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whitedarkmoonflower · 8 months ago

Text

Caged bird

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

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

Warnings: SMUT 18+

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

Word Count: 2,3 K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say that you are mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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mommytauriel · 1 year ago

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+ · 。~ promised to another p3

pairing: sihtric x female! reader | genre: forbidden romance? Angst, fluff | warnings: none that I know of | wc: 6.3k |

synopsis: eight months since everything in your life has changed, and it seems like things won't stop changing.

request: yes

note: I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get out! I was just really struggling on writing this part! This is more like a filler part. I do still hope you guys enjoy it!

Part one Part two Part three

The first week being back in Winchester was hard, actually the first few months being back in Winchester was hard…in many different ways. Mentally you were exhausted, staying up late at night and stressing yourself to sleep thinking about Uhtred, and what he's going through. You didn't even want to think about how emotionally hard it was for you. The guilt you felt, the pain you felt with Uhtred gone and you leaving sihtric.

It was physically hard because you were exhausted. You spent your nights staying up late, crying and thinking about Uhtred and sihtric. And when you did finally fall asleep, you didn't get to sleep for long because Lady Aelswith would make sure you were up so you could join her for morning prayers and breakfast with Aethelflaed.

The fourth month you were tired of being sad, so you forced yourself to leave your room more. It wasn't healthy to lock yourself up in your room and avoid everyone. Matthew was happy to see that you were starting to get better, he had missed you. Matthew was against it at first because he was worried you would get hurt, but the two of you would go on walks through the village of Winchester. He noticed that it was helping you so he kept his worries to himself and just stayed alert.

By the six month you were feeling more like yourself. You still had your moments of sadness; you just now knew how to handle them better. You have started doing many things to distract yourself from your feelings, you did a lot of reading, most of them being books that King Alfred has suggested. You spent more time with Matthew and Aethelflaed, Aethelflaed even joining you and Matthew on your walks. It was nice.

The seventh month is when things started to feel more real for you. King Alfred had been lenient with you for the prior months but now that you seemed more yourself, he wasn't going to hold back. Whenever he had time, the two of you would be in his study, reading and learning more about history. And you enjoyed it most of the time, but when he would bring up Arthur and your future with him…your enjoyment turned to dread. You didn't want to talk about Arthur and the doom of your future with him. Lady Aelswith would try to talk to you about Arthur too, telling you about her and the king's betrothal and how she didn't like it at first but it was her duty to become a good wife to him. She even offered to teach you some ways on becoming a good wife, and well you couldn't exactly decline. You didn't want to learn how to be a good wife, you didn't want to be a wife in general!

The eighth month was no different.

Throughout those eight months you barely saw Arthur. Then again, you were also actively avoiding the blue-eyed man. It also helped that Arthur was very busy, busy with the king or busy going back and forth from Mercia and Winchester. You weren't complaining. The two of you have talked a few times, well more like he talked, and you just ‘listened’. A small part of you felt a little bad for treating Arthur like that, a very small part. Arthur has been kind to you, and you hated it.

The garden in the back of the castle had quickly become your place of solace and solitude. If you went early enough in the morning, you would be completely alone…besides the times Matthew would join you. It was a very peaceful place; you could walk around and look at the flowers or sit at the bench and read…or just sit there and think. Today you were reading.

Before you met sihtric you enjoyed reading love stories, but now you couldn't bear to read one. Just like how you couldn't dare to see public affection, it all reminded you of sihtric. And how you couldn't be with him. It hurt seeing or reading someone being so happy and in love when you weren't. You would feel a tug at your heart and soon your eyes would water it really hurt. So now you stick to history books, they aren't as fun but now you don't have to worry about crying while reading it.

“What book are you reading today My lady?” A deep and familiar voice breaks you out of your thoughts. You blink a few times and look up from the page you have been reading over and over again. You squint your eyes from the bright sun that shines, when you look up at Matthew's figure. He was standing in front of you, clad in his black leather armor with his hands behind his back, a small smile on his face as he looked down at you.

“The same book I was reading yesterday Matthew” You retorted with a sigh, closing the book and playing with the leather corners of the book cover. Matthew hums in remembrance, his eyes looking over your figure. He was happy to see that you look way better than you did months ago, you looked well rested. But he could still see some sadness in your eyes.

“Lady Aethelflaed requests you to join her for breakfast” Matthew tells you, watching as your eyes lighten up at the mention of your dear friend. You stand up from the bench and with your free hand that's not holding your book, you fix your dress. You offer Matthew a small smile “Let's go then, wouldn't want to keep the princess waiting.”

Matthew nods and leads the way towards Lady Aethelflaed’s room, She had breakfast sent to her room for the two of you. The two of you enjoyed your mornings where you had breakfasts together, the safety of being alone in her room let the two of you gossip as much as you wanted without getting scolded by Lady Aelswith.

The two of you stopped in front of Aethelflaeds’s room, you greeted the guard who stood out of her room with a small smile while Matthew greeted him with a nod. Matthew softly knocked on the lady's door for you before he stepped back. You heard the sound of feet rushing towards the door and not even a few seconds later the wood door was being opened quickly. A smiling Aethelflaed greeting you.

“Y/n! I've missed you, come in” Lady Aethelflaed smiles as she grabs your arm and pulls you into her room, you laugh at her eagerness and let her drag you into her room. You glance behind you to see Matthew giving a smile before he closes the door, leaving the two of you alone. You look back at her and see a wide smile on her face and a giggle escape past your lips. “You saw me yesterday Aethelflaed.”

“I know that but still, i missed you” She giggled herself as she let go of your arm and walked towards the table in her room, which the two of you have eaten at many times before. You set your book on her bed before you follow her across her room. The princess’s room had a bunch of vases of flowers that the two of you had handpicked, her room was so fresh and comfy.

“This looks delicious” you tell her as you look over the spread of food and drinks on the table. Athelflaed smiles and sits down at the table, pouring herself a cup of water “I asked for some of your favorites.”

“You truly do spoil me” You send her a teasing wink as you sit down in the chair across from her, popping a green grape in your mouth. Athelflaed blushes and starts eating some of the fruit on her plate. You smile at her shy antics before you start digging into your food. It wasn't long before the two of you jumped into a conversation.

“I know I have said this hundreds of times, but I'm so glad that you're back. It's nice to have someone I can talk to without worrying, mother is going to find out about what we have talked about” Aethelflaed tells you with a genuine smile after the two of you stopped laughing from the conversation beforehand. (The conversation being about a cute stable hand boy that had caught Athelflaeds attention) It was adorable seeing her so flustered talking about him, it kinda reminded you about how if was for you and sihtric.

Athelflaed’s words comforted you and made you sad at the same time. They were comforting because you truly did miss her too, but they were sad because if it was up to you…you wouldn't have come back. Sometimes at night while you lay alone in your dark room, you would think about what you would be doing now if you never left, if Uhtred was never sold. You would have nights filled with laughter at ale houses with Uhtred and there was no doubt that you and sihtric would become closer. Maybe I would have told him I loved him already…I’ll never know now.

“Speaking of missing you, I may or may not have overheard Arthur talking with my dad last night” Aethelflaed’s sweet but mischievous voice breaks you out of your sad thoughts. You blink a few times and look up from your plate to her. You raise your eyebrow at her words, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes at the mention of Arthur. You grip your fork tighter and give her a faint smirk “Overheard? You mean you eavesdropped?”

“Y/n” She said with an embarrassed whine, gently kicking you under the table before continuing with a mischievous grin on her face “Don't you want to know what they were talking about?”

“I have a feeling you were going to tell me anyway” You recalled from past memories, you knew she was going to tell you anyway. Aethelflaed doesn't pick up on the sarcasm in your town and she leans forward, excitement in her tone “They were talking about you, well more like Arthur was talking about you…he seems quite smitten with you.”

“I don't know how he could be, we've barely talked” You responded with a confused look and annoyance in your tone. How could he be smitten with me? You made sure that the two of you had barely any chance to talk. You don't want him to like you, no you want him to hate you…it would make it easier if he did. It didn't feel right knowing that someone was liking you like that, it felt as if you were betraying sihtric in a way. You didn't like this feeling.

“Arthur is a really nice guy y/n! You should give him a chance, who knows you might even find yourself liking him” Aethelflaed says cheerfully, again not noticing your tone. Aethelflaed has always wanted to fall in love, to have someone by her side for everything. Her desire to have that kinda love, blinded her from the negative parts that came with it. She didn't see the negative parts of your betrothal to arthur. But how could she? She didn't know about me and sihtric.

She didn't know about how you were feeling, the feeling of being trapped in a relationship you didn't want, the heartbreak you felt with sihtric. There was no chance that you could find yourself liking arthur. To you, Arthur was just the guy that's ruining the happy future you hoped you and sihtric would have together. Maybe it was ruined the moment you left eoferwic.

“Not likely”

It seems my luck has run out; you think with a bitter sigh when you see who's standing at the other end of the hall. You had just left Aethelflaed’s room a few minutes ago after spending a few hours laughing and talking, you then parted ways with Matthew who was called off to do something. You were in a happy mood but that quickly joined to a mood of annoyance when you see your betrothed standing across from you, a smile on his face.

“Lady y/n, I've been meaning to talk to you” Arthur says with a sweet smile as he steps closer to you. Your grip on your book tightens and you hold it to your chest, you offer him a weak smile.

“I apologize but I have to get going, maybe another time” You spoke quietly as you tried to walk past him, only to stop dead in your tracks when you felt Arthur softly grab your arm to stop you. You let out a sigh, you knew you couldn't avoid him this time. You turn to face him and see him giving you a pleading look. You sigh again and move your arm out of his grip and mutter “You only have a few minutes.”

“That's all i need” He replied with a charming smile, he cleared his throat before continuing “I wanted to apologize, I've been busy these past months and i haven't spent much time with you, I haven't gotten to know you.”

“There's not much to know” you say in a dismissive tone, making it your mission to look anywhere but his face. You settle on the flower painting on the wall behind him. Arthur notices the dismissiveness in your tone and your actions, but he still tries to keep the conversation going. So, he ignores it and keeps the smile on his lips. “I don't know about that; I have a feeling there's a lot to know about you.”

“Feelings can be wrong” You snapped as you finally looked at him, the two of you locked eyes. Arthur could tell that there was more to your words, a lot more meaning. I want to find out, he thinks. “You don't like me, do you?”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask him sarcastically with a bitter tone as you tilt your head. Arthur stills for a moment and all the confidence he had going into the conversation with you disappears, at the sound of the bitterness in your tone. King Arthur had told him you would not be happy about the betrothal, but he didn't think you would be this difficult, especially with him being so nice to you. Is it going to be like this every time we talk? he thinks with a disappointed sigh.

“Anything else?” You snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Your friend uhtred, I saw him walk into the king's study” Arthur spoke with little emotion in his tone, it was obvious you didn't want this…he wasn't going to try so hard for nothing. He was tired of making the first move, one day you were going to realize that whether the two of you like it or not, you will be wed. He will just have to wait until you're willing to try, or when you're in a better mood.

“Uhtred? He’s here?” your stone-cold persona dropped as soon as his words came out. Chills of shock run through your body, and you find yourself dropping your arms to your side, your grip on your book loosening. Uhtred, the Uhtred who you thought of as a brother was here in Winchester, in the castle? I have to see him.

“The King doesn't want anyone to know yet, but I thought you should know. I know you guys were close, you must have missed him” he tells you in a soft tone, offering you one smaller smile before leaving you. You stood there for a few moments as you watched him walk away, you watched as his strong posture faltered and his hand moved up to rub the back of his neck.

There was no denying that you felt bad about how you treated him, he went out of his way to tell you that Uhtred was back. He told you when the king told him that no one must know. He did that for you and all you did was treat him unkindly. You don't let yourself stand there guilty for much longer. I have to see Uhtred.

You rushed down the hall towards the king's study, holding onto your dress so you won't trip. Your footsteps echo through the hallway, you make an abrupt stop as you turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the king's study. Just as you turn the corner the door at the end of the hallway opens and out steps steapa and matthew, following them is Uhtred.

You hold your breath and your eyes immediately water at the sight, you pay no attention to steapa and Matthew, you just look straight at uhtred. You couldn't believe it. You watch as he looks up from the ground, he has a look of anger on his face but when he notices you standing at the other end of the hallway, his face softens, and his eyes widen.

Before you could think, your legs were already rushing towards him, and he met you halfway. You closed your eyes as you threw your arms around his shoulders. You let out a sigh of relief when you felt that he was truly there, he's really here. Uhtred wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close. The pain he felt when you jumped in his arms did not compare to the feeling of relief that he was feeling, you were okay, you were safe. Uhtred tightens his hold on you and just closes his eyes and relishes in the moment. you were really here.

“Oh Uhtred” You sniffle out, a few tears slowly rolling down your cheeks, you had imagined this moment for months, but this was better than anything you could have imagined. To have him really back. One of his hands moves to cup the back of your head. His heart hurts when he hears you sniffles of sadness, he whispers soothingly “Shh, it's okay little flower, don't cry.”

“I didn't think i would ever see you again” You cried quietly, your hold on him not loosening. You were afraid to let go, afraid that if you let go of him, he would disappear. Matthew and steapa watch from afar, both of their hearts warm at the heartfelt reunion.

“It's okay y/n, i'm here now.”

But for how long was the real question?

Uhtred didn't stay long. You got the answer to your question. You tried to be understanding, you knew that what he was going to do was important, important to the king and important to him. But you couldn't help but feel a little upset that he left you so soon. I didn't have enough time with him. After the two of you reunited, you spent the next few hours together talking. Well, more like you talked and he listened. You refrained from telling him about Arthur, you didn't want to ruin the moment. You were surprised when he told you that Lady Gisela was here with him, you would have to see her soon, you missed her.

He then left you after he promised to see you soon, the next time you saw him was the next day when he was getting ready to leave. You found out two new things that morning, he was leaving, and he had gotten married. You were hurt by the new information. Hurt that he was leaving so soon and hurt that you weren't invited to his and lady Gisela's wedding. But like you said, you tried to be understanding.

It's okay y/n, he’ll be back soon. You think to yourself as you stand by Lady Aethelflaed’s side, watching as Uhtred and his company leave Winchester. You glance at Gisela who's watching Uhtred leave, a look of sadness on her face. You truly felt for her, her husband just got back, and now he's leaving. You glance at Aethelflaed to see her watching Uhtred go, a look of adoration on her face. Your eyes widened, she looked lovestruck. How interesting.

You glance back at Uhtred, and you can't help but feel a little emotional as you watch him ride out of sight. You let out a sigh before turning around and walking back into the castle, Matthew following behind you. Both of you were feeling quite down at the moment, you because of Uhtred and him because of Hild..he would never say it aloud, but you knew the truth.

“Are you alright my lady?” Matthew asks behind you, his voice gentle and worried. You sigh and fold your arms in front of you as you walk towards the gardens in the back of the castle, in the need of some solace.

“I’m just tired Matthew, I’m just tired.”

The next day you spent your morning eating breakfast alone in your room, you didn't go out to the garden, instead you read in your quiet room. You didn't really want to see anyone; you also didn't want to run into Arthur. You knew you had to talk to Arthur soon, you had to apologize. But you just weren't ready for that.

You were peacefully reading until Matthew knocked on your door and let you know that Lady Gisela would like to see you in the village. For a second you considered declining, you were in no mood to be around anyone. But it was Lady Gisela, she knew no one here, she probably felt so alone and out of place. So, you told Matthew yes and you got out of your bed and walked towards your door.

Matthew greeted you with a small smile when you opened your door, and you greeted him back with a smile of your own, a weak smile. Matthew grew a little worried, he didn't want you to go back to how you were months ago. He wouldn't let that happen, not again. The two of you walked in silence through the castle and to the steps at the entrance of the castle. Standing there at the bottom of the steps was Lady Gisela, a smile forming on her lips when she sees you approaching her. She had missed you.

“Y/n! thank you for joining me” Gisela beamed as she pulled you into her arms for a hug. You smile softly and hug her back, relaxing into her comforting embrace. After a few moments you pull away and link your arm in hers, the negative feelings you felt earlier were slowly leaving you. “Thank you for inviting me, it will be nice getting out of the castle.”

“Do you not leave often?” Gisela asks you as the two of you start walking, Matthew walking a few steps behind you. Lady Gisela thought about you a lot through the eight months, like others she was worried about you and how you were taking this change. So, she was happy to see that you were okay, well at least seemed to be okay.

“Me and Matthew go on walks out of the castle quite a lot, sometimes aethelflaed joins us. But I haven't really had a chance these past few days” you tell her, and she smiles at your words.

“So, tell me, how has it been living back here in Winchester?”

“It's definitely been different since the last time I was here, I lived carefree. But now it's…oh never mind” You let out an annoyed sigh when you couldn't put your feelings in words. Gisela frowns and squeezes your arm reassuringly and when you look at her, she gives you a comforting smile.

