#mercia rambling

[merciafantasy]

My friend: So what type of men are you into?

Me:

A men who give me a bad boy vibes and have black or darker hair

[laulo821]

just woke up. i dreamt of a crackship between my OCs, damon x eiji. never considered to even make them interract before. i dreamt i drew art of them too. it was. spicy art.

[vertin-is-the-frog-guys]

fuck my stupid baka life 😭😭😭

[highkingpetermagnificent]

does anyone have resource recommendations on learning Old English? or tips on what resources I should stay away from?

[merciafantasy]

Hehehehe, smash— :3

ironically despite being the main inspiration for the eternal servants au, i never actually doodled possessed wukong before-

so after havin gotten a very specific phrase from j.ai, i decided to finally doodle him

in case you're wondering about the pose and partially missing clothes, there's actually another version of him i did that i won't post here lmao-

would post it on patreon tho when i actually get to publishing my patreon

[the-pen-pot]

Fangirling on chapter 40

'Mercy?' Lord Berhart managed, sounding strained. 'Your Highness, you have left him with nothing.'

'I have left him with his life. It is more than my father would have offered in my place, considering the nature of Vernell's crimes.' 

I can totally get that, even without seeing the whole show (I did see some snippets of Uther and recognised Giles from Buffy, the vampire slayer, that was a nice surprise.)

'Tom's still alive?'

Arthur inclined his head, aware that more than one councillor had taken notice of their conversation. He smoothed his face into an impassive mask and noticed that Merlin had done the same, erasing his shock. It itched at him, all the little differences they kept stumbling across. He wanted to find out what had happened to Tom in Merlin's world, just like he longed to hear about the scars that no longer stained Merlin's skin and the stories behind them.

It was not an idle curiosity, but a burning desire to understand more about this version of Merlin. The intensity of Arthur's own longing almost took his breath away. He wished to know him – everything that made him different and all the little ways in which he was still the same – but once again he told himself that now was not the time.

You know, it must be super fun for fans of the show to notice all the little (or/and big) changes in this story and this version of Camelot. It probably gives it an extra layer of meaning and in some instances delight or agony.... I am coming in rather blind (apart from the 'how long have you being training to be prat, my Lord', I haven't seen a lot more beyond that. I do know what the main characters look like and I also know that Morgana turned evil in the series. (She's that stunning actress Katie McGrath! 😍) But for me it's a whole new world and a whole new story and I'm really enjoying it!

'Would you then like to explain how you made a large sum of money selling grain across the border to Mercia?' Morgana arched an eyebrow as he spluttered. 'No? Then maybe you can tell the council why there is no evidence of a fire, nor any recorded births whatsoever among your working populace in the past five years?'

Arthur settled back in his seat as the Lord rambled through long-winded, meaningless excuses. Morgana's expression did not falter, but she emanated an air of icy disdain until Fennis' voice dried up like a stream in summer.

'Yours is not the only estate with inconsistencies,' she added at last, picking up the sheaf of papers and placing them in front of Arthur. 'Obviously, this is a matter requiring urgent investigation. For the sake of Camelot.'

OH! Morgana is so damn good! She is not taking any prisoners for sure! Those Lord's their lives will totally change for sure and they can all feel it now! I bet some of them won't sleep well from now on... Oh, being called out on their greed! I love it!

That's what I like about your stories, they are 'fully filled' stories. As in, it's not just about the main pair, it's not just about the romance or the leading up to the first kiss... It's about Everything in that world and with the people inside it.

'Neither your mother nor I truly knew the price, but it was not I alone who approached Nimueh for help. Your mother... She wanted to do her duty – to provide Camelot with an heir. It drove her every waking moment, and I could not deny her. When you finally flourished inside her, she was the happiest I had ever seen.'

As if, I don't believe him for one moment. From what I've read in the story so far he is the kind of man who totally knew what would happen and decided to do it anyway. 😡

He sucked in a deep breath, leaning forward to brace his hand on the back of Uther's chair. His position was awkward, but he did not care. He needed to look into those eyes and see realisation's dawn. 'Besides, if you knew you would lose your beloved queen to your quest for an heir, would you have stayed your hand, or would your ambition have outweighed your love for her?'

'How dare you!'

'Was I worth it, or not?'

Oh no, that must be one of the worst pains out there... knowing your parents don't think you are worthy, knowing they don't love you unconditionally, knowing you dissapoint them on an almost daily basis. Thank god Arthur as a close group of friends to counter all that poison.

'All right.' He glanced around the forge, taking in the frightened faces. 'Everyone out. We don't know what will happen. It could still go wrong, and if it does...' He didn't finish. They understood, but that didn't mean anyone was happy about it.

I love how they all would jump into the fire for each other and how they all worry so deeply for one another. Even over the smallest cut or bruise. Sometimes it's a bit funny, how they can 'overreact', specially Arthur and Merlin about each other. But at the same time it's precious and amazing and just warms my heart.

Oh wow, the ending of this chapter. I don't want to include the line because I don't want to spoiler it for future readers (alhought maybe I already did for some parts of the story?!) but I had no idea that was even possible?!

