#Alfred vikings x reader

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐡𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝'𝐬 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

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

Warnings: violence

a/n: nsfw included (ha duh)

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ESFP

Gryffindor

Neutral Good

Aries Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Capricorn Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Trusting other's wasn't easy for Uhtred. Well, until a person saves his life.

・It didn't seem like a big deal at the time. The decision was easy to make. With four men against thirty, it was more than an unequal fight.

・Standing out of sight, you grabbed one of your silver-tipped arrows and aimed.

・The leader of the large group of men faltered in his step. His gaze trying to locate the source of the arrow, which had landed exactly where he was about to step.

"Hiding is cowardice," the man bellowed. His thick furs unable to hide his fear.

With a raised eyebrow you huffed, not taking the obvious bait.

・You saw one of the men raise a dagger and as he was about to throw it, you released another arrow. Straight into his shoulder.

・Then the fighting started. It only took ten minutes for it to stop.

・You didn't just have great aim with an arrow, you were deadly with daggers as well.

・Now years later, you're found by Uhtred's side. Where he goes, you go. There isn't an issue with him bringing you along on his travels - he knows you can look after yourself.

・A favourite of Finan's, Osferth's & Sihtric's. As you were the only person Uhtred would listen to. Truly listen to.

・And allow himself to be told off by.

・So the three men think you are some sort of powerful being.

・Osferth actually had a bit of a crush on you for a while. Whenever you spoke to him, he would blush.

・Finan and Sihtric teased him relentlessly, and Uhtred overheard them one evening. But he was not jealous. Not in the slightest.

・Osferth nearly died on the spot when he heard Uhtred speaking though.

"I think anyone could fall in love with them. They make it so easy."

・However, it did take a while for Uhtred to tell you about his past. A long, long while. It came in little packages. As if he couldn't say too much at once.

・Showing emotion wasn't one of his great strengths

・But gods forbid if anything happened to you

・There was a time that you had been kidnapped and he nearly tore himself apart trying to find you. All logical thinking had disappeared.

・He knew he couldn't live without you, but knowing that it was a possibility, hit him like a physical blow.

・You are his heart, the person that he always wants to be around. There is no him, without you.

・For years he did not know what his destiny was.

・But now he knows.

・It's you.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Overly arrogant, flirty (Uhtred) x Absolutely unfazed (You)

"Give me attention." (Uhtred) x "If the world knew you were like this, they'd be shocked." (You)

"Wtf did you do now?" (You) x "It was an accident!" (Uhtred)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

You Save His Life & He Could Not Get You Out Of His Head

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Lívstræðrir by John Lunn, Eivør

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

・Uhtred is a giving and passionate lover. As soon as you get time to yourselves, his hands are holding you tight against him. Lips attached to yours in a firm and feverish kiss.

・Behind closed doors is where you see Uhtred's full abilities.

・It's not as if he cannot please you while travelling, it's that he cannot reach the limits that he can when he's able to be fully naked and without interruption.

・At home, with the warm glow of the fire in your joint chamber, he shows you how much he loves you.

・Your naked form underneath his, chest to chest, heart's beating in the same rhythm.

・If you've been apart for a long time, then Uhtred cannot keep his hands off of you, nor can he endure your clothing. Sex is rougher, slightly quicker, but that doesn't mean once is enough.

・No, once is never enough for Uhtred.

・There never goes a night without him at least making you cum. Thrice.

[aikaterini-drag]

Eternal bros 🩵 Harald and Leif, the dynamic duo that makes Vikings: Valhalla an epic saga of friendship and showcases the bonds that can be forged even amidst the chaos of war.

[miss-madness67]

The Mistress (ch.29)

After Egadyd gives birth, Leofflaed visits Ivar and they take an irreversible step in their relationship.

After what felt like days of labor, but surely was not more than twelve hours, I became the proud aunt of a beautiful baby girl. Egadyd is passed out on the bed while I cradle the little bundle in my arms. When she first lost consciousness, I was so scared something had gone wrong. Ulla had to reassure me several times that Egadyd was just exhausted after all that work she went through. “My lady, it is normal for recent mothers to sleep for a long time after the birth,” Ulla said. Still, I keep glancing up every now and then to make sure she is still breathing. I can not lose my sister, and the tiny babe in my arms can not lose her mother when she is the only thing she has. Right now, my family is the only thing keeping me from spiraling from what almost happened with that guard. And then with Ivar.

“My lady,” Ulla quietly approaches the chair where I am sitting by the fire. My niece sleeps peacefully. I managed to calm her down, but I know she will wake soon to ask for food. I just hope Egadyd is up by then. “I will put the little lady to bed.” She signals to my niece. “You should rest, too.”

I glance up at my sister still in bed and then back at the thrall. “I am not tired.” That is a lie, but I can not sleep now. Not with my sister like this, not with my just-born niece needing looking after, not with my tumultuous thoughts.

If Ulla knows I am lying, she does not comment on it. Instead, she suggests. “You should still go out, have some air, maybe. I will call someone to come keep an eye on your family.”

I do not tell her I do not trust anyone to care for them. Not after what happened with the guard, not even before then. Will I ever feel safe among Vikings? I feel safe with Ivar, oddly enough, but I do not trust him. I trust Ulla, but I can not ask her to watch over Egadyd. She was there during the birth, she must be tired too. However, being here, even with my niece in my arms and my sister within reach, I feel a thousand miles away. Perhaps Ulla is right and I need a respite.

Ulla speaks again, this time with understanding in her gaze. “Prince Ivar has tripled the guards outside your door, it is just a few minutes, it is going to be ok, my lady.” Her face is so honest, that I decide to believe her. I decide to let myself be reassured by a strange woman in ways Mother never could.

I pass her the baby, “thank you.”

Continue Reading: Ao3 Wattpad Patreon

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering

[asongofmarvelanddc]

The cliffhanger you left us with in sworn enemies should me considered criminal activity

I know, I'm so sorry 😭😭😭 My most egregious crime fr!

But I HAVE been writing the next chapter so here's a sneak peek below:

Sworn Enemies PT 11 Sneak Peek

Alfred is still shaking when he enters the room. His eyes sting with unshed tears, small breaths escaping his lips in short gasps. Your body is lying on a table, motionless. He can’t even see the slight rise and fall of your chest to let him know you’re still breathing.

In a second, he turns away from the sight, his heart sinking into his stomach. She’s dead, he thinks, They’re both dead. The fear chokes him while shaking him to his core. He can’t bring himself to ask the physician anything. He’s crippled with fear.

“Your Grace,” the physician says and bows his head, but he speaks no further, waiting until he is addressed by his King.

Alfred curses the title he bears. Slowly, he glances at your seemingly lifeless body then back to the floor.

“How—” he pauses to clear his throat when the word comes out strangled, “How is she?”

The physician wipes his hand with a bloodied piece of cloth. “Her Grace was struck by two arrows — the more serious injuries amongst others. The arrow in her front was fairly simple to remove. The one in her back was the real task.”

The spindly man goes on a rather long-winded explanation of the surgery as he packs his tools away, occasionally stopping to brush back the dull, brown wisps of hair on his head. He seems impressed with his skills as he describes drawing the arrow up and out through your rib cage to avoid affecting the pregnancy.

All the while, Alfred doesn’t have the words to cut in.

“And my wife?” he swallows, “Will she recover?”

The physician tilts his head, “If she survives the next few days, then I can almost guarantee it.”

It isn’t the news Alfred hoped for, but it is better than he expected. He breathes a sigh of relief, and finally, he looks at you properly. Suddenly, you look to be in a peaceful sleep. Full of life, but resting. Then he looks at where your hands rest on your stomach and the sinking feeling returns.

“And the child?” his voice breaks, never taking his eyes off you, “Will my daughter live?”

This time, the physician sucks in a deep breath.

“Unfortunately, there is not much I can do but wait when it comes to your daughter. There has been no movement that I have observed so far,” he says, “I intend to watch for that over the next few days but as of right now…I’m afraid I cannot be certain that your child lives.”

Alfred swallows again, but this time, it’s to distract himself from the tears threatening to fall.

“Thank you, Wyllis. I’d like to be alone with my wife now.”

“Your Grace.” He bows and exits the room.

As soon as the door closes shut behind him, Alfred sinks to his knees on the floor, hands clasped together in front of him and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“My Lord. Father. There is nothing on this Earth that you cannot do,” he begins, a slight tremor in his voice as he speaks, “No heartache that you cannot mend. No illness that you cannot heal.”

He briefly glances at you – so still. A whimper escapes him as he closes his eyes again and squeezes his hands together even tighter, as if doing so would mean he's praying harder.

“Please, Father. I cannot do this without her,” before he knows it the tears are flowing uncontrollably, his quiet sobs confined to the room, “Whatever price I must pay I shall pay it if only to see my wife again. To hold our child in my arms. I beg you to cover them in your protection. With your love. Your mercy. I beg you…bring her back to me, Lord.”

***

And there you have it! This is my first apology for the ridiculously long hiatus, please forgive me if you can ❤️😩

[sapphic-woes]

Sevika x Fem!Reader x Vi - The Knight, the Witch, and the Dane pt. 1

A/N: Don't ask me why;; I can't tell you. Here you are a saxon turned dane and a seer, working for your lord Vi...but you have a past :) (this is based off of season 3 of tlk)

Word Count: 2.5k. AO3 link

_________________

“You're perfect, Sev.” You whispered, planting a seed of hope in her. “No matter what your parents say.” 

In your own father’s meadow, the both of you lay, staring up at the clear blue sky. Sevika turned to look at you, and she thought to herself that the sun couldn't compare to your smile. 

“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. To me…” Those turned up lips and pearly whites scorched her heart, branding your initials over the organ. It pained her something sweet, and as she listened to the bells of your laughter, the servant girl thought to herself that her heart would always burn for you.

“You are, and always will be, my greatest frie–”

Sevika snapped her eyes open, and she wished she could close them and see you again. How long will I hold on? Too many years had passed since she’d lost you. In the blazing heat of the fire, and the destruction of your hometown…

“Sevika! Stop sleeping in and come out–those heathen Danes aren’t going to kill themselves!” Sevika squinted to the sound of Vander's boisterous voice, much too energetic this early in the morning. Regardless, she rose, doing her daily routine before slipping into her armor and walking out the door. Immediately, she was met with an arm around her bicep, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Ran's cocky grin.

“Damn Vika, you look like shit. Couldn’t sleep?” Sevika shrugged, somewhat bent over as she let Ran stir her towards breakfast. As they walked through the various halls of Wessex's palace towards the knight's dining hall, the groggy woman sighed.

“Something like that.” These dreams only served to sap her energy, waking up either panicked, soaked in sweat, or longing for a girl she knew was dead. I don’t even remember her name. Sevika only remembered you as the daughter of the ealdorman. The ealdorman that, when the Danes arrived, was forced to watch his home be burned to the ground before being killed himself. 

At the time Sevika had been a servant girl, despised by her parents simply for being born. Later, she would come to understand why her parents fought so much. Me? A noble’s bastard? …How unoriginal. However, as a child Sevika had thought there was something wrong with herself to make her parents hate her, and you had shown her otherwise. 

You had been kind to her, and she had come to know what real care was because of your generosity. Yet when she needed me…Sevika grit her teeth as she pushed around the porridge on her plate, I did nothing but cower and run. 