“It's okay y/n, just tell me what's on your mind” Gisela said softly as she looked at your side profile. What was bothering you so much? She wonders.

“I am betrothed to Arthur of Mercia” you say quickly before you could stop yourself, you needed to get this off your chest. There was no one else you could talk to about this. You didn't look at Gisela when she gasped at your words, you just kept walking. Gisela’s eyes widen at your words “What? When did this happen?”

“The king told me the day I came back” You frowned as you looked back on that day, so much sadness and heartbreak. Everything changed that day.

“And how do you feel about this?” Gisela frowned as well, she had an idea on how you were feeling, and she knew it wasn't a good feeling. She continued to rub your arm reassuringly as the two you walked, she waited for your answer.

You let out a heavy breath before responding. “I feel a lot of things, but it doesn't matter how I feel, the king has made it clear that it's my duty to marry, my duty to marry Arthur.”

“Oh y/n, have you told Uhtred? If you are not happy with this you know Uhtred will find a way to stop this” Gisela halted her steps, causing you to stop as well. Matthew stopped a few steps behind the two of you and he looked around, making sure there was no danger to you. You look away from her when you see the look of pity she gives you. I don't want pity; I want a way out of this betrothal.

“I didn't want him to worry” You shake your head no; you feared Uhtred might try to kill Arthur if he found out. I can't tell Uhtred, not yet. You move to continue walking but Lady Gisela stops you by gently holding onto your arms. You look at her and she gives you a look a look of sympathy and says “He will always worry about you y/n, you know that.”

“If you ask him to get you out of the betrothal, he will do everything he can to get you out of it” Lady Gisela tells you, her tone serious. You nod and continue walking, Gisela walking by your side. You think about her words, Uhtred has made it clear that he would do anything for you. Would he hurt Arthur? Would he argue with the king? Would he take you away from the castle? You didn't know what he would do, but you knew that what he would do, no matter what it is, would only cause more problems. I didn't want that. I just want my life back to the way it used to be.

“That's what I’m afraid of” You mumble to yourself as the two of you continue walking. Was there a way to save me from this situation, without things getting bad? There is no way King Alfred would give up on this betrothal, it meant so much for him…well it meant so much for England. You weren't stupid you knew why this was happening, it was for alliances, it was for resources. It wasn't for love.

It would be love if it was sihtric…

“Who is it?” Her calming voice broke you out of your sad thoughts about your lost lover. You tilt your head and give her a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“I can see it in your eyes, you're in love. So, who is it?” Lady Gisela repeats her question, watching your side profile for your reaction. So much has happened, she felt bad that she wasn't there to help you with it. Matthew, who overheard the question, stiffened.

“It’s…it’s sihtric” You whisper to her with a flustered smile. This was the first time you said it aloud. You of course thought about it, you thought about it a lot. But saying it out loud, it made it more real. God, you missed him, every day you wished that you had more time with him.

“Sihtric?” She repeats his name as she slows down her steps. She had a feeling there was something going on between the two of you, but still. She had hoped you didn't say his name when she asked you.

“Yes, sihtric he’s- Gisela what's wrong?” You ask her when you noticed she stopped walking with you. She holds onto your forearm and looks at you with sympathy, she didn't know how to tell you this. “Oh y/n i…”

“What is it?” You give her a confused look, but you start to worry when you notice the look on her face. Why is she looking at me like that? you think anxiously. Matthew took a step forward to the two ladies’, concerned as well.

“I’m sorry y/n, before I left, I saw him with a woman…they were quite close” Gisela tells you in a soft tone, hoping that it would break the news to you easier. Matthews's grip tightens on the hilt of his sword and his jaw clenched in anger at her words. You felt your arms drop to your side and your heart stop at her words. No no no, sihtric he wouldn't do that, he wouldn't do that to me. You didn't think you knew words to describe how you were feeling at that moment, all that you could say was a quiet and emotionless “Oh.”

“I could be wrong, sihtric is a good man, he wouldn't do that to you” Lady Gisela says quickly, feeling terrible when she sees the storm of sadness in your eyes, but the emotionless look on your face. She couldn't just not tell you; she couldn't do that to you. But like Gisela said, sihtric is a good man, he wouldn't do that to you, right? Did she see wrong?

“Are you sure it was him?” You ask her in a weak tone, your eyes begging her to realize that she did see wrong. You don't think you could handle another heartbreak, not like this. You move your hand to your side, finding it hard to breathe with the tight dress and your panicky state. I’m not okay, everything is not okay, I can't do this anymore.

“Yes…but like i said, i could be wrong” Gisela tells you, but you don't focus on her words, in fact you couldn't really focus on anything. It felt as if you were stuck and everything was moving past you, you were stuck…you were alone. You started to feel overwhelmed and started to breathe heavily as the sounds around you got too loud and the sound of your heartbeat was pounding through your ears. I need to get out of here.

“I apologize Lady Gisela, I'm not feeling too well, I should retire to my room” You weakly voice out, your eyes averting to the dirt ground they were standing on. You couldn't look at her, you couldn't let her see how hurt you were. I don't want anyone to see me like this.

“Oh, of course. I hope you feel better” Gisela tells you with a worried smile, she wanted to say more, to have you stay with her, but she just didn't know what to say. She knew you were feeling heartbroken, you needed some space. You don't wait for her to say anything else before you turn around and walk back to the castle, your dress ruffling against your legs as you walk quickly. You averted your eyes from Matthew when you passed him, Matthew was right, sihtric wasn't good for me.

Every step you took your heart pounded harder in your ears and your heart broke even more. You bring your shaky hand to wipe off a tear that escaped from your watery eyes before anyone could see it. Like Lady Gisela said, she could be wrong about sihtric.

But it was too late, the doubt had already sunk in.

You didn't know what to do. You had become so dependent on the thought that sihtric cared for you too, that you were special to him. So, hearing Lady Gisela's words really hurt, in ways you weren't prepared for. Did I really spend these eight months being heartbroken for a guy that didn't even care about me? You think bitterly as you stare down at the bush of flowers.

You have been in the garden for an hour or so. After you left Gisela you went to your room, and cried in your bed until your cheeks became sore, but you soon felt trapped in your room and with your thoughts. So, you decided to take a visit to the gardens. It was difficult to convince Matthew to let you go on your own, but he reluctantly agreed when he saw your watery eyes. You needed to be alone, in a place you felt comfortable. You had a lot to think about.

There was a part of you that believed that Lady Gisela simply saw wrong and that he cared about you. But the other part of you knew that he was a man, and you have heard many stories about man and how unfaithful they are. Sihtric wasn't like that, he was different right? He had to be. You were so caught up in your depressing thoughts that you didn't hear the upcoming footsteps, you only noticed that someone joined you, when they sat by your side on the stone bench.

You wipe your cheeks, making sure there was no evidence of you crying before you looked up at the person sitting next to you. You sniffle and tilt your head to see the side profile of Arthur. He was looking down at the bush of flowers, his hands folded in his lap, and he had an emotionless look on his face. But when he feels your stare, he turns his head to look at you, giving you a small smile. He had noticed your red eyes, but he didn't say anything about it.

“I’ve been looking for you, Lady Aethelflaed said I would find you here. It's a nice spot” Arthur mused as he looked around the garden, he had seen this place many times, simply just walking past or walking through. He's never really spent any time there, he can see why you like it. He had seen you on the same bench the two of you were sitting on, many times before. He just never had the courage to talk to you, you always looked so content. He didn't want to ruin that.

“It is very peaceful” You voiced out quietly, taking a deep breath, smelling the many scents of the flowers that surrounded the two of you. It truly was peaceful. You look towards the willow tree that gave the bench you were sitting on, shade. It was a hot evening, but the shade made the weather feel perfect. Arthur watched your side profile, watching as you close your eyes for a second to take another deep breath. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful.

“I wanted to apologize” Arthur started as he broke the silence. You look away from the willow tree and to him, a confused look on your face. When you see the sincerity in his blue eyes you can't help but feel guilty. You cut him off quickly, before he can say anything else. “You have nothing to apologize for Arthur”

“I should be the one apologizing, i have done nothing but treat you terribly when all you have done was treat me nicely” You continued, you tone soft and guilty. You couldn't look into his eyes anymore, you felt guilty for the way you treated him. You look down at your lap where your fidgeting hands rested. You clear your throat before you look back up, tilting your head and locking eyes with blue eyes. “I really am sorry Arthur.”

“I forgive you y/n, and I understand why you did” He nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. How could he be so understanding? So sweet? I wouldn't be if i were him you thought.

“A person with no sight could see that you aren't happy with this betrothal” Arthur began after he let out a tired sigh. You look down at your lap again, feeling bad. He was right. Arthur continues, his tone kind and promising.

“I know I am not the person you want to marry, but I promise I will try to be someone you would actually like to be around.”

“I don't hate you Arthur” You spoke softly, as you shook your head no. His words had comforted you in a way you didn't expect. But your words were true, you didn't hate him. He was kind, understanding, and handsome. You couldn't hate him, you tried to…but you just couldn't. Things would be easier if I did.

“You just hate the thought of being with me” he says straightforwardly. Arthur watches as your lips part and your eyes soften, he knew he was right. And it hurts. He really wanted you to like him, because he liked you. He barely knew you, but the things he had heard about you, he liked. There was just something about you, your aura.

“Arthur I-”

“It's okay y/n, I understand. I really do” he tells you with a nod and fake smile, his tone a lot sadder than he wanted it to. He looked away from you and back to the bush of flowers, beautiful purple violets. He loved violets, he had a feeling you liked them to.

“Can, can we start over?” You broke the silence with your hopeful tone. You knew that there wasn't a way to stop you and his betrothal, so there was no reason to keep up this stone-cold act anymore. The hope you had was gone, just like sihtric. It's time for me to move on. His eyes widen at your words, and his look of shock turns to a content smile. “I'd like that.”

“Friends?” Arthur asks you with his charming smile, holding his hand out for you to shake, his eyes not leaving yours. A laugh escapes your lips, and you offer him a smile of your own, shaking his hand. I'd like that.

“Friends”

note: sadly no sihtric in this part :( but that’s okay, he will be back in the next part! I’m sorry for all the angst but like it was needed 😫

This is definitely not my best writing, but I just wanted to get this out as fast as I could. like I said at the top note, I was really struggling with this part. I rewrote it like 2 times.

The next chapter will be the three year time skip, and just a warning! Reader will be different, it’s been three years a lot will have changed for her, and her relationship with sihtric will also be different. I hope you guys are excited cause I’m lowkey worried about writing the next part (I have no idea what’s going to happen, genuinely)

I really hope you guys enjoyed this part! Please let me know in the comments how you feel! And feel free to send in some asks about the series, I would love to answer them!

Comments, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

taglist: @clairacassidy @mads-weasley @haikyusfics @emilyhufflepufftlk @bubblyabs @kitkat1690 @brianochka @solinarimoon

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom x reader #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric imagine #the last kingdom fanfic #arnas fedaravicius #sihtric the last kingdom #sihtric tlk #sihtric

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agreyraincloudd · 2 years ago

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Could you do a Sihtric x reader with the promo “don’t act like you don’t know I’m in love with you” ??? ❤️❤️❤️

Sihtric x Reader

Prompt 22. "Don't act like you don't know I'm in love with you"

Words 1.6k

Season 5 spoilers

Thank you to @mrsaugustwalker who also requested this I hope you like ittt

Lots of you requested this with Osferth too but I felt it just fit Sihtric more and I have loads lined up for our baby monk dw

Finan and Uhtred imagines are on their way too you thirsty people

It was Aelfwyn and Cynlaef’s wedding day and your face ached with the pain of smiling so much. You were close friends with the late Aethelflaed and had sworn on her deathbed to protect and guide her child as if she were blood, a task you were willing to die for. Following the battle of Bebbanburg and the safe retrieval of your Queen’s daughter, you returned to Mercia before a Dane messenger sent word of your Godchild’s nuptials. A horrid storm in the midlands had kept you on the road longer than anticipated causing you to miss the vows but as you rode into Bebbanburg, the night creeping in, you realized the festivities had only just begun.

The city glowed bright with the amber of bonfires and lanterns, tables lined the courtyard piling out from the ale house and the streets were filled with people dancing in arms while others raised their tankards to the happy couple laughing besides who you recognized as Lady Aelswith and her son King Edward. You swallowed, your throat grew tight as you were reminded of your lost friend, how happy she would be at the sight of her family together, her daughter happy.

“Are you going to stay up there all day?” You looked down from your horse at the voice. Sihtric stood tall, his fingers clasped around your horse's bridle as he pulled you to a stop. Seeing him now made a flood of emotions drown you in seconds. You knew him well having fought beside him many a time. You could recall every moment you spent standing watch with him while Aethelflaed and Uhtred reunited and you could almost recount the various drunken nights Finan had shoved you into him at a table or in an Ale House, but how those evenings ended were left a blur in your memory.

“I’m trying to consider whether you’re all real standing before me-” You pulled your leg overs your horse and slid down. Both of you knew you could easily manage such a task by yourself, but it didn’t stop Sihtric bringing his hands to your hips, helping place you on the groun as you slid down. Your eyes met his, your expression untelling. “I feel as if we should all be ghosts by now”

He laughed and as if realizing his hands remained on your side, he took a step away and tucked them behind his back.

“You know we’re all too hard to kill”

“Oh I know” Your face was growing warm as he kept that stupid smirk on his face.

“Y/N” A drunken voice bellowed from the otherside of the courtyard.

Finan.

Both you and Sihtric turned as you took a step past him.

“Trust me, I’ve tried to kill you all many a time now”

Finan strode over to you, the ale you presumed he drank offering a more loose and smiley warrior as he met you half way with a hug.

“You’re late. A certain someone hasn’t stopped asking for you all day” He pulled back and attempted a wink.

“Aelfwynn? I tried to send word I’d be late”

Finan laughed as he looked behind you, smothering his smile with his ale cup.

“Yeah-sure”

You went to question who he was on about when Sihtric shoved his way between the two of you.

“Come, I’ll get you a drink. You’re already several behind”

“I can see that”

Sihtric led you through the crowd and with a few stops in between to reunite with friends and congratulate your Godchild, you finally made it to a barrel. The cold liquid rushed down your throat and it felt as if the ale had breathed a relief of life back into you as you looked over the crowd.

“It’s nice isn’t it?”

“It is Uhtred”

The Lord engulfed you in a strong hug that squeezed you into a laughed. You had grown close with him over the years and a strange bond had formed from your protectiveness of Aethelflaed and the loss of both your friend and his lover, only your joint memories left standing.

“You look well” He smiled as he held you back to fully take you in.

“I am. But of course the last time you saw me I was caked in blood attempting to help retrieve your homeland”

“And for it I am eternally grateful”

You both smiled as you looked upon a dance circle formed around the biggest fire.

Aethelstan had his arm looped with Aelfwynn as they circled each other through laughter. Their grandmother stood beaming at them from the edge of the crowd. Finan and Cynlaef’s were doing a similar sort of movement but it resembled more of a strange stumble of drunken old men as they danced. And then your stomach dropped. Sihtric became clear in the firelight, a woman you didn’t realize with her hand in his as she tried to teach him the steps.

“You should dance with him” Uhtred took a gulp of his ale as you both watched, your arms crossed.

“He is already dancing”

Uhtred chuckled “So go and take him. He is yours, is he not?”

You choked on your drink, attempting to cover with a laugh.

“He is not. What makes you think that he was?”

“You are in love with him and he is you”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not-”

“I can see it with your eyes. The first moment you saw him all those years ago in Wessex, your heart burns for him”

You tried to act nonchalant “My heart does not burn-”

“You can lie to me Y/N but I can see it. The way you search for each other during battle, how he stays close to your side whenever he can, how you look at each other. You both breathe for one and other Y/N. It is about time you saw that”

You shook your head.

Uhtred sighed loudly, smiling in disbelief.

“Why is it Saxon women always give such retaliation to the confession of men? My friend is in love with you, you know that. He has told you many a time-”

“You are both fierce warriors but it seems your bravery falls short when it comes to words Y/N”

Those drunken nights at the ale house.

You scoffed. Questioning your bravery? You’ll show him.

You chugged the rest of your drink, slamming the cup down on the barrel behind you.

Uhtred smirked. You took the bait so easily.

The ale led you through the rows of people as you joined the clearing around the bonfire. You made your way over to Sihtric but changed in the last step, linking your arm with another man as you spun.

“Lovely to see you again Pyrlig”

The monk laughed at the sight of you.

“Y/N my God’s child. I’m glad to see you have safely returned to us once more” He laughed as you both changed directions and spun away.

“Good to see you too Father”

Pyrligs smiled as he looked over your shoulder.

“I’m afraid for my safety you must change partners”

Your brows furrowed as you turned to where he looked over your shoulder.

“What-”

Sihtric appeared once more behind you. He stopped short before linking his hand with yours, pulling you against his chest.

