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nxrdist · 2 years

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𝕺𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖞 || TLK Fic || FinanxOC || Eleven

Story Summary: Tove chose to surrender rather than be killed, after Sigfried was defeated at Beamfleot, giving herself up to the mercy of the Saxons. Thanks to Finan’s intervention, her life is indeed spared and she is brought into Uhtred’s service. With the sting of defeat fresh on her tongue and her new life fighting for the Saxons secured; Tove is left wondering what tricks the Gods have in store for her next.

Words: 6048

**Notes have been moved to the end.

Kåre woke with a splitting headache and a compress wrapped around his head partially obscuring his left eye. Groaning, he raised a hand toward his face but was stopped by a sharp thump to his wrist. He turned his head to find Halvar watching him and chewing on his chew stick with an expression of exasperation.

“You know, the healer said to make sure you were being careful with your face.” Said Halvar. “So of course, the first thing you do upon waking is reach for the damned thing.”

Kåre snorted, rolling his eyes, as he struggled into a sitting position. “What happened?”

His throat felt incredibly dry, and he started looking around for a cup.

“Well,” Halvar said, resting his chin in his hand. “Looks to me like someone carved up yer face pretty good.”

Kåre threw an annoyed look in his friend’s direction. “Yes, well that bit is rather apparent. I mean at the battle.”

Halvar took the stick from his mouth to inspect it for a moment before replacing it. “Wasn’t there was I? But from what I hear the Saxons sprang a trap and Harald ran squealing like a stuffed pig. He’s basically finished.” He paused and gave a snort. “Ketill’s pissed. Almost seems to think we ought to have stayed with Haesten.”

“Gods.” Kåre rolled his eyes and sat back having given up on a drink for the moment. “Any word on survivors?”

Halvar shrugged and finally produced a cup of water for his friend. “None as of yet. Who knows, some might simply have just fled to Mercia rather than continue under Harald.”

Kåre’s lip curled. Not all had sworn an oath to Harald, he certainly hadn’t, but there were some who had and if he’d deserted then they were oath breakers. And to break an oath was an abhorrent thing even to a foolish lord like Harald.

Halvar just shrugged having an inkling of his friend’s thoughts. “So, was it at least the Dane slayer?”

For a second, Kåre was caught off guard as he had been momentarily distracted from his wound and the battle by what to do next. He had been about to curse himself for not trying to persuade Harald to his thinking in regard to attacking Winchester. They might have been sitting on a pile of gold by now if he had, but instead, Kåre had deferred to one he knew to be easily manipulated. And now it would after all be within his right to take his ships and search out his fortune elsewhere. There wasn’t a high likelihood of success for much in Wessex without a ‘great heathen army’ and that had been near halved. But Halvar’s inquiry brought Kåre’s thoughts back to Uhtred and ultimately to Tove, he couldn’t leave her there.

“It was not,” said Kåre ruefully, then paused to sip from the cup. “One of his damned oath men I assume. The short and quick bastard.”

Halvar hummed thoughtfully.

“What is it?” Kåre asked.

“She wasn’t there then?”

“No.” Kåre’s tone was clipped, making it clear he had little interest in discussing the topic at the moment. “I can only assume she was kept far away.”

A frown unfurled across Halvar’s lips as he considered Kåre’s words. It had been difficult to speak with him about the situation regarding his sister since that first conversation. While Halvar certainly did not disagree with Kåre’s aim to eliminate Uhtred, he had not intended to give the wrong impression to his friend. Before he’d been able to explain entirely about their meeting on Scaepege, Kåre had made the assumption that Tove must be a prisoner. She would never serve a Saxon; he’d said dismissively despite the fact that no other scenario made sense. Why else would she have been there, Halvar had intended to ask. Let alone that Tove had said as much, Uhtred was her oath lord whether Kåre accepted it or not. And Halvar knew if they stayed, they would meet her in battle eventually and he hoped Kåre was not present for that meeting because Halvar would not hesitate.

Since Uhtred’s return, he had become determined more so than ever to teach Uhtred the younger swordcraft. A feat Tove, among some others, was beginning to think might be impossible. The boy simply did not have the aptitude for the art, but what was worse he had little interest in it either -and it was likely that part which drove Uhtred to anger- as even one without the predisposition can be taught to be a decent warrior. Without motivation, it was unlikely Uhtred would succeed with or without talent. It was that lack of motivation Tove observed as she idly watched Uhtred putting the boy through drills for the third time that afternoon.

It was difficult to decide who to feel bad for in the current predicament. Uhtred had just lost a wife, his truest love, but the younger had lost his mother with who he was much closer than his father. Both losses were a terrible thing and neither of them was handling it particularly well. Nor did it help that despite being different in many ways, both were grieving in a rather similar manner and that was to bottle it up as much as possible.

Slowly chewing a bite of her apple Tove considered the matter as a way of distracting herself from Uhtred the younger’s atrocious lack of ability. He had just been knocked on his arse once again causing Tove to wrinkle her nose in second-hand embarrassment for the boy. In the end, she was not able to dwell upon it for long before her thoughts were interrupted by Sihtric who had taken the place beside her and pretended to accidentally knock the apple from her loose grip. Scowling, Tove gave him a shove with her shoulder, but the half Dane only chuckled flashing her a mischievous grin.

“Where is Finan?” Sihtric asked.

Tove arched her brow and gave a slight shrug. “How am I to know?”

Sihtric rolled his eyes but said nothing further which prompted her to frown.

Did everyone think there was something between herself and Finan? Had they always? Surely not. Things hadn’t really changed between them until recently Tove thought. Though it was difficult to put a finger on when exactly that was as she had been ignoring the growing feelings which had become apparent to her only when questioned by Rypere. Her frown deepened at the thought of that conversation.

Why hadn’t she discussed it with Gisela when she’d had the chance? Sure, she could still go to Ealhswith, but Ealhswith was Sihtric’s wife and Sihtric was obviously also friends with Finan. Not that she thought the Saxon woman to be a gossip just that spouses spoke of such things with each other.

Glancing at Sihtric out of the corner of her eye, Tove wondered quite skeptically whether Sihtric could keep anything she might confide in Ealhswith to himself. And she very much doubted that.

“Don’t think too hard or you’ll hurt yourself,” said Sihtric.

“Tell Uhtred I’ll be at the alehouse if he requires anything.”

Though he gave her an odd look, Sihtric agreed that he would, and with that Tove strode off. He watched her go for a few seconds before the thump of Uhtred the younger hitting the dirt again caught his attention. Uhtred was becoming increasingly frustrated with the boy which Sihtric couldn’t fault. A distraction came for him just then in the form of Finan who called to Uhtred that he had a message from Alfred. Sihtric made his way over to the group in time to hear what the messenger had apparently relayed to Finan.

“We’re to meet Haesten to return his hostages and pick up ours, Lord.” Finan paused then, looking a tad amused. “And to prepare to receive the king here…there’s to be a baptism.”

Uhtred let out a groan. “And who will be being washed?”

“Haesten’s wife and son.”

The Lord who hadn’t so much as cracked a smile since their return almost snorted with amusement at the utter ridiculousness of that news.

On her way to the alehouse from the training yard, Tove had to pass by Uhtred’s home. Thinking she might check in on Stiorra and Elflæd who were spending more time together even than before. It made sense, of course, Stiorra needed companionship more than ever and Tove could not always be there.

When Tove reached the house, she hesitated at the sight of Skade who Uhtred had seen fit to imprison in a cage in front of the building. She wished he would have just killed her. It even would have delighted her to kill Skade as she blamed her for Gisela’s death. And Tove wasn’t the only one who thought so either though unlike the Christians Tove knew upon hearing of the curse saw why he could not. To kill the witch without breaking the curse would make it permanent, one of the many things that made witches dangerous. So, he had to keep her.

As Tove drew nearer, she became aware of Skade’s crystalline eyes following her boring into her as if attempting to read something important about her. It was unsettling and she didn’t like it. She would’ve just kept walking if Skade hadn’t called out to her prompting Tove to unwillingly turn toward the sorceress.

“I know your face,” Skade said to her simply in Danish.

Tove said nothing instead just lifting a questioning brow, inviting the sorceress to elaborate.

“Or perhaps only a mirror of it.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Tove cautiously.

“I dream,” said Skade.

Tove pressed her lips together in annoyance. Of course, she did it was what seers did. They dreamed their visions whether awake or asleep it was still dreaming.

“You will never return to Denmark.”

“Won’t I?” Tove challenged.

Returning was hardly on her mind in the near future, but never? She couldn’t imagine never seeing her homeland again. Or Igna or her father.

“You will die on this island.”

“You’ve seen my death?”

Skade shook her head.

“Then how can you know?” Tove pressed.

“It is your fate.”

Tove paused; her lips pressed together in dissatisfaction with the answer Skade provided. She may have pushed for more information had a maid not appeared at the door just then. The girl wasn’t much younger than Tove and she was clearly anxious looking between her and Skade. Twice the girl opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out leaving Tove to take charge of the situation.

“Is the lady Stiorra in?” Tove asked pointedly.

Finally getting a hold of herself, the girl nodded. “Yes, but she is lying down resting at the moment lady.”

Tove gave a short nod. “Well, if she wakes before I return then let her know I was here.”

The girl nodded in response and hurried off without even glancing at Skade.

“Two paths lay before you Ødgersdottier.”

Tove narrowed her eyes at Skade.

“Are you still a Dane?”

“Are you just a mouthy whore?” Tove snapped back growing irritated. “Because you’ve told me naught but empty riddles.”

