#uhtred fic

[ms-oswald]

ocean eyes | introduction

author's note: just a little something for Uhtred because he needs some lovin'. This contains fluff-ish moments, angst, and some smut-ish moments (18+ MDNI). Not big on the action but hopefully this will still be enjoyable. If you are interested and want to be part of the taglist, please let me know! thank you to @persephones-journey & @itbmojojoejo, my darlings, for helping me out 💜

Main Characters: Uhtred x Cwen (OC)

Length: 3 chapters

Summary: Dealing with the grief of his latest lost relationship, Uhtred and his men make a new home in Mercia's small town of Rumcofa. Old flames are rekindled when he comes across someone he never thought he would see again, let alone someone he had not thought of in a very long time. Reunited again, Uhtred and Cwen make do, navigating a new path together as the dubbed Lord and Lady of the village.

CHAPTERS - ONE | TWO | THREE

Lots of love & stay safe 💕

thank you @arcielee, for the lovely banners 💜

Playlist under the cut

[persephones-journey]

A Prodigal Son Returns - Err, is Kidnapped - Oops, Wrong One

For @bhxrdy @itbmojojoejo and @gemini-mama

Yes, I wrote this in like an hour. This is my muse on coffee with an idea.

So, for everyone else... what if Uhtred, Finan, and Sihtric kidnapped the wrong boy from the monastery?... Here is the real story on how Cynlaef joined them.

No betaed, any grammar and spelling mistakes are mine, and unlike Uhtred, I own up to my mistakes lol

It was beautiful spring day.

Cynleaf was boiling though in the stupid wool robe under the hot sun.

He kept working in the garden though. He looked up and rolled his eyes as he saw Uhtred whistling as he worked the soil.

The boy annoyed him to no end. The only victory Cynlaef had over the older boy so far was the fact that he was taller than Uhtred.

Cynlaef had heard stories of Uhtred's father, also named Uhtred, I guess there is a lack of good Saxon names suddenly. He was known as the Dane-Slayer. And was said to be a giant with bright blond hair and blue eyes the colour of ice. That to look into the eyes of the Dane-Slayer was to lose one's soul.

“Cuthbert,” Brother Oswald said. “You must turn the soil more,” he added.

Cynlaef lowered his head and nodded. He went to work turning the soil more. He was not sure what he hated more about this place; the itchy hot robes or the fact that they had changed his name on arrival. He had been a boy of four when he had arrived and he was currently eleven going on twelve. He was surprised he remembered the name his mother had given him.

He certainly couldn't remember her face.

He pushed his thoughts aside when he stood straight and looked up. He saw a man laying on the roof of the monastery. He opened his mouth to say something when a bag was pulled over his head and he was grabbed on both sides.

“What!” he exclaimed.

“This one is a true sinner, father!” he heard an Irish voice say.

He fought as he was dragged away but he was no match for who had him. Warriors, he thought.

He was thrown over a horse and held on tight as they rode away.

Night fell and he was finally pulled from the horse and the bag pulled from his head. He blinked over and over and looked around. He saw three men, two Danes and another warrior, watching him.

“My son,” one of the Danes said as he stepped forward.

“Ah,” Cynlaef said. He reached up and brushed his hand through his dirty blonde hair. “What?” he asked softly.

The man in front of him reached out and pressed his hand to his cheek. “Uhtred, I have come to get you so that you may come with me when I reclaim Bebbanburg, my birthright and yours.”

Cynlaef's dark blue eyes stared at the man in front of it.

He thinks I'm his son, Uhtred. That means he's... Oh fuck me.

“Lord,” he said carefully, so not to lose any of his body parts, “I am not your son,” he added.

He saw the other Dane frown as did the other man leaning back against the tree trunk. Uhtred, the Dane-Slayer perhaps the most feared man in all of Britannia if the stories were to be believed, looked at him, anger written all across his face.

This is it. This is where I die, Cynlaef thought.

Uhtred dropped his hand and stepped back. “Lord?” came the question from the warrior leaning against the tree. There was a slight Irish twang in the man's word.

“This is Alfred's doing. The man has turned my son against me,” Uhtred spat out. “This is his legacy, not mine.”

“I, no,” Cynlaef tried but Uhtred was already walking away. He rubbed his face. He turned when the other Dane walked over to him with a little pony almost.

“To ride,” he said.

Cynlaef eyed it. “Yes, a magnificent beast,” he muttered.

The Irishman laughed and chuckled. Cynlaef took the reins and looked at the three warriors. He had no choice but to follow them.

And hopefully he could get them to believe him when he said he was not Lord Uhtred's son.

***

... it had been three days and Cynlaef was beginning to understand why the young Uhtred wished to be away from his father and his father's band of fools.

They were idiots.

They had to be.

Cynlaef had told them multiple times in every language he knew, even the broken Latin that he was not Uhtred, son of Uhtred. He was Cuthbert, born Cynlaef Harldson.

And so far, no luck.

Uhtred, the great Dane-Slayer believed Cynlaef was lying; that his son had disowned him. “Alfred's last punishment to me. How he must be enjoying this from his Christian heaven.”

Cynlaef was beginning to wonder how it was this man, this seemingly foolish man, was the great Uhtred Ragnarson, breaker of shield walls and Alfred's chosen warrior.

It just did not make sense.

“There you are, Uhtred,” Finan, the Irishman said. He walked up with another man, Osferth. Cynlaef had learned this was the bastard son of Alfred.

And clearly the only man within Uhtred's merry band who possessed at least one ounce of brains.

“I told you my name is not Uhtred,” Cynlaef muttered.

“Cynlaef,” Osferth said softly. “Come with us,” he nodded towards the gates. “There is someone here who wishes to see you.”

Cynlaef frowned. He did as they asked through, and he followed them through Coccham. He looked up when he saw Uhtred arguing with a priest, while another young monk stood by. Cynlaef frowned.

The young monk was Young Uhtred.

“You took the wrong monk you fool!” the priest yelled.

“I would recognize my own son, Beocca!”

“Clearly, you did not!”

Cynlaef laughed. He couldn't help it. He just laughed as he walked over to them. Uhtred, Beocca, and Young Uhtred looked at him. Cynlaef rubbed his face and shook his head.

“I have told you, I am not your son, lord,” he answered softly. “He is,” he pointed at Young Uhtred.

He watched as Uhtred looked back and forth between them. Cynlaef saw the realization dawn on him. Young Uhtred shook his head.

“I cannot believe I share blood with you,” he said.

Finan snapped his fingers. “Ah, there it is. The distain and annoyance that only the blood of Uhtred could produce,” he said.

Cynlaef snorted as Uhtred gave Finan a glare. “Really, Finan?” he asked.

Finan shrugged. “What? I wasn't the one who didn't recognize his own son.”

Father Beocca shook his head. “Come, Cuthbert, let us get you back to the monastery and-.”

Cynlaef looked at Uhtred. “Actually,” he started. He bit his bottom lip. “I would like to stay, if you would allow it, lord,” he said.

Finan chuckled and Osferth smiled as well. Beocca rolled his eyes. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Only you, Uhtred, could lead a monk astray.”

Uhtred smirked. He looked at Beocca. “Well, I did also show Hild the savage life as well. And you, Beocca,” he shrugged, “perhaps your God has decided to use me to help lead his children away from his church to better things.”

Finan snorted and Osferth crossed himself as he rolled his eyes. Boecca shook his head. “That is not how it works, Uhtred,” he said.

“So, that's it,” Young Uhtred cut in. “No one cares that he clearly did not know what his own son looked like?”

Cynlaef snorted. “You must have recognized Finan and Sihtric, and yet I did not see you shouting that they had the wrong boy, either, Uhtred,” he said.

The young man eyed him. “I hate it here,” he muttered and stalked away.

Finan watched him go. He pointed at him. “I see it now; the scowl, the angry walk, the stance,” he looked at Cynlaef, “ya are not stubborn enough to be Uhtred's son.”

Osferth snorted and grabbed Cynlaef as Beocca began to tear into Uhtred again. “Come on, Finan, let's find somewhere for Cynlaef to sleep, since Uhtred will not doubt will be taking his room in the hall.”

“Ya go, baby monk. I am enjoying watching Beocca tell Uhtred off. I'll join ya in a bit.”

Cynaef laughed. He looked back and saw Uhtred look down, actually looking ashamed. He turned around and let Osferth tug him back towards Coccham.

Uhtred and his men may not be that smart, but they were a family.

And Cynlaef desperately wanted one of those; he needed one.

He had a feeling he would fit right in with them all.

[thethyri]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐰𝐲𝐧𝐧❟ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞❟ ❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 ❞

𖦹. 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ The day Wulfwynn was cruelly torn from the life she had always known was a crisp day of autumn. When the green leaves of the trees turn brown and the wind grows colder. The day Wulfwynn miraculously stumbled upon Uhtred and his companions in the depths of the woods was a cold day of autumn. When the lakes are blanketed with frost and the fields are bare. And yet, despite the frost and the wounds, Wulfwynn met her destiny that day.

𖦹. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 *𖧧₊‧ Days and days. Cold night and colder days yet. Days running, fleeing. Fearing for her life. Until God sent her Uhtred and his men.

𖦹. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson x Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Sihtric Kjartansson x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Uhtred of Bebbanburg x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Osferth x Ealhflæd of Cent (Original Female Character), Leofric x Mereswyth of Wessex (Original Female Character).

𖦹. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Show Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Not Show Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Show Rewrite, Show Dialogues, Canonical Character Death, Non-Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Wounds, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Battles And Post-Battles, Blood On Several Occasions, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Burn, Sexual Content, Mild-Sexual Content, Multiple Graphic Smuts (Ratings Specified In Concerned Chapters), Multiple Non-Graphic Smuts, Protective Finan, Possessive Finan, Finan Needs A Hug, Finan Backstory, Protective Sihtric, Jealous Sihtric, Adorable Sihtric, Sihtric Backstory, Protective Uhtred, Uhtred Is A Little Shit, Soft Osferth, Adorable Osferth, Osferth Backstory, Leofric Lives, Clapa Lives.

𖦹. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ Mild-Graphic Description of Bruises And Injuries.

𖦹. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ 2,912k.

𖦹. 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 *𖧧₊‧ Just so you know, my timeline is just a bit different from the books and show. At first, I had planned to stick to the books' timeline, but it would have made Uhtred (and therefore Finan and Sihtric) too old for Wulfwynn. Well, I speak of Finan and Sihtric but, in the books, Finan's age is not precised (nor is Osferth's) and, as for Sihtric, when he meets Uhtred, he does not know his own age and Uhtred apparently guesses that he's somewhere around 14 years old. The show's timeline encapsulated two books per season, meaning that by season 3, Uhtred would have been between 34-44 years old (yes, because if we follow that logic, it means that each season stretches on a period of time of 10 years, which, you will agree, is clearly not the case). That is why I decided to twist the timeline a bit and rearrange the ages to my own preference. No, about Finan. It is my own headcanon that he is not younger than Uhtred, but just slightly older than him by 3 years. For Sihtric, I wanted him to younger than both Uhtred and Finan (as in the show and books) and therefore closer to Wulfwynn's age but still older than her. Now, about Osferth, in the books we know he is already born when Uhtred spies on Alfred at the age of 10 but it is not precised when he was born. So I just kind of guessed and twisted things again to make him the age I liked when he joined Uhtred. And, for Clapa, to me (in the show, at least, because I have only read the first book at the moment) he was clearly older than Uhtred by, at least, 9 years.

That being said, this story still contains huge age gaps. Uhtred is 16 years older than Wulfwynn, Finan is 19 years older, and Sihtric is 6 years older. Adding to that the gap that already exists between Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric, since Uhtred is 10 years older than him and Finan is 13 years older. In real life, these differences in ages would be quite problematic, but here, we are in a fictional story and as long as these examples are not transferred to real life, it is still acceptable.

Also, I mean to stretch my story from season 3 to season 5 and even perhaps to the Seven Kings Must Die, but I do not know yet. So I will keep a timeline updated in the notes at the beginning of each chapter so you do not lose yourself too much ahah!

𖦹. 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ₊̇*⸼ 892-895 AD ⵓ 6th November 892 AD - 9th November 892 AD ⨾ Uhtred is 34-37 yo ⨾ Finan is 37-40 yo ⨾ Sihtric is 24-27 yo ⨾ Clapa is 43-44 yo ⨾ Osferth is 29-32 yo ⨾ Wulfwynn is 18-21 yo.

THE VODKAS MENU. + THE SERIE MENU. + CHAPTER TWO. + Archive Of Our Own.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN CIPPANHAMM AND MELKSHAMM, WESSEX, 892 AD.

            Fear. Dread . It crept its way into the heart, maliciously, viciously, its hideous claws jagged, and hooked, burrowing in its throbbing flesh. It gnawed venomously into the guts, tangled into hundreds of hundreds of tightly knitted knots. It crawled malevolently into the lungs, its coarse scales scraping, and into the throat, its rugged tongue scratching. It soaked bitterly into the bones, into the marrow, cold, terribly cold.

            Wulfwynn was devoured with fear. Wrecked with dread. She felt the ache in her limbs, the burn in her lungs. She felt the cold whipping at the crusted scratches that littered her knuckles, her palms, her knees and her muddy heels. She felt the soreness of the swelled bruises that dotted her thighs, her arms and her wrists, her neck and her ankles, and her cheeks. They scattered across her body, mingled with her freckled flesh, scarlet and maroon, melded with her delicate moles, purply and olive.

            Wulfwynn felt utterly terrified.

            Twiddled branches and tangled roots scrapped at her calves and knees as she delved into the depths of the woods. Breathy sobs escaped her chapped lips, while the cold that chilled her lungs licked at the salty tears that soaked her cheeks. The writhed birches swallowed the misty, gloomy skies, engulfed the pallid gleam that shimmered between their leaves. And they’d swallow Wulfwynn too. They'd swallow her whimpers, and they'd choke her with their branches, they’d throttle her with their roots—

            Wulfwynn sobbed panickedly, as she whisked hurriedly between the pines and the bushes, her heart onto her tongue.

            They’d scratch, and scrape, and rasp, and snarl and sneer and—

            A strangled yelp choked in her throat as she stumbled onto a root. She swayed abruptly and fell. Whimpers and whines of throbbing anguish and nauseous panic swirled through the cinnamon and crimson leaves that twirled around Wulfwynn as she hurtled down the muddy hill. And she gasped breathlessly as she slammed into a thick trunk.

            Wulfwynn clutched the bark, chafing her fingers, and wobbled, then rose quiveringly, but rose nonetheless, before her heel slipped in the mud and she tumbled again. She grunted as she fell, and fell, and fell, down the hill, down, down, until she landed into the dirt. Wulfwynn laid into the leaves and the dirt, perhaps an eternity, perhaps an instant, furled and shuddering, her heart throbbing into her temples and her knees and elbows aching.

            But, though she struggled, arose onto her palms. Bitter tears fell from her reddened cheeks, from her chin, onto her scratched, scarred fingers and between her knuckles. And then, a shout resonated through the pines, 

            “Lord !”

            Fear gripped at Wulfwynn’s heart with it crooked claws. She fumbled panickedly with her kirtles and skirts, shuffled and tumbled, and wobblily arose, but fell onto her knees with a frustrated whine. She huffed shakily.

            “Lord !” Wulfwynn prayed. She prayed fervently, as the worried yell swivelled in the chilly whiff. “Are ye— Are ye alright?” She’d have chuckled, but Wulfwynn merely sobbed. “Ye’re— Uhtred !”

            She peered hesitantly and her glance landed onto the cross that dangled before her teary eyes. A heavy huff tickled her cheek.

            “Ye’re alright, lass, ye’re alright,” He murmured quietly as he knelt. She felt his pity, his gentleness and his kindheartedness, and she sniffled. Her heart swelled. “Ye’ll be alright, I promise.”

            Wulfwynn nodded meekly. His soft promise poured onto her sore scratches and scrapes, syrupy and smooth and warm. Her heart seared with a sour tincture of gratitude and lament, with a driblet of reassurance and a splatter of solace. Her glance anchored into umber orbs, tinged with warmth and kindness, and worry.

            “Finan.” A whistle tickled Wulfwynn's guts. “ Finan !”

            “Lord,” Finan startled, as he leapt onto his muddy boots. Wulfwynn shivered as the chill tickled at her neck. "She's hurt, Lord."

            “Hurt?” The Lord —Uhtred, she assumed— inquired, with doubt and incertitude. And a tinge of scepticism. “Quite hurt.” Finan affirmed, and nodded.

            A chiffchaff chirped. “Lord?” Queried a soft murmur. “She indeed seems quite unwell.”

            The Lord’s glance landed unto the salty tears that streaked her cheeks, unto her bruises, and her scratches and scrapes, and she felt oddly, yet agreeably, absorbed into the frosty depths her eyes plunged into. His stare felt cold, but she embraced that cold. She felt queerly reassured, comforted, shrouded into that cold. The Lord hummed quietly. And nodded. Wulfwynn huffed a breath of relief.

            Finan knelt beside her, his knees in the mud, and she felt his warmth caress her as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Wulfwynn grabbed her tattered kirtles, and Finan muttered, “ Jesus .” as he glanced at her legs. She grasped his hand, hers frail and fragile in his callused palm. She grunted with anguish, as she struggled to arise, but her knees buckled.  

            Finan's hold tightened, "Gently, gently." he reassured her softly, "Osferth!" he beckoned with a whistle and a nod. Saddle buckles rattled, leaves rustled and an arm slithered across her back. “Apologies, Lady.” and Wulfwynn uttered a quavery huff. 

            “Gently.” Finan repeated as Wulfwynn arose slowly. “Alright. We’ll get ye onto Sihtric’s horse.” 

