#sigefrid smut

[arcielee]

Silver Coins

Summary: You are paid to be a pleasure for the baby monk. Paring: Osferth x Female!Reader Word Count: 2374 Warnings: Smutty smut, inexperienced Osferth, oral sex (m and f), p in v. Minors DNI. Author's Note: This is for @eddiemadmunson ♥ I agree there is not enough Osferth fics and there should be more. Here’s just some smutty fluff one shot for your ask. ♥ Also, my Osferth is book canon.  Update: Link for part 2! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy​

Osferth was tall and lean, with an awkward grace to his movement as he sat himself into one of the chairs within your chambers. He kept his feet on the cobblestone and his large palms gripped onto his thighs. 

You thought him to be handsome in a way that was so uniquely his own. What made you agree to this had been when you first saw his eyes. They were a brilliant blue that held no judgment when you spoke to him earlier that night, how they shone with a kindness that you could not recall ever seeing in the gaze of a man before. 

“I am looking to bed one of Uhtred’s men,” your tone was purposefully coy and you relished in the pink that dusted his cheeks.

Oh, the word barely left his bow lips and your touch was gentle to take his hand; his palm was calloused and warm, with long, slender fingers that wrapped around your own in response. He allowed you to pull him away from the crowd, which included the grinning fools that were Sihtric and Finan, and you led him to your room below the tavern.

This was where he now sat, so uncertain as to what to do with his hands. 

You reach for the knot of your wrap dress, removing the layer to reveal a satin chemise you wore beneath. It was soft and fell to your curves, your nipples pebble beneath from the cool air.

His eyes are wide at the sight of you, his pupils swallowing the beautiful blue and his tongue wet his lips. “My lady,” his voice almost a whisper, “I must admit to you, I have not bed a woman before.” 

You were already aware of this, but chose to tease him, moving closer towards him. “Are you not the same man who slain Sigefrid?”

He nods with the tousle of his dirty blonde hair, his gaze shyly cast downwards. 

You are now in front of him, your finger curling beneath his chin to bring his eyes to meet with your own. “Well, I admit that I have never killed a man before, so may I suggest a fair trade,” you continue with a smile. “You can share with me how you killed Sigefried and I will share with you the secrets of my trade.” 

You lean closer and his exhale fans your cheeks, his eyes still wide as he processes your words. “But, my lord, I insist you remove your boots first.”

“Yes, my apologies,” he stammers and you step back with your smile, watching as he is quick to unlace and remove them. His long legs brought him across to place them by the door, then turning to face you again.

Your smile renews at the sight of his bare feet, pale against the grey cobblestone, and you move towards him. He is watchful of how the satin breathes against your curves with your every step closer until you can place your hands, gentle to the touch, on his chest. His breath draws as you come up to your toes and press your lips against his own. 

Osferth seems to balk against your mouth, his lips pressing together and stilting in response, his arms stiff at his sides.  

You pull back, your brow quirks as you see his blue eyes still wide and nervous. “Osferth,” you honey your tone, a gentle smile to your lips. You reach to touch his hands and they relax against your own, following your pull to rest them against the small of your waist. “Do not think, just kiss me.” 

His gaze falls to your mouth and he tilts his head, his lips soft and warm against your own. Your mouth opens slightly, your tongue touching his bottom lip and you can feel him smile. His hands grow bold, pulling you closer against his chest, meeting with the tempo you set. You open your mouth more to deepen the kiss, his tongue following the languid pacing of your own; you nip at his bottom lip and he groans in your mouth.

The sound melts you against his hard chest, enjoying as his large palms trace the curves of your hips and cradle the small of your back. You wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers move to comb through his golden locks. 

He steps and turns you to press your backside against the door, pressing against you and a moan spills from your kiss-swollen lips when you feel his hard length push against your stomach. 

“Osferth,” you whisper and he looks pained as you pull away, until you reach for the belt knotted around his slender waist that holds his albe in place. He helps remove the layers until he is bare waist up, his muscles taut and there is a patch of hair across his chest. 

Your eyes admire the planes of his abdomen and the lines that dip below where his trousers hung. Your mouth waters at the bold outline of his crotch against the fabric. 

Baby monk, you think, incredulous, to yourself and you reach to slip your fingers in the waist and pull him to the bed edge. Your fingers work to unlace and his trousers puddle at his feet; he steps out and backwards until he touches the bed and sits down, watchful and waiting for your lead.

The sight of him bare leaves you almost timid, there is a growing anticipation combined with the warmth wet from his kisses, his touch, between your thighs. You exhale slowly through your open lips, stepping forward and kneeling before him.

He is resting on his elbows, unaware of your slight trepidation to his size, his gaze curious as your hand reaches to curl around his member. A blush returns to his cheeks, the rose color matching his tip and your thumbs wipes the bead of precum, rubbing beneath which elicits a groan that rumbles from the back of his throat. 

Embolden, you move to bring your tongue flat to the underside and follow until your lips wrap around the head, your tongue tasting the hint of him. He groans again when your head begins to move in tandem with your hand, up and down his length to coat him with your saliva.  

You pull back and he watches as you lift your chemise over your head to bare yourself, his jaw slightly slack as his eyes drink in your figure. Your cheeks grow warm with the adoration of his gaze, stepping closer to straddle him and he sighs sweetly with your warmth pressing against his cock. 

He groans when you slowly rock your hips, your silken folds smooth with your spit, sliding the length of his member before your hand reaches to line him with your entrance. 

You are slow to lower yourself, in part to savor the delicious stretch as he fills you, another to try and adjust to his size. Your nails bite into his shoulders and his arms are gentle when they wrap the small of your waist, pulling you flush against him, his chest hair tickling your breasts, and he buries his face into your neck. You gasp when his tongue tastes you, clenching in response, and he groans louder.

“I need but a moment,” your voice is small with the confession.

“My lady, take as long as you need,” he breathes into your neck and your skin rises from the touch of his lips. “We may stay like this all night, if it pleases you.” 

You pull back to look into his eyes, how they shine with an earnestness, and you find his mouth, your kiss slow and searching. He sighs and you begin again to rock your hips into him; you can feel his hold relax, the warmth of his palms as they settle onto your hips and pull you against him.

The motion allows him to reach deep within you. You rest your palms onto his chest and push him to lay back on the bed, your hands bracing as you quicken your rhythm. A soft moan spills from your lips and another groan escapes the back of his throat when your cunt begins to flutter around him. 

You slow your pace, wet lewd noises filling the intimate space. “Please,” he begs. “Show me how to touch you.” 

He bites his bottom lip when you take his hand, bringing his thumb to your mouth. He sighs again when your tongue curls the digit, enclosing your lips around and then pulling it back, a line of spittle from your mouth that breaks and falls to your chin. You lower his palm to fit against the inside of your thigh, pressing his thumb into the bloom above where his cock continues the pace, in and out. 

Your moan starts soft. “It’s…it is that, can you feel…” your voice mewls with his guided touch. 

“I, yes,” there is a sheen of sweat to his features, his focus drawn and torn between admiring the curves of your movement and where his hand now rests. “Right…here?” 

His touch coils the passion in your lower abdomen. “Yes,” your cries wanton and it gives him a confidence to his touch, also quickening his upwards thrusts to meet with your motion. Stars dance in front of your eyes and he moans as your climax rolls in waves, clenching at him for his own release. 

“Oh, God,” he cries out and you feel him pulsating within your velvet walls with his own peak. 

You fall and curl against him, he brings you to the side and waits until your heart rate settles. He is reluctant to let you go, but you give him a kiss, moving to the basin and pouring from the pitcher, grabbing a cloth to wet and wring. You clean yourself before grabbing another, returning to him. “It will be cool,” you warn, your touch gentle. 

Osferth hums his pleasure, “Allow me to stay and we can warm beneath the furs.”

“That was my plan already, lord,” you reply and he smiles with your words.

Curled beneath the furs, he is on his side with one arm holding his head up and his other palm resting beneath your breasts, his eyes watching them rise and fall with your steady breaths. He shares the truth of Sigefried, how he climbed the wall while the men fought, and confronted the Dane and plunged his dagger into his stomach. 

“Were you frightened?” You shiver with your question, turning your head to look at him.

He smiles and you see his cheeks line with dimples. “I admit, in the moment, I did not have the time to dwell on fear, but I can recall that my hands were shaking.” 

You touch his hand, yours so small in comparison to his own. “You did what was needed,” you say and bring his fingertips to your lips.

He leans forward to find your lips once again, another sweet kiss. “Would you allow me…” his voice trails off, a blush to his features as he hems for the words that will allow his hand to move lower. 

You touch his cheek to hold his gaze. “Osferth, I am yours tonight.”

There is the added sweetness of your expressed consent, his willingness to listen to your soft hums of guidance as he nestles between your thighs. His lips are so soft, his breath warm on your cunt, and he is quick to understand and match his ministrations with your soft sighs. The curl of his finger within you was sinful, that begins as a gentle prod until you mewl his name and he continues without complaint until he feels you clenching your release. 

The morning comes too soon and you begrudgingly leave the monk, who is sound asleep on his stomach and bare next to you. You dress quickly, fasten your cloak and your fingers check the pocket’s contents before you come to the bedside with a gentle kiss to wake him. 

His brow quirks when he realizes you are already dressed. “Where are you going?” His voice husky with sleep. 

“I am going to the kitchens to have something prepared for you,” you kiss him again and he hums at your touch. “Dress and come meet me upstairs?” 

He nods sleepily and you move to leave, your cloak billows with your steps as you walk the corridor and take the stairs up, two steps at a time.

The tavern is empty and smells of spilt ale from the night before, mixed with the spices that waft from the kitchen. You fill two plates and return to place them on an empty table, when the door opens and the silhouettes of Finan and Sihtric fill the door frame. 

“We’re closed,” you call to them, a smile to your lips. You move towards them, reaching into your pocket and tossing the felt pouch that hits Finan’s chest. 

His brow furrows but he catches it, the soft jingle of the coins it held. “This silver was for you to bed the baby monk,” he says. 

“Yes,” you reply, your eyes narrowing onto him. “I am returning it to you, no coin spent.” 

Before another word can be said, his dark eyes look past you and you turn to see Osferth surfacing. His hands pat his locks down, a smile on his face when he catches sight of you. 

You move towards him, leaving the Irishman and the Dane, and move to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his lips to your own one last time. 

He responds without the embarrassment from last night, softening against your touch and you smile when you pull back. “Do you have time for break fast?” 

There is a beat of silence, with Osferth blushing from your affection and Sihtric dumbstruck, before Finan finally speaks. “Afraid not, missus. Lord Uhtred requires us to ride out. We have much to discuss today,” he moves forward to clasp a hand on Osferth’s shoulder, pulling him towards the door. 

You sit down on the bench, picking at one of the plates and watch them tuck the monk between, grinning fools and arms draped around his shoulders, pushing through the door and into the morning light. 

arcie’s masterlist

[misguidedasgardian]

The Last Raid

MASTERLIST

Summary: You are a norsewoman, a Viking shieldmaiden from Norway, you were riding with the brothers Erik and Sigefrid, when Uhtred takes back the princess the army disbands, and you go on your own. 

Pairing: Osferth x Shieldmaiden!lreader 

Warnings: TLK AU, war, death, smut, profanity, religious themes, pagan rituals, and much more

Wordcount:  1.5 k

Notes: Is this a story? or a one shot? nobody knows hehe 

The army of Danes that you were riding with had been annihilated, completely destroyed by the army of King Alfred and the command of Uhtred the Daneslayer, that is what you got for making an alliance with the Danes, you should have stayed with your people, with the Vikings from the North, from Norway.

After someone in the middle of the fight hit you in the head, you fell limply in the middle of the battle, when you regained your bearings, you could only see what was left of your “army” running for the hills, leaving you alone. 

So you decided to go your own way, you didn’t fit with them anyways, but now you were alone, you luckily had time to gather your things, your horse and your weapons before the camp was completely destroyed. You rode until you came across a huge river, you didn’t have a clue of where you were, but you needed to wash away the blood from your enemies and the dirt from the fight.

You haven't come across anyone so you gathered you were alone, so you discarded your coat of mail, the leather shirt underneath, your boots and your thick leather pants, you only left the long shirt to cover in case someone did come along. You didn’t even have the heart to undo your braids. 

You let yourself relax as you cleaned your face from the dirt and dried blood, you even submerged your head under the water, and when you emerged you let yourself hear the birds chirping from afar and even though the water was freezing, it was beautiful, calm, peaceful.

Were you going to try and make a life here like your grandfather had intended? you were growing weary of the fight, you wanted to settle, to plant, to farm, to have a house of your own with a big hall in which you could gather your friends and family… which you were lacking.

If you came close to one of those Saxon villages, would they let you stay? Would they give you a job? or would they hate you and pursue you for being a Viking?, the only settlement the vikings from Norway had in England had been destroyed, to find more of your people was going to be difficult… 

You were so deep in your own thoughts that when you noticed the presence behind you, it was too late. You turned around quickly and you tried to run to shore, to your belongings, to your axe and sword, but a smiling man stood right by them, his hand in his own sword, so you took a step back, in fear. 

You were still in the water, but you still had something. You extracted a small knife from a Garter you had tied in your thigh, and came face to face with four men. They had singular appearances, they did not look Dane, not at all, but they didn’t look Saxon either. 

“She is a Dane, Uhtred”, warned one, that by the looks of him and his accent, was one himself 

“Aren’t you a clever one?”, you mocked, “nothing escapes you, except, I am not a Dane” 

“With a sharp tongue”, mocked the one who seemed to be the leader

“She is pretty Lord”, said a blonde, with wide innocent eyes and strange clothes, they all laughed, they made your skin crawl and you tightened the grip on the handle of your blade

“Baby Monk fell in love!”, mocked the one that was near your things, perhaps you should take that one first, grab your ax, you could at least take another one with you, they did not had a bow, so, they will have to come close to you to attack you, you looked at the path you were going to need to run by, careful of the sharp rocks under the water. Three long jumps and you could take him…

You took one step and the one they called Uhtred raised his hand, you looked into his eyes and you could tell he had all but read your mind, looking at the path in front of you and then at his man.

“Finan”, he called, and then he also seemed to notice, and he took a defensive position, so your plan was ruined, then you looked at the other Dane, and then at the priest looking one, who would be easier to kill?

“We will not hurt you”, Uthred said, showing you his hands, you were surrounded, and they were four warrior men, you did not believe him

“Four men, one woman, I know how this ends”, you growled, you looked to your knife and even though you wished a glorious death in battle, taking your own life seemed a better choice than to be… taken by these men. So you turned your knife and turned it towards you

“There is not need for that”, said Uthred hastily, truly scared

“I think there is”, you said defensively, holding the knife to your own chest

“We will not hurt you”, their easy way of carrying themselves turned serious, all four men looking at you wide-eyed, “I give you my word”, he said, taking a step back, his men followed him, as a sign of peace, so you relaxed your stance, “who are you?”, he asked, looking at your things

“A Viking shield maiden”, you answered quickly, “From Norway”, you said looking at the one that called you a Dane

“What is your name?”, he asked

“(Y/N), Bjorndottir, daughter of Bjorn Ironside”, his eyes went wide, as the dane’s, he all but wanted to kneel

“Bjorn, King of Kattegat? King of Norway?”, he asked, you nodded, “I’m Uhtred”, he introduced himself

“I know who you are, Uhtred of Bebbanburg, or Uthred Ragnarson, or the Dane slayer, or the Godless”, you listed 

“You heard of me”, he said with a mocking smile

“I like to “hear” of my enemies”, you said, “or my leader’s enemies”, you continued

“This are my men, Finnan, Sithric, and Osferth”, he said pointing at each of them, you nodded, acknowledging them

“Why are you alone? I saw you in the battlefield”, said Finnan, “your army is far away by now, or what’s left of it”

“Those bastards left me for dead”, you said simply, “they only wanted me for my influence, that is gone now, along with my respect”, you said quickly, you relaxed the arm that held your knife 

“Where are you heading?”, Uhtred asked

“I don’t know”, you answered truthfully

“Where would you like to go?”, he asked then

“First? dry land, I’m freezing”, you said bitterly, and they all seemed to notice, and they took another stepback, Finan walking away from your things and standing by his leader, so you walked to your clothes, drying yourself with your bloodied shirt, and then disposing of it. 

“Do you mind?”, you asked, looking at them over your shoulder, and they turned around, so you could dispose of your wet dress, and changing quickly into clothes from your bag

Once you were comfortable, you turned to the men, who turned back to look at you

“So, you have something to eat?”, you asked

Two hours past, a fire was lit, the night had fallen, and you were roasting a couple of rabbits

“Why are you here? Bjorn Ironside is not in this country”, asked Sithric, you looked back at him

“My father is a bastard who left me me as soon as he noticed I was a girl and when he got tired of humping my mother”, you said dismissively, “He is terrorizing lands further than Frankia”, you saw them share looks

“So, why are you here?”, asked Uhtred

“I wanted to make a name for myself”, you confessed, “battles, glory, lands…”

“So, what happened?”, asked Finnan, by his accent, you realized he must have been from that country they called Ireland 

“Couldn’t find any of those things”, you said simply, “who would have thought that slaughtering farmers and their families was not going to be as glorious as everyone said?”, you mocked, “I don’t like it”

“What do you want?”, he insisted

“A land to sow, a house to live in… something quiet, but I do like a good fight, I guess… I’m a sellsword now”, you whispered looking at the meat between your greasy fingers 

“Pledge your sword to me”, he demanded, “fight for me and you can settle in Cuccham, the lands I’m the Lord of”

“I don’t want to kill more innocent people, or taking things I have not earned”, you said, as terms for your allegiance 

“Good, we will not have you do any of those things”, he said, certainly, you barely nodded, “we are not very elite men, Finan here was a slave when I met him, Sihtric if the bastard son of Kjartan, and the baby monk, is the bastard son of King Alfred, turned monk, and now turned sword”

“King Alfred?”, you asked, “And Earl Kjartan?”, they only nodded, “Alright, I like this, a group of misfits, bonded by loyalty, I like it”, you said, clapping your hands, “My sword is yours, Uhtred Ragnarson, as long as you not ask of me anything that will bring me dishonor” 

He only smiled, as did their men

[legitalicat]

Forged From Death - Sihtric Kjartansson x Widow!Reader

An: Thank you so much @foxyanon for the request and officially turning me into a Sihtric girl. I hope this is everything you wanted. And @zaldritzosrose thank you for creating the header you are amazing!

Masterlist here!

Separate from the normal CW section for a special attention. This is going to be dark as reader thinks cruelty of her husband, Sigefrid, and her father towards those around them. No explicit examples of violence or abuse. I really was just trying to capture emotions without talking of direct acts.

CW: Language, political marriage really, Sigefrid is not a good man, neither was reader's father, warlord husband and father, scared child, character death, P IN V sex, fingering, dirty talk, gets quite dirty lots of smut, breeding kink, vague talks of pregnancy kink, she/her pronouns, use of you, reader not really described or named, FLUFFY, Stepdad!Sihtric, found family trope, soulmates trope kinda, love and lust and first sight

Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x reader

Word Count: 6.2k

You knew what you were. A bargaining chip, a prize. Something akin to a crown, symbolizing power. With your own father being a man who bargained in fear rather than respect, you weren’t surprised when your husband was the same.

Sigefrid Thurglison, rather quickly upon marrying you, decided his family’s wealth and power would be found in England. So, you sailed along with him and his brother to find this for yourselves. You, the dutiful wife, who knows your fate would be worse had you denied your father’s arrangement. You, who disappointed your father from birth by just being a daughter, who he could only use as a piece in his games but never actually respect. You, who married a man just like him.