🤣 Knowing the same actor was Giles and Uther was a real experience. I adore Giles. uther? Not so much. And Katie McGrath is stunning!

I liek to think it's one of those fics where if you now the show, there's little easter eggs and things, but if you don't it's still enjoyable. You certainly seem to be loving it, which is brilliant 🥰

Thanks so much, as always, lovely!

(For those who want to try it out, Hiraeth is here)

[merciafantasy]

So LMK S5....... It has destroyed me mentally—

(9.5/10 for me.)

[lord-aldhelm]

Aldhelm Character Analysis (and why I love him so much)

The following is a character study and my own opinions. I meant to post something like this several months ago when I started this blog, but I had so much other stuff going on I forgot about this in my drafts, so I am posting it now. I know there will be people who disagree with me, and others who maybe think I am being ridiculous or whatever, but I don't care. This is my blog and I want to share this because it is meaningful to me, and maybe perhaps it will resonate with someone. This is a kind of "about me" but mostly a rambling mess.

Aldhelm means so much to me, more than any other character in any other show or movie I have watched. I have fallen super hard for this man; he has bewitched me body and soul, and just imbedded himself into the core of my being. He is my muse, and has profoundly permeated every creative aspect of myself, from creating this blog, screencaps/edits, gifs, memes, artwork, poetry (don't ask), and fanfics. No one else has managed to do that to me. This show in general, and him specifically, have led me deep into this fandom and made me do things that I have never done before.

My attraction to him goes far beyond just him being a pretty face; my feelings for him are complex and multi-faceted. Of course I think he is exceptionally handsome, and I find everything about him attractive. But I was attracted to his personality long before I was attracted to him physically. The two go hand in hand, and it takes more than just being a hot dude to hold my attention. This show is loaded to the brim with attractive people and yet he is the only one that has captivated me.

I love him for so many reasons. To me he is absolute perfection and I would not change a single thing about his character. He is introverted, quiet, soft-spoken, and dignified. He is highly intelligent, has a calm confident demeanor, and has a great fortitude for dealing with difficult situations. He is elegant and refined, despite sometimes coming off as awkward. I love his quick wit and dry sarcastic sense of humor. I melt whenever he rolls his eyes or sighs with exasperation. He is so pure and wholesome, and loves with his whole entire being. His selfless and unwavering devotion and loyalty to both Mercia and Aethelflaed are unmatched. He sets aside his own needs and desires to serve others, ultimately to his detriment. (He deserved better in so many ways) He has many personality traits that are normally only seen in women characters, while still being very much masculine, and I find that dichotomy incredibly appealing.

Additionally, something about him triggers my nurturing instinct; I want to hold him in my arms and cuddle him for all eternity. He is so unbelievably sweet and gentle, and the way he was so soft around Aethelflaed just melted my heart. In fact. he embodies my idea of a perfect romantic partner. He is so calm, patient, understanding, eager to help out, very devoted and loyal, cares more about his partner's happiness than his own. I feel as a boyfriend or husband he would be very attentive and in tune to his partner's needs. Never arguing, or trying to avoid it as much as possible. Never raising his voice. He would go out of his way to do nice things for them just to make them happy. Acts of service, gift giving, quality time, and humor are his love languages.

But more than that, I see in him a reflection of myself, that I have not seen in any other character or real-life person, ever.

His quiet, contemplative, introverted nature, and preference for solitude matches my own. He is very Byronic/Jane Austen coded, with that brooding moody energy. Like me, he is the kind of person who dislikes bars, parties, or large gatherings of people, and prefers to keep to himself. He comes off as cold and calculating, but inside he is anything but. He is overwhelmed with emotion and allows himself to love wholly and intensely, despite not having his feelings reciprocated. Despite doing his best to hide his feelings, he actually wears his heart on his sleeve and allows others to use him just for the sake of feeling needed. He allows himself to cry, although he does so in private, not because he is ashamed, but because he wants to appear strong for others. He is the kind of person that hides the deeper parts of himself well from others, but I know that if you really got to bond with him, he would show you another side of himself, one that smiles freely and loves openly, laughs and jokes, and allows himself to be comfortable in the presence of others.

He appears to me to be demi/ace coded. I don't know if that was intentional or not, but seeing ace representation on the screen is incredibly rare and refreshing. Especially since his sexuality, or lack thereof, is never really brought up or ridiculed by the other characters (as ace-presenting people so often are in media). As someone who is demi/ace myself, I find his characterization in this way very comforting, especially since I have been ridiculed and downcast over my asexuality. I also find it delightful to see a male character who is not constantly talking about getting laid, making sex jokes, or aggressively pursuing or objectifying women. Much the opposite; he treats Aethelflaed with a level of respect and admiration that women are not often given by men. In fact he treats women in general with a lot of respect.

I feel his pain when he is ignored or his words are brushed off by others time and time again. As someone who has felt simultaneously invisible and freakishly "other" her whole life, I can identify with that strongly. I am always the one who others talk over or ignore in social settings. I have always felt like an outcast, even among my friends and peers. I never feel like I truly belong anywhere or with anyone, and have always felt like an outsider, just drifting along the perimeters of multiple social circles without ever fitting in. It is such a horrible feeling, and I empathize with him when I see him go through the exact same treatment.

