#thyra my beloved

[aelswiths]

Thyra (looking adorable 🥺) in 2x05

[bagheerita]

[lady-wyrd]

The Last Kingdom 3x03

[deathmetalunicorn1]

hi can i request another part for king Arthur reader,whare a few days after Ragnarok, leonidas & Apollo are looking for y/n because they have a date in a few minutes,but only to find y/n, y/n's Valkyrie & Guinevere, turns out Guinevere is trying to get back with y/n

because when she watched y/n fight she realized y/n was "better" for her and shouldt have cheated on him & also said y/n should just break up with Apollo & leo to get with her again, (in short being a despite bitch, worst part she's still with lancelot)

but y/n's Valkyrie IS NOT HAVING IT,y/n's Valkyrie is having a literally cat fight with Guinevere(and is winning 💅y/n's Valkyrie would be leonidas, Apollo & y/n's 1# supporter...cus she see's y/n as father figure's😭)and y/n is just there trying to calm her down to have a mature conversation with Guinevere as why he doesn't want to get back together (but Guinevere doesn't listen)

and so how would leonidas & Apollo react to the scene, would they intervene with someone trying to mess up there relationship or would they let y/n take care of it?

-You were late, which is something you never were, you were always the one to show up early, to be the one to greet your lovers, Leonidas and Apollo- but you weren’t at the meetup spot and instantly Leonidas knew something was wrong.

-The two were quick to rush to your home, Apollo was trying to stay calm, “Maybe Y/N just overslept?” his optimism was helpful, but Leonidas knew he was just as worried- this wasn’t like you.

-They weren’t prepared to find you holding back Thyra from another woman who was also beautiful, the two of them screeching at each other.

-You looked exasperated, but doing well in keeping calm, “Thyra- sweetie- angel- violence won’t solve anything.” You were holding her under her arms as she was flailing, doing her best to get free.

-This other woman was Guinevere, your ex-wife, and the woman who betrayed you and led you to your death. And from what your lovers were easily able to gather, Guinevere had approached you, wanting to get back together with you.

-She was glaring at Thyra, “You need to stay out of this- this doesn’t concern you! Y/N- leave this child and leave those male lovers of yours and come back to me- you know I’m so much better than they are!!”

-Apollo and Leonidas were both instantly pissed, seeing that she was trying to get back with you after you won your match, after you proved yourself as a powerful fighter, and a worthy man.

-Thyra went still in your arms, like she was stunned before she turned bright red, furious, “Doesn’t concern me? BITCH! You broke Y/N’s heart and helped get him killed! How is that better for him?!”

-You sighed softly in defeat before you noticed your lovers who were watching, amused by Thyra’s rage, giving them a weak, apologetic smile before Guinevere shouted, “What would you know- you’re just a child?!”

-It was true that Thyra was young looking, looking like a teenager, but you doted on her like a daughter, and she looked up to you like a father figure, but she was like her sisters, far older than you were, being a Valkyrie.

-You directed your attention to Guinevere, trying to stop the situation from getting any more heated, “Guinevere- you have no place in my heart nor my life any longer. I am happy with Apollo and Leonidas. Please leave.” You were being cordial to her, willing to treat her with respect.

-She was stunned, hearing this, hearing that you were telling her to leave, and you didn’t love her, your beloved Guinevere- any longer! Her eyes narrowed and she lunged, her claws bared, “You bastard- who do you think you are?!”

-You turned, taking the hit across your face, but it didn’t really hurt, as you protected Thyra who gasped, and instantly a boxing bell was heard (from somewhere) as your grip loosened just enough for her to get free and she instantly attacked, getting into a cat fight with your ex-wife.

-Apollo instantly had your face in his hands, looking at your face, checking out the mark as you smiled softly, lifting a hand to cover one of his own, “Sorry about that.” Apollo wouldn’t hear any of it, “You have nothing to apologize for my love.”

-When you noticed Leonidas wasn’t there, you both turned, seeing him cheering on Thyra, who was straddling Guinevere, who was screeching loudly, demanding for Thyra to get off her.

-You sighed, exasperated before you spoke, “You get two minutes- then we’re leaving.” Thyra beamed up at you, looking elated, “Really?” as you nodded.

-Once Thyra was done, you hauled her off, holding her under your arm as she whined, “Oh- I wasn’t done yet~~!” you cracked her a small grin, “Yes you are- lets go eat.”

-Guinevere had gotten her ass beat, and as she was panting in pain and with adrenaline, she screamed after you, “You’ll come back! You always do!!”

-Leonidas, Apollo, and Thyra all flipped her off over their shoulders, something you did scold them for, as you headed to the restaurant you had all planned to meet at.

[hvitserktheberserker]

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

My personal fate, my meaning in life, love of my existence, which gave me life and happiness and love like my children gave me. I couldn't be prouder or the most blessed, luckiest man in Midgard, with the most beautiful, wise, brave and strong wife. To my beloved wife, my personal Freyja, you, your love and our family are my happiness, my love and the reason for my existence. How much I love and adore you. @findmeinmywildestdreams

Hvitserk Ragnarsson or Lothbrok is the second eldest son of the famous Viking and former King Ragnar Lothbrok and former Queen Aslaug and, like his brothers, was born Prince of Kattegat. He is Bjorn's younger half-brother and younger brother of Ubbe and older brother of Sigurd and Ivar. Father of his beloved children Illian, Marlena, Ellinor and Baldur and Grandfather of Ragnar Ivain, Lidija Marlene, Ranva Aleen and Lian Iwan. Uncle of Cailan, Vidar, Edda, Iwan, Finan, Caye, Ragnar, Leja and Thyra. From an early age, Hvitserk has had a close relationship with his brother Ubbe and Caya, his future wife, and is always with them. Despite his later anger at being abandoned by his father, he is the happiest but also the most sensitive of Ragnar's sons. He inherited his father's religious curiosity as well as his sensitive side. Despite his and Ubbe's bond, as he grows older, Hvitserk begins to harbor resentment towards his big brother, as he does not like his leadership or his command over him. After victoriously avenging her father's death, Hvitserk decides for the first time freely and on his own and chooses the side of his younger brother Ivar. The Viking loves battle and so decides to fight with Ivar against the Saxons and Christians. Despite his loving and cheerful nature, Hvitserk's sadistic nature is clearly evident and how similar he really is to his little brother Ivar and seems to be closer to him than anyone else. Hvitserk is a dedicated warrior and bloodthirsty berserker who throws himself into every battle. Hvitserk supports his little brother, but always feels lost and struggles with his decision and with his fate, unsure of where he really belongs. Together they win the battle for Kattegat, but Hvitserk's relationship with Ivar becomes increasingly difficult, but he remains loyally by his side until he has had enough of Ivar's reign of terror and begins to stand up against his little brother. So he helps Bjorn to go into battle against Ivar and overthrow him from his throne. Despite the victory and in Kattegat with Bjorn, Caya and Ubbe, he feels neither joy nor belonging and finally loses himself in alcohol and drugs and the loss of Thora, who had Ivar burned alive and gives up completely. After he is banished from Kattegat by Bjorn as a wreck, his fate leads him back to Ivar. Despite their complicated relationship between him and Ivar, it becomes clear how much Hvitserk has always viewed and loved his little brother as an equal and how much he cares for Ivar. So Hvitserk slowly finds his way back to himself, realizes that his fate is Ivar's and his place at his side and is as ready to fight as ever, to throw himself into any battle and to sacrifice his life for Ivar at any time. After both of them almost died in Wessex, they take Kattegat back. There he is now considered Ivar's right-hand man and his most loyal, best warrior and begins his personal fate as the happy husband of his beloved Caya and the happy father of his four children. ( Vikings )

[lord-aldhelm]

So........ I did a thing and wrote an Aldflaed fanfic...

I started it about a year and a half ago, and only just now finished it. It is 25 chapters, 103k words. I uploaded the first chapter to AO3, and will upload a new chapter once a week until it is all uploaded. Warning in advance: it is a super slow burn. I apologize to your eyeballs in advance...

So for starters, this is the VERY FIRST fanfic I have ever written. I don't even read fanfic, let alone write it, so please keep that in mind when you read this. I am not a writer. The chapter titles are song titles because I could not think of good titles that were not spoilers. I have not read any in-universe TLK fanfic, so any similarities to other existing works is purely coincidental. Also, I wrote this for myself, and myself alone, so I am aware that it may not be everyone's cup of tea. I was originally not going to publish it, but since I put so much time and effort into it, I thought perhaps even if one other person gets something out of it then that is great.

Also, since this is my first time writing, I welcome constructive criticism. If there is a typo, or something does not make any sense and needs to be clarified, or if you think there is a better way for me to say something, please by all means leave a comment. But please do not come @ me if you just don't like it.

Second, this took me so long because it changed so much while I was writing it. It takes place starting with 3.10, and the majority of the fic takes place between Seasons 3&4, and then ends with basically a rewrite of Season 4. It has way more Uhtred in it than I originally intended, but don't worry it is NOT an Uhtred / Aethelflaed fic!

I am working on another one right now that is a Season 2-3 Aldflaed fic, although I don't know when that will be done. It will probably be as long as this one, so forever...

(pic from Instagram)

First paragraph and link to the first chapter below the cut...

..........................................................................................................................

Springtime in Saltwic

Chapter 1: Bring Me To Life

Tensions were running high after King Alfred’s passing, and Aethelflaed could feel the low rumbling of chaos start to spread in the minds of the men around her. A king’s passing was always a volatile time, especially for those who were self-serving and devious. Aethelwold was trying to sow discord among the ealdormen, Aethelred was looking to cut ties with Wessex and establish himself as King of Mercia, and Edward, young and inexperienced, was struggling to maintain order. Then there were other worries and sorrows. Her mother was distraught after the loss of her husband, Uhtred was imprisoned and was likely to be banished again or killed on the orders of her mother, and Thyra, Father Beocca’s beloved wife and Uhtred’s sister, was killed in a suspicious house fire.

Aethelflaed left the great hall to seek comfort and safety in her room. But it would seem even her own room was not safe; the door handle was covered in blood. Terrified, she entered the room cautiously, not knowing what she would find inside. On the floor at the foot of her bed, to her great surprise, was Aldhelm. He was gravely injured, bleeding out from a stab wound in his abdomen. She did not need to be told who had done it; she knew without asking.

---> CONTINUE READING on AO3 --->

[theaistired]

Tag Game - WIP Anagram

Okay, after the last tag game broke my brain, I'll be going back to my beloved WIP Galidean for this.

So, thank you for the tag, @wyked-ao3!

My word: MUSK

M

Mother Ebonee had always kept an eye on her, but knowing that she passed the trial was prove enough that she had deserved that attention.

U

Unlike every human Valerian had seen so far, animals didn’t shy away from Thyra’s sudden presence.

S

“She’s feral,” Valerian pointed out. “So am I.”

K

Kaveh often gave advice regarding what appeared to be a courtship with an arcanist named Tiril, while her own hero mostly promised to tell Zippora more when they would meet next.

Your word: CACKLE

Tagging (no pressure): @topazadine, @the-golden-comet, @xenascribbles and anyone else who'd like to join

[razieltwelve]

Claire calling Averia VII ‘my love’ is a happy I didn’t know I needed, thanks.

Heh. Claire is the most level-headed out of the three. Jahne is very mischievous and at times mercurial, and Averia can be like a storm. Claire is more like warm spring sunshine, and she has a knack for knowing what to say and how to say it, which isn't reliant on Saviour. Instead, it's a function of her high-level of empathy and how easily she understands others.

Averia sometimes needs someone to smooth the edges, so to speak, and Claire is very, very good at doing that. She has several endearments she uses for Averia, and 'my love' is one of her favourites. When accompanied by that gentle smile (the same one that both the original Averia and original Lightning have), it's super effective. In a more... intense situation, she would likely address Averia as 'beloved' instead.

Incidentally, Blakey has pointed out her use of endearments. Blakey finds it amusing since Claire normally speaks in a fairly informal manner. But calling people 'my love' or 'beloved' makes her sound both more formal and more intimate.

Claire's reply is that the words don't matter in and of themselves. She knows how she feels. Instead, the words matter in how they make the other person feel. She knows how much Averia likes to be called those things and how pleased she is to hear those endearments, so Claire is more than happy to use them. It's perhaps more sentimental than someone might expect, but bearers of Saviour are, at their core, some of the most sentimental people around.

As another aside, after Artemisia is born (the Claire x Jahne kid), Claire makes a point of addressing Thyra (the Averia x Jahne kid) using a very specific Yun word. That word translates as 'daughter of my blood'. She uses the same word to address Artemisia as well.

Technically speaking, Claire is using the word wrong when it comes to Thyra. She should be using another word that translates as 'daughter of my heart'. These two words have, historically speaking, been used to distinguish between daughters with whom the speaker shares blood ties (i.e., biological daughters) and those that they do not share blood ties with (e.g., adopted daughters).

This mistake is very deliberate. As much as Thyra loves her half sister, Claire could tell that she was afraid that Claire would love her more than she loved Thyra because Artemisia was her biological child and Thyra wasn't. The deliberate use of the 'daughter of my blood' term for both of them was to reassure Thyra that Claire loved them equally and did not think less of her for not being biologically related to her. In Claire's eyes, there was no difference between them due to biological relation.