“I didn’t know you could dance?” You laughed but his face remained void of tells as he looked at you.

“I don’t but-” God’s the way his hand slid down your back, pulling you closer. “I will dance if it means no one else will get a chance with you besides me”

“You so suddenly want to dance with me?”

He notched his head to the side trying to hide a smirk.

“ Don’t act like you don't know I'm in love with you”

You froze.

“Sihtric”

He pulled his hands out of yours, snatching the ale of some bystander, downing the liquid.

“Why do you never answer me back when I say such things?” He questioned, his eyes saying far more than his forced smile did.

“Every time you have confessed you have been drunk. How am I to believe your word?”

He pulled you out of the way of the moving dancers.

“Because you make my mind fog. Every time I look at you it’s as if the words melt away in my mouth. I do not know fear of battle or blood” You moved further through the crowd until you both stood under an archway separating two buildings. -”But every time I have tried to tell you how I feel, I get swallowed by this this breathlessness. But it turns out drunken me forgets all about that when he sees the way you look at him”

You tried not to smile, taking a step toward him.

“And how do I look at you?”

“Like you love me too”

You responded with your lips on his. The kiss was desperate and breathless. His hands fell down your sides and held you tight as he walked back against the wall. Your fingers curled into his hair as you moved.

“They're kissing” A cheer sounded. You broke the kiss to see Finan with his arm around Uhtred as the two of them raised their cups, the rest of your friends joining in with laughs as they looked upon you and Sihtric.

The man before you buried his head in the side of your neck in embarrassment before trying to shoo off the others. It was only when Hild appeared, ushering her boys away, did they all disperse leaving you in the arms of the man you loved.

“Have you really loved me since Wessex?” You looked up at him.

He went to deny the accusation when he realised it was a lost cause and smiled, red blushing his cheeks.

“Since the very first moment you pointed your blade at me when we met”

“And everytime after?”

His lips met the skin of your throat, moving down. “I love you more and more”

#sihtric the last kingdom #sihtric x reader #sihtric imagines #sihtric #sihtric tlk #finan the last kingdom #Uhtred #uhtred x aethelflaed

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all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone · 1 year ago

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“ i’m so proud of you. i know it’s hard to get past these rough days, but... i still want you to know that i’m proud of you. “ (alfred to aethelflaed)

Aethelflaed looked over at her father, was he truly proud of her? She had worked so hard to be worthy of the royal blood that ran through her blood, to be worthy of the legacy her father would leave behind, even if it would not be directly to her.

"You are?" She asked, looking up at her father, still with tear-stained eyes taking in a soft breath, "truly?"

#answered;ask #fantasywritten #alfred #lady of mercia {aethelflaed}

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ivarthebadbitch · 8 months ago

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aethelflaed as the lady of mercia, for @hardestysally

#the last kingdom #aethelflaed #gifs

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whencyclopedia · 2 months ago

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Aethelred, Lord of the Mercians

Aethelred ruled as Lord of the Mercians from c. 881 to 911 and was a key military leader in the fight against Viking conquest and settlement in England. To defend Mercia, he allied himself to the powerful Kingdom of Wessex under the leadership of Alfred the Great (r. 871-899) and later married Alfred's daughter, Aethelflaed, to strengthen their alliance.

Today, Aethelred is primarily remembered as King Alfred's dutiful son-in-law or as the husband of the celebrated Aethelflaed, Lady of the Mercians. However, he was an important historical figure in his own right, who led Mercia during a time of intense conflict and transformation, which lay the foundations for the unification of England that would be completed in 927 by Aethelred's foster son, King Aethelstan (r. 924-939).

Historical Sources & Modern Depiction

Aethelred's life is documented in several contemporary sources. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, a chronicle recorded at Alfred's court in the 890s, and Bishop Asser's Life of King Alfred, a contemporary biography of Alfred, provide key but limited details on Aethelred's life, including his relationship with Alfred and his military campaigns. Additionally, several of Aethelred's land charters still exist, providing valuable records of his land and property transactions and his interactions with the Mercian clergy and nobility. We are also aided by the Fragmentary Annals of Ireland, a series of later medieval Irish chronicles. These annals provide insight into the later years of Aethelred's life, which were marked by illness and Mercia's defence against Norse-Irish Viking raids in Britain.

Interest in Aethelred has grown in recent years, primarily due to Toby Regbo's portrayal of him in the TV show The Last Kingdom (2015-2022), in which he is depicted as an incompetent and cowardly ruler who resents his wife. However, Bernard Cornwall – the author of The Saxon Stories, on which the show is based – admitted his portrayal of the Mercian leader was unfair to the real historical Aethelred. From the limited source material on Aethelred and his character, we see a courageous soldier and capable ruler who enjoyed a healthy relationship with Aethelflaed and was remembered by medieval chroniclers as a "man of distinguished excellence" and a "valorous earl" (Forester, 89 & Giles, 239).

#History #Vikings #KingdomOfMercia #Britain

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frary-us · 1 year ago

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STUNNING profile shot of Aethelred/Toby. How can someone look so angelic yet be so idiotic & evil?😍😡🤷‍♀️😂

Aethelred | TLK

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fan-fantasies · 2 years ago

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Lady in Waiting

A/N: first off I’d like to offer a disclaimer- there are some time jumps and I altered the storyline a bit just to save myself time. We’ve all watched the series and know what really happened so this is just me taking creative liberties. This is one of the longest fics I’ve written and I’m so happy it’s for our sweet boy, Osferth ❤️

Summary: you are Aethelflaed’s lady-in-waiting and are offered protection by Uhtred and his men, specifically Osferth. You’ve fallen for the man but you cannot give yourself to him fully until marriage. However, marrying the man you love is not going to be as easy as you hoped.

Warnings: a shit ton- dry humping, fingering, oral (f receiving, m receiving mentioned), unprotected p in v, violence, swearing

“Thyra!! Thyra!!”

“Lady Aethelflaed!! Find her!”

The screams of the men were what drew you from the safety of the woods. Finan was the first to spot you as you stumbled your way back into camp.

“Lord, it is y/n,” Finan said. Osferth’s head snapped in your direction and his feet were immediately moving. Before he could reach you, however, Aethelred had his hands on you.

“Where is she? Where is the princess?” He didn’t give you a moment to answer before he was shaking you, asking you again.

Behind you, Thrya was in Beocca’s arms sobbing. She explained that you had all split up in the woods and that Aethelflaed was gone.

“She saved me,” you whispered. All eyes turned to you. “She hid me while the Danes, they…they took her.”

“She gave herself up for the likes of you? It should have been the other way around, should it not?” Aethelred was angry as his grip on your tightened.

“You will unhand her, lord,” Osferth snapped at him.

“I would listen to him,” Finan growled. Though you had not known the men all that well, you were Aethelflaed’s lady-in-waiting so you were familiar with them. You enjoyed their company and how respectful they were. The same could not be said for your lady’s new husband who had already made passes at you.

Aethelred let you go and you fell back against Osferth. He steadied you on your feet while staring down the lord of Mercia.

“We must head back to Wessex,” Uhtred said, looking around the destroyed camp. He watched as Aldhelm whispered to Aethelred who glared at you. “Osferth, you will bring lady y/n back to Winchester and keep an eye on things there for me. We will return to Cookham where Alfred wishes me to stay until we have news to share.”

“I will not be returning to Mercia, lord?” You asked softly.

“No, lady. I do not trust that turd to treat you kindly. Osferth here will protect you,” he said with a kind smile.

“I will take care of you,” Osferth said confidently.

“I know you will.” Finan and Sihtric exchanged a knowing glance when the young monk’s face tinged pink.

Once the camp was salvaged as much as possible, everyone hit the road. Uhtred made sure to keep you close to him and his men.

“I do not understand why I am being protected as if I am treasure,” you chuckled sadly.

“You are as good as gold, lady,” Finan told you.

“Better than,” Osferth added. You ducked your head to hide your smile at their flattery.

You could see Aldhelm and Aethelred scheming ahead of you but Uhtred assured you that all would be fine.

Once Uhtred and his men split off from the group, your nerves began to build. You trusted Osferth but you knew he was no match for the conniving lord of Mercia.

Osferth escorted you to the inn where you were informed that there was only one room available. Osferth paid for it and you brought your things to the room.

“I can find somewhere else to stay, lady,” he offered.

“Nonsense. You paid for the room, you should at least use it,” you told him. “We will be fine and now I know I will be safe.”

Osferth nodded and unpacked his bag. He allowed you to freshen up first before escorting you to dinner. The conversation flowed easily and you found yourself at ease for the first time since the camp was raided. You still worried about Aethelflaed but you knew Uhtred would do everything in his power to retrieve her safely.

“I wonder if they have made it to Cookham already. I am sure Lady Gisela will be happy her husband has returned. They are truly blessed,” you said.

“Gisela is a wonderful lady and they are both happy. That is all any could wish for,” he smiled in agreement.

“Yes that is true. It breaks my heart that not all get to marry for love. Should I ever be lucky enough to secure a husband, I hope he is kind.”

Osferth paused for a moment and looked deep in thought, conflicted almost.

“Any man would be lucky to have you and if anyone treats you with anything less than kindness, I will be sure to handle it myself,” he said. His words surprised you but also made your stomach flip.

You were fond of Osferth and knew he was a good man. But he was a warrior and you were not sure where he stood on the matter of taking a wife.

You finished your supper in silence before returning to your room. The two of you stood awkwardly, looking at the one bed.

“I will sleep on the floor.”

“No, we can share. It is big enough for two,” you said quietly.

“Lady, I’m not sure if that is a good idea,” he said. You feared you had offended him in some manner but waited for him to explain. “It’s just… you are… beautiful. And- it would not be appropriate for me to lie with you- sleep with you- sleep next to you!” He stuttered. You tried your best to hold back a laugh.

“So you cannot sleep in the bed because I’m…beautiful?” You tried your best to stay composed as the reddening monk but a small smile slipped through.

“For my own sanity, lady, I think it is best if I sleep on the floor,” he said rather embarrassed.

“As you wish,” you said. The two of you turned around so you could undress. He made a small spot on the floor for himself while you crawled into the bed.

Every time you would fall asleep, you were startled awake by Osferth tossing and turning, groaning in discomfort.

“Please, for my sanity and my sleep, get in the bed!”

“But-“

“Now!” You shrieked. You tended to get cranky when you were tired and you were exhausted.

“Yes, lady,” he mumbled. He laid as far as possible away from you, stiff as a board.

“I will not try and steal your virtue, Osferth. You may relax.”

“It is not you I am worried about stealing virtue, but myself,” he whispered. You turned toward him with wide eyes. He turned toward you as well and you just stared at one another for a moment.

“I must admit, since I met you my thoughts have been at war in my head. I wish my thoughts to remain pure, but- I do enjoy the impure ones as well.”

“And what is the subject of these impure thoughts?” You asked, filled with hope.

“You- Naked usually,” he admitted.

“Just usually?”

“Sometimes there’s not enough time and I just have to lift your skirt and take you right then and there.”

Your breathing was as heavy as the heart beating out of your chest.

“And which do you prefer?” You asked.

“I prefer when I get to have you completely bare before me and I get to take my time worshipping your body.”

Without another word you closed the distance between the two of you and kissed him with such passion you didn’t know you were capable of. He wasted no time allowing his hands to roam your body and claiming your mouth with his tongue. You moved closer to him to allow him on top of you. He was already grinding against your clothed core and you could feel how hard he was.

He began to press kisses down the column of your throat, making you moan in response.

“Osferth, fuck. We can’t,” you whined. As much as you wanted to, and shit did you want to, you couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, scrambling off of you.

“No you have nothing to be sorry for! It’s just, I’ve taken a vow of chastity until marriage, which I’m much regretting right now,” you sighed.

“I understand, lady,” he said.

“Please, just call me y/n. And just because we can’t do everything doesn’t mean we can’t do some things,” you hinted. His eyes were as big as saucers when he realized what you meant.

“Are you sure? Because we can stop and that’s completely fine.”

“Always a gentleman,” you chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure. If it is a means to not break my vow completely then I am sure God will overlook.”

He needed no further compelling to resume his position and the heated make out session from before. His hand slid between your legs and cupped your center, making you jolt against him. He continued to rut into your leg as he slipped beneath your night dress and undergarments.

He moaned when he felt how wet you were and all for him. He slid his fingers between your folds and you were already trembling beneath him. He circled your clit slowly, building up the speed until you were moaning loudly.

“Where did you learn to be so good at this?” You asked breathlessly.

“Hanging around Uhtred and the others has its perks,” he smirked. “I hope this will please you without having to even enter you.”

“Oh it is pleasurable, but one finger might not hurt,” you whimpered pathetically. You wanted him so badly you were a hairs-width away from breaking your vow.

“No, y/n, this will have to do for now,” he chuckled.

“Will you make me beg, Osferth?”

“I would, lady, yes. Perhaps another time though.”

He sped up his ministrations on your clit and you threw your head back into the pillow. He took the opportunity to nip at your exposed neck. You encouraged him further and he began to leave love bites along your soft skin.

You felt a knot begin to form in your stomach and you began to thrust your hips to meet his fingers where you needed them most. He could tell you were close so he became focused on pushing you over the edge.

He was still humping your thigh and his moans were becoming louder which was enough to ignite the spark that sent your body ablaze. You screaming out his name triggered his own orgasm, which surprised you both but you found it incredibly attractive.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he groaned.

“Don’t be,” you said before pulling him into a searing kiss.

“Let’s clean up and then we can sleep,” he said softly. You nodded in agreement and made your way to the water basin.

You slept wonderfully that night and that is how the evenings continued for the next week or so.

The first time he used his mouth on you you swore you saw heaven. You returned the favor of course and Osferth decided if it was going to send him to hell then it was worth it.

It wasn’t just sex though, there were feelings there. He was gentle and loving all while making sure to protect you from any angry Mercians.

Aethelred already word that the princess sacrificed herself to save you and that did not sit well with many. Osferth comforted you and told you that not only were you worth saving but that everyone else could be damned for thinking otherwise.

Uhtred and his warriors arrived in Winchester with news of the princess. He went straight to the palace while Finan and Sihtric went to find Osferth.

“Baby monk!!” Finan shouted as soon as he laid eyes on him at the ale house. Osferth immediately stood and welcomed both men with a hug.

“Lady,” Sihtric said, bowing his head.

“Oh come here!” Finan yelled as he pulled you into his arms. “Thank ya for keeping my baby monk safe in our absence.”

“It was no trouble at all,” you laughed. “I will go get you both some ale.”

“So is she your wife yet?” Finan asked. Osferth choked on his spit at his friends words.

“No! Why would you ask that?”

“We know how ya feel for her,” he chuckled.

“It does look like he has some repenting to do though.” Sihtric smirked as he pulled down the collar of his robe, exposing the marks you had left on him the night previous.

Sihtric and Finan howled as Osferth glowed red. You came back over with a jug of ale and two cups, a smile gracing your face.

“What’s so funny?” You asked.

“I see it’ll be a confessional for two,” Finan added, pointing to your neck. Instead of hiding from the teasing, you placed a kiss on Osferth’s cheek.

“We will confess when we’re done doing all that needs repenting,” you told them. Their eyes all went wide and it was your turn to smirk. You sauntered off to your room and left the men to catch up.

“Good thing ya left her in one piece- I don’t think that’s what Uhtred had in mind when he said protect her,” Finan chuckled.

“It’s not what you think,” Osferth rolled his eyes.

“So make her your wife and make it what we think,” Sihtric told him.

“Uhtred would not permit me to marry.”

“Why not? She is a nice girl and we like her. She’s good for ya,” Finan replied.

Osferth considered his friends’ words. He cared for you, loved you even, but would you feel the same?

Uhtred eventually joined and filled them in on the plan. They were to travel north to negotiate for Aethelflaed’s safe return.

“How is your lady holding up?” Uhtred asked Osferth.

“M-my lady, lord?” Uhtred and the others chuckled.

“He wants permission to marry her, lord,” Finan said. Osferth could not believe the audacity of his friend, well, maybe he could.

“So she is well then?” Uhtred laughed.

“She is, lord. And I would like permission for when the time comes.”

“Permission granted, Osferth.”

He couldn’t help the giddy feeling that bubbled up inside of him, but also the nerves.

“Come, let us drink our fill. The ale in the north isn’t nearly as good,” Sihtric said.

The men were fairly drunk by the time Osferth found his way to your room. You had fallen asleep but woke up when you heard him stumble into the room. You watched in amusement as he stumbled around trying to undress himself.

“Well hello there,” he said when he finally laid eyes on you.

“Hello, Osferth,” you replied. You pulled back the sheets for him so he could come to bed.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He flopped onto the bed and it took some adjusting to try and get him comfortable.

“You will not have a good day tomorrow,” you said.

“Yes I will, because I get to marry you,” he said before drifting off into a heavy slumber. You, however, could not find sleep over the words he just said.

