keeper of the inn neglected the hearth and his fire spread from home to home, killing himself and many other, including Adburh’s father who slept in a drunken stupor. Homeless, she and her mother were taken into the care of a local abbey. Appalled by men’s idleness, the innkeeper’s and her husband’s, Adburh’s mother took the veil and committed herself to a life of religious servitude. Adburh, though her attitude suited it, was not inclined to become a nun like her mother. No, she spent her time sneaking from the abbey grounds to speak to those of the town, learning all she could from everyone she could. Sensing her daughter’s desire for education and worried about her continuing escapades, Adburh’s mother spoke to the abbess. Soon, they were Wintancaester bound, answering Lady Aelswith’s request for young women to attend her daughter.

Aefry wouldn’t forget the dark stare the red-headed Adburh gave her when they each entered the hall in turn before the King and his lady wife. Nor would she forget the way Adburh gripped her hand tightly when their guardians left them in the charge of the royal household.

Whereas Aefry had spent her time in the convent’s care reading or exploring the land surrounding Wintancaester, in the south, Adburh had learnt to weave. She arrived at court with few possessions, her makeshift loom and best needlework her pride and joy. Aefry watched her friend inspect the fabric from the monastery, a great fondness keeping her warm on the crisp morning.

“You have something in mind, Adburh?” Aefry watched her run her hands along some sheep’s wool.

“A cowl, perhaps. Or some hose.”

Aefry made a gentle noise of understanding and raised her eyebrows. “A cowl? With this wool?” She picked up the dark grey material. “Has the one you made last year perished? Or is it in fact for a dashing Dane-”

Adburh whipped around and covered Aefry’s mouth. “You saw what he wears. Winter approaches and he wears leathers with no sleeves and no scarf, cloak of fur to speak of.”

Aefry took Adburh’s hand from her mouth and held it. “I shan’t tell.”

“And not Saeflaed,”

“Certainly not Saeflaed,”  

Though Aefry was the youngest of Aethelflaed’s ladies, you would be mistaken in thinking it was Saeflaed. A golden-haired child of spring, buxom and bonny, she was admired wherever she went. That she too admired the men adoring her was not a point spoken amongst the friends and their lady, but was the source of great enjoyment and furtive glances between each.

It was not only Saeflaed’s womanly figure that delighted all, but her bright manner. Any room was illuminated by her smile, her countenance was warm, and she spoke freely and gaily to all. Where Adburh was serious, Saeflaed was merry. Adburh was studious, Saeflaed was flighty. Aefry wondered for a moment where that left her. A middling mixture of neither here nor there. Plain, she supposed.

Adburh suddenly gripped her arm. “Not a word, Aefry!”

“I told you I wouldn’t, Adbu-”

A golden mass of hair appeared between the two of them. “What have you there, Adburh?”

Adburh froze, for behind Saeflaed were Uhtred’s two right-hand men. The Gael and the Dane. Aefry raised herself on tiptoe, looking around the pair to see if the youngest of their party had joined them. Seeing that the monk was absent, she stilled, shame flushing her cheeks.

Adburh hastily stashed the wool in her basket and held it behind her back. Thankful of a distraction, Aefry took a step closer to her and took the basket from her hands.

“Wool,” she stated simply. “My winter shawl is tattered beyond fixing, and our mistress’s mother would have many an unkind word if she saw its state. Adburh kindly offered to make me a new one. Her skills are far greater than mine,” she added with a smile to the two men.

“You could make something for our boy,” the Gael said to Adburh, slapping the Dane on the back. He said nothing, yet the corners of his mouth twitching a little as he looked at the women. “Lord knows this will not help come Winterfylleth.” Sihtric shoved him.

“Y-y-yes.” Adburh nodded, her eyes wide as the Dane stared down at her.

“Aefry, Adburh,” Saeflaed stepped forward. “This is Finan and Sihtric.” Adburh curtsied a little awkwardly and Aefry held out her hand. Both men took it, Finan the Gael kissing it, Sihtric covering it with his own.

“Your reputations precede you, my lords.” Aefry smile gently. As Finan laughed, Aefry shuffled closer to Saeflaed. “And how did you come by these men?”

Saeflaed batted her beautiful eyelashes at Aefry. “I may have passed the tavern on my way home from father’s.”

“What a blessing,” Aefry whispered and Saeflaed giggled. Adburh’s eyes still lingered on Sihtric, though it seemed the Dane was either used to this or had not noticed. The three women turned back to the two men and Aefry found her voice again.

“Where is your companion? The monk?”

At that, Sihtric’s bicoloured eyes fell upon her. So too, did Adburh and Saeflaed’s. She swallowed, unnerved by the slightest degree. “You know Osferth?” The Dane said.

“No,” Aefry’s voice fell quiet, thinking fast so as not to expose the monk’s, nor Aethelflaed’s, secret. So as not to expose the King’s shame. “As I said, your reputations precede you.”

“The monk has been with us for all of five minutes and he already has a reputation to match ours,” Finan muttered.

“It was our Lady, actually, who told me,” Aefry was overwhelmed with the urge to defend the monk. To tell everyone what he had done. “That he was the one who killed Sigefrid.”

Adburh and Saeflaed gasped. “’Tis true,” Finan said. “Flung himself on the bastard’s back, forgive me, and drove his sword through his spine.”

Adburh gasped once again. Saeflaed took a step closer to Finan and held onto his arm, feigning faintness. Aefry, however, stared between them.

“How awful,” she whispered. “And-and-and where is he?”

“The chapel,” Sihtric said. “Every day since, he prays.”

“Poor lamb,” murmured Saeflaed, still clinging on to Finan’s arm.

“I know Uhtred has us teaching the monk,” Finan whispered to Sihtric, looking at the three worried women before them. “But perhaps he could teach us something?” The pair guffawed.