You remained silent throughout. You played your part well, perhaps too well. Your name was used as a way to remind men of the force your husband could bring upon England. Even if they weren’t directly familiar with your father, they remembered the tales their fathers spoke to them, and they bowed at Sigefrid and Erik’s feet.

Until they met a man by the name of Uhtred. You couldn’t tell if he wanted to die or if he was just too stupid to realize that death was a very real possibility. But he was quick to anger your husband and his brother through way of opposition. And, apparently, Uhtred did not heed warnings well. He was unconcerned with the possibility of your father showing up.

“If he wanted England, he would be here,” said a voice from behind Uhtred upon your first meeting. You looked for the source. When you saw the man, you were certain your heart stopped for a moment.

You had seen beauty before. Land, sky, men, women, all of which held a certain captivating air about them. And yet there had been nothing as beautiful as the man who stood before you. You heard Uhtred refer to him as Sihtric, and your eyes made their way over his form. From his brown hair, to his striking yet mismatched eyes, over the angles of his face, and the swell of his muscles that already could be seen straining against the silver bands he wore, there was no part of him you felt was not hand crafted by Freyja herself to be the perfect embodiment of everything she represented.

And Sihtric noticed you. By the gods, did he notice you. You were pretty, prettier than any woman he had ever seen. He couldn’t tell what started swelling faster when he saw you looking back at him and smile: his cock or his heart.

That was the day he swore he would have you.

When he saw you again, it had been over three years. He hadn’t gone a day without thinking of you if he were honest. He was waiting so he could have his chance with you. Those few moments of seeing you was what carried him through the years. You were the face he saw with every victory and every stroke of his cock.

He only wishes it were under better circumstances.

You still resided in the fortress after Sigefrid laid dead on the ground. You knew the only way any of this would end would be if Sigefrid died. And you knew, as you listened to the herd of feet approach the room you were hidden in, that he had.

Sihtric was the first in the room. He knew that Sigefrid would never leave you far behind. It was unfortunate such a man had the honor of being your first husband. Sihtric, though, was perfectly fine being your last.

A feeling that did not waver when he saw you holding a small child close to your body. There was a fear in both of you, but you had the rage of a mother in your eyes. He could see it, and he wanted you more for it.

“He is dead?” you asked Sihtric as others, Uhtred and another you vaguely recognized, came into the room.

Despite having only seen him once, you knew Sihtric could be trusted. You couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was lust clouding your judgement. Perhaps it was a sign. Or maybe you were being stupid and crazy and you would only end up right back where you have been your whole life.

But, his eyes made you feel like that would never be the case again.

“Aye,” he said to you. “How old?” He nodded towards your child, your daughter, who looked at him in fear. He held up his arm, wordlessly keeping Uhtred and the other man from coming any closer.

“Four. She was born here, before we were sent away,” you told him truthfully.

“Her name?” he asked you. He continuously looked between your faces, barely capable of holding himself in place and not taking you in his arms.

“Astra.”

He said nothing else to you for the moment, instead crouching down to be on the same level as your daughter. She clung to you tightly.

“Hello, Astra. Are you hurt?” he said quietly to her. In silence, she shook her head. “Is your mother?”

“Mama is safe, I am safe,” she whispered.

It caused your heart to ache when you heard her repeat the words you told her when everything got quiet. Had you never left England, you would’ve been able to leave Sigefrid. You knew you would have had somewhere to take Astra to keep her safe from him. But when your husband was banished, he swore he would return with your father, and you knew better than to wait around for that. Your only saving grace now was that your father had died before you got back to Norway.

“Would you like to leave here? You and your ma can come with me, if you would like.”

Astra looked up at you, tears in her eyes as they had been all day. You knew that while Sigefrid had never touched either of you, he had given you both more than enough reason to be fearful. And you wanted so badly to make sure she never had to live with this fear again.

Your daughter looked to him and nodded silently. He extended his arms towards her slowly.

“Come then, little one. I will get you out of here,” he said softly. Astra, who had never trusted anyone but you, walked directly into his arms.

The sight of his arms wrapping themselves around her small body caused your heart to ache. It was something you had never thought to wish for, your daughter being in the arms of someone but you. Now you could only pray that this was her new normal.

“I’ve got you little one,” he whispered and stood up, holding her close. “I want you to close your eyes tight and put your forehead against my cheek until I tell you. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded. You watched as she squeezed her eyes shut, her whole face squinting up. Her forehead rested perfectly against his cheek, her brown hair matching his in a shocking way. It almost felt as she was made of him.

“You are as pretty as your ma, brave just like her too,” he told her. You were surprised when you heard her giggle. He looked to you. “Take my arm, Lady. “

You did as he said, stepping closer to him and holding tightly to his arm. He made sure you were not questioned or stopped as he led you out of the fortress. He already had stepped in as your protector and you barely knew him.

When you were outside the walls and far from the carnage, Sihtric finally stopped. You watched as he sat Astra down to stand on her own. He told her it was safe to open her eyes, and she looked relieved when she opened them and saw you.

“Lord,” Sihtric said as he saw Uhtred approach. He instinctually moved to stand between you both.

“Are more men following him?” Uhtred asked you, looking at you over Sihtric’s shoulder. His hand remained on his axe, though he did not unsheathe it.

“He was the last of them,” you told him. And that was the truth. Any men that hadn’t abandoned him before this battle laid dead.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” he asked.

You knew the truth of what he was asking. You were a widow now. Your husband’s family were meant to take care of you now, and your daughter. But Sigefrid was the last of his family, having killed his own brother during his last rampage. Their father had long since been dead and had no living brothers.

“No, Lord,” you told him. “He had no surviving family. And my own father died two winters ago. I was the only child.”

He looked past you to Astra. You could see in his eyes he did not trust you. And you did not trust him. You could not find it in you to trust anyone but Sihtric. But good men, which you ultimately believed Uhtred to be, did not harm little girls.

“You may come with me and my men, then. Until you find other…arrangements,” he said gruffly.

It was three and a half months when you began to worry about your future. You thought of Astra and worried endlessly for her. Her father’s reputation would stain her future forever, you feared. You had no way to provide for her truly. Should your fears be proven true, you wouldn’t even be able to arrange a proper marriage for her when the time would come.

But, you thought perhaps you were worrying too much for Astra. You stood in Uhtred’s hall, watching as Sihtric, Osferth, Finan, and Uhtred spoke, Astra settled peacefully on Sihtric’s lap. She was loved so deeply by Sihtric, and by extension the men he fought beside, one could be forgiven for thinking he was her father. Interestingly enough, she looked more like Sihtric than she ever did Sigefrid.

Uhtred looked to you and nodded, having noticed your presence for the first time. You two had a somewhat uneasy trust in each other now. Well, trust that if either of you betrayed Sihtric, or the others, the other would respond with a blade. And that seemed to make you friends.

Sihtric noticed you, immediately lighting up when he looked at you. He beckoned you to him, to Astra, the both of them holding your whole heart.

You were insane, you knew it. But from the moment you saw him those years ago, you loved him. He was obvious. You would burn down all of England for him if he were to ask.

He had never done anything but protected you and Astra from the very first moment. The day Sigefrid died, it could’ve been so much worse for her. But Sihtric was the one to make sure that no bad ever touched her since he met her.

It was one of many ways that everyone knew you two would find your way to each other. Sihtric would give everything for and to you. As far as he was concerned, the universe began and ended in you and at your feet he would worship. And there had never been a moment in which you doubted his devotion to you or Astra.

“Go say hello to your ma, little one,” Sihtric said softly to Astra.

“Okay, papa,” she giggled as she crawled off his lap while you knelt down.

It was not the first time she had referred to him as such, but it touched your soul every time you heard it. Sihtric looked to you immediately to make sure you did not think to correct her. He was not deluding himself into thinking his presence in Astra’s life could erase all the bad. But he knew, without a doubt, that she was his. From the moment he first held her in his arms, she was his girl and there was no argument he would listen to.

Your darling girl ran into your waiting arms. She was giggling, as she had done since your arrival in Coccham. She was happier than she had ever been. She felt more peaceful.

“Mama, mama, papa is making me an axe,” she told you excitedly.

“Oh is he?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked up to Sihtric. He blushed brightly, especially when Uhtred and Finan began to tease him for being in trouble.

“M-my love, I only,” he said, beginning to attempt an explanation.

“She will need an axe if she is going to be on my shield wall one day,” Uhtred told you, grinning from ear to ear. He stood from his seat, drumming a bit on the table, before he jogged over to you and Astra. “And if there is one thing my Little Star will be it is an excellent warrior.”

You watched as Uhtred picked her up and put her on his shoulders. She squealed and giggled until she was settled on her perch.

“If you are teaching her, then I consider myself lucky to have such a warrior in my home,” you said, standing, while grinning ear to ear. “Perhaps she will be knowledgeable enough to teach our next child.” You looked directly at Sihtric as you said ‘our’.

“Our next ten,” he said back to you. He was still blushing a bit, but he enjoyed these moments.

“And you shall birth them all? If it is up to me, you get five,” you said to him.

“You would give me five more children?” he asked excitedly. You could practically see him buzzing.

“Should you decide to take me as your wife,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging to him as you walked over to the table he sat at.

Once you were in his reach, his arm wrapped around you, hand resting on your hip. There was no hesitation from either of you as Sihtric pulled you onto his lap and you wrapped your arms around him.

At first, you had withheld from such public affection. You were only a few months a widow, you felt as though there was some need to respect your loss. But, when your husband had been so cruel to everyone around him and Sihtric was such a soft presence, you lasted perhaps a week before you made your affections clear.

“You honor me, my love,” he said softly. “To think you have already blessed me with one, and are willing to bless me with more. One would be a fool to deny the chance to be your husband.”

You kissed his cheek. It was truly simple with him. There was no darkness. Only love and warmth flowed between you both.

“You will make sure she is careful?” you asked him, bringing the conversation back to the idea of Astra getting an axe.

“Of course, my love,” he confirmed to you. “You know nothing means more to me than the safety of my girls.”

It was less than a month later that you were married. Sihtric made sure it was everything you dreamt of it, everything you were not afforded the first time around. He was watching as you danced with Astra. He loved both of you more than anyone had loved two people.

“Congratulations,” Uhtred said as he sat next to Sihtric. “You will make a fine husband.”

“Thank you, Lord,” he said, smiling. His eyes went between you and Uhtred rapidly, wanting to make sure you never disappeared.

“I see our Little Star got a hold of your hair,” Uhtred smirked as he grabbed a drink. Sihtric’s hand moved to his head, where there was a tiny braid in his hair.

“There is no finer braider in all of England,” he said. “Finan has offered to keep her tonight.”

“Did he tell you Osferth and I were asked to come too?” Uhtred chuckled.

“He did, Lord,” Sihtric laughed, taking a drink of his ale. He sat the cup down, looking to his Lord, his friend. “I want her to be mine.”

“She already is,” Uhtred said. “Nobody will deny that.”

“No, I mean....I want Astra to be just as the children of my blood. I want her to inherit, I want to be responsible for her. Entirely. And should she and my wife allow, I want to give her my name,” Sihtric said.

Uhtred could see a determination on his friend’s face that he had not quite seen before. It shone through in a burning heat. He lived for the family he had with you now. No oath superseded his oath to the two of you, and none ever would.

“Should they wish it, it is done. I will make it known Astra is to be no different than any child of your blood,” he promised his friend. “Now, go dance with your wife. Take her to bed. We will keep our Little Star.”

With a clap on the shoulder, Sihtric stood from the table and began to work his way through crowd to you. You were twirling Astra around, making her laugh and laugh. He could not imagine a more perfect life for himself.

Sihtric chuckled when Astra noticed him and ran into his legs. He knew she was his. She was meant to be his daughter. He could not be bothered by something as trivial as blood. He, of all people, knew family was not limited to blood. Family was created by love, and he loved her enough to create a universe.

Then there was you, his dear wife. He thought you looked stunning in your dress, the deep red color feeling like the physical representation of his love for you. You were more than he could have ever dreamed of. All of his life, he wanted to be what his father wasn’t. A good, honorable man who stayed for his family and loved his wife. A man worthy of love and respect.

And he realized that’s exactly how you saw him.

“Hello, my love,” you said to him when you saw him.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked teasingly, picking Astra up when she stopped dancing.

“Yes, my love. Though, perhaps you would much prefer my husband,” you said, smirking.

“Aye. After all, I will never call you anything but my wife again,” he said and rubbed his nose against Astra’s cheek.

“Hehe papa,” she said as she hugged him tightly. “I love you.”

Sihtric could feel his heart skip a beat. She had called him papa for months at this point, that was no surprise. But, Astra had not told him she loved him. And there was something so precious about hearing it.

“I love you, little one,” he said softly, pressing his lips against her forehead.

You smiled at the two of them. You wanted to hold this moment in your mind for the rest of your life. Capture it, freeze it for all of eternity, something you could hold onto and remember love.

“Now little one, Uncle Finan is excited to start your time together. Your ma and I will see you in the morning,” he told her as he sat her down.

“UNCLE FINAN I AM COMING!” Astra shouted as she ran off through the crowd.

Every person parted to let her through, allowing your eyes to follow her path to Finan. She was loved by most any in town. Her personality was loud and bright enough so that everyone knew her. Of course, it helped that she was always right by your side, and you were always close to Sihtric.

And you knew, at least within the confines of the town walls, she was safe to move about. Most everyone would agree that harming a child is egregious. Everyone agreed that harming your child was the fastest way to ensure a brutal death by the hands of Sihtric, and a quick one by Uhtred and Finan. Even Osferth, sweet Osferth, would pray for his God’s forgiveness as he took the life of anyone who would lay a finger on Astra. She was loved, she was safe. For the first time in her life she did not flinch when she was more than an inch from your skirts.

“Being my wife suits you,” Sihtric told you, drawing your eyes from Finan and Astra to him.

He looked at you with pure adoration. He worshipped you. Made certain that he loved you enough to make the bad parts of your life feel like another lifetime.

“Just as being my husband suits you,” you said to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you tightly to him. He breathed you in, feeling overwhelmed by you. Everything about you was intoxicating to him. From your beauty, the way you smelled, the way your body pressed against his own, there was nothing that could dampen his desire of you.

“Then it seems we are in agreement,” he said.

“That it does,” you said softly, leaning forward slightly. Your lips hovered next to his ear. “And I think I would like to feel my husband.”

You felt him shudder with your words, the unmistakable hardness of his erection beginning to dig into you. It had not been difficult to get him excited these last months. Even after both of you had agreed to wait until you were married, you had enjoyed riling him up before he returned to his own home.

“I have dreamt of this night for years,” he muttered to you. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were mine. I dreamt of my cock sinking deep into you for hours on end.”

It was your turn now for a shiver down your spine. There was no part of you that could deny dreaming of the same thing for just as long. In the years trying to exist outside of England, the nights where you went to bed amidst yells and cheers during another fight to the death for Sigefrid’s amusement, you dreamt of his mismatched eyes. Of his sharp beauty. Of a life you now got to share with him.

You weren’t sure who broke away first between the two of you, but it wasn’t long before you were walking down the streets to his, no your, home. The home you would grow old together in, gods be good. And the two of you couldn’t keep from stopping every few feet, pulling the other for a deep, passionate kiss.

When you finally arrived at the house, he picked you up and carried you over the threshold. In fact, he did not put you down until he could place you on the bed. You had barely recognized that you were laying on it before he was hovering over you, repeatedly kissing your neck.

“Such a pretty wife,” he muttered with every kiss. You put your head back to expose more of your sensitive skin. “Have been blessed, haven’t I? Blessed by the gods to be given such a pretty wife.”

You placed a hand on the bag of his head and gripped his hair firmly. Despite the pull on his hair, you only brought him closer into you. You could feel him starting to grind himself against your thigh, desperately looking for some relief.

“Fuck, Sihtric,” you moaned out. But when his name left your lips, he nipped at your neck quickly. It took you by surprise, causing a quiet squeak to escape you.

“Be a good, pretty wife and do not use my name tonight,” he whispered in your ear.

“Such a demanding husband I have,” you teased. “So desperate to fuck me he has to rut against me like an animal.”

He groaned into your neck at your words, his right hand beginning to fumble with the fastenings of your dress. You ignored the shaking of your own hands, your need of Sihtric outweighing your nerves. This was meant to be, after all. And you had faith it would be perfect.

“Use your mouth for better things and perhaps I will let you fuck a child into me tonight,” you told him. This time it was not a groan, but a quiet whimper, that left his lips. His fingers struggled with undressing you, the way it was held to your body being more complicated than he had thought.

He pulled back entirely, sitting up on his knees as he began reaching for the knife he carried. He cut the fabric of your dress away from your body. You stared at him, eyes heavy with lust.

“Nothing but a dress, you can replace it,” he told you. You could only nod at him as he helped remove the material away completely. After a moment, the tattered remains of the dress and his knife fell together to the floor, just as quickly forgotten.

He stared at your naked form. He could not help it, truly. Everything about you was perfect for him. He leaned forward and kissed you once more, before his lips started trailing down your body. Along your jawline, down your neck, over your collarbone. He only took pause when he got to your breasts. Sihtric’s left hand began pawing at one while his lips wrapped around your nipple.

You moaned quietly as he sucked while massaging your soft flesh. Your eyes fluttered shut, whimpering every time he decided to graze your nipple with his teeth. You wanted to beg him to give you more, to pleasure your aching cunt.

He groaned to himself before pulling away from your breasts entirely, muttering a promise he would play with them more. You almost started to laugh, only for it to catch in your throat when his fingers found your slick. He smirked down at you.

“You must really enjoy this, wife,” he whispered teasingly. His fingers ran up and down your folds, deliberate in their light touching of your pearl.

“Of course, I have only dreamt of you as my husband a few dozen times now,” you told him. Your thighs trembled a bit as you resisted the urge to buck your hips into his hand.

He hummed quietly as he allowed his finger to sink into you. While you became a whimpering mess, he just slowly thrust his finger in and out. Never had you known such bliss. His finger felt thicker than you had anticipated.

“What is it, pretty wife? Cannot think through your pleasure?” he asked you, looking directly into your eyes.

Your resolve finally broke. With a moan, you allowed your hips to move to meet his hand. All you could think of was chasing your pleasure with him.

“You say I am demanding, but you are so needy,” he cooed. He pushed another finger into you, curling his fingers slightly with every thrust of them. His touch was perfectly focused on the spongy spot inside you.

“Love, my love, please, fuck, please,” you moaned. You couldn’t finish a single thought as you felt a band tightening behind your navel.

You had only experienced such a feeling with yourself. Pleasure had never been at the forefront of your life. Until now, at least, since Sihtric seemed determined to make you reach that point. He increased the speed of his fingers movements.

“Cum for me,” he practically demanded of you. His voice was quiet, meant only for your ears, but forceful in nature. “And then I’ll give you my cock. Such a good girl, you deserve it. Don’t you, my love?”

“Y-yes,�� you whispered. You gripped the furs under you tightly, the edges of your vision going fuzzy.

“Deserve my cock, deserve my love. You have both, entirely, you understand?” he asked you, his thumb barely ghosting against your pearl.

“Yes, fuck, my love, my husband,” you whined pathetically. It seemed to please him, at least enough.

His thumb finally rested against the bundle of nerves, rubbing circles in time with every thrust of his fingers. The band finally snapped as you cried out, back arching off the bed. A jumbled mess of his name, husband, love, and expletives left your tongue.