            Osferth nodded. He gently took ahold of her elbow, and they strode to the horses. They approached Sihtric’s horse, and Wulfwynn glanced at the silhouette sat astride its saddle, shrouded in furs, as Sihtric’s stare anchored into hers. She felt Finan’s warmth fade when he stepped back and unbuckled his cloak's buckle, before he wrapped the warm, woollen garment around Wulfwynn’s shuddery shoulders. 

            “It’ll keep ye warm.” Finan murmured as he tucked the hood on Wulfwynn's messy, tousled curls and tresses. “Ye’ll ride with Sihtric. Alright?” 

            She nodded. Finan approached the horse and leaned down. He cupped his callused hands, fingers knotted, and Wulfwynn grasped his arm as she hesitantly placed her heel in his palm. "Alright. I'll hoist ye there and Sihtric will get ye, huh?" Wulfwynn hummed and, quite facilely, Finan lifted her. She gracelessly threw her leg across the saddle and, as he told her, Sihtric grabbed her. “Ye’re good?”

            “Good.” Wulfwynn muttered with a nod. Finan’s eyes widened at the hoarseness of her mutter but he nodded nonetheless. 

            He and Osferth hopped back onto their horses. Wulfwynn fidgeted a bit, and grabbed Sihtric's thick, woolly ebony mantle with her fingertips. But he felt it and turned, and gently grasped her wrist before he wrapped it across his chest. 

            Wulfwynn jolted when he softly spoke, “You may hold on.” And, although timidly, Wulfwynn slipped her arms around Sihtric’s waist. Her fingers gripped the crisscrossed leather of his cotte, and her fingertips stroked the fur that flanked its edges. The scents of cinders and smoke, of dust and caked mud and hay tickled her nostrils. Yet she felt oddly soothed as she faintly breathed into the heavy wool. 

            “We ride!” then hailed Uhtred. 

            Wulfwynn’s legs dangled from the horse’s rump, and swayed slightly with his sturdy strides. The muffled thud of hooves as they rustled dead leaves, the snorts of the horses, the chirps of the birds and the warmth of Sihtric's furs cradled Wulfwynn. And slowly, as she fell into slumber, her head lolled and bobbed, and then, settled between Sihtric's shoulders. 

            And Wulfwynn slept, as much as she hadn't slept in weeks.

₊‧𒀭⋆₊

            The noisy hustle and bustle of Wintanceaster was quite pleasant. With the yells of its merchants, as they tempted the villagers with their trouts and lampreys, their hot loaves of oat breads, their goat cheeses, and their turnips and parsnips, and their pears. The bright, merry talks of the villagers. The jolly chuckles and giggles of the children. 

            Wintanceaster was noisy and Finan basked in its noisiness.

            He particularly appreciated this noisiness, as it differed considerably from the howls and yells that engulfed the field. As well as the smells. The scents of mud sodden, thickened with blood, of tangy sweat and barf were, at Wintanceaster, the scents of roasted pork and latterly brewed barley ale that wafted from the taverns. 

            Yet, this bustle hadn't awakened the lass, whose scratched and scraped arms were wrapped across Sihtric's chest, and whose reddened, bruised cheek was squooshed against his back, although she was shrouded with Finan’s hood. But Sihtric wasn’t bothered in the least. 

            “We'll take her to mine." declared Finan, as they strided towards the stables. 

            A snort. "Really? Huh." Clapa chuckled wickedly. He glared at the Dane. "Well, we're not gonna get her to yers, are we?" Finan retorted. 

            “He’d frighten her.” Uhtred sniggered, as he glanced at the giant. Clapa smirked.

            “Frighten her? I’m but meek, sweet and gentle as a lamb, Lord.” He protested, and Uhtred chuckled, “Huh-uh.”

            They approached the stables and alighted from their steeds. Finan felt the soreness in his legs as he neared Sihtric’s horse. He nodded towards Clapa, “Can ye take her?” and the Dane contourned the horse. He held his arms towards the lass, and Sihtric gently peeled her hands from the crisscrosses of his cotte, before Clapa slithered an arm across her back, as she slipped into his arms, and then slithered a hand beneath her legs. “I’ve got her.”

            "Alright." Finan nodded. The muddy strands of straw of the stables crumpled beneath the soles of Sihtric's boots, when he leaped from his horse.

            The lass’ forehead was nestled in Clapa’s neck, and the hood had flopped back a tad from her head. Finan’s glance fell onto the maroon and olive bruises that dotted her cheeks and chin, the scarlet slit that carved in the slope of her nose and the split etched into her plump, chapped lip.  

            He then turned to Osferth, “We’ll need yer balms and herbs.” 

            “Aye.” he nodded and hurried to fetch the leather satchel on his saddle. 

            They then took her to Finan's. He didn't quite considered it— well, considered it what? A haven? His? His haven? Nah, his haven was Coccham. This was but a humble, wooden hut, scarcely adorned, with a bed padded with straw and wool, draped with a few woollen and linen pillows and blankets, and a few furs. A table, scattered with bowls, melted candles and a hutch of trinkets, stood in the corner, with three stools. Light linen sheers flanked the walls, near the bed, while a wooden chest sat beside it, and a bench stood in the corner, near the entrance. 

            Clapa settled the lass onto the bed, with greater gentleness than Finan had hoped, and, with care, Finan unbuckled the buckle of his coat and slipped the wool from the lass' frail, delicate silhouette, before Clapa laid her tousled head onto the pillows. 

            “‘Tis still as modest as it was the last I was here.” enthused Uhtred, as he entered the hut with Osferth and Sihtric. 

            Finan stared at the lass an instant, and then turned to Osferth. He startled and hurried to the table and, amongst the wooden bowls, grabbed the dusty pestle and mortar. He then brought the herbs onto the table from his satchel, and glanced at the sleeper before he took the yarrow. 

            They stared quietly at the monk, as he grabbed the pestle and mashed the dried yarrow into the mortar. He then grabbed a bowl and poured a quaff of his gourd, and sprinkled the dried plant. Osferth then took the bowl and told Finan, “It’ll soothe her body.” 

            Finan took the bowl and nodded. Softly, he knelt onto the bed's edge, and slowly tickled the beverage between the lass' chapped lips. 

            “Then?” Sihtric queried as he neared the table. Osferth took the bowl back. "Then," he mumbled, as he tossed plants in the wooden bowl, and took the pestle, "I'll tend to those scrapes and scratches with chamomile," he grimaced, as though he was scraped and scratched, "and soothe her bruises with nettle." 

            Sihtric glanced at the lass and the frown between her brows. And a tinge of concern tickled his chest. Osferth grinded the chamomile and the nettle in the bowl, and then poured a quaff, “She’ll heal.” he assured, as he approached the bed and settled on the edge. 

            “But she’ll need a while. She’s quite enfeebled.” he murmured softly, and placed the bowl onto the woollen blankets. “But she’ll heal.”

₊‧𒀭⋆₊

            Wulfwynn felt cradled. 

            Shrouded in the softness of the wool of Cynefrith's sleeves across her hips, and swaddled in the warmth of Eadgyth's skirts and kirtles, her legs entangled with hers. She felt utterly well.

            She hadn’t felt well in quite a while. But between Cynefrith and Eadgyth, she felt soothed. 

            Yet, Wulfwynn stirred in her slumber. She nestled her nose in Eadgyth's tangled and tousled tresses, and hummed with contentment when the scents of chamomile tickled her nostrils. She felt Cynefrith’s gentle breath tickle the back of her neck. 

            Wulfwynn sighed with delight. She laced her fingers with Cynefrith’s, and Eadgyth wrapped her arm around them, and cuddled them. 

            And an ache clutched at her chest.  

            Wulfwynn’s brows furrowed. She huddled and clutched Cynefrith's lithe fingers, and snuggled into Eadgyth's neck. But she gasped as her chest tightened. 

            And she sobbed. Whiffs of cinders and embers, of nettle and of dust swamped her nostrils and tickled her guts. She sobbed, and sobbed, as the ache clawed at her heart. 

            Sleep left her, slowly, so slowly it felt an eternity. 

            Her sight remained blurred a moment before she discerned the shutters, and the pale gleams of the morn that crept between them. Then she glanced beside her. But Eadgyth was not there. And when she turned and peered above her shoulder, Cynefrith was not there either. And then, she remembered. 

            The yells, the tears. The lake. The sobs, the pleas. The plains. The blood. 

            Cynefrith was not there. 

            Eadgyth was not there.

            They were not here.

            Wulfwynn whimpered. There was neither Eadgyth nor Cynefrith. There were not their embraces, merely linen blankets and furs. There was not their warmth, just a woollen and straw mattress. They were not there. 

            She sobbed, her hands clutched at her chest. She sobbed, her scraped and scratched knees beneath her chin. She sobbed, muffled into the blankets. She did not hear the squeak of the wooden door and the creak of the boots onto the floorboards. 

            “Lass?” 

            Wulfwynn perked and winced. "Ye're awake, at last." Finan huffed, as the concern that etched his face melted into relief. Wulfwynn's tears trickled from her cheeks and wetted the blankets. Finan approached the bed. 

            “Ye’re alright, lass. Ye’re alright.” he reassured her. But Wulfwynn wasn’t alright. 

            Her lips quivered, “I,” she huffed quietly, feebly, “I fled, but I—” and faltered, “I fled,” 

            “Hey, hey,” Finan neared her, and she felt her heart thump, "I— I fled but I—" she sobbed, "But—" And Finan gently seated at the bed's edge, “Hey, ye’re alright, lass, ye’re alright.” he repeated. “Ye’re fine,” he murmured softly. 

            Alright. She was alright. Wulfwynn nodded. Was she alright? She wasn not quite. But she nodded nonetheless. Her sobs ebbed. She felt, as she had felt with Uhtred, oddly, yet agreeably, comforted and reassured when her eyes anchored into Finan’s. But she felt terribly feeble too. And sore. 

            “Ye shouldn't tire yerself too much. Ye're still weak and ye haven't eaten yet.” he uttered prudently, as though he feared he might frighten her. “Ye’ve slept quite a bit and Osferth has tended to yer,” he swallowed, “wounds.”

            Wulfwynn glanced down at her hands, wrapped in thin strips of linen, folded around her thumbs and knotted in the crook of her palms. The whiffs of chamomile and nettle wafted to her nose when she wiggled her fingers. She noticed she was no longer garbed in her shredded skirts and kirtles, drenched with sweat, sullied with guts and smeared with mud and dust, but a linen shift that smelt of sage. Hence why she had felt so comfortable in her slumber. And she frowned. If she’d been changed, then had they—

            “We haven’t.” Finan assured, halting her thoughts, as though he knew what she was wondering. “Osferth merely tended to the wounds on yer arms and legs. Yer virtue is untarnished. Lord Uhtred's sister and Abbess Hild tended to those he couldn't. And then changed ye.” 

            She nodded shyly. “W-Where,” she licked her lips, “Where are we?” 

            “Wintanceaster, Lady.”

            He stood from the bed and went to the table, in the corner, where there were three stools and, scattered onto the table, dusty baubles and wooden plates, bowls and cups. “Have I,” she straightened slightly and grimaced, “H-Have I slept long?”

            He picked a goblet and grabbed the jug, near a plate in which there were the scraps of a meal. Wulfwynn then wondered if they had remained there while she slept. “About three days. Since we arrived.” 

            “Oh.” she murmured. Finan returned to the bed and handed her the goblet. She whispered her thanks, and wondered if he had heard her, but as he nodded, she thought he must have. She took a sip and felt the soreness of her throat. 

            Then her stomach rumbled.

            Her cheeks dusted with embarrassment and she coughed. She had not eaten but a few berries in days, and had eaten aught but stale bread in weeks. The mere sight of the scraps of a meal had her stomach growl. 

            "Ye must be famished." Finan frowned, as if concerned. He then nodded, as though approving a thought he'd just had. "Alright. I'll get Hild fer ye and we'll take ye to the tavern. I'll be quick." 

            He then turned on his heels and strode out of the hut.

CHAPTER TWO. + Archive Of Our Own.

©TheThyri. All rights content belong to @thethyri​​. Do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works in any way or on any other platform without my permission. Gifs rightfully belong to @dailytlk.

[vroom--vrooming]

Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader

Sihtric and Uhtred's sister wants to get married but for that to happen they need Uhtred's blessing...which may not be so easy to get

The night air in Coccham is cool and filled with the chirping of crickets as you slip out of your quarters, your heart racing with anticipation. You’ve become adept at sneaking out to meet Sihtric, your secret love, in the secluded grove just beyond the village. As you approach, you see him waiting for you, a smile lighting up his face when he catches sight of you.

"There you are," he says softly, pulling you into his arms. "I was starting to worry."

"Sorry," you whisper, nuzzling into his chest. "Uhtred kept me longer than usual."

He chuckles, brushing a kiss against your forehead. "I have something for you." From behind his back, he produces a small bouquet of wildflowers, their petals vibrant even in the dim light.

You smile, touched by his gesture. "You always bring me the loveliest flowers."

"And you'll always wear them beautifully," he replies, tucking one into your long black hair. "They remind me of you."

You kiss him then, a soft brush of your lips that quickly deepens. His hands cradle your face, and you lose yourself in the warmth and passion of his embrace. Each stolen moment with Sihtric feels like a precious gift, every kiss a promise of your love.

Time seems to stand still as you hold each other, but all too soon, reality intrudes. "We can't stay long," Sihtric murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. "Uhtred will notice if we're both gone for too long."

You sigh, wishing you could stay wrapped in his arms forever. "I hate sneaking around like this. I wish we could be together openly."

"Me too," Sihtric says, determination in his voice. "And we will be. I'm going to talk to Uhtred. I'm going to ask for his blessing."

Your eyes widen in surprise and worry. "Are you sure? You know how protective he is."

"I know," he replies, his gaze steady. "But I love you. I want to be with you, openly and proudly."

The next morning, you watch nervously from a distance as Sihtric approaches Uhtred. Your brother's expression shifts from curiosity to shock as Sihtric speaks. You can't hear their conversation, but Uhtred's widening eyes and dropped jaw are enough to tell you it's not going entirely smoothly.

Later, Sihtric finds you, his expression a mix of hope and resignation. "He was… surprised," he says, trying to sound optimistic. "He asked for time to think about it."

"That's something, at least," you reply, squeezing his hand. "What else did he say?"

Sihtric hesitates. "He, uh, kind of told me to stay away from you for now."

Your heart sinks, but you refuse to give up. "I'm going to talk to him," you declare. "He needs to understand how much we love each other."

That evening, you corner Uhtred in his quarters. "Brother, we need to talk."

He looks up from his maps, raising an eyebrow. "About Sihtric, I presume?"

"Yes," you say, taking a deep breath. "I love him, Uhtred. He loves me. We want to be together, to get married. Please, give us your blessing."

Uhtred sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't realize… You've kept this well hidden."

"We had to," you reply softly. "But I don't want to hide anymore. Please, Uhtred."

After a long pause, Uhtred nods slowly. "I'll speak to Sihtric."

Later that night, Uhtred calls Sihtric into his quarters. "You know I'll kill you if you hurt her," he says gruffly, eyes hard.

"I know," Sihtric replies earnestly. "I'd never hurt her. I love her."

"Then you have my blessing," Uhtred says, his voice softening. "But remember, I'm always watching."

Sihtric can hardly contain his excitement as he rushes to find you. He sneaks into your quarters, grinning like a boy. "Uhtred gave his blessing," he whispers, pulling you into his arms.

Tears of joy fill your eyes as you kiss him, your heart bursting with happiness. "We can finally be together," you say, your voice trembling with emotion.

He kisses you again, deeply and passionately, his hands tangling in your long black hair. "I can't wait to marry you," he murmurs against your lips. "And I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy."

With Uhtred's blessing, you and Sihtric no longer have to hide your love. You walk hand in hand through Coccham, drawing smiles and curious looks from the people around. Sihtric brings you flowers every chance he gets, and you wear them proudly in your hair.

Your love is no longer a secret, and every day is filled with moments of joy and passion. You steal kisses in quiet corners, share whispered conversations late into the night, and dream of the life you'll build together.

Days pass, and the new dynamic becomes a part of everyday life. Yet, some things remain the same.

One afternoon, as you and Sihtric share a private moment in the kitchen, he gently tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. His gaze is soft, filled with love.

Uhtred walks in at that exact moment, catching sight of the tender exchange. He groans loudly, making a face. "Do you two ever stop?" he asks, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation.

You laugh, leaning into Sihtric. "Not if we can help it."

Uhtred shakes his head, muttering to himself as he leaves the room. "Just remember, Sihtric, I'm always watching!"

Sihtric chuckles, pulling you close. "I don't think he'll ever get used to it."

"Good," you reply with a mischievous grin.

And with that, you pull Sihtric into another kiss, knowing that no matter how many times Uhtred catches you, nothing can dim the happiness you feel in each other’s arms.

[alexagirlie]

Bathhouse Rewards

A/N: uh I hope everyone can go to church (or your equivalent) after reading this :D a labour of love. a mess of self indulgent filth.

To everyone I promised 2 parts... sorry! I wrote it one single longshot instead, my WIP is breeding again... hope you enjoy it!

Moodboard by me, divider by @zaldritzosrose

Fandom: The Last Kingdom

Pairing: Reader x Finan x Osferth x Sihtric x Uhtred

Rating: E, definitely E

Words: 5k on the dot

Content Warnings: smut. filthy filthy smut. poly relationships. nudity. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. oral sex (f receiving). multiple orgasms. masturbating/hand job (m/m). rimming. anal sex (f receiving). touch of rough sex. double penetration. cum eating. frottage (m/m). implied voyeurism. implied exhibitionism. coccham squad being their charming selves and reader is down to fuck.

taglist (pls ask to be added or removed): @foxyanon @gemini-mama @thenameswinter99 @legitalicat

It had been a hard fight but the battle was won and you traveled with your Lord, Uhtred, and a small company of his most trusted men. You rode at the back of the group, trailing behind Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric and Osferth. You traveled not back to Coccham, the village you all called home, but to Wintanchester, to report the results of Uhtred's latest victory to King Alfred. 