For the rest of that day, and the next, Aefry looked in every chapel and church she could find.

Hurrying at first light to the keep’s chapel, she ducked her head past the great oak door to discover Father Beocca deep in conversation with the King. She curtsied, excused herself from the chapel and made her way to Lady Aelswith’s private sanctum. Aefry highly doubted she would find the monk there, but her curiosity still carried her feet to the private chapel. She was right.

Lady Aelswith was knelt at the small altar. She turned her head slowly as Aefry entered the dark room but said nothing.

“Forgive me, my Lady,” Aefry whispered, bowing her head. “I-I was looking for my mistress.”

“She is with her husband.” Aelswith said simply, turning back to the altar.

In the public chapel by the keep’s gates, only a few priests sat in prayer. Each old and greying, Aefry moved on. She even walked so far as Icene Abbey to discover Osferth’s whereabouts.

There, she searched every dark corner and pew. By the tabernacle and the apse. She even asked the abbot. At the mention of the monk’s name, the abbot’s face darkened.

“That young man abandoned his faith, and his benefactor’s wishes, to go galivanting with a heathen. You will not find him here.”

“I do not think he has abandoned his fai-”

“You will not find him here.” The abbot said again, and the conversation was at an end. Weary and defeated, Aefry trudged on tired feet back to Wintancaester, the sky turning from vein blue to flame orange. Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric were frequently seen about the city and the keep. If I wait, just a few more days, Aefry thought, perhaps he shall appear.  

Sunnandaeg. In the public chapel a few days later, members of the King’s household made a small congregation, seated by rank from the farthest pew to the first. Everyone from servants to council members gathered in the chapel, waiting for mass to begin as the King and his family processed towards the altar.

Aefry watched Aethelflaed, her arm draped over that of her husband, glide towards her seat. Ever the image of regal duty despite her tired eyes. The congregation bowed to her mistress, some with kindness, some with pity and, as Aefry watched the royal family pass her by, her eyes fell to the man stood at the back of the chapel, eyes downcast but still standing a head above everyone else.

A thrill shot up her spine and every hair stood to excited attention.

At first, she thought he was attempting to make himself smaller to avoid the King. It was when Father Beocca began the service by invoking the cross, however, that she saw he was already in prayer, for he was the first to kneel and the first to murmur under his breath. He was alone, the rest of Uhtred’s men notably absent, and Aefry forgot her own prayers to watch him a peaceful moment.

Saeflaed, beside her, glanced at Aefry. Usually so devout, she was staring at the back of the chapel, the mass entirely forgotten. She followed her friend’s gaze and saw the strange young monk she had been so interested in the few days previous. He killed Sigefrid? Well, each to their own, and Saeflaed did not begrudge Aefry a crush. Indeed, it thrilled her to have something to tease her over. She glanced around the monk. Finan was nowhere to be seen and, with slight sadness, Saeflaed faced the altar once more.

Something bumped Aefry’s shoulder. Saeflaed, a small smirk on her rosebud lips. Aefry turned back to Father Beocca. She tried to follow the service, bowing her head when Beocca instructed and kneeling when the others knelt, but her mind was not on the Lord. No, it was on the lonely warrior monk five pews behind.

“Mass has ended, go in peace.” Father Beocca had barely finished speaking before the King turned to leave the chapel. Naturally, his mood in the days following Aethelflaed’s return had been stony, and many an hour had been spent locked in discussion with his council, to which he was no doubt returning. The congregation waited for the family to leave, and Aefry looked over her shoulder once more to watch the monk.

He was gone.

She cast her eyes desperately around, but they fooled her; many holy men of the congregation sported that ridiculous hair, but not one was her monk. Her monk. She shook herself and, with Adburh and Saeflaed, followed her mistress from the chapel.

The day was bright yet the air was damp and dewy. Rain would come before nightfall. She bade farewell to her companions and mistress, curtsied before the King and Lady Aelswith, and stepped into the morning. Like a fish through water, she moved amongst the crowd.

Priests were gathered around Father Beocca, discussing his sermon. She had thought to find him there, but she was wrong.

“Aefry?” Beocca stepped through the crowd of men. “You have not been at chapel as often of late. Are you well?” He took in her knitted eyebrows and agitated manner. The gentlewoman before him huffed a smile.

“Quite well, thank you, Father. I thought I saw someone at mass, an old friend, and am eager to find them. Excuse me,”

Onwards she went, past gossiping noble ladies, haggling merchants, and even Uhtred’s bonny-faced right hand man. Fingal? Was that his name? Still, she could not see the warrior monk and all hope of finding him faded. Jostled by commonfolk going about their daily business, Aefry turned to make her solemn way to the keep but halted where she stood. There! Towards the town stables, hands raised to avoid bumping into the crowds, that was definitely him.

“Sir,” she called out, gathering her skirts in her hands. “Sir! Please wait!”  She hurried as fast as she could, for ladies-in-waiting did not run and it would not do for such gossip to reach Lady Aelswith. Whether he ignored her intentionally or could not hear her over the din of the crowd, she did not know but pressed on regardless, thanking the Lord for his height as she kept him in her sight. A few more strides and she could reach out and touch him…

“Sir!” Breathless with the effort of her hurried steps to catch up with his strides, she reached out and clasped the edge of his cowl. “Sir-”

The man jolted and looked to his sleeve, his gaze following the delicate hand there to the lady’s face. An emotion she didn’t recognise glazed his eyes, but all the same, with a blush he smiled timidly. She dropped his sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I did call,”

“I’m not a ‘Sir’, I am-”

“‘Just Osferth’, yes.” Aefry smiled, then realised he may not recognise her, covered as she was by her Sunnandaeg veil. “We met the a few days past, when you came to my lady’s chamber?”

