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putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty · 3 years

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The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 7

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable and “readable” than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate.

A/N: Hiiiii! Sorry for the long break, I’ve been veeeery busy with uni :( Happy New Year and I hope you like this chapter, cause I love it!

Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior.

General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence

Chapter’s warning: Blood and little of Finan in this chapter.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven: Cenric

Abbey of Wincelcumb, Mercia, five years before. The harebells brushed against Aoife’s ankles, leaving an itchy kiss on her soft skin, and she laughed lightly. She had few memories of her mother, but every time the breeze moved her hair, it felt just like her touch. “Quick, quick, child!” Sister Aeskel mumbled patting her back lightly “Always so distracted! God really takes special care of you, I’m surprised you haven’t fallen into a ravine yet.” she growled in her thick Northumbrian accent, but she was trying to suppress a smile. “But you wouldn’t let me die, would you, Sister?” “ Course not! I wouldn’t waste precious help!” Aoife’s cackle was covered by a drumming of hooves, so close that the ground under her naked feet trembled. A beautiful black horse was galloping up the hill, right towards them. “I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.” Sister Aeskel cried terrified, but Aoife was not scared, nor believed that the horse was an omen of the apocalypse. As a punch on her stomach, a memory came: a young Aoife was running her small hands on the smooth coat of a horse and her mother was begging her to be careful, a worried look on her ripe, sweet face. “Aoife!” the Sister screamed, pulling her aside just moments before the horse trampled the ground she was standing. It did not stop, running straight towards the Abbey. On its back, a body lay pathetically, like one of those rag dolls sprawled in the corner of her room. “Sister, ‘twas a person!” “I know child, I’m old not blind! Come, quick! Try not to harm yourself until we’re at the Abbey!” There was a library in the nunnery, a square room with the four walls covered with books from floor to ceiling. When she was six, the Abbess forced her to read each of those books. “Books clear your path to Heaven. A full mind is a full soul” she used to say, and at the time Aoife was too scare to disobey; little by little, she started enjoying reading, which pleased the Abbess greatly, and many months before her fourteenth birth she had already read every book in the room. She especially liked the pictures, she would run the tips of her fingers on the lines, her touch light as a feather, careful not to ruin the thin parchment. There was one particular image that intrigued her: a deposition of Christ, his body covered by a thin cloth. The man, lying on the infirmary bed, reminded her of that image. He was sleeping, his breath shallow and heavy. A sheet covered his waist, and a wide and deep wound run down his chest. When Aoife and Sister Aeskel reached the Abbey, the horse was neighing loudly and banging his hooves on the ground. The man had fallen down its back and was now laying on the stairs, a puddle of blood widening under him. Four sisters had hurried him in the nunnery, where Aoife, frozen in horror, had watched Sister Aeskel trying to save his life. “He will live, Aoife.” Sister Aeskel approached her with a motherly smile “Can you please wash him?” She still had his blood under her nails, pressing uncomfortably again her skin and she tried to brush it away on her smock. No matter how hard she tried, she could not take her eyes off the man. He had red hair, messily falling to his broad shoulder, harsh skin burnt by the sun and strong features, with a wide jaw and high cheekbones; she had met men before, bishops, priests and farmers from the village, but no one as handsome as him that even now, passed out and covered in sweat, resembled an angel. She dropped on the chair next to his bed and without thinking about it, took his hand in hers. She knew then that he would be her despair. “Are the ropes tight, Aoife?” She felt weak and feverish, her fingers trembling on the knots. “Aoife!” Sister Aeskel insisted “I need your head to be clear for once.” “They’re tight, Sister.” The nun nodded, gripping nervously the iron poker and pulling it out from the fire. Its red, angry spike made Aoife’s stomach turn. The man’s wound had infected and poking it with burning iron was the only remedy Aeskel knew. “Keep his head still, Aoife.” she ordered. They had moved him on a wooden table, and he was lying unconscious, ankles and wrists tightened with thick ropes. Aoife stuck between his teeth a thick piece of leather, then, with a hand on his cheek and one on his forehead, she kept him down against the wood. “Pray for him, child” Sister Aeskel whispered and pushed the spike in the open wound. There was a moment of celestial peace, then the man squirmed in pain, an animalistic scream exploded from his throat and Aoife was crying, shouting her apologise over his shrieks and she had to push him down with the entire weigh of her body, Aeskel prayers a distant noise in her ears. It lasted not more than a minute, but at the end Aoife was exhausted. Her limbs were shaking violently but she forced herself to pat a fresh cloth on his face, cleaning the sweat and tears from his eyes and skin. His eyelids quivered under her touch and his breath was short but deep, and she smiled