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ms-oswald · 1 month ago

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homesick | chapter two

author's note: aaaand chapter two is here! another long one (sorry, not sorry lol). 18+ MDNI. Sending all my love to @persephones-journey, thank yoou for being my second pair of eyes! ❤️ banner credit to @arcielee 💜 Lots of love & stay safe 💕

“Kára?”

The roughness of battle suddenly vanished, the sight of an old friend gracing relief into his muscles.

“If it isn’t my favorite Irishman.” A grin stretched into her cheeks, light steps pushing her to him as he got up from his seat and met her halfway, the alehouse rowdy and curious as eyes peered over to them.

“Who is the woman?” The youngest of Uhtred’s men, a gentle monk, leaned closer to his friends as he whispered while his view remained on the couple.

“She is one of Ragnar’s men.” Uhtred had taken the lead on answering, his own blue hues set on them. “A seafarer.” A slight smirk had crossed the side of his lips as well, a sense of contentment at seeing his closest friend ease a little; Finan had reached out for her, gingerly holding her hand with their fingertips timidly tied together as they laid above the ground.

She noticed a tired look in his eyes; she placed her other hand to his cheek, stroking his skin tenderly before pulling him away and out of the alehouse.

A few feet away, settling in a calmer air, he looked back at her. Though his heart swelled to her presence, he remained curious – and partly hopeful. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you not happy to see me?” She teased, bumping his shoulder and catching a glimpse of his chuckle. She proceeded, her lighter tone softening. “I heard about what happened with the brothers... I came to see if you had survived.”

He sighed, a grim look flashing across his irises; even in the dim light around them, she could see something was not right. There was anger, fear, grief – exhaustion. He wore them heavy on his shoulders and her heart broke.

“How long are ya here for?” He had taken the smallest of steps, head down as he held her hand again, suddenly needy for her touch. It had been some years since they last saw each other – since she had left after helping Ragnar defeat Kjartan. He had mourned her departure once, and knew it were to happen again as she was a fleeting form, a nomadic essence that was never meant to be rooted into the ground, her breath wedded to the sea.

And so, his inquiry would need to become an iterant quest for their time to come.

She placed her hand to his cheek. “I can stay for a couple of nights, leave the day after tomorrow...” She softly replied, worry etched onto the creases above her brows.

He leaned into her touch, kissing the heel of her palm as he exhaled a faint smile of gratitude.

She then pulled him out of his thoughts, her fingers playfully rubbing at his shaven scalp while taunting him with an exaggerated disapproving look. “What am I supposed to grab onto now?”

A low laughter rippled from beneath his chest, an easy beam glowing under moonlight.

He leaned towards her, whispering teasingly into her ear. “I don’t remember ya having any issues last time. I still have your nail marks on my back, Love.”

She bit her inner cheek, attempting to hide her blush, and slapped him on his chest playfully. “I guess you will have to refresh my memory.”

A chuckle rumbled the back of his throat as he kissed her cheek, reaching the corner of her lips.

He broke the embrace, locking eyes with her while she tiptoed around the arm ring he wore on his right side, her fingertips grazing gently over the piece of jewelry before they slithered down to his wrist and hand.

“Does Ragnar know you are here?”

She smirked. “Jealous now?” She bit her bottom lip, her head tilted sideways as faint mirth reached the green specks in her eyes. “As far as I know, he doesn’t.” She took a closer step, the tip of her boots touching his own, and lifted herself on her toes, hovering over his breath. “Like I said, I was just passing through to see you.” She eyed him intently, adding jest into her words. “It would have been devastating losing out on such a good friend.” She tapped his chest to her last words, and lingered.

He grabbed the hand that rested on him as he spoke. “A friend or a hump?”

She extended her play, pretending to think seriously over her answer as she pursed her lips. It earned her another of his infamous smirk, the creases to his cheeks welcomed.

She sobered up, nodding curtly. “Both.”

Another vibration across his lungs, a gentle chortle escaped him as he shook his head. “It’s really good to see you.”

“And darling, it is good to be seen!” She took his hand and tugged him her way. “Now lead me to your home. I am exhausted and need a bed!”

“Alright, alright.” The crinkle to his cheeks remained with his grin unwavering to her presence. He pulled her the opposite way, the couple scurrying away from the lights and from the dwindling drunken people as he led her to his place.

It was a quaint home, comfortable enough to house one person.

She walked around, glancing to every corner of the open space, taking in the sight while he stayed behind to lock his door.

He then turned and silently watched her, trying to catch her in the dim light peering through his windows.

A mind of its own, his body moved forward, his feet marching towards her until he stood behind her. She sensed him and smiled as his arms slid around her stomach, pulling her firmly against his chest.

She closed her eyes and fell into his embrace, the tip of his nose stroking her temple into her hair as he inhaled; the faint scent of salty waters sent shivers down his spine, the bittersweet aroma curling into the pit of his stomach as he tightened his hold around her. He trailed down behind her ear and her neck, taking in her presence by way of his other senses, un-relying on his sight as his shut hues stayed in the dark.

Her breathing steadily grew heavier to the feel of his caress traipsing down her stomach. He quietly reached the laces of her trousers, swiftly undoing them before his fingers slipped underneath the fabric.

She sighed, her head falling backward against his shoulder. She then tilted to the right, hugging his arm with her teeth grazing the muscles; her mouth was slightly parted in pleasure, the dexterous fingers toying with her wantonly.

“I missed ya...” He breathed, air fanning over her blushing cheek. “I missed having ya around.”

She tried to regain her composure, her hazels catching the shy glimmer of the moonlight onto the floor.

She huffed a smile, a lopsided curve etched into a smirk. “As a friend, or a hump?” She called back, playing.

He took a moment, following into her footstep as he teased her; a slight pressure to his grasp, he heard the faintest of whimper before answering, the cheeky grin smug behind her.

“Both.”

The skin of his teeth scratched her earlobe, an overlay to his ministrations as he listened to her soft panting, her chest heaving from the growing warmth underneath her breastbone.

She cursed under her breath, a strained giggle shaking her tongue at his answer before calling out for him.

“Finan...”

“Mhmm?” He mumbled, sweetly kissing the column of her neck.

“We’re in the dark...”

She attempted once again to gain control of herself, desperately wanting to focus on her thoughts.

He did not relent, purposely continuing with his diligent work. “I know.”

A faint titter tickled his ear. “Do you not want to look at me, is that it? Have I grown hideous since last we saw each other?” She patted his cheek, signaling him to stop. He breathed out as she turned in his arms, rolling her eyes in amusement at his inflated disappointing gaze. “We’ll have all night for some fun.”

She parted from his embrace with her arms stretched behind her back, a coy glimmer sparkling in her hues. “Come on, get a fire started – give me some heat, and when you are done, I’ll be ready and completely bare, waiting for you in your bed.”

He let a soft groan out and yanked her back into his arms before catching her lips into his own, granting himself a firm kiss – a tale for more, before once again pulling away.

He turned to his hearth while she moved to his bed and started to undress herself until she reached her shift. She left it on as she took a seat on the bed, waiting for Finan to join her.

Once he finished tending to his task, he turned to Kára and found her waiting for him.

“I thought you said ya’d be naked?” He bit his lip into a lopsided smirk, eyeing the way the thin material of her shirt proudly displayed her cleavage down to the way she had crossed her legs, purposely hiding herself away from him.

He swallowed the sudden saliva coating his inner cheeks, mouthwatering at the sight, body thrumming at the thought of what awaited him.

She stood up, hands behind her back as she glanced downwards at herself before lifting her head to him, a bold glimmer settling across her features, her silent invitation. “How about instead, I give you the joy of ripping this off of me. Have you work for it.”

“So thoughtful of ya.” He followed her pace, tagging along as he closed in the distance, teasing with a hand to his chest at pretend gratification. “I really appreciate it.”

He took one more step as she extended her hand towards him, grasping his shirt. He chased the motion and pulled her in his arms before tipping her way, ghosting his lips over hers until they firmly pressed.

He then cupped her cheeks, holding her gently as he deepened the caress. The strokes were gentle – sickeningly sweet to a roaming eye, as she sunk into the way the ale was coating his tongue; she had felt it heavy in the warmth of his breath, and how the taste lingered – bittersweet.

She let him hold on to her as she reached for the layers of clothes that covered him still; they only parted for the second she removed his shirt, the item thrown carelessly onto the ground before her arms rested back around his shoulders, searching for the delectable kiss in candlelight.

Catering to both their needs for closeness, he swiftly lifted her up, her legs encircling his waist as he moved them closer to his bed.

He lingered at the edge, simply standing as she held on for dear life, her nails softly digging into his jaw and cheeks.

Without letting her go, he eventually took his seat and settled her on his lap. He let himself fall within the warmth of her embrace, to the way she wrapped around him, seeking air from his lungs as he searched for peace. An urgent need rummaged into his chest, a shovel digging for anything but death and war – a lost treasure.

She felt a tightened hold about her waist, fingers clutching at the fabric of her shift; an unsettled feeling stroked beneath her breastbone as she pulled away, silently catching her breath.

“What’s wrong?” An affectionate touch spread across his cheeks as worry raised into the softened streams of her hazels.

“Nothing.” He breathed out, locking his gaze onto hers.

She pulled back and saw the lie trembling within the depth of his hues; they were at a standstill as she observed him.

He had tried to look away, a sudden shyness creeping up in the pit of his stomach but she stopped him, fingertips to his beard as she tilted forward and gently brushed her nose to his.

She gifted him a tender kiss and whispered closely, catching the glimmer of the hearth in his brown eyes.

“Finan... Let me take care of you.”

He could only stare at her, her words slowly settling within his teared down mind. He couldn’t muster a response, his only source of communication the careful gestures he bestowed upon her form.

She slowly pushed him to lie down and hovered above him while still holding onto each other’s sight.

She took a moment, her nails lightly grazing at his beard. She wore a simple smile, a small pull from the corner of her lips as she lowered herself towards him. Another kiss across the pink of his skin, he kept her unmoving as he caught her with his arms around her body, hands slipping down her back. She teased him, faintly rolling her hips and earned a muffled grunt from the back of his throat; she repeated the movement once again, the pressure tightening between her thighs.

She then hid her face in his neck, keeping up with her pampered touch as she found the ties of his pants.

Feeling the slip of her hand between their bodies, he helped her undress him by kicking off his boots and pulling down his trousers. She was slowly slithering down, mouth to skin as she trailed pecks down his chest. She discarded his last piece of clothing, finding herself at the edge of his bed.

He waited for the mattress to dip again, his eyes to the ceiling before he leaned on his elbows and watched her stare back at him. She was biting down her inner lip and took a moment as she reached for her shift, removing it and baring herself in front of him as he was.

He sat up, drawn forward by his own enthrallment, his breath stuck within the confines of his lungs.

He stretched his arm, grabbing her fingertips and tugged her his way until she stood between his legs. She looked down at the way his beard scratched her stomach as he pressed soft kisses to her flesh. She bit down her bottom lip, hands holding the back of his head while feeling his own trailing down her back to her cheeks and thighs.

He inhaled deeply, the subtle scent coating her skin sweetly intoxicating him, lulling him further into distraction.

She caught his attention as she slowly pulled away from his squeeze. He raised his head to her, his gaze shadowing her movement as she lowered herself to the ground.

A shaky breath escaped his parted mouth, titillated by the way she presented herself to him; her palms rubbed against his thighs as she kneeled before him, her chin upwards. He glanced down at the swell of her breasts before meeting her eyes, enraptured by the honeyed glow of her irises, the darken room inexistent under her colors.

His stare was unbendable as he intently watched her with a dry throat.

A violent groan rasped passed his lips, his head tilted back as he gripped his sheets. He cursed, his lungs tied to the weight in his chest, with her name slipping in a strained echo within the walls of his rooms.

She anchored herself with her nails carved into his hips, the ploy performed by her tongue seducing gluttonous breath out of his slacked jaw, his whimpered string of profanities – a sweet melody to her ears.

Enraptured by the way she suctioned her cheeks, keeping him wet and warm, he grabbed her curls, forcing dishevelment amongst her braids as he tensed, his head falling back in pure pleasure.

He was tied down by her chords, sinful vibrations passing through her swollen lips as her own carnal ache thrummed between her thighs. She became a prayer intertwined into his marrow, her name smothered under tantalizing heat.

She sought his pleasure continuously, unrelenting as every twist and twirl of her tongue, the sliver of graze from her teeth, earned her grunted blasphemies from his mouth, hisses and hitched exhales into the thick air around them.

Ignoring the simmering bruises to her knees, she felt him tense, his grip tightening as he looked down, his hues struck by her wanton teasing; he let go, submerged under ecstasy as a hefty exhalation rapidly escaped his lungs.

He fell back onto the bed, catching his breath while running a hand down his flushed face.

He felt her slip away and shifted his gaze to her climbing back onto the mattress, finding her seat as she straddled his lap. She kept her eyes on him, cleaning the corners of her mouth with her fingertips. He sat back up, arms snaked around her waist while closely watching the way she licked her lips, a silent swallow gracing her ears.

He quickly claimed her reddened flesh, latching on lustfully. She felt him twitch underneath her, the taste of himself across her tongue igniting his desire anew.

He engulfed her breath, holding hostage every drop of her taste for his own, a primal need that burned within his very core and kept her slightly lightheaded while still grounding her to his strokes.

His hands slithered to her back, pushing her firmly with her breasts in heated friction against his chest; a muffled moan slipped away from her, the contact enticing as it burrowed into the pit of her stomach, forcing a clench between her legs.

She barely broke away from him as she slid her right arm down his stomach to their joint hips. A light gasp fanned across her swollen lips as he felt her gently stroke him while she leaned on her bruised knees, high enough to graze herself against him.

Mouth ajar, a strained moan fumbled at the back of her throat, the teasing touch causing shivers to violently scrape her bare skin. The thicker the pressure at her hips, her head instinctively fell back,

She glanced down to catch him staring at her just as she slowly sunk onto him, the thickening pressure increasing at her hips and causing a twist in her voice as she called for him, cursing his name unabashedly.

He stilled, taking in the way unadulterated pleasure etched beautifully across her features, flushed and whimpering. His heartbeat deafening him to the sound of his own exhales, his body trembled under such weight, lechery at its finest in this night.

She settled back onto his lap, her bruised joints finding comfort resting on the sheets.

Hitched breath tickled his lips, warmth spread across a she took a moment of enjoyment, the feel to be back in his arms this way maddening.

He searched for her lips, capturing them then as she timidly tilted her hips. She listened to his panting, the stuttered groan grasping at his throat while he pressed her further against him, every piece of her fitting within him.

They took their time, the thrusts gentle as stolen kisses and rough skin strokes were in precedence; she needed his attention, to bask in thrill amidst the tragedy hanging above him, puppet strings cutting into his flesh.

She knew he was keeping it together for appearances – from the moment she greeted him this night, she could see a darken shadow suffocating him, drowning in eyes, his posture, his shoulders. The fury, grief and exhaustion were simple friends as they held hands.

The desire to digress from such gloomy depth and lure him into her arms, lovers delight seeping through careful gestures and sound; it was the soft call of his name, the gentle ‘Look at me’ from her lips to his, to the breathless ‘Touch me' as she guided his hands along her form, the heat in his palms raising her skin from her breasts down her waist, and down her back.

He continued of his own accord, carving her flesh into his creases, pleasure thriving beneath his fingertips.

She held his gaze in fervent strength, a lustre of vulnerability crossing over their bare flesh. They latched onto one another, the ombre swirling between her brightened hazel to his darker hue; they were unrelenting, stubborn – a sliver of obsession, a shadow of possession, rooted into their frantic embrace, the tied threads simmering, humming to every thrust, every crescent, every drip sliding down limb to limb.

She slowly felt overpowered under the weight of his stare, her body trembling – resonating against his touch. Her pace quickened, the friction between their hips ceaseless, delectable. And she was cursing sweet nothings between their lips, the letters of his name sculpted into her chords, a lust-filled melody haunting his ears.

Overwhelmed, her head dropped backwards, her chest following as she anchored herself to him, her left arm grasping his shoulder while the other fell to his leg.

She stayed in his view, watching as she submerged under their pooling pleasure, seeking the rushed waves as adrenaline pumped through her veins.

He tightened his hold on her and swiftly pivoted, landing her on her back as he hovered over her.

She gasped, taken aback as he took over without interruption, the strokes consuming and hips rutting in greed.

He pressed his forehead to hers, warm breaths mingling in heavy steps as his hands wandered – a must – until their fingers interlaced. Comfort waved through, her surreal presence settling into his reality the way a breath of fresh air seeks lungs for nestling.

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed her – the sound of her voice singing into his ears, the softness of her skin rubbing lovingly against his calloused tone, the depth of her gaze always searching for his even under the cover of darkness.

He caught her lips, stealing kisses every chance he got as he still held her underneath him, hips bruising – yearning.

He was pursuing her shadow, despair clawing at him knowing she was a temporary presence; his muscles tensed as his mind dragged him back to their separated time. The sudden restlessness that was roaming in the pit of his stomach crept back ever so slowly, every moan rolling down her tongue a knock into reality.

She had become an unexpected presence in his life, an unintentional friend – an emblem to the freedom he had been given. She was entwined into the cracks of him, pulling him together into a state of perpetual hope, solace, forthcoming by her reappearances.

He savored the thrusts, the appetite euphoric with her clinging to him as if afraid to let go – the thought of parting from him, of losing his warmth as he filled her lasciviously left her delirious over the nights she had ached for him, over the years and oceans that separated them.

Her muffled moan snaked across his tongue, inciting a groan as he deepened their kiss, the brushes languid as his hand rested on her throat, thumb to chin as to tilt to the angle he wanted. He then trailed down her neck, swollen lips tender against her skin while the trim of his beard scratched her carelessly.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head while she tightened her legs around his hips, falling into an utter state of bliss. He felt her body quiver as her nails dug into his waist – shivers ran down his spine, his pace faltering until he slowed down and lingered, taking his time, relishing in the sweet ecstasy coating them longingly.

He lied on top of her, hiding in her neck while her breath lingered by his ear, her thighs lazily resting by his hips, caving under pressure, and her fingers grazing his back soothingly.

She inclined her head his way, closing her eyes for the moment as to enjoy the simplicity of their position – the way the weight of his body fit with ease over her own. She felt the press of his lips atop the glistened layer of her skin, a tender gesture he trailed along her shoulder.

Reaching the end, he pulled away and slowly slid to her left while she pulled the disheveled sheets and fur around them, the fire still bright as it heated his room. She then shifted in her seat as she stretched her legs, wanting to nestle closely to him. She laid on her back, his arm around her with her left elbow lazily bent, her fingertips feathers above him.

Finan could feel the heaviness on his shoulders partially drifting away, a faint sense of ease covering him; it was the pant heaving from her chest that soothed him, her presence an everlasting solace. He mindlessly played with her hair, fingers lumpish within the entangled locks while caressing her head.

He was staring at his ceiling, lost in thought while his exhales steadied, the rush of adrenaline dissipating into the beads of sweat across his bare flesh.

He felt her slip her fingers through his, silently searching for his hand to hold. He let her, his right arm following the movement as she brought his knuckles to her lips. He smiled, squeezing his hold on her and tilted slightly, his nose stroking her hair before kissing her sweetly.

She moved again, gently enough to press herself further to his waist. He set a soft breath out, a burgeoning need to never let her go settling into his core – despite knowing it was futile.

“Where are ya headed next?” The gruffness in his voice pulled her back to reality, his question a slight tug at her heart.

She sighed quietly, her gaze unfocused. “Irland... I owe my father a visit.” She started tracing patterns over his chest, pensive. “Have you ever thought of going back?

The silence was cut short, the minute dropping as he took his time to answer.

“I haven’t really... I don’t think I’ll ever see it again.”

She frowned and shifted to lean on her elbow, her eyes finding his. “Why not? It’s your home, is it not?” Genuine curiosity prickling at her brow.

He was caressing her arm, his right still placed around her as he moved his own left to rest behind his head. “Not anymore... Coccham is my home now.”

She took on the dramatics, an exaggerated groan shaking her tongue. “Ugh, but Irland is so much better!” She coaxed a smile out of him, her playful whining earning a soft laughter. He patted her arm and turned away, his hues facing the top of his home once again, the grin fading.

“There are days where I wonder about it, but... not enough to want to go back.” She listened, watching the somber expression heavy on his features. He tilted his eyes back to her once again. “There is nothing left there for me anymore. I was a warrior until I wasn’t.”

She lingered across the faint anguish coloring the depth of his browns; she could sense he wanted to change the subject, the dismissive tone laced in his lilt giving her a nudge.

A weak bite into her inner lip, he moved to stroke her cheek, sweeping strands away to rest behind her ear. She slid closer to him, hovering above and leaned down to share the tender kiss – a moment of peace passing through them, her questioning of his motherland turning to dust.

“What of ya?” He retraced her lips, his callused thumb enjoying the smoothness of her skin.

She puckered the muscles, pecking his touch quickly before following with an answer.

“My family may have settled there after leaving Norway, but Irland is not my home. And Coccham is definitely not it either.”

He chuckled, his arm falling down as she leaned on her elbow once more. “I have never truly thought of it, really. A home... I just know I never was one for land, and farming and everything in between.”

Restless, she switched positions again, lying back down as Finan followed, facing her while she took her turn to gaze upwards.

Her words dug from the underground an inaudible inquiry – an opaque wondering, a glimpse into a scenario that could never be, a drawing settling into his mind for a split of a second.

“Ya never thought of settling down?” Kára was young, her future ahead of her – the smallest piece of his shadow pondered if she had even thought about such a path.

“I don’t think it was ever meant for me.” She turned her head to look at him, catching his stare as she responded, a layer of improbability stuck to the back of her throat. “I was born on a ship in the middle of nothing but water... and just maybe that is why I could never settle.” A lopsided grin, ever so timid, rose to her cheek. “Or at least that is what my father says of me – that I am a true seafarer. A true daughter of Njörd.”