“Yes, yes,” the monk rasped and cleared his throat. After all he has done, she thought, and he is still shy. “Should you not be with her?”

“No, on the Lord’s Day we are left to do as we please.” She was desperate to speak with him. “My lady spends it with her mother.”

“I am glad to see she is well. Lady Aethelflaed, I mean-”

“Yes.” Neither said anything, and Just Osferth watched, torn between amusement and embarrassment, as the noble lady stood before him and directed her smile at him alone.

“Forgive me,” he said, his lips curving in one corner. “Was there some service you require of me, my Lady?”

It was Aefry’s turn to blush, and Just Osferth liked the sight of it beneath her veil. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I, um, I just wanted to say that she told me who you are, my Lady, and what you did.” She paused as the monk’s face fell. “That- that was very brave,” she finished with a whisper. The monk’s eyes fell to the ground and one hand brushed the cross at his chest.

“It didn’t feel very brave,” His voice was small, and Aefry found she wanted to see his smile again. She carried on in forceful tone. 

“To leave your life at the monastery, join the service of a famed warrior, despite the ridicule it may bring you, and then slay the brute Sigefrid? To me, that is brave.”

If Just Osferth had been pink before, at her words of praise he turned crimson. “Thank you, my Lady.” Again, they watched each other, this time in an awkward but pleasant silence. Something about this lady’s curiosity of him made the monk feel that emotion he found most elusive; pride.

“How long do you plan to stay in Wintanaester?” Aefry said, eyes alive and hopeful.

“As long as Lord Uhtred pleases.”

“Then,” Aefry’s smile was gentle as she spoke. “I hope it pleases him to stay a while.” And without another word, she bowed to the monk and departed.

He watched her go, her veil billowing against her tunic in the passing breeze, and people parting with good-natured smiles as she passed. A hand slapped him on the back.

“What’s the matter?” Compared to the lady’s, the Irishman’s brogue was like a carnyx. “Never had a pretty girl talk to you before?”

The monk swallowed, his eyes still on the retreating form of his sister’s lady-in-waiting. “I’ve certainly never had one bow to me.”

Notes: I think there will be two more parts before this goes beyond the end of Steadfast & Forever. Thanks for the love recently and I’m sorry if I haven’t replied to anyone – it’s been a bit bonkers.

Cabinet = a small study

Winterfylleth = October

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

[illtakeyoutowonderland]

The One (Part 14)

The one with the wedding

Sihtric x Reader

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

The journey was, once again, uneventful until they made it to the gates of Winchester. It took some convincing to Steapa to make him finally open the gates. But once he did no one wasted time to enter the walls

Finan, Sihtric and Y/N were the last ones and Steapa was already down the stairs and next to the big doors when the three crossed them "Lady Y/N" Steapa greeted her with a big smile "Nice to see you doing well"

"Nice to see you, too, Steapa" She returned his big smile with one of her own only to turn and find Sihtric and Finan giving her a confused look "What?" She said shrugging but the men said nothing

Once they got off their horses she stood close to both men, not really wanting to get lost in this unknown place

"Is that Aethelwold the sword-Dane I see?" Finan said to a man that sat on a table near by drinking "Looks like you've mislaid an eye" And Y/N took notice of the short blonde man

"I see you perfectly, Finan" The man replaied unamused "Though I do not see your master. Uhtred, where is he?"

"Standing at your blind side, perhaps" Finan said shrugging making Sihtric laugh

"Finan" Y/N slapped the man's arm scolding him but he just laughed and the group of three walked away, not without noticing how Aethelwold looked at Y/N

Osferth appeared out of nowhere scaring Finan a little as they all made it to a corner "So, we are inside the walls of Winchester. Where will he go? To Father Beocca?" The monk said once they were sure no one listened

"Yes. He'll find us. Be sure of it" Finan replied

"And he is free of his curse"

"She's dead?" Y/N asked in surprise and both her and Sihtric shared a look

"Very"

"Then we're all free of the curse, baby monk" Finan said and went off to talk with the Bishop, to say some excuse for them to stay so no one would find them suspicious

The three of them left went to find a table at an ale house so they could eat something and wait for Finan to figure out what to do next. This time Sihtric decided to sit next to Y/N and she suddenly felt very warm. Osferth sat across them once he made it with two jugs of ale and a few cups. They drank mostly in silence, Y/N looking around her as much as she could, taking in the new big city she was in and she saw Hild talking to some of the priests not far from them

"Apparently there is a wedding" Finan said as he sat next to Osferth and grabbed a cup for himself "Looks like you lost your chance with the princeling, Lady" Y/N rolled her eyes as he winked at her

"What do you mean?" Osferth asked

"Finan have this amazing imagination where he believes Edward was courting me somehow" Y/N explained

"It wasn't Finan's imagination, Lady" Sihtric said next to her looking at his cup and Finan gave her a I told you so look "We all saw it. Ask Lord Uhtred"

"You could've been queen" Osferth said with wide eyes

"You have all lost your minds" Y/N scoffed as she left the table to find Hild who welcomed her with a warm smile "Please let me stay with you at least for a while. I cannot stand those three any longer"

"You are more than welcome to make me company" Hild said laughing at Y/N's words "I know exactly how you feel" They both laughed in complicity "And I think someone would like to see you" She said and once inside the palace they were met with Aehelflaed and her husband who had come to the wedding

"Lord" She said to Aethelred not wanting to start a fight but he only gave her a exagerated smile and went on his way. She did not complain, on the contrary

"Oh, it is so nice to see you again" Aethelflaed said as they both hugged each other 

"We have some catch up to do" Y/N said to her hoping to have a moment alone with her friend

"We do" Aethelfaed nodded "But first we must find you a dress. For the wedding" She explained at the confuse look on Y/N's face

"Oh, I don't think I should come to the wedding..."