You were able to watch as Sihtric removed his touch from you entirely. He brought his fingers to his lips before he sucked them clean, earning another whimper from you. And then you got to watch him undress, his shirt and pants being flung away in a matter of moments.

You weren’t entirely sure which of the gods had blessed you, but you thanked everyone of them when Sihtric stood naked before you. His toned chest and stomach was near flawless, save for a few scars earned in battle. The Thor’s hammer pendant rested against his taut chest. Your gaze washed over the grooves of his form, able to count each muscle, until they finally landed on his cock.

He was blessed even then. His heavy cock bobbed with need. When his eyes caught yours, he smirked at your hungry gaze. He was long and thick enough to make you question just how exactly you were meant to take him in entirely.

Sihtric couldn’t hide his smirk when he grabbed you by the hips and pulled your body closer to his. He groaned softly as his cock now rested against you, already collecting your slick.

“I love you,” he said to you, his voice softer than the cocky look etched on his face would have you expect.

You tried to stutter out some response before he started rubbing himself against you. Anytime the head brushed against your pearl, the feeling stole your words and sent shockwaves through your body. There was a pride he felt at already having you responding like this before having even fucked you.

“I love…fuck, fuck me, fuck I love you,” you finally managed to get out.

“Good girl, using your words,” he cooed. He moved his cock to start pressing against your entrance. “Are you going to keep being a good girl, love?”

“Yes,” you said weakly and nodded

He smiled at you. He grabbed your leg gently, hooking it on his arm, as he leaned down to bring his face closer to you. Your knee pressed against your chest while he kissed you. You melted into his kiss, your hands releasing the furs you laid up on to hold his face gently.

Your kiss only ended on account of the way he couldn’t hold back his whines and whimpers when he pushed into you. He couldn’t help the way your name left him when you took half of him without issue.

He pulled himself away to look down at your face. After a moment, he looked between your bodies and groaned when he saw you impaled on his cock.

“Fuck, such a pretty wife I have,” he muttered. “You ready for more, my love?” he asked when he reconnected your gaze.

“Yes,” you told him, nodding eagerly.

He groaned as he moved his hips forward. It was pure bliss for both of you. His cock throbbed with every thrust, your walls clenching tightly around him. Every nerve ending in both of you felt like it was on fire as your connection only grew. Sihtric watched you every second, trying to make sure it was as mind blowing for you as it was for him.

His speed increased desperately. He needed more, you needed more. Your hands roamed his body, your moans filling his ears like a beautiful song. The head of his cock kept moving against the spongy spot inside, making your thighs tremble once again.

You watched him as he thrust into you. His pendant and your breasts moved in time with his thrusts, captivating him. You could see him teetering the line of control and instinct. He wanted this to be sweet for you, to be perfect, everything you deserved. He has heard enough stories of your life to know you deserved more than to once again be used for someone else’s pleasure.

“Such a good husband already,” you told him, gripping his biceps. His gaze softened when you spoke, his hips stuttering a bit. “We have all our lives for you to make me scream your name in pleasure, do we not? “

He nodded wordlessly. His cock never once stilled in you as he watched you. He kept grunting under his breath, every noise ending in what sounded like a whine.

“Then I say tonight, I want you to finish inside of me until there is no doubt that come morning I am carrying your child,” you commanded.

His mouth hung open, his hips slowing a bit as he stared down at you. You could see him searching for any uncertainty on your face. Yet, he could search for his entire life and never find in you any doubt of him.

You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned up and took his pendant of Thor’s hammer in between your teeth before looking directly into his eyes. His thrusts picked up in speed, going harder and deeper than before.

He closed the gap between you, his lips coming next to your ear as he finally released your leg. On one side all you could hear a symphony of skin slapping against skin as he fucked you at an almost bruising intensity. In the other, he began to whimper and whine for you.

“Pretty wife, amazing mother,” he whispered in your ear, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. He was throbbing inside you and you could feel just how close he was. The way he twitched and pushed against you, his weight pressing into your chest, the band started to tighten again.

“Already a desperate man for you,” he grunted. You were incapable of getting any sound to leave your mouth. All you could do was focus on his word, his sounds, his movements. He was all you knew to be true in this moment.

“Can’t wait to see you pregnant. Probably prettier, round with child and tits swollen with milk. Fuck,” he said to you as his hips started stuttering more frequently.

Your orgasm overcame you finally, causing you to cry out his name. You were barely aware of his whisperings still in your ear.

“That’s a good girl, fuck, yes, my pretty wife,” he practically growled in your ear. Finally, his thrusts stopped, his cock buried inside you as he released ropes of hot cum into you. Sihtric let out a sound with every throb.

You were trembling when he pulled himself from you, breathing heavily. Carefully, he maneuvered the furs out from under your body before carefully covering you both. You moved closer to him and laid your head on his chest. His arm wrapped around you, holding you as though he was terrified of you walking out the door.

You laid there in silence for several moments, basking in the way you felt. With being given from your father to Sigefrid, you had never known much of love or safety. You had never really known kindness. You had feared for so long that the violence and chaos both of them had brought into their lives and halls would haunt you forever.

Yet, laying here in Sihtric’s arms, you almost couldn’t remember how they made you feel. He made you feel so powerful, so loved, so worshipped beyond belief that you would now go days without thinking of the horrors of your past. Even Astra seemed to feel nothing but safety and love.

You turned your face to look at him. He was looking happily down at you, a cheesy, lazy little grin splashed on his face. You were certain nothing could get better than this.

“I love you,” you said softly. “Especially your eyes.”

He rolled them, yet the smile never faded. “Which is your favorite?” he asked.

“Oh no, that is like trying to choose a favorite mountain, or snowflake. Each so unique, so special, one would be an ignorant fool to pick a favorite,” you told him, smiling up at him. “Luckily, I do not have to. I get to enjoy them until I die.”

“Oh? And if I die before you?” he teased, kissing your forehead.

“You are not allowed. I cannot let you walk into Valhalla without me there to greet you, even if that means I will need to pick up an axe again,” you said simply. It was your truth. “I have spent my entire life waiting for the love you give me. You are not allowed to ever make me live without it again, husband.”

Sihtric tried to hide it, but you could see him wiggle just a bit, his smile spread further, when you addressed him as husband. In the moments past, he was too distracted by lust. But now it was sinking in, for both of you, and you felt just as joyful as him.

“Of course, wife. I would not dare leave you to raise our ten children alone,” he said, smirking as you laughed.

“I believe I said five more,” you told him, raising an eyebrow.

“I believe Freyja will bless us with a small army, as much as I plan to bury my cock in you,” he told you, kissing your forehead. “Speaking of.”

Sihtric smirked before kissing you again, pulling you on top of him. You felt your laugh rumble in your chest as you couldn’t help but kiss him back.

You were finally no longer a bargaining chip.

Taglist: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @gemini-mama @alexagirlie

[a-fic-reviewer-757]

The Saxon bride:

by: Space_Samurai | word count : 21,380 | AO3 | chapters: 10/10 | rating : Mature

Summary:

Erik and Sigefrid were never defeated, and now they have conquered many Mercian territories, each day getting closer to Wessex.

While the lord of Mercia licks his wounds on Winchester, the King of Wessex makes an irresistible offer to the brothers: his daughter’s hand in marriage in exchange of an alliance. They accept.

-

Or: Aethelflaed marries Erik instead of Aethelred.

Tags :

Arranged Marriage l Fluff l Cultural Differences l Weddings l Danes do it better l Non-Graphic Smut l Slow Burn l kinda corny

Review : 💜💜💜💜💜

What can I say about this one, apart from I love this. I actually love this couple and the fact that we only had two episodes with them is a crime they had so potential! So for everyone, that likes both Erik and Aethelflaed this is a good one.

[persephones-journey]

Here it is. This was requested by @thatguytj11

I hope I did it justice lol

here it below if prefer but be warned. there is smut, more smut, and smut. Zero plot.

Sigefrid walked towards the barn where they were keeping the princess, Aethelflaed. He had waited for Erik to come back to the hall after seeing to Aethelflaed's needs of a meal and a bath. He had heard the men grumble and talk.

They were all convinced that Erik was bedding the princess.

And they all wanted their turn.

Sigefrid, himself, also believed that perhaps Erik was bedding the princess. But he was not going to confront his brother without the proof.

Hence why he was headed towards the barn.

He needed to know for sure.

He opened the door to the barn and walked in. He stopped when he heard the moans. He slowly walked closer and closer. The doors to where Aethelflaed were kept was closed. But Sigefrid could see in from the crack.

He moved closer to it and peaked inside.

His eyes went wide and his cock grew hard as he watched Aethelflaed on top of Erik. She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she moved her hips up and down her hands pressed against Erik's chest.

“You are beautiful,” he heard Erik whisper to her.

Aethelflaed smiled and Sigefrid groaned. She was beautiful. She was even more beautiful, naked taking pleasure from his brother. He bit his bottom lip as Aethelflaed took Erik's hands and moved them from her hips up to her breasts. She pressed them there and smiled.

“I want you to touch me,” she said softly.

Sigefrid pulled himself away from the crack. He pressed himself against the wall of the barn. He opened his trousers with one hand, making quicker work of them than he ever had in the past. He spit in his hand and slid his hand inside and began to stroke his cock. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds coming from the room behind him.

Aethelflaed's moans and sighs. Erik's soft grunts.

Sigefrid stroked himself wondering what it would feel like to have Aethelflaed do it. He was sure her hands were soft and delicate.

“Princess,” he grunted softly as he stroked himself, running his thumb over his tip and jerking himself harder and faster.

“Erik,” Aethelflaed moaned.

“That's it, Aethelflaed.” he heard Erik say, his brother's voice filled with want and desire. “Come on my cock. That's it, take what you need from me.”

Sigefrid tried to hold on but he could feel the pull in his balls and lower stomach. He stroked faster and harder and came all over his hand and in his trousers. He closed his eyes and cursed. He heard Aethelflaed come undone behind the closed doors. Sigefrid tucked himself back in his trousers more and did them up.

He walked out of the barn before Erik caught him.

A plan, or rather, offer began to form in his mind. He smirked.

Oh, this will be fun.

***

Sigefrid did not waste any time. The next morning, when most of the men were still drunk, passed out, or sleeping, he waited for Erik in the hall.

He smirks as he sees his brother enter the hall. He walks over to Erik and grabbed his arm tugging him from the hall.

“What-,” Erik started.

“We need to have a discussion,” Sigefrid stated softly.

Erik raised his eyebrow but said nothing. Sigefrid pulled him around the side of the hall and Erik leaned against the outside wall and crossed his arms on his chest.

“What is this great discussion we need to have?” he asked.

“It is about the princess,” Sigefrid said, “and you humping her.”

He saw his brother eye him. Immediately, Erik pulled his mask up that he used with their men when he did not wish them to know what he was thinking.

“I do not-,” Erik started.

“Brother, stop,” Sigefrid said his voice soft and soothing. He pressed a hand to Erik's chest. “I heard the two of you. And I can understand why you wish to hump her. She is a prize.”

Erik eyed him. “Is that all you have to say?” he asked.

Sigefrid smiled. His brother knew him and knew him well. “No, that is not all I have to say,” he stepped closer to Erik. “I wish to have one night with her.”

“No,” Erik quickly answered.

Sigefrid shook his head and tsked his brother. “You did not let me finish,” he muttered.

“I do not have to let you finish,” Erik said. “I know the lady will never go for it.”

“Not even if after I decide to let her go,” Sigefrid said. “With you as well, if you wish?”

Erik was quiet. Sigefrid eyed his brother. He could see that Erik was considering it. “You swear it?” Erik asked.

Sigefrid smirked. “Would I ever lie to you, brother?”

“Yes,” Erik answered without hesitation.

Sigefrid chuckled and shook his head. He grabbed Erik by the shoulders. “I am not lying about this. One night is all I ask. You can even join us if you wish.”

“You were not going to have her without me being there,” Erik said.

Sigefrid smirked. “So, I will have her then?”

Erik rolled his eyes and walked away. Sigefrid smiled though. He knew his brother. Erik was going to give into him. He rubbed his hands together and had a little spring in his step as he walked.

He would get what he wanted. He always did.

***

Aethelflaed paced. She walked past Erik towards the end of the room and turned and walked all the way back. He let her.

She did not know why she had agreed to this. No, do not lie to yourself. You know why you agreed. The thought of being with Erik and being free of everything. You cannot say no to an offer like that.

“You do not have to do this,” Erik told her softly as she turned to pace back. She stopped in front of him. “When he gets here, I can tell him you changed your mind.”

She looked at Erik's blue eyes. So caring, so filled with love.

And for her.

She reached out and pressed a hand to his chest. She stepped closer to him and leaned in. She smiled against his lips as he kissed her softly and gently.

“I can handle your brother as long as I know you are beside me,” she whispered as she pressed another kiss to his lips.

She smiled as Erik deepened the kiss. One kiss lead to another and another. She felt his hands on her hips pulling her closer to him. She sighed into his mouth when she felt his cock, hard against her. She pressed herself against him. She jumped when she heard the door open behind her.

“Don't start anything without me,” Sigefrid said as he walked into the room.

Aethelflaed turned in Erik's arms. She felt his hands grip her sides more and he pulled her so her back pressed against his chest. She eyed Sigefrid as she felt Erik kiss her neck. Sigefrid smiled. He pulled off his tunic and she realized he had left off his sword hand. His stump was covered with just a leather cup glove of sorts so she did not see the scar.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked as he stepped closer to her.

She eyed his muscular chest and his dark chest hair. He smiled and she felt herself get wet. She had never been attracted to Sigefrid before, she had been more scared of him. But now, she could see his appeal. She sighed as Erik ran his hands up and placed them on her breasts. She saw Sigefrid's dark eyes watch as his brother's hands kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples through her nightdress.

“I hope you like my hand as much as you like my brother's,” he growled.

“Should we take this off?” Erik whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes as he tugged at her nightdress.

She opened her eyes and looked at Sigefrid. She saw the hunger in his eyes. Desire pooled in her stomach. She had never been looked at like that. Aethelred looked at her like she was beneath him, Erik looked at her like she was a precious jewel to be cherished and loved.

Sigefrid looked at her like he wanted to ravish her and take her roughly and thoroughly. All the stories her lady maids and her mother had whispered to each other that Aethelflaed had heard growing up. About how Danes were monsters and would throw women down and take them in the dirt while covered in blood and mud.

Instead of being scared and terrified, Aethelflaed found herself being turned on. She wanted to know what it would feel like to be taken like a common woman.

She wanted to be ravished and used.

“I see that look, princess,” Sigefrid said as he stepped closer to her. She felt his fingers under her chin as he tilted her head back to look at him. “You want me to take you, don't you?” he asked as he leaned closer.

Aethelflaed nodded. She felt Erik's fingers undoing her nightdress and she let him. Sigefrid leaned in closer and rubbed his nose against hers.

“No, princess, I need to hear you say you want me to hump you. I need the words. My cock is aching to be buried in you, but you get nothing until I hear you say what you want,” he whispered.

Aethelflaed whimpered and Sigefrid smiled. She sighed as he kissed her nose and her cheeks. He was being surprisingly tender. She moaned when Erik's hands landed on her bare breasts. She felt Sigefrid's finger and thumb pinch her chin gently. She looked him in the eyes.

“Well?” he asked smirking.

She licked her lips. “I want you to hump me,” she said softly.

She felt Erik smile into her neck. Sigefrid laughed. He pressed his hand to her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Is that all you want, princess?” he asked. “Just my cock in your cunt thrusting into you, using you liek you were a common whore?”

“Sigefrid,” Erik warned.

“It's all right,” Aethelflaed whispered as she pressed her hand over his, “I do not mind his foul language.”

“See, brother? She does not mind,” Sigefrid goaded him. “Now, princess, I asked you a question.”

“I,” Aethelflaed felt herself blushing. “I have come to like when Erik,” she swallowed and found herself too embarrassed to continue.

“You like when my brother what, my pretty princess?” Sigefrid said. His hand moved from her cheek to her nightdress. Erik had finished undoing the buttons, so when Sigefrid grabbed the nightdress and tugged, it fell down exposing her breasts. Erik helped her pull her arms out of it and pulled it the rest of the way off her body so that it pooled around her feet.

Aethelflaed gasped as Sigefrid reached forward and took one of her nipples in his hand. He pinched it and twisted it. The pain mixed with pleasure. He wore a smug smirk on his face as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

“I like when Erik sticks his face in my cunt,” she answered her voice getting shaky as she rubbed her legs together.

Sigefrid laughed. He let go of her nipple and moved his hand lower, his fingers dancing along her skin. She moaned when he cupped her cunt, rubbing his palm against it.

“Oh,” he said smirking, again with a smug look on his face, “our little princess is wet, Erik. It would seem she enjoys my foul language,” he laughed.

Aethelflaed bit her bottom lip and whimpered. “Please,” she begged as she jerked her hips, rubbing her cunt more against Sigefrid's hand.

“Please what?” Sigefrid asked as he leaned closer. He finally pressed his lips to kiss her. His kiss was all passion. It was raw and messy and powerful. He claimed her lips and pushed his tongue into her mouth to stroke hers.

She moaned into his mouth and grabbed his arms to stay upright. She could fee Erik's hard cock against her ass but it was Sigefrid's cock she ached to have buried inside of her. She moaned and whimpered when he pushed two fingers into her. Erik usually went slowly starting with one, but not Sigefrid. He pushed two blunt fingers into her, forcing her to take them. She did; stretching and aching for more. He crooked them a certain way and bit her bottom lip tugging on it.

“You want me to hump you,” he growled. “You want my cock inside of you, owning you,” he added.

“Yes,” she moaned as he let go of her lip.

He laughed. “Erik, put her on the bed,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Erik whispered to Aethelflaed.

She nodded as Sigefrid slipped his fingers from her. She already felt empty. Erik wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her to the bed. She watched as Sigefrid pulled off his boots and began to undo his trousers. Erik kicked her nightdress aside. Aethelflaed sat on the side of bed and watched as Sigefrid pulled down his trousers. His cock sprang up and Aethelflaed's mouth went dry.

Sigefrid's cock was thicker and longer than Erik's. It was beautiful though and her cunt throbbed to be impaled on it. She turned when Erik chuckled. She blushed but he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“It is all right to like what you see,” he told her softly. “There is no shame in it.”

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Aethelred did not,” she shook her head, “nevermind.”

“No, tell us what that shit for brains thought,” Sigefrid said. He walked over to them, kicking away his pants, “there is no need to hold anything back.”

Aethelflaed watched as Sigefrid fell to his knees in front of her. He placed his hand on her thigh and pushed it gently. She opened her legs wide watching as he moved more in between them. He turned and kissed her inner thigh. She yelped when he bit down, biting her skin hard enough to draw blood.

“Sigefrid,” Erik warned.

“What?” Sigefrid said as he pulled away from the bite. Aethelflaed felt him lick it after. “A little love bite never hurt anyone,” he turned and looked at Aethelflaed, “you were saying,” he went one as he placed his mouth back over the bite and began to lick and suck on the skin.

Aethelflaed closed her eyes and sighed. “Aethelred told me it was unseemly for a wife to look at her husband's cock,” she whimpered as she felt the leather of the cap on Sigefrid's stump on her other thigh. “He only ever liked to hump me from behind with my head buried in the sheets. 'Bitches who need to be bred, should be bred the right way' he would tell me.”

She felt Sigefrid growl against her skin. He moved his mouth from her thigh and rested his cheek against it. She watched as he looked up at her, anger swirling in his dark eyes.