“And what do you say of yourself?” He had moved his arm over her stomach, palm stroking her sweetly, warmth spreading to both bodies.

She contemplated, taking a moment before meeting him with a mischievous glint in her hazels.

“That this traveler needs to ride out the sea.”

He matched her smirk, his lips stretching as he teased. “I can help with that.”

She played along, expressing disbelief to his proposal. “I don’t think so. Your Irish waters are weak. I need something stronger-” Her tone dropped, seduction rising as it slipped down her tongue, warm breath tickling him. “-robust. Rough.”

He startled her, earning a squeal as he leaped to hover above her and pinning her arms above her head; a light laughter followed, amused by his sudden change in behavior.

He lowered closer to her, parting her thighs with his knee as he pressed himself against her breasts, re-awakening temptation into their midst. He trailed one hand down her form, resting it below her hips with his eyes never leaving hers as he took in the way her mouth parted, a hitched breath floating between them.

She arched her back slightly, a teasing gesture earning a bite from his lips, taunting her.

“We should prepare ya for a storm then.”

He spent the next morning with his head between her thighs, stirred by having woken up with her pressed comfortably against his chest.

It had followed with a slow roll out of bed, Kára pushing Finan to break his fast while she had remained distant, her own plans in their finishing touches.

She then walked to the great hall, finding him sitting with Uhtred and Gisela, calmly chatting with their plates and cups slowly emptying.

She took her place behind her friend and placed her hands on his shoulders as she tilted her head towards Uhtred.

“I am taking him for the day.” The tone had been set as an order more than it was a request.

Gisela quietly chuckled, her eyes falling to her husband as he stared back at the newcomer dumbfounded. He then glanced to Finan, the Irishman shrugging his shoulders as he waited for a response.

Uhtred simply nodded, nudging his head for the young man to go – speechless.

A satisfied grin on her face, Kára took his hand as he got up, and walked out. As she reached the entrance, she quickly turned back and shouted.

“Oh, and don’t expect him until sundown!”

Without letting room for protest, she pivoted and led Finan away, both bodies walking towards the stables.

“Where are we going?” He was puzzled, curiosity set in his brows as he let her lead the way, his arms tensed from her pull.

She pivoted her head to him, a teasing smirk cornering her lips. “You’ll see.”

He found two horses with their saddles on, bags, furs and blankets tied to each of them. He stilled and watched as she continued, quietly greeting them with gentle petting before grasping at their reins and tugging them back his way.

She handed him his own, a spark of excitement floating across the green of her eyes. “Ready?” An instinctive smile stretched into his cheeks as he nodded. “Ready.”

Climbing on and riding away, she led the march out of Coccham and into the woods with Finan trailing by her side.

He had remained quiet for a few minutes, waiting to see if she would reveal the secrecy she was withholding; she noticed the stolen glances from the corner of her eyes and smirked, amused by the way intrigue prickled at the furrow brow atop him.

“You’re staring.”

“Ya are kidnapping me.”

She turned his way, her grin still apparent. “It’s not kidnapping when you will be returning later.”

He matched her smile and shook his head as he shifted his gaze back to the road ahead of them. “Where are ya bringing me?”

“You’ll see.” He could hear the mischievous intonation in her words, stretching wider the beam dimpling into his cheeks.

He glanced back towards her, catching the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “A woman of mysteries.”

“That is my charm, Irishman.”

He chuckled at her response and continued the ride, light jests shared between them.

They eventually then made their stop, Kára halting her horse after the hour had dropped; Finan followed, both bodies climbing down their horses before they continued on foot while still holding onto the reins.

She took the lead once again, carefully walking through a dampen cave passage, the sound of water echoing all around them.

To the other side, the area seemed to have been secluded from the rest of the world. The indistinct sound of insects chirping rallied as they hid within the foliage, the trees framing the scenery as they reflected across the serene creek, its rhythmic voice setting the tranquil atmosphere. The mixture of rocks and boulders were comfortable within and around the body of water, the trunks of weeping willows, birch and elms closed in around them, cutting off outside pollution.

Finan stood breathless as he took in the lush greenery blinding his gaze.

Kára let him be as she continued down her path, carefully guiding her horse to the willow a few feet away.

“If ya wanted me by yourself, you could’ve said so.”

She tied the harness to a low branch before turning to face him, scoffing dramatically. “And be disturbed by Uhtred?” He had approached her close enough, she grasped at the collar of his armor and tugged him her way playfully, a sham of a threat gracing her features. “I’d rather kidnap you.”

He fell into step, adding theatrics of his own. “So, this is a kidnapping!” He then inclined her way with the tip of his nose grazing hers. “I knew it.”

She giggled at his antics and let him go, both turning around and undressing their horses as they removed the weight off their backs and placed them by the tree’s roots. She pulled a small bag of apples and dropped it at their feet, the fruits toppling over while Finan handled the blankets and the rest of the baggage.

She followed with the saddles, placing hers gently on the ground before moving onto the next one; just as she was untying the second seat, Finan grabbed her hand, pivoting her towards him. He placed a hand to her neck, thumb stroking her jawline, and tenderly kissed her lips.

Without pulling away, he mumbled a soft ‘thank you’ a timid smile gracing her view.

He reached for her loosened braid, her locks soft under his touch.

She watched him, attempting to capture a reaction as her heart squeezed. “Does it still bother you?” She still remembered the discomfort he felt the first time they sat close to each other, the day she had tended to his wounds, the breeze forcing him to breathe in the salt in her curls.

He noticed the quiet distress in her hazels. “It hasn’t been that long.” The faint uncertainty laced into her voice, the distant tremor of fear rooting her to the grass – a slight tug tore at the pit of his stomach.

He cupped her cheeks, another shared kiss in a try-out for reassurance.

It wasn’t enough to convince her.

Despite their physical closeness, a part of her hung onto the fear of being pushed away.

“You don’t have to hide from me, Finan. You can tell me.”

“I know. But I promise ya, I am not bothered by it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and clenched her jaw, holding onto the tears glazing the corners of her eyes.

Finan pulled on the tie keeping her hairdo together and watched as the ends detangled.

“Ya’ve got the sea air, and so every time I breathe it in, it will remind me of you.” He continued un-doing her braid, the strands flowing freely around her shoulder. “You’ve made it into something that doesn’t frighten me anymore.”

Her breath hitched, taken aback by his confession. She ignored the heat creeping up to her cheeks, her eyes struck by the way he was gazing at her, tender affection coated within his irises.

She bit her bottom lip, stifling a smile, and took a step backwards, breaking the embrace.

They kept their sight on each other, her smile widening as she kept her teeth to her pink skin.

“Rid of your clothes.” She ordered before she followed, kicking off her boots, removing her weapons and discarding her armor, her own wear falling atop the open blankets.

He peered closely her way, hues retracing the way she discarded her garments, from the way her trousers had swiftly dropped around her ankles to the way she pulled at the hem of her shirt, passing it over her head and throwing it.

She took a step towards the water, her back facing him with her hands reaching into her curls, finishing detangling her braids.

Feeling the heavy gaze, she turned to look at him, finding him leaning against the willow, arms crossed over his chest. She rolled her eyes, her grin dimpling into her burning cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Liar.”

She turned back, the hairdo gone and ruffled her roots, fingers scratching her scalp and easing their previous strain. She then dove into the water, disappearing from Finan’s sight for a moment, the quiet settling in for a short minute before she resurfaced.

He was still eyeing her, stare unwavering as they shadowed her every move – a complete state of limerence.

She swam around to face him. “Join me!”

“Is that an order?” He pulled away from the trunk and walked towards the edge of the water, untying his sword belt.

“I’m afraid it is.” He stared at the way the shivers covered her skin down her exposed breasts. Her arms were afloat, shaping the water by the sides of her body with her hair slick back and freshly damp. “Come on, the waters are freezing without you.”

He made a quick turnaround, removing his clothes and marching to her until he sunk to the water, continuing his way towards her.

They held their eyes to each other, her body dipping under the surface down her nose. He kept swimming until the creek reached his waist. Closing the distance separating them, she slowly stood up with her hazels stuck to his own gaze.

Hand to her cheek, she leaned into his touch as he stroked her skin. “Better?”

She nodded shamelessly, the corner of her lip caught between her teeth. “Much better.”

Her fingertips pressed delicately across his pink skin and trailed towards his toned chest and stomach, teasing the downwards motion to his hips.

She retraced the way his skin raised to her touch, watching as his muscles ticked under the tip of her nails, the tickling soothing to his limbs.

She kept going, arrowing downwards, eyes up to him.

He leaned his forehead against hers, mouth slightly parted as he thought of what to say – the flirtatious caress along his form was freeing, calming.

She was tending to his wounds – a silent promise to care for him, as she had done last night.

And as tempting as it was, he found himself only wanting to hold her, to indulge in the way her body would melt into his, arms holding her tight, and simply savor her presence.

He carefully took her wrist, stopping her from slipping past his hips under water.

“I don’t need... that. I just...” The low tone of his voice made her frown. She searched for his gaze, curious. He breathed out his last words, his shoulders depleting. “I just need you.”

An ache hid beneath the surface of his browns, an unfamiliar yearning – it was the simple need to be embraced without the shadow of carnal delight hanging above them.

She was his refuge to the storm that had numbed him, a shelter, a fire keeping the cold at bay.

She was unencumbered by the loss at Beamfleot, though still understood the woes of war.

“Alright.” The soft reply slipping from her lips, she shared the smallest of kisses on his cheek as she placed her arms on his shoulders, hands falling into the void behind them.

They shared an intimate breath, lips – feathers between one another, as they stood still, time halting by their side.

He held her by the waist, pulling her closer until they were flushed together, hiding in the crook of her neck. She closed her eyes, falling into the feel of him warmly pressing against her cold skin. He continued down her shoulder and trailed backwards until he kissed the spot right under her ear, gooseflesh running amuck.

The tranquility of their moment soon was interrupted – the horses pulling them out of their reverie, agitated.

Both turning their attention to the right, Finan instinctively pulled her nearer, acting as her shield as tension crept up across his limbs.

She eyed the area, glancing between the horses and the rustling sound coming from a few feet across them. Kára wasn’t frightened – had it been intruders, they would have shown themselves by now.

She shifted her eyes back to Finan, the man still seemingly on edge. “Finan. Look at me.” She forced him to pivot her way, hands to his cheeks as she caught his stare. “We’re safe.”

The distant bushes continued stirring until a fox slipped through the low branches.

The horses distanced themselves, slowly calming down just as Finan let out a breath of relief, his shoulders dropping.

Kára giggled, her head resting on his chest before she pulled away, smacking him with the surface of the creek.

She flickered water his way once again, pulling his attention away from the shore and back to her as she continued swimming away from his grasp.

He complied, catching up to her and quickly caught her back in his arms as he blocked her own, her back pressed against him.

The reverie had settled back in, bringing comfort to the two characters as she digressed reality into her back pocket, stretching the slumber for a few more moments with the laughter and antics simmering beneath the surface.

They hid under the shade of the weeping willow, sitting atop the blankets and fur she had brought from the village.

She laid her back against the trunk while he rested between her legs, head to her stomach with her knee bent over his shoulder, her bare feet enjoying the feel of the grass.

She ran her fingers through his shaved scalp, nails soothingly scratching random patterns as she tilted back, eyes closed, the warm breeze seeping through the bended branches.

It was midday and the sun hung high above them, warming bodies and lands as it lulled them into a state of bliss and comfort; the horses were resting, and the fox was asleep a few feet away from the couple, having searched for its own shade under the leaves.

Clothes were discarded, the use of blankets partially covering them; being the only two people in the world, decency had no pertinence.

They were quiet, the comfort of each other’s company enough to soothe any lingering worries away; Finan had slowly fallen into a light state of slumber, enjoying being in her arms.

Their moment of peace was then halted, a grumble disrupting them.

A light laughter slipped from her tongue soon after, realizing the origin of the noise.

“Is that the call for hunger or do we have another animal roaming about?”

She felt his body shake atop hers, his own mirth laced with her own as he placed his hands to his stomach and tilted his head upwards, attempting to catch a glance of her from the corner of his eyes. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Did ya bring anything for us to eat? Or is it all for the horses only?”

A soft giggle graced his ear as she leaned over, her palms sliding down his muscles. “I brought us some bread, nuts and fruits.” She placed her chin on his collarbone. “I couldn’t get away with the meat, so we will need to hunt.”

He hummed in response while pushing himself to sit upright and then reached for his trousers as she sat on her knees, hugging him once again, her arms wound around his shoulders. “How about I do the heavy lifting and you get started with the fire?” She kissed his cheek then trailed down to his neck as he leaned against her, instinctively smiling and agreeing to her proposal.

The campfire was bright, its hues in harmony to the sunbeams still bright above them.

Kára came back with small traps in both her hands, satisfied with her catch as she wore faint smudges of dirt across her face and arms.

Finan watched as she dangled their feast in front of him, a grin etched across his cheeks, amused by the spark in her steps.

The meat cooked, the fruits and nuts laid out, the bread fresh and in pieces – their meal were plenty, filling his appetite as the atmosphere dipped into light banter and jest.

Their little companion had found a seat next to Kára, silently sniffing and waiting to be fed; she obliged, splitting bits and pieces of the last remaining raw rabbit to give to the little one, the furry friend never leaving her side.

“I think he likes ya.” He stared at his friend’s new pet while nibbling on fruit, teasing laced in his vocals.

“He’s got good taste.” She turned to Finan, playfully winking while she petted the animal.

He chuckled and wrapped one arm around her shoulder, pulling her near as to lay a kiss to her temple before turning back to face the small fire.

She placed her head on his shoulder, the pet slithering its way to rest between her feet, quietly finishing its lunch.

She sensed Finan sobering up, his silence suddenly suspenseful.

“Where did you go?” There was sliver of strain in her voice as she rested her chin on his shoulder, coaxing him to turn her way. She lifted her head, her fingers stroking his beard gently as he looked in her eyes, the glimmer of green shining under the sun.

He leaned against her, bumping the tip of his nose with hers before stealing a kiss, the humble gesture preparing his response.

“Nowhere near as interesting as your travels.”

She huffed a chuckle, noticing the subtle way he pushed for a new line of inquiry.

And she followed with no hesitation.

“Where are ya headed after Irland?”

They held each other’s eyes, a tenderness to the gaze as she caressed his cheek, the back of her knuckles soft against his beard.

“We’ll sail East… maybe visit the Greeks again, see what new treasures they’ve discovered.”

A small smile dimpled the left side of his cheek, tone low as he spoke, the spark in her honeyed stream conjuring curiosity. “Tell me more.”

She shared a quiet laugh, grasping the bottom lip between her teeth. “Where do you want me to start?”

She met his wishes, leading their talks as she reminisced of her past voyages, the trials and tribulations, the people she’s met to the lands she visited, down to her small crew – a group of seafarers just like herself, who craved the taste of adventure and thrived amongst the seas.

He listened intently, observing the way her lips curved in excitement, her cheeks dimpling into a brightened smile, to the way the glint in her hazels lured him in, enthralled by her exuberance. She spoke with a light step in her voice, a silent promise she made to herself, to share her discoveries with him, to gift him the pleasures of such a life by her side, to present the wonders right at his feet.

Her words hung to his ears, thrumming within his core and aching – ambivalence settled beneath his breastbone, a bittersweet taste coating his marrow into a state of admiration; his heart slipping down his sleeve, every tug shadowed her spoken syllables, its pulsation reverence and cowardice.

An invisible thread pulled him further towards her, enraptured by her presence – an aura exquisite under the timid sun beams.

“You should see the world…”

They had moved to lie on the ground, side by side as she had shifted her gaze, looking up while Finan glanced between the open air above him, to his left with his hues taking her in, the glow of the afternoon seeping through the tree leaves.

She turned her head to him as she spoke, catching his eyes. “This doesn't have to be your life, you know. There are beautiful lands out there that are worth more than this entire country…” She bit her inner lip, teeth digging into the soft tissue in hope. “You should join me, come see it with me.” Her tone softened, serenating as she leaned closer to him. “Let me take you to see the world, Finan.” She turned, pushing her weight to hover above him, her elbow taking the pressure and facing him as she caught the hint of a smile appearing across his lips. “Leave Wessex behind, and come with me. No more battle, no more war, just food and drinks and women until you are blue in the face.”

He let a chuckle rumble down his tongue, a pensive gaze stitched over his brow as he stared back to foliage above him.

The moment seemed to have stopped – even though it had been short, it felt to have dragged itself through the mud, a disappointment that had been both forthcoming and yet still heartbreaking.

She sighed, not withholding her displeasure. “Uhtred it is then…” She sat up, arms wrapped around her bent knees.

Finan quickly followed her, his shoulder to her blade. “Kára-”

“It’s alright. I figured as much…” She tilted her head towards him, chin grazing her shift. Her eyes were cast downwards, giving herself a quiet exhale before meeting him, the faint saddened gaze imbued into her greens. “At least you are giving me a reason to come back.” She wore her lopsided smile, crafting an exit to their path.

“I’m touched.” He kissed her, lips pressed to shoulder, a smirk hiding behind the gesture.

She rolled her eyes, unable to stop her own grin.

She then inclined his way, kissing him softly, and lingered before resting her forehead to his.

He noticed the change in her demeanor, sensing her frown as if in thought.

“What’s wrong?”

She pulled away, meeting his gaze once more as she caressed his cheek. “When I didn’t find the brothers in Frankia… I knew something was wrong.”

He leaned into her touch, in awe. “Ya came back for that?”

She nodded, her hand patting him playfully. “I needed to make sure ya Irish arse was still breathing.”

She mimicked his lilt, brewing a chortle from his lungs; she hid away her worry, the mere drop of imagining such loss weighing on her shoulders.

They had gone the rest of the day with light jest and quips, bringing back the needed distraction into their midst; she pulled him back into the water, having quickly discarded of her shirt before pulling down his trousers and dragging him away from their burned-out campfire.

The fox had gone and the horses rested still, nibbling at whatever fruit and greens laid at their hooves.

Only the light laughter – the teasing plays and childish bantering had coated the breeze within this small place, the drops of water from the stream fall, to the music of insects adding layers to their afternoon.

He woke up in a frantic state, startled as sweat hugged his skin.

He was catching his breath, attempting to recuperate as he took a moment to absorb his surrounding; the darkness of the night silently greeted him, the hearth’s embers becoming but decor in this time.

Sitting up, he rubbed his face and ran his hand across his shortened hair, anxiety crippling under his chest as it pierced through his lungs, palpitations heavy.

He didn’t feel the bed dipping behind him – it was the soft call of his name that pulled him away from his anguish.

“Finan?”

She slipped her arms around his shoulders as she sat up, and felt the slight sweat slipping off his back along the tension in his muscles. “Nightmare?”

“Mhmm.”

She pressed her nose against his cheek and wound her arms closer. “You are safe, Finan.” She whispered soothingly as she turned his head her way, catching his tired gaze. “You are well, and you are safe.”

He leaned back against her, closing his eyes and listening to her words, his breath steadying.

She helped him shift his focus to her touch, to the warmth spreading from her body with her hand placed on his chest, guiding his lungs as she controlled his exhales.

He tilted his head further towards her, stealing a soft kiss before breaking away, resting over her brow.

She stopped speaking and breathed with him, caressing his chest gingerly – lovingly.

The minute had passed, her own worries draping over her.

“Finan...” He met her eyes, noting the slight frown she carried. “What happened with the brothers? Why the strain?”

He hesitated, looking away and in front of him.

She pulled him back in, finding a seat next to him while taking her hand into his, resting them on her lap, the other stroking his beard.

The longer he held her gaze, the comfort of her touch – he found a slither of courage reaching the surface; it was slow, but the words slipped out of his tongue, shaking the ground as he counted the events of the battle of Beamfleot, shivers scurrying across his skin.

To the death of Clapa, Kára teared up, having grown fond of the gentle giant.

Her heart broke, Finan’s tale and state wrenching anguish into her bones.

His confession brought her closer, the bewilderment sitting atop him – puzzled by why this battle was tearing him apart.

“Some are harder than others. Especially when you were close to death...”

There was a light tremble to her last word. He turned to her, detecting the glimmer in her eyes, the tear drowning her hues. “You almost died. You lost a dear friend- the night in itself... It was a disaster.”

She took a deep breath, pivoting away from his gaze. She instead moved, resting her head on his shoulder and squeezed his hand in hers, a self-reassurance of his presence by her side.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, both of them sitting in silence for the moment that passed.

“There is nothing but death and war...”

The sober tone in his voice sent chills down her spine. She felt the break in his heart and carried it as she turned back to him.

“Penance for being a warrior, I’m afraid.”

She leaned in, stroked his cheek once more before gently pecking his lips. She then pulled away and silently invited him back to bed, the sheets covering them comfortably.

He buried his face against her chest, letting her chin rest on his head as her leg wrapped around him, her arms encircling his shoulders – a shield. She raked her fingers against the back of his scalp, her nails soothingly scratching while he breathed in deeply, pushing himself flush against her.

He found refuge across her collarbone and down her breasts, his lips seeking her bare flesh. He tugged her closer, every empty inch vanishing as limbs molded, a sculpture forming under nightlight.

She sighed, the weight of his body demulcent as he moved her to lie on her back, sensing an urgent longing in his strokes, his fingers bruising her.

She cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at her, eyes meeting in the dark. She shared a small smile – a silent promise of reassurance, before gifting him a gentle kiss. He slowed down, resting his forehead on hers as a shaky breath escaped him, fanning timidly over her parted mouth. She swallowed, capturing his lips with her own and taking the lead in the lingering gesture while he settled between her legs.

She wanted to give him the distraction he was craving, to create disassociation, to care for the present moment only – to fuck and forget for the few remaining hours they had left.

To use her and relent all worries – to escape and drown under carnal desires, to lean on a primal need; to cope and pursue the physical pleasure instead.

He did not let her go, tongue stroking hers while she felt his palms down her waist, raising her skin, until they rested on her thighs and parted them further. He then pulled away, trailing wet kisses down her stomach until he reached her hips.