For a similar reason, Thyra addresses her siblings with the terms reserved for full-blooded siblings even if some of them are, technically, only her half-siblings.

Both the Yun and the Dia languages have very specific terms for things, so the proper use or misuse of those terms can carry a great deal of weight.

For example, Coal had to look away and deny crying after Galatea addressed him using the Dia term for 'son of my blood' for the first time. She might have adopted him, but hearing her use that term and understanding what it means, meant a lot to him.

As an amusing aside, the term Lord Hedgeborough uses in Yun to refer to Jahne when they're in an informal situation translates roughly as 'frenemy'. He also likes to use Ancient Dia to accuse her of being a 'snack stealing troublemaker'. Ancient Dia is a fantastic language for insults although Ancient Yun is where it's at for threatening people.

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Twenty-Nine pt One: Alone Time

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Word Count 3k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, fluff, angst at the end

A few days later, 10 days before the siege..

Today has been slow and uneventful. The days are going by like the wind and your nerves are over the roof. Ivar has been in contact with Rollo back and forth, telling him about the weapons that they need to retrieve before the actual battle. Hvitserk is not nervous about the retrieval like he is about the actual battle, which you can relate to. Ivar just wants to get the job done and move on with his life with you. Ubbe has been strategizing with his brother's on just how they are going to get into Wessex without being seen. That is simply not possible. There are way more people in Wessex than Kattegat. So you proposed an idea of your own: write to Thyra and tell her of your business returning to Wessex and ask her if she could help in any way. Ubbe agreed immediately, Ivar is worried that she won't be loyal and tell the king. You insure Ivar that she has been loyal to you from day one and that she would never do anything that could detriment the plan. Ivar took your word and allowed you to write to Thyra.

The letter read as follows: Hi, my dear friend. It is Y/n, I miss you dearly. I have to admit, I miss having you by my side everyday. I miss your voice and your words of wisdom. I wanted to tell you that I was sent my mother's journal! In this journal, is everything that I need to know about my father and how to stop him. She has warned me of father's ruthlessness and how he will stop at nothing to be the ruler of Wessex. We both know that his rule cannot continue. Not only for our sake but also for the safety of our good people. I am writing to you in hopes of getting your help, Thyra. My mother told me of weapons that can kill my dragons. I cannot lose them, you know that. She told me where they are and how to sneak in to retrieve them. But my husband and his men cannot go in without a leader to insure their safe passage in and out of Wessex. This is where you come in. Please, write to me as soon as you get this. We need you Thyra. I hope you have been well and safe, I love you.

~Y/n

You sent that letter two days ago and have yet to hear from her. Your mind of course goes to the darkest place and you fear the worst: your father did something to your best friend. Hvitserk and Ivar have been trying their best to comfort you and to think positive. Your dragons have been a major comfort for you like they always are. So you have been spending all day today with them. Just taking in their beauty and their magnificence.

The way their eyes sparkle when they look at you, the way their wings flap in the wind and how they inhale the air when the wind blows. You begin to lean on Neith as she lays down for her nap of the day. Being a mother of dragons has its perks, that is for sure. 

"Sleepy are we?" You ask her, she snorts in response. Making you giggle a bit. "Okay big girl. You get your beauty sleep." Once you said that, she lied her head down on her paws and drifted off to sleep. The boys are very hyper today so you allow them to fly for a bit, circle around Kattegat so they can stretch their wings. The boys act like children while Neith acts like the disciplinarian. It is fun to watch them connect and grow together from babies to adults. It has been a long struggle for you and your babies and the battle isn't over yet. But it will be soon, you can feel it. 

Hvitserk comes out from his steaming shower to you not being beside Ivar. So he walks over to his brother and sits down in front of him. 

Hvitserk "Where is she?"

Ivar "She's been outside with her dragons for an hour or so."

Hvitserk "An hour? Is she alright?"

Ivar "I think so. In my opinion, she just wanted to spend quality time with them. The battle is coming up fast, dear brother."

Hvitserk sighs, "I know, don't remind me."

Ivar "And still no word from Thyra-"

Hvitserk "Really?" Ivar nods, "gods..I hope she is alright."

Ivar "Me as well. I don't know if Y/n could handle losing her only friend-"

Torvi "Not her only friend!" Torvi shouts at Ivar while walking past him. 

Ivar chuckles, "Yes of course. How could I forget? You two's bond is wonderful to say the least."

Torvi "That is because we are wonderful women!" She says with a proud smile on her face. Ubbe joins in on the conversation.

Ubbe "That is true. We are very lucky men, are we not brother's?" 

Ivar "Very lucky indeed." Hvitserk simply smiles and shakes his head in agreement. There are a few people coming in and out of the house making safety precautions, so Hvitserk did not want his people to overhear this conversation. 

Torvi "Speaking of, where is the beauty?"

Ivar "Outside."

Ubbe "Ah okay. She has been out there long, no?"

Ivar "I would say so-" he gets cut off by a woman coming in.

"My king, the queen has fallen asleep in the snow.."

Ivar "Alright. Thank you for telling me." He said as he began to get out of his seat. When Ivar sees you, he sees you asleep on Neith. He slows his pace as he walks up to his napping wife. So peaceful and graceful. He takes you all in like he does everyday. Then he finally bends down just enough to caress your cheek.

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

You feel a pair of fingers caress your cold cheek and you hum in satisfaction. When your eyes flutter open, you see your beloved. 

"Mmm." Is all you could say.

Ivar "Hello beautiful. You fell asleep.."

"Mm-I'm sorry."

Ivar "No no, no need to be sorry. But I do not want you and the baby to catch a cold."

"Yes you are right." You wiggle your way up toward him, but he helps you by giving you a hand. Once you are face to face, he cups your left side of your face and holds you close.

Ivar "You looked so peaceful.."

"Oh I was. Any news?"

Ivar "No, not yet. We will soon, tomorrow..I am sure of it."

"Okay-"

Ivar "Do not worry," he said in a high pitched voice, "everything will be alright! We will get those weapons and then we will win this battle. Have faith, my sweet."

"I do because I have you."

Ivar "And I do because I have you too. Now come on, let's get you inside."

When you and Ivar walk inside, the woman that informed Ivar of you, stops you both.

"I told Ivar, my queen. I hope you don't mind that he woke you. I did not want you to freeze-" she said.

"Oh I am not upset, thank you for telling him. I most definitely would have."

"Okay, I am glad to see a smile on your face!" She said with a smile on her face. 

"Aw that is very kind of you. I apologize for being somber lately, a lot of things going on.."

"That is quite alright. A queen has a lot of responsibilities!"

"Oh yes, that is very true."

Ivar "Thank you for telling me again, darling. I have to get her warm.." 

"Of course, shall I run her a bath?"

"That sounds lovely, thank you dear." She nods and walks off and towards yours and Ivar's bathroom. Ivar lets you lean into him for warmth. It is like he is a big heater against your cold skin. But you don't mind the cold, you actually love it. But you did not realize how cold you were until Ivar touched you. He holds you close and looks down at you in his arms.

"What is it?"

Ivar "Nothing, nothing at all. Just gawking at my beautiful wife."

"You are so cheesey...I love it."

Ivar giggles, "I know that you do. I think Hvitserk wants to see you-" you look over and find Hvitserk looking at you and smiling. "I feel like if he stares at you any longer, that he'll burn a hole into ya!" He shouted.

You start to laugh, "Don't be ridiculous."

Ivar leans down and kisses your forehead and then your nose, then finally your lips. 

Ivar "I love you."

"But I love you more!"

Ivar "...not possible." You kiss his cheek before he nudges you to go over to join Hvitserk and Ubbe while he checks on your running water. Once you reach Hvitserk, he pulls you into his arms in a loving embrace. 

Hvitserk "Wow kitten...you are freezing."

"Mm I know. A maiden is running me a bath as we speak to help."

Hvitserk "I can't believe that you fell asleep in the freezing snow!"

"I know..I was just so comfortable that I just dozed off."

Hvitserk "Yeah I hear ya," he leans down and kisses your forehead, "but I can warm you up in the time being." Ubbe and Torvi start chatting about anything that isn't about the days that follow, trying to make you and Hvitserk laugh. Ubbe holds Torvi while Hvitserk holds you and it makes you feel so happy and blessed. 

Ivar "Your bath is ready, my love."

"Thank gods!" You say as your lips quiver from the cold.

Ivar "I have a surprise too.."

"You do?" Ivar smirks and offers you his arm. 

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

When you enter the bathroom, there are candles lit and the air smells of lavender. Your jaw drops and you look up at Ivar with puppy-dog eyes.

"What is all of this?"

Ivar "I wanted to make today a romantic one."

"Really?"

Ivar smiles, "Yes really. I feel like we both deserve a break from our own minds...to have alone time."

"I like the sound of that, my love." He kisses your lips as he undresses you. When you undress him, you audibly moan, to which he smirks and kisses you passionately. 

Ivar "I'll get in first.." he slowly gets in and then gestures for you to join him: you put your back to his chest like he asks you to. He kisses your cheek and your shoulder. His hands roam your body, lingering on your features. You moan softly as he softly kisses you. As soon as his hands travel to your throbbing core, your eyes roll to the back of your head. He hits the right spot almost instantly, making you tremble under his touch. 

Ivar "Mmm I love when you purr for me, princess." He then adds a finger, making your legs start to twitch as he pumps in and out.

"Mmm.."

Ivar "Yeah? Am I making my queen feel good?"

"Yes." You prolong the s. He continues his movements as he kisses your skin, making your body tremble even more. 

Ivar "Cum for me, princess...I want you to yell my name as you cum, hmm?"

"Fuck...yes." he pumps harder and harder, then adding a second finger. Once he does, your legs begin to shake and you can feel yourself getting close. 

Ivar "Mmm I can feel you getting tighter around me." His voice was deep and husk. You love it when he makes his voice like this. 

"Ivar I'm so close." You stuttered.

Ivar "I know baby, come on, cum for me.." a few more pumps and you reach your climax.

"Fuck Ivar.." you say out of breath.

Ivar snickers, "Mmm I enjoyed that just as much as you did, princess." You turn your body so that you can kiss him. Once you start, it is extremely hard for you to stop. Even to get a breath. Sadly, there was a knock on the door. 

"My king?" A man asked.

Ivar "Yes, what is it?"

"We need you outside for a moment."

Ivar "What is the matter?"

"A woman is making a ruckus outside, my king." He looks at you and then you look at him, you both know immediately what woman that he is referring too.

Ivar sighs, "I knew-" you kiss him one last time.

"I know...if it is justified, I will allow it.."

Ivar "I won't do anything without you by my side."

"I know. I love you, now go be a king." He smirks and kisses your lips before crawling his way out of the tub. 

Ivar "Oh and princess," you look up at him, "feel free to find Hvitserk, if you need more…" you chuckle and blush at the same time. 

"You are too good to me."

Ivar "I can say the same thing, princess. I'll see you in bed tonight, yes?"

"Without any doubt." He leans down and kisses your forehead before getting dressed and leaving the bathroom. 

When you get out of the tub, your legs are still shaking a bit. With Hvitserk, you won't be able to walk but you are looking forward to it.

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

When you get out of the bathroom, you place a fur over your dampened body and make your way over to Hvitserk's chambers. He is sitting on his bed, holding a buddha statue. 

Hvitserk "Hey kitten.." you don't answer, only smirk at him. He knew by the way you looked at him that you were more than ready for him. He chuckles and then licks his lips, before tossing the buddha on the floor. He swiftly gets off the bed and picks you up by the hips, kissing you passionately. You wrap your arms and legs around Hvitserk, moaning as his lips press against your own. 

Hvitserk "Gods I've missed this.."

"Not as much as me.." 

Hvitserk "Mm let's find out shall we?" He places you down on the bed, gently. He hovers over you, grabbing your hips and digging his fingers into your skin. You sigh into his mouth as he bites down on your bottom lip. His mouth trails to your neck, then your collarbone, chest etc. You love his love bites so much that you are a moaning mess. 

Hvitserk "I know kitten, I know it's been awhile. Just enjoy me." You moan at his response and tangle your fingers into his blonde braids. His head dips into your stomach, belly button and hips. He is taking his time, which you don't really mind because Ivar helped you reach your first climax. 

Hvitserk "Gods…" he takes in your body with such admiration and love that you can feel it in all of your being. Before he continues on, he undresses down to nothing. You take his body in, and when he hovers over you once again, you run your fingers over his abs and you can feel the heat coming off of him. 

"I need you, please..?" He smirks and kisses you before dipping his head down to where you need him the most. He kisses you first before licking your entire slit, making you cling to the sheets underneath you. 

Hvitserk "I've missed the way you taste, kitten." He doesn't give you the chance to respond before hitting your clit instantly. He uses his tongue long enough for that knot in your gut to spike but he pulls back before you reach it completely. 

"I was so-"

Hvitserk "I know..but I want us to cum together, don't you?" 

