#me and uhtred: *gently holds*

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Before I Go

Note: I had no intention of writing anything today, as my insecurities are high again lately, but before I knew it this was written and I don't hate it? Anyway, I guess this explains that messy hair he had at the start of Seven Kings Must Die. (Chapter two is here)

Warnings: 18+! some angst/fluff/suggestive/light smut.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Your husband had to leave unexpectedly.

wordcount: 1,8k 

Masterlist

You felt your husband's rough and warm hands on your skin, gently holding your face and carefully wiping away the tears that escaped your eyes, even though you had tried so hard to hold those back.

'Don't cry,' Sihtric whispered, a pained look set on his face, 'please, don't.'

'When?'

'In a few hours.'

'And when will you be back?' you sniffled and looked up at him, meeting his teared up mismatched eyes.

'Soon,' he promised and kissed your forehead.

'How soon?'

'Very soon. I'll be gone for only a few days, my love.'

Sihtric wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, holding you tightly in his embrace after having told you that he had to leave Dunholm and travel to Bebbanburg. The grave news that King Edward had died had only just reached you, and Lady Eadgifu and her youngest son, Edmund, were already fleeing to Bebbanburg after the death of her husband. And your own husband was being dragged into potential danger by escorting them to Uhtred, along with Aldhelm. You had been living in peace in Dunholm with Sihtric for a while already, and the former warrior had retired from war years ago. You had gotten so used to having him around day and night while living in peace, and you wouldn't want it any other way. But now that a king had died you knew the peace you had tasted would soon be over, and you also knew that if a war would happen, your husband would be present in the battle at the front line, behind his shield. And that thought was simply unbearable and one you never hoped to have again.

'You know bad things are going to happen when the news spreads,' you whispered, frightened, 'I don't want you to fight, Sihtric.'

Your husband hushed you, and you pulled out of his embrace to look up at him. Sihtric looked torn. Torn between wanting to protect the lands and its people if a war would erupt, and torn between wanting to stay with you and protect you, because he knew losing you would be something he would never be able to recover from. He looked down into your eyes with his lips pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowed, and his hair loose and slightly pushed back.

'I don't want you to fight,' you urged, 'I don't want to lose you.'

'Darling,' Sihtric shook his head lightly and cupped your cheeks again, 'I know. But now is not the time to talk about this. We can't stop a war from happening-'

'But you don't have to get involved,' you hissed through your tears and punched his chest, 'you don't have to escort the Lady Eadgifu to Bebbanburg and become a target!'

'My love-'

'No!' you interrupted with a sob and another punch landed on his fur covered chest, but it did not phase your husband, 'I don't want you to go. You have fought in enough battles when you were younger, you have done your duty! Enough is enough, Sihtric! You are not a young boy anymore, you are a husband! My husband! And I need you here, with me!'

You looked at him with anger and despair in your eyes, feeling hopeless, and you wanted to slap his face to snap him out of the battle mode he was already slipping into. You could see it in his eyes and you could just feel it in his touch. You knew he was going to battle when it would come, and you hated him for it. You despised him for it. But you loved him more than you could ever hate him and his thirst for blood and violence, so instead of slapping him you fell into his arms again and cried as he held you.

'I will return to you-'

'When?' you snapped and pulled away again, 'when will you return? Because we all know how this goes. Uhtred will ask you for help, and you just can't say no,' you said, resentment clear in your voice.

'I-,' Sihtric tried again, but you didn't give him room.

'It is never just a few days, not with Uhtred!' you continued to spit, 'and you know it too, so don't tell me-'

'Listen to me!' Sihtric suddenly raised his voice and cornered you, your back pressed up against the wall while he towered over you, his breath feelable on your skin, 'listen to me,' he lowered his voice again and spoke calmly, 'I will return to you, soon. Even if Uhtred needs my help, I promise you that I will come back before anything happens. I will come back for you first. I will come back to you before I go to battle, always.'

A deafening silence filled the dimly lit kitchen you were in, the candle flames' sizzling almost hearable while you and Sihtric stared at each other with a mixture of pain, fear, love and passion. You calmed yourself before you wanted to speak again, knowing that your husband would do whatever it takes to return to you, but that didn't make your worries any less and the thought of never seeing him again after tonight was overwhelming.

'I will come back before I go to battle,' your husband insisted, as if he could read your mind.

'But what if you won't?' you sniffed, your jaw clenched as you looked into his eyes.

Sihtric sighed and took your face, leaning his forehead against yours and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

'What if you won't?' your voice trembled as you whispered your question again, your hands grabbing onto the neck of his tunic, keeping him close, 'Sihtric?'

Your husband exhaled slowly and sharply, then swallowed hard before he parted his lips to speak.

'Then it means I'm dead,' he said, his voice deprived of emotion.

'Sihtric-'

'You know that too,' his hands found your waist, grabbing you needily, 'you know-'

'Don't,' you begged, 'don't say that.'

'You know…,' Sihtric said sternly, his tattooed fingers digging into your dress as he held your waist in a bruising grip, baring his teeth at you for a split second before he bit down on his lip, '... you know I'm dead if I don't come back for you,' he took a step back and pulled you away from the wall, pulling you with him towards the dark wooden table in the centre of the room, 'you know I'm dead if I don't come back for my wife,' he almost snarled, baring his teeth again and he lifted you up on the table, 'but I'm not leaving my wife just yet.'

Sihtric trailed his hands down your figure, to your legs, pushing up your skirt and sneaking his hands underneath the fabric, feeling your skin and squeezing your thighs while he parted your legs with a quick push of his knee. He then brought his hands to your knees, wrapping underneath them and he pulled you up to him with one swift move, placing himself between your thighs. Your lips parted as a sharp gasp escaped you, his strength never failing to impress you, and he used the moment to capture you in a passionate kiss with his tongue gaining immediate access into your mouth.

Your hands moved up his clothed arms, over his shoulders, his neck and up into his long hair. You gave his locks a firm tug, which earned you a strangled moan from your husband as well as a firm slap to your buttocks. You couldn't help but giggle at the punishment, to which your husband chuckled darkly and then smacked his lips as he leaned slightly back to look at you. He took your hands, guiding them down to the leather belt around his waist while he bit down on his lip as he smirked, his eyes hooded and dazed. A light blush coloured both you and your husband's cheeks as you undid his belt, even after all these years the passion and playfulness had never left your marriage, and you would forever remain excited youngsters when it would come to intimacy.

'Good wife,' Sihtric hummed after you had dropped the leather belt on the floor, and he took your face to kiss you deeply again.

You got lost in his kiss, your hands hastily searching for the hemline of his tunic, which you pushed upwards once you got a hold of it. You snuck your hands underneath the layers, feeling his warm thighs while he began to kiss you sloppily, his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue down your throat. You grabbed his bare buttocks, giving him a playful squeeze to which you both chuckled against each other's lips, before you took his hardened member and worked him by hand with teasingly slow strokes, feeling his pre-fluid coating your fingers. Your husband's breath became heavier, needing air and breaking the kiss, only to drag his lips and tongue down your neck to lean his forehead onto your shoulder as he tried to bite back a moan.

'I love you,' Sihtric groaned against your neck, then planted his lips on your skin in another attempt to stay quiet, leaving visible love bites as he did.

'I love you too,' you breathed, one hand grabbing onto his wild hair as you continued to please him and prepare him, 'just come back to me,' you whispered in his ear, 'promise me you'll come back to me, Siht.'

'I'm coming back to you,' your husband gasped, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist while he slowly bucked his hips into your hand, 'I promise,' he peppered your neck with wet kisses, 'I promise, my wife, I swear it.'

Sihtric then moved his hand down to yours and took it, gently placing your hand back on the table and lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

'Tell me again,' Sihtric said out of breath and brought his lips back to yours, 'tell me you love me.'

'I love you,' you murmured against his lips, 'forever.'

'Forever,' Sihtric breathed, his eyes closed and his lips parted.

And a sigh of relief and pleasure sounded from you both as he pushed himself inside, making slow and deep love to you until you were both left satisfied, after which he wrapped you in his arms and laid you down with him on the kitchen floor, only moments before he had to depart, leaving soft kisses all over your skin wherever his lips could reach.

'I love you,' you whispered and sweetly kissed the tip of his nose while you traced the scars on his face, wondering how many new ones he would return with.

'Tell me once more,' Sihtric whispered, pleading as he looked into your eyes, 'before I go.'

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[magravenwrites]

Do Not Go Where I Cannot Follow:

Part 1:

Finan x Reader

A/N: A massive thank you to @axe-does-writing for beta reading this for me, you're the best 🥰

This is set during season 4 as the Coocham squad are travelling through Mercia to avoid the sickness.

Warnings: symptoms of sickness, angst, keeping secrets, established relationship

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or GIF

You had lost count of how many days you had been travelling, trekking through Mercia on foot with the children, trying to avoid danger and the dreaded sickness.

It was only due to Eadith's bravery that you had managed to survive for this long; standing up to her brother so that you might escape.  Though this brought you all some semblance of safety, you knew it would not last.  Not if Edward’s men caught you.  With this in mind, you decided to keep moving until you could find somewhere safer to rest.

Your feet had begun to ache, and Aelfwynn had started to become a dead-weight in your arms. It was a strain you weren’t sure you could continue with in your present state, but you were determined not to say anything until you absolutely had to; everyone had enough to deal with without you becoming a burden too.  

Releasing a slow, measured breath, you adjusted Aelfwynn in your arms, trying not to show how much you were struggling.  Luckily, with only Osferth behind you, you had managed to avoid detection.  

Until now.

“Give her to me.”

Looking to your left, you found Osferth had sped up to walk beside you, already holding his arms out ready to take Aelfwynn from you.  The look on his face brooked no argument and you could not find it within yourself to disagree with him.  For all he was such a sweet and caring man, he could be very stubborn, a trait you were sure he had picked up from your husband, Finan. Without any complaints, you carefully transferred the young girl into his arms, making sure her head was comfortably settled on his shoulder before continuing to catch up with the others.  

You hadn’t realised how much your slow pace had caused you both to fall behind.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently as you walked.

“I’m fine,” you smiled.

“Y/N, don’t lie to me, you’re as pale as a ghost!  You’re getting sick aren’t you?”

“Keep your voice down!” you berated him, glancing to the front of your group to see if anyone had heard him.

You knew it was true, you had begun to feel progressively worse over the last two days.  Your whole body ached, you had a persistent headache that had started to pound behind your eyes and you were sure you had the startings of a fever.  Truth be told, all you wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep for a week, but you knew that wasn't going to be happening any time soon.

“We don’t know if it is the sickness, it might pass in a day or two.”  You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince, Osferth or yourself as you twirled your wedding band around your finger.

Osferth noted the action, guessing where your thoughts had led you.  “He deserves to know.  If you are unwell - if it is the sickness - he would want to know. He would be heartbroken to think you could not tell him.  Do not ask me to keep this from him.”  he begged.

Releasing a long sigh, your gaze lifted to your husband at the front of the group, watching as he carried Aethelstan atop his shoulders.  Your heart squeezed in your chest, overflowing with the love you felt for him.  He had been excellent with the children during the journey.  You hoped that one day you would be blessed with your own children, he would make an excellent father.

“I know, but I can’t tell him, and you cannot either.  He would freak out, he needs to focus on Uhtred, the children and getting us all to safety; he cannot do that if he is fussing over me.”

“Finan always worries for you regardless, it is his nature to worry over those he cares for.  You know, when we are away, you are all he talks about, all he can think about is you: what you would be doing that day, whether you were well, or thinking about the day he can return home to you.” he lectured.  

It made you smile to know that even when you were parted his thoughts still turned to you, the same way yours turned to him.

“Even so, I beg you not to tell him, if this does pass in a few days then there will be nothing to worry about.”

“And if it does not?”

“Then I will cross that bridge when I get to it.”  You ended the discussion, seeing a small village come into view up ahead, hopefully where you could get some rest for a while.

With everyone on edge already, Finan's sour mood and near constant anxiety about the sickness had started to grate on everyone's nerves, though everyone knew he didn't mean it - he was just terrified, having seen its effects before.  

Having reassured him multiple times over the course of your journey, you had discovered what really had him in such a state of panic: The one thing Finan wanted to do was to protect his family. To protect you, and make you happy.

But this? This he had no control over.  That is what terrified him.  That he could not protect you from this.

That was your main reason for not telling him of your illness. To know that you, his own wife, had the dreaded sickness.  It would break him. You would not do that to him. 

— Time Skip — 

You had all safely settled into the village of Wulfrunetun, having managed to gain a few hours of rest while you planned out your next move.  Aelfwynn’s condition had deteriorated in the last few hours, the poor girl barely able to keep her head up from exhaustion.  You all hoped that with some rest she might start to feel better.

You had managed to get some rest in the shade outside, where it was cooler, trying to reduce your progressing fever.  You felt rotten, your skin felt slightly clammy to the touch, and you were certain you could feel a bubbling in your chest whenever you breathed too deeply, but couldn’t decide whether that was just your overactive imagination and fear of the sickness playing with your mind.  Surely the sickness wouldn’t progress this quickly?  It had only been a couple of days since you had started to feel unwell.

“Ah, there ya are.  I’ve been lookin’ for ya.”  Your thoughts were interrupted when your boisterous husband came bounding through the door, heading over to you once he had caught sight of you, a grin forming on his face.

You forced a smile onto your face, standing up from where you had been resting under a tree.  Finan’s arms immediately encircled your waist as soon as you were within arms reach, and you couldn’t help but fall into his embrace, leaning your head against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat soothe your anxiety.

Finan rested his head on top of yours, and the pair of you took a moment to simply enjoy each other's presence.  

“You feel warm, are ya feelin’ alrigh'?”  he asked, pulling back just enough to look at your face, his eyebrows drawn in concern.

“I'm fine”

“Are ya sure?  You've been spendin’ a lot of time with Aelfwynn, I don't want ya to get sick.”  He reached a hand to cradle your face.

You let your cheek rest against his palm for a moment, before pulling away and teasingly swatting his hand away from his fussing.

“I promise I'm fine, my love.  I have just spent too long in the sun, is all.  I would tell you if anything was wrong.”  

Liar.  The words tasted bitter in your mouth.

“Has Lord Uhtred formed a plan yet?”  You asked, hoping to distract him.

“Aye, he has.  Uhtred has decided we must travel back to Aegelesburg; Sihtric and Young Uhtred are going to search for Aethelflaed and Aldhelm and bring them to meet us there.  We will be leaving soon.”

“What of Aelfwynn?  She is not strong enough to travel any further.”  ‘Neither am I’ you silently added.

Finan grumbled to himself for a moment, heaving a sigh through his nose. “Osferth and Eadith are goin’ ta stay ‘ere to look after her until things calm down in Aegelesburg, it wouldn’t be safe for her there, even if she wasn’t sick.”  He pulled you in closer.

“Then I will stay here with her.” 

“Absolutely not!  You’re coming with me to Aegelesburg and as far away from this sickness as possible.”

You shook your head, pulling his arms from your waist so that you could hold his larger hands between yours.

“Finan, listen to me.  I am still tired from travelling, and I would be glad for some rest.  I would be of more use tending to Aelfwynn than I would be to anyone in Aegelesburg.  Besides, the situation is still volatile, what happens if it turns into a siege?  I would be safer staying here, and coming to you once it is safe.”  

“Y/N, do not make me part from ya, please.”  He begged, bringing his forehead to rest against yours.

It took everything in you to not break down into tears, but you knew it was better for him to be away from you, at least until you got better.

“I know, I don’t want to part from you either, but you must go, and I will follow as soon as it is safe enough to do so.  It won’t be for long.”  You murmured.

“Alrigh’”  He reluctantly agreed, pulling away and pulling you into a bear hug, his arms completely enveloping you.  You felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I love ya.”

Your heart felt fit to burst, and you blinked away the tears that welled up in your eyes.

“I love you too.  Now go and get ready.  The sooner you leave and sort this mess out, the sooner we can be together again.”  You pushed his shoulder jokingly.  He chuckled, letting his arms slip from around you as he headed back inside.

As soon as he was out of sight you slouched, coughing into your elbow to muffle the sound.  You could feel the burn of it pulling at your chest, you could taste faint traces of copper in your mouth.  It was definitely better that he leaves now.

— Time Skip — 

The men were tying their saddlebags to the saddle of their horses, preparing to leave any minute.  You watched as Sihtric helped Young Uhtred with his saddle, making sure everything was properly secure.  He must have surely been missing his own children, his own wife.  A pang of sorrow went through your heart at the thought.  At least you got to travel with your husband, to say goodbye to him.

You wrung your hands as you continued to stand on the outskirts of the action, there had been something plaguing your mind over the last few hours, something other than the sickness you could feel creeping deeper into your bones and your secrets from your husband.

