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viridian-dagger · 2 months ago

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Seiðr of a Death Singer - 3

Rating: Explicit/Mature - 18+ only! Minors DNI

Warnings: named/minimally described oc, mute!oc, miss girl is Traumatized and dealing with that, some fear and weapons, described deaths in Visions, mentioned vomiting/panic attack, Beocca and the Pretty Boys bicker, Christian entitlement, semi empty threats. And my dear Sihtric girlies... it's gonna get worse before it gets better but I promise I'll be nicer to him soon 🤭

Word count: 3.7k

Author's Note: I accidentally lied when I said Skade would be in ch 3 soooo she'll be in the next one. But taglist is open, this is cross posted on ao3, beta read by @witchoftheewilds and dividers by @zaldritzosrose here

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“Finan, what does this,” Osferth asked, making a motion with his hands, “mean again?”

“Baby monk, you don’t need to be learning this too, it’s for Røskva,” Finan laughed, turning his attention toward her where she sat on Sihtric’s horse. “Do you remember what it means, Lady?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, watching the smirk grow on his face. He had been teaching her a way to communicate with them using her hands — which she appreciated in the monotonous slog of endless travel days in the freezing, bitter cold. And Osferth had been hanging around while Finan tried to teach her as many gestures as he could remember, desperate to learn something new.

The baby monk was growing on her, all of them were. Even Sihtric had been spared in her ire as she pushed Dunholm from her mind. It had been nearly a week since Uhtred had brought it up in Eoferwic, and he had been avoiding discussing it with her; it wasn’t as if she could chase after him and demand answers. Every time she tried, he turned away from her and mumbled something about his horse needing tending.

“Finan, it is not wise to tempt the wrath of a seer,” Sihtric said, his voice rumbling his chest. His arms were loose around her waist as she rode in front of him. The days of continuous travel were wearing on her, but she was now more comfortable on a horse than she thought she’d ever be.

Despite attempting to let go of her anger towards him, she hated the way he had taken to treating her. Sihtric lorded over her as if she were a child, one who knew nothing of the world. And the longer she spent with him, the more the anger gave way to sadness; she wanted the Sihtric from her childhood back. Even the worst parts of Dunholm were softened by his boyish smile and gentle hands. The man he had become seemed to have killed the parts of him she had once loved the most. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get those parts of him back.

“And you, my friend, are too serious,” Finan laughed, winking at Røskva. “Do you remember what it is or am I going to have to remind you?” She nodded and rolled her eyes.

She remembered every gesture he taught her; they were the only way of communicating without pulling the ink and parchment out of her pocket.

“Have pity on our poor monk, Finan,” Uhtred laughed, shaking his head.

“It, more or less, means ‘Stop it or you’re gonna get yourself killed’. Figured it’d be useful for her, with bein’ a seer and all,” Finan shrugged, showing the gesture again. She rolled her eyes, but the smile that spread on her face couldn’t be denied. He wasn’t entirely wrong; it was something she wanted — no, something she needed to be able to communicate to them.

She held Finan’s attention, gesturing ‘It will be the one I use the most,’ back in his direction, making him smirk.

‘And I will try to listen,’ he gestured back silently, sending her a wink as she chuckled.

Osferth began asking for the meaning of more gestures, but his voice faded to nothing in her mind as a vision swam in the edges of her consciousness. The world dropped away as the vision bloomed: a cursed woman sat in a church, in a pool of blood as a monk was strung up from the beams. The man wept and begged as she screamed at him. But her skin fell away pooling on the ground where she once stood, leaving a snake in her wake. And the snake’s gaze turned away from the priest, finding a new target to torture — Uhtred. The snake lashed out, sinking its teeth into his neck before it disappeared into a haze of smoke. The vision swam long enough for her to see Uhtred going ashen and pale before collapsing, dead.

She jolted out of the vision with a start, Sihtric’s arms firm around her as she thrashed. “Røskva, it was just a vision. You are safe,” he said softly in her ear, crushing her into his embrace. Tears sprang to her eyes and blurred her vision as she gripped Sihtric’s arms, rooting herself in his grasp.

She allowed herself a moment to bask in the memory of his comfort. Sihtric’s arms had once meant safety, and she wished she could find the same feeling in them now. But the bitterness and questions lingering in her mind about Dunholm turned it to acid in her gut as her stomach lurched.

She ripped his arms away from her, sliding off the horse and falling to her knees in the soft grass. She retched, bile burning her throat as tears burned her eyes.

“What has happened, Sihtric?” Uhtred demanded, voice sounding firm despite the ringing in her ears. She ignored him to retch again, hands arms shaking as she dug her fingers into the soft earth under her, desperately trying to ground herself in some way.

“She had a vision, lord,” she heard Sihtric’s voice faintly. A gentle hand came to rest on her back, and she flinched away from the touch. “Be careful, Finan, she…” she heard him say, his voice fading away into the hum of her mind. The world was lost to her; the grief, memories, and vision had pulled her under a tidal wave and she fought to stay afloat.

When the ringing in her ears started to fade, feeling came back to her fingers first, aching and throbbing from the frozen earth she had desperately tried to bury them into as the haze receded in her mind. Awareness spread up her arms and down her back, and by the time the buzzing in her mind disappeared, she could hear Uhtred and Finan whispering above her head.

The world tilted and her stomach turned with nausea, but she swallowed it down as she lifted her head, eyes finding Uhtred’s bright blue eyes and Finan’s gentle brown ones staring back at her. Their pitying gazes made her want to snarl at them, but she couldn’t summon the energy.

“Christ alive, woman. Tryin’ to keep us on our toes now that you’ve been with us a few days now aye?” Finan laughed, but his eyes betrayed his distress as he looked her over.

“Are you well, Røskva?” Uhtred asked, eyes shining with earnest concern.

She opened her mouth to respond on instinct, but the croaking noise made both of the men wince as she grimaced. ‘Too much,’ she mouthed. Understanding bloomed on Uhtred’s face as Finan’s wrinkled in confusion.

“What?” Finan blurted out after staring between them in absolute bewilderment.

Uhtred laughed, rolling his eyes. “I forget you are a Christian and know nothing of these things. The vision, it was intense for her. The power of the Gods can weaken a seer, even one as strong as she is.”

She suppressed a laugh at his statement. She wasn't a powerful seer; a single vision had nearly sent her sprawling into unconsciousness on the back of Sihtric’s horse.

The desire to argue was far out of her grasp, but the sound of hooves on the road behind them sent the chill of fear down her spine and lodged her heart in her throat as she whipped around to look at the road.

“Lord, someone is coming!” Osferth hissed from behind her.

She turned back to face them, a desperate plea for safety or caution stuck in her useless throat, but the men who had thrown themselves into the dirt with her were gone; warriors were left in their place. “Finan, protect her with your life,” Uhtred said. His eyes had gone cold and sparkled with a desire for a fight as he sprang up onto his feet.

“Aye, lord,” Finan nodded. The comforting, gentle way he held her had been abandoned for a seax and sword, face grim with determination as he pulled her to her feet, pushing her behind him toward the horses. “Stay close to the horses. If things go badly, you get on and you ride west as hard and fast as you can until you find a village.”

Sihtric slid off his horse in her periphery, unsheathing his seax as he walked toward her. She wanted to say something to him, the complex emotions still warring in her mind, but his eyes burned with an emotion she couldn't recognize.

“You have the blade?” He asked in a whisper as he passed behind her. She nodded and pulled the small, narrow dagger out from its place in her boot. He nodded and stepped closer, whispering “Keep it close. If anyone tries to take you, take out their eyes,” before walking away.

The morning they left Eoferwic, Sihtric had slipped it to her in passing, walking away before she could question him, just as she had done to him the night before. The dagger was nicer than she had expected it to be when she asked him for something to protect herself with. She figured he could spare an old hunting dagger of his own, but the weapon was beautiful with runes inlaid on the leather sheath and on the flat of the metal.

The four men fanned out, weapons ready, as she backed herself up to the side of Finan’s horse. Røskva could feel her hands shaking and the skin stretch taught across her knuckles as she gripped the dagger. Black dots danced in her vision but she refused to give into the grip of fear.

A single rider on horseback appeared. She could tell by the drab grey of the rider’s robes it was a priest that approached. Her heart plummeted and her breath hitched in her throat, but Finan sent her a cocky smirk over her shoulder. “They will not take you again, Lady. What is one priest against four warriors?”

But the fear in her chest skyrocketed when she watched their postures relax, and Uhtred sheathed his sword before calling out, “Father Beocca!” He yelled, waving the priest over.

“Uhtred! Praise God it is you I find on the road!” the priest shouted back, riding up to them with a wide smile. The sound of Finan’s laugh made her flinch as she sank to the ground, desperate to stay out of the priest’s view. The priest was short and balding, his brows set in a furrow despite the smile on his face. “Finan, Osferth,” the priest nodded in greeting to them before turning to Sihtric, “Rat boy Dane.” The comment made something in her chest gnash its teeth in anger but she stamped the feeling down as far as she could — Sihtric’s feelings were no longer her responsibility. She wasn’t his wife or his woman, but the thought of him with a wife fanned the flames of anger she was trying to stamp out.

“I am Sihtric, priest,” Sihtric growled back, sounding only mildly annoyed, while Uhtred and Finan laughed. Røskva almost didn’t want to know how they had all become so familiar with a priest, because whatever the answer meant nothing but trouble for her.

The priest ignored the laughter and turned his attention toward Uhtred, eyes passing over where she was crouched. “You ride west to Aescengum? To the king?”

“Aye, Father, we’re on the way there now. Did Alfred send you for us?” Finan asked with a laugh.

The priest shook his head and frowned, lines deepening in his forehead. “No, I ride from Witancaester with news of the Earl Sigurd’s sack of Aweltun,” the priest said. The name snagged a memory in Røskva’s mind — she thought she could remember hearing Kjartan mention a warrior named Sigurd, but it could just as well have been Sigfried. Still, the faint familiarity tickled her mind.

“Who?” she saw Osferth whisper to Finan who waved the monk off.

“Bloodhair is in Aweltun? How do you know this?” Uhtred asked. The name Bloodhair nagged at her mind; she knew she had heard that before. The vague recollection of a man, broad and bulky with a jagged tattoo on his face sparked something, but as soon as the familiarity came it passed, moving out of grasp.

“News reached Witencaseter this morning that he arrived in the night with his men. They burned the village and took the church,” the priest said, making the sign of the cross in front of his chest. “The King must hear of this, immediately.”

But Uhtred only scoffed, “Alfred is a fool for leaving Witencaester undefended; Bloodhair will turn around and go there if he hears the King has fled.”

“He would not!” The priest shouted, making her flinch.

But Uhtred only smirked at the priest, “It is what I would do,” he shrugged. “Go to Alfred, but I must see Bloodhair for myself.”

She could tell the priest was growing increasingly agitated with Uhtred’s flippant attitude, but she could see Finan and Sihtric were chuckling to themselves. The relationship between the men and the priest was undeniable, but it sent a splinter of discomfort through her. “You will not! You lack permission from the King!”

Røskva watched Uhtred’s expression harden as he snapped at the man, “I will, Beocca, and you will either join me or go on your way!” His voice left no room for argument as Finan and Sihtric turned away from the pair.

Finan’s eyebrow raised in confusion as he caught sight of her, dagger out and ready, desperately trying to blend into the scenery, but his eyes softened and he hurried toward her, frame blocking the priest from view. “You have nothin’ to fear from Father Beocca, love,” he nearly cooed, reaching out to her. The hands reaching toward her, even though she was mostly sure Finan wouldn’t hurt her, made her flinch, and a deep, desperate sadness flickered in Finan’s warm brown gaze.

“God in Heaven, must you always make things more difficult than they should, boy?” the priest roared, and her breath caught in her throat. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed Finan’s arm.

“You don’t need to fear him,” Finan whispered, crowding closer to her, eyes soft and sparkling with something she couldn’t place. The proximity made her skin itch and set her nerves alight, but she trusted him more than the priest; and that was enough for the moment. “Beocca and Uhtred bicker, because they're family. The priest has got a foul temper, especially when it comes to Uhtred’s stubborn arse but—”

“And what of the woman you travel with? You would risk her life?” The priest roared again, and she felt Finan tense, pushing closer to her. Despite not being incredibly tall, Finan still towered over her, as did the other three men, but his sturdy frame blocked her from the priest’s view entirely.

“She is of no importance to you, Beocca,” Uhtred snapped, voice hard and cold. “Do not speak of her, least of all to the King. I will tell him of her when I arrive in Aescengum.”

“Uhtred you are acting a fool—” the priest groused, but his argument was quickly cut off.

“Breathe a word of her to the King, and you will lose your tongue,” she heard Sihtric seethe, voice flat and emotionless. But she heard the anger hidden — he could never disguise it from her. “I swear it on your God and all of mine.”

The priest muttered and mumbled absently, fear evident in his tone. “I would not test his patience, Father,” Osferth mumbled.

“Aye, he is correct, Beocca,” Uhtred said, huffing out a mirthless laugh. “She is protected; by me, my men, and the Gods. Do not tempt fate here, it would only lead to suffering — your suffering. For your sake and my sister’s, I hope you will listen.”

The priest was silent for a moment before he relented, “I swear I will not speak a word of her existence once I leave this place,” and she felt the tension bleed out from the men and from her own frame. “But you must keep her safe, Uhtred. It is said this Sigurd travels with a devil woman, a witch that can see the future.”

The way he spit the word, witch, sent a chill down her spine. “I would suggest you refrain from speakin’ on things you don’t understand, Father,” Finan said cooly, ushering her back toward his horse, hand hovering above her back as they walked. “Don’t worry about him,” Finan said, ducking down to speak into her ear. The wiry hairs of his beard tickled the shell of her ear and she shivered, not hating the feeling. His beard was softer and denser than the coarse facial hair Kjartan had.

‘Is he a cruel king?’ she gestured, keeping her movements small and hidden from prying eyes.

“No,” Finan whispered, “but he is complicated, and Uhtred tends to make things worse. But he would not take Uhtred’s mistakes out on you.”

She nodded in understanding, hoping he was right. But there was something she knew he was hiding — some truth she didn’t yet know about the king.

They spoke no more as he lifted her onto the saddle, hauling himself up behind her as she heard Uhtred say “Ride with us until the fork, but we will be going to Aweltun.”

“I should know better than to try and persuade you from foolishness. I did not dream that such a pig-headed child could become worse as a man,” the priest scoffed in return, making the men laugh as they started riding. She was surprised to hear the priest speak of Uhtred in such a way. How would he have known him as a child? Uhtred was clearly a Dane.

Their journey took a much more leisurely pace with the addition of Father Beocca while he and Osferth spoke behind her and Finan, and Sihtric and Uhtred rode ahead speaking in hushed tones. Røskva was grateful for the silence as questions whirled through her mind.

It wasn't long before the priest spoke up again, voice cutting over the silence like a knife, “May I at least know the lady’s name, Uhtred? If we are to be travelling together, even if it is only for an hour.”

“If she wishes for you to know it,” Uhtred replied, eyes cutting to hers as he glanced over his shoulder at her. Despite his impassive response to the priest, his gaze was questioning but not demanding in the slightest. He was truly giving her the option and gratitude bubbled in her gut. She nodded once, turning away to look at Osferth who had pulled his horse beside Finan’s. “Her name is Røskva.”