"Mm yes." Without hesitation, he plunges himself inside of you, making you grab a hold of his broad shoulders, digging your nails into him. He grunts, as do you. You have missed the way he feels, how gentle he is but yet he hits all of the right spots. The ecstasy is exhilarating. He buries his face in your neck as he works his hips in and out in the perfect rhythm and speed. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer each time. You know that you needed this because each time you reached your climax, you realize that it didn't take much. 

"Yes please don't stop!" Hvitserk love bites your neck and collarbones before pulling you up towards him so that you are straddling him in a sitting position. He holds your body close and tight. Never looking away from you, always having his eyes glued to your lips or your eyes. 

Hvitserk "Gods you are so perfect."

"So are you." You say before crashing your lips to his. You grab him tighter when you feel yourself about to cum.

Hvitserk "Oh yeah baby, cum for me." You moan and hollar, letting him know how good he makes you feel as you cum. He cums at the same time as you, just like he wanted to. He lays you down to relax from your high. You are both out of breath but full of bliss. 

Hvitserk "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Not at all!" 

Hvitserk "Good, I got a little carried away at the end there, I was just making sure."

"That was amazing...and needed."

Hvitserk "Absolutely." He leans down and kisses you again. You roll over so that you are in his arms. He sighs from being on cloud nine and you do the same. 

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

When you and Hvitserk come out of the room, everyone that is normally in the house, is not. You look at each other puzzled. Hvitserk pulls out his sword and hands you his dagger in case something happened that you two weren't aware of. And then you remembered, a man knocked on your bathroom door an hour or two ago, telling Ivar about a woman making a ruckus. 

"It's her.."

Hvitserk "Who?"

"The woman that hates me.." Hvitserk's face immediately went into a scowl and he grunted as he made his way out the door. When you both walked outside, the night changed instantly.

To be Continued ...

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @ivarsgoddess @youbloodymadgenius @saldelys @heavenly1927 @conaionaru @readsalot73 @ivarzeitgeist @herestherealproblem

[malenamoonlight]

I was searching for some screen captures of The Last Kingdom season 3, my favorite season so far, and now I'm feeling nostalgic... What an amazing season! The death of the King... I miss this man so much. Still not over it. And Ragnar, Thyra and Gisela deaths. And Brida and Uhtred loving and hating each other all the time, but teaming up again to avenge their beloved Ragnar. SKADE! It was all so tragic, melancholic, compelling and beautiful. Season 4 can't relate!

[bagheerita]

Wet cat Beocca and Thyra my beloved ❤

[levingale]

@makersruins​ has whispered: ❝ And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have. ❞ (no bully hours? in this house?)

crooked kingdom starters. // accepting

She dreamt of ruination once. In bolts of levin and fire. It was what breathed life into her, how she was moulded by it, shaped into being by ruin. What else, if not ruin, did war bring? There wasn’t a moment’s rest for someone like her, no. Karigan thrived on being alive. Being able to fight. But to survive, but to live, was another story. To live was to conquer. To conquer was to be POWERFUL. It was a terrible mirror to imperials that invaded lands. One that she hated with every core of her being but slowly, did she embrace it. 

The world is dark and cruel, presenting itself as nothing more than a hellscape to her when she was but a babe. Not even the endless sky and it’s expanse could quell the ravenous hunger within her. There was always more to take, always more to breathe. If she did not live a life full of fire and lightning, it would all be in vain. 

If life was a lesson, then it taught Karigan cruelty. Her veins, once carrying blood that ignited so hotly with passion, was now ice and freezing. Perhaps, a side effect of the primal summoning, but there was a bigger cause of concern. 

“ What do you know about longing, Thyra? ” She breathes out puffs of air     ──       not like a dragon but the small pockets of condensed air she saw when she was younger. The tundra was never kind. Much like darkness, the cold crept up slowly, wrapping it’s grasp around one’s body and mind, leaving nothing but an imprint of what once was. 

Karigan laughs but not in a boisterous way. Not one that came from the heart or chest. It comes out in squeaks and treacherous wheezing, as if her lungs could no longer support her. 

Oh, beloved hero, champion of the people. Finally did the hero slay the filthy beast that bled all over the motherland. “ Would you say it is fair to long for a home that’s no longer there ? Would you say it is fair for those who had lost so much, they have nothing left to offer but their lives ? ” Nothing was fair, not in their world. In fact, not ever and in any world. To be perfect was to be stripped of one’s identity. And to be powerful was to be stripped of all else human. 

She takes a step backwards     ──       her footing far too sloppy as one would chide and she almost falls on her back. Karigan is far too numb to feel anything. Not her limbs, not her wounds, and certainly not the tears that spill from her eyes. 

“ So, tell me. What do you know of longing? I’ve spent my life chasing after it until I have nothing else to give. I’ve spent my life wishing that things had turned out differently     ──       ” She coughs, spitting fresh reds on to the ground beneath her, “     ──       but it wouldn’t. ” 

And then, she’s tired. Exhausted. Her legs gave way and she felt like she was falling forever. Karigan thinks of the things she wanted, had wanted, and still wants even as she fell. She catches a glimpse of the esteemed hero, and she would have laughed if she had the energy to. Of all of the things she’s yearned for, there was little regret when one of the things she longed for was...

... You.

[159chaetimeters]

TWICE as women from “The Last Kingdom” (may contain spoilers)

NAYEON: SKADE (Thea Sofie Loch Naess)

Initially, Skade is seen as batshit crazy.  I mean...she put a curse on Uhtred that turned his life sideways.  But when you look deeper at her character, she has a heart.  Sure, she may use it for the wrong reasons, but she has one.  She manipulated Uhtred several times over, but was able to help and be kind when it was necessary.

JEONGYEON: EADITH (Stefanie Martini)

Eadith is impulsive and struggles to keep her mouth shut when it’s important, but she’s definitely very strong-willed and cares for other people.  When she was Lord Aethelred’s mistress, she felt bad about it, especially knowing the awful way he treated his wife, Aethelflaed.  This is why, when Eardwulf kills Aethelred, Eadith informs Aethelflaed and rescues her from potential imprisonment.  She was extremely kind and almost motherly to Aethelflaed’s daughter, Aelfwynn, when Aethelflaed couldn’t be there to take care of her.  For being a relatively new character, she definitely has one of the biggest hearts of any character on the show.

MOMO: THYRA (Julia Bache-Wiig)

Thyra had the biggest heart of any television character ever portrayed.  Even though she had been through a lot in her life, she still managed to be kind to people around her, including her husband, Father Beocca.  She helped her deceased brother, Ragnar, escape from Nieflheim into Valhalla by giving a bit of her own blood.  When a bigoted man harassed her for being a Dane among Saxons, she simply ignored him and got on with her day.

SANA: ISEULT (Charlie Murphy)

Iseult was a character who definitely used her special ability for good.  She was sweet, caring, and affectionate to those around her.  She made King Alfred a special tonic to help him with his illness without being asked.  She saved the future-king Edward’s life when he was a baby, but felt tearfully sympathetic for the stranger’s child that she would have to kill in the process.  Granted, her death at the end of season 1 was downright jaw-dropping, but she was one of the few truly good characters on the show.

JIHYO: GISELA (Peri Baumeister)

Gisela was one of the most motherly and wise women on the show.  She was gentle, kind, and hospitable.  She wasn’t afraid to voice her opinion either.  When she told Uhtred that Aethelflaed and Aethelred getting married was a bad idea, you could see how much she cared about Aethelflaed, a woman she barely knew.  She deeply loved Uhtred and wanted nothing but for him to be safe, seeing as allying with her brother, King Guthred, put a huge target on his back.

MINA: AETHELFLAED (Millie Brady)

Aethelflaed is quiet, poised, and dignified, but can also be pretty badass and a little bit scary.  She completely defies gender stereotypes and shows that women can be strong, fearless leaders.  She has excellent strategy and decision-making skills.  Though she’s quite introverted and a little shy, she’s very opinionated and not afraid to give her two cents on certain matters.  When her beloved kingdom of Mercia is being overrun by Danes, she is quick to step up to the plate and do whatever she can to protect herself and her people.

DAHYUN: HILD (Eva Birthistle)

Hild is charming and funny.  She may be the cutest religious figure ever.  She always has some one-liner up her sleeve.  Eg. When she tells Uhtred he’s “back to his normal self” after noticing that he’s being cocky and stubborn.  She then says “You look thin.  You should eat, my love”, which is her making fun of Skade trying to call Uhtred in for supper.  She’s unique because she appears to be Uhtred’s only female friend with whom he has a purely platonic relationship.

CHAEYOUNG: STIORRA (Ruby Hartley)

Stiorra is free-spirited and open-minded.  She’s raised as a Saxon, but wants to get in touch with her Danish roots.  What more can you expect from Uhtred and Gisela’s daughter?  She’s a bit impulsive, however.  When she was held hostage by the Dane, Sigtryggr, she told Uhtred that maybe it was good for her to become one with the Danes.  Overall, Stiorra is always ready for something new and always trying to improve herself.

TZUYU: BRIDA (Emily Cox)

Brida is pure brawn.  She is nice when she wants to be and fucking BRUTAL when she wants to be, be it physically or verbally.  She’s not a villainous character by any means, but she’s a total savage.  She’s not afraid to speak her mind.

[royalbirthchamber]

A Debt of Vengeance Part XIV

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI Part XII Part XIII

**Well...I never thought this tale would go on as long as it did...but here we are! I want to thank everyone for all their support, love, feedback, and questions. I hope you have enjoyed this tale as much as I have enjoyed writing it. And thank you for being so patient in between chapters: would you believe it’s been a year and a half since Malchior and Sybil first met? Anyhow: I hope the ending is everything you all could want and more. Thank you - L. Wyvernic**

The now-empress reclined against the mountain of silken pillows and rubbed the grand swell of her stomach. There were so many questions swirling in Sybil's mind, so many things that didn't make sense. She watched at Malchior turned away from the door as the two other women left and silently walk back to the large pallet where she lay. Kneeling beside her he placed his hand on hers and for the moment they both felt the baby ready to be born, neither saying a word.

"Malchior," Sybil softly whispered. She intertwined her fingers with his and looked into the demigod's face. His eyes were glistening with a torrent of feelings: love, sorrow, guilt, joy...Sybil felt her throat tighten as her own tide of emotion began to rise.  Neither knew how to give voice to the weight in their hearts, the sins they carried beginning for redemption.

Malchior lowered his eyes, fighting to find the words. "All this time I've been nothing but...a monster."

" It's over now," she murmured, squeezing his hand, "It's all over."

He shook his head and looked into Sybil's eyes. "No, you don't understand: I always knew, the moment I first saw you waiting for me in your father's castle, I knew at that second. I just refused to believe it..."

" Knew what?" she asked, puzzled by his words.

The emperor shuddered with sorrow, regret. He forced himself to go on; she had to know.

"When I entered your father's castle, I was ready to destroy you," he whispered, "But then...seeing you seated there, it was as if every single moment of my life was compressed into this tiny point focused into one single second. My past and future all happening at once and in my heart, I felt my destiny calling to me. My prydia..."

"Malchior, I'm not your prydia," Sybil turned her face away as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Please...stop saying foolish things!"

"They're not foolish things, Sybil!" he cried. "I speak the truth."

"Would anyone else treat their 'prydia' as you have treated me?" she asked, facing him again. "Yes, I have been cruel in the past but it was onl-ahhh!" Sybil gasped: her womb contracted, the pain rolling down over her stomach and spreading into her back and hips. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing instead. The pains were getting stronger and closer together now. She felt Malchior release her hand and massage the underside of her belly where the pressure seemed to focus.

"That was a strong one," the emperor said. Sybil nodded in agreement as the pain finally abated. He grabbed a damp, cool cloth from a near-by crystal bowl and placed it against her forehead. She softly moaned, welcoming the refreshing feel of the wet cloth against her skin.

"Before...I took the throne, I went to see an oracle," Malchior quietly began. "It's customary for the heir to see her visions and prophesy before they are crowned. I was young, then, and did not give her words much thought. But...now I cannot forget her words. Of all the things she saw there was one part, one... prophecy which still haunts me: 'And two empresses will thou have, But only one a prydia be. One will fall, thy soul departed, The Second, sealed, will return it to thee.'"

"But...it doesn't say which one," Sybil replied, "Only that you would have two empresses but only one would be your prydia. That doesn't prove anything."

"'The Second, sealed, will return it to thee'. My sigil...the one I placed to protect you and our child: it can only be sealed to a prydia," he replied. "I placed it upon Thyra as well, even though I feared that prophecy. I would defy Fate, I would prove the old crone oracle wrong, but..."

"You...knew she wasn't your prydia?" Sybil softly asked, "Even when you married her and made her empress?"

"I loved her so much, Sybil." Malchior shook his head. "I loved her and swore that she would be my Fated One, that I would control my own destiny. When I laid my seal upon her, I felt so...confident that I had won over Fate." He then held his head in his hands. "Obviously...we both know..."