She arched her back, her fingers gripping at her pillow above her head as a strained moan vibrated passed her slacked jaw.

She closed her eyes, ripping at the fabric of the sheets as he consumed her – a glutton.

He held her down, toying with her pearl while his ears listened to the sighs he coaxed, her chords becoming an exhilarating rush quivering down to his core. He thrived; the distant call of his name, the way she was begging for more, pleading for release.

She cursed, an annoyed groan slipping out of her, unable to grab onto his hair. Sensing what she was trying to do, her pleasure building in tandem with her frustration, he could only chuckle, the sound shaking beneath her hips. Hearing him, her huff turned into laughter – a small giggle running down her tongue as she made him pull away.

He caught her eyes and noticed how she quickly glanced at his beard, the taste of her fresh on his tongue.

She rolled her eyes, bumping her knee playfully against him. “Stop it- Just- Fuck, just come here.”

The smirk remained across his lips, complying to her demand. He crawled back towards her as she wrapped her arm around him, tugging him near until his breath ghosted over her. She wiped his beard lightly with her fingertips, licking her own lips before she kissed him, taking a lick of herself along her tongue. He groaned, trembling under his chest as she teased him, her calf firm onto his backside – luring him to nestle in the cradle of her hips, begging to be filled, to clench around him as he rutted into her; to have him bury himself inside her, ecstasy aflame, mindless.

He held onto her – his anchor, reclaiming her body as he gently rolled his hips, thrusting into her with careful movement.

He hid his face in her neck and deeply inhaled. The infusion of her scent – the hint of rosemary and thyme, the whiff of earthy aroma clashing with the sea salt overflowed his senses.

His grip of escape, the need for solace grew. He turned desperate the longer he remained between her thighs, pushing passed the anguish that lingered on his shoulders and making his sole purpose on this night to bring his lover to the brim of unadulterated bliss – to have her come undone once again under his touch.

The room filled with heavy breaths, dirty nothings and the continuous friction of skin to skin – limbs glistening under every dimpled mark of teeth and lips, and fingers, in a drunken haze as haste and frantic, and greed engulfed them.

Deception waited outside their door, counting down until it was time to part.

They stood by the entrance gates of the village, her horse by her side while her small group of men were exiting, ready to embark on their next journey after their short intermission.

He was holding her hand and gently tugged her in his arms as he spoke.

“Be safe. I beg ya.”

The soft pleading laced into his words had faintly pushed at her chest. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes, and took a moment before pulling away.

She stretched her lips into a smirk. “Well, if you are begging...” He shook his head, amused by her cheeky reply.

She then leaned towards him once again, placing a tender kiss to his cheek as she whispered her promise into his ear – a swift shift to a tender and honest approach.

“Thank you for staying.”

“That is what friends are for.” The way her eyes settled across his own, an attempt to reassure him of her presence, the depth she would go to for him – a silent callout for the care she held for him.

He gave her a nod as a soft huff of a chuckle escaped him, his gaze shifting downwards. He ignored the slight twinge in his heart – her chosen words, a tremble to his core.

A faint ache buried under her chest as she watched him, her brows furrowed into concern.

“Are you going to be alright?”

He could hear it in her voice, the slight anxious inquiry; he dismissed it and gave her a soft smile as his lips stretched into the one side of his cheek. “Aye.”

One step forward and he pressed his forehead to hers.

He took a moment, eyes closed and breathed her in, hands to her cheeks as he carefully stroked her skin, the need to touch her, constant. She met him, her palms wrapped around his wrists as he placed his lips to her hairline.

She then kissed him, tilting her head slightly upwards until she reached him, the tender caress holding them close.

“Don’t miss me too much, Irishman.” She spoke between their breaths, a hint of mischief slipping across her tongue.

She noticed a slight spark across the brown of his eyes as a light chuckle tickled her ears; it had looked as if the storm had passed, its heaviness pushed into a distant horizon.

“I won’t if you don’t.”

She winked at him, giggling. “I’ll try then.”

She gave him one last kiss before she climbed onto her horse.

They bid each other another goodbye as he walked her to the other side of the gates.

Once they parted, the smile curved across his lips fell slowly until it disappeared, his heart faltering in its step as it tumbled over a lost footing.

--------

xoxo

taglist: @gemini-mama @iamfandomnerd @ladyinred2248 @gco95 @errruvande

#the last kingdom #finan #finan x oc #tlk fanfic #finan imagine #finan the agile #the last kingdom fanfic #finan fic #mark rowley #finan fanfic #tlk

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persephones-journey · 3 days ago

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Finan is a doctor that treats female hysteria.

Conall, his brother asks him to help treat Conall’s wife, Aine.

Finan and Aine do not plan to fall in love. But it happens…

#Finan #the last kingdom #finan fic #finan/oc

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charmedimsure · 4 months ago

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Fandom: The Last Kingdom (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Finan (The Last Kingdom)/Original Female Character(s), Finan (The Last Kingdom)/Original Character(s) Summary:

As Aethelwold's childhood friend and current unofficial babysitter, Lina is sent to Northumbria to help aid Uhtred of Bebbanburg with his fight against the Danish brothers Erik and Sigefrid. As the journey becomes longer than she anticipated, Lina finds herself getting rather distracted by one of Uhtred's men.

I’ve started a Last Kingdom fic on ao3 and I’m proud of it so far so feel free to check it out!

And yes, I do have the best username on ao3

#the last kingdom #finan the agile #finan #finan fic #finan x reader #the last kingdom fanfic

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thethyri · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐰𝐲𝐧𝐧❟ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞❟ ❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 ❞

𖦹. 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ The day Wulfwynn was cruelly torn from the life she had always known was a crisp day of autumn. When the green leaves of the trees turn brown and the wind grows colder. The day Wulfwynn miraculously stumbled upon Uhtred and his companions in the depths of the woods was a cold day of autumn. When the lakes are blanketed with frost and the fields are bare. And yet, despite the frost and the wounds, Wulfwynn met her destiny that day.

𖦹. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 *𖧧₊‧ Days and days. Cold night and colder days yet. Days running, fleeing. Fearing for her life. Until God sent her Uhtred and his men.

𖦹. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson x Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Sihtric Kjartansson x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Uhtred of Bebbanburg x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Osferth x Ealhflæd of Cent (Original Female Character), Leofric x Mereswyth of Wessex (Original Female Character).

𖦹. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Show Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Not Show Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Show Rewrite, Show Dialogues, Canonical Character Death, Non-Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Wounds, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Battles And Post-Battles, Blood On Several Occasions, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Burn, Sexual Content, Mild-Sexual Content, Multiple Graphic Smuts (Ratings Specified In Concerned Chapters), Multiple Non-Graphic Smuts, Protective Finan, Possessive Finan, Finan Needs A Hug, Finan Backstory, Protective Sihtric, Jealous Sihtric, Adorable Sihtric, Sihtric Backstory, Protective Uhtred, Uhtred Is A Little Shit, Soft Osferth, Adorable Osferth, Osferth Backstory, Leofric Lives, Clapa Lives.

𖦹. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ Mild-Graphic Description of Bruises And Injuries.

𖦹. 𝐖𝐎��𝐃𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ 2,912k.

𖦹. 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 *𖧧₊‧ Just so you know, my timeline is just a bit different from the books and show. At first, I had planned to stick to the books' timeline, but it would have made Uhtred (and therefore Finan and Sihtric) too old for Wulfwynn. Well, I speak of Finan and Sihtric but, in the books, Finan's age is not precised (nor is Osferth's) and, as for Sihtric, when he meets Uhtred, he does not know his own age and Uhtred apparently guesses that he's somewhere around 14 years old. The show's timeline encapsulated two books per season, meaning that by season 3, Uhtred would have been between 34-44 years old (yes, because if we follow that logic, it means that each season stretches on a period of time of 10 years, which, you will agree, is clearly not the case). That is why I decided to twist the timeline a bit and rearrange the ages to my own preference. No, about Finan. It is my own headcanon that he is not younger than Uhtred, but just slightly older than him by 3 years. For Sihtric, I wanted him to younger than both Uhtred and Finan (as in the show and books) and therefore closer to Wulfwynn's age but still older than her. Now, about Osferth, in the books we know he is already born when Uhtred spies on Alfred at the age of 10 but it is not precised when he was born. So I just kind of guessed and twisted things again to make him the age I liked when he joined Uhtred. And, for Clapa, to me (in the show, at least, because I have only read the first book at the moment) he was clearly older than Uhtred by, at least, 9 years.

That being said, this story still contains huge age gaps. Uhtred is 16 years older than Wulfwynn, Finan is 19 years older, and Sihtric is 6 years older. Adding to that the gap that already exists between Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric, since Uhtred is 10 years older than him and Finan is 13 years older. In real life, these differences in ages would be quite problematic, but here, we are in a fictional story and as long as these examples are not transferred to real life, it is still acceptable.

Also, I mean to stretch my story from season 3 to season 5 and even perhaps to the Seven Kings Must Die, but I do not know yet. So I will keep a timeline updated in the notes at the beginning of each chapter so you do not lose yourself too much ahah!

𖦹. 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ₊̇*⸼ 892-895 AD ⵓ 6th November 892 AD - 9th November 892 AD ⨾ Uhtred is 34-37 yo ⨾ Finan is 37-40 yo ⨾ Sihtric is 24-27 yo ⨾ Clapa is 43-44 yo ⨾ Osferth is 29-32 yo ⨾ Wulfwynn is 18-21 yo.

THE VODKAS MENU. + THE SERIE MENU. + CHAPTER TWO. + Archive Of Our Own.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN CIPPANHAMM AND MELKSHAMM, WESSEX, 892 AD.

Fear. Dread . It crept its way into the heart, maliciously, viciously, its hideous claws jagged, and hooked, burrowing in its throbbing flesh. It gnawed venomously into the guts, tangled into hundreds of hundreds of tightly knitted knots. It crawled malevolently into the lungs, its coarse scales scraping, and into the throat, its rugged tongue scratching. It soaked bitterly into the bones, into the marrow, cold, terribly cold.

Wulfwynn was devoured with fear. Wrecked with dread. She felt the ache in her limbs, the burn in her lungs. She felt the cold whipping at the crusted scratches that littered her knuckles, her palms, her knees and her muddy heels. She felt the soreness of the swelled bruises that dotted her thighs, her arms and her wrists, her neck and her ankles, and her cheeks. They scattered across her body, mingled with her freckled flesh, scarlet and maroon, melded with her delicate moles, purply and olive.

Wulfwynn felt utterly terrified.

Twiddled branches and tangled roots scrapped at her calves and knees as she delved into the depths of the woods. Breathy sobs escaped her chapped lips, while the cold that chilled her lungs licked at the salty tears that soaked her cheeks. The writhed birches swallowed the misty, gloomy skies, engulfed the pallid gleam that shimmered between their leaves. And they’d swallow Wulfwynn too. They'd swallow her whimpers, and they'd choke her with their branches, they’d throttle her with their roots—

Wulfwynn sobbed panickedly, as she whisked hurriedly between the pines and the bushes, her heart onto her tongue.

They’d scratch, and scrape, and rasp, and snarl and sneer and—

A strangled yelp choked in her throat as she stumbled onto a root. She swayed abruptly and fell. Whimpers and whines of throbbing anguish and nauseous panic swirled through the cinnamon and crimson leaves that twirled around Wulfwynn as she hurtled down the muddy hill. And she gasped breathlessly as she slammed into a thick trunk.

Wulfwynn clutched the bark, chafing her fingers, and wobbled, then rose quiveringly, but rose nonetheless, before her heel slipped in the mud and she tumbled again. She grunted as she fell, and fell, and fell, down the hill, down, down, until she landed into the dirt. Wulfwynn laid into the leaves and the dirt, perhaps an eternity, perhaps an instant, furled and shuddering, her heart throbbing into her temples and her knees and elbows aching.

But, though she struggled, arose onto her palms. Bitter tears fell from her reddened cheeks, from her chin, onto her scratched, scarred fingers and between her knuckles. And then, a shout resonated through the pines,

“Lord !”

Fear gripped at Wulfwynn’s heart with it crooked claws. She fumbled panickedly with her kirtles and skirts, shuffled and tumbled, and wobblily arose, but fell onto her knees with a frustrated whine. She huffed shakily.

“Lord !” Wulfwynn prayed. She prayed fervently, as the worried yell swivelled in the chilly whiff. “Are ye— Are ye alright?” She’d have chuckled, but Wulfwynn merely sobbed. “Ye’re— Uhtred !”

She peered hesitantly and her glance landed onto the cross that dangled before her teary eyes. A heavy huff tickled her cheek.

“Ye’re alright, lass, ye’re alright,” He murmured quietly as he knelt. She felt his pity, his gentleness and his kindheartedness, and she sniffled. Her heart swelled. “Ye’ll be alright, I promise.”

Wulfwynn nodded meekly. His soft promise poured onto her sore scratches and scrapes, syrupy and smooth and warm. Her heart seared with a sour tincture of gratitude and lament, with a driblet of reassurance and a splatter of solace. Her glance anchored into umber orbs, tinged with warmth and kindness, and worry.

“Finan.” A whistle tickled Wulfwynn's guts. “ Finan !”

“Lord,” Finan startled, as he leapt onto his muddy boots. Wulfwynn shivered as the chill tickled at her neck. "She's hurt, Lord."

“Hurt?” The Lord —Uhtred, she assumed— inquired, with doubt and incertitude. And a tinge of scepticism. “Quite hurt.” Finan affirmed, and nodded.

A chiffchaff chirped. “Lord?” Queried a soft murmur. “She indeed seems quite unwell.”

The Lord’s glance landed unto the salty tears that streaked her cheeks, unto her bruises, and her scratches and scrapes, and she felt oddly, yet agreeably, absorbed into the frosty depths her eyes plunged into. His stare felt cold, but she embraced that cold. She felt queerly reassured, comforted, shrouded into that cold. The Lord hummed quietly. And nodded. Wulfwynn huffed a breath of relief.

Finan knelt beside her, his knees in the mud, and she felt his warmth caress her as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Wulfwynn grabbed her tattered kirtles, and Finan muttered, “ Jesus .” as he glanced at her legs. She grasped his hand, hers frail and fragile in his callused palm. She grunted with anguish, as she struggled to arise, but her knees buckled.

Finan's hold tightened, "Gently, gently." he reassured her softly, "Osferth!" he beckoned with a whistle and a nod. Saddle buckles rattled, leaves rustled and an arm slithered across her back. “Apologies, Lady.” and Wulfwynn uttered a quavery huff.

“Gently.” Finan repeated as Wulfwynn arose slowly. “Alright. We’ll get ye onto Sihtric’s horse.”

Osferth nodded. He gently took ahold of her elbow, and they strode to the horses. They approached Sihtric’s horse, and Wulfwynn glanced at the silhouette sat astride its saddle, shrouded in furs, as Sihtric’s stare anchored into hers. She felt Finan’s warmth fade when he stepped back and unbuckled his cloak's buckle, before he wrapped the warm, woollen garment around Wulfwynn’s shuddery shoulders.

“It’ll keep ye warm.” Finan murmured as he tucked the hood on Wulfwynn's messy, tousled curls and tresses. “Ye’ll ride with Sihtric. Alright?”

She nodded. Finan approached the horse and leaned down. He cupped his callused hands, fingers knotted, and Wulfwynn grasped his arm as she hesitantly placed her heel in his palm. "Alright. I'll hoist ye there and Sihtric will get ye, huh?" Wulfwynn hummed and, quite facilely, Finan lifted her. She gracelessly threw her leg across the saddle and, as he told her, Sihtric grabbed her. “Ye’re good?”

“Good.” Wulfwynn muttered with a nod. Finan’s eyes widened at the hoarseness of her mutter but he nodded nonetheless.

He and Osferth hopped back onto their horses. Wulfwynn fidgeted a bit, and grabbed Sihtric's thick, woolly ebony mantle with her fingertips. But he felt it and turned, and gently grasped her wrist before he wrapped it across his chest.

Wulfwynn jolted when he softly spoke, “You may hold on.” And, although timidly, Wulfwynn slipped her arms around Sihtric’s waist. Her fingers gripped the crisscrossed leather of his cotte, and her fingertips stroked the fur that flanked its edges. The scents of cinders and smoke, of dust and caked mud and hay tickled her nostrils. Yet she felt oddly soothed as she faintly breathed into the heavy wool.

“We ride!” then hailed Uhtred.

Wulfwynn’s legs dangled from the horse’s rump, and swayed slightly with his sturdy strides. The muffled thud of hooves as they rustled dead leaves, the snorts of the horses, the chirps of the birds and the warmth of Sihtric's furs cradled Wulfwynn. And slowly, as she fell into slumber, her head lolled and bobbed, and then, settled between Sihtric's shoulders.

And Wulfwynn slept, as much as she hadn't slept in weeks.

₊‧𒀭⋆₊

The noisy hustle and bustle of Wintanceaster was quite pleasant. With the yells of its merchants, as they tempted the villagers with their trouts and lampreys, their hot loaves of oat breads, their goat cheeses, and their turnips and parsnips, and their pears. The bright, merry talks of the villagers. The jolly chuckles and giggles of the children.

Wintanceaster was noisy and Finan basked in its noisiness.

He particularly appreciated this noisiness, as it differed considerably from the howls and yells that engulfed the field. As well as the smells. The scents of mud sodden, thickened with blood, of tangy sweat and barf were, at Wintanceaster, the scents of roasted pork and latterly brewed barley ale that wafted from the taverns.

Yet, this bustle hadn't awakened the lass, whose scratched and scraped arms were wrapped across Sihtric's chest, and whose reddened, bruised cheek was squooshed against his back, although she was shrouded with Finan’s hood. But Sihtric wasn’t bothered in the least.

“We'll take her to mine." declared Finan, as they strided towards the stables.

A snort. "Really? Huh." Clapa chuckled wickedly. He glared at the Dane. "Well, we're not gonna get her to yers, are we?" Finan retorted.

“He’d frighten her.” Uhtred sniggered, as he glanced at the giant. Clapa smirked.

“Frighten her? I’m but meek, sweet and gentle as a lamb, Lord.” He protested, and Uhtred chuckled, “Huh-uh.”

They approached the stables and alighted from their steeds. Finan felt the soreness in his legs as he neared Sihtric’s horse. He nodded towards Clapa, “Can ye take her?” and the Dane contourned the horse. He held his arms towards the lass, and Sihtric gently peeled her hands from the crisscrosses of his cotte, before Clapa slithered an arm across her back, as she slipped into his arms, and then slithered a hand beneath her legs. “I’ve got her.”

"Alright." Finan nodded. The muddy strands of straw of the stables crumpled beneath the soles of Sihtric's boots, when he leaped from his horse.

The lass’ forehead was nestled in Clapa’s neck, and the hood had flopped back a tad from her head. Finan’s glance fell onto the maroon and olive bruises that dotted her cheeks and chin, the scarlet slit that carved in the slope of her nose and the split etched into her plump, chapped lip.

He then turned to Osferth, “We’ll need yer balms and herbs.”

“Aye.” he nodded and hurried to fetch the leather satchel on his saddle.

They then took her to Finan's. He didn't quite considered it— well, considered it what? A haven? His? His haven? Nah, his haven was Coccham. This was but a humble, wooden hut, scarcely adorned, with a bed padded with straw and wool, draped with a few woollen and linen pillows and blankets, and a few furs. A table, scattered with bowls, melted candles and a hutch of trinkets, stood in the corner, with three stools. Light linen sheers flanked the walls, near the bed, while a wooden chest sat beside it, and a bench stood in the corner, near the entrance.

Clapa settled the lass onto the bed, with greater gentleness than Finan had hoped, and, with care, Finan unbuckled the buckle of his coat and slipped the wool from the lass' frail, delicate silhouette, before Clapa laid her tousled head onto the pillows.

“‘Tis still as modest as it was the last I was here.” enthused Uhtred, as he entered the hut with Osferth and Sihtric.

Finan stared at the lass an instant, and then turned to Osferth. He startled and hurried to the table and, amongst the wooden bowls, grabbed the dusty pestle and mortar. He then brought the herbs onto the table from his satchel, and glanced at the sleeper before he took the yarrow.

They stared quietly at the monk, as he grabbed the pestle and mashed the dried yarrow into the mortar. He then grabbed a bowl and poured a quaff of his gourd, and sprinkled the dried plant. Osferth then took the bowl and told Finan, “It’ll soothe her body.”

Finan took the bowl and nodded. Softly, he knelt onto the bed's edge, and slowly tickled the beverage between the lass' chapped lips.

“Then?” Sihtric queried as he neared the table. Osferth took the bowl back. "Then," he mumbled, as he tossed plants in the wooden bowl, and took the pestle, "I'll tend to those scrapes and scratches with chamomile," he grimaced, as though he was scraped and scratched, "and soothe her bruises with nettle."

Sihtric glanced at the lass and the frown between her brows. And a tinge of concern tickled his chest. Osferth grinded the chamomile and the nettle in the bowl, and then poured a quaff, “She’ll heal.” he assured, as he approached the bed and settled on the edge.

“But she’ll need a while. She’s quite enfeebled.” he murmured softly, and placed the bowl onto the woollen blankets. “But she’ll heal.”

₊‧𒀭⋆₊

Wulfwynn felt cradled.

Shrouded in the softness of the wool of Cynefrith's sleeves across her hips, and swaddled in the warmth of Eadgyth's skirts and kirtles, her legs entangled with hers. She felt utterly well.

She hadn’t felt well in quite a while. But between Cynefrith and Eadgyth, she felt soothed.

Yet, Wulfwynn stirred in her slumber. She nestled her nose in Eadgyth's tangled and tousled tresses, and hummed with contentment when the scents of chamomile tickled her nostrils. She felt Cynefrith’s gentle breath tickle the back of her neck.

Wulfwynn sighed with delight. She laced her fingers with Cynefrith’s, and Eadgyth wrapped her arm around them, and cuddled them.

And an ache clutched at her chest.