“Sihtric,” you called to him, your eyes darting to Finan briefly to make sure he was out of earshot.

Sihtric quickly finished helping Young Uhtred, clapping him on the back as he moved away to talk to you.

“I just wished to say goodbye...”  you exhale nervously.  You had to ask him - why was it so difficult to ask him?

His mismatched eyes studied you silently for a moment. 

“Goodbye”  he answered, half a laugh falling from his lips, unsure of where this was going.

Your gaze moved over Sihtrics left shoulder, falling onto Finan as he moved back and forth, finishing his preparations.  It was for him you had to ask this.

Sihtric followed your gaze, looking over his shoulder, before looking back at you, questions now very present in his eyes.

“...I know you are not going with him now, but… look after him for me.  Lord uhtred will give him something to follow, a purpose perhaps - but he will need you to lean on.”  Tears rose in your eyes at the thought, making sure Finan had people to carry him forward if the worst should happen.  

“Y/N, what is this about?”

“Just promise me!” 

“Of course! I swear it, you don't need to ask.” He looked visibly shaken by your panic, stepping closer to make sure you were ok.

“I know. Thank you.” You breathed a sigh of relief.  You needed to pull yourself together, you weren’t gone yet. 

“Y/N, please, what is wrong?  How can I help?”  

“Nothing just - in case things go badly.  There is so much that could go wrong.”  you answered evasively.

You weren't sure if he quite believed you, there was still the lingering question behind his eyes.  

You knew he could tell something was still wrong, he always saw more than was shown, heard more than was said.  You supposed that's why he made such a good spy.  Thankfully he did not press the matter, instead bringing you in for a hug.

“Everything will be fine, you'll see.  Lord Uhtred has not failed us yet.”  He looked so sure as he pulled away, for a moment you allowed yourself to hope.  Perhaps things would be ok after all.  You would fight this sickness with everything you had.  For Finan and the rest of your family.

“I know, but you can forgive a wife for worrying.”  You joked.

“Speaking of, might I borrow my wife so that I may give her a proper goodbye?” Finan interrupted, a sly grin on his lips.  The same flirtatious grin that you had fallen for so many years ago plastered across his handsome features.  Sihtric laughed easily, backing away to give you both some privacy.

You fell so easily into your husband's waiting arms, reaching your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer. 

You saw Sihtric climb up onto his horse, not moving from your place in Finan’s hold, you call out to him once more.

“Sihtric!  Be careful.  Look after yourself.”  

He nodded at you, looking between you and Finan.  

“You as well, both of you.”  With that, he urged his horse forward, joining Young Uhtred on the road to find Aethelflaed.

“Well I knew I might have to ward off some men vying for your attention, but I did no’ think I would have to count Sihtric among ‘em”  Finan tickled you, just under your ribs, causing you to let out an undignified squeak.  

You give him an unimpressed look, before smacking lightly on the arm.  You cleared your throat, hoping to make it sound like you were just composing yourself, rather than staving off the coughing fit you could feel burning your lungs, no doubt induced by your scream.

“Oh please, you know I only have eyes for one man.”  

“Oh aye?  And who might that lucky man be then hmm?”

“Osferth of course!  Why else would I be staying behind with him?”

You couldn't help the chuckle that crept past your lips at his shocked expression as he pressed his hand to his chest in mock hurt.

“You wound me!  Are ya sure there isn't anything I can do that could convince ya to bestow your affections onto myself?”

“I suppose I could be persuaded.”  you raise your eyebrows in suggestion.

“I am nothing if not persuasive.”  he lowered his head closer to your own, his lips a hair's breadth away from your own as his tone deepened.  The very voice he knew you loved, that could make your toes curl and your pulse race.

Despite the fact you could feel yourself getting hot under the collar, a feeling you were quite sure had nothing to do with your illness at present, you retained steady eye contact, not letting him know how much he had affected you.

“Well, I shall look forward to your attempts to win my favour upon our reunion, husband.”

His eyes lit up a fraction, enjoying the reminder of his title to you.  As you watched him, your overdramatic, funny, fierce, loyal and ever-loving husband, you felt yourself fall for him all over again.

“I shall relish the challenge, wife.  I will send word soon.”  He closed the distance between you, capturing your lips with his own.  He cupped your chin with his finger as his thumb brushed over the swell of your cheek, reluctant to part with you. 

You deepened the kiss, attempting to pour all of your feelings into it, trying to convey all the love you felt for him and all of the things you could not say.

Eventually, the voice of your lord interrupted your final moments with Finan.

“Finan!  Put your wife down and let us be on our way.”

You finally parted from each other, opening your eyes to look at your husband once more. You tried to banish the tears that rimmed your eyes and you prayed this would not be the last time you saw him.

“Be careful,” you whispered into the space between you.

He pressed a final kiss to your forehead, murmuring into your hairline “You too, I love ya.”

“I love you too”  you told him as he began to move away, letting your arms slip away from his frame.

He mounted his horse, and Uhtred lifted Aethelstan so that he sat in front of Finan in the saddle before checking on Stiorra and making his way to his own horse.  

You watched until the four of them were out of sight, and you felt Osferth’s presence at your shoulder.

“You should have told him.”  he chided quietly.

“Perhaps,” you conceded, wrapping your arms around yourself at the sudden chill you felt in your arms.

“I am going to rest awhile, wake me if there is any change in Aelfwynn.”

He watched you go back inside, a feeling of trepidation sinking in his stomach.

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Tags: @axe-does-writing @solinarimoon @morosemagick @emilyhufflepufftlk @lauwrite1225 @madrielite

Hope you enjoyed it!

Part 2

[askuhtredragnarson]

Seeing Uhtred at the head of a long table within the Hall, Gisela strides to him, a soft smile on her face as she comes behind him and brings her hands to his shoulders to relieve the tension she knows lies within her husband.

“I will miss you greatly,” she whispers in her Danish accent. “I-I can’t tell you how much it will hurt to be parted from you, especially after all of this special time we’ve had together…”

Even with the arrival of hundreds of Northmen and indulgent rituals, Gisela hadn’t strayed from Uhtred’s side. The babe inside her belly was growing strong, and it made her feel like this was a new era for them, feeling a deep connection to her husband. She thought it was impossible to fall deeper in love with him, but that wasn’t true after all.

She bends her head down to give him a lingering kiss on the cheek, trying to stifle her tears as she wraps her arms around his neck from behind.

@theladygisela

Uhtred relaxes into Gisela’s touch, her hands on his shoulders relieving some of the tension he has been carrying. His heart pangs at the thought of being separated from her, especially since he doesn’t know for sure how long they will be gone. He feels torn. Part of him wants to ask her to come with him, and part of him thinks it’ll be safer for her here in Dunholm, away from the battle and uncertainty that lies ahead.

Gripping Gisela’s arm that is wrapped around his neck, Uhtred gives it a little tug to pull her around to face him. He scoots back the chair he is sitting in. “C’mere, love…” He gestures for Gisela to sit across his lap.

As Gisela sits on his lap, Uhtred wraps his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest, letting her face burrow into his neck. “I will miss you too…terribly. I have half a mind to bring you with me, but I’m concerned about your safety and comfort.”

Uhtred gently places one of his hands on her belly, marveling at how much it has already grown in the last couple months. “The thought of being parted from you pains me greatly…both of you.” Uhtred whispers as he leaves a light kiss on Gisela’s lips, his own eyes getting misty from unshed tears.

@theladygisela

[whitedarkmoonflower]

I loved your story with Sihtric. I wanted to ask if you have time if you could write Sihtrics wife being taken by Hestan in season 3, and she gives birth to twins while she is with them. Then Hestan sees Uthred and threatens that he has Sihtrics family, but of course, Sihtric gets his family back.

Kidnapped Part 1

Sihtric x reader

Authors note: dear Anon, sorry that it took me a while to start writing. As it happens so often with me the story just took hold on me and kept going. It was starting to get a bit long, so I decided to divide it and post at least the first part, that is completely ready, before I figure out how Sihtric will get his family back.

Warnings: nothing really serious, bit of angst to lose your dear ones, use of alcohol in distress

Word Count: 2,515

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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

“I am going to find my wife,” Sihtric's face lit up in a warm smile as he spoke to Finan, clutching some flowers in his hands. He hadn’t seen you for months. He could still vividly recall the day he left and how excited he was finally to be heading for a battle after years of peaceful living. He loved you with all his heart, but he was a warrior and had longed for some adventure. He had never expected it to turn into a nightmarish ordeal, with Skade emerging in Uhtred’s life and swiftly turning it upside down in the blink of an eye.

Now that the witch was dead and you all were back in Winchester life seemingly returning to its normal flow, he found himself consumed with anticipation. He couldn't wait to see you, to hold you in his arms, and to tenderly kiss your swollen belly, knowing that you carried his child. The sheer joy that had overwhelmed him when you had shared the news just before his departure was beyond words. He had kissed you passionately, spinning you around like a madman, laughter bubbling forth from his very core. In that moment, he had wished he could stay by your side, but there was no other choice. Now almost eight months later you were likely nearing the end of your pregnancy. You were carrying his child – the full weight and meaning of this still hadn't fully settled within Sihtric’s mind as he hadn't quite had a chance to fully comprehend it amidst the chaos and battles that had unfolded.

Finan’s infelicitous attempt to mock Sihtric, left him unfazed as he merely smirked at his friend, refusing to engage in further discussion. With a determined expression, Sihtric turned away, hastening his steps towards home. Home – it was a word that made Sihtric’s heart skip a beat and warm up each time he thought about it, keeping him going even in the most desperate circumstances. It represented a dream come true, a place where he belonged and a family to return to. Something he could barely imagine just not so long ago.

His steps quickened as he approached the familiar street, his anticipation building as the house he had bought for both of you came into view. Eagerly, he rushed to the door, knocking with expectation. To his surprise, there was no response. He knocked again, straining to hear any signs of life behind the closed doors. However, the only response he received was an eerie silence that hung in the air. With a mix of anxiety and a racing heart, Sihtric gently pushed the door, causing it to creak open. A tight knot formed in his stomach as he stepped into the cold and desolate house. His eyes scanned the surroundings, revealing dust-covered furniture and cobwebs that had claimed the corners of the room. Sihtric's entire world shattered into countless shards. The house stood empty, abandoned for quite some time. You were not there, and he didn’t have the slightest idea what could have happened or where you could have gone. His hands dropped to his sides, letting go of the flowers he had been clutching. They twirled to the floor. Sihtric turned on his heels and sprinted towards the marketplace, desperately hoping to find Finan still there.

“Finan,” Sihtric called out, rushing towards his friend, and grasping his arm. “She’s gone. The house is empty. She’s gone.” Finan grinned, as his initial instinct was to offer another joke, but the sheer despair in Sihtric’s voice, the anxiety etched across his wide eyes, silenced any attempts at humour. Finan choked back his words and almost bit his tongue, realizing that now was not the time for jesting.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Finan wanted to be certain, “Could it be that she is out running errands?”

“No, you don’t understand, Finan.” Sihtric responded urgently, his words tumbling out in a rush. “She’s truly gone. Nobody has lived in the house for a while already. Finan, we have  to find her. I have to find her. I never should have left in the first place,” Sihtric's desperation drove him forward, simultaneously pulling Finan towards the stables.

“Hold on, just wait a moment,” Finan tried to stop his friend’s frantic movements, to hold him, “Wait, stop!” he finally yelled at Sihtric, gripping his shoulders tightly and shaking with all his strength.

“Where do you think you are going? Do you honestly believe you’ll find her by aimless riding around with no idea where to even begin searching?” Finan tried to put some sense back in his friends dazed mind. Sihtric struggled to break free from Finan's grasp, but Finan refused to let go. They were nearly wrestling now, when Osferth and Uhtred came running towards them. Not understanding what's going on they stepped between the two friends, trying to pull them apart.

“What’s going on?” Uhtred yelled, holding onto Sihtric tightly.

“Sihtric’s wife is missing,” Finan explained, as Sihtric continued to struggle, unable to articulate his thoughts, his despair evident. It took considerable effort and strength to restrain Sihtric, until he finally ceased his resistance, leaning his forehead against Uhtred's shoulder.

“She is pregnant, Uhtred. She carries my child, and I have no idea where she is or what has happened,” Sihtric whispered, his voice filled with anguish, as Uhtred placed a comforting hand on his friends’ shoulder.

“Sihtric, calm down. First, we need to find out what has happened. Does she have any family? Is it possible that she sought some assistance from her family or friends? Being pregnant and alone can be incredibly challenging. There might be an innocent explanation for her absence,” Uhtred suggested, nodding to Finan and Osferth, who instantly understood what he meant and turned around to disappear in the jungle of the narrow streets, searching for anyone who might have information.

While Finan and Osferth scoured the neighborhood, Uhtred accompanied Sihtric to the tavern. Sihtric slumped heavily onto a chair, his hands supporting his head, not even noticing the ale jug Uhtred had brought him. After an hour or two, Finan and Osferth returned with news.

"We have both good news and bad news," Finan began. “The elderly widow living next to you told us that the pregnancy was not easy. She felt sick very often and couldn’t eat as she was constantly throwing up. About a month ago, she apparently decided to go to her sister, as it was too hard for her to cope alone.”

“The bad news is that her sister came for a visit a week ago looking for her as she had never arrived at her place,” Osferth added.

Sihtric remained seated, his hands buried in his hair, supporting his bowed head. He had heard what his friends told him, but he was simply unable to grasp it. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse racing with an agonizing mix of fear and desperation. His mind spun with unanswered questions, each one a dagger stabbing at his already fragile state of mind.

Memories of your last moments together flooded his thoughts, taunting him with images of your laughter, your shared dreams, and the promise he had made to you, to come back as soon as possible. Without you, the world felt vast and empty for him, devoid of any meaning.

Sihtric felt tears welling up in his eyes and blurring his vision. Helplessness surged within him, a suffocating sensation that threatened to consume him. Taking a deep breath, Sihtric shook his head and wiped away the tears before anyone could notice. He could not imagine a life without you; there was no alternative. He had to find you.

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

It felt like an eternity, but in reality, only two months had passed since your fateful encounter with Heasten on your way to your sister’s place. You had delayed your departure, hoping to wait for Sihtric, but as time went on, it became increasingly difficult. Your belly had grown so big, that even dressing yourself had become a challenge. It was obvious you needed help. With no news from Sihtric in over half a year already, you were faced with the truth that either you were going now on your own or you would never manage it and would be left alone for the childbirth. You had enough money to hire a wagon and a coachman and luckily it was not far you had to travel. Your sister along with her husband and their three children, lived just two days’ journey away from Winchester in a small village near the river.

On the second day of your travels, you noticed a few riders observing you from the nearby hills, but before you could start worrying, they withdrew, and everything seemed to be fine. However, your sense of security was short-lived as a group of warriors abruptly appeared on the road ahead. There was no possibility of escape with a wagon, so your coachman halted, awaiting their approach.

"What cargo do you carry?" a rough voice, tinged with a distinct Danish accent, inquired.

"We are not traders, my lord," you responded, opening the flaps of the wagon's tent.  “I am simply travelling to my sister for the childbirth.” Your pronounced pregnancy was on full display, as you hoped it would dissuade the riders from causing harm. You looked at the man, who had spoken and your heart froze in fear. It was Heasten, the Danish warlord whose path had so often crossed with Uhtred’s and his men. You recognised him from your few encounters at Alfred’s court where he tried to persuade the king that his wife and children wished to accept Christianity and get baptised. It had been a ruse, a ploy to gain Alfred's trust and provide false information about Bloodhair's army. Unfortunately, these encounters had allowed Heasten to recognize you as well.

A cunning smirk crept across Heasten’s face as he fixed his gaze upon you, scanning your entire being from head to toe. His eyes lingered upon your swollen belly and they narrowed slightly, flickering with a malevolent spark, revealing the twisted delight that swirled within. Like a predator sizing up its prey, his gaze became focused and intense.

“Ah, who do we have here!” Heasten exclaimed as the corners of his mouth curled upwards and a wicked grin began to spread across his face, his eyes flaring in mischief, “Sihtric’s little bitch, ripe as an apple!” He approached the wagon, dismounted his horse, and extended his hand in your direction, urging you to descend.

“You know Sihtric will chop you alive into pieces and feed to the dogs, if you lay a hand on me,” you hissed at him, attempting to invoke fear, but it seemed to have no effect on Heasten. His smirk only grew wider.

“First your husband will have to convince his Lord to stay away from the upcoming battle,” Heasten retorted, his voice laced with menace. “Or else, it will be me who carves pieces from your lovely body and sends them to Sihtric.”

