#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.

[witchezandwonderz]

The Ice Between Us- Part One

Pairing: Sihtric x Reader

Word Count: 4,786

Summary: Sihtric is forced to protect a woman who he hates to like.

Part 2 here

Likes, reblogs and comments are unbelievably appreciated!

Requests are open

Masterlist

The clamor of the hall pressed down like a storm cloud, voices rising in argument and accusation. Sihtric stood with his arms crossed near the door, his expression one of practiced indifference as Uhtred leaned over the long table, pointing to the crumpled map before him.

“We need her to get through,” Uhtred growled, his voice sharp and low. “She knows the roads, the safe houses, the people. And I need someone I trust to keep her alive.” His piercing gaze landed on Sihtric, who let out a low laugh in return, assuming that Uhtred was jesting. Everyone knew how much Sihtric and Y/N detested one another. Uhtreds face did not change, indicating to Sihtric that he was being deadly serious, and with this, the smile the wore disappeared off of his face in a matter of seconds.

“You are not serious, lord” Sihtric stated. Uhtred responded with a nod, his gaze still fixed on the crumpled map before him, squinting in order to understand the details. Sihtric spoke again. “Why must it be me?”.

Uhtred’s eyes flickered from the map to Sihtric, while still leaned over the stone table. “It just must be, please Sihtric just do it” he responded, clearly both impatient and tired from the situation at hand. Sihtric did not respond with words, but instead made a tutting noise and folded his arms, similar to how a toddler would when things are not working out in their favour.

The others never quite understood Sihtric and Y/N’s hatred for each other. Y/N had a sharp tongue, yes, but that had never bothered Sihtric when it came to any other women he had met.

It was then that she entered the room, and all heads in the room turned as a consequence. This was another reason that no one understood Sihtrics hatred for Y/N- she was beautiful.

Uhtred’s gaze, once again, flickered from the map to Y/N, and then back to the map.

“Sihtric will accompany you” he announced, loudly.

Y/N looked taken aback. “What do you mean?” She asked, tilting her head slightly in confusion. Uhtred rolled his eyes. “We need you to get through, as discussed, so, Sihtric will accompany you” He explained, now standing up and walking towards her. Y/Ns face screwed up in annoyance, before opening her mouth to speak, and then quickly closing it again.

“But why does it have to be me?” Sihtric asked once again, now in a much louder and harsher tone. Y/N now rolled her eyes at his words. “Because we are such good friends” she retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word. Sihtric glared at her in response before turning his attention to Uhtred. “She is insufferable” he muttered, putting a hand to his temple, already thinking of the stress he will undergo from her whining.

“Insufferable?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Coming from a man whose greatest talent is glowering in silence, I’ll take that as a compliment. Perhaps some time with me will teach you how to form a complete sentence—or is that asking too much?”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and Sihtric’s jaw tightened as his fingers itched to reach for the hilt of his sword. He, once again, ignored her and turned his attention to Uhtred. “When do we leave?” He asked. Uhtred thought for a moment, before replying “tonight”.

Hours later, the group gathered once again to see off the pair.

Sihtric stood beside his horse, his arms crossed as he waited, his face shadowed and unreadable. Nearby, Y/N tightened the straps of her pack with swift, practiced motions. She didn’t look at him, but the tension between them was obvious to everyone watching.

“I think she should change into suitable clothing” Sihtric announced, seemingly to anyone but the subject of his words. Y/N rolled her eyes at his words and shook her head. Finan let out a small laugh. “Good luck with that”.

“I think that you should focus on what you are doing rather than being so concerned about my attire” Y/N snapped, refusing to look at Sihtric and instead, stroking the neck of her horse.

She wore a long, deep green gown of fine wool, the fabric tailored close to her waist before flowing into loose, practical folds. The bodice was intricately embroidered with golden threads, forming the subtle shapes of leaves and vines, and her sleeves were fitted tightly to her wrists, ending in delicate cuffs. Around her shoulders, she had draped a fur-lined cloak, fastened at her throat with a bronze brooch. Her boots, barely visible beneath the hem of her gown, were sturdy but refined, made more for walking castle grounds than the rugged roads ahead.

The overall effect was undeniably striking, but it was painfully obvious to Sihtric that her outfit was anything but practical.

“So you are still going dressed like that?” he asked flatly, breaking the uneasy silence as he swung himself onto his horse.

Y/N glanced down at herself and arched an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong with it?”

Sihtric made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “We’re riding into dangerous lands, not attending a feast. That dress will get caught in the brambles the first chance it gets—and then what? You’ll be tripping over yourself while I’m trying to keep us alive.”

Her lips curved into a faint smirk, and she tilted her head at him. “Are you worried about my safety, Sihtric? How touching.”

He frowned. “I’m worried about having to stop every five minutes to untangle you from a bush. You should wear something practical.”

Finan, leaning against the gate, snorted. “I think she looks fine. She’ll blend in with the nobility if anyone asks questions. Isn’t that the point?”

Osferth nodded, clearly trying not to stare too long. “She... uh, she looks well-prepared to me.”

“Yes well you are not the one who has to keep her safe in such ridiculous conditions” Sihtric grumbled.

“Sihtric” Y/N’s voice was raised, all three men turned their attention towards her as she now stood with her hands on her hips. “I can assure you that I am perfectly capable to ride in this dress. Despite what you think of me, I am not an imbecile”. Finan and Osferth laughed. Sihtric did not appear to be as amused. Although, did crack a small smile when Finan whispered “I bet she can ride more than just that horse”.

“Enough”. Uhtred announced, storming through the doors to the outside area where they were gathered. “The sun is now setting, you must leave”.

Uhtred stepped between them, his sharp gaze moving from one to the other. “I don’t care what either of you think of this arrangement. The road ahead is dangerous, and you’ll need each other to survive. Sihtric, protect her. Y/N, trust him. If you can’t manage that, we’re all wasting time.”

Y/N crossed her arms, the fur-lined cloak shifting around her shoulders. “You do realise I’m not completely helpless, don’t you? I’ve made this journey before.”

“Yes,” Uhtred said, his voice as firm as the steel in his grip. “But never with Danes hunting you, and never with the stakes this high. I trust your skill, Y/N, but I trust his sword more.”

Sihtric suppressed a smirk, which quickly disappeared when Uhtred turned on him.

“And you—no sulking. She’s sharp, and she’ll see things you might miss. Work together, or I’ll send Finan after you to knock sense into both of your thick skulls.”

Finan chuckled from where he leaned against the stable wall. “Don’t tempt me, lord. Sounds like fun.”

Both Sihtric and Y/N called out a brief goodbye, before encouraging their horses to trot away. From behind them, the others watched in silence until the pair disappeared into the growing night.