Wulfwynn’s brows furrowed. She huddled and clutched Cynefrith's lithe fingers, and snuggled into Eadgyth's neck. But she gasped as her chest tightened.

And she sobbed. Whiffs of cinders and embers, of nettle and of dust swamped her nostrils and tickled her guts. She sobbed, and sobbed, as the ache clawed at her heart.

Sleep left her, slowly, so slowly it felt an eternity.

Her sight remained blurred a moment before she discerned the shutters, and the pale gleams of the morn that crept between them. Then she glanced beside her. But Eadgyth was not there. And when she turned and peered above her shoulder, Cynefrith was not there either. And then, she remembered.

The yells, the tears. The lake. The sobs, the pleas. The plains. The blood.

Cynefrith was not there.

Eadgyth was not there.

They were not here.

Wulfwynn whimpered. There was neither Eadgyth nor Cynefrith. There were not their embraces, merely linen blankets and furs. There was not their warmth, just a woollen and straw mattress. They were not there.

She sobbed, her hands clutched at her chest. She sobbed, her scraped and scratched knees beneath her chin. She sobbed, muffled into the blankets. She did not hear the squeak of the wooden door and the creak of the boots onto the floorboards.

“Lass?”

Wulfwynn perked and winced. "Ye're awake, at last." Finan huffed, as the concern that etched his face melted into relief. Wulfwynn's tears trickled from her cheeks and wetted the blankets. Finan approached the bed.

“Ye’re alright, lass. Ye’re alright.” he reassured her. But Wulfwynn wasn’t alright.

Her lips quivered, “I,” she huffed quietly, feebly, “I fled, but I—” and faltered, “I fled,”

“Hey, hey,” Finan neared her, and she felt her heart thump, "I— I fled but I—" she sobbed, "But—" And Finan gently seated at the bed's edge, “Hey, ye’re alright, lass, ye’re alright.” he repeated. “Ye’re fine,” he murmured softly.

Alright. She was alright. Wulfwynn nodded. Was she alright? She wasn not quite. But she nodded nonetheless. Her sobs ebbed. She felt, as she had felt with Uhtred, oddly, yet agreeably, comforted and reassured when her eyes anchored into Finan’s. But she felt terribly feeble too. And sore.

“Ye shouldn't tire yerself too much. Ye're still weak and ye haven't eaten yet.” he uttered prudently, as though he feared he might frighten her. “Ye’ve slept quite a bit and Osferth has tended to yer,” he swallowed, “wounds.”

Wulfwynn glanced down at her hands, wrapped in thin strips of linen, folded around her thumbs and knotted in the crook of her palms. The whiffs of chamomile and nettle wafted to her nose when she wiggled her fingers. She noticed she was no longer garbed in her shredded skirts and kirtles, drenched with sweat, sullied with guts and smeared with mud and dust, but a linen shift that smelt of sage. Hence why she had felt so comfortable in her slumber. And she frowned. If she’d been changed, then had they—

“We haven’t.” Finan assured, halting her thoughts, as though he knew what she was wondering. “Osferth merely tended to the wounds on yer arms and legs. Yer virtue is untarnished. Lord Uhtred's sister and Abbess Hild tended to those he couldn't. And then changed ye.”

She nodded shyly. “W-Where,” she licked her lips, “Where are we?”

“Wintanceaster, Lady.”

He stood from the bed and went to the table, in the corner, where there were three stools and, scattered onto the table, dusty baubles and wooden plates, bowls and cups. “Have I,” she straightened slightly and grimaced, “H-Have I slept long?”

He picked a goblet and grabbed the jug, near a plate in which there were the scraps of a meal. Wulfwynn then wondered if they had remained there while she slept. “About three days. Since we arrived.”

“Oh.” she murmured. Finan returned to the bed and handed her the goblet. She whispered her thanks, and wondered if he had heard her, but as he nodded, she thought he must have. She took a sip and felt the soreness of her throat.

Then her stomach rumbled.

Her cheeks dusted with embarrassment and she coughed. She had not eaten but a few berries in days, and had eaten aught but stale bread in weeks. The mere sight of the scraps of a meal had her stomach growl.

"Ye must be famished." Finan frowned, as if concerned. He then nodded, as though approving a thought he'd just had. "Alright. I'll get Hild fer ye and we'll take ye to the tavern. I'll be quick."

He then turned on his heels and strode out of the hut.

CHAPTER TWO. + Archive Of Our Own.

©TheThyri. All rights content belong to @thethyri. Do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works in any way or on any other platform without my permission. Gifs rightfully belong to @dailytlk.

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ladyinred2248 · 3 months ago

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Well, I finished my Part 12 of my King of the North series! It will be posted hopefully today or tomorrow. So I guess that’s a win; I did get some writing done after all! I planned for Part 12 to be the ending, because I know my interaction on that fic is very low. Well 🤣 there’s too much to cover for that to be the ending. So we’ll see. Thanks to those of you who keep supporting!

It has still been my pride and joy fic — where I can explore my creativity and my love for Finan and TLK, no matter how much it waxes and wanes. I’ve let go of perfectionism and just let it ride. After all, it’s the fun of it that counts, right?

Hehe love you all 💕

#finan fic #the last kingdom #finan the agile #tlk fandom #the last kingdom finan #finan tlk fanfic #finan tlk

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csigeoblue · 2 years ago

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Amongst the Chaos - Finan x fem!Reader (The Last Kingdom fic)

Disclaimer: obvi don’t own any material for The Last Kingdom. I struggled with writing this or not cause I’m not usually good at period pieces so wish me luck 😆

______________________

The sound of many hooves and yells awoke you from your slumber unexpectedly setting your entire being on high alert and double as much once you saw Finan had not made it home yet. You sprung up out of bed and peered out the window to see the commotion.

Men on horseback dropping pieces of fire onto any houses close enough to their path.

You grabbed your knife as a last resort for protection.

As quickly and quietly as you could, you snuck out of the back of your house and said a prayer in hopes it would still be standing after this night. You had to find Sihtric’s brood and make sure they were all alright.

On the other side of the village, Finan jolted awake at the table he’d been drinking with Uhtred and Sihtric when he heard an arrow land close to him. To his surprise, it was on fire then he refocused and could hear the chaos going on around him.

His main priority was to find you and figure out what the hell was going on.

The trio quickly jumped into the fray outside. Swords clashing with the strangers dressed like Danes. The floor was wet from the rain earlier that night making it slippery as they fought.

“Y/n!” Shouted Finan.

“She’s not here. Must have gone after Sigeflead” Sihtric offered as he took his sword out of another man’s chest in order to keep moving. Finan grunted in acknowledgment as his opponent fell to his knees too.

“Aye she’s probably counting all your babes.”

It didn’t make him feel better to jest. You had grit that’s for sure but not a warrior by any means. You were a farmer through and through could grow anything anywhere with your skills. A gap in the path thru the fighting gave them enough of an opening to cover more ground and run to Sihtric’s just down the road in the direction the invaders likely came from.

You made it to Sihtric’s door and tried to catch your breath. The smoke in the air made it hard to see in front of you. For a moment you got caught up looking at the destruction around you when someone opened the door and pulled you inside by the collar of your night dress.

“What do we have ere, eh?” A man with a shaved head and dark look in his eye gave you the once over. To your surprise, this man had company… Sigeflaed and her four young children huddled in a corner. When your eyes met, she face hardened with a slight nod.

“Let them go. You only need one of us to have some fun.” You looked back at your captor hoping he’d consider it. He smirked at you and paused pretending to think it over.

Abruptly he threw you to the floor in the opposite direction of Sigeflaed. The fall hurt and your head bounced on the chair there but it was the perfect distraction.

“Siggy, now!”

Sigeflaed rushed the man from behind to throw him off balance as the oldest of the children led the rest outside. You slid your knife out of its sheath and slashed as quickly as you could towards both his ankles. With a shout, he threw Siggy out the open door and fell to his knees.

You stumbled onto your feet towards the door but he latched onto your ankle and pulled you down. As you went down you looked up and saw what you hoped was Finan’s figure in the distance.

“FINAN!”

His eyes widen as he saw you fall and call out his name. He shouted back “I’m Here!” and pushed himself faster to get to you when he saw the reason you fell. A man maneuvered himself over you and started choking you. Fínan’s blood boiled.

“Oi, get your hands off her”

He swung his sword around swiping at both forearms of your assailant causing him to loosen his grip on you. The man screamed in pain while you took deep panicked breaths gently soothing your neck. You kicked the man on the floor as Sihtric made a move to end him. Finan took you in his arms.

“Moh gra, I’m here.”

“Love, I’m alright.” Though it pained you to get the words out. You were grateful it was over.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fic #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #finan the last kingdom #finan the agile #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #finan fanfic #finan fic #the last kingdom fanfic #uhtred #uhtred of bebbanburg #uhtred ragnarsson

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errruvande · 5 months ago

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I'm sorry but already can say the second part is gonna be the hottest fire I have ever read like DAMN

I can only dream of writing smut like that, it's so unbelievably fucking hot and smooth 🥵🥵🥵

And for gods sake being eaten out by both Sihtric and Finan? YES PLEASE 😭😭😭

"Figure You Out - Part One" - Sihtric x Whore!Reader x Finan

A/N my first reader fic for The Last Kingdom fandom! Still got to have both my boys though :) Part two is HERE

Summary: Finan decides that Sihtric needs to learn how to please a woman. He takes him to see a brothel worker and is then convinced to join in!

TW: Whore reader. Virgin Sihtric. Ladies man Finan. Light dom reader. Light fem dom. Oral sex (f recieving). Fingering (f recieving). Implied m/m. Finan is a hands on teacher. Multiple orgasms.

Word count: 1,702

Taglist: @gemini-mama @valeskafics

It had been a slow evening in the Inn when you were approached by a tall, dark haired man you recognized as one of Lord Uhtred's top warriors, Finan you thought his name was. The smirking Irishman pressed a handful of coins into your hands, enough to pay for the whole night and then some.

“The lad needs to learn how to properly please a woman.” Finan said while nodding his head at a younger man at his back. He flashed you a wink before he reached back and dragged the other warrior forward.

You gave the lad a once over, please by what you saw. He was of a height with Finan but slimmer in the shoulders, with well muscled arms which he bared with a sleeveless tunic. He was clearly a Dane, with his hair pulled back in braids across the top of his head and the pewter hammer hanging around his neck, but you didn't mind. He looked up at you through his eyes and you glimpsed the most beautiful set of eyes you had ever seen. His right eye was a warm brown while his left eye was a pale blue, they shone with nervousness but you could see the excitement peaking through.

“Will you be joining us to ensure he is adequately taught?” You teased looking back at the dark haired Irishman, not at all put off by the idea of having them both. Finan had a reputation of treating the girls well and virgins were usually so much fun to play with. It didn't hurt that the young Dane was exceptionally beautiful and you knew you would enjoy the experience of teaching him.

Sihtric could feel your gaze burning into the flushed skin of his face as the two men shared a look. He wasn't repulsed by the idea of Finan accompanying them, of the older man watching, helping, Sihtric had approached him for advice after all. A silent conversation passed between them, an arch of Finan brown in question before the young Dane nodded his consent with a shrug.

Sihtric ignored how the heat already coiled in his gut burned brighter as Finan flashed him a cheeky wink before the Irishman turned to look back at you. “Yeah alright, gotta make sure he does it properly, don't I?”

You reached your hand out towards Sihtric and after a moment's hesitation he took it in his, mindful of how soft and delicate your hand felt in his, rough with scars and years of handling a weapon. You smiled encouragingly at him before you introduced yourself and asked for his name.

“I'm Sihtric, miss,” he answered, voice soft and gentle as he met your gaze shyly.

You were the most beautiful woman Sihtric had ever laid eyes on. Your hair was tied back away from your face with a few stands loose to dance around your shoulders. Your dress hugged your form perfectly and left little to the imagination, pushing your breasts up and he couldn't help but think they would be the perfect handful.

But his favourite feature had to be your eyes. Your eyes were bright and expressive with long lashes that framed them perfectly, shining with mischief as you led the two men up the stairs to your room.

He couldn't stop his mouth from hanging open as you unlaced your bodice and exposed your breasts to their hungry eyes before you pulled your overdress over your head and dropped it in a heap on the floor before sitting on the edge of the bed. You leaned back on your hands and enjoyed having their undivided attention. You loved bringing men to their knees.

You tapped a foot on the floor. “On your knees boys.”

You watched with hooded eyes as Sihtric knelt on the floor with barely restrained eagerness, Finan close behind but with much more poise. You knew this was not the first time the Irishman had found himself on his knees in the bedroom. The other girl always had lots of stories about Uhtred's second in command, that he was a very giving lover and, if the stories were true, incredibly talented with his mouth.

Your core throbbed and you grew wet at the thought of putting that mouth to use but tonight was about the young Dane currently crawling his way between your spread legs. His inexperience was obvious as he began pressing sweet, hesitant kisses up the skin of your inner thigh, long fingers shaking as they worked your underdress up inch by inch as he went.

By the time he had worked your dress up around your waist you were soaked, your cunt and inner thighs slick with the proof of your arousal.

Confronted with the sight of your wet cunt the young Dane lost his nerve and looked over his shoulder at his friend for assistance. Finan pressed himself to Sihtric's back and hooked his chin over the Dane's shoulder.

“What a pretty sight” He growled, his eyes were dark, pupils blown with arousal as they moved over your exposed flesh.

You licked your lower lip slowly and flashed him a smirk when his gaze met yours. You cocked an eyebrow in challenge, taunting the Irishman to show what he knows.

The older man's brow furrowed before he wrapped himself tighter around the younger man and began his lesson. “Just gotta touch her a little, warm her up for yer cock.” He told the younger man, reaching out with one hand to demonstrate.

You threw your head back with a gasp as two thick fingers slid through your soaking folds, gathering the wetness there and using it to slick the way for him to push them inside you. You opened for him so easy, with a breathless moan as the stretch relieved the ache that had begun to throb through your core. They way they moved together, pressing against your inner walls perfectly, brushing against that spot inside you that made you see stars.

Finan curled his fingers inside so they pressed harder against that perfect spot and your mouth feel open on a whine. His thumb rubbed slow circles around your nub, the pleasure building heat in your core, stroking the flames higher and higher. You were so wet and dripping that his fingers made a wet squelching sound each time he pulled them back to the tip before he plunged them back between your folds. You were moaning continuously when Finan pulled his hand away and you whined at the momentary pause in your pleasure.

He chuckled deeply as he grabbed one of Sihtric's hands and guided it between your trembling thighs to take his place. “Your turn, boy.”

The way Finan kept himself wrapped around Sihtric made for a very enticing sight and you wondered what they would look like wrapped up together, bare of their armour and clothing, their battle hardened bodies pressed together. The picture in your mind and the way Sihtric worked between your thighs, just as Finan had shown him, unexpectedly pushed you to what you knew would only be the first orgasm of the night.

You lost all strength in your arms and found yourself fully on your back as you shuddered and moaned as Sihtric diligently kept his fingers thrusting inside of you at Finan's insistence. Drawing your pleasure out until you were reduced to a trembling, whining mess.

You had barely come down or caught your breath when Finan gave his next command to the young Dane.

“Give her cunt a kiss,” he commanded the other man, guiding him down with a hand on the back of Sihtric's head.

Sihtric didn't hesitate to get his mouth on you, soft and sweet at first, with gentle kisses and soft licks as he tasted your release, cleaning some of the slick from your inner thighs and between your folds. He groaned against your skin and doubled down, attacking you with lips and tongue. He was a natural as he licked and sucked, devouring your cunt like he was a man starving. Finan whispered advice from over his back, voice deep and raspy with his arousal.

You struggled to push yourself back upright on your elbows so you didn't miss a single moment. You watched as Sihtric pressed his arse back against the hard line of the Irishman's cock, the lad whining desperately against your cunt when he was confronted with the proof of his friend's arousal. You smirked at how clearly the poor boy wanted to get fucked. An idea formed in your mind, one you hoped you could sweet talk the two men into.

Your mind wiped clean as Sihtric sunk two fingers back into your dripping wet core and crooked them just right. No matter how his body begged for his friend he stayed focused on you and kept his mouth working on your core, making the pleasure build again. You gasped out encouragement and praise until you peaked a second time with a drawn out moan, head thrown back and shuddering as he kept lapping at you, soft and wet, drinking down your release until you pushed his head away with a breathless laugh.

Both men slid back on their heels and gave you space to recouver this time, which you needed as you found yourself sprawled on your back again with your whole body weak and trembling from the strength of your second orgasm.

You panted up at your ceiling as your heart rate slowed and you collected yourself. As fast a learner as the Dane was proving to be you still had knowledge to impart.

You rolled yourself over onto your hands and knees and crawled further up the bed, giving your arse a good shake for good measure, feeling both sets of eyes on you.

“Take your clothes off Sihtric,'' you commanded over your shoulder and smiled as the man was quick to obey, revealing a lithe, well muscled body, spotted with the occasional scar, signs of his life as a warrior. You pulled your underdress over your head, baring yourself complerely to the two warriors before you settled yourself on your back against the pillows and spread your legs invitingly. “Come here.”

#sihtric x reader #finan x reader #sihtric #finan #sihtric fic #finan fic #the last kingdom fic #tlk #the last kingdom

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whitedarkmoonflower · 8 months ago

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Little Seer

Pairing: Sihtric x reader(female) x Finan

Authors note: there was something in the air again 😅 Brainstorming and writing together with the talented and amazing @little-diable is an absolute pleasure. Thank you so much for co-writing this little story with me! 💖💖💖

Warnings: SMUT 18+, a bit of angst, the usual things

Summary: as if being Skade's sister wasn't challenge enough, you are faced with an impossible choice between two warriors, competing over your heart

Word Count: 4,8 K

You closed your eyes and inhaled the cool, crisp morning air. A fleeting aroma of freshly baked bread wafted toward you, evoking a vivid memory of work-worn hands kneading dough on a high table, so tall that your nose barely reached its surface.

"Go fetch your sister," a soft voice urged, and you giggled as a finger touched your nose, leaving a white flour mark on it.

"Skade, Skade, where are you? Mom is baking bread," you called out cheerfully, your voice ringing through the yard like a bright, joyful stream. Your small feet carried you from one building to the next.

"Shhh, what are you doing? Stop yelling! You just scared all my spirits away," an irritated hiss made you freeze in your tracks as your lively, smiling eyes met two stormy, piercing blue ones. Your face twisted into a mocking grimace as you stuck out your tongue at your sister. Her giggle was soft and sparkling, reminiscent of a tiny bell's chime, as she took your hand and you both skipped joyfully back to the house.

Long before the big wooden gates of Dunholm creaked open to welcome the small traveling party, you had already known she was approaching Dunholm. The runes never lied to you. Bound by the same blood and the same divine gift, your destinies were intricately woven together in a delicate tapestry of love and hate. You knew you couldn’t escape each other and no matter how hard you tried to defy this fate, you had always failed.

Your palm tightened around the shaft of the Nithstang you had crafted tonight, wet and sticky with the warm blood dripping down your fingers, as you forced your eyes open. Your steps, steady and resolute, carried you to the small paddock across the inner yard, now a makeshift prison.

"Release him!" Your voice, edged with a metallic tone, carried a hint of the anger simmering deep within you. Something stirred in the shadows at the back, and a silhouette began to move closer to the bars. Two familiar, deep pools of dazzling blue met your gaze.

"You know I won't," a challenge danced on the plush lips curved into a smirk. "You should know me better by now, little sis."

"Don't make me use my power against you," you warned, your breath forming small clouds of mist as you spoke, casting a shimmering, translucent veil over your sister's face and giving it a mysterious glow.

"You wouldn't dare," Skade smirked, tilting her head defiantly.

"You leave me no choice," you replied, not with anger but with a surge of resolve. With a loud cry, you swung the Nithstang high into the air, driving it deep into the ground to face the place where your sister was imprisoned.

Your love for her was deeply rooted in every fibre of your being, yet you despised the monster she had become, transformed by power-hungry men who sought to use her for their own ascension. It was this profound care for her, this need to protect her even from herself, that had driven you to carve the ancient runes into the wood under the cover of night. The power of love was stronger than the power of hate, yet your sister, as mighty as she might be, still failed to recognize this simple truth.

Fear and caution had long been your constant companions, often mingled with respect, but genuine fascination and appeal seldom visited your life. You struggled to suppress your smile as you constantly felt two pairs of eyes almost burning into your back each time when you turned away.

The dark brown eyes exuded warmth, strength, and protectiveness, creating a comforting presence that seemed to envelop you each time you entered the great hall. The peculiar, mismatched eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity, radiating a sense of possessiveness. They darted around the room, absorbing every detail, as if laying claim to every word you spoke and every move you made.

An Irish-accented voice, rich and booming, reached you near the stream just as you were about to lift the heavy buckets brimming with water. "May I help you?"

"Thank you, that's very kind," you replied with a smile, watching the sturdy, well-built Irishman effortlessly lift your load and nod for you to lead the way.

To break the somewhat awkward silence, you inquired, "How's Lord Uhtred?"

"He's well, thanks to you, lady. On the way here, I had my doubts he'd even make it," the warrior replied, his voice thick with genuine worry and care. The soothing quality of his words made you turn and cast a warm smile back at him while noticing his shoulders straighten and his eyes light up with a friendly glow.

Having seen him spar before, it was clear that beneath his somewhat soft and pappy shell lay a core of steel, marked by agility and resolve.

"Lady, I was looking for you..." greeted a cheerful voice accompanied by a bright smile at the steps before your hut. "I... I was riding out the horses, and there, in the meadow, I thought of you when I saw these," stammered the young, handsome Dane, revealing a bouquet of wildflowers he had been hiding behind his back. His gaze quickly shifted to his feet.

The bouquet was not a mere haphazard cluster; it was artfully arranged—a vibrant swirl of colours with bright yellow flowers at the centre, gently transitioning to soft pink and white ones around the edges, framed by green leaves.