When the Danes came, she’d left you behind. She could have helped you, done anything to protect you, and yet…

You tripped over a fiery piece of wood, falling to the floor as the house burned around you both. Sevika turned around, ready to grab your hand when a yell bellowed from behind. The Danes getting the last treasures of the house spotted you both, and having seen how nicely you dressed, immediately recognized who you were. You gasped, turning back to Sevika with a hand stretched out, begging her to help. You couldn’t raise yourself back up with your burnt leg. But if she could just–

To your horror, Sevika recoiled, not even looking at you. Her eyes were trained on the Danes not far behind, glancing at the door just ahead. She looked back at you one last time, eyes full of tears as she ignored your desperation.

“I’m sorry lady…I’m sorry…” With that, Sevika turned away, running out the door and leaving you behind for the Danes to capture.

That moment haunted her each passing day, driving her to train and become a knight. Every time you flashed in her mind, she vowed to kill ten more Danes. To save ten more people. Every time you whispered her name in her dreams, the number doubled. 

Yet despite her efforts, that wasn’t enough. Sevika still slept only to see the fire. To see your father and her parents dead. To see you, with eyes pleading with her to save you as you were dragged away, neck yanked back to make room for a bloody ax–

“Sevika? You’re not eating. Are you alright?” The knight looked up to meet Ran's curious, concerned gaze. They had met Sevika long ago, and for some reason decided to stick with her despite her grim attitude. Ran was the closest person to a friend Sevika had now, and they reminded her that she wasn’t a child anymore, let alone experiencing that day again. 

Instead, she was a knight of Wessex, a formidable one at that…and currently preparing for another inevitable attempt from the Danes to attack, come spring. Sevika sighed, shoveling down a spoonful of porridge with a grunt.

“Me? I'm fine. Just…fine.”

____________

You knew what you wanted. You couldn’t ask for it though. The sinister voices in the back of your mind were too loud these days. 

Hands caressed your body as if you were made of glass, and to her, you supposed you were. Your lord had a body riddled with tattoos and battle scars, expansive muscles moving hypnotically as she pressed against you. She treated you like something precious, and you both craved and despised her delicate touch.

You feared she would find something wrong. Something undeniably you...and when Vi inevitably did, what would she do?

Will she abandon you, just as that girl did before?

“My love…you’ve grown silent. Talk to me, what do you need?” Vi murmured, kissing your bare shoulder. You avoided her gaze, trying to brush your emotions away.

“It’s nothing. I was simply thinking of…well it’s getting warmer, spring is approaching and I should prepare to see. To know if we should attack–”

“No,” Vi’s voice was a barely audible whisper, yet it felt like a command nonetheless. “You’re hurting again, I can feel it…” Vi reached down to gingerly hold your hand, kissing the back of it.

“So tell me what I can do to make you forget. Let me help you.” It’s a trap. Don’t do it. It’s a trap. Don’t do it, it’s a–

“…Vi,” you nervously licked your lips, and she patiently waited, “...tell me you love me…” Your voice was uncertain and faint, and Vi instantly broke into a wide smile, kissing the corner of your eyes.

“I do.”

“You won’t–you c-can’t leave me…” Vi chuckled at your fretfulness, finding this needy side of you endearing. Usually, you were fearsome, but with her, she had managed to peel back enough layers and catch a glimpse of the truth. She kissed your shuddering neck as she nodded.

“You have my heart, my love. I can never imagine being without you.” Her voice was an anchor for your tired soul, and you crumbled into her warmth. Vi let you, continuing to breathe out praises against your skin. 

“You’re too beautiful. Too stunning. I ought to tie you up here and never let another person see you again. But then I wouldn’t be able to brag, or show off how perfect you are to me…” 

She knew that would make you melt, humming as you squirmed. You loved her praising words, but you were never good at taking compliments, rouge from your bare shoulders up to the tip of your ears. Vi smirked at you as if you were adorable, leaning down to trace her teeth over the peak of your breasts. Her hand snaked down to part your folds, coaxing out sweet sounds from you.

“You’ve turned into such a pretty mess, and you’re practically glowing. Do you love my words that much…or the idea of me tying you up?” Her teasing only warmed your skin more, and she laughed at your frustrated glare. Vi planted a kiss across your trembling stomach, murmuring into the skin.

“You’re everything to me.” The conviction in her voice made you shiver, moaning as she moved to kiss every inch of your waist, fingers slowly thrusting into your heat. “My love. My life. I wouldn't trade you for anyone else in the world.” Vi removed her soaked digits, fixing the backs of your knees over her shoulders. You looked down to see fierce, electric blue eyes as Vi bent down to pleasure you further.

“I will never abandon you, and if need be? I would travel across the world just to find you.” You gasped, shuddering as Vi drove her tongue into your heat, rough and relentless as she tasted you. The weight of her devotion was like no other Dane you had ever known–like no other person you had ever known. 

“You’re mine,” she rasped into your dewy folds, eyebrows knit in concentration, “and I am your–wai–love?” At her words, tears filled up in your eyes. Comically, Vi’s own eyes bulged out, faltering at the sight of those salty droplets. She recoiled immediately, gaze unreadable for a moment.

Wait, no don’t, I’m sorry–

Your panic was quelled in less than a second, surprised when calloused hands swiftly gathered your face in their grasp. Vi’s eyes searched your own, clearly worried beyond belief.

“My love, did I hurt you? I–fuck–I didn’t–” You let out a breathless laugh, feeling ridiculous for panicking. Emboldened, you pressed your lips hard against her own, pulling her into a deep, heated kiss. Vi’s tense muscles relaxed, and you hummed in approval, pulling away to smile at your lord’s flushed cheeks.

“Never. I am just…happy. You love me, despite me being, well, me. I’m in awe–

“There you go again.” You squeaked as Vi suddenly flipped you over, frustrated. “Belittling yourself. Acting as if you don’t deserve a thing. I won’t allow it, and if you insist on continuing?”

The sound of her drawer opening made your heart skip a beat, glancing over your shoulder to see Vi pull out her strap. Oh shit.

“Then I’ll just have to make sure you can’t speak again…right?”

____________

Some days later, when you were finally able to walk again, you looked into your lord’s future.

You saw Vi, triumphant. She raised his blade with a cry, and the horse before her fell–along with the Saxon king. The weak man scrambled back, he cried out for mercy–but your lord would grant him no such thing. Instead she raised her sword with a furious grin, bringing it down with one final swing…

…and the blood of the Saxon king ran red, pooling at her feet.

“Guards!” You yelled as you trudged through the murky bog water around you. One of the guards waiting began to look back towards you, and your voice broke into another commanding roar, “turn away, now.” Hastily he did, but you knew it was already too late.

“No man is to show me his face.” You reminded them both with a heavy scowl, stalking towards the one that had fearfully turned away. “No man is to see me before my lord.” 

You unsheathed your daggers, moving to cut the back of his knee. The tender flesh broke under your force, and he buckled, crying out in pain. You didn’t mind the sniveling man any longer, turning to face the other guard from behind.

“You will go ahead and remind the camp that my lord must be the first to see me.” The guard frantically nodded, voice trembling.

“Y-yes lady.” You lurked, silently walking around him from behind. His friend cried out in pain, seething in the mud. The guard before you knew better than to acknowledge him there.

“Once she has my message, they’ll be free to gaze.” He nodded once, and then he was gone, quickly speeding away to warn the camp. You shifted your eyes back onto the writhing man on the ground, raising an eyebrow as he desperately spoke.

“M-my lady, I swear, I did not look at you!” You ignored his pleas, kind enough to inform him of his fate.

“...I must take your eyes.” At that he flinched, more energetic than before.

“L-lady no–be merciful!” You scoffed, pacing as you looked down at him in annoyance.

“And your tongue.” His eyebrows narrowed at that, and in a last ditch effort he reached for his sword. Perfect. 

“You bitch! I-I’ll kill you–argh!” You threw one of your daggers, letting the weapon sink into his wrist. He cried out, but you didn’t give him time for his final breath on this earth to last, clambering on top of his body before bringing the blunt end of your remaining dagger down onto his eyes. 

Again and again you bashed the weapon into them, feeding off his cries of pain. Feverishly, you grinned as his warm blood splattered across your face. You bit your bottom lip as you flipped the blade in your hand once that was done, driving it up under his chin. Finally, the grating noise of his annoying yells cut off, and you breathed out in satisfaction. Unceremoniously, you yanked your dagger out of his head and rose, leaving the body there to head to your lord.

“Turn away!” You harshly spoke, striding into the camp. “Only the women may look at me until I have told my lord what I have seen.” As you walked, the men obeyed, turning away from you with haste. They knew doing otherwise would result in death, and although you were never one to turn away from it, you couldn’t kill every man in your lord's camp.

You marched forward, determined. Where is she? You were itching to see her, to tell her of her glory, to tell her of her destiny. Taking a turn, you abruptly stopped, surprised until you softly smiled.

Your lord was already on her knees, waiting for you. Vi was so frozen one would think she was dead, with her hands laid out over her knees and eyes closed. She meditated to become one with the gods, but that wouldn’t be enough.

You would be the one to bring her to it.

With little hesitation you brought your dagger onto your own palm, slashing across it. You strode up to Vi, walking around your lord until you stood behind her. You reached down to grab a fistful of her hair, jerking it backwards. Pale blue eyes snapped open, staring back up at you. The intensity of her gaze made you shiver as you held your clenched fist over her mouth, pouring your blood down past her lips as you rasped. 

“Vi my love, drink me and make my vision real. Let me offer you all my strength…” When the last drop fell she closed her eyes as if the taste of you was enchanting. The look made your stomach twist, and you hummed as you walked around to face her, kneeling before your lord. You delicately cupped her jaw in the palm of your bloody hand, watching her eyes flutter open. 

It is done. You leaned forward, and she knew what to do, devouring your lips in a burning kiss. You kissed her back with equal passion, the taste of her sullied with the metallic tinge of blood. Eventually, you pulled back, eyeing crimson smeared on her lips as you whispered.

“I see the death of a king.” Vi’s eyebrows furrowed, strong arms wrapping around you as she spoke just as softly.

“Which king?” You grinned, gleeful as you answered your love.

“I see…the death of Silco. The king of Wessex.”

[bravo4iscool]

i didn’t really like the end hvitserk got but i guess i have to work with that now🥲

(hvitserk lothbrok & king alfred; hvitserk lothbrok x original female character)

(masterlist overview | vikings masterlist | join my tag list!)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

“fetch me athelstan,” alfred mumbles, loosely motioning one of his servants to search for said man.

a few moments later the servant returns, athelstan in tow. alfred sits on his throne, raising his hand slightly. “leave us,” he orders. the servant bows and retreats.

then alfred looks at the guards. “i said, leave us.” this time his voice is harsher and a small scowl appears on his face. the guards glance at each other before they slightly bow and leave the king and athelstan alone in the throne room.

once everyone is gone alfred stands up and walks down from the slight pedestal his throne was placed on. “hvitserk,” now a small smile plays around his lips. “how are you doing? have they been treating you good?”

alfred doesn’t get an answer, just a frown. a chuckle escapes his lip and he shakes his head with a small sigh. “you know, i had to get you baptized so they wouldn’t kill you. i know that you still believe in the gods and i won’t call you athelstan. unless you want to.”

alfred stands opposite hvitserk and for the first time the northman talks. “why?” he asks, crossing his hands behind his back. “why save me? it doesn’t make sense.”