“You, there,” Heasten commanded one of his warriors. “Go to Winchester. When Lord Uhtred returns, seek out his oathman Sihtric and tell him what happened today. Tell him, that if he ever wishes to see his wife and his pup alive, he must persuade Uhtred to stay away from the battle Edward – that little weasel of a king – is preparing to fight against Cnut’s army. And if he fails to do so, he will have to choose between the life of his Lord and the life of his wife and child,” Heasten stretched his hand toward you, forcefully ripping away the delicate silver chain that hung around your neck – a gift from Sihtric.

“Take this and present it to Sihtric as a proof that you speak the truth,” he commanded, handing the torn silver chain to the warrior.

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

Uhtred had sent out all his available men to gather information and persuaded Sihtric to remain in Winchester, ready to depart at a moment’s notice should any news arrive.  Sihtric was a complete mess. The mere thought of waiting idly, doing nothing, was unbearable. In a desperate attempt to drown his fear, despair, and overwhelming helplessness, he resorted to the only thing that came to mind—he drank. He hoped it would numb the consuming emotions that tormented him and finally got so drunk, that Finan and Osferth had to carry him back to his room in the tavern.

It was long past midnight when Sihtric awoke to a pounding headache. At first, he couldn’t even recall where he was, but then in a sudden rush, the events of the previous day flooded his mind. He jumped out of the bed still wearing his clothes as his friends hadn’t bothered to undress him. In need of some fresh air, he hurried outside just in time before his stomach revolted and he threw up. Spotting a nearby barrel filled with rainwater, Sihtric plunged his head under the cold water and counted to five before emerging, only to find a man – a Dane – standing next to him. Sihtric instinctively reached for his axe, but the Dane simply shook his head.

“Don’t! Believe me, you want to hear what I have to say,” the Dane spoke raising his hands to show that he held no weapons, while Sihtric watched him warily.

“I have a message for you from Heasten. You remember our dear friend Heasten, don’t you?” the Dane continued, “He sends his regards. It has come to his ears that you are missing something, something very dear to you. And guess what? Heasten has found it.” Sihtric listened with eyes widening in disbelief, his expression shifting from watchful cautiousness to pure fury, though the Dane seemed oblivious to the change and pressed on.

“Listen carefully. If you ever wish to see your bitch and the pup within her alive, you must deter Uhtred from helping Edward. He must not join Edward’s army, nor should he engage in the battle against Cnut. Do you understand, you worthless scum? If you fail to do so or if the lives of your family hold no value to him, then you have a choice to make: Uhtred’s life in exchange for the lives of your loved ones.”

Sihtric stood frozen, rage slowly consuming him, as the Dane’s words sank in. He didn’t want to believe it. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound escaped. The Dane extended his hand toward Sihtric, revealing something held within his palm. “This is the proof you were seeking,” the Dane smirked, unfurling his fingers, and allowing something small fall to the ground. Sihtric knelt down, his anger mounting, as he picked up the delicate silver chain with a pendant in the form of the sun. He recognised it instantly; the very same necklace he had given you when Uhtred agreed to your marriage, and you had always worn it ever since. Sihtric grunted in rage and quickly sprang to his feet, only to discover that the Dane had vanished.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[ms-oswald]

homesick | chapter two

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

     “Kára?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does Ragnar know you are here?”  

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

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

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

She sobered up, nodding curtly. “Both.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Both.” 

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

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

“Finan...”  

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

“We’re in the dark...” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finan... Let me take care of you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should prepare ya for a storm then.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re staring.” 

“Ya are kidnapping me.” 

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

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

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

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

“That is my charm, Irishman.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t enough to convince her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.” 

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Liar.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sensed Finan sobering up, his silence suddenly suspenseful.  

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

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

“Nowhere near as interesting as your travels.” 

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

And she followed with no hesitation. 

“Where are ya headed after Irland?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should see the world…”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finan?” 

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

“Mhmm.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hesitated, looking away and in front of him.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be safe. I beg ya.”  

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

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

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

“Thank you for staying.” 

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

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

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

“Are you going to be alright?” 

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

One step forward and he pressed his forehead to hers.  

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

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

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

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

“I won’t if you don’t.” 

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

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

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

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

--------

xoxo

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

[scorpionrising]

there is love that doesn't have a place to rest — ch. 1

pairing: finan x fem!oc word count: 2395 content warning: this fic deals explicitly with the trauma of sexual assault. while there are no drawn out, graphic scenes, it is made explicitly clear what is going on. for context: oc is uhtred's daughter and was captive in dunholm for all her childhood. proceed with caution. additionally, expect canon typical attitudes, behaviors, violence, etc.

read on ao3

“no words appear before me in the aftermath salt streams out my eyes and into my ears every single thing i touch becomes sick with sadness 'cause it's all over now, all out to sea” –taylor swift, bigger than the whole sky

Ravna awoke in a blind panic, scrambling about her bed and gasping for air. The scent of smoke was heavy in her lungs, vision going hazy. She screamed up a storm, wailing as loud as she could. Surely someone would be able to hear and help. Something was keeping her trapped, holding her arms down. But the room was on fire. She knew it was. She screamed louder, head flinging back into her pillows. 

The door opened with such force that it flew from the hinges. Hazy as the smoke, her father stood in front of her. Her screams stopped as he came into focus, turning into gasping hiccups. 

“Oh, igða,” he whispered, sitting down beside her with a frown. He ran a hand down the back of her head and pulled her into an embrace as she began to sob against him. He shushed her gently, rocking both their bodies. “What is it? What do you dream of?”

“Fire,” she gasped, curling her fingers into the soft material of his shirt. 

He made a small noise, but did not stop rubbing her back. He hummed quietly to calm her, but it did not stop her racing heart. 

“Breathe,” he instructed. “You need to breathe.” 

“I cannot,” she said. 

“You must.” 

She tried, she really tried. She listened to the steady thrumming of his heart and his own quiet breathing. He brought his hand up and down along her spine, continuing his humming. He did this until the sun began to rise and filter the room with golden light and her eyes began to drift shut. He did this until long after her eyes drifted shut and his followed. 

It was Gisela who woke them hours later, Ravna’s little sister in her arms. Stiorra lept from her mother’s grip and onto the bed. The toddler giggled, smacking her meaty fists into Ravna’s face as her feet dug into their father’s stomach. 

“Devil child,” Ravna groaned, rolling away, hardly able to remember the dream from the night before. 

Stiorra giggled even more shrilly as their father grabbed her by the legs and tickled her viciously. Gisela smiled and looked to Ravna. She held out her hand and beckoned Ravna away from her father and sister. 

“You frightened me last night,” Gisela whispered, looping her hands around Ravna’s upper arm. “Will you tell me what ails you?” 

“I apologize,” Ravna said, bowing her head. “I hope I did not wake Stiorra or Feilan.” 

She thought of her little brother and his quiet, watchful disposition. He shared a name with their father, but she felt it too strange to call the little boy Uhtred. That was a man’s name, and Feilan was her little wolf. 

“It is no matter,” Gisela said. “It is you I worry about.”

Ravna glanced down, embarrassed. Gisela, seeming to notice this, tutted quietly and patted Ravna’s arm. 

“Do not fret,” Gisela said. “I am concerned. You have been plagued by these nightmares for a fortnight.” 

Ravna shook her head. “It is nothing. Merely dreams.” 

“Dreams have meaning,” Gisela said. “There is something haunting you.” 

Ravna frowned, uncomfortable with the attention given. She much preferred when everyone was fixated on Feilan or Stiorra, rather than her. She found it difficult when eyes were on her, reminding her all too well of how it felt to be caged.

“I know how to make a tea so that when you sleep, it is dreamless,” Gisela said. “Would you like me to brew it for you?”

“It works?” Ravna asked. 

“It does. I have used it many times.”

Ravna wondered what it was that haunted Gisela, who was a seemingly perfect woman. In the year since Ravna came to live with her father and his new wife, Ravna had not once heard Gisela even begin to raise her voice, and she was always kind to everyone. Whatever it was that tormented her, Ravna’s heart ached. 

“Thank you,” Ravna said. She tucked her hair behind her ears and looked around. “I will go down to the river later, I think.”

Gisela smiled at her. “More drawing?”

Ravna nodded, unable to meet the woman’s eye. Another thing that made Gisela so delightful was how she did not push conversation. She allowed it to ebb and flow, like water, and never grew upset when Ravna was no longer interested in keeping up with talking halfway through it. 

After eating—one whole egg and half an apple under her father’s careful supervision—and dressing in proper clothes, Ravna slipped from the hall and found her path through the woods. With expert feet, she made her way to the spot she found with Sihtric the summer she first came to live with her father and he was the only face she knew. It was at the widest part of the river that ran through Coccham’s wood, with weathered boulders large enough to sprawl on without fear of rolling off. 

In her eight years imprisoned at Dunholm, she rarely ever was allowed outdoors. No longer a slave, she could be free in the fresh air and sunlight. She would even take a miserable rainstorm over being inside all day. She needed to be far away from walls and locked doors. Even now, having been free from her dark prison for as long as she had been kept there, this was the only place she truly never felt caged. 

So, she sat on the rocks, lifted her face to the sun, and hummed quietly to herself as she drew. She listened to the world all around her; the rushing water, the birdsong, the rustle of leaves, the whistle of wind, the twigs snapping. She opened her eyes and sighed.

“I know you’re there, Finan.” 

His bearded face emerged from the brush.

“How in God’s name did ya’ know it was me?” 

She grinned. “Who else would my father send after me?”

“He is worried about ya’, ceann beag.” 

“He does not need to be. They are merely dreams.”

“Night terrors of the very thing that stole your family,” he corrected, maneuvering over the rocks and coming to sit down beside her. “Is his concern not so understandable?”

“No,” Ravna sighed, flopping backwards. “I still wish he would not.”

“Now, now. Worrying about you is something he will do until he stops breathing.”

Ravna rolled her eyes, knowing the warrior so often delegated to looking after her was right in his words. 

“I’ve been asked to bring you back for lunch,” Finan said.

Ravna nodded, expecting this. “Has the whole morning really gone by?”

“Yes,” Finan said, standing up and beginning his descent down the rocks. “And you might want to prepare yourself. The king is here.”

“What?” Ravna nearly slipped in her shock, but Finan swiftly steadied her. “Why?”

“I assume that is what we will come to learn.”

Ravna moaned miserably and took hold of his arm as she clambered down. She liked Finan for a great many reasons, but namely because he often understood her in a greater sense than her father did. Uhtred had been barely more than a child himself when Ravna came along, and then she had been so young when Kjartan took her. He never got to truly be her father and still struggled to see her as someone other than the five year old girl he watched get ripped from the flames of their burning hall. Finan, however, had been a slave for a great while when he met Uhtred on that slave ship, and he understood captivity in a more intimate sense than her father did. 

In all her grief, she was still a woman grown. 

“Must I really join them?” Ravna asked. “I’d much rather find wherever Osferth has skulked off to.”

“The King likes you for some reason only God, Himself, knows, lady,” Finan said. “He’ll be in a better mood if you’re there.” 

“Is that all I’m good for? Placating kings?”

Finan shot her a look. “Ya’ know that’s not what I meant.” 

She snorted and marched on. Whenever the king came to visit, he always brought with him a horde of guards and even more priests. They milled about the village, looking out of place in the casual comfort of Coccham. Finan was behind her with every step she took as though he were a shadow, as though he thought she were going to make a run for it. In all fairness, she was considering it. There were several other places she would have rather gone than the hall. But, she did as she was bid and walked inside. 

Sihtric was seated at the table a little ways down, which took Ravna by surprise. His wife had given birth to a son barely a week before and Sihtric had seldom left her side since then. She held in a sigh. This was surely important, then. She went to take a seat by him, but Finan held his arm out to stop her. He shook his head and gestured towards the head of the table where her father was sat. She bit the inside of her cheek and, again, did as she was bid. 

“Lord King,” she said, bowing her head in deference. 

He looked thinner, more gray, than he had when she saw him last during his daughter’s wedding. His health had been failing him for years, and Ravna could not help but wonder when his god would finally come for him. 

“Ravna, my dear,” he said, “you look well.” 

“Thank you, Lord,” she said, sitting down beside her father. 

Uhtred pushed a bowl filled with stew in front of her, and then placed a large bread roll in her hands. She ripped a small piece off the bread and dunked it into the stew. She hated eating like this, when so many eyes could fall on her. 

“I hear you have taken an interest in the Holy Book,” Alfred said.

Ravna looked down. She could hardly say she had taken an interest in Christianity, just that she was trying to understand more about the world. She did not understand the notion of something being both all good and all powerful. At least her father’s religion acknowledged that the gods were cruel and petty. She swallowed down the rising ball in her throat and forced a smile. 

“Yes, Lord,” she said.

What she did not say was that most of her lessons on Christianity were had with Osferth. She was confident the king would not like that, nor would his many priests. She glanced up to where Father Beocca was sat, across from her father and next to Finan. 

An old and trusted friend of her father’s from his childhood in Bebbanburg, Father Beocca had always been kind. When she lived with Thyra in the aftermath of Dunholm while her father still searched for a place to call his own, Father Beocca would visit often. She wondered where Thyra was—if she had joined the king’s party in their visit, or if she stayed in Winchester. Ravna had to assume the latter, if her aunt was not here at the table. 

“That is very good to hear,” Alfred said, an approving smile on his face. 

Her father nudged her shoulder with his, a twinkle in his eyes telling her that she was doing well. Warm in the face, Ravna looked down at her bowl and mushed the spoon around. Idle talk was made, and Ravna almost would have believed this to be a purely social visit. It was not until the bowls were cleared away and Alfred clasped his hands together atop the table that Ravna knew something dark awaited them on the horizon. 

“You are needed, Uhtred, at the northern border of Wealas,” Alfred said. “The Britons and Danes alike have been tormenting and raiding several villages and they must be beaten back.” 

Her father sighed heavily, as though he had been expecting this. Ravna frowned as well. She knew what this meant. Her father would ride off, perhaps to his death, and she would not see him for months. She would stay, without him once more, and Stiorra and Feilan would grow. Unable to bear it any longer, she excused herself at the earliest pause in conversation with the lie of having promised to help Gisela with the children. 

Her stepmother was outside behind the hall, sat on a large blanket with her two children sprawled beside her.

“What now?” Gisela asked with a sigh, noticing Ravna’s face. 

“Raiders from Wealas,” Ravna mumbled.

Gisela hummed, running a hand through Stiorra’s fine hair. “It never ends,” she said in a falsely happy tone, as if to not alert the children. 

Ravna pressed her lips together and sat down with her crossed over each other. Feilan’s head was at her knee, his eyes barely open. He had a sweet face and soft features, while Stiorra was far more severe—even at merely three years old. 

“Hello, my sweet,” she mumbled to her little brother. 

He wrinkled his nose and shifted so that he could use her thigh as a pillow. Stiorra, noticing her big brother, sat up from her position on her mother’s lap and crawled over to join Ravna and Feilan. Ravna smiled and began to mimic the motion Gisela had been making. 

“They love you very much,” Gisela said quietly.

Despite her ire at her father’s impending departure, Ravna preened a bit at the compliment. She loved her siblings fiercely, even if she had been fifteen when Feilan was born and eighteen when Stiorra came about. There were years and years of difference between them, but when they looked at her, they did not see the ghosts of Kjartan’s abuse. How could she not adore them? 

“And so do I, you know,” Gisela continued. She reached out and grabbed Ravna’s hand. “I know I am perhaps too young for you to ever view me as a mother, but please know I love you just as much as I do your siblings.” 

Ravna blinked, stunned. It was a precarious situation; her father being six years Gisela’s elder, and Gisela being only nine years Ravna’s elder. In another life, Gisela might have been a more sisterly figure. However, Ravna’s life was what it was, and Gisela was the closest she would ever come to a true mother.

“Thank you,” Ravna whispered, unable to say much more. 

[thedarkprinceofulaid]

Finan wakes from his slumber as the morning sun gleams in softly from the windows of his cottage. It might’ve been the best sleep of his entire life—at least since before slavery. He stirs just slightly before realizing that he is snuggly holding Revna in his arms, the warmth of her body against his bare chest undoubtedly the reason he slept so well.

From what he can tell, she is sleeping soundly too. He gently removes his arms from her, striving not to wake her as he sits up and stands from the furs. She needs rest to heal, and Finan prays she can stay asleep for most of the morning and into the day. His heart hurts at the prospect of leaving her, but there is work to be fulfilled with Uhtred likely already consulting with the King. He motions a strand of her black hair behind her ear, bringing his lips to her to bestow a kiss to her head. He slowly retreats, taking his armor and fresh clothing into another room to get dressed. He takes a parchment and quill, leaving her a note by her bedside.