Sybil sighed and stared at the vaulted ceiling high above her as her mind tried to process everything. Ever since her father ordered Thyra's death her life had been nothing but chaos. Had Thyra actually been Malchior's prydia his sigil would have protected her and her child from the dark magic poisoning her assassin's blade. Instead both Thyra and the baby perished and proved that Malchior's sigil was powerless. It had, however, protected her own baby...

"You...really hurt me, Malchior," she finally said. "You, my father, Dysarq: all men who have seen me as something to be used." She rolled onto her side, facing away from the emperor. The position eased the pressure from her lower back from the large baby slowly making its way into the world.  "If I'm your prydia...why would you treat me so...cruelly?"

"Oh, Sybil, forgive me," Malchior pled. He gently laid beside her on the pallet and pulled her body close to his own. Even now she felt warm and safe in his arms. Sybil guided his arm around her belly so he could cradle it as well and Malchior nuzzled her neck in response. "Please, beloved...forgive me."

"I just want to know why?" She asked.

"I refused to believe that Thyra wasn't my prydia, even after I failed to prevent her death...even though the oracle had spoken such. During the war, when your father's armies surrendered, I decided that I would make his daughter my consort: that it would prove the prophecy wrong. By marrying the daughter of my hated enemy, a princess I had never met and who would despise me, I would thwart the gods...but I was wrong, Sybil. Fate had outwitted me once more by making you my prydia. When I entered you chambers and realized it the moment I laid eyes on you...I was so terrified. I just wanted to make you...hate me."

"That way...there would be no love," Sybil mused.

"And if there is no love...then I wouldn't be hurt again."

"Only...I would be the one hurt instead."

Malchior gently rolled Sybil onto her back and cupped her face, his own a mask of sorrow and remorse. " I have proven myself unworthy to have the love of my prydia. I accept this. I have drawn up documents giving you reign over Roliam once more. You...and our daughter...can go and live there. When I am gone, she will inherit my throne. I will not interfere: you two can live in peace."

Sybil looked into his eyes and knew he was speaking the truth. He would give her everything: her freedom, her kingdom, even his own child just to atone for his sins. He had hurt her, there was no denying the fact. He had been heartless, cruel, cold...and in turn, she had given him the same but then there were times...he had been tender, loving even. He adored their child from the moment she became pregnant and the fact that it would be a girl did nothing to diminish his love, something her own father never done.

And Sybil, despite everything - everything!- knew in her heart he would be the only man she would ever love. Was theirs a perfect love? No: it was one born from loss, grief, and a desire for vengeance. Both had entered the union wounded and instead of helping each other to heal they lashed out in pain, desiring to make the other suffer just as much. She remembered when her mother lay dying her father refused to see his wife one last time. Sybil was furious and bitterly wept as she held the woman's hand and cursed the king. The queen, whose heart never turned bitter in spite of her sufferings, comforted her daughter with an old proverb:

"If all could be understood then all would be forgiven."

The baby kicked as if waiting for her to make a choice before it entered the world. She reached up and caressed Malchior's face. For the first time in her life, she was free to choose her destiny.

"I shall tell you what I want," she began, "I will stay in this chamber and give birth to our daughter. I will sit beside you on the throne as your empress and advisor, and I will bear you a family of strong sons and proud daughters. All I ask...is that we learn to understand and forgive each other."

"Sybil," Malchior's eyes brimmed with tears as her forgiveness washed over him and finally began to lift the oppressive weight of grief from his soul. He leaned down and kissed his empress, their lips touching for the first time. Sybil softly moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, her body beginning to yield to his as their tongues intertwined. Warmth flooded her body; not just the heat of lustful passions that she had known but a deeper warmth, more intense than when he had called her 'beloved'.  They would both heal.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another contraction. Her body slightly bucked as her hard stomach surged. A long, low moan escaped from her throat, her mouth pulling away from his as the pain grew along with her voice.

Malchior's hand slid under her gown and caressed her laboring belly, feeling the muscles of her womb tighten around their baby. Sybil arched her back, panting, as the pain peaked and then slowly faded once more. The pressure behind her cervix and in her hips was slowly building as each contraction gradually forced the large, Artemian child into the world. Sybil began to seriously fear that her body would not be able to accommodate such a large baby no matter what Malchior of the midwife said.

" How...far apart are my pains now?" Sybil murmured, "They feel stronger than when you brought me here."

"About fifteen minutes or so," Malchior replied. He pulled back her tight gown and began to kiss her stomach. "You're doing wonderful, Sybil." He rose from the bed and walked to the wooden table where various supplies awaited and grabbed a small glass vial. He returned and gently opened her thighs, allowing him to kneel between her bent knees. He opened the vial and carefully poured the sweet-scented oil onto his hands, rubbing them together as the smell reached Sybil's nose. It was similar to the same heady oil Mavis had poured into her bath. Sybil sighed and she inhaled the perfumed air while Malchior began to knead the sore flesh of her swollen midsection.

"Ahhh," she moaned, "That...feels wonderful, my lord."

Malchior did not spoke but relished watching his laboring empress sigh and moan in pleasure as his hands worked and caressed the tight, translucent skin. Her body was ripe, swollen with life, ready to erupt with his child and seeing her writhe upon the silken sheets was a delicious sight to behold. The baby's movements made ripples across the surface of her belly as it squirmed, impatient with the slow labor. He traced his fingers over the shifting mound as his other hand continued to firmly massage the underside of her stomach.

"Let me see if you've progressed, my empress." He carefully slid his oiled fingers into her sex. Sybil moaned, enjoying the feeling of him inside her despite her current ordeal. "About two, two-and-a-half fingers open." He slowly withdrew from her cunt and began to run his fingers over her sensitive clit. Her gentle signs became lustful moans of pleasure and her hands gripped the sheets as he teased her. After a moment of delicious torment, he rubbed more oil on his hands and began to rub her belly.

Sybil opened her eyes and saw the hungry look on the god-emperor. She slowly raised herself up into a sitting position and held out a hand.

"Please, I think I need to kneel while I labor. My back..."

Malchior helped her up until she knelt upon the bedding and supported her heavily pregnant figure from behind. Her belly hung between her bent knees, resting on the bedding, and the large baby pressed down against her gradually opening cervix. Malchior continued to cradle and rub her stomach. He pulled her in close, his erect cock pressing into her back through his trousers, and began to kiss the nape of her neck. Sybil released a series of moans and sighs as he continued to kiss her until another pain seized her once more, tightening around her like a fist. Her voice raised from a whimper into a painful cry, her hands pressing into the sides of her solid midriff. Malchior placed his hands atop her and whispered encouragements into her ear.

"Breathe, Sybil. Like this," and he led her through the pain, both breathing as the contraction gripped her body. As it passed she sagged against with a soft cry. The demi-god continued to caress her belly and kiss the side of her tired face. "You're so beautiful right now, my love. So strong and beautiful."

"You wanted to see me suffer, remember?" she replied with a wry smile. He softly groaned as he clutched her belly.

"I think you've suffered enough, my empress," he gently replied. "I could still delay this, let you rest for a day, and then make sure your labor is easy...painless..."

"No!" she fiercely shook her head. "I...I want my baby and I want...I want to suffer, Malchior.  I want you to watch me in agony as I birth this child. Just...promise me she'll be okay." Sybil ran a hand over her swell. "Promise me...if something goes wrong, you'll make sure she-"

"Sybil stop," Malchior interrupted her, "You will be able to bear this child. Those things Dysarq said were just horrible lies: I will never allow you or our children to perish in childbed."

The two remained kneeling on the pallet as Malchior hungrily kissed his prydia, cradling her belly through each contraction while Sybil moaned, cried, and panted through the cruel pain. It seemed her labor had stalled: after two hours the contractions were still about fifteen minutes apart. Sybil sat against the pillows once more, her knees bent, as the emperor gently checked to see her progress.

"Still the same," he calmly replied as he withdrew his fingers from her soaking sex. Sybil groaned in dismay. She had hoped for some progress after two hours of laboring in her beloved's arms. Her waters still remained intact and her womb no more open than before: two hours spent in vain! Malchior laid beside her and kissed her greedily, distracting her from the disappointment. She felt a familiar ache between her thighs as fire flushed through her body. She looked up into her husband's face as the lustful blaze burned in her eyes.

"Fuck me," she whispered, "I demand it, Malchior!"

Malchior's eyes widened, ignited with the same carnal flames that now burned in her. " You demand it, royal whore?" he teased. His hand moved from her cheek and slowly trailed down her body. Sybil shivered in delight and kissed him again.

"You promised to break my waters, to ravage me without mercy as I struggled to bear your child." she whispered, "Do it, Malchior! I need you!"

" I did promise, my little whore," he growled into her ear as he slowly slid his trousers off. "I did promise to fuck this child out of you."

"Please..." she whimpered, rolling onto her side to allow him better access. She felt him slide next to her on the pallet and lift her leg up, crying as her cunt ached to be impaled. "Oh Malchior, please..."

"Is this what you want, Sybil?" he teased her soaking folds with the tip of his massive rod. She nodded and moaned with each brush against her sex. Malchior buried his face into her neck, kissing her clavicle. " You do not know how long I've waited for this moment: fucking my whore prydia as she labors with my child, breaking her waters, and then finally watching as the royal baby mercilessly plows through her. Oh Sybil...thank you."

Sybil did not have time to reply as the emperor penetrated her hard. She screamed in a mix of surprise and pleasure as his cock stretched her open and began to thrust mercilessly into her.

"Oh gods, yes!" she screamed, "Harder!"

Malchior roughly gripped her belly, pulling Sybil into him and allowing him to plunge into her sex. Sybil felt him slam into her cervix repeatedly, his thick member filling her and hitting every pleasurable spot. She released a series of moans and screams in rhythm to his thrusts. The emperor groaned: the sounds of her cries only goaded him on and he had missed the feel of her cunt tightly enveloping his rod, missed feeling the baby kick inside his beloved as she begged for his cock.

"The Five Realms may think of you as their empress," he hissed, "but I'll always know you're my royal whore, Sybil. Wicked, wicked whore: begging to be fucked even in the throes on labor!"

"Yes!" she screamed. "And you're just as wicked, Malchior! So wicked! Oh gods!" She gripped his hand, the one holding her belly, as she felt another contraction begin to build. The pain and pleasure began to wrap around her, each building off the other into a mix of glorious torment. She moaned, her voice rich with agony, and her eyes began to flutter.

Malchior knew what was happening as he felt her stomach muscles begin to tighten. "Suffer for me, Sybil," he demanded. Sybil moaned in reply. The sensation of her stomach being seized by such pain only made him thrust faster and harder into his laboring beloved, his own orgasm building. He watched her face shift from ecstasy to a visage of torment. Her stomach surged, rock hard. Sybil bucked violently against his body: she began to shake as the combination of her orgasm and the contraction melted into one. She threw her head back as a raw scream tore from her throat: the pain and pleasure peaked at once and held her body prisoner. Malchior roared as he finally came with one last, deep thrust. His own body quaked with a forceful release, hot and thick. Sybil's cries continued as the tightening band of pain remained around her midsection. She gripped the sheets, gasping for air between her moans. The afterglow still cascaded through her even while she was tortured by the cruel contraction: it was both heaven and hell.

Something gave inside her, forcing a low groan from her lips. Malchior felt it as well and withdrew from her sore sex: a torrent of water burst from between her open, shivering thighs and spilled across the red, silken sheets. The contraction finally faded, leaving the empress trembling and drenched in sweat and birth fluid.

Malchior rose, quickly slipping back into his trousers, and grabbed some towels. He placed some on the soaked bed and used others to clean Sybil's legs and thighs. He gently kissed her stomach as he dried her with the soft towels. She weakly opened her eyes and gazed at her emperor. The chamber was now filled with the burning light of sunset, igniting his long hair into bursts of scarlet, crimson, and ruby. She watched as he placed his hand on her swell and felt the baby's position.

"Is she...okay?" an exhausted Sybil asked. "That wasn't too..."

"She is fine, my love," Malchior replied much to Sybil's relief. She gave a tired smile and stroked her belly. Malchior kissed her stomach once more. "Your labor should begin to hasten, now."

*****

Night fell and the birthing chamber was illuminated by the ethereal glow of candles and the small fire burning in the hearth. Sybil stood before the long wooden table, gripping its edge, moaning as another contraction held her. Behind her, Malchior rubbed her back as his empress groaned in pain. After her waters broke her labor did pick up again and the royal couple had spent the past hours pacing the chamber floors or kneeling on the pallet as Sybil panted and wailed with each fresh contraction. It was nearing midnight and now her pains were less than five minutes apart and lasting what seemed like an eternity. Her frame was soaked in sweat and every joint ached. As the contraction ended her body sagged against the table, her knees weak, and Malchior laced his arms through hers for support.

"I can't do this," she mewed, "I thought I was strong, but I'm too-"

"You are strong, Sybil!" Malchior lovingly whispered into her ear, "You are the strongest woman in all the Five Realms."

"I doubt that," she muttered. She looked over to the soft rug spread before the hearth. Malchior followed her gaze.

"Kneel?" he asked. Sybil nodded.

"...kneel, please."