“She is a Dane?” The priest gasped and the metallic tang coated her tongue as she bit the inside of her cheek.

“Aye, as is your wife. Mind your manners, Father,” Finan said shortly. Røskva’s mind reeled — this priest had a Dane wife? And knew Uhtred as a child? The questions were becoming too much to bear.

“I meant no offense, Lady,” Father Beocca said sincerely. The title grated on her but she grit her teeth and stared ahead, not willing to acknowledge him. “I was merely shocked.”

“Røskva does not like to be called a lady, Father,” Osferth said softly, the young man giving her a bright smile, one she returned easily.

“As she has not found it dignified to speak to me herself I assumed she must be royalty or at least high born—”

“Sweet Mother of Christ, Father Beocca, leave the poor lass alone!” Finan shouted, cutting the priest off. “She can't bloody talk, it's not meant to be an offense!”

A tightness in her chest she hadn't realized was there eased at Finan’s staunch defense of her against Father Beocca, even though she understood his questions — she was wary of him as he was wary of her.

“Finan is right, she does not offer insult in her silence,” Uhtred said after a tense beat of quiet settled on the group.

“Then I apologize, Rosva,” Beocca said sincerely.

“It is Røskva, priest,” Sihtric corrected him.

“Rose-kava?” Beocca tried again.

“No,” Finan said, unhelpfully. Nonetheless it made her laugh, the near silent breathy exhale was foreign to her ears but the act left a bright feeling in her chest.

The rest of the ride to the fork was spent with Uhtred and Beocca plotting while she half eavesdropped and half joined Finan, Osferth, and Sihtric in going over gestures and their meanings.

When it was time for the priest to split away from them, she was both grateful for him to be leaving and dreading what his departure meant. Røskva had heard Beocca’s warnings to Uhtred about Bloodhair — there was a high likelihood of casualty or injury to befall one if not all of them.

But she couldn't decide if Uhtred’s ease about the situation made her anxious that he was being a fool, or confident that he knew he could handle whatever Bloodhair had in store.

Regardless, he waved Father Beocca off as he offered to join them to Aweltun. “Inform Alfred we will be there by tonight at the earliest, if not tomorrow at first light. I will have news of Bloodhair when we arrive,” the proud Dane said firmly.

“I am sure we will all live to regret this decision but I trust you, Uhtred,” Beocca said, sounding vexed before sighing. “I will see you in Aescengum then,” he said before turning and riding away into the West where they turned East.

As he rode away, Finan shouted after him, “Fret not, Father! We’ve outsmarted and out lasted many Danes before, and I, for one, am not dyin’ at the hand of anyone named Bloodhair!”

Røskva wanted to laugh along with the men, but the fear nagging in her gut made it impossible. But it was more than Bloodhair and the nagging in the back of her mind that worried her; it was the vision. The woman cursed by the Gods in the church was near and she could feel the tides of fate singing in her blood and thrumming in her ears.

She could do nothing but pray that the Gods would favor them.

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taglist: @blkflowergrl @whitedarkmoonflower

#the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom #tlk fic #tlk fanfic #uhtred fic #uhtred x oc #uhtred x reader #finan fic #finan x reader #finan the agile #sihtric x oc #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #finan x oc #uhtred of bebbanburg #tlk uhtred #uhtred ragnarson

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ms-oswald · 8 months ago

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homesick | introduction

author's note: back with another mini-Finan series. This time this is set in the TLK era and will include fluff-ish, smut-ish (18+ MDNI) and of course - angsty moments. Not much actions but hopefully, this will still be enjoyable for the intrigued. If you are interested and want to be part of the taglist, please let me know! A massive thank you to @persephones-journey for being my soundboard and helping me out 💕

Main Characters: Finan x Kára (OC) Length: 7 chapters

Summary: A series of cherished encounters between Finan, Uhtred’s second in command, and Kára, an unsettled and restless shield-maiden – her path dictated by the whims of Mother Nature while he remains true to his calling. An unlikely friendship forms as they live on opposite sides, their kindled flame bright and consuming to every conjured touch while forever wondering if such fire will burn out amongst the rubble crumbling over their years apart.

Lots of love & stay safe 💕

banners credit to @arcielee

Playlist under the cut

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

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persephones-journey · 11 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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charmedimsure · 10 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 · 2 years 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. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ 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 · 9 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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errruvande · 11 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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witchthewriter · 3 months ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡-𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

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

a/n: thank you for the request anon!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: You're in an established relationship, known each other for a few months. ⋆.˚🦢��

𝑼𝒉𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒅

・Uhtred picks up on it instantly.

・Once Uhtred understands how touch-starved you are, he becomes a little obsessed with making sure you feel safe in his presence.

・So Uhtred starts to touch you more; a hand on your back when you walk together, holding your wrist and giving it a tight squeeze when he wants your attention, leaning against you casually, running a hand down your arm, holding your cheek for a few moments before he has to leave etc.

・And when you go out together, his focus is on you.

・Because if someone gets too close than his arm is around your waist, pulling you to his side.

・And if you're nervous in a crowd? Unsure of where to go because of the mass of people - then Uhtred places a hand on your back and guides you to somewhere less overwhelming.

・Oh ... and if somehow you ended up hurt; then he would hold you/set you on his lap while he checks your injuries. And in a low, serious voice says: “Let me see, love. Let me take care of you.”

・Once he notices that you’re leaning into his touch more and more, he starts teasing you mercilessly.

"Oh, now you have gone soft, now you whimper when I stop touching you!"

・And OBVIOUSLY, you aren't going to let that slide. So, you move out of his embrace and do not seek it out for some time.

・However... Uhtred didn't realise how much he needed your touch just as much (he would never admit it though)

・So, he seeks you out and kisses your hand.

"You need this, little one. Now come here.”

𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒏

・Once Finan figures out just how touch-starved you are, a terrible mistake has been made! Now you are never getting rid of him!

“You were never meant to go without love. Never. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never do again.”

・Finan doesn't think much of it at first; he's a naturally touchy person; clapping people on the back, throwing an arm around shoulders, tugging at tunics etc,.

・But when he notices little things about you, for example: How you lean into his touches, watching longingly at others who so freely express their feelings through touch.

・He sees the flash of hurt, and sometimes jealousy.

・And once he puts two and two together...his heart crumbles, because he feels like he's let you down.

・From that moment on, he decided that this relationship just got a whole lot more clingier.

・The next time he saw you, he ran up and spun you around, setting you down and giving you kiss. An arm moved to your waist and he kept you close.

・Now, he always keeps you close. No matter where you are. He'll have an arm around your shoulders when you're walking. A hand on your knee when you sit together.

・Even pulls you onto his lap - at every chance he gets.

・Whenever he feels you pulling away, he says:

“If I go even a single hour without touching you, I fear I may wither away and die. Do you want my death on your hands, love? Do you?”

𝑺𝒊𝒉𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄

・Sihtric notices before you even realise it yourself

・He's always watching you; you are his afterall.

・And he noticed that every time he puts a hand on your waist, you lean into it, when you hug - you're never the first to pull away.

・Once he sees just how much you crave romantic touch, but are too hesitant to ask for it...he makes sure that it becomes apart of your daily life.

・For example: when you’re sitting by the fire, he casually tugs your legs over his lap, when you're together, you are connected somehow i.e., holding hands, playing with hair, sitting on his lap.

・And you know what, Sihtric is NOT the freely affectionate type. However you? You are the exception:

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

・Because of this, a thought found its way into Sihtric...maybe he was touch-starved too?

・Because he holds you like he's afraid to let go. He wasn't raised with affection and kindness. Hugs seemed like some sort of sign of respect. So, he felt he did not deserve them.

・But coming to know that you connect with that thought made him want to weep. Because you deserve everything.

・And Sihtric, being Sihtric, he becomes attuned to your every movements.

・So when it comes to you? He notices every single time you crave touch.

・And he acts accordingly. With him, you never feel unloved, or unworthy.

・Sihtric makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

“You feel like home.”

𝑶𝒔𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒉

・At first, Osferth doesn’t notice. Not because he’s oblivious, but because he’s so used to restraining himself.

・But when he finally realises, everything changes.

・And suddenly, you have a shadow who refuses to leave your side.

・The moment he realises it, was a complete accident. You're both in front of the fire, and exhaustion creeps up on you. And you fall asleep.

・Osferth, has no idea what to do. At first, he freezes. Then he realizes...you trust him enough to let your guard down. To fall asleep and do so on him, with your head in his lap, and hand gripping his wrist.

・Touch for Osferth makes his heart beat like nothing else has. And it's all to do with you:

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything the way I want you.”

・It nearly knocks the breath from his lungs. He feels so needed.

・He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, so he's slow about introducing more touch.

・I.e., a lingering hand on your wrist when he helps you up, a brush of his fingers against yours when he hands you something, his shoulder pressing against yours when you sit together.

・Osferth never thought he was the possessive type. But one day, someone got too close to you. Too touchy, too flirty.

・And suddenly Osferth's hand is on your waist, tugging you back against him.

"I suggest you leave. Now." And he says it with such conviction, you think he might actually start a fight...

・Now Osferth craves this touch just as much as you.

“I hope you never stop reaching for me.”

𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒈𝒈𝒓

・The moment he figures out you crave touch, specifically his touch, he becomes extremely territorial.

・His attention rarely leaves you.

・And he starts touching you effortlessly.

・When you sit next to him, his arm is draped over the back of your seat, trails his fingers down your arm absentmindedly, cups the back of your neck when he talks to you etc,.

・This one time, he noticed how much you wanted to touch him but you were hesitating. Sigtryggr did not like that.

・He leant close and whispered in your ear:

“You want something, little one? Take it.”

・From then on you felt comfortable showing your affection, and being open about the need for it as well.

・For a long time, Sigtryggr tells himself this is all about you.

・That he’s just giving you what you need.

・But then he starts to notice:

How he sleeps better when you’re curled against him.

How he misses your warmth when you’re gone too long.

How his hands itch to touch you when you’re too far away.

“I don’t just touch you because you need it. I do it because I like it.”

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viridian-dagger · 2 months ago

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Seiðr of a Death Singer - 4

Rating: Explicit/Mature - 18+ only! Minors DNI

Warnings: named/minimally described oc, mute!oc, animal death/animal sacrifice (its a fish), witchcraft, Kjartan and Sven and some awful shit they did mention, death, mutilation of bodies (Skade), Uhtred is lowkey in his dumb bitch hours (its not his fault but like. come on man), Skade is really just a warning in herself but also I'm making her more of a bad bitch bc I can and I want to, allusion to madness, curses, emotional progress is made with more than one pretty boy 👀... but then progress is lost with another lmao

Word count: 5k

Author's Note: cross posted on ao3, beta read by @witchoftheewilds and dividers by @zaldritzosrose found here ! please let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist 🖤

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Røskva spent most of the ride to Aweltun in the shadows of her own mind. The things she could do to spare Uhtred and the rest of the men from any stray curses the other seer might try to throw at them were being meticulously catalogued. But she was truly, deeply afraid; the salves and tinctures she learned from her nan were nothing against chaos Bloodhair’s seer would undoubtedly unleash.

She would have to rely on what she’d learned from Hrafn, things she never forgot but frightened her all the same..

Hrafn had been a frail, elderly seer Kjartan had brought to Dunholm when she was 14. The seer had been half blind, half mad, and nearing death but she had taught Røskva a great many things she hadn’t known before. How to throw a curse, how to give blood offerings, how to show allegiance to the Gods, how to bend others to her will, how to use their blood against them… Some of her lessons had been terrifying.

But in the fear and uncertainty, Hrafn had also been compassionate. She had been teaching Røskva how to sever the ties of a blood bond less than a month after arriving in Dunholm when Kjartan overheard. He had killed her and the old woman's head spent a month on a pike on the outer wall.

She wasn’t sure exactly how willing anyone other than Sihtric would be to help her; Finan and Osferth wouldn't understand what she had to do, and Uhtred’s loyalty to the Gods wavered in her mind as she thought about how close he was to the priest. Sihtric would understand, especially if she reminded him what Hrafn taught her. She had never seen Sihtric so terrified in her life when the old woman had grabbed him by the chin and whispered 'don't fight the call of fate, boy’.

But the closer they rode, the more unsettled she felt. The air felt heavy, and the visions blurred with reality as she fell in and out of them easily. Her only foothold in time was the conversations happening around her and Finan’s chest pressed against her back.

“We will stop here and scout,” Uhtred called out, snapping her out of her haze as the horses came to a stop. She couldn’t tell if the rot and smoke was in her mind alone or if it truly lingered in the air, but it made her feel ill regardless.

Finan had helped her down from his horse before she watched him disappear into the treeline, Uhtred and Osferth looking after him while Sihtric plopped down onto a stump to sharpen his seax. She took the opportunity to slink into the brambles and thickets, ripping plants and herbs out of the ground as she went. She grabbed anything that she thought could be helpful; purple and black

Røskva hated the way her hands shook as she made her way over to the near-frozen stream. Sinking to her knees, she broke up the thin layer of ice on the surface, shivering as the frigid water splashed up, raining droplets onto her skin.

She waited and watched, and when she found what she was looking for, took a breath and plunged her hand into the water. The wriggling, slippery creature nearly escaped, but the tip of her blade found its home between the gills and the fish went still.

“Røskva!” Sihtric shouted, making her jump as he stalked to her side. “Did you not hear me calling for you? What are you—” he asked, but cut himself off when she glared at him.

She pointed at the small, shaky rune Hrafn had tattooed on the back of her hand. Sihtric’s face went pale and he grabbed the Mjölnir hanging around his neck. She saw rapidfire emotions flicker in his eyes before they went hard and cold, determination burning in them.

“What do you need?” he whispered, and she felt something in her soften against her own will as she smiled at him sadly and she shook her head, lifting the limp fish in her hand for him to see. “You are afraid,” Sihtric said softly, and she nodded, not bothering to lie. “It was the vision?” He asked again, earning another nod. “Be swift. Finan has returned with a survivor. They are making a plan, but we will leave soon.”

She gave him a soft smile before turning to the water, digging the blade into the fish and slicing it open with one clean cut, and it took her a moment to find the heart. The warmth from the small organ seeped into her palm, and she felt a small pang of sadness ring through her chest as the life fled from the heart, turning a slightly ashen grey.

She hadn’t noticed that Sihtric had dropped to his knees beside her and made a hole in the frozen ground for her. She gave him a small smile in thanks and set to work, making a nest of fibrous roots, wilting berries, and musky flower petals. She placed the heart inside the nest and piled the berries and flowers high, before covering it with the unearthed dirt. She closed her eyes and mouthed the words she never dared to speak before, but could never forget.

Time seemed to stop as she chanted — the words less than a whisper in the breeze — and she felt the world fall away as the thread of fate was weaved. Gone was the sound of the rushing stream breaking the ice and the smell of frost as she watched the iridescent strand burst from soil and streak out into the aether, and she felt the blood sing in her ears as the strand went taut and latched onto the other’s heart; the curse had been made and would not be broken.