Much to her surprise, Skade laughed at her insult which only annoyed Tove further. Tove left without giving the witch a chance to speak further. She’d had enough foolishness for one day.

After the odd encounter with Skade, Tove did not go directly to the alehouse choosing instead to take the long way around to get there which took her past the church. Watching the miserable place, she observed the priests and monks going about their business for a moment before taking off again. Silently, she sent an apology to Gisela for not doing more to honor her, but after the incident with Bishop Erkenwald, she was banned from the place which effectively also banned her from even visiting Gisela.

“Weasel,” Tove muttered under her breath.

Finally, she made it to the alehouse which by then was starting to get busier. To her surprise, Sihtric stood up and waved her over she he saw her come in. Obeying the summons, Tove went over to join him and Osferth whilst staunchly ignoring the half-Dane’s questioning look.

“You missed the news.” Said Sihtric.

He then proceeded to fill her in on the message Alfred had sent which caused Tove to balk.

“From what I know, he has little fondness for his wife. So, I’m sure he sees it as no real sacrifice at all. Meanwhile, it will appease the king -possibly even gain him favor, knowing how pious Alfred is.”

“Perhaps,” Osferth began thoughtfully. “But his son?”

“He’ll tell the boy to forget it,” Tove shrugged.

Osferth did not seem to think much of her disregard for the holy sacrament of baptism, however, he was used to it, and besides how could he argue when there was a high likelihood she was right anyway.

Sihtric added something to her comments to Osferth, but Tove didn’t hear it. Her ears had been pricked by the sound of a familiar gregarious laugh close by and she couldn’t help searching out its owner. It only took a matter of seconds to locate Finan leaning up against the bar and chatting with one of the barmaids. The girl was short with ashy blonde hair and Tove couldn’t help but notice was rather amply endowed. Her fingers tightened reflexively around her cup as she watched the two with a critical eye. It was impossible to not notice the overtly friendly treatment the barmaid was giving him.

As Tove mechanically lifted her cup to drink as a feeble distraction, she watched the girl place a hand on Finan’s forearm.

“Tove?” Osferth asked having jumped slightly when she slammed her cup down onto the table. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” she grumbled unwillingly tearing her eyes away from Finan and the barmaid.

It only took Sihtric, who was ever the most discerning of their group, a cursory glance around the room to identify the most probable source of Tove’s sudden shift in mood, and upon seeing Finan, Sihtric could’ve hit him. Sihtric had assumed there was something between Finan and Tove for some time. At least since Rypere had tried making a move on her but possibly even before that. He hadn’t meant to get involved except the morning they’d left for battle he’d had to and the look on Tove’s face when she’d realized Finan hadn’t been alone. While it had been altogether very different than the one she was wearing just now, both confirmed his suspicions in their own way.

Sihtric glanced at Osferth meaningfully. “I’ll be right back.”

Only the former monk acknowledged him.

Once he was away from the table, Sihtric checked to ensure Tove wasn’t paying attention and then went directly for the bar. When Sihtric reached Finan he could see the Irishman’s eyes were bright from drink though he wasn’t anywhere near wasted. The barmaid smiled flirtatiously at him as well which Sihtric ignored.

Clapping a hand hard on Finan’s shoulder, he said. “Come and drink with us.”

Finan’s attention immediately abandoned the blonde leaving her looking extremely put out and annoyed, but Sihtric didn’t care.

“Alright then.” He agreed.

Thankful it hadn’t taken more persuading, Sihtric headed back to their table with Finan in tow. When he reached it and saw Tove had gone Sihtric with a held groan of frustration.

“Where’d she go?”

Osferth frowned. “Can’t be sure. I tried to get her to stay.”

“Tove?” Finan asked.

“Uh yeah, she just took off,” Osferth said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“Damn.”

“Dolt,” Sihtric muttered just loud enough to be heard.

Finan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he focused his gaze on the half Dane. “Really?”

Looking at Finan defiantly, Sihtric said. “Yeah. I said it.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Finan snapped, fire igniting in his blood.

“Come on Finan,” Sihtric implored him exasperatedly. “We’ve been friends a number of years now. You’re insulting us.”

“What he means-“Osferth cut in. “Is we’re your friends so we can’t help but notice something’s been going on.”

He was not ready to talk about this with them. Still, he was struggling against his fears past, however irrelevant to the present situation they were. Finan huffed in annoyance but said nothing opting instead to set his cup on the table and head for the door with haste. Leaving Sihtric and Osferth in peace.

Out on the street, a feeling of Deja Vu struck him as he was again chasing after this woman. Fleetingly he found himself wondering how long he would be doing this, chasing her. Laoise had made him chase her too though that had been quite different. Thankfully the physical chase didn’t take long as Tove had not gotten far. Finan found her a few streets over walking at a measured pace in the direction of the wharf.

“Tove!”

She faltered for a moment but kept walking which not only confused but frustrated Finan. Grumbling slightly under his breath, Finan sped his pace from a fast walk to a quick jog. Thankfully she hadn’t changed pace though, and he caught up with her in rather short order. Reaching out, Finan grasped her shoulder turning her to face him.

“What?” Tove asked in a tone of quiet frustration -not meeting his eye.

The Irishman furrowed his brow. “What’re you doing?”

Her eyebrow crept up slowly at his question. She looked around pointedly as if that ought to be enough for him to discern her intent.

“I mean, why’d you leave?” Finan asked.

Tove hesitated. How could she answer it without lying? After all it wasn’t as if she was going to admit she couldn’t stand seeing him flirting around with the too friendly barmaid. In lieu of a real answer, all she could do was give a slight one shouldered shrug.

For almost a full minute, Finan just stared at her utterly flabbergasted. He just couldn’t believe how strange things had become between them in what felt like such a short period of time.

“What on God’s green earth does that mean?”

Tove crossed her arms. “I wanted to be alone.”

Finan frowned. “Ya want to be alone a lot these days.”

Whether or not Tove wanted to, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice it anymore. Sure, she hadn’t just withdrawn from him, but Finan did feel quite sure she was deliberately avoiding him to an extent. Because while Tove was obviously, and fairly so, still grieving it seemed like since their return from Fearnhamme she had scarcely been in the same room with him for more than five minutes. This lastest disappearing act being only the most recent and when they were together she hardly spoke to him.

The silence between the two was suffocating in a way; at least to Tove it simultaneously pressured her to come up with an answer the longer it went on but she was unwilling to admit the truth out loud and least of all to him.

“So, what if I do,” she managed finally in a slightly snappish tone.

Finan was almost flabbergasted at her response, but then he remembered who exactly he was talking to. This was in the same young woman who had retreated to the woods rather than discuss her troubles. Feeling a frustration bubble up inside him, Finan threw up his hands in a huff.

“Fine. Goodnight Tove. I hope that you find what you’re looking for over those waters.” Finan responded in much the same tone.

Tove stiffened and though she was tempted to watch him leaving she mastered the impulse and instead turned defiantly toward the river. Spitefully she wondered if he would go back to the alehouse and leave with the barmaid. That thought only made her more irritated though not only with him but with herself for being jealous about it in the first place because there were no excuses, she could fabricate for the burning annoyance she felt at just the thought of what she’d seen back at the alehouse.

Sighing heavily, Tove stalked to the end of the wharf and sat down along the side where no ships were moored. Taking out her seax she looked down at the finely forged blade, running a finger along its back as she wondered about the gods and whether they were amused with her. After the raids she had carried out alongside her brother in Ireland and her lack of interest in suitors she’d had over the years, it would be a damned Irishman who made her feel this way. Tove sheathed the blade and began to sing a Norse ballad softly to herself as she often did. She had a thought to go check in on Stiorra as she’d intended to earlier, but it was growing late, and Tove decided she would go in the morning instead.

Summer began to wane into autumn by the time they received news of the date set for the baptism of Haesten’s family which was promised to be an impressive celebration. In the meantime, he, his crews, and family had taken up residence in none other than Beamfleot of all places. Tove might have had an opinion on that were it not for her focus on keeping herself busy rather than worrying about the business of men like Haesten. She spent much of her time either with Stiorra and Osbert or else training with Osferth.

Ever since Gisela, Tove had grown to prefer Osferth as a training partner as opposed to any of the others for his temperament. Unlike the others, he did not pressure her to banter back and forth with him which Tove appreciated greatly. His steadfast presence was a balm to her bruised spirit. She even stuck next to him on the ship when they went to pick up the hostages from Haesten when she would have normally seated herself beside Sihtric at the oar. However, if either Sihtric or Osferth noticed they wisely said nothing, but what certainly couldn’t escape their notice was that Tove and Finan had not spoken since the night she’d left the alehouse in a rush. Neither of them was sure how or whether they ought to broach the topic with Finan or Tove, so it went unaddressed.

Alfred arrived ahead of Haesten’s of course just as the cold and wet weather was beginning to set in for good which made the mission Tove had been assigned an unpleasant one. Though with the mass influx of priests, monks, and the like it was preferable in some regard even if the wind had turned chill and it led her to sleep in a swamp. If she hadn’t known Uhtred better, she might have thought it a punishment to be sent on the scouting mission to keep an eye on Haesten, but she was an obvious choice. After having spent months living in Beamfleot before coming into Uhtred’s service she did have an advantage when it came to knowing the fort. So, she had been able to pick a location out of sight where they would have the best view to monitor the comings and goings leading up to the day of the celebration. Thankfully they were only to be there for half a fortnight.

So, Tove, two others, and Rypere sat at their camp early on the morning of the day the supposed baptisms were to take place. All four of them were awake as Tove had roused the other two as soon as she’d caught sight of movement coming from the fort. It appeared Haesten truly did intend to make an appearance -not that she had truly doubted it too much, he had much to gain from this.