Having you in my arms last night was like heaven to me. I must go to fulfill duties to my Lord. Rest — I will return to you.

@grlwtskulltattoo

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Taylor Swift songs (XII): All Too Well.

Imagine you and Osferth are forced to part ways.

Warnings: DRAMA, angst, smut, FLUFF.

Warnings 2: long post.

***

• I walked through the door with you. The air was cold but something about it felt like home somehow.

You are dressed in what you judge to be your best robes. Being Lady Æthelflæd’s trusted lady has provided you good advantages and one of these definitely was earning good Osferth’s heart.

It all started when you helped your lady to meet Uhtred Ragnarsson, an old friend of your mistress. Aware where her true affections laid, you helped covering her tracks so no one would know the reason why such secretive meetings occurred.

Funny enough Osferth was doing the same thing. It was when you two spent hours talking and praying until a mutual fondness grew between you two.

It’s winter now, hence why you are dressed in more comfortable robes. You still keep your liaison with Osferth a secret for political reasons, but it’s very difficult to do so, especially when you know how frequently he’s in danger when joining Uhtred’s band of brothers in battles against the Danes.

• Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze. We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate. Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place and I can picture it after all these days…

“You have a look of concern displayed in your features, my lady”, Osferth comes at you. There is a feast at Yeorvic this day, and that is where you are now.

“Do I, my dear?”, you try to conceal it, but the moment his hand discreetly looks for yours and the way he casts a knowing gaze at you, your knees weaken again. “I am only overthinking.”

“It torments me more when you opt to keep these tons of thoughts to yourself”, Osferth whispers. “What is it, pray tell me.”

“I wish we could live our lives quietly”, you admit it to yourself. “That we may be not as lovers but lawfully married before God. I do not wish to keep secrets just to keep you, even though I comprehend the circumstances that lead us into this.”

“I know, my lady. When this war ends and victory is assured, I will speak to my lord Uhtred. This I vow”, and then he takes your hand, there pressing a long kiss that sweeps away your fears.

As you two join the feast, Osferth gently pulls you to him and discreetly whispers:

“My heart is yours and yours alone. Never let this fade in forgetfulness, my lady.”

You blink away a few tears. His sweetness has always made you sensitive.

“Oh, Osferth. How could I forget? You are my other half, there is no place for another in my heart.”

By mixing with the folk, no one seems to notice the sacred vows you and Osferth exchanged.

***

• And I know it's long gone and that magic's not here no more. And I might be okay but I'm not fine at all…

Osferth’s eyes are set on you, but you don’t meet his gaze. Lady Ætheflæd has just announced her departure to Mercia, not only because her husband awaits, but in order to protect that realm that has grown affectionately in her heart, which she adopted upon marrying the rascal she is consorted to.

You are deaf to politics, this is not your expertise field and you hold no interest in it as your mistress discusses it in equal terms with other men present. You hold onto your faith as war is spoken about.

But your soul is cold as ice, frozen with no warmth, no magic as you and Osferth are forced to part. And you are only momentarily angry at him.

You should have fought for us.

You start to wonder if you placed hopes where the should be none. However, when you rise your gaze, you find his.

The silent astonished that speaks his heart’s agony in losing you… is perhaps the only goodbye you might have.

By what strength you swallow your tears, forced to act nonchalantly?

***

• Cause there we are again on that little town street. You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me. Wind in my hair, I was there. I remember it all too well.

“What are you thinking about, arseling?”, Osferth is inquired by the Irish Lad. “You do not look well.”

“What could give away I look unwell?”, he snorts in response. “I cannot be in better spirits with this bloody cold before the announcement of a grand invasion planned by the same old enemies.”

The Irish raises his eyebrows.

“Someone is in a mood today…”

“Let him be”, Uhtred says in soft chuckles. “Come on now, Osferth. Winter is not the season fighters gather to a fight. Hence why we are heading to Wessex.”

Osferth doesn’t respond, preferring the silence. His thoughts are on you and he could never tell you his desires. He doesn’t know how long your travel will be nor how well placed are you going to be at her ladyship’s court.

Worst, he is preoccupied at how you’ll be treated there. The Mercians love their lady Æthelflæd, but the same cannot be said of their lord towards his wife. His despise for Lord Ælfred’s daughter is well known.

When looking at his sword, Osferth questions the worth he’d put at it. And then he is remembered all too well of your smiles, gentleness, the sacred way you two prayed together…

“Come now”, Uhtred puts a hand around his comrade’s shoulders. “I can tell something upset you.”

“This is nothing, Lord”, Osferth dismisses his friend’s concern. “And I assure this will not distract me of upcoming events.”

“Suit yourself, then. Just remember, Osferth, destiny is inexorable. It is what it is.”

And there is no more word on it. Back to his melancholy, the warrior monk feeds his brain with land occupations in order to distract his mind of your smile, but when night comes, he remembers when precisely you told him of how you fell for him.

• Your cheeks were turning red (…) You told me 'bout your past thinking your future was me. And I know it's long gone and there was nothing else I could do. And I forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to…

It was late night. Sounds coming of the bedchambers upstairs were enough to offer evidence why Uhtred and his lady took effort in meeting after everyone was fast asleep. Ignorant at how their trusted friends have too fallen victims to the love bug, you and him enjoyed that silence in intimate manner���not in flesh, though, but in spiritual communion.

“My lady is most beautiful this evening”, so he said when contemplating your soft features that, by candlelight, looked ethereal. What to say when his eyes noticed the light blue gown that reinforces your curves.

And though today you are showing some cleavage, his sinful thoughts wishing to explore it with his mouth, he holds them back for the sake of his soul.

“You are most kind, dear one”, you took his hand and there pressed a soft kiss, eyeing him with devotion. “You must be an angel.”

“How so?”, and remembering his former thoughts, he flushed at your praise. “I am unworthy of such comparison.”

And here was when his face couldn’t get any more crimson. You listed every virtue he possessed, reasoning why you’ve grown not only to admire him, but…

“I love you.”

Osferth was taken aback. Never in his life words of deep affection reached his hear and heart. Never before he became familiar with what he judged so strange: not lust nor desire, but something so divine and pure.

Then when he chewed its meaning, he saw fear in your eyes, questioning rising in the y/c that paints your irises. It was when he smiled, timidly so. Lacing your fingers with his, he took them to your lips and said:

“Oh, lady. I love you with all my being”

He could not express his deep thoughts, the intensity of his feelings, but when you kissed his lips, Osferth’s own doubts died at last.

• And maybe we got lost in translation. Maybe I asked for too much. But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up running scared, I was there… I remember it all too well.

The warrior monk now remembers again that memory so dear to him, walking south in bitterly expectation this bloody war ends. However, he cannot escape the admonishment of his conscience.

What worth is there in dwelling in the secrecy of past when all could have been resolved if he had the courage to keep you like an oath?

In the meantime he deals with his own remorse, you follow your mistress wherever she goes, praying to go unnoticed in Æthereld’s view. You fear her husband and even though lady Æthelflæd offered you better ladies to serve, your staunch loyalty spoke higher than security provided by gold.

At Mercia’s main seat, you watch her steps, prepare her bath and ensure all happens well. Working in shadows is always a good task to occupy your mind.

But you are haunted by the sad resignation in your lover’s eyes, incompared to the nights spent in shared experiences, emotional and spiritual, avoiding, for the sake of duty, any carnal temptation that not rarely touched you two.

Why did he let you go? A question that still daunts your conscience, breaking your heart until melancholy is stamped in your y/c eyes.

“Lady Y/N”, you are called upon by Lady Æthelflæd.

There is a feast today, thrown right after the Mercian lords assembled to discuss the possible manners to defend Mercia against the Danes as well as to how many soldiers they’d send to help their lady’s cause.

“Yes, my lady?”, you approach.

“Please have a seat. My husband has been long gone, he’s not doing you any harm”, she offers you a sympathetic smile.

You nod your head shyly, taking the seat pointed. Despite the friendship you two have formed throughout the years, you do not dare move above your place.

Ale is served and only then you are inquired as the cause of your silence.

“Silence, Lady Æthelflæd?”, you inquire, confused.

“I have noticed in the past three months the joy with which you carried your life has been clouded by something. External events prevented me from looking after you not only as a mistress, but in the manner friends do”, she apologizes.

“No, lady. This is not my position to take your apologies. You were right in doing your duty. Please, I should lament if I have failed mine by all means…”

“Y/N”, Æthelflæd sighs, shooting you an impatience looks. “Is this how we should proceed now?”

You take a sip of your drink before sighing heavily.

“This is a long story.”

“We have time for it”, Æthelflæd smiles encouragingly.

Whilst musicians play their instruments and the nobles assembled talk their talks, you confide your mistress and friend how you came to love Osferth.

***

• Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it. I'd like to be my old self again but I'm still trying to find it. After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own, now you mail back my things and I walk home alone. But you keep my old scarf from that very first week ‘cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me. You can't get rid of it ‘cause you remember it all too well

As wind blows brown leaves of the remaining winter, Osferth thinks too occupied to be remembered of past. However, now at Wessex, surrounded by his men, when battle can come at any moment now, he spots lovers here and there.

It is as if the Lord is playing him a trick. Or perhaps, most sensitive it is, that He is trying to teach this baby monk a lesson.

“Again with that melancholy, boy?”, a familiar snort makes Osferth turn his head and find Finan with folded arms and staring at him with a mix of amusement and reprehension.

“Not melancholic. Just waiting.”

“Not for the battle, then what are you waiting for?”

Osferth shoots the man a glare.

“Quit with wrong interpretations if you may.”

Finan roars in laughters at it.

“Has someone broken your heart, boy? Come on. I know that look well. We have all been there, done that.”

When seeing hesitation, the older male smiles and, sliding to sit in front of him, he serves some ale before saying:

“Life is one to suffer in eternal martyrdom. This is not what pleases the Lord, it is only selfish to think this kind of misery pleases Him when it does no one good.” He takes a long gulp of his drink, waiting for Osferth to absorve the meaning of his words.

“What should I do then, lord? I lacked courage then by choosing duty over her.”

“I knew a woman was involved. One hopes this whole misery is not about a concubine, though. For you know how these women can be…”

“No, for God’s sake!”, Osferth protests vehemently, although he snorts afterwards. “Would you honestly think I am this kind of man?”

Finan laughs.

“Fair enough. Then tell me more of this lass, responsible for making our baby monk a miserable man.”

Osferth sighs, but his friend is patient. Looking down at his occupied hands with ale, he finally talks about you.

How could he not? He remembers all too well…

• Cause there we are again when I loved you so. Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known. It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

***

In the aftermath of one more victory to count to the House of Wessex carried on by Uhtred and his comrades, Osferth is restless. He is tired of secrets and cannot live with his remorse anymore.

Therefore, the baby monk goes after you, not taking long to do so—following the advice of his Irish friend, who certainly had more ways of talking than Uhtred and his excess of practicality.

However, there is little need to go farther as the retinue of lady Æthelflæd has come to the encounter of Uhtred’s party under some political excuse.

You are just ordering maids where to put your mistress and friend’s robes and other packings when you are met by Osferth.

“Osferth!”, you forget the daily check of your emotions when seeing him. “You are here!”

“Lady! Allow me to speak with you… alone.”

You hear that despair, the same eagerness that has consumed you and haunting you these past months. You nod and let him lead to a nearby, abandoned chamber that few use.

Once you stand before him, you find yourself unable to breathe, holding your breath as you wait him to speak. Osferth, perhaps awaiting your excusable tantrums, looks down at his hands nervously.

Only then he raises his eyes and after studying your silent reaction, does he break the silence.

“No words can do justice to the misfortune I brought us. There are, it’s true, reasons for what I did, but neither can excuse our parting ways.” Osferth takes your hands in his. They are cold. “I beg your forgiveness.”

Repressing sentiments does never do any good. You’d think by pushing the hurt and anger deep down was the reasonable doing, but how wrong you were. Now, you are bursting violently in tears.

Osferth is shocked at first. A warlord, he is a man to swords and an enemy to many. But when it comes to the hearts of damsels, what does he know?

He does try to hold you, responsible for those tears you’ve failed in holding back.

Unable to forget what he remembers too well, in his eyes emotion comes through unwelcoming tears.

“I am sorry”, he says in chocked voice.

“You didn’t say goodbye. You never said anything..” and then you push him. “Have you ever thought of me, Osferth? Have I been nothing but a secret you were forced to keep?”

“Lady…”

You turn your back on him, unwilling to see the same tears that roll down in your cheeks mirrored in those blue eyes like rain pouring from skies.

“I kept the love I had for you like an oath!”, you sob, not seeing how he, even tearful and feeling your angst like astonished blows, moves to short again the distance between you two. “You were my most sacred object of affection! I loved you ardently, I forsook my duties, I drowned in a sea of hopes waiting to be rescued…”

He closes his eyes, swallowing a sob.

“You broke me like a promise, you took me for granted!”, and brought down by that cascade of sentiments, you don’t swim against the tie that pushes you. “During these cold evenings, you were my spring. Your smile was like the sun of the mornings, warming my poor heart and feeding my lonely soul. I thought… I thought we could navigate this together! But love is for peasants, I see that now. For duty is as sharp as a blade and it bleeds all that is not….”

You are interrupted as he finally has the courage in making you turn to meet his gaze.

Osferth cups your face with his callous hands, resting his forehead against yours. Each gaze mirrors the other and his soul steals yours again.

“Don’t go.”

You sob and so does he.

“All I felt was shame. There was nothing I could do”, he whispers like the cold breeze of winter, discreet and hush. “We swore to keep in our hearts these delightful memories we formed together. I shall not break it. I shall translate it better. Be my lady. I may not be the most appropriate of suitors, but take my poor and obscure heart of this knight who fought Danes, pagans and many proud obstacles in the form of kings and bishops to have you.”

You understand. Relieved of the burden you’ve been carrying on your own, you comprehend what’s said and what has not been said. You know Osferth just as he knows you.

No more words are needed. In the awakening of spring, winter has finally been prevailed by the seeds that were planted in autumn.

So you kiss his lips.

***

The marriage ceremony is discreet, but lawful before Christian laws, respecting you and Osferth’s desires. Notwithstanding Uthred’s mockery for the belief you and your husband follow, he ensured to be present and conducted the feast he gave you both… with Lady Æthelflæd publicly by his side.

At the feast, music is played by talented musicians and men and women drink merrily to the new couple. You insist in dancing with Osferth, or at least in presenting to him a dance you and your fellow ladies used to do at Mercian court.

“My lady”, Osferth, back at the table after dancing with you, takes your hand and there kisses it before locking gazes with you. “You are my angel.”

You blush at his words.

“Do not make such a praise, lord, after seeing me in my worst”, you remark, in reference to the day where you exploded with him.

“I disagree”, he smiles quietly at you.

Before you insist in your point, Uhtred—always him—makes a toast in the most scandalous form.

“Ladies and Lords hereby present by the forces of destiny!”, he smirks. “Before we begin the bedding ceremony, I must say a few words. Osferth, our baby monk, is one of the very rare beings in this world provided with sharp tongue, sharp brain and a good heart. Make the best use of these traits, Y/N. I am not letting him go if I do not know how infatuated this little lord is.”

The salon cackles and you join the sound of laughters. Osferth’s face is red, but it gets redder when, before you tell him something sweet, the ladies steal you away from him and the lords do the same with him.

You two follow separate ways to reach the privy chambers of the household borrowed for the occasion by the local landlord, who happens to be Uhtred himself.

Stone corridors witness the noisy and boisterous sounds of the men and the women, celebrating in such a manner as never before seen. You feel shy at it, since your gown is removed and your hair is let loose.

By the time your ladies let you in between giggles at the privy bedchamber, you find Osferth, completely bare, waiting for you.

The moment your eyes meet, each blushes. Your eyes, however, leave aside good morals you were taught to scam his body. It’s the first time you see a man in that state. Your wide-eyed gaze lingers in the scars seen in his belly, but it takes a while in his manhood.

His sight gives you a new sensation, to which you have no word to. It is a heat that warms your chest, makes your exposed nipples unbearably hard and your womanhood wet.

What makes this heat spark in fire is how Osferth looks at you too. Unlike you, however, he doesn’t seem to study you with the curiosity of someone who never did before. There is, on the other hand, a different kind of look that you have only almost seen once.

“Lady”, he turns to you and locks your fingers together.

Osferth barely breathes, feeling he’s about to have an erection just at the look of you. Your body brings him to sinful thoughts, but this time he’s not guilty for being taken by them.

Moving to where you are, he now kisses you like a desperate man willing to save his life. You corresponding the kiss with another just as passionate.

“Lord husband”, you mewl, ignoring your insecurities as you take him to bed.