"Of course you should" Alfred's voice was strong, once again, on contrary to his looks. He walked with Edward at one side and a woman on the other "You would not reject the invitation from a king, would you?" He said with a warm smile on his face 

"I wouldn't dare" Y/N replied and he nodded satisfied

"Mother, this is Y/N" Aethelflaed introduced her to Lady Aelswith

"You must be the famous Y/N my husband and children keep talking about" Lady Aelswith said qith an emotionless tone

"I do not know about famous, Lady" She replied "But it is an honor to finally meet you"

"Is that so?" Lady Aelswith said with surprise 

"You are the mother of one of my dearest friends" Y/N explained as she pointed to Aethelflaed and she saw how a smile formed on the Lady's face

"She also fought bravely at Beamfleot" Edward said nodding at Y/N

"You were on the battlefield?" Aelswith asked with a disaproving tone and shock on her face "That is not place for a Lady"

"Unfortunately, yes" Y/N said to her "And trust me, Lady, I do not plan to find myself in that situation again any time soon"

"Now come, my love" Alfred said to Aelswith "We still have some preparations to make" And with that the pair were gone, followed by Hild

"It is nice to see you again, Lady" Edward said once they were gone

"And on a merrier scene as you wished" Y/N replied with honesty "I am happy for you Edward" 

"I am too, Y/N" He said and that was the first time both had said each others names, which warmed Y/N's heart to had found a new friend amongst them

"I'm sorry to interrupt, brother, but we must find Y/N a dress for tomorrow" Aethelflaed said 

"Do what you must" Edward said with a smile and the two woman were gone

After hours and hours of talking, catching up and trying dresses Aethelflaed was more than satisfied and let Y/N make her way back to the three men at the ale house 

"What's with the bag?" Finan asked as she joined them at the table

"Wouldn't you like to know" She replied as she sat next to him, only to have him reach for the bag but she slapped his hand away "Take your dirty hands of it!" She said at his smirking face "It's a dress"

"A dress?" Osferth asked "What for?"

"The king has invited me to the wedding" She simply said making them all surprised at her words "And also, I just met lady Aelswith" Y/N said with a sigh. She wouldn't rate the meeting too bad, she knew it could've gone so much worse, but there was something about that woman that frightened her a little

"Oh, you poor thing" Finan said as he handed her some ale and she could do nothing but laugh

The next day Osferth, Finan, Sihtric and Y/N made their way to Father Beocca's house so Y/N could get ready for the wedding. And also, to ask Uhtred their next steps

"Lady Y/N" Father Beocca greeted her in surprise "It is good to see you. I see you still wander with this trouble makers"

"I happen to have grown fond of them, unfortunately" Y/N replied making Beocca smile at her

"Oi! She is more troublemaker than all of us together, Father" Finan said as he sat in the kitchen table as Y/N gasped faking innocence. And once the door to his house was closed Uhtred came out from one of the rooms with a red haired woman

"Lady Y/N" Beocca said to her once again "This is my wife, Thyra. Uhtred's sister" 

"It is so nice to meet you" Thyra said and welcomed her in a big hug which Y/N happily returned "Uhtred has told me everythign about you"

"Seriously, you ask him to keep this one secret and he tells everyone" She mumbled scolding him but he only laugh

"You can trust Thyra. She is family"

"I know" Y/N gave him a look "I'm just starting to think maybe I should not trust you" She raised an eyebrow at him 

"Oh, he means well" Thyra said earning an See? I told you look from Uhtred to Y/N who just rolled her eyes at him. The arrongance of this man... "Now come, you have yet to change"

She pushed Y/N to a room and left her alone so she could change in peace. Which Y/N thanked as she put her bag on one of the tables. She sat on the bed trying to catch her breath. She didn't know why she was suddenly this nervous. 

Y/N heard Finan's voice followed by Sihtric's laugh and her heart melted a little. It wasn't very often Sihtric was loud, unlike the former Irishman. But everytime he showed this side of him made Y/N's heart grew bigger and for a second she wondered what it would be like to make him laugh that hard by herself. But, she pushed the thoughts aside as she reached for her bag and the new dress.

She walked out of the room and into Thyra and Beocca's kitchen, wearing the dress Aethelfaed had chose her not feeling entirely like herself "It is weird isn't it? I feel weird" She said and everyone went silence as they looked at her with wide eyes "I knew it!" She said as soon as she saw their reactions "It's too much, I'm changing" She started to made her way back to the room when she was suddenly stopped

"No!" Everyone said at the same time 

"You look beautiful" Sihtric suddenly said breathless and they all stared at him for a second before looking over to Y/N to see her reaction

"Thank you" Y/N said softly and she already knew she was blushing at his sincere words and intense gaze

Finan stood up and made his way to her "Let me see you" He said as he place both hands on her shoulders and looked at her to then look into her eyes again "They will be some lucky bastards" He smirked and she rolled her eyes at him "You look really nice, Lady"

"You really do, Y/N" Uhtred said to her and she saw Osferth nodding at his friend's words

"You have to let me do your hair" Thyra said with a big smile on her face and Y/n did not have the heart to tell her no

A few hours later, Y/N stood next to Thyra and Beocca watching the beautiful bride made her way down the aisle and towards Edward

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@secretdreamlandmentality

@superawesomegeek

If you wanna be tag, let me know! 💜

[mirdaniaa]

appetite

"I've found my appetite after all." A continuation of the knife scene in 3x05.

rated m

for @aadmelioraa, who loves knives 🔪💜

read it on ao3 if you wish

As Aethelred turns a corner, he nearly collides headfirst with Steapa. 

“God above, man,” he says irritably, “watch where you’re going!”

“Can’t see through walls, can I?” Steapa asks in amiable, unbothered tones before lumbering away.

Aethelred grits his teeth. There are far, far too many West Saxons underfoot. At least in his rooms he can be sure of some peace and quiet.