He carefully led her over to the fireplace and helped her down until she was kneeling on all fours, her belly pressing into the red fibers of the rub. She closed her eyes and panted: the baby was so low now, the pressure almost unbearable. Malchior returned to her side and knelt. He placed a goblet of cold water to her lips, which she gulped down in seconds, and then resumed rubbing her sore back and stroking the side of her stomach.

"You're both going to be fine, " he softly reassured, "Do you think my magick will fail you now after all this time?"

"I'm just...scared," Sybil replied, "So scared..."

"But I'm here with you, beloved. Nothing and no one will hurt you or our daughter. Remember my sigil?"

Sybil slightly raised her head. Something had bothered her but only now did she remember what it was. "Malchior?"

"Hmm?"

"I thought...you said it had only been a dream when you sealed me. Remember?"

Malchior sighed. "I lied."

"But...you were gone. How did you return and then leave again? It doesn't...make sense."

The emperor caressed her face: it seemed the birthing chamber was a place where the truth would come to light as well as see their child born. " I did leave, with some men, that evening. We...that is, I, needed to see the oracle again. I needed to know if Dysarq would succeed and I needed to know...if you were my prydia after all. As we camped for the first night I heard you...calling for me. I knew you were in danger."

"The nightmare," Sybil answered. Malchior nodded.

"Yes. I had...to get to you, so I quickly set a portal back to the bedchamber and found you in bed, crying, but I could also feel his presence. I shouldn't...have left you alone: I knew then that unless I did something he would rob me of the both of you. So..."

Sybil closed her eyes. "You placed your seal-Aahhhh! Malchior!"

Her head pressed against the floor as her womb squeezed and hardened around the babe. Her voice filled the chambers; she felt her hips creak as the pressure behind the giant baby forced it into her pelvis. She gasped frantically for air as the pain overrode all other though.

"Breathe, Sybil! Breathe!" Malchior urged. He moved before her and lifted her panicked face up to meet his own. "You need to breathe!"

She slowly found control over her body and began to breathe deeply, exhaling each time with a long moan, tormented moan. Malchior pressed a cold cloth to her face as she worked through the contraction, knowing that the icy water would feel good against her hot face.

"Ahh...ahhh...ahh...too big," she cried, "The baby...too big."

"You can do this, my prydia," he replied, "All these months you've said you can handle anything this wicked emperor gives you."

"...I guess you're not...the only liar...here."

Malchior could not help but laugh. He leaned down and kissed her mouth. "I do not believe you were lying, Sybil."

" Tell me...what did the oracle say?"

"What do you expect? When I arrived she laughed, wanting to know why I was there if I already had my answer? There was no use in asking if you were my prydia: my seal lay upon you and our child. When I asked about Dysarq she said the seal would protect you from him...but not from me. The oracle warned me that I was on dangerously close to making myself unworthy of a prydia; it happens sometimes if one partner does not honor the other. 'the choice' she said, 'would lie in the Empress' hands'."

"...and I have made my choice, Malchior."

"I know."

*****

As the hours passed the pains became even more intense, almost on top of one another until Sybil felt as if she were suffering an endless contraction. She returned to the pallet, exhausted, and writhed upon the pillows as her body was tormented by wave after wave of excruciating pain. The contractions were frighteningly strong; Malchior barely could see the faint outline of their baby as the muscles of her womb mercilessly tightened into a clenched fist of pain. His hands tirelessly kneaded the sore flesh and his mouth sprinkled kisses on the taut surface of her surging belly, her heaving chest, her pale neck...

A new pain welled up inside Sybil's worn body: an urge she could not deny. She threw her head back against the pillows as her body followed its instinct and bore down. Her thighs opened as the baby finally made its first move towards the world, a journey that would not be quick. She wailed with effort as the felt the massive head sluggishly began to force its way through her hips - her bones creaked at the sheer girth and Sybil feared she would be split apart by the royal babe.

Malchior quickly slid his fingers inside and felt the top of the baby's head just begin to press against his fingertips.

My precious child...

"Let's get you to the birthing stool," he spoke with quiet urgency, not watching to scare his wife but also feeling a mix of excitement and anxiousness. Sybil said nothing, only moaned as he lifted her to her feet. Each step brought a whimper from her lips: the baby entering her canal made walking difficult and awkward. She gripped his arm and the other cradled her low-hanging belly. She could see the stool waiting for her by the fire, the sturdy rope hanging near-by: it seemed so far but somehow she found the strength to make it. She gripped the rope and slowly slid down until she was squatting on the stool. The position opened her hips more and gravity helped bring the baby's head down lower into her canal.

"Ahhh Malchior, she's so big!" Sybil moaned.

"Our beautiful, Artemian princess," he whispered as he sat behind her and supported her tired, heavy body. "She's coming, Sybil. You just need to stay strong."

She gripped the rope, just as she had done all those times before with Ansela except now her labor was real. Sybil felt the next contraction build and prepared herself to push again - she was strong! She would bear their child, and many more; she was the Empress of the Five Realms and would give her beloved many, many heirs.

Her knuckles went white with the sheer force of her grip upon the rope while she bore down on the baby. Her voice roared with determination and pain, echoing up into the rafters, and she opened her thighs as wide as possible.

"Yes, Sybil!" Malchior urged, "Push! Just like that!" He pulled her in close, his hands lovingly caressing her contracting belly, and began to kiss her face and neck. As she pushed he would murmur encouragements and then mention how her laboring cries were driving him insane with desire. She could feel him becoming hard and she could not help but enjoy knowing her agony was filling him with lust.

"I'm surprised you don't force her back inside and fuck me again!" she panted, "You're such a vile, horrible emperor. So wicked..."

"Do not tempt me, little empress!" he growled into her ear. "Your ordeal is still not over." The fantasies helped distract Sybil from the excruciating pressure as the large head continued to brutally force her open.

"Tell me...more, Malchior! What else will you do to me?"

The emperor spun tales of delicious torment: she would give birth before all his guards like a common whore, or perhaps he would force her to carry out her imperial duties while laboring before the court. There would be a special undergarment that would not allow her progress beyond the babe only partially crowning - she would spend the whole day as their baby's head bulged between her thighs, a damp mound behind the silk and leather of the garment. She moaned and begged through all the stories and felt his painfully hard cock throb as it pressed into her. Her fear was replaced by hungry desire: she almost wanted Malchior to force her on all fours and violently ravage her sore sex. Instead, it drove her as she continued to bear down and moan, feeling his heir painfully fill and stretch her. She must have pushed for a solid hour before she finally felt the enormous head barely press against her folds.

"Malchior! Oh god, she's coming!"

Malchior moved from his place behind Sybil and knelt before her so he could see her progress. He watched as she pushed, the lips of her cunt slightly bulged out and he saw the baby's head barely peek out from behind her folds before retreating back inside. Another push forced her sex to swell out a little more, fluid dribbling from her lips, and a second glimpse of the head from the almond-sized opening.

"I see her, Sybil!" his eyes sparkled with excitement and wonder. "She has your lovely, dark hair!"

Sybil reached down to the growing mound between her thighs and slipped a finger inside where she immediately felt the soft surface of her baby's head.

"...baby!" she gasped. "My baby!" Her emotions overwhelmed her and she began to weep with joy as she carefully caressed her child with the tip of her finger. Malchior took her face in his hands and begin to kiss his empress as his tears mingled with her own. She kept her palm placed against her labia and she bore down again, groaning and yelling with effort as her child slowly came. Her lips refused to part beyond a shy, modest opening forcing her sex to swell out with each push until it jutted out to painful proportions. Malchior gazed at the massive bulge and softly ran his fingers over the stubborn lips.

"You need to stop pushing, Sybil," he commanded, " and let your body stretch for the head."

"I can't" she cried, " Malchior I need to-"

"You need to stretch!" he firmly replied. "I'm taking you back over to the bed where you can rest and I can help your lips open."

Sybil didn't even have a moment to protest; Malchior picked her body up in one swoop and carried her across the chambers back to the bed once more. She leaned against the pillows and gripped the backs of her bent knees, pulling them as close to her body as possible. Malchior grabbed the bottle of oil and poured a few drops on her bulging labia before gently rubbing and massaging the tight, red tissues with his fingers. Sybil gently moaned as his fingertips would brush against her clit as he rubbed her glistening mound. He dripped a small cloth into a nearby bowl of hot water, enchanted no doubt to hold its temperature for hours, and then placed the hot compress into her swollen sex.

"Breathe," Malchior coached, "When the next pain comes, don't push: you need to stretch around the baby's head."

Sybil nodded as she felt a pain already on its way. Her moans started and the uncontrollable urge to push began to take hold. Before she was even aware of it Sybil was bearing down hard. Malchior's palm remained firmly pressed against the cloth-draped bulge, applying counter-pressure to his prydia's pushing.

"Sybil, you need to breathe! Don't push!"

"I can't!" she wailed, "I need to push!"

"Look at me!" Malchior leaned over and gently cupped her tired face. "You can do this Sybil! If not for me then for our daughter. If you keep pushing you will tire yourself and possibly tear which could...cause complications. I can't have anything happen to either of you. So breathe, pant - scream if you must!"

"I'm sorry, Malchior," she whispered. He sighed and kissed her face.

"There is nothing to forgive. You are so strong, my love, and the baby is almost here." He looked up at the lancet windows and noticed the first soft blushes of sunrise. "Look, Sybil: the sun is coming!"

She wearily followed his pointing finger and saw the soft pre-dawn light. "This labor will never end, Malchior."

"No, my empress: this will be the first morning out precious baby sees. Her first morning in all the Five Realms." He gently removed the hot compress and used his finger to gently stretch her stubborn lips once more. They had parted slightly, grudging giving the Artemian baby's head passage as it struggled to crown. As the next contraction came Sybil fought the urge to push and instead white-knuckled the sheets as her moans and cries filled the birthing chamber. She closed her eyes and wondered if she could honestly survive such an ordeal, but she had faith in her emperor's magick: he wouldn't let either perish.

The light outside slowly grew as Sybil fought her natural instinct to push. Malchrior continued to rub the burning, sore lips with oil and apply the hot compresses to the stretching swell between her thighs. With each contraction her lips slowly began to peel back around the enormous head, much larger than a mortal child's, until finally, the baby had nearly crowned. Sybil was exhausted, her throat raw from all her cries. She panted, her eyes half opened, as her stretched sex burned from the sheer girth of the child. Malchior placed another goblet of water to her lips and a cold cloth to her face, reviving her momentarily.

"Sybil, look."

Kneeling between her bent thighs he held a small mirror in which she finally caught the first glimpse of her baby. Malchior was right, the child had her dark curls which she reached down and gently caressed.

"Hello," she softly whispered, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks, "Hello my little sweetheart."

"I need you to push now, okay?" Malchior gently spoke, overcome with his own emotions. "Small pushes, Sybil."

Seeing and feeling her daughter, after all the months of sorrow and heartbreak, filled Sybil with a renewed vigor and determination. She pulled her thighs back once more and pushed , groaning as she felt the burning become more intense. Malchior placed both his hands on either side of the crown, pushing the flesh and tissues back around the massive head. Dawn began to fill the room and the first rays spilled through the windows and touched the damp, crowning head of her baby. Malchior gasped; this was a fortunate omen. A new era for his empire dawned with the birth of his firstborn. He gently bent over and gently kissed the exposed head of his soon-to-be-born princess.

Sybil's heart swelled: this dawn marked not only the birth of her daughter but also the beginning of her life, her new life as empress and wife to the man she loved. The old Malchior and Sybil were gone and now, in this new day, they were reborn. They would heal, they would love, they would build a family.

"She's coming!" Malchior excitedly spoke. He grabbed more towels and placed them around Sybil as the head finally crowned. He was amazed at the size of the baby's head jutting out of his mortal wife's sex. He looked back at his wife, his eyes filled with love and admiration. "Oh my prydia, my beautiful, empress. You look absolutely sublime."

"This will not be the last time either, Malchior," Sybil vowed before bearing down, driven to give Malchior their long-desired daughter.

He continued to press her burning lips down around the baby's skull as the empress whimpered with each push. Slowly the head emerged, the brow popping out as he supported her thin perineum. The nose, ears, mouth...all the little features slowly appeared as the head finally erupted in a spray of fluids.

Sybil collapsed against the cushions with a tortured cry, gasping for breath. Malchior cradled the baby's head, checking the neck for a cord and smiling when he found none. He took his wife's hand and placed it on their child's face. Sybil's fingers ran over the damp, chubby cheeks of her newborn with love and tenderness.

"...Avalee," she whispered, "My little Avalee."

"That...is a beautiful name, my love," Malchior replied.

"Malchior," Sybil looked at her husband, a serious expression crossing her weary face, "I want to name her Avalee Thyra...I think...that is best."

The demigod was dumbstruck. For a second he said nothing and Sybil feared she had misspoken, reopening old wounds in the emperor's heart.

"Sybil...," he finally spoke, his voice choked, "...I am not worthy of you."

Before Sybil could reply she was gripped by another contraction and she realized she still had to birth the shoulders. The head gently turned until the babe faced her inner thigh, the shoulders nestled against her pelvis. The two now focused on delivering the child: the journey was almost through. She jerked her legs back as far as possible and pushed with all her strength as the shoulders pressed against her pelvic bone. Malchior held the baby's head and worked to maneuver the wide shoulders free.