“Røskva, we must return,” Sihtric said softly, breaking her from her daze. She felt as though she was half in a dream still; nothing quite in focus as he took her hands and pulled her off the ground to her feet. “Do you have need of this?” he asked, grabbing the carcass of the fish. She shook her head, walking away from the stream toward the sound of Uhtred and Finan’s voices.

When she stumbled back through the thickets of shrubs, she found a new person speaking to Uhtred and Osferth in hushed tones while Finan stood within arms reach, face hard and eyebrows furrowed. “Did you lot have a good time playin’ around in the water?” Finan groused, sending an annoyed look over her shoulder.

“She was making an offering,” Sihtric lied, his voice even and steady. She would have believed he thought that was the truth if she hadn’t sent the curse herself. She hoped her confusion wasn’t betrayed by the fog that had settled in her mind, but Finan hadn’t spared a glance in her direction to notice anything to betray Sihtric’s lie; his gaze was focused entirely on Sihtric.

“We do not have the time for this,” Uhtred snapped, voice thick with annoyance. “Bloodhair is near and we must move before we lose the chance!”.

“Do not lose this,” Sihtric whispered in her ear, pressing the knife she had abandoned into her palm, before slipping past where she stood and joined Uhtred.

She stared dumbly down at the knife in her hand, wondering how she had been so stupid to leave it. Finan’s gentle hand removing the knife from her grip took her focus as he spoke, voice soft in her ear, as they walked toward Uhtred. “You shouldn’t hide that in your boot anymore, darlin’, it’s too hard to reach,” he said gently, sticking the knife in her belt.

She was about to respond, but her attention was caught by the unfamiliar man speaking to Uhtred, “Bloodhair was there this morning, lord, I swear,” he said, his voice shaking. “He burned the village and took the church.”

“I believe you, my friend,” Uhtred said kindly. “We will make haste, and save what we can.”

The journey to Aweltun was easy and quick, but every step brought a sharpness and clarity to her mind. The village was nothing but smoking ruins, completely abandoned save for a few Danes standing in the yard around the church in the center of town. The sight of the church alone was enough to turn her stomach, but the way rot seemed to seep out of the building into the ground and spread outward, reaching toward them made her heart lurch in her throat.

“Bloodhair is gone, lord, but the devil woman; she is in there,” the man whispered, pointing at the church. She watched the annoyance flicker on Uhtred’s face, but settle into a passive grimace as he looked at the smouldering remains of the village. “Am I still needed?”

“Go find your family,” Uhtred said softly, not bothering to look away from the Danes as the man scurried away. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears as they waited for a sign from Uhtred when he broke the silence, eyes finding hers. “You will not move from here unless you are being attacked, yes?” He asked, voice firm.

She nodded, but gave him a gesture that made a smirk grow on Finan’s face as she walked away, giving Osferth a small smile as she passed him. He gave her a flat grimace in return as he was pushed forward, into the path of the Danes. She knew he was bound to be the distraction.

She watched the three of them communicate silently, Sihtric’s eyes cutting to hers to give a single burning look before finding the others again. Røskva fought the urge to scoff as Sihtric tapped the flat of Finan’s sword with his axe and ran out of sight.

“She said ‘try not to get killed’, but with a truly stunnin’ amount of colourful words for you,” Finan whispered through a laugh as they ran in the opposite direction of Sihtric.

Røskva strained to hear Osferth’s muffled voice, but flashes of blood and death cut through her mind like a white hot blade and she knew she couldn’t stand idly by and watch them be sent to their deaths. At the first clang of metal, she slipped her blade out of its hiding spot and ran to the church, hiding around the corner from the door.

She went completely unnoticed by the Danes as they rushed to the sounds of fighting, and by Uhtred and his men who went from one opponent to the next seamlessly.

Until suddenly it stopped; countless Danes lay dead, scattered around the churchyard as Finan, Sihtric, Uhtred, and Osferth made their way up the steps toward the door.

“Haesten told Beocca she is of the devil,” Uhtred said as she watched Finan try to peek through the window into the church.

“Then it might be an idea to bar the door and burn the place down,” Finan suggested. She hated the way Uhtred’s body tensed at the suggestion; Finan was right, and Uhtred couldn’t see it. “Why not?” He asked Uhtred.

“To Bloodhair she will be priceless,” Uhtred reasoned but something black swirled in her gut. The rot from the witch was taking hold of him; the cursed woman had him in her sights already.

As soon as Uhtred stepped toward the church door, she forced herself to dart out and stand in front of the door. She held the blade behind her back, hands shaking. She would never stand a chance against him or the others — even Osferth would be able to cut her down — but she hoped Uhtred would listen to reason.

“Røskva, what are you doing here? I told you to wait in safety!” Uhtred snapped, eyes narrowing. “Stand aside, we must retrieve this seer.” She stood her ground and shook her head, eyes flickering to meet Finan’s gaze over her shoulder.

“Lord, she doesn’t want us to go in there. Maybe she’s got a good reason for it,” Finan suggested calmly. “Have you been havin’ visions of this place?” he asked.

‘Nothing but death here,’ she gestured in return. ‘Please, leave here. We will die if we stay.’

Finan went pale and made the sign of the cross, “We have to go, lord. Nothin’ here for us but death she said.”

“She would not lie, lord,” Sihtric added softly.

“I do not care! I must bring her to Alfred and we will ransom her to Bloodhair!” Uhtred roared, eyes going wild. He seemed different than she had known him and she knew then that she had cast her curse too late; the seer in the church had bound Uhtred to her. The madness that she had cursed upon her was already reflecting in Uhtred — it would only get worse until she could unbind them.

‘She will take him,’ she gestured to Finan, pleading with her eyes for him to listen, and to disobey Uhtred this once if only to save his life. ‘Burn it with her inside. It is the only way to save him.’

“She said we must burn it,” Finan said, grief colouring his words.

“I care not what a sheltered little witch says! Stand aside!” Uhtred shouted, stepping toward her. She flinched, but pulled the knife out from behind her back, swiping it in his direction.

“You would harm me? After all I have done to protect you?” He asked, stepping back as if she had dealt him a wound. His bright blue eyes shone with confusion and hurt.

‘There is nothing here but death,’ she gestured again in vain, but he simply growled in anger and lunged for her, grabbing her wrist and twisting it roughly. The knife fell to the ground with a muffled slap and the scream of pain caught in her throat uselessly. She felt again like the helpless whelp of a girl that they had saved from hanging just over a week ago, but she felt less safe than she had ever felt in their presence.

“Røskva!” Finan shouted while Osferth cried out, “Lord, please!”

“Enough!” Uhtred growled, “Finan, bind her hands. She is a traitor to me.”

“Lord, she is not a traitor!” Sihtric argued.

“She is tryin’ to keep us alive,” Finan said as Uhtred pushed her toward the Irishman, out of the way of the door. Uhtred ignored them both and despite his protest, Finan bound her hands nonetheless. The binding was weak and loose, and his eyes bored into hers, teeming with regret as he did as his lord bid.

She felt the string of fate she had woven grow tighter as the door swung open with a slow creeeeeeak behind her. Sihtric looked sickened and conflicted as he passed by her, following Uhtred into the church.

“I’m sorry, love, but there’s nothin’ I can do,” Finan whispered, leading her into the church with a deep grimace set on his face.

She heard the mirrored gasps from Uhtred and Sihtric, only seconds apart but equally as unsettled as they rounded the corner. She knew what was coming, she’d seen it already, but nothing prepared her for the smell of death and blood that hung in the air, stagnant and ominous. And the sight was worse than she had expected; the mutilated corpses strewn across the floor, hanging from the rafters, and impaled onto the wall. A Dane stood shrouded shadows against the wall on the far side of the church, but standing in the center of the room, perched against a small table and smirking up at the corpse strung on the rafters, was the woman cursed.

Her blonde hair was matted and wild, tipped in blood, viscera up to her elbows as she held a human heart in her hands. But the worst was the hollow blackness in her eyes that seemed to only appear every time Røskva blinked.

“You are Skade?” Uhtred asked, and Røskva cringed. Using her name did not give him any power over her; it only strengthened her hold on him. The Dane in the shadows reached for his axe but Uhtred and his men all drew their weapons. “You,” he said pointing to the Dane, “you will do nothing except go to your lord and tell him that Uhtred of Bebbanburg has his witch.”

Skade smiled and Røskva felt sick, “I knew it was you,” she purred.

“There will be a ransom to pay,” Uhtred said firmly, ignoring her.

“No,” she smirked, “you will go to my lord and tell him from this moment forth, Uhtred of bebbanburg is cursed. That the witch holds his heart in her hands,” Skade said, stepping toward Uhtred as she showed off the heart in her hand. “And she will squeeze it… and break it,” she said, digging her nails into the organ before letting it fall to the floor with a sickening, wet plop.

The Dane looked between Uhtred and Skade, both of them saying “Go.” Røskva cut her gaze to Sihtric, and the look in his eyes was impossible to mistake; he would never doubt her again.

“It is you who are my prisoner now,” Skade smiled as the Dane squeezed out of the room past them.

“Seize her,” Uhtred demanded, but no one moved. “I said seize the witch Sihtric! Bind her hands!” he shouted, spitting the word as if it was a curse on its own.

Sihtric sprung into action at the snappish tone, hastily unbinding Røskva’s hands before grabbing Skade and wrapping the length of rope around her wrists tightly. A murderous gleam sparkled in her eyes as Sihtric worked, “I have aligned myself with the three spinners of fate and taken hold of your life. You belong to me now—”

“And her mouth!” Uhtred shouted, sounding panicked as he stumbled backward. “I want to hear no more from this foul witch!”

A viscous smile spread on her face as Finan moved, producing another length of fabric to bind her, “—Your path is the path I choose for you Uhtred Ragnarsson and your spirit is mine to torment!” she shouted before Finan was able to silence her.

Despite her now forced silence, Røskva couldn’t help but squirm under the seer’s gaze. It was truly empty save for the malice glittering in their depths.

“Cover her eyes,” Uhtred demanded, and she felt grateful for it as Finan slapped a hand over her eyes and instantly the air cleared of her poisonous rot. For a second, she thought she saw Uhtred’s eyes clear of madness, but with a blink they were wild and unfocused again. “We will take her with us to Aescengum.”

“Lord—” Osferth said, but Uhtred turned and stalked out of the church without acknowledging him. Osferth simply sighed and turned to Røskva, “He should have listened to you.”

‘He is blinded by her,’ she gestured with a halfhearted shrug.

“Osferth is right,” Sihtric mumbled, eyes dark as he stormed out of the church after Uhtred. The discord between them, and the sudden shift in Uhtred’s behavior had her mind spinning; how had she gotten hold of him? Bound him to her before seeing him? It made the knot in her gut tighten in discomfort as she trudged back out into the cold, praying the smell of death and rot didn’t linger. She knew it would though.

“I do not trust her, lord,” she heard Sihtric mumble as she walked out into the courtyard. He and Uhtred were standing toe to toe, frustration evident in both Sihtric’s face and the rigid set of Uhtred’s shoulders; she was almost sure she could see his hands shaking where they were fisted at his sides. “She can ride with me if—”

“I said she rides alone!” Uhtred shouted, rage rolling off him in waves. The anger in his voice made her stop in her tracks; was he angry with her? He had every reason to be, but she hoped he could see now she was only trying to save them the suffering Skade would bring.

Guilt flashed in Sihtric’s mismatched gaze as he caught her eye over Uhtred’s shoulder, and Sihtric deflated as Uhtred whipped around to glare in her direction, his eyes hardening slightly before he turned back around and stomped away, back in the direction of the horses.

“I will hear no more arguments, Sihtric. Put her on the horse and meet me on the road,” Uhtred shouted as he walked. “She better be worth the trouble she has already caused,” she heard him growl as he left.

“Where’s he goin’?” Finan asked as they watched Uhtred retreat.

Sihtric sighed in response, shoulders slumping as he hung his head. “To Aescengum. To Wessex’s aid, as always,” he muttered before grabbing the reins of the lone horse tied to the ramshackle fence surrounding the church and beginning to walk after Uhtred.

Osferth piped up from behind her, his voice so close to her it made Røskva jump. “He does not trust her.”

A cold sweat broke across her skin as she followed after Sihtric, pleading in her mind for him to turn and assure her that they weren’t talking about her, that she still had the sliver of trust she had earned in the last few days.

“Good, I don’t want her on my bloody horse anyway,” Finan scoffed and her heart stuttered in her chest, but she forced herself to keep walking. Shame caused her cheeks to heat and spread down her neck and chest, settling in her gut like acid.

She tuned out the conversation as they walked, trying to find a way to explain to Uhtred why she had tried to stop him, why Skade couldn’t be trusted. But any explanation felt meaningless; she had lost his trust. He had called her a witch with the same venom he had spat the word in Skade’s direction.

“Røskva,” a voice in her ear made her jump, her attention snapping to the source of the voice. She found raw emotion, unhidden and unguarded, on Sihtric’s face, eyes desperate and pleading. “Please, I will help you with what I can, but you must do something. Uhtred is… mad. Not even when Gisela–only when Ragnar–and Guthred–please. You must help me,” he begged, words tumbling out of his mouth in half sentences that made no sense to her.

She could do nothing but stare at him, frozen in shock, and nod.

Relief seemed to swarm him instantly, tension bleeding out of his posture as a small smile grew on his face. “Thank you, I will do what I can to assist. I may be able to get Finan to help as well,” he whispered conspiratorially as they broke through the shrubs, finding the horses they had left; Uhtred’s chestnut stallion was gone already. “When we are in Aescengum, we will make a plan,” he nodded, walking away to his dappled mare.

She couldn’t help but stare after him in confusion; the wild fluctuations in his emotions were unusual. Røskva could find no reasonable explanation other than Skade — her influence was affecting all of them.

“Røskva,” Finan’s voice called out, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Røskva seethed in silence at the disorientation it was giving her, eyes scanning the area.

She hadn’t noticed when the oppressive fog settled on the meadow, obscuring nearly everything from view.

“Røskva!” he shouted, voice booming in her ears. Suddenly, the fog cleared and she found Finan’s concerned face inches from her own, hands hovering over her shoulders as if he was afraid to touch her. “You alright love?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Was that a vision? It was like you were starin’ right through me.”

She stamped out the confusion and settled on rage as she found Skade smirking beneath her gag with her vacuous eyes locked onto Røskva from where she sat, bound by the wrists to the saddle of a horse.

‘We should have killed her when we had the chance,’ she gestured, stomping over to his horse.

Røskva was sick of the back of Uhtred’s head; she had been staring at it, mentally pleading for him to turn around and chat with the group as they rode, but he remained silent and just barely ahead of them as Aescengum appeared ahead of them in the valley. She could feel the weight of Skade’s gaze on the back of her own head, but she refused to give the woman the satisfaction.

“I fear she may have got herself inside his head,” Finan grumbled, his voice gruff in her ear, “We should kill her and be done with it.”

“That will not kill the curse,” Sihtric argued, eyes cutting between her and Finan. She gave him a terse nod, but didn’t try to elaborate. He was right, and even if Finan and Osferth didn’t know it, she did.

“There is no curse!” Osferth called out from behind them. He had gotten the short end of the stick and was forced to tie his horse with Skade’s to ensure she couldn’t bolt.