"Anyone else think that I have made the worst decision? They will kill each other before they have even reached their first village" Uhtred moaned, no longer needing to be stern. Finan laughed. "Nah, lord, they think they hate each other but I give it a day before he's ripping that dress from her body" He smirked. Uhtred shook his head in return.

Days passed since Sihtric and Y/N began their journey; the first day was full of arguments, sly comments and harsh looks. However, as their tiredness grew, so did their lack of care of being horrible to each other- to put it simply, they could not be bothered.

The silence meant that Y/N had a painful amount of time to think- think about her life, her losses, her current situation. She always ad a way of passing things off as jokes, or pretending that they are not happening. But here she was, in the middle of a dark, freezing cold forest with no one but a man who despised her. She never really knew why he hated her so, but ever since the day she discovered his hatred for her, she vowed to treat him in the same cold manner.

Y/N could not believe that the Danes sought to capture her, in all honesty she was absolutely terrified. The only reason in which they wanted her is because due to her high status, capturing or eliminating her would weaken Uhtred's alliances and bolster their own. She did not know whether she would prefer to be eliminated or caputered... at least if she was killed she would suffer less. There is no way, she thought, that Sihtric would ever actually go out of his way to ensure her safety.

She hung back, on her horse, trailing behind Sihtric in order to have a moment where she allowed herself to feel saddened, scared and alone. In fact, she could not help but have a moment of weakness. The problem is, however, that once one tear falls, others flow uncontrollably.

Sihtric glanced her way, catching the slight slump of her posture. Normally, she held herself with defiance, her head high and her gaze sharp, as if daring the world to challenge her. But tonight, something about her seemed... diminished.

He frowned, pulling his horse alongside hers, the creak of leather and the soft clop of hooves the only sounds between them. He was about to ask if she was tiring when he saw it—a faint glint on her cheek, catching the moonlight. Tears.

Y/N quickly turned her face away, pretending to adjust her cloak, but it was too late. Sihtric had noticed.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure what to say or why it even mattered to him that she was upset. She wasn’t helpless, she’d made that clear enough. And yet, seeing her cry stirred something in him—an ache he didn’t entirely understand.

“You’re trembling,” he said finally, his voice low. It wasn’t entirely a lie; the chill of the night was biting. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice too tight, too brisk.

“No, you’re not.”

She glanced at him, and to his surprise the look on her face was not angry, as it normally is, but instead was innocent, helpless.

"I am fine" She stated, nodding as she spoke, almost as a way of convincing herself. Sihtric sighed in response. "It is ok to feel scared" He told her, trying to look at her face again.

"I am not scared" Her words would have sounded brave, if her voice did not crack towards the end of her words.

“Liar,” he murmured, but there was no heat in his tone.

That one word made her shoulders sag. She looked down at the reins in her hands, her fingers pale from gripping them too tightly. “Fine,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared. Is that what you wanted to hear? That I’m terrified of what’s out there? That I’ve never felt so alone in my life?”

Her words hit him like a blow. He hadn’t expected her to say it, to admit it, least of all to him.

"oh, I.." He did not know what to say, truly.

“You’re not alone,” he said gruffly, finally finding few words.

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “That’s rich, coming from the man who can barely stand the sight of me.”

Sihtric fell silent, his jaw tightening. For a moment, the only sound was the crunch of hooves on the dirt path. He hated that she thought that, hated that it might even be true.

“You’re not alone,” he said again, softer this time. “And I don’t hate you.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, once again. "you cannot stand the mere sight of me! I do in fact feel quite bad in all honesty that you have been forced to keep me safe, it is not your responsibility" Sihtric winced at her words. They had always argued, yes, but he did not despise her this much. He never really understood why they argued as much as they do.

“You have no idea what I think of you, Y/N,” he continued, his tone rough around the edges. “You assume it’s hatred because it’s easier, because it’s what you want to believe. But maybe—just maybe—the problem isn’t me not standing the sight of you. Maybe it’s that I can’t seem to look away."

Y/N did not respond with words, as she could not find them. She was not sure if he was too delirious to have heard him properly- what was he trying to say? She hummed in response, gently reaching over and touching his arm with hers, slightly lingering there momentarily before placing it back on her reigns. He stiffened instinctively, unused to such gestures, but the warmth of her presence lingered longer than it should have.

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. In the pale light, her face was softer, the sharp defiance he was so accustomed to replaced with something gentler, almost fragile. She didn’t meet his gaze, instead keeping her eyes on the path ahead, her fingers flexing slightly on the reins.

For a moment, he wanted to say something—to acknowledge the gesture, to bridge the uneasy silence—but the words tangled in his throat. Instead, he gave a subtle nod, more to himself than to her, and let the quiet settle between them once more.

The hours dragged on, the dark cloak of night giving way to the soft blush of dawn and eventually to the golden light of mid-morning. Neither Sihtric nor Y/N spoke much as they rode, the unspoken truce between them holding steady. The forest around them began to thin, the trees giving way to open fields and the gentle gurgle of water in the distance.

"Water, finally" Y/n breathed as they approached the clear, inviting lake before them. The pair came to a complete stop and quickly dismounted their horses- Y/N doing so much quicker than Sihtric. The sun hung high, casting a warm glow over the landscape. Y/N did a 360 turn, looking around her. Once she had confirmed that they were alone, she began unlacing her boots. Sihtrics brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing?" Y/N looked up at him, the sun highlighting all of her features. "We have been travelling for days, I am filthy, as are you" She muttered, now removing her boots completely. "would you mind looking away?" She asked, now stood up straight. He nodded, as he knew if he argued her stubbornness may have caused her to jump in fully dressed just to prove a point. He turned his body away from her, to ensure her privacy.

“I can’t get this dress off by myself,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Would you undo it for me?”

His heart skipped a beat at her words. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected it—she was used to commanding people—but the request still took him by surprise. His eyes flickered to her face, catching her gaze.

"Me?" He asked, still facing the trees as opposed to the woman that he was alone with. He heard her laugh. "Who else?". His lips curved into a small smile at her comment.

Not wanting to seem eager, he turned around slowly to face her and nodded in agreement.

Reluctantly, he stepped forward. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable, but he couldn’t deny the pull to help her, to obey the strange request she’d made.

“I’ll make it quick,” he said, though his voice was quieter than he intended. He could see the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she slowly turned to face the river, her back now to him.

His hands trembled, but he forced them to steady as he worked the knot free. The laces loosened easily, and as he slid them down the back of the dress, he felt her body shift slightly under his touch. He lingered there for a moment, staring at the skin of her back which was now exposed.