"Push!" he urged, "As hard as you can, Sybil!"

Sybil screamed, all her energy focused on pushing out the large baby lodged in her hips. The child did not budge, remaining firmly stuck at the shoulders. She began to panic after the second push: this was taking too long and her daughter needed out!

"She's not coming!" Sybil wept, "Oh god, she's going to die!"

"She's not going to die, Sybil!" Malchior reassured his terrified empress, "but I need you to get on your hands and knees." He helped her carefully turn until she knelt on all fours. Seeing the head of his child, so large compared to the mortal frame of his beloved, left the demigod in awe. He gently took hold and commanded his wife to push. Sybil strained with every ounce of effort left in her body. She forced herself to focus as the massive child stretched her every so slightly, tried not thinking about her daughter remaining trapped in her canal...Even now, so close to birth, she could feel the final few kicks: the child was struggling just as hard as she.

"Yes! Good!" Malchior smiled. "Keep pushing just like that!" A shoulder began to stubbornly slip through her stretched and burning sex. Sybil roared in agony as she pushed once more. Malchior was finally able to get a grip on the emerging shoulder and coax it out. The second quickly followed, allowing the emperor to pulled the rest of his daughter free as the remaining waters gushed out onto the towels. Sybil collapsed face down on the pillows: her body shook and shivered from the shock of delivering such a large child. Her consciousness reeled somewhere between the light and the dark. Malchior cradled the slippery, red newborn princess in his hands. He rubbed and gently patted her back and chest until finally the silent baby jerked and gasped for air, releasing a strong, reedy wail. Malchior sobbed.

The sound of her baby pierced the darkness clouding Sybil's mind and slowly reawakened.

Her baby.

It was alive.

"Avalee..." she softly murmured. Malchior turned his empress over and placed the squalling babying in her arms, weeping with joy. Sybil looked down at the baby: the same dark hair as her own, curls and all, yet her father's nose and eyes. She was so large and heavy in Sybil arms and yet she still found everything about her tiny and perfect. Sybil began to cry as well and kissed her newborn daughter. The three were now together.

****

The Five Realms rejoiced.

Everyone who saw the princess could not help but fawn and coo over the newborn. Sybil recovered in her chambers, the child never out of her sight. She was besotted with the little girl, singing to her as she nursed the Artemian princess or nuzzling her precious face. The other noblewomen who came to see the princess also came to pay respect to their new empress. They were happy for Sybil, who had suffered so and who convinced Malchior To allow them to bear children of their own. A few of the ladies were now pregnant themselves and they kissed Sybil's hand in thanks.

To say that Malchior was a proud father was an understatement. Seeing the mighty and fearsome demigod cradle and hold his newborn, his eyes aglow with love and tenderness...Sybil could not help but smile.

"Look, Avalee," he whispered, cradling his daughter before the windows, "One day you will reign over all of this!"

"Oh Malchior," Sybil sighed, "She's only two days old. She'll worry about that soon enough!" Malchior gave his wife an apologetic smile.

"You're right, my love. I just...I can't believe she is real."

*****

Sybil was crowned empress the same day as Princess Avalee was christened. They royal family rode through the capital as the people cheered. Sybil realized that she had never really left the palace and had no idea that she was so well loved. Stories of her ordeal as consort and of her wise advice had won her over: not only was she Malchior's prydia she was also a worthy successor to Thyra as empress.

Malchior looked at his wife, garbed in her coronation robes and wearing the Imperial diadem, and his beloved daughter cradled in her arms. The christening gown, first sewn by the princesses namesake, glittered and sparkled in the glorious light as the baby calmly watched the scene from her mother's arms. Nothing in the realms or the mortal worlds would tear them from him. Sybil turned, looked into her husband's eyes. She was thinking the same: nothing and no one would come between them. Their love was strong now and grew stronger as each day passed and they learned to heal. Malchior leaned in and they kissed.

The kingdom rejoiced.

[thestarwrites]

City of God part II (Finan x OC)

Fic Summary: Finan the Agile meets a Celt-Saxon woman, and for once he can’t think of anything else. Now that the two are increasingly interested, will Finan finally ask her to supper?

Part Two

Rating: PG-13

Please don’t plagiarize! And I s2g if I have to post this part for a fourth time I’m gonna cry.

Also I wanted to share this with some other Finan fans I’ve noticed!

@nxrdist @joyofbebbanburg @medievalfangirl @bookworm925 @buckysskye @jcalpha1

word count: 2,995

Most all of Finans interactions with Urlworth’s daughter for a few weeks were innocuous glances, small conversations, he intended to ask her to supper, however every time he couldn’t find the words. They were only brief acquaintances, until one very early spring day while she was in the courtyard of her father’s forge, sharpening her sword.

The Irishman grinned, watching the girl for a while, she knew what she was doing. It was as Thyra had been told, she knew and practiced sword-art. To a West Saxon like her father, or the King, or any other man for that manner, this would be strange. Why would a young girl be practicing with a sword instead of marrying and being a house wife. But Finan understood. The blood of the Celts. Irish women were strong, independent, had a knowledge of medicine and were often strange.

Once he had watched her fondly for a good while, he finally spoke, his tone low and warm as the early spring sun, “D’ya know how ta use dat t’ing, my Angel? Or are ye jus’ strokin’ it fer want of a man?”

Her eyes darted upward, seeing the dark Irishman. The man she fancied, and whom Thyra said was mad for her, though she didn’t believe her. Standing, holding the sword up, she smirked, “Care to find out, Irishman?” Finan grinned, drawing his own sword, “Ye’ve always been a lass with spirit, I like tha’.” Her cheeks flushed as she took a sword-fighting stance, their blades clanging against one another in sparing readiness, “Do not underestimate me.” “Nor should you, me.” He grinned wider, “And wha’ do I get for winnin’ this little duel, my Lady?” “And how do you know you’ll win?” He just grinned. “What would you like?” Finan couldn’t stand the playful banter, “How ‘bout a kiss?” He threatened to burst into flame right there from how he felt, how he longed for this woman before him, this beautiful wild thing. He had a mission, finally ask her to supper. Then, ask her for the chance to court her— “Oi! What’s going on out here!” Urlworth called out as he came lumbering from his forge, “Kelly— who is this? What is the meaning of this?” She sighed and smiled, setting her sword to the ground with a look of exasperation, “This is Lord Uhtred’s man, a friend of mine, Finan the Agile. We were just messing about, papa.” “A fierce and brave young lass ye have here, Lord Urlworth! Tis true- I am Finan.” He bowed low, “And I have come fer those swords tha my Lord Uhtred asked the King for.” “Of course.” He grunted and went back into the forge to retrieve them. Finan grinned and chuckled, “Yer brave girl, I’ll give ye that. Yer stance needs some work, and ye need more trainin’ holdin’ up yer blade.” He cleared his throat, “And on top a’ tha’ yer all covered in soot, I can barely see if yer beauty still remains.” Gasping she huffed and went to move toward him with her sword, swinging it clumsily- he laughed and jumped back- and suddenly Urlworth was in view again, “Here you are, Finan. Didn’t expect to have someone collect these til next week, but they’re done all the same. Give my regards to Lord Uhtred and his new wife Lady Gisela.” He smiled. “Yes, Lord. I surely will.” “Papa?” He turned his head at the sound of his daughter’s voice, “May I accompany Finan to Lord Uhtred’s town estate? I have been meaning to visit Abbess Hild. I have heard she is with him.” He shrugged, “Sure, I don’t see why not— just try and stay out of trouble, hear?” “Yes Papa.” She smiled and turned to Finan, “Shall we go?” Finan smirked, “Yes, Lady.” Another chance. “I will be back probably after dark, papa.” He nodded again, “Aye, make sure ye don’t walk back alone.” “Oh she won’t, sir. I will make sure personally tha she gets home safe an sound.” The man smiled a bit and nodded, “Thank you, Finan.” He turned and headed back to the forge, “Have fun, child!” Kelly turned to set her sword in its scabbard, setting it in the shed. “Come on, girl.” Finan called with a grin. As the two walked down the road, Finan’s horse was carrying the load of parcels, they walked in silence for a while before the Irishman spoke again with a grin, “Why pick now ta visit Hild?” “I just wish to see my friend. And I want to know what possessed you suddenly to ask me such a disgusting question.” She smirked. He smirked in return, “T’wasn’t t’at disgustin’ — I mean, I was right wasn’ I? Yer in want of a man?” He bounced his eyebrows. Scoffing she rolled her eyes, “I am in want of nothing, Irishman.” “Oh sure. Cooped up in tha’ King’s own palace all the time, sayin’ prayers, readin’ books, I heard tale of a wild Celtic lass, who rode horses fast as tha’ wind- sword at her side, boltin’ through tha’ countryside, hair full of grass, layin’ around daydreamin and pickin’ flowers… Stop me at any time girl.” He smirked. Kelly had stopped in the street, mouth agape, and Finan kept walking, “Yer fallin’ behind, lass!” Jogging, holding her dress up, she fell back into step, “How do you—“ “Tyra has told Uhtred all about her new best friend.” He shrugged, “Many a man in Coccham would love ta bed a lady like tha’. How old are ye anyhow?” Her cheeks were red, “I’m twenty.” She huffed, “And I suppose Lord Uhtred delights in spreading his sister’s business around?” “When he’s go’ a score a’ women-hungry men… and he finds a wild, high spirited woman out in his travels? A woman who could keep up with his men? Yeah. And I’m twenty five.” He smiled, “I like an accomplished girl.” “Keep dreaming.” She huffed, crossing her arms as she walked with him. He stopped, stooping low to her ear, “I’ll keep dreamin’ every night of your soft skin on mine… just as you dream of freedom, an’ wind in yer hair, and a man inside ye.” Pulling back, there was a big smirk on his face. She slapped him, cheeks bright red, storming ahead of him down the street toward Uhtred’s home. She was mostly embarrassed because he was right. And then man she dreamt of was whispering in her ear. “What spirit.” He grinned dazed, touching his cheek, looking up at the sky, he touched his cross, “Let her fall fer me, Lord.”

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

Hild stroked Kelly’s hair and laughed, “What did he say to you! You all fired up!” She tried to soothe the Celtic-Saxon as best she could. She had walked into the home minutes before Finan who had to stable his horse, “Its Finan, he’s harmless. Come on now.” She looked up at the Abbess, with big frightened blue eyes, “He stooped to whisper in my ear,” Looking away she covered her face, “He said he would dream of my soft skin against his.” Hild raised her brows, “What else did he say?!” “He said… that I dream of freedom, and wind in my hair—“ Kelly took a deep breath, “And a man inside of me.” “He said what!” She hissed. Shaking her head she looked up, “I’ve never felt this way.” The Abbess raised her eyebrows, “Oh my. This IS serious.” “It was so WILDLY inappropriate but…” “For the record,” Hild interrupted, “Finan is one of the most honorable men I have ever known. He has seen horrible things, experienced four years of torture at the oar— and more that he won’t tell. He uses his humor as a shield, I think, but he is a wonderful, Godly man.” “Don’t talk about him as if he is to be my husband!” Kelly huffed. Hild smirked, “I think you’ve already thought of being his wife.” “He said lewd things!” “He has been pressing Uhtred and I for details about you night and day. He has been fawning over you! He was SUPPOSED to ask you to dinner tonight, actually- but I assume, he did not.” The girl blinked, “He WHAT!” All Hild could do was laugh, “He— He’s been—“ She covered her face once more, “He doesn’t even know me!” “And you don’t know him- but I have seen the glances across halls and across streets for months.” The Abbess nodded, “So what happened next?” “I slapped the Irishman.” She bit her lip. Hild laughed hard, holding out her hand and standing, “Come. We must inform Uhtred of this at once! Kelly the Celt! Slapping Finan the Agile! Warrior of Ireland!” She continued to laugh as Kelly blushed harder and took her hand, walking into the bigger hall, “Lord!” Uhtred looked up from where he was talking to his wife and he smiled, “Abbess- Miss Kelly, hello! When did you arrive!” “She just arrived with your fool of a man, Finan!” Uhtred looked over, and Finan kept his eyes down at the sword he was sharpening, ears darkening slightly, “I see.” He smirked, “Please- come and sit down- it is wonderful to see you again.” “And you, Lord.” She smiled bashfully, turning to Gisela, “And you, Lady Gisela.” Gisela smiled and chuckled to herself, “So- Am I right to assume Finan finally asked—” “— ABOUT THE SWORDS HER FATHER WAS WORKING ON, YES.” Finan shouted far too loudly. Everyone stared at him a moment. Shitric was overcome with fits of laughter, “Shut it! Shitric I swear I will cut out yer tongue!” “Honestly, Irishman.” Kelly chuckled, “Calm down.” The Irishman looked up at her for the first time since she’d slapped him. His soulful brown eyes betrayed him. He looked lost, helpless, vulnerable. He snapped to her obediently, as if he was already her beloved. After a few moments lost in each other, Finan sighed and looked back down. He stood and walked over to an alcove fire pit, feeling sorry for himself. He thought he would never court the beautiful woman. He was too afraid of hurting her, of being hurt. Kelly watched him. Her hands clasped to her chest. Gisela smiled and placed her hand on Kelly’s arm, “Dear, would you bring this plate of food to Finan? There is enough for you both.” She took the platter with bread, meat and cheese, still frozen in place. Hild nudged her, “Go on.” Once she spurred Kelly to movement, the nun went and sat with Uhtred, recanting the story to him; “He mentioned how she must be in want of a man… in so many words— and she SLAPPED him!” Hild laughed, Gisela held her husband’s hand tight as she also laughed. The thought of his oath-man being slapped by a woman was hysterical. Just the kind of woman Finan needed, “But- she also has said she has never felt this way about a man.” “I knew it.” Uhtred spoke lowly to her and Gisela, “I knew she fancied him— she always looks for him when I arrive in the palace, or on the street. I catch them sharing a soul gaze often. Connected.” “But we shouldn’t push it, darling.” Gisela warned. “No. no.” Hild urged, “Let them come to it.” Uhtred put up a hand, “Relax, ladies. Finan is my brother. He deserves to be as happy as I am. I won’t ruin this chance for him— besides— he can ruin it himself.” He laughed.