“mhh,” alfred hums before shrugging. “i don’t know. i guess i didn’t want to fight you anymore. our fathers didn’t fight. so why should we?”

hvitserk’s frown deepens. “last i remember your father did fight us.”

alfred chuckles. “ah, you mean aethelwulf? well…he wasn’t my father. i mean, in a certain way he was but he wasn’t my biological father,” alfred explains, starting to trail around the throne room.

“what do you mean by that?” hvitserk wants to know, following the young king.

alfred looks back at him. “exactly what i said. aethelwulf wasn’t my biological father.” he comes to a halt and turns around to look at hvitserk again. “athelstan was.”

hvitserk’s eyes widen, a look of surprise on his face. “athelstan was your father?” alfred nods, smiling again while hvitserk tries to process that new information.

“but that’s not why i wanted to talk to you,” alfred explains. he walks towards a little table, pouring him and hvitserk a glass of wine. he extends his hand towards hvitserk and the northman takes the glass.

hvitserk takes a sip. “why did you want to talk to me then?”

the young king purses his lip, thinking how to phrase his request. “there’s a few things actually,” he then says. “first off, how is your stance towards marriage?”

hvitserk raises his eyebrow, before taking another sip of whine. “marriage?” he asks, trying to sound as unbothered as possible. “i thought about it while i still lived in kattegat but i accepted the fact i likely won’t marry.” he shrugs.

“ahh…” alfred slowly nods. “well, my court wants to properly integrate you into saxon society by marriage.” he doesn’t give hvitserk time to interject. “there is one lady that would be willing—or rather he father would be willing to marry her off to you. her name is lady sophie.”

“lady sophie…” her name rolls past hvitserk’s tongue and he slightly grimaces. “who is she?” he wants to know, emptying his glass of wine.

alfred takes a sip of his own wine. “the daughter of a nobleman. not too noble but not too peasant. perfect for you.” he looks at hvitserk, trying to read his reaction off his face. “if you do not wish to marry, you do not need to. it is simply a…recommendation.”

hvitserk bites the inside of his lip. after thora he was sure he wouldn’t marry, he wouldn’t find love but maybe marrying that lady sophie would give him a shot at children…

alfred raises his eyebrow. he had hvitserk. he definitely had him. “there is another thing though,” he continues to talk.

“and that would be?”

alfred places his glass of wine down. then he looks into hvitserk’s eyes. “i want you to be my first in command.”

hvitserk spits out a small laugh. “you what? you want me to be your first in command?” this has to be a joke, right? why would alfred want hvitserk to command the whole saxon army? “are you being serious?”

“i am serious,” alfred nods, a serious expression on his face. “you are an incredible fighter, hvitserk and i would be honoured if you would accept my offer.”

-

hvitserk sits in his chamber on a chair, staring out of the window. it’s been a few weeks since he talked with alfred and he hasn’t seen the young king since then. hvitserk spend most of his time outside, riding around wessex and just enjoying the silence.

he’s playing with a coin, contemplating. he still didn’t know if he should take on alfred’s offer. marriage sounded…scary, especially to a saxon woman and being the first in command to the army? hvitserk would be mad if he’d take that job. but on the other side…fighting again would give him a certain satisfaction…

he moves when the heavy door opens and someone walks inside. he turns and in his room stands alfred. immediately hvitserk stands up, bowing. but alfred just waves it off.

“we don’t need those formalities hvitserk.” the young king smiles and walks further into the room. “we are friends, are we not?” he tilts his head and hvitserk thinks for a second.

were they friends? they haven’t really talked with each other or done anything of that kind. but if alfred said they were friends, who was hvitserk to disagree? “sure,” he just says, nodding.

alfred smiles again and points to hvitserk’s chair while he himself sat down on the bed. “have you thought about my offer of marriage?” he asks and hvitserk bites the inside of his cheek.

“i have. and i would like to meet that lady sophie before i decide if i shall marry her or not.” hvitserk looks at alfred, not sure if he would accept his compromise. but alfred just nods, accepting hvitserk’s terms without any discussion.

“and about your…other offer…” alfred’s head perks up at those words. “i thought about that too.”

“and?”

hvitserk takes a deep breath before he says the next words. “and i accept it.” he knew he would be seen as a traitor by his people but they haven’t come for him, have they? they don’t miss him. so why should he crawl back to them? “i am willing to become your first in command.”

it’s nearly impossible to miss the way alfred’s face lights up. and before hvitserk can really react he’s in the right embrace of the young king. a bit perplexed he returns the hug, awkwardly patting alfred’s back.

“this is a great day,” added declares once the hug is broken, keeping his hands on hvitserk’s arms. “you also shall meet lady sophie today!” he smiles, quickly embracing hvitserk again before he leaves the room.

-

the silence is weird, it’s unusual. hvitserk almost stares at the woman across him, not knowing what to do. with margarethe and thora it was easy but with this lady sophie? he didn’t know her.

alfred sits between the both of them at the table, his eyes darting from sophie to hvitserk, back to sophie and then hvitserk. he could feel how thick the air was, almost like he could cut it with a knife.

after a few more moments of observing he cleared his throat and leant back in his seat. “i think i shall help a bit, should i?” he asks, not really demanding an answer. he looks at hvitserk. “athelstan, this is lady sophie—“ he looks at sophie. “lady sophie this is athelstan, but he prefers to go by hvitserk.”

“but isn’t that a heathen name?” she immediately asks, a slight frown appearing on her face.

alfred nods, ready to answer but hvitserk beats him to it. “i am a heathen,” he says, his eyes trained on her while he folds his hands on the table.

“but you have been baptized. and you were given a new name,” lady sophie argues, not really understanding why someone reformed by christ would prefer to go by his heathen name.

hvitserk bites the inside of his cheek. he would need to be careful about what to say now. “i have,” he slowly answers. “but my birth name holds greater meaning to me than my christian name. that’s why i prefer it—in private,” he adds, glancing at alfred who gives him a small, encouraging nod.

lady sophie doesn’t pick up the topic again after that. instead she tilts her head at hvitserk and asks, “do you want children? and if yes, how many?”

hvitserk is a bit perplexed by her forwardness but after all few seconds he nods. “i would like children, yes. i…don’t care how many though. as many as you would like.” he slightly shrugs.

she nods. “okay. would you teach our kids your heathen ways?”

“i—“ hvitserk glances to alfred but he just shrugs. he didn’t know why she wanted to know that. “what do you mean by that?” his brow is furrowed in confusion.

“will you teach them how to fight?”

“yes.”

lady sophie purses her lips. “even a girl?” she wants to know, staring to fiddle with her hands. it wasn’t appropriate for a girl to fight. but hvitserk just nods.

he leans forward. “of course i would also teach a girl. fighting is a useful skill,” he explains. he knew the way the saxons often looked down on their women and hvitserk was more than sure that that wasn’t how their god wanted them to treat their women.

he would teach his daughter how to fight and to defend herself. if they wanted or not. he could see the way lady sophie didn’t like that but if they should marry he would find a way to convince her.

“are you gonna teach them about the gods?”

“no.”

now even alfred was surprised. to his knowledge hvitserk still practiced his heathen faith. but hvitserk’s expression hardens.

“they’re not my gods anymore,” he explains in a tight voice. they’d abandoned him a long time ago. they didn’t care about him anymore so why should he worship them? they just brought pain over him. he was done with them.

lady sophie furrows her brow but doesn’t question it any further. “so you will attend mass with me?”

“no.” hvitserk shakes his head. “i don’t believe in any god. i believe in myself,” he says in a steady voice, his eyes not leaving the woman across him.

she shoots a glance at alfred but when he doesn’t see the king react to hvitserk words she just takes them. “will you let me take our children?” her voice was a tad more quiet now, unsure even.

hvitserk purses his lips and glances at his hands quickly. “if they went to go i will not be in the way,” he answers, looking at lady sophie again. “i will not be someone who will put restrictions on you and our potential children,” he clarifies, not sure if lady sophie thought he’d rule her in their—potential—marriage.

she nods. “okay…”

-

alfred sits down beside hvitserk, as so often the past days, and hands him a cup.

“wine?” hvitserk wants to know, suspiciously eying the cup. he tried to drink as little alcohol as possible. but it was quite hard when there was mostly wine available.

alfred shakes his head, “no. water.”

hvitserk grabs the cup and takes a sip. he hasn’t drank in a while, not noticing how thirsty he actually was. “thank you,” he tells alfred with a tight smile.

the young king nods and claps hvitserk’s back. “so, what do you think of lady sophie? do you like her?” he didn’t think hvitserk did, given their interactions were rather…tensed.

but to alfred’s surprise hvitserk just shrugged. “she’s not bad. i’ve met worse women…” there’s a faint smirk on his lips and alfred laughs.

he shakes his head and looks at hvitserk. “could you imagine marrying her?” he wants to know, his hand still on hvitserk’s shoulder blade. “be honest with me please.”

hvitserk bites the inside of his cheek before he nods. “i think i can. there’s some…rough edges we’ll need to work around but i think it can work out…”

a big grin spreads on alfred’s face at those words. he embraces hvitserk in a brief side hug and claps his shoulder again. “this is amazing hvitserk! i will let my court know!”

a faint smile plays around hvitserk’s lips. maybe he would get another shot at love. his mother always told him loving was a choice and not a feeling. maybe he could chose to love lady sophie…

[icarusignite]

Hey! I don't know if this is the proper format (still kind of new here) but I'm sending in this prompt for an Alfred × Reader fic. There's this idea for him that was stuck in my head a couple months ago. So…

It's set either S2 or S3 but it fits better in S3 or the break between 2 and 3. Alfred is really ill which isn't unusual for him, but this time he's taking a lot longer for him to heal and he's deteriorating more seriously than he normally would.

People in court start looking around for new healers and remedies. Alfred is also kind of desperate because he doesn't want to die before England is complete or Edward is ready to take over.

Reader, who is a healer, comes to court with the intention of helping Alfred. She's neither Dane nor Saxon, if you're comfortable with it she could be of Asian or African origin/descent (eg Father Benedict in S5). She's either Muslim or Christian, either way she's well read and a bit of a scholar (if you've seen Vikings: Valhalla S2, there's a female character that might ring a bell). She's also able to reassure him, like Iseult, that she's treating him with nature's bounty and nothing sinister.

Because she's a scholar (also maybe a Christian), Alfred is comfortable that she's not practicing witchcraft so this helps him accept her more easily. It also helps them bond and they become really close friends over the course of the months she spends treating him. They have fun banter and he's able to feel like Alfred, the man around her instead of King Alfred. Then he realizes that he has feelings for her.

At this point it could go any way really. Does Aelswith factor into it much or not? Does reader reciprocate his feelings or not? If she does, would she be comfortable giving into them and being a mistress? Is Aelswith even in the picture or is this a slight AU? Do they have a sad, happy or bittersweet ending? Idk

For extra spice, Reader could also be good friends with Uhtred or Finan which makes Alfred a little jealous but also sad because he thinks that she'd probably prefer the charming, handsome, potentially single, strapping man to whatever measly affection he could offer her.

Ideally, it would be fluff or smut but whatever you're comfortable writing is fine! Sorry if this is too long but I wanted to be as clear as possible 😅. I also understand if this is too much for a oneshot and you forego the idea entirely

Alfred the great x POC! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Heyy, so sorry this took literally eons to finally write. Thank you for your lovely request and also thank u for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy what I've done with your idea, and dw this will have another part where I'll explore their chemistry more. I watched a bunch of Alfred edits to get in the mood and ngl I'm lowkey in love with him now lmfao. 