“And if I say there is no Christian God, does that make it so?” Sihtric snapped back, whipping around to glare at Osferth over his shoulder.

“There is no curse, Sihtric!” Osfterth called back, ignoring the glare. Røskva couldn’t help but feel grateful that Osferth seemed unchanged and unbothered by Skade’s presence.

“I’ve seen a woman throw a curse and the next day a man is dead,” Sihtric said, voice going tight as he refused to look in her direction. The silence that followed made Røskva’s skin crawl; Finan and Osferth were clearly wondering if he had been talking about her.

And Røskva couldn’t deny it — she had cursed one of Kjartan’s men when he offered to buy her and Thyra from Sven and Kjartan. Røskva had waited until the ale had begun to flow, stood on the table, and thrown the curse in the hall, for everyone to see. The men had laughed and jeered, not believing she had the ability to send a man to his death.

But when he broke his fast the next morning, he started leaking blood in every direction. The screaming and panic started soon after, followed by a blanket of silence. The man had fallen dead into his porridge, and she was the cause.

She’d been careful not to show Kjartan her power before then, but rage had overtaken sense. Unfortunately, it had revealed something she wished she could have kept hidden. From that moment on, Kjartan knew what she had been capable of, and knew also when she had refused to carry out his command — a frequent occurrence. The whippings came more often after that, but she took them without complaint. She refused to let a man like Kjartan wield her like a sword when he had one of his own.

“Right,” Finan coughed, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “That is enough talkin’. To speak of it makes it stronger,” he whispered conspiratorially.

As Aescengum rose ahead of them as the sun set in the sky, Røskva couldn’t help but feel nervous at the sight of it; it looked larger and stronger than both Dunhom and Eofferwic, but it looked oppressive and dark in the fading light. She’d never seen a Saxon keep before — the walls were high and made of stone; they looked as though they could withstand a siege for months on end. And the soldiers on the gate wore strange armour and held spears tipped with a glimmering metal.

The thought of the guards turning their spears on them had anxiety churning in her gut, but the gate opened without fuss as Uhtred rode up to them. Røskva wondered how long it would be till the Saxons turned on him; Uhtred was a Dane afterall. Her nan had warned her that the Saxons would only tolerate a Dane for so long before he showed his true alliance — to their God above all.

“Welcome to Wessex, Lady Røskva,” Finan whispered in her ear with a chuckle. She wasted no time sending an elbow into his ribs, smiling to herself at the groan of pain and the laugh that followed. “I deserved that, didn’t I?”

“Lord Uhtred!” A voice called out as they made their way into the courtyard, and fear seized her when she saw the big Saxon who had found them outside of Eofferwic, Steapa. Behind him stood Father Beocca, looking pensive. “The King would like to speak to you.”

“Could we not have a moment to rest, Steapa? We have been riding for days,” Uhtred groused in return.

“I’m sorry, lord, but the King said the matter was urgent,” Steapa said firmly.

She heard Uhtred groan as he dismounted, “Tell him I will be there shortly, I have a hostage to deal with.”

“Let your men deal with the hostage, you are needed,” Steapa said firmly, turning away.

Røskva watched as Uhtred’s shoulders slumped and the burden he wore became immediately noticeable. He bore it with grace most of the time, but there was a weight on him the others did not have. She had seen glimpses of it, not able to put her finger on exactly what it was that plagued him, but now she understood what exactly that burden was: it was King Alfred and the whole of Wessex.

A knife of sympathy twisted in her gut as she watched Uhtred send a pleading look in their direction, eyes seeking out Sihtric, Finan and Osferth, but his eyes passed over her as if she didn’t exist and her heart dropped; she had truly lost his trust. Skade was also not given the satisfaction of his attention — she wasn’t sure if that made her feel sick with regret or delighted that Skade’s influence hadn’t gone too deep.

She watched him retreat toward the stone walls of the burh, but he was stopped by a guard. A dangerous tension took over his body as they spoke into his ear. They argued for a moment before the guard walked away, leaving Uhtred where he stood, still but nearly vibrating with rage.

“Lord…?” Osferth called out.

The cold sweat of anxiety spread across her skin as she turned, eyes immediately finding her and blazing with a rage she hadn’t yet seen. “The King is requesting Røskva’s presence. Now.”

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ms-oswald · 7 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 · 6 months ago

Text

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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uramakimochi · 8 months ago

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THE BETRAYAL

Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader

!!!DISCLAIMER!!!: English is not my native language and since i didn't watch the show in the original language and i have no idea about the difference between English/Irish accents like Finan's, i'll write using the classic english they teach in school lol. But you are free to correct me on it if you wish to. And i haven't read the books so i'll write my stories based on the show.

WARNINGS: this is a bit long i'm sorry. Based on s3ep6-7, angst + comfort fluff, established relationship, FEM!R but no use of Y/n, little platonic moments with Finan and Osferth because we love them<3.

Something wasn't right, you could sense it. You still didn't know what it was, but you had that bad feeling of anguish that was slowly sprouting in your heart.

Thanks to Edward and Alfred you had won the battle against Haesten, but there was no party atmosphere at Aethelfled's estate.

Everyone could feel the tension going around in your group and the cause was only one: Skade. Or at least, that's what Sihtric claimed. You all hated that witch, but the only one who still hadn't gotten rid of her was Uhtred. Because of that woman's curse you were all suffering: when Uhtred had fallen ill he had risked dying and even poor Osferth, despite having fought bravely, had been wounded in battle, but fortunately he had survived.

Sihtric and Finan wanted nothing more than to kill her, but Uhtred would listen to no reason. So the only thing you had to do was follow his orders, as you swore to him.

While Osferth rested in his room, you, Sihtric and Finan sat at a table. Sitting in front of you, Sihtric was eating with an unrelaxed expression on his face and you, worried for him, exchanged a look with Finan, who however raised his shoulders slightly, just as confused as you.

You swallowed the morsel in your mouth to reach out for his hand, before he could drink from his goblet. Sihtric looked up from his plate to you and you gave him a small smile.

"Is everything okay?"

Sihtric nodded slowly, squeezing your hand weakly.

"I'm just tired..." he only replied.

From the tone he had just used you understood that in addition to being tired he was also a little annoyed, but you didn't push the topic, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere which was already heavy.

Before you could say anything else, Uhtred entered the hall and came to sit with you, next to Sihtric.

"Where is Osferth?" he asked.

"He's sleeping" Finan replied. "As we all should do"

"I suppose we can't leave the witch with Haesten" you said, looking at your plate. "We have to go get her, don't we?"

"Again" Sihtric commented.

"We have to" Finan answered you and then looked at Uhtred. "As long as she is free you will be cursed"

"Skade is with the danes, i cannot get to her" your lord replied. "And we will not die for her"

"Death will find us regardless" commented Sihtric again, but this time giving Uhtred an annoyed look. You touched his foot from under the table, but he ignored you, still glaring at Uhtred.

"Do you want to tell me something Sihtric?" Uhtred retorted, equally unnerved by his attitude.

"No, he does not" Finan answered cautiously for him.

But Sihtric did not back down.

"Aren't too many men dead already?"

"Dying is a warrior's risk" Finan continued.

There was silence for a few seconds while you looked between the three men, hoping that the discussion had ended there.

"I will return to Ragnar" Uhtred then said. "I have to help him find peace"

"You will only find ghosts around his grave" Sihtric retorted once again.

"Sihtric stop it" you whispered and he looked at you for a split second, then looked away.

You weren't mad at him, you understood his point of view a little, but you didn't want him and Uhtred to get into an argument.

"Continue to protect Aethelfled and rest" Uhtred concluded and then stood up, while you and Finan nodded.

Uhtred headed for the door but before he could leave, Sihtric's voice rang through the hall.

"Those who serve Uhtred will not rest. Not while Skade is still free"

Uhtred stopped in his tracks, turning to look at him.

"Sihtric you're tired and you're drunk" Finan interjected again, trying to calm things down.

"Yes, i am tired" Sihtric replied, then turned to Uhtred. "Of marching from north to south, being called a traitor and not to being able to live my life in peace with my woman. And for what?"

Your heart sank when he glanced at you as he said the last words and you looked at him pityingly. Yes he was right, you too missed life in Wessex with your beloved Sihtric before Uhtred was banished and the affair with Skade had only made that whole situation worse than it already was. But you didn't even like the hatred that had arisen between him and Uhtred. Yours was a united group and you couldn't let that witch split it with her curses.

"Then leave" Uhtred replied, moving closer to him again.

"Uhtred, you truly don’t mean that" you murmured worriedly, but he ignored you, continuing to look at Sihtric.

"If you're unhappy then take your wife and leave"

Sihtric jumped up in anger and gave him a small shove backwards.

"I have fought for you!" he exclaimed.

Uhtred smirked. "You fight because you like it"

"You would let me go that easily?" Sihtric hissed.

You and Finan stood up to join them, placing yourself between them.

"Leave or stay, i do not care" Uhtred replied.

"Yes he does care, he's not serious. Now enough arguing, let us sit down" Finan said seriously, looking at them.

You took Sihtric's hand and although your touch and warmth were always enough to calm him, this time they had no effect.

"Leave or stay Sihtric Kjartansson, it's your choice" Uhtred continued, looking at him defiantly. "Make it"

Sihtric stared back, thinking for a couple of seconds about how to respond, until he tilted his head.

"Do you want to make a square Uhtred of Bebbanburg?" he asked menacingly.

"Both of you stop! Neither of you will fight" you interjected, placing your hands on Sihtric's shoulders and making him take a couple of steps back.

"There won't be any square, we. just. sleep." continued Finan. "Sleep"

Uhtred and Sihtric continued to look at each other and Finan sighed a curse, tired of the situation. Then he approached Sihtric.

"Take the prisoners to the pigs, tied up" he ordered, knowing it was best for him and Uhtred to remain separated.

Sihtric moved his gaze to your eyes as if he wanted to know your opinion and you looked at him seriously without saying anything, wanting him to understand that Finan was right. You all needed to sleep and put the fights behind you.

"Sihtric!" Uhtred's voice boomed once again and you all turned to look at him. "I will leave at dawn. But i will return... And if you are still here, i will kill you"

Your eyes widened, bringing a hand to your mouth and Sihtric stiffened. Uhtred said nothing else and turned to leave again.

"Uhtred please-" you tried to call out to him, taking a step towards him but he walked out and closed the door behind him.

You ran a hand over your face, feeling your eyes watering, but you stopped yourself from crying and turned to look at Sihtric.

Finan shook his head, looking at his friend with disappointed eyes.

"Why?" he just asked him.

But Sihtric didn't seem to be as sad and upset as you were, in fact he just got angrier at Uhtred's threat. With a wave of his arm he threw away the cup that was on the table, causing it to fall to the floor.

"He has cursed us all!" he exclaimed, looking at you and Finan, who sat back down at the table with his head in his hands.

Dagfinn, Haesten's companion whom you had taken prisoner, had witnessed the whole scene like the rest of the men and decided to interfere.

"She has cursed you" he commented, while he was busy eating with the other prisoners. "And Uhtred let her"

"Be quiet" you murmured.

"Leave him, it's your only chance" Dagfinn continued to Sihtric. "You are a dane first and foremost"

When Sihtric left the hall to take the prisoners to the pigsty, you watched him go heartbroken. There was no way in your mind that he and Uhtred had actually said those things to each other. I mean, you can understand sometimes not getting along and having different opinions, but Uhtred had threatened to kill him! How did you end up at this?

Someone placed a hand on your shoulder and when you turned you met Finan's pitying gaze.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" he asked thoughtfully and you nodded weakly.

"Do you think…" you murmured. "Do you think Uhtred was serious? Would he really kill Sihtric?"

Finan let out a small sigh, stroking your shoulder with his thumb. "Part of me doesn't want to believe it, but... We know what Uhtred is like"

"But Sihtric didn't do anything wrong" you replied worriedly. "Finan, it's not his fault it's Skade's fault. Why would Uhtred kill him? I understand that he was angry about what Sihtric said, but... B-But it's not fair!"

Finan hugged you, caressing your head and bringing it against his chest and you let yourself be lulled by his caresses. You loved Finan like he was your older brother, you protected each other and he had always been there for you in times of need, even when there were problems between you and Sihtric.

"I don't know what to do" you continued, your voice muffled by his clothes. "Would you really let Uhtred kill Sihtric? Would you let our group be destroyed in this horrible way because of the witch?"

Finan tilted his head to press a small kiss to your hair and then placed a hand on your cheek, pulling you away so he could look you in the eyes.

"Why don't you go and talk to Sihtric? You're the only one who can make him see some sense, little one, and we all know that. And when Uhtred returns we will clear up the situation once and for all. No one will kill anyone, i promise"

You nodded, closing your eyes to let out two lone tears and Finan wiped one away with his thumb.

"Thank you Finan" you said with a small smile. "We're lucky to have you here"

He smiled back and removed his hand from your face to let you walk away as he watched you walk out the door.

When you were about to reach the pigsty, you saw Sihtric walking in your direction, after he had finished binding the prisoners.

"Sihtric" you called him softly.

Sihtric froze and raised his head to look at you as you stood in front of him. You were both silent for a couple of seconds until you gave a small smile mixed with a grimace.

"You carry the smell of pigs with you" you said. "Unless it's the one of the danes'"

Sihtric smiled and then shook his head.

"Have you come to scold me?" he asked you and even if he didn't want to address you in a rude way, you clearly heard the bitterness in his tone of voice, probably because he was still angry with Uhtred.

"Oh no my love. No..." you replied immediately, shaking your head.

You reached both hands forward to take one of his and Sihtric relaxed, squeezing your hands back.

"I just want to talk to you. I understand your point of view, i know you miss our life in Coccham and i miss it too, i really do" you said trying to reassure him. "But why did you talk to Uhtred like that? Why did you get so angry?"

"You ask me why?" he asked in turn. "You ask me why i was the only one among all to have the courage to rebel against him after he did nothing but use us for a whore who only made us suffer? Is that what you ask me?"

"Sihtric, he is our Lord. We have sworn loyalty to him-"

"No. His mind is cursed and he no longer thinks. That is not the man to whom i gave my axe, do you understand?" he retorted, placing his hands on your shoulders. "The Uhtred i know wouldn't have thrown me away like i was shit and wouldn't have threatened to kill me"

You shook your head again, placing your hands on his cheeks. "He didn't mean it, he would never kill you. Uhtred... I'm sure there's a reason behind his actions, you have to trust him, like we always have"

"Do you trust him? Do you still want to serve him? After everything we have done for him?"

You reluctantly nodded and Sihtric took a step back with a grimace.

"I should have expected that you would stay on his side and not mine"

Your eyes widened as you felt your heart skip a beat.

"What? Sihtric, no-"

"You would rather listen to the words of a cursed lord than those of your own husband"

"What are you saying? Why do you think that?" you asked, taking a step towards him.

"What would you do if i asked you to come with me?" he retorted.

You fell silent for a couple of seconds, not understanding his question.

"What do you mean?"

"I no longer want to follow Uhtred's orders. I can't stay here, i want to leave"

"But... But where to? Sihtric i don't understand"

"Anywhere but here. Uhtred doesn't want me so i'll leave"

"No. My dear please, you don't really mean it" you tried to say, but he nodded.