"Done?" She questioned, pulling him back to concentration. Realising what he was doing, he took a large step back before repeating, "done" and turning back around to the position he was in before.

"You should be careful" He called out, aware that by now she was probably already at the river bank.

"Careful? I think that you are the one who should be careful, Sihtric" She retorted. His breath hitched at her words, it is almost as though she knew how badly he wanted to look at her.

He stood for a long moment, attempting to find other thoughts and focus on the trees before him, but he could not help himself. He briefly turned his head, justifying his actions by telling himself to check on her safety.

The cool breeze brushed against his face as his eyes locked onto her once more. She was standing in the shallows, her back to him, her hair slicked wet against her shoulders. The water lapped gently around her waist, the ripples catching the sunlight in a way that seemed to make her glow. And then, in that moment, she turned.

The movement was slow, deliberate, but it didn’t matter. Sihtric’s heart stuttered in his chest, his breath caught in his throat as she faced him fully, her bare skin exposed to the air. He couldn’t look away.

His pulse quickened, his mind spiralling into a chaos of thoughts he couldn’t control. She had always been a source of frustration, of irritation. But now, standing there before him—completely unguarded, completely unashamed—something else began to twist in his chest. The sharpness of his attraction to her was almost painful, an ache that he couldn't ignore no matter how much he tried.

He forced his eyes shut, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. This was wrong. They hated each other. She had never shown him anything but disdain. But in the quiet, still space between them, everything felt different. He wanted her.

He shook his head, and turned once again. "Are you nearly done?" He called out, attempting to pretend that he had not seen anything. She responded with a quiet response that he had not fully heard, perhaps because he was too distracted to listen to anything properly.

Sihtric stood rigid, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. His heart thudded in his chest, the blood rushing to his head as his body responded instinctively to what he had just seen. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the overwhelming heat that had suddenly flooded his system. His gaze remained fixed on the distant trees, though it was impossible to ignore the tension in his lower body—his growing arousal, a reaction he hadn’t expected and certainly hadn’t wanted.

shit

He had to hide his quite clear arousal before she returned, so in an attempt to do so, he fixed his eyes on the floor, allowing his mind to drift to sad thoughts, anything that would make his desire less obvious.

“Sihtric?” Her voice cut through his thoughts, and he forced himself to glance over, keeping his face neutral.

She was back, her dress now carefully pulled over her head, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. Without exchanging words, they both mounted their horses once again and continued their journey.

After a few more hours, the quiet began to feel more like a companion than a curse. The landscape changed as they rode deeper into unfamiliar land—a dense forest lined the path ahead, and the air grew colder.

They reached a bend in the road where the trees opened up to reveal a small clearing, the perfect spot to rest for the night. Sihtric was about to speak, to suggest they set up camp, when a sound broke the stillness.

A rustle, low and dangerous, followed by the faintest of whispers.

His heart skipped a beat. He immediately stiffened, looking around with heightened senses. He knew what it meant.

He stopped riding, instantly, swiftly turning to Y/N and putting his fingers on his lips, signalling the need to be silent. Sihtric climbed off of his horse with ease, and a strange eerie skill of silence before approaching Y/N and lifting her off of her horse, scared that if he allowed her to walk, she would make a sound. He silently carried her behind a tree, where the two huddled closely together-their breaths hitched, and their hearts beating vigorously.

The sound grew closer, and then—voices.

Danish voices.

There were at least three of them, their footsteps now unmistakable as they moved through the underbrush, oblivious to the pair hiding just off the trail.

Sihtric’s mind raced. They can’t find us. Not now. Not like this.

He looked at Y/N, her eyes widened and her breaths controlled- fear plastered upon her face. A tear escaped her eye, and for the first time in a while, Sihtric felt hopeless. He did not know what to do, but he knew he hated seeing her in such an uncomfortable position.

Without thinking, his fingers gently cupped her face, wiping away the tears that had escaped, one by one. The contact was tender, intimate even, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin.

When he saw another tear slip down her cheek, his eyes darted to her lips, then back to her eyes. His gaze softened, and before he could stop himself, his lips pressed gently to her forehead, brushing against her skin in a fleeting, quiet kiss.

Y/N was shocked, but felt an instant relief from the intimate moment, causing her breathing to relax slightly, for a moment at least. That was until they heard the dreaded words...

"I can see something behind the tree".

[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

[whitedarkmoonflower]

When Shadows Yield to Light

Pairing: Uhtred x Sihtric x Finan

Authors note: this is my birthday gift to the amazing and one-of-a-kind @alexagirlie 🎉 It also happens to be the first m/m fic I’ve ever written—and if it's the first why not dive straight into a poly one, right? 🙈 Oh, I will not lie—I struggled a lot to make this work at the beginning, but then at some point it started to flow and I was in awe at myself 😅 Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you! ❤️

Warnings: SMUT 18+, m/m/m, oral sex, anal sex, subtle hints of past abuse and trauma (read: my daily doses of angst prescribed by doctor, sorry I can't without it)

Word Count: 5,5K

Summary: With his hand hovering over his lord’s door, Sihtric hesitates, gathering his courage to knock, unaware that what awaits him on the other side will change everything he thought he knew about loyalty, desire, and himself.

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

Sihtric's breath came in ragged bursts as he tried to calm his frantic heartbeat. His hand hovered in the air, poised to knock on the door, but hesitation gripped him. His fist unclenched, and his palm pressed flat against the rough wood instead.

He leaned his forehead against the door, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hand balled into a fist again, ready to knock—but before he could summon the courage, the door creaked open. The unexpected sound made Sihtric flinch.

"Sihtric?" Uhtred's voice was thick with surprise.

"Yes, lord!" The young Dane quickly raised his eyes to meet his lord's questioning gaze, heat rising to his cheeks. His mind raced, scrambling for an excuse, any explanation for why he was standing outside his lord’s chambers in the dead of night.

Uhtred’s hair was loose, cascading over his broad shoulders in thick, windswept waves. Sihtric’s breath hitched as his eyes briefly swept over Uhtred’s bare chest. The firelight from behind cast a warm, flickering glow over his skin, illuminating the scars that marked his body like battle-worn trophies. Clad only in his breeches, Uhtred stood barefoot, his powerful frame filling the doorway.

Sihtric’s heart stammered, not just from the embarrassment of waking his lord but from something deeper—an unspoken reverence for the man who stood before him. He swallowed hard, but as he did, he caught sight of something else—a shadow moving behind Uhtred. Sihtric’s eyes widened in realisation.

Uhtred was not alone.

The thought hit him like a blow to the chest, and another wave of embarrassment surged through him, making his cheeks burn hotter than before. His pulse quickened in shame. 