Disclaimer: there might be some (a lot) historical discrepancies because I didn't line up the dates exactly but I did find out that the Golden Age of Islam overlapped significantly with the dates that the last kingdom spans so the reader is a prominent scholar from Baghdad. Also, Aelswith is dead (I'm sorry T_T) cuz I don't love a cheating trope even when it is sort of historically accurate. So we have single dad Alfred lol. 

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Entering King Alfred's throne room, your senses were immediately awakened by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and scents of Wessex. The room itself was a stark contrast to the opulent palaces and grand courts of Baghdad that you were accustomed to. The room was spacious, yet its decoration was surprisingly humble and simple, adorned with rough-hewn wooden beams and modest tapestries that depicted various scenes of English myths and prominent events. With a flash of triumph, you found that you recognized some of them from your studies of the English culture. A faint scent of burning wood from the hearth permeated the air with an earthy aroma.

You observed the nobles in attendance, or the ealdormen as they were called here, their attire markedly different from the splendid silks and jewels of Baghdad's court. Here, the people wore simpler garments made of sturdy wool and linen, in the dark colours of the earth as opposed to the the vibrant clothing the people of your home favoured.

Your gaze then turned to the throne itself. It was a robust wooden chair, its design austere yet imposing, lacking the grandeur of the magnificent thrones you had imagined English kings liked to occupy. King Alfred's regal figure atop the throne created a dignified presence. His clothing, matched the style of his ealdormen, long simple robes of a dull grey. The seat next to him was empty and you briefly wondered about his family. The chronicles you had read stated that a king's wife usually took her place beside him when he held court, but you did not know much of Alfred's wife.

Your fingers itched for your writing instruments, yearning to document all your observations and the happenings of the court. You seldom went anywhere without them, but now they remained tucked away in your satchel as you waited for the king to acknowledge your presence. You knew he had seen you enter, his eyes briefly meeting yours, even as he conversed with his ealdormen. Eventually, your thoughts began to wander and you couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the scorching heat of Baghdad and the chilly bite of autumn in Wessex. your flowing linen tunic and trousers, so comfortable in the sweltering desert of your homeland, felt inadequate against the cold English air that seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

You discreetly rubbed your tingling fingertips together, trying to generate some warmth, as the fire blazing at the hearth did little to banish the chill that had settled in your bones. Your longing for the warmth of the caliphate's sun was keenly felt in this unfamiliar and frigid environment.

Impatience welled up within you as you glanced around the chamber, noting the courtiers' stoic expressions and hushed conversations. The king's deliberations seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you found yourself yearning for the moment when you could finally present your credentials and seek the audience you had travelled so far to obtain.

King Alfred's voice finally called out your name, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"Esteemed lady, I welcome you to the court of Wessex."

The ealdormen, accustomed to the formalities of their court, were taken aback when you did not bow or curtsy as was expected. Instead, you offered a polite smile and tipped your head in a gesture of respect.

A murmur of surprise and disapproval rippled through the assembled courtiers. Some whispered that your behaviour was disrespectful, a breach of protocol. They exchanged curious glances, wondering how their king would react to this departure from tradition.

However, King Alfred took no offence. With a gracious nod, he signalled for you to speak.

"Thank you, your grace. It is an honour to be here."

Your accent was soft, lending your words a foreign intonation, and each syllable was carefully enunciated. You had spent months learning the language, and you weren't about to embarrass yourself now by messing up your pronunciation.

"I extend my deepest gratitude to you for undertaking such a long and arduous journey at my request. I hope the discomfort of the voyage did not prove too taxing."

"Your Majesty," you replied, "it was a journey of great honour for me, and I hope to make myself useful here."

King Alfred nodded appreciatively and then turned to a servant standing nearby.

"Please, ensure that the lady is provided with comfortable quarters and all the amenities she may require during your stay in Wessex."

The servant bowed in acknowledgment and stepped forward to escort you to your residence within the royal palace. You thanked the king once more for his hospitality and assistance before following the servant out of the chamber.

As you left the throne room, your observant nature couldn't help but take note of King Alfred's condition. Despite his attempt to appear at ease in his chair, you had perceived the subtle signs of discomfort. His favouring of his left side, indicating pain or injury to his right, and the unusually pallid complexion for an Englishman raised concerns in your scholarly mind. That was your purpose, after all, to try to diagnose and hopefully cure the ailing monarch.

Just when you were gone, the noblemen of King Alfred's court wasted no time in flocking around him, their curiosity piqued by the arrival of the enigmatic woman. They bombarded the king with questions and voiced their concerns about the unfamiliar customs you had displayed.

One nobleman, his voice dripping with skepticism, remarked, "Your Majesty, did you see that? She didn't bow or curtsy as she should have! It's as if she has no respect for you."

Another, eyeing your unusual attire and complexion, chimed in, "And her clothing, Your Grace! It's unlike anything I've ever seen in Wessex. She's clearly not from anywhere near England. What could she possibly want here?"

The murmurs of disapproval and suspicion spread among the courtiers, as they exchanged perplexed glances. To them, your arrival was an anomaly, and your behaviour had raised eyebrows and questions.

King Alfred, his countenance calm and measured, raised a hand to quell the growing unease.

"I understand your concerns, but there is nothing to worry about" he began, addressing their concerns. "The lady you have just met is a prominent figure from Baghdad. She has travelled from a distant land to be here and she is not here to defy our traditions or customs. She is a scholar seeking to further her studies in Wessex. Her journey to our land is a great honour, as it reflects the recognition of the importance of our own intellectual pursuits."

His tone left no room for further skepticism. He also did not mention the other reason you were there, as he did not wish to reveal the truth of his declining health. As the nobles filtered out of the room, somewhat still unsatisfied by his answer, Alfred couldn't help but remain still, his mind going over the recent developments. When he had first written to the Abbasid Caliphate to request that he be allowed to host a medical scholar at his court, he had to admit he was not expecting a woman, and certainly not one so beautiful.

The next day, Alfred summoned you to his private chambers for a consultation regarding his health. As you entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the change in your attire. Gone was the flowing linen tunic and trousers, replaced by a sturdier, more practical woollen English dress. The deep blue gauzy veil, however, was still draped around your head and flowed down your back.

The English clothing seemed to complement you, accentuating your elegance in a way that was both unexpected and captivating. The king, not for the first time, found himself admiring you, though he kept such thoughts to himself, mindful of the formal context of your meeting.

You, ever the professional scholar, maintained a polite and formal distance as you began your examination of the king. You inquired about his symptoms, listening attentively to his description of the pain and discomfort he had been experiencing. Your deep knowledge and keen medical insight were evident as you asked probing questions and conducted a thorough assessment.

After a careful evaluation, you began to discuss your observations and your initial diagnosis with the king. You explained your thoughts on the potential causes of his discomfort and suggested a course of treatment. King Alfred was grateful for your expertise, and couldn't help but be struck by your intellect. He had a thirst for knowledge himself and he appreciated the quality in others when he saw it. In you he recognized a passion for learning and documentation, one he held himself as well. After the medical examination, he extended an invitation to you to remain in his chambers and share a cup of tea. Initially hesitant, you eventually agreed, recognizing the value of the opportunity to engage in conversation with the English monarch.

Seated in the warmth of the chamber, Alfred began to share with you the rich history of England, its struggles, its triumphs, and its cultural tapestry. He spoke of the challenges of the Anglo-Saxon period, the battles against the Danes, and the enduring spirit of the English people. As he narrated the history of his land, Alfred couldn't help but notice how your eyes lit up with a deep fascination, even though you attempted to contain your enthusiasm. Your questions flowed naturally as you probed deeper into the history and culture of Wessex. You asked about the Anglo-Saxon kings, the legends and folklore, and the development of the English language.

You kept diligent notes in your little notebook, your hand swiftly capturing every detail of the conversation. Your keen intellect and insatiable thirst for knowledge were evident, and your genuine interest in Alfred's words warmed his heart. It had been quite a while since anyone had paid such rapt attention to what he was saying, and he found himself rejuvenated by your exchange.

As a lull settled over your conversation, Alfred's curiosity got the better of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned forward and said, "My lady, I must admit, I'm quite curious about the contents of that notebook of yours. What sort of information have you been documenting to take back to your homeland?"

You smiled, your demeanour more relaxed than when you had first come in, "Your Majesty, you need not worry. I promise you, I haven't written that the English are fire-breathing trolls."

Alfred felt a grin tug at his lips, but he suppressed the urge, keeping his hands folded placidly over his stomach.

"Well, you know, if we English could breathe fire, we might have an easier time dealing with our enemies!"

"There is a trick that performers back home use, to give the illusion of breathing fire. The science behind it is quite fascinating. Perhaps I shall explain it to you sometime."

"Ah yes my lady, you have filled your book with our tales, but have yet to share yours. Do you have any secrets from the East that you'd like to share with us humble English folk?"

You couldn't help but smirk at his words, "I'm afraid some secrets are best left in the lands where they belong, your grace. We wouldn't want you to start brewing Persian tea incorrectly, now would we?"

"I doubt it can compete with our tried and trusted English tea."

"You only think that way because you haven't tried Persian tea yet. Trust me, once you have, there's no going back."

"I suppose you make a fair point! Although, I must admit, the thought of trying to decipher the intricacies of Arabic calligraphy is rather tempting."

You paused, your light-hearted nature urging you to make another joke but you strictly reminded yourself that you were in the presence of a king. It would do you no good to offend him with an ill-timed statement. You were already apprehensive about your earlier comment about the Persian tea, although you were grateful that he chose not to see it as a slight. As if sensing your hesitation, Alfred sat up in bed and leaned forward.

"You are free to speak my lady, do not hold yourself back on my account," he reassured with a wave of his hand.

Still, you settled for a polite smile, "I was just going to remark on the difficulty of calligraphy but I am certain that if anyone would be able to master it, it'd be you, Your Majesty."

A small furrow appeared between Alfred's brows as if that wasn't the answer he expected from you. He could see you pulling away, going back to your polite, almost cold professionalism. Eventually, he nodded thoughtfully at you.

"I would be ever so grateful if you could perhaps show me the technique someday, my lady."

You breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with a small smile.

"Now, about that notebook, if you would allow me to take a look?"

"Ah yes, of course," you handed over the small leatherbound journal to him quickly without further complaints. "But I must warn you, my handwriting isn't at its most legible."

Alfred accepted the notebook with a nod of appreciation. As he leafed through its pages, his eyes quickly fell upon your meticulously written notes. Your thoughts were inscribed in your native language and although he did not understand the words, your elegant looping script impressed him.

He raised an eyebrow and turned toward you expectantly, pointing toward a specific passage, "And what does this say right here?"

"It is a description of the English weather, your grace."

Alfred leaned closer, his finger tracing the inked lines on the page.

"Ah yes, English weather. It was raining when you first arrived, wasn't it? What do you think of our English rain then, my lady? I've heard it has a certain charm."

"Well, I believe your rain can be quite persuasive. It insists that one should stay indoors and read a good book."

Alfred's lips twitched again, fighting back a smile. It seemed that the new scholar shared his interests as well.

"A wise perspective, indeed. Perhaps our English rain is simply encouraging a literary lifestyle."