Nestled down in an alcove, lit only by a fire pit, Finan sat in silence, feeling sorry for himself, feeling he looked less a man in front of the girl. “Finan?” Her voice was like angels singing, “I’ve brought something for us to eat.” Looking up at her he smiled half-heartedly and motioned for her to sit, “Hey— I am sorry what I said to ye, it was rude.” She smiled bashfully, shrugging, “You were sort of right.” “I was?” He looked up at her in earnest. Nodding, Kelly sighed, “I do long for freedom, for wind in my hair, along with other things. I long for passion, for kinship. For intimacy.” He swallowed, “Intimacy.” Looking up at him she took a deep breath, trying to change the subject, “Finan? Were you ever married? You’re too handsome to have never been married.” “Ye t’ink I’m handsome?” He grinned, pushing his hand over his newly cropped hair, “As rough around tha edges as I am?” “I’ve heard you looked rougher…” Kelly laughed softly, “You didn’t answer my question.” Finan smirked and sighed, “Yes. Once upon a time, lass, I was.” “What happened?” She moved a bit closer to him, putting her hand on his. The irishman took her hand and moved his fingers over her soft skin, lost in thought for a long while before he spoke, “It’s no’ important, girl, it's in the past.” “Finan.” Kelly said softly, her fingers meeting and running over his. Finan shrugged, “Maybe someday I’ll wan’ ta talk about it.” He pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her inner-wrist, “But no’ today.” He smiled sadly, “All I want anyone ta know is I was sold ta slavery.  Where two years into my world ‘a torment, I met Uhtred.” The girl just watched him as he continued to pepper kisses on her hand and wrist, “My wife was a miserable thing anyway- beautiful, bu’ no joy.” He took her other hand, kissing it, “You, my lady, are like a faery queen. Full o’ charm and laughter and spirit.” The woman flushed harder, finally taking her hands from his,  to touch his face- raising his head so he looked at her, “I feel like I’ve known you, in another life.” He smiled, “Maybe ye have,” Leaning against her touch, he smiled, closing his eyes, “I want to know if ye’ll have dinner wit’ me sometime? Jus you an me?” She nodded gently, “I’d like that.” He grinned, “Jus’ like tha? I’ve been tryin ta ask ye for weeks,” turning his face to look at her again, “Yer beautiful, did ye know tha’?” Her cheeks flushed bright red, “Thank you.” She laughed. Moving his hands to her face and thigh he smiled, running a thumb over her lips, “I can’t describe how ye make me feel.” “Nor I.” She whispered, heart pounding. Finan leaned in— “Getting late don’t you think?” Gisela interrupted, jolting Kelly and Finan from their trance, “Uhtred and I are getting ready to go to bed. The abbess and the others have already gone to bed,” she chuckled. “O-oh! I’m so sorry Lady!" Kelly stammered. She smiled, “Oh no no… not at all, Gods forbid I interrupt something so beautiful as this.” Gisela motioned between them, “But I don’t want your parents to worry.” Kelly nodded with a small smile, “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Gisela.” She held out her hands and the women embraced, “Come any time.” Finan cleared his throat, “Shall I walk ye home, Lady?” Turning she blushed and smiled, “Kelly.” She insisted. He grinned again, “Shall I walk ye home, Kelly.” “Yes, Finan, you may.”

~~~~~~~

She’d bid farewell to her friends, hugging Uhtred and then Gisela once more, waving to the others who were still awake outside, wanting to get to know these cheerful Saxons and Danes more thoroughly. Finan led her out into the street, and offered his arm. Kelly took it. Finan grinned like the proudest man in the world, laying his hand over her own. Once at the gate to her family’s section adjoining the palace she smiled, “Thank you for walking me home.” She said softly. “My pleasure, my girl.” He said with a wink. “Oh now I’m your girl?” She raised an eyebrow. Finan just shrugged and pushed a strand of her hair back, “I very much would like ta kiss ye now, if I may?” She blushed and looked up at him, it was the same intense stare they’d shared in many an occasion they had the opportunity to be so close. A small nod was all it took, and just like that, he claimed her lips. The two of them kissed with slow, burning passion, his hands pulling her close, sinking in her hair, and cupping her face. Her own clutching the front of his tunic. She felt things she’d never indulged herself to feel before, blood pumping through her veins. The only thing she knew in that moment was her Irishman, the rock upon which the waves of her longing crashed. The kisses were semi-open mouthed, but Finan kept them relatively chaste. He didn’t dare try and take more than he should someone so innocent. Pulling back for some needed air, Finan was giving a lopsided grin, “Wow.” Kelly flushed and she pushed her face into his shoulder, feeling slightly overwhelmed, “Ye ever kissed anyone before, girl?” Looking up she shook her head, looking slightly afraid, “Was it bad?” He laughed quietly and kissed her lips once more, “No, Lady, yer a natural.” She smiled a little, “I hope it will suffice to show you… how I feel.” Finan smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead softly, his beard tickling her fair skin, “More than you know,” He said softly into her ear, pulling back, “Goodnight, my angel. I’ll call on ye again tomorrow, yeah?” Nodding she smiled, “Until tomorrow.” She said softly and watched until he slipped back into the darkness.

She smiled brightly and put a hand on her lips- not knowing it would be the last time she would see him, Uhtred, Sihtric, or Gisela for a few years.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

We All Need Something to Hold On To

Genre: Fan Fiction (The Last Kingdom) Pairing: N/A Warnings: Character Death Rating: G Length: Short Story Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: I had an idea for some sad Uhtred, so...

Men were often proud creatures, going to great lengths to never allow that pride to waiver. To never show their true emotions, no matter what the circumstance.

Sibbe knew many men who fit that exact description, they were often the type one would describe as a man's man. Or a tough guy. She had known and dated several of those exact men.

Uhtred was no different, from the outside, always proud and arrogant. Nobody knew how sweet and kind he truly was, until he'd met her. She had taken the hot headed jerk and somehow tamed him. Hell, she'd even turned him into the perfect husband and doting father.

Gisela had done the impossible - Sibbe was sure of it.

She had known Uhtred since they were kids, he had always been like a brother, despite Sibbe having three already. They had met when Uhtred had moved to the neighbourhood and quickly befriended her twin brother, Sihtric. It wasn't until he had met Gisela that he started to become somebody else. Somebody far more enjoyable than he had ever been before. Gisela had given him a purpose. She was his shining light.

Who would have thought that the proud, soft, and doting Uhtred could ever be reduced to such a state. Sibbe had been out of town for work, when the news had reached her. Sihtric had called her, telling her that she had to come home, immediately.

There had been an accident, was all Sihtric had told his twin sister, an accident involving Gisela and a drunk woman. He didn't have to say the rest for Sibbe to know what he was telling her.

Four days ago they had gathered to pay their respects, to tell Uhtred and his children how sorry they were, while they watched their beloved Gisela be laid to rest. Sibbe had blocked out most of that afternoon, remembering sparse details - the sun was shining, unfitting to the mood surrounding the group. She had stood with Osferth and Hild, holding hands as if they were to let go, they would crumble. Sihtric never left Uhtred's side, keeping guard over his friend as Uhtred had done for Sihtric so many times.

As dusk fell, Finan and Brida lit a pyre, a nod to Gisela's own background. The fire roared and flickered, the orange glow illuminating the small group around it. Uhtred didn't stay to finish watching the fires burn. He left, disappearing into his room, where he remained.

Day three, people were still coming and going from the house. The visitors were now reduced to immediate family and close friends. Bringing their respects and more casseroles. If Uhtred's sister, Thyra, had to find room for another potato mash, she was going to scream.

As the hours grew late and the outside darker, the decisions of the day were made. Thyra and her husband, Beocca were taking Uhtred and Gisela's three children home with them. Hild would come round tomorrow to check on Uhtred, and Sibbe would linger behind in case he needed anything in the mean time.

"I'm going. Call me, if you need anything." Sihtric kissed his sister's cheek, embracing her in a tight hug. "Finan and I are going for a drink."

"Thank you. Be safe." Sibbe kissed her brother's cheek and hugged his dark haired friend.

"Don't be too hard on him, aye." Finan hugged her tight.

"I won't." Sibbe replied, holding onto Finan a little longer. "And you, don't let my brother get too drunk, he has to work in the morning."

With Sihtric and Finan gone that was the last two bodies out of the house, save for Sibbe and Uhtred. The house grew quiet. Uhtred in his room, making hardly a noise. Sibbe's heart ached for her friend, as strong as Uhtred was, nothing could have shaken him more.

Quietly moving around the kitchen, Sibbe had a plan. If she could get Uhtred to eat and perhaps shower, she could get him into bed for some proper rest. Nobody had saw him since the burial. His brother, Ragnar, had knocked on the door several times yesterday to get an angry yell from the other side.

Sibbe wasn't Ragnar and she didn't care what lewdness Uhtred yelled at her; she was going to march into that room and...her shoulders sank, what was she going to do? She couldn't very well hold him down and force feed him. Nor could she drag him out of the room, Uhtred was taller and stronger than she.

Despite her sudden dismay, Sibbe continued to fix something to eat. Two sandwiches, crafted from a roast that somebody had brought, and a bottle of Jura that she'd found in the cupboard Sibbe set off on her mission.

Upstairs was silent, the rooms dark. At the end of the hall the door was closed and a faint hint of light crept from underneath. Bravely she bumped the door with her elbow to knock.

Nothing.

Plate in one hand, she tucked the bottle under her arm and jiggled the door handle. Unlocked. Contrary to belief, Uhtred hadn't locked himself in, he'd hid away instead.

"Uhtred?" Sibbe leaned against the door of the dimly lit bedroom.

"Go, I don't want to be bothered." He waved his hand in the air, back to, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I want to, but you know that I can't."

"Please, leave. I don't want to see anybody."

"You've been in here for three days. Do you not want to come out? Not even for a little while?"  If he was leaving the room, then it was after everybody had gone and the house was left with nothing but haunting memories.

"No."

"Thyra took the kids home, they're going to stay with her and Beocca for a while." This was news that Uhtred should know.

"They should be here, with their mother." Was that a sob?

"Uhtred,"

"Go!"

"I'm not leaving you alone. I won't be in the way, but I won't leave either."

"I don't want to be bothered, Sibbe." Uhtred raised his tone. "Now go! Leave me be."

Sighing heavily, Sibbe refused to listen. Marching across the room, she stopped at the foot of the bed. Plate out stretched, she directed to it with her eyes. Uhtred's blue eyes red rimmed and dull, he glared at her.

Sibbe's intentions were pure and Uhtred knew that. Sibbe had to be one of the most kindhearted people that he knew, outside of his Gisela. Any other circumstance and Uhtred would welcome the short dark haired woman with open arms and lively conversation.

Not today.

"Go home." He muttered in a disgruntled way.

"No."

"This is my house. I will not be..." "Stop it! Stop it!" Sibbe cut him off, stomping her foot.

Silence hit the walls and ricocheted around the pair. Uhtred slumped off the bed, sinking to the hardwood floor below. Who did Sibbe think she was? Marching in here, into his home - his room - and dictating to him. Nostrils flared, he sat on the floor stewing.

"Uhtred," Sibbe knelt down beside the shell of a man on the floor. "I'm...sorry to yell at you."

"What do you want?" He continued to glare at her with hard eyes. Snatching the bottle from her, there was no time wasted in twisting the cap and allowing the liquor to flow from it's confines.

Three days and the only time Uhtred left the room was to grab a bottle of tequila from the cupboard downstairs. He'd waited until everyone was in bed, although he had a suspicion that Thyra had heard him creep past Stiorra's bedroom where Thyra had been spending the nights.

He'd sat alone on the floor, in a similar manner to how he was now, the bottle keeping him company while the tears burned his face and the memories and anger tore his heart. Gisela would hate him in this state.

"You to eat." Sibbe held out the plate of sandwiches.

"Why?" He whispered, his lips poised to the bottle.

"Why what?" Sibbe sat back on her haunches. "I want you to eat, because I doubt you've eaten in days."

"Not that." Uhtred rolled his eyes.

"Then why what? I'm not a mind reader." Sibbe shifted to sit beside him.

Out of all her gifts and talents reading minds, other than Sihtric's, wasn't something she could do.

"Gisela did nothing wrong. Why her?"

The question was one that Uhtred had pondered since he had gotten the call, there had been an accident. He was getting Oswald from school, when the phone rang. A man on the other end identified himself as a police officer, immediately Uhtred's blood ran cold and his heart began to race.

After that it had all gone black.

Somehow he had managed to get home, safe at that, and call for somebody to watch the kids. Brida had stayed with the children, while Ragnar had drove him downtown.