"Yes, i do. And i want you to choose once and for all" Sihtric said, moving closer to you again. "Me or Uhtred"

You shook your head, looking at him with teary, teary eyes.

"I can't. Please don't ask me to answer this"

"You can't or you don't want to?" Sihtric hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't you want to stay with your husband?"

You lowered your head, sniffling, scared. What did you have to do? Could you really choose between the man you loved and the one you swore loyalty to for life? Of course not. But by now Sihtric was blinded by rage.

Sihtric looked at you with an almost disappointed look and took a couple of steps back.

"Just as i thought. I can't trust anyone anymore. Only the Gods" he said, turning his back to you.

Those words and the feeling that he wanted to leave forever pushed you to run to position yourself in front of him again, intent on making him reason for the last time.

"Sihtric, please listen to me. Listen to me my love" you said, looking intently into his eyes as he saw your pupils flutter. "I love you with all my heart, i trust you and you know i would follow you to the end of the world. But i also love Uhtred, the same way i love Finan and Osferth. I know you're angry, but you must not let that witch destroy everything our friendship has built"

Sihtric let out a deep breath through his nose, remaining silent to listen to you and you took one of his hands, bringing it to your chest.

"Don't ask me to choose between you and Uhtred. I don't want to lose any of you. We're family" you murmured through tears, stroking the tattoos on his fingers. "Please. Stay with us and we will solve everything. Together"

There were a few seconds of silence that were broken by the sound of someone walking nearby and the noises of the night. Then Sihtric sighed and leaned over to rest his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you against his body.

"You're the only one who will always be able to convince me. And that's why i love you" he murmured against your skin.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his body and rubbing your cheek against the soft fur he was wearing.

"Glad to hear it"

The next morning you woke up with sunlight hitting your face. You reached out beside you, believing you could touch Sihtric's body and you were surprised when you felt his side of the bed empty. But you didn't worry too much, thinking that he was already with the others. You stood up and after getting dressed you went down to the hall to eat something, joining Finan and Osferth who were already sitting at the table with Aethelfled.

"Good morning" you said with a smile, not noticing the worried looks your companions exchanged.

The princess smiled at you, greeting you in return and you sat down in front of her, next to Finan.

"How are you Osferth? Are you feeling better?" you asked, turning to the young monk, who nodded slowly.

"Um, yes thank you. Much better than yesterday"

"That's good. Have you guys seen Sihtric? I thought he was with you" you asked then.

Finan put down the piece of bread he was chewing and looked into your eyes.

"Sweetheart" he called to you cautiously. "Sihtric is gone"

You looked at him in silence, your brain still busy registering his words. "What do you mean?"

"He left with the prisoners. This night" Osferth replied this time, sounding sad and disappointed at what your husband had done. "He betrayed us"

You looked between the two of them and Aethelfled who tried to give you a reassuring smile, but that wasn't enough to calm the doubts and confusion that were clouding your mind.

"What? It-It's impossible, no..." you replied, shaking your head. "Why he would betray us, i don't understand. I-I, i talked to him Finan, you know that, right? We talked, i told him we would help him and he told me he wouldn't leave. No, no..."

Finan looked at you with pity and you lowered your head, seeing a couple of tears that you didn't even realize you were shedding fall onto your plate.

"Why did he do it?" you murmured, sniffling.

You balled your hands into fists above your thighs and Finan leaned in to rub his palm on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. But now it was all useless. You trusted Sihtric and he had taken advantage of your moment of weakness to escape without even saying goodbye. You had lost your husband and your companions had lost a friend. And the pain caused by betrayal burned more than that of death in battle.

"Hey"

You lifted your head, seeing Osferth sit down next to you. Around you, Uhtred's men chatted and laughed among themselves, and Finan played dice with them. You were watching them in silence, happy that at least they were enjoying their stay at Aethelfled's estate.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, looking at you with the usual worry lingering in his eyes.

You nodded, smiling slightly but didn't say anything. Your mind had been troubled since the day Sihtric left and you didn't know what to do or think anymore.

"How about we have a drink to relax?" continued the monk. "And we can also have our new slave serve us"

You stared at him confused by his words, but when you noticed Finan approaching you with two cups of beer that he handed you, you smiled amusedly. You and Osferth clashed your beers in a toast, while Finan leaned towards the window to look out. Osferth swallowed the drink he was taking to look at him.

"What is it?" he asked and you also turned to Finan.

"Better to say who it is" replied the other with a smile, and then moved away from the window and headed towards the door.

The doors flew open and Uhtred entered. You and Osferth stood up, also happy with his return, while Finan walked towards him.

"You're back" the Irishman said as he hugged him with a smile and Uhtred hugged him back.

"I'm back"

The two broke away and Uhtred placed a hand on Finan's shoulder.

"Sihtric?" he asked.

"He has left. A long time ago" Finan answered. "Along with the prisoners, Lord"

Uhtred nodded and after giving him a couple of pats on the shoulder he also noticed your and Osferth's presence.

"Osferth" he called, walking in your direction.

"Lord"

"You're still alive" Uhtred said in a teasing tone and Osferth smiled.

"Of course Lord"

The two hugged and then Uhtred turned to you, calling your name.

"I'm glad you're back, Lord" you murmured, moving closer to him. Uhtred gave you a smile that seemed more made out of pity and hugged you. You tightened your arms around his body and he caressed your back a couple of times, then pulled away and looked you in the eyes.

"I'm sorry about Sihtric" he murmured, though those near you could still hear him. "How are you?"

You shrugged with a sigh. "I can't say that i didn't suffer from his choice, like everyone else here. My heart is broken in half. But i try not to give in to the pain and move forward"

Uhtred nodded and in the meantime Aethelfled also joined you in the hall, having learned of Uhtred's return. And when their eyes met they smiled at each other.

Uhtred had to take Skade back. But entering the camp of the danes, who were more than two thousand men in the service of Cnut, Brida, Haesten and Bloodhair, was impossible, practically suicide. But Uhtred was no fool and you were proud to have sworn your sword to a man of his valor.

Luck, or fate and the Gods to some, came your way when you stopped at the village of Crugland, where the Mercians (or buttered bishops as Finan said) who lived there wanted to keep you trapped as bait for the danes. But after you had rid yourself of Aethelfled's traitors you went in the direction of the danes' camp, knowing that some of them would leave thanks to your diversion.

"Uhtred"

You rode your horse closer to Uhtred's, who was trotting at the head of the group and he turned to face you.

"I was thinking…" you murmured and he had no trouble hearing the tone of concern decorating your voice. "Do you think we will meet Sihtric when we enter the camp?"

"Very likely, because he knows i want Skade back" Uhtred nodded, then looked forward again.

You looked down at your horse's mane and tightened your grip on the bridle. You wanted to ask him something else but you didn't have the courage.

"You're afraid i'll kill him as soon as i see him, aren't you?" Uhtred asked you and you looked back at him with wide eyes. It was like he read your mind.

Uhtred let out a deep breath from his chest, as if he was still pondering something.

"Would you really do that?" you murmured. "Would you kill him?"

Uhtred smiled, turning to you.

"You still care about him, despite what he did"

You remained silent for a couple of seconds, thinking about what to answer him and you ran your tongue over your lips.

"When i fight in battle i always try to kill my enemies with the first blow, so as not to make them suffer. Because i don't wish the worst pain even on my greatest enemy. And Sihtric is no different. He is still my husband, but even if should our paths part forever, i will worry about him until i die"

"And tell me, would you defend him from my sword?" Uhtred asked you seriously and you looked at him in surprise. "You stayed with me and i appreciate that. But if he and i found ourselves face to face dueling, what would you do? Would you try to save him from his fate?"

His words caught you off guard and for the second time you found yourself with a dry mouth. Your heart beat faster knowing that Uhtred was right. You had to make a choice. A choice from which this time you couldn't back out. Sihtric or Uhtred?

"In all honesty i still don't know, Lord” you said. "I guess we'll find out about that once he's with us"

You looked back at the horizon, where the sun was slowly starting to set. Inside your brain there was a tornado of thoughts and doubts that never stopped. Uhtred, however, managed to keep himself from smiling.

There were a few hours left before darkness arrived and you, Uhtred and the others were hiding in the trees near the camp, waiting for the right moment to infiltrate.

"Someone is coming" Finan whispered, pulling out a dagger. Osferth remained kneeling at your feet, while you and Uhtred clasped your hands on the hilts of your swords, ready to attack.

"It's Sihtric" Osferth muttered and your eyes widened.

You felt your heart skip a beat and exchanged a look with Finan, while Uhtred took up his sword.

And Osferth was right. It was him, it was Sihtric.

When you saw your husband emerge from the branches your first instinct was to go to him, but Uhtred beat you to it and took a step towards him.

"Do you have something to tell me?" he asked menacingly. Sihtric looked him in the eyes and nodded.

"I do" he replied before drawing his sword and pointing it at your lord. "Yield to me"

You expected one of the two to attack the other and you weren't ready to know what you would had to do, who you would've defended. But much to your surprise and confusion, Uhtred raised his arms and let his sword slip from his hand. A second later, Sihtric planted his sword on the ground and approached Uhtred to embrace him. They both laughed, while you all looked at them in shock.

"You fooled us!" Osferth said with a surprised smile, reaching back to touch Finan's leg. "They fooled us! Why?"

Uhtred and Sihtric stepped away from each other, while the monk and Finan approached your husband. You, on the other hand, remained motionless on your spot and stared at him.

"You had to believe it for the others to believe it too" Uhtred replied.

"I knew it" said Finan to Sihtric.

"No, you did not. Was i good?" your husband replied with a smirk, then turning back to Uhtred.

"A little" said the other with a wave of his hand.

"I'm telling you i knew it" continued Finan and then hugged his friend, followed by Osferth who did the same.

At that moment you also decided to approach them and Sihtric finally laid his gaze on you. It was in that precise moment that you saw his mismatched eyes fill with joy and love, two completely different eyes than the ones full of anger he had on the night of the "betrayal". That was the Sihtric you could recognize.

"My love" he said with a relieved smile, stretching his arms out towards you.

You stepped towards him, but just before you could hug him you had a second of hesitation. You quickly looked over his shoulder at Finan and Osferth, who gave you two reassuring smiles and so you took them as signs to wrap your arms around your husband's body. When your cheek came to rest on his warm, fur-covered clothes, you let out a breath of relief from your nose as he pressed his hands on your hips to pull you towards him.

"I missed you" Sihtric murmured.

"I missed you too"

You felt his fingers caress your body as he tilted his head to press a kiss to your hair. You remained in that position for a few seconds and while he seemed to be calm, you felt a strange sensation begin to invade your body.

"I thought you were angry with me" Sihtric murmured with a chuckle, making the others smile as well.

At those words you suddenly detached yourself from his body and punched him on the arm, a gesture at which everyone's eyes widened, taken aback.

"Ow!" Sihtric exclaimed in surprise. "Why did you hit me?"

"Angry? You thought i was just angry with you??" you asked, frowning at him.

"Honey what-" he tried to ask you but you cut him off.

"Do you have any idea what i've been through, Sihtric Kjartansson?" you asked angrily again, pointing a finger at his chest. "Do you have any idea how i've felt these days, thinking you betrayed us? Thinking you hated us? Osferth, tell him"

Osferth jumped, not expecting to be involved, while Uhtred and Finan exchanged looks like two people enjoying a show.

"U-Um, you felt bad-"

"Bad, yes! That's how i felt!" you spoke in Osferth's place, continuing your speech. "I felt very bad, Sihtric. I wasn't just mad, i was also sad and so fucking disappointed. You left without saying anything and i thought you had lost faith in me"

You stepped back and turned your back to him, not wanting him to see how you were rubbing a hand over your eyes to keep the tears from coming out.

"I-I thought you didn't love me anymore, i thought... I thought i had lost you forever..."

Sihtric's gaze softened when he saw your shoulders move with small spasms in the throes of sobs and he slowly approached you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, making you turn towards him and you let him.

"My love, look at me" he said softly, placing both hands on your wet cheeks so he could look into your eyes.

Oh, how you missed feeling his palms on your face.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through this" he said, trying to wipe the tears from your cheeks. "I want you to know that i've thought about you day and night since i left. There were never any secrets between you and me and having to keep the truth of the plan hidden from you destroyed me. I felt so guilty for leaving you alone to suffer, believe me. I didn't mean a single word of what i said to you that night, i never doubted you and your loyalty. And i will never stop loving you. Never. Understood?"

You nodded and sniffled as Sihtric leaned in to give you a long kiss on the forehead, while thanks to his comforting words you felt all the doubts that had invaded your head dissolve like fog.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked when he pulled away from your skin.

What a stupid question, of course you forgave him, you already had. And how could you not when he was looking at you with that pleading look of a guilty man?

So you raised your hands to wrap them around his wrists and nodded once again, smiling heartily.

"Of course i forgive you"

Sihtric smiled back and without wasting time he attached his lips to yours. You both closed your eyes, enjoying that kiss that sealed the renewal of your love and that would never fade.

When you pulled away you punched him again on the other arm and he looked at you offended.

"And what was that for??" he asked with wide eyes.

You pointed a finger at him, then crossed your arms and looked at him with a fake serious look.

"You stupid. Play another jest like that on me and next time i'll be the one that leaves you. Am i clear?"

Sihtric nodded with an amused smile and the others chuckled too.

"Yes my Lady"

Then you turned to Uhtred.

"I'll punch you too later Uhtred" you said and he looked at you in surprise.

"Me? What did i do?"

"Well, i think that this ingenious plan wasn't just my husband's idea, right?"

And while Uhtred looked at you with an embarrassed smile, Sihtric, Finan and Osferth laughed.

off topic but I HATE WHEN PEOPLE SHIP SIHTRIC AND SKADE!!!!! LIKE, I'M SORRY DID WE WATCH THE SAME SHOW???

"ThE cHeMisTRy BeTwEeN tHeM wAs So sTRonG!"

GIRL BFFR🤡

I haven't read the books, but in the serie they only spoke like once or twice in all the season and she never showed any interest in him. And he fucking despised her!!! He was clearly scared of her and he just wanted to kill her, like everyone else!!

Is it just me??? Please, i can't be the only one who saw it.

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whitedarkmoonflower · 2 days ago

Text

OMG! Where do you get all those ideas? I loved it, loved it, loved it!

So Maeve likes Bluey? and Sihtric holds a Masters of Science in Kinesiology? 🤣🤣 Poor Osferth - they always need to tease him and Uhtred wanting 6 children that Gisela expects him to give birth himself - I just couldn't stop giggling.

What? Finan STOLE A CAR 🤣🤣🤣

You so masterly intertwine all those small side stories and details in the main story, making it so real and vivid. It's ingenious!

Stinky Dog Pt IV

Genre: Fan Fiction (The Last Kingdom) Pairing: Finan/OFC Warnings: slight hand kink, possible sexual content – pnv, oral, light spanking Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: So far, this is the longest part at nearly 10k words. I apologise for the length, no I don't.

Catch Up Here

Allowing Finan into the little world that Anya had painstakingly worked to create for herself and Eloise had been without hesitation and with much respect. He was always cautious, in regards to the little girl. Never wanting to overstep a boundary and insuring that Anya knew he was all in. Anya had been on her own so long, it was going to take some time for her to accept that Finan wanted to work with her, not hurt her. She'd realized it and had made a promise to herself : Finan was right.