What did he mean he gets to marry you? You never agreed to such a union, although you would not protest. You would also both need your lord and lady’s permission before anything moved forward and your lady was a bit preoccupied at the moment.

The next morning, you waited to see if he would say anything. However, the only sounds emitted from him were groans when the light seeped through the window.

“Good morning, love,” you laughed.

“Is it?” He grumbled.

“Yes, I believe it is.”

“Go on ahead to breakfast, I’ll catch up,” he groaned. You pressed a kiss to his forehead before going to find food.

“Lady! Join us!” Finan smiled as soon as he saw you. You sat at the table happily and picked at some food.

“We leave tomorrow morning for the north,” Uhtred informed you.

“All of you?”

“Yes, all of us,” he said with a sad smile.

“We will all return to you in one piece,” Finan joked.

“You better,” you tried your best to smile.

“You will be going to stay with Thyra until we return. You will be safe with her,” Sihtric said.

“Perhaps you should go spend the day with your man; remind him what he’s fighting to come back to,” Finan said with a smirk.

“I think I’ll do just that,” you sighed, filling a plate to bring back with you.

You spent the day with Osferth, nursing him until the hangover passed.

You wanted to give him all of you, but you simply could not. You wanted to ask what he meant by what he said last night, but could not find the words in case he would regret what he said.

The next morning, you saw him out to the stables where the men were readying their horses.

“Promise you will return to me,” you said softly.

“I swear, my love, if you will make a promise in return.”

“Anything, Osferth.”

“Marry me.”

Your heart was racing as you processed his words.

“I- yes I will marry you,” you said, jumping into his arms. His friends all watched on in amusement and happiness.

“We will discuss it further when I return,” he said, unable to contain his smile. Thyra came and found you to bring you back to her house. You waved the men off and you couldn’t contain your excitement for their return.

All you had to do was get the Lady Aethelflaed’s permission. She was always so kind to you and you cared for her deeply, you were sure she would grant you permission once she was recovered.

The time passed slowly, but you found that Thyra was great company to keep. You waited for word of your lady’s recovery but you could tell there was unrest in the city.

Uhtred had sent a messenger back to the city to explain to Alfred the cost to buy back his daughter.

All of Wessex and Mercia was to help pay the ransom but what they did not know was that the princess had no plans to return south.

Osferth had sent a message of his own, alerting you to your lady’s plan and reassuring you that he was safe. You burned the letter as soon as you read it.

You wanted Aethelflaed to be happy and if this Northman was capable of doing that then blessings to her.

More time passed and men marched from the city. You became anxious and prayed every night that everyone you cared for would be safe.

You found yourself at the secluded lake one day, washing and enjoying the nice weather. You were lost in your thoughts and didn’t hear the person walking along the banking.

“What a sight for sore eyes.”

You whipped around in the water, clutching your chest.

“Osferth!”

You swam to the shore as quick as possible and ran into his arms, not caring you were wet and naked.

“If I’m welcomed back this way every time, perhaps I should leave more often,” he smirked.

“You should not,” you laughed, pulling him in for a kiss.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, perhaps we should get you dressed and back to town.”

“Yes- wait! What of Lady Aethelflaed?”

“She is back safe. The Northman did not make it. I will tell you everything later, I swear.”

He helped you get dressed and you made your way back to town. You greeted your friends who were already drinking the ale house owner out of house and home.

“I’m so glad to see all of you!”

“As we are to see you, lady,” Uhtred smiled.

“Aethelflaed is spending time with her family I’m guessing?”

“She is. I would give her a few days to settle in before going to the palace. Her husband is not in the best mood despite having his wife back,” Uhtred grunted. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Yes, he is a bit of an arse,” you mumbled.

“Just a bit?” Sihtric scoffed.

“Perhaps more than,” you laughed.

“Well luckily for you, your husband will be a kind man,” Osferth smiled. You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips while the other men pretended to vomit.

You gave the princess a week to recover with her loved ones before approaching her. She pulled you into a tight embrace and apologized for any terrible things her husband may have said.

“I am used to your husbands sharp tongue, lady. And I’d rather it be directed at me than you,” you said softly.

“You are too kind, y/n,” she replied.

“Speaking of husbands…I wanted to ask you something, lady.”

“Of course. You may ask me anything,” she said.

“I have had a marriage proposal and wanted to seek your permission.”

She grabbed your hand in hers with a huge smile on her face.

“Oh that is wonderful news! Who is it?” She asked.

“Osferth. Uhtred has already given his permission.”

Aethelflaed’s smile slowly fell as she considered your words.

“I am afraid I cannot allow that.” She said sternly. Your heart fell into your stomach.

“May I ask why not?”

“He is my father’s bastard and any children you may bare could lay claim to the throne in the future. I cannot permit such a thing to happen,” she said coolly.

“So you would deny me happiness due to the risk to your family? A risk that would not even occur!”

“You could not ensure that,” she snapped.

“But I could! He will have children of his own some day whether it be with me or another. Wouldn’t you rather it be with someone you are close to and would be on your side in the matter?” You tried reasoning.

“I have given my answer. Besides, I need you now more than ever,” she said in hushed tones, cradling her stomach.

“I did not put that babe in you so why should I have to care for it? And I’m guessing it wasn’t your husband who did either,” you said.

You knew your words would cut deep but you did not care. She had just robbed you of your happiness for her own selfish reasons.

“You will go to my chambers and pack my things. We leave first thing tomorrow. I order you to stay away from Osferth and any of Uhtred’s men.”

You said nothing as you turned on your heel and left the room. You could not believe her. You wanted to run to Osferth but you knew she could have you seized for disobeying her.

You rounded the final corner to the chambers and ran into Father Beocca.

“Child, what’s wrong?” He asked, noticing the tears on your cheeks.

“Lady Aethelflaed will not allow Osferth and I to marry for fear of our children trying to stake a claim to the throne,” you sobbed.

“That is absurd! I will speak to Uhtred and she will be reasoned with,” he reassured you.

You packed the princess’s belongings rather quickly in hopes of sneaking out to find Osferth. As if reading your mind, you heard a knock on the chamber door.

“Y/N?”

“Osferth?” You asked quietly. You met him in the hall and found an empty room where you could speak in private.

“You have heard the news?” You asked sadly.

“I have and I have more,” he sighed. “Uhtred went to speak with your lady but she is not having it. I gave her my word that any children we have would not be a threat to the crown but it was not enough.”

“I am so sorry, my love,” you cried. He pulled you into his arms and held you as you cried. He kissed you like it was his dying wish to feel your lips on his one last time.

“Time to retire,” you heard Aethelflaed call from outside the door. “Say your goodbyes.”

“I will see you again, my love,” he whispered.

You could do nothing but nod sadly, parting from him with one last kiss.

The next day you journeyed back to Mercia with the Lady Aethelflaed and her men. You did not speak to her and she did not speak to you other than what was necessary.

That is how it continued for weeks on end. You were miserable and as much as she tried to reason with you, you refused to listen. The weeks turned into months and slowly life returned to as close to normal as it would.

Your lady swelled with the child and when she was born, you were torn between joy and pain. You were happy for her, for her healthy baby made from love, but you resented her from tearing the same opportunity from you.

4 years later…

“Men! There are men in the kitchen!” One of the nuns shrieked.

“Bar the door!” Aethelflaed yelled.

You hid yourself in a corner while everyone was quiet.

“Is it Danes?” Someone asked.

“What if I am Saxon by birth but Dane by heart?” Uhtred called from above.

“Uhtred? You came!” Aethelflaed sighed in relief. “Open the door.”

The nuns opened the door and the rest of Uhtred’s men, including your beloved Osferth. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when you laid eyes on him for the first time in years. He hadn’t noticed you yet and you let yourself drink him in.

He looked like your same, sweet Osferth, but more of a man. His jaw was sharper and he looked more muscular than you remembered.

As much as you enjoyed admiring him, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had found another to marry. He was handsome and a fierce warrior, you were sure he caught the attention of many ladies.

“Would you please helps the nuns in the kitchen please, y/n?” Aethelflaed asked you. Osferth’s eyes darted to yours and it looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Yes, lady,” you mumbled as you joined the other women in the kitchen.

Osferth wanted to follow, but he knew he shouldn’t. He had missed you greatly but he knew if he held you in his arms once more that he wouldn’t be able to let go.

Aethelflaed kept you busy while the men were there to keep you distracted from Osferth. It wasn’t an easy task but you managed to avoid him other than at meal times.

One morning, you were all eating breakfast when you heard a scream outside and nuns came running into the hall.

“Danes! Outside and they have hostages!” The abbess shrieked. “They’ve asked for the Lady Aethelflaed.”

“You must go and speak to them, tell them she is not here,” Uhtred told her.

“I cannot!”

“You must, even if it is only to buy us time to make a plan.”

“I will do it,” you offered.

“No!” Osferth argued.

“I will go,” the abbess said, taking your hand in hers. “It is my responsibility.”

The door was barred shut behind her as Uhtred and Aethelflaed watched from the window. You found yourself mindlessly gravitating toward Osferth until your side was pressed to his.

Finan and Uhtred discussed a plan forward when you heard the abbess scream outside. She was dead. And you feared that you were all next.

“Ladies, to the back. We will handle this,” Finan said, ushering you and the nuns to the back of the hall. Osferth gave you a small nod before readying himself with the other men behind the door.

The action broke out before you could even register it. You did your best to remain calm while you watched the battle in the hall before you. Uhtred seemed to have the advantage but a few Danes managed to slip by them.

“Hello, ladies!” They laughed menacingly.

“Leave them!” You yelled, standing in front of the nuns with your sword drawn.

“I like them feisty,” one chuckled. The other easily knocked your sword from your hand and grabbed you. You thrashed against him but it was no use as he overpowered you.

“Come men! Outside!” Haesten yelled. You were dragged toward the door but before the men could get any further, the one that was holding you suddenly released his grip.

He fell to the floor in pain while the other tried to fight his attacker. You watched Osferth fight the larger man but he eventually bested him and drove his sword through the Dane’s heart.

He swept you into his arms and held you tight.

“No one will take you from me again,” he sighed.

Uhtred drove the remaining Danes from the nunnery but you knew that was not the last you’d be seeing of them.

“We must travel to Aegelesburg, to tell my husband and father of what has happened here,” Aethelflaed informed everyone.

“We will accompany you,” Uhtred said. You glanced at Osferth who offered you a shy smile.

The journey was not too long and it was no surprise you were met with resistance at the gates.

“You are welcome, lady. But the outlaws must remain outside the hall,” Steapa told you all.

“Y/N, please secure food and ale for these men in my absence,” she told you. So off you went in search of provisions for the warriors.

“Lady, wait for me!” Osferth called after you.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you joked.

“Well those were different times,” he sighed.

“Yes, I suppose they were. Perhaps you should call me lady out of respect for whoever you’ve chosen to take as your wife.”

You entered a storage shed where you knew they always kept an extra supply of food and ale.

“I have no wife, lady. I could never,” he said quietly. You turned to face him and you could see the sadness in his eyes.

“Surely there have been others?”

“I could never,” he repeated.

Against all reason, you flung yourself into his arms and pulled him into a kiss. You tried to pour every ounce of emotion you had been feeling for the last few years into the kiss so he would understand how much you had missed him.

He had you pinned against the counter as he allowed his hands to re-familiarize themselves with your body. His tongue fought for dominance with yours and you could not control the moans of contentment that were spilling from you. Your body was on fire and you wanted nothing more than for him to take you right there.

“Osferth, my love, please. Please, I need more,” you whined.

“We cannot, not here.”

“Then take me elsewhere, anywhere,” you begged.

“As much as I would love to ravage you right now, you know it would not be right.”

His words caused frustration to bubble up inside of you and for a damn to break.

“I am sick and tired of people telling me what is wrong and what is right! I am tired of people telling me no and controlling my life, denying me happiness and what I want!” You snapped.

Osferth was surprised by your outburst but he understood. He often felt anger whenever he thought on the situation and of how it was unfair.

“It was your wish to remain chaste until marriage and you know we cannot,” he said.

“Well then I take back my oath. I will never marry if it is not to you and therefore give you permission to ravage me,” you said defiantly.

“Are you certain, my love?” He asked.

“Please do not make me beg,” you whined.

“I did tell you perhaps another time,” he chuckled. “Tonight then. Because our first time will not be in a storage shed in the open.”

“Tonight it is.”

You couldn’t help the smile that enveloped your face. The two of you sorted yourselves out and grabbed some food and ale to bring to your friends.

“Jesus! We thought we were gonna starve!” Finan yelled when he finally laid eyes on the two of you.

“Yes, you look as though you’re withering away,” you joked.

“We are!” Sihtric argued.

You set the food down before them and joined them, sitting next to Osferth. He kept a hand on your leg at all times which did not help the growing fire in your belly. Tonight could not come soon enough.

Uhtred was eventually allowed into the hall to speak with Edward and Alfred. The men were finally full and content, allowing you and Osferth time to sneak away.

“You are still certain you wish to do this?” He asked.

“Do you not wish to bed me, Osferth?”

“I do! I do, I just wanted to make sure.”

“Well I am sure, and I thank you for asking,” you said.

You silently led him to your chambers and closed the door securely behind you. Neither of you moved for a moment and all of a sudden you both burst into a fit of giggles.

“It is not like we have not done anything before,” you laughed, finally breaking the tension.

“I know but it has been so long and I get to have all of you now,” he said, stalking toward you.

His nimble fingers unbuttoned your dress, and you allowed him to pull it from your figure. You helped him with your undergarments while he rid himself of his own clothes. You took a moment to drink each other in before your hands were grabbing at anything they could touch, tongues entwined once more.

He guided you to your bed where you landed softly on the furs. Your legs fell open naturally, welcoming him between them. His nose grazed your inner thigh while you waited for him to act.

“I have missed this,” he sighed before diving into your cunt.

He licked a fat strip between your folds before settling on your clit. You had been untouched for so long that every ministration sent shockwaves through your body.

“Fingers, I need your fingers, Osferth,” you moaned.

“No, nothing shall enter you before my cock. After that, my love, I shall give you whatever you want,” he said.

He licked and sucked until you were mere moments away from the edge. You did your best to be quiet but it was difficult with the gorgeous man with his head between your thighs.

“Osferth, I am close!”

He focused on the spot he knew was sure to send you into your bliss. You thought about what was to come next, having him inside of you, and that was enough to throw you over the edge.

Your body writhed on the bed but he held your hips down while he lapped at your soaking cunt.

“I need you, please,” you begged.

He crawled his way up your body and kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You could feel his cock poking your entrance and it caused your heart to race.

He slid it through your slick folds a few times before slowly sinking into you. He went slowly, trying to allow you time to adjust. He knew he would not last long either so he wanted to savor the feeling for as long as he could.

“You feel amazing,” he grunted, finally fully sheathed inside you.

“I must have died and gone to heaven,” you sighed happily.

He began to pull out gently before rocking back into you. The more you grew accustomed to his size, the faster he began to thrust.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, trying to hold on as long as possible. Your walls fluttering around him were torture as he didn’t want it to end.

“I am afraid you feel too good wrapped around my cock,” he groaned.

“Cum, Osferth. Let me feel you,” you told him.

A few more thrusts of his hips and he was emptying inside of you. Your name fell from his lips like it was the only prayer he knew.

His hand slid between the two of you and found your clit. He rubbed you slowly, still fully seated within you.

He felt you clench around him and he knew you were close. He sang sweet praises in your ear until your back was arching off the bed and you were cumming for the second time. If he was not already so spent from the first time, he would have begun fucking you again. But to feel your sweet cunt swallowing him up as you came was satisfaction enough for now.

He cleaned you off as best he could before joining you in bed. You pulled the furs over the two of you and laid on his chest.

“What are we to do, Osferth?” You asked sadly.

“Sleep?”

“No, silly. I cannot go years without seeing you again- without touching you.”

“Do you think your lady may be persuaded now that time has passed?”

“I doubt it. Perhaps I could just run off with you…but she would know who to find me with,” you sighed.

“We will find a way. I swear it,” he told you.

Days had passed and the leaders prepared their armies for battle. You did not want to let Osferth go but you knew he would be returned to you safely. Victory always favored Uhtred and his men.

A year or so later…

“Beg me, my love. Beg me to fill you with my seed and you will have it,” Osferth whispered into your ear. He pounded into you as you could barely register what he was saying.

“Please! Please, fill me. I need you, my love,” you cried.

Your vision went white as your orgasm crashed over you, his hips still slamming into you. Your nails dragged down his back, causing him to lose his rhythm and spill into you.

The two of you had spent the better part of the last year speaking behind Aethelflaed’s back. You considered getting married in secret but Osferth said you deserved better than that.

Change was coming, you could feel it. So you tried to enjoy your lover for as long as you could.

“Aye! If you two are done in there, we need to get going!” Finan yelled.

“Be there in a minute!” Osferth yelled, rolling his eyes. “My apologies, my love.”