You arrived in Wintanchester just as the sun was setting and the fading light blanketed the sprawling city. Wintanchester was prospering, in no small part thanks to the efforts of your Lord and his warriors, and the town boasted the best Inns and amenities one could possibly ask for.

One such amenity was the newly constructed public bathhouse, fashioned after the style of baths the Romans of old had once used and was hugely popular amongst nobles and peasants alike. It was made of many rooms filled with great sunken pools built of smooth stone blocks and filled to the brim with an endless supply of simmering hot water, scented sweet and alluring. 

It was these very baths that the men you accompanied wouldn't stop talking about as they entered Wintanchester. Luckily the recent victory made Uhtred generous and he offered to pay for a private room at the bathhouse as a reward for a battle well fought.

“I must report to Alfred first but we have earned this reward.” He declared as he turned his horse towards Alfred's keep. He tossed a small leather pouch in Finan's direction, the Irishman deftly catching it. “For the Inn and the bathhouse. I will join you soon.”

You had just broken away from the group, urging your horse towards your preferred stable outside your favourite inn when Uhtred's voice called your attention back to him.

“Feel free to join us!” He called out, humour clear in his voice, “if you can stomach the stink on this lot.” 

His words were met with rolled eyes and laughter from his assembled men, clearly meant to be a jest but the idea stuck with you as you got your horse settled and fed and saw to your bed for the night.

Why not take Uhtred up on his offer? Why not offer yourself to them and see what the fates had planned for you?

All four of the men had been subtly trying to court you for weeks, assisting you with chores around Coccham, leaving you small but thoughtful gifts. Must you choose? Each man had their own appeal, with no clear winner in your heart.

Osferth was such a sweet and caring soul, who never failed to inspire you with his bravery on the field even though it was obvious that fighting was not in his nature. He was an incredibly open-minded young man, who never judged others, he treated them all with compassion whether Saxon or Dane, Christian or Pagan.

Sihtric seemed rough on the outside but his loyalty was unmatched to any other who served under Uhtred's command. Almost loyal to a fault but that was something you greatly admired about him, his willingness to do whatever was requested of him, no matter how unpleasant the task was.

Finan was the most level headed of the group, a trait which made him a fearsome warrior and a highly capable commander of Uhtred's houseguard. He was incredibly protective of those that had earned his regard and in recent months that had extended to you. You would forever be grateful to have him at your back, on or off the battlefield.

Uhtred was bold, some might even go so far as to say rash but his battle cunning had led to many victories in service to Wessex and Alfred and that made him a Lord many wished to follow. He was generous and always shared the spoils of his battles with his men and with the villagers under his care in Coccham. 

Each man could offer you something different and fulfilling but you wanted to be greedy, you didn't want to choose. You wanted them all, and why not? They were an exceptionally close group of warriors, loyal to each other and closer than brothers. Surely they would be capable of sharing you?

Decision made you left your saddlebag, your weapons and your armour in your rented room and left the Inn to find the bathhouse. You arrived in time to watch as  Finan paid the attendant for their stay and he, Osferth and Sihtric were led out of sight towards one of the private rooms. You waited in the shadows for nearly a full candle mark until Uhtred arrived, his business with Alfred concluded. 

You followed Uhtred, easily slipping past the attendant and sneaking down the hallway toward the room your men were in. You tried not to stare as Uhtred removed his tunic and trousers, revealing the muscular warrior's body hidden underneath, the only bit of softness on him the curve of his arse and the soft length of his cock hanging between his thighs. 

The thought of that cock stretching you open made your breath hitch in your throat and already you could feel the wetness between your legs. You forced yourself to turn away as your Lord walked out of sight, and you could hear the muffled sound of splashing and low voices coming from the private room. 

Your face was burning as you took several steadying breaths to try and calm your racing heart. Your stomach was fluttering, nerves and good sense warring with your decision, trying to convince you that this was a terrible idea, that they would reject you or pass it off as a jest and laugh you out of the room. 

Or worse. That when presented with your nude body they would be completely unmoved. Their actions over the recent weeks not courting attempts like you had assumed but simple friendly assistance to another warrior and friend and they didn't desire you at all.

You took another fortifying breath and pushed your worries from your mind. You had not misinterpreted their intentions or the look in their eyes when you caught them staring. The heat, the desire. You were doing this. 

You disrobed as quickly as you could and wrapped yourself in one of the provided towels, at least if this didn't go completely according to plan you wouldn't be completely bare. You steeled your resolve and entered the room. 

It took a moment for them to notice your presence and you can admit to yourself that you enjoyed how they were all shocked into silence at your appearance. You gave them a moment to speak as you walked closer to the edge of the bath but none of the men did more than just watch so you were forced to finally break the silence. 

“Thought I would take you up on your offer Lord, if it still stands?”

You see the struck dumb expression on Uhtred's face and a quick glance down showed that at least one part of the Lord did not mind you interrupting them as you get your first real glimpse of his cock. You had seen each of the men partially nude before, tending wounds and washing in the river after a battle, but never like this, never hard and aching for you. The Lord was quick to sit back in the water, hiding his arousal from you while gesturing for you to take a seat.

You bit back a grin as you stepped into the warm water. You leave your towel wrapped around you until you are fully submerged and only then did you bare yourself completely, fighting the rising heat in your face as they all watched you with darkened eyes. The water obscures some of your form but not all and it was obvious how they drank you in. 

“Well the way you all talked about this place I just had to try it out for myself. I deserve to be rewarded too.” You smiled cautiously, “and there are none I would rather share it with.”

You see the men share a look with each other, silently communicating, trying to uncover the truth and meaning behind your words. 

Finan gave voice to their thoughts, “A lady bathing alone with a group of renowned warriors … people might think you are looking to get humped.”

You gather every ounce of your self confidence and send the Irish warrior a flirtatious look. “Perhaps that is exactly what I am hoping will happen.”

You watch as your words sank in, as your meaning became clear and you know they understood perfectly when Uhtred suddenly stood and stalked towards you until he towering over you. You would have been intimidated but it was hard to be when you had seen this man so drunk he couldn't walk, and the fact that the sight of his hard cock made your mouth water.

“Well then as your Lord I demand first rights.” Uhtred managed to look a Lord in that moment as well, nude, cock rising from between his thighs, but the confidence exuding from the man could only come from nobility. 

Finan snorted and leaned back on the stone ledge, his arms spread out on either side of him, the muscles in his shoulders and chest flexing with the action.

“Maybe she wants a proper cock first, not that small thing you boast between your legs.” He teased, the humour clear in his voice and Uhtred playfully splashed the other man and made a jibe back about showing Finan a proper cock.

You look at the other two men present, trying to gauge their reaction to your words.

You look to Osferth first and the poor baby monk was as red as a tomato, the stain spreading over his face and even his ears were pink! He had trouble meeting your eyes but he flashed you a bashful smile below looking away again. He would be so sweet when you got to him.

Sihtric, you noticed, couldn't take his eyes off you, but he sweetly kept those eyes on your face, not on other parts of you a man might reasonably be distracted by. He had a look of mild concern on his face. 

When he saw you looking, he opened his mouth to ask another, important question “Are you sure that is what you want?”

He looked reassured when you nodded.

“I know what to expect.” You answered him with a sly look. You licked your lips before asking with a cheeky grin “How would you have worked off the energy if I did not join you?” 

It was a rhetorical question, You were both aware that you knew the answer of course, having seen Sihtric sneak into both Osferth’s and Finan's tents before or Finan slipping into Uhtreds. Had heard the sounds coming from those same tents afterward. You had even crossed paths with Sihtric after one such encounter, the disheveled state of his hair and clothing and the love marks on his neck evidence enough to confirm your suspensions. 

It was not unusual for warriors to lie with each other on the road or before battle after all and you didn't mind the idea of it. In fact you had often found yourself wondering what they would look like together, their battle hardened bodies bare and tangled together. The thought had helped you find pleasure in the dead of night, when all you had was the touch of your own hands and your imagination.

You hoped you would have the chance to learn the reality of it that night. To see if they worked as well together, here, as they did on the battlefield.

“Now,” you held a hand out toward Uhtred. “Let the Lord have his fun, Finan.”

You thought you would feel self conscious,  being kissed while another, or several others, watched. Your previous relations had always been behind closed doors or hidden away in a tent, never with an audience, but as Uhtred's lips met yours all worries were swept away. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to his chest as your arms clung to his shoulders. He was so warm and you burrowed in even closer.

You felt Uhtred's tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entrance which you immediately granted. You moaned as his hands found their way into your hair, fingers threading through the braids, and he tilted your head to give the kiss the best angle. You opened your mouth wider and his tongue tangled together with yours. Uhtred was a good kisser, thorough and demanding and you soon found your knees weak as he stole the very breath from your lungs. 

You ran your hands down his body, fingers mapping out each dip and curve, learning the strength contained within. 

Uhtred returned the favour, his hands moving out of your hair and traveling down your body, learning you just as you learned him. His hands settled just below your arse, gripping tight and the flexing of his upper body the only warning you got before he lifted you clear out of the water, mouths never separating. You wrapped your legs around his waist, his hard cock trapped between you, and your core throbbed at the hot press of it against your most intimate place. You wanted it in you so badly.

Uhtred sat on the bench which lined the perimeter of the bath and settled you into his lap. The action sliding his cock against the front of your body, his length wet with a combination of your slick and his own weeping head. He slid his hands over your body, traveling up your sides, brushing against the swell of your breasts before roaming back down.��

You felt like a goddess, like Freyja made flesh and these men were here to worship you.

You were so wet for him already, for them, that when one of Uhtred's hands slipped between the press of your bodies and he worked his fingers between your thighs, they quickly became wet and slippery. The matching moans you let out as they slid between your folds, barely paying attention to your nub, barely a touch, a tease, then finding your aching core. You raised up on your knees to give him more room and he pressed two inside. You were so ready that they slid in with no resistance and you rocking down against his hand, taking them in deeper. 

You throw your head back as he twisted his fingers inside you, gasping and shuddering as he worked the two, then three into the tight grip of your body. The palm of his hands was pressed against your mound, providing the perfect pressure against your throbbing nub and already you felt the familiar heat growing in your belly. 

It had been a long time since you had last been with a man, your body responding more desperately than you were used to and all it took for you to come wailing was Uhtred's lips wrapping around one hardened nipple and sucking. 

Your voice quivered and echoed through the room, growing in volume as your Lord drew the pleasure out until you were forced to shove him away. Your inner walls were still pulsing as Uhtred pulled his fingers free and the heat was back in your face at the sight of them glistening with the evidence of your release. 

He licked them clean with a few swipes of his tongue and he moaned lowly before giving you a wink. “That was fast.”

You smacked his chest weakly at the comment. 

“Do not look so pleased with yourself Lord Uhtred,” you warned playfully, trying to hide the embarrassment running through you, ‘I haven't had a man since before joining you lot. You've scared away all other suitors.”

You pouted as Uhtred shared an amused look with the other men, a soft chuckled you recognized as Sihtric coming from behind you.

You felt a presence at your back, a wall of heat, then a familiar voice, Irish accent made even thicker with what you assumed was arousal “Apologies, we wanted you for ourselves. Couldn’t risk anyone else stealing you away.”

You lean back in Uhtred hold, your back pressed against Finan’s broad, muscled chest and felt the scrape of beard on your neck as he laid gentle kisses on your skin. His hands settled on your hips and he guided you to raise up higher as Uhtred got a hand between your bodies to line his cock up with your cunt. 

“Ready?” Uhtred asked, his piercing blues eyes meeting yours as he waited for you to nod your consent.

The sound that escaped you as you sank down on Uhtred's cock was barely a sigh, it was breathy and waivered but was filled with so much pleasure as your walls were stretched wide around his girth. 

It really had been to long since you've been humped good and proper and as you adjust and Uhtred started to fuck you in earnest you let yourself get lost in the feeling. The pleasant burn of his cock stretching you open and filling you to the hilt. The pace he set as he thrust up into you as two pairs of hands guide the rocking of your hips. 

You felt amazing being held between these two men, Uhtred playing with your breasts, cupping them firmly and his tongue paying special attention to your perk nipples before sucking them into his mouth. Finan at your back, running his hands over your body and down to rub teasing circles around your nub. It didn't take much to build you back up to the edge of another, mind shattering orgasm. A nip of Uhtred's teeth and one last clever application of Finan's fingers and you were crying out in overwhelming pleasure as you shook through your release.

You barely noticed as Uhtred pulled his cock out, slumped bonelessly against Finan's chest, and stroked himself until he spent, his seed spilling over his fingers and disappearing into the water.

You were roused from your stupor when you heard moaning coming from the other side of the bath and you looked over to see Sihtric and Osferth. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder and Osferth's head was tipped back, his eyes hooded and dark with arousal as they watched you being ravished, cheeks now red.

Sihtric’s hands were under the water, the shifting muscle of his shoulder and the blurry shadow of his arms moving told you he had both his own and Osferth's cock in hand and was stroking leisurely. 

You sighed, moved by the sight and you considered going to one of them next when Finan took the decision right out of your hands. He forced your attention back on him as he hefted you out of Uhtred's lap and you couldn't stop the squeal you let out at the unexpected action. He carried you to the edge of the bath so he could bend you over the warm stones. 

“Ready for a real cock?” he asked as he leaned over your back, gently moving one of your braids out of your face.

You laughed at the Irishman's confident attitude but the sound pittered out into a desperate moan as he slid his hard cock between your folds and the head bumped up against your nub sending a jolt of heat up your spine. 

You were swollen and a little sore already but you wanted him inside you just as desperately as you had wanted Uhtred. You arched your back and pressed your heated cheek to the stones.

“Please” you begged, looking up at the Irishman from the corner of your eye  “Please.”

The feeling of him sliding into you took your breath away, the feeling of his huge cock spearing you open made your legs tremble and tears of pleasure fill your eyes and you moaned brokenly as he bottomed out. His hips pressed flush to your arse as he let you adjust. He was bigger then Uhtred, much bigger and you needed a moment to catch your breath and relax enough for him to start fucking you, and fuck you he did. 

Finan was unrelenting, fucking you hard, making you feel each thrust as his large cock stretched you out and made you feel so full. He fucked you so hard that the edge of the stones tiles dug into the meat of your thighs and even that sharp sting felt so good and made you even wetter for him. 

He grabbed you by the hips, pulling your body back into each thrust at the perfect angle to slam against your most sensitive spot. The unrelented pounding, combined with the rough brush of the stone tiles against your sensitive nipples hurtling you towards another release.

You had never finished more than twice before so a third caught you completely by surprise. You thrashed against the stone, wailing as the pleasure crashed over you and left you quaking in its wake.

You barely noticed the splash of wet heat as Finan pulled out and finished across your lower back and the curve of your arse.

You laid there, limp and breathing hard, stunned by the strength of the orgasm you had just experienced. Briefly you wondered if you could actually handle all four men, but determination pushed the thought away. You wanted them all and so you would have them all. 

“Sihtric, help the lady get cleaned up.”

You gasped at the feeling of a wet tongue sliding across your skin, cleaning away the splatters of Finan's seed. 

He didn't stop there, his tongue wiggled its way between your folds and Sihtric moaned as your slick flooded his mouth. 

You gasped as that tongue moved up, between the cheeks of your arse and over your hole. You flinched, not sure if you liked the feeling or not.

Sihtric pulled away and nipped at the flesh of your hip. “Have you ever taken a man here before?” He asked, voice raspy and filled with arousal. His fingers teasing over your arse as you shook your head vehemently. You were far from a blushing maiden but you had never had a man take you in that way.

“Would you like to?”

His words stunned you into stillness. Would you? Why? You knew that when men lay together that was how it was done but why would you want to?

Sihtric seemed to be able to read your mind and he helped you to face him and he gathered you into his arms. He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, at odds with the depravity that the five of you were in the midst of. 

“I would like to share you with Osferth. Keep you between us as we both claim you and make you ours,” he explained, pressing another sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You still weren't sure and Sihtric held you tighter. “I promise it will feel good and if it doesn't we can stop.”

You looked up into his eyes, noting how dark they had turned with his arousal.

“Have you done it before?” You asked, “with a woman I mean.”

“I have,” he answered, no hesitation in his voice. “I've shared women with Osferth before, and with Finan.”

You looked over at Osferth, the shy baby monk giving you an encouraging smile as he waded a few steps closer to where you and Sihtric stood.

You thought it over carefully and the idea of being held between them was definitely an appealing one. Having both their hands on you, being filled with both their cocks, sharing something you had never shared with anyone else before. You felt warm and your cunt throbbed.

You nodded. 

Sihtric helped turn you back over onto your front so he could press lips and tongue to your arse again, getting you slick and ready to take them both. Once he deemed you ready, Sihtric rearranged you to his liking. 

He sat on the edge of the bath with his feet on the bench in the steaming water. He had your back to his chest and your legs spread wide with Osferth kneeling on the bench between them. They had your legs hooked over the crook of Sihtric’s elbows and they both helped balanced your weight as they lowered you onto Sihtric's cock. He wasn't as thick as Finan was but he was longer and the feeling of him filling your arse was strange. It didn't hurt, you were too relaxed from three orgasms and Sihtric's ministrations to get you ready but you weren't sure if you liked it. 

At least, not until Osferth brushed teasing fingers over your nub, the surprisingly confident touch sending heat to your core and you moaned as you started to relax. it finally started to feel good as the two men lifted and lowered you with ease between them. 

Sihtric fucked you a little faster, a little harder and Osferth slipped two fingers into your dripping cunt. They were long and nimble but stayed inside you only for a short while before he withdrew them so he could shift closer and pressed his cock inside you instead.