I also feel his sense of uniqueness in that, like me, he is neither a leader nor a follower, but marches to the beat of his own drum. He had no desire to be Lord of Mercia even when it was offered to him (which I personally think was a mistake on his part). But I get it; I hate being in charge. I prefer to work behind the scenes and stay out of the spotlight myself. But while I am not a leader, neither am I a follower. I am always doing my own thing regardless of trendiness or popularity.

The biggest difference between him and I is that he is far more patient than I could ever be! He is much more level headed, whereas I tend to be more emotional and have a kind of firecracker reaction, especially when I am in an argument or when something upsets me. I think I would be a better person if I could learn to remain calm and collected during emotionally stressful times.

So, this is much more than me thinking the dude is super hot. And it also goes so far beyond me just thinking he is a cool and interesting character (which he is no doubt). He has actually become a permanent part of me, one that will not be replaced by the next hot thing to cross my screen. Even if I run out of things to post here (which will happen at some point), he will still occupy my thoughts, and I will still be drawing him, and writing for his character for a very long time to come.

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

Okay buckle up I'm taking a break from weird anglo-saxon sewing to ramble about Old English terminology for a bit

@tansyuduri this is the term I had mentioned I wanted to tell you about re: nature spirits acting as intermediaries between realms

Lets talk about the word "Mearcstapa".

Its used once in Beowulf, in line 103, to describe the creature Grendel.

Grendel is, in brief, some kind of ambiguous creature and/or cursed human, descended from Cain, cursed by that descent to wander and "hold" (as in, treat as a stronghold) the wilderness forever. He has very little physical description except that he is very large and swordproof, and may have claws? Anyway, he isn't what I want to talk abt right now. For Once.

I'm going to take a stab at translating the OE text myself, VERY roughly, and provide some context for where the word appears.

"This grim ghost was called Grendel, famous mearc-stapa, he who holds the marshes, fen-as-fortress; the lands of monsters un-blessed he guarded for a while, since the Shaper* had him written in the race of Cain- whose torment was the Lord's vengeance, for he slew Abel."

(Beowulf lines 102-108, translation My Weird Gay Ass)

*a common OE term for God, meaning something between "shaper/maker" and "poet/singer"

(that is MESSY towards the end but I've never tried to translate Beowulf myself ok)

anyway it goes on about Cain for a bit after that, the usual stuff you can find in the bible, but what is a "Mearc-stapa"?

well, "-stapa" is really easy, its one of the words in Old English that changed relatively little into the modern day.

"-stapa" is "stepper". one who steps across, walks upon and generally treads over something.

ok cool. what's a "mearc"

WELL THIS IS WHERE THINGS GET REALLY REALLY WEIRD AND HARD TO TRANSLATE.

"Mearc" as a word and as a concept has not survived intact in modern English, at least not on its own. Its latest surviving incarnations are in the extremely-early-middle-english "March" or "Mark", so lets start there. I'm just gonna hit Wiki for this one:

In medieval Europe, a march or mark was, in broad terms, any kind of borderland,[1] as opposed to a state's "heartland". More specifically, a march was a border between realms or a neutral buffer zone under joint control of two states in which different laws might apply. In both of these senses, marches served a political purpose, such as providing warning of military incursions or regulating cross-border trade.

Marches gave rise to titles such as marquess (masculine) or marchioness (feminine) in England; marqués (masculine) and marquesa (feminine) in Spanish-speaking countries and the Catalan and Galician regions; marquês (masculine) and marquesa (feminine) in Portuguese-speaking countries; markesa (both masculine and feminine) in Basque; marquis (masculine) or marquise (feminine) in France and Scotland, margrave (German: Markgraf, lit. 'march count'; masculine) or margravine (German: Markgräfin, lit. 'march countess', feminine) in Germany, and corresponding titles in other European states.

Etymology[edit]

The word "march" derives ultimately from a Proto-Indo-European root *mereg-, meaning "edge, boundary". The root *mereg- produced Latin margo ("margin"), Old Irish mruig ("borderland"), Welsh bro ("region, border, valley") and Persian and Armenian marz ("borderland"). The Proto-Germanic *marko gave rise to the Old English word mearc and Frankish marka, as well as Old Norse mǫrk meaning "borderland, forest",[2] and derived from merki "boundary, sign",[2] denoting a borderland between two centres of power.

In Old English "mark" meant "boundary" or "sign of a boundary", and the meaning only later evolved to encompass "sign" in general, "impression" and "trace".

The Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Mercia took its name from West Saxon mearc "marches", which in this instance referred explicitly to the territory's position on the Anglo-Saxon frontier with the Romano-British to the west.