It was okay to let him take care of her, from time to time, once in a while. Well maybe, when she asked.

She still owed him a date, although it seemed to prove impossible at this rate. Which is why Anya was excited they were heading for the park tomorrow afternoon. Between Eloise being sick, then Anya being sick, and Finan's work they had been reduced to texting and calls once more.

A few nights, Anya had laid awake, her phone on the night stand after Finan had hung up. Saying goodnight, before crashing in his own bed. Her mind would take an adventure, most times it went straight back to that smooth Irish accent, the one which curled her toes, and sent an army of butterflies soaring through her. A couple of nights it had raced back to the night she'd sat on his counter in her lacy knickers, practically bearing everything. Anya could feel her temperature rise and her cheeks light on fire, when she thought of his hands on her. Those rough, callused, thick hands. Uhh. The feel of the cool metal from his rings, how they had sent shiver through her warm skin.

Had Isabella not called, had Eloise not taken sick.

Anya squeezed her eyes shut, taking a slow, deep breath.

In that moment, her hands on his chest, she could still feel his slightly sweaty skin and chest hair under her touch. Clenching her hands into a fist, Anya groaned. How his hair had felt, when she tugged it raking her nails on his scalp, and the moans. Gods, his moan. Anya shifted around under her blanket, growing ever warmer, her hands sliding down her body. How she wanted to know what his thighs felt like under her, as she sat straddling his hips. Or how sinful his beard would feel, anywhere his lips went on her body.

Praying that Eloise would stay in her own bed tonight, she'd developed a habit of scooting down the hall, since she'd been sick. Demanding to finish the night taking up Anya's bed.

Her mind was quick to go back to Finan. His eyes. His smile. Again, that voice. How his accent became even thicker the more aroused he got, how much more aroused she got by the accent had been almost comical. Anya felt like a teenager, trying to sneak around. Her hand pushed aside her boring old mom knickers, while she touched her most sensitive spots, she closed her eyes and took another deep breath. All she wanted was to feel good in bed, to feel exited by a gorgeous man, maybe even loved.

A little too late to call, without worrying Finan; Anya wanted to hear his voice. Would it be inappropriate to ask him to help her, given her current state? To hear him tell her that she was such a good girl, his good girl. Building the release, she gasped quietly. It had been so long taking care of her own needs, there was no long slow session, it was usually over as quickly as she started. Somewhat feeling a release, there was always a lack luster.

Sighing, she pulled her knickers back into place, her heart aching. Finan had left his presence on her body known and all she wanted was to touch him, to explore every inch, and to take whatever that man was willing to let her have. Rolling over, Anya bunched her pillow under her head. A soft knock on the door, there it was. Rolling back over, Anya watched the bedroom door crack open the tiniest bit, a little voice whispering for her “mummy.”

“Come on, El. Climb in.” Pushing the corner of the blanket back, Anya moved over, at least tonight the knock didn't come in the middle of deeply inappropriate thoughts about Finan.

Eloise had slept like a rock, unfortunate for Anya, her daughter became a gymnast in her sleep. A foot in the back of her rib all night was less than pleasant. The things one did for their children. Waking to find she had been on Finan's mind, she smiled at the text message. Asking her if Maeve should wear her pink bow or blue tutu to the park this afternoon.

Finan had tossed and turned most of the night, at the end of the bed, Maeve groaned and huffed. She could have went to her bed on the floor at any point. She chose to stay on her blanket. Every potential scenario of today had ran through his mind at least twice. Arriving at the park, what if Eloise really didn't like him? What if she liked him, but not enough? What if she still thought he was a stinky man with a beard? Okay, she had never said that, and it was all in his head, but there was a possibility.

What did one talk about with a six year old?

What if Anya felt he and Eloise weren't compatible?

If she liked Maeve more than him, could they work on building a relationship from that?

Looking at Maeve, who was quietly sitting by the door – since Finan had picked up the truck keys – he groaned. Checking his pockets to make sure he had everything. Ball, leash, Maeve's snacks, water...Shoes. He needed shoes.

Finan grumbled, grabbing his shoes and shoving his feet in. He hadn't been this nervous to take Anya out. They were going to the park. He could do that. He went to the park with Maeve all the time.

“You need to help me out today,” Finan clipped one of the thirteen purple leashes on Maeve's collar, “I need ya to win over the wee one for me, but tone it down. I need her to at least like me a little. I really like her mom, I know that you do too, and we can make this work.”

Anya would be at least ten minutes early, as she always was. She had an advantage, the park was less than a ten minute walk from her apartment. Insisting Finan park in her second space, saving him time trying to get one near the park. The early summer weather was warm, no sign of a breeze, and Anya was excited to be outside. Eloise walked along, kicking at tiny stones as they went. She'd been excited about the park, her excitement growing when Anya informed her that Maeve, the dog from the pet shop, would be joining them.

She watched Eloise shuffle her feet, her pony tail lopsided, maybe Anya should have waited to finish her daughter's hair, before telling her the news about Maeve. Eloise had bounced around so much, asking a hundred questions at once about the dog.

“We're early, why don't you go play.” Anya placed her bag on an empty bench. For a Saturday, the park was repetitively quiet. “I'll call you, when Maeve and Finan arrive.”

Off she ran.

Anya watched Eloise climb the playground structure, effortlessly, her little legs moved her to the top. Sitting there for a few minutes, Anya saw her daughter talking with a little boy who sat on the very top. They seemed content to sit and watch the world go by, laughing and pointing at a bird in the distance. Anya smoothed her hands over her jeans, scanning the outline of the park for that familiar figure.

Already, the two times he had met Eloise; Finan had been so good with her. He was patient and kind. Anya felt her body get taken over by that warm and fuzzy feeling, the one that would creep in when you'd watched a cute puppy video online. Finan was funny and thoughtful, he took notice to the little details, and he always made sure those in his company were comfortable.

In the moments that Anya had witnessed, Finan was excellent with kids. He was a jokester and loved to make people laugh. Eloise would immediately like that about him. He was collected under pressure, Anya had learned first hand. Without hesitation, he had jumped head first the night Eloise had taken sick.

“What ya thinking about?” Stooping over behind Anya, Finan's voice rasped in her ear.

“Finan.” Anya had been miles away, watching Eloise and thinking. “Oh my god.”

“I didn't mean to scare ya, doll.” He chuckled, instructing Maeve to sit.

“It's fine, I was just watching Eloise.” Anya found her daughter's attention was still on the little boy that she'd been playing with. “I'm glad you made it, nice bow Maeve.” she complimented the dog, Finan explained the tutu got in the way of fetch, as Anya waved at Eloise calling her name.

Running over, Eloise slowed her pace, when she spotted the shepherd and the tall bearded man. His sunglasses hid his eyes and his beard made him look kind of like a grizzly bear, at least the ones Eloise had saw on that one show that she and her sitter had watched. Looking at her feet, her pink shoes matched Maeve's pink bow. She liked that, Eloise grabbed her mother's hand.

“For you,” Finan handed Anya the large bouquet of colourful daises, “and for you.” He held out a single yellow daisy for Eloise. Shyly taking the flower, Eloise smiled. It was very pretty.

“Thank you,” Anya cooed, looking over the bouquet. “Finan, you didn't...”

“No, do not start. I was not about to come empty handed. You know that.”

“Eloise, has been so excited to see Maeve.” Anya ran her hand over Eloise's hair, the little girl nodded excitedly. “And,” she gestured to Finan, “this is Maeve's dad. Finan. He's a very good friend of mine.”

Anya had pieced together that Eloise hadn't remembered much of Finan, from the night they had brought her home. Assuming it was due to not feeling well, Anya hadn't pressed it.

Wide eyed, Eloise looked at Anya. “Did you meet him at school? Like I did Gracie?”

“Uh, no. I met him, because he and Maeve come into my work.” Anya explained, sitting her flowers down on the bench, taking Eloise's to set aside for her.

“Do you play at recess together?”

“No, but sometimes we have coffee together.” Answering the next question, Anya glanced at Finan. He nodded quietly.

“Okay.” Eloise shrugged watching Maeve sit at Finan's side. “Can I play with Maeve?”

“Absolutely. Let's go.” Finan unclipped Maeve's leash, taking the ball from his pocket. “Do you want to throw the ball?”

“Uhuh,” Eloise took the orange ball, throwing it as hard as she could. The ball fizzled a few feet away, the shepherd happily bouncing towards it. Grabbing it, Maeve immediately brought it back, dropping the wet ball. “Ew. It's gross.”

“It's gross?” Finan picked up the ball, wiping it on the inside of his shirt, offering it back to Eloise. “What about now?”

“Ew, my mummy says it's gross to use your shirt to wipe stuff. Use a towel.”

“I will remember that,” taking the advice, Finan threw the ball for Maeve. Eloise watched the ball soar across the open space, the dog running as fast as she could to find it, “anything else she says that I should know about?”

“Um,” Eloise twirled around, her arms out at her side, “we shouldn't pick our nose.”

“Solid advice.” Picking up the ball that Maeve dropped at his feet, Finan offered it to Eloise. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, the little girl shook her head. Throwing the ball once more, Finan watched Maeve chase it across the grass. “What's your favourite cartoon?”

Eloise eyed Finan in an almost comical manner. He was trying to think of anything to say.

“Maeve really likes Bluey.”

“Really?” Eloise stopped spinning to look at the bearded man. Finan nodded. “I do too! Does Maeve like Bingo or Muffin best? I like Bingo, but my mummy likes Muffin.”

“Uh, Bingo?” Finan glanced at Anya, a slight shrug with his answer. “She likes Bingo best.”

“Did Maeve tell you that? Do you talk to your dog? Can dogs talk?”

“Maeve and I talk all the time, she's my best friend.” Finan stooped to pick up the ball, once again. Anya slightly tilted her head, her gaze moving with his body. He had to wear those jeans, god bless him. “I don't know if dogs can talk, but I think she understands me.”

“I thought my mummy was your best friend? Like me and Gracie.” Sitting in the grass, Eloise picked at a few tiny purple flowers.

“Well,” Finan cleared his throat, “she is certainly one of my closest friends.”

“What is Maeve's favourite flower?” Cross legged, Eloise looked at Maeve, who dropped the ball beside her, scooting away from the ball she watched the dog intently.

“Dog Flower.” Finan laughed at his own attempt at the joke. Anya snorted and Eloise shrugged. “What's your favourite flower?”

“I like daisies. But I also like purple flowers with white spots, and I like the really tall ones. You know, the ones taller than you. They're yellow.” Eloise explained her taste as casually as a six year old would.

“Sunflowers.” Finan smiled, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head. “The big tall ones, are sunflowers. The purple with the spots are called the night sky petunia. I really like those ones, too.”

“Hey El,” Anya called Eloise to her. Sitting on the bench a few feet away, she held out her hand for Eloise, “Finan works with flowers. How cool is that?”

“Like that place where we got my teacher her flowers?” Eloise leaned against Anya's legs.

“No, he plants and grows them for people in their yard. He plants trees, too.” Anya adjusted Eloise's pony tail, it had shaken loose in all of her spinning around. “He builds fences and ponds.”

“Does he have ducks?”

“I do not have ducks.” Answering the question, Finan hummed. “Maybe, once I put a pond in my yard some ducks will decide to stop over?”

“Like a duck sleep over? Will they be your ducks?”

“No, they'd be wild ducks, who just need a place to rest. Like a duck hotel.”

Finan was following the conversation with ease, as Eloise switched from one topic to the next. Anya kissed Eoise's cheek and told her to go play for a little bit, before they had to go get lunch. Maeve was stretched out on the grass by the bench, her ball at her feet, taking a break from collecting the ball that her her human kept throwing. Running to the swings, of course Anya should have known – they were Eloise's favourite, the little girl stopped and paused. A patch of wet grass had caught her attention, before Anya could utter the words, Eloise was splashing happily in the water.

“I swear to god, I am not raising her to be feral.”

“Feral women are the future, doll.” Finan shrugged it off. Sitting on the bench, he kicked his feet out. “More women should be feral.”

“Thank you.” Nudging Finan with her elbow, Anya smiled sweetly. “I know that sometimes kids are a handful. It's not always easy getting to know them.”

“I think we had a fantastic bonding session.”

Anya chuckled, locking her arm around Finan's she scooted over to let her shoulder rest against his. “She likes you. If she didn't, then she wouldn't be talking to you.”

“I'm glad that she's comfortable.”

“Me too.” Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she reminisced. “I've been on a few dates, since having her, but nobody was ever good enough to introduce.”

“Because of their weird fetishes?” Whispering for only Anya to hear, Finan chuckled. Smacking him in the chest, Anya rolled her eyes. Oh how he loved to see her roll those gorgeous green eyes at his stupid jokes.

“Stop.” She hissed, trying to hide her giggles. “I'm trying to be serious.”

“I know, doll.” Finan rubbed his hand up and down her arm. Watching Eloise on the swings a few feet away. “I am honoured that you wanted me to officially meet her. She's an extension of you and that's a beautiful thing.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Always knowing what to say. Do you sit around practicing this in a mirror?” Her smile and tone told Finan that she was having another go at him, goading him playfully.

“You have been to my place, you've seen how many mirrors I have.” Finan couldn't help but take the bait. He loved to torment her, something about her laugh and knowing he was the reason for it drove him wild.

“I still haven't seen your full place.”

“What else is there to see? You've seen the kitchen, the family room, and most importantly you've sat on my big deck. I recall you seemed to really enjoy my big deck.”

“Finan.” Anya squealed in a burst of laughter. The more they got to know one another, the more confident Finan seemed to grow. His stammering awkwardness had been adorable, although Anya was growing fond of him either way. “We are in the park!”

“So? I am sure these people have seen a deck. Most houses these days come with one.”

“You are awful. Did you know that? You are a very bad influence. I'm not sure I want my kid around you anymore.” Anya scrunched her nose at him, sticking out her tongue. Quickly darting his tongue out, Finan stuck it against the tip of her nose, causing Anya to pull back with another laugh. “Stop it.”

“I will never stop teasing you.”

“I don't think I want you to.” Looking at him, Anya's grin was ear to ear.

Another moment where all he wanted was to kiss her until they were fighting for air. Finan took a deep breath, redirecting his focus. Maeve whimpered at his feet, laying in the grass. Finan glanced at the shepherd with a smile. His gaze finding Eloise once more.

“Seriously, doll. Any time you want to come over, I will always have you.”

“Hmm, kids sometimes make it difficult.” Anya's eyes were wide. “As we have learned.”

“Stomach flus happen, doll.” Finan kissed the back of her hand. Sure, he would have loved to ignore the phone, to follow through with their actions, seeing where the kitchen would have led them. Had he ignored the call, Finan would have felt like the world's biggest jerk for ignoring a sick child.

“Does it make me a bad mom, because sometimes all I want is a weekend away? I love Eloise to death, she is my absolute heart, but I just...” Anya sighed, shrugging. “I am a thirty three year old woman, there are things that I want to do without my kid around.”

“Say the word and I will find someone to watch her. Hell, Maeve and I will even take her any time you need us to.” Finan kissed her temple, “I know that you love her, you're not a bad mother.”