You were full to near bursting, the feeling overwhelming as they alternated thrusting inside of you. Your most sensitive spot being stimulated in a way you had never experienced before and you couldn't stop the way you went completely boneless between them, the way your lips fell open and the most lewd moans poured out. 

There was no way that the other patrons of the bathhouse couldn't hear the noises you were making but you didn't care. You didn't care about the rumours that would spread across the town, the dirty looks you would receive. All you cared about was how good it felt to finally be fucked by your men.

Your not sure how much time had past but both Sihtric and Osferth were fucking you harder and harder. Their rhythm faltered as they neared their peaks. Suddenly a truly lustful thought flooded your mind and you couldn't stop yourself from giving it voice.

“In me please!” You begged, loudly, “I want you to finish in me, both of you!”

Your words served to be the last push they needed and you moaned as your insides were flooded with heat. They filled you to the brim, seed dripping hotly from your used holes as they pulled their softening cocks from you and left a milky trail in the hot water.

You didn't peak again while pressed between them, too many sensations left you overstimulated but your cunt throbbed, and you debated reaching down to finish yourself when Sihtric moved you from his lap and settled you against the stone tiles once more. The stones felt cool on your heated flesh and you sighed as the Dane knelt on the bench at your feet and buried his face between your thighs. He lapped at you, ate at your cunt like he was starving for you. Like he hadn't just fucked you full of his seed, cleaning out the mess that both men had left behind.

He was focused on his task, focused on pushing you over into the abyss one last time and soon your legs were shaking and you were whining, breathless and desperate, so close. Two thick fingers slid into your aching cunt and his lips wrapped around your nub and it was over. Your thighs slammed shut around his head as you rode it out against his tongue, mouth open in a soundless scream as you thrashed in his hold. Your fingers clenched tightly in his hair, hard enough that your fingers ached.

Sihtric moaned against your cunt and just let you use him.

Finally you relaxed your legs from their vice grip around Sihtric's ears and you pushed his head away, pleasure giving way and the stimulation became too much. 

“Was that good lady?” Sihtric asked, a cocky grin on his face, his chin wet with the evidence of how much you had enjoyed yourself.

You laughed at his attitude but answered honestly all the same. “That was good, that was very good.”

You are distracted by the sound of splashing water and moaning. You looked over to see Uhtred and Finan locked in a passionate embrace against the opposite wall of the bath. Their hips grinding together, chasing release. They didn't seem to mind the audience, in fact when Uhtred noticed you watching he moaned even louder. 

It was over quickly and they stained each other with seed.

It was beautiful and you hoped that next time you could watch and proper enjoy the sight of your men fucking each other.

It was Osferth who helped you get cleaned up. The perfect gentleman as he ran a soapy cloth over your skin and washed away what remained of your activities. 

It took a long time for the strength to return to your limbs and the first thing you did was cup the baby monk's face between your palms and brought his mouth to yours. He let you control the kiss, the boldness you saw as he had fucked you given way to his more submissive and timid nature. You didn't mind, it was nice to press your tongue into his mouth and explore it leisurely. There was no heat, no lead up to something more.

You didn’t break apart until a cleared throat broke your daze and you saw Sihtric had brought a towel and your clothing which earned the Dane a bright smile that he returned.

Osferth helped you out of the water and dried you off, still the perfect gentleman in face of your nudity and helped you redress. 

You hissed as the rough fabric of your tunic scraped against your nipples, rubbed raw from mouths and the stone tiles.

“Next time we are doing this in a proper bed.”

[witchthewriter]

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: also I have no idea why it won't let me do proper spacing between dialogue, I truly apologise!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ESTP

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Cancer Sun, Virgo Moon, Gemini Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Finan isn't one to mince words; he's quick talking and incredibly witty.

・When he's around you, it's as if he's on overload - almost word vomit. He has no filter and cannot think before speaking.

・Once it had gotten so bad Osferth had to step in and pull him away, with a gracious, "Uhtred wishes to speak to you Finan."

"What is wrong with me?" Finan muttered under his breath as he let Osferth guide him away from you.

"Many things," Osferth said with a grin, "but that my friend...I think you may be in love."

・When Finan realised what he was feeling was attraction, he calmed down a bit. Because he had been attracted to people before, it was no problem.

・But the word vomit, and the blushing continued.

・And that was not normal for Finan.

・So he went to the only level-headed person he knew...Uhtred...

・Uhtred laughed at him:

"Finan, you make me laugh," the Lord said, pulling off pieces of bread and shoving them into his mouth.

"I'm happy I may entertain you Lord, but I'm ... serious..."

"Oh-"

・Uhtred sat back and stared straight into Finan's eyes.

"Finan."

"Yes, Lord?"

"You are in love."

"No, no that cannot be."

"But it is."

"Well fuck."

・The Irishman did all he could to not love you - stayed away from you (didn't work, he felt like something inside of him was missing, tried to look for the negatives in you ... but couldn't find many. He even thought about marriage... and it did not freak him out like it normally did).

・He knew what he had to do.

・He had to speak to Sihtric.

・All the while, you were somewhat oblivious to Finan's 'problem', only saw him scurrying around camp with an anxious look on his face.

・Osferth said Finan was having stomach troubles and you nodded your head, in complete understanding.

・When Finan got to Sihtric, he was out of breath and red in the face.

"Sihtric, my friend. My brother, I'm in trouble."

"What is it Finan?" The younger man's face was bewildered, and his hand clasped Finan's shoulder.

"I - I am in love."

"Oh fuck."

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Mo Gile Mear

[spider-stark]

finally caved and started watching the last kingdom a few days ago. already feel the urge to write fan fic beginning to grow.

[idksmtms]

I feel like writing intense unrequited love type angst. Pls send (detailed) requests for any of the characters/people I write for.

Requests are open for the next two days for this ^

[ms-oswald]

ocean eyes | chapter one

author's note: first chapter to my new Uhtred mini-series. This has some smut(ish), so MDNI please. My first attempt at focusing on Uthred and not gonna lie, this was tough but still fun. hopefully whoever reads this, you will enjoy :) thank you to @itbmojojoejo for being my beta reader 💜 banner credit to @arcielee! lots of love & stay safe 💕

      They were a long way from Cookham when Uhtred and his men arrived at their new settlement of Rumcofa. 

As they made their way through the open gates, they incited stares and whispers, the villagers wondering what troubles such intruders would bring to their quaint homes.  

People were on their guard while the boys provided them with polite smiles and nods at every eye and curious stares that came their way. 

They knew such an alteration would be an adjustment, that a warm welcome to warriors like themselves would take time to digest.  

For Uhtred, moving away from Cookham did not prove to be as hard as he thought.  

Bittersweet memories had been left behind, his attempt to ignore their claws grasping at his shadow. 

The loss of his wife years prior, the end of his affair with the Lady of Mercia – Cookham had bathed in ache, the crimson of its afterglow scarring him, body and soul.  

Rumcofa was a welcome change, he thought, needing the air to clear his mind and start anew. 

He did not care for the strategic significance of this move – whether it was Rumcofa or Cookham, Uhtred needed to be away from Wessex, and from Winchester.  

He was brought out of his thoughts when he halted, his horse by his side letting out a hefty breath. 

“And may I ask, who are ya?”  

His eyes settled on an older man, burly looking with his blond mustache thickening around his upper lip. The Danish accent heavy in his voice, he stood tall - the illusion hiding the slight shortness in his height – with his double-faced sledgehammer balanced between his hands. The stance for attack was at his toes, ready to use his weapon in potential combat. 

A faint snicker whispered behind Uhtred; from the sound of it, he knew his men were amused by the display in front of them.  

He took a quick look around before his eyes settled back on the blacksmith in front of him. “I am Uhtred of Bebbanburg.” He fixed his posture, placing his arms across his chest, his head slightly tilted sideways. “We have orders from the Lady of Aethelflaed that my men and I are to move here and oversee the village. I am to be the new Lord.” 

The Dane scoffed as he lowered his weapon, a smirk resting at the corner of his lips. “You’ll want to see the Lady of the village.” 

At his words, Finan leaned closer to his friend as he whispered, brows arched. “Are ya sure we’re in the right place, Uhtred?” 

The man ignored the Irishman’s comment, his gaze settling on confusion in front of the villager. “The Lady of Rumcofa?” 

The ears itching coincidentally, the woman in question had appeared in his view, her silhouette standing a few feet away from the Dane. 

It wasn’t the sight of strangers with their horses that left her breathless, nor was it the sight of her friend that seemed to have taken on the role of village protector that made her stop in her tracks. 

Her heart caught in her throat, latching on to dear life as her eyes focused on the main figure, her mind unconvinced of such reality. 

It was the grin on his face, the sound of his voice that traipsed across her body, shivering under her dress. 

The instinct settling itself into her nerves, a slight curve slid at the corner of her lips as a short breath finally escaped her. 

She had started walking towards the small hurdle of men, her voice reaching the boys with a breathy smile. “Well, if it isn’t Uhtred of Bebbanburg.” 

They turned towards the new sound; the man in question was left winded, the air knocked out of him in shock. He furrowed his brows, thinking his eyes might be deceiving him. 

“Cwen?” 

“Still alive, then?”  

Reaching them, she approached the blacksmith and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, quietly letting him know all was good and that she would care for the new guests.  

The Dane gave Cwen a nod before slowly walking away, leaving them be though not before disappearing without giving them warning crossing the brown in his eyes. 

Uncaring for it, Uhtred had spoken again with a soft chuckle slipping through at her welcoming words, his attention placed solely on the woman. “You look well.” He stepped forward and leaned in, his arms wrapping around her figure as he hugged her.  

The others, surprised at such unexpected familiarity, had remained quiet – simple observants.  

She had reciprocated the gesture, gently patting his back before pulling away. “And you look old.” 

Her remark got his men quietly sniggering behind their Lord. Uhtred turned to them, raising a brow at their reaction before looking back at Cwen, who was smiling from amusement at the little annoyance sprayed as a shadow across his face.  

Satisfied with herself, she pursued her little taunts, the jesting sparking up old flickers of residue from their past. “Word is, you are the new Lord of Rumcofa.”  

“I am.” Uhtred handed her a sealed parchment without another word, letting the letter speak for itself as Cwen opened it and started reading the content. 

She scoffed, her eyes meeting his again. “Her Ladyship couldn’t find another village for you to terrorize?” The sarcasm in her tone did not go unnoticed, leaving Uhtred to smile again, the rhythm of their exchange becoming a familiar routine for the ages. 

“It’s nice to see you again.” 

She gave him a grin. “You too, old friend.” The softness of the gesture left them to linger for a split second, forgetting for that moment where they stood. 

The interruption came from a little boy; he moved from where he stood next to Finan and partially hid behind Uhtred as he gazed upwards at the two adults, curiosity picking at him.  

She glanced at the boy before tilting her head up to her friend. “Your son?” Without looking away, Uhtred rested his hand on the child’s head. “My ward.” 

Cwen frowned, playfully skeptical of the painting in front of her; she bent down, meeting the little one at his eye level. “And what is your name, darling?” 

Unsure, the boy looked up to the man next to him for permission to speak. With a simple nod from Uhtred, he met Cwen’s gaze, his voice soft and timid. 

“Aethelstan.” 

She gave a friendly beam to the shy boy. “A good, strong name. I like it.” Her compliment made him smile, his timidity silently reaching his cheeks as he leaned closer towards Uhtred.  

Cwen leaned closer, whispering secretive words to the boy, away from grown-ups' ears; Uhtred watched the interaction, a soft curious smile reaching him. 

A moment later, she pulled away from him as he nodded to her. She shared a childish wink and lightly poked his nose – a simple tap of her fingertip, earning a chuckle as the child remained attentive to her. 

Ruffling the boy’s hair as she stood back up, Cwen eyed Uhtred. “I wonder what you slipped in her Ladyship’s water for you to have become Lord of this place.” 

Finan let out a choked cough, his breath stuck in his throat at the woman’s sudden comment – the hidden undertone only understood by him and his friend.  

Unfamiliar with the look in Uhtred’s eyes, Cwen moved on and leaned sideways, greeting the rest of the men that quietly stood by their horses. “Hi, boys.” She then shifted her eyes back to her friend. “Wards of yours as well, Lord?” She bore a teasing smirk, the sided upward curve of her lips making the Saxon smile again. 

She quickly followed by looking back at his men. “You can take the horses to the stable boy, and he’ll take care of them while you get acquainted with the village.” She turned to Uhtred once again, already taking a step back. “You, come with me.” 

He did as told and went her way while Finan and the rest went in the opposite direction. 

By her side, he followed her and looked around, taking in the sight of villagers going on about their businesses while children were carefree and running around, playing with each other.  

She let him be for a moment, watching him before looking in front of her again.  

“Have you ever overseen a village before?” 

Tilting his head to his left, he glanced at her before turning away again. “I have.”  

“A village with people, right? Not just an empty patch of mud and grass?” The sided coy look, the sarcasm enlaced in her tone made him chuckle. 

“Yes.” He turned his head again to her, leaving her to do the same as they stopped in their steps. “We were in Cookham for a long time. People liked me there.”  

She softly snickered, a slight snort catching up to her. “Sure. I’ll get those testimony myself if you don’t mind.” With a mischievous wink, she had started walking again, taking steps backwards as he watched her while shaking his head, amused.  

Turning back around, the lightness surrounding them had lowered slightly, though not completely as to dampen the mood. “How long has it been? Since we last saw each other?” She had asked, nostalgia slowly filling as blood cells in her body. 

He did not think long about her inquiry, not having the heart to answer with the truth. “It’s been way too long.” 

“Mhmm.” A small huff from her, parted as a snicker. She then pivoted to him, her tone into her words meant to be light. “You are only saying that to flatter me, Uhtred.” Looking away, her eyes unfocused on the path in front of them as they kept going, almost reaching the finishing point. “I have not crossed your mind since you left. Do not lie.” 

He did not sense anything somber in her pitch, which was what she was going for. She had not been one for sentimentality, trying to portray herself with a more playful demeanor than bereavement. 

Especially to him. 

Knowing him from their past, or at least the younger version of him – the arrogant, restless, fierce, and at times, slightly egotistic Uhtred – was not helping though, his presence stirring a part of her she had buried long ago. 

They had only met after the battle of Edington; losing Iseult to Skorpa, that period of his life, of his youth, had turned hazy due to his grief.  

And so, Cwen’s words were not a lie. Or almost, he believed.  

She might not have been in his everyday thought, and he might have forgotten about her over the years, but the second he saw her again, the second he heard her voice and laid eyes on her – she had not left him, he had noticed, knocking the air out of his chest.  

It was mouth to mouth resuscitation. 

She brought him out of his thoughts, her remarks letting out a deep breath from his lungs.  

“I do not say that to make you feel bad.” A sympathetic smile across her features, she continued. “You are not the only one who’s forgotten us. You were not very memorable.” 

“I did not plague your dreams, then?” Laced with mirth, he eyed her with a little glint discernable in his eyes. 

She played along, always up for a little bit of jest. “Actually, just this once.” She pretended to go deep in thought, her lips pursing in response. “More of a nightmare though.” 

Uhtred arched his brow, curious and waiting for her follow up. 

She lingered in silence a little bit longer – a split second that seemed to dwell forever. She then bit her bottom lip, proceeding to tease her friend. “You had become Lord of a village. It was horrible!” 

Laughing at her words, she watched and quietly followed suit, content with such response at her attempt at humor.  

They reached the hall, Uhtred’s new house, with the place almost empty apart from a handful of people who were sitting in the main room, drinking and making conversation.  

He watched them, quizzical; Cwen sensed he wanted to speak of what they encountered and so, she intervened, softly speaking to him. “Do not worry. Now that you are here, they will not be coming back.” 

She silently greeted the men at the table as she guided Uhtred inside, showing him around. A sigh left her, small – almost soundless.  

He could see, she had come down from her playful behavior and looked to her, intrigued. 

She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to bring herself to glance at him in a more serious manner. She had still been on edge, masked by their backchat, unwilling yet to completely trust him. 

“Uhtred...” She looked for words, the pensive look she bore making him wonder what could have changed between them. “This may not be the home you dreamed of, but it is for the people here. So, please, do care for this village as you did with Cookham and as you would have with Bebbanburg.” 

He remained still, his gaze unwavering as he examined her.  

She had been wary, and it was clearly written across her face.  

He could not decipher if discomfort had run him down, or maybe it was her hues staring right back at him as if she looked for the soul that hid behind his own eyes.  

He silently nodded, glancing quickly around him before turning to her once again. “I promise, I will care for this place.” 

She remained still for a second, taking in his words – the sincerity splayed across his tongue. 

“Mhmm.” She nodded as well, taking a step away from him, her arms behind her back. “I’ll be watching you, Lord.” Emphasizing on the last word had brought back the lighter air, her mocking him with his title, giving him back the upward curves of her lips. 

She turned around and walked away, leaving him to chuckle to himself as he watched her go, his blue eyes lingering on her figure until she was out of sight. 

      “She must have been something...” 

Weeks had passed since Uhtred and his men settled in their new home, taking the reins of overseeing the village – from its people to the borders surrounding the land. 

Though things were quiet, peaceful and content even, Cwen remained on her toes, cautious of his presence; she had been paying close attention to him, watching from afar and exchanging quips and words from time to time, but on the occasions they were distant, she kept her eyes on him – on guard. 

She did not mind the others as they did not seem to have whatever affliction was hitting their Lord, leaving them to be merry on their own and bring some enjoyment around them. 

But for some reason, Uhtred had been the one she could not settle on – whatever hung above him had created dreaded heaviness in her chest. 

And so that’s how she found him, sipping on his ale in front of his fireplace watching the flames dance to the percussing sounds of their crackles.  

To her voice, he turned his head to her. “Who?”  