"Yes, your grace."

"My lady" he continued, a note of genuine admiration in his voice, "I must tell you, your handwriting is truly exquisite. Tell me, just how many languages have you learned."

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment. There was something sincere in his eyes as he waited for your answer, looking at you like your accomplishments were the greatest thing in the world. You opened your mouth to respond but then a loud knock sounded on the door and a priest entered.

"Yes, Father Beocca," Alfred seemed irritated at the interruption.

Father Beocca's eyes glanced from you to the king, and despite the fact that you were sitting in a chair quite some distance away from him, you felt a strange flash of awkward embarrassment run through you.

"My king, Uhtred is here to see you," the priest finally stated.

Alfred sighed and turned toward you with an apologetic smile, "Shall we continue our conversation another time then, my lady? It seems that I am needed elsewhere."

"Yes, of course, your grace."

You quickly took your leave then, choosing to take one of your books and go read in the garden. You had just settled yourself into a comfortable nook when loud boisterous laughter caught your attention. Turning your gaze towards the source of the commotion, you spotted three men, two of whom were dressed in the attire of warriors. Their boisterous behaviour was evident as they playfully teased and shoved the third man, who was clad in robes that resembled those of Father Beocca. However, a leather breastplate adorned his monk's attire, hinting at a surprising duality of roles – priest and fighter.

The two warriors were engaged in a lively exchange with the monk, their laughter echoing through the garden. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold. Their camaraderie and jesting reminded you of the Caliph's sons back home, when your father would take you to visit the palace.

One of the warriors, a bearded man with broad shoulders and a hearty laugh, clapped the monk on the back.

"Come now, Osferth," he said between chuckles, "surely your devotion to the Lord could use a bit of levity now and then."

The monk, Osferth, grinned in response, "Aye Finan, it is said that laughter is the best medicine, is it not?"

The other warrior, a lean and quick-witted fellow, joined in with a jest, "Well, if that's the case, Osferth, then Finan here will live to be a hundred and you shall die tomorrow!"

Osferth elbowed the tall man in the ribs, "Not before I knock some sense into you Sihtric."

Their jovial banter and good-natured teasing continued, creating a lively atmosphere in the serene garden. You couldn't help but be amused by their antics and the familiarity of their interactions, watching them for quite some time.

The trio of men eventually noticed your presence, and with their laughter dying down, they made their way over to you. As they approached, their expressions revealed a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

The broad-shouldered warrior, Finan, whose eyes twinkled with mischief, was the first to speak. "Well, what have we here?" he said with a grin. "A traveller from foreign shores, I presume?"

"Yes, I am from Baghdad, my lord."

The warrior, clearly taken with you, couldn't resist a flirtatious remark.

"Lady, I must say, you are a wondrous addition to our English garden."

You snorted at his attempt at flirtation.

Meanwhile, the monk with the leather breastplate maintained a more respectful demeanour.

"Greetings, lady, I am Osferth," he said with a nod. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I ask what brings you to our humble Wessex?"

You found the monk's polite curiosity quite refreshing.

"Greetings to you too, Osferth. I've come to further my studies here. Wessex has much to offer in terms of knowledge and history, and I hope to make the most of it."

"Well, my lady, if ever you wish to explore our English shores, I'd be delighted to be your guide," it was Finan who spoke again and you could not help but laugh at his words.

"Thank you, kind sir. Your offer is most gracious."

“Call me Finan, my lady.”

Your change continued as they asked more about you and your hometown and you asked about theirs. You found out that they were a band of warriors who followed some fellow named Uhtred, the very same Uhtred who was currently speaking to King Alfred. As the conversation flowed, you discovered that you enjoyed speaking with these men. Their witty banter and friendly demeanour made you feel at ease, despite the foreignness of your surroundings. You shared stories of your travels, your scholarly pursuits, and the cultural nuances of your homeland. The men, in turn, regaled you with tales of their own adventures.

As you continued to engage in playful banter with the warriors, you remained oblivious to the presence of King Alfred and Uhtred, who had ventured outside and were observing the lively exchange.

Eventually, with a confident stride, Uhtred made his way toward your group to make his introduction and Father Beocca approached the king with his concerns.

"Your Majesty," he began cautiously, "I must admit, I have reservations about entrusting your treatment to a foreigner, especially one from so distant a land. We must be cautious of witchcraft and unfamiliar practices."

King Alfred turned to Father Beocca, his expression thoughtful but resolute, "Father Beocca, I understand your concerns, but the lady is no ordinary foreigner. She hails from Baghdad, a city known for its innovative medical advancements and a center of learning in the Islamic world. She comes as one of their finest scholars, sent by the Caliph himself."

"I see, your grace."

"I have read extensively about the great Islamic civilization, and its contributions to science, medicine, and philosophy. I believe we have much to learn from her, not only about medicine but also about fostering understanding and collaboration between our cultures. They have succeeded in uniting several lands under one caliphate, so perhaps we might learn how we may unite England as well."

Father Beocca, though still cautious, nodded in understanding, "Your Majesty, I trust your judgment. It is my fervent hope that the lady's presence here will indeed lead to beneficial knowledge and that she will uphold the values of wisdom and compassion."

"Thank you, Father Beocca. Let us have faith in this unique opportunity for cultural exchange and enlightenment. Her presence is a bridge between worlds, and I believe it is a path toward a brighter future for Wessex."

Over the course of the next few months, you became familiar with the routines of the Wessex palace. King Alfred allowed you to shadow him throughout his day, believing that you could provide valuable insights into his own activities. It was a decision that would lead to a profound connection between the two of you.

Every day, you diligently prepared poultices and medications for the king’s ailments, and often you’d recite the recipe to him and explain the purpose of each herb and plant that went into it. He found that he trusted you completely but he was still comforted by your transparency and the efforts you took to explain things to him. Sometimes he would insist on accompanying you on walks and you would point out the various native English plants and their counterparts back home. You also documented the king's activities and observations in your notebook. At times, he would request to see your notebook, often just to admire the beauty of your script. He marvelled at the graceful lines of your writing, and the intricate calligraphy that adorned the pages.

Your interactions went beyond the formalities of your initial meeting. King Alfred, always eager to learn, would occasionally ask you to translate certain passages from your native language and over time, your bond grew stronger. King Alfred began to look forward to each day, eager to see your bright and colourful veil, a striking contrast to your plain English gowns. He would wonder which hue you would choose, and it became a delightful anticipation in his daily routine.

Your conversations transcended the realm of duty and scholarly pursuits. The two of you shared your favourite books, discussing the nuances of various works and debating the merits of different translations. Your insights challenged Alfred's own understanding, and he cherished these moments of intellectual stimulation.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Alfred realized that you had become an important fixture in his life. your presence was a source of inspiration, a reminder of the power of knowledge, and a testament to the potential for understanding and collaboration between different cultures.

He found himself thinking of you when he was apart from you, reminiscing about how your eyes would dance with mirth as you argued with him about the inaccuracies of translated works, or how your laughter would fill the palace corridors. You had not only enriched his pursuit of knowledge but had also touched his heart, becoming a cherished friend and confidante in the process.

Alfred could still vividly recall the way you had looked at him with genuine wonder and appreciation when he had shown you his humble library. He knew that compared to the great libraries of Alexandria and Baghdad, his collection was modest, but you had delighted in it all the same. Your eyes, filled with curiosity and admiration, had swept over the numerous scrolls and manuscripts, taking in the wealth of knowledge contained within those walls.

In that moment, as you softly murmured your thanks, Alfred felt his breath catch. He was struck not only by the beauty of your physical presence but also by the grace with which you carried yourself and the genuine enthusiasm you displayed for learning. Your voice had a melodic quality that lingered in his memory. It was a voice that seemed to breathe life into the ancient texts that surrounded you and the king found himself quite enamoured with you. The two of you spent many a late night pouring over scrolls together, and although he always kept a respectful distance, Alfred found himself wanting to brush away the stray strands of hair that fell across your forehead, having escaped the tightly bound coil you usually kept your hair in.

Tonight was one such night as the dim light of the candle burned low, and after a lively discussion on herbal medicine, you had fallen asleep on one of the ancient manuscripts. Alfred, his mind still buzzing with the echoes of your conversation, fought against the pull of sleep. Instead, he watched you slumber, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.

In the soft candlelight of the library, you appeared even more enchanting. Your thick eyelashes brushed against your cheeks as you slept peacefully, your features serene. Your form rose and fell with each gentle breath, a rhythmic reminder of the tranquil cadence of sleep. Alfred couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty in this unburdened state. The play of shadows and light highlighted the delicate contours of your face, and the soft glow of the manuscripts around you lent an almost ethereal quality to the scene. You looked like a vision from a dream.

As he watched your slumber, a sudden, unexpected urge welled up within him. He was struck by the temptation to lean in and kiss you, but he quickly banished the traitorous thought. What an absurd thing for a king to do, to force his affections on a guest in his home. Especially when he had no way of knowing if you returned his feelings. He would have to content himself with the simple act of watching you sleep, his heart filled with a deep and unspoken longing.

He also found himself wondering if you were betrothed, for you couldn’t possibly be married and still be here. What man would not accompany you or let you out of his sight if you were his wife? Although you had discussed many things, you did not stray close to personal topics such as family. You were only a few years younger than him and surely you had to have someone in your life. And even if you didn’t, what could you possibly want with an ailing man like him when a woman as accomplished as you could have anyone in the world?

Such melancholy things plagued him as he eventually drifted asleep on the table across from you, his final thoughts fixating on what it might feel like to have your lips against his. 

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Captured

Summary: Ivar tries to see if (Y/N) is valuable.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One

Waking up felt like being knocked out all over again, but in reverse and much slower.

You groaned in pain as you slowly gained consciousness, and as you curled in on yourself you noticed the surface you were laying on was cold and hard. Too hard and smooth to be dirt, not splintery enough to be a wooden floor, but what set your instincts on fire was the coldness. Only one thing other than ice got this cold…metal.

A cage.

Before you could think better of doing so you sat up with far too much speed and the motion made her head spin and blurred your vision. Despite the horrible consequences you did manage to take in enough of your surroundings to confirm you were in fact in a metal cage before you closed your eyes to stop the dizziness.

‘Finally, if you didn’t wake up by sunrise we would have had to kill you before we broke camp.’

You had only heard the voice once but you quickly recognized its owner, and in doing so recall all the events that led you to be in this situation.

‘Get to the point, before I decide to bash my head against these bars. If not to put a permanent end to this headache I’ll do it to keep you from killing me.’ you said as angrily as you could manage as you clutch your head in pain.

‘Is it worth it to kill you?’ he asked, in English to your surprise.

‘You speak English?’ you asked.

‘Of course, I visited this lovely country with my great father when I was just becoming a man.’

‘I know. I just didn’t expect you to care enough to learn to speak a new language.’

‘Well I’m still waiting for an answer. Are you worth killing? Do you have any valuable information about Ecbert’s defenses or army?’

‘No. I am a ward of King Ecbert, I am no relative to him and no one will pay ransom for me. No other warrior even knows I stayed behind to kill you so no one is coming to save me if that’s what you’re really asking.’

‘You were not in Ecbert’s castle when I visited, that much I can be sure of. You must have come to him after he handed my father off like a pig for slaughter.’ Ivar said conversationally.

‘That’s not what happened.’ you said as you finally opened your eyes.