“I’m sorry,” Sihtric mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s nothing important. It can wait. I’m sorry…” He took a step back, eager to retreat, to erase his intrusion.

But Uhtred didn’t let him go so easily.

"What is it, Sihtric?" Uhtred arched an eyebrow, his voice calm but carrying a strange edge. “It must have been important enough for you to come here in the middle of the night.”

Sihtric hesitated, torn between the need to speak and the urge to disappear. His hand clenched at his side, and he could feel Uhtred's gaze on him, piercing and unyielding. He stole another glance at Uhtred’s chest, at the way the firelight played across his skin, but the presence of someone hidden in the shadows of the room behind him made him feel increasingly embarrassed and even stupid. His lips parted, but no words came. 

Sihtric had needed all his courage to come here, he didn’t know he would need more of it. He hadn’t even thought of what would come after.

Uhtred watched the young Dane with increasing curiosity. The way his cheeks painted crimson, the way he swallowed hard as his eyes moved back to Uhtred’s bare chest over and over again although he tried to keep them casted down.

“Sihtric,” his voice was commanding and made the young Dane freeze in his tracks. “Come in.”

Sihtric swallowed hard. He hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground as though the floorboards beneath him were quicksand. He felt a lump rise in his throat, but he didn’t dare disobey. Slowly, he stepped forward, his leather boots creaking softly against the wood. Uhtred moved aside, allowing Sihtric to enter the chamber, and the door closed with a quiet thud behind him.

The warmth of the fire enveloped Sihtric, a stark contrast to the cold sweat on his back. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the shadow he had seen earlier. It was then he noticed him. Finan stood, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his bare chest.

Finan’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, though his expression remained guarded. His dark hair was tousled, and his smirk was just visible in the flickering firelight. He tilted his head slightly, a brow arched as he studied Sihtric.

“Well, isn’t this a sight,” Finan drawled, his Irish accent pleasant but teasing. “The pup comes scratchin’ at the door in the middle of the night. What’s wrong, lad? Couldn’t sleep without hearin’ a bedtime story?”

Sihtric’s cheeks burned hot, and he clenched his fists at his sides. The weight of both men’s gazes pressed down on him, making it nearly impossible to form words. He glanced at Uhtred, who stood nearby, arms crossed in silent expectation, then back at Finan.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Sihtric muttered, his voice tight.

“That much is clear,” Finan said with a chuckle, pushing off the wall. He stepped closer, his smirk softening. “So, what’s eatin’ at you, lad? It’s not like you to be skulkin’ around at this hour.”

“Finan,” Uhtred’s voice cut through the air, firm and commanding, halting whatever teasing remark his friend was about to unleash. The flicker of discomfort on Sihtric’s face didn’t escape him—the young Dane looked as if he might combust from sheer embarrassment. Uhtred turned to the table, grabbed a mug, and poured a generous serving of ale.

“Here,” he said, offering it to Sihtric with a calm, steady gaze.

The ale was fresh, its strong flavour filling Sihtric with a surprising warmth that settled his nerves, if only slightly. He drank it quickly, the liquid sliding down his throat in hasty gulps. His eyes, however, betrayed him, flitting between Uhtred and Finan. The sight before him was hard to ignore—two formidable warriors, their muscles shifting under scarred, sun-kissed skin, their powerful frames clad in nothing but breeches. Only then did it strike him as odd. They were both shirtless, their bare feet scuffing softly against the worn wooden floor as they moved.

“I… I didn’t mean to disturb…” Sihtric stammered, his voice faltering under their stares. His wide, darting eyes kept shifting between his lord and Finan.

“That much you’ve already said,” Uhtred smirked, the corner of his lips quirking upward. Sihtric couldn’t help but notice the glint in his lord’s eyes—a strange, intense hunger. It was unsettling and captivating all at once. Uhtred licked his lips as he took a step closer, and Sihtric froze under his gaze.

“I think it’s time to stop playing games,” Uhtred continued, his voice softer now, a low rumble that made Sihtric’s heart race. He tilted his head, two deep pools of piercing blue watching as Sihtric flinched slightly when Uhtred’s hand came to rest on the young Dane’s shoulder.

The air in the room seemed heavier, the flickering fire casting golden light and long, wavering shadows that danced across the walls. Sihtric could feel his heartbeat pounding in his throat, his body frozen between fight and flight or maybe something else.

“You’ve been holding back for too long, haven’t you?” Uhtred asked, his voice low, velvety growl that sent a shiver down Sihtric’s spine.

“I—” Sihtric started, but his words failed him. 

“You’re not very good at hiding it, lad,” Finan said from his place near the fire, his tone a teasing drawl, though his voice was softer than usual. “Always sneaking glances, always looking like you’ve got somethin’ to say but never quite sayin’ it. Don’t worry—we’ve been patient.”

Sihtric’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to protest, to deny the words, but the knowing smiles on both their faces silenced him. Uhtred took another step closer, his bare chest inches from Sihtric’s own. The Dane felt as if the floor beneath him might give way entirely.

Uhtred’s hand slid from Sihtric’s shoulder, the touch slow and deliberate, trailing down his arm until his fingers brushed against Sihtric’s wrist. “It’s all right,” Uhtred murmured, his other hand gently tipping Sihtric’s chin upward, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to hide anything from us, Sihtric. Not here.”

“We all know why you’re here, Sihtric,” he murmured, his tone laced with something almost tender as he nodded toward Finan. Sihtric hadn’t even noticed how quietly Finan had closed the distance, until now, as he felt the Irishman’s presence at his back and his palms landing on Sihtric’s waist.

For a brief moment, Sihtric’s chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat as his body tensed. A shiver ran through him, a flicker of unease clawing its way up his spine. The warmth of Finan’s breath against his neck felt too close, the firm touch of his hands too familiar in a way that made his skin prickle.

They were still there, buried deep in his mind—the dark shadows, reminding him of hands that had been neither kind nor wanted, when touch had come without care, and voices had carried commands laced with cruelty, not warmth. 

Sihtric’s shoulders stiffened, pulse hammering erratically and Finan paused, his movements faltering as he caught the tremor in Sihtric’s frame. Finan’s gaze darted to Uhtred, confusion flashing in his eyes before understanding dawned. Uhtred nodded subtly, his hand remaining firm on Sihtric’s wrist, steadying him. Finan softened instantly, his hands loosening their hold as his fingers brushed gently over Sihtric’s hips in a soothing motion.

“Easy, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice quiet and warm, the teasing edge replaced by soft worry. “You’re safe here. You set the pace. Always.”

Sihtric swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to respond, but his throat felt too tight. The warmth radiating from Uhtred’s body, the intensity of his gaze, and Finan’s steady presence behind him were overwhelming. 