She took a step closer, gently closing the door behind her. 

“The woman who broke your heart.” 

He turned away, shifting in his seat as he leaned against the back of his chair.  

“What makes you think a woman broke my heart?” 

He had been mourning the end of his relationship with Aethelflaed, his mind overwhelmed by the events leading up to their separation. He had been silent about it – grieving in the dark, not realizing his ache was visible to the people around him.  

“You have that look in your eyes.” 

He huffed, not caring for the intrusion; he turned his head again to her, showing her the slight bothersome gaze he wore. “It is none of your business.” 

She sucked in a breath, rolling her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling, her hands on her hips in annoyance. She then turned to him again with a soft scowl, her head falling slightly sideways. “It is when you are scaring the villagers with that face of yours.” 

For the true nature of her visit, she had received grievances. Words dripped in bourgeoning fear as people came to see her about him, revealing their hesitancy to make contact with the man, partially afraid of him; whatever gripped at him, Uhtred could not see it had been affecting his day to day, his state visible through his mannerism and facial stance. 

She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing as she took a seat next to him; he had been staring at her, not understanding her complaint. 

She softened, gentle for him. “I understand the pain of heartbreak. I know what it does to someone.” She turned to face the fire, unable to meet his gaze just as he caught her profile, her skin timidly glowing against the light. She gathered her breath and spoke again. “Just... don’t let it affect your duty as Lord.” She tilted her head to her right, catching sight of his blues. “You have people who need you, who depend on you to be the lead of their village.”  

He could only nod, agreeing with her words. He took another sip of his ale with his eyes falling onto the cup as he remained silent.  

She let out another breath and stood up, her steps already leading her to the exit. 

“She must have been one hell of a woman...” 

She lingered, slightly leaning against the door as she gave Uhtred one last glance.  

“She is.” His response was somber, nostalgic. He did not turn her way, unable to look at her; he did not have the strength to be held by her gaze.  

Instead, he kept staring at his fire as he followed the flames’ routine, an intimate dance meant just for him. 

He was hurting and it broke her heart.  

She did not push, not wanting to disturb his tormented peace.  

Instead, she quietly walked out, gently closing the door behind her before making her way back to her home, contemplative. 

      The hassle of the people had become background noise as Uhtred and Cwen walked, with the Lady adding insight to the comings and goings of the trades happening by the edge of the village. 

His ears were tickling at the sound of her voice, the vibration seeping through and warmly coating his insides; he chased for it, taking in every single way the words would spill out of her, the syllables smoothly running down her tongue and painting her lips.  

He found himself smiling as he listened to her guide him on the workarounds of the trades happening by the port, the names of the people passing through knowingly spoken by the sweetness in throat. 

Over time, they had been growing closer.  

Cwen took notice of Uhtred’s behavioral change; he had been trying to put his grief behind, sealing his heart tightly against his chest.  

He held his head high, holding his promise to her and wanting to prove he could be counted on, not just as a warrior, but also as a Lord who people could turn to in times of need – as he had been in Cookham. 

As for that night, the subject was never brought up again. Cwen did not push on it, out of irritating him, as well as out of disinterest in the matter. 

But even though she believed he was putting in an effort, it had not stopped the thoughts at the back of her mind, pushing her to remain guarded by his side. She still lent a hand where she could, the villagers still regarding her as their Lady, ignoring the mismatch between the title and her person. 

Uhtred did not mind it; it was fitting to her persona, and found he enjoyed calling her this way – the first time he did, in jest, he had noticed the way her cheeks blushed, her skin turning a shade of red from shyness. 

“You tease too much, Uhtred!”  

“I apologize, Lady.” He was holding back his laughter, loving her fluster. She hit him, a simple slap across his chest, unable to contain her own cackles, making him smile as well. “Stop it!” 

This might have been the moment that changed things between them. 

They could not tell. 

Either way, he tried ignoring whatever sentiment gnawed at him from her presence – for fear of loss again, his heart had decided.  

It proved difficult though, unbeknownst to him. Even sealed in the dark, wanting to remain away from experiencing amorous grief all over again, wonder pricked at him the way a rose pricks at your finger; it had not hurt, but curiosity was holding its own, desperate for some shade under the light. 

They were now standing at the top of the tower overlooking the river. Cwen had been detailing the when’s and where’s from each present boat that lied underneath them; she had not realized Uhtred earned some of the knowledge of Rumcofa’s trade through Finan, the Irishman having studied the routes as well. 

He did not want to interrupt her – so he let her be, staring at her as his subconscious mind shadowed the movements of his hues while they followed her silhouette, observing the way her soft blond locks flowed with the gentle autumn breeze, the way her tongue would subtly lick her lips for refreshment, or how her fingers would pick at her sleeves, pulling them to cover her palms while she had been facing the waters, names of traders spoken with delight.  

His icy blues remained stuck to her, a soft smile picking up at the corner of his lips – unknowingly. 

She leaned against the wooden railing with her arms stretched out as she looked ahead, enjoying the way the light puff of wind gently traipsed through her hair – increasing the floral scent that danced around her. It caught Uhtred’s breath, leaving him to deeply inhale, the fragrance coating his inside in pure contentment. 

His eyes, unfaltering, followed the form of her dress, taking in the subtle ways the thick dark green linen hugged her; it had been mended, noticing the seam along the sleeve of her inner arm. 

“You are not married?” He already knew the answer to his question, as he had not seen her attached to another man since his arrival, nor did he think she was promised to another, his eyes keeping to the gentle re-work of her dress, the different color thread laced intricately and subtly into the existing fabric.  

He could not understand why he was pushed to ask her such an inquiry. 

From the small horizon, she turned her head to him, a mellowing smile to her lips. “No, Lord.” 

The question did not seem to faze her, he thought. But her answer only pushed him into wanting to know more. “I think my father gave up all hope of having me married.” 

He frowned, curious. “What happened?” 

She tugged the inside of her lip, a smirk forming across. She pivoted to lay her back against the railing with her elbows resting on top while turning her head back to him. 

“I bite.” 

He let out a small chortle, making her grin – she had grown used to hearing the quiver of laughter in his voice, not realizing she had grown attached to it, warmth settling across her chest at the sound of it. 

He approached her, leaning sideways against the edge of the tower, his expression softening. “And your mother? Is she faring well?” 

He had not seen the other woman, making him wonder if she had remained in Cetreht with only Cwen moving to Rumcofa. He remembered his initial encounter with her mother, the woman having quickly grown fond of him – which not all Saxon women had. Cwen’s mother had been one of the rare exceptions where she used to push her daughter to him as a prospect wife. 

Her smile faded, avoiding his stare as she looked in front of her, her eyes reaching the village. “She... passed on a few years ago.” Her shoulders slightly depleted as a heavy breath escaped her. “With my siblings away with their own families, I am the only one left.” 

“No children, then?” He did not mean to pry, but he wanted to know more, to re-discover a lost friendship that had been pushed into the mud long ago. She may have had a child tucked somewhere in the village he had yet to meet, he thought. She could still be holding some parts of her life secrets to him, secrets for her to keep her own. 

“No. Not for me.” Relief might not have been what he felt, but he let a sigh out. Silent to her ears, she gave him a sympathetic smile before she pushed herself to stand up, taking the downwards steps to leave the tower. 

As they reached the bottom, he was about to speak again when they got interrupted by another woman looking for her. 

“Cwen!” The intruder was almost out of breath, her feet having forced her into a run. “It’s time!” 

Before Cwen got the chance to answer, Uhtred intervened, standing taller – his stature almost imposing to both ladies. “I am Lord here. Anything that needs assistance, I can take care of.” 

The Danish woman stared at Uhtred, growing impatient. “Sorry, Lord, but I do not think you can help with this one.” 

Cwen was restraining a snicker as she stood in the middle, watching the duo close to battling it out.  

Uhtred eyed his friend before looking back to the other woman. “Why do you require Cwen, then?” 

Cwen looked at the woman. “Ingrith, you can tell him.” She spoke with an amused grin on her face, holding back her laughter.  

Ingrith sighed, looking towards Uhtred. “We need a midwife.” She spoke with a straight face. “We have a woman in labor, and she has requested Cwen’s presence. Unless you know how to birth a child, Lord, I believe you are not required for such task.” 

Uhtred’s face dropped, slightly embarrassed while Cwen giggled again. He tried not to let Ingrith’s words rough him up and instead looked back at Cwen, swallowing his fluster. “You are excused.” 

She was still grinning, her voice sweetly speaking his name. “Thank you, Uhtred.”  

She started walking away, giving him one more head turn his way. “Later, then?” She had sounded hopeful, almost. 

He nodded and watched her as she took Ingrith’s arm in her own and left, both ladies laughing between themselves. 

Uhtred had not moved, entranced by Cwen as she gave him another last look, a simple glance as she tilted her head before disappearing to the other side of the walls. 

“Everything alright?” Finan having left the traders and found his friend, stood next to him, following the line of vision the other man was plagued with. 

“Yes, just a birth.” 

Finan frowned, paying closer attention to the other woman. “Who’s the lady with Cwen?” 

Uhtred eyed him, a look of surprise on his face. “Has someone finally caught your eye, Finan?” 

The Irishman chuckled, shaking his head. “I could say the same to you.” He patted him on the back, knowing Uhtred had grown smitten with Cwen.  

      “Sulking again, I see?” She was leaning against the entrance to his home, finding him sitting in front of a warm fire, ale in his hand. 

He smiled at the sound of her voice, the softness of her words sweeping gently through his ears. 

He did not answer her question – instead, he turned to her, changing the subject. “How is she?” 

“She is well. Just tired, as any woman would be.” Night had fallen by the time Cwen helped deliver the newborn. The village was quiet, safe for the household that welcomed the baby into their home. 

It had been an arduous delivery, but the results had been worth it. 

“And the babe?” 

Cwen smiled, appreciative of the care he placed in his queries. “The babe is well. A healthy baby boy.” 

Uhtred acknowledged her answer with a nod before he turned and leaned against the back of his chair. 

Carefully closing the door behind her, she quietly approached him, taking a seat by his side before pouring herself a cup. 

He did not mind her presence – feeling a little better already. Tension would wash away whenever they were near; she had turned out to become one of the very few people he kept close to his heart. 

“Uhtred.” The way his name spilled out, cautiously and caringly – as if she was afraid to break him; he kept it, already carrying it within him, the letters to her cords tied to his ribcage. 

He met her gaze, noticing the worry etched across her features. “Do you want to win her back?” 

A sadness across his lips, he felt his heart squeeze just a little bit at the thought of Aethelflaed. 

He sighed, his head falling against the top of his seat. “I cannot... She has...” 

She quickly caught on, the syllable of his response striking her like lightning, the realization of his loss reaching the pit of her stomach. “She did not choose you.” 

He tried to hold his lips upwards. “Something like that.” But she could see he was only doing it for her, as if he was attempting to hide behind it – like a shield. 

“I am sorry.” She looked away, her mind swirling in front of the hearth while her fingers traced the cup that rested on her lap.  

She was lost in thought, trying to find ways to lift his spirits.  

She did not know who this woman was, but she swore to herself that if they ever crossed path, she would not be so gentle towards her. A bitter aftertaste had simmered at the back of her throat to that imagery. 

Cwen did not understand the strange feeling that boiled in her; unfamiliar and bothersome, she tried to let it go, her focus placed on the feel of her fingers against her cup. 

She bit the inside of lip, speaking once again where her soft voice carried intimately within their space. “Have you thought about being with someone else?” 

The puzzling look on his face pushed her to proceed with what infested her mind. 

“I don’t mean giving your heart or to marry, even.” A small sigh left her as she leaned against her seat, gripping tightly onto the ale on her lap. “But to share your bed with another woman. To ease the suffering of your grief and simply find yourself some enjoyment.” 

He fixated on her, taken aback by her words. He placed his cup on the table behind him, before tilting back to Cwen.  

“It is not often Saxon women tell men to hump whoever they please.” He sported a smirk on his face as he spoke, inciting a chuckle on her end. She got up from her seat, placing the mug back on the table, ready to leave – the grin unable to leave her cheeks. “I did not mean to pry. It is just...” 

A small huff of laughter escaped her, cringing to herself as she pinched her nose bridge, regretting bringing up such a subject. 

She took a moment, all the while Uhtred watching her patiently – he found it too amusing, relishing in the way she seemed to be looking for tact in such conversation.  

“Have you seen the way the women in the village look at you? Married or not, they are all wanting to climb you.” Her arms crossed over her chest, she was leaning on her hip, imitating the way his lips curved into a smirk – picking up on his enjoyment of the situation. 

He tempted his chance, the way she phrased her words pushing him to his feet. 

His figure – looking taller than usual, she thought, loomed over her despite the distance that separated them. He did not give up the sly grin on his face, pursuing the conversation. “And what of you? Do you want to climb me as you so eloquently said?” 

She suddenly felt unable to swallow. Her throat dried as his eyes intently stared at her, leaving her frozen in her spot.  

She cursed herself at her inability to leave, as if he had been holding her by a rope, tying her to him. She was taken by the way he seemed to have lowered the levity of their talk, everything shifting to a more serious undertone. 

If there was a woman he would tempt Fate with, it would be with her. It was ringing in his ears, his want of her growing by the day, his need to have her close etching itself right between his ribs – like a stomach hungry, desperate for nourishment. 

She rolled her eyes, attempting to hide her blushing cheeks. She had been denying the way she felt for him, the way her body would silently call out for him, in an attempt to fall under lustful bliss. 

The smugness on his face was not helping her; the teasing smile made her heart flutter. 

Approaching her, Cwen tilted her head upwards as he towered over her. 

The air grew thicker by the second, her lungs begging to grasp what it could as it laid heavy under her chest. 

It had been the way he stared at her – how the blues of his irises tightly wrapped around her, like furs keeping her warm, lowering any inhibition that could ignite – inciting a bold response to roll down her tongue, while grasping onto the fallen threads of the playfulness of their exchange. 

“I don’t climb, Lord. Men usually do the lifting for me.” 

“They do?” 

“Or women, if you prefer.” He chuckled, taken by the matter-of-fact light tone she had chosen. “I tend to be swept off my feet.” 

She had no expectation from him for her words; it should have continued as their regular banter, the swift back and forth between them. 

“Like this?” The tone of his voice dropped, the vibration pulling her seductively. 

She did not realize how close he had gotten; his breath swept against her own as his eyes cast downwards towards her, inspecting every spec of the darker blue that colored her orbs. She lost her breath for a moment, unable to comprehend the unraveling of steps as they overtook her, controlling the strings attached to her veins running across her body. 

He lifted her up and wrapped her legs around him before sitting back down, placing her on his lap with her legs by his sides, her toes grazing the ground. 

The tip of his nose brushed against hers, a tickle to her skin as her breath stuttered.  

Slowly grasping at reality, she frowned while trying to catch up in the race between her body, her mind and her heart; all elements moving at separate speeds.  

“Uhtred...” She was uncertain, her heart beating loudly between her ears, she could barely hear herself think. She tried focusing on her breathing, but all that she could do was take in the way his hands felt on her waist, his fingers digging into her as he observed her, waiting for her to speak.  

She placed her hands on his chest, a silent motion to stop him – though, it might have been to stop herself. 

“Am I really the woman you want to share your bed with?” Gathering her courage, she finally looked him in the eyes, the icy shade of his hues leaving her breathless. “There are better options in the whole of this place-” His hands trailed up her back until he cupped her cheeks, his thumb softly grazing her bottom lip. She tried to ignore the gesture, forcing her voice to push beyond her tongue. “I can introduce you to-”  

He cut her off by leaning to capture her lips, silently answering her question and sweeping the air out of her lungs into his own. 

She did not push him back, nor did she pull away to stop. 

She was slowly succumbing to the feel of his lips gliding against her own, the feel of him pressed against her, her body growing warmer by the second.  

A soft frown rested across her face as confusion settled under her chest; lips lingered against one another until she finally slowly pulled away from him, her limbs starving. 

Rendered speechless, she could only feel the flavor of him numbing her tongue as a bittersweet aftertaste. 

They did not move, as if suspended, the strings of gravity pulling and tugging at each other for closeness. 

She leaned her forehead to his, her gaze on his lips. 

She then quietly licked her own before tilting closer until he caught up to her, kissing her fervently. 

His hands wandered her body, retracing the curves hiding under her clothes. The strength of his hold weakened her knees; imagining the ways he could embrace her against him, the ways he could make her enfold within him, fitting every part to one another, had made her dizzy. The thoughts generated a soft moan between tongues, a need to make them come true overtaking her senses. 

With a mind of their own, her fingers reached for his shirt, tugging at the fabric as they pulled him closer, the rumbling of hunger tremoring at the tip. 

They stopped once again, heavy breathing escaping them both.  

She took this moment to remove his shirt, leaving his upper body bare. 

Her fingers rested on his cheeks, tracing down to his lips and further down, looking over the scars he had accumulated over the years. 

She bit down her bottom lip, swollen, as pictures of battles crossed her mind in a race.  

She was brought out of thought when she felt him tugging at her dress; his hands on her shoulders, he pulled down the fabric gently, her sleeves uncovering her arms until she sat exposed to him. 

A chill ran down her spine from the tepid air in the room, the fire burning her back.  

The softening beige of her locks rested around her shoulders, caressing the swell of her breasts. He gazed at her, making her hold her breath in wait, unable to read him. Would he reject her? Want her less?  

Without turning away, his knuckles grazed her skin, leaving her to silently shudder under his touch, her lips parted. 

Uhtred wrapped his arms around her, pulling her upwards before he leaned against her upper body, his lips wetting her chest as he placed teasing kisses along and across her breasts. 

Her head fell back at the sensation, grabbing onto him as his teeth nibbled in the valley between, as if to mark her as his. 