The more you talked the pain was slowly easing and your vision cleared enough for you to focus on the viking man sitting in front of your cage.

The cage itself wasn’t too bad, you couldn’t possibly stand up, not that you could without another dizzy spell, but you could sit up fully without hitting your head. You look around and realize that you are in a cage that was on a wagon. Ivar was sitting on the ground looking up at you with a confused face.

‘That is not what happened? Do you mean Ecbert didn’t send my father off to be butchered? Because by all accounts that is what happened. Aella, he did it, and from what I’ve heard it was a display of violence and cruelty.’

‘That is true; and despite how things are I am truly sorry for your loss, but it was not a decision that King Ecbert made out of malice. I never met Ragnar but this much I can say with certainty, Ecbert didn’t wish for any harm to come to your father.’

King Ecbert didn’t often speak openly of the times he personally parlayed with Vikings, and he never spoke of his conversations with Ragnar Lothbrok. Those were moments he seemed determined to keep close to his heart so that he could take those memories to his grave. 

However, when he had private lunches with you, Alfred and Aethelred he would drink wine and if his mood was good and if the wine was strong he would let slip little treats of information.

“This wine is the sweetest you can get, those Vikings nearly emptied our cellar when they got into it.”

“Slow down Alfred, you have the table manners of a Viking, soon you’ll be smashing our plates.”

The king would say little things like that every once in a while, but one time…when his mood was not good at all and the wine was too strong he went on a full drunken rant.

“Ruling. It is something men are killing to do, not realizing that no matter what it ends up killing you! The key to being a good king is this.’” Ecbert said drunkenly to Alfred, ignoring the sullen look Aethelred made at his exclusion.

“Know that you are nothing. What you want means nothing, the people you love don’t matter, even your own wishes mean less than nothing. Why? Dear boy, I will tell you why. Because your kingdom is paramount, your people need you to do right by them; and it is essential you understand the place you hold in their eyes. You will not be their Lord, their Liege or even their Highness; you will be their King!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

“Their King ordained by God! A God you will be all but forced to question as you make unholy decisions for the betterment of your people. Horrible evil decisions that you make when you're young and full of good intentions; decisions you as King can’t publicly call mistakes. Decisions that will end lives, decisions that will haunt you for the rest of your days and may even keep you from eternal paradise.”

Poor Alfred, he was only…ten maybe eleven as Ecbert poured the worries of an old king into his childish head.

Ivar looked up at you with no true expression but you could tell he was taking in your words, but you would probably never know how he processed them.

‘Hvitserk!’ 

You were startled by his sudden yelling, but you definitely recognized the name he called for; his brother, another son of Ragnar.

A gangly viking man came from the other side of your cage and yawned.

‘I thought you would babble on forever.’ he said as he stretched sleepily.

‘So…do we have to kill her or bring her for information? Either way I hope to enjoy her first.’ he said as he observed you in the cage like a pig at market.

‘I do understand Norse as well.’ you spat.

‘I’m aware. So what will it be, Ivar? Is she useful?’

‘She is very useful, brother, but you will not be having her. She will be our hostage.’

[ificanwriteiscannon]

Dynasty –Ferdia Walsh-Peelo Imagine

Pictures are not mine, just got them on google and put them together. 

This came to me when wacthing a brazilian soap opera and mathoning Vikings after. Hope it doesnt sucks

ps: english is not my first language so sorry if you find any mistake <3

Warning: talk about reincarnation, past lives and things like that but not too much tho

-x-

It started like a feeling, small butterflies in her stomach. She still remembered the first day she felt it, it was just her first day on set.

“I still can’t believe I’m here Alex” Y\N whispered excitedly to her old friend “That WE are here. It’s what we dreamed, remember?!”

The actor laughed and hugged his friend by his side “Of course I remember Y\N! Who would had thought that we’d be here”

She was the camera assistant and he the actor. It was the begging of their journey and they were at the tv show of the moment.

The scene was to be filmed in the insides of a castle. A scene where Ivar played chess with prince Alfred. The whole situation gave Y\N a sense of familiarity. ‘You’ve been here before. You lived this..’ Something yelled inside her. But still she wasn’t prepared to listen.

It wasn’t until the young actor entered. Her eyes searched for him, but when she localized him she felt disappointed. ‘It is not him’ the same small voice said.

The camera girl played with the book in her hands, the next time it happened.

When she was hired to work at the show something ignited inside her and her curiosity and passion for those old times consumed almost all of her free time. But still, a character seemed to be the point of most interest…

“Lunch break my lady?” Alex. The actor bowed in front of her still in his Ivar clothes. She chuckled. It was amazing how he could go from scary bloody Viking to the small puppy she called friend.

“Sure” Y\N closed her book and left with her belongs getting up from the common area they had for the crew. “So,..” She started while they walked to get their lunch “Have you meet the new addictions to the cast?”

“Why do I always get a feeling you’re waiting for someone?”  Alex raised an eyebrow and the girl rolled her eyes

“Well, you know I’ve always been a sucker for Jonathan Rhys Meyers” She shrugged but he still gave her a suspicious look.

“Why I don’t…” Alex’s voice disappeared from her ears when she found him in the middle of the people. It was a time stopping moment. His gaze was fixed in another actor at his side while the other said something that made him laugh. His laughter died as soon as he found her eyes.. Both trapped in each other, unable to move.

‘Forever and Always, my love’

He broke the trance as he got up, her eyes had gone wild and when he moved to approach, she ran on the opposite direction. Something in him scared her, but still every cell in her body begged that she stayed.

After that encounter she learned that he was the actor that would be playing Alfred, The great. Only her biggest obsession. Alex tried to ask Y\N why she ran without an explanation, but she couldn’t explain. It was just her messed up head, she said.

‘He came back to me’.

A few days passed and Y\N had managed to avoid the actor as far as she could. Still, watching him work proved one of the hardest tasks she had to do. The camera assistant got 3 advertences from her superiors for almost ruining some scenes. His scenes. One of those times, she swore she saw Jennie nudge him and whisper something to Ferdia, and he just blushed. His eyes never left hers.

The next time it happened it came at night at a dream. She had those kind of dreams before but none had felt that real. It was a walk down a garden, or a ride in a horse, but not like this. She could still feel the sweet texture of the white and golden dress between her fingers, her long hair falling in her shoulders and the veil in her head.

“You look beautiful, my love. Not even the brightest star could make you justice” His voice filled her ears while his hands held her against his body. The room was filled with their presence and only the candles illuminated them. His eyes sparkled and the blue pulled and hypnotised her and she felt like falling. But if this was falling, she would do it gladly.

“I love you my king” She half moaned when his lips touched her neck.

“And I you my queen. I shall love until my dying day and beyond..”

Y\N woke up with a gasp and her hand had gone to her chest. Her heart beating at an alarming pace. She didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning she called Rita. An college friend that she remembered talking about reincarnation and stuff like that.. According to her, Y\N was having regressions. Something like reviving something she lived in a past life.

“Well, for all that seems to me Y\N, you and this colleague of yours were married. You should totally talk to him, he is your past life great love. He can be your soulmate! This is totally destiny.. Oh this is so cute, please tell me more!” Y\N rolled her eyes while Rita let out little giggles already planning their spring wedding

“I have to go Rita, thank you for the help, see yaa” Ignoring her old college friend’s protests, she hang up her phone. “Soulmate, my ass” A small knock on the door alarmed her and she jumped in her seat

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” Y\N opened her mouth but her voice kept stuck on her throat “Alex couldn’t make it so he asked me to make you company for lunch. I mean, you d-don’t have to go.. He just said you didn’t like to eat alone and I thought.. I mean,..”

While hearing him stutter Y\N couldn’t help but smile. He was just as nervous around her as she was around him. In that moment she wondered if he also had the strange feelings and dreams she had.

“I would love to have lunch with you Ferdia” She smiled and he accompanied her while extending his hand to help her stand.

Since that lunch the two became incredibly close, to a point where Alex had a best friend\ big brother talk with his colleague. Y\N rolled her eyes at that and repeated the ‘we’re just friends’ excuse that became like a second nature to them. They walked hand in hand, Y\N helped Ferdia with his lines, they messed around in set and Alex even captured a precious moment while they cuddled in one of the sofas in the common area, using the picture as a proof to his point. Jennie declared that her biggest ship was the two of them, making Ferdia’s cheeks rosy while he lowered his gaze. ‘We’re just friends, guys’

“What are we going to watch?” The actor asked coming from his kitchen with a bowl with popcorn in his hands

“Ghost” Y\N replied getting a handful of popcorn

“Oh c’mon Y\N, we need to upgrade our standards here. It’s the third movie night with a cheesy romantic movie”

“Hey!” She punched him in the shoulder and they laughed “I love that movie, ok?”

“I like it too, but you promised a scary movie night” He arched his eyebrow, letting go of the bowl, he tickled her

“OK, OK, OK WE CAN WATCH SOMETHING ELSEE”  Y\N moved trying to escape from his arms. Their laughter died slowly and she found herself under him, trapped. His blue eyes consuming her. “Do you believe in past lives?” Ferdia chuckled sitting back

“From all the things I prepared for to answer you, that was not one of them”

“Sorry, never mind.., let’s just choose another movie ok? How about Nightmare on Elm street?” She tried to get up from the sofa but Ferdia held her wrist

“Can we talk about us?” He seemed unsure, almost as if he was scared to speak

“Us?”

“Look, I know you see me just as a friend, but I..”

“I don’t “ Y\N whispered with her eyes on the ground

“W-what?” The actor closed the small distance between them. He sat closely at her side, his orbs fixed on her, his knees touching hers’.

“I-I don’t see you just as a friend. I never did, I guess.. I just never gave too much thought about it. We do work together after all.. Things could get complicated and..” She could feel her heart beating so fast that hurt her chest. But before she could finish her sentence, Ferdia moved. His hands turned her face to him and caressed her cheeks. Her words died and none came from him either. When the tip of his finger touched her lower lip dedicatedly, she closed her eyes. It felt so familiar. His touch calmed her in a way nothing ever did. She missed this her whole life.

‘You lived this. You loved him. You still love him’

His lips touched hers and what started as an innocent unsure kiss, became heated and passionate. It was like coming home after a long journey.  

“I love you my king” Y\N said when they rested their foreheads against each other after the kiss. Ferdia smiled giving her a small peck on her lips

“And I you my queen”

[gardenflowerswriting]

Your Highness

Pairing: Alfred X Reader

A/N: thank you anon, I’m good. My week has been mediocre. I’m making this into two parts, because I couldn’t fit all the prompts into one chapter. (I really don’t know how. . . But I wanted to give this story in full detail) I’m kinda really digging this prompt so thank you anon, I wanna make it into a series, where the reader must go back to Kattegat or wherever the Great Heathen Army is, but we will see. . .

Credit goes to owner of gif.

40. I trust you (this chapter only)

41. I'm willing to wait

80. Marry me

      Lagertha gave you strict instructions, though she wasn't your true mother, she sure acted like it. She told you that you would be going to Wessex, to kill the new king and over throw his kingdom. It was true she was sour about the old Kings merciless killings of her people, but no one understood like you. She told you about her anger and trained you as hard as possible. As you stood on the docks next to Ubbe he tried warning you, "I do not like you doing her dirty work Y/N."