“I understand you must go. Battle awaits,” you sighed.

The Danes had sacked Mercia while Aethelred played king in East Anglia. The hope was to best them in Tettenhall, luring C’nut there through his sons, who he thought to be slaughtered.

“I will return to you, as I always do,” he smiled.

Waiting to hear word of either victory or defeat was always a challenge. Losing Osferth before you even really had the chance to live a life with him would surely be your undoing.

A weeks time had passed while you busied yourself around Aegelsburg. Your heart dropped into your stomach when you heard the call for the gate to be opened. Men rushed in with a body on a cart. It was not your Osferth, but Aethelred.

The lord had been injured in battle and you wished you could say you felt sorry for him. His treatment of his wife, and any other woman really, did not allow for such kindness.

Aethelflaed and Edward began preparation for a new lord to be chosen should her husband perish.

Aelfywnn was an obvious path but that was not suitable for she was just a child. Many of the young men of prominence in Mercia had been slaughtered by the Danes.

Unbeknownst to Aethelflaed, Edward went behind her back and sought out Uhtred. Uhtred was popular with the people and Edward felt he could be inclined to follow Wessex.

Aethelflaed objected, of course. Her love for Uhtred did not outweigh her duty to her country. He was not the right choice, she felt, but then men could not be dissuaded. Uhtred’s men were over the moon, thankful to finally have some wealth and power.

“Uhtred, do you swear to lead Mercia on a path that is righteous and beneficial to all Mercians?” Ludeca asked.

“I swear.”

“Does the wittan agree to appoint Uhtred the next Lord of Mercia?”

“Aye! Aye! Aye!”

Aethelflaed watched on in discontent.

“Then Uhtred, we hereby proclaim you Lord of Mercia! You may take your throne!”

Uhtred stood before the Wittan with a sly smile on his face.

“I am grateful for this opportunity to rule over Mercia. However, I do not feel like I am the best choice. There is someone who will put this land above all else and that is the leader Mercia deserves! So my first act as Lord of Mercia is to relinquish the throne in favor of the Lady Aethelflaed.”

Gasps erupted around the room and Edward was furious. The princess was as shocked as anyone else.

“A woman cannot sit on the throne! What if she chooses to remarry? That man would be the new lord therefore bypassing the Wittan,” someone argued.

“If it pleases the Wittan, I will swear an oath to remain chaste so long as I sit on the Mercian throne.” Aethelflaed offered.

“You will also swear one thing to me,” Uhtred said.

“What is it?” She asked.

“I will relinquish the throne to you if you swear to allow y/n to marry Osferth. End their suffering and allow them to be wed. There will be no threat,” he whispered.

“That is what you require? Not land nor silver?”

“Everyone deserves happiness and they have been denied long enough. Plus I am tired of them sneaking around,” he chuckled.

“Fine. I swear to you, Uhtred, I shall allow them to marry. And I swear before the Wittan that I will remain chaste as Lady of Mercia!”

“Then it is settled. Lady Aethelflaed, take your throne!”

Meanwhile, the men were celebrating in the ale house unaware of what was occurring. You took the time enjoy everyone’s company, certain you would have to leave with the princess some time soon. You doubted she would stay in Aegelesburg and were certain she would take you with her.

“Men, lady,” Uhtred said as he walked through the door.

“The Lord of Mercia visiting an ale house? How scandalous!” Finan laughed.

“I was lord for all of five minutes,” he chuckled. “I gave up the throne in favor of Lady Aethelflaed.”

“You did?” You gasped.

“I did- but not before some oaths were made.” The smile on his face was cunning, that of a cat who swallowed a canary.

“Care to share those oaths, lord?” Osferth asked.

“Firstly, the Lady of Mercia will remain chaste as long as she sits on the throne,” he said.

You knew how upset that must have made him; his love for your lady was no secret.

“Secondly, a marriage has been arranged.”

“Who is it, lord?” Sihtric asked.

“We have a wedding to plan, boys,” Uhtred chuckled.

“Lord?”

“If y/n still wishes to be married to the baby monk, that is.”

“That is not a funny joke, Lord Uhtred,” you said, the nerves evident in your voice.

For so long you wished to hear those words but now that you had, you couldn’t allow yourself to believe them to be true.

“It is no joke, Lady. I told Aethelflaed that if she wanted the throne, she needed to let the two of you wed. So you have our permissions.”

“This is true, lord?” Osferth asked, standing in excitement.

“Is it true? How many times do I have to repeat myself? It is true!”

“Let us find Father Pyrlig! We shall marry at once!” Osferth pulled you into his arms as you cried in happiness.

“Father Pyrlig may need a few minutes,” you heard someone groan from behind you.

You all turned to see Father Pyrlig laying on the table surrounded by empty cups of ale.

“We shall marry tomorrow then!” Osferth laughed. Your friends cheered for you as you clung to the man you loved most.

God had blessed you at last and you hoped for that favor to continue in your marriage as you hoped to one day have a family with Osferth- in a small home with the safety of your already made family surrounding you.

——————————————————

The Last Kingdom Taglist: @cornervase @camillabrady @mdawgs01 @moldy-khunt @stray-bi-kids @emilyhufflepufftlk @solinarimoon @chainsawsangel

Taglist: @cornervase @camillabrady @moldy-khunt @stray-bi-kids @emilyhufflepufftlk @solinarimoon @chainsawsangel

Taglist:

#osferth smut #Osferth x reader #osferth tlk #the last kingdom #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell smut

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humanpurposes · 1 year ago

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From Eden

Chapter 1: Little Novice

Danes attack Wincombe Abbey and a young novice crosses paths with a group of mercenaries and their Baby Monk // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Osferth x Original Female Character

Warnings: bit of violence and death, suggestive themes if you squint, there will eventually be smut

Words: 4000

A/n: not me starting another series oops but i can't resist the baby monk

Today saw the first snowfall of the year. A few flakes landed on Bridget’s sleeves as she sauntered past the hard and frosted soil of the vegetable garden, past the pigsty and towards the stream that circled Wincombe Abbey. She swung an empty pitcher back and forth as she hummed the least melancholy hymn she could think of.

They had guests currently. Lady Aethelflaed of Mercia had arrived two days ago, bringing with her a group of guards who were camping at outside the Abbey. Bridget had been tempted to walk past the men on her errand, but the Abbess was already in a foul mood and she didn’t fancy testing her temper. Not unless it was for something interesting.

She had spent her morning as she always did. Prayers first. Her knees were never not bruised by the flagstone floor of the chapel, but with winter settling in they were numb too. Then she saw to the goats and the pigs. Then she helped in the kitchen. Finally, she got to eat in the hall with her Sisters. Bread with some winter preserves and slices of cured ham.

When she got to the stream, she placed the pitcher by her feet. With a final glance over her shoulder to the solitary stone building of the Abbey, she hopped across the water on a sparse path of rocks and made for the line of trees ahead of her.

The woods were the only place she felt like a living person and not simply a novice in a habit.

Bridget couldn’t stand how quiet life the Abbey could be. The Abbess, a stern but fair woman, told her it was because she was restless and unappreciative, but perhaps she was simply not well suited to mindfulness and prayer. Sometimes she could find things to laugh about with the younger girls, but then the Abbess would scold her for her “impiety”.

Once she was amongst the trees she tugged at her habit. In the summer she might take it off, but it offered some extra warmth in the colder months.

Her preferred weapon was where she left it, leaning against the trunk of a young oak tree. A broken bit of a branch, small enough for her to wield and heavy enough to hit against the trees.

She twirled it through her hands, just as her brother used to show her. From the few memories she had, she remembered he could do all sorts of impressive tricks with his sword. He could spin it and slice it through the air in controlled and precise movements.

It had been a decade since she had seen her brother, but she tried to keep his teachings with her, swinging branches at tree trunks, imagining she was a great warrior, like David slaying Goliath. Technically David had slayed Goliath with a rock and a sling, a detail the Abbess insisted was important. Bridget could invent a thousand reasons why, but she didn’t care to.

Especially when she was younger, she liked to imagine herself as a warrior when she was tasked with cutting wood or slaughtering and butchering the pigs. They were both hard work, but she was always willing to do it, if only to have an excuse to be destructive for once. She found it could be quite cathartic.

After a particularly harsh blow against a tree that cracked the branch almost in two, she froze. She heard horses. She hoped they would move on, but she made out a few figures in the distance, figures who appeared to have spotted her and were moving closer.

She dropped the branch and fixed her habit, to find a lock of her hair hovering over her forehead. She tucked it back in as the faces of the riders came into view.

There were five who rode at the front, four men and a woman with pale, blonde hair and strange markings on her face. A larger group, no more than twenty, hung back a little.

“A nun,” one of the men called. He rode in front of the group, their leader, she supposed.

“There we are then, you’ll feel right at home, Baby Monk,” another said. He had a gruff voice and an Irish accent. One of the other men laughed. The woman didn’t react at all.

“Is the Abbey nearby?” The leader asked.

Bridget frowned. He had an accent she could not place. “You are Danish?” She looked amongst the rest of their group, and they each seemed to find her accusation amusing.

“What is my religion to you, girl?”

“I would like to know if you would seek to do us harm.”

He raised a brow. “And you believe the best measure of a man to be the gods he follows?”

“I believe the best measure of a man is his intentions,” she said, meeting his eye and determined to keep her expression stoic.

But apparently he was pleased with her response. “You and I are similar in this respect,” he said, loosening the grip of his reins. “We seek the Lady Aethelflaed.”

“Would you seek to do her harm?”

“Only the good kind,” the Irishman mumbled with a smirk.

The leader rolled his eyes. “She and I are friends. I have come to offer her my protection.”

Bridget looked into the eyes of each of their group, the leader, the Irishman, the one who from his hair also looked to be a Dane, and the younger man riding at the back of the group. The woman had an unsettling gaze, she was the only one Bridget felt she felt compelled to look away from. The Abbess would call the markings on her face the markings of a heathen.

“There is a bridge over the stream,” she said, pointing through the trees. “Cross there. There will be room for your horses in the stables.”

She watched the men move away, each of them offering thankful smiles. She concealed her own, and headed back the way she came, across the stream and to the abbey with the empty pitcher.

Lady Aethelflaed welcomed them warmly and named their leader as Lord Uhtred. After it was agreed that they were decidedly not Danes (not the kind who would attack an Abbey anyhow), they settled in the hall, where Bridget and the nuns brought them bowls of stew and bread.

She expected them to eat like the Mercian guards, wolfing down bread and stew like they hadn’t seen food in days, but Lord Uhtred and his men thanked her graciously as she placed bowls on the table and went round to ladle out more stew for them.

Until she came to the man sitting at the end of the table, beside Lady Aethelflaed. He was the youngest of the group, with wide blue eyes and a sharp jaw. He kept to himself, slightly hunched over his stew.

She was rather fascinated by his robes and the small silver cross around his neck. If he had a slightly worse haircut he would look like a monk. But that was ridiculous, why would a monk be travelling with a group of mercenaries?

She approached him and waited for him to notice her. He looked up at her a smiled vaguely.

She indicated to the pot she was carrying.

“Please,” he muttered, holding out his bowl.

She dished a few spoonfuls for him and he smiled again, a little wider this time. She smiled back.

She wondered where he might be from, why he served a Dane if he wore a cross, how far their group had travelled and how many tales they might have.

“May I ask your name?” He asked.

She had been so distracted trying to think of something to say that his question took her by surprise.

“Oh… Bridget,” she said. “And you?”

“I am Osferth,” he said. He was very softly spoken, she thought. There was something so gentle and subdued about him.

“Are you a monk, Osferth?” She asked.

He glanced down at the cross hanging from his neck. “I was, I left my order to serve Lord Uhtred.”

“And now you are, what, a mercenary?”

Osferth chuckled to himself and shook his head lightly. “I am not much of a fighter just yet.”

“But you have a sword, and your friends are warriors.”

“I am still learning. In the meantime I can only practice and pray to God for courage and strength.”

She felt a light feeling in her chest she was sure she hadn’t felt in years. That’s what she prayed for too, even when the nuns told her she should be praying for patience and forgiveness.

“How did you—”

“Bridget.” The Abbess called, glaring at her from across the table.

Bridget nodded her head to Osferth, a farewell, she supposed, and headed back to the kitchen. One of the girls followed behind her, with a now empty pitcher of ale.

“The Irishman is handsome,” Bridget whispered into her ear once they were through the doors.

The other girl’s mouth fell open.

“What? Surely it is not a sin to look?”

The next morning, the Abbess ensured Bridget stayed in the kitchen. “So you might not be so easily distracted,” she warned, leaving her to peel and slice an endless amount of vegetables.

The Abbess seemed rather distressed at hosting Lord Uhtred and his men. “Ravenous permanently,” she grumbled, marching in through the kitchen with the remains of their breakfast. “They are eating into our winter stores.”

“So why let them stay?” Bridget muttered, dragging the edge of her knife over the skin of a few carrots.

“Because it is our place to show kindness,” the Abbess insisted through her teeth. She emptied the plate into a bucket by Bridget’s feet. “Take that out to the pigs.”

Bridget made no verbal protest. She placed the knife down and left through a small door that led out to the side of the Abbey, just as she had done the previous day. The skin of her cheeks stung when it met the icy morning air. The snow was heavier today. She blinked a few flakes out of her eyes and marched quickly towards the pigsty.

She made sure to scratch them behind the ears, poor things, left out in the cold.

She made her way around the building, to the front doors of the Abbey, and blinked.

And blinked again.

No, there was defineately an army of Danes lined up on the other side of the bridge.

“Good morning, nun!” One cried from atop a grey horse.

“Who are you?” Bridget demanded, but her voice came out a little more broken than intended.

The man chuckled and nodded to the bridge.

They had three hostages, each with a knife being held to their throats.

But with the order from their leader, the first hostage’s throat was sliced open, his body carelessly left to fall to the floor.

Bridget couldn’t bring herself to scream and choked out a broken sort of gasp.

They made no demands, made no moves towards her, and there was no indication they intended to kill the other two hostages. Not yet.

She slowly stalked towards the doors, unable to keep her eyes away from the danger.

“We will wait!” The man on the horse called, “for Aethelflaed!”

She ran to the kitchen first.

“To the hall!” She cried, moving to shut the windows.

The others all stared at her for a moment.

“Now!”

“What is the meaning of this?” The Abbess asked, bolting the door to the gardens as the others fled the kitchen.

“Danes,” Bridget breathed. She hadn’t realised her lack of breath or the restless feeling creeping under her skin.

The Abbess’s skin turned pale. She placed her hand on Bridget’s shoulder and ushered her towards the hall.

The nuns and novices had raised alarm amongst the men. Half of them were already reaching for their weapons.

Bridget and the Abbess slammed the doors of the hall with an ominous thud.

“What is it?” Lord Uhtred demanded.

“Danes. Outside.”

Every man was on his feet in an instant, and the sound of unsheathed swords rang through the hall.

“How many Danes?” The Irishman asked.

Bridget faltered. She hadn’t thought to count them. “More than twenty. Less than fifty.”

A few men moved towards the doors and the windows, but Lord Uhtred ordered them to hold for the time being.

He turned to Bridget. “Do you know what they want?”

“He asked for Lady Aethelflaed.”

“But they may not know we are here,” he said to his men.

“They know someone is here,” Osferth’s voice came. He was still sat at the table and had not drawn his sword.

“But they have hostages,” Bridget said. “They killed one man and they have two more.”

“We remain inside, and we remain silent,” Uhtred ordered, coming towards Bridget and the Abbess. “They must believe you are unprotected,” he said.

He looked between them for a moment, and turned back to Bridget. “Would you speak with them?”

Her heart must have stopped for a moment. “What?”

“We cannot save the hostages, but you can save the lives of the men and women here.”

“And Aethelflaed,” Osferth added.

“You must deny she is here; convince them you have nothing to offer.”

Her restlessness was starting to feel like fear, but she understood Lord Uhtred’s plan, and she could not say why, but she was inclined to trust him.

Until the Abbess interjected. “No!”

Bridget’s heart sank a little. “Abbess, I can do it—”

“No, child, this is my house. This will be my responsibility.” She turned to Lord Uhtred. “I will do it.”

Bridget followed Uhtred and some of the other men into the entrance hall. She stood by one of the windows, out of sight of the Danes, occasionally stealing glances of the Abbess as she stepped out to attempt a negotiation.

“We know him,” a voice muttered beside her. She looked up to see Osferth’s jaw hovering over her. “His name is Haesten.”

The Abbess made her plea for mercy.

In turn, a second man had his throat slit.

“Deny her presence again and a third man dies. And I will burn down your nunnery, and everyone in it.”

Bridget placed her hand on her throat. She could feel her heart pulsing.

A hand gently came onto her shoulder, but Osferth said nothing. His hands were larger than she realised. It wasn’t exactly calming, but she liked it.