They were only waiting for good visual confirmation before Alwin and Wilfred rode to inform Uhtred. One of the two had been the messenger back and forth all week, but she was sending both with this news so they wouldn’t have to miss any of the celebrations such as they were. She would’ve sent Rypere as well if he hadn’t argued against it and she didn’t care enough to fight against him.

As first light broke the horizon, they were able to see undeniable signs of an impending departure from the fort so with her assent they were off. Leaving her with Rypere to watch Haesten. They would be there half the day at least so as not to give themselves away. With the other two gone silence set in quickly. Not that any of them had spoken overmuch the past week anyway aside from some chat during mealtimes, but this was more awkward.

“I’m sorry.”

Rypere turned sharply from counting the helmets on the rampart to gaze at Tove.

“What?” He asked.

Sighing, Tove gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m sorry. For how I spoke to you.”

Momentarily, Rypere was too stunned to speak. It felt so long ago that he’d foolishly attempted to give her the runestone and she had rejected him. They had hardly spoken since until they’d both been put on this mission and even then, it wasn’t like they were discussing that.

“Water under the bridge.”

“Perhaps.” Said Tove. “But it was unnecessary of me.”

Rypere nodded his understanding. He wasn’t quite sure what else there was to be said. A curious part of him wondered still about her and Finan, but he hadn’t seen them together in months. So perhaps he had been wrong all along and ruined his chance for nothing by making the implication. It didn’t matter now, he supposed.

“Did it help you?” Tove asked.

He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“The rune.” She chuckled, though it was a tad awkward. “Did it help you sleep?”

“Ohh!” Rypere had almost forgotten about the thing. He’d stuck it under his pillow and forgotten about it. “I forgot about it. So, I suppose so.”

Tove gave him a half-smile and nodded. She turned back to observing Haesten’s party on the hill then, but Rypere was still looking at her. With the fresh sunlight casting a glow about her skin, he saw again what had drawn him to her, she was lovely despite the few visible battle scars. None had marred her face which spoke further to her skill as a warrior as well. And he was reminded that whether or not she held a candle for Finan, she did not hold one for him and so it would be better to let his own burnout. Perhaps then once the feelings passed, they might be friends.

They spent the rest of the morning in semi-silence, only talking once in a while to comment on what they saw. Between the two of them, they made note of all Beamfleot’s current defenses, the manning they could see, and the number of ships moored in the river. While they were at peace with Haesten now, Uhtred did not expect that to last, and Tove thought that a wise bet on his part.

By the time Tove and Rypere made it back to the city the feast was about to start and apparently, Haesten had already left. All that watching and waiting just for a few hours’ visitation in the city, but neither of them could complain. She hated the man, so it was no great loss in her eyes.

With the Danes gone, there was little to worry about at the feast and they would all be able to enjoy it. Tove had been informed that Alfred’s feasts were poor affairs though at the very least the food would be hot which was a step up from what they ate in the field. However, even that did not end up being the case as not a moment after the king entered and everyone was seated did the bishop get to his feet and start praying. Erkenwald the long-winded, Tove had thought spitefully as the man went on and on talking his God’s ear off until she wondered why this God did not simply smite him just for a moment’s peace. But the nailed God must have enjoyed the bishop’s exaltations because that, unfortunately, did not happen, instead, he did eventually finish, take his seat, and they were all allowed to eat. Grumbling to herself, Tove looked across the table catching the eye of lord Uhtred who momentarily exchanged a look of deepest boredom with her before his attention was drawn away. Leaving her to almost make eye contact with Finan who was seated next to him, but Tove ardently ignored that he was there. Even though her subconscious could not help noting the way his sleeves in that particular tunic were tight enough that she could easily see the outline of his muscled biceps.

“Stupid,” she muttered to herself under her breath.

Not quietly enough though because Osferth who sat beside her subtly elbowed her in the side. From the reproached look that flickered over his face, it was clear he thought she was referring to the bishop not her own thoughts. Considering that was also true, Tove didn’t bother to correct him.

The hopes she’d had for the feast were soon dashed when the food was brought out moments later. Glancing around she saw very little mead or ale to accompany the food which cause her brow to furrow. But the real nail in the coffin of anything that might approach a good time though was when several monks traipsed out and began to sing. It took some effort on her part to keep her expression from twisting at the sound of their chanting.

“I forgot; you haven’t been to one of these before.” Sihtric chortled once the monks finally finished their song.

“I think next time I will not be in as much of a hurry to return from scouting,” Tove said mildly though it elicited a further chuckle from Sihtric all the same.

If it weren’t for all the churchmen around, Tove might’ve vocalized her complaints that the whole affair could hardly be called a feast at all. As it was though, she didn’t fancy being berated by a sniveling priest at the moment should one overhear so she kept the more scathing commentary to herself.

Perhaps that was why Haesten had declined to stay. For the first and certainly only time ever, Tove felt a modicum of envy for the turd. The feeling only intensified when their next so-called entertainment was introduced, some monk called Godwin would be singing. Tove was prepared to tune him out as best she could just as she had the chanting monks when sudden movements caught her eye. Turning sharply, Tove watched the squat, blind man jerking back and forth. Her lips pressed together in a firm line to disguise her horror as some of the Christians crossed themselves.

“He’s touched in the head,” Tove muttered.

Beside her, Osferth shook his head. And a few places down, Steapa spoke in awe. “The spirit talks through him.”

Tove almost snorted at that but managed to cover it with a little cough. Though that didn’t spare her from the stern look Alfred sent in the direction of their table. With that everyone fell silent just as the mad monk began to yelp in such a way that dogs outside responded to the racket. The inhuman sounds continued until they reached their apex at which point, she heard Finan whisper to Uhtred just before Godwin let out a wild scream that caused Tove to jump. Osferth put a hand on her arm to steady her in her shock, but his gaze remained fixedly on the spectacle.

“Praise God.” Said Alfred when the scream died.

The monk was mimicking the pose she so often saw their nailed God depicted in and for a second Tove thought it might be over. As he began to relax though, Godwin began to speak though it was in a strange voice and no language she has ever heard. Instinctively her hand rose to the hammer hung about her neck. It was haunting. Even as the words clearly became English, Tove found herself struggling to keep up with the gabled syllables.

All she could rightly discern were words like Alfred, Wessex, God, Babylon, and then strangely whore. Godwin changed the word several times as he turned about the room as if searching.

“The whore! The whore! The whore! She is among us!” Sobbed the monk as he went down to his knees suddenly.

He stayed there for a long moment during which nobody moved, and nobody spoke.

Then just as suddenly as it had all started, Godwin spoke the word again drawling it out into several long syllables as he turned to face Alfred. And somehow, strangely the despite the outburst, he looked rather normal.

“The whore is among us, lord.” As he spoke to the thing his voice too sounded entirely normal.

“The whore?” Alfred asked uncertainly.

“The whore!” Godwin screeched again before reverting to sanity. “The whore, lord, is the maggot in the fruit, the rat in the granary, the locust in the wheatfield, the disease in the child of God. It saddens God, lord.”

Tove frowned. “What’s Babylon?”

Osferth answered in an undertone. “A city that was once part of an ancient empire.”

“Before the Romans?” Tove questioned, interested.

He sighed. “Yes, but they were wicked. And so, God destroyed them.”

She scoffed but was cut off from asking any further questions by Godwin who had begun to chant disjointedly. Then dissolved into speaking so quickly again that Tove struggled with his words though she was sure the ramblings were still about the supposed whore. But when he shouted at the harpist to stop, the king kindly attempted to soothe the mad monk. It did little though and a mousy-faced bishop called Asser asserted that this whore could destroy them -Wessex presumably. And to that Godwin responded with another raving rant which Alfred eventually interrupted.

“What whore?”

Tove swore she was hearing things when the blind man hissed his response.

“Gisela.”

But then her mouth went dry, and she turned to Uhtred, deafened by the sound of her own blood in her ears. He was standing and vaguely Tove saw Finan beside him his mouth forming the word no, but it had no effect. Stunned, Tove followed the lord’s progress as he strode determinedly up to the monk, and just as he reached him the sound seemed to come back to her.

“You. Lie.” Uhtred annunciated each word dangerously.

“She was filth!” Cried Godwin and he began hitting Uhtred in the chest. “Your wife was the devil’s whore, hated by God, and you are his instrument, heathen! Devil, whore-husband, sinner!”

Tove was ok her feet instantly. Rage burning in her chest. She was going to kill the little turd. She’d flay him alive, crack his ribs, and rip out his lungs. Perhaps the blood eagle wouldn’t even be enough, she haphazardly thought, but her frenzied thoughts were interrupted by several pairs of hands grabbing her and holding her back. Furiously, she turned to see who was holding her and came face to face with Finan. He was giving her a stern look that stilled her attempt to shake off the hands. It was the closest they’d been to each other in weeks if not months and his face so close to hers seemed to steal her breath away. Slightly she deflated though her anger still boiled under the surface but seeing her contained at least Finan withdrew leaving Osferth still gripping her other shoulder.

“Whore-husband,” said Godwin.

The word brought Tove’s attention back to him just as Uhtred hit the monk for what she would realize later to be the second time. In the moment she didn’t even register the blood seeping from Godwin’s mouth as he fell limp into one of the braziers. His hair fizzled and burned, but Godwin didn’t scream because he was already dead. The strike had snapped his neck.