But as soon as he opens the door to the private apartments, he sees that an evening devoid of West Saxon company is not to be, for his lady wife is sitting at table, twirling a knife in her hand. 

He stops in his tracks. He had expected Aethelflaed to sup with her insufferable brother and father, not with him.

“It was cold, so I lit a fire,” she says pleasantly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“We have servants to light fires,” he reminds her, barely containing his disgust at this breach in decorum. 

She gives him a small, unfeeling smile, and then points to the seat opposite her with her knife. “Come. Sit.”

Suddenly, he understands. This is not to be a dinner; this is to be an interrogation, one that will not be interrupted by servants tending to the fire or whisking away dishes. 

His wife has been surprising him all over the place. It is almost endearing. 

Almost.

“I do not have an appetite,” he says, refusing to play this game; even so, he cannot simply walk out of this room when he entered with such purpose, so he ambles awkwardly towards the coffer to the side. 

Aethelflaed slams the point of her blade into the table, keeping her eyes trained on him. It unnerves him more than he cares to admit, and despite his better judgment, he turns his back on her when he reaches the coffer, pretending to sift through the rolls of parchment as though looking for something.

“When will you return to Wincelcumb?” he asks in his most conversational tone. 

“Oh, I have no plans to return,” she says sweetly. “I have assigned my guard to Uhtred, and will remain here to go with my husband and the men of Mercia into battle. May I say,” she continues, her voice pitching into that high tone she often takes before she assaults him with accusations, “you did not appear… concerned, nor surprised, lord, at Haesten’s attempt to kill your wife?”

It is only the knowledge that her knife is buried in the table and not gripped in her hand that gives him the boldness to contort his face into an expression of exaggerated terror, gasping like a mummer in a farce, before he drops the act and looks at her with boredom. “Does my reaction now meet with your approval?”

He can clearly see that his reaction does not meet with her approval, and perhaps she is even now thinking of prising her knife out of the table and lodging it firmly in his skull; but, ever the diplomat, his wife forces a smile and says, “It does. Thank you.”

He forces a smile of his own as he comes towards the table, his eyes quickly skimming the place setting opposite Aethelflaed’s. Just as he hoped, there is a spoon on one side of the plate and a knife on the other. “My dear,” he begins, “I assure you that I will not rest until I find the truth of what happened, and those responsible shall pay with their lives.”

Naturally, this is not enough to satisfy his wife. There is little, in his experience, that can. “Haesten, for one, is directly responsible for the attack. Why do you not seek to punish him?”

“Because I’m required here,” he explains as if to a child.

She gives him a cold smile. “My father, too, will seek retribution and justice, I am sure.”

He slides the table knife from its place. “Should he live that long,” he agrees. He gives her a wide smile. “I pray that he does.” He slams his knife into the table beside hers, the dishes clattering as the wood shudders beneath them. Aethelflaed squirms in her seat, her cold disdain slipping away as he leans down to her eye level. “I’ve found my appetite after all,” he says cheerfully.

She regards him from behind a mask made of stone, her eyes giving away nothing as he straightens up; as soon as he makes to turn away, however, he sees a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He reacts instinctively, pulling up his knife from the table at the same instant that she does, holding his knife to her throat just as she holds hers to his. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, and then he grins despite himself. “Trying to kill me, my dear?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” she says icily. “As the thought of killing me has, no doubt, crossed yours.”

“Now, why would I want to kill you?” he asks sweetly.

“Perhaps you have been listening to poor counsel.”

He keeps the grin on his face, but something pricks at his conscience. What does she know? “It would be poor counsel indeed that would urge me to kill my beloved wife,” he says smoothly. “You are very dear to me. You lead my men into battle, you light fires as diligently as any servant, you give me exceedingly fair children–” He hisses as she presses her knife against his neck, so close he can feel the sharpness of the blade.

“Perhaps that is why you want to kill me,” she whispers. “I have–what is it you said? Diminished you?”

Aethelred clenches his jaw. His wife has grown overbold. He reaches up and grabs a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back so that her neck is taut against the sharp edge of his knife. “You little–”

She cuts him off by digging the point of her blade into the hollow where his neck meets his jaw, pressing until he feels a warm trickle down his neck. If he was not afraid of deepening the cut, his mouth would fall open in shock. 

“What was that?” she asks innocently. “I’m a little…what?”

He doesn’t know if it’s the blood running down his neck, or the knife still pressed against his flesh, or the way she’s smirking up at him, or some blend of all three, but he feels a sudden shift as his blood moves south. Aethelflaed feels it, too; he can tell by the way her smirk broadens, her head tilting into his hand, offering more of her pale throat up to his blade. 

His knife is still at her throat when he surges forward to kiss her.

Aethelflaed laughs into his kiss, the point of her knife trailing down his neck and resting just above his chest. She bites down on his lip at the same moment her knife slides down, ripping his tunic and the shirt beneath down to his waist. He hisses, both from the teeth in his lip and his suddenly bared chest, and she laughs again. When he pulls back, there is blood on her lips, and despite the rending of his tunic, his skin feels suddenly too hot, too tight. 

He leans down to lick his blood from her lips, untangling his hand from her hair so he can half-cut, half-tear her clothes down the middle as she did his.

“No,” she growls, pressing the tip of her blade against his breeches as a warning.

It only excites him beyond reason, and he smirks as he parts her torn clothes to grasp one breast. “Yes.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but he brings his knife up to her breast, pressing the cool flat of the blade to her warm skin until it prickles. Her mouth stays open, whatever she was about to say lost for a long moment. He watches as her pupils contract, her eyes darkening with a desire she cannot conceal. 

When the metal warms and she makes a halfhearted effort to speak again, he lifts the flat of the blade, drawing the point in a feather-light motion down to the rosy tip of her breast and circling. 