...cool. that was a lot. anyway, that's what a "Mearc" is, in the most basic sense (Beowulf being in the West-Saxon dialect mentioned above, specifically having been recorded mainly in the Late-West-Saxon written dialect known academically as Winchester Standard for reasons to do with some bishop whose name I'm not going to bother trying to spell)

however, in the context its used in Beowulf, "Mearcstapa", or "Mark-walker", becomes a REALLY weird term. See, Grendel isnt wandering around the boundaries between two towns, or kingdoms, or countries. He's just kind of out in the woods, some of which happen to border one singular, somewhat sizeable town that Grendel then regularly attacks. So what is he walking the border between?

Well, academics love to talk abt that lmao. Some people say it refers to land- or politically-based borders much LARGER than a country, and that it denotes Grendel as a foreigner, from another land or part of the world entirely. Some people see "Mark" as conjuring an image of a swampy, be-fogged "no mans' land" where settling and agriculture would be impossible. A wasteland, for human habitation at least, and thus an "in-between-place" in relation to the boundaries of human civilization- somewhere you travel through or around in between human-settled areas, where no laws of God or man apply. Its "The Dark Forest", the "Past The Threshold" in the Hero's Journey.

However, there's another widely discussed thematic meaning here, and it relies on a bit of context. Beowulf was recorded by monks in a time when Christianity was still relatively new to Northern Europe, the last remnants of various pagan religions only having been definitively wiped out a few centuries prior (FUCK YOU CHARLEMAGNE), and that's the time of RECORDING- Beowulf, as a story, had almost definitely been composed and passed down orally within those same preceding few centuries, likely in the 800s a.d. but possibly as far back as the 600s a.d. . So, what this means is that Beowulf is a record (imperfect as it is, being written down later and by monks) of a culture mid-transition between paganism and Christianity, and this isn't clearer anywhere than in another passage rambling on about Cain:

(in which I attempt to sloppily translate Beowulf again)

(picking up where we left off) "...no joy did he get from that feud, but was driven far away, ill-fated for his evil, far away from mankind. From thence all monstrous births awoke, jotun and elves and orcs*, those same giants who fought with God over long seasons; this was the recompense given"

(Beowulf, lines 109-144, trans. Me and 24/7 my spn brianrot)

*lit: "evil spirits" but the word is "Orcneas", Tolkein stole it and so will I.

(again, is this right? eh. mostly. the end got rough again)

so okay, lots of the usual Cain stuff, and some mentions of giants that some scholars have interpreted as relating to the Nephelim (more context there but its not relevant to this post). However, what may seem GLARINGLY out of place to anyone reading this passage about the BIBLICAL CAIN is the mention of JOTUN, ELVES AND ORCS.

and you'd be right! that is weird! and Grendel is a part of that!

so, with this context, it can be understood that the "Mearc" of Grendel's "Mearcstapa" has multiple meanings, to us anyway. For the Anglo-Saxon people who composed and passed down the story of Beowulf, the lawless and dangerous wilderness just outside their villages would have been one and the same to the lawless, dangerous world of heathen gods and monstrous creatures that their culture had so recently left behind. Uncontrolled forces and places that didn't respect the rule of man or God, untamed, just barely dispelled and always lurking at the edges. That is the "Mearc", as it is used here.

Mearcstapa, Mark-Walkers, Cain, whatever, happy Deanmon 10th anniversary yall.

Oh, on that note- some scholars/translators HAVE tried to argue for "Mearcstapa" as "Marked Wanderer", re: the Mark of Cain. However, they are more or less soundly overruled by the prevailing academic understanding of the term...

which is that the "Mark" is a liminal space that, in addition to being the actual areas between towns/cities and the place where monsters live, is also the barrier keeping remaining scraps of paganism (ie, perhaps other gods?) out of Christianity. And the descendants of Cain were set to patrol it. And that's something someone said in, AT THE LATEST, 1000 a.d.

why am I burdened with this knowledge.

[sapphic-woes]

No because I will not stop inserting Eivor into every relationship depicted in the last kingdom

[willowgast]

every christmas time my department puts on a play with a bunch of skits satirising medieval stuff with song parodies and the like. i'm working on something for "bezos I but it's the unification of england". does literally anyone on tumblr dot com have an idea for a line about alfred the great that goes as hard as "fuck their wives, drink their blood" i am very stuck and also very amused already i can't wait to sing this

[merciafantasy]

I wanna see da funni guys, especially my favourite boi Yellow guy—

DHMIS DRAG SHOW ON JUNE 11TH PROMOTED BY BECKY SLOAN HERSELF ON HER INSTA STORY

[laulo821]

ok let me ramble on tenyoxin for a bit here (#behindthescenes ? #retcon ? #whatifs ?)

so there's three "heroes" in tenyoxin, likewise there are three main "villains", one for each planet (esus, séraphin and damon + marie, andrée and sharok)

so Esus. right? Nyoris' champion. i won't go in details on why he's the champion cuz i thimk it is pretty transparent but i had one day another idea that popped in my head

what if. Esus. was not the champion of Nyoris. But instead Eiji? after all, Eiji meets all the same champion criteria as Esus, maybe even more so. Esus maybe just became the champion because Eiji gave him his soul?