Osferth cups your face before lying you down. He takes his side of bed and turns at you, caressing your hair and then cheek with one hand all the whilst sliding another to your nipples.

“Tell me when I should stop”, says he, eyeing you with the devotion of a lover.

“Don’t you dare”, you whimper at how he takes his time in playing with your breasts.

Osferth chuckles low, arousing further at how easily you subdue under his touch. There is some indecent inquisitiveness at how his hand moves down to your core and there insert one finger.

And from the moment his mouth drops to each nipple is when the quiet Osferth you took as husband shows another side to you unknown. He devours you in many ways and you like to be devoured. You whimper loudly, hands playing with his hair as he tends of the needs you didn’t know you had.

Osferth holds your gaze as he does indecent things to you, and until you cry out his name he doesn’t roll over you.

“My lady”, he kisses you intently. “My wife”.

You spread your legs so he can insert in between them, very gently holding your hips before engulfing you in a warm embrace.

“My husband”, you love how easily dominated you are, letting him have all the control.

And the moment he searches for your eyes, no communication is needed. It’s when he and you come to discover together a very mundane and sinful pleasure that, notwithstanding your morals, would be a good pastime for years ahead…

***

“I want to do one thing that I heard ladies talking one day”, you tell him with mischievous eyes.

Osferth laughs quietly.

“Never took you for someone who eavesdrop, my darling.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him.

“Well, husband, will you consent me doing it?”

“You sound eager to do so… and I would be lying if I said I am not curious.”

It’s only when you begin touching his manhood that his mind goes blank and his face, red.

“Oh.”

“What is this “oh” for?”, you ask him, confused. “Is it bad?”

He throws his head back and you watch with desirous eyes the moment his mouth forms an “o”. Very sensuous indeed. Aren’t you condemned?

“No. Please, continue, m-my lady.”

You don’t tell him this is not exactly what you heard, but seeing how he is enjoying it, you take your time. And when he’s about to come undone, you opt to put your mouth there, getting him out of surprise.

Osferth then groans your name louder than before and soon your mouth has in it a very different liquid than the ones you usually drink. And you like just the same.

Though your mind reprehends yourself for sinful thoughts, you are plagued by an incurable lust for your husband.

Just as he finishes, you crawl over him and, making him erect again, you ride him just fine.

“Oh Lord!”

Osferth admires how wild you are. Your long y/c hair falls in a messy cascade behind your back, and when some parts of your locks cover your breasts, he adjusts them so he can have a better view of your state.

Hungry for your boobs, though, his mouth soon finds way to each and the room is no more silent. Though there may be pain, there is pleasure in this deed and you feel blessed and healed in many ways.

“I love you”, Osferth moans when pursuing your lips one more time.

“I love you, husband”, you whisper breathlessly.

And the night goes on…

***

• Epilogue.

The world you and Osferth are part of is one plagued by vicious wars, diseases and treacherous monarchs, seconded by prideful advisors and vain clergymen.

Notwithstanding this fact, you and him adjust to this life where peace is rare and fear is constant. But stability only comes when Uhtred eventually takes back Bebbanburg, his rightful inheritance, and Æthelstan provides good stability for a while after defeating an ambitious Dane named Knútr.

It’s true that your troubles have not ceased. You almost lost Osferth twice for these wars and your own mistress passed out after plague seized her life.

Nevertheless, here you are. Two years have been since Uhtred himself died. You have children of your own, soon ready to constitute their own families.

As for Osferth, even with his sword retired and content with a simpler life, he still remembers too well all that is here no more.

“You brought me peace in a lifetime of war”, he says, in one of these days you two are in bed together.

He watches you combing your hair and slip to his side of the bed, where he holds you close.

“You were my savior”, you smile at him. “Made careless a careful man’s daughter.”

You two share a laughter that has so much of the synchrony that marks your relationship, but companionship as well.

“I love you, angel of my life.”

“I love you, my guardian.”

Thus you adjust in your nest, comforted in his arms, sleeping as he rocks you like he used to. Peace comes thus, painting your sleeping faces with the serenity of those who filled their duties well.

[beyralxoxo]

{DESTINY AND BLOOD-KINGDOM: SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON}

III: smite

SUMMARY: Sihtric wants to know more about Yggdrasil to which Finan tells him something about her he will never forget, Uthred, alongside Yggdrasil and his crew are made to follow Bloodhair. They find Skade, but the flicker of fear in Uthred's eyes makes Yggdrasil worry.

PAIRING: Sihtric Kjartansson x Yggdrasil Ivarsdottir (OC)

WORD COUNT: 6,5 K

WARNINGS: mentions of death-blood-organs-mention of awful death-curses-swearing-drinking

The fire crackled, its warmth wrapping the room in a soft embrace. Yggdrasil sat, a small smile on her lips, as Stiorra, her niece, rested peacefully in her lap. The little girl's eyelids fluttered, the rhythmic sound of Yggdrasil's voice soothing her into a deep, contented sleep. Yggdrasil's fingers gently brushed through Stiorra's hair as she finished reading, the soft crackle of the flames the only sound left in the room.

Across from her, Uhtred and Gisela exchanged quiet glances, their smiles soft, like a secret shared between them. Their eyes lingered on the scene before them, a family bound by love and fragile moments of peace. Young Uhtred, oblivious to the quiet beauty of it all, was too busy causing chaos, pestering Osferth, who looked like he might lose his patience at any moment. But Osferth endured, his expression a mix of amusement and irritation.

Uhtred's gaze softened as it drifted back to Gisela, the woman who had his heart. She stood, her belly swollen with their child, and walked toward him. Without a word, he reached out, his hand gently pressing against her belly, as though feeling the life growing inside of her.

But Gisela, with her sharp eyes and knowing heart, wasn't fooled by the calm. She saw the tension in him, the way his shoulders had stiffened ever so slightly, the way his eyes flickered to the door.

"You're leaving," she said, her voice thick with quiet understanding. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. She knew him too well.

Uhtred sighed, his hand still resting on her belly, as if grounding himself.

"It's just a quick task," he said, his words heavy, filled with the weight of duty. "I've made arrangements. If I'm not back in time... Hild will be here for the labor."

Gisela didn't need to hear more. Her chest tightened, but she masked it with a soft kiss, pressing her lips to his with the quiet intensity of a promise. The kiss was simple, but it spoke volumes. She pulled back slowly, her eyes searching his, as if memorizing the shape of him, the feel of him, as if trying to hold on to something she couldn't quite grasp.

Yggdrasil, still holding Stiorra in her arms, glanced down and realized the child had already fallen asleep. Her smile softened as she gently brushed a strand of hair from Stiorra's forehead and tucked her into bed. The little girl stirred slightly but remained asleep, completely at ease.

Once the child was settled, Yggdrasil stepped away, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. She turned toward the door, but there, in the dim light of the hallway, stood Gisela, her eyes full of quiet fear.

"Silla?" Gisela's voice was barely above a whisper, like a prayer, a plea.

Yggdrasil met her gaze, her heart immediately sinking at the quiet desperation in her sister-in-law's eyes.

"Promise me..." Gisela's words were shaky, like she wasn't sure if she could even ask, but her fear was undeniable. "Promise me that nothing bad will happen to my husband while he's away."

Yggdrasil's heart clenched, her expression softening. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to gently take Gisela's, her thumb brushing the back of her hand in a soothing, steadying motion.

"Gisela," Yggdrasil whispered, her voice calm but filled with the weight of unspoken truths. "You have to promise me that nothing will happen to you." She paused, her eyes locking onto Gisela's, the words hanging between them. "If anything happens to you, Uhtred will feel it, and we both know it."

Gisela's eyes closed, and she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her body trembled with the weight of the truth. She nodded slowly, her lips trembling as she whispered her own promise.

"I promise."

Without another word, Gisela pulled Yggdrasil into her arms. It wasn't just a hug; it was a plea, a desperate need to hold on to something, to find strength in the woman who was as much a sister as she was a warrior.

Yggdrasil held her tightly, her arms around Gisela's fragile form, her heart aching with the burden of their shared love for Uhtred. She whispered softly, as though sealing the promise with her breath.

"I'll protect him, Gisela. I'll protect both of you."

Gisela nodded, her face buried in Yggdrasil's shoulder, the quiet sobs she tried to stifle betraying the fear she couldn't hide. They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the unspoken promise hanging heavy in the air between them.

And even though they both knew the world was uncertain, and Uhtred's path would be filled with danger, in that moment, all they had was the fragile hope that somehow, together, they could protect the ones they loved.

They pulled away after a while, the weight of the moment settling between them. Yggdrasil gently wiped away Gisela's tears with a soft smile, her voice carrying a teasing note.

"Now, now, no need for tears," she said, her tone light and playful as if to cut through the tension. "If Uhtred saw those tears, that fool wouldn't know whether to hug you or run."

Gisela's lips curled into a reluctant smile, and she nodded, feeling lighter. "You're right," she murmured, trying to shake the melancholy off. With one last look at Yggdrasil, Gisela turned to go, knowing the next task awaited her. But, of course, Yggdrasil wasn't about to let her go alone—not with a child on the way. She followed, keeping a protective eye on her.

Meanwhile, across the room, Finan and Sihtric were sitting at the table, throwing back mead as though they'd forgotten the world existed beyond the fire. Osferth was tucked in his corner, nose buried deep in his book, completely detached from the chaos. Uhtred had retreated to his bed, no doubt reflecting on the things to come, leaving the others to their business.

Finan took a long swig of his drink, but Sihtric looked like he was about to combust with... something. There was tension in his posture, the kind that comes with a deep inner turmoil, though for the life of him, Finan couldn't figure out what it was.

"Finan," Sihtric muttered, almost shyly.

Finan glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "What now?"

Sihtric hesitated, looking like he might swallow his own tongue before finally blurting it out. "What do you know about Lady Yggdrasil?"

Finan blinked, thoroughly confused. "Know about what?"

Sihtric looked around, making sure no one else was listening, before leaning in like he was about to share a state secret. "About Lady Yggdrasil." He said the name with an awkward, almost nervous hesitation.

The corners of Finan's mouth twitched as a grin tried to break through. "What?, what do I know about her?" he asked, his voice full of disbelief. He leaned back, crossing his arms, already catching on. "What's got you all hot and bothered?"

Sihtric's face flushed a deeper shade of red. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm just... asking," he muttered, his voice growing weaker by the second. "We'll be fighting alongside each other soon, right? It's good to know who you're fighting with. That's all."

A single, explosive laugh rang out from the corner of the room—Osferth, who had apparently been silently observing the entire exchange. His laughter was a bright contrast to the awkwardness in Sihtric's voice.

"Ah, no. Not falling for that, Sihtric," Osferth called, grinning like a cat who'd just eaten the canary. "Fighting alongside her, huh? Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

Sihtric's face turned a new shade of crimson, and he shot Osferth a murderous look. "Osferth shush your mouth" he snapped, but the defensiveness in his tone made it clear he wasn't fooling anyone.

Finan couldn't hold back any longer. His deep, throaty laugh filled the room. "Sihtric, you big idiot," he chuckled, slapping him on the back. "You're about as subtle as a stone through a window."

Sihtric groaned, looking like he might just curl up and die right there on the spot. "I am not—" he began, but the words caught in his throat. "I'm not falling for her!"

Finan raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Not falling for her? Really? Because that sure sounds like something a man who's falling for someone would say."

Sihtric shook his head vigorously. "She's a lady," he insisted, his voice growing more exasperated as though repeating the word would make his feelings magically disappear. "She's a LADY, Finan. She's not... she's not like that. She's proper."

Osferth, who had been watching the exchange in amusement, snorted. "Proper? You mean, you're terrified of her because she knows how to read and act like a lady while you're over here fumbling with your own words?" he mocked, winking as he flipped a page in his book.

Sihtric shot him a glare, feeling his pride take a hit. "No, that's not it," he muttered, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

Finan rolled his eyes dramatically. "Come on, Sihtric," he said, leaning in with an exaggerated whisper. "We all know you've been staring at her like a hungry wolf watching a deer. You're more whipped than Osferth with his holy prayers."

Osferth, not missing a beat, looked up from his book and glared at Finan. "I am not whipped," he said indignantly. "I'm just a man of faith."

Finan snorted. "A man of faith, right. Faith in your ability to turn every blessed moment into a sermon."

Sihtric, meanwhile, looked like he was ready to crawl into a hole and never come out. "I'm not falling for her!" he growled, though the blush on his face said otherwise.

Finan leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. "Uh-huh. Sure, mate. Keep telling yourself that. We've all got eyes, Sihtric. Even Osferth can see it."

Sihtric opened his mouth to argue but found nothing to say. He let out a frustrated groan, slumping forward onto the table, his face a flaming red.

Finan leaned over and patted him on the back with mock sympathy. "It's okay, lad. We all fall for the lady warriors eventually. It's just how it goes."

Osferth chuckled softly, shaking his head. "This is going to be interesting," he said, returning to his book.

Sihtric buried his face in his hands. "I swear, I'm not."

Finan just smirked, enjoying every moment of his friend's misery. "We'll see, Sihtric. We'll see."

Sihtric's patience was stretched so thin, he could feel it snapping with every passing second, yet there he was, staring at Finan, whose grin was maddening—like a wolf who had just cornered its prey. And Sihtric? He was the prey, caught in the snare of a conversation he never wanted to have.

"You still haven't answered my question," Sihtric growled, his words laced with frustration.

Finan, like a child with a secret, poked at Sihtric's cheek playfully, as if trying to coax something out of him. "Oye, you look awful red there, Sihtric," he teased, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You sure you're not sick? That's not a fever, is it?"

Sihtric swatted the hand away, but his cheeks burned like they were on fire. "Finan," he grumbled, but the sound lacked the weight it usually carried. There was no malice in it, just a vulnerability he wasn't ready to face.

Finan chuckled, that teasing laugh that only served to make Sihtric feel smaller, as if the entire room was watching him get tangled in his own thoughts. "Fine, fine," he relented, taking a deliberate sip of mead, savoring the taste like a man about to say the biggest secret. "She was taken in by Earl Ragnar, just like Uhtred was."

Sihtric's brow furrowed in confusion. "She's not Ragnar's daughter?" The words felt foreign, wrong on his tongue, but they left his lips anyway, as he tried to piece together what Finan was telling him.

Finan shook his head slowly, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Nah. She wasn't born to him. She was taken in."

Sihtric blinked, trying to process, but his mind was struggling to grasp the truth. "Then... who—?" His question trailed off as he caught Finan's gaze, one that was far too knowing, far too filled with the kind of mischief that had nothing to do with battle plans and everything to do with this unspoken understanding between them.

"She's from Norway. From Kattegat." Finan's voice was a low murmur, like a breeze carrying a secret across a silent night. "That's where she's from."

Sihtric's confusion deepened. "What?" The word was a quiet whisper, like a prayer in the dark. He had never expected this, had never imagined this truth could exist in the world. "But... I thought she was a Dane."

Finan leaned in, eyes twinkling with delight at the chaos he was creating. "Not a Dane," he said softly, savoring the moment. "But the blood in her veins? It's a force to be reckoned with."

Sihtric felt his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to process the words, but nothing seemed to fit together. He was trying to make sense of a puzzle that was far too complex for him to solve. He couldn't—he couldn't—but it was too late.

"She's... she's from Kattegat?" he repeated, the realization starting to dawn on him like the slow rise of the sun.

Then came the final blow, the revelation that cracked his entire world open, shattering all the walls he'd carefully built around his heart. "Aye," Finan murmured, his voice thick with meaning. "She's Ivar the Boneless' daughter."

Sihtric's world stopped. The room fell away, and all he could hear was the deafening silence that followed the weight of those words. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he didn't know whether to run or stay. The name Ivar the Boneless echoed in his ears like a curse, something dark and terrible, something he'd only ever heard of in nightmares.

"W-What?" Sihtric's voice trembled, the word slipping from his lips before he could stop it. His gaze was wide, his body stiff, and the world had shifted beneath him like the ground was suddenly unsteady.

Finan let out a low chuckle, as though he were enjoying every second of Sihtric's panic. "What? You didn't see it? Look at her—doesn't she remind you of him?"

Sihtric's heart slammed against his ribs. He felt it in every inch of his being—the heat, the tightness in his chest, the rush of adrenaline that told him something was wrong. "She does not," he snapped, his words sharp, but his voice betrayed him. It was soft, too soft, as if even he could feel the truth sinking into his bones.

"Ivar the Boneless is a nightmare." The words left his mouth with a kind of finality, but he couldn't bring himself to feel the anger he'd intended. Instead, it felt like the universe had made a cruel joke of him—this was the woman he had somehow found himself falling for.