Sihtric’s pulse quickened, each beat thundering in his ears as his thoughts spun wildly, a whirlwind of confusion and anticipation. He felt the brush of Finan’s hand against his back, steady and reassuring, but the heat of it burned through the fabric of his tunic.

The warmth of their bodies, so close to his own, seemed to seep into him, igniting a strange, dizzying heat. He could feel Finan behind him, his breath a soft whisper against Sihtric’s neck, while Uhtred’s hand kept him rooted in place. 

There was no escape—not that Sihtric was entirely certain he wanted one.

Sihtric drew in a shaky breath, the grounding warmth of their touch pulling him back to the present, reminding him this was different—they were different.

Finan stepped closer, his fingers brushing against Sihtric’s shoulder as he leaned in. “You don’t need to say a word,” Finan murmured, his breath warm against Sihtric’s ear. “Not if you don’t want to.”

The words sent a shudder through Sihtric, his breath hitching as a flood of emotions threatened to drown him. A part of him wanted to run, to escape and hide, erasing this moment from his memory. But another part—a part he barely dared to acknowledge—wanted to stay, to see what would happen if he let himself fall into the warmth of their embrace.

Uhtred’s thumb brushed lightly across Sihtric’s jaw, his voice soft yet commanding. “Trust us.”

The simple words unravelled something deep within Sihtric, the last thread of resistance snapping as he exhaled another shaky breath. He nodded, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“There’s a good lad,” Finan murmured, his voice tinged with pride as he pressed a reassuring hand to Sihtric’s back.

Uhtred leaned in first, his lips brushing against Sihtric’s in a feather-light touch, testing the waters, giving him the chance to pull away. But Sihtric didn’t move; instead, he tilted his head slightly, leaning into the kiss with a tentative eagerness that made Uhtred smile against his mouth.

When Uhtred pulled back, Finan was already there, his hands resting on Sihtric’s shoulders as he turned him gently. “My turn,” Finan said with a grin before capturing Sihtric’s lips in a kiss that was softer, slower, but no less certain.

Sihtric felt himself melting under Finan’s touch, the kiss sending a warmth spiralling through him that he hadn’t expected. Finan’s lips were softer than he imagined, his movements unhurried yet firm, giving Sihtric the space to respond. The room seemed to grow quieter, the crackling of the fire dimming under the sound of their breaths mingling. When Finan finally pulled away, his forehead pressed gently to Sihtric’s, the Irishman’s ever-present grin softened into something more tender.

“See?” Finan murmured, his hands sliding down to rest on Sihtric’s arms. “Nothin’ to be scared of, lad.”

Sihtric blinked at him, his heart pounding so hard he swore they must have heard it. His lips tingled from their kisses, and his cheeks burned hot, but the fear he’d expected to feel wasn’t there. Instead, there was a strange, overwhelming sense of belonging.

Uhtred’s hand on his lower back reminded him of his presence. Sihtric turned to find his lord watching him with the same steady confidence that had drawn him to Uhtred from the very beginning. There was no hesitation, no doubt—only an invitation to take another step forward.

“Do you trust us now?” Uhtred asked, his voice low and coaxing. His thumb brushed against Sihtric’s cheek again, a gesture so gentle it made Sihtric’s breath hitch.

“Yes, lord,” Sihtric whispered, the words leaving his lips without hesitation this time.

“Good,” Uhtred said with a nod, his expression softening further. “Because this isn’t about orders or loyalty. This is about us. You, me, and Finan. And it only happens if you want it to.”

Sihtric swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between the two men. He felt the weight of their sincerity, the way they were giving him space even now to choose. It was almost too much—this kindness, this care—but Sihtric found himself nodding again, this time more firmly.

“I want this,” he said, his voice steadier. “I—I want you. Both of you.”

Finan let out a soft laugh, pulling Sihtric into a one-armed embrace. “That’s the spirit, lad. You’ve made us wait long enough.”

Uhtred chuckled, stepping closer until their bodies nearly touched. His hand slid from Sihtric’s cheek to the back of his neck, his fingers threading through the shorter hair there. “Then there’s no more need for hesitation,” he murmured, leaning in once more.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more certain, and Sihtric found himself responding instinctively. His hands, unsure at first, reached up to rest against Uhtred’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips. Uhtred hummed approvingly, the sound reverberating against Sihtric’s lips.

Finan, never one to be left out, pressed his lips to the side of Sihtric’s neck, his breath hot against his skin as his hands trailed down Sihtric’s sides. The combination of their touches, their warmth surrounding him, made Sihtric feel as though he was standing at the edge of something vast and uncharted. But for once, he wasn’t afraid to step forward.

Their hands moved with a gentle confidence, working together to free Sihtric from his clothes. Each touch sent sparks skittering across his skin, leaving him breathless. The room felt impossibly warm, every brush of their hands, lips, and bodies drawing him deeper into the haze of sensation. Sihtric’s head spun, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all but unable to resist the way it consumed him.

Finan’s beard tickled pleasantly against his neck as he trailed kisses along the sensitive skin there, each press of his lips followed by a soft nip or a slow, deliberate suck that left Sihtric shivering. His hands gripped at Finan’s shoulders, desperate for something to hold on as his body was set alight.

Uhtred, ever commanding even in this, captured his lips with heated urgency. His tongue swept into Sihtric’s mouth, claiming and exploring with an intensity that made Sihtric moan. The sound was swallowed by Uhtred’s kiss, his fingers threading through Sihtric’s hair to hold him close.

A sharp gasp escaped Sihtric as Finan’s hand slid lower, curling firmly around his cock. The Irishman’s touch was sure, his fingers stroking with a deliberate rhythm that had Sihtric arching into his palm.

“Would you look at that,” Finan chuckled, his voice thick with admiration as he glanced down. His grin was playful but tinged with genuine appreciation. “You’ve been truly gifted, lad.”

Sihtric’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson at Finan’s words, the compliment landing somewhere between embarrassment and pride. His response was a shaky, breathless moan as Finan’s hand moved again, teasing and coaxing more sounds from him.

“Careful, Finan,” Uhtred murmured against Sihtric’s lips, pulling back just enough to speak. His voice was low, teasing but commanding all the same. “Don’t overwhelm him too quickly.”

Finan smirked, his gaze flicking up to meet Uhtred’s. “Overwhelm? This lad’s a warrior, isn’t he? He can take it.”

Sihtric’s lips parted, a soft whimper escaping as the sensations mounted, the combination of Finan’s skilled touch and Uhtred’s intense presence threatening to undo him completely.

Uhtred’s hand drifted down, his fingers brushing over Sihtric’s chest before resting at his hip. “He can take it,” Uhtred agreed with a knowing smile, his eyes locking onto Sihtric’s. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t savour this.”