"They are beautiful, thank you so much, Sihtric," you said, your eyes widening in surprise. Your fingers lightly brushed against his as you accepted the flowers, inhaling their sweet scent. A muffled scoff from behind made you bury your face deeper into the bouquet to hide your amused smirk upon seeing Finan roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Lady, let me..." Sihtric hurriedly ascended the few steps and swung the door open for you, you stepped inside and Sihtric followed you, letting the door close just before Finan could enter. You turned to him with a surprised smile and, hearing Finan’s disgruntled curse behind the door, Sihtric quickly opened it again to let in the visibly annoyed Irishman.

"Please put the buckets there," you directed, pointing to a wooden bench in the corner while turning to fetch a vase for the flowers from the cupboard.

The sound of shuffling feet and muffled murmurs behind you indicated that both warriors were hesitant to leave. As you turned to face them, Finan spoke first, "I... I placed the buckets on the bench... I..." He scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting around the room, seemingly searching for something to say.

"Oh, your door is half ajar; it needs fixing," Sihtric suddenly exclaimed. "I'll fetch some tools and be right back."

"You've never held a hammer and nail in your life, you don’t even know what they look like, and now you want to pretend you can fix a door?" Finan scoffed, clearly upset he hadn’t noticed the issue first.

Sihtric hurried off to fetch the tools, leaving Finan behind, still bristling from the earlier mishap and determined not to be outdone by the young Dane. “I can fix that just fine without his help,” Finan muttered, eyeing the slightly ajar door as if it were a direct challenge to his capabilities.

When Sihtric returned, he clumsily carried a bundle of tools wrapped in cloth. Finan was already examining the door, squinting critically. “Here, let me show you how it’s done,” Sihtric announced with a confident swagger, setting the bundle down with a thud.

The two warriors stood side by side, peering at the assortment of tools, which included a couple of misshapen awls and a few worn hammers. “This one looks about right,” Sihtric said, picking up an awl with an uncertain glance.

“That’s not how you hold it, give it here,” Finan scoffed, snatching the tool and holding it upside down. You watched, amused, as they fumbled, each trying to outdo the other with bravado that was clearly unfounded.

“Here, you need to tighten the hinges,” Sihtric suggested.

“No, the alignment’s off. It needs a new hole,” Finan countered, eyeing the frame as if he could will it into compliance.

Sihtric attempted to use a hammer, gently tapping around the hinge as if coaxing it to tighten by itself. Meanwhile, Finan, now wielding an awl, tried to carve a new hole in the wood, his efforts resulting in a crooked and unnecessary indentation.

The result was a door that hung even more awkwardly than before.

“You know, maybe we should just ask the carpenter in the village,” Sihtric finally conceded, stepping back to examine their handiwork, which looked worse than when they started.

Finan, though reluctant to admit defeat, nodded in agreement. “Let’s just say woodworking isn’t our calling,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their earnest but bungled efforts, appreciating the entertainment, if not the craftsmanship. “I think that’s wise,” you agreed, still smiling. “But thank you both for trying. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

Everything went quiet suddenly, with just shy glances and nervous shuffling of feet filling the air. It was getting awkward, but it was obvious neither warrior wanted to leave. The question in their eyes was so clear and so charming that this time, you couldn't help but let a grin slip.

Their fondness for you was apparent, neither attempting to conceal it, as they'd been playfully fighting for your attention for a week now, and you'd be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. The two warriors were as different as fire and water, their contrasting energies sparking against each other with every word and gesture.

You really appreciated how Finan always looked out for you, always there to lend a hand, careful and attentive. His support was rock solid, his eyes always warm, and he never missed a chance to gently tease you.

Then there was Sihtric, with his wild, spontaneous streak that drew you in just as much. He’d show up at all sorts of odd times with flowers, or suddenly appear at your hut with a huge smile and a basket full of goodies, just because he’d found the perfect spot on a nearby hill to catch the sunset. No matter how tired you were, his laughter and sheer joy were contagious, always managing to sweep you up in another adventure.

Both warriors truly brightened up your life, even helping you momentarily forget the deep worry your sister's presence constantly evoked. As time passed, it was clear Uhtred was committed to his decision to stay with his brother, which only seemed to make the boys more hopeful whenever they looked your way. But what really amazed you was something quite rare, something you hadn’t seen before—even with their ongoing competition for your attention, their friendship didn’t waver—not even a bit.

They were both waiting for you to make a choice between them. And honestly, as much as you wanted to decide, making up your mind just seemed impossible.

Stars were twinkling in the sky as you rolled your head back, letting the river run through your hair as you took your bath. Darkness wrapped itself around you like a veil, hidden from the drunken men you didn’t want to cross paths with, the nosy fighters who’d give a lot for a good look at your naked frame.

Your body had ached as you found your way down to the river, desperate for some moments alone, away from the confusion of being close to Sihtric and Finan pushed through you and the confusion your sister managed to push through your veins with every rising of the sun. It was a steady back and forth you should be all too used to by now.

“Here’s good!” The raspy voice echoed through the air, dripping with his Irish accent while forcing your eyes away from the sky to watch the two men walk closer. For a moment, you didn’t move, letting your curious eyes watch the two as you waited for them to notice you. But Finan and Sihtric kept undressing, not picking up on your closeness just now.

“It’s not very honourable of you to disturb a woman’s bath, now is it?” Humour flushed through you as you spoke the word, chasing the protection the dark water offered. Only your head and throat were visible, hiding the body both Finan and Sihtric had been imagining the past days, chasing highs with their minds solemnly focused on you.

“Apologies, lady.” SIhtric stumbled over his words, drawing a loud laugh from you as you kept on watching them.

“Would you mind some company?” It was a bold question the Irishman asked, knowing that this could take an ugly turn. Perhaps it was the mead flushing through your system, perhaps it was the thrilling coldness of the river, whatever it was, it forced your mouth open once again, giving room to your words rolling off your tongue.

“If you can behave, I wouldn’t mind your company, no.” The hum leaving Finan seemed to snap Sihtric out of his trance, averting his gaze as the two kept undressing. For some more seconds, you allowed yourself to study their muscular frames, a sight that left you trembling with heat pooling between your thighs before you eventually let your eyes wander back up to the sky.

“It’s a beautiful sight, aye.” Finan’s voice wrapped itself around you as he moved closer, marvelling at the starry sky. Even though you kept your eyes focused on the sky, you couldn’t help but focus on the heat he emanated – a heat that only grew stronger as Sihtric also stepped towards you. “But we are fortunate men, us two, we don’t have to look that far for a beautiful sight.”

The words left you laughing, unable to bite down your smile as you turned towards the two men. Mischief was swimming in their pupils, it seemed as if whatever back-and-forth they had felt between one another had found some end, a compromise perhaps. Whatever it was, it drew them even closer, giving you the chance to pull away before overstepping any boundaries

“Others may no longer respect your honour if they see you here with us, lady.” Sihtric’s husky voice was about to draw a moan out of you, reminding you of the words you had imagined them to speak as you had chased your high just this morning, thinking of these two warriors now caging you between their bodies.

“And why is that?” Slowly, you rose, exposing your naked chest to Finan, who was standing in front of you. You felt Sihtric tugging himself against your back, with his tensed abs pressing into your soft skin, with his hardening cock pressed against your behind. An unfamiliar heat took over, guiding your every moment – you were about to slip up, about to give in while your mind was silenced. And for the first time, you were alright with letting go, diving head-first into an adventure you had been dreaming of for days.

Sihtric’s hands found your waist, keeping you pressed to him as Finan’s warm hand cupped your cheek. You could feel their breaths teasing your skin, making you feel as if you were their sacrifice, one with the fire they were about to toss you into, leaving you trembling and aching – all because of them.

“Once you lose your honour to us, we won’t let you go again, little lady.” You scoffed at the nickname Finan used for you, a sound that was turned into a moan as Sihtric’s fingers danced down your stomach, finding their way to your pulsing bundle. The moan that clawed through you had nothing human-like to it, torn between a warrior’s cry and an animalistic growl. A sound so sinful, you felt both men chuckle; a chuckle of victory; a chuckle of excitement.

Tonight you were theirs. Tonight you wouldn’t break free from their grasp. Not tonight.

“Oh, gods.” The words clawed through you as Sihtric’s fingers began to move in circular motions, rubbing your bundle of nerves just enough to make the hairs at the back of your neck rise. It felt as if you were trapped by some kind of spell, chaining you to these two men who explored your body with their lips. Finan’s beard scratched your skin as he kissed your throat, dipping his head down to find your hardening nipples, all while Sihtric’s teeth teased the spot where your shoulder met your neck.

“No gods will answer your prayers tonight, pretty lady. For now, you’re ours to play with.” Sihtric’s raspy words were about to push you over the edge, chasing your release without feeling either one of them buried deep inside of you yet. You were desperate for more, torn between different sensations that left you trembling and aching for more.

“I want you, please.” It was pathetic almost how needy you were, too far in to pick up on the sly grin tugging on Finan’s lips, wordlessly communicating with Sihtric.

“How do you want us?” Finan’s lips teased yours, not kissing you fully, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But nothing could pull you from these two, not tonight at least. Sihtric tightened his grip on you as you kept quiet, adding more pressure to his moving fingers, toying with your pulsing bundle.

“Speak when you’re asked to, don’t play any games.” You choked on your gasps at Sihtric’s demanding command, leaving you shuddering between them.

“Both of you, I don’t care how, I just need you.” Within moments you were shifted around, pressed down on a nearby stone to balance your body as Finan positioned himself behind you. You were close to passing out, letting your racing heart guide you as your glassy eyes wandered down Sihtric’s muscular front, straight to his twitching cock. The Dane positioned himself in front of you, fingers pulling your hair together to draw your mouth closer to him.

“Who are we to deny a pretty lady’s wish, huh?” Finan pushed into you without another warning, tearing another moan from you that was silenced by Sihtric’s cock. Your mouth engulfed him, lips wrapped around his tip to suck on him. His taste stuck to your tongue, a taste you’d forever remember, just like the feeling of Finan finally fucking you. The Irishman didn’t grant you any mercy, he fucked you as if the Devil himself was chasing him, a sensation so strong your walls kept fluttering around him.

“What a devilish mouth for such a sweet seer.” Sihtric’s praises shot shudders down your spine and drew sounds from you that vibrated on his cock as he pushed further down your throat. You were close to seeing stars, close to letting the darkness that called your name swallow you. Tonight you didn’t care about what may happen to you. Tonight you didn’t care about losing yourself to these two handsome warriors. Tonight you were simply theirs.

“You feel divine, lady.” Finan groaned his words as he fucked you even deeper, pressed down on the cold stone that would surely leave its marks on your body. This night would leave its bruises on you, bruises you’d forever remember, while silently hoping that they’d leave some more on your body in the upcoming days and weeks.

Tears ran down your warm cheeks, tears of desperation and lust, drawn from your eyes by the feeling of Sihtric’s cock nudging your throat, by the feeling of Finan’s calloused fingertips rubbing your overstimulated bundle, pushing you over the edge within moments.

Finan fucked you through your high as Sihtric groaned your name, painting your tongue and cheeks white with his release. You didn’t dare break eye contact with the handsome Dane as you swallowed, not even as you felt Finan stain your behind with his cum. It was a moment so intimate that you were sure neither Finan nor Sihtric could ever forget about it, just like you.

The three of you were heavily panting as silence wrapped itself around you, drawing a laugh out of you as you rose back to your feet. You couldn’t help but shake your head as you studied the two for another moment, trying to accept what had just happened.

“What’s so funny, lady?” Finan pulled you against his broad chest, grinning in success as you clung to him, wordlessly telling the two that you weren’t planning on running anytime soon.

“I’m just happy, I think.” Your eyes wandered towards Sihtric, grinning at the man who looked at you as if you had hung up the stars in the sky yourself, a true masterpiece only a few were fortunate enough to take in.

“We won’t let you go again, we stay true to our words.” As much as you wanted to give in, to let this dream suck you into its grasp for some more moments, you couldn’t, breaking out of your hazy trance. Carefully you stepped away from Finan to sink back into the cold water, cleaning yourself for one last time that evening.

“Don’t make any promises, Irishman. You don’t know what’s coming upon us, it will be cruel, guided by my sister’s hands.”

The clang of weapons and the wild shouts from the crowd echoed off the walls of Dunholm, deafening you with the force of a thunderstorm. You had always been certain of the foolishness and recklessness of men, yet they continued to surprise you.

Your decision to serve Ragnar was based on his ability to listen and consider matters without letting emotions cloud his judgement—a rare trait among men. But this time was different.

Your eyes shifted, catching a glimpse of Skade at the far end of the square. How had you missed it? Distracted by a fuzzy haze of love and admiration, you hadn't noticed the spider spinning its web behind you, the viper weaving its venom into the hearts of men. Now, you were forced to watch as arrogance and false pride shattered the fragile peace you had so carefully helped to nurture.

"Are you satisfied? Do you really think this will bring you anything?" you hissed into Skade's ear.

"I’ve won, little sister. I always win, whatever it takes. There’s no turning back. Uhtred is mine. He will come to rule all Danes and Saxons; he’s been born to lead. I’ve seen that. And I'll rise with him. He's bound to me, and there's nothing you can do about it," she whispered back, her words slicing through you like the sharpest knife, reopening old wounds you had struggled to heal.

“This is no game, Skade. Stop this madness. You’ve gone too far. You took a life that wasn’t yours to claim, just to replace her. This will have consequences, and you know it. Release him and stay here with me. Please, sister,” you pleaded, knowing deep down it was likely futile, but you had to try.

There was a subtle shuffle of feet before your sister finally turned to face you. Your pleading gaze met her icy stare, the chill from her eyes almost freezing your words in midair.

“Did you enjoy the company of those two fools, calling themselves warriors?” she asked coldly, her chin lifting slightly as she tilted her head to the right, scrutinising you through her long lashes. “Tell those two hounds to stay behind, or if they're foolish enough to follow their master, tell them not to interfere with me. You know better than anyone what happens to those who get in my way.”

You couldn’t remember how you got home, the sound of the door, shutting behind you with a loud thud as you slammed your back against the gnarled wood, startling you. You slid down the door to the floor, elbows on your knees, cradling your head in your hands.

Sobs wracked your body, starting quietly and gradually becoming louder and uncontrollable, until you threw back your head, releasing a loud, desperate cry that tore through you. Yes, you knew all too well what happened when someone interfered with your sister. You knew the agony of feeling like your heart was being ripped from your chest, leaving a wound that wouldn't heal, a wound that lingered for years.

She had taken everything from you once, and without a moment’s hesitation, she would do it again. Of that, you were certain.

"Come with us," Finan urged, his large, rough palm reaching out for yours while his thumb gently traced circles on your skin.

"We will care for you, protect you," Sihtric added, his two-coloured eyes searching for yours, but you stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. You pulled your hands away from Finan’s gentle grip and, needing something to occupy them, began nervously adjusting and straightening your clothes. You shook your head, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

"Stay here, both of you, stay with me," you countered, finally lifting your head, your eyes pleading as they moved between Sihtric and Finan.

Silence stretching between you, Finan stepped forward first. He enveloped you in a strong embrace, his arms a fortress that for a brief moment, warded off what was about to come. As he pulled back, his hands cupped your face, and he leaned in to place a tender, lingering kiss on your lips

Sihtric, his expression a complex tapestry of regret and resolve, moved closer. His farewell was quieter, more restrained, as if he feared that any show of passion might crumble his resolve. He took your hands in his, holding them between you both, his gaze finally locking with yours. Slowly, he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them softly, his breath warm against your skin.

Words were superfluous; everything that needed to be said shimmered in the air around you, poignant and bittersweet.

“Be careful. Don’t underestimate my sister,” you finally broke the silence, “She can turn Uhtred against you.”

You saw the disbelief in their eyes and sighed deeply. “You have no idea of what she is capable of. This is just the beginning.”

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ms-oswald · 2 months ago

Text

homesick | chapter one

author's note: and here we go with a new Finan series! A tad long, but hopefully still an enjoyable read :) a BIG thank you to @persephones-journey for helping me through this! ❤️ banner credit to @arcielee 💜 Lots of love & stay safe 💕

“I will be forever the man who killed the great warrior Uhtred.”

That was how their story started.

The ground quivered underneath heavy hooves, horses running on adrenaline as their riders intercepted the illicit briberies by the shore, the beach’s cold waves straddling the sand within its grasp.

Restlessness tightened the throats of the warriors, its claws urging movements of rescue.

The slavers scattered away, fear shadowing their hastened steps with the hefty trample of the cavalry and unsheathed swords harmonizing behind their backs.

The captives were nonmoving, confused as they watched the violent spectacle unfold in front of them. A mix of screams and the whistling of weapons ripping through flesh ached their ears, the gasps of breath and strangled voices caused shivers as they watched bodies falling over their pushed-in blades.

She climbed off her horse as Ragnar called for his brother, his feet following the path towards the sunken man.

She stayed behind, standing by Steapa’s side – a man of Alfred’s – and watched as she saw her friend cradling his younger kin softly sobbing in his arms.

“Did you believe we would abandon you?” A soft smile etched across his lips, his shoulders heavy at the sight. He was partly relieved to have found his brother while the other was distraught at how he came to be.

No response came from Uhtred, the air filled still with soft strained cries.

Ragnar lifted his head to meet another slave standing a couple of feet away and glanced down the line to his right, taking in the presence of the others.

“Free them all.” He ordered, somber, his mind racing and angry.

She followed his command and marched forward, going for the chains before breaking them at each of the captives’ ankles. She set them free one by one until she reached the last; by then he had undone it himself, and quietly picked up the sword that laid at his feet.

She stilled and let him be, curiosity prickling her skin as her eyes shadowed his movements.

He stumbled hastily towards the remaining villain trying to escape for his life, his venture destroyed.

She watched as the poorer man pointed the tip of his blade at his slaver, the cause of his infernal calamity.

Sverri turned slowly, now face to face with his demise.

The sudden shove of the blade through the throat startled her; she froze, unable to look away as death violently greeted the enemy, the body falling on the ground.

His eyes glistened as relief washed over the liberated, the soft panting bruising his chest while he turned to his right, meeting Uhtred’s gaze.

No words were exchanged, only a delirious grin stretched across the other man’s dirty cheeks, a long gaze holding them together.

She sighed and turned her head as Ragnar called for her. “Care for him.” She sent a firm nod his way and placed her sword back in its scabbard before shifting the other way and carefully approaching the newly freed man.

He hadn’t noticed her, still trapped in a thick fog, a void that seemed unescapable.

It was the sudden crackle of a fallen branch that awoke him, startling him. He focused his sight on the figure walking towards him and quickly lifted the sword at her.

She stopped, her hands in mid-air as her sign of surrender.

“I am not here to hurt you, I promise.” Her tone was soft, almost coaxing him to let go of his defense.

He stared back, dazed, and fell to the ground with a quiet breath out.

She drew near him and took a seat on her knees as her hands rested on his jawline, carefully tilting his head to see if he had any other bruises. She took note of the roughness of his skin and the older marks covering him.

“Do you have any fresh wounds that need tending to?” She was gentle with her words as she let him go, her fingers resting on her lap.

He shook his head, signaling a simple ‘no’.

“What is your name?”

The moment of silence settled between them, his eyes focusing on her with reality dragging him by the collar of his shirt. He took in the hint of worry, her gaze giving him attention that had gone missing in the recent years of his life.

“Finan.” His name left him, a last breath across his broken lips.

A faint twinge ran through her heart, leaving her aching. She hid it with a careful smile, introducing herself to him in return.

“I am Kára.”

Her name rung in his ears with his eyes taking in her features and retracing the way her darken hair was intricately braided into rows by the sides of her head and tied at the back, its texture looking soft – a sinful invitation to touch and caress the strands. To the way the tiniest of knife mark scarred the skin under the edge of her right eyebrow, a thin red line still looking fresh. He then glanced downwards, falling into steps with the harmonized colors hugging her pupils – the warmth of honey at the center, its sun bursting through the ripples of old oak trees sprinkled with flecks of moss at its roots. Such complexity in their design were cast his way, unconsciously enchanting him.

It took him a moment, but he continued his path, glancing to the fresh bruise on the right side of her jawline to the pink of her high cheekbones, a dimple nestled comfortably from the upward curve of her full lips.

He stared, unable to part from her – as if the delusion stripped him of his senses. An unexpected presence, he breathed her in slowly, her delicate endeavor weakening his muscles to a state of release and comfort.

A stranger had become his rescuer, aiding in his conquest to freedom and wiping clean his bloodied hands.

“Can you get up for me, Finan?” Once more, the symphony of his name coddled his ears. It was the cautious way she held his letters, a wounded animal – anxious and afraid.

He did not utter a word. He simply followed her movements as she placed his arm around her shoulders, helping him rejoin the others while slowly realizing that his worst nightmare was finally over.

The warmth of the campfire surrounded them, the air tranquil as they took comfort in the food filling some of their bellies and the gentle sound of the crackling flames tickling their ears.

A bowl in her hands, she quietly listened to the conversation unraveling in front of her, occasionally glancing up to follow the sound of voices. Her gaze eventually landed on Finan, the man sitting on the ground to her right, and took in the way his throat seemed to have softened, his chords clearer than earlier today; she noted as well the thickness of his accent rumbling at the back of his palette, bringing a light strain to her heart at the thought of her past.

“You’re... Uhtred’s brother?”

Sitting on the other side of the Irishman, Ragnar turned to him as he spoke. “I am.”

A sly smirk across his face, his eyes glanced from one to the other as he continued. “You look nothing like each other.”

The group shared a small chuckle, Ragnar smiling at the man’s comment; Kára hid her grin as she cast her gaze down her bowl.

“Uhtred, you should eat.” Hild took her turn, offering him a plate. Instead, he faintly shook his head, denying the gesture. She then turned to Finan.

He politely refused as well.

“Oh, we will eat, lady... but our tummies are small and our feet have barely touched dry land. It’ll take a little time to find them.” He gently spoke, his reasoning prompting her to simply nod as she placed the dish on the ground.