"And Yggdrasil..." he swallowed hard, forcing the words out, his throat tight, his chest heavy. "She's... she's heaven on earth." His voice cracked as he said it, but he couldn't deny it. She was the fire and the storm. She was the calm after the battle, the war within herself, the beauty that didn't need to be tamed.

Finan's grin widened, and for a moment, Sihtric could have sworn he saw something almost... sadistic in his friend's eyes. "Aye," Finan murmured. "She is heaven on earth. But you—" he paused, eyes glinting with mischief. "You already knew that, didn't you?"

Sihtric's heart stuttered, the truth pressing in on him like a suffocating weight. He didn't want to admit it. He couldn't. But in that moment, surrounded by his comrades, with the fire crackling in the corner of the room, he couldn't hide from it any longer.

"I—I haven't fallen for her," he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

But deep inside, his heart knew better. Gods help him. He had fallen. And there was no escape. She had him.

The moment Yggdrasil stepped through the doorway, the room seemed to shift. The three men at the table froze like deer caught in the moonlight, their faces guilty of some unspoken conspiracy. Yggdrasil couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, her gaze flicking between them with amusement.

"Oye, little sister, we've just been talkin' about ya," Finan said, his voice laced with mischief.

Sihtric whipped around like a startled cat, his face turning an alarming shade of red as he quickly scrambled to deny it. "No-no, we have not, lady, I swear," he stammered, his eyes darting nervously, as if he was trying to outrun the truth. He looked away, trying—and failing—to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

Yggdrasil's smile deepened, her gaze steady and teasing as she lowered herself into the chair at the table. "Talkin' behind my back now, are we?" Her voice was playful but sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk.

Finan, ever the charmer, threw his hands up in dramatic surrender, the grin on his face wide enough to stretch to the heavens. "I wouldn't dare, little sister, you know me," he said, his voice as innocent as a lamb caught in the act of devouring a chicken.

Yggdrasil shook her head, her eyes glinting with amusement."mhm" she hummed. But there was a subtle change in her expression, a shift from teasing to something more serious. "We have to be ready. Tomorrow, we march."

The mood in the room sobered, the reality of the situation settling in. The teasing fell away like the wind that sweeps the leaves from the trees in autumn. Finan, with a knowing look in his eyes, tilted his head. "Bloodhair?"

Yggdrasil nodded once, her eyes hardening with the weight of what was to come. "Bloodhair." Her voice was steady, calm, and deadly.

She stood then, stretching her arms over her head, the simple motion sent a ripple of tension through the room as the men watched her. And Sihtric—poor, hopeless Sihtric—watched with a burning intensity he couldn't seem to control.

Gods help him. She has tattoos on her hips.

His eyes followed the smooth curve of her skin as she stretched, the ink marking the soft flesh of her hips, curling in intricate designs that spoke of battles fought and histories written in blood. He felt his heart hammer in his chest, and his throat went dry. Every part of him screamed to look away, but he couldn't. It was as though his body had betrayed him, bound by an invisible thread to the very woman who had him falling apart at the seams.

The tattoo. The tattoos.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a flurry of conflicting thoughts running through his mind. How had he gotten to this point? he barely knows her, How had he fallen so deeply into this chaos of desire and frustration? It was madness. Pure, sweet madness.

Finan, catching the direction of his gaze, snickered under his breath, but Sihtric could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. All he could focus on was Yggdrasil, standing tall and confident, a warrior in her own right, as if the very air around her hummed with power.

She lowered her arms, looking at all of them. "All of you boys better be ready at dawn," she said, her tone now one of command, sharp and unwavering.

Finan shot her a teasing glance, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Aye, ready as we'll ever be, little sister," he said with a grin.

Osferth, his face already pale and worn from the long journey, nodded with a soft groan. "I'm already feelin' the pain in my backside from all that horseback riding," he muttered, his voice full of complaint.

But Sihtric? Sihtric was still caught in a trance, staring at the curve of Yggdrasil's exposed skin as if it held the answers to all of life's riddles. The tattoos. Gods, the tattoos.

And even though every part of him wanted to deny it, to run from the feelings that had taken root deep in his chest, the truth was clear: he was utterly, hopelessly, and irrevocably whipped for Yggdrasil.

He just didn't know what to do about it.

The morning air was crisp, the scent of damp earth rising as hooves crushed the frost-kissed ground beneath them. They had left Wessex behind, but the weight of what lay ahead clung to them like an unshaken shadow.

Yggdrasil rode with ease, her fingers grazing Heimdall's mane absentmindedly, the warhorse moving as though he were an extension of her own body.

Finan, of course, would not let such devotion go unmocked.

"Oye, little sister," he called, his Irish lilt thick with amusement. "When exactly did you find the time to tend to that beast so much? Or does he just love you more than the rest of us?"

Yggdrasil didn't so much as glance at him, only lifting a brow as she kept her gaze forward. "He knows who treats him well."

Finan placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "And here I thought you treated all of us well. But I see how it is. Betrayed by a horse."

She sighed, shaking her head, and Finan chuckled as they pressed on.

The group rode in steady formation—Uhtred at the front, his presence unwavering. Yggdrasil rode beside him, Finan just to her right. A bit behind them, Sihtric and Osferth rode in tandem, their ears tuned in to the conversation whether they meant to listen or not.

Then, Uhtred's voice cut through the stillness, low but firm.

"Silla."

She knew that tone. That was the voice of a man bracing for an argument.

"We both know the seer Haesten spoke of could be dangerous."

Yggdrasil exhaled sharply through her nose, already shaking her head before he finished. "She's not dangerous," she countered without hesitation. "It's the fear people have of her that makes her powerful. That's all."

Finan hummed thoughtfully before breaking into a smirk. "Aye, besides, Lord, you've got a nymph ridin' beside you, eh?"

He waggled his brows at Yggdrasil, and she merely pressed her lips together, shaking her head fondly.

Uhtred chuckled at the exchange, but when his gaze flickered back to her, his amusement faded.

"Silla, I do not want you straining yourself."

The shift in the air was immediate. The warmth, the teasing—it all drained away like rain down stone.

Yggdrasil turned to him, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes. Something that wavered between defiance and weariness.

"Uthred, whether I strain myself or not, the pain is still there."

Uhtred tsked, his grip on the reins tightening. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't take care of yourself."

Silence stretched between them.

Even Finan, who could find humor in the bleakest of times, found himself watching the conversation with a furrowed brow. He had seen Yggdrasil bleed and still wield a sword. He had seen her stand when lesser men would have stayed on their knees. But there was a difference between healing and surviving. And he wasn't so sure she knew that difference.

She let out a breath, softer this time, as though already tired of the conversation. "Uthred, I've been of good health for a while now. What healed... healed."

There was something about the way she said it—like a door being shut, like a wound being covered before anyone could look too closely.

Finan cast a glance at Sihtric, but the younger man's gaze was fixed forward, his jaw tight, his grip firm on the reins. He hadn't spoken, but he had listened.

And deep down, he knew—

Yggdrasil may have healed.

But she had not stopped hurting.

The sun hung high and merciless over Alton, the heat pressing down on them like an omen. The village sprawled before them in eerie silence, nothing but charred ruins and the distant cries of the wind disturbing the stillness. The stench of burnt wood and blood clung to the air, thick and suffocating.

It was the same as every other place war had touched. The same hollowed-out homes, the same shattered remnants of lives once lived. A graveyard of memories that would never be reclaimed.

Finan had managed to drag a man from the ruins—thin as a corpse, his skin ashen, his eyes holding the kind of emptiness that only survivors carried. He stank of fear and desperation, his voice rasping as he spoke of things no man should ever witness.

He knew where Skade was.

And she wasn't alone.

By the time the man stumbled away toward the remnants of his family, Uhtred was already planning, already moving pieces of the game in his mind.

Yggdrasil exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for the briefest moment, as if that could keep the weight of Skade from pressing into her chest.

But it was too late.

She could feel her already.

That slow, creeping sickness in the air, curling around her bones like a warning. Skade was close, her presence a stain against the very fabric of existence. The feeling slithered through her veins, cold and cruel, and Yggdrasil clenched her fists until her knuckles went white.

The sooner Skade was dead, the better.

They crouched behind the remains of what had once been a monastery, the broken stone barely enough to shield them. Just ahead, the enemy's camp lay waiting. She could see the entrance, see the guards pacing in lazy circles, oblivious to the death that was already at their doorstep.

Uhtred glanced at her, his gaze steady, unreadable—but she understood.

A silent promise passed between them.

She nodded once, her grip on her sword tightening.

The men moved, readying their weapons, the sound of steel meeting steel a quiet, familiar rhythm. First Uhtred. Then Finan.

And then—

Yggdrasil reached for her sword, lightly tapping it against Sihtric's blade.

The moment it happened, something in him shifted.

His reaction was almost imperceptible, just a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but she caught it. The way his lips parted slightly, as if there were words there that he didn't know how to say. The way his fingers flexed around his weapon, as if trying to steady himself.

For a moment, his gaze lingered—soft, searching.

And gods, she felt it. And didn't know how to react

That pull. That quiet, unspoken something hanging in the air between them.

She let the smallest of smiles grace her lips, fleeting, barely noticeable—before slipping into the ruins.

And Sihtric—

Sihtric stared at the empty space where she had just been, his heart hammering against his ribs as if trying to claw its way free.

Gods help him.

She had smiled at him.

Finan, ever perceptive, smirked. "You alright there, Sihtric? You look like you just got struck by God  himself."

Sihtric wrenched his gaze away, scowling. "Shut up, Finan."

But Finan only chuckled, shaking his head as if he had seen this all before.

The plan was simple: cause a distraction, lure the guards out, and spill their blood before they even realized what was happening.

Unfortunately, that meant throwing Osferth into the fire.

The poor bastard was shoved forward, stumbling into the open like a newborn fawn. Yggdrasil bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as he attempted to appear imposing—though his stiff movements and darting eyes betrayed him completely.

One of the guards scoffed. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Osferth swallowed. "I would like you all to surrender."

Silence.

Then—

Laughter.

Loud, mocking, cruel.

Yggdrasil was barely holding it together. She pressed a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she tried—and failed—to contain her amusement.

One of the guards sneered. "Surrender? And why would we do that?"

Osferth straightened, clearing his throat. "Because I will smite you."

A pause.

Then—

"...What is smite?"

Osferth looked downright offended. "It's a word, isn't it? From the Holy Book! It means slay. Or kill. I will kill you."

The laughter only doubled, some of the guards doubling over, clutching their sides.

"Oh, you'll smite all of us, will you?"

Osferth nodded solemnly. "Yes. Most of you. Some of you might run, hopefully. I—I have a sword. A very sharp sword. But I'd prefer if you surrendered."

It was too much.

Yggdrasil pressed her forehead against the stone, her entire body shaking. She would have collapsed from laughter had Uhtred's voice not cut through the day like a blade.

"Now."

The screams erupted.

Three men fell before they even understood they were dying. The remaining guards barely had time to unsheathe their weapons before steel clashed against steel, the air thick with the scent of blood.

Yggdrasil moved like a ghost through the battlefield, her sword an extension of her very being. Every strike was precise, every movement deadly. She danced between blades, untouched, unshaken, lost in the beautiful, violent rhythm of war.

And Sihtric—

Sihtric fought like a man possessed, but his gaze flickered to her more than it should have.

He saw the way she moved. The way the sun kissed her skin, the way her hair whipped around her like a halo of chaos.

The way her lips curled, a quiet, satisfied hum escaping her as she tore through the enemy without hesitation.

Gods have mercy.

She was lethal.

And she was beautiful.

By the time the last body hit the ground, Yggdrasil was already sheathing her sword, stepping away from the carnage as though it had never touched her.

Osferth, miraculously untouched, gawked at her. "H-how—how did you do that, lady?"

She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Do what, Osferth?"

He flailed his hands at the bodies surrounding them.

She grinned. "Magic."

But the night wasn't over.

The doors to the monastery groaned as they opened, the thick, putrid scent of death spilling out like a living thing.

Uhtred inhaled slowly, staring into the darkness beyond. "Haesten says she's of the devil."

Finan wiped the sweat from his brow, unimpressed. "Then maybe we bar the doors and burn the place down."

Yggdrasil smirked. "Then we wouldn't get to see if she's any better than the last rabid dogs we've put down."

Uhtred exhaled sharply. "To Bloodhair, she is priceless."

Yggdrasil rolled her shoulders, loosening the tension in her muscles. "Does that make me want to kill her less?"

Finan, still catching his breath, stood beside Uhtred, shaking his head as if already agreeing before a word was even spoken. Yggdrasil smirked, motioning toward him with a shrug.

"See?" she said. But Uhtred wasn't in the mood for amusement.

With a long, slow exhale, Uhtred stepped forward, gripping the iron handles before shoving the heavy doors open. The stench hit them instantly—thick, rancid, suffocating. It clawed its way into their throats, burning, festering.

There was no escaping it now.

Yggdrasil stepped in first, unflinching. Uhtred followed, his footsteps heavy with purpose, and the others trailed behind in a steady, silent line. Inside, the shadows stretched long across the stone floor, shifting with the faint light from the high windows.

The silence was oppressive.

There was no life here.

Only the dead.

The stench of blood and decay thickened, clinging to the walls, sinking into the very bones of the place. It was in the air, in the stone, in the hollow echoes of their footsteps.

And then they saw them.

Two monks—one strung up against the wall, his body twisted in grotesque mockery of Christ's crucifixion. The other lay sprawled on the cold floor, his chest torn open, ribs cracked wide like broken arrows, blood pooling in a dark, glistening lake around him.

And in the center of it all—her.

Skade.

She stood cloaked in shadow, draped in crimson, her fingers curled tightly around something slick and glistening. A heart. Freshly torn from its owner, still warm, blood dripping between her fingers in slow, deliberate streams.

Her lips curled into something resembling a smile, but her eyes—cold and calculating—held no warmth.

The man beside her stood at attention, his head bowed like a hound awaiting orders. Weak. Pathetic. A dog with no bite.

Skade turned the heart in her hands, letting the blood splatter against the stone floor. Yggdrasil didn't flinch. She held Skade's gaze, unblinking, watching as something flickered in her eyes. Recognition? Amusement?

She didn't care.

Uhtred spoke first, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "You are Skade?"

The man beside her tensed, but Uhtred didn't spare him a glance.

Skade tilted her head, her smile deepening, slow and poisonous. "I knew it was you."

Yggdrasil let out a quiet breath. The woman was predictable—self-important, convinced she held dominion over things she didn't understand. She was already tired of her games.

Uhtred, however, was not one for wasted words, as the man near her began being uneasy Uthred turned to him. "You will do nothing," he said, voice steady, absolute. "Except go to your lord and tell him that Uhtred of Bebbanburg has his witch."

Her lips twitched, amusement flickering behind her dark gaze. She was toying with them, playing her game.

"I knew it was you," she repeated, voice smooth as silk laced with poison.

Yggdrasil rolled her eyes. How tiresome.

Uhtred didn't waver. "There will be a ransom to pay."

Skade gave a quiet, wicked laugh, tilting her head in that way she always did—like she knew something they didn't. Her eyes gleamed, sharp as a dagger's edge.

"No," she murmured turning to the man. "You will go to my lord, and you will tell him that from this moment forth, Uhtred of Bebbanburg is cursed."

Yggdrasil didn't move. Didn't even blink. She'd heard worse. A curse meant nothing.

Skade's grip on the heart tightened. Blood seeped through her fingers, trailing down her wrist, falling in slow, deliberate drops onto the cold stone beneath her feet. She raised it higher, her voice a whisper thick with malice.

"The witch holds his heart in her hands," she crooned. "And she will squeeze it until it shatters."

The heart slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor with a sickening, wet thud. It rolled once before settling in the pool of blood, motionless.

Yggdrasil exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. She had let Skade talk long enough.

Taking a single step forward, she tilted her head, her voice calm, quiet, and cutting. "You can throw all the curses you want, Skade. Whisper all the threats you like. But as long as I'm here, you're nothing more than a cunt of a witch."

A flicker. A crack in the mask.

For the briefest of moments, something shifted in Skade's expression. It was small, nearly imperceptible—but Yggdrasil saw it. That moment of realization. The moment she understood she had underestimated her.

Skade stepped forward, reaching for her, fingers curling like claws.

It was a mistake.

The moment her hand breached the space between them, the golden light surged. It ignited in Yggdrasil's chest, roaring through her like fire, ancient and unrelenting. Her eyes burned bright, and the moment Skade touched her, she choked on a breathless gasp.

Pain ripped through her. She staggered back, her body seizing, her knees buckling beneath her. Her hands trembled, clutching at her chest as if trying to snuff out the agony flooding through her veins.

Yggdrasil watched her struggle, her expression cold, unmoved.