“Stop that,” she whispers with absolutely no vehemence whatsoever.

“Mm, I don’t think I will,” he says thoughtfully. “Unless…you’re going to make me?”

He hopes she does, and he is not disappointed. The pressure against his cock disappears, and a moment later, he feels a stinging arc over his pectoral. He recoils, hissing in pain, but Aethelflaed follows him, lowering her head to lick up the blood. He grabs her hair again, holding his knife to her throat, and she does the same to him, smirking up at him with bloodstained lips.

He’s stretched so full he aches. He’s never seen this side to his wife before. He doesn’t know what she’s going to do next, and he desperately wants to find out.

He backs her roughly against the table, lowering a hand to sweep aside the dishes. They cut and tear savagely at each other’s breeches, mangling them beyond repair, desperate to be free of the last of their trappings before she clambers onto the table, seizing a handful of his hair to pull him against her. 

He slides into her so easily it dazes him. He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers, but when he feels the sharp point of her blade against his neck, his eyes open, meeting her dark-eyed stare.

“Look at me,” she commands, wrapping her legs around his hips and drawing him deeper into her. He wonders if she will really use her blade on him or if this is all a game meant to excite and nothing more. The not knowing arouses him so much that he spills before he means to, his hips grinding with far too little delicacy for a man with a knife at his throat. 

In the moment following, her knife still poised at his throat, his heart pounds in fear.

And then she uses the hand in his hair to push him down to his knees, bringing his face level with her cunt. “You said you had an appetite.”

[anoncat6]

PETRICHOR | sihtric x oc | part five

part one part two part three part four

5. like rotten fruit

Sihtric’s horse wasn’t fast enough.

The camp was decimated. Dead bodies littered the ground

And Sihtric’s horse hadn’t been fast enough for him to find Ghylena.

Beocca was wailing, screaming pleas for his wife, Thyra. 

Steappa called for the Lady Aethelflaed.

But Sihtric was pacing, scouring the grass for his fiancé; praying to the gods they shared that she was still alive and well enough to be found. His panic sealed his throat, and if he could scream he would, he would yell and shout and beg as well, but he could barely breathe.

He was so engrossed in his desperation that he did not notice Thyra’s return, nor the horse she rode atop.

“Sihtric…” Finan had been searching with him, only now he roughly pulled him aside, “Sihtric, look!”

Sihtric followed Finan’s arm, allowing his eyes to recognise Shaeda, without his typical rider, and then he was running towards Thyra.

Even Sihtric, as strong and healthy as he was, could not reach Thyra before her husband had, dragging her from Shaeda’s back and into his arms.

Finally reaching the group gathered around the priest’s wife, Sihtric whispered with wild eyes, “Ghylena?”

Finan took Shaeda’s reins, soothing the horse, looking for any sign of his friend, and finding none but her empty scabbard and a splatter of blood that he moved to hide from Sihtric.

Uhtred spoke now, placing a soothing hand on his sister’s back as he asked, “Thyra… Thyra? Thyra, where is Aethelflaed? Where is Ghylena?”

“You will answer,” Aethelred’s voice sparked anger in Sihtric, but again Beocca beat him to the mark.

The priest seethed, “Of course she will answer!”

Sihtric took a tentative step forward then, “Lady, what happened? Where is my… where is Lena?”

“I— I do not know. We ran and… and she, Aethelflaed, was gone. Then Ghylena came, she saved me. 2 men were chasing me, and she killed them. She rescued me, and then, then she went after the Lady.” Thyra was breathless and her voice shook, cracking near the end. 

Aethelred and his men began planning, sending out search parties for Aethelflaed and yapping orders, but Sihtric didn’t care. All he cared about was Lena, and she was gone.

“Which way?” Sihtric gripped his sword in hand now, preparing to search the the forest, Finan and Uhtred preparing similarly.

Uhtred once again pulled Thyra from her reverie, “Thyra, which way did she go?”

Turning towards the forest, the men around her moved to follow her directions before halting in their tracks.

A lean figure, bloodied and unsteady, limped from the tree line.

Sihtric felt his eyes water, then blinked back the tears before sprinting ahead of everyone else. Uhtred and Finan followed behind him, the three men kicking up the mud behind their steps.

He wasn’t fast enough.

Ghylena stumbled further out into the camp, her beautiful face and hair coated in a thick layer of blood and ichor. She looked more like a walking corpse than the ‘dead man’ Bjorn had. 

Sihtric called to her, “Lena! Ghylena!”

His fiancé took one more step, her legs gave up, and she collapsed to the ground.

And Sihtric wasn’t fast enough to catch her.

<>

Ghylena never expected to find the sounds of a marching army and horses’ hooves to be soothing, but in that moment— with her head tucked into Sihtric’s neck and his arms around her back, holding her to him— she felt more tired than she ever had.

“Sihtric?” She croaked, her voice scratchy thanks to the purple fingerprints which bloomed on her throat, “Where are we?”

Unaware that she had woken up, Sihtric tightened his grasp on her, afraid to let her go. 

“Wessex, huntress,” He pressed a featherlight kiss to the top of her head, “We’re to leave this army soon and head home to Coccham.”

The rumbling of Sihtric’s voice in his chest was soothing, and Lena closed her eyes again, comfortable in his presence, trusting him to keep her safe. Trusting him not to let her fall from the horse.

Her chest still hurt, but thankfully it was just badly bruised— no broken ribs.

The weeping cut on her thigh had been cleaned and wrapped, and the ragged tear across her back and shoulders was thankfully only surface-level; Thyra, being the only woman, had been the one to wrap a bandage around her torso for that particular wound. 

Ghylena felt battered, bruised like rotten fruit.

Probably look like it too, she thought.