Ragnar picked up the conversation, his inquiry directed towards Uhtred’s apparent new friend. “Are you his brother?”

The answer came in slowly, his thoughts ravishing his tongue with revelations.

“We are... we are bound, I would say.” Uhtred eyed him, clear emotions striking the blue of his eyes.

Kára observed him, noting the depth of his words as they silenced their circle.

She remained wordless, a simple spectator as her eyes wandered with her mind traipsing amongst hundreds of thoughts.

She hadn’t noticed he turned to look at her until he called for her by simply tilting his head her way, his voice a tad louder as it echoed in her direction.

“What is ya story?”

She met his gaze, the darkness of his hues glowing against the gentle flames that danced in front of them.

She smiled at his question, the stretch of her lips dimpling her left cheek. “I do not have one. I am merely a loyal warrior of Ragnar.”

At the mention of his name, they met and lingered as they shared the smallest and comforting of grins for one another; such an expression had gone unnoticed to the Irishman as he turned to speak to Uhtred, a cheekiness laced in his pitch.

“Ah, so she is not one of yours then, Uhtred?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes as she fell back into her conversation with him. She teased, her demeanor slightly exaggerated for the laughs. “Luckily, I am not.”

She earned a chuckle from him, the rest of the group falling into the background.

Ragnar had dropped his gaze, his laughter calming, before lifting his head back up. “Kára has been- is, one of my closest and trusted friend.” He turned to her once again, an understanding passing between them – ships in the night.

The air settling down, she went on, taking away the chance for Finan to prod a bit more; she had preferred to keep parts of her past private – the peering gaze of a stranger throwing her off as attention was never her strong suit.

“Him and I have known each other for a very long time. We share some... common history.” She took a sip of her ale, swallowing before ending her take. “That is all I will say, Irishman.”

She gifted him a smirk, and swung her cup for another chug of her drink.

He let it be, their night continuing with timid conversation flowing around the fire until it had slowly dissipated, its need for sleep growing stronger as the flames slowed.

“I apologize.” He took a leap, standing close to her as she was reaching her tent. “I did not mean to be rude earlier.”

She smiled reassuringly, calming his worry. “I did not see rudeness in your questions.”

“I just wanted to get to know the woman who saved me.” She was left speechless for a moment, taken aback by his words. Her dimples carved further while nodding, his confession settled. “Hmm, another time, perhaps.”

He caught her grin, his own pushing for a soft stretch as he watched her; perhaps such small promise had rose the sparkle in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Finan.”

A light tug strung within his ribcage to such a short song, her voice spelling out his name with hidden mischief; he cleared his throat, recovering from the sudden summersault.

A shudder of courage coursed through him, giving himself the chance to unravel a built-in moment.

“Goodnight, Kára.”

To the first time he said her name out loud, any reason for solemnity had crumbled at their feet. Her ears tickled, oddly enjoying the way he pronounced her syllables, the lilt across his tongue sweet and gentle.

They tore themselves away from the small crowd, as she had promised him, finding a secluded spot where she could clean his wounds.

He had been hesitant at first, ashamed to bare himself in front of anyone’s eyes.

It had been the kindness in her words that made him leaned towards agreement; he was still capable of tolerating the wear out of his dry skin and the ache on his back, hiding the desperate need for a cleanse.

The sun sat warmly at the horizon, flickering its strokes of orange glow upon the high grass and wild flowers that surrounded them.

Finan sat facing the sun, his back bare to her; her heart stopped and pulled back her breath, clutching at the rag in her hand, while her eyes retraced every whipped mark that bore deep across his skin – fresh and old.

She stared silently, tears nestling the corners of her eyes.

He held onto his shirt against his chest – or whatever was left of it – his eyes following the path of the skyline, attempting enjoyment of its warmth as it sought his presence.

Kára swallowed a breath as she wet the piece of cloth and gently pressed it against him, starting from his shoulders.

There was a comforting stillness between them, a voiceless exchange that remained transparent in gestures; the sting of the newer lacerations transferred to tension in his muscles – she would stop, giving him a moment to adjust to the numbness as it carved his back.

“I brought some ointment to heal with the, hmm- with the cuts. Would it be alright if I use it on you?” She asked gently, her tone soft, sowed within the calmness of their space. He tilted his head to his right, his chin to his shoulder as he nodded wordlessly.

She swabbed some of the thick salve against her fingertips and gently pressed them across the fresher lashes; her movements were slow, giving him the chance to adjust to the texture rubbing against his skin.

He closed his eyes, the warmth of her palm moving alongside the bruised bones and torn muscles, a shadow cast from the path of his spine; she felt the tension vanish amongst his shoulders letting a pained smile grace the corner of her lips as she continued with her repetitive motion, dipping into the oil before brushing it against his cuts.

He focused back into the setting sun, the touch of her hands gone.

He turned his head and saw she had gotten up, walking around to find a seat in front of him.

Voiceless still, he watched her as she placed the small bucket of water by her side, the rag making another appearance.

The light’s glow was striking her adoringly, brightening the hazel of her eyes, as a soft golden glare cherished her pupils while sitting on her knees. She gifted him a passing faint smile as they met, pushing her hair behind her left ear before dipping the cloth into the water.

She leaned towards him, a curved finger under his chin to lead his tilts, and tenderly cleaned the scabs scarring his features.

She had been focused on caution, wanting to minimize the sting he would feel; she had not realized he had been staring, observing her with an undefined awe underlined within his hues.

They had known each other but a few days – words were scarce, glances curious, contact but a feather. But she could still see, examine, his presence, her mind wondering about the stories that tore him down, bruised his skin, shattered his bones and burned his clothes. The pieces of his past life woven into the strands of his dirty hair, anecdotes shaping his rough beard; the depth of his irises – an acute deception painted brown, were a strain of the earth within its streams, a river crying in silence.

It was all she could capture, stubborn cracks that remained shut, the surface threatened for rupture but never caving in.

A soft breeze had cross through them, stiffness holding his breath.

She stopped, pulling away. “Is something wrong?”

He met the frown sitting across her brows, the worry shadowed behind her stare.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, taking a breath as he shook his head and tightened his grip onto the muddied shirt stuck to his bare chest.

“N-no.”

Her hands fell upon her lap, the wet cloth limp as her head slightly tilted sideways. “Finan, you look pale- are you feeling ill?”

“Just nauseous.” He struggled to say. His lungs depleted once again, his breath carrying him on. “The smell of the seas… it haunts me.”

It had been the second faint breeze that made her realize the heaviness of his words; she glanced downwards, a saddened lip curve straining her cheek as she pushed her hair to rest behind her shoulders, regretting having undone her braids.

She was born with the sea carved into the marrow of her bones, its waves but a welcome embrace, its air – a comfort to her lungs, her skin forever finding treasure amongst the saltiness of the waters. Her darken locks, shadows to the wind, a disciple honoring a god at its altar.

“I-I am almost done.”

He tried to apologize, the attempt at the tip of his tongue.

She could only timidly smile, noticing the way his mouth had moved.

She stopped him, pushing herself to sit straight, with nothing but softness – understanding, at the edge of her words. “But if you wish, I can ask Hild to finish-”

He quickly interjected, guilt-ridden.

“No, it’s alright. Please, st-stay.”

“Are you certain? I don’t want-”

He grabbed her wrists, purposely interrupting her, eyes locked. “Aye. Please.”

The sliver of despair shaped the sunken figure in front of her.

She quietly breathed in, the ache in her chest seeping into the air in her lungs.

She then nodded, settling back as the rag swam back into the bucket, refreshed for its task.

Quiet relief hugged him, a child in its mother’s arms as she resumed cleaning his scars, her finger hugging his chin as she brushed his skin in a tender motion.

Cloth then gone, he silently watched her, his hues following the movements of her arms as she picked up her ointment, her fingertips covered in its texture before she leaned his way again and caressed the traces of dry skin that had comfortably settled over his brows down his cheeks.

An unfamiliar comfort settled within him, its breath like a gush of wind, a warm breeze welcomed under a summer sun.

He closed his eyes – a small gesture that came naturally; a way to take in the feel of her touch, to swallow such softness in repair against brute swings.

To his parched lips, she remained delicate, the gentle tickle across them almost timid.

“Do not eat the salve, Irishman. I know it might be tempting, but it does not have a taste suited for your stomach.” Gentle humor strung behind her words, her tone inciting light air between them.

He exhaled a chuckle and met her gaze. He saw a speck of mischief buried in her hazels, the tiniest of spark reaching for him by name.

Silence settled once again, her fingertips grazing over the edges of his mouth and stray strands of his beard as the thick texture coated his skin. It was a simple gesture, meant for nothing more but to progress healing yet intimacy brewed quietly – discreetly – to her every careful touch caressing him.

Finan couldn’t help but look at her; she had taken her curious chance as well, glancing every now and then to meet him. He could not shake away the wonder of her, his irises following her features once again, mindfully retracing every inch under his eyelids.

He needed her in memory, a calming presence to the storm drowning him.

A steady pulse to his ragged heart.

It had taken another moment before she broke away from his space, a satisfied sigh slipping through her.

The salve fresh on him, her eyes quickly fell to his covered chest before looking up at him, her teeth nibbling at the inside of her cheek as she sat back on her heels.

Shame had tied him down, the shackles ghosts on his ankles.

She wiped her hands on her trousers and took a breath before she reached for his hand, placing it between hers, ignoring the roughness across his knuckles.

She caught his attention, his focus placed on the way her mouth shaped her thoughts.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about, Finan...” She was careful with her words, not wanting to agitate him.

He listened, waiting.

“But if you are uncomfortable, I can leave and let you finish by yourself. I can leave the bucket and cloth, and the ointment if you need to apply it to any cuts on your chest and stomach.”

His left hand gripped tighter onto the shirt that pressed against him, keeping himself hidden away from her. Her heart broke, seeing him slightly pull away from her.

She eventually let him go and got up, fetching the bag she had brought with her. She turned and sat back down in front of him. “I’ve also brought these if you want to change.”

He remained mute, attentive to the way she remained on her toes, mindful – prudent.

Conflict within him had left him speechless, unable to conjure but a simple and hoarse ‘thank you’ her way.

She lingered, sharing a comforting smile his way before she got up to her feet and walked away.

He had remained put, only turning his head as he watched her go.

She was braiding her hair, gathering her locks over her shoulder for the finishing touches.

His heart sank in slight regret, his feet dipped in its cold waters.

Within the next year, uncertainty – shyness, had dissipated into the air.

Kára had remained in Winchester with Ragnar, waiting for the time to take on Dunholm and finally revenge his father’s death and save his sister.

Finan’s discomfort slowly broke down into pieces, dust in the ground, finding ease in knowing she would stay.

He was still growing accustomed to his freedom, searching for routines as he settled in his new home.

The sense of normalcy wrapped around them, roots crackled through the ground, binding itself to their feet; an intricate dance, it was a quiet pursuit of affection and banter.

It had been the way she had kept helping him with his wounds, making sure they were healing properly, re-applying her salve whenever it was needed and striking conversation on random topics, his need to solve her mystery – a desire that was burgeoning deep within him.

She had a flicker of intrigue gnawing at him, the scent of a delicious meal teasing him consistently.

He wanted more, ached for more of her.

Her sense of humor was in stride with his own, their banter instinctual with every playful remark naturally bouncing off of each other - a connection that seemed to have always been present, simply awaiting dawn.

From the timid lingering gazes they started to share, a subtlety hidden under the nights cover where the glow of fire hid their innocent secret - on the nights where men were gathering and drinking, a rowdy bunch causing playful ruckus amongst their space, or the times where settings were quiet and a longing would seep through the air, embers floating about, an ache for a touch squeezing beneath the breastbone.

To the taunting coquetry bursting under sunlight, its heat setting them ablaze; such as when he would call her out on her flirtatious manners, fumbling the poor blacksmith's apprentice heart with a witty smile and a wink - an attitude he teased he thought was reserved for the likes of him alone. Or the times where Kára would intrude on his attempt to court a barmaid as she would serve them drinks to their table, the words of his friend suffocating under exaggeration and leaving him embarrassed with the women's light laughter.

To the moment she swept him off his feet, her strength, his cause to stumble and fall as they initiated training, a need for refreshment into the art of combat; their swords clashed until she used her body, catching him off guard, and forced him to the ground. She had quickly followed, her knee pressed against his chest as she hovered above him, the smugness rosing her cheeks.

He could only chuckle, impressed at the way she had smoothly defeated him. His hands in the air, signaling surrender.

It was the abrupt physical closeness that threw her off, the adrenaline slipping away as she caught herself staring at him; he stilled, unbothered by the weight of her form while admiring the way the freckles of the green in her eyes seemed to have had a mind of their own, luring him into their dreamscape.

It was the air in their lungs, pushing through tirelessly until recusing itself from liberation, the violent pull of its body leaving his throat dry, her own parched.

The past circumstances were of no consequence - it had been but amicable foolery.

It was the sparkle in his eyes, his parted lips nudging her over the edge, the impromptu need to feel him close suddenly a necessity.

She had quickly pulled herself away as if nothing of importance transpired, both going on about their day, their weapons in hand, training still.

It hadn’t meant she never shook away the care and fondness she had been feeling for him, but she knew there was something more and hoped to the gods it was just a reverie.

“She’s just a friend, Uhtred.” He had repeatedly said, convinced there wouldn’t be anything less than that between them. A part of him was heartbroken, a sliver hopeful there was a possible chance there could be something else – attainable, at the reach of his fingertips.

It had been the short voyage she had done, visiting her father for a couple of months, that tugged the specks of truth out of the dirt; it was the days spent without her that unsettled him, solitude creeping through the shadows and haunting him until it became a part of him – a habit attached to his hip.

It was her arrival back in Winchester, her presence back into his life that tore away the desolate atmosphere, his mind slowly forgetting ever being separated from her.

The time had come.

It was the middle of the night when the small army of men traveled alongside the forest path leading to the Dunholm fortress.

The march was quiet, to each in their own mind as their feet carried the heavy weight of their armor and weapons.

"This is where we part.” Ragnar had stopped the troops, his hand held up in the air as his gaze landed at the top of a slope. “We will show ourselves only when we know the east door has been opened.”

Uhtred then met his gaze as he turned to him, listening still.

“We will attack. Then it is up to you to save us... We will be lambs to slaughter.” Brother to brother, their eyes met, Ragnar almost out of breath.

“Lord...” Their attention had shifted to Clapa, the gentle giant praying to Uhtred. “May the gods be with you.”

Beocca quickly intervened, rectifying in his own way the other man’s well-wishes. “Um, God, may God be with him, us.”

A small smile slipped across Kára’s face as a low chuckle escaped her; she had been standing by Hild and Brida’s side, silently watching the exchange.

Finan heard her, his eyes shifting to her where his own cheeks intuitively burned from the silent smirk he wore for himself.

Uhtred threw his own snicker, stepping closer to his brother, his words directed back to Clapa. “You just watch over Ragnar. Hmm?”

The brothers then joined hands, their grins fading into sober expressions.

“Good luck, little brother.”

Uhtred pressed his forehead to Ragnar’s, both looking into each other's eyes, preparing for what was to come.

“See you all in Dunholm.”

As they bid their goodbye, Finan quickly marched to find Kára just as she turned to look at him.

Even in the dark, he could see the hint of worry cast across her hazel gaze. Knowing she would be in the thick of the fight was heavy on his chest; he feared for her, a sentiment he hid from her.

He silently took her hand in his, their stare never breaking. He brought their hold to his lips, pressed a reassuring kiss to her knuckles and lingered for a moment – short enough, yet had given them the split of a second they needed for encouragement, for a hopeful victory.

He eventually broke away, letting go of her as he followed his group. She stayed and watched him go until a soft pat on her back from Clapa pushed her forward, walking in line behind Ragnar and Brida.

The night moved on, a half-moon hanging in the sky and casting a shadow above the fortress with its light hitting the serpents that draped around their crosses.

Ragnar and the others waited as they watched the fortress’s gate.

“We rest. We wait.”

At his words, his men started to relax, removing their helmets and setting down their weapons.

Kára still faced the stronghold, her heart thrumming between her ears; Ragnar noticed as he looked around, and turned back to her.

His hands clasping the neck of his armor, he leaned sideways and whispered in her ear.

“Your Irishman will be fine.”

She rolled her eyes, a low chuckle out as she glanced his way. “This is not the time, Ragnar.” She tried not to think of Finan, not wanting distraction to limit her focus on what they needed to do – a task that had become ineffective.

“This is the perfect time.” He teased, the smirk clear across his face as he bumped his shoulder against hers. He earned himself a genuine smile, her dimple apparent on her right cheek while she shoved him back playfully before walking away.

A breath exhaled as he watched her joining the others, his own grin slowly disappearing.

As morning rose, they waited for their signal; a fired arrow to be launched into the sky.

And when it showed, Kára’s heart stopped.

“Are you ready?” Ragnar’s voice pulled her out of her trance, the lump in her throat swallowed as she turned to him, silently nodding to his inquiry.

He lingered, catching the faint glow of the sunrise across her eyes. He was not convinced, a part of him sensing hesitation wavering within the streams of her pupils.

“You can stay with Brida-”

She stopped him, a hand to his chest. “I swore to be by your side, Ragnar. This means at the front as well. I won’t abandon you.”

He sighed, giving her a curt nod as they lifted fists for a quick bump.

“Let’s move on then.”

She held onto her weapons and followed him as the first unit marched away from the forest towards the north entrance of the fortress.

Adrenaline burst in her bloodstream, her body moving through the motion from the moment she held her shield by Ragnar’s side, forcing entry against the doors of Dunholm until they were inside, battling for victory as she took on some of Kjartan’s men coming her way.

She had no time to think, her mind sent astray as her muscles pushed through, the sound of swords clashing and boisterous screams filling her ears.

Within the horde of falling warriors – in the midst of chaos, Finan found her fighting fiercely against their opponents, her weapons gripped tightly as she swiftly pivoted and struck them down, protecting Ragnar who stood closely by as he was caught in his own battle.

The Irishman caught in combat as well, he could only quickly glance her way with slight panic gripping at his insides.

It was the sight of a soldier running towards her and Ragnar, spear in hand that pushed further strength to his bones.

He was about to intervene, coming to her defense, when she turned just in time. Without second thought, she dropped her shield and grab the shaft, its metal edge escaping her by an inch away from her waist to her back. She grabbed the weapon and pulled it towards her, dragging its owner as well, until he stopped her just as quickly and nudged her his way, violently grasping her by her throat.

She tried fighting him off, reaching for the small knife that was hiding behind her back when her assailant went down, crippled to the knees as blood seeped from his mouth.

She pushed herself away, slipping to the ground as the body landed in front of her. She then looked up, catching her breath and saw Finan standing with his hand stretched out for her to take.

Relief washing over her, she took his help and stood up, panting a grateful ‘thank you’ his way. He only nodded, breathing out a smile before they parted again, the battle dying down slowly with Uhtred calling for a shield wall.

The Dunholm troops stuck to a wall, they made the square. Kára found herself standing by Finan’s side once again as Ragnar entered in a duel with Kjartan.

Her heart stopped, anxiety crippling her to a frozen state as she watched her dearest friend face off his oldest enemy, revenge at the tip of his sword.

She watched as he tumbled back to the ground; worry carved deep into her form, she grabbed the hilt of her sword resting in its scabbard, ready to jump and help when Finan stopped her, taking her hand in his. She looked to him with a slight frown. All she received was a tight squeeze, a silent signal of reassurance, promising her the outcome will work out in their favor.

She held onto him, unable to let go as she watched the fight again, Ragnar’s strength overpowering Kajartan until the very end. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her gaze fixated on the way the young Dane battered the dead body, partly horrified at what she was witnessing.

Her ears muffled at the sound of Brida’s voice, her own tears stinging the corners of her eyes without her knowledge.

It was the sound of his scream, a guttural sound leaving the crowd dismayed, that tore at her chest, an anguish searing through her heart.

She hadn’t realized she still had Finan next to her, hand in hand; he gave their hold another squeeze, waking her slightly as she mimicked the motion, adding pressure to his knuckles.

And when Thyra appeared, the sunken look across her face, the growling wolves by her side – the moment she had lost herself to a scream, vulnerable and confused, Kára flinched, taken aback.

Finan quietly pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her as if to protect her, hiding her away from the scene unraveling in front of them, heartbroken and distressed.

She was unable to find slumber, her eyes fixated over the fire that burned at her feet, the crinkle of the wood pieces its only sound.

She was lost in her thoughts, her mind drifting over and splitting her apart.

Her shoulders felt heavy revisiting today’s events – she had never seen Ragnar fight like he had done, his rage taking over every fiber of his being, destroying everything in his path.

Chills ran down her spine, the echo of his scream engraved into her ears – it had grown faint and distant but remained for now, a haunting image she tried to erase.

She found solace in his revenge complete, and knew that meant as well it was time to move on; her duty fulfilled by his side, she was now given the option of either staying in Dunholm with him or leave and continue with her sea-driven life.

She had known her answer already, the illusioned scent of the salt in the air filling her nose.

She snapped away from her wandering, a cup of ale floating in her view. Looking up, Finan was standing in front of her with a soft smile faintly glowing from the campfire light.

She quietly accepted his offering before he took a seat by her side, both of them taking heavy sips.

Concern etched across his brow as he glanced her way; she had yet to speak, noticing her thoughts still holding her hostage.

He said nothing as well, unable to voice out his worry, struck from the way she was being held upon the flames ahead of them; rogue locks of hair tickled her cheeks in the dark, her hues bursting in amber – sunset radiating across the horizon, with the corner of her lips caught between her teeth, pensive.

He hadn’t realized she had been staring back at him, her mug empty as she placed it on the floor, her attention shifting to him.

She moved closer to him, her knees purposely bumping into his, and laid her head on his shoulder.

He held in his breath, taking a moment for himself; it had been disrupted at the feel of her fingertips searching for him. He wound his arm around her, his other placed on his lap, mingling with her.

He then placed a soft peck on her forehead, his lips lingering in place before resting his cheek against her.