"Don't try," she murmured.

Skade trembled, her body shuddering with every ragged breath. But still, she refused to surrender, her lips curling into a bitter, hateful smile.

"It is you who are my prisoner, Uhtred."

Uhtred remained still, his gaze unreadable, calculating. But there was no trap here. No trickery left to be played. She was spent. Drained.

"Seize her," Uhtred ordered.

Sihtric moved without hesitation, grabbing Skade roughly, yanking her arms behind her back as she hissed in pain. Her wrists were bound tight, the ropes biting into her skin.

Even bound, she did not stop fighting. She lifted her chin, her voice low, filled with venom.

"You belong to me."

Yggdrasil chuckled darkly. She stepped close, looking down at Skade with cold amusement.

"No, Skade. You belong to nothing now."

Uhtred's patience was at its end. His voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Silla. Bind her mouth."

Yggdrasil didn't hesitate. She tore a strip of cloth from Skade's own robe, shoving it roughly between her teeth, tying it tight behind her head. She could scream all she liked, spit curses and threats—but they would never reach them.

"Cover her eyes," Uhtred added.

Yggdrasil caught the brief flicker of unease in her brother's eyes. Finan saw it too, though he said nothing. They all felt it—the weight of something unseen, pressing against them like an oncoming storm. But no one spoke of it. Not yet.

They took Skade, bound and silent, and placed her on a horse. Two guards flanked her, their grips firm, their expressions unreadable.

Yggdrasil rode alongside Finan, Osferth, and Sihtric, the road stretching long ahead. For the first time in hours, she allowed herself to exhale, closing her eyes for a fleeting moment as the sun warmed her skin.

A brief respite.

One she knew would not last.

By the time they reached the Burh of Ascengum, exhaustion clung to Yggdrasil like a heavy cloak. The long ride had left her body aching, her thoughts clouded with fatigue, but there was relief in seeing the towering gates at last.

As they passed through, the creak of iron and the murmur of voices filled the air. Yggdrasil swung her leg over Heimdall's side and slid to the ground, biting back a wince as her muscles protested the sudden movement. She ran a hand down Heimdall's mane, her touch soft, murmuring a quiet thanks to the beast that had carried her all this way.

She had barely taken a step before she collided with something solid.

Someone.

A firm chest.

Her breath caught as she stumbled slightly, looking up—only to find herself inches away from Sihtric.

Oh.

The world seemed to stutter for a moment, as if time itself had tripped over its own feet.

His eyes—deep, dark, impossibly steady—locked onto hers, widening slightly in surprise.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then, all at once, Sihtric stepped back, his hand twitching at his side like he had to physically stop himself from reaching for her. He swallowed hard, his voice softer than she had ever heard it.

"I—" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat quickly, glancing away before forcing the words out. "I shall take your horse to the stables, Lady."

Yggdrasil blinked, caught off guard by his sudden nervousness.

He wasn't usually like this. Sihtric was composed, always steady, always sure. But right now? Right now, he was stumbling over his words.

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could even form a thought, his hand reached for Heimdall's reins—his fingers brushing hers.

Soft. Warm. Barely there.

A spark. A whisper of something dangerous.

Yggdrasil's breath hitched. She felt her heartbeat betray her, hammering a little too fast, a little too loud. And gods help her, she couldn't look away from him.

Sihtric, as if realizing what he had done, froze for the briefest second. His fingers hesitated against hers—just a moment, just long enough to make her wonder if he felt it too.

And then—too quickly, too suddenly—he pulled back.

"I will take care of him," he murmured, voice just above a whisper.

He didn't wait for her response. He turned, leading Heimdall away, his grip on the reins tight, his shoulders squared—but not before she caught the way his ears burned red at the tips.

Yggdrasil stood there, unmoving.

She should say something. She should call him back, make a teasing remark, brush it off like it was nothing. But the words tangled in her throat, stuck somewhere between confusion and something else—something she wasn't ready to name.

Before she could gather herself, a soft nudge woke her up.

"Don't think I didn't see that, Silla," Finan's voice came from beside her, thick with amusement.

She turned quickly, looking at him. "What are you talking about?"

Finan's grin stretched wide, full of mischief. "Oh, just you, staring after Sihtric like a lovesick pup."

Heat exploded across her cheeks.

"I was not—" she started, but Finan only chuckled, shaking his head.

"Gods, that was adorable." He threw his head back, laughing. "Go on, then. Enjoy your quiet little moments with your knight."

Yggdrasil let out a frustrated groan, shoving him off as he walked away, his laughter trailing behind him.

But as she turned back toward the stables, she caught sight of Sihtric in the distance—his head lowered slightly, hands moving with practiced ease as he loosened Heimdall's saddle.

She should leave.

She should turn away before this feeling—this stupid, ridiculous feeling—took root.

But she didn't.

She stayed.

And watched.

And wondered, for the first time in a long time, what it would be like to let someone close.

[warriorabbesshild]

As Uhtred makes the rounds, notifying everyone of the plans to return to Rumcofa, he searches for Hild. He smiles when he finds her sitting by the oak tree on the grounds. Sitting down beside her, he gently takes one of her hands in his.

“Thank you for protecting my wife and the boy. I’m not sure what the King would have done if he would have seen her here. Things might have turned out differently. As it stands, Alfred has released me and our men from our oath to him. I have sworn my sword to Lady Aethelflaed and accepted the Lordship in Rumcofa. We will be returning there as soon as everyone is ready.” 

Uhtred looks into Hild’s eyes. “I know things have been strained between you and Finan, but I hope that doesn’t discourage you from joining us in Rumcofa. The village could use an abbess, and I could use the council of my dearest friend to help guide me as we make our new home.” Uhtred gives her a soft smile as he squeezes her hand. “We need each other to heal and become stronger as a family.”

-Uhtred @askuhtredragnarson

"Praise God, I am glad to hear prayers have been answered! This will be a good thing, Uhtred." She smiles at him. "I did what was asked of me, nothing more and nothing less. You asked me to watch over them, so I did."

Her smile fades as Uhtred continues. Hild takes a deep draw of breath and her gaze drops to the ground as she leans forward slightly.

"I believe that, in some way," her voice is quiet, "what happened between he and I was part of a bigger plan. While it was not pleasant, I hold nothing against Finan. It is just unfortunate that it had to hurt, especially Revna, though I hope Finan has finally learned to believe his own worth."

She looks up at Uhtred. "God works in mystery ways, you know."

Hild straightens and sighs. "I do not have a plan, though I do not want to cause any strife if I accompany you to Rumcofa. There is...an abbey in Northumbria that I have considered joining... though I would miss you if I were to go there."

@askuhtredragnarson

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

The Whore of Winchester chapter 3

Note: chapter 1 - chapter 2.

Warnings: fluff/very light angst, reader is a whore.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You learned about Sihtric's true intentions.

wordcount: 1,7k

Masterlist

Sihtric had once again kept his promise by meeting you at the tavern the next afternoon, thus proving his loyalty and that his word was his honour. 

You had been on his mind all night, and it frightened him. No one had ever occupied his thoughts like you did, and the feeling of wanting to be alongside you, to hold you and to kiss you, was entirely new to him. He had never really been sure of what love meant, as good examples had not been present in his life when he grew up.

But the overwhelming urge to care for and protect you was unshakable, along with the desperate need to touch you and make love to you. And you made him feel safe and accepted in return, so he figured that this must be what love meant. He realised there was more to life than blood and battles and humping whores who meant nothing to him. Being with you gave him that same satisfaction and adrenaline rush, and in truth, being with you or simply knowing he was going to see you again was a feeling even more satisfying than any bloodshed could ever give him. And while it was something he wanted to feel forever, it was also something that deeply disturbed him, for it made him vulnerable.

He met you while holding a bouquet of fresh flowers just for you, as promised, a bouquet so much bigger than the one he had given you the day before. He greeted you with a polite kiss on your cheek and then held his arm out to you, inviting you to walk with him to the stables. 

'Where did you pick these flowers?' you asked as you sniffed the bouquet, 'I have never seen these in the fields around here.'

'I must confess,' Sihtric said with a shy smile, 'I did not pick these today. I did not have enough time, as Lord Uhtred needed me to water the horses before I left to see you, so I bought these at the market.'

'At the market?' you gasped and stopped walking, clutching the bouquet, 'but, Sihtric, those from the market are very expensive.'

Sihtric didn't respond, he only smiled and shrugged lightly, then took your hand to pull you along with him, to his horse.

'I will take you to the fields today where I picked yesterday's flowers,' he said, 'and I will pick you new ones.'

'But you already gave me flowers.'

'Yes, but it is not the same, my lady,' Sihtric smiled.

Sihtric's strong and bare arms were keeping you in place as you sat in the saddle in front of him, holding the big bouquet he had given you in your hands. Your bodies swayed slightly along with the movements of his horse, as it brought you to the place Sihtric had picked his flowers the day before. You enjoyed the warm sun on your face, as well as the warmth that radiated from Sihtric's body while your back was pressed against his chest. He held the reins with one hand and carefully moved your hair away, gently pulling it back so he could lean his chin on your shoulder without getting your loosely tied locks in his face as the faint breeze cooled you both.

You melted in his arms, and you felt sudden tears prickle in your eyes once he circled his arm around your waist and slowly caressed you with his thumb. It was such a simple gesture, perhaps meaningless to many ladies, but to you it meant the world, for no man had ever made you feel so cared for and so safe. You allowed yourself to completely relax, and you leaned your head back on his shoulder while he kept his chin on yours, occasionally murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while his horse walked you through the green forest, where butterflies and bumblebees greeted you and a deer ran off once being spotted.

When the field with the flowers was finally reached, Sihtric helped you dismount by placing his hands on your waist before you jumped off the horse, and he carefully placed your feet down in the tall grass before he smoothly pulled you closer and in for a kiss. A kiss so tender and full of adoration that it made you lightheaded and warmed your cheeks. He took your hand as you giggled, and he pulled you along with him further into the field, towards the flowers.

'I picked them here,' he said with a smile as you looked around the colourful scenery. 

All kinds of flowers, red, yellow, purple, pink, white and blue made for a breathtaking view between the green grass and the tall trees surrounding the area. Sihtric kneeled down to pick bundles of nature's gift, making it a gesture of his affection as he tied them together with a leather string.

'For you,' he said with a sweet smile, still kneeling down as he held the flowers up to you, 'the most beautiful lady I have ever seen.'

You smiled softly and accepted the flowers, now holding two beautiful bouquets in your hands, and you thanked him with a kiss on his cheek which caused the smitten warrior's face to colour a shade of pink. Sihtric then got up and took your hand again, and a boyish smile appeared.

'Do you want to see something I learned from Finan?'

'Okay,' you chuckled, wondering what could possibly make him so excited.

And you followed him as he pulled you with him. You made sure not to drop the flowers this time while you rushed through the tall grass, hand in hand. You both laughed as you ran, and you came to a halt at the small lake that was hidden behind a low hill. Sihtric let go of your hand and crouched down, quickly collecting several rocks near the water, and he then stood back up next to you.

'Look,' he smiled, then smoothly threw a rock towards the water.

You gasped as you watched the rock skip over the mirroring surface, almost reaching the other side of the lake, and you laughed after the stone suddenly disappeared in the water just before it could travel across.

'How did you do that?' you asked him, bewildered and amused.

'You have to find the right angle,' Sihtric smiled proudly, and he gave you one of the rocks, 'like this,' he said, then moved behind you and took your hand, helping you throw the rock.

You both watched it skip over the water, fairly smoothly, but not as smooth and far as Sihtric's rock had reached. You were then determined to throw another rock on your own, and soon you both got caught in a lighthearted battle of who could get their rocks to skip the furthest. And you both tried to cheat by distracting each other while throwing, simply nudging a shoulder to cause imbalance or to hold one's arm as another throw was attempted. It was all innocent until Sihtric suddenly kissed you, causing you to drop the rocks you had left so you could grab his face to answer his kiss.

Sihtric grabbed a thin fur which was attached to his horse's saddle, after you had both given up on skipping rocks and returned to the flower field. He rolled the fur out and spread it on the ground, making for a comfortable spot in the tall grass to lie in, hidden from view for any potential bypassers.

You laid down next to each other, the bouquets of flowers in between you while being covered by the pleasant shade of a large oak tree. You traced the scars on Sihtric's face with your fingertips, while his big mismatched eyes glistened in the rays of sun that peeked through the faintly moving leaves above you.

'When do you leave?' you dared to ask after a long moment of silent wondering.

'At dawn,' Sihtric answered with a hint of sadness.

'How long will you be gone?' you whispered, 'and will you come back?'

'I will always come back for you.'

'But how long?'

He averted his eyes and took your hand, then shook his head lightly.

'Sihtric?'

'I do not know for sure, my lady. I am sorry.'

A silence lingered, only the rustling of leaves was heard, along with a chirping bird and the soothing buzzing of bees. You looked at each other, both with a hint of hopeless love in your eyes, but also with a trace of fear for the unknown future ahead. Not knowing if and when you would see each other again was the purest form of torture that either of you could be put through, but neither of you wished to say that out loud.

'Will you wait for me?' Sihtric asked, 'will you wait for me and not hump any other men?'

'I need silver, Sihtric,' you whispered with a broken heart, 'I wish nothing more than to wait for you and to give myself to only you, but you know I can't-'

'I will make sure you have silver,' the young warrior interrupted, and he suddenly took the silver rings off his fingers and the golden arm rings he had earned.

You watched him with questioning eyes as he stuffed a leather sachet with all his valuable items.

'Here,' he said and pushed the sachet in your hands, 'this should be enough to keep you safe while I'm gone.'

'Oh, but, I,' you stammered, 'I… but, Sihtric, I- I can't take this-'

'Please,' he hushed you, his eyes filled with both hope and despair, 'use it while you wait for me. I promise I will come back,' he swallowed hard and softly moved his trembling fingers over your bruised cheek, 'I will come back, and then I will marry you.'

'You... you wish to marry me?' your voice broke.

'Above anything else,' he said, 'and I promise you will never have to work in a whorehouse again when you are my wife.'

'But how…'

'If we are married then Lord Uhtred will provide for you, like he provides for me and all his men and their families. If you are my wife, then you are my family, and you will be taken care of and protected. And you will be allowed to travel with me whenever I have to leave with him, only if it is safe, of course,' Sihtric rambled and took your face in his hands, 'please. Please say you will wait for me and become my wife.'

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[asa-writes]

An Eye for an Eye - 04

“Sinful Confessions”

Osferth x F! OC - 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: period accurate gender stereotypes, fluff, sexual innuendos, adults talking about sex, just general saucyness

Chapter Summary:   Aemma and Osferth make their way up to their camp halfway to Cirrenceastre, getting to know each other better. Much better, in fact. ;)

Aemma nodded and spurred her horse on, letting Osferth overtake her, as they made their way onwards, just as Uhtred had commanded them. "You know the way and you can read the signs, I'm without letters". 

As they left the village, she nervously scratched her head, opening her heavy braid. "I'm really not that creative with horse names. What should I call her? Maybe Hooves?"

"Hooves is a good name, my Lady. I have never thought of giving mine a name," he chuckled and pointed ahead, over the grassland that stretched out on his left and the forest and hills on their right. "What can you tell me about yourself my lady? Do you have any siblings? We can play twenty questions along the way if you'd like to get to know me as well. We shall travel most of the day."

She nodded gently as she levelled her horse to ride on the same height as his. Hooves farted loudly and neighed. "Sweet Jesus, maybe I should've called her wind." She paused for a second and rearranged herself in her saddle. "Sure, but I'm really not that Interesting. I'm Aemma, daughter of the gruff Paega, Coccham's alehouse master. I have no siblings. What about you, if I may ask?", she asked nonchalantly.

Osferth chuckled and smiled at her. "Hooves is a great name, please do not change it. But let me tell you, I think I could hold conversations with you for days without getting bored," he said with a grin. He paused before saying, "My name is Osferth, the illegitimate son of King Alfred. My mother was Lady Ecgwyn – she was such a kind woman. My father had two legitimate children with his wife – Edward the Aetheling and Aethelflaed of Mercia."

Aemma gasped, realizing she had ventured too far. "Oh, I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to..." she stammered apologetically as she shrank back. He registered her expression in a split second, his face contorting with confusion and concern. "What is it?" His eyes were wide with fear that he may have said something to offend her. "Please, tell me my lady, what is the issue?"

"I didn't offend you did I? I just... I mean, it makes sense... why else would the king send you to go to a monastery when you're a small boy...", she sighed and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, I really didn't know."

Osferth shook his head and smiled. "No, you couldn't offend me my lady, it takes very little to actually offend me." He sighed, relieved at her words. "There's very few who know my story, I've never really thought it important." He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, looking at Aemma. 