“Your husband was a shit,” he said firmly. “His cock was so tiny he probably could not take you any other way,” he added.

“He never made her come either,” Erik added. Aethelflaed turned and looked at him as his fingers brushed her hair aside. “She did not know what a climax was until I buried my face in her cunt.”

Aethelflaed watched as Sigefrid reached up and let his fingers run up and down the folds of her cunt, playing with her slickness. He sighed and moved his face closer. She felt his breath on her folds as he sighed. She whimpered and jumped a bit when she felt his warm tongue lick and tap that little bud of pleasure. His dark eyes never left hers.

“Our poor little princess' cunt was neglected as was her pleasure bud,” he whispered, his warm breath hitting her cunt and causing her to get wetter with need. “It must have been the will of the gods' you were there at the camp and we took you,” he added. Aethelflaed moaned when his tongue licked her folds once than again. He pressed his tongue on her pleasure bud, lapping against it over and over. She could feel the pleasure building. He stopped and rubbed his nose against it gently. “The gods wanted your perfect little cunt to be ruined by the Thurgilson brothers,” he said, his voice low and full of desire. She whimpered as she felt his finger run along her entrance, teasing her by barely slipping in before pulling out and rubbing against her folds. “It needs to be stretched and filled to the brim,” he sighed, “do not worry, princess, we will make you climax over and over and over. You will come so many times you will beg us to stop.”

Her breath hitched in her chest. “You promise?” she whimpered.

Sigefrid laughed. Erik did as well. Sigefrid looked at Erik. “Our little princess continues to be a surprise,” he hummed and turned to press a soft kiss to her other thigh. She saw the look he gave Erik. “I will bury my face in her cunt, make sure her breasts aren't neglected,” he said.

“I promise, brother,” Erik said as he pulled off his tunic, “it will be my pleasure.”

Aethelflaed barely had time to take a breath before Sigefrid's face was pressed into her cunt and Erik's mouth fell on one of her nipples. She reached out and grabbed his braided hair with one hand while the other gripped the furs.

She moaned and closed her eyes as she felt Sigefrid slid his tongue into her, licking and sucking up her juices. She pressed her hips against his face and he rubbed his nose against her pleasure bud in return. Over and over. Erik's mouth sucked and nipped at her nipple while he moved his hand to knead her other breast. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the brothers and their tongues since it seemed they worked in sync with each other. Erik's tongue would lick and swirl around her nipple as Sigefrid's did the same inside of her.

The pleasure was nothing she had felt before as it washed over her. Her mind did not know where to focus on; Erik's mouth or Sigefrid's. She moaned and gave herself over to the pleasure. She felt Sigefrid's nose rub her pleasure bud harder. She gasped as her legs began to tremble. Erik moved his mouth, switching with his hand and taking her other nipple into his mouth. The nipple he left was sensitive and she hissed as he placed his hand on it and kneaded her breast. She could feel herself tittering on the brink of falling into the pleasure completely. She was almost there.

Sigefrid seemed to sense it. He pulled his tongue from her entrance and slid two fingers into her. He moved his mouth and sucked hard on her pleasure bud. That was all it took.

Aethelflaed could not stop the loud moan of pleasure that fell from her lips as she fell into pleasure. She clenched around Sigefrid's fingers as her body trembled. She tugged on Erik's hair but he would not stop sucking on her nipple. Sigefrid also did not stop sucking on her pleasure bud. He crooked his fingers inside of her and pressed them deep into her wall. He began stroking it and it was like liquid fire on an already burning inferno.

“I can't,” she cried out as she felt tears roll down her cheeks. She bucked her hips up and Sigefrid pressed his stump down on her mound and hips holding her down. He sucked harder on her nub and his fingers pressed deeper into her. He added another finger and she ached as he stretched her more.

“Shh,” Erik whispered as he finally lifted his mouth from her nipple. He moved his lips and kissed the valley of skin between her breasts, his tongue gently tracing circles in her skin. He placed his hands on her breasts, cupping them as his thumbs flicked her sensitive nipples. “It's all right,” he whispered into her skin.

She cried and opened her eyes. She looked down at him. “I,” she arched her back as she felt the pleasure flood her again and her body trembled. She moaned and cried as she came again. “I can't, not again,” she began to sob as Sigefrid's tongue lapped against her pleasure nub. She whimpered as she felt his fingers began to move in and out of her as they scissored her, stretching her even more.

“Do you want us to stop?” Erik asked seriously as he moved so his face hovered above hers. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Say the word and I will tell Sigefrid to stop,” he whispered against her lips.

Aethelflaed kissed him back. She pushed him away then so she could breathe. She whimpered as more tears rolled down her cheeks. She let out a sigh of relief as Sigefrid finally pulled his mouth from her pleasure nub. She felt his mouth kiss up onto her mound. His fingers stayed buried inside of her though, pressing every so often into that spot that caused pleasure to roll over her like a fire burning along a log.

She could feel the pleasure beginning to consume her.

“Stop already?” Sigefrid asked as he placed a hot messy open mouthed kiss right below her belly button. “But I haven't speared you yet with my cock,” he said as he licked her skin to her belly button.

“That does not matter,” Erik said. Aethelflaed's blue eyes looked into his. “If you cannot handle anymore, I will stop him,” he whispered again. “Are you all right to continue?” he asked.

Aethelflaed blinked. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow breath. She did not wish to stop. No, she wanted to have his cock as much as he wanted her cunt. She opened her eyes and looked at Erik.

“I am all right,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?” Erik asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I don't want to stop,” she added.

“You heard her,” Sigefrid said. “Now let me hump her,” he answered.

Aethelflaed laughed a bit. She watched, with half opened eyes, as Erik moved. She felt Sigefrid pull his fingers from her as he stood. She looked down and saw him place his cock on her mound. She swallowed as she saw how far it reached; almost to her belly button. She looked up and saw Sigefrid smirk at her.

“I am going to ruin you for anyone else,” he said. He looked over at Erik. “Even for my brother here,” he teased as he shoved him.

Aethelflaed heard Erik huff and roll his eyes. She turned and ran her hand down his bare chest. “Take them off,” she whispered to him as she pulled at his trousers.

Sigefrid laughed. “Princess, my perfect little princess,” he said as he slowly moved back, his cock moving along her skin, “you will not be able to take him after you've had me. You will be too tired,” he laughed.

Aethelflaed moaned as she felt Sigefrid move his cock and rub its tip up and down her folds. She sucked in a breath as she felt his tip move along her entrance, barely slipping in before he pulled out. She looked at him.

“I have another hole,” she answered.

She smiled as Sigefrid laughed. It was a loud bellowing laugh that seemed to take him by surprise. She smiled as reached out. She took hold of his stump. She held it close to her chest, in between her breasts. She slowly undid the leather ties and pulled it off. She saw Sigefrid watching her. She tossed it aside.

“I want to feel all of you against me,” she said.

“Oh, princess,” he said laughing, “I think I am falling for you,” he added.

Before Aethelflaed could answer, Sigefrid pushed his cock tip into her. She moaned and arched her back as she felt herself stretch wide to fit him. His cock rubbed against her walls, stretching her in ways Erik and Aethelred never had. She felt Erik climb off the bed and the sounds of his boots and trousers hitting the ground but she focused on Sigefrid and his cock.

“Oh,” she breathed out as she felt Sigefrid push deeper and deeper into her.

“Oh, princess, you are still so tight,” he groaned as his hand gripped her hip. She knew she would have bruises. She moaned and hissed as he rubbed his stump along her sensitive nipples. “Your husband's cock must be so small and tiny for you to still be so tight,” he added.

“I know,” Erik answered. “I have had her over and over,” he added. “Her cunt never seems to stretch out.”

“Hmm, princess,” Sigefrid moaned as he thrusted into her, filling her completely. Aethelflaed gasped as she felt how deep he was inside of her. She looked down and whimpered as she saw the bulge outline of his cock in her lower abdomen. “I fear we will not be returning you to your father,” he answered as he ran his stump down along her body. He pressed it down on the bulge. “My cock is already in love with your cunt.”

She breathed out. Her breath turned into a low moan as Sigefrid dragged his cock from her. He smirked at her as she reached out and grabbed his stump. He snapped his hips and thrusted into her hard and fast. She whimpered as tears rolled down her cheeks. She felt Erik's hands then, back on her breasts playing with her sensitive nipples. She barely had time to breathe before Sigefrid was dragging his cock from her again and thrusting back into her.

“Yes, that's it,” Sigefrid rasps as he dragged his cock from her again and thrusted into her. She moved a bit on the bed, Erik moved closer to hold her closer to Sigefrid, who began pounding into her over and over.

Aethelflaed moaned and closed her eyes. She clenched around Sigefrid's cock and felt his cock twitch. He kept pressing down on the bulge over and over and it added to her pleasure. She grabbed Erik's hand from her breast and moved it down to her mound. He seemed to know exactly what she needed. He ran his fingers lower and began to rub her nub. The sound that came from her mouth then was a sound she had never heard before. It was a mix between a moan and a whimper.

“I do love that sound,” Sigefrid said as he continued to thrust into her.

With Sigefrid's powerful, hard thrusts and Erik rubbing and flicking her nub, it did not take long for Aethelflaed to shatter again. She sobbed, actually sobbed, as her whole body shook. She closed her eyes, tears rolling unchecked from them. She dug her nails into Sigefrid's stump and the back of Erik's hand. She whimpered and sobbed as she saw white lights behind her eyelids. She heard Sigefrid chuckle as he dragged his cock from her.

“Help her up on her hands and knees,” Sigefrid told Erik. “I need to show her how one humps from behind. And make her come one more time.”

“Sigefrid,” Erik said his voice filled with caution and worry.

“Come now, brother, she is fine,” Sigefrid said. Aethelflaed huffed out a breath and nodded; or at least she hoped she nodded. “Plus, in that position, she can take you in her mouth.”

“He's,” she paused and took a slow deep breath, “right,” she finished. She began to roll over. She felt Erik's hands on her. She turned and grabbed his beard and tugged it bringing his face closer to hers. She kissed him and he kissed her back. She pulled away and looked at him. “I can take it,” she whispered to him.

He nodded. “All right,” he said. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. “Let me know if it's too much.”

She nodded. She pulled away from him and slowly rolled over. She closed her eyes. She could take another round.

Just one more time, she thought to herself.

***

Sigefrid watched as Aethelflaed moved on her hands and knees in front of him. His cock twitched as he saw her wet cunt in front of him. He looked up when he saw the look Erik gave him. He smirked and shrugged.

“You should see the view, brother,” Sigefrid answered as he stepped closer to her. He took his cock in hand and rubbed it up and down her folds again. His eyes watched as she clenched her cunt around nothing and whimpered. “It is fucking beautiful,” he answered as he pressed his tip into her.

“The view I have is also beautiful,” Erik said.

Sigefrid moved slowly, which was against how he usually humped, as he watched Erik move his cock closer to Aethelflaed's mouth. He saw Aethelflaed reach out and take Erik's cock in hand and stroke it. Sigefrid moaned, not caring who heard, as his princess' tight cunt sucked him in further and further in as he moved slowly pushing into her. His own cock twitched as he watched his brother's cock get taken into Aethelflaed's mouth.

“After I have filled you, later, my princess, you will take me into your mouth,” he grunted as he thrusted filling her completely. He held still for a moment when she choked on his brother's cock. He smirked and slapped her ass. “You just need practice in taking cocks in your mouth,” he grabbed her ass cheek and pulled it gently, giving him a view of her puckered hole. He reached out with his stump and ran it down her ass cheeks smiling as she shuddered. “And maybe one day, you can have both of us in your two holes here,” he added.

“Sigefrid,” Erik snapped at him. “She is not a common whore.”

“No, she isn't,” Sigefrid answered. He held her ass cheek tightly as he pulled his cock out of her, missing the feeling of her tight warmth around him. He pulled his cock out until his tip was barely inside of her and slammed back into her. He smiled as his thrust pushed her forward and she took Erik's cock deeper into her mouth. He did it again and again. He felt her clench around him. He looked up at Erik. “She may not be a common whore, but she is enjoying being used like one.”

Aethelflaed muttered something but it was choked off by Erik's cock in her mouth. Sigefrid pounded into her, using her over and over, thrusting into her without a pause. He looked down and watched as her folds stretched around his cock. They were puffy and swollen with need and when he dragged his cock from her, they sucked him back in as if her cunt ached and needed his cock to fill her.

“Aethelflaed,” Erik moaned.

“Are you close to coming, brother?” Sigefrid said as he felt the pull in his own balls and lower stomach. He was also close. But he would not come until he made her come one more time. He wanted to fill her as he felt her clench hard around him.

“I am,” Erik moaned. Sigefrid watched as he grabbed Aethelflaed's hair and pulled it up behind her head. He tugged her head back and Sigefrid watched as Aethelflaed pulled her mouth from Erik's cock, a spit trail still connecting them. “My angel princess, do you want to swallow my seed?” he asked.

Sigefrid snorted. “How nice of you to ask,” he teased.

Erik used his other hand and wiped some sweat from his chest. He flung it at Sigefrid. Sigefrid laughed. He thrusted into Aethelflaed harder. He moved his stump so it was under her and ran it along her stomach. He felt her tremble as he moved it lower. He pressed it against her pleasure nub and felt her move her hips so that her nub rubbed against it. It also meant that she pushed back against his thrusts.

“Yes,” she moaned as she moved her hand pulling Erik's cock back to her mouth. “I want your seed, my love,” she told his brother.

Sigefrid groaned and pressed his stump more against her pleasure nub as he continued to pound into her. He felt his own body begin to tremble as his felt his climax coming. He held off feeling Aethelflaed's own body begin to shake more and her cunt clenched around his cock over and over. She was so close. He knew he could hold off until she came.

He watched as Erik shoved his cock into Aethelflaed's mouth. He saw Erik's body shook and he felt Aethelflaed's cunt clench hard around his cock as she swallowed his brother's seed. He heard Aethelflaed's moans, whimpers, and half sobs as she sucked his brother dry. He thrusted into her harder over and over. She choked and let go of Erik's cock. Erik pulled his cock away ad Sigefrid grunted and moaned as Aethelflaed cried out again.

Her whole body shook violently almost and she went limp. She fell forward and Sigefrid saw her drool; it was white, which meant it held not only her spit but Erik's seed. He continued to thrust into her cunt, hard and fast as he rubbed her nub quickly. Even though she was passed out from the pleasure, her cunt clenched so violently around his cock, Sigefrid couldn't stop himself; he came.

He roared as he spilled his seed deep inside of Alfred's daughter. His body shook and trembled like he had never felt before. He felt her body shudder again and she moaned as she came to. Sigefrid held himself still wanting his seed to go deep into her womb. He stopped rubbing her nub and ran his hand along her spine.

“Such a good princess,” he whispered. “You are truly showing us some Saxon hospitality by taking our seed in your belly from your mouth and in your womb from your cunt,” he leaned down and licked her spine. She whimpered as the action pressed his cock, which was still half hard deeper in her. “You enjoyed it, didn't you? Us filling you from both ends?”

“Yes,” she breathed out so softly. “I did.”

Sigefrid laughed and kissed down her spine. He felt his cock go completely limp as he finished filling her. He slowly pulled his cock from her, smiling with pride as she whimpered and hissed. The moment his cock was completely out of her, she slumped over to her side. Sigefrid pulled her leg and rolled her back over to her back. He saw Erik lean forward and whispered to her as he pressed soft kisses on her face and stroked her hair.

Sigefrid's eyes took her in. The smear of his brother's seed on her lips and chin, the sweat that glistened her body, her red pebbled nipples, and finally, her puffy lower lips that were smeared with her wetness and his seed. He watched, his cock twitching and aching to stuff her again, as his seed dripped from her and fell on the furs.

“No more,” Erik said as he turned and saw the look in his eyes. “Brother, no more,” he said again.

Sigefrid huffed and held his arms up. “I was not going to take her,” he said. He smirked. “Not yet anyway,” he added with a wink.

“Sleep,” Aethelflaed muttered.

“We will, princess,” Erik answered. “After I wash you.”

Sigefrid moved and laid on the bed beside Aethelflaed. He smirked as she rolled over and snuggled close to him. He stroked her hair and rubbed his stump along her back. He looked up and watched as Erik came back with a cloth and some water. He began to wash between her legs and her body from juices, sweat, and their seed.

“We had a deal,” Erik told him in Danish.

Sigefrid nodded. “We did,” was all he answered.

He looked down at Aethelflaed as she muttered and sighed against his shoulder. Yes, they had a deal. But now that Sigefrid had had the princess, he was beginning to think they were not going to give her back. And...

He was also thinking that if Erik was going to run away with Aethelflaed, Sigefrid was going to join them.

After all, a good brother shared his wealth with his brother.

[anjelicawrites]

OK so, plan of action. I'll be writing next the Aemond x reader inspired by Æthelflæd and Sigefrid's storyline in The Last Kingdom and a soft smutty one shot for Aemond x Osferth in the poly universe (this one is already started); by the way, would anyone be interested in some lovey dovey smut for Aemond x reader and Aemond x Osferth, set it that universe? Hopefully the second one will take less time to write, but knowing me it's a wild guess. After tonight's night shift, I'll be away with a friend, thus no writing will be done, until well into next week. I will probably be MIA until I am done with both fics but feel free to come and talk to me about my babies or send in short requests about Aemond and/or Osferth!!!

[inforapound]

With Our Eyes Shut - Epilogue

A/N - Hey friends, had a couple of requests on wattpad for a final chapter of this. Thought I would post it here too. Hope everyone is well.   Ch.5 here. 

Pairing - Sigefrid and Genevieve  

Warnings - Sigefrid’s sweet love making:)

A month had passed since that horrid night.

Returning to Beamfleot the following day, everything had changed; all sense of master and slave had evaporated. Gone was the unfamiliarity and formality between them, instead, there was some formless bond that kept them tied. If Sigefrid was within the city walls, they were together, often seated side by side and if not, never apart for long. All meals were shared in the dining room in front of his men; men who would no longer dare cast her a second glance. She was his lady now and Erik had made certain that every person knew the price Haesten had paid.

At the order of Sigefrid, a slave had collected Genevieve's few things and moved her over into his chamber along with her kitten, back from the woman who had been watching it. Naturally, her duties, other than the ones she insisted on keeping, had been relieved and they shared his room as well as his bed every night since that dreadful trip.

And still..... no words had been spoken about what had grown between them. Neither of them had ever mentioned Haesten or the feelings they displayed that night back in the tent, after horns and horns of ale. No physical desires had been shared or acted upon and for the second time since meeting, he knew he had drawn an invisible line that he felt he could not cross. Within him, barely under the surface, was a ferocious need to protect her. She, again, was his wounded doe and he would not push his urges upon her. The thought of her conceding simply because of her reliance and his position of power made him feel ill. Never again, would she be put in that place.

And still.... he fucking ached for her. Longed for her. Waited each day for night to come, impatient for them to retreat to his chamber. He craved those candle-lit evenings, those moments with her alone in bed, lying side by side under the covers.

Regardless of how they fell asleep, they would wake in a tangle of arms and legs wrapped around the other like it had always been and always would be. The spoiled cat, that he thought should be in the barn, was never far away.

Yet as a man, a Dane warrior, it, them, the whole thing was agonizing, continuously confronting and always a challenge of his will. His attachment to her was palatable and many mornings he woke wondering if he should allow it to continue or, instead, end the torment and set her free.

Days were spent watching her, asking himself if he had the strength or even the kindness to risk letting her go. There was no question that she had a fondness for him, but he wondered if it was enough for her to stay with her former captor in a land that had taken so much.