She closed her eyes, taking comfort in her friend’s arms; a refuge in the dark, a treasure she had recently found.

Her mind drifted, forcefully pushed away, unwanted. She was plagued no more, simply breathing in the scent of ember floating in the air with the faint breeze of a cool night. She nestled her nose further into his neck, the whiff of his scent easing her muscles, slowing down the thumping under her ribcage.

His shadow engulfed her, cradling her with care – a natural pull, pieces finding each other’s edges back into place.

She didn’t want to let it go – she needed more.

“Finan...” He heard her voice mumbled against his throat, inaudible to the remaining men around them.

She slowly pulled away to meet his hues, her breath, ghosts over his lips.

The air stuck in his lungs, he watched the shimmer of the flames dance around the colors in her eyes as they held his gaze – soundless secrets traipsing from one to the other.

Instinct called out to him, his wrist hovering above her shoulder as he delicately pushed strands of her hair behind her ear before he trailed downwards, stroking her cheek mindfully.

She leaned into his touch, air escaping her in comfort.

“I am in dire need of a distraction tonight.” She paused, tilting her head slightly as she reached the heel of his palm, her lips resting over his skin. Her eyes never left him, taking in the way he stared at her, the depth of his browns unwavering.

She felt the skip in her heartbeat, the sudden stumble of her pulse before falling back into step; she had been denying it, desperately needing to be unencumbered by a soul tethered to normalcy. She knew she was to leave, and so logic dictated she couldn’t grow attached.

But a part of her ignored her claim, pushing her to her knees as a way to free herself to her desires.

“Care to join me?”

And he was resolute in giving her whatever she wanted – a need of his own, even for just one night of companionship.

She pulled further away from him, his hand dropping to her lap. He then glanced at her lips, his throat dry, before meeting her again.

He picked up his drink, chugging down the last sip and placed the cup by his side, turning to her.

He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips as he kissed her knuckles. “Lead the way.” Determination hidden behind his voice, he spoke low, a slight rumble shaking his chest.

Lacking delay, Kára pulled him to his feet and marched away from the campfire, the fortress asleep under her light footsteps with the couple scurrying away into secrecy.

Once they reached her room, Finan walked towards the hearth as she locked the door behind him.

He took to lighting up the space while she made quick work of her armor, removing every piece and moved towards the bed.

She remained in her tunic just as Finan finished, the fire burning comfortably in its nest. She pulled him up to stand, her hands undoing his own, reaching for his sword belt, the pauldron covering his left shoulder down to the forearm's braces covering his wrists.

He let her be, helping her with the finishing touches until she grasped at the leather tunic he still wore and pivoted, making him sit at the edge of the bed. She straddled him and resumed her task, discarding the remaining of his clothes covering his chest until he was bare.

She then stopped, breathless.

She pulled back, on his knees, and admired the way his muscles had grown – she was not blind to the way his arms had taken heat, the tissues flexed and defined, naturally settling back into his body.

He stilled, watching her as her fingers slithered down to his stomach. He then reclined, lying on the mattress with his hands to her hips.

A shaky breath escaped him, a sudden wave of shyness crossing over his cheeks.

She cursed under her breath, mesmerized by his thriving strength, suddenly titillated by the thought of his body carnally pressed to hers.

“Are ya sure about this?”

She smiled, a smirk dimpling into her cheeks. “I am. Are you?” She could see a slight hesitation shimmering in his eyes, her smile dissipating as she waited for his answer.

She hovered above him, arm bent by the side of his head, the other tickling his chest hair into random patterns.

“Aye.”

She teased him, ghosting her lips over his as he chased her, desperate for a kiss.

She pulled away instead, wanting to spell out the intention of their night.

“We’re simply two friends helping each other wash off the day.”

She could not acknowledge the ache she felt in her heart, a craving she hadn’t felt for a time – a longing she needed to push aside as the night did not call for it.

‘Just for the next few hours...’ she repeated in her head, a prayer to herself.

"Whatever you say.” Lost in the intimacy gripping at them, veins tying them together through flesh and bones, Finan could hear the thrumming of his heart between his ears, her hazel hues eyeing him, unrestrained.

“This won’t mean anything in the morning, alright?”

Conviction – an attempt to keep such shady truth to herself.

He barely registered her words, enthralled by her presence – the sheer power she had over him in this moment, a feeling he willingly bowed down to.

He was aching for more, anticipation scorching his fingertips as he held her in his arms.

He grasped at the fabric of her shirt, tugging it from the back as he chased for her his lips faintly grazing over her own. She sighed against him, sudden urgency pulsing through her veins.

Pulling away from him, she reached for the hem, quickly pulling it over her head before discarding it.

She ignored the goosebumps traveling up her spine, her eyes cast down to meet him.

Finan muttered, cursing in pleasure at the sight above him; a faint throbbing between her legs, she bit her lip as she watched him fall in a trance with the feel of his palms warming her skin from her hips to her chest, his thumbs caressing the sides of her breasts, teasing her.

He then took notice of a small mark in the middle, a vague discolored shape nestled on her chest. He traced it over, earning a soft sigh to escape her as she dropped her head downwards, looking over his hand resting on her naked skin.

She kept her eyes on his hand, locking in the movement as he trailed further up until he reached her neck to her jaw, fingers stroking her chin and lips.

She shifted her eyes towards him as he sat up, nudging her closer until he felt the pink of her skin graze him.

Impatience settling between them, the rush to fall into oblivion was rapidly growing, ready to burst from the seams.

The soft breath they shared, intimate in its dance – the harmony of steps flowed back and forth in want, its essence playful, taunting.

They continued to undress each other, Kára grabbing onto the lace of his pants before Finan swiftly turned the tables, making her lie down on her back; the sudden movement had her squeal in shock though laughter caught up as he loomed above her, smugness clear in his eyes.

He took his chance, parting her covered thighs as he lowered himself atop her, his weight leaving her pleasurably breathless, and closed in the distance, finally pressing his lips firmly against hers.

It had been something he had wanted to do for a long time; to feel the warmth and softness of her skin affectionate upon his.

He grew intoxicated as he slowly devoured her, relishing in the way he easily quivered under her touch, its ringing descending into his core.

He could not stop, wanting to breathe her in continuously, swallowing the scent coating her limbs where even the remnants of the ale tasted sweet across her tongue.

The soft sound of her moans, captured at the back of his throat, trembled under his chest.

She lost sight of the moment, pursuing the sparks of delight he created, fervently licking at the crumbs – famished.

Eagerness clawed through veins, sinking them further into bliss and away from the shore.

The last piece of clothing fell to the ground, delivering her under his mercy as he started trailing down her chest, kissing her birthmark and sucking at her breasts while his hands slipped down to her hips, holding her in place.

Heavy breaths filled the air, her back snapped away from the mattress as she grasped onto the bed sheets, his dexterous fingers seeking warmth between her thighs.

The soft sounds of her moans, his name whispered pleasurably across her tongue – a sweet song he held onto, a savory feeling he needed to taste over and over again.

They spent the rest of the night entangled within each other, both bodies falling into the depth of ecstasy, flesh tainted in bruises and sweat, hardened grips and trembling chords at the helm of their embrace.

He had become addicting, constantly looking for more – begging for more.

The way he was taking care of her, making sure she found pleasure under his touch, dedicating every waking breath upon her body; he was unknowingly filling her need to be held, and protected, and cared for.

Following such a trying day, Finan was soothing her worries, hushing the noise away for the simple bliss burning at their feet.

He had expected her to leave as soon as they were done, uninterested in giving time to a calm afterglow.

He held in his surprise when she lingered, lying on top of him. She had been ready to leave, carrying on with the rest of the night but the timid caresses across her back had stopped her, finding comfort in the way the motion of his fingertips could easily soothe her.

She gave herself a moment before slipping away, a strained whimper escaping at the back of her throat as she fell next to him.

“Fuck, this felt good.” She exhaled, both of them staring up and breathless. He ran his fingers through his hair, chuckling softly before turning back to look at her.

“You’re welcome.” He teased.

He saw the stretch of her cheeks, her voice vibrating a laughter that shook her chest. She pivoted to him, a smirk gracing her reddened lips. “Are you boasting yourself now?” She shifted, lying sideways as she placed weight on her left elbow, her other hand against him. “Might I remind you, Irishman, you were practically begging heaven as you so dearly and desperately called for me.” She teased him, her nails lightly scratching his chest hair as they danced upon his skin, creating layers of shivers running amuck.

“Really?” He mimicked her movement, shifting to face her. “And do tell, show me how needy I was for you.” Hand to her jaw, the thickness in the roll of his tongue caught her off-guard as he tugged her his way, the smugness within his gaze heating up her cheeks.

She tried shaking it off, pretending to think it over. “Well, let’s see-” She turns to find his lap, sitting atop him as she pushed him to lie down. “Oh, fuck, Kára!” He chuckled as he watched her with a grin, enamored by her theatrics, the extravagance in her movements and tone. “Yes, oh god- Kára, you feel like fucking heaven-” A bellowed a laughter from the depth of his lungs, he caught her in his arms, retaliating as he started pinching her, tickling her until she gave up her guard and fell against him. He swiftly shifted, lying her on her back and hovered above her.

“Is that how you think I sound?” Her breathy giggles fanned across his lips as she nodded, biting her inner cheek.

Locking eyes, they were attempting catching their breaths as laughter gently died down; though amusement had filled them for this short moment, it had dissipated for heavier air, their chests heaving as Finan settled between her legs, his arms above her as he tenderly stroked her cheek down her chin, his rough fingertips nudging her bottom lip and giving them a quick glance before meeting her hazels.

He then leaned forward, a soft bump of her nose to his before kissing her.

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, her knee bending by his waist as she fell in his embrace. She just as quickly kissed him back, her lips parting wantonly.

The caresses were slow as they took their time. It was the way he held on, the strokes languid – untidy, as if to coax secrets out of the marrow of her bones.

She followed, a beggar under the weight of his body as he lured her into a state of bliss; they stilled, bodies unmoving with only her soft sighs gracing his ears for every other split of a second apart, a short breath out of water before diving back in.

Her palms slid up, tracing the muscles of his arms as they rested above her head; she searched for him, wanting to hold his hands. He slowly pulled away, catching the soft honeyed glow around her pupils, silently reaching for her, fingers interlaced comfortably.

Once again, he brushed the tip of his nose against hers before trailing down to kiss her cheek, her jaw and down her neck, nestling against her.

She tilted her head his way and slipped her fingers away from him as she hugged him, gently scratching the back of his neck.

He sensed a change in her demeanor, slowing him down. “Are you alright?”

A small smile curved her lips. “I am now...”

He pulled away, looking at her, intrigued.

Solemnity covered her shades of brown in her gaze, casting shadows across her features. “You had my back today...”

There was wonder in the way she was looking at him, a soft hint of astonishment furrowing her brows.

A faint lopsided smile stretched his mouth, a reassuring gesture. “You were looking out for Ragnar. Someone had to look out for ya.”

“What of you?” She stroked his cheek, placing a soft peck to his lips as he settled next to her, arms around her with her back partially laying against his chest.

“I don’t need anyone to watch my back. I am too quick for anyone to catch.” He teased, the playful tone in his words making her chuckle.

“Your agility knows no bound, is that it?” He heard the grin in her response and only huffed a chortle, the sound shaking her.

Silence sought them afterwards.

They remained still with Finan nestling against her, taking in the warmth of her body as he pressed his lips across her neck and shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered shut, listening to his breathing and the faint sound of his beard scratching her skin; serenity smothered her bones, holding her tightly for safety and comfort.

“Thank you for this...” She whispered under her breath. She then turned around, settling against his chest.

“No need to thank me.” His tone – lullingly shaped into the way she pushed herself closer to him.

A coy smile across her face, she placed a kiss on his collarbone and mumbled against him, her hands slithering down to his stomach, rubbing palm to flesh. “I could definitely use someone of your... agility, for a good hump every once in a while.”

A throaty chuckle escaped him, resonating while smirking as he turned to her. “Does that mean we will be doing this again?”

She pivoted as well, one leg carelessly thrown around him, her breasts pressed to him. “Sure.” She gave him a nonchalant shrug and proceeded, leading him on, taunting him playfully. “I don’t see the harm unless you-”

“No harm at all. That is alright with me.” He held up his hands up in defense, tackling on the banter she had initiated.

“Good.” She bit the skin inside her lip as she moved to straddle him once again and straightened her back. Hands to her hips, he remained with the smug look across his face, stroking her bare skin, the callousness of his touch desperately welcomed.

His hues followed her silhouette, from the way desire had colored her cheeks to streams reaching the sparks across her eyes, to the way her braids had grown disheveled and pushed away to rest on her back, down the marks he had left earlier tonight, sweetly decorating her chest and further down to the way she hugged his hips, as if to anchor herself atop him, not wanting to part.

He sat up, wrapping his arms around her as his head fell backwards, meeting her gaze. She cupped his cheeks, her thumbs faintly running over the corners of his mouth and across his bottom lip.

“Now, do you think Uhtred will mind waiting for you?”

“I’m sure he’ll understand.” He caught the tip of her finger, as he locked gaze with her.

With a stifled giggle, mischief glowed within her hazel eyes, anticipation rising in the pit of her stomach.

“Let’s make him wait, then.”

--------

xoxo

taglist: @gemini-mama @iamfandomnerd @ladyinred2248 @gco95

#the last kingdom #finan #finan x oc #tlk fanfic #finan imagine #finan the agile #the last kingdom fanfic #finan fic #mark rowley #finan fanfic #tlk

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persephones-journey · 5 months ago

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Love Scratches

This was inspired (caused by) @itbmojojoejo and @gemini-mama comments on an incredibly beautiful and perfect gif set of Finan that Mojo created.

It's all their fault.

Finan/You (Reader) Enjoy!

The rain was coming down slowly and softly, running down the windows. The dark clouds caused an otherwise sunny day to become broody and grey.

But you didn't care.

You sat in the lap of your boyfriend, lover, best friend, Finan. He rested his head on the back of the couch and was giving you a soft smile as you scratched your nails against his beard. Your nails scraped along his cheeks, going down to his neck as you moved up and leaned in.

“I have been aching to kiss ya,” he whispered as he leaned in as well, expecting your lips on his.

A soft smile graced your lips as you leaned in as well. At the last moment, before your lips would touch his, you pulled away and pressed a feather soft kiss to his nose. He groaned and you laughed as you felt his fingers poke and pinch your sides.

“Such a tease,” he muttered.

You hummed and moved, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “I am your tease, though,” you whispered as you moved and pressed another kiss to his temple.

He sighed. “Aye, ya are,” he muttered.

You looked at him as he closed his dark eyes. You took the opportunity to place soft kisses on each of his eyes. You felt his hands rubbing your sides and your back.

Love filled you. You wanted to shower him with the same love he always showed you.

So, you placed more kisses along his face; his forehead, his cheeks, his temples. You pressed another kiss to his nose and began to scratch his beard again. He sighed and you felt his body relax.

It was what you wanted.

“Gods, woman, I love you,” he muttered softly as he let his fingers dance under your shirt to brush your skin of your sides.

“My name is not woman,” you muttered as you gently tugged on his beard.

He opened his eyes and gave you a wink. “Ya are right,” he muttered. “Ya name is my woman.”

You groaned but smirked. Finally, you leaned in and let your lips brush his. He sighed and grabbeed your hips, pulling you closer.

“And your name is my man,” you whispered before pressing your lips fully against his.

The kiss was soft and gentle. Neither of you wished for it to be sexual. It was just a moment between lovers; a soft, comforting moment.

You moved your lips from his, kissing the corners of his mouth as you raked your fingers through his hair. He hummed softly and sighed as you pressed soft kisses along his jaw.

“I needed this,” he muttered as you moved off his lap. You sat beside him and he immediately moved, pressing his face in your chest. You stroked his hair with one hand as you continued to scratch his beard with the other. “I just need to stay here with ya for a bit,” he added.

You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his head. “Stay as long as you need to,” you whispered.

#my writing #finan/you #finan/reader #finan fic #the last kingdom fic #my friends poke my muse and this happens #I blame them completely

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spider-stark · 3 months ago

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WHERE LOVE LIES

Finan the Agile x Reader

Summary - Abandoned by your lover, you turn to closest friend for comfort.

Warnings - fem!reader, platonic, abandonment issues, self-destructive behavior, mentions of blood/injury/slavery, will probably deviate from canon at times

Word Count - 1.4k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

A metallic tang clings to your tongue, having chewed your nails to the point of ruin. How long has it been? Since you first began to drown in the insufferable sound of your own footsteps, pacing along the floor of what was meant to be your shared guest room at Lady Aethelflaed’s estate.

The minute’s feel like hours—or perhaps the opposite is true. Time seems to melt and blur, reality distorted by the most awful, unavoidable truth.

Sihtric is gone.

Something crumples in your chest. You stumble over nothing, barely reaching out in time to catch yourself. Bloodstained fingers curl around carved wood, gripping the footboard of a bed that’s much too big for only one person. You stare at it—at the absurd number of plush feather pillows, all neatly stacked atop thick furs.

Aethelflaed had done this on purpose. Given you and Sihtric the guest room with the biggest, nicest bed. The kindness of a friend, now turned to salt in an open wound.

Sihtric caused this. This yawning chasm inside of you, an emptiness that threatens to swallow you whole. He caused this.

Tears sting the back of your throat. Blur your vision.

The walls start to cave in. Begin crumbling around you.

You whirl towards the door, unwilling to be trapped in this room for even a second longer.

Antique sconces line the hallway, their dim flames fighting to stave off the thick shadows skulking in the corners. This late at night, an eerie stillness seems to cling to the air. You drift through it like a wraith—hopeless and stumbling.

When you reach the door at the end of the hall, you don’t knock. Pushing it open, you step inside without a thought.

A lone candle burns atop a desk on the far wall, the only light illuminating the cramped, windowless room. Weapons and armor are strewn about as if they’d been stripped off and carelessly discarded, exhaustion taking precedence over neatness.

You find Finan straight ahead, sprawled out on the bed with an arm tossed over his face.

Relief almost sends you crumbling to your knees.

At least he was still here. At least he hadn’t abandoned you.

You take another step, the floorboards creaking beneath your weight. Finan shifts, arm lifting just enough to reveal tired, squinty eyes.

One look at you and he’s shoved himself upright, concern etched into every line of his face.

Your voice is shaky, the words clawing up your throat. “Sihtric’s gone. He.. he left.”

Finan’s mouth opens, then closes again. He shakes his head, as though contemplating and then discarding several replies, unable to find the one that might actually comfort you.

Eventually, he settles on the truth.

“I know,” he admits, running a hand through his beard. “I noticed a few hours ago. I went to check on the hostages after Uhtred set out and…” A deep, frustrated sigh. “The cell was empty. I put two and two together quick enough—figured the little runt must’ve made a deal with ‘em so they’d take him back to the Danes.” An apology flashes in his eyes. “I’d hoped you were already asleep. That you wouldn’t have to deal with this until tomorrow.”

Silence pools around you, the melancholy blues of Sihtric’s absence boiling into violent hues of betrayal.

Suddenly, you have the insatiable urge to pinch yourself. As if this is all some sort of cruel mind trick. A nightmare you might still wake up from. You fumble with your hands, fingers picking at the already torn flesh around your nails. You feel pain—and yet nothing changes.

Sihtric’s still gone. He still betrayed you.

Betrayed all of you.

Your head shakes. Warmth begins to spill down your cheeks. “He’s a coward,” you grind out, teeth clenched. “A goddamn coward!”

A heartbeat and Finan’s up on his feet, closing the distance between you in only a few hasty steps.

Calloused palms wrap around your wrists, stilling your restless, bloodstained fingers. He pulls you toward him, your knees buckling as you collapse into his chest. Strong arms keep you upright, slipping around your shoulders as another sob tears from your throat.

Finan holds you like this for a while, rubbing circles against your back and mumbling soothing words against your hair—I know; It’s okay; I’ve got you.

It’s not until your tears finally slow to a stop, his tunic all but drenched with them, that he tries to say anything of merit.

“He’s not thinkin’ straight.�� You feel the words rumble through his chest, but you’re not certain you heard him right. “It’s all this mess with the curse,” Finan mumbles. “It’s gotten in his head.”

You push back, not leaving his grip entirely, but enough to look up at him. “Are you seriously defending him?”

His gaze flickers over your face. A twinge of pity tightens his expression, taking in your flushed skin, streaked with tears. “No,” he answers simply. “But I am statin’ a fact. He would’ve never done this if not for that damned devil-witch.”

A fair point, perhaps.

The witch Skade had sunk her talons into Sihtric the moment she spewed that curse from her nasty mouth. She poisoned his mind with paranoia, feasted on his fear like a glutton.

Skade’s played a hand in everything Sihtric has done—undermining Uhtred’s authority, threatening to fight against his friends, betraying all of you by going back to those filthy goddamn Danes.

“Maybe you’re right,” you bitterly relent. “But it doesn’t matter. You can blame the witch all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that he made a choice! To betray and abandon us, and to leave me just like—” You catch yourself, mouth clamping shut on the vulnerable words.

Finan doesn’t speak, only watching you as the dim firelight dances over the handsome, yet despondent, planes of his face. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Brushes a knuckle along your cheek, wiping what remains of your tears.

Your tongue glides over dry lips, mind reeling slightly. He’s always so patient with you. So kind.

And he’s here.

Through damp lashes, you hold Finan’s soft gaze. “I’ll never forgive him for this,” you utter of Sihtric. You’ve been hurt so many times by people you cared about. Been left by too many of them.

Finan gives a terse nod full of understanding. “You don’t have to.”

“And I won’t sleep in that room,” you add. Your jaw clenches, fighting another wave of bitter emotion at the thought of laying in that big, lonely bed. “I can’t.”

All too quickly, he says, “Then don’t. Sleep here.”

A small wrinkle forms between your brows.

With one hand still on your back, he lifts the other in mock surrender—an awkward gesture given the closeness of your bodies.