Her scent intoxicated him – the soft floral aroma, the hinted mint interlaced with roses, had left him lingering, breathing her in with all his might as he savored every inch he could taste. She shivered under his tongue, adding to his delight.  

He then reached her collarbone, his teeth gently clashing against the bone underneath her skin. She hissed in response just as he softly tickled her, placing peppered kisses along her shoulders. 

He gathered her hair to one side of her neck, swiftly and quietly, and buried his face in, caressing her skin with every press of his mouth to the pinching of his teeth – famished. 

She sighed, the warmth growing in the pit of her stomach, inch by inch.  

She closed her eyes, focusing on the way he toyed with the column of her neck; being held so close to him, with the friction between their bare chests, how slowly he moved – he enjoyed the slight torture he was putting her through, feeling her impatience slowly growing as it crawled through her blood stream, pumping her vessels with haste. 

He repeated the motion on the other side, pushing her locks away before he nestled against her neck again, cherishing her. 

She hung onto him with her nails biting into his back, softly sighing into the air by his side; her sense of smell heightened, tasting the hint of marjoram – the mild mint and the sweetening woody scent – at the tip of her tongue, thirst budding in her mouth. 

Sitting on his lap, her legs parted on each side of him – in retaliation, she teased him, pressing herself further against him. She earned another nip at her neck, his muted groaned masked behind his teeth. She rolled her hips again, a simple faint movement that made his throat rumble, his muscle twitch in want. 

His hand wandered to her hair, gently grabbing a handful from the back of her head, pulling away to look at her; meeting her gaze, he was stricken by the way her eyes swallowed him. 

He was caught by the depth of her pupils, unable to turn away – enthralled by such a palette. 

He could swim through these waters, drown in them and still feel like he was floating, the drops hydrating his scarred flesh anew. 

The silence behind her eyes, the desire imbued across every wave, had taken the air out of his lungs, his chest unmoving at the sight. 

The ache, emergent, hastened his movements; letting go of her hair, he went for her dress, hiking her skirt from the bottom while he remained glued to her, his stare unwavering. Resting it around her hips, her thighs were now exposed to his touch. 

A stuttered breath left her to the feeling of his warm palms on her while thoroughly rubbing her skin; movements to ensure she remained carved into his hands. 

She noticed a coy glimmer in his blues; she reached for them, her fingertips softly tracing them before leaning to press her forehead against his, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  

She was parched for his lips, the taste of them having lingered like a craving unable to be sated. His lower lip between her teeth, she gave a light tug before kissing him, catching his breath with the air of his lungs weakening her knees. 

In a trance, relishing in the gluttonous caress of his tongue with her own, she had not felt the tightening grip to her body. 

He rolled her hips, wanting to toy with her in reprisal from just a few moments earlier; she gasped at the sensation, her mouth apart between his, her eyes attached to his own with yearning stitched within her hues.  

He repeated the movement, controlling the motion sensuously as his fingers dug into her flesh. He then pulled her in again, tugging at her mane as he kissed her fervently, her chest pressed firmly against his as his other arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her in place, his muscles molded into her back. 

Nestling in his embrace, she reached for the curve of his jaw, her nails faintly scratching his cheeks with her thumbs retracing his lips. She hung onto him, the chafing of their bodies causing her to shiver as he rolled her hips – firmer than the last, hungrier. 

A breathless moan fell into his mouth, her jaw slack as he repeated the motion, chasing his own incipient pleasure, the claws scraping at the base of his spine; it was the reaction stitched across her features, the wanton look on her face that left him besotted.  

Her fingertips traipsed down his chest as she slightly pulled away from him. Reaching his breeches, she started unlacing them while keeping her eyes on him – he followed her with a locked gaze, unmoving. 

Freeing her from his hold, he reached for her hands, leaving her to think he would aid in her quest. 

Instead, he caressed them before sliding his palm forward, hiding under the scrunched-up skirt that laid around her hips. 

An instant gasp out of her lungs, the feel of his callous fingers nestled between her thighs with his left hand placed at the junction of her pelvis. 

He was toying with her, the fluttered touch grazing her warmth as he watched her intently, taking in every single trait of pleasure that echoed across her face. 

Her knuckles whitened as they held onto the laces of his pants, her strength ready to break them from their confine. The lump in her throat remained stuck, her vocal cords silently shaking at the heat that seeped from his touch. 

He held onto his willpower with all his might, wanting first to have her crumble under him, to taste first such divinity coating his digits. He slid in deeper, his thumb circling her apex while his finger stroked her wantonly; her head fell on his shoulder as her hips chased for his strokes, instinctively rolling her body against him. He lingered in his pacing, purposely, famished by the soft whimpers that left her mouth for his ears – silently begging him, pleading for relief. 

And the more he could hear her, the more her faint voice – the musical strings tying him with every note infused into his veins, blood pumping and coursing with quickened steps – had been inebriating him, impatience was flourishing, its bones and flesh taking hold as it stirred restless in the pit of his stomach.  

He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, nipping at her skin and breathing her in; her scent incited a soft groan hidden behind his throat, increasing his pace as he stroked her continuously in such a way her knees were starting to shake – he felt her tremble against him and it only hardened his resolve, to have her fall apart at his touch, to be the reason she needed relief, to watch her and know he was the cause of such desperation. 

With whatever strength resided in her, she started undoing his trousers; she pulled her head away from him, her gaze cast down towards her actions. Glancing at the way his hand and wrist remained concealed under her dress made her shudder, stopping for a moment as her teeth slightly took in her lower lip. She met his gaze again, trying to fall back into focus while his tantalizing ministrations steadied at a now faster pace, the smirk ghostly settling across his face. 

He felt himself slowly unraveling, simmering from the bottom as his body grew warmer against her.  

He was ready to quit mid-task, simply wanting to undress and take her, to feel her take him and melt at her touch. 

She struggled to voice any sort of comprehensible words – she went for his mouth, his lips clashing with hers as she kissed him again, the gesture feeding into the thrill residing between her thighs. The look of concentration on her face, taking in the way his fingers grazed and curled inside her, shook at the back of her throat as they reached for her moans over and over again.  

He swallowed her sound, the euphoric sob warmly settling under his bones. 

A chill then ran up her legs, the sudden loss of contact forcing his name out of her mouth in complaint. 

Her chest expanded from her heavy breaths, a frown ghosting over her brows as she fell into his eyes.  

Uhtred said nothing as his fingers – slick, moved away from her; another whimper left her from annoyance, void intruding and unwanted. 

Stare locked in, she was stuck into the blue of his eyes as her body moved to his whim, his hand resettling her on his lap. His pants had slid down far enough to feel her wet and dripping above him, skin to skin. 

They did not look away from each other as the air thickened around them – opaque in its composition; labored breaths grew, his fingers digging into her hips with a slow shift.  

He used his strength to slightly lift her up until he was guiding her back to his lap as she sunk onto him, ever so slowly. 

She grabbed the back of his chair, her nails grasping at the wood as shivers ran down her spine, the air in her lungs dancing into her chest.  

Her mouth ajar, voiceless, to every sweet inch she could take. The soft groan rumbling at the edge of his throat had only added to the overwhelmed sensation that struck her.  

And he had watched her, enamored by the way she was blissfully taking him, by the way his name had finally reached her lips again – pronounced with longing etched across her tongue. The tremors of her muscles echoed, leaving him to feel every spec of raised skin against his, from the way her breasts stroked his chest, to the way her thighs had tightened on his sides, clutching at her seat. 

Joint hips, he stilled, shuddering under her touch as her arms gathered around him, gently caressing the nape of his neck; he whispered her name, the sound inciting control over her body.  

They were catching their breaths, the suspense of imminent ecstasy nipping at their flesh.  

The minute had hung in the air, in wait – Cwen needed her moment, her limbs adjusting to his presence, to the way he was buried inside her. The pinch of discomfort had faded, heat coiling under her ribs, trapped and dissipating ferociously throughout her blood stream in perfervid greed. 

Uhtred caressed her, gingerly pushing her locks away from her face. She leaned into his touch, kissing the heel of his palm, her teeth grazing the skin – slowly, lingering almost. His fingers lost in her hair, he pulled her in and captured her lips with his own, laying claim to her in an unbridled manner. 

Feeling her throb around him, he was gentle at first as he started thrusting. The rhythm of her hips, rolling – moving in want – was but a taste, a flicker of ember before the fire was set ablaze. A stuttered moan whispered under her breath, rushed an electrical spark to course through his veins, heating his skin with beads of sweat coating his body. 

He was merciful, giving her what she was desiring as he controlled her hips; he was hypnotized by the way her body fitted with his – every muscle knitted together in such sweet harmony – by the way she was taking him, her soft cries thrumming under his chest, rushing down to him.  

Unabashed, he whispered dirty nothings in her ear. The muttering of his words, as he declared how perfectly she molded around him, how enraptured he was by the warmth set between their hips, how starved she was for him – coaxed her teeth into his shoulder, her body shifting accordingly as she gradually hastened her pace, the percussion of his voice leaving her flushed and breathless. 

In response, her tongue was only capable of whispering his name repeatedly, a mantra stuck at the back of her throat as every letter to his lustful lullaby coming out of his mouth came to her in waves. 

The rawness of the act, the unadulterated pleasure seeping to their core – she cursed under her breath, her head falling backwards; she was overwhelmed, her mind clouded by the way he was stripping down her senses. 

She clenched around him at the feel of his fingers finding their way back to her, squirming under her skirt. The added pressure faltered her movements for a moment, getting re-acquainted with the way he toyed with her pearl; her pupils blown, rapture pulsing erratically in her gut, scratched into the marrow of her bones for sweet release. 

Her gaze fixated on him, his icy blues captured her in a haze, in complete wonder. Two oceans collided, dancing side by side as the soft waves wrapped them in a waltz, the caring movements gliding through seamlessly. 

Swallowed into each other’s shades, submerged under the depth of such color, he found himself never tiring at the way she was looking at him. 

Into the months he had settled in Rumcofa, he had stopped denying the way he felt about her – how attracted he had grown to become. He cared for her despite still loving Aethelflaed. 

She would always be holding a part of him, but the woman in his arms, the one that clung to him for dear life as they chased joint ecstasy, had been plaguing his mind since arriving in the village – and he was not good at hiding it. Finan had teased him whenever he caught his friend making coquettish glances at Cwen. For Uhtred, it was not thought about it much – the gazes having intricately become part of their dynamic. 

Yet tonight, drinking her ocean eyes into his own, drinking the cries of pleasure that rippled through their bodies, he wondered if it was time to truly move on from his past, to hang on to the woman who could give him what he wanted. 

Peace and companionship. 

      The growing winter sun was reaching him, pulling him out of his slumber.  

He stretched his arm towards the other side of the bed in the hopes of pulling her back against him. 

He found it empty instead.  

It woke him up. 

He saw the void next to him and pushed himself up, resting on his elbows as he looked around his room; her clothes were nowhere in sight. 

A routine that had been ongoing for the past few weeks – Cwen had taken the habit of waking up early and sneaking out of Uhtred’s home, not wanting to spark gossip amongst the villagers. 

Such a dance had to remain private, an intimate affair between the two friends. 

From the crack of dawn to nightfall, the steps to their serenade had secrecy involved – from the illusion of normalcy in the public eye, pretending as if no strings tied them together, as if Uhtred had not spent the better part of the previous night with his head between her thighs, in the throes of sweet euphoria. 

And as much as they tried to remain subtle, as much as they tried to stay away, tempting danger with lingering stares and knowing looks shared from a distance, subtle smiles hiding behind their cheeks – the false imagery did not go unnoticed to their closest allies. 

And as much for their attempt to remain in the dark, for their relationship resuming only behind closed doors – as much as Uhtred and Cwen cared for one another, their hearts were kept at bay, unable to fully crumble under the weight of their emotions. 

The companionship at their feet was all it was – two people seeking warmth in each other’s embrace, away from the loneliness that pried into their daily lives while ignoring the faint screams singing in the back of their minds. 

They were content with how things were – it was meant to stay easy, matters of the heart to be caged away under their bones. 

But for Cwen, a shadow gnawed at her, unable to hide the way his heartbreak tore at her now that she was sharing his bed – it was worry filling her, frustrating her almost on the days Uhtred seemed to have fallen back into his old ways, on the days where his grief had guided his movements. 

Her own grief sometimes haunted her like a ghost in the night – but with Uhtred around, having him by her side had resolved the ache she had been carrying on her shoulders. 

It had created tension at times, a budding argument between them at the thoughts of their pasts hovering between the sheets. 

“Can I not want you, and still love someone else?” He had protested, leaving her to sigh while looking at him with her frustration dying down, knowing he was right. 

“Yes, you can.” She held herself back from him, her arms wrapped around herself, trying to hide away from him. “Just... I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t look for her – whoever she is – in my bed.” 

He nodded, agreeing with her complaints. “That’s fair.” He tried to lighten the mood, reaching out for her, his fingers grazing the fabric of her dress. 

“Uhtred.” His name was heavy on her tongue. “I mean it.” She ignored his attempt at touching her, needing to get her words out. “I’m fine with whatever this is, truly, but please do not think I am her. Do not hold me and care for me thinking you are holding and caring for her.”  

He looked at her, attempting to approach her again as he caressed her cheek, his knuckles stroking her skin in silent suckling affection.  

She sighed, closing her eyes as the warmth of his touch soothed her.  

“I know who you are, Cwen.” She silently met his irises; he held onto her saddening gaze, desperate to wash it away. “And you are right. As much as I miss her, I do not invite her in my bed, or in yours.” He leaned closer, tilting her head up with his forefinger, closely whispering to her. “It’s just us.” 

He gently pressed his lips against her own, kissing her with softness lingering into his touch – an attempt to ease her ache. 

He then pulled away, just far enough to still feel the tickle of her lips. “I will only ever want to please you.” He smiled to her, his try at seducing her – leaving her to chuckle as she broke away from his embrace. 

“Then you still have work to do, Lord.” She patted his cheek, teasingly, and managed to back away before he could catch her, leaving him to look at her dumbfounded to her comment where the sound of her sweet laughter echoed within the walls of his home. 

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

xoxo

taglist @justanother-sihtricgirlie

[persephones-journey]

It was Rare, I was There

Just a one shot about Uhtred and an OC ... and knifeplay....

Listen... I am not an Uhtred girlie but... Man, can get it... Sometimes lol

Eadburg sat in her dining room eyeing the empty chair at the head of the table.

It was where her husband use to sit.

He did not dine anymore.

No, he laid in a wooden casket outside of the walls of the estate, dead, his body rotting away.

Eadburg ran the estate now, for her son was much too young and she refused to allow her daughter to be bethrothed, even if every single man who rode through said at eight, she needed to think of these things.

“Lady,” her head house guard said as he walked into the room. He bowed. “Riders headed our way.”

She sighed. She rubbed her brow and nodded. “Can you tell who it is?” she asked. He eyed her. “Edmund?” she asked.

He nodded. “I believe it is Uhtred, the Dane-Slayer,” he said.

Eadburg's heart pounded in her chest. Memories broke forth from the dam she had built around them in her mind.

“You taste like sunshine,” Uhtred whispered as his tongue licked her inner thigh, cleaning her wetness away. “I will need to bury my head in you more often,” he looked up at her, his ice blue eyes filled with desire.

Eadburg knew she should not be here. She was meant to be in the palace, serving Alfred's widow and Edward's new wife.

Not servicing Uhtred, the Dane-Slayer.

“Please,” she whispered as he stood. She saw his cock out of his trousers, ready for her. She had already had it in her mouth, in her hand, but it would seem Uhtred was finally ready to complete her ruination and take her virginity as well.

“Shh,” he whispered as he kissed her. “I swear, I will not hurt you.”

And he thrusted deep into her...

“YOU SWORE NEVER TO HURT ME!” Eadburg screamed as she shoved Uhtred.

He grabbed her wrists and yanked her close to him. His ice blue eyes cold as they looked at her. “And I didn't.”

“You liar,” she spat at him. “You have hurt me here, right now. Telling me you have moved on.”

“I have,” he insisted. “It is not my fault that you let yourself believe we could be more.”

Eadburg looked at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. The pain tore at her heart. She swallowed it, deep within her. Along with any words she had planned to tell him about the babe she carried.

His babe.

“Lady Eadburg,” Edmund's voice pulled her out of her memories. “Do you wish to let them in?”

She nodded. “I do, Edmund,” she answered. She stood. “Allow them to enter the courtyard. I will go and tell the children to stay in their rooms,” she said.

“Do you not trust them, lady?” Edmund asked.

Eadburg looked at him. She shook her head. “Some of the men, yes, but others,” she thought of Uhtred, “no, I do not trust them at all.”

Edmund nodded and she turned and left the room. She walked down the halls towards the nursery where her two children, Edla, her daughter and, Cenhelm, her son. They were all she had left in the world. Her husband had been killed in Aegelesburg along with his eldest son, which left little Cenhelm as the heir and lord of the estate. Aethelflaed, the new Lady of Mercia, had granted Eadburg custody of her son and daughter and a parchment allowing her to run the estate until her son became of age.

Eadburg was under no illusions though, she knew she was not really safe. A piece of paper would not stop men for taking her son or daughter, kidnapping them away in the hopes and stealing her land, her home.

She would keep them safe.

Even from warriors she had known for years.

“Momma, shouldn't you be eating?” Edla asked as Eadburg leaned in the doorway of the rooms.

She took in her daughter's ice blue eyes and dark hair. She was almost a perfect picture of Uhtred. It hurt at times to look at her but Eadburg would never let her daughter know it.

“I ate already, love,” she said smiling. She walked into the room and stood behind Cenhelm, as the young boy ate his meal. She stroked his dark hair, the only thing he shared with his sister and her. She leaned down and kissed his head. “Visitors have arrived and I-.”