gratefully, thanking God for the miracle. And then, she met the palest eyes she had ever seen. The man was awake, for the first time in days, and a weak smile cracked his harsh features. “Are you an angel?” he whispered and passed out again. She entered slowly, careful not to drop the tray with ale and food, while keeping the door open with her hip. “Sir?” she called “I bring food.” He was sitting with his back against the wall, legs stretched and a book on his thighs. He has been awake for a couple of days now, healing faster that she would have expected. Aoife had brought him food since the day he had woken up and he still hadn’t addressed her, and each time she grew more annoyed with the ungrateful man and his surly attitude. He shot her the usual glance, followed by a nod and she stepped closer, putting the tray on the table. She smoothed the creases of her skirt and stood, right in front of him, with her arm crossed. She could not stand ungrateful people, even less being ignored. She felt like she deserved a word of thanks, or at least some kind of acknowledgment. And her sisters too. “Why are you here?” He looked up, an amazed grin on his thin lips “You should change your tone, nun.” She gestured her unveiled head “Clearly, I’m not a nun.” “Why are you living here, then?” “I do not own you an explanation.” “Neither do I.” “I saved your life!” He chuckled coldly “You did not. I clearly remember your pretty face right in front of my eyes, you could not be the one pushing the iron against my flesh, lady.” “But I was the one who took care of you afterwards.” “You expect me to thank you?” Aoife raised her arms exasperated and, with a last venomous look, she left the room. “I apologize, lady.” Aoife did not look up from the herbs she was grinding. She was being difficult, of course, the man’s attitude was annoying, but he had not offended her seriously, not enough to deserve her silence. But, in that world that had stripped her of most of her freedom, her voice was the only power she still owned, and she was allowed to decide who deserved her time. He had not offended her seriously, but he had still been disrespectful and she would not waste another moment being kind to him. “Lay down, lord.” she instructed, and still pushed him down before her words could reach his ears, just because she felt the urge to treat him like a child. God would forgive her, he would even laugh, she was sure of it. Despite her prideful thoughts, she could not help but admire his pale bare torso, the soft blonde hair covering his chest and the bright red line of the healed wound. He had a mark on the base of his neck and the desire to press her lips on that area shook her to her core. “Yeah, just skip this part of the story, would you?” Finan mumbled, eyes fixed on the dancing flames. Aoife blushed, both for the cold breeze and the embarrassment of her words, and nodded quickly. Somewhere, deep in her soul, she acknowledged his jealousy and the small, sinful fairy in her, who enjoyed Finan’s attention more that her Christian education would allow her to, smirked viciously. At some point while she was talking, his hand had dropped in her lap and she had held it since and with every stroke of his rough thumb on the back of her hand, she felt her heart rate speed up. “Of course, yes. Where was I?” She spread the poultice all over his irritated skin, careful not to hurt him. “It shall fasten the healing.” she explained coldly, all her attention fixed on what she was doing. Still, she could not help but look up when his hand closed around hers. The man was already watching her, with a tentative smile, and when he noticed her attention, he retracted his hand quickly and she found herself missing the warmth of his touch on her skin. “Lady, I must apologise for my previous words. I did not intended to offend you.” She scoffed, getting back up and stepping away “You did offended me, lord. You can or cannot tell me who you are, it is not in my powers nor my intentions to force you to tell us what you might desire to keep a secret. And I apologise for demanding it.” She was rushing her words, afraid that if she would stop, she would not find the courage to keep going “However, you own words of thanks and an explanation to my Sisters that had sheltered and took care of you, only with kindness, but you’ve been patronizing us and treating the people that are healing and feeding you with arrogance.” she collected her mortar and pestle “You could be the king of Northumbria, for all I know, but this is the house of God and before him we’re all the same.” she smiled coldly and with a little bow, she walked to the door. “I am no king, lady.” he raised his voice to hopefully stopping her from leaving. She turned around slightly, watching him with her eyebrows raised. “I am no king, lady. I’m just a man and you can call me Cenric. If you’ll allow me, I will tell you my story.” Under his hesitant gaze, she smiled tenderly “Thank you, Cenric. I’d be honoured.” It was a cloudy, calm spring day, but the summer was coming, she could smell it in the breeze. The lord was walking slowly, carefully leaning on a wooden stick she had grossly carved during the night. Sister Aeskel had asked Aoife to take him for a walk and she had more than gladly obey, she was craving any piece of information over the man. He was breathing heavily and Aoife asked him many times if he wanted to rest somewhere for a while, but he was as stubborn as a bull and every time she pointed out his fatigue, he sped up his pace, so she stopped asking, humouring him to prevent his wound to open again. They walked for a while in silence, and she patiently let him enjoy the clear air and peace; wherever he came from, she was sure there was no place as restful as