“No funny business.” His vow is tinged with subtle amusement. A bit reluctant, he adds, “It’ll be just like the old days.”

Back when he and Uhtred were first recovered from the slave ship—before you took Sihtric as your lover.

You didn’t know Finan then, but you’d tended to his wounds all the same. Cleaned each brutal gash and stitched every cut; sat hunched in a chair until your back began to ache, plucking tiny splinters from his palms, the skin ravaged and raw from tireless hours spent rowing and rowing and rowing.

But the worst wounds had been the ones unseen.

The way his muscles tensed whenever he sat by the fire, the crackling logs too similar to the sound of a whip; how nightmares regularly tore him from sleep, blurring the lines between what’s real and what’s not.

You treated those wounds, too. As best you could.

Distracted him from the sounds of the fire with terrible quips and embarrassing stories. Spent late nights together in your room, talking about anything and everything until exhaustion would finally win out. And you’d still be there whenever he’d jolt awake, too, when the blackness of the room felt all too much like the hollow belly of the slave ship.

A faint smile touches your lips. In spite of the awfulness, something beautiful had been born in those dark months. Something light.

“The old days,” you muse, voice still hoarse from crying. “You mean back when you were always leaving your stench all over my bed?”

Finan scoffs. “My stench?” He makes a real show of it—leaning in close, his wiry beard scratching at your cheek as he sniffs your hair, only to recoil with a look of exaggerated disgust. Deadpan, he jokes, “I think you must’ve been gettin’ a whiff of yourself, sweetheart.”

Your laugh is a broken sound, but a laugh all the same.

“You’re insufferable,” you tell him.

The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin. “I think you mean irresistible.”

Your eyes roll as you slide from his embrace.

“I don’t.”

a/n: i wanna apologize to sihtric for making him seem like a total bitch in this, but tbf it's kinda his fault. maybe tell ur gf w/ all the abandonment issues about your plan, y'know?

anyways, i've been suffering over this piece for a full week now, so if you like it, please leave a comment/reblog/or write me an in-depth love letter about it!

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thethyri · 1 year ago

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𖦹. 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ The day Wulfwynn was cruelly torn from the life she had always known was a crisp day of autumn. When the green leaves of the trees turn brown and the wind grows colder. The day Wulfwynn miraculously stumbled upon Uhtred and his companions in the depths of the woods was a cold day of autumn. When the lakes are blanketed with frost and the fields are bare. And yet, despite the frost and the wounds, Wulfwynn met her destiny that day.

𖦹. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ₊̇*⸼ Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson x Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Sihtric Kjartansson x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Uhtred of Bebbanburg x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Osferth x Ealhflæd of Cent (Original Female Character), Leofric x Mereswyth of Wessex (Original Female Character).

𖦹. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ 2,919k.

THE VODKAS MENU. + Archive Of Our Own. + Playlist. + THE GUILD OF DRAGONLINGS.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 Days and days. Cold nights and colder days yet. Days running, fleeing. Fearing for her life. Until God sent her Uhtred and his men. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 Mild-Graphic Description of Bruises And Injuries. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 2,919k. 𖦹. 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ₊̇*⸼ 892-895 AD ⵓ 6th November 892 AD - 9th November 892 AD. (Season 3)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎❟ 𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 Wulfwynn makes the acquaintance of her saviors, who care and tend to her while her memories and nightmares torment her. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𖦹. 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ₊̇*⸼ 892-895 AD ⵓ 9th November 892 AD - 10th November 892 AD. (Season 3)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄❟ 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 Despite the healing of her wounds, Wulfwynn is swept up in a whirlwind of suffering and anguish that threatens to tempt her to throw herself off the cliff she teeters upon. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈❟ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄❟ 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗❟ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓❟ 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐈❟ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆❟ 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐍. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘❟ 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐈❟ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄.⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎❟ 𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐍��𝐖. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄❟ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑❟ 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐈𝐈, 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄❟ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗❟ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓❟ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘❟ 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎❟ 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑❟ ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

©TheThyri. All rights content belong to @thethyri. Do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works in any way or on any other platform without my permission. Gif rightfully belong to @mojosdumpingground.

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whitedarkmoonflower · 3 months ago

Text

You are an evil woman (I love you though)! Why are you torturing the poor Finan? 😭😭😭😭

This was so harsh.

King of the North, Part 10 (Updated version)

Warnings: MATURE. Minors DNI. Sexual themes. Violence. Angst. Character death. Sorry in advance ☠️ … this is canon divergent TLK.

Your bow crashed to the ground and before you knew it, Finan had grabbed you up into his arms and captured you in a searing kiss. Your body melted into his seamlessly as you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and took your fingertips to the hair at the nape of his neck, the most natural feeling in the world coming back to you in an instant. His strong arms came around your waist to hold you in a tight embrace as he kissed you achingly; your heart raced as you felt the warm tingling in your mouth that his tongue left behind, your chest bellowing up and down and your breaths turned ragged in between his desperate, consuming kisses. As soon as you broke away, Finan grabbed your hand firmly in his and tugged you towards him once more.

“We have to go,” he whispered, “I’ve got what I came for.”

You tried to pull your hand away from his, but his grip was bruising.

“Finan,” you muttered breathlessly. “I can’t. We can’t keep doing this.”

Finan scoffed. He let go of your hand and brought it up to cup your cheek, searching your eyes. “Have ya forgotten my oath to ya? I will never leave you. No matter what threatens to tear us apart.”

You looked up to see your lover’s dark eyes staring into yours with a tenderness and warmth you no longer recognized after so much time apart. Uhtred came closer to you then, taking a hand to your shoulder before pulling you into his own embrace. At this gentle notion from Lord Uhtred, you finally let tears escape from your eyes as he held you in a friendly embrace. Your alertness came back to you in an instant as you heard footsteps behind you, and as you turned in Uhtred’s arms you caught a glimpse of the baby monk and the young Dane Sihtric coming closer.

“Princess, thank the Gods!!” Sihtric rasped out, before throwing his arms around you and his face into your hair, crushing you with his strong arms.

“Sihtric! Careful now,” you spoke out breathlessly, pulling your cloak to the side to reveal your rounded belly, to which Sihtric gasped softly and muttered something in his native tongue.

Osferth surrounded you with the others and grabbed your hand softly. “Princess,” he kissed your hand and gave you a soft smile.

The four men all gave you concerned yet endearing looks that drifted to your inevitable state, to which you smiled and rolled your eyes.

“Not to worry… I am well,” you comforted the boys with a whisper, your eyes meeting Finan’s again as the other men gazed at your belly. Finan’s dark eyes looked at you as if you had been heaven sent, his eternal savior. Your eyes drifted to his lips for a moment, then back up to meet his eyes. His gaze had shifted into a darker one, a hunger evident in his eyes that made your mouth water. You cleared your throat, hoping your next words would hold some conviction.

“All of you must go, it is not safe for you here.”

Uhtred chuckled at your words, and Sihtric gave you a puzzled look.

“Yes, my love,” Finan said, grabbing your hand to steady you, “And you are coming with us.”

Against your better judgement you made no protest, letting Finan and Sihtric carefully lead you to Finan’s horse and helping you to mount up. You quickly felt Finan mount up behind you, pulling you backwards against his chest which made you gasp at the surprise. You felt Finan’s lips rasp against your ear as he let out a deep chuckle and whispered to you in his deep brogue.

“It has been too long, my dearest love.”

You smiled as the shudder went through your body; you turned your head back to look at him, the darkness in his eyes sending you reeling into the imagines of a steadfast future as if you had never been parted from one another. His embrace and his energy made you forget all the inevitable consequences that loomed in the near future.

Ronan stood pacing the grounds of the camp, his usual nervous tick, with his hands joined behind his back as he looked out to the pitch black horizon.

“Would ya quit yer worryin’? You are worse than our mother,” Cinaed teased, laying on his side near the fire with the other men as Ronan and his Kingsguard remained standing at the ready.

Ronan shushed him with a gesture of his hand as a sound in the distance simultaneously caught his attention. He looked in the direction of the noise, not yet seeing anything.

Hooves.

“Stand fast,” Ronan sternly commanded the guardsmen who drew their swords in anticipation, until Ronan could see the familiar shaved head of Lord Uhtred. Ronan’s face lit up with a grin as the band of men and their horses came closer, most of them going at an eager pace except for the figure in the back who had a woman in front of him, his horse treading a light trot behind the others.

“It has been a success!!” Ronan chimed out, walking towards them all now as they neared him. Cinaed’s only response was a smirk in his brother’s direction as he remained at his comfortable spot by the fire.

As Ronan neared you and Finan on your horse, your breath caught in your throat as you took a long glimpse at the young man’s features. He was stunning, a young shadow of his father. His kind eyes met yours as he reached for your hand to help you dismount, and you heard Finan chuckle behind you.

“The most beautiful Scotswoman,” Ronan whispered in Irish as he helped you down from the horse slowly, then brought the back of your hand to his lips. “An honor, indeed. Beauty enough to start wars for your hand.”

You chuckled as you understood some of the language, your cheeks turning a shade of pink as you turned your head to gaze back at your lover, who held a deep grin. His eldest son clearly held his father’s charms.

“Aye, that’s enough,” Finan chuckled, “My love, this is Ronan... My eldest son,” Finan paused for a moment. “…King of Ulaid.”

You paused to look over Ronan, still surprised at the opportunity to meet Finan’s firstborn, and utterly relieved that Finan’s blood had taken the throne.

“You’re Grace,” you bowed with a happy grin, “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

As soon as Cinaed had seen you exchanging pleasantries with Ronan in the distance, he shuffled himself up from the ground quickly, dusting himself off before he ran to you.

“Princess,” Cinaed bowed, slightly out of breath, before taking your hand in his and placing a kiss to it as his brother had. “I am Cinaed, the second born. The clever one.”

Ronan scoffed and rolled his eyes as Finan laughed out loud, and you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle in between your grins. “Cinaed, a pleasure.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Cinaed grinned back at you.

Finan rolled his eyes at the teenagers, who were waiting eagerly for your next words.

“Alright now, time to close up camp,” Finan commanded the boys, who were still gawking at your presence, “Cinaed, fetch the princess some furs and some water.”

“You don’t have to dote on me, I can fend for myself.” You said with a glare in Finan’s direction.

“Princess, you do indeed look like you can fend for yourself,” Ronan said, “But there are two of you now.” He gave you a wink before bringing his gaze down to your belly.

You gave Ronan a soft smile and nodded. You had been fending for yourself for many months, and you relaxed at the thought of the father of your child being here with you, his concern for your well being already evident, and a myriad of strong men to surround you. Your sworn protectors… your family. Finan had been reunited with the sons he lost so many years ago, and it was a blessing you thought that they seemed happy to be around him. They would grow to love him as much as you did, you thought, for he was the greatest man you’ve ever known.

Sihtric came to you then, his mismatched eyes glowing in the campside fire he led you to, and handed you a water skin as you took a seat next to him. You drank it to the very end, Sihtric watching you closely.

“Finan is a lucky man,” Sihtric whispered, looking at you intently. “You are simply glowing, my lady.”

You chuckled softly, feeling a sense of bashfulness. Uhtred came to sit on your other side then, handing you a plate of food as he spoke.

“You look well,” the Lord spoke in between taking bites from his own plate, “Bearing Finan’s child becomes you.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile at the attentions of the men. They had once been your chosen family, yet the distance and time between you all, everything that had happened - it had been traumatizing and distancing. You held contempt for yourself for your decisions, starting from the very moment you held Alfred’s affections for the first time. But if not for all the strife, you might have never met Finan or the others, and they were an innate part of your path on this earth. Perhaps now you could start again, and build a life with Finan for your newborn child. The pleasant thoughts drifted as a startling thought came to your mind.

Domnal has been on patrol to the grounds and surrounding areas for days.

You gulped as you felt your throat tighten, your breath quickening as your chest began to bellow up and down.

You looked around for your lover, seeing that he was talking to his boys in the distance.

“Finan!” You beckoned to gain his attention, a panic coming across you as Sihtric grabbed your hand.

“Lady,” Sihtric said softly, “What is it?”

“They will know that your camp is here,” you forced the words to come out as clearly as possible, “We cannot stay, we will very likely be captured.”

Ronan knelt down to your side as he came near, Finan and Cinaed following him.

“Princess, my army will defend us against any threat,” Ronan said confidently, giving you a soft smile as he looked down to you, “You are safe with us, I swear it.”

You nodded hesitantly, feeling the warmth of Finan’s presence as he sat down next to you, bringing his hands to cup your face and giving you a soft kiss.

“My love, I will keep ya safe. I will defend my family with my life.”

After the campfire had died down to a stifled blaze, the men retired to their respective tents. As you followed Finan to his, you felt your heart start to thud in your chest with anticipation. Finan’s warm, calloused hand against yours as he led you inside was enough to set your body ablaze, and as you both stood there and he turned to face you, the desire in his eyes lit your body completely as goosebumps lined your arms.

You felt a softness within you return, an aching in your heart that you had suppressed for a time. Finan came closer to you, his hands gracing your hips and one of them sliding up to gently grace your rounded belly. You kissed him softly then, taking your hand to the nape of his neck to deepen the kiss. Finan jumped away from you in shock as he felt a kick to the palm of his hand, the babe in your belly shifting in position.

“Oh my God!” Finan said in his deep accent, giving you an awestruck look.

You gave him a grin, the appearance of his wide eyes and shocked demeanor making you giggle.

Finan had yet to experience something of that nature, as his first wife was distanced from him when she carried Ronan and Cinaed. Finan thought it must be a miracle. A miracle to know what the two of you created, to feel it and see it with his own eyes. His impatience grew then, so curiously looking at your belly and stroking it gently with his palm.

“H-how long?” He whispered to you then, not looking away from your belly.

“Mm,” you hummed, “it shall be a while yet.”

His eyes met yours tenderly again as he ghosted his lips over yours, one of his hands coming around to grip your waist as the other came to your breast.

“Can we…?”

You giggled again at Finan’s caution. “Yes!”

“Oh thank God,” he rasped before bringing his lips to your neck, sucking and biting as the grip of his hands to your body became firmer. Goosebumps lined your arms again at his touch; your body had been aching for him for months, and you had often pleasured yourself in the middle of the night to relieve the ache, thinking back to the love-making the two of you had shared in the past and how it felt. By the grace of God now, your lover was right in front of you, and you could feel the warmth of his body and the firmness of his cock pressing against you.

You grappled at each other’s clothing, disrobing quickly and desperately, before Finan carried you to the furs. He held his body over you carefully, not allowing his full body weight to cover you in care of the babe as he brought his lips to yours again fervently. You felt the wetness gather in your core as he stroked his tongue against yours, and soon your awareness was shifting to only sensation, a blissful feeling of pleasure coming across you as Finan knelt down and started peppering kisses and licks to your thighs. You arched your back in wanton need, his breath rasping across your core before you felt the wet warmth of his tongue to your slit, and you immediately cried out in pleasure. He relentlessly bestowed you pleasure with his mouth, his tongue circling and sucking on your sensitive bud as he alternated between long strokes, and you felt yourself start to come apart… slowly and agonizingly, until you nearly combusted with your climax on Finan’s tongue as you moaned helplessly, your fingers gripping at his hair.

Your awareness was still reeling as you felt Finan’s strong arms come across you to gather you up; He gently positioned you on your side, your eyes closed and still catching your breath as he brought his body behind yours. You felt his warm breath and the rasp of his beard on your neck as he snuggled up to you from behind and the bliss of his touch enveloped you completely as you rested your head against his chest. You felt his hand come across you as you arched your head up to kiss him, wrapping your arm around his neck to deepen the kiss. Finan moaned into your mouth as you stroked your tongue with his, and a whimper left you as you felt him push inside you slowly, the pleasant stretch and sensitivity of your core enough to send you reeling, tiptoeing on the edge again as he began to move, a foreign yet familiar feeling that made your toes curl and your body ache. He made love to you slowly, his caresses and deep strokes allowing him to learn your body again, until you both became completely lost in one another.

Screams in the distance shook you awake as Finan stumbled over you and onto his feet. He scrambled to don his trousers and tunic, hardly enough time to gather his armor and sword belt before you both heard the sounds growing closer.

The camp was infiltrated by Domnal’s band of men in the early hours of the morning, though the dawn was far from appearing. The darkness gave them an advantage.

“Finan,” you whispered urgently, and your lover met your gaze with furrowed brows and sleepy, concerned eyes.

The overnight guards had made haste to warn the camp, but holding off the enemy was a futile task as Domnal’s men had stealth and speed with their weapons, catching Ronan’s men completely off their guard. Your hands shook as you forced yourself to the edge of the furs, watching as Finan peeked out discreetly from the entrance of your tent. Before you knew it, Finan ran out, leaving you by yourself.

“Osferth!” You heard him yell, and after a few moments the baby monk stumbled into your tent.

“I am to protect you, lady.”

You nodded to Osferth as you stood from the furs to put on heavier clothing. You gathered your weapons to their respective places on your person, and Osferth looked at you with wide eyes.

“Lady, by Finan’s order you are not allowed to leave this tent. I am to be your personal guard.”

If you weren’t so fearful, you would have scoffed in Osferth’s direction and shoved him away, but you only nodded and knelt next to him at the entrance of your tent to gaze out. The two of you watched silently as the Scots trudged closer and Ronan’s men woke and readied themselves as best they could.

As you watched the Scots get closer, your mind was reeling with fear, especially for Finan and his children. Uhtred and Sihtric had sprung into action, and formidable warriors they were, but the Scots simply had the upper hand during the unexpected attack. Among the sounds of swords clashing and shields cracking, you heard a desperate voice in the distance shouting. After a moment, you gathered that it was Ronan’s.

“STAND FAST!”

Ronan fought on horseback, wielding his sword left and right as he directed his horse in and out of the throws of men in battle. Uhtred, Sihtric, Finan, and Cinaed fought on foot, trudging through the guardsmen to make devastating blows to the enemy until countless bodies lay dead on the grasses of the land. Ronan’s guardsmen scrambled to stay close to him.

“PROTECT THE KING WITH YOUR LIVES!”

Uhtred and Sihtric instinctively stayed close to Finan’s youngest, Cinaed, for he was skillful with his sword but so much smaller than the rest of the men on the battlefield. Cinaed was quick and agile, dodging most of the attacks bestowed upon him, while Uhtred defended him from bigger foes. Finan kept his eyes on Ronan, who was mostly undefended as his personal guardsmen fell one by one.

Finan caught sight of Domnal in the distance, and his rage toward the Scottish Prince engulfed him as he fought men in droves, trying to keep his gaze between Ronan and Domnal’s location. It was then that you and Osferth had decided to leave the tent and get closer to the battle, taking cover behind trees and now able to watch it play out in closer detail. You discussed a possible advantage point with the baby monk, but the scene was happening all too quickly before you, and the Scots were steadfast in their efforts.

“FALL BACK!”

Time moved slowly as Finan heard Ronan’s desperate command and searched the battlegrounds for him, turning in all directions to see where his voice was coming from. Suddenly, he could see no one he recognized as he was overcome with Scotsmen attacking him. He defended against three or four men at a time and emerged unscathed; His attention was then diverted to Domnal’s voice.

Time was moving slowly again, muffled voices and clashing of weapons, and Finan found himself to be feeling faint, the rush of adrenaline dipping into a state of exhaustion. Before Finan could gain his wits, he saw Uhtred sprinting toward Domnal. Finan’s eyes looked to the scene Uhtred was running towards, and before he could think or move, he witnessed Domnal plunge his sword into Cinaed’s chest.

The young teenager fell to the ground, Uhtred finally reaching him and sliding to the ground quickly to grab him up as Uhtred screamed in agony.

“NO!”

Domnal may have realized then the depth of the situation, who the young man was. But in his mind, he knew it before he lunged with his sword. Cinaed was the image of Finan just as Ronan was, and Domnal knew of the recent coronation, the reunion between Finan and his heirs. Domnal quickly fell back, sprinting from the area with a band of guardsmen as he watched Uhtred approach. The Scots seemed to be outnumbered despite their advantage, and a retreat was underway.

“No, no, no,” Uhtred begged desperately, holding Cinaed in his arms now and holding pressure over the bleeding wound as best he could as Cinaed struggled to breathe.

Finan’s knees nearly buckled underneath him as he witnessed his child fall to the ground. Regardless he sprinted toward them now, a desperate surge of adrenaline fueling his body. Finan knelt to the ground, so helpless and afraid as he took Cinaed from Uhtred’s arms.

Sihtric had witnessed the brutality, his eyes searching for Domnal’s whereabouts, until he clocked him sprinting toward the tree covered forest. Sihtric sprinted then, his enormous rage fueling him as he ran. He would kill the Scottish Prince with his bare hands now if he had to. He ran to the forest, trailing the Scots until he clashed sword and seax with Domnal’s guardsmen, killing one after another brutally. But Sihtric’s mission was fruitless… Domnal had escaped.

You felt the deepest pain in your chest as you sobbed into Osferth’s embrace. The two of you still held the covered spot in the distance, a front row seat to the brutality, and this had to have been the worst you had ever seen. You realized now that the Scots had retreated, so you sprinted from Osferth to Cinaed. Ronan rushed to the scene as well, kneeling to Finan, Cinaed, and Uhtred.

Finan was muttering in Irish helplessly, his Son still alive in his arms, but only for a moment.

“No, Dear God, No, please… please God, no!!”

Finan cupped Cinaed’s cheek with one hand, their eyes held together but Cinaed was barely able to form words.

“Father,” Cinaed whispered hoarsely, “… did I do… well?”

Finan’s tears fell uncontrollably as he stroked the teenager's face and hair, holding him closely in his arms. As he saw Cinaed’s awareness fade, Finan reluctantly accepted his own inevitable, miserable reality. “You are so brave, Lad. You are so brave… I love you.”

Cinaed was shaking, but held a small smile then, nodding to Finan as he held his hand tightly in his. After a minute or two, Cinaed’s shaking ceased, and he was calm… Finan kissed his forehead firmly, and the teenager slowly closed his eyes as his grip in Finan’s hand loosened.

>>> Part 11

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