As they rode together, Osferth took in every detail of Aemma's countenance; her lightly tanned skin that seemed almost untouched from years of hardship and a strength he observed in the way she sat atop the horse. He was mesmerized by her composure even amongst adversity – her lips would curl when she chuckled, a hint of melancholy barely perceptible in the crease between her brows. Her demeanour spoke of hope and fortitude; a courage that inspired him and had him watching with admiration as her thick hair swayed against her back with each powerful canter of their horses. They journeyed on, until the long grass began to whisper secrets only the wind and hooves could understand.

"Would you like me to speak as we ride or when we are at camp and have more time? I would not wish to trouble you, my lady," he said shyly, seeing as Aemma had noticed him staring at her. 

She blushed and bit her cracked lip. "Uhm, I don't mind talking to you at all right now. Riding in silence would be more fitting to a nun, would it not? So back to the twenty questions, I guess. Uh .. what is your favorite time of the year?" she asked, scanning her eyes over Osferth's body. He looked better than any man she had seen in Coccham, she thought to herself. 

Osferth grinned and turned onto another road once they had reached a crossroads. "Alright, let us continue, then. My favourite time of the year is early summer, the warmth on my skin, the fresh flowers, the brightness of the sky and the sound of the birds. I love watching plants grow, it fascinates me, especially as I love the forest. What is your favourite time of the year my lady?”

Aemma puckered her lips into a coy smile, a look of discomfort flashing over her face as she steadied herself in the saddle; her back injury had begun to flare up again. "Winter is my favorite season," she said through fluttering eyelashes. "Everything just looks so spooky and deliciously mysterious under the darkness. Plus, it's much easier to sneak away unnoticed in the cloak of night." With a slight giggle and playful blush, she pointedly ignored his gaze.

"Sneaking away, you say?" Osferth asked with a mischievous glint in his eye, giving her a teasing smile. "My lady, I do hope you weren't getting yourself into any trouble that could potentially taint your virtuous reputation!" 

"Oh, no need to worry about that," Aemma cooed, leaning closer, grinning widely. "I was always quite the good girl...at least until someone came along to corrupt me." She gave him a sly wink before turning her attention back to the road ahead. 

Osferth raised an eyebrow. "Care to tell me about your misadventures? I'm sure it's far more interesting to hear of your past rather than talk about who has the better horse name."

Aemma winked at Osferth, her eyes sparkling with mischievousness, as she slid off of Hooves. "I just need to stretch first," She said, allowing herself to fall onto her knees and giving a deep bend to her back before quickly springing up again. "Ahh, that's better."

"Sure," she continued, her voice taking on a honeyed tone. "How much detail do you want? It's quite juicy, you know." She gave him a flirtatious smile and cocked an eyebrow.

Osferth blushed lightly, his smirk widening as he met her gaze. "I'm a big boy my lady, and I'm confident I can handle it. Lay it on me..."

She spurred Hooves’ on and grinned. “So… there’s a saddler in Coccham, Leofwine, right? He’s about one or two years younger than you. He must have known I needed someone to show me the ropes when it came to certain activities,” she said with a sly smirk. “He used to ride me like a horse! But he seemed to like the oral one the best, so that quickly became our favourite pastime.” Aemma blushed furiously, not quite sure how Osferth would take this admission.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You did WHAT!?”

Aemma tried her best to maintain her composure despite the heat of crimson embarrassment flooding through her veins. She shrugged coyly and offered him a mischievous smile. “I’m no saint! I thought you knew that by now. Why else would I be running around town in the dead of winter?”

“How did you like your lessons?” he asked suggestively, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk, still facing the path in the path in front of them. “You’ve certainly given me quite the story to think about with your escapades my lady, bravo.” 

Aemma blushed even deeper, her eyes widening at the implication of his words. “I had to learn it somehow, Osferth. Don’t tell me you’ve never indulged in such temptations? Or… indulged yourself?” 

Osferth pretended to be scandalized and feigned shock. “You’re asking me such things my lady? Never would I!” He shook his head in mock disapproval before a devious glint appeared in his eye and he let out a shy laugh. “If I were any other man I’d call for a duel! Now that you have exposed such private matter, I can never look at you the same way again!”

She bit her lip and grinned, watching the trees and hills pass by while one of the horses neighed. After a few minutes of silence where the both of them were grinning and blushing, Aemma suddenly twisted around in her seat, lowering her voice into a shy whisper. "Ugh, usually I'm not so... Sinful but something about you and this whole new situation just flipped a switch in me, I'm sorry."

Osferth smiled at her words, finding her mischievious side a welcome aspect of his new companion. He chuckled as he turned to face her, "There is no need to appologise my lady, I find your 'sinful' side quite appealing."

Aemma looked up at him and gave him a quizzical look. "May I ask about your sinful side? What... What activated it and ... What.. Uhm, do you think about?", she asked, slightly embarrased yet cheerful.

Osferth was taken aback by the sudden question, his cheeks turning a bright red as he stuttered for an answer. “Well, uh... I sometimes think of a girl I knew…” He paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts before continuing. He hoped that she didn't notice that he was lying; he had thought of her, in the last few days, at least. “I mean, I’ve had some experiences and all but I’m still technically a virgin. When I’m in private though… well… you know what they say about idle hands. So… yeah there is that," he finished off with a shy smirk before looking away in embarrassment. "I'm a man and have a man's... Desires. I hope you know what that means my lady, do you need me to elaborate further or shall I leave it at that?"

Aemma blushed heavily, her cheeks nearly matching the red of Osferth's. She knew exactly what he meant and was surprised at how forward and frank he had been with her. She couldn't help but find it cute and a little hot, even though she was awkward about the whole thing. “No, no I think I got the gist of it," she replied softly, still blushing as she looked away from him. After a few moments of silence she timidly added, “But… if you wanted to… I mean… if you have any interest in me… would that be okay?”

The corners of Osferth's mouth started to twitch as he tried to hide a smile, yet the amusement and embarrassement he felt at her words were clearly showing on his face. "I suppose you already know my answer to that question but yes I am very interested in you. I must admit my lady you bring out the devil in me."

He paused, straightening himself in the saddle. “My lady, tell me: have you always craved for freedom? Or does your wild side come from a desire to escape your mundane life?”

Aemma exhaled and patted Hooves' neck. "I guess you could say that working at the alehouse since I was ten gave me an appreciation of freedom. Serving my parents only to get food and shelter – being made to feel like I owed them something – that's when I realized I wanted more. But becoming a housewife with a bunch of noisy kids in Coccham... that would have been worse than anything."

Osferth's eyes widened at her words. "I'm sorry my lady, I can only imagine what you had to go through growing up, you're a stronger woman for it." He paused and smiled, looking up into the stormy skies. "So what's your plan for your future? What do you wish to do with your freedom?" he asked quietly, his eyes gleaming curiously. A distant clap of thunder rolled over the hills. The sun disappeared behind the thick blanket of clouds ahead of them, turning the previously lush green nature into a dreary scenery.

"I will probably fight for Lord Uhtred with you until... Until... I don't know yet. As long as he needs me," Aemma said quietly. She had a small, almost secret smile on her lips, barely visible from the corner of her mouth. Her hair framed her face in a gentle wave, the wind gently lifting it and blowing it behind her back.

Osferth couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the woman in front of him. She had a fuller figure than the women of Uhtred's tastes - her dress hugged her body tightly, highlighting each curve and angle. Her dark hair hung down to her waist, accentuating her delicate features and making her look even more alluring than before. He was drawn to Aemma's strength yet there was also something vulnerable about her which made him want to protect and care for her. 

He sighed quietly in admiration as they continued riding on. The wind blew stronger as they neared their destination, bringing with it a coolness that reminded Osferth of the battles that awaited them in the coming days. Yet despite the chill in the air, his heart felt warm as he watched Aemma ride alongside him; he was proud that she had chosen to fight for Uhtred and himself, understanding what kind of risks she faced. He truly admired this courageous woman who had thrown away everything she had known to pursue freedom instead - he could only hope that with his help, she would find it one day.

"What are your hopes and dreams when you fight and win against the danes? What would you wish for? Would you like to live somewhere in particular, have a family?," he asked shyly, hoping not to overstep Aemma's boundaries.

She blushed and looked to the side, hiding behind her dancing hair. "I'll Probably... Start a family with... Someone that... loves me," she muttered and avoided Osferth's gaze. 

"That's a wonderful thing to wish for, my lady, a family that will love you. Is there anyone in particular that you have your eye on? Any gentleman in our company that you have your hopes set on?," he said in a gentle, yet teasing way, slowing his horse down as they neared a small valley, the thunderstorm still raging in the distance. The valley was nestled at the entrance of a forest, nestles between steep cliffs and dark trees. In the distance a towering storm cloud could be seen, its lightning flashing across the sky. The thunder echoed through the air as cold winds blew, bringing the smell of rain with it.

Aemma playfully rolled her eyes and rode towards a group of trees which grew closely together. She jumped off of Hooves and tied her and Osferth's steed to the trees, before helping him descend as well. "Don't tease me Osferth! You already know my answer. I get a serious expression and sigh once more. I just hope that you.. I mean, my gentleman, will be patient with children. I don't want to leave you as fast as I joined you."

A wide smile spread across his face, and a soft laugh escaped him. "I've heard that one could... be close, without having to fear pregnancy. We shall see when the time comes."

Aemma's eyes widened at Osferth's suggestion, her face turning bright red once again. She fumbled with her hands, unsure of how to respond, but the thought of being intimate with Osferth was also enticing. "I...I don't know about that, Osferth. I mean I've heard of it too but I don't know if it's safe," she said softly, looking down at the ground beneath her feet.

Osferth stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, my lady. I want you to feel safe and loved with me," he said in a gentle voice, his eyes searching hers.

Aemma looked up at him, feeling her heart swell with affection. "I do feel safe with you, Osferth. You make me feel like I'm not alone in this world," she said, placing her hand over his on her shoulder.

Osferth smiled at her, feeling a warmth spread through him. "I will always be here for you, Aemma. I promise," he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

They stood there in silence for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the wind rustling through the trees and the distant thunderstorm.

[askuhtredragnarson]

Waking in the morning of their departure for Irland, Uhtred pulls Gisela snug against his body nuzzling into her neck as he breathes in her delicate scent. “Gods, I’m going to miss you so much…” he softly whispers against her ear. She is his rock, the one that grounds him when he feels himself losing control. “I love you…both of you.”

He gives Gisela a gentle kiss, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to come to his eyes. I have to be strong, for her. I will come back, we all will. He swallows back the hitch in his throat, as he looks into her eyes. “I have to get ready, they’re all probably waiting on me…”

Uhtred reluctantly rolls out of the bed, gathering his clothes and armor, donning each item slowly and methodically. He knows he’s just dragging out the time, but he can’t help himself. These last few moments with his wife, his love, are precious to him. He smiles at Gisela as she helps him tighten the laces of his leathers. He pulls her in his embrace holding her tightly against him, savoring the warmth of her body against his.

“I’ll return as soon as I can…I promise you.” He rasps against Gisela’s lips before giving her a deep kiss. His hand gently resting on her belly. 

Letting her go, Uhtred walks over to where his sword is hanging from a peg on the wall, placing it over his shoulder. He then places his belt with his seax around his waist, before grabbing his satchel filled with extra clothes and supplies.

As he opens the chamber door, he’s not surprised to see everyone milling about waiting for him. He gives them a sheepish grin, as he tries to hide the pain in his heart.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting…are we ready for this voyage?” Uhtred looks out at his men’s faces, seeing the eagerness in their eyes to go. They have been waiting weeks for this moment and now it’s time to finally head to Irland to rescue their shield maiden.

@thedarkprinceofulaid @asksihtrickjartansen @warriorabbesshild @lordaldhelmofmercia

[nellyharrison]

“ M'fhíorghrá ,” I heard from behind me, my heart skipping as I turned from the touching reunion.  Finan was sheathing his sword as he closed the distance between us, my quaking hand releasing my dagger to embrace him when he lifted me into his arms.  I buried my face into his neck, tears springing to my eyes as I felt him rubbing my back.  “I have you now.  I have you.”  I exhaled shakily before I started crying, softly and silently, still trying to find my voice again.  He brushed his hand along my hair, kissing the side of my head and my cheek before I turned to meet his lips with mine.  A soft sob escaped me when he pulled away, his thumbs brushing away my tears as his nose nuzzled mine.  “Are you hurt?” I shook my head, taking a slow breath before pulling away slightly to look at him.  I gently tilted his chin up, checking his neck where the Dane had held an ax.  Finan chuckled and grasped my hand, lifting it to kiss my knuckles.  “Worry not about me, mo laoch álainn .  I had you to protect me,” he recalled, holding my hand against his heart as his other hand settled on my waist.  There was some scuffling nearby, causing us to both turn towards it, our expressions blank as Osferth, Sihtric, and Uhtred stood watching us.  “Am I not allowed a moment with my wife?”  They bumped into each other as they went to leave, my forehead falling against Finan’s chest as I laughed.  It had been so long since I had laughed that I could not help but cry as I did so.  He must have heard the hitch in my voice or the slight gasp at the end of my laugh, his arms wrapping around me to hold me tight as long as I needed him to.

Chapter 8 of "My Heart Is In You" by NellyHarrison

[all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone]

X @tessastormrp

Finan took hold of Sihtric's hand and gently lowered it from his face, "don't worry about me. I can handle a scrape, I barely even felt it." He confessed. In truth, his concern had been with Sihtric. Finan never questioned Uhtred, but he nearly would when their Lord was so hard on Sihtric. Perhaps Uhtred did not think it did any damage, but Finan always worried about what feelings it would bring up for the Dane.

[thedarkprinceofulaid]

Revna nearly drops into Finan’s arms, and with a strong arm around her, he holds her upright. His heart is nearly pounding out of his chest.

God, this was foolish of me. But I’d do anything for you…

“I will never leave you, mo bhean lómhar,” he whispers, momentarily kissing her nose. He scans her for serious injuries, but he simply doesn’t have time. He hoists Revna into his arms carefully, scanning his surroundings before starting to move. Thankfully, no Danes are near— but the possibly of encountering one any moment has Finan trembling in fear for his wife and what they would do with this discovery. It was reckless, but he had made it to her. It was all that mattered in this moment.

Finally passing the border of the camp, Finan sighs in relief when he sees men of Wessex beginning to occupy the surrounding territory.

“O-Oh thank God,” Finan rasps out, seeing Uhtred sitting on his horse in the distance, and hopefully his Lord sees him. The Irishman gets as close to the allies as he can before kneeling to set Revna down, still cradling her in his arms. He brings a water skin to her lips, giving her a drink. Finan’s first thought is how long it’s been since she’s eaten… his next being if she is seriously hurt. Without baring her skin to the frigid cold any more than it’s already been, he examines her gently.

Finan is filled with an unspeakable amount of rage once more when he sees several small torturous cuts from a blade, a bruise to her face…

“Darling,” he rasps. “Who hurt you like this? Do you have anythin’ serious?”

I’ll kill them all for this.

@revnashieldmaiden @askuhtredragnarson @asksihtrickjartansen @warriorabbesshild

Having dispelled most of the guards in his path, Finan urges himself closer to Revna, keeping an eye over his shoulder as he enters the camp. His heart races, thinking now he should have waited for Sihtric’s return or a signal from Uhtred, but his heart won’t wait. Now that he’d laid eyes on his previous woman, he couldn’t stand to see her suffer. He wouldn’t let anyone else get their hands on her— he’d rather die himself, here on the grounds of the camp. He can hear the sounds of drunken celebrations entertaining the Danes in the distance.

As the Irishman inches closer, he sees that Revna’s eyes are closed. At the same time as he speaks, he covers her mouth with his hand in case he startles her and she screams.

“A aingeal milis, tháinig mé chun tú a fháil. Ná déan fuaim,” Finan whispers, taking his arms overhead to start working on the rope she hangs from with his dagger.

@thedarkprinceofulaid

I hear a twig snap nearby and my body instantly tenses up, ready for a fight despite the weariness and pain I feel. A panic enters my heart when I feel a hand cover my mouth, but when I hear the sound of an Irish brogue, a sob catches in my throat. Finan. My beloved is here. My heart starts pounding in relief that he made it, but what if he gets caught.

As he cuts through the rope binding my wrists, I nearly collapse to the ground. The strength having left my body from hanging for so long and from my injuries. The only thing holding me up is Finan’s arm around my waist.

“My love…you’re here…” I whisper gratefully, my fear for our pup almost crippling me. As the blood rushes to my arms I hiss in pain. Shivers still racking my body. “Thank the Gods, you made it.” I softly whisper in relief.

@thedarkprinceofulaid