True to the words of the Dane, the third man was slain, and when the Abbess reached for an axe she was met with a spear to her chest.

Bridget flinched into Osferth’s chest, keeping her hands over her eyes.

“Aethelflaed!” Haesten cried. “How many more men and women must die to save your bony arse?”

“To the hall,” Osferth said, taking one of her hands in his.

When she glanced once more out the window, Haesten and his men were moving past the bodies of the hostages and the Abbess, towards the doors.

Bridget, Osferth and Aethelflaed gathered the nuns and novices to the back of the hall, while Uhtred and his men lined up behind the doors with shields, spears and swords.

“Will you not fight?” Bridget asked Osferth.

“I told you, I am not much of a warrior,” he said solemnly, as he and Lady Aethelflaed positioned themselves before the others.

Bridget frowned, but tried to distract herself by whispering assurances to some of the younger girls.

When the doors finally burst open she felt utterly helpless. The fighting was kept by the doors and the entrance hall, while Osferth and Lady Aethelflaed watched with their swords drawn.

And when two of the Danes broke through the line protecting the door, they moved together. Lady Aethelflaed fought better than the monk, she thought.

She watched as a third man fought through, overwhelming Osferth while Aethelflaed was still preoccupied.

Bridget couldn’t stop herself. She darted towards the table and grabbed a knife. She supposed the man could have easily turned to her and lodged his axe in her chest, but he didn’t get a chance to even look at her before she rammed the knife into his neck, sending a spray of blood through the air.

The rest of the room was a haze. Something warm and wet landed on and dripped down her cheek.

Suddenly she felt two hands against her shoulders. She blinked.

Osferth’s blue eyes were glaring at her. “That was foolish,” he said.

Three men lay dead on the floor. Swords continued to clash in the entrance hall but Haesten and his men were retreating.

Osferth and Aethelflaed moved out to join Uhtred, while some of the nuns came to wipe the blood from Bridget’s face.

She told them of the Danes and the Abbess’ death. Some of the girls cried, some prayed. She came to clutch her own cross around her neck. But her hands would not stop shaking and her heart would not rest.

She killed a man. Really, it hadn’t been much harder than slaughtering a pig, but at least it felt a little more justified.

If the Abbess were not dead, she would have screamed at her, told her she was ungodly, no better than a cold-blooded murderer, or any of the Danes who ravaged villages and stole from innocent Mercians.

They stayed huddled in the hall until dusk, when Lord Uhtred seemed to finally come to a resolution.

The woman with the markings on her face, Skade, was a seer, and Haesten agreed to take her in Aethelflaed’s place.

Bridget watched the exchange from the doors to the main hall, and a shiver slipped down her spine when Skade turned to Uhtred with a dark look in her eyes.

“You are cursed once more, Uhtred of Bebbanburg.”

Bridget had hardly slept that night. She lay eyes closed, still in her robes and the white headscarf she wore under her habit, listening to the gentle snores of the girls in the beds around her and aware of the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

The moment she heard the first whistle of birdsong at dawn, she was up. She pulled on a pair of boots and looked around her bed. But it occurred to her she owned nothing, save for her little silver cross.

She hurried through the abbey, past the open doors of the hall, now empty.

The men were outside, securing their saddles and mounting their horses.

She spotted Lord Uhtred as he was helping Lady Aethelflaed pack her own mount.

Osferth was by his horse, talking to the Irishman.

“Lord Uhtred!” Bridget called over the noise of the horses.

He turned to her with a small smile. “Fear not, we have not emptied your food stores—”

“I want to come with you,” she said.

She had the attention of the others now.

Uhtred chuckled to himself. “I already have a stray monk, I have no need for a little novice.”

Bridget’s skin still felt strange where it had been stained with blood. “I fought better than him.”

“Not a particularly high standard,” the Irishman joked. Osferth’s head sunk, but he was smirking too.

“So you killed one man and now you offer yourself as a warrior?” Uhtred asked.

Her breath caught in her throat as she finally realised the ridiculousness of her proposition. She could swing a branch, cut firewood and bury a knife into an unsuspecting man, but that would hardly help her in a true battle.

“With practice, perhaps?” She said, pressing her nails into her palm. “But I have some skills as a healer also. I’ve assisted the Abbess with all sorts of ailments, no doubt you encounter your fair share of injuries?”

“She’s got spirit, Uhtred, at least give her that,” Aethelflaed said.

“Please,” Bridget said, “give me the chance and I will prove myself to you.”

They each shared a few pointed glances.

“I admire your determination, but I cannot bring a girl onto the battlefield against armies of Danes. I cannot guarantee your protection and I cannot even offer you a horse.”

“Lord? She can ride with me,” Osferth said quietly. “With your permission of course. I can look out her.”

Uhtred raised his eyebrows. “Very well.”

Bridget felt herself smile, wide and showing off her top row of teeth. It felt uncomfortable but she didn’t try to stop herself.

The others were already starting to move off as she approached Osferth as he stroked the nose of his horse.

“Have you ridden before?” He asked.

“No.”

“You’ll sit behind me; I’ll help you up.”

Bridget nodded.

She watched as he placed his left foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over to the other side. “Easy,” he insisted, holding out his hand to her. “Don’t be afraid to use your strength.”

She followed his movements as best she could, but her skirt wouldn’t allow her to bring her leg to the other side of the saddle. She fell back onto her feet with a disgruntled huff.

“Other foot then, and slot both legs onto one side of the saddle.” He held out his hand again. “Ready?”

“Wait.” Bridget looked back to the space around her. The stream, the woods, the doors to the place that had never really felt like home. She reached for her headscarf and pulled it off her head, letting it fall to the ground. She didn’t suppose she would have any use for it now. Her hair fell down her back in a messy braid.

She looked back up at Osferth, between his hand, his eyes, and briefly to the curve of his upper lip. She held his hand tightly and hauled herself up onto the horse, her arms and legs trembling slightly at the effort.

Once the horse was settled Osferth gave it a gentle kick and they began to move. Bridget latched onto his shoulders as they began to sway with the movement.

“What if I fall off?” She asked, suddenly horrified at the prospect.

“You won’t fall off,” Osferth said, “use your thighs.”

“What?”

“Grip with your thighs,” he said.

She did so instinctively. Something about it felt… strange.

They cantered to catch up with the group and Bridget gripped Osferth’s shoulders a little tighter. Until he took one of her hands and placed it on his waist, so she wouldn’t impede on his arms. She muttered an apology and unsurely placed her other hand around him.

A few days ago she hadn’t so much as spoken to a man in years, except an incident where a nearby farmer had broken his leg, and even then she only wordlessly assisted the Abbess to bandage his limb.

Now she had her arms around a man’s torso, close enough to feel his warmth from under his winter cloak as her body rocked against his back.

“You’re frozen,” Osferth said, briefly brushing his thumb over her hand.

“It’s winter.”

“Did you not have anything warmer to wear?”

“We don’t attach ourselves to material items,” she said in a mockingly wistful voice.

He huffed a small laugh and pulled the horse to a stop before swinging his leg around the its head, landing on the ground in one smooth movement.

He undid the clasp on his cloak and held it up to her.

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her shoulders, “but I don’t want you to get cold.”

He mounted again, a little awkwardly with Bridget already in the saddle. “Hold it around me. We can keep each other warm.”

She shuffled closer into him. Osferth brought one hand off the reins and pulled the corner of the cloak around his arm as Bridget settled against his back, resting her head at the base of his neck.

Thank God he couldn’t see her as her cheeks started to burn against the cold and the snow.

#my fics #osferth x reader #osferth fanfiction #osferth fanfic #osferth smut #the last kingdom #tlk #seven kings must die #baby monk #osferth x oc #osferth x y/n #osferth x ofc #ewan mitchell

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ms-oswald · 7 months ago

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ocean eyes | chapter one

author's note: first chapter to my new Uhtred mini-series. This has some smut(ish), so MDNI please. My first attempt at focusing on Uthred and not gonna lie, this was tough but still fun. hopefully whoever reads this, you will enjoy :) thank you to @itbmojojoejo for being my beta reader 💜 banner credit to @arcielee! lots of love & stay safe 💕

They were a long way from Cookham when Uhtred and his men arrived at their new settlement of Rumcofa.

As they made their way through the open gates, they incited stares and whispers, the villagers wondering what troubles such intruders would bring to their quaint homes.

People were on their guard while the boys provided them with polite smiles and nods at every eye and curious stares that came their way.

They knew such an alteration would be an adjustment, that a warm welcome to warriors like themselves would take time to digest.

For Uhtred, moving away from Cookham did not prove to be as hard as he thought.

Bittersweet memories had been left behind, his attempt to ignore their claws grasping at his shadow.

The loss of his wife years prior, the end of his affair with the Lady of Mercia – Cookham had bathed in ache, the crimson of its afterglow scarring him, body and soul.

Rumcofa was a welcome change, he thought, needing the air to clear his mind and start anew.

He did not care for the strategic significance of this move – whether it was Rumcofa or Cookham, Uhtred needed to be away from Wessex, and from Winchester.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he halted, his horse by his side letting out a hefty breath.

“And may I ask, who are ya?”

His eyes settled on an older man, burly looking with his blond mustache thickening around his upper lip. The Danish accent heavy in his voice, he stood tall - the illusion hiding the slight shortness in his height – with his double-faced sledgehammer balanced between his hands. The stance for attack was at his toes, ready to use his weapon in potential combat.

A faint snicker whispered behind Uhtred; from the sound of it, he knew his men were amused by the display in front of them.

He took a quick look around before his eyes settled back on the blacksmith in front of him. “I am Uhtred of Bebbanburg.” He fixed his posture, placing his arms across his chest, his head slightly tilted sideways. “We have orders from the Lady of Aethelflaed that my men and I are to move here and oversee the village. I am to be the new Lord.”

The Dane scoffed as he lowered his weapon, a smirk resting at the corner of his lips. “You’ll want to see the Lady of the village.”

At his words, Finan leaned closer to his friend as he whispered, brows arched. “Are ya sure we’re in the right place, Uhtred?”

The man ignored the Irishman’s comment, his gaze settling on confusion in front of the villager. “The Lady of Rumcofa?”

The ears itching coincidentally, the woman in question had appeared in his view, her silhouette standing a few feet away from the Dane.

It wasn’t the sight of strangers with their horses that left her breathless, nor was it the sight of her friend that seemed to have taken on the role of village protector that made her stop in her tracks.

Her heart caught in her throat, latching on to dear life as her eyes focused on the main figure, her mind unconvinced of such reality.

It was the grin on his face, the sound of his voice that traipsed across her body, shivering under her dress.

The instinct settling itself into her nerves, a slight curve slid at the corner of her lips as a short breath finally escaped her.

She had started walking towards the small hurdle of men, her voice reaching the boys with a breathy smile. “Well, if it isn’t Uhtred of Bebbanburg.”

They turned towards the new sound; the man in question was left winded, the air knocked out of him in shock. He furrowed his brows, thinking his eyes might be deceiving him.

“Cwen?”

“Still alive, then?”

Reaching them, she approached the blacksmith and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, quietly letting him know all was good and that she would care for the new guests.

The Dane gave Cwen a nod before slowly walking away, leaving them be though not before disappearing without giving them warning crossing the brown in his eyes.

Uncaring for it, Uhtred had spoken again with a soft chuckle slipping through at her welcoming words, his attention placed solely on the woman. “You look well.” He stepped forward and leaned in, his arms wrapping around her figure as he hugged her.

The others, surprised at such unexpected familiarity, had remained quiet – simple observants.

She had reciprocated the gesture, gently patting his back before pulling away. “And you look old.”

Her remark got his men quietly sniggering behind their Lord. Uhtred turned to them, raising a brow at their reaction before looking back at Cwen, who was smiling from amusement at the little annoyance sprayed as a shadow across his face.

Satisfied with herself, she pursued her little taunts, the jesting sparking up old flickers of residue from their past. “Word is, you are the new Lord of Rumcofa.”

“I am.” Uhtred handed her a sealed parchment without another word, letting the letter speak for itself as Cwen opened it and started reading the content.

She scoffed, her eyes meeting his again. “Her Ladyship couldn’t find another village for you to terrorize?” The sarcasm in her tone did not go unnoticed, leaving Uhtred to smile again, the rhythm of their exchange becoming a familiar routine for the ages.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

She gave him a grin. “You too, old friend.” The softness of the gesture left them to linger for a split second, forgetting for that moment where they stood.

The interruption came from a little boy; he moved from where he stood next to Finan and partially hid behind Uhtred as he gazed upwards at the two adults, curiosity picking at him.

She glanced at the boy before tilting her head up to her friend. “Your son?” Without looking away, Uhtred rested his hand on the child’s head. “My ward.”

Cwen frowned, playfully skeptical of the painting in front of her; she bent down, meeting the little one at his eye level. “And what is your name, darling?”

Unsure, the boy looked up to the man next to him for permission to speak. With a simple nod from Uhtred, he met Cwen’s gaze, his voice soft and timid.

“Aethelstan.”

She gave a friendly beam to the shy boy. “A good, strong name. I like it.” Her compliment made him smile, his timidity silently reaching his cheeks as he leaned closer towards Uhtred.

Cwen leaned closer, whispering secretive words to the boy, away from grown-ups' ears; Uhtred watched the interaction, a soft curious smile reaching him.

A moment later, she pulled away from him as he nodded to her. She shared a childish wink and lightly poked his nose – a simple tap of her fingertip, earning a chuckle as the child remained attentive to her.

Ruffling the boy’s hair as she stood back up, Cwen eyed Uhtred. “I wonder what you slipped in her Ladyship’s water for you to have become Lord of this place.”

Finan let out a choked cough, his breath stuck in his throat at the woman’s sudden comment – the hidden undertone only understood by him and his friend.

Unfamiliar with the look in Uhtred’s eyes, Cwen moved on and leaned sideways, greeting the rest of the men that quietly stood by their horses. “Hi, boys.” She then shifted her eyes back to her friend. “Wards of yours as well, Lord?” She bore a teasing smirk, the sided upward curve of her lips making the Saxon smile again.

She quickly followed by looking back at his men. “You can take the horses to the stable boy, and he’ll take care of them while you get acquainted with the village.” She turned to Uhtred once again, already taking a step back. “You, come with me.”

He did as told and went her way while Finan and the rest went in the opposite direction.

By her side, he followed her and looked around, taking in the sight of villagers going on about their businesses while children were carefree and running around, playing with each other.

She let him be for a moment, watching him before looking in front of her again.

“Have you ever overseen a village before?”

Tilting his head to his left, he glanced at her before turning away again. “I have.”

“A village with people, right? Not just an empty patch of mud and grass?” The sided coy look, the sarcasm enlaced in her tone made him chuckle.

“Yes.” He turned his head again to her, leaving her to do the same as they stopped in their steps. “We were in Cookham for a long time. People liked me there.”

She softly snickered, a slight snort catching up to her. “Sure. I’ll get those testimony myself if you don’t mind.” With a mischievous wink, she had started walking again, taking steps backwards as he watched her while shaking his head, amused.

Turning back around, the lightness surrounding them had lowered slightly, though not completely as to dampen the mood. “How long has it been? Since we last saw each other?” She had asked, nostalgia slowly filling as blood cells in her body.

He did not think long about her inquiry, not having the heart to answer with the truth. “It’s been way too long.”

“Mhmm.” A small huff from her, parted as a snicker. She then pivoted to him, her tone into her words meant to be light. “You are only saying that to flatter me, Uhtred.” Looking away, her eyes unfocused on the path in front of them as they kept going, almost reaching the finishing point. “I have not crossed your mind since you left. Do not lie.”

He did not sense anything somber in her pitch, which was what she was going for. She had not been one for sentimentality, trying to portray herself with a more playful demeanor than bereavement.

Especially to him.

Knowing him from their past, or at least the younger version of him – the arrogant, restless, fierce, and at times, slightly egotistic Uhtred – was not helping though, his presence stirring a part of her she had buried long ago.

They had only met after the battle of Edington; losing Iseult to Skorpa, that period of his life, of his youth, had turned hazy due to his grief.

And so, Cwen’s words were not a lie. Or almost, he believed.

She might not have been in his everyday thought, and he might have forgotten about her over the years, but the second he saw her again, the second he heard her voice and laid eyes on her – she had not left him, he had noticed, knocking the air out of his chest.

It was mouth to mouth resuscitation.

She brought him out of his thoughts, her remarks letting out a deep breath from his lungs.

“I do not say that to make you feel bad.” A sympathetic smile across her features, she continued. “You are not the only one who’s forgotten us. You were not very memorable.”

“I did not plague your dreams, then?” Laced with mirth, he eyed her with a little glint discernable in his eyes.

She played along, always up for a little bit of jest. “Actually, just this once.” She pretended to go deep in thought, her lips pursing in response. “More of a nightmare though.”

Uhtred arched his brow, curious and waiting for her follow up.