that begs the question. What if Eiji didn't give up his life for Esus and undertook the quest for revenge himself? I think it would play out very differently. He is way more outgoing, charismatic and persuasive than Esus (albeit he doesn't have the music advantage), so maybe the Rebellion he'd bring up would be bigger faster. Potentially enough to stop the DK's first attack on Éveil's capital city (meaning, Lucky and L.I.K. never become Dark Knights). Plus he is a better blacksmith: his weapons are of higher quality and he can produce them faster, he could also learn how to forge firearms. The Rebellion would kick ass without needing the help of Éveil... What I'm trying to say here is... He could bring down the Dark Knighthood.

anyways. i've only thought thus far in this hypothesis (alternate universe?) but that boyo is very powerful in my eyes. but hes dead. rip bozo

[f-ro-g]

i'm literally gonna rip my hair out if someone doesn't talk to me about the last kingdom right fuckin now i swear to god (derogatory)

[highkingpetermagnificent]

what if i took a songwriting course so i could write songs about historical figures of varying obscurity

[solinarimoon]

Fields of Wildflowers

Chapter 15

A Sihtric x OC story

AN: Well loves, this is the final chapter for this story.  Depending on how season 5 of the show goes, I may do more and I may do one-shots for Cwen and Sihtric later too.  I am honestly incredibly proud of myself for finishing my very first multi-chapter story.  And I am beyond thankful for each and every one of you who thought it was worth your time to read.  Thank you!  From the bottom of my Dane loving heart.  I have more stories planned featuring our favorite cinnamon role Dane and some new OCs so be on the lookout!  The moodboards provided by the lovely @serasvictoria

Warnings: Smut.  Smut with feelings.  (So this also counts as my outdoors entry for @tlkfanficfest bingo axe card)

Word Count: 3877

Fields of Wildflowers Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hild found Cwen some old novice robes that fit comfortably enough.  The abbess then cleaned Cwen’s face and put a soothing poultice on some of the deeper scrapes and bruises before sending her off to bed.

The room was plain, holding only a bed and a small table.  And there was a lingering aroma of some floral fragrance Cwen couldn’t place.  She laid down and was asleep within a matter of minutes.

When she awoke, it was with a start to find an arm weightily draped across her waist.

Turning from her side to lay on her back, Cwen saw Sihtric dozing soundly next to her.

He had found a moment to clean the grime and gore from his face and body, she noticed as she took in his features.  His armor and tunic lay discarded by the door to the room and Cwen took a moment to take in his resting form.  The line of his jaw and the length of his neck.  His shoulder, rounded and firm, with long muscles leading along the arm hooked around her waist.  She felt the heat radiating off his bare chest.

In his sleep, the warrior’s face was relaxed and his breathing even and shallow.  His mouth hung slightly open, a quiet snore escaping him every few breaths.

Cwen raised a hand to brush the hair from his forehead and trace the lines along his brow.

She smiled when she felt him stir under her touch.  Without opening his eyes, he reached a hand up to grasp her own and bring her palm to his lips.

“I am glad you took my advice and rested,” he hummed against her palm before pulling her body closer into his embrace.

“Is there peace?” she questioned after nuzzling against his neck and trailing her fingers along his collarbone.

“For now, it seems.”

“Tell me.” Cwen asked, sleep still clouding her voice.

Sihtric rolled onto his back, sliding his arm to rest under Cwen’s neck as she nestled into his side.

“They’ve given Sigtryggr Eofiwich.  And he promises to remain peaceful and in alliance with Wessex and Mercia.” Sihtric paused, running his fingers gently through Cwen’s long hair.  Hild had also spent time using a brush and comb to work through the knots and tangles that had accumulated during the siege.

“That can’t be all though,” Cwen asked while turning her face up to meet his, “What about Stiorra?”

Cwen felt as a rumble passed through Sihtric’s chest as he laughed.  

“And what about Stiorra?” 

Cwen propped herself up on to her arm, her mirthful smile mirroring his.

“Is she part of the bargain?” 

“Why would she be?” Sihtric’s eyes glittered mischievously.

“Because they have fallen for one another.  Stiorra and Sigtryggr.” Cwen’s words were sure and matter of fact.

Sihtric moved to place a strand of hair that had fallen across Cwen’s face before he asked, “Now what would make you say that?”

Sighing, Cwen laid herself back down and nestled into his side.  Her fingers absent-mindedly finding the hammer amulet draped across his chest.  Tracing the intricate designs.

“Well I don’t know exactly.  I have never even seen them in the same room together,” and her words were interrupted by a scoff from Sihtric.  She hushed him playfully before continuing, “but it is in the way they speak about each other.  As if he truly sees her.  And she, him.”

Here she paused, her hand stopping it’s fidgeting with the hammer.  She took a breath then continued, vulnerability lacing her words, “It is not much different from the way I believe you see me.  From the way you have watched me and seen me since the fields of Saltwich.  You see me and know me.  The true me.  And that is love.  To have someone see through you to your soul.  Or your spirit, your essence.  Whatever term you wish to give it.  When a person can see your rough edges, the parts that are broken, the fragile things…” her fingers began fiddling with the pendant once more, nervous as she continued, “a person who can see that in another and appreciate it, accept it.  That is love.  That is what will help someone to heal.  Find peace.  Happiness.  I see who you are and you see me for who I am.  I see that mirrored in the way Stiorra and Sigtryggr speak about one another.” 