“You want us to stay here,” Edla sighed. She got up and walked over to Eadburg and wrapped her arms around her waist. She was tall for her age; something else she got from Uhtred. “You wish to protect us,” she muttered.

Eadburg nodded. “I do,” she answered. She leaned down and kissed Edla on the forehead. “I do not trust these men.”

“Everyone you trust already lives here,” Cenhelm said as he hung his head upside down to look at them. Eadburg saw his dark brown eyes looking at her. She sighed and patted the four year old on the cheek.

“Yes, Cen, everyone I trust already lives here,” she answered. “Now sit probably before you hurt yourself.”

“Yes, Momma,” he answered.

“All right,” Edla said. “We will stay here,” she added.

Eadburg nodded. She stroked her daughter's hair. “Good,” she kissed her cheek. “I love you, my sweet.”

“I love you too, Momma,” Edla answered.

“I luv you too!” Cenhelm exclaimed his mouth filled with bread.

Eadburg chuckled. She pulled away from Edla and turned towards Cenhelm. She kissed him on the cheek as well. He laughed as she tickled and pinched his side. She pulled away and walked to the doorway. She turned back and watched Edla sit beside Cenhelm and the two of them laughing together.

One would never think they had separate fathers.

Eadburg took a slow breath and closed the door. It was time to go face her past.

***

Uhtred dismounted from his horse and walked over to the cart. He looked over the side and saw Athelstan huddled in Finan's cloak and wool blankets. Finan sat beside the boy and Uhtred saw the Irishman stroke Athelstan's dark hair.

“How is he?” Uhtred asked, knowing it would do them no good to have the son of the king die while they were moving him to safety.

“He fell asleep a while ago,” Finan answered. “He said he was not hungry,” he added as he continued to stroke the boy's hair.

Uhtred could see the worry on Finan's face; the Irishman had bonded quite fiercely with the boy. So had Sihtric. Uhtred nodded.

“Well, hopefully, the lord of this estate can offer us shelter here while Athelstan recovers,” Uhtred turned, “Osferth, you have enough herbs or will you-.”

“I may have to make a trip to the local market, depending on what the lord has in their household,” Osferth answered as he dismounted.

“If you wait for the lord to give you permission, you will be waiting a very long time,” a voice echoed in the courtyard.

Uhtred felt a chill roll down his spine. He saw Finan frown, meaning that he had not schooled his features as much as he had hoped. He took a slow breath and turned around.

Walking towards him was a ghost from his past. A love he had pushed aside to have Aethelflaed.

Eadburg, third daughter of an alderman of Mercia. She had been sent to Wessex to serve Aelswith when Alfred grew sicker, and she was also a friend to Aethelflaed when Aethelflaed took refuge in Wessex from Aethelred on occasion.

She had become a friend to Aethelflaed and Uhtred had even seen her laughing in the company of Finan and Osferth at times.

He had been grieving from losing Gisela. So, when she had whispered words of comfort to him, he had turned and kissed her. And a kiss had lead to more.

That more had lead to Uhtred breaking her heart, and lying to himself about his own feelings, while he went off and bedded Aethelflaed.

“Eadburg,” he said.

“That is Lady Eadburg to you, Uhtred,” she stated coldly.

Finan sighed. “Out of all the estates in Mercia,” he muttered.

Uhtred ignored him and turned his attention completely towards Eadburg. She was beautiful, even then; when she was looking at him wishing him dead.

“Lady Eadburg,” he said softly and carefully. “I would ask you give shelter to myself and my men for a few days. We have a boy with us, who is sick and needs time to recover,” he stated.

She frowned. She walked closer and towards the cart. She smiled when she saw Finan. “Finan,” she said, her voice filled with happiness, “you are looking well,” she said.

Uhtred turned and saw Finan nod at her and smirked. “Lady, you are looking ravishing as always,” he said with a wink.

Eadburg snorted. “I see you are still a flirt, Finan,” Finan laughed and Uhtred felt jealousy course through him as Eadburg chuckled as well. She looked into the cart more. “Who is this boy?” she asked.

“Athelstan,” Osferth answered as he walked over to Eadburg. Again, Eadburg had a smile for Osferth. “Lady,” he bowed his head, “he is King Edward's first born son,” he added softly.

Uhtred heard the curses Eadburg muttered. She turned and looked at him. “You brought Edward's bastard to my doorstep?” she demanded.

“In my defence, lady, I did not know it was your doorstep,” he said carefully.

Eadburg eyed him. “Your men and the boy can stay. You, however,” she stepped closer, “I think you should sleep outside the gate. I might provide you a blanket.”

Uhtred stepped closer to her. He saw her hand reached down to her belt but he glanced back up at her face. “Lady Eadburg,” he stepped closer to her, “perhaps you could move on from our past. After all, you are married and I doubt your husband would be happy to see his wife acting like a common whore.”

He heard Finan sigh. “If she kills ya, lord, I am telling Lady Aethelflaed ya deserved it,” he muttered.

Uhtred glanced at Finan and it was his mistake; he underestimated just how angry Eadburg was at him. When he turned back to look at her, he hissed as he felt cold steel against his neck. He looked down and saw that she had a dagger, with a large ruby stone on it's pommel, held up against his neck. He looked at her eyes.

And all he saw was cold rage.

“My husband, lord Uhtred, was recently killed by the Danes. He took his older son with him and I lost both of them. I am holding this estate and running it for my little son, who is four, all the while trying to stop men from suggesting it is time I betrothed my daughter, who is barely older than her brother. So, lord, if you wish to call me names, continue to do so, but know that it is I who run this estate and I have no husband to answer to,” she stated her voice cold as stone.

Silence echoed around them. Uhtred stared into her eyes. He tried to see the girl he had once known; once loved. He couldn't see her anymore.

He wondered if that was his doing. If him breaking her heart had torn away a part of herself; the soft, kind part that he had fallen for.

“Lady,” Osferth said, his voice so soft and gentle as he stepped beside Uhtred, “Lord Uhtred meant no offence. He is worried about Athelstan and we have been travelling and-.”

Uhtred hissed as he felt the dagger press a tad deeper into his neck. “Do you always let your men apologize for you?” she asked.

“Only Osferth,” Uhtred muttered. “He is the only one it seems who would not like to see me gutted like a fish by you.”

He heard Finan chuckle. “Aye, well, baby monk is soft like that.”

“Do you apologize, Lord Uhtred?” Eadburg asked.

Uhtred looked at her, her once welcoming bright grey eyes were now cold and stormy. He swallowed and knew that she would cut him. Finan might not think she would but form where Uhtred stood, he could see that she truly would slit his throat if he said the wrong thing.

“I do, lady,” he whispered. “I apologize for my crude remarks, I meant no harm,” he added.

She snorted. “I doubt that,” she muttered. She pulled her dagger away. “Come, Finan, I will show you where you can bring the boy to stay. You, Osferth, and Sihtric are welcomed to stay in the little cottage I have beside the main manor house as well. It is well maintained.”

“And I?” Uhtred asked.

Eadburg looked at him. “I told you where you were staying, lord. The barn has an extra side room. I am sure you will enjoy it.”

And with that, she turned and walked back towards the main house. Uhtred turned and saw Finan climbing out of the cart. He lifted Athelstan in his arms and held the boy close.

“Uhtred-,” he started.

Uhtred held up his hand and shook his head. “Go, stay in the little cottage. I will give her some time to cool and go plead my case again,” he looked around and saw servants and men watching, “and perhaps when most of her people are asleep. I will have a serious conversation with her.”

Finan snorted. “Ya are going to end up with that dagger in ya chest, lord,” he muttered. “I know what an angry scorned woman looks like, and Eadburg looked scarier,” he added.

Uhtred patted Finan on the shoulder. “I can handle Eadburg.”

Sihtric snorted. “Famous last words,” he muttered as he walked by.

Uhtred watched them go. He turned and saw Osferth watching him. “Please be nice to her,” Osferth whispered. “She is a kind lady and I would not want her to be hurt more when we leave.”

Uhtred grabbed Osferth's shoulder. “I do not wish to hurt her either. I am just trying to make sure that we can all get along while we stay here.”

Osferth gave him a look. “You said that last time right before you broke her heart and Lady Aethelflaed arranged for her to be married off,” he said. He looked down and glanced back up at Uhtred with a sad look on his face. “She was kind before, lord and now,” he shrugged, “I do not see that kindness any longer.”

Uhtred let Osferth walk away. He closed his eyes and cursed. Osferth was right. Eadburg's kindness was gone and Uhtred had a feeling deep down that he was the cause.

He felt the urge to fix it.

***

Eadburg sat in the chair by the fire in the hall. She was in her thin silk nightdress with a knitted shawl draped over her as she sipped her wine and watched the fire.

Her mind wandered to Uhtred and the men. They had been there going on three days. Osferth and her healer had worked together and little Athelstan was getting better. Finan was like a mother hen as she expected watching over the boy. Edla and Cenhelm had heard their was a boy in the estate and wished to befriend him. Eadburg had allowed them to visit with Finan and Osferth keeping watch; if either of them noticed how Edla resembled Uhtred, they said nothing. Sihtric busied himself with helping Edmund do repairs that he had not had the man power to do before, which Eadburg knew he had worried about but did not wish to trouble her with it.

She could not sleep though. Every time she closed her eyes, she fell back into memories of before; of her and Uhtred together humping in dark corners of the palace of Winchester and in the inn. Before he had broken her heart; and in the process broken her.

She had avoided him, and the barn by extension. Finan had tried a few times to get her to speak to Uhtred but she had brushed him off and to his credit, he had smiled bowed his head and muttered a “Trust me, lady, I understand” under his breath.

She stood and her shawl fell to the floor. She hugged herself with one arm as she finished her wine. She heard the doors to the hall open and she closed her eyes and cursed.

“Edmund, whatever it is, it can wait until morning,” she muttered as she opened her eyes and looked at him.

Except it wasn't Edmund, who stood there; it was Uhtred.

She snorted and turned back and placed her empty wine glass on the large wooden mantle her husband had commissioned; one of the last editions to the manor house he had oversaw before he had left for Aegelesburg. She knew she was lucky to live in one of the older Roman villas that was still standing and in excellent shape. It meant that she had gorgeous large fire places that kept the rooms warm even in the coldest of winters.

Beside the wine glass, was her dagger. She picked it up and turned to look at Uhtred. He saw the dagger in the fire and lantern light of the room and sighed.

“I am not a threat to you, Eadburg,” he whispered as he walked closer to her.

Again, she snorted. “Oh, you are a threat,” she muttered. She walked over and bend down to pick up her shawl. She draped it over her shoulders, trying to cover her breasts; she knew that the thin silk meant if he got close enough, he would be able to see her nipples through it. “A threat I should have recognized earlier.”

Uhtred walked closer to her and stood in front of her. “I have never been a threat to you, ever,” he looked at her. His eyes raking over her from the top of her head down to her feet. His eyes focusing solely on her; it felt she was naked in front of him. He looked back up, his cold ice eyes looking into hers. “You use to know that,” he whispered softly.

He sounds hurt and it caused her anger to rise. She clutched the hilt of her dagger and held it close to her. “I was wrong,” she spat out at him. “I was so very wrong about you,” she added.

His eyes filled with sadness. “What happened to you, min søde?” he whispered using the nickname he had given to her; the one he had whispered in her ear when he had been buried deep inside of her. My sweet one. “Why are so so cold and distant?” he added as he stepped closer to her. He reached up and gently took her hand, the one not holding the dagger. “You use to be so kind and caring. So soft and-.”

She brought the dagger up and pressed it, the blade up against Uhtred's neck again. He stilled and held her hand tighter. She pressed the dagger more and he backup so she pressed it more. On and on it went, him backing up and her pressing the dagger harder into his neck. He backed up to the table, kicking a chair with the back of his foot; he had no where else to go.

“You wish to know what happened to me?” she demanded her voice low but filled with rage. “You, Uhtred of Bebbanburg, you are what happened to me,” she stated coldly.

“Eadburg-,” he started.

“NO!” she said pressed the dagger harder against his neck. Uhtred hissed and she saw blood trickle down from a nick she had caused. Her shawl, once again fell to the floor. She kicked it away. “You happened to me!” she stated again. “I was one of nine children, the third daughter. I knew I was never meant for greatness, I would be lucky if my father did not place me in a convent and forgot I existed,” she stated. “When I was called to serve Lady Aelswith, and later Aethelflaed and Aelflaed, I felt like perhaps I could have a good husband. I could have a good life. And then,” she looked at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, “there was you. The Dane-Slayer and the pagan. Everyone whispered how I needed to stay away from you, but you were nothing but kind to me. As were your men. You tried me like I was, some precious jewel,” she laughed coldly, “and I fell for it. I fell for you.”

She felt Uhtred's fingers stroke the back of her hand that he still held. “Do you not think I fell for you as well?” he whispered softly. “That I did not see you and think of how kind and loving you were and wish for-.”

“Wish for what?” she demanded. “Marriage and children?” she asked. “Because that is what I began to wish for. But then you pushed me away so you could bed Alfred's daughter,” she hated how filled with hurt and pain her voice became. She had spent years telling herself she was over it; she was over him. But apparently she had been lying to herself; just as he had lied to her years before. “And I was reminded once again, that I was no one special. Especially not special enough for the Dane-Slayer.”

“Stop,” he ordered as he looked at her. “You were special to me, min søde. Too special,” he whispered. “It was why I let you go.”

She snorted and laughed. “You truly expect me to believe that, Uhtred?” she demanded. She shook her head. “You never called it love,” she whispered to him. “I did. I remember whispering in your ear as you plowed me how much I loved you, how much I loved the feel of you against me, the feel of you in me, but you never said the same. So how was I special exactly? I was not special enough for you to whisper you loved me, no Aethelflaed was the one who no doubt got that as well.”

“I love you,” he told her. She looked in her eyes and wanted to tell him she could see he was lying. But she couldn't; because it appeared that he was telling her the truth. He let go of her hand and pressed his hand at her side. He pulled her closer and she pressed the dagger harder against his neck, the blood still trickling, a few drops at a time, from the cut. Uhtred did not seem to care. “I loved you then as well,” he whispered. “But I knew your father would not let me marry you so I did not even try to ask. That was my mistake, Eadburg, I will admit that. I am sorry I did not tell you that. I should have but I didn't. I am sorry that I didn't and broke your heart instead. If I could go back, I would do it differently. But I cannot go back. I cannot erase your hurt.”

Eadburg felt herself wanting to give in to him. She felt herself leaning in towards him, her face moving closer to his. She saw how sincere he was, how much he hurt that he had done that to her. She closed her eyes when her nose brushed his.

“It is in the past and I do not care any longer about any of it,” she found herself whispered.

Uhtred, chuckled a bit at that. “You have a dagger at my throat, Eadburg, I do believe you care about it still.”

She opened her eyes and looked into his deep ones. “I am no longer that girl and I do not believe in love and happy endings any longer.”

She saw Uhtred's eyes fill with sadness. “Pity,” he whispered. “I was about to show you how much I still ache for you,” he added.

Silence echoed around them as did the tension; this time not angry tension, no sexual tension. Eadburg's eyes looked down to his lips and she was lost. She found herself leaning forward and pressing her lips against his, still holding the dagger against his neck. He kissed her back, not caring about the dagger any longer. She felt both of his hands grip her hips and he pulled her forward.

“Uhtred-,” she started.

“Shh,” he whispered as his lips kissed her harder. His hands grabbed her thin nightdress and pulled it up. He slotted a leg between her thighs and she whimpered as she felt him press it up against her wet cunt. He pulled her down and moved her back and forth on his thigh. His finger dug into her hips as he held her. “It does not matter. Let us just have tonight,” he added.

Eadburg kissed him harder at that. That was her agreement to it all. She began to move her hips, causing friction that she ached for. She ran her other hand down his chest to his trousers. She grabbed the ties and pulled on the ties, needing to feel him inside of her once again. She moaned as his hands grabbed her bare ass cheeks.

She kept the dagger at his neck as he moved his lips to her neck. His teeth nipped her skin there as she snaked her into his trousers and stroked his cock. He lifted her, holding her against him. She stroked his cock as she nipped at his ear, her dagger still against his neck. She was not going to move it.

She still did not trust him.

But this time, she was using him as much as he was using her.

He sat on the chair and placed her on his lap. She moaned as one of his hands slipped between them, stroking her cunt, rubbing his hand against her pleasure nub. Pleasure flooded through her and she grinded down on his hand. She reached down and pulled his trousers open more and he helped her with his free hand. Once his cock was free he grabbed her wrist and held it.

She rested her forehead against his and looked in his eyes.

“Tell me you need my cock,” he ordered.

She raised an eyebrow. “I do not need to tell you anything,” she whispered as she gently pressed the dagger against his neck more, “this makes sure of it,” she added with a smile.

He smirked. “You are going to keep that at my neck the entire time?” he asked.

She nodded. “I am,” she whispered. She leaned in and kissed him. “And to remind you that this time, I am using you for pleasure, not the other way around,” she added. “So, Uhtred of Bebbanburg,” she breathed out. “Tell me you need my cunt.”

She felt him move his hand from between her folds and gripped her hips with both his hands. He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching hers.

“And if I don't?” he asked softly.

She leaned forward and bit his bottom lip. She smiled and tugged on it. “I will nick you a tad more and call Edmund in here to have you thrown back in the barn,” she whispered. She grabbed his tunic with her hand and moved her hips so her wet folds brushed his hard cock. “It's one little sentence, Uhtred.”

She felt his hands move down to her thighs. He lifted her and she felt the tip of his cock press against her entrance. “I need,” he whispered as he pulled her down so his cock slid into her, “your cunt,” he finished as he thrusted up into her, filling her completely.

She moaned and kissed him hard as she began to move against him and he thrusted up into her. She kept the dagger at his neck as she rode him and rode him hard. Uhtred knew her body better than her husband ever did. He knew exactly how fast and hard to thrust up into her, where to press his hands on her body to stroke the fire that was building inside of her. And his cock, it filled her in a way her husband's never had.