Uhtred’s sister had made her thanks known repeatedly, as had Beocca. Ghylena couldn’t remember ever hearing the phrase “thank you” so much in one day. 

Timidly, Ghylena raised her head to look across from her, catching sight of Shaeda beside them, his reins tied to Sihtric’s saddle. Her weapons had been retrieved, then. They sat on his saddle, as clean as ever. 

Looking further up the line, Lena made eye contact with Finan, who sent her a grin and a reassuring nod. She was unaware of the concerned glances the Irishman had been sending her whilst she slept. He had been the one to retrieve her weapons, the one to see the carnage she had left behind, and the beasts of men she had killed.

She tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

The horse’s trot jostled her ribs with each step, and breathing hurt.

Everything hurt.

Uhtred was even further ahead, but he looked as strong as ever and unharmed. 

Good, Ghylena thought, Gisela will be pleased her husband is whole. What the sight of her sister will do to her… 

Lena wasn’t looking forward to that particular berating. 

Beocca and Thyra rode ahead of them all, sharing a horse like Sihtric and Lena were—but unlike Ghylena, Thyra was riding astride, able to keep herself awake and upright.

Ghylena could only catch a glimpse of the bright red hair and priest’s grey robes before her neck grew tired again, her head drooping back to its rest at Sihtric’s shoulder.

“Sleep, Lena. I’m here, you’re safe.”

A whisper was all she could manage, “I know.”

She fell asleep again.

<> After they left the larger army that headed for Winchester, they rode for the remainder of the day before setting up camp that night.

When they had first stopped, Sihtric had gently woken her, whispering into her ear as Finan approached them. Sihtric tentatively handed his fiancé over to Finan as she slipped down from the horse.

Once she was off the saddle, Finan silently holding her in his arms, Sihtric had swiftly followed and traded his horses’ reins for Lena, carrying her bridal style before gently setting her down on the grass.

She had fallen asleep again whilst camp was set up, no one brave or stupid or uncaring enough to wake her and risk the wrath of the men who loved her.

The sun had set and the moon had risen, the stars a comforting blanket above them all as they ate dinner. Lena was cradled upright in Sihtric’s arms to eat something.

His arms and legs caged her in, keeping her warm and secure, wrapping her in him.

Once they had ate, she lay down, her tender body nestled to Sihtric’s steady bearing.

She wasn’t asleep, content to enjoy the warmth of the fire and the soothing rhythm of Sihtric’s hand as he stroked her shoulder, careful to avoid her injuries.

“Sihtric, I know you won’t like this, but you’re the best man for it…” Uhtred began, breaking the silence.

“I need you to take Rypere and go to Beamfleot, where Erik and Sigefrid’s fleet lie— that is where they’ll be. I need you to confirm the Lady Aethelflaed is alive and how they are treating her,” Uhtred spoke gravely, with Sihtric silent, “Send Rypere back to me at Coccham with your news, you will remain there and you are to spy. We will need to know every part of Beamfleot.”

“But, lord—“ Sihtric began.

A rasping croak interrupted him, “Go. Sihtric, go.”

Even Uhtred looked shocked, his gaze locking on his sister.

Finan leaned closer to Ghylena, probably trying to stop her from straining her voice, but she batted his mothering hand away, weakly sitting up. 

Sihtric’s hand ghosted across her back, frozen at her words, but not so surprised that he wasn’t holding her close.

“Go to Beamfleot. Spy. I will stay at Coccham. I will be safe.” Her voice wavered, each word a challenge, but powerful.

Sihtric was still silent, staring at Lena, then at Finan who simply nodded.

Looking up at Uhtred, Sihtric nodded, “Yes, lord. I will leave tomorrow.”

A shaky breath of gratitude escaped Ghylena who subsequently sagged into her fiancé, determined to sleep as much as possible on the journey home.

It was in her best interests to look as healthy as possible before reuniting with her powerful, protective, big sister.

-> up next: 'blood and oaths'...

[aadmelioraa]

It's almost 2023, so I figured I'd share my updated The Last Kingdom fic recs since I have been meaning to do that all year. Below the cut you will find some shippy stuff, some introspective pieces, and a variety of characters featured (several of whom rarely get fanfic). I hope if this post crosses your path you may find a new favorite! I did limit my selection to complete fics, but you can find more recommendations, both works in progress and complete, under my ao3 tlk bookmarks. Happy New Year, and happy reading!

the leap by @irisdouglasiana

Season 5 cottagecore nuns fixit for Aalys and Aelflaed. Fixit fics are not usually my vibe tbh but this one is perfectly complex and bittersweet.

A Hard Story to Know by @wildwren

Post Season 5 fic. Aelfwynn processes her grief at the loss of her mother with the help of Aldhelm and Eadith. This fic broke my heart and mended it several times over.

no escape by @volvaaslaug

Wonderful Eadith character study and I adore the prose style as well.

come go with me by @wendy-daahling

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm political marriage (for MERCIA of course), slow burn with lots of delicious pining.

the drowned and the damned by @irisdouglasiana

Canon divergent AU centered around Osbert, Uhtred's youngest son. Addresses family trauma, cycles of violence, and legacy within the world of the show and does it in such a thought provoking way.

and, lord, she found me just in time by @jeynepoole

Hild x Iseult hurt/comfort bathing fic...so tender and so lovely.

a rope in hand for your other man by @jeynepoole

This fic is definitely for a niche audience, but if the idea of an Aethelflaed/Aldhelm/Aethelred threesome intrigues you, check it out...and there's more where that came from.

Meanwhile in Mercia by @skatingthinandice

This series is an absolute staple of Aethelflaed x Aldhelm fanfic and I am very grateful for it. Essential reading!

Daughter of Darkness by @ulfrsmal

Gen fic focused around Brida and Thyra's relationship and trauma that I, for one, desperately needed. *this fic is locked, you will need to be logged into your ao3 account to access...I still have a few invitations to send, if you need one feel free to DM me!