The slow, deliberate way they worked together to unravel him left Sihtric trembling, his body responding to their every touch. He let himself go, surrendering to the safety of their hands, the warmth of their bodies, and the unspoken promise in their eyes: he was theirs, and they would take care of him.

Sihtric’s eyes widened in surprise, his breath hitching as he watched his lord sink gracefully to his knees. The sight alone was enough to send a jolt through him—a man as powerful and commanding as Uhtred lowering himself before him, the flicker of a mischievous glint lighting up his intense gaze.

“L-Lord…” Sihtric stammered, his voice shaky, his mind struggling to keep pace with the reality unfolding before him. But before he could form a coherent thought, his words were stolen from him. A raw, unrestrained moan tore from his throat as Uhtred’s lips wrapped around him, warm and firm.

The sensation was incredible. Uhtred’s mouth moved with deliberate purpose, his tongue tracing along Sihtric’s length in a way that made his knees threaten to give in. Sihtric’s hands shot out instinctively, clutching at Uhtred’s broad shoulders, desperate for support as his body betrayed him, buckling under the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

“By the gods…” Sihtric breathed, his head tilting back as he surrendered to the waves of sensation coursing through him, fingers flexing against Uhtred’s skin.

Uhtred glanced up at him, his eyes smouldering with a mixture of amusement and intent. Uhtred’s hands gripped Sihtric’s hips, firm enough to steady him but not restricting, allowing Sihtric to move if he needed to.

Behind him, Finan’s low chuckle rumbled through the air. “Looks like our young Dane’s got himself in good hands,” he teased, his voice dripping with warmth and mischief. Sihtric felt a flush spread across his skin, heat pooling in his cheeks and chest, but there was no time to respond—not with the way Uhtred’s mouth and tongue were drawing another lewd sound from his lips.

“Relax, lad,” Finan murmured, pressing himself flush against Sihtric’s back, his hand settling at the base of Sihtric’s neck, grounding him with a gentle squeeze. “Let yourself enjoy it.”

Sihtric’s breath hitched again, his body trembling as he surrendered fully to the overwhelming current of pleasure coursing through him. Uhtred worked him with practised ease, his lips and tongue driving Sihtric to the brink, unravelling him completely. The young Dane’s hands clutched desperately at Uhtred’s hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands as his hips moved involuntarily, seeking more of the bliss Uhtred offered.

Soft, broken moans spilled from Sihtric’s lips, each one more desperate than the last. His head tilted back, resting heavily against Finan’s chest. The Irishman’s arms wrapped around him, holding him steady.

“I’m close,” Sihtric gasped, his voice trembling with a mix of urgency and embarrassment. “Lord, I—I can’t hold back anymore.”

Finan’s chuckle was warm against Sihtric’s ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and sending another shiver through him. “Then don’t, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice low and coaxing. His lips brushed against Sihtric’s ear as he whispered, “Let go. Cum for your lord.”

Uhtred couldn’t respond, his mouth otherwise occupied, but the muffled hum of his approval vibrated against Sihtric, sending him over the edge. Sihtric cried out, his body tensing as the wave of release crashed over him, leaving him trembling in their arms. Uhtred didn’t pull back, his movements slowing but deliberate, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from Sihtric until the young Dane was spent.

Sihtric slumped bonelessly against Finan, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Uhtred finally pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up at Sihtric, a mischievous but satisfied grin tugging at his lips.

“Good lad,” Uhtred smirked, his voice rough with satisfaction. Finan chuckled softly, his fingers brushing tenderly through Sihtric’s damp hair, sending a ripple of warmth down the young Dane’s spine.

“That was only the beginning, boy,” Finan said with a teasing grin. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

Sihtric’s cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, his chest rising and falling in heavy waves as he struggled to process what had just happened. It all felt impossible, like a dream too vivid to be real. Just moments ago, he had been standing outside Uhtred’s door, his courage faltering with every second that passed. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought this was what awaited him beyond that closed door.

He had grown too accustomed to giving himself away—his body a vessel for others’ pleasure, used to fleeting encounters with little room for his own needs. But this… this was different. Encircled by Uhtred’s steady strength and Finan’s teasing warmth, Sihtric felt a tenderness he hadn’t dared to hope for, a care that cradled him as much as their hands did.

He shuddered, a quiet, almost involuntary movement, as a thought crossed his mind. Is this what being loved feels like?

Finan’s hand gently gripping his wrist brought him back to reality, the Irishman’s steady pull coaxing him toward the bed. The fur-covered surface seemed impossibly soft, a stark contrast to the rugged hands that guided him. Sihtric followed willingly, his steps hesitant but unresisting, the shy smile tugging at his lips betraying the sweet anticipation coursing through his veins.

“Don’t hold back now, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice softer than before, the teasing edge tempered by genuine care. “This night’s for you, too.”

Uhtred was already there, reclining against the plush furs with a confidence that made Sihtric’s pulse quicken. His eyes, warm and steady, met Sihtric’s, silently promising safety and desire in equal measure. Sihtric felt his breath hitch, but he didn’t falter. He let Finan guide him closer, the weight of their attention both overwhelming and comforting.

The bed dipped under their combined weight as Finan joined them, his hand never leaving Sihtric’s wrist, as if he felt how much Sihtric needed that—not to lose the physical contact reassuring him that this was indeed real, anchoring him in presence. Uhtred’s hand reached out, cupping Sihtric’s cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line along his jaw.

“This is your place,” Uhtred said softly, his voice steady and firm, leaving no room for doubt. “With us.”

Sihtric swallowed hard, his chest tightening with emotion as he nodded. His lips parted to speak, but no words came—none were needed. Instead, he leaned forward, letting himself fall into their embrace once more, the warmth of their bodies and the tenderness of their touches setting him on fire once again.

“Go on, take him. Don’t hold back—our lord loves it a bit rough,” Finan whispered, his voice a low, raspy tease that sent a shiver cascading down Sihtric’s spine. The young Dane hesitated, his eyes drinking in the sight of Uhtred’s naked body sprawled before him, strong and inviting, yet somehow vulnerable in his surrender.

“And if you want,” Finan murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of Sihtric’s ear, “I’ll do the same for you.” The words, paired with the subtle press of Finan’s cock against him, made Sihtric’s own twitch with a desperate need that left him gasping.

His body was a storm of sensations, his cock throbbing and leaking from all the affection Uhtred and Finan had lavished upon him. It felt as if no part of him had been left untouched, every inch of his skin kissed, claimed, and adored. Their passion had unravelled him completely, stripping him of any fear or doubt. Sihtric had given back all he could—his lips and hands exploring every scar and curve, his mouth yielding eagerly, letting them fuck it until tears spilled down his cheeks.