She lingered in silence a little bit longer – a split second that seemed to dwell forever. She then bit her bottom lip, proceeding to tease her friend. “You had become Lord of a village. It was horrible!”

Laughing at her words, she watched and quietly followed suit, content with such response at her attempt at humor.

They reached the hall, Uhtred’s new house, with the place almost empty apart from a handful of people who were sitting in the main room, drinking and making conversation.

He watched them, quizzical; Cwen sensed he wanted to speak of what they encountered and so, she intervened, softly speaking to him. “Do not worry. Now that you are here, they will not be coming back.”

She silently greeted the men at the table as she guided Uhtred inside, showing him around. A sigh left her, small – almost soundless.

He could see, she had come down from her playful behavior and looked to her, intrigued.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to bring herself to glance at him in a more serious manner. She had still been on edge, masked by their backchat, unwilling yet to completely trust him.

“Uhtred...” She looked for words, the pensive look she bore making him wonder what could have changed between them. “This may not be the home you dreamed of, but it is for the people here. So, please, do care for this village as you did with Cookham and as you would have with Bebbanburg.”

He remained still, his gaze unwavering as he examined her.

She had been wary, and it was clearly written across her face.

He could not decipher if discomfort had run him down, or maybe it was her hues staring right back at him as if she looked for the soul that hid behind his own eyes.

He silently nodded, glancing quickly around him before turning to her once again. “I promise, I will care for this place.”

She remained still for a second, taking in his words – the sincerity splayed across his tongue.

“Mhmm.” She nodded as well, taking a step away from him, her arms behind her back. “I’ll be watching you, Lord.” Emphasizing on the last word had brought back the lighter air, her mocking him with his title, giving him back the upward curves of her lips.

She turned around and walked away, leaving him to chuckle to himself as he watched her go, his blue eyes lingering on her figure until she was out of sight.

“She must have been something...”

Weeks had passed since Uhtred and his men settled in their new home, taking the reins of overseeing the village – from its people to the borders surrounding the land.

Though things were quiet, peaceful and content even, Cwen remained on her toes, cautious of his presence; she had been paying close attention to him, watching from afar and exchanging quips and words from time to time, but on the occasions they were distant, she kept her eyes on him – on guard.

She did not mind the others as they did not seem to have whatever affliction was hitting their Lord, leaving them to be merry on their own and bring some enjoyment around them.

But for some reason, Uhtred had been the one she could not settle on – whatever hung above him had created dreaded heaviness in her chest.

And so that’s how she found him, sipping on his ale in front of his fireplace watching the flames dance to the percussing sounds of their crackles.

To her voice, he turned his head to her. “Who?”

She took a step closer, gently closing the door behind her.

“The woman who broke your heart.”

He turned away, shifting in his seat as he leaned against the back of his chair.

“What makes you think a woman broke my heart?”

He had been mourning the end of his relationship with Aethelflaed, his mind overwhelmed by the events leading up to their separation. He had been silent about it – grieving in the dark, not realizing his ache was visible to the people around him.

“You have that look in your eyes.”

He huffed, not caring for the intrusion; he turned his head again to her, showing her the slight bothersome gaze he wore. “It is none of your business.”

She sucked in a breath, rolling her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling, her hands on her hips in annoyance. She then turned to him again with a soft scowl, her head falling slightly sideways. “It is when you are scaring the villagers with that face of yours.”

For the true nature of her visit, she had received grievances. Words dripped in bourgeoning fear as people came to see her about him, revealing their hesitancy to make contact with the man, partially afraid of him; whatever gripped at him, Uhtred could not see it had been affecting his day to day, his state visible through his mannerism and facial stance.

She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing as she took a seat next to him; he had been staring at her, not understanding her complaint.

She softened, gentle for him. “I understand the pain of heartbreak. I know what it does to someone.” She turned to face the fire, unable to meet his gaze just as he caught her profile, her skin timidly glowing against the light. She gathered her breath and spoke again. “Just... don’t let it affect your duty as Lord.” She tilted her head to her right, catching sight of his blues. “You have people who need you, who depend on you to be the lead of their village.”

He could only nod, agreeing with her words. He took another sip of his ale with his eyes falling onto the cup as he remained silent.

She let out another breath and stood up, her steps already leading her to the exit.

“She must have been one hell of a woman...”

She lingered, slightly leaning against the door as she gave Uhtred one last glance.

“She is.” His response was somber, nostalgic. He did not turn her way, unable to look at her; he did not have the strength to be held by her gaze.

Instead, he kept staring at his fire as he followed the flames’ routine, an intimate dance meant just for him.

He was hurting and it broke her heart.

She did not push, not wanting to disturb his tormented peace.

Instead, she quietly walked out, gently closing the door behind her before making her way back to her home, contemplative.

The hassle of the people had become background noise as Uhtred and Cwen walked, with the Lady adding insight to the comings and goings of the trades happening by the edge of the village.

His ears were tickling at the sound of her voice, the vibration seeping through and warmly coating his insides; he chased for it, taking in every single way the words would spill out of her, the syllables smoothly running down her tongue and painting her lips.

He found himself smiling as he listened to her guide him on the workarounds of the trades happening by the port, the names of the people passing through knowingly spoken by the sweetness in throat.

Over time, they had been growing closer.

Cwen took notice of Uhtred’s behavioral change; he had been trying to put his grief behind, sealing his heart tightly against his chest.

He held his head high, holding his promise to her and wanting to prove he could be counted on, not just as a warrior, but also as a Lord who people could turn to in times of need – as he had been in Cookham.

As for that night, the subject was never brought up again. Cwen did not push on it, out of irritating him, as well as out of disinterest in the matter.

But even though she believed he was putting in an effort, it had not stopped the thoughts at the back of her mind, pushing her to remain guarded by his side. She still lent a hand where she could, the villagers still regarding her as their Lady, ignoring the mismatch between the title and her person.

Uhtred did not mind it; it was fitting to her persona, and found he enjoyed calling her this way – the first time he did, in jest, he had noticed the way her cheeks blushed, her skin turning a shade of red from shyness.

“You tease too much, Uhtred!”

“I apologize, Lady.” He was holding back his laughter, loving her fluster. She hit him, a simple slap across his chest, unable to contain her own cackles, making him smile as well. “Stop it!”

This might have been the moment that changed things between them.

They could not tell.

Either way, he tried ignoring whatever sentiment gnawed at him from her presence – for fear of loss again, his heart had decided.

It proved difficult though, unbeknownst to him. Even sealed in the dark, wanting to remain away from experiencing amorous grief all over again, wonder pricked at him the way a rose pricks at your finger; it had not hurt, but curiosity was holding its own, desperate for some shade under the light.

They were now standing at the top of the tower overlooking the river. Cwen had been detailing the when’s and where’s from each present boat that lied underneath them; she had not realized Uhtred earned some of the knowledge of Rumcofa’s trade through Finan, the Irishman having studied the routes as well.

He did not want to interrupt her – so he let her be, staring at her as his subconscious mind shadowed the movements of his hues while they followed her silhouette, observing the way her soft blond locks flowed with the gentle autumn breeze, the way her tongue would subtly lick her lips for refreshment, or how her fingers would pick at her sleeves, pulling them to cover her palms while she had been facing the waters, names of traders spoken with delight.

His icy blues remained stuck to her, a soft smile picking up at the corner of his lips �� unknowingly.

She leaned against the wooden railing with her arms stretched out as she looked ahead, enjoying the way the light puff of wind gently traipsed through her hair – increasing the floral scent that danced around her. It caught Uhtred’s breath, leaving him to deeply inhale, the fragrance coating his inside in pure contentment.

His eyes, unfaltering, followed the form of her dress, taking in the subtle ways the thick dark green linen hugged her; it had been mended, noticing the seam along the sleeve of her inner arm.

“You are not married?” He already knew the answer to his question, as he had not seen her attached to another man since his arrival, nor did he think she was promised to another, his eyes keeping to the gentle re-work of her dress, the different color thread laced intricately and subtly into the existing fabric.

He could not understand why he was pushed to ask her such an inquiry.

From the small horizon, she turned her head to him, a mellowing smile to her lips. “No, Lord.”

The question did not seem to faze her, he thought. But her answer only pushed him into wanting to know more. “I think my father gave up all hope of having me married.”

He frowned, curious. “What happened?”

She tugged the inside of her lip, a smirk forming across. She pivoted to lay her back against the railing with her elbows resting on top while turning her head back to him.

“I bite.”

He let out a small chortle, making her grin – she had grown used to hearing the quiver of laughter in his voice, not realizing she had grown attached to it, warmth settling across her chest at the sound of it.

He approached her, leaning sideways against the edge of the tower, his expression softening. “And your mother? Is she faring well?”

He had not seen the other woman, making him wonder if she had remained in Cetreht with only Cwen moving to Rumcofa. He remembered his initial encounter with her mother, the woman having quickly grown fond of him – which not all Saxon women had. Cwen’s mother had been one of the rare exceptions where she used to push her daughter to him as a prospect wife.

Her smile faded, avoiding his stare as she looked in front of her, her eyes reaching the village. “She... passed on a few years ago.” Her shoulders slightly depleted as a heavy breath escaped her. “With my siblings away with their own families, I am the only one left.”

“No children, then?” He did not mean to pry, but he wanted to know more, to re-discover a lost friendship that had been pushed into the mud long ago. She may have had a child tucked somewhere in the village he had yet to meet, he thought. She could still be holding some parts of her life secrets to him, secrets for her to keep her own.

“No. Not for me.” Relief might not have been what he felt, but he let a sigh out. Silent to her ears, she gave him a sympathetic smile before she pushed herself to stand up, taking the downwards steps to leave the tower.

As they reached the bottom, he was about to speak again when they got interrupted by another woman looking for her.

“Cwen!” The intruder was almost out of breath, her feet having forced her into a run. “It’s time!”

Before Cwen got the chance to answer, Uhtred intervened, standing taller – his stature almost imposing to both ladies. “I am Lord here. Anything that needs assistance, I can take care of.”

The Danish woman stared at Uhtred, growing impatient. “Sorry, Lord, but I do not think you can help with this one.”

Cwen was restraining a snicker as she stood in the middle, watching the duo close to battling it out.

Uhtred eyed his friend before looking back to the other woman. “Why do you require Cwen, then?”

Cwen looked at the woman. “Ingrith, you can tell him.” She spoke with an amused grin on her face, holding back her laughter.

Ingrith sighed, looking towards Uhtred. “We need a midwife.” She spoke with a straight face. “We have a woman in labor, and she has requested Cwen’s presence. Unless you know how to birth a child, Lord, I believe you are not required for such task.”

Uhtred’s face dropped, slightly embarrassed while Cwen giggled again. He tried not to let Ingrith’s words rough him up and instead looked back at Cwen, swallowing his fluster. “You are excused.”

She was still grinning, her voice sweetly speaking his name. “Thank you, Uhtred.”

She started walking away, giving him one more head turn his way. “Later, then?” She had sounded hopeful, almost.

He nodded and watched her as she took Ingrith’s arm in her own and left, both ladies laughing between themselves.

Uhtred had not moved, entranced by Cwen as she gave him another last look, a simple glance as she tilted her head before disappearing to the other side of the walls.

“Everything alright?” Finan having left the traders and found his friend, stood next to him, following the line of vision the other man was plagued with.

“Yes, just a birth.”

Finan frowned, paying closer attention to the other woman. “Who’s the lady with Cwen?”

Uhtred eyed him, a look of surprise on his face. “Has someone finally caught your eye, Finan?”

The Irishman chuckled, shaking his head. “I could say the same to you.” He patted him on the back, knowing Uhtred had grown smitten with Cwen.

“Sulking again, I see?” She was leaning against the entrance to his home, finding him sitting in front of a warm fire, ale in his hand.

He smiled at the sound of her voice, the softness of her words sweeping gently through his ears.

He did not answer her question – instead, he turned to her, changing the subject. “How is she?”

“She is well. Just tired, as any woman would be.” Night had fallen by the time Cwen helped deliver the newborn. The village was quiet, safe for the household that welcomed the baby into their home.

It had been an arduous delivery, but the results had been worth it.

“And the babe?”

Cwen smiled, appreciative of the care he placed in his queries. “The babe is well. A healthy baby boy.”

Uhtred acknowledged her answer with a nod before he turned and leaned against the back of his chair.

Carefully closing the door behind her, she quietly approached him, taking a seat by his side before pouring herself a cup.

He did not mind her presence – feeling a little better already. Tension would wash away whenever they were near; she had turned out to become one of the very few people he kept close to his heart.

“Uhtred.” The way his name spilled out, cautiously and caringly – as if she was afraid to break him; he kept it, already carrying it within him, the letters to her cords tied to his ribcage.

He met her gaze, noticing the worry etched across her features. “Do you want to win her back?”

A sadness across his lips, he felt his heart squeeze just a little bit at the thought of Aethelflaed.

He sighed, his head falling against the top of his seat. “I cannot... She has...”

She quickly caught on, the syllable of his response striking her like lightning, the realization of his loss reaching the pit of her stomach. “She did not choose you.”

He tried to hold his lips upwards. “Something like that.” But she could see he was only doing it for her, as if he was attempting to hide behind it – like a shield.

“I am sorry.” She looked away, her mind swirling in front of the hearth while her fingers traced the cup that rested on her lap.

She was lost in thought, trying to find ways to lift his spirits.

She did not know who this woman was, but she swore to herself that if they ever crossed path, she would not be so gentle towards her. A bitter aftertaste had simmered at the back of her throat to that imagery.

Cwen did not understand the strange feeling that boiled in her; unfamiliar and bothersome, she tried to let it go, her focus placed on the feel of her fingers against her cup.

She bit the inside of lip, speaking once again where her soft voice carried intimately within their space. “Have you thought about being with someone else?”

The puzzling look on his face pushed her to proceed with what infested her mind.

“I don’t mean giving your heart or to marry, even.” A small sigh left her as she leaned against her seat, gripping tightly onto the ale on her lap. “But to share your bed with another woman. To ease the suffering of your grief and simply find yourself some enjoyment.”

He fixated on her, taken aback by her words. He placed his cup on the table behind him, before tilting back to Cwen.

“It is not often Saxon women tell men to hump whoever they please.” He sported a smirk on his face as he spoke, inciting a chuckle on her end. She got up from her seat, placing the mug back on the table, ready to leave – the grin unable to leave her cheeks. “I did not mean to pry. It is just...”

A small huff of laughter escaped her, cringing to herself as she pinched her nose bridge, regretting bringing up such a subject.

She took a moment, all the while Uhtred watching her patiently – he found it too amusing, relishing in the way she seemed to be looking for tact in such conversation.

“Have you seen the way the women in the village look at you? Married or not, they are all wanting to climb you.” Her arms crossed over her chest, she was leaning on her hip, imitating the way his lips curved into a smirk – picking up on his enjoyment of the situation.

He tempted his chance, the way she phrased her words pushing him to his feet.

His figure – looking taller than usual, she thought, loomed over her despite the distance that separated them. He did not give up the sly grin on his face, pursuing the conversation. “And what of you? Do you want to climb me as you so eloquently said?”

She suddenly felt unable to swallow. Her throat dried as his eyes intently stared at her, leaving her frozen in her spot.

She cursed herself at her inability to leave, as if he had been holding her by a rope, tying her to him. She was taken by the way he seemed to have lowered the levity of their talk, everything shifting to a more serious undertone.

If there was a woman he would tempt Fate with, it would be with her. It was ringing in his ears, his want of her growing by the day, his need to have her close etching itself right between his ribs – like a stomach hungry, desperate for nourishment.

She rolled her eyes, attempting to hide her blushing cheeks. She had been denying the way she felt for him, the way her body would silently call out for him, in an attempt to fall under lustful bliss.

The smugness on his face was not helping her; the teasing smile made her heart flutter.

Approaching her, Cwen tilted her head upwards as he towered over her.

The air grew thicker by the second, her lungs begging to grasp what it could as it laid heavy under her chest.

It had been the way he stared at her – how the blues of his irises tightly wrapped around her, like furs keeping her warm, lowering any inhibition that could ignite – inciting a bold response to roll down her tongue, while grasping onto the fallen threads of the playfulness of their exchange.

“I don’t climb, Lord. Men usually do the lifting for me.”

“They do?”

“Or women, if you prefer.” He chuckled, taken by the matter-of-fact light tone she had chosen. “I tend to be swept off my feet.”

She had no expectation from him for her words; it should have continued as their regular banter, the swift back and forth between them.

“Like this?” The tone of his voice dropped, the vibration pulling her seductively.

She did not realize how close he had gotten; his breath swept against her own as his eyes cast downwards towards her, inspecting every spec of the darker blue that colored her orbs. She lost her breath for a moment, unable to comprehend the unraveling of steps as they overtook her, controlling the strings attached to her veins running across her body.

He lifted her up and wrapped her legs around him before sitting back down, placing her on his lap with her legs by his sides, her toes grazing the ground.