Cwen’s voice got quieter as she stopped her rambling. Her fingers continued to place their anxious energy into toying with the necklace until she felt his strong hand wrap around her own, stopping her movements.  He moved to place his knuckles below her chin, tilting her head up so he could catch her eyes.

“What have I done in my life to deserve you, my lady?”

Now it was Cwen’s turn to scoff at his use of the term lady once more before he continued, interrupting her.

“It is true.  I have been blessed by the gods and I do not know why.  I am nothing but a bastard son who has killed more men than I can count. Many who were probably good men.”

Cwen stared into his face as he spoke.  She watched as his brows stitched together and the line of his jaw flexed.  His eyes growing distant and clouded.

“Then you do not see what I see, Sihtric.” Her hand rose from his chest to caress his neck, fingers smoothing themselves through the curls of his hair, coaxing his eyes back from whatever unfocused horrors he was imagining, back to her.

“You are a man, devoted and loyal.  I see your heart.  A heart that is fierce and passionate, but also kind and warm.  It is gentle when time or place calls for it. I see that in how you are with the children and with me. You have shown me time and time over that the quality of your heart is pure.  It is all those things that make who you are.  A warrior. A heathen but not a barbarian as some Christians would paint you. These are the reasons you follow Lord Uhtred.  These are the reasons you fight.  And they are good qualities.”

Cwen watched while he listened to her words. The lines of his face eased and the whites of his eyes glistened more brightly. The lovers brought their lips together, the language of a whispered kiss speaking more deeply than either could with words. 

A subtle cough from the doorway broke them apart. 

Hild stood, a kind smirk on her face. 

“I would remind you that you are still in a church, Sihtric. And even though you are heathen I will have you respect this home of my God.”

Cwen rolled over, burying her face in her hands and stifling anxious giggles while she heard Sihtric apologize and then the rustle of Hild’s robes as she moved away from the door. 

But Hild called over her shoulder to them before she had made it out of earshot, “Uhtred is looking for you. King Edward has spoken with him.”

“Tell my lord I am on my way.”

They heard Hild laugh before she replied, “He wishes to speak with Cwen.”

The pair glanced at each other, confusion on both of their faces. Slowly, they moved to sit up and make ready themselves. 

“But Sihtric, you haven’t answered me!” Cwen exclaimed. 

When he looked askance at her as he did the laces up on his tunic, she continued, “Stiorra? Is she leaving for Eofowich?”

Sihtric smirks without raising his eyes again to meet hers, instead focusing on his lacing. 

“Well?” Cwen moved to help him secure the armour and interrupt his avoidance.

“She will be going as a hostage,” he replied. But the mirth behind his eyes showed his agreement with her notion that it was not a hostage arrangement. 

“Lord Uhtred must be furious,” Cwen mused. 

“He was quite, yes.”

Sihtric turned to grab his bracers off the floor and Cwen took them from him, sliding them onto each of his forearms in turn. 

“So what does he need with me, I wonder?” 

Sihtric shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as they walked out of the door to find Uhtred.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The king has charged me with the care of Aethelstan.”

Uhtred and Cwen were standing underneath the arches leading to the inner courtyard of the church.

Hild was walking with Eadith to stretch and warm some of her muscles, while an anxious Finan looked on.  He was clearly only half listening to whatever Osfeth and Sihtric were discussing.  It made Cwen smile, before turning her attention back to Uhtred.

“With care for Aethelstan?  But Lady Aelswith had been planning to do that?” 

Uhtred sighed, “Plans have changed.  Apparently Lady Aelswith is in poor health after the siege.  And Edward wants Aethelstan removed from Winchester.  It will be safer for the boy.”

“Aelswith offered me a place in her household caring for him before we left Mercia. I turned her down but not because I don’t want to help Aethelstan. Did you wish to speak with me to ask for my help?” 

Uhtred chuckled dryly and looked down at his boots, scuffing the dusty dirt. 

“It is no secret, I am…,” he trailed off before clearing his throat and starting again, “I will be able to teach him the shield wall and battle tactics. And other life lessons but I am lacking in many skills when it comes to raising a child.  I would ask you for help, yes.”

“And you will have it.” Cwen smiled, her words sincere and happy. 

It was at that moment that Sihtric approached, wrapping his arm around Cwen’s waist and drawing her close to him as she leaned back into his embrace. 

“You have chosen a good woman, Sihtric.” Uhtred clapped his friend on his shoulder. 

“I have, indeed,” Sihtric paused, pressing a kiss against Cwen’s hairline making her grin despite herself. 

“But may I have a word alone, Lord?” 

Cwen glanced between the two men before excusing herself to go check in on Eadith and Hild.

After joining the two women, Cwen continued to glance back to where Sihtric stood speaking with Uhtred.  The two men stood close together while Sihtric spoke, but his words did not travel and Cwen did not know what they discussed.