He had poured himself into every touch, helping to prepare Uhtred with fingers slicked in rose-scented oil, savouring the way his lord’s body responded to him. And when Finan’s fingers had worked their way into Sihtric’s own body, spreading him open with careful but relentless intent, his moans had turned to cries of wild pleasure.

He pressed the head of his cock against Uhtred’s entrance and Uhtred moaned, his head tipping back onto the bed, exposing the strong line of his throat. “You know what to do, don’t you?” Finan asked, his voice a mixture of encouragement and playful challenge. His hands rested firmly on Sihtric’s hips, steadying him as he pressed his own body closer, teasing Sihtric’s hole with his cock.

Sihtric nodded, though his breath was shaky and uneven. The heat of Finan’s body at his back and the sight of Uhtred laid bare before him were almost too much to bear. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, summoning the courage he needed. Slowly, he began to push forward, the tight heat of Uhtred’s body drawing him in, inch by inch.

Uhtred groaned, his hands fisting in the furs beneath him, his body arching slightly as he took Sihtric in. “By the gods, you are perfect, Sihtric,” Uhtred murmured, his voice thick and laden with pleasure. “Don’t stop. Take what you need.”

Finan’s grip on Sihtric’s hips tightened as he leaned in, his breath hot against Sihtric’s neck. “That’s it, lad. See? You were made for this,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and desire. The tip of his cock pressed insistently against Sihtric’s entrance, adding a delicious pressure that made the young Dane gasp.

Sihtric’s gasp turned into a low, trembling moan, his body caught in the intoxicating heat between Uhtred and Finan. The pressure at his back combined with the tightness of Uhtred’s body around him sent his senses spiralling. 

“Easy now,” Finan murmured, his lips grazing the back of Sihtric’s neck. His voice was steady, but the hunger in it was unmistakable. “Let yourself feel it.”

Sihtric bit his lip, nodding faintly as he began to move, his hips rocking slowly, tentatively, in and out of Uhtred’s welcoming heat. Every motion sent ripples of pleasure through him, Uhtred’s low groans encouraging him to keep going, to take more. But the insistent presence of Finan behind him made it impossible to stay focused, the Irishman’s cock teasing at his entrance, driving him mad.

“Good,” Uhtred rasped, his voice a mix of command and approval as his hands reached up, finding Sihtric’s upper arms. He squeezed them lightly, his fingertips digging into the taut muscle. “You are so good, Sihtric,” he groaned, spreading himself even more open to give Sihtric better access to his pulsing hole, to take him in deeper.

Finan chuckled softly, his teeth grazing the shell of Sihtric’s ear as his hands guided the younger man’s hips in a rhythm that matched his own teasing movements. “Ready for the next step, lad?” he asked, his tone equal parts gentle and wicked. “I think you can take it.”

Sihtric’s breath hitched, his heart racing as he nodded, overwhelmed but unwilling to stop. Finan pressed forward, the thick head of his cock breaching Sihtric’s entrance with a slow, deliberate push. The sensation was sharp at first, but the burn quickly melted into pleasure, coaxed along by the steady reassurance of Finan’s hands on his hips and the whispered words of encouragement in his ear.

“You’re doing so well,” Finan murmured, his voice husky. 

Sihtric cried out softly, his hands gripping Uhtred’s thighs as he tried to steady himself. The fullness of having both of them—Uhtred beneath him wrapped around his cock and Finan behind—was overwhelming in the best way possible. He had never felt so completely surrounded, so entirely claimed, yet so safe.

Uhtred’s hands slid up, brushing over Sihtric’s sides before grabbing his waist, pulling him slightly closer. “Good lad,” Uhtred groaned, his head tipping back as he watched Sihtric’s movements grow more confident. “You’re perfect, Sihtric. Absolutely perfect.”

Finan’s hips began to move in tandem with Sihtric’s, the three of them finding a rhythm that sent shocks of pleasure coursing through their bodies. The room was filled with the sounds of their moans, the rustling of the furs beneath them, and the faint crackle of the firelight casting their intertwined shadows on the walls. 

Sihtric’s pace quickened, his movements growing bolder as he lost himself in the pleasure. Uhtred’s low, guttural moans urged him on, the sound rolling over him like a wave, spurring him on to thrust harder, deeper. Each time he drove into his lord, it was met with a shuddering gasp or a whispered encouragement, Uhtred’s body arching beneath him in pure bliss.

Behind him, Finan’s hands gripped his hips with a steadying strength, guiding his movements and matching them with thrusts of his own. The stretch and fullness as Finan worked him with deliberate precision sent jolts of heat racing through Sihtric’s veins, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. He felt caught between them, utterly surrounded and consumed, yet completely whole.

“Give it to him, lad,” Finan growled, his voice rough with desire. “Show him what you’ve got. Don’t hold back.”

Uhtred’s fingers dug into Sihtric’s waist, his head tipping back onto the furs as his body tensed. “Yes,” Uhtred groaned, his voice thick and breathless. “Just like that. Don’t stop. Don’t—ah—stop.”

Sihtric couldn’t hold back any longer. His rhythm became relentless, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. He felt Finan’s cock stretching and filling him with every movement, while Uhtred’s tight hole pulsed and clenched around him with every thrust, the dual sensations overwhelming him completely. His cries mixed with Uhtred’s, his voice breaking as pleasure overtook him.

It happened all at once. Uhtred’s body arched, his hands gripping Sihtric’s arms with bruising force as he reached his climax, a deep, guttural moan tearing from his throat, cum spurting from his untouched cock and painting his belly white. The sight of his lord lost in pleasure was all it took to push Sihtric over the edge. He buried himself deep one last time, his body trembling violently as his orgasm ripped through him, leaving him gasping and shuddering as he filled Uhtred’s hole with endless ropes of his own seed.

Behind him, Finan’s rhythm faltered, his breathless groans filling the room as he pounded into Sihtric chasing his own release. He pushed deeply into Sihtric one final time. His hands tightened on Sihtric’s hips as he spilled into him with a loud growl, his head falling forward onto Sihtric’s back. 

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined, trembling and spent. The room slowly quieted, the only sounds remaining the soft crackle of the fire and their laboured breaths. Sihtric slumped forward, his head resting against Uhtred’s chest, while Finan’s arms encircled him from behind, holding him steady. The weight of their bodies pressed together was grounding, comforting, and impossibly intimate.

“You were incredible, lad,” Finan murmured, his lips brushing against Sihtric’s ear.

Uhtred’s hand moved to stroke Sihtric’s hair, his voice soft and full of warmth. “More than that—you were perfect.”