And then there was even more uproar than before. Alfred demanding Uhtred be arrested, Erkenwald that he be killed, and Alfred’s wife wailing. But no one moved to arrest Uhtred as Finan took the lead in hustling Uhtred from the hall and the rest of them followed.

Let me know if you no longer wish to be on the taglist or if you want to be added

taglist: @obipoelover, @iwillboilyourteeth, @lauwrite1225, @queen-manning, @for-bebbanburg, @bells3333, @othermoony, @emily456 , @red-roses-are-gonna-shine

A/N: So sorry this update is late! I meant to post this past Friday, but it was a hectic week and when I went back over the chapter that morning I didn’t like it so about half of it had to be rewritten first. So, I hope you enjoy this update. Oh also, since this was so late I’ll be posting a scene that was originally in this chapter on Friday, but that was removed. It’s just a short little thing but I thought I’d post it since the next part won’t be ready by this Friday either. And a quick reminder please forgive any mistakes in punctuation or grammar this story is not beta read. As always any scenes or situations paraphrased or otherwise that resemble the books or show belong to the original IP creator. Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope everyone is well and safe.

#finan #the last kingdom #tlk #finan fic #tlk fic #the last kingdom fic #last kingdom #ool fic

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tls123 · 3 years

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i'm 24 no i'm not gonna read a "high school au"

#i dont want to read about children but most importantly I don't want to read about high school #also it worries me how many of these one shot hig/h sch/ool au fics seem to be pwp #that's sus as the kids say #fra.txt

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kamil-a · 3 years

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Peter with prompt I,,,, pretty please?

peter + broken glass

Blue shards, one after the other, shining down the hallway like Hansel and Gretel's cookie crumbs, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. She doesn't need the bottle anymore because she's here!! She's here to stay. Stings a little, or maybe that's just the bit of glass he touched, that she's not staying for him- not explicitly, anyway. In the end, she is very much with him, forever and ever. They're going to live in the same castle and everything, and here she comes now!

What bottle, she would ask him in response, probably, not that he'd risk asking her. What key, what bottle, what home.

He's going to dust it all up by himself. It's too important for the faceless.

"What are you doing?" Alice asks, an eyebrow raised. Standing over him, she's beautiful.

"Broken glass," he says. Tries not to sound giddy. "Veeeeery dangerous. Wouldn't want you to get hurt!"

"Okay." She keeps walking, but turns around as she's about to go out of sight. Wavers a moment, like she can't decide whether to speak up.

"I'm... I've decided to stay. Just so you know."

"That's wonderful!"

(I know, he smirks to himself, and the last shard goes in the trash.)

#thoughtful honking #sry if this is ooc/ool (out of lore) jhfnfhjfjhfjh its early days and im doin lotsa guesswork #also in this fic its alice/vivaldi. bc of who i am. like as a person.#also oops if u meant uppercase L and not lowercase i hvjhcjfjh #but i just looked at that and i didnt have anything i wanna write 4 it anyway for him so. it works out jhfvjvjfj

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jeonqukie · 4 years

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Hi! I was wondering if you were planning to update Out of Love or Cruel Intentions anytime soon? You’re an amazing writer, and please take your time if you need it! 🖤

hi, lovely! right now, i’ve put those fics on hold. i will definitely update it. i believe out of love has one more part before it ends bc it was meant to be a mini series. cruel intentions, on the other hand, was supposed to be a series. at this point, i think should be a one shot, imo. i’ve rewritten the 2nd part so many times that i’m never satisfied with it, but i’ll try to keep everyone updated. thank you so much for your lovely comments; i will definitely take my time on writing all of the fics i’m working!! thank you for all the love and support. ( “・ω・゛)

#anonymous #beautiful people #ci #ool #thank you so much to whoever sent this to me!!!#i feel so bad bc i start all these fics but never really finsih tHEM I AM SO !#SORRY RYR YR :(((

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hungline · 5 years

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all our firsts (and our one last)

pairings: namseok, minor namgi, jihope, yoonmin, and taejinkook genre: fluff, angst, growing up together au, rated nc17 warnings: mild sexual content, major character death words: 2692

summary: Namjoon can clearly remember all their firsts, but at their last, he can't let go.

Here is the story of how Namjoon and Hoseok fell in love, broke up, fell in love again, and broke up once more before coming back together.

⇢ day one of namseok week 2018

The first time they meet, Namjoon is four and Hoseok is five.

Namjoon is new in Gwangju, unfamiliar with the scenery and still unsure of whether he'll make any new friends or not. Hoseok sits beside him in his new class and when recess time comes, Hoseok immediately turns to face Namjoon and introduces himself.

They play tag and Hoseok manages to wrangle the rest of their class into the game until it turns into an all-out war and Namjoon is grateful for Hoseok throwing himself in front of the taggers whenever they try to tag Namjoon.

After recess, Hoseok leads him back to the classroom with an arm over his shoulder, his face flushed, and invites Namjoon back to his house later for a round of video games. Namjoon agrees, sure that his mother won't have a problem with it.

She doesn't.

The first time Namjoon tells Hoseok he likes boys, they're both twelve.

Hoseok doesn't gasp or stare at Namjoon in horror. He simply smiles and says, "Me too."

Namjoon smiles back at him, unable to resist that bright grin and goes back to reading. Hoseok watches him for a long while afterward, studying Namjoon's features and the expressions that flit across his face as he reads.

Hoseok nods to himself sometime later, as if confirming something to himself, then turns back to his own book and starts reading again.

Namjoon pretends not to notice.

The first time they kiss, Namjoon is thirteen and Hoseok is fourteen.

It's because of a dare because, of course, it's because of a dare. None of the kids they go to school with will let them get out of this and Namjoon's palms sweat with nerves, his stomach tingling with mild panic. Hoseok shrugs and leans into Namjoon's space once the encouragements from their peers become too loud to ignore.

Hoseok's lips brush gently against Namjoon's and stay there for a moment longer than necessary before Hoseok is pulling away. Namjoon is left wide-eyed and surprised, a little numb to the world around them as their classmates erupt into cheers. Hoseok ignores them and smiles at Namjoon warmly, brushing the younger's hair out of his eyes when his bangs fall into his face.

Namjoon flushes and turns back to face the circle, bowing out of the game a little later with Hoseok right on his heels. They stand on the porch as they wait for Namjoon's mother to pick them up and Namjoon finds that he doesn't know what to say when Hoseok grips his chin and makes Namjoon look him in the eye.

They kiss under the moonlight for a long time.

The first time Hoseok asks Namjoon out, they're both fifteen.

They've been in that place that's between friends and more for over a year now, the gray area giving Namjoon a lot of doubts he isn't sure he can get over with ease. And as the winter formal approaches, Namjoon worries over whether Hoseok will ask him to go with him or not.

Of course, Hoseok assures him later that he shouldn't have ever doubted that, to begin with. Hoseok would never bother going to the formal if Namjoon wasn't the one on his arm.

Hoseok asks him with a bouquet of Namjoon's favorite flowers and a poem that he wrote himself, baring his young and unknowing heart to his best friend.

Namjoon's sure that he first fell in love on that day.

The first time they break up, they are both sixteen and Namjoon doesn't talk to Hoseok for a week.

They avoid each other at school until one day Hoseok stops showing up for a while. It's only three days actually, but it worries Namjoon to no end and on the third day, he makes a beeline for Hoseok's house after school.

Hoseok's mother lets him in with a smile, urging him to remain quiet as he walks up the stairs to Hoseok's room. Namjoon takes a deep breath in then opens the door, not really prepared to see Hoseok in bed with a cast on his leg, arms crossed over his chest as he stares up at his ceiling. The elder startles when he sees Namjoon in his doorway, but waves a hand to silently tell him to further enter his room.

It looks the same as ever, except for a few photos turned down on Hoseok's dresser that Namjoon knows contain him in the frames. He blushes a little and pulls Hoseok's desk chair over to the bed, hesitant to reach out and play with Hoseok's hair like he usually would. Hoseok notices his hesitance and grabs his hand, resting it on top of his head before his eyes flutter shut and Namjoon quickly begins to run his fingers through the dark black locks.

Namjoon apologizes for how he handled the breakup and Hoseok apologizes as well, smiling bitterly when he tells Namjoon how he'd actually planned to approach Namjoon first before breaking his leg. Namjoon only laughs and a little normalcy is returned to them.

Namjoon ends up staying the night.

The first time they agree to be just friends, they're still sixteen and figuring out how to be each other's best friend again.

Hoseok is all smiles, as always, but there's still a feeling of awkwardness lingering in the air whenever they hang out. The elder is freshly out of his cast and Namjoon does his best to keep him from dancing so much, but Hoseok is persistent and stubborn and his passion for dancing won't be paused just because he broke his leg.

Even with the slight discomfort between them, Namjoon doesn't want Hoseok to hurt himself even worse than before and puts his foot down, following Hoseok to all his dance practices.

It isn't until Namjoon attends Hoseok's first underground competition that he truly starts to get it.

While they're there though, Namjoon meets Yoongi, an underground rapper who traveled from Daegu to compete that night. Namjoon is without a doubt taken with him off the bat and he accompanies Hoseok to these events more and more just so he'll get a chance to talk about music with the slightly older boy with cat-like eyes.

Hoseok looks on with jealousy but lets Namjoon have this, unwilling to push himself onto every aspect of Namjoon's life. Because they're friends again ー and good ones at that ー and nothing would justify the way Hoseok wants to tear Namjoon away from Yoongi whenever all three of them meet up. And Namjoon knows that Hoseok is irritated a little because of his new friendship with Yoongi, but he also knows that Hoseok won't interfere because it isn't his place to anymore.