The tip of his nose brushed against hers, a tickle to her skin as her breath stuttered.

Slowly grasping at reality, she frowned while trying to catch up in the race between her body, her mind and her heart; all elements moving at separate speeds.

“Uhtred...” She was uncertain, her heart beating loudly between her ears, she could barely hear herself think. She tried focusing on her breathing, but all that she could do was take in the way his hands felt on her waist, his fingers digging into her as he observed her, waiting for her to speak.

She placed her hands on his chest, a silent motion to stop him – though, it might have been to stop herself.

“Am I really the woman you want to share your bed with?” Gathering her courage, she finally looked him in the eyes, the icy shade of his hues leaving her breathless. “There are better options in the whole of this place-” His hands trailed up her back until he cupped her cheeks, his thumb softly grazing her bottom lip. She tried to ignore the gesture, forcing her voice to push beyond her tongue. “I can introduce you to-”

He cut her off by leaning to capture her lips, silently answering her question and sweeping the air out of her lungs into his own.

She did not push him back, nor did she pull away to stop.

She was slowly succumbing to the feel of his lips gliding against her own, the feel of him pressed against her, her body growing warmer by the second.

A soft frown rested across her face as confusion settled under her chest; lips lingered against one another until she finally slowly pulled away from him, her limbs starving.

Rendered speechless, she could only feel the flavor of him numbing her tongue as a bittersweet aftertaste.

They did not move, as if suspended, the strings of gravity pulling and tugging at each other for closeness.

She leaned her forehead to his, her gaze on his lips.

She then quietly licked her own before tilting closer until he caught up to her, kissing her fervently.

His hands wandered her body, retracing the curves hiding under her clothes. The strength of his hold weakened her knees; imagining the ways he could embrace her against him, the ways he could make her enfold within him, fitting every part to one another, had made her dizzy. The thoughts generated a soft moan between tongues, a need to make them come true overtaking her senses.

With a mind of their own, her fingers reached for his shirt, tugging at the fabric as they pulled him closer, the rumbling of hunger tremoring at the tip.

They stopped once again, heavy breathing escaping them both.

She took this moment to remove his shirt, leaving his upper body bare.

Her fingers rested on his cheeks, tracing down to his lips and further down, looking over the scars he had accumulated over the years.

She bit down her bottom lip, swollen, as pictures of battles crossed her mind in a race.

She was brought out of thought when she felt him tugging at her dress; his hands on her shoulders, he pulled down the fabric gently, her sleeves uncovering her arms until she sat exposed to him.

A chill ran down her spine from the tepid air in the room, the fire burning her back.

The softening beige of her locks rested around her shoulders, caressing the swell of her breasts. He gazed at her, making her hold her breath in wait, unable to read him. Would he reject her? Want her less?

Without turning away, his knuckles grazed her skin, leaving her to silently shudder under his touch, her lips parted.

Uhtred wrapped his arms around her, pulling her upwards before he leaned against her upper body, his lips wetting her chest as he placed teasing kisses along and across her breasts.

Her head fell back at the sensation, grabbing onto him as his teeth nibbled in the valley between, as if to mark her as his.

Her scent intoxicated him – the soft floral aroma, the hinted mint interlaced with roses, had left him lingering, breathing her in with all his might as he savored every inch he could taste. She shivered under his tongue, adding to his delight.

He then reached her collarbone, his teeth gently clashing against the bone underneath her skin. She hissed in response just as he softly tickled her, placing peppered kisses along her shoulders.

He gathered her hair to one side of her neck, swiftly and quietly, and buried his face in, caressing her skin with every press of his mouth to the pinching of his teeth – famished.

She sighed, the warmth growing in the pit of her stomach, inch by inch.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the way he toyed with the column of her neck; being held so close to him, with the friction between their bare chests, how slowly he moved – he enjoyed the slight torture he was putting her through, feeling her impatience slowly growing as it crawled through her blood stream, pumping her vessels with haste.

He repeated the motion on the other side, pushing her locks away before he nestled against her neck again, cherishing her.

She hung onto him with her nails biting into his back, softly sighing into the air by his side; her sense of smell heightened, tasting the hint of marjoram – the mild mint and the sweetening woody scent – at the tip of her tongue, thirst budding in her mouth.

Sitting on his lap, her legs parted on each side of him – in retaliation, she teased him, pressing herself further against him. She earned another nip at her neck, his muted groaned masked behind his teeth. She rolled her hips again, a simple faint movement that made his throat rumble, his muscle twitch in want.

His hand wandered to her hair, gently grabbing a handful from the back of her head, pulling away to look at her; meeting her gaze, he was stricken by the way her eyes swallowed him.

He was caught by the depth of her pupils, unable to turn away – enthralled by such a palette.

He could swim through these waters, drown in them and still feel like he was floating, the drops hydrating his scarred flesh anew.

The silence behind her eyes, the desire imbued across every wave, had taken the air out of his lungs, his chest unmoving at the sight.

The ache, emergent, hastened his movements; letting go of her hair, he went for her dress, hiking her skirt from the bottom while he remained glued to her, his stare unwavering. Resting it around her hips, her thighs were now exposed to his touch.

A stuttered breath left her to the feeling of his warm palms on her while thoroughly rubbing her skin; movements to ensure she remained carved into his hands.

She noticed a coy glimmer in his blues; she reached for them, her fingertips softly tracing them before leaning to press her forehead against his, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

She was parched for his lips, the taste of them having lingered like a craving unable to be sated. His lower lip between her teeth, she gave a light tug before kissing him, catching his breath with the air of his lungs weakening her knees.

In a trance, relishing in the gluttonous caress of his tongue with her own, she had not felt the tightening grip to her body.

He rolled her hips, wanting to toy with her in reprisal from just a few moments earlier; she gasped at the sensation, her mouth apart between his, her eyes attached to his own with yearning stitched within her hues.

He repeated the movement, controlling the motion sensuously as his fingers dug into her flesh. He then pulled her in again, tugging at her mane as he kissed her fervently, her chest pressed firmly against his as his other arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her in place, his muscles molded into her back.

Nestling in his embrace, she reached for the curve of his jaw, her nails faintly scratching his cheeks with her thumbs retracing his lips. She hung onto him, the chafing of their bodies causing her to shiver as he rolled her hips – firmer than the last, hungrier.

A breathless moan fell into his mouth, her jaw slack as he repeated the motion, chasing his own incipient pleasure, the claws scraping at the base of his spine; it was the reaction stitched across her features, the wanton look on her face that left him besotted.

Her fingertips traipsed down his chest as she slightly pulled away from him. Reaching his breeches, she started unlacing them while keeping her eyes on him – he followed her with a locked gaze, unmoving.

Freeing her from his hold, he reached for her hands, leaving her to think he would aid in her quest.

Instead, he caressed them before sliding his palm forward, hiding under the scrunched-up skirt that laid around her hips.

An instant gasp out of her lungs, the feel of his callous fingers nestled between her thighs with his left hand placed at the junction of her pelvis.

He was toying with her, the fluttered touch grazing her warmth as he watched her intently, taking in every single trait of pleasure that echoed across her face.

Her knuckles whitened as they held onto the laces of his pants, her strength ready to break them from their confine. The lump in her throat remained stuck, her vocal cords silently shaking at the heat that seeped from his touch.

He held onto his willpower with all his might, wanting first to have her crumble under him, to taste first such divinity coating his digits. He slid in deeper, his thumb circling her apex while his finger stroked her wantonly; her head fell on his shoulder as her hips chased for his strokes, instinctively rolling her body against him. He lingered in his pacing, purposely, famished by the soft whimpers that left her mouth for his ears – silently begging him, pleading for relief.

And the more he could hear her, the more her faint voice – the musical strings tying him with every note infused into his veins, blood pumping and coursing with quickened steps – had been inebriating him, impatience was flourishing, its bones and flesh taking hold as it stirred restless in the pit of his stomach.

He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, nipping at her skin and breathing her in; her scent incited a soft groan hidden behind his throat, increasing his pace as he stroked her continuously in such a way her knees were starting to shake – he felt her tremble against him and it only hardened his resolve, to have her fall apart at his touch, to be the reason she needed relief, to watch her and know he was the cause of such desperation.

With whatever strength resided in her, she started undoing his trousers; she pulled her head away from him, her gaze cast down towards her actions. Glancing at the way his hand and wrist remained concealed under her dress made her shudder, stopping for a moment as her teeth slightly took in her lower lip. She met his gaze again, trying to fall back into focus while his tantalizing ministrations steadied at a now faster pace, the smirk ghostly settling across his face.

He felt himself slowly unraveling, simmering from the bottom as his body grew warmer against her.

He was ready to quit mid-task, simply wanting to undress and take her, to feel her take him and melt at her touch.

She struggled to voice any sort of comprehensible words – she went for his mouth, his lips clashing with hers as she kissed him again, the gesture feeding into the thrill residing between her thighs. The look of concentration on her face, taking in the way his fingers grazed and curled inside her, shook at the back of her throat as they reached for her moans over and over again.

He swallowed her sound, the euphoric sob warmly settling under his bones.

A chill then ran up her legs, the sudden loss of contact forcing his name out of her mouth in complaint.

Her chest expanded from her heavy breaths, a frown ghosting over her brows as she fell into his eyes.

Uhtred said nothing as his fingers – slick, moved away from her; another whimper left her from annoyance, void intruding and unwanted.

Stare locked in, she was stuck into the blue of his eyes as her body moved to his whim, his hand resettling her on his lap. His pants had slid down far enough to feel her wet and dripping above him, skin to skin.

They did not look away from each other as the air thickened around them – opaque in its composition; labored breaths grew, his fingers digging into her hips with a slow shift.

He used his strength to slightly lift her up until he was guiding her back to his lap as she sunk onto him, ever so slowly.

She grabbed the back of his chair, her nails grasping at the wood as shivers ran down her spine, the air in her lungs dancing into her chest.

Her mouth ajar, voiceless, to every sweet inch she could take. The soft groan rumbling at the edge of his throat had only added to the overwhelmed sensation that struck her.

And he had watched her, enamored by the way she was blissfully taking him, by the way his name had finally reached her lips again – pronounced with longing etched across her tongue. The tremors of her muscles echoed, leaving him to feel every spec of raised skin against his, from the way her breasts stroked his chest, to the way her thighs had tightened on his sides, clutching at her seat.

Joint hips, he stilled, shuddering under her touch as her arms gathered around him, gently caressing the nape of his neck; he whispered her name, the sound inciting control over her body.

They were catching their breaths, the suspense of imminent ecstasy nipping at their flesh.

The minute had hung in the air, in wait – Cwen needed her moment, her limbs adjusting to his presence, to the way he was buried inside her. The pinch of discomfort had faded, heat coiling under her ribs, trapped and dissipating ferociously throughout her blood stream in perfervid greed.

Uhtred caressed her, gingerly pushing her locks away from her face. She leaned into his touch, kissing the heel of his palm, her teeth grazing the skin – slowly, lingering almost. His fingers lost in her hair, he pulled her in and captured her lips with his own, laying claim to her in an unbridled manner.

Feeling her throb around him, he was gentle at first as he started thrusting. The rhythm of her hips, rolling – moving in want – was but a taste, a flicker of ember before the fire was set ablaze. A stuttered moan whispered under her breath, rushed an electrical spark to course through his veins, heating his skin with beads of sweat coating his body.

He was merciful, giving her what she was desiring as he controlled her hips; he was hypnotized by the way her body fitted with his – every muscle knitted together in such sweet harmony – by the way she was taking him, her soft cries thrumming under his chest, rushing down to him.

Unabashed, he whispered dirty nothings in her ear. The muttering of his words, as he declared how perfectly she molded around him, how enraptured he was by the warmth set between their hips, how starved she was for him – coaxed her teeth into his shoulder, her body shifting accordingly as she gradually hastened her pace, the percussion of his voice leaving her flushed and breathless.

In response, her tongue was only capable of whispering his name repeatedly, a mantra stuck at the back of her throat as every letter to his lustful lullaby coming out of his mouth came to her in waves.

The rawness of the act, the unadulterated pleasure seeping to their core – she cursed under her breath, her head falling backwards; she was overwhelmed, her mind clouded by the way he was stripping down her senses.

She clenched around him at the feel of his fingers finding their way back to her, squirming under her skirt. The added pressure faltered her movements for a moment, getting re-acquainted with the way he toyed with her pearl; her pupils blown, rapture pulsing erratically in her gut, scratched into the marrow of her bones for sweet release.

Her gaze fixated on him, his icy blues captured her in a haze, in complete wonder. Two oceans collided, dancing side by side as the soft waves wrapped them in a waltz, the caring movements gliding through seamlessly.

Swallowed into each other’s shades, submerged under the depth of such color, he found himself never tiring at the way she was looking at him.

Into the months he had settled in Rumcofa, he had stopped denying the way he felt about her – how attracted he had grown to become. He cared for her despite still loving Aethelflaed.

She would always be holding a part of him, but the woman in his arms, the one that clung to him for dear life as they chased joint ecstasy, had been plaguing his mind since arriving in the village – and he was not good at hiding it. Finan had teased him whenever he caught his friend making coquettish glances at Cwen. For Uhtred, it was not thought about it much – the gazes having intricately become part of their dynamic.

Yet tonight, drinking her ocean eyes into his own, drinking the cries of pleasure that rippled through their bodies, he wondered if it was time to truly move on from his past, to hang on to the woman who could give him what he wanted.

Peace and companionship.

The growing winter sun was reaching him, pulling him out of his slumber.

He stretched his arm towards the other side of the bed in the hopes of pulling her back against him.

He found it empty instead.

It woke him up.

He saw the void next to him and pushed himself up, resting on his elbows as he looked around his room; her clothes were nowhere in sight.

A routine that had been ongoing for the past few weeks – Cwen had taken the habit of waking up early and sneaking out of Uhtred’s home, not wanting to spark gossip amongst the villagers.

Such a dance had to remain private, an intimate affair between the two friends.

From the crack of dawn to nightfall, the steps to their serenade had secrecy involved – from the illusion of normalcy in the public eye, pretending as if no strings tied them together, as if Uhtred had not spent the better part of the previous night with his head between her thighs, in the throes of sweet euphoria.

And as much as they tried to remain subtle, as much as they tried to stay away, tempting danger with lingering stares and knowing looks shared from a distance, subtle smiles hiding behind their cheeks – the false imagery did not go unnoticed to their closest allies.

And as much for their attempt to remain in the dark, for their relationship resuming only behind closed doors – as much as Uhtred and Cwen cared for one another, their hearts were kept at bay, unable to fully crumble under the weight of their emotions.

The companionship at their feet was all it was – two people seeking warmth in each other’s embrace, away from the loneliness that pried into their daily lives while ignoring the faint screams singing in the back of their minds.

They were content with how things were – it was meant to stay easy, matters of the heart to be caged away under their bones.

But for Cwen, a shadow gnawed at her, unable to hide the way his heartbreak tore at her now that she was sharing his bed – it was worry filling her, frustrating her almost on the days Uhtred seemed to have fallen back into his old ways, on the days where his grief had guided his movements.

Her own grief sometimes haunted her like a ghost in the night – but with Uhtred around, having him by her side had resolved the ache she had been carrying on her shoulders.

It had created tension at times, a budding argument between them at the thoughts of their pasts hovering between the sheets.

“Can I not want you, and still love someone else?” He had protested, leaving her to sigh while looking at him with her frustration dying down, knowing he was right.

“Yes, you can.” She held herself back from him, her arms wrapped around herself, trying to hide away from him. “Just... I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t look for her – whoever she is – in my bed.”

He nodded, agreeing with her complaints. “That’s fair.” He tried to lighten the mood, reaching out for her, his fingers grazing the fabric of her dress.

“Uhtred.” His name was heavy on her tongue. “I mean it.” She ignored his attempt at touching her, needing to get her words out. “I’m fine with whatever this is, truly, but please do not think I am her. Do not hold me and care for me thinking you are holding and caring for her.”

He looked at her, attempting to approach her again as he caressed her cheek, his knuckles stroking her skin in silent suckling affection.

She sighed, closing her eyes as the warmth of his touch soothed her.

“I know who you are, Cwen.” She silently met his irises; he held onto her saddening gaze, desperate to wash it away. “And you are right. As much as I miss her, I do not invite her in my bed, or in yours.” He leaned closer, tilting her head up with his forefinger, closely whispering to her. “It’s just us.”

He gently pressed his lips against her own, kissing her with softness lingering into his touch – an attempt to ease her ache.

He then pulled away, just far enough to still feel the tickle of her lips. “I will only ever want to please you.” He smiled to her, his try at seducing her – leaving her to chuckle as she broke away from his embrace.

“Then you still have work to do, Lord.” She patted his cheek, teasingly, and managed to back away before he could catch her, leaving him to look at her dumbfounded to her comment where the sound of her sweet laughter echoed within the walls of his home.

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xoxo

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