“What I wouldn't give for one weekend, just one. I don't even know what I'd do. Find a hotel somewhere and sleep? Drink an entire bottle of wine by myself? Pee without having to fix a toy at the same time.” She chuckled, Anya felt she was being selfish.

“We could go away.” Finan tossed the idea out there. “We could find a hotel and sleep. I'd help drink the entire bottle of wine, but I would still require you to fix the remote while you pee. I can never figure out those hotel remotes.”

“I appreciate that, those hotel remotes are the worst.” Anya smirked. She knew that in his own way, Finan was trying to help. At this rate, Eloise would be in college, before she got that weekend.

Clearing his throat, Finan clicked his tongue. “I know it's not a weekend away, but I can offer you a night out with some adult company. Not just my company, either.”

“Oh?”

“Every second Wednesday, my friends and I, Osferth included, get together for dinner.” Finan explained, his hand covering Anya's, his fingers lacing with hers he smiled at the feeling. “Gisela, wants you to come If you want.”

“Really?”

“I think she and Eadith are feeling out numbered.” Finan squeezed her hand gently. “If you do not want to come with us, everybody will absolutely understand.”

Anya smiled, her hand resting in Finan's sent her heart racing. His callused hands were always so gentle. “Let me ask Eloise's sitter and I will let you know. If she can stay later, then absolutely I will go.”

“I will tell Gisela that it's a strong maybe?”

“Yes, it is a very strong, almost yes, but maybe.” Anya kissed his cheek.

Eloise was soon to cave, dragging herself from the swings, she trudged across the park. Leaning into Anya's legs, she sighed dramatically. Pulling Eloise onto her lap, Anya hugged her arms around her daughter, kissing her cheek. “What's going on, El?”

“I'm hungry.” Eloise mumbled, watching Maeve who was stretched out by Finan's feet.

“Then we should go get lunch?” Anya kissed her cheek again. “Hmm?” Lightly tickling Eloise's sides, the little girl giggled and nodded. “Do you think Maeve and Finan should come with us?”

“Um,” Eloise glanced at Maeve. “I don't think dogs eat what we do, mummy.”

“I have her food with us.” Finan reassured Eloise with a grin.

“What do you say, El?” Anya raised her brow, waiting for her daughter's answer.

Eloise smirked and then nodded. “Can Maeve sit next to me?”

Finan gave her a slight smile. “Do you think it would be okay with your ma, instead of lunch we went for...” he paused, looking at Anya with a wide smirk, “ice cream?”

Before Eloise could erupt into a fit of begging, Anya agreed. She had agreed last night, when Finan had asked, but Eloise didn't need to know that this was planned.

To say Eloise was thrilled with an ice cream would be an understatement. She'd practically vibrated the whole way there, bouncing and talking about all of her favourite things when it came to ice cream. Maeve bounced on her leash, as eager as the little girl. Finan laughed liked a mad man, when Maeve had taken her scoop of vanilla in one bite, promptly shaking her head as the cold got a bit too much. Anya couldn't help laughing herself, as the shepherd began licking Eloise's face, her ice cream covered tongue leaving a sticky trail behind on the little girl. Eloise squealed and closed her eyes, trying to save her ice cream from the dog.

“Stop it, you stinky dog.” Eloise giggled playfully pushing Maeve away from her cone of strawberry.

“Maeve.” Finan called the dog, a small bump on the leash, and she sat at his feet. Eloise blew out a breath, getting a few feet away to eat in peace.

“She's really having fun. Thank you.” Anya stood with Finan, allowing Maeve to have the tail end of her dried cone.

“Ice cream makes it all better.” Finan shrugged, smiling, Anya could see the crinkles of his eyes faintly through his sunglasses. “Thank you, for agreeing to do this. She's a lot of fun.”

“She can be fun, but she can be a pain.” Anya rested her forehead on his shoulder. “So a month huh?”

“A whole month.” Finan kissed the top of her head, checking to make sure he didn't get ice cream in her hair. “It's been a great month.”

Finan had felt more happiness in the last month, than he had in the last ten years. If Anya was willing, he'd carry this on forever. A bit soon to think, seriously, about forever. Maybe. Possibly? Oh hell, he was already planning on what their grandkids would call him. Okay, maybe a bit too far. He was favouring the sound of Pop-Pops.

Monday morning, Finan had stopped in to bring Anya coffee and another one of those croissants that she had fallen in love with. He was coming into the pet shop, when his job gave him enough time, and Anya was noticing the absence. She had Finan present in her life, outside of work, but she missed his light banter and charm during those hours.

Tuesday, Anya knew that Finan was in the office, as he had sent her at least ten texts griping about paper work and how Hild being sick for two days was killing him. Around lunch time, she had asked if he had any plans. Insisting that he was working through lunch, chained to Hild's computer, he told Anya that he would call her later. Much to Finan's delighted surprise, half an hour later Anya was standing in the middle of the office, her black picnic basket in hand.

Wednesday as Anya was readying to head out, the bell above the door jingled. The tall, handsome Irishman strode through the door, he'd knocked off early enough to see Anya before heading home to shower and change. He would be with her in a few hours, but he had waited all day to see her, besides he had to grab a few things for Maeve.

“Hey Finan.” She greeted him with the biggest smile. “Two minutes and I can go.”

“Take your time, doll.” He moved off in the direction of Maeve's favourite dog food and treats.

Gathering her things from the back, Anya watched quietly as Finan moved around the store. A bag of dog food over his shoulder, he stood pondering which toy was going to be Maeve's new favourite. Enough standing around gawking, although Anya would stand all day watching Finan. Pushing by, her shoulder bumping into him, she looked back, giving him a wink. Satisfied with his choice, Finan followed Anya to the front.

“I see Maeve is going to be rather happy, when you get home.” Looking over the items he had placed down, she mused at the fairly large stuffed dog toy.

“Need a peace offering.” Finan replied, giving her a peck on the lips. Anya blushed and the younger man taking over for the day raised his brows, not his business. “She wanted to go to work with me today, but I wasn't in the office.”

“And now you're going home, just to leave her again?” Anya faked a gasp, thanking her co-worker, before grabbing the bag of treats and the stuffed giraffe for Finan. “She's going to be calling protection services while we're out to dinner.”

Holding the door for Finan, she smiled as the early evening sun met her face. It was finally warm enough, summer well on it's way by now. Their steps matching as they approached the truck, chatting about the small parts of their day. Maeve's purchases safely in the back seat, Finan shut the door turning to face Anya. He had checked his watch practically every hour, counting down until he could leave to see her. Stepping forward, Anya wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head to look slightly up at him.

“I will see you in a few hours?” Her smile was better than anything Finan had witnessed today.

“You most certainly will.” He nodded, his lips grazing hers in such an innocent way. “Why don't you come home with me now?”

“Because I need to go home and see El. I opened and was here before she was even awake.” Anya countered. “Besides, I want to change.”

“Those are both very excellent reasons.” Finan smiled, kissing her again. Anya wrapped her arms tighter around him. He smelled like mowed grass and fuel. Another sweet kiss and Anya let go of her handsome Irishman. “Let me walk you to the car, I'll meet around six.”

“Six it is.” Anya nodded, taking his hand and leading the way to her red i20. “See you soon.” She unlocked the car, one last kiss. God she could do that forever.

Finan smiled, “Tell Eloise that I said hello. I will see you in a few hours. Now go on, or we'll still be standing here.” He gently shut the door for her, a final wave and Anya was off.

Finan could not get home fast enough, Maeve was at the door, as always. Waiting eagerly for her run, tonight it was more of a frisbee session in the back garden. He kept an eye on his watch, counting down until he saw Anya. Seeing Anya less than an hour ago and she was already back to clouding his mind. Barking, Maeve pawed at his leg, demanding he take the frisbee from her to throw again Finan chuckled, taking the bite marked disc. Tossing it, Maeve excitedly ran and jumped up enough to catch the pink disc.

“I know that you're not keen on my leaving again, so soon.” Finan spoke to the dog, scratching her neck as he took the frisbee once more. “I'm sorry, my queen. I promise, you are still and always will be my number one. But I think I'm in love.”

In love.

Finan held the words close, only confessing his feelings wisely to Maeve at this point. The shepherd would never judge him or tell him that it was too soon. Instead she barked louder at him, insisting he throw the disc for her once more before getting ready to leave her for his human companion.

Getting off work at the end of the day, going home to Maeve had been one of the best parts in Finan's life for the last five years. Every night, Maeve would be waiting to hear about his day and to just let him be. She kept him company. He loved his dog. Over the years there had been dates, but nobody worth pursuing beyond a night or two. Certainly nobody he could imagine on the daily in his home, living life with him and Maeve – until he'd met Anya.

Anya, she looked fantastic when Finan caught sight of her waiting by the exit of the train station. He'd tried to talk her into letting him meet at her place to go together, but she insisted if Eloise saw him then they may end up changing plans. The little girl had talked all week about Maeve and how funny Finan was. He had won her over with the ice cream for lunch.

If they'd changed their plans for dinner with Eloise; Finan knew his friends would have supported that. Too bad Anya was not going to risk losing her chance on finally meeting the people who meant the most to Finan.

“There is Uhtred.” Finan's arm around her waist, he guided Anya towards the man at the table.

“Finan.” Uhtred could be heard over the commotion of the busy pub. At the end of the room sat a man with long dark hair tied back, his arms out stretched and a smile on his face. Standing to greet them, Finan knew it was to impress Anya more than anything, Uhtred grabbed Finan in a hug. “And you must be Anya.” Uhtred smiled, kissing her cheek.

“Why are you always the first one here?” Finan took Anya's jacket, pulling a chair out for her, placing her jacket on the back of his chair.

“I leave straight from work.” Uhtred laughed. “Gisela, my fiancee, is on her way.” he leaned over to Anya. “Finan, pint? Anya?”

“Whatever is on tap?”

“I like her.” Standing, Uhtred excused himself to make a run to the bar.

“Comfortable?” Finan whispered, his chin resting on her shoulder as they sat waiting for Uhtred. Anya nodded. “You keep shivering. Do you want your jacket back?”

“It's a little cold in here, but I'll warm up.” She sighed when Finan wrapped his arm around her, his body was warm and welcoming. “Uhtred seems nice.”

“He's full of shit, but that is why we love him.” Finan's loud laugh rang out. “He said this morning that he's happy you were coming tonight. I think they're all a little anxious to meet you.”

“Oh? Are they always this excited to meet the women you date?” Anya challenged playfully.

Finan shook his head. “You're the first woman that I have brought to one of these. We've been doing it a long time, doll.”

“Okay, Finan.” Uhtred sat a darker ale down before his best friend, “Anya, I wasn't sure what to get. Gisela likes this one. If you don't, I'll drink it.” He handed her an IPA, taking the other ale for himself. “Glad that you could come, Anya. We were beginning to think Finan was going to hide you from us. Or if you were real.”

“I was not going to hide her. Osferth and Eadith have seen her.” He rolled his eyes, leaving our the part where Sihtric had more or less stalked her at work. He didn't want Anya thinking his friends were creeps, although if the shoe fits.

“I am glad to have been invited. I was beginning to wonder if any of you were actually real.” Anya glanced at Finan, brow raised, she took a drink.

“You've seen photos. You knew they were real.” Finan could already see how tonight was going to go. Everybody would gang up, having a laugh at him, and he was absolutely fine with that. It would be no different than when Osferth introduced Eadith, or Uhtred introducing Gisela.

“I guess, maybe.” Anya winked at Uhtred, a sly smirk on her lips.

“You're fun.” Uhtred raised his glass, Anya smiled widely tapping hers to the side.

“Enough tormenting me.” Faking a pout, Finan shook his head. “Did that new contract get drawn?”

“We don't want to bore the lady with work.” Uhtred shrugged, then nodded. “It did. Eadith has it, she's going to go over for us tomorrow. Eadith is a contract lawyer.” he explained to Anya. “What use are friends, if they can't help you when you need it?”

“Guess I need to start planning that, then.” Finan shifted in his chair, his arm tightening around Anya's shoulder. “Want to come help us install a koi pond?”

“I could maybe help get a lead on some koi.” Anya giggled, shaking her head. “I don't want to build their pond though.”

“Smart woman.” Uhtred nodded in agreement. “I won't complain, I enjoy what I do. You know it's going to need at least one extra person, I am thinking of asking Aethelflaed. She's got an eye for those things.”

Anya sat listening to them discuss their summer student, whether or not hiring her for a large project, when she was going to leave for University again, was a good idea. Finan seemed to be on board, but Uhtred was second guessing his choice. Hearing the price of this venture, Anya almost fell over. An estimation of twelve thousand for have some fish in your yard? Good lord.

Finan stopped talking about pond fittings long enough to ask Anya if she wanted another beer. Nodding, she instructed the two men to sit where they were, her round this time. Waiting at the bar, Anya could see Uhtred and Finan at the table, a napkin between them while Uhtred traced something, looking at Finan for his input. It was actually sort of cute how they got excited over their job. Like two little boys, playing outside all day.

Finan was not built to be at a desk. Anya could tell that the minute she had met him. He needed to move to feel like he was being productive. He would not fair well inside all day. Uhtred seemed to be a bit more uptight than Finan, but nice all the same. Evidently they were a good team.

Anya walked back to the table, placing out the three pints. Uhtred thanked her and Finan gave her a kiss on the cheek, before going back to their discussion.

Oh god, here they went again. Gisela caught sight of her fiance and his friend, hunched over the table, while a slightly bored looking dark haired woman sat, how she wasn't asleep Gisela would never know. Time to go save the poor creature from the pretty boys. Could they not go an hour or two without discussing work?

“Uhtred,” Her voice rang out, glancing at the drawing between the two of them. Looking up, Uhtred's eyes lit and his smile increased, “are you two talking about work?” she gave him a short kiss.

“Uh,” Finan cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gisela.”

“Hi Finan.” She greeted him with a tight hug. “I'm Gisela, lovely to meet you.” She smiled warmly, nudging Finan in the side, telling him to move next to Uhtred. Pouting, Finan picked up his beer, sliding into the chair beside the other man. “We'll let them be boring over there.”

Pulling her hair over her shoulder, Gisela moved closer to Anya, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I am so happy you came.”

“I am happy to have been invited.” Anya hugged her back. “So are those two always like that?”

“Uhtred and Finan?” Gisela snorted. “By the end of tonight they will probably be in an argument about which soil grows better turf, while hugging one another and crying about who loves who more.”

“Sounds like a ride.”

Gisela smirked. “I'm teasing, but they do argue over turf builder. A lot.” Clapping her hands, she looked around. “I am going to get a drink, then we are going to let them discuss work, while we become friends.”

Friends they could easily become.

Chatting with Gisela was easy. Anya liked her bubbly personality, although a bit feisty, the other woman was evidently fun to be with. Anya giggled, when Gisela told her the story of how she'd met Uhtred and Finan, it was after Sihtric had asked her on a date. He was in no way her type, but she had agreed anyway, on their date he had invited her to a party later that week. Always up for a good party, Gisela went with him. Turns out, it was Uhtred's birthday. Sihtric didn't mind that she'd arrived with him and left with Uhtred's number, it had sort of been his plan anyway. After their first date, she questioned if Uhtred was her type, but after he worked to convince her to go on a second, the rest was history.