Namjoon is grateful that they're just friends again.

The first time they get back together, Namjoon is nineteen and Hoseok is twenty.

How Namjoon feels is almost identical to the first time they dated, but not ー in a strange way. The feeling has matured into something richer and a little smoother. It's still a little bumpy, jagged in some sections of the edges, but it's better this time around.

Hoseok is mature now as well, not as easily swayed and when they have a problem, they talk about it. Not like last time when they were teenagers and Hoseok would always assume the worst before even getting Namjoon's side of the story.

Because their young love had driven them to extremes, desperate to have this fairytale kind of connection without ever discussing if what they wanted was the same thing. It had put them at each other's throats until it all fell apart and they avoided one another. Until Namjoon went and stayed that night with Hoseok, too scared and too worried to go back home where he wouldn't know if Hoseok was okay ー where he wouldn't know if they were okay.

Now they're older, Namjoon in university while Hoseok is attending dance showcase auditions and amateur dance competitions. Hoseok works at a gasoline station to make ends meets with rent and their bills for the cramped apartment they share as roommates and not as more. But Namjoon doesn't complain because he works at a coffee shop and in his opinion, both of their jobs suck.

They're learning how to be adults with each other and while they are together, Namjoon is careful not to twine themselves together so crudely like they were the first time. Hoseok understands too and so that's how they live for the time being.

Namjoon hopes it'll be enough, but of course, he isn't always right.

The first time they date other people while on break, Namjoon is twenty-two and Hoseok is twenty-three.

They're still roommates because it isn't like they can afford much else, but this time, the relationship isn't at a complete and total end. They're on friendlier terms and don't outright avoid each other like they did when they were teenagers.

Namjoon is at a bar with Yoongi, his arm wrapped around the elder's waist. None of this had actually been planned. Yeah, Namjoon had called Yoongi up and asked him if he wanted to go to dinner with him one night when Hoseok was over at Jimin's place, on their third date by then, but he'd never actually expected his old crush to say yes.

They'd gone to dinner and it had gone shockingly well. Yoongi discussed music just like he had when they first met, but now there was more personal stuff mixed in as well and Namjoon appreciated it all. Their date had gone well and Yoongi had led Namjoon back to his apartment where they had sex on Yoongi's couch before Yoongi broke out his cheapest wine and let Namjoon spend the night in his bed.

The next morning, Namjoon had reached the elevator the same time Hoseok had, both of them surprised to see the other during their walks of shame. But Hoseok had only laughed when Namjoon told him he spent the night with Yoongi because Hoseok had seen it coming and he was still Namjoon's friend after all.

Namjoon had blushed a pretty dusky pink and let Hoseok use him as a crutch when the elevator doors opened and they walked to their apartment together. Hoseok mumbled something about Jimin being a pretty nice guy and that he'd like for Namjoon to meet him sometime and Namjoon had accepted without hesitance.

Neither of them had mentioned the fact they were on break.

So Namjoon has gone on a lot more dates with Yoongi since then, and he likes him, had even introduced Yoongi to Jimin when they had gone on a double date. But it doesn't come close to what he had with Hoseok ー what he's always had with Hoseok. Yoongi's a little tipsy from the two shots they've downed so far and he has that look on his face that Namjoon already knows as his "I want to have crazy, drunken sex later at my place" and Namjoon can't find that he wants to deny Yoongi this.

But when they get there, Yoongi pauses in the middle of taking Namjoon's pants off and looks up at him from where he's kneeling on the floor. "You're still thinking of him."

"What?" Namjoon startles, his eyes making out a slightly-blurry Yoongi by his crotch. "Who?"

"Hoseok."

Namjoon stares at him for a while longer, having no clue what to say and Yoongi smiles at him, nothing bitter or sad about his expression as he stands up. "You should go home, Joonie. I think we both know that this was never going to be more than just sex and conversation."

Yoongi calls a cab for Namjoon then helps him put his jacket on at the door and when Namjoon waves goodbye, Yoongi's still smiling as he waves back before disappearing back into his apartment building.

When he gets home, he finds Hoseok on the couch, crying. Namjoon rushes to his side and between sniffles and the occasional sob, Hoseok tells Namjoon of how he broke up with Jimin because he couldn't stop thinking about him instead. Namjoon only smiles and pets Hoseok's hair, lulling the elder to sleep as he hums a song that Hoseok likes. Then he leans back and studies his childhood best friend, the love of his life.

Namjoon's an idiot for thinking they could really give their all to someone else when they've always had each other. But it's nice to know that they could try at least, they could try and not be bitter about the other trying as well.

A couple months later, Yoongi and Jimin start dating.

The first time they have makeup sex, they're both twenty-seven.

The fight had been over the colors of the new drapes for their living room windows, but it hadn't really been over the drapes. It'd been over all the other things that had been building up to it: Hoseok's new job as stage director, the stress, and all the planning that a neat-freak like him had to do. Namjoon's own job as a high school teacher, worried over some of his students' well-being and fretting how exactly he'll be able to design these lesson plans in a way that will interest all of his students, even the troublesome ones.

So it'd been the build-up that had created such a mess but now they're here, bodies intertwined and never breaking eye contact, apologies still hanging heavy in the air around them. Their hips roll together fluidly, following a rhythm that their bodies know well enough to pick up with ease. Namjoon groans aloud, his head tilted back as their speed picks up and Hoseok moans with him, hands tugging on Namjoon's hair before their lips crash together.

Namjoon knows his mouth will probably bruise because Hoseok is just too rough right now, but this is what he wants. He wants this messy and furious thing with Hoseok.

He wants everything with Hoseok.

The first (and only) time they get married, Namjoon is thirty-three and Hoseok is thirty-four.

The ceremony is a small event, only their close friends and family attend and Namjoon has never felt happier. Yoongi's his best man and Jimin is Hoseok's, but Taehyung is in the first row, holding hands with both of his boyfriends, Seokjin and Jeongguk, as he weeps freely over his friends coming together in matrimony. Namjoon smiles unbearably wide when he says "I do" and Hoseok's grin matches his, the sun paling in comparison.

Hoseok never lets go of him, always touching Namjoon in any place he can get away with at their reception later. They eat a little, then dance a lot and when they cut the cake, Yoongi shoves his plate into Hoseok's face, ensuring a cake fight between the seven of them. The other guests look on politely, but when Namjoon's mother gives him a pointed look, he's quick to put a stop to the impromptu food fight.

They drink some champagne and eat a little more, but when Hoseok drags Namjoon out on the dance floor, it's with purpose. Their first dance goes by well and Namjoon thanks Yoongi for giving him lessons beforehand as Hoseok beams at him proudly for not stepping on his toes the entire time. The speeches come right after and Namjoon's sure his face has never been this red before, but with Hoseok beside him, he can't say that he really minds.

After the reception, when they make love that night it's not for the first or last time.

The last time they love each other, Namjoon is seventy-six and Hoseok is seventy-seven.

Hoseok's on his deathbed and Namjoon can't stop crying. The elder is going off to a better place though and he tells Namjoon as such, assuring him that wherever he'll go, he'll always be waiting for Namjoon to join him, no matter how long it takes. Namjoon's tears only seem to increase and Hoseok smiles at him.

"I love you," Hoseok whispers between them. "Always have and always will."

And long after the elder's grip has gone slack, Namjoon is still holding on tight to Hoseok's hand.

#namseok #namseoknet #nksnet #hyunglinenetwork #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #btsguild #betareadernet #bts #fluff #angst #p:hoseok/namjoon #f:aof(&ool)#s:nsw18 #m: fic

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luimnigh · 2 years

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...so, my counsellor suggested I try and get back into creative writing. I did forum-based RPing for nearly a decade, which ended... unamicably in late 2019. He thought getting back into writing fiction might be an outlet.

So this is just a stream-of-consciousness Gw/enp/ool fic that I'm not gonna put in the tags.

Don't know if I should really be sharing it, guess I'm just used to sharing my writing. Hence having a Tumblr blog.

The paper is tacky beneath her hands as she pounds her fists against it's unyielding surface. The way the light glints off what should be empty space almost seems to mock her.

She used to love the way glossy paper felt and looked. It used to mean escape to her. Now, it only meant exile.

What she would give to be an Exile right now. At least then, she might be able to help.

That's all she really wants to do. Help.

She wants to be a superhero, and superheroes help people. She has the power to do so, more than enough.

Too much.

Too much, and you become useless. You become someone hat stories are written around. Written around, written out, unwritten.

It was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid.

And now she was here. On the other side of the paper, watching events unfold. Watching people, genuine fictional people, give their lives.

No matter how guaranteed they were to come back, it was still pain, it was still suffering. It was still people who needed help, help she could give.

Help she couldn't give.

She isn't part of the story. And when she isn't part of the story, she's little more than the audience.

It was better when she had been the audience. At least then, they were fictional characters, not people. At least then, she hadn't had a taste of what it was like to take part in the story. At least then, she knew there was nothing she could change in this world.

Now, though? She had tasted it. Power, agency, the flow of the narrative. She'd done amazing things, stopped villains, rescued innocents, had a story with themes and structure and a point.

That had been when writers had wanted her, had allowed her into their stories. Now that they didn't…

All she could do was beat against her window to the world.

For as powerful as she was, she couldn't make someone write her.

The only thing worse than being powerless was being not powerful enough.