As the aftershocks of pleasure faded, the three of them shifted slowly, their breaths evening out. Finan eased himself back onto the bed, his arms still loosely wrapped around Sihtric’s waist, pulling him down with him. Uhtred moved to Sihtric’s other side, his hand brushing over the young Dane’s hair with quiet affection as they settled into the furs.

Uhtred tugged the thick furs over them, ensuring Sihtric was snugly nestled between him and Finan. The younger man let out a soft sigh, his head resting against Uhtred’s chest, while Finan pressed a gentle kiss to his temple from behind.

“Sleep, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness and satisfaction. “You’ve earned it.”

Uhtred’s hand continued to trace soothing patterns over Sihtric’s back, his other arm resting comfortably over both of them. “Rest now,” he said quietly, his tone carrying the same commanding reassurance that had drawn Sihtric to him from the start. “You’re safe. You’re ours.”

Sihtric’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, his body completely at ease between theirs. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt not just desired but cherished, loved in a way he hadn’t thought possible. A faint, contented smile played on his lips as sleep claimed him, the steady rise and fall of Uhtred and Finan’s breaths lulling him into peaceful oblivion.

[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.

[hikaruchen]

Repent now, repent now! Remember this body is not your home; No pleasure in the sea, No wound is as sharp as the will of God.

— REPENT NOW CONFESS NOW, Lingua Ignota

INPRNT

-

Here I am being the bearer of good news to tell you Chapter 28 of A King’s Burden by the amazing amazing @thedarknone has updated! GO CHECK IT OUT IF YOU HAVEN’T! Huge thanks for giving me the opportunity to work on this commission, such a pleasant experience and I can’t wait to work with you again :DD

Process

[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 in Chapter One: 8,045

[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.

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄❟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 Days and days. Cold nights 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 Wulfwynn makes the acquaintance of her saviors, who care and tend to her while her memories and nightmares torment her. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 .𖦹 To be added ! 𖦹. 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ₊̇*⸼ 892-895 AD ⵓ 9th November 892 AD - 10th November 892 AD. (Season 3)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄❟ 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄. ⊰‧₊˚･ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 .𖦹 Despite the healing of her wounds, Wulfwynn is swept up in a whirlwind of suffering and anguish that threatens to tempt her to throw herself off the cliff she teeters upon. 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."

[lionneee]

Requests🕯️

Here are my requests! From my least recent to the closest!

Request Rules

1.

can you please write a fic set after rook rest where reader is aegon's wife, she is show to be very fertile (she and aegon have three children in four years of marriage, blood and cheese never happen in this fic). she is beautiful and very gentle, aemond always lusted over her. now after he took the conqueror's knife and saw the prophecy over it aemond has convinced himself that he is the prince that was promised (we stand our delusional king), so his first aim now is to reproduce and have his own heirs, and who better than the reader especially since aegon is out of the picture. reader try to make aemond see things, like saying that their children will be bastard and unable to inherit the throne. but aemond already took his decision and claim it's reader's decision to have pleasure from it or not. i would really like this to end with a non con/ dub con smut scene❤️❤️

2. Let The World Burn

Could I request an Aemond X reader where reader gets kidnapped and he gets all protective?

3. Favourite Uncle

I see your request open and just thought about Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader, when she is helaena and Aegon youngest daughter and Alicent is so close to her because of this she is close to Aemond too but Viserys desperate to rekindle his family betrothed her to jacaerys, they’re married after that she was pregnant but there is a rumor that the baby daddy is her uncle Aemond. You can do what’s next or make it how you like it.

4. The Enemy

here we are then!! i have a request about reader x modern aemond fic. reader has a brother, but she's unaware that he's a mafia boss. She's quite naive and dutiful, focusing solely on her college and studies. At college, she meets Aemond in their philosophy class, and they quickly grow fond of each other, developing a deep connection. However, Aemond is also a mafia boss, leading the rival gang to her brother's. They begin a relationship, but both know it can't last, especially when her brother (who was initially unaware) strongly opposes it. Aemond, deeply in love with the reader (and slightly psychopathic lol) decides to remove the obstacle in their way: he shoots her brother, killing him, and goes to the reader to tell her that now they can finally be together. Shocked and devastated, the reader is torn. Despite everything, she cares for her brother and never wanted him dead. Consumed by anger and a thirst for revenge, she decides to report Aemond to the police. He gets arrested, as he trusted her completely and had shared everything with her, including the gang's location and where they hide the drugs. After two or three years, Aemond manages to get out of prison thanks to his excellent lawyers. He feels deeply betrayed by the reader, convinced that everything he had done was for them, so that they could finally live their love. Now, however, he wants revenge (even if he still feels love for her, but the desire for revenge is greater) . A few days after his release, he sneaks into the reader's house while she is sleeping, climbs on top of her and handcuffs her to the bed with the same handcuffs that had been used to arrest him. i would very like for the request to be concluded with a non con scene, explicit if possible. thank you very much

5.

can you write a spicy one shot of aemond fucking the reader while he talks about philosophy because his voice and him speaking about all these things really really turns her on and it needs to be filthy and rough, like he rails her

6.

phantom of the opera aemond.

7. Happy Halloween

Hello hello, sinds its almost halloween i have requested: aemond as gosht face/ micheal myers x reader.

8. On The Bottom Of The Ocean

Hi ✨ I just saw that you opened the request and I just want to send a request about my idea in this post https://www.tumblr.com/sapphirevhagar/764123647456804864/can-some-writer-write-this-one-shot-for-me-i-beg I wanna read about Ghost Aemond! 👻 slightly dub-con / dirty talk/ degradation after he has died in god’s eyes for 200 years, there is a girl who wanna see skeletons of him and vhagar after she read the story about him. So, she swim and dive in god’s eyes to find him. Finally, She has found him but when she looks at his socket, she found something strange.. Sapphire in his eye shining like he still alive. In that night, someone knock her door (she live near the god’s eyes and has to live alone for a while because her parent went to king’s landing) And when she open the door, the man with long white hair and sapphire in his eye smirks at her “If you want to see me, you should see how I look when I was alive” (and yes… 200 years I think he want someone to… 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

9. Sweet Osferth

Hi 💓 Can I request Osferth x Reader that people always think he’s innocent but turn out he’s NOT 🤭 reader always underestimate him by thinking that he still a virgin so, he shows her that he’s really good on bed 🥵

10. His, Forever

Can you make one where reader tries to leave Aemond and he is Despartly in love with reader after reader leaves him he looses his mind he started stalking her killing her every new boyfriend and always anonymously gifting her random things with creepy letters then to get her back again he made her pregnant

[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)