“Eadith sent me a text, they're about five minutes.” Gisela informed the others. “You know Eadith and Osferth, right?”

Anya flipped her hand back in forth, a sort of motion. “I know him from coming into work all the time. He has brought Eadith in a few times. They seem really lovely.”

“They are.” Gisela's smile was bright. “Poor Osferth, he gets so much shit from these guys.” her laugh was light. “He's the youngest and they don't let him forget it.”

“I have heard, on our first date Finan told me the Baby Monk story. Poor guy.”

Uhtred began to laugh, work talk was now over, he and Finan were back in realty. “I will give you fifty, if you call him that tonight.”

“Uhtred!” Gisela scolded. Snorting. “I will double it.”

“Who am I to turn down an offer?” Anya raised her glass with a shrug and a shy smile.

Finan didn't say a word. He'd been listening to Uhtred talk about their new project, while watching Gisela and Anya. They had been laughing and chattering since Gisela had sat down. He was fond of Anya and wanted his friends to have the same fondness, especially if she was somebody he could one day consider keeping in his life for a long time to come.

“Here he comes.” Gisela nudged Anya eagerly in the arm, the two women bursting into a fit of giggles at the sight of Osferth and Eadith. Uhtred sat with his arm around the back of the chair, trying to hide his own giddy reaction.

“Hey it's Baby Monk!” Anya cheered, her arms open.

Osferth stopped in his tracks, eyes wide and annoyed as he glared at Finan. Eadith did little to hide her laughter at the nickname that had befallen her husband so many years ago.

“Why did you tell her that?” Osferth whined, punching Finan in the arm. Hard. Finan yelped, Osferth had a hell of a punch.

“It's good to see you, Osferth.” Anya did her best to remain innocent, trying to hide her laughter. “You haven't been by in a while.”

“Well, I have heard about this creepy Irishman hanging around there all the time. I wasn't sure if it was safe with that type around.” He smirked, accepting her hug and apology for calling him Baby Monk. Osferth knew it was bullshit – like everyone else, Anya would now refer to him as Baby Monk forever.

“I assure you, it's pretty safe. I can take the creepy Irishman. He's not that tough.” She teased, glancing at Finan. He had fully expected this. “And Eadith. I haven't seen you, in forever. It's so good to see you.” Anya stood hugging the other woman. “Congratulations, both of you.”

“Who knew,” Eadith smiled, taking the chair between Gisela and Osferth, “the last time I saw you, we'd all be here. Crazy. Also, thank you for agreeing to go out with Finan. He probably would have cried if you didn't.”

“I cried when she agreed, what's the difference?” Finan may as well join in making fun of himself.

“Okay, my round.” Osferth stood up, pointing at the people around the table. “Anybody else?”

Everybody talking at once, Osferth nodded, and hummed. He heard none of that, they would all be drinking whatever he brought back to the table. Six people around the table, Uhtred began to grumble about Sihtric being late. Gisela rolled her eyes and insisted that he could wait another ten minutes, he wouldn't starve in that time span. Quickly Anya had figured out that although Uhtred was an impressive personality and rather pretty, Gisela was the one who kept him grounded and possibly alive.

Idle chatter among the group seemed to ease Uhtred and his starvation, Osferth and Finan had him on the topic of possible ideas for a Buck's Night. Gisela sat, making plans with Eadith and Anya for a coffee date, while pretending not to hear a single word that the men were saying. It was awfully cute that Uhtred thought he could convince Osferth and Finan to go swimming with sharks though. Anya couldn't help snorting in laughter, when Finan declared he was Irish, not fucking insane.

“He arrives.” Osferth changed the subject from sky diving to Sihtric. “Just in time, thank you god.”

Walking towards the group, Anya recognized the fourth man from the photos at Finan's. His hair was much longer and curlier, but his face still had the same sharp features.

“Thank god, Uhtred is dying of starvation over here.” Osferth informed the other man.

“I'm a busy man.” Sihtric shrugged, his attention turning to the woman between Gisela and Eadith. His smug glance at Finan didn't go unnoticed by Anya.

“Sihtric comes off as shy, but once you get to know him, you will wish he had an Off Switch.” Gisela scrunched her nose, when he ruffled her hair and kissed her cheek. “Sihtric, be polite. Say hello to Anya.”

“Anya.” He shook her hand, kissing the back of it. “Whatever Finan has said, it was him who stole that car, I was innocent.”

“You stole a car?” Anya's eyes wide, jaw dropped, she looked at the grinning Irishman. “What?”

“Sihtric.” Finan was one level away from shouting, rising to his feet, he playfully grabbed the tattooed man around the neck. “We agreed to never speak of that again.”

Waving his hand in the air, Uhtred laughed. “It was years ago, as a prank on campus. We,” he motioned to himself, Osferth, and Sihtric, “dared Finan to steal the dean's car. He had a suspicion that it was going to happen. He was fine with it. We got off, not even a warning. He's a friend of Osferth's father.”

“The man who refuses to acknowledge that I exist, is good for something.” Osferth raised his glass, Finan would cheers to that. Apparently Gisela, too. Sihtric rolled his eyes, muttering something about useless deadbeats. Anya knew a thing or two about those.

“Right, now that we are here. Let's eat.” Uhtred rubbed his hands together. Finan insisted this wouldn't happen, if he had ate when Finan had told him to at work. So Gisela and Finan were the secret to Uhtred's lifespan.

Anya had learned that Sihtric held an Masters of Science in Kinesiology, he currently owned a gym and was setting up another a few towns over. It wasn't work, if he loved what he did, so he boasted. Osferth added that he was convinced Sihtric was trying to kill him at the gym, along with every time they got back in a fine boat together. Finan and Uhtred had left rowing behind, when they left university. Sihtric and Osferth would compete for fun now and then as a pair.

“So, you have a daughter?” Sihtric handed Anya another pint, taking a sip from his. Enough boring talk about rowing and the science of the human body.

“Yes, I do.” Anya accepted the drink, raising her glass in thanks. Glancing at Finan, she felt her cheeks burn. “She's six and a handful. Do you have children?”

Sihtric shook his head. “Hell, I don't even have a girlfriend. But I am looking to get a cat.”

“Cats are great.”

“I think so, too.” Proudly Sihtric smiled, raising his brows at Finan. “Maybe one day I'll have kids. I guess I have never had the person who made me really want to think about it.”

“I can't wait to have kids.” Osferth wrapped his arm around Eadith.

“Me either.” She smiled, giving her husband a kiss. Oh that newly wed bliss.

“Uhtred keeps saying he wants six.” Gisela complained, rolling her eyes. “I hope he plans on birthing them.”

Wisely, Uhtred said nothing.

“What about you?” Sihtric grabbed Anya's attention. “Would you ever want more kids?”

Finishing her mouthful of beer, Anya shrugged, placing the glass back on the table. “Maybe. I haven't really thought about it. If the right person came along. I love being a mom.”

“Finan would be a good dad.” Sihtric shrugged, grabbing a carrot stick from Uhtred's basket. It was a carrot, Uhtred could let it slide.

“Do you have a photo of your daughter?” Gisela's glare at Sihtric didn't go unnoticed, before she smiled wide at Anya. Eagerly nodding, Anya grabbed her phone, pulling up a photo of Eloise and Maeve.

“Oh, they are adorable.” Gisela gushed, “Uhtred, look at this, may I?” she asked, Anya passed her the phone. “How cute is that?”

Taking a quick look at the photo, Uhtred smirked his head leaning towards Finan in a knowing stare. Taking the phone, he furrowed his brow taking a better look at the photo. “Did your genes just hit copy and paste, she is her mother.” He nodded at Anya. Nudging Finan, he handed the phone back. “Oh fuck, man, Maeve looks like she likes that kid better than she likes you.”

“She's a cute kid, I still have my rainbow rocks that she picked out.” Osferth chuckled, looking at the photo on the screen. “I'm soon going to need some new plants.”

“I am sure Eloise would love to help you pick some.” Anya smiled at Osferth; Eadith on his lap smiled warmly at Anya. This group could be a lot, at once, especially when paired with one too many drinks. Anya was handling it gracefully.

Circling around in conversation, the group landed back on Gisela and Uhtred's wedding, which was not until early next Spring. Anya understood the bride to be, a woman wanted everything to be perfect. Magical even. Not saying much about her own wedding day, Anya had informed the others that it had been a little disappointing, thinking back. All of her ideas had been pushed aside by her ex's mother, insisting she knew better. How naive she had been. She'd felt better when Gisela began speaking fondly of Uhtred's parents and how much she adored them.

“I do not care about hair cuts or facial hair.” Gisela wagged a finger at Uhtred, giving Finan a hard stare, she nudged him in the arm. “No moustache. I draw the line at that damn moustache.”

“Moustache?” Anya looked at Finan, as the others laughed.

“It wasn't that bad, doll.”

“It was hideous.” Osferth held his stomach, laughing. “He didn't grow it properly and it looked like a sad caterpillar.”

Finan shrugged. “Ingrith said it was hot.”

“And a year later, she married Hild.” Uhtred snickered, watching Finan squirm a little under the tormenting.

Patting Finan's shoulder, Anya giggled. “Maybe she was trying to be nice?”

“Oh, taking their side? No, I can't have it. No.” Finan teased, kissing Anya's cheek making a point to faintly rub his beard against her face. She giggled harder, pulling away. “One dinner and they've corrupted you already? Wound my heart and soul, why don't ya.”

“Oh Finan,” Anya tapped her hand on his cheek, “I am sure your sad caterpillar looked just fine. Bushy but limp.”

“It's not as bad as when he had long hair.” Making a disgusted face, Sihtric shuddered.

“I agree, some of us were not made for long hair.” Clearing his throat, Finan lifted his hands in defeat.

The evening began to wind down, Osferth and Eadith the first to call it quits. Eadith had to be in the office early and Osferth had to spend the next day meeting with several new clients, he was working on opening his own Financial Management business. Anya felt she understood why he enjoyed sitting at home watching his fish tanks in his spare time.

Following the couple, Uhtred and Gisela bowed out. Uhtred told Finan they were starting design and contracts first things. Not to be late. Finan scoffed, he had never been late, unlike Uhtred who was late every morning he was delegated to desk work. Gisela kissed Anya on the cheek, promising one another they would talk before Sunday.

“That's us, then?” Finan asked Anya, his arm around the back of her chair.

“Yes, I have to get home and let my sitter go.” Anya nodded. “Good luck with your cat, Sihtric. If you need help, let me know.”

“Oh, I will.” Sihtric insisted, smirking at Finan from behind the glass he raised to take a drink. “You two get home safe.”

“You too.” Anya bid him farewell, as Finan helped her with her jacket.

A small chorus of “have a good night.” rose between Finan and Sihtric. Rising from his seat, Sihtric placed the empty pint glass on the table, hugging Finan and giving Anya a kiss on the cheek. He insisted that they go on, he'd get home just fine. Walking out of the pub, Anya paused grabbing Finan's arm.

“We didn't pay.” Her eyes wide, she looked mortified.

“Sihtric will get it.” Finan shrugged, grabbing her hand and pulling her into him. “Last one to finish their drink pays.”

“Finan.” Anya whined, “We can't let him do that!”

“Sure we can. We always have, we take turns.” Finan watched her face fall, as if there had been some big secret revealed to her. Anya rolled her eyes, who was she to argue with their traditions. “Come on, let's get you home, doll.”

Anya's head a fuzzy, but her heart full. Her arm around Finan's waist as they walked. “They are all so lovely.”

“They all loved you.”

“I won't lie, I was nervous. I'm glad that you invited me, thank you.”

“Now that you've been, they're going to expect you every time.” Finan smiled, the cool evening air felt nice on his warm skin. Anya clinging to his waist felt even better.

“Eadith, Gisela, and I are getting coffee on Sunday. I can't wait to spend some more time with them.” She gushed, leaning into Finan, sighing.

The blue car pulled up, Finan helping Anya in, he watched her get settled in the back. Watching the evening go by out the window, she glanced at him. Blushing when she noticed his stare. “What?”

“Nothing, doll.” Finan lifted her hand, kissing the back of it. “Nothing at all.”

Telling the driver to go ahead, Finan would find another way home, Anya insisted he really didn't have to walk her to the door, save time and a bit of money. Ever the gentleman, Finan did what he always did. Helping her from the car, making sure she was steady on her feet, he held his arm out for her to take. The distance to the main door was less than half a meter. Accepting the gesture, Anya's smile was warm and inviting.

“So, I guess now all that I have left to do is head inside.” She stared at her feet for a second. Lifting her chin to see Finan's slow nod.

“I um, I need to get back.” Finan stood, no intentions of letting her hand go just yet. He knew, upstairs, was a little girl tucked in bed, with a sitter waiting to go home. Asking to go up, he couldn't. He wouldn't. It wasn't appropriate.

“I should,” Anya motioned to the door behind her.

“Of course. I will try to call tomorrow?” Taking a step forward, Finan smiled. His brown eyes catching the light overhead, his hair messed from Uhtred ruffling it before they parted ways. His beard...Anya licked her lips, nodding. “Okay, I will let you get back.”

“Good night, Finan.” Speaking, Anya held his hand tighter. Pulling him closer, she stayed rooted to her spot. Feet unable to move, she shrugged. “I...I had fun.”

“Me too.” Finan chuckled. One hand still holding onto her's, the other gently brushed a piece of hair away from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Her green eyes never left his. “I should really call for that car.”

“Yeah, probably.” Anya agreed, taking a step closer. Her chest against his, Finan felt his heart speed up, the thud of Anya's against his. “Good night?” Sneaking onto her tip toes, a wee bit, she felt her inhibitions let go, arms around Finan's neck, she kissed him with a squeak as he pulled her tighter to him. His hands splayed on her back he kissed her in a bruising manner. Anya's head spun and her toes curled, feeling as though she was being set on fire.

“Anya.” Finan moaned her name into the kiss, taking advantage, Anya slid her tongue against his. Her hands gripping the front of his worn jacket as if she let go, she'd fall. His beard was scratching her cheeks and chin, as she pushed her body against his with all her might. Gods, she wanted to ask him up and to keep exploring, to see where this would go, as if reading her thoughts, Finan pulled back. Kissing the tip of her nose, he shook his head. “Eloise is waiting for her ma.”

Breathless, Anya stood for a second, before placing her fingers against her lips. “I wish...I...Oh Finan.”

“I will try and call you tomorrow, good night. Now, get up there before that sitter decides she needs over time.” He laughed, placing an innocent kiss on her cheek, pulling out his phone.

Tagging: (I am never sure who to tag, if you wish to be added/removed please tell me) @geekandbooknerd @gemini-mama @fuckoffbard @mrsalwayswrite @whitedarkmoonflower @earl-aive @sunshinepanic @grlwtskulltattoo @trenko-heart @heavenly1927 @cacti123322 @booknerd0612 @norisdedith @justagirlwanderingearth @deandoesthingstome @masked-lost-girl

#finan x oc #finan fic #the last kingdom fanfic

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thethyri · 2 years 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❟ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐀��𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 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 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖. ⊰‧₊˚･ 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 · 1 year ago

Text

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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