I go you go, my dear by alittlebitalexis

Two Osferth x Eadith fics for the Eadsferth truthers among us (no for real they were cute). Fluff and smut.

When the Party's Over by @wildwren

Aethelflaed x Erik College AU. Part of a series, read Part 1 first, I am just particularly attached to this part for...reasons.

The Maiden by @wildwren

Pirate/Witch AU for Aethelflaed x Skade. This fic is HOT and creative and HOT and gorgeously written and HOT.

To Curse a King by @pokeasleepingsmaug

Skade x Sihtric smut fic featuring magic and knife play. Very fun and sexy.

Saint of Shitty Reasons by @volvaaslaug

Edward Modern AU character study that hits 95% of my kinks.

Most CURSED among God's kin are aethelings by @wildwren

Aethelwold character study. A masterpiece though and through.

Lay Down Your Arms by @skatingthinandice

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm post Tettenhall smut, and a most worthy entry for the #GET IT AETHELFLAED tag.

clever-tongued by @tsukkinami

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm smut with wonderful tension and intimacy, it's just top tier! A classic.

in my dreams we survived by @irisdouglasiana

Hild character study, really lovely angst that makes me tear up every time.

poison by @irisdouglasiana

Brida x Skade enemies to lovers...need I say more?

fortune cookie by @jeynepoole

Competent stepdad Aldhelm, Modern AU Aldhelm & Aelfwynn bonding. A warm blanket of a fic.

[lord-aldhelm]

Recommended Fic List

I honestly haven't read very many fanfics (I know, shame on me! 🫣) in The Last Kingdom or otherwise. I am starting to go through AO3 and actually read the ones I had bookmarked. I thought it might be nice to make a rec list of the fics that I really enjoyed. Most of these are rated M or E so be forewarned when you read them. I will add to this as I actually read more stuff.

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm:

Come Go with Me by Perennial (restricted to accounts only): A lovely post Season 4 fic that gives them both what they, and Mercia, deserve. Rating: M (@vinca-majors) More than Mercia by ToBebbanburg: Another lovely post Season 4 happy ending fic. (@torch-the-throne) Clever-Tongued by TheBrokaryotes: a very poetic and descriptive exploration of their first time together. (@tsukkinami) Day Out by cocchamscrew: Aldhelm has a nice day outside the castle away from Aethelred with Lady Aethelflaed. (@osferth) Duty & Decency by ToBebbanburg: Aldflaed in the universe of Pride and Prejudice. (@torch-the-throne) Meanwhile in Mercia by adamwhatareyouevendoing: A wonderful multipart series with a happy ending! (@skatingthinandice and @remembertheskittles)

Other TLK fics:

In His Father's Footsteps by holy3cake: Aethelstan x Osbert post SKMD (@holy3cake) Visions of Helheim by TheNamesWinter99: Sihtric x Reader and learning about his past and mother (@thenameswinter99) Wolf-Heart by Gemini_Mama: Finan x OC, part of a series, Wolf Warrior is the second part. (@gemini-mama)

[destinyisall-tlk]

I have a couple of thoughts on the Stiorra/Aethelflaed stockholm syndrome thingy.

I don't think Stiorra had any stockholm issues at all, I'm pretty sure Sigtryggr would have told her outright what her role was in being kept captive pretty early on for negotiations, and I think he knew the way to get Edward to hear him was through Uhtred - especially if Stiorra spoke of all he did for Alfred.

Also Uhtred see's A LOT in people and their connections (Aethelstan and Ingilmundr for example) so if he didn't believe Stiorra's reasoning for wanting to go with Sigtryggr he would of put his foot down and not allowed it at all.

As for Aethelflaed, I think the cruelty she was suffering at the hands of Aethelred not just in physical treatment but mental as well I imagine being kidnapped by a group of people she's been told are nothing but mindless brutes that actually listen to her demands, Erik asks her to eat nicely (unlike her husband who ridiculed her), let her bathe in some kind of secure way, didn't punish her for using self defence, and then let her get some air without a full guard showing that in some degree he trusted her not to attack him - I could see why she would lean into Erik's affections.

But I also think Uhtred only agreed to help her with Erik because he saw it as a better option than her staying locked in a room surrounded by others that would harm her and being used for a ransom for a huge army and war that would of ravaged the country.

Lengthy I know I'm sorry

interesting points. i do agree that if uhtred even for a second thought sigtryggr would harm stiorra, or if stiorra's reason was somehow "forced" upon her by sigtryggr, he wouldn't have let her go.

as for aethelflaed, i can only imagine how after being abused and treated horribly by aethelred, seeing erik - a dane - be respectful and protective (even though he didn't have to) would have made aethelflaed have some sort of affection for erik.

thank you for sending in your thoughts on the topic. x

[aelswiths]

I was tagged by @aethelreds!

Last Song: Hymn 49. I’ve been listening to the new TLK soundtrack for at least two hours now.

Three Ships: aelswith x alfred, this should come as a surprise to no one. They are IT baby, my all time favourite couple. They are the only couple in this show I care about. Alfred x Aelswith x Uhtred, my fav toxic thruple, they’re just so much fun. Flowers in Mercia, what can I say I love fucked up compelling relationships. And they are 100% fucked up and compelling.

Currently Reading: Aethelflaed The Lady of the Mercians by Tim Clarkson. I’m halfway through and I like it so far! I’m learning a lot about Mercia.

Last Movie: Seven Kings Must Die.

Craving: more aelswith x alfred content. I’m in my feels about them (lmao when am I not), and I just need to chew on them. I will probably work on new content for them tomorrow.

Tagging @ivarthebadbitch @kingslionheart @volvaaslaug @wildwren @emilyhufflepufftlk @gudvina