#i've scheduled this to post when I should be an hour deep into hyperfocusing on a game #so i don't see any comments for like two hours

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marroniere · 9 months

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fic: strength of heart (tenderness of the soul), thranto, NSFW, WIP

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Thrawn/Eli Vanto

Word count: 140,499 words so far (5000-word chapters are posted twice a week, 32 chapters overall)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, mpreg, Thrawn dealing with his traumatic past

Excerpt:

They come to the Seekers' Shadehouse—or the Ardok ranch, as it is listed on the map—the day before the sky-walkers are supposed to be here. It is a long aircar ride from the nearest spaceport. Thrawn notices how Eli marvels at the Ool nature. It is the end of summer here, and the trees are vivid blue and dark purple. Now and then, the aircar passes spike-apple gardens. Ool spike-apples, especially the coral and gold ones, are considered the best in the Ascendancy. Thrawn, however, prefers the smaller, pale pink ones. They are not as sweet, and the juice does not drip on everything around you.

Where spike-apples fall on the ground, they are swallowed up by thick, emerald green grass with occasional purple streaks. The gardens in the aircar window turn into saari fields, oceans of pearly pink. Eli, a man who has seen many worlds and can hardly be surprised by anything, is glued to the window, like a child.

“I have not seen you this excited for a long time,” Thrawn says.

Eli turns to Thrawn, a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Would be cool to move here, don’t you think?” he asks. “One day. When all this shit is over.”

“I would prefer to stay on Naporar,” Thrawn says. “The Stybla homestead has one of the best schools in the Ascendancy. Larass will go there.”

Eli’s facial heat jumps up, suddenly.

“No, I mean—”

He sighs.

“When we’re both old and cranky and tired of Naporar. I think this is the perfect place for me to be that old Lysatran man with a blaster rifle. Sitting on a porch. Drinking my k’haito.”

Some things, Thrawn notes mentally with amusement, are the same even on those worlds that could not be more different. Porch-sitting, a popular Lysatran pasttime, has almost become a national sport on certain backwater planets of the Ascendancy. The Chiss, competitive as they are, approach it as an endurance test—who can stay in a rocking chair for the longest time.

“When we’re both old,” Eli says, and Thrawn wants to correct, “If we ever grow old.” They are both warriors, first and foremost. Warriors do not die of old age.

Then he reminds himself that he has every reason to strive to achieve that. He wants to grow old with Eli. He also wants to see the man Larass will become.

Eli’s jacket does a good job of hiding the sidearm. Thrawn’s charric is hidden in the same backpack with all the other things that Thrawn packed just in case. A set of particularly loose and soft pajamas. Super-absorbent pads. A water spray. Strong pain inhibitors. Bacta. Disposable underwear. Baby clothes and diapers. One green pacifier.

Anticipating everything is Thrawn’s habit.

#thranto #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #eli vanto #mitth'raw'nuruodo

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doctorwenqing · 3 years

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here’s my favorite lines from each of the fics i’ve written:

My Neighbor the Bendu - “Some of us are able to live long past that.” Mari couldn’t think of any numbers bigger than one hundred.

Family Heirloom - She’d been passed from one family member to another like a family heirloom, and it was just time for her to be inherited by the next in line.

A Familiar Face - “I’ll always come back,” she had told her brother. After so long lost in her own mind, she had finally come back. Now the question was: would Thrawn?

Our Sister - Thrawn would do the same for him, after all. “Very well,” Thrass said after the departing woman. “I will strive to achieve that rank as quickly as possible.”

Open When the Mission is Over - Thrawn would finish up this one final aspect of the mission and defeat the rebels as quickly as possible. Then, he would finally go home.

Her Starday - Borika wished she could go back and tell Rik’ardok “When you belong to a family and have people who love you, star days can actually be wonderful. But in a way, every day will be wonderful, even the bad ones.”

Ex, Why Zi? - “Not to seem too full of ourselves, but we are two of the best tactical minds in the CEDF. And the best plan you could come up with is ‘hide in a bush until she leaves’?” Thrawn asked. Ziara shrugged. “I’m off duty.”

Ool-Tide Greetings - Nightmares were a common occurrence at Ardok Ranch, but on the night before Life Day, they were a rare event. Most of the girls were too tired to have any dreams at all, and those that did only dreamt of large winged creatures flying through the sky.

I am the fire and I am the forest and I am a witness watching it - “May smiling warriors be fortunate or sumthin’”

Well, Better than the Alternative - But she had always been curious, and “why?” was built into her like it was part of her DNA.

I Don't Remember Him - “I see you not just as a brother-in law, but as a brother. But Borika was my family first.”

Oh no Cohbo - “When I was taken from my parents, did my father weep for me? Did my mother put her life in danger to try to find me? Did I have siblings who asked where I went? Was I ever loved like this?”

#this just seemed like a fun idea lol #i feel like i almost always have one line i write that i'm really proud of #y'all are welcome to steal this idea #fanfiction #fanfic #also yes there's one fic missing for... obvious reasons

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ragingpancake · 3 years

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The Drought

A/N: Hello again! So, trying to get back into the swing of things so I searched for some fic prompts and came across this one! Prompt at the end. Feel free to drop prompts into my ask! I'd love to write more! Here’s what’s frustrating: out of the entire Atlantis expedition, approximately three quarters of them are ATA gene carriers, all thanks to Carson’s finely tuned gene therapy. Awesome. Great. They now have an entire plethora of people to pick from for ‘light bulb duty’ down in the ancient labs, but the problem is, while there are plenty of people to choose from now, Atlantis and her ancient tech just refuses to work for anyone as well as she works for John fucking Sheppard. It’s infuriating, honestly, but Rodney supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Captain Kirk has managed to practically sleep his way across the Pegasus Galaxy and if Atlantis was a person, of course she would be a she, so of course she would line up with the rest of hussies and--. Hmph. Maybe it’s John that’s the hussy. Lieutenant Colonel Hussy. Okay, that’s almost funny.

“What are we doin’ here again?” Sheppard asks in that nasally, whiny voice he has and it brings Rodney back to the present where they’re currently testing out what very well could be the galaxy’s version of a blood sugar monitor but it only wants to work with John. “I want you to put your finger under the little…. Thing there and think it on,” Rodney says, like it’s the most self-explanatory thing in the world. The duhis left unsaid but it’s there, hanging in the air. He’s also trying very hard not to think about where else he might like Sheppard to put his finger and-- “Why?” It’s infuriating, not only that John Sheppard is the only one that Atlantis responds so easily to, but that he doesn’t even seem to care. Rodney can feel the tips of his ears go red at the annoyance, but there’s that almost smug smile that touches Sheppard’s lips and God, he’s so annoying. And handsome. And smart (not as smart as Rodney of course, but then--) Right. Ancient tech. “It’s not working,” John intones and Rodney frowns down at the tablet. “Well, you aren’t trying hard enough.” “Trying hard enough at what? I’m doing exactly what you said, Rodney.” “Think harder then.” “Can’t we just try something else? Somethin’ cool?” And John honest to God whines and Christ, why is this Rodney’s life? “I just need you to think it on, Colonel,” Rodney snips mostly because they’ve been down here in this lab for the last hour or so and it’s just a couple of them and for the last fifty eight minutes and thirty two seconds, Rodney has been acutely aware of just how close Sheppard is sitting to where he’s working and he just wants to be done. John sighs and screws his eyes shut for all of three seconds before he opens one slowly, glancing down at the machine. Nothing. “I don’t wanna say I toldja so, but--.” “Not another word,” Rodney huffs and he drops the tablet onto the table, lifting a hand to massage his temples. He’s over this. He’s really, really over this and when he glances up at Sheppard to dismiss him, he’s slightly embarrassed to find the Colonel already looking at him, an unreadable look on his face. “I guess that’s it then,” he says, and he sounds annoyed. “We’re done for the day.” “Well, I guess I’ll see ya later then,” John says, standing from his stool and waving lazily at the crew before he slouches out of the lab, Rodney looking after him as he does. It takes all of two seconds before Zelenka speaks up. “Ahem,” he says, feigning clearing his throat. “Perhaps you would like it if I got you a glass of water?” “Not near the ancient tech,” Rodney answers automatically before he realizes exactly what Radek said. “What?” “Clearly, you are incredibly thirsty.” It’s not just Rodney’s ears that go pink this time, but his cheeks burn too. “I have no idea—” “Oh please,” Radek smirks. “The tech works just as well for any other gene carrier here on Atlantis, you know that. We all know you just pretend it doesn’t to give you an excuse to get Sheppard down here and ogle him for an hour.” “First of all, there is no ogling anyone here and second of all, you knowthe city responds best to him! We can’t all be natural gene carriers with the stupid hair and that stupid slouch and--.” “Relax, Rodney,” Radek says and he’s still teasing but maybe there’s something else there too. “For what it is worth, Miko, Simpson and myself believe that the Colonel is just as… parched.” “Wait, wait, wait, you’re saying—No, no. You’re wrong. It’s not possible.” Radek shrugs. “If you say so.” He’s content to let it go and go back to work, and Rodney thinks it really sucks that Zelenka would put such a thought in his head and then just goes back to pretending he hasn’t completely melted Rodney’s brain. Well, what the hell is he supposed to do about this now?