The woman who had asked him to identify the body had been polite and sympathetic, telling Uhtred that she understood if he would need a moment or two alone. She'd led him down a hall, Ragnar by his side, and into a room. After that Uhtred had done everything he could to block the memory. It was the worst moment he'd endured.

"I - I don't know."

"And the kids. What now?"

Coming home after having to identify his wife, all of it had made Uhtred sick. How was he to walk into the house and tell his children? They were waiting for their mother to come home, none the wiser.

They'd attended the funeral and the wake, yet Uhtred felt they weren't fully grasping the concept. Oswald perhaps, but the other two were far too young for this.

They were three innocent little lives, left without their mother. Children needed their mother.

"How am I to face them now?" Uhtred tipped the bottle up, his eyes red and glossy. "They're going to ask for her and then what? What do I say? What do I do?"

Sibbe wished she had all the answers. Answers to give Uhtred and the children, when they asked later. How did you explain to a toddler that his mother would never come back? Or to a little girl that the woman she worshiped had been unfairly taken away?

"The good thing is that you're not alone. You have friends and family to help you through this." Sibbe held her hand out, asking for the bottle. "We'll make it work, Uhtred."

"Will we?"

The whiskey burned and warmed Sibbe's insides, caressing her like a warm hug on the way down. The burning reminded her of the pyre lit only a few evenings ago. Burning and dancing for those who were there. Licking her lips she let the bottle rest between her and Uhtred on the floor.

"I think so." Sibbe had no real way of knowing, of course. Some how Uhtred and his children would push through. They would manage, despite the tears along the way, one day they would wake up and be on the other side of all this.

"Ironic." Uhtred glanced at the bottle between them. "It was probably a similar bottle that took my wife. Yet, here I am, drowning that very memory."

"That woman..." Sibbe had nothing else to say.

The woman they'd found out thanks to Uhtred's boss, Alfred, and his connections to the local enforcement, was a young woman who had been going through some rough times herself. Sibbe couldn't blame her for wanting to drink away the pain and strife, although she'd never forgive her for getting into a car.

"Skade, her name is Skade." Uhtred snarled. "I found out that she'll have a trial, but I don't think I can go."

"If you have to, then I'll go with you. We'll talk to your lawyers, but maybe they won't need you there. Whatever the outcome, I'm going to be right beside you. Sihtric will be, too."

"My wife is gone and they probably won't even give her a fine." Uhtred snarled. "You know, she didn't even stay to see if Gisela was okay. She just...left."

Sibbe had heard those details as well, Alfred had came over the morning of the funeral to deliver the news to Uhtred. Sibbe had heard when Beocca told Sihtric and Finan later that afternoon.

"Did you know she sent flowers? That damn witch sent flowers to my family, after she cursed us." Uhtred clenched his fists, a rage building.

Flowers were hardly a sign of malicious intent, some would even view them as a means to make amends. Uhtred had immediately ordered them to the trash, he wanted nothing to do with this woman or her hollow apologies. If she sat behind bars for the rest of her life, so be it, because he was the one who had truly lost.

"I didn't know." Sibbe replied quietly, reaching for the bottle.

Uhtred's nod was sluggish.

Silence befell the pair once more. Sibbe sat cross legged, her attention shifting from Uhtred to the bottle in her hand. She wanted nothing more than to go back and fix all of this.

If she could bring Gisela back...

Until Science allowed such things, all she could do was comfort her hurting friend.

A plate of sandwiches on the floor beside him; Uhtred was reluctant to pick up half of one. Staring at it as if food was a concept he had yet to master. Instead of taking a bite, he spoke.

"What made you decide to stay?"

Everyone else was gone, he had heard them leave not long before Sibbe had come to seek him out. Aside from Ragnar, nobody dared try and disturb Uhtred since he retreated. Sibbe had taken her time, Uhtred had half expected to see her face before now. He needed space and she had respected that. Despite her worry about his well being.

"You have always been there for Sihtric and I. Now, it's my turn to be there for you." Sibbe passed him the bottle.

"You don't have to do this. I'm happy to be left alone." Uhtred accepted the bottle, the dark amber liquid tasted as bitter as his soul had turned.

"Nobody should be left alone in a time like this." Sibbe shrugged, leaning against the side of the bed. "You're hurting and it does nobody any good to be left with their thoughts."

"When did you become the expert on grief?" Uhtred scoffed. The bottle clutched in his hand, at least she had brought him a decent whiskey. Sibbe stiffened and sniffed hard; Uhtred's shoulders sinking. "Sibbe..."

When Sibbe and Sihtric were thirteen, their mother had passed away, leaving them in the care of their father. To this day, Sihtric would angrily tell anybody who would listen that his life had ended on that very day. Somehow it was Sihtric who had became the new punching bag, after his mother's passing. A theory, held by Uhtred's adoptive father Ragnar, Sr. was that Kjartan had murdered his wife. Somewhere in his theory, Sihtric had known more than his father had wanted him to. Sibbe, terrified to explore the theory had convinced herself that her mother's death was an accident, nothing more.

Uhtred had always been their protector from that day on.

"Sometimes death leaves you with a funny mix of emotions. My world was wrecked, when we lost my mother." Sibbe sat stiff as a board. "And then, when my father died..." her voice trailed off. "It was the greatest relief I have ever felt. Not for me, but for Sihtric."

Two years ago, when Kjartan has passed, Gisela had gone round to Sihtric's apartment every day to check in on him. Drunk for a week, Sihtric as happy as he was still had a lot of grief to process. Gisela had sat with him for hours, allowing him to pour it all out. She would make his meals, invite him over to the house to be around his friends, and even did his laundry and cleaned his house. When she wasn't helping Sihtric deal with purging the toxic memories from his life, she was with Sibbe trying to help her in any way she could.

They were important to Uhtred and as his wife, she wanted them to be cared for, after all they were nothing less than family.

Now it was Sibbe's turn to repay the kindness that Gisela had shown them over the years.

Uhtred took a bite from the sandwich, chasing it with the whiskey. Sibbe's hope perked.

"I've lost people before, but this..." Uhtred mumbled around a mouthful of food. Swallowing, he paused to collect his thoughts.

Sibbe had known about his father, passing when Uhtred was very young. It's how he ended up with Ragnar, Sr. and Sigrid. And then there was his first son, from another marriage.

Nobody talked about Uhtred and Mildrith's marriage or their son, it was a subject that was raw among those who had been privy to the life and times. Gisela had known and Sibbe was certain that was the last time Uhtred had spoke of his ex-wife.

"She won't be alone, you know." Sibbe sat staring at the framed photo of Uhtred and Gisela on the night stand.

"What?"

"Gisela, she won't be alone. My mom will take care of her for you." Sibbe knew that Uhtred's idea of the afterlife and hers were different in many ways. His sideways glance said more about his feelings of her statement than words ever could. His personal beliefs and feelings didn't deter her from her thoughts. "And now Mildrith won't have to worry."

"Sibbe." Uhtred was tired of her nonsense already. He was in no mood to hear her preach, nor was he in the mood to listen to her talk about Mildrith or their son.

"What? Do you not believe they have gone somewhere good? Somewhere beautiful and bright? Two kind and good women, along with an innocent child. Surely you believe that they are deserving of somewhere peaceful to rest." Sibbe frowned, tipping the bottle. The alcohol seemed to help her courage to keep voicing her thoughts out loud. "Believe what you want, Uhtred, but I know that they have made it somewhere divine."

"You should lay off of the fairy tales."

Sibbe had a fierce belief in all things good and heaven was one of them. The tragedy of losing her mother had dictated that she needed to believe in such a place. Sihtric and Uhtred had teased her about her faith, never the less it didn't stop Sibbe.

"My heaven is no different than what you believe. No matter where they went, I know that they are together and they'll take care of one another. My mother and your son will welcome Gisela and..." a sob choked Sibbe's words.

"My dear, sweet, Sibbe." Uhtred moved closer, his arm around her shoulder, drawing her to his chest. "You may also need to lay off of the drinking."

Face turned, agitated and perhaps a little tipsy, Sibbe sniffled her voice muffled in Uhtred's shoulder. "Don't mock me."

Stroking her hair, a crack of a smirk had graced Uhtred's lips. Since he had received the news, he had felt it would be impossible to ever smile again. "I'm not mocking you. But I thought you were here to comfort me."

Pulling back, Sibbe rubbed her cheeks, drying the tears. "I am, but...we all tell ourselves things to make it hurt a little less."

Uhtred wished he could make this hurt less.

Not only for himself, but his children as well. They were his sole responsibility, some father he was. Hiding away like a coward, while his sister took on the role of parent.

Sniffling beside him, Sibbe rested her head on his shoulder. Headstrong and sweet, always putting others ahead of herself. Uhtred admired her for that. He hadn't known it at the time, when she'd barged in demanding he eat, but talking and allowing his emotions to be freed had been a small portion of weight lifted.

"Sibbe." Uhtred's voice was hushed. "Thank you."

Always the one taking care of Sihtric and Sibbe, it was different being the one to rely on them. Uhtred meant it. They hadn't given it any thought, rushing to his aid with whatever he needed.

Sibbe squeezed his hand. "If there's anything else, you can always ask. It doesn't hurt to let your pride slip and ask."

"My dear, sweet Sibbe." Uhtred rubbed her shoulder.  "Always the wise one."

"Yes, and as the wise one, I want you to get in bed. Have a proper sleep, and tomorrow, start new. It's going to take time and I know it will never bring..."

"Sibbe." Uhtred held a finger to his lips, indicating her to to shush. Sibbe blinked in confusion. "I will do as you say, if you stop with the lectures and lay with me?"

Sibbe must have looked like a deer in the headlights, at the very least she felt like one. What had she been asked to do? No. No she couldn't.  How could he even think to ask her such a thing? Was Uhtred looking for a punch? Or was he that grief stricken that he didn't know what he was asking?

No. Sibbe would refuse.

"Uhtred," her voice was shaking. "What you're asking me to do, it's...I. We shouldn't."

Uhtred had picked up on her internal conflict, his hand finding hers once more.

"I haven't been sleeping, because the bed is too empty. I have tried, but I can't bear it. I miss Gisela next to me. What I am asking is just that, to lie with me until I am asleep. You can move to another room or even go home, once I am sleeping. I only ask for a little comfort."

Sibbe's mouth moved, as if trying to form words. Comfort? She had watched enough romantic comedies to know that this was always how it began. Well, not her. No way. Frowning, Sibbe worked on the best way to turn him down.

"If you don't want to, I understand. It was kind of a dumb thing to ask, anyway. Forgive me?"

"You're forgiven," Sibbe whispered. Against her better judgment, she gave in. "And I will, but only until you are asleep and then I am moving to another room. I don't want any wrong impressions, nor do I want..."

"Sibbe. You really should stop over thinking everything." Uhtred pushed himself from the floor, standing over Sibbe, his hand extended. "I am exhausted and need to sleep that's all."

"O-okay." Sibbe stood on shaking legs. "I'll um, I'll..." she sat on the edge of the bed. "Let me know when you're ready for bed, then?"

Uhtred kissed her cheek and demanded she wait for him, before he slept a shower and change of clothes was in order. He'd been wearing the same thing since he'd retired to his room after the funeral. A hot shower and a woman's presence would surely help him sleep.

Some minutes later, feeling as though it had been an eternity, Sibbe laid in bed facing Uhtred. The black circles under his eyes more visible now she was closer to him. He was a picture of exhaustion and her heart was aching all over again. Without thought, she'd brought her hand to stroke his damp hair. Her fingers running over his scalp and her body warm next to his.

If he closed his eyes really tight and blocked out everything from the last week, Uhtred could take himself back to the evening before...before he...a sharp sniffle was the only indication to Sibbe that he was thinking of his wife. Her fingers were gentle and her touch soft, she was almost the same height as Gisela, fitting in place beside him. Sibbe held her breath under his touch, when he slid his arms around her to hold her closer. Her shape and size, even her smell, could be manipulated if Uhtred closed his eyes and wished hard enough. Sibbe listened to his heart racing, her own heart quickly matching the rhythm.

In his mind he could convince himself that it was his wife in bed with him. In his heart, he knew that that nobody would ever come close to his Gisela.  

(I never know who to tag for these, so I have been going with the list from the Let’s Be Danes challenges. If you don’t want to be (or aren’t tagged and want to be), please feel free to tell me :D)

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