After only a few moments, she saw Uhtred embrace Sihtric and the two clapped each other on the back before breaking apart and Sihtric turned to walk to Finan and Osferth, who were standing in the path that Hild was guiding them along. Sihtric beamed at her as they approached, his smile filled with adoration. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After eating a light lunch with everyone, Sihtric excused himself and asked Cwen to join him.  He led her to the edge of Winchester and outside the walls.  The Saxon camp of King Edward was still scattered across the surrounding field, but the couple walked beyond the scattered tents and cookfires.  Here and there, men were mulling about, collecting their things, preparing to return to their homes.

“Where are you taking me, Sihtric,” Cwen looped her arm through his and leaned herself against him as they strolled.

She smiled when she felt his breath on her ear as he leaned close, “Do you remember the last time you asked me that question?”

His voice was low, husky.

The implication sent shivers along Cwen’s spine.  Just as it had while riding in the fields outside of Aegelesburg, she felt her body stir.  

They stayed quiet as they walked, both feeling the rising thrill in their energy.

Cwen tried to keep her breathing steady while her heart began beating steadily faster and faster.  The feel of Sihtric’s movements against her as they walked gave her shivers, every place where his skin brushed hers leaving trails of gooseflesh.

Eventually, they moved off of the main road and began to cross onto hunting trails, through woods and fields.  It may have been along the route they had come to Winchester.  That seemed ages ago and had been in such haste, Cwen thought she would have no idea if she had been through this way before. And there was no way she could focus clearly on her surroundings with the anticipation of being with Sihtric again.

Finally, he stopped walking and Cwen took in their surroundings.

They were at the edge of a low lying glen, leading up to a small hill crested with trees.  The glen was carpeted with tiny white and violet-blue flowers, all migling together.  Cwen breathed deep, enjoying the musty aroma of the woods to their backs, earthy and solid.  She tried to slow her pounding heart.

“I told you I wished to cherish you, Cwen,” Sihtric pulled her body flush against his before cupping her face, “and I mean to do just that.”

His lips ghosted across hers before he moved to nip underneath her ear, his tongue languidly tasting her skin in between gentle kisses down her neck.

“Sihtric,” she moaned out his name, her hands grasping hungrily at his hips and pulling him even closer to her.

“I will never grow tired of hearing you moan my name,” he whispered against her collarbone.

His fingers found their way up from her waist to begin undoing the laces at her collar, before moving the fabric apart to reveal the skin of her chest.

Despite the heat of the late summer, his fingers left goosebumps dancing along the trails they made, slowly fanning their way over to caress one of her breasts.

Cwen sighed as his kisses continued along her neck and his fingers lightly pinched at her erect nipple. 

She could feel the swell in his trousers bulging against her hips and longed for more. 

Slowly, she reached her hand down from his hip to cup along his length. 

The groan her movements brought forth from him flushed Cwen with a sense of pride that she could cause him to make such noises. 

“Mmmm, woman,” he growled, “I planned to be making these noises come from you,” but Cwen interrupted him. 

“And what if I wish to show you how I cherish you too?”

Sihtric leaned back on his heels to stare at Cwen. Her shy smile and mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  

In an instant, his mouth was on hers. All sense of calm replaced by fire. 

Both sets of fingers fought to undo the buckles and ties holding cloth against skin. 

All the pain, all the terror over the past weeks. Separated by barriers and words. All of the emotions of the heart came crashing out against each other. 

Swiftly, Cwen slid her dress down from her shoulders to pool at her feet, leaving her chest bare and only a thin underskirt draped off of her curving hips.

Sihtric, breathing heavily,  stood back to admire her form, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist up to the slope of her breasts.  

While his hands roamed her body, Cwen undid the lacing holding his bracers and leathers on, removing them deftly.  

Smoothly, he lifted his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it in the grass by their feet, only to then drop to his knees, peppering kisses along her abdomen while his hands reached behind her to grasp and gently knead her bottom.

Cwen sucked in a breath as the feel of heat pooled deep in her core, mingled with a throbbing pull at her opening.  She wanted to feel him touch her there.

She ran her fingers along his head, nails scratching along his scalp, before he tilted his face up to hers to see the passion burning in her eyes.

“Come here, Cwen.”  His voice was deep and sensual, causing another thrill to ripple through her swollen womanhood.

She slid her body down to meet him, feeling his lips trailing up now, to find her nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue against the hard nub.  His hands bunched at her skirt, pulling it up around her as she lowered herself.

Once she was on her knees, he brought his face to hers, kissing her lips once more while growling, “Lay back for me.”

Cwen lowered herself back, while Sihtric’s body, hard and strong, loomed over her, sheltering her, enveloping her.

Again, he brought his lips to her skin, licking and sucking gently at the dips and shallows of her neck and shoulders.

She shuddered when his hands left the skirt, now rumpled around her waist to trail down her hip.  He had slowed their pace once more, gradually bringing his fingers to rub against her swollen center. Slow, short strokes followed by an even slower long stroke circling the moist opening of her slit.

She moaned and arched under his hands, yearning for more but relishing the feel of his hands on her.

Slowly, his kisses moved lower, back to her nipple, drawing circles around it before he continued even lower.