And still.... he loved being with her. Loved everything about her. Listening to her hum while she sewed, watching her braid her long dark hair for bed, how she would rarely fill her own plate and instead take food from his. Gods, she was lovely, pure-hearted and kind and never shaken by his gruffness.

As a man usually led by impulse, the path to clarity was heart-rending but he had made the decision to speak with her and no longer stay paralyzed.

So....there he stood, in the late day sun with no armour and no weapons, wearing just a brown tunic and pants, his arm bear with his blade left behind on the table in their room.

As if sensing his eyes on her, she looked over her shoulder, squinting from the low afternoon sun. She was beautiful standing among the apple trees, with her wavy hair hanging free except for the fine braids on either side of her face. Her eyes were lightly lined with kohl and her dress was nearly sheer, illuminated by the light showing the curve of her brilliant ass. Fuck, he felt both excited and scared.

"Can I offer you an apple?" she smiled turning to face him, holding up one of the tart green ones he preferred. The basket at her feet looked heavy, nearly full to the top and he wondered if she had been expecting him.

As he approached, she lowered to sit, patting the ground beside her.

Taking the apple from her out-stretched hand, he settled into the grass feeling like a peasant on the ground but he did not share his grumbles. Chomping an enormous bite, he shook his head with amusement as she plucked it back from his hand and bit a piece from what was left.

"Why, woman, when you have a basket full of apples, do you eat mine?"

Scrunching her nose, she shrugged. "I like to eat your food."

"I have noticed."

"It is funny," she smiled and squinted one eye, her shyness not entirely outgrown.

"What is?" he grinned, nodding for her to answer.

Looking down, she pulled a long blade of grass from the ground, rolling it back and forth between her thumb and finger, the seed pods spinning free. "It is sweet to see a big black wolf share his food." She glanced up. "I like it."

"I. Like. You." he articulated in his deep Danish accent, hucking the apple behind him and leaning forward to grab her.

Embracing her around the waist, he pulled her toward him until she sat between his legs, her giggles bolstering his confidence.

"I have never said these words so I am going to say them now," his face grew serious and he watched her, again, lower her eyes, her expression also settling. "You are a free woman, Genevieve. Not my slave."

Dropping the grass, she reached up, still avoiding his gaze, and began fiddling with the cuff of his shirt that she had re-hemmed.

Clearing her throat, she glanced at him but only for a moment. "I gathered that when you had a new slave brought in."

"I see that girl has braided your hair and lined your eyes," he smiled, his eyes flitting over her profile, his dick flexing in his pants, reminding him it was there.

"Do you like it?" she whispered, clearly trying not to smile.

"Do I like it?" his smile widened, and his dark brows shot high. "Yes," he replied and then grunted like a boar making her laugh. "Genevieve," he leaned in closer, again becoming serious, "It is your choice whether to stay. If you choose not to, I will personally take you back to Frankia. But....the decision is yours."

Saying nothing, she looked at him, her thoughts crinkling the skin of her forehead.

"What?" he nudged her, squeezing her in his arms. "Say something."

"I would like to see Frankia again in my life but there is nothing there for me."

"Will you stay with me then?" The second he asked the question, he wondered why he had risked it.

Shifting, she pulled out of his arms and his heart sank but she quickly turned toward him, settling back on her knees to look at him. There was no smile on her face, but her eyes were warm and bright giving him hope that she was not thinking up the words to reject him. Shifting closer, she placed her hands over his face and he instinctively jerked his head back.

"What are you doing?"

"Hush," she quieted him, "Shut your eyes."

"No," he pulled back again, chuckling.

"Sigefrid," she pleaded gently and his name in her sweet accent nearly made his chest break wide. "Shut your eyes," she whispered, placing her hands back onto his face.

"This is stupid," he grumbled unable to stop the return of his shit-eating grin.

As foolish as it was, he closed his eyes, nearly flinching when he felt the softest graze of her lips against his skin, her hair tickling his face, as her mouth pressed to his ear.

"Sigefrid," she whispered again, "I want to stay with you."

"I want to fucking marry you," he rushed out making her laugh again.

"Let us start with a kiss then," she said in her melodic voice as she lowered her hands.

Waiting with his eyes still closed, he was grateful the next sensation was her beautiful lips pressing against his. The kiss was like her, gentle and sweet, and everything she had made him realize he wanted for himself.

"I need you," he said, opening his eyes, his heart and head drinking in her closeness.

"I know," she replied resting her hands onto his shoulder and inching closer toward him. Bringing her lips back to his face, she kissed his cheek, leaning again toward his ear. "I can see it when you look at me."

Pulling back, he opened his mouth to speak but before he could, she kissed him again and then again, her beautiful mouth inviting him deeper. Wrapping his arms around her, he groaned, pulling her closer until she was seated in his lap. The more he tasted, the more he knew he could never be without her.

Breaking the kiss, she looked at him, "Should we return to the room?"

"No. Let us stay here, under the sun, where the Gods can see us."

Squeezing her to him, he leaned them back until they lay flat on the warm ground. Adjusting, she turned so she was looking into his eyes and he reached over and smoothed the hair away from the edge of her face. Wrapping his fingers behind the nape of her neck, he kissed her again, her mouth so soothing and welcoming with the rolling of their tongues, it made it hard for him to keep a slow pace. Seeing her chest begin to rise and fall, he reached down and began to unlace the ties at her bust, her heavy bosoms straining against the fabric, begging to be freed.

Distracting him from the work of her laces, she sighed against his lips and it felt like a strike of heat shooting to his groin. Quickly he lifted her leg over his hip, pulling their cores closer, and dipped his palm under the fabric of her dress, skimming up the backs of her gorgeous, thick thighs.

He had thought of what this moment might be like a thousand times and yet he was still unprepared for how it pulled the air from his lungs; for how being with her made him feel like a man.

Continuing to run his hand higher, he made contact with her bare bottom, at last, touching the part of her he had never been able to drag his eyes away from. It was smooth and round and squeezing it created the most desirable result, her whimpering and rocking her hips against him. Fuck he thought, as his dick bagged to be unleashed but he could not rush; this was the start of the rest of his life. Valhalla would have to wait.

It was impossible to stop his hands from roaming, they tingled with the need to touch her, to explore every crease and part. Slipping down between her thighs, he felt her sex, his fingers brushing the hair of her mound, so soft it felt like the down of a thistle.

Enough was enough, he had to see her. All of her. Abruptly, he pulled away and pushed himself up to sit, the loss of contact, making her eyes shoot open.

Chuckling, he reached behind his head and pulled the tunic off his shoulders before undoing the top of his pants. Springing forward, his cock was standing alert, ready for her warmth.

Lowering her eyes to his open pants, she pressed her lips together stifling a smile, her dark eyes sparkled and the natural pink of her cheeks deepened to the colour of a rose. By the Gods, he was going to cherish her.

Sitting up, she shuffled her dress out from under her, pulling it up over her head and throwing it onto the ground. Smoothing down her mussed hair, she glanced away as her shyness crept back in. Her voluptuous form was now bare and breathtaking and in every way felt like a gift.

"Lie down woman. I want to look at you."

Lowering herself back to the ground, she moved awkwardly, lifting her arms over her head and using one to cover her eyes.

"Stop that. Look at me," he insisted and she lowered her hands to the grass.

Kicking off his boots, he ripped the front of his breeches down, quickly undressing completely. Crouching over her, he opened her legs and knelt between, noticing how she fought the need to glance away.

"You never need to hide from me. Never me, Genevieve. Never."

Biting her bottom lip, she said nothing but nodded. The small gesture and slight simper, prodding on his arousal.

Raking his eyes down her body, he stared at her large pillowy breasts, so full, they fell apart resting to either side. The plushness of her skin, her round hips, the rolls of her tummy that moved each time he shifted her made him feel, again, like that hungry black wolf and at that angle, he could see the underside of her beautifully round cheeks.

The Gods were smiling down at him, they must be, he thought and he would repay them by worshiping every part of her. Exhaling, his cock twitched as he replayed her whispered words in her songful voice telling him that she wanted to stay. And looking at her perfectly plump body then only made his erection strain and his balls feel tight, knowing with complete certainty, that she was designed by the Gods to produce life; life they would create together. Exhaling again, he nearly grunted thinking how badly he wanted to fill her with his seed.

Crawling forward, he hovered above and pressed his lips to hers again, pouring his thoughts into her mouth.

Straightening back onto his knees, he shifted her legs further apart, resting her spread thighs over his. Stroking his hardness with one hand, he reached down with the other, the glistening of her wetness teasing his eye and making the flames in his chest burn.

Spreading her folds with his fingers, he groaned as he looked down at her light pink insides, her body's honey allowing his thumb to slip back and forth over her clit making her gasp and arch her back. What a sound, he thought, mesmerized. She was all of life and with her, he knew he would share everything.

"Sigefrid," her quiet voice called to him and his eyes looked up to her. "Make love to me, Sigefrid."

As if the war horn had blown, he responded, guiding his swollen tip to her opening. Looking up, his dark eyes locked with hers and all at once he pushed inside.

"By the Gods!" he rushed out as she raised her hands to his shoulders, beckoning him down to rest on her. It felt so right and he knew this was the feeling he would survive any battle for. She was his path to glory.

Withdrawing partially, he pushed back in, his yearning for her unlike anything he had ever felt, an arousal so ripe it smoothed his chaos and steadied his mind. She was the dawn to his dusk, his woman and soon he would make her his wife.

Heat coursed through him, from his hard cock deep in her narrow womb, across his skin, spreading up his back and neck. A low groan rumbled out and he looked up to the trees, fighting the urge to rut hard and fast and immediately spill.

Gods, she looked perfect lying beneath him, he thought as he looked back down, watching pleasure sweep across her beautiful face. The waive of affection he felt was overwhelming and he closed his eyes savouring the feel of being inside her as he rhythmically rocked his hips, each stroke pushing deeper. His skin was moving and pressing against hers bringing forth her scent and the smell of her glossy dark hair, his tongue was tracking up her warm throat as he thrust into her again.

Their movements did not stop until her legs were squeezing his sides, her arms around his neck, his cock sliding out only to pump back in. Every movement was controlled and powerful, and his steady breathing was morphing into low grunts and indiscernible words.

"Sigefrid," she uttered, and his eyes snapped open, seeing her parted lips and hooded eyes, her breath in a light pant.

"Tell me," she whispered with a smile and he had to think about what he had been mumbling. "Say what you are thinking. Please. I can see it in your eyes." Tilting up, she kissed him, her rich brown eyes sparkling, reflecting the sun above.

Staring at her, he felt his chest swell as he languidly withdrew and eased back in and then for the first time in his thirty-one years, he opened his warrior heart.

"Genevieve, I love you."

@naaladareia​​​​​​​​​ @geekandbooknerd​​​​​​​​​​​  @hecohansen31​​​​​​​​​​  @mdredwine​​​​​​​​​​ @ceridwenofwales​​​​​​​​​ @whenimaunicorn​​​​​​​​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​​​​​​​​ @edythofhastings​​ @clevercass​

[persephones-journey]

I'm in Love With the Thought of You

Uhtred/OC, Sihtric /OC, mentions of Sigefrid/OC.

So yeah... there be smut under the cut (ha, that rhymed) so no minors please. Move along. I am hoping this, ah, well lives up to the hype. Enjoy.

Like most things in Mo Dempsie's life, the affair with Uhtred Ragnarson started because she was angry.

No, scratch that, livid at her husband, Sigefrid Thurgilsson.

Sigefrid had taken the fall for his brother, Erik and had been convicted and thrown in prison for theft while Erik ran off with the rich girl, Aethelflaed and lived happily ever after.

Mo knew that Sigefrid, Erik, and said rich girl had all been working together to steal from Aethelflaed's father, Alfred. When they got caught though, Sigefrid had taken the fall.

Leaving Mo alone.

And she did not do well alone.

It was lead her to where she was now, in the back office of the strip club her husband and her owned, bent over her desk with Uhtred pounding into her from behind, her tight black dress bunched up around her waist, her breasts spilling out of the bodice as she crawled on the desk, her moans echoing in the room.

There was no doubt Sigefrid would hear about this.

But she didn't care.

“That's it,” Uhtred groaned as he grabbed her hips with bruising force and thrusted into her harder and faster.

Mo pushed back against his thrusts, feeling how deep he got, how much he filled her in this position. She pressed her hands, palms down on the desk and let her head fall forward as she felt the pleasure cascade over her. She let herself fall into the pleasure, moaning Uhtred's name louder as she trembled and shook. He thrusted into her once than again before she felt his warmth fill her womb. She slumped down on the desk and chuckled as she felt him fall over her.

“You are,” he whispered as he brushed aside her burgundy curls that fell around her shoulders, and kissed her neck, “perfection,” he added as he pressed more kisses into her neck.

She hummed and reached behind her. She took his hand when he grabbed hers and held it. “There is not need to flatter me, Uhtred,” she muttered, “I am already letting you fuck me.”

He chuckled. She sighed as he stood and pulled his limp cock from her. She pushed herself up from the desk and turned around to look at him. He leaned in and kissed her lips, softly and gently. She hummed against them as she felt him pull down her dress, her underwear apparently not leaving his pocket where he had stuffed them. She pulled away and sat on the edge of her desk as she pushed and fixed the bodice of her dress, stuffing her breasts back inside.

“I'll be by tomorrow night,” he whispered as he brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

She looked up, her ice blue eyes meeting his deeper blue ones. She bit her bottom lip. “I don't know,” she whispered. “Maybe you shouldn't come around here anymore,” she stated.

Again.

Every time he came to the club and they ended up fucking, she felt guilty after. She was still so very angry with Sigefrid but... There was a part of her that knew this needed to stop.

Especially at the club.

She didn't want to lose Sigefrid. She just wanted him to feel the same anger and rage she felt; she wanted him to suffer.

“All right,” Uhtred whispered as he nuzzled his face in her neck. She smiled as he felt him place the softest of kisses there as he ran his nose along her jaw, taking in her scent. “I won't come here anymore,” he whispered in her ear. He nipped her ear lobe. “There are other places I have wanted to fuck you anyway.”

Mo laughed and pushed Uhtred away. He went standing up straight. She watched as he pulled his trousers closed and tucked his cock back inside. He smiled as he caught her watching him. He leaned forward and stole a kiss. His lips pressed hard against hers stealing her breath for a moment.

“Go,” she pushed him away in order to breathe again. She hated how she found herself smiling as he turned and walked towards the door.

“Always a pleasure, Mo,” he answered as he opened the door. He turned and winked at her. “I hope to see you again. And make you come several more times.”

Mo grabbed her pen from the table and threw it at him. “Get out!”

He laughed and left the office. Mo pressed her hands on her desk and let her head fall forward, her curls masking her face.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

She was getting in too deep.

Time to pull the rip cord and let Uhtred go.

***

She managed to avoid Uhtred for two weeks.

She hid away in a closet in her office when he came, pretending not to be there, and ignored his calls over and over.

And he had finally stopped calling three days before, so Mo thought he had finally gotten the message.

She was at home in her cozy little cottage, dancing around the kitchen as she did her laundry and folded the clothes. She sang along to her favourite songs dancing like no one was watching.

Cause, really, no one was meant to be watching.

Naturally when laughter echoed in her small kitchen, she startled and let out a very unladylike shriek. Uhtred laughed louder as he leaned in the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

“What the absolute fuck?!” she screamed.

“I knocked,” he said as he waved towards her doorway. “Several times. I heard the music and let myself in.”

She walked over and shut her phone off and the kitchen fell silent. She turned and eyed him. “Get out.”

“No,” he answered as he walked further into the kitchen. “Not until we talk.”

Mo felt her anger peak to a rage. She crossed her arms on her chest, wishing she had worn more than just a pair of boycut panties and one of Sigefrid's old zip up hoodies. She could feel Uhtred's eyes undressing her and wanted to slap him across the face.

“We have absolutely nothing to talk about,” she stated coldly.

“We have everything to talk about,” he countered.

She snorted. “Do not use that tone with me!” she huffed. “You are nothing to me!”

“You are everything to me!” he yelled.

Silence. Mo looked at him. She saw everything that had attracted her to him. His blue eyes, his smile, his strength; and perhaps most importantly, his wedding band. He was married. To a woman, Eadith, who was unknown to her, but still. He should not want more than just a few fleeting moments.

Once again, it seemed, Mo had managed to turn a mistake into a giant fuck up.

“I don't want to be your everything,” she spat out. She walked over to him and shoved him. “Now, get the fuck out of my house. We are done.”

“We are not done,” he spat back as he leaned forward and got into her face.

She shoved him again. He grabbed her wrists in his hands and shoved his body at her. She turned and he pinned her against the wall. She hated how wet she got as he pinned his hands above her head with one hand while the other grabbed the zipper of the hoodie and pulled it down slowly.

“I do not want to do this with you anymore,” she hissed as he slotted his leg between hers. She opened her legs wider and he pressed his knee up against her core. Her body betrayed her as her hips began to move, rocking up and down his thigh.

He smiled as he leaned in and kissed her. She bit his bottom lip hard enough she tasted blood. He pulled away and smiled at her, his bloody lip turning her on even more. “Your mouth says no, but your body,” he pulled the zipper completely open and reached in with his hand. She moaned as his hand cupped and squeezed one of her breasts, “your body wants me to fuck it nice and hard.”

Mo tore her hands from his hold. He let them go and she ripped at his clothing. He ripped at hers. Their lips and teeth bit each other as much as they kissed. Clothing ended up thrown every which way and Mo got her wish, she slapped Uhtred across the face. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist and pinned her back to the wall. A moment later, she was impaled on his cock and moaning loudly as he pounded into her.

“This is the last time,” she moaned as her shoulders hit the wall and she raked her nails down his shoulders and chest loving how he hissed in pain.

His fingers dug deeper into her hips and she knew she would have bruises in the shape of fingers in the morning. He leaned in and kissed her; the kiss hard and full of desire and desperate need.

“We're not done,” he hissed as thrusted hard into her. “You know it and I know it. What we have is too good to just throw away.”

“It's just sex, Uhtred,” she stated, rather coldly.

His blue eyes looked into hers. He kissed her again; this time it was softer. His lips brushing hers and sucking on her bottom lip as he slowed his thrusts. He began to thrust into her gently, and slowly. “No,” he said his lips brushing hers, “I'm in love with you, Mo,” he whispered before he claimed her lips again.

Mo didn't say anything. She did not know what to say. So, she continued to say nothing as Uhtred continued to fuck her. She nuzzled her face in his neck and bit his neck as she held on to him.

Her mind began to form a plan. A way to get Uhtred to see the errors of his way.

Because there was no fucking way she was in love him. And there was no fucking way she was leaving Sigefrid for him.

Not happening.

***

Mo's father always told her, when she put her mind to something, she was unstoppable; and downright terrifying.

So when she put her mind to getting rid of Uhtred (not that way), her mind carefully came up with a plan that was fool proof.

Fuck someone else.

Well, not just some random someone; someone close to Uhtred.

She first eyed Finan, but sadly he actually seemed happily married and even ignored most of the strippers when he came to the club with Uhtred's other friends, Sihtric and Osferth. Instead he spent most of his time paying for lap dances for Osferth.

So, she crossed him off the list.

Osferth, sweet innocent Osferth, never truly made the list. She feared if she even flirted with the poor guy, he would turn into a puddle of goo and blush. He seemed much too innocent and genuinely too kind for her to play with.

She moved on to Sihtric and she smiled when she realized she had found the perfect target.