He gives it a few days, lets himself ruminate on it and he’s still pretty certain that Radek is full of it. But then they’re back to the labs, Sheppard back on lightbulb duty, except this time they’re alone and Rodney cannot… well, he can’t quite look away from the Colonel, no matter how hard he tries. Not even when the blood sugar monitor turns on at the slightest thought from Sheppard and--. “Rodney? Something on your mind, pal?” “No,” Rodney answers, perhaps just a little too quickly, eyes snapping down to the tablet in his hand as he catalogs the response the tech is giving John. “Why?” Because he can’t leave well enough alone. “IS there something on yourmind?” John’s response is just as defensive, an emphatic no, and Rodney knewthat Radek was full of shit, that little--. There’s a shrill alarm that sounds for a fraction of a second before the sprinklersthat Rodney didn’t even know existed come on, immediately soaking them both. John curses and stands up from the stool quickly and Rodney very nearly slips in an attempt to get the tablet out of the water, only managing to keep from busting his ass when John reaches for him and suddenly, they’re standing there so close and--. Thirsty. Yes, perhaps he is. “Sheppard, I--.” He doesn’t get a chance to say what he is when John leans forward and crushes their lips together and oh. Oh. This is… this is nice. He relaxes against it, perhaps leaning into it a bit more than he means to and it seems to continue for an eternity before John finally, perhaps reluctantly, pulls away. “Didn’t think you’d ever get with the program, Rodney,” John mutters and he looks a little embarrassed but a lot proud of himself and--. “Sorry it took so long to get the tech workin’,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and Rodney realizes he should probably figure out how to turn the sprinklers off, but he’s a little dumbstruck right now, to be frank. “I was hopin’ that if we had to try again, no one else would be here so I could--. Well. So I could see if you were maybe just as dehydrated as I am.” Sonofabitch. Zelenka was right. “Absolutely bone dry.” “Well,” Sheppard says, and there’s a hint of an almost devious smile touching his lips. “Let’s see what we can do about quenching that, huh?” Definitely Lieutenant Colonel Hussy. But this time, Rodney’s more than okay with it.

Your prompt: Person B staring admiringly at Person A from across the room. A friend whispers into Person B's ear: 'Why are you so thirsty?'

#sga fic #mcshep #ship: mcshep #rodney mckay #john shepprd #atlantis ships it #prompt fic #stargate atlantis #sga #first kiss #pining john #oblivious rodney

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nxrdist · 2 years

Text

𝕺𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖞||TLK Fic|| FinanxOC||Nine

A/N: So, it's been a year now since I updated but finally it’s here. And I have a massive trigger warning for ya’ll. Childbirth and Death. Yes, if you recall where we were in the story you know what’s coming. Originally there was going to be more to this chapter, but I decided to leave it this one scene so you can completely skip it if you like. Tbh this topic is what blocked me so long from writing any more on this fic, but I’m hoping now I may be able to get back to updating again now that it’s over with.

Words:3632

Births were stressful and Tove had never liked being present for them. Against her will she had been for there for birth of both her sisters and at Sigrid’s birth she’d been a panicky wreck. The other women had wanted her to help learn to bring babies into the world, but after witnessing her mother pass while birthing her other sister Astrid, Tove had been as useless as a bump on a log. Every time her stepmother had called out in pain, she’d flinched away until the adults had shooed her from the room. That had been part of the reason she hadn’t wished to be present for Igna giving birth despite her sister in law’s assurances she didn’t expect her to be in the room. Tove thanked all the Gods in Asgard that Gisela was just as understanding.

So that was how she ended up fetching Ealhswith, Abbess Hild, and the midwife when Gisela sent Stiorra to her in the night. The Lady had woken up with abnormal pains and thought the babe must be coming. When she looked back on it, Tove would wonder at the wording and whether Gisela had known something was wrong. It turned out she was in fact in labor, but instead of being called to aid the ladies Tove was to watch and care for the children. She had taken all three of Uhtred’s children to Sihtric’s house to keep them as calm as possible besides it was still the middle of the night. They never would have gotten any sleep at home had they stayed while their mother was in labor.

Instead of sleeping, Tove sat at the table in the kitchen sharpening her seax. She could have slept, Cedric had accompanied her to the house, but found herself unable to do so. Despite not being there, Tove was on edge.

“Births….,” she exhaled softly.

Loving children and in fact even secretly hoping for at least one of her own someday could not sway the anxiety which the act of bringing said children into the world brought her. Pausing in her work, Tove stared down at the blade thinking of Igna. Had she survived? Certainly, she must have, she was a hearty woman. Forcibly putting the thought from her mind, Tove was about to resume her work when she heard a creak on the stair, and she turned to find Uhtred the younger standing there.

He didn’t say anything, and Tove could see the uncertainty in him by the way he wrung the hem of his tunic in his hands. Arching an eyebrow with interest she inclined her head for the boy to join her at the table. After a few moments hesitation he scurried over and took a seat next to her which she didn’t expect, but she said nothing. Uhtred watched her without saying a word for a long time. She didn’t mind, though Tove did find the boy a tad on the weak side it did not make her dislike him. He was simply gentler than his brother or sister even and she scarcely thought Uhtred would ever make an effective warrior of the boy. Still, he was clever enough and she could appreciate that.

Finally, after what must’ve been fifteen minutes, he spoke up. “Mother will be fine.”

It was clear he was attempting to assure himself more than her. He had been too young, only two winters, when Osbert was born and so wouldn’t remember that birth. This was the first sibling he would recall being born.

“Of course,” Tove reassured.

Silence reigned again for some time. All that could be heard in the kitchen was the crackle of fire, whetstone on blade, and the steady breathing of the two occupants. Then, feeling compelled to say more, Tove sighed quietly and set her task aside to fix her gaze on Uhtred. He looked up at her with somewhat watery eyes and she saw him in that moment how her Lord saw him.

“You should not worry little Lord,” she said firmly. “Birth is a trial women must endure. Do not doubt your mother, she is strong.”

Uhtred frowned. “Strong men are still killed in battle.”

Though it was an astute observation for a five-year-old to make, it irked her instantly. This sort of wit she expected from Stiorra, but besides her Tove was used to Osbert’s utter wonder at the world and the wisdom of adults. Schooling her expression, Tove allowed a trace of amusement to show in an effort to reassure the boy.

“You are right. However, many men live as well. Your father for instance has fought many battles.” As she spoke, Tove went back to sharpening her seax.

Uhtred was quiet again clearly thinking over what she had said. When he eventually yawned and went to put his head down on the table Tove clicked her tongue in a reprimanding fashion at him. Against his weak protest that he wished to wait up with her, Tove sent him off to bed with a ruffle of his hair and a firm goodnight.

“We needn’t both be exhausted when your baby brother or sister arrives.” Said Tove lightly as Uhtred climbed the stairs.

And so, they waited, no word came during the night, nor in the morning when Tove sent for a maid from the house to cook for the children. She was after all many things, but an accomplished cook was not one of them. The children ate peacefully and then when Sihtric’s children went about their chores Uhtred and Osbert helped while Stiorra begged to braid her hair once again. As usual, Tove was unable to deny her, so the morning and early afternoon was spent with Stiorra unbraiding and rebraiding her hair. Tove did have to admit for her age she was quite good at it.

By midafternoon, Tove was starting to again feel some anxiety that they hadn’t heard anything on the Lady’s progress or condition so she sent Rypere, whose eye she could not meet, to check. He returned an hour later looking a tad bit harassed with a furrowed brow and serious mouth. She said nothing but arched a brow waiting for him to find the words and only hoping he was smart enough not to alarm the children.

“She ah…” He paused. “The Lady is resting at the moment I am told. Obviously, they would not let me in the room, but I can stay with the children if you wish to check on her.”

Nodding sharply, Tove rested a hand on Stiorra’s shoulder giving it a brief squeeze.

“Watch the boys while I go and see your mother.”

She nodded and went to see what Elflæd was doing. Stiorra occupied, Tove fixed Rypere with a serious look meeting his eye for the first time since her outburst a few days ago.

“That was all they told me I swear Lady.”

Though it was clear he was nervous otherwise Rypere would not have called her Lady. He could be relied upon to always respect her wish in forging the title at very least. His nerves caused her stomach to turn and Tove only inclined her head toward the table in a silent invitation to sit before she swept from the room.

When Tove arrived at Uhtred’s house things were too still for her liking. The other guard, a man called Aethelwulf looked quite grim as she approached but said nothing as he stepped out of her way. Tove followed his movement with a critical eye, but he said nothing as she passed into the house. Inside was much the same, Ealhswith sat at the table looking quite exhausted and she startled as Tove entered the room. For a moment she looked like a startled deer and the next the Saxon woman was throwing her arms about Tove’s neck hugging her so tightly that Tove went stiff as a board. Composing herself quickly, she pried Ealhswith off her and held the shorter woman at arm’s length with an inquisitive gaze.

“Rypere said Gisela is resting?”

“She is…she is so tired.”

“Childbirth is a lot of work,” Tove said slowly.

The Saxon gave a short shake of her head her expression becoming grave.

“I have seen it once before in my previous life,” Ealhswith said quietly as though speaking too loudly might disturb the air. “The mid wife says the child is turned the wrong way. We have been attempting to turn him, but.” And Ealhswith shook her head. “Gisela has been resting the last half hour or so. She is exhausted Tove. Perhaps… if you’d like to see her?”

Tove set her jaw and nodded which prompted Ealhswith to lead her up the stairs to Gisela and Uhtred’s bedroom. Inside was Hild, the assistant some girl called Annis or something and the midwife whose name Tove had never cared to learn. The midwife was a short and spindly looking woman with wiry fingers that didn’t look near strong enough for the task of turning a babe, but she perhaps wisely kept her opinions to herself as the woman also had a fierce look in her eye as she surveyed the Dane.

“Lady?” Annis or Anne spoke. “Are you not meant to be with the children?”

Before Tove could reply, the midwife piped up. “Yes, this is no place for a warrior.”