“More,” she breathed into his mouth.

He understood. He reached between them and his nimble fingers, calloused from years of fighting and carrying a sword, but also so skilled and rubbing her pleasure nub. His other hand cupped her breast and squeezed it. She shoved him with her hand on his chest back against the chair back. He, in turn pulled her closer to him and she kissed him deeply.

She rode the wave of pleasure and the fire that was building and building inside of her. She pressed her face into Uhtred's and felt his cock pulsate and twitch inside of her; she knew he was close as well. She began to move faster moaning loudly into Uhtred's face. He thrusted up into her harder, reaching behind him with one hand and grabbing the back of the chair for leverage, leaving her breast missing and aching for his touch again.

Her legs began to tingle and shake. Uhtred rubbed her nub faster and she finally moved the dagger so she could grab his shoulders with both hands. She griped them tight as she moved up and down on his cock, feeling it press hard into that spot inside of her that only Uhtred had ever been able to find.

“Yes,” she moaned as Uhtred's cock pressed hard into that spot one more time and her world shattered into pleasure.

She closed her eyes as she saw a bright white light. Her whole body shook. She slowed in her pace of moving up and down on his cock. She felt Uhtred's body begin to tremble as well. A moment later, he filled her with his seed; the warmth spreading in her womb. She slumped against his body as he sat down in the chair holding her tight.

They breathing echoed in the now silent room. Huffs and puffs. Eadburg blinked and felt her body beginning to stop trembling. She moved, lifting herself off of his cock and pressing her bare feet on the cold stone floor. She moved off of Uhtred, feeling his seed and her wetness drip down and smear on her inner thighs. Uhtred stood and grabbed her. She pressed her dagger to his chest and he leaned down and kissed her. She kissed him back and smiled as he hissed when she dragged the dagger up and down his tunic, scraping the skin where he had left it open and untied at the neck and chest.

“Can I stay in the little cottage now?” he whispered against her lips.

She shrugged. “I do not care where you sleep,” she nipped his bottom lip, “just know it will not be with me.”

She pushed him away and turned and left the room. She smiled as she walked away.

She had what she wanted, she didn't need anything else.

***

Uhtred walked into the small cottage. He smiled when Finan glanced up at him from his spot by the fireplace. Uhtred saw Athelstan's tunic in Finan's hands along with a needle a thread.

“Mother Finan mending her little chick's tunic?” he teased as he tossed his bags of belongings in the corner.

Finan snorted and shook his head. “I would ask ya how ya got Eadburg to agree to allow ya out of the barn, but I don't think I wanna know,” he muttered as he went back to mending.

Uhtred shrugged as he walked closer to the fire. He rubbed his hands together and held them out. “What can I say, Finan, I have a way with women.”

Finan chuckled. He stood from the chair. He patted Uhtred on the shoulder. “Lord, ya seem to have cut yourself,” he added as he pressed his finger against Uhtred's neck when Eadburg's dagger had cut him a couple of times. “And ya have bled on ya last clean tunic,” he leaned in closer, “next time tell Lady Eadburg to hold her dagger at ya cock. Ya might learn ya lesson better and it will be less washing for Osferth.”

Uhtred shoved Finan but Finan laughed more. Finan turned and left him standing there as he walked into the back of the cottage. Uhtred reached up and pressed his own fingers to the cuts. He pulled his fingers away and looked at them and looked at the blood. He rubbed his thumb in it.

“If there is a next time,” he whispered to himself.

But oh if there was...

He smirked.

He might like being stationed in Mercia after all.

[thethyri]

𖦹. 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ The day Wulfwynn was cruelly torn from the life she had always known was a crisp day of autumn. When the green leaves of the trees turn brown and the wind grows colder. The day Wulfwynn miraculously stumbled upon Uhtred and his companions in the depths of the woods was a cold day of autumn. When the lakes are blanketed with frost and the fields are bare. And yet, despite the frost and the wounds, Wulfwynn met her destiny that day.

𖦹. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ₊̇*⸼ Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson x Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Sihtric Kjartansson x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Uhtred of Bebbanburg x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Osferth x Ealhflæd of Cent (Original Female Character), Leofric x Mereswyth of Wessex (Original Female Character).

𖦹. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Show Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Not Show Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Show Rewrite, Show Dialogues, Canonical Character Death, Non-Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Wounds, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Battles And Post-Battles, Blood On Several Occasions, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Burn, Sexual Content, Mild-Sexual Content, Multiple Graphic Smuts (Ratings Specified In Concerned Chapters), Multiple Non-Graphic Smuts, Protective Finan, Possessive Finan, Finan Needs A Hug, Finan Backstory, Protective Sihtric, Jealous Sihtric, Adorable Sihtric, Sihtric Backstory, Protective Uhtred, Uhtred Is A Little Shit, Soft Osferth, Adorable Osferth, Osferth Backstory, Leofric Lives, Clapa Lives.

𖦹. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ 2,919k.

THE VODKAS MENU. + Archive Of Our Own. + Playlist. + THE GUILD OF DRAGONLINGS.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 Days and days. Cold night and colder days yet. Days running, fleeing. Fearing for her life. Until God sent her Uhtred and his men. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 Mild-Graphic Description of Bruises And Injuries. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 2,919k. 𖦹. 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ₊̇*⸼ 892-895 AD ⵓ 6th November 892 AD - 9th November 892 AD. (Season 3)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎❟ 𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄❟ 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈❟ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄❟ 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗❟ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓❟ 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐈❟ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆❟ 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐍. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘❟ 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐈❟ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄.⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎❟ 𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄❟ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑❟ 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐈𝐈, 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄❟ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗❟ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍❟ 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓❟ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐒. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘❟ 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎❟ 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑❟ ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘 ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added !

©TheThyri. All rights content belong to @thethyri​​​​. Do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works in any way or on any other platform without my permission. Gif rightfully belong to @mojosdumpingground.

[vroom--vrooming]

Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader

Just Sihtric and Uthred's stubborn sister separated from the rest in a forest after an attack

The forest is dense and soon getting darker as you and Sihtric move quickly, the chaos of the enemy's attack scattering your group. Uhtred and the others are nowhere to be found, leaving just you and Sihtric to navigate the treacherous woods.

"Could you at least try to keep up?" Sihtric grumbles, glancing back at you with a mix of annoyance and concern.

"I'm keeping up just fine," you snap back, stepping over a fallen branch. "Maybe if you didn't stomp around like a wounded boar, we'd be harder to track."

"You're insufferable," he mutters, though there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"And you're a brute," you retort, picking up your pace to match his.

As the sun sets, the forest grows colder. You suppress a shiver, trying to hide your discomfort. Sihtric notices, his eyes narrowing. "Here," he says, shrugging off his warm cloak and holding it out to you. "Take this."

"I don't need it," you insist, crossing your arms.

"Stop being difficult," he replies, stepping closer to drape the cloak over your shoulders.

"I said no," you snap, pushing it away.

Sihtric sighs, clearly exasperated. "Fine. Freeze, then."

He starts gathering wood for a fire, his movements precise and efficient. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, grudgingly admiring his skill. Despite your constant bickering, there's no denying that he's good at what he does.

The fire crackles to life, casting a warm glow that pushes back the darkness. You sit close to the flames, the heat soothing your chilled skin. Sihtric settles across from you, his eyes scanning the perimeter.

"I'll stay awake," you declare, determined not to appear weak. "In case we're attacked."

Sihtric raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "You won't last the night."

"Watch me," you challenge, glaring at him.

Before he can respond, the forest erupts with the sounds of approaching enemies. Sihtric springs to his feet, pulling you behind him protectively. His sword flashes in the firelight as he parries an attack, his movements quick and precise.

"Stay back," he orders, his voice firm.

"No," you argue, drawing your own weapon. "I can fight."

An enemy charges at Sihtric from behind, and without hesitation, you step forward and plunge your sword into the attacker's chest. Sihtric glances at you in surprise as the enemy falls at your feet.

"Impressive," he admits grudgingly.

"Don't sound so shocked," you quip, panting slightly.

With the immediate threat neutralized, you and Sihtric exchange a glance that holds more than just respect. There's a shared understanding, a recognition of each other's strengths.

As night falls completely, the temperature continues to drop. Sihtric sits close to the fire, his eyes never straying far from you. "Get some rest," he says softly. "I'll keep watch."

You shake your head stubbornly. "I'll stay awake with you."

"You're exhausted," he argues. "You need sleep."

"So do you," you retort, glaring at him.

"Please, just rest," he insists, his tone softening. "I'll keep you safe."

Reluctantly, you nod and settle closer to the fire, your eyelids growing heavy. Despite your best efforts to stay awake, exhaustion soon claims you. As you drift off, you miss the soft, affectionate look Sihtric gives you.

He waits until your breathing evens out before moving. Quietly, he drapes his cloak over you, careful not to wake you. In your sleep, you instinctively pull it closer, a contented sigh escaping your lips. Sihtric settles by a nearby tree, his eyes never straying far from you.

The night is long and cold, but Sihtric remains vigilant, his thoughts never far from you. He watches over you with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something he isn't ready to name.

Morning breaks, and you wake up to find the cloak still wrapped around you. Sitting up, you see Sihtric, bleary-eyed but alert, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"You stayed up all night," you say, more of a statement than a question.

"I told you I would," he replies, meeting your gaze.

You pull the cloak tighter around you, feeling a mix of gratitude and something you can't quite place. "Thank you," you mumble, the words foreign on your tongue.

Sihtric stands, stretching. "Don't mention it. We need to find Uhtred and the others."

As you prepare to move out, you can't help but notice the way Sihtric looks at you, a softness in his eyes that you hadn't seen before. It makes your heart race in a way you don't quite understand.

"Next time, try listening to me," Sihtric says with a smirk.

"Only if you admit I'm not just some stubborn fool," you retort, a smile tugging at your lips.

He laughs, a genuine, warm sound that surprises you. "Deal."

[kingslionheart]

Mnemosyne's Elysium — Chapter One

Alfred’s first peaceful night in ages is shattered by a call from the last person he wants to hear from—his ex, Uhtred. Annoyance is the least of his problems, as a haunting past reemerges to torment him all over again. He knows doom will be unavoidable, whether he likes it or not.

Alfred x Uhtred Modern AU

Word Count: 8,044

[my-owl-baby]

The Lady From Nowhere

(Osferth x modern f!reader)

Summary: You woke up in the middle of nowhere, without your best friend by your side. It was odd to you, until you figure out you aren't from this timeline.

Soon joining the group of Uhtred and his men, you grew closer with the baby monk named Osferth. He seems to enjoy your company as well.

Warnings: mentioned of killing, smoking, cussing, hard language, killing people, child abuse, torture, violence......(so far)

Note; I want to publish a chapter once a week or so I'm not trying to make this story very long only 8 part or 7 parts.

If you are interested in this story then you can follow (@my-owl-babyfic) for any uploads for the story and please do turn on notification to be notified.

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A MINOR! it will contain harsh content! So I would recommend not to read!

Table of contents;

Chapter one; The Lost Lady

Chapter two; New Adventure

Chapter three; The Warning Ahead

Chapter four; You Can't Go...(coming soon)

[scorpionrising]

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

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

read on ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot,” she said. 

“You must.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It works?” Ravna asked. 

“It does. I have used it many times.”

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

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

Gisela smiled at her. “More drawing?”

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

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

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

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

“I know you’re there, Finan.” 

His bearded face emerged from the brush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Lord,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Raiders from Wealas,” Ravna mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[halfmylife]

I Waited For You

Pairing Uhtred x Reader

Summary You have loved Uhtred for some time but when he finally tries to move on from Lady Aethelflaed, he chooses another woman.

Warnings angst (I’m not sorry)

A/N I had this idea a little while ago and thought I’d write up some angst

Finan had been the one to break the news to Uhtred and he could hardly believe it. You had made it quite clear that by the end of the day you would no longer be in Rumcofa. Uhtred would not have it. Panic started to settle inside of him as he stormed towards your lodgings. He could not lose you, you were one of his oldest and closest friends. Never would he understand why you wanted to leave so suddenly.

He barged through your door, without even bothering to knock. There was no time for such pleasantries. The sudden bang didn’t even startle you, you had been so stuck in your own mind, packing whatever you could that you almost pretended as if he weren’t there.

Maybe it was easier that way.

“Finan told me you were leaving, tell me it is not true.” His gaze followed you around the room as you stuffed everyone of your belongings into sacks. There was little for you to take other than clothes and a few keepsakes but you packed it nonetheless, wanting nothing to do with this place.

“It’s true.” You didn’t bother to look up at the man who stood in the doorway watching you. There was no time for a conversation, let alone time to listen to his poor excuses.

“Why? You cannot leave, Rumcofa is your home.” What a joke. Rumcofa was never your home. Finan and Sihtric had managed to settled down and have a family so it had become their home. Uhtred had somehow managed to make this his home despite all odds but it have never been home to you. Uhtred was your home.

“It was but not anymore.” No longer was he your home, not after everything. It hurt too much to even look at him. Time and time again you had given everything for him and where had it gotten you? Far away from family and alone.

“You cannot go, you won’t be safe anywhere.” That was always his answer. Maybe when you first met he would’ve protected you, you used to be defenceless but now after years on the road and living with them, you had been taught a great many things. Protection was no longer a necessity to you.

“And what would you have me do? Stay?” You threw your final clothes into the bag, tying it shut far too aggressively. “I have been here too long.”

“Stay here.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him step forward. “Stay here for me.”

“For you?” Finally you looked at him and you regretted it instantly. His eyes were searching your own, hoping to find answers that were no longer there. “Uhtred that is all I have done. All these years I have stayed because of you. All these years I have waited for you.” You tried to hide the shake in your voice as you spoke but it became more evident as more words fell from your lips.

“Waited for me?” He shook his head, confused. Had he truly been so clueless? Had you not given him everything?

“Are you truly that blind?” The sadness soon turned to anger as you looked at him. All this time you had been there for him, displayed your affections so openly only to be turned away over and over again and he had no idea?

“Y/N tell me what you speak of, please.” He begged, stepping forward once more. You could take no more, the confession spilling from you before you could stop it.

“From the moment we met I have had eyes for no man except you. I felt like you were the second part of my soul, the piece missing from my own broken heart yet you never felt the same.” This time your voice did not shake but the tears in your eyes gave your heart away. “I watched you fall for Gisela and I kept my distance, swore I would not destroy your happiness over jealousy. Then when she died I stayed with you in your grief. I abandoned my heart to fix your own and thought that maybe in time you would feel something instead your heart found Lady Aethelflaed and mine was left more shattered than before.”

Once the words were out they hung in the air, taunting you in the uncomfortable silence. It practically scorched you the way he looked upon you. It was pity. Even now whilst you confessed it all, he only pitied you.

“Y/N.” His voice was barely a whisper but you didn’t want to heart it.

“No Uhtred. I have waited so many years. I kept my distance and remained kind for your happiness because I cared only for you. I thought after her vow of chastity that you might move on and you did.” The last few words were venomous as you spoke them and you remembered hearing how he had spent his previous evening. “Except it was not me. It was the tall woman you humped.” All that time you had waited only for him to go running to a woman he hardly knew. Had you not been there for him every time?

“I did not want to.” Part of you wanted to believe him, that perhaps he truly didn’t want to hump the woman and it was part of the process of moving on. How was that supposed to help?

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, Uhtred?” You snapped, not caring for any reason or excuse he had for humping the woman. Whether or not he wanted it was no longer a concern to you.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice started to rise to match your own but in his eyes remained the confusion and the sadness dancing together like old friends.

“Nothing. I do not care for your words anymore.” Words could not undo the damage. Words could not mend a broken heart. There was nothing that Uhtred could say to make you change your mind. “I have broken my own heart for you too many times and I cannot stay any longer to do it all again.”

“I have no feelings for her.” You didn’t know if that was worse. It wasn’t about what he felt for the tall woman. It was about loving someone who never loved you back. “Does that make you feel better?”

“No it does not.” You sighed. The tears threatened to spill from your eyes once more but you blinked them away. “Nothing you can say will make me feel better and you cannot change my mind.” That was it. You grabbed your bag and headed for the door.

“Please.” Uhtred managed to grab you by the bicep, stopping you in place. “I have lost too much I cannot lose you too. I need you.” You knew how much he’d lost, you had been there for all of it. Every time he mourned it was your shoulder he cried on, every time he was angry, you were his voice of reason but that didn’t matter anymore.

“Do you need me to mend another broken heart? Do you need me to fill the emptiness others have left?” That was all you had done and still it was not enough for him to love you. You snatched your arm away from him, shaking your head as you took a step back. “I won’t. I won’t be a third choice that has been by your side all this time only for you to disregard again. I cannot do this any longer.”

“Y/N, don’t go.” He called out to you as you marched out the door, he was quickly behind you, still calling your name as you headed to the stables.

“It’s too late.” You said quietly as you secured the bag onto your horse. It took you a moment to steady your breathing before you looked at him again. “Perhaps in another life I might’ve been your love but I have not been blessed with such a fate.”

No it had been a curse. It was a curse to fall for a man who only ever had eyes for another woman. You had watched him fall in love so many times but it was never you.

“There is still time.” He stepped forward cautiously, taking your face in his hands. It was gentle and warm. Everything you had ever wanted was in his hold yet you wondered if he even meant it.

“I have wasted so much time waiting for you.” You spoke in a hushed voice, the confession feeling like a dagger through your heart. “I have loved you Uhtred in all these years but you’re not mine and you never will be.”

Tearing your face away from him, you walked the horse from the stable and out into the open. You never looked back, not even when he called your name. No more would you wait for him. Your peace had been spoken, a weight off of your shoulders. Perhaps now you could find your happiness or perhaps you had just left it behind.