He was gorgeous, seemingly unattached, and more importantly, his eyes already followed her around the club and never left her.

It did not take much convincing from her or flirting to get him up into her office. A few kisses later, her panties were in his back pocket and his cock was out of his pants.

And what a cock is was. Thick and long, uncut and just begging to be sucked.

Mo had originally planned on just that; giving Sihtric a blow job he would never forget. But at the sight of his cock, and the feel of it in her hand as she stroked it, she decided she needed to ride it. She did taste it, taking the tip in her mouth and sucking on it. Her blue eyes looked up and watched as Sihtric's mismatched eyes, one brown and one blue, watched her, his head falling back in her chair as she let her tongue lap and swirl around his tip.

She got wetter when he began to let out soft whimpers. Whimpers. Sigefrid and Uhtred never whimpered.

She pulled her mouth from his cock, pulled up her dress, and climbed on his lap, wasting no time in taking all of him inside of her. And fuck, was it a feat. He filled her, stretched her in a way she had not felt for a very long time. His hands grabbed her waist as she moved herself up and down on his cock, enjoying herself far more than she thought she would.

“Shit, Sihtric,” she moaned as she grabbed his face and pulled it closer to hers so she could kiss him, “where have you been hiding this perfect cock?” she asked as she felt him move his hands from her waist to her breasts. He pulled down her bodice and cupped her breasts in his hands.

“In my pants,” came his response before he moaned as she sped up her movements.

She smirked and kissed him again, raking her fingers through his curls.

She got so caught up in riding Sihtric, she barely heard the door to her office open. She pulled away from Sihtric's lips when she heard Uhtred curse. She pushed against her desk, turning the office chair so she could see Uhtred as he stood in the doorway.

She did not stop riding Sihtric.

“What the fuck is this?” Uhtred demanded as he waved his arms at them.

Mo looked at him and leaned back feeling Sihtric's hands squeeze her breasts harder. “I have moved on to a nicer, longer, harder cock,” she said simply. “You and I are done.”

Uhtred opened his mouth. He shook his head and looked at Sihtric. “Have fun while you can,” he told his friend. “Her mouth ruins it most of the time.”

Mo laughed. “You enjoyed my mouth,” she grabbed her pen and tossed it at him. “Now, get the fuck out.”

Uhtred looked at Sihtric. “You coming?” he asked.

“Not yet he isn't,” Mo added as she grinded down on Sihtric's hard cock.

She saw the indecision in Sihtric's eyes. Uhtred muttered another curse and turned and left the office slamming the door behind him. Mo leaned in and kissed Sihtric deeply as she continued to ride him. She grabbed one of his hands from her breast and pressed it to her clit. She felt his fingers begin to rub her clit, pleasure seemingly flowing through her and washing over her again and again dragging her down until she felt like she could not breath.

Her whole body trembled and soon it was Sihtric who was thrusting up into her more than it was her lowering herself down and riding him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he thrusted into her harder and faster. She came, clenching around his cock so hard she felt him spill into her a moment later.

Mo slumped against Sihtric, liking the feel of his muscular body against her leaner one. She pulled her head away and saw him eye her. He stood with her in his arms, his limp cock slipping from her making her feel far more empty than she wanted to. He placed her in the chair and pulled away from her, tucking his cock back in his pants and fixing his shirt.

“You used me,” he said simply.

She eyed him, his seed dripping from her. “I did,” she answered. No sense in lying.

Sihtric looked at her and nodded. “If you want to do this again, at least try to be honest with me,” was all he said.

She watched as he turned and left her office. He too slammed the door behind him.

Mo cursed and pulled her bodice back up over her breasts. She was tugging her dress down looking around for the facial tissue she usually kept on her desk when her phone rang. She grabbed it and answered it.

“Hello,” she said.

“This is a call from Sigefrid Thurgilsson, inmate at Wessex State Prison. Press one to accept the call,” a voice on the other end said.

Mo closed her eyes. She reached out with her hand.

It hovered over the number pad of her office phone.

[inforapound]

With Our Eyes Shut Ch.2

A/N - I really wasn’t sure anyone would read a Sigefrid fic so to those who liked and commented on the first chapter, I really appreciate it. Chapter 1 Here. 

Series Warnings - historical/series inaccuracies, mentions of abuse, mentions of pregnancy termination, angst, fluff.

 Pairing - Sigefrid and OFC    Chapters 2 of 4

“You do not speak much.”

Glancing away, her eyes shifted about the room but returned to his, clearly unsure of whether to respond.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked, noticing the way her fingers still fiddled with her apron and the skirt of her dress. “Afraid of this?” he lifted his bladed arm.

Looking at it, she nodded yes.

“Wise,” he smiled showing his remarkably good teeth.

“I do speak,” her voice croaked, and she immediately cleared her throat. “But, here, it is better to be….” she hesitated.

“Mute?”

“Invisible.”

“I see,” he eyed her a moment longer, dissecting her meaning before taking a seat and motioning for her to join.

Moving to stand next to him, she unsurprisingly, chose the side with his good hand.

“Woman, start,” he nodded, his voice again gruff.

Reaching forward, she gathered the materials they had abandoned the first day. Pulling the one remaining copy of the alphabet forward, she pushed a quill towards him.

With a huff, he picked it up, fumbling with the thin feather and pressed it to the parchment. Her hands shot forward and grabbed his, stilling it before repositioning the feather in his large, weathered hand.

“Softly,” she uttered. “Do not press.”

Saying nothing, he watched her small hands pull away from his.

Humming, she indicated her approval as he drew the curved lines of the first letter. Once done, he scowled at his work and looked over to her.

“A,” she said, looking at him evenly.

“A,” he repeated, perking up at the fact she had not found an error. 

“Ahh,” she sounded it out.

“What?” he made a face.

“This letter. That is the sound it makes. Ahh.”

“Why? I thought it was A. I am not making that sound.”

Shrugging, she looked back to the paper and pointed at the next symbol walking him through the same process.

Shooting his head back, he felt the silliest sense of pride, looking at the two markings that were more or less like hers.

It made him grin, “I am a fucking natural. Nooooo surprise,” he called out, tipping his head back and laughing.

She could not help but smile and his eyes caught it before returning his focus to the next few letters.

Perfectly still, she stood at his side and each time he completed another, he would look to her for adulation. Inwardly he rolled his eyes at himself, so easily bolstered by her praise.

“Sit down,” he said, still working the quill. “A warrior does not like to be stood over.”

Pulling out the chair, she settled in and he slouched back, taking it as a moment to rest.

“I do not understand how these things,” he nodded indicating the paper, “create language.”

She looked from him back to the paper, “It takes time, Lord. It is a skill...like any other. Each step a base for the next.”

She kept her gaze on the table, avoiding his eyes.

He sighed, opening and closing his hand as if it had been strained.

“This exhausts me. I feel the need to,” put my cock in something warm he thought but instead he said, “...drink.”

Sliding back his chair, he rose and headed to the door, glancing back as he opened it, “We will do this again.”

“Tomorrow, Lord?”

Chewing the skin on the inside of his lip, he paused, thinking, “No,” he shook his head, leaving without another word.

___

It was a week before she turned and nearly slammed into the enormous Waylen standing behind her, waiting to escort her to the meeting room. Following that lesson, she was summoned every few days but it quickly evolved into most afternoons.

The progress was slow and slowed further by his many questions and need to understand. And, although still skittish, she seemed to find some guarded sense of ease in his presence, set back, at times, by his outbursts of frustration.

She began to bring a jug of ale and bread and cheese or fruit, whatever she could take from the kitchen without attracting attention. As one of the two Lords of Beamfleot, Sigefrid could have anything but she, maintaining her word to keep their meetings private, moved in the shadows.

That afternoon, the session was much like any other, Sigefrid in the chair, uncomfortably working the quill with her seated next as he sounded out simple words. Still, regularly grunting and mumbling how moronic it all was.

“Now what?” He dropped the feather and looked at her.

“A moment please, Lord,” rising from her seat, she went to the shelf on the far side and filled a cup from a jug of wine. Bringing it to him, along with a plate of bread and dried meat with an apple on the side, she handed it over, motioning for him to drink.

“Are you trying to poison me,” he sniffed the cup. “Or, get me drunk?”

“Eat and drink first. The next part will feel silly and you anger easily when you have not eaten.”

Smiling, he emptied half the cup in one loud gulp, taking such a large bite from the apple, it collapsed into two. Smoothing his hand over his thick black beard, his smile simmered but his dark eyes continued to shine. It was quiet moments like these, looking at her pretty face that he felt he was coming to terms with his fondness of having her near. 

“So the wine loosens the tongue and makes me a better pupil, eh?”

“Enough wine and people will do almost anything,” she smiled but quickly lowered her eyes.

“How did you end up a slave in Beamfleot?”

“I told you,” she replied in a soft voice, still looking down. “My mother and father were killed.”

“Yes, but after that?”

“I made my way through the woods, eventually found myself on that ridge just beyond the east wall. Stayed there for several days.”

“And then?” he pressed, tearing off a bite of the salted meat.

She settled back in the chair as if sensing the lesson was over.

“Two men out hunting stumbled upon me and one of them brought me home to his family. He had a wife and four children and I helped look after them and cook...did chores,” she shrugged.

“Did they mistreat you?” he emptied his cup and she sprung to her feet, retrieving the jug and filled it again.

“I am alive so...” she sat back down. 

Dropping his chin, he eyed her, squinting, making it clear he was not buying her dismissiveness.

For a moment she said nothing but exhaled and answered. “He took liberties, Lord,” she looked down, tucking her long hair behind her ear. “After the first season with them...I found myself...in a sensitive way.”

At that, his own eyes faltered and he looked into his cup, saying nothing more.

Clearing her throat, she again pushed the hair away from her face.

“I drank poison I got from a healer... or a witch, I am not sure what she was. It took care of it and nearly me in the process, but some good did come from it,” she pressed her lips together. “He did not touch me after that...though...his wife became a danger.” She shrugged again. “I have forced myself to believe that it was not about me,” she looked up, surprising him by staring into his eyes, “and that I was just some faceless pound of flesh. On your own Lord, you learn all people prey on those who have no where to go.”

They sat for some time in silence, broken only by the distant sounds of wood being chopped and faint voices as people went about their day.

“You hate Saxon people?” he finally asked, his voice unusually quiet.

“I neither hate or care for them but I am reminded each day that they are not my people.”

“Do you speak of these meetings to the other slaves.”

“No, Lord,” her eyes widened. “Never. I speak to no one. I have only ever had words with you...and Lord Erik on that first day. Being from Frankia, there is no place for me among the slaves. I just do as I’m told.”

Closing his eyes, he could not help but imagine the horrors she must have endured, hoping that this man was one he had driven his sword through. It made his gut feel sour and he cleared his throat, shaking off the feeling. “Bloody Saxons, eh?”

Frowning, he gave her an awkward look, concealing the fact he felt strange; the irony of their lives and circumstances flaring in his mind.

He held out his cup. “Finish it,” he nodded. “It helps with more than loosening the tongue.”

Her face brightened a little and she reached out, taking the cup from his hand and tasting the wine.

“Do I still scare you?” he asked, speaking slowly, his voice deep and resonant.

Air rushed from her nose and she nearly laughed. “Of course,” she replied and he felt a twinge of disappointment.

“You need this too,” he held out his plate, noticing that her face had thinned over the weeks of their meetings. “Go on, I am not a generous man so...”

Reaching forward, she took a piece of the hard meat, taking a small bite.

“More?” he jerked his head toward the cup, topping it up from the jug, feeling rather content with the way that she smiled.

——

Her translation of the recent scroll had been correct; two powerful thrones were set to align. Kingdoms throughout England wanted to wish Alfred’s daughter and the lord of Mercia’s marriage well by sending gifts. The offerings were received at Winchester and were to be transported to Mercia via convoy, guarded by a handful of soldiers, exactly ten days before the ceremony.

The brothers had been there to intercept. Waiting on either side of the road with only four additional men. It had been effortless; the convoy blindsided. The Saxon men easily cut down and the brothers back in Beamfleot, much wealthier, all before the evening meal. The take was great; gold and silver, jewelry, some weapons, and books; those, of course, would be burned. As much as Sigefrid loved to fight, he saw the wisdom in this approach.

Slouching back in his chair at the head table, hand on a full horn, he stared out the open doors only partially listening to Erik and another man recount the day and laugh. Instead of chuckling along, his mind drifted to other lands, farther north and even overseas. Places she could speak the language that he had never even dreamt of conquering.

A figure flashed by in the late-day light, entering the dining room.

“If she picked a fight it looks like she lost,” Erik said, leaning closer to Sigefrid, jerking his head in the girl’s direction.

Having not caught a proper glimpse, Sigefrid turned and instantly saw what Erik was referring to. She was visibly upset and clutching her shoulder, her face flushed and her dress covered in muck from the hip down. Before even forming his next thought, he was up and crossing the room, grabbing her arm to stop her from entering the kitchen.

Staring down at her startled, tear-streaked face, he saw that the front of her was wet and the neck of her dress torn.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Breaking their eye contact, she shook her head, folding over her apron to cover the mess.

“I said,” he softened the intensity of his voice, “what happened? Did someone hurt you?” Again, his eyes scanned her muddy clothes, focusing on her defined collarbone exposed by the tear in the fabric.

Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she glanced up nervously, her eyes flitting passed him toward where he had been sitting.

As he was turning to follow her line of sight, a shrill voice interrupted.

“Where is that Frankish whore?” spat one of the older kitchen thralls. Rounding the corner, her eyes locked onto the girl but flashed wide at the sight of Sigefrid.

“What is going on?” This time he yelled. “I will not ask again!”

The haggard-looking woman shook her head as if disgusted, “Nothing you need to trouble yourself with, Lord, I will handle her. This stupid girl can’t even do a simple task. I’ve already been told she’s gone and tripped, smashed the whole lot of eggs.”

His eyes snapped back to the girl but she was looking down at her clasped hands.

“Get in here and stop bother’n Lord Sigefrid, you filth. I’m gonna beat your ass with...”

“That’s enough!” he barked at the woman making her washed-out eyes shoot even wider. “Shut your mouth and get in that kitchen,” he pointed with his blade.

The old woman turned on her heel and disappeared around the corner.

“Go clean up,” he said to the girl, stepping closer, irritated she would not look at him. “I want you working in the dining room only. Where I can see.”

They both stood still for a moment, his eyes again running over the rip in her dress, catching sight of red marks on her skin that were beginning to rise.

 “Go,” he ordered, and she started off, racing out the main door in the direction of the barn slave quarters.

“Settling slave disputes now, brother?” Erik smiled as Sigefrid dropped heavily back into his chair, his eyes still set on the door.

“That girl is more trouble than she’s worth,” he muttered under his breath, taking a drink of mead.

“Four hundred pounds of gold and silver upstairs says otherwise,” Erik nudged his leg under the table.

While he had been away from his seat, Haesten joined and was now seated, drinking, droplets of ale running down his unruly beard.

The long tables began to fill for the evening meal and the volume of the room rose as word of the ambush and the rich spoils spread.

Sigefrid's eyes caught the movement of her dark hair as she rushed back in, barely visible behind the tall warriors. As she came into view, she glanced at him before rushing to collect a pitcher.

“Cleans up nice, that one,” Haesten’s husky voice oozed out, his smudged black eyes tracking her. “I like her big round tits. They have yet to be worked flat,” he laughed, taking another drink.

The meal was served by four thralls, including her. Platters of meat and bread, some root vegetables, and bowls of green apples were carried out for the fifty or so men eating in the first seating.

Unusually quiet, Sigefrid chewed meat from a leg of pheasant, his eyes scanning the packed room but always drifting back to her.

She moved between the rows, refilling cups of ale, seemingly avoiding his table altogether. Further, and more concerning he noticed how his men heckled her, some patting her bottom and others tugging on the skirt of her dress.

“Ah, you have noticed my blooming flower,” Haesten crooned.

“Huh?” Sigefrid looked over at him.

“She has escaped my clutches twice now. I found her bending over, collecting eggs from the coop; that plump round ass of hers high in the air. Hmm,” he hummed to himself, his eyes still following her. “No luck though, little thing squirmed out of my arms for a second time,” pausing he took a swig from his cup, “seeing her bent, I could not help but yank down my pants. Next time I will wait until I’m between her legs so she cannot out-run me,” he laughed.

Sigefrid’s hand slammed down so hard on the table, it jostled the plates and cups.

“You will go no where near her,” he spoke low and slow, dropping his chin as he stared at Haesten.

Without looking up from his plate, Erik spoke around a mouthful of bread, “She is our translator now. And...she is a good girl. Not to be handled roughly by the likes of you.”

Sigefrid’s face was tense, his eyes still burning out from under his dark brow.

“Does not seem that all the men are aware,” Haesten said, looking back over at her.

Also looking, Sigefrid saw one of his men, pull her down onto his lap, laughing, telling her not to be so shy.

Out of his seat, he stormed around the table, grabbing the girl’s arm for the second time that night, yanking her out of his man's grasp. The warrior looked up, utterly confused seeing Sigefrid’s gritted teeth and narrowed eyes.

”Lord,” he said in an apologetic tone, “I had not realized that you had taken her for yourself.”

“Well, I have!” he roared and the room fell silent. “No one touches this slave. No one,” he glared at all those staring back at him, “Until I am done with her,” he added, turning and leading her back to the table.

Sitting, he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arm around her waist, ignoring both his brother and Haesten. The young woman sat awkwardly, staring down at her hands, her long brown hair hanging loose, concealing the sides of her face.

Taking a leg of chicken from his plate, he held it up for her but she did not take it; just looked at it, nervously.

His arm tightened around her waist and pressed his lips against her hair.

“Eat,” he whispered. Straightening, he spoke again, this time loud enough for the others to hear. “I will not have your ass disappear.” Slowly she reached up and took the drumstick, bringing it to her mouth. “Once you are done go up to the meeting room and wait for me.”

——

It was not clear to him why he knocked instead of barging in but there he was, standing in the hall waiting for her to answer. Opening the door, she glanced up but quickly stepped aside clearing the way.

Once the door was closed behind, he faced her, standing close and shifting the bundle of fabric he held under one arm. His eyes settled on the two crudely stitched x’s that held the neck of her dress in place.

“These dresses were in a trunk in my room,” he held them out. “Likely the prior lady’s.”

Blinking with surprise she took them, the bundle enormous in her arms.

Shuffling his feet, he searched for his next words, confused by his cautiousness, and again irritated that she had been dragged into his life by his brother.

Studying her, he noticed how her hands fumbled nervously with the clothes and how she could not maintain his gaze. Likely bracing, he guessed, for some form of assault. But there was just something about her thick dark hair and brown eyes, the symmetry of her plush lips and round cheeks that made him unable to look away. He felt weakened somehow, and worse, could not tell if he liked or hated it.

Slowly, he reached forward, lifting her chin with his fingers; her round eyes meeting his.

Despite the flood of bewilderment, what he did know, undeniably, is that he never wanted her to hurt again. For the first time in his thirty-one years, he asked a slave, her, an intimate question; one that related to who she was in her world before he destroyed it. “Tell me,” he narrowed his eyes, “What is your name?”

Her small, reluctant voice answered, so faint he had to strain to hear.

“Genevieve.”

 Next Chapter 

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[inforapound]

If Sigfrid saw Genevieve in modern times....

[inforapound]

With Our Eyes Shut Ch.1

This is my first TLK fic written in celebration of @geekandbooknerd;s 1,000 Followers Celebration. Congratulations you!!!. Prompt in bold. I have played with the series time line here. Expect historical and series inaccuracies and I had no idea who to tag so I can add or delete you easily. Just let me know. 