The way the woman spat the word warrior made Tove’s eye twitch with annoyance. She had not realized the scorn with which the woman regarded her, though, whether it was because she was a Dane or because she shied away from the task of aiding in a birth Tove neither knew nor cared. Fixing the midwife with an equally as sour look she replied.

“It seemed it had been quite some time since we’d received news. I thought I’d come check on Gisela.”

“Oh, and you’d know would you.” The midwife mumbled under her breath.

Her sour look turning to one of anger, Tove opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by Hild.

“You’ve told her the situation, Ealhswith?” Prompted the Abbess.

Ealhswith though somewhat dazed from tiredness and staring worryingly at Gisela nodded.

Hild looked to Tove then with an admonishing expression but pressed on clearly looking to keep the room as calm as possible. “She’s been resting awhile. We were just about to wake her. You could sit beside her if you like? I’m sure she would find your presence a comfort.”

Tove bit the inside of her cheek. She very much doubted her nervous aura would be at all comforting for Gisela just then, but the encouraging look on Hild’s face stopped her from saying so. Gisela had become like a sister to her. In this she could try to be there for her as the Lady had been for her on many an occasion.

Hesitantly, Tove moved towards the bed. Grudgingly taking direction from the midwife on where best to sit so she would not be in the way of her work. She did manage to keep herself from scowling at the old bat once she was seated. Hild was at Gisela’s other side gently shaking her awake.

“Lady.” Whispered Hild. “Lady, tis time to try again if you have recovered some strength.”

Tove could not help chewing the inside of her lip. Gisela was quite pale.

“Lady Tove has come to see you.” Annis added as Gisela began to stir.

“Tove?” Gisela murmured softly.

Tove cleared her throat and put on her most convincing smile. “I’m here.”

“The children?”

“Are well,” Tove affirmed.

Listlessly, Gisela gave a nod of thanks a small smile on her lips, though, it almost immediately disappeared as her expression contorted in pain and her body stiffened. Tove could not help stiffening as well as her eyes immediately shot to the midwife. The woman’s face was set in a serious expression as she hurried to check something and quickly began barking orders at Annis. Hild crossed herself and Tove could hear her praying for Gisela’s well being under her breath.

Frowning, Tove sent a prayer to Freya on Gisela’s behalf. She was not convinced the Christian’s nailed God would protect a pagan as their God demanded his followers worship only Him. What a ridiculous notion. As if she would worship only Odin who knew as much of childbearing as she did. Having known they would invoke their God instead of Freya, Tove had sacrificed a goat she bought for Freya just a week prior. So, she prayed that Freya remember her sacrifice and would protect her friend.

All was silent as the women worked except for Gisela’s labored breathing, groans whenever a contraction wrecked her body and the whispered instructions between Anne and the midwife. Try as she might, Tove could not relax. Every time Gisela gripped her hand like a vice, Tove shuddered inside. She thought Gisela had had easy births. It was what the Lady had told her anyway. This reminded her of the vague memory long ago of Astrid’s, but Tove pushed it down. Starting down that dark path would do her no good, instead she focused on singing a soft melody to Gisela in Danish. It seemed to calm her if only just and likely only for that reason did the midwife not tell her to shut up.

“I can’t get the babe to turn.” Tove heard Anne whisper to the midwife who had a distinct frown on her face for a while by then.

Gisela did not appear to have heard, but she had, and Tove looked to find Ealhswith’s eyes. She was not looking at her though her expression was worried. It was beginning to make sense why they were not having Gisela push yet which had slowly been becoming odd to her. Shooting a look toward Gisela, the midwife said something, but it was so quick and quite that the only word Tove caught was breach which in the context of the situation made no sense to her.

While she spoke English quite well there were still some contexts, words or phrases that stumped her at times. This was a most inconvenient time for such a moment, but she had only ever heard the word in reference to breaching a wall. The seriousness with which the woman spoke though told her all she needed to know. Whatever it meant was just as dire.

The near silence of the room was broken by the midwife who turned to Tove and spoke in a more gentle manner than she had thus far. “I think you might wish to check on the children?”

Immediately a scowl unfolded across Tove’s face causing Hild to exhale heavily.

“And why should I do that? The men are well equipped to ensure no harm comes to them.” Tove challenged. “Or do you simply wish me gone?”

Hild laid a hand on her shoulder. “Of course not. You may stay as long as you wish.”

And Tove missed the look the Abbess shot at the midwife as though she were mad for even attempting to remove the young warrior. The midwife only huffed and went about her business preparing for something or other. Whatever it was, Tove hoped she intended to hurry as Gisela was not looking at all well. Her skin previously pale looked positively sallow and her eyes rimmed with circles clearly from her exhausted state, but also her grip upon Tove’s hand seemed rather weaker than it first had. Pressing her lips together, Tove squeezed Gisela’s hand, but she barely felt a response and Gisela’s eyes were closed. It appeared she’d fallen back to sleep. Later she would wonder if the had been a squeeze back at all.

“I need you two,” the midwife indicated Ealhswith and Tove. “To leave so that I may focus.”

Before Tove could reply, Hild was at her side again her expression grave. When she looked to Ealhswith a tear was running down her cheek. It dawned on her then though she had known it in her gut.

“No.” Tove’s voice was hardly above a whisper.

“Please Tove.”

Scowling, Tove shook her head. “I have seen worse than anything you may be required to do. I will not leave her.”

Hild exchanged a look with the midwife who was beginning to look anxious to be rid of her.

“This is different than a battlefield child.”

“I am not a child. You had better save her’s.”

With that the midwife threw up her hands and sighed. At some point during their quarreling Annis had escorted Eahlswith from the room and was just returning. With the return of her assistant, the midwife immediately got to work without another word to Tove. Hild came to sit beside her, putting her hands over Gisela and Tove’s entwined fingers.

“Pray with me?” Hild asked.

She almost said no, but Tove supposed just then that the more Gods petitioned the better -even if the Christian God was spiteful, Gisela was a good woman he could not scorn her? And so, Tove placed her free hand over Hild’s as she began a prayer for Gisela and the child. Silently Tove prayed again to Freya as tears rolled down her cheeks.

It was not like a battlefield in that the midwife was correct and Tove could not make herself watch the process, though, from the lack of screaming at the knife’s blade it occurred to her somewhere in her subconscious that Gisela was already gone by that point. In fact, much to her shame, Tove had to release the Abbess’s hand at the sight of her friend so that she could empty her stomach. Around that time, the midwife sent Annis to fetch a wet nurse she supposed because the girl was gone when she came up from the bucket. She and Hild scarce breathed when the midwife lifted the babe from the gore and Tove saw that Gisela was indeed right, he was a boy. The tears she’d been restraining flowed freely then at the sight of the child, but he did not cry despite the thump the midwife gave him on the back.

Panic she’d been restraining up until that point broke through then at the sight of the babe’s pale skin. Tove watched intently as the midwife continued to try to aid the child in breathing. He squirmed though feebly. And Tove did not realize she was hyperventilating until Hild grabbed her by the face and forced Tove to look her in the eye.

“Breathe.” Hild said firmly.

“H-he-“

Hild shook her head. “The children will need you to be calm. Breathe Tove.”

But she could not be. All she could see was her mother’s face where Gisela lay. And the silence felt suffocating. Then the boy gave a weak cough and Tove might’ve snapped her own neck for how quickly she turned away from Hild, but the midwife did not look at all please with the sound as the boy made no other and seemed quite still.

Tove let out an almighty wail of anguish then and drew her seax without thinking about it. It was the midwife who looked quite panicked then her eyes wide and staring at the blade.

“Tove! Don’t!” Hild pleaded. “Tis not her fault!”

“I told you to save him!” Tove snarled.

The midwife said nothing. She could do nothing but stare.

“You could not even save her! And now you fail also to save her son?” Tove brandished the blade from Gisela who she could look at to the boy in the midwife’s arms. “Is it because she is a Dane? Do you hate us this much? The wife of the Lord who keeps your miserable city safe?! Or are you simply incompetent?”

Hild grabbed Tove’s blade arm with surprising force and managed to disarm her in her surprise.

“Go.”

The Dane threw Hild a filthy look. How could she protect such a vile old bat? A pitiful woman like that who could no sooner do her job than answer simple questions it appeared. Scowling, Tove shouldered past Hild and out the door past Eahlswith without another word.

Nobody was able to find Tove for two full days after her outburst. Cedric searched the whole city for her and became increasingly furious at her disappearance. He swore even to inform Lord Uhtred of her negligence claiming she had broken her oath by abandoning her post; though, he knew he would do no such thing. Everyone knew how close the two Danish ladies had been, However, after two days her absence was becoming a concern.

Then on the morning of the fourth day, Tove was spotted by a sentry on the wall. She rode at pace from the direction of the forest and said nothing to anyone once passing through the gates. At Uhtred’s house she came to a stop, swung herself from the beast’s back and tied him to a post before heading inside. Stiorra sat at the table there sniffling slightly when she looked up to find Tove standing there looking rather disheveled. Tears filled the girl’s eyes at the sight of her.

“You left. You left us.”

Struck, a tear rolled down the warrior’s cheek as she came to kneel in front of the girl. “I am forever filled with regret at having done so.”

Stiorra broke down into tears then and flung her arms around Tove’s neck. Up until then Stiorra had done her best not to cry, she was the Lady of the house now, but she was only a girl and now a girl with no mother. Tove held her tightly only allowing herself a few silent tears for Stiorra’s grief as the child cried her heart out. In that moment she vowed to herself she would be there for whatever Stiorra needed whether Uhtred remarried or not -for Gisela.

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#finan #the last kingdom #tlk #finan fic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fic #ool fic

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