        You stood taller, watching the ships prepare for your departure. "Ubbe, this is what father would have wanted me to do. And besides, I don't wish to participate in your civil war." He gave you a side eye, "I have been trained all my life for combat, but I will not help you slaughter our brothers, mother wouldn't have wished for us to do that."

       "You wouldn't know what she wanted, you were never here, you didn't see how she was the one to divide us."

       You rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek, "please do not do something you will regret, I wish to come back to the same kingdom I left."

      You could see Lagertha approaching, "ready?" She asked. You nodded, "we hope to have you there in a week."

       "I hope I can fulfill your wishes."

       She hugged you, "me too," her voice was a whisper in your ear.

       You turned to Bjorn and hugged him, "see you soon," you say in a cool tone, as if you weren't about to assassinate a king.

       "Be careful," you gave a final smile and nodded. Making your way to the ship, stepping down into it. You watched as your family disappeared, the houses, the docks, all of Kattegat just disappeared.

       It wasn't long before you reached land again, the people of Wessex thought you only came to talk of how they could rebuild their alliance with the Heathen people. You rode on horse to the foreign land, "they will prepare a dinner in your honor."

       You leaned to Cace, one of the warriors who joined you, "do you think their scared?"

       She snorted, "well, seeing a Heathen Princess in these parts is rare, I don't believe their enthusiastic about it." You sighed, as the gates opened, you saw a small group of people scatter, running out of your view. Maybe they all were scared of you, scared you would burn their city down like your brothers did.

An older women stepped forward, she spoke in a foreign language to you, but Cace spoke to her with ease. You leaned to her, “what did she say?”

She turned to you, talking in a low tone, “she welcomes us,” you nod, as if you understood. You dropped down off you horse, fixing your dress so it would flow nicely between your legs. You smiled at her, and two boys who looked to be your age, one wore a crown, signifying his importance. Cace tilted her head as you followed them into a large room. It had piles of food and was lit by candles all around.

“She asks how your trip was, and says to please sit and enjoy the food they have prepared,” you did as she said and took a seat next to Cace.

“Tell her it was fair, nothing interesting and please thank her,” she nodded her head and continued talking. You looked up to see the young eyes on you, you raised and brow and smiled, lowering your head in an act of respect.

“Your name is Y/N Lothbrok, if I’m not mistaken,” you looked up to see he was talking to you.

You smile, “yes. . . I didn’t know you could speak Norse.”

He shrugged, “I learned it a while back, thought it would be useful.” You smiled, this boy didn’t look like the ‘killer’ Lagertha told you of. He looked nice, his fair skin paired nicely with his dark long hair.

After dinner, the sky turned a dark black and they showed you a room for you to stay in. The bed was filled with furs and pillows, it seemed a bit much for just one person. “Cace, where will you be sleeping?” You ask as you undid the breads in your hair.

She stepped behind you, “down the hall, they have set up a smaller room.”

You shook your head, “you will sleep with me. We are here for a job and I would feel safer if you were with me, in case anything happened.”

She nodded, “where shall I sleep then?”

“In the bed, it’s enough for 5 Cace, it will be fine.” You laid in the bed, but all you could think about was the king. How could you kill him without signing your own death warrant. You were in a castle full of his people, people who lived to serve him. When you could hear Cace fast asleep, you decided to roam the large castle. It had seemed to have endless walls and rooms connecting them, but one room caught your attention most. It had a candle lit, but sounded as though no one was there. You tightened your robes and push the wood door open, you jumped when you saw the young king sitting at a desk. When he looked up at you, you froze, “oh, I’m sorry. . . I-I just saw a light and-”

He raised his hand, “You’re fine.”

You relaxed, but didn’t want to leave so soon, “what are you looking at,” you ask, walking towards him.

“The Bible,” his voice was cool.

You tucked your hair behind your ears, “bible?” You asked, he nodded, “like Christian, bible?”

He laughed, “Yes, I know it’s not what you Heathens are used to, but it’s what we are.”

You looked back at it, it’s folds looked to be leather and pages looked soft, “May I?” He nodded. You picked it up between your hands, it opened wide, with words you didn’t understand.

He picked you out of your trans as he spoke, “you can keep it if you wish, though I don’t know if you’ll be able to read it very well.”

You scrunch your nose, “I don’t think my family will be fond of me taking that home with me.”

He smiled, “your father would, he indulge in the Christian culture once.”

You looked into his eyes, they twinkled in the candle light, “no. . . my father is dead now.”

His face went from a smile to a frown, as though he remembered what had happened, he took a deep breath, “do you trust me?”

You pulled your face back, “I don’t know, I have only met you an hour ago your highness.”

He smiled, “well, you should trust me, I’m trustworthy.”

You laughed, “You are?”

“Yes, very! . . And call me Alfred, your highness makes me sound old.”

He stood in front of you, “but are you not a king?” You ask.

“I am, but,” he took your hand and with the free one, picked up a candle stick, “I don’t like to be reminded.”

He began to lead you down a hallway, “where are you taking me?”

“Just follow me,” his grip on your hand tightened as he lead you to a large room, larger than yours.

He let go of your hand and closed the door behind him, you turned curiously to him, “why am I in a room?”

He smiled and grabbed you by the shoulders, “This is my room, and I want to show you something,” he led you to a balcony outside.

“Why am I now outside?”

He bit his lip, “look up.” When you did, you saw hundreds of stars painting the black sky.

You blinked, as though it wasn’t real, “oh my,” you whisper.

“I know,” they looked to twinkle in the sky, changing with colors.

“How are there so many?”

He stepped behind you, taking your hand, “you can make drawings, like the clouds.” He picked your hand up and drew lines with it, creating shapes you had never seen.

When you remembered everything, you pulled away, “I should go, Cace will wonder if she wakes up.”

You tried walking away from him, but he grabbed your hand, “no,” he said with a frown, “Stay.”

“Your highness,” you corrected yourself, “Alfred, I really should be going.”

“Fine. . . then promise you will join me for a walk tomorrow?”

You thought to yourself, “I guess that will be fine.”

He smiled, “good.” He kissed your hand then let go. No boy had ever even touched you like that. The only men who had kissed your hand where the old Kings your mother would meet with. It was only for a few seconds, you never even saw your own mother for more than two days a year.

When you walked back, all you could think about was his face, and how the stars danced on it, or how his hair fell so perfectly. Was this what it meant when people said they had a crush. . . no, he couldn’t be your crush, you were his killer. You would finish Lagertha’s one job, the job she placed in you. He was the prey, not your crush, and you the hunter.

[popcorn1989]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕤𝔸𝕡𝕡 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕍𝕚𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

Note: Modern/Vikings Boys/Girls - Ask me something lighter, my brain is a big question mark for me too...

Look here for the Others - Here

You -- I be right there, I see you.

Halfdan -- I don't see you

You -- Turn again...

Halfdan -- Where?

You -- Other side...

Halfdan -- I don't see you!

You -- Hahaha I'm still at home, I go now, it was just too funny. I would have liked to see you standing there and turning like an idiot in all directions.

Halfdan -- …. Ha Ha

You -- Honey, I'll be a little late, the boss wants to take me for petting.

Bjorn -- …

Bjorn -- … WTF

Bjorn -- … are you telling me you are cheating?

You -- NOOOO, shit, I mean MEETING

You -- He wants to take me to a meeting….

Bjorn -- …

You -- Have you been to the doctor?

Margrethe -- I don't need to… I know everything already.

You -- What do you mean?

Margrethe-- I googled it…. I'm dying!

You -- You have a normal cold, go to the doctor….

Margrethe -- No time… I have to say goodbye to everybody

You -- ….. What do you have according to the internet?

Margrethe -- The plague….. Goodbye!

The Seer -- hndkh7t6tvji

You -- WTF, how did you pull that off?

The Seer -- hdnujb34w

You -- I thought you couldn't write, how can you even see who you're writing?

The Seer -- hhnkjknsad0üp

You -- Oh god, he's sitting on his cell phone….

Judith -- I mean tit

Judith -- I like my new cellphone, it reminds me of a tit

You -- Don't give up Judith

Judith -- Tit

You -- You can do it!

Judith -- No, Tit

Judith -- I give up, he just keeps writing tit...

You -- What were you going to write?

Judith -- I wanted to write tit.

You -- Hahahaha

Judith -- …….

Harald -- Oh my God, I have storm-free. The old lady is finally gone. A whole weekend alone!

One hour later

Harald -- Oh my God, I burnt myself on the stove.

Harald -- And my pizza is burned

Harald -- Also, the candle fell on the carpet….

Harald -- And the cat ran away when it burnt its bottom…. I'm so dead when the old lady comes back.

You -- …

You -- … Hahaha Gosh, you are so not viable alone.

You -- How are you doing?

You -- Yes, finally you have a cellphone too!

You -- How's the wife?

2 hours later

You -- Hello??

Alfred -- Idon'tknowhowaspaceworksMeandmywifearefine

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Replacement (Prologue)

Summary: Alfred and Aethelred always knew that either one of them would marry the older daughter of Duke (L/N), the older sister of their childhood friend. Both had always carried some feelings for their friend, only thing is, neither knew just how deep these feelings were until many years later. Things unfold the night that the announcement is meant to be made, and one question still needs answering, will they ever be able to confess their feelings to the girl they hold dear?

Pairings: Alfred x Reader (romantic), Aethelred x Reader (Romantic)

A/N: Make sure read to read the Replacement on AO3 as all parts have been posted there! The amazing @flowers-in-your-hayr​ made the moodboard, banners, and dividers which were absolutely stunning. 😊 While the fantastic @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ made a lovely playlist that y’all can listen to. 

Aethelred and Alfred had been as close as brothers could be when they were much younger. But even as children, both brothers did not have much in common with one another, usually having very different interests. Aethelred adored spending his time playing outside, learning archery and swordsmanship, and following in his father’s footsteps to be a strong warrior. Alfred on the other hand had gentler pursuits; preferring to reside in his quarters reading texts, having discussions with his grandfather, and writing his own thoughts in ink.

Despite these clear differences between the two brothers, the one thing that they seemed to have in common was they enjoyed spending time with their childhood friend. (Y/N)’s father was a valued Duke that provided a great number of resources to the kingdom, and not only that, but he aided in several matters with the Witan.

As long as the trio could remember, whenever she arrived with her parents and older sister, they would give formal greetings before running off to enjoy themselves. The age gaps between them didn’t matter as they always managed to find a happy medium for them to agree with for everyone to be satisfied.

As the years went by, (Y/N) was unaware that the two brothers had slowly begun to feel something toward her. It was gradual and occurred in the little things that they shared with one another.  Whispering and giggling during prayers (although this usually ended with them getting in trouble), hiding and running off to play at feasts, and making witty comments to have the others laugh.

It wasn’t until Aethelred was 15, (Y/N) was 13, and Alfred was 10 years of age did their lives change in a manner that none of them had expected. The happy carefree years of their childhood were coming to an end.  

That evening in particular, the three were doing their best to have their evening meal without any scoldings for misbehavior or any impropriety from their part. It was the first of future meals in which a solemn air fell across the hall.

The young princes’ sat across from (Y/N) and her sister Josephine, while the older of the two seemed to attempt to catch their gaze while twirling her hair and fluttering her eyelashes. Alfred kept his gaze on his meal nervously and Aethelred was concentrating on kicking (Y/N)’s leg underneath the table. Their mother, Judith coughed loudly and stared pointedly at her husband Aethelwulf to speak up.