Pairing - Sigefrid and OC      Chapter - 1 of 4   

The board sliding back to unlock the thick door startled the captives sitting on the floor of the dingy barn. Shushes and frightened gasps greeted the fair-haired Thurgilson as he walked in and eyed the huddled bunch. They were to be slaves to the heathen Danes and would soon learn that being cut down, like so many of their loved ones, would have been a blessing.

The siege had been fast, and the death count high with only a small number of women spared by the wicked brothers. They now had control over Beamfleot and planned to stay, establish and plot.

“Can anyone here read and write?” the Northman asked in a stern, thickly accented voice.

When no one responded, irritation flashed across his face, his kohl-lined eyes and long goatee making him look like some ghoul from a children’s fable.

“I will ask only once more.”

Reaching down, he grabbed the closest woman yanking her to her feet. Squealing like a piglet, she held up her shaking hands as if to signify she was helpless. The truth was, they all were and he knew it. Pointing his dagger at her face, he glared back at the captives, his cool blue eyes scanning them... waiting.

“Who. Here. Can. Read?” 

It was clear, his patience was gone. Most averted their eyes but some glanced at one another as if also seeking the answer, desperate for the barbarian to set his sights on anyone but them.  

“Shame,” he uttered, looking back to the woman, tightening his grip on the neck of her dress, making her cry out again.

Movement in his peripheral pulled his attention to the far corner. Pushing up to stand, a girl, a woman really leaned against the wall. She did not say a word but her terrified brown eyes met his just long enough for him to know that he had his answer.

----

“Sigefrid,” Erik stressed his name as if to make his point. “We must keep our eye on the greater plan. To have this knowledge will give us the advantage of surprise.”

“So will my blade running through their skulls.” The dark-haired Thurgilson grinned, seated on the former Lord’s chair, “Surprise!” he laughed loudly, raising the incased knife affixed to his forearm up into the air.

If that was not a simple enough response to his brother’s suggestion that they learn the Christian language, he snorted and sucked snot down from the back of his nose, spitting a ball of phlegm onto the wood floor beside him.

Crossing his arms, Erik waited, knowing Sigefrid was not yet through.

“We do not need to read or write to raid and kill, Erik. We will settle here, enjoy what this bountiful land has to offer, and prepare to take out the weak king. We can speak their horse piss language, that is enough.”

“True, but would you not care to know what this says?” Erik held up the small scroll in his hand. It had been taken by two of their warriors who intercepted a messenger leaving Winchester. “Would it not be of value to know when and where their armies travel so we can better position? What if the black scratches on this parchment say that Alfred will soon be on the move, perhaps leaving his walled city to visit Mercia. On the road, he would be ripe for an ambush, brother. Just think...”

Always the less methodical out of the two, Sigefrid was passionate and impulsive, rash and at times his anger flared but now, he responded with silence knowing he would eventually agree with his younger brother. But not yet.

Roughly clearing his throat, he snorted again. “I will join the lessons,” he spoke slowly as to exaggerate his concession, “Once I have taken a shit. Unless I do it there,” his dark brows shot high and he flashed his straight white teeth, “welcome our tutor with the task of wiping that scroll across my dirty ass.”

“By the looks of her, you’d enjoy that,” Erik chuckled.

Emptying his cup in one go, Sigefrid’s dark eyes scanned the hall, “More ale!” he roared.

----

The main building was not large, ten modestly sized chambers; six on the ground level, surrounding the main room, and four upstairs, evidently used by the previous and now dead Lord and his wife. Sigefrid would never understand why these Christian nobles did not share chambers with their wives. The only thought he had was, perhaps, it was less awkward on nights when humping the help. But domestic life, in any culture, was lost on him. He had never experienced it and did not plan to live that long. Wanting to reach Valhalla in his prime, it would be a warrior’s death for him and Erik was there to marry and breed, carry on their family’s bloodline.

Dark and handsome though, he was a self-proclaimed ladies man, always having his pick of the women. Felt them powerless against his bravado and charm and rarely went to bed without wetting his dick. Like killing, variety for him was the spice of life and Erik would tease that for Sigefrid, excess was the best show of success.

As much as he grumbled at the notion of learning the Saxon’s written word, he knew Erik would not lead them astray. Preferring to approach battle in a straight line, he charged at any target, whereas his baby brother touted strategy, suggesting that the zig and zag of tactical ambush would spare them men. Despite the glory of dying with a weapon in the hand, Sigefrid did recognize the convenience in keeping their numbers stable. They had set up shop in Wessex’s back yard and Alfred’s land was theirs for the taking.

----

No crude or threatening comments came from Sigefrid when he first saw her. No jeering eyes or aggressive words. Nothing. He just looked at her standing frozen, alone, in front of them, her large brown eyes incapable of hiding her fear. He guessed in any circumstance she was likely a quiet little thing but there, before him and Erik, she had every reason to be afraid.

There was something in the way she watched them that he liked; an anticipation that reminded him of a baby doe, afraid, yet curious and seconds from fleeing to its mother. But there was no mother there to protect this girl... or woman. He could not tell how old she was, certainly younger than him, younger still than Erik.  

Jerking his head, he lifted his blade, motioning for them to get on with the ridiculous charade, emphasizing his resistance with a loud grunt as he lowered himself into a chair at the table.

For privacy, Erik had chosen one of the upper rooms which had obviously been used as a meeting or council room. It consisted of a table with eight chairs, a fireplace, and daybed. It was not a large room or particularly bright but was situated next to their private chambers which meant it was sectioned off from others.

It was Erik’s suggestion that they understand the language from the basics up, outlining his wish to start with their alphabet and from there learn to read. Taking paper torn from one of the room’s many books, the girl, with a shaky hand, dipped one of the feather quills Erik had gathered into an ink pot and began writing out two copies of the Saxon’s alphabet.

It was quite a sight, sitting across as her trembling hand replicated the markings, her eyes looking like they fought themselves to stay fixed on the paper. As anyone would, she sat pensively as if expecting to be bit and it made him think of her, for the second time, as that little deer and them as two hungry wolves.

Watching, he wondered if her rosy cheeks were caused by fear or if her work, at whatever she did before their arrival, had her out under the sun. She had the slightest dusting of freckles and he guessed that if she were to smile, her cheeks would even dimple. The thought made him grin as he could not imagine what reason she would have to smile in her current predicament; a slave to the Danes, young and pretty, everyone she knew either dead or being worked like a mule.

Inhaling he let his impatience be known, sighing loudly and only mildly aware of some internal debate he was having; his mind slow to connect with his body’s response to the woman in front of him, loving how her small hands rushed to finish knowing he was staring.

Placing the quill down, she turned the papers for them to inspect. Straightening in their chairs, their expressions became serious, both looking unprepared for the complexity of the rows and rows of ruin-like symbols.

The men picked up their delicate feather quills, fumbling to find a position in their large hands that were more accustomed to wielding weapons and spilling blood. Sigefrid dropped the quill immediately, scoffing in an outright refusal and shot his brother a look.

“Dear brother,” he groaned, watching Erik’s earnest face, his eyes fixed on the paper below. “I feel like a fool.”

Not replying, Erik dragged the quill across the thin paper, holding it with his other to keep it in place. The tip cut through the delicate parchment from the heavy pressure he was unintentionally applying.

Looking back to the girl, Sigefrid’s eyes met hers for just instant before she lowered them again to the table. He suspected she had been looking at the knife strapped to his arm where his hand had once been. Not saying a word, he continued to study her, a mild thrill moving through him knowing, again, that she could feel his stare.

“You know I have never bothered with slaves,” he spoke in Danish. “I have no interest in bedding Christian farm girls.”

“Hmm,” Erik replied, his tongue sliding back and forth across his lower lip in concentration.

“If I want a hump, there are twenty Dane women downstairs insane to ride my cock,” he spoke slowly as if enjoying the sound of his own voice. “By the looks of her, she would not be able to handle such a beast.” He smiled at her downcast face deciding she really was quite beautiful; almost irritatingly so. “But you know what I think, brother?”

“I think you will tell me,” Erik answered also in Danish.

“This one,” he jerked his chin in her direction. “I think she likes me.”

“It helps that I told her she had to teach us or she dies,” he glanced up to her quickly but kept on with the quill. “She will do what it takes to survive. They all do.”

“What do you think?” Sigefrid chuckled, his white teeth visible through his thick black beard. “Should I make an exception? Teach her about glory holes?”

Startling, the girl looked up, spooked, as if she had just heard her name called for execution.

“Did you understand that?” Erik looked up with round eyes, asking in English but she did not answer.

Frowning, Sigefrid leaned forward in his chair, “Did you?” 

Not waiting for her to respond, he shot up from his chair and stalked around to her side, placing his hands on the table and the back of her chair and leaned down. Instead of fleeing or crying, she squeezed her eyes closed, her body rigid as if waiting for a blow or to be dragged from her chair.

He brought his face closer to hers. “I asked you,” he spoke slowly, his accented voice oozing with threat. “Did you understand?”

“A little,” she opened her eyes, causing Sigefrid to look over at Erik.

Raising his hand, Erik signaled for him to give her a moment.

“Girl, how do you know our tongue,” Erik asked, his voice less aggressive.

“I know only a little.”

“Who taught you?” Erik probed and her eyes skitted around the room nervously.

“Maybe a blade to the throat will stir your memory, Saxon,” Sigefrid warned, dragging out the title.

Her eyes flashed back to his.

“I am from Frankia,” she uttered, sounding almost apologetic.

This made Sigefrid’s head cock to one side as he noticed that her voice did, in fact, have a different sound.

“That does not answer my question,” he leaned closer, by chance catching a glimpse down the bust of her dress.

“My father!” she rushed. “He was an interpreter.”

“For who?” Erik asked.

“A noble family in Paris.”

“Was he,” Erik said more to himself, his voice sounding as if his mind was already reeling with possibilities.

“Very interesting,” Sigefrid added leaning over her a little more, the crease between her heavy bosoms holding his eye. “Where is he now? We could ask for his help to understand their walled city. It has never been breached. Fools have tried but...”

“My parents are both dead,” she cut him off. “Nearly two years ago.”

“How?”

“My father was traveling to Northumbria on business and took my mother and I...as the trip would have had him gone for so long. We were robbed on the road; I somehow got away into the woods and hid.” She looked down into her lap, clearing her throat before continuing. “Their throats were cut.”

“Were they Danes?” Erik asked.

“I do not believe so.”

“They were no Danes,” Sigefrid scoffed. “Danes would not have let her escape.”

“Your father taught you other languages?” Erik asked, wanting to keep the girl talking.

Nodding she answered, her eyes staying fixed on her lap, “French, of course, English, the two languages of Ireland, some Arabic, I can understand some Danish but I cannot speak it well.”

The brothers exchanged glances, their eyes coming alive.

“This might be your lucky day,” Sigefrid smiled, straightening to stand.

“Or ours,” Erik looked up at his brother. “What a shit idea this was,” he smiled and picked up the paper in front of him, ripping it into pieces and making Sigefrid laugh.

“Do as you are told,” Sigefrid spoke abruptly, making her flinch, “and we will kill you last.”

----

Days went by and Sigefrid entered the same room where Waylen now waited, standing guard; the girl was on the far side of the table, evidently wanting to keep some obstacle between her and the enormous Dane. Sigefrid had sent him to fetch her from the kitchen and escort her up to the meeting room. Pausing, he watched her, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him; he could have sworn she looked mildly relieved when he entered. Not surprising, he decided, as she was all but dragged into a private room by the hulking, young warrior.  

Nodding he motioned for Waylen to leave, kicking the door closed behind. Turning his attention back to the girl, she shifted awkwardly under his gaze, clutching her apron, her expression almost expectant.

“I have been thinking about you,” he tapped his sheathed knife against his forehead. “I am too suspicious of a man to allow one slave to hold so much wisdom. Too cunning for us to become reliant on your,” his eyes narrowed, “cooperation. So..” he sucked air through his teeth, “the lessons will continue.” Dropping his chin, he eyed her from under his dark brows; she did not react but he could see her thoughts moving behind her large brown eyes.

“You will teach me... alone. This will be a,” he paused, thinking of how best to phrase it, “surprise for my brother. I will have Waylen fetch you when I want, and you will tell no one. And…despite my better judgment,” he hesitated, for an instant questioning his own thinking, “for your discretion, I am going to protect you. Hey?”

Her reply came by way of a subtle nod but the message was still clear, yes.

Next Chapter 

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[inforapound]

With Our Eyes Shut Series

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 

Epilogue

[inforapound]

With Our Eyes Shut Ch.4

A/N - Thanks for letting me know that you like this series. One chapter after this to go. Yes, I’m aware this is a blurry photo of Sigefrid. Chapter 3.

Finishing his ale, Sigefrid glanced up to the second story before scanning the room and calling out for a refill. It had been just over a week since he decided to end the lessons. With Genevieve’s knowledge, he felt it a waste of his time. If he was honest with himself, which he rarely was, he had no interest in learning to read and never did. As a warrior, he was well versed in a more recognized language, violence, and that had served him well.

Despite calling it off, he still found reason for her to stay close, deeming her his personal thrall. The scrolls being retrieved were few and far between, the last two of no interest at all. He kept her somewhat busy though, maintaining his chamber, tiding his things, organizing his baths, and generally… being near.

For days now, there had been a bounce in his stride and his voice seemed to boom louder than ever. As brothers do, Erik teased him that the Danes at home across the ocean could likely see his smile. Perhaps he was in a good mood, but by the Gods, he felt the world was at his feet.

Having beat Erik and some of the men back from hunting, he sat in his chair like the king of everything, watching his little brother approach, crossing the yard, and entering the dining room. Straightening, he flashed him a toothy smile, the kind he typically reserved for the maidens.

“My brother the hunter!” Sigefrid yelled out, holding out his horn of topped up mead.

Dropping down into the chair next, Erik smiled and adjusted the tiny ball of orange and white fluff against his chest, so tiny it fit in one hand.

“What a catch, brother! We will feast tonight!” Sigefrid bellowed out, laughing loudly at the sight of the small kitten.

“Found him in a stump on his own. Family must have been eaten.” Erik looked over at his big brother whose attention had already moved on. “I cannot look after it. I was thinking you could give it to Genevieve.”

Lowering his cup, mid drink, Sigefrid made a face, “I will not be giving her kittens. Gen is my slave.”

“Hmm, that’s right. I almost forgot.” Erik looked back down to the fur-ball in his hand, now biting his rough finger with its tiny teeth. “Fair enough,” he shrugged, “I will give it to her then,” he pushed out of the chair and headed for the staircase.

“You will do no such thing,” Sigefrid called after him, getting up and following.

Pausing, with one foot on the step, Erik looked back over his shoulder, failing horrendously at trying not to laugh.

Scowling, Sigefrid put out his hand, “Give it to me.”

Erik passed it over but not before faking him out, pulling it just out of reach once. “I will get out of your way then,” he nodded and moved passed, returning to his chair.

Making a half snort, half grumbling sound, Sigefrid headed up the stairs, shaking his head at a smug-looking Erik.

----

Entering his room, he closed the door behind and watched her look up from where she sat in a chair below the window. A mustard colour tunic was in one of her hands with a needle and thread in the other. Mending the split seams of his shirts seemed to be a weekly task and she had already, painstakingly, re-cuffed his shirts to fasten properly below his blade.

“Lord,” she said softly, putting her work aside to stand and greet him properly but he waved her off, indicating for her to stay put.

As she was lowering her sights back to the shirt she paused, clearly noticing how his eyes were fixed on her, his one arm tucked behind his back.

Cocking her head softly to one side, she squinted, looking somewhat suspicious, “What are you up to?”

Walking over, he swung his arm around presenting the kitten, its little head, the only part visible above the top of his large hand.

Her eyes shot wide, and she gasped, shooting up out of the chair.

“Chaton!” she cooed, taking the kitten into her hands and bringing it up to kiss its little head between its equally tiny ears. With bright eyes, she glanced up at him, her smile beaming.

“Its a cat,” he said, his face looking puzzled.

Laughing, she turned the kitten around to better see its face, “Yes,” she laughed again, “a tiny baby cat, chaton.”

It made a near soundless meow and she squealed and cooed at it again. Her entire reaction making him feel funny.

“Where did you get it?”

“Erik found it somewhere. I,” he hesitated, swallowing the fact it had not been his idea, “thought you might like it.”

Frowning, her head shot back. “Me?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” he dropped his chin, eyeing her, “you.”

“Why?” she asked softly as if still not believing it.

His brows furrowed, “If you do not want it, I will just take it outside and kill it.”

“No!” Her mouth gaped open and she brought the kitten under her chin as if to shield it. “Lord, you would not dare.” She eyed him, looking not entirely sure he was teasing.

The astounded expression on her face made him snicker.

“What?” she asked. “It takes nothing away from a person to be kind, particularly to an animal.”

“Gods you are gullible. Of course, I would not hurt a cat,” he told her, outright lying. “Its to keep you company.”

She looked back to the kitten, her brown eyes still shining.

“In case you are tiring of mine,” he grinned, his smile reaching his dark eyes and she pressed her lips together, her cheeks instantly starting to colour.

Retreating, he headed for his bed, taking a seat and started on the laces that held his cuff and blade in place.

Grabbing the basket beside her chair, she placed a drying cloth inside, gently placing the kitten down.

Moving to him, her small hands pushed his large one aside and she continued working on the laces. His eyes moved to her face, as they always did, and he noticed how her hair was partially pulled back from her face and that her dark lashes were slightly lighter at the tips.

“You will go for your supper without this?” She glanced up and he felt caught staring.

He made some grunting sound but did not answer as she loosened the laces, pulling off the appendage. Obviously, heavy in her hands, she placed it down on the table next to his bed. Pushing air out of his mouth, he held the end of his blunt arm, wincing, as he attempted to squeeze away the pain.  

“Would you like me to rub some of your oil from the healers on it?” she looked at him with a sincere face.

It made him want to bark like a dog with laughter. His sweet slave offering to rub his stump with oil. Gods, yes, he wanted that, thinking that he, himself, was truly the funniest person he had ever known.

“No,” he tried not to smile. “I am tired from hunting and have an early morning. Go to the kitchen and bring something back for both of us. You can eat with me...in here.”

Lowering her eyes, she nodded, and he fucking loved how shy she got.

“Also, gather my things for the raiding trip tomorrow. It will be at least four nights on the road.”

Her eyes shot up and she looked as if she had more to say but remained quiet.

“Speak woman.”

“Is that why you brought me the kitten? Because you will be away for so long?”

There had been many moments since she came into his life that he had wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms, this moment was no exception.

Squinting, he leaned a little closer and gently bopped her nose with his finger.

“You, Genevieve, are coming with me.”

Instantly, she looked relieved, excited even, as if he had just lit a flame inside her.

“Oh,” she rushed. “Yes,” she looked around the room at his belongings. “I will pack your things once I return with supper,” she glanced back. “And milk for the kitten.”

Pushing back onto his pillows, he stretched out on the bed, watching her return to the basket and pick up the cat.

Walking back around to his side, she hesitated, “Lord?” Reaching out, she placed the kitten on his stomach, holding it in place until he raised his hands to take it. “Please, hold him until I return. I cannot leave him alone in a basket. He is only a baby,” she smiled down at the little thing.  

“Go,” he ordered, looking at the fidgeting ball of fluff with unnaturally sharp claws. If only Erik could see him now. Shit, he really needed to raid, swing his sword and breathe in the scent of blood and gore, undecay his masculinity. Watching her leave, he picked up the runt, bringing it closer to his face, and let out a long, weary sigh, “A fucking cat in my bed.”