Cwen opened her eyes, when he sat up, removing his hand from her wetness.

Sihtric leaned back on his knees and shifted Cwen’s hips as she watched him eye her hungrily.

He began to lean down to her, his breath hot and heavy on her aching core.

“Sihtric, what are you,” but her words were replaced with a rasping moan as she felt his tongue on her. He trailed his tongue up from the dripping moisture of her slit to press and flick against the nub of her sex making her gasp outloud.

Sihtric looked up to meet her eye, now sucking at the nerves before he answered, “I am cherishing my woman, every part of her.”  And he then moved back to lap at her with the flat of his tongue.

Licking her lips, Cwen felt as her hips unconsciously rose to meet his actions, continuing the slow rhythm his fingers had started.  Slow and small strokes followed by a longer stroke, the pressure always building then pulling back as he pulled her to the edge.

When he brought his fingers to her opening and slowly pushed one then another inside, Cwen felt herself arch and moan his name. 

Her fingers found themselves raking through his hair as he moved his fingers inside her, matching the rhythm of his tongue.

Cwen felt herself rising to the edge, “Sihtric,” she groaned while his actions became faster, matching the pumping of her hips rising to meet him.

And she came undone, her legs tensing and squeezing as he brought her to her high.

When she opened her eyes, he had moved his face to stare at her, but was continuing the motions of his fingers, still feeling her clench around him.

“You are the most beautiful woman,” he whispered, his voice deep with lust.

“Can you take me?”

Noiselessly, Cwen nodded, holding her arms out for him to come to her.

He moved, lithe as a cat, to bring his face to hers, kissing her passionately.  She could taste herself on his lips and feel her own moisture in his beard.

Cwen slipped her fingers between his pants and his hips and slid them down with his help to release his bulge.  He rolled off of her just long enough to slide his trousers off completely, before he was on her once more, his manhood hard and ready for her.

Guiding himself to her entrance, Cwen shifted her hips to better meet him.

As he pushed himself inside her, she met his eyes.  He filled her completely, pushing into the hilt before he paused to kiss her.  Then slowly again, their bodys began rocking together in a rhythm building steadily.  Her small moans and noises driving him to push harder.

He built her up once more, feeling her body tensing beneath him ready to crash in ecstasy.  Cwen cried out his name once more when he pushed her over the edge, feeling her walls clench him tight driving his own climax to follow. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They lay in the grass, a tangle of limbs as their breathing returned to normal.  Cwen found her hand in Sihtric’s as he toyed with her fingers, weaving them together with his.  He brought her hand up to place a gentle kiss on her thumb.  

“Be my wife, Cwen.”

Surprised, Cwen turned her face to watch him.  He was focused on their fingers, still lacing them gently together.

He continued after a moment's pause, “I want you for my woman.  My wife.  From now until the end of days. I told you that all of my roads will lead me to you, Cwen.  And I meant it.  You are warm and kind.  You are brave.  And you make me happy.  Happier than any warrior deserves to be.  

His words were strong. Sure.

Cwen felt her eyes prickle as tears formed, blurring her vision.  She blinked to clear them away as she saw Sihtric’s head turn to look at her.

“Will you be my wife, Cwen?”

Smiling, Cwen nodded her head furiously, “Yes, Sihtric, I will be your wife.”

Grinning, Sihtric rolled Cwen on top of him and kissed her, deeply before he pulled away.

Still smiling, he laughed, “Then I have something I need to give to you.”

Cwen moved herself off of him as he reached into his pants, reaching into a small pocket, hidden in the waist.

He pulled out a tiny pouch.  He emptied the pouch into his palm.  It contained a small golden ring.  Simple and delicate, with just a few markings and designs along the band.

“This belonged to my mother.  It is the only possession I have from her. Before my father,” he glanced at Cwen before he continued, “before he killed her, she gave this to me.  She knew he would find out about what she had been doing to help the children of Dunhilm.  And she wanted for me to have this.  She has been the only woman to ever hold my heart.  Until now.  And I want you to have it.”

Cwen was speechless as he placed it in her palm, before closing her fingers over it and kissing her hand.

The tears she had been able to stem before, now ran freely along her cheeks.  Gingerly, she opened her hand and picked up the ring.  She slid it onto her finger and it fit perfectly.

“She would have loved you,” Sihtric added, wrapping his arms around Cwen and resting his forehead against hers.

“Thank you, Sihtric.  I will treasure it and hope to honor her by wearing it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they were getting dressed and beginning their walk back towards Winchester, Cwen gasped.

“Wait, won’t we need Uhtred’s approval to marry? When will you ask him?” Laughing, Sihtric took her hand, “I have already asked him, love.  It is what I wished to speak with him about this morning.”

“Oh you planned all of this then?”

“I did”

“Oh you are quite the romantic, my soon-to-be husband.”

Sihtric chuckled once more along with Cwen, “I guess I am.”

As they continued walking, Cwen asked, “So what did Uhtred say when you asked him?” “He said that I would be a fool not to marry you.”

Sihtric pulled her close, kissing her temple as they walked, “And he is right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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