“Children,” all eyes looked toward him. “There are some pressing matters that need to be addressed with all of you.”

The trio shared looks of confusion with one another, while Josephine beamed in excitement.

“My sons, when both of you are of age, one of you will marry Josephine. We shall prepare you both but only the week of, will we announce who it shall be.”

The news left the trio absolutely stunned, naively all of them thought that despite their position they would be given the chance to marry whomever they chose. The brothers understood the reasoning behind it, Josephine was the eldest daughter of an important Lord of the kingdom, it would ensure a continued flow of coin from their in - laws but it didn’t mean that they liked the situation.

Carefully Alfred asked, “Then what of (Y/N)? Who will she wed or will there be a wait for her betrothal since Josephine will be married first?”

Their parents chuckled in amusement, assuming that Alfred’s question was done out of protectiveness over his friend and not out of the growing fondness that he held for her.

(Y/N)’s mother chirped joyfully, “We have recently received word from the sisters at Beckery chapel and they have agreed to take (Y/N) under their wing for postulancy!”

The betrothal of Josephine was astounding enough news, but this was beyond their comprehension. They had all been together for so many years and the thought of (Y/N) living her years away from them in a nunnery was unbelievable.

Sadly for all of them, their fate, their destiny, was not theirs to decide.

[miss-madness67]

The Mistress Ch.26 - YORK

Thirst for blood is in his nature, and she has to understand that.

Despite the days passing by, I still think about it. I ponder over what happened with Alfred. So much changed between us when people learned of our affair. So much changed between us since we met. We were two children that knew nothing about life back then. And it all developed into something… messy. The sorrow of those days follows me everywhere I go, the remainder that grows in my womb is unavoidable. I am having his child, and there is no way I will be able to forget our past. Some part of me hates it, but another one, probably the biggest, does not mind at all. My adoration for Alfred is not something that can be easily overridden, and despite this child being a bastard, I know I will love him all the same. It is the symbol of our unattainable passion. And yet, I do not think I have it in me to go back to him. Even if it was unintentional, which I learned was not the case, I do not want to be a mistress again, not even a King’s mistress. It has nothing to do with the propriety of the situation within the court, it is just my heart that cannot stand looking at the man I love being with another. The whispers of my position followed me everywhere I went. Here, among the enemy, I am no longer filthy in their eyes, even if it is only because they do not know the truth. Ever since running from him, I have never felt freer from judgment.

Now, learning that Alfred played a key role in turning me into a mistress is something entirely different. That is where the part of me that resents him comes from. He planned everything. To some degree, I would like to see him, so I could hear whatever he has to say that made him believe turning me into his mistress was a good idea. I had never asked for that, and running to the nunnery proved that I would have never chosen it. During my sleepless nights, I talk to Egadyd about it. I tell her what I went through and my unhappiness. She listens, but I know she has her own demons to deal with. Mainly the fact that she is about to become a mother with no husband. The father of her child is dead, and according to her, I should be glad that mine is not. Though it is useless either way. As a future mother, I should not be selfish and go back to Alfred at the first opportunity I have. Even if it is a bastard’s life, he could provide what I can not, but I do not want to live that way again.

“I need to know,” I interrupt Ivar’s thoughts. He looks up at me from where he’s sitting at the other end of the table. “What are you going to do with me?”

Continue reading

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Fic Updates (Duty, Sworn Enemies, Others)

Heyyy everyone!

So I've been MIA for a bit, only popping into tumblr here and there – a lot going on in life, don't want to get into it 😂 I'm playing catch up now, I have 955 unread notifs and God knows how many asks to check (😳) which I will be going through tomorrow and I feel so bad cause it's like I left some of you talking into the void 😩 But I'm back now so here are the fic updates (in order of priority)!

Duty:

Proofreading PT6 tomorrow so should be out that night/midnight. PT 6.5 is half written so should be out this weekend if I'm not too busy. Either way I'll update you guys after 6 drops!

HOTD fics:

Someone Anyone PTII/final part (half written) is next on the priority list, followed by and Aemond one-shot request, also half written.

Sworn Enemies:

Getting back to this after soooo long 😩 I just read over the pt11 draft and I don't even know why I didn't finish it before going on hiatus because it's literally almost done!

Other Oneshots:

I've got Michael Gray, Matt Murdock, Klaus Mikaelson (yes), Tyrion Lannister, Theon Greyjoy, Jaime Lannister and Ben Poindexter one-shots all in the drafts. I'll probably drop these at random but it should be fun!

Jon Snow Miniseries:

This is a 5 part fic I drafted like a year ago set during the events of season 8 and I never got around to finishing it so that's also on the list!

aaaand I think that's everything! The ones I definitely aim to have out by Sunday night are Duty PT6 and 6.5, and I'm looking forward to reading all your asks tomorrow! Love you guys! 💞☺️

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Vikings + modern food

A/N: first of all, I am SO honored to be ur first choice for your first request.

Second of all, disclaimer, I do not hate ppl with lactose intolerance, it’s just very funny to me when my brother knowingly consumes sth with excessive amounts of milk and then sprints to the toilet five minutes after finishing his food

Third of all, this was so fun to write and also i've been hoarding this imagine like some goblin creature bc i was so excited to post it. had to do it early after reading heart of winter (we need more bragi)

Tagged: @alicedopey, @bragisrunes (message/comment if you want to be added to any taglist)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

Here are some foods I think you could achieve in 800 AD in Kattegat:

Pizza, if there are tomatoes from the Mediterranean

Italian noodles (I think you could defo manage Alfredo sauce and chicken, and noodles are just flour + water + egg maybe)

Some steak with sauteed onions and all that other good shii

Maybe, possibly, if the trade gods are feeling generous, soup dumplings and other Chinese foods (the biggest problem here would be the spices and the rice, since a lot of Chinese food has pretty simple ingredients)

Sashimi

Tuscan salmon (again the Mediterranean ppl have to pull up with them tomatoes)

Ice cream if it’s snowing for long enough and you have Tupperware to bury your fruits with you

Hummus if the middle eastern ppl pull up to Kattegat with Tahini and chickpeas

Things you could definitely not achieve (I am saying this having done 0 research):

Smoothies (blender)

Choco/vanilla ice cream

Anything vanilla/chocolate flavored

Sushi (nori + rice)

Several tier cakes

Anything involving huge (or any) amounts of refined sugar, food coloring or artificial flavours

Anything that has to be tempered or cooled down at an exact temperature

Anything that requires an airfryer, thermomix or other fancy cooking utensils I can’t afford  (rn)

Anything fried (how temperature? How so much oil? Maybe if u go to the blacksmith ig)

Mexican food (cries in guacamole and fajitas)

Ragnar

Very suspicious but tries it

You made Linguine Alfredo for the whole fam (Ragnar+Lagertha+Bjorn+Gyda+Athelstan)

Is lactose intolerant

Major L lol

Bjorn laughs when he comes back after one hour of shitting

Lagertha

Appreciates the Alfredo

Does not appreciate shitting husband

When Ragnar declares that it’s worth the risk

She declares the toilet (i think? maybe a hole in the ground?) is worth cleaning

Regardless, she asks you to teach her how to make pasta

Makes very good viking pasta afterwards

Bjorn (as a child bc I stanned him back then :’) )

Stans you for making his dad violently shit

Also stans pasta alfredo

Asks you to cook more, and promises to set the table for you

When your making spaghetti Bolognese, he hands you cream and asks you to sneak it in

You almost do

Gyda

She’s shyer about talking to you, but asks you to make more modern foods

Will help you get the ingredients and cook

If you use a fish she caught for cooking, she’ll cry with happiness

Is the most capable in making modern foods

Fascinated by ice cream

Makes Bjorn taste test everything she cooks before serving

He does it under one condition: trigger Ragnar’s lactose intolerance

Athelstan

Also very skeptical

Loves stuff that’s a fusion between modern and old

Suspicious of your cooking after the Alfredo-incident

He would love Tuscan salmon though

And soup dumplings

Why? It’s a form of bread + soup + warm. That’s why.

tagging @demon-of-the-ancient-world here for obvious reasons

Aslaug

Big fan of Chinese food

She tried modern food to prove to Ragnar that she would not loose control over her bowels bc of a large amount of cream

When she finds out about chopsticks it’s over for you

She eats everything with chopsticks

Thinks it’s more elegant than anything else

Defo a utensils gal

Ubbe

Grew up with the infamous story of the Alfredo incident (we’re going with that timeline in his case too, but not for the other characters)

Regardless, he’s ready to sacrifice his dignity to try something new

Very not lactose intolerant, and rubs it in Ragnar’s face

Loves a medium raw steak

Asks you to cook for him, but you’ll be able to teach him instead

Hvitserk

You give him pizza as a surprise

Looses his shit (not like Ragnar, in a more metaphorical sense here)

Making bread with toppings and baking it and eating it warm? Genius, why didn’t he think of that.

I just know he would gobble up that spicy salami pizza

Is okay with simpler toppings too

Loves everything you make for him, creates scary fusions

Sigurd

Skeptical. Extremely

He likes bean stew and boiled chicken

But not for long

Sucker for spicy foods

Also likes dumplings a lot

Will take them with him in the steamer for a picknick date

Ivar

Can absolutely NOT eat spicy food

Which Sigurd so laughs about

Eats slightly seasoned curry while tears are streaming down his face (manly tears)

Does not take milk to numb it down

You know those wontons with the spicy sauce that are hella good?

Yeah, he loves them without the sauce.

Clocks Sigurd in the jaw when he pours the sauce over Ivar’s not spicy ones

Heahmund

Idk if this is my hc or just personal distaste for this man and his weird ass voice showing through

Cannot handle spicy food (more homoerotic bonding ground for him and ivar yay!)

Does not like modern food (loser)

Secretly is lactose intolerant

Would probably die from a whiff of peanuts

Sticks to boiled chicken and beans (no salt!!!)

Alfred

Didn’t he go to the Vatican or something?

Got a taste for them Italian dishes

Idk if they already had pasta but that’s not the point

Alfred is a man of the world (at least at the dinner table)

Eats everything and anything you make

Yes, he sends hvitserk on a diplomatic mission to find new food

But only bc hvitserk begged him

Would shake his ass in front of his entire court for the mysterious loaded nachos you’ve described to him

Judith

Supports everything Alfred does

Tries his food with him

Oh man, if Sigurd and Judith ever met, they would have a spice eating contest

It delights her to mix two seeds of pepper into the food and watch some lord have a nervous breakdown

Could eat ghost pepper raw

As long as it burns her mouth, it’s good

Knows about the Alfredo incident in said timeline and uses it as a political weapon against the Vikings

[bravo4iscool]

vikings masterlist

masterlist overview

unconditional love (ubbe ragnarsson x fem!reader; ragnarsson/lothbrok family & fem!reader)

save a mermaid (bjorn ironside x mermaid!reader)

my child (bjorn ironside x fem!servant!reader)

how dare you (bjorn ironside x wife!reader)

bigger person (bjorn ironside & siggy bjornsdottir!reader)

i love you. that’s enough. (sigurd ragnarsson & siggy bjornsdottir!reader

vikings/call of duty crossover

part two

please stay (ivar the boneless x katja; ivar the boneless & prince igor)

i’m sorry (bjorn ironside & hvitserk lothbrok)

a new life (hvitserk lothbrok & king alfred; hvitserk lothbrok x original female character)

more to come…