----

“If you have something to say, say it,” Sigefrid said, spying at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

Both were atop massive horses, riding through a large field. More than a dozen others, mostly on horseback followed with two male thralls each with a horse and wagon; one carrying camp supplies and the other empty with the anticipation of returning full.

“Speak,” Sigefrid urged glancing again at Erik who was unable to hide his smirk.

“There is nothing to say, brother. I simply did not realize we now brought our personal thralls with us raiding,” he smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “Wait,” he furrowed his brow, “I do not even have have a personal thrall.”

“She is our translator,” Sigefrid shot back, also keeping his eyes forward.

“Of course,” Erik quickly replied. “My apologies, instead of attacking each village, we will send her in ahead and she can simply ask where they keep their valuables.”

At that Sigefrid shot Erik a glare, making the fair-haired Thurgilson laugh outright.

“Sigefrid,” Erik continued, “This has given me a thought. I will keep my eyes peeled for a pretty young captive so I may, too, have my own,” he paused, “personal translator. Also one with big tits and heart eyes whenever I am near.”

At that Sigefrid’s resolve cracked and he tipped his head back, laughing from his gut. Turning to look behind, his laughter simmered as he locked eyes with Genevieve who followed on a chestnut horse. Too far behind to have heard, she gave him a small smile.

“Hey,” Sigefrid straightened, glancing over at his brother, the slightest frown on his face. “Does she look at me with heart eyes?”

Scoffing, Erik shook his head, “I swear to the Gods, you’d be lost without me?”

———

The site to set up camp had been selected and the poles and canvases erected in lightening speed. The location sat between three villages all approximately half a morning's ride distance. It had been decided they would hit one a day before returning to Beamfleot.

Although the summer night sky had not cast the camp in complete darkness, torches were lit and both cooking and campfires started. It was late by the time all the work was done and the brothers entered their tent to find Genevieve, just finishing setting up their beds.

Without a second thought, both men began to strip down to their undershirts, Erik, immediately, flopping front first onto his bed; Sigefrid sitting on the edge of his, unstrapping his blade.

“Lord,” she spoke so quietly he nearly missed it. “I will go if you do not need anything else.”

“Woman, you are not sleeping with the horses.” Turning, he peered at her over his shoulder, “or worse...Haesten.” He jerked his head to the spot beside him. “Get in, just try to keep your hands to yourself, eh?”

Smiling, his eyes lingered on hers just a moment before looking back down, struggling with the leather laces that would not loosen. Circling the bed, she got down and knelt on the grass in front of him, finishing the task he struggled to do with one hand.

Pausing, with his heavy blade in her lap, she looked at the miscoloured skin at the end of his arm that he immediately began to squeeze, as he always did.

“Lord?”

“What?” he answered, looking at her, so close he could smell whatever she washed her hair with.

“It is so tight; it cuts off the blood. Must you wear it even when not fighting?”

Reaching down, he took the blade out of her hands and dropped it onto the grass beside his pillow. “Get in bed,” was his only reply.

Quickly, she rose, and he could tell by her tight face that she was embarrassed. Instantly, he was hit with a pang of something in his chest. Lowering down onto his side, he closed his eyes, listening to the rustling sounds of her undress; lifting her dress over her head, folding it, and placing it down. Getting into bed, she pulled the thin woven blanket over them and he swore he could smell the faint floral scent of her skin. Laying still, he did not bid her goodnight or roll over to catch a glimpse of her in her slip. If he had there would have been little hope of his hard-on ever going down.

----

The mood around the bonfire the following night was boisterous. The day’s pillaging unexpectedly fruitful. These were moderate sized villages and the goal had been to secure improved equipment for Beamfleot, not necessarily fine valuables. However, they stumbled upon a cellar of a comparatively small church that had been stockpiling. Only four pieces of gold but numerous items of both silver and copper. It had been quite a find.

The mugs and mugs of ale made it impossible for the men to contain their merriment, as they laughed at the Saxon’s misguided thinking, hiding valuables in a church.

Meat stew and pan bread were being devoured by the bowl full and a second keg already opened. Making the rounds with a pitcher of ale for the umpteenth time, Genevieve refilled horns, looking rather relieved that her camp cooking had been so well received. Lifting his blade, Sigefrid waved her over.

“Sit woman, have a drink, you are my thrall, not theirs,” he shot her a cheeky smile, glancing down at the log beside, indicating for her to sit. By her rosy cheeks and quickness to smile, he could tell she, too, had been sampling the ale. Even his men had noticed how festive she looked in their gleeful, half-cut states.

Passing her his cup, he motioned for her to drink, not liking the way Haesten’s lurking, dark-edged eyes continued to stare at her from across the fire.

“Surely Lord,” Haesten piped up as if sensing Sigefrid’s thoughts, “you must share her with Lord Erik, all cozy in one tent,” he wiggled his brows. “There is certainly enough of her to go around,” he chuckled, taking a sloppy drink from his cup.

Grunting, Sigefrid opened his mouth to speak but it was Erik who responded first.

“Easy Haesten, the girl does need you ogling her. My brother does a fine enough job on his own,” he teased, evidently wanting to keep the mood light, “and you know Sigefrid never shares.”

The men, including Haesten, laughed, quickly returning to their cups, and Erik glanced at his big brother before taking a drink of his own.

Less in the mindset to slough it off, Sigefrid glanced over at Genevieve who sat frozen with her face tilted down, looking at the ground.

Without thinking, he brought his arm up and around her, gently pulling her to his side and rested his hand on the round of her hip. 

“He is an ass. You are tougher than that to let him bother you,” he spoke quietly.

“Lord, may I be excused. I promise to wake early and tidy in the morning.”

“Go on, I will not be far behind,” he lifted his arm away.

When he pushed through the flap of the tent, it was empty, no Genevieve. Spinning to head back out, he nearly knocked into her carrying a bucket of steaming water.

“There you are,” he smiled like a fool from both the drink and her own more muted smile.

Moving around to his side of the bed, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, throwing it down, leaving him in only his pants and boots. He knew his body was strong and powerful, the marks painting the history of his battles. Looking at her, he stifled his amusement catching her steal a glance at bare chest. 

“Are you bathing?” He asked, noticing the hot water and cloth in her hand.

“No lord, it is for you to wash before bed. I heated it on the cook fire while everyone was drinking.”

“Genevieve! Is that your way of telling me that I smell?” he chuckled. “And you do not want to share a bed with me smelling like,” lifting his arms, he sniffed his armpits, “a man!” 

His shit-eating grin had returned.

Laughing softly, she shook her head, “You smell like you did not survive the fight today.”

Mouth gaping, he pretended to take offense and she let out the loudest laugh he had ever heard from her.

“You insult your master,” he continued, beginning to unbutton his pants for bed, “I should..”

“You should what?” She cut him off playfully and he could tell she was pushing herself to be bold.

“I should be,” he said sarcastically, lowering his chin and eyeing her, “pulling you down onto this bed so you can really enjoy my stink.”

“And...” she made eyes at him, fluttering her lashes, “I should be hoping that you do not.” As soon as her words were out, she froze and her face began to turn from the ale rich pink to a fully flushed red.

He also tensed, his mind beginning to race. Truthfully, the Gods knew he could be thick when it came to women, but he was not wrong now; she was goading him, insinuating that she wished he would take her to bed. All the months together, he had been treating her like some fragile fawn; one, in need of protection. He was many things, a brute, a killer, a horrible dancer but never a man who forced himself onto slaves. She was not a fragile slave though, was she? She was a twenty-year-old woman. A gorgeous twenty-year-old woman who was flirting with him. 

Fuck this, he was going for it. Taking a step toward her, her eyes did a double-take, noticing and smiling at the look on his face.

“You still up?” Erik blew through the tent flaps heading for his bed. Dropping down to sit, he began taking off his boots. “Haesten is a dick-weed.” Looking up, he paused, seeing both Sigefrid and Genevieve standing stiff, staring at him, Sigefrid’s pants slightly open and his shirt no where to be found.

“Should…I.. come back?” He lifted his brows.

The two of them replied at once, her saying no and him saying yes.

Shrugging, he grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking it off over his head. “What a surprise,” he remarked, standing up to undo his pants. “The two of you yet to get your shit together.”

Genevieve turned and walked the bucket and cloth over to Sigefrid’s side of the bed, not making eye contact when he approached. Stopping, he stood close, closer than he ever had, and she finally looked up, her face even but her brown eyes still sparkling.

“Do you need help?” she whispered, maintaining his gaze and subtly pinching her lower lip with her teeth.

At that, his cock nearly broke through his pants. Clearing his throat, he glanced behind at Erik, returning his gaze to her face....her perfect, gorgeous, beautiful face looking up at him.

“Turn in,” he nodded toward the bed, “I can manage. I will be just a moment.” Taking the cloth from her hand, his fingers stroked hers as he willed himself not to reach up and brush her dark hair away from her cheek.

“I will first get Lord Erik’s hot water.”

Opening his mouth to object, she reached up and placed her hand on his chest, her eyes relaying the message that she would not be long. Moving around him, she headed out the door of the tent.

“Thank you Gen!” Erik yelled after her, glancing over to Sigefrid with a grin.

“Gen? Really?” Sigefrid frowned making Erik laugh. “Go help her with the bucket,” Sigefrid grunted, opening the rest of his pants and turning away to conceal his erection.

“She is your… translator,” Erik replied.

“True, but it is your hot water and I refuse to be your wench.”

----

When she felt the hand slide around her front, just under her breasts and embrace her from behind, she straightened, exhaling into the feel. It was the round, fat stomach pressing against her back that made her freeze and attempt to turn.

Another hand slammed against her face, muzzling her mouth and stopping her from screaming as the arm around her ribs tightened. 

“Hmm,” Haesten’s slick voice rattled in her ear, his hand squeezing her face. “At last, my blooming flower, I can feel that plump ass of yours against my crotch... where it belongs,” he hummed again. “I am a patient man but it is hard to watch you trip all over Lord Sigefrid, knowing what juicy things they do to you at night.” Breathing his wretched breath on the side of her face, he ground himself harder against her. “Tell me, who takes you from behind while the other stuffs your mouth? If only they shared, I could....”

A thud came from behind and she was jolted forward, Haesten’s tight grip falling slack, releasing her. He slumped onto the ground at the back of her heels, and she spun around, horrified, tears already running down her cheeks. Standing over a dazed Haesten, Erik held his collar, the round bread pan in his other hand.

“You fool!” he screamed into Haesten’s face. “You had better get on your horse and ride fast before my brother catches wind of this.” Erik’s eyes looked like they were ready to rupture. “And believe me, he will.” Hauling the fat man up to stand, Erik got right in his face. “I give you this chance only because you have fought well for us but you know Sigefrid will not be as forgiving. Go!” He yelled and Haesten stumbled backward, turning and rushing away into the shadows.

Reaching out, Erik pulled Genevieve into an embrace, rubbing and patting her back as she wept.

“Thank you, Lord,” she straightened, shakily wiping her face. “Thank you. I do not know what I would have done,” she sobbed again.

Turning, he kept his arm around her shoulders, readying her to walk.

“Truth is,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “I do not know what would have become of me if you and Lord Sigefrid had not found me in the first place...made me a slave. Surely, I would be dead.”

“Genevieve,” he rushed softly. “You cannot possibly think you are just a slave. And Haesten is the only man in Beamfleot stupid enough to ignore Sigefrid’s order to stay away. My brother,” he shook his head, his eyes looking large and round in the moonlight, “I have never, in my life, seen him so gentle with anyone… until you. He cares for you a great, great deal. But,” he straightened, “that is a conversation for the two of you to share. Come,” he moved them forward, “Let us return and watch steam shoot out of his ears when he hears about this. It will be quite a sight,” he pressed his lips together, guiding her back in the direction of the tent.

——

That was the first night they slept in each other’s arms. It had taken Erik’s full convincing for Sigefrid to stay and not take his sword and track Haesten through the woods. After fuming and pacing the grass floor, he climbed into bed, and slid close behind her, wrapping his arm tight around her waist. She did not flinch or pull away, she nestled her head back below his chin and placed her arm over his, holding it, like she never wanted him to let go.

Next Chapter 

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[inforapound]

With Our Eyes Shut  Ch.3

A/N - Thanks for reading. The last two chapters of the series got too long so I’ve broken them up into three, making it 5 chapters, total. Chapter 2 here. 

Pairing - Sigefrid and Genevieve  Chapter 3 of 5

“Genevieve,” he repeated her name, his thick accent tripping over the pronunciation. Releasing her chin, he stood in place looking at her. Everything; her intelligent eyes, open face and soft figure, so much fuller than the women who fought for him, made her name somehow perfect.

She stared back, barely breathing and he guessed she was waiting to learn what depraved things a claimed slave had coming. He knew her well enough now to know, she did not have dreams of being spoiled or set free, she just wanted to blend in to her surroundings, be forgotten, and survive.

Letting out a weary breath, he took a half step back, “From tonight forward, you sleep in this room. Here,” he motioned with his blade to the daybed pushed against the wall. “Do your work each day and then come back.”

Glancing over to it, she said nothing but he could tell her mind still reeled, attempting to find some explanation. He, himself, did not understand.

“That is all,” he muttered before nodding and leaving her to stand in the dark, her arms full of a dead woman’s clothes.

----

“For a man with a Frankish beauty you do not at all seem sated,” Erik glanced over as he spooned hot oats into his mouth.

Grumbling, Sigefrid did not respond.

“How is she? I have heard what wanton lovers her kind make.”

“I do not ride her,” he replied, with just a hint of exhaustion. “She is our translator... I simply did not want her out in that barn where those slaves could poison her mind to mislead us.”

“Ah, makes sense,” Erik’s eyes drifted back. ”For a man who is not bedding her, you seem incapable of pulling your eyes from her ass,” he smiled, his blue eyes alive and playful.

Sigefrid attempted to laugh but it came out more like a snort.

“I would not cock spear a slave,” he announced, chewing his breakfast with his mouth open. “Why would I want to give a Christian that much pleasure!” he said loudly, with an equally loud grin. “Hey?”  

“So moving her into the room next is simply to make your lessons more... convenient?”

Sigefrid's spoon stopped mid-air and he looked at Erik, feeling and no doubt looking caught.

“Dear brother,” Erik flashed a look of understanding. “Your voice is as loud as a war horn. You think I would not notice,” he laughed. “I commend your enthusiasm for a scholarly life though,” he chuckled again, shooting his brother a glance. “I really do.”

Grunting like a woken bear, Sigefrid’s eyes drifted back to Genevieve as she lay a tray down on one of the tables, piling it high with empty bowls.

“Haesten has returned with another scroll,“ he said, steering the conversation away from her.

“Perhaps this one will be of interest,” Erik suggested. “Either way we will, again, put your pet to the test.“

Looking over, Erik’s own eyes settled on the young woman, watching her sneak glances at his brother.

----

The silence between them as they sat, side by side, felt somehow deafening. He had already decided there was little point to the lesson. His mind was elsewhere, conjuring assumptions of what unspoken words hung in the air.

It was so idiotic, he nearly groaned, feeling his cheeks warm as he stared down at the flimsy paper, holding a fucking feather in his hand.

Despite the strain, what he was most aware of, more than anything and possibly for the first time, was the sensation of her eyes on him.

Frustrated at nothing in particular, he threw the quill down and watched her get up and move about the room, refill his cup and continue to translate the names of various items she randomly picked up. All the while he watched, he wondered, in the heat of loving making, if he were inside her, what words would tumble from her lips? Would she whimper his name and hang off his neck, rut her round hips against him? Would her soft mouth feel like Valhalla and would her taste stay on his tongue like a memory?

Sighing under his breath, he pressed his stiff erection, straining in his pants to the underside of the table.

Her voice continued to tease his ear as she seemed to speak just enough for him to want to hear more. That accent.. fuck...he audibly grunted. It had the sweetest tone and each word seemed to touch the other, blending without interruption with the hint of some unknown sound that he did not recognize from the Saxon’s sharper tongue. He must be going soft in the head.

“Your arm bothers you today, yes?” she asked quietly, coming back around and sitting down. “You look in pain.”

Saying nothing, he looked down at the table, needing to get his mind straight and stop lamenting over a young girl. A slave girl at that, with no family, no wealth, one who could vanish and it not even raise a question.

Except in his mind....he would notice. The thought made him shift uncomfortably in his chair.  

This was just restlessness, surely, he had not killed in some time. That explained it. He needed to spill blood and scream into the air, wake his usual prowess and fuck something. Glancing over at her, he realized it had been months since he celebrated the siege of Beamfleot by taking three of his maidens to bed. He was a generous lover, not a total animal. He slammed into each one of them that night, made sure they came, finished with them in a row, on their knees before him, tongues out like hunting pups, thirsty and howling for his seed.

He sighed again, pushing the image of her pillowy tits out of his mind. “I need you to do something for me,” he opened his leather vest, reaching inside, and withdrawing a rolled piece of paper. It was held tight with a round of wax and stamped with a royal seal. “Tell me what this says.”

----

Reaching down he slid his fingers into her hair, his swollen head slipping out of the side of her mouth. Quickly, she sucked it back in, her tongue rolling over the crease below his tip, her hand coming up to stroke his shaft.

Grunting, agitated, he squeezed his fist in her hair, lifting her off. Through the darkness, he could just make out the whites of her surprised eyes looking up at him. Her name was Ulfhild and she was a good warrior, quick with a sword and pretty if she did not smile. Normally, she could suck cock like a champion but tonight it all felt...flat. Waving her off, he told her to go and turned onto his side with a huff.

Alone in his private chamber and lavish bed, he felt anything but settled. For some time he lay still, listening to his own breath, attempting to push away his frustration and call forward sleep. Annoyingly, her, Genevieve, continued to float in his thoughts.

He did not understand it. Did not know what it could be about her that had infected his mind so. Yes, she was beautiful and enticingly plump but there were many available beauties. Dane ones! Ones who could fight, knew his Gods, actually spoke more than two or three words at a time. Not that he wanted to talk to any of them...

The entire thing was stupid and worse, being in the next room, with only a wall between, was putting him off of fucking one of his usuals.

Opening his eyes, he frowned.... he assumed she was on the other side of the wall. How would he know if she had not returned after her work as she had been for weeks now? He expected her to be there... It was safest for her to stay close.

Growling, he thrashed onto his back and stared up at the dark slanted ceiling. Now he really could not find any peace.

Reaching up, he made a fist and held it still in the air, sighing, he knocked twice on the wooden planks. He simply had to know. Yes, his warriors were loyal and knew he claimed her but they were still men. Beasts with hard cocks that likely twitched, like his did, every time she walked passed, her curves stirring up some virile instinct to breed.

The smallest two taps on the far side of the wall jolted him back from his thoughts. Freezing at first, his body then relaxed as he shook his head at himself. What a fucking bonehead he was. Rolling back onto his side, he closed his eyes and with a shit-eating grin, finally, found some rest.

Next Chapter 

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[inforapound]

“Her voice continued to tease his ear as she seemed to speak just enough for him to want to hear more. That accent.. fuck...he audibly grunted. It had the sweetest tone and each word seemed to touch the other, blending without interruption with the slightest hint of some unknown sound that he did not recognize from the Saxon's sharper tongue. He must be going soft in the head.”

HE IS SUCH A SOFTIE. Sigefrid the softie!

You spoil me! Thank you! Ferocious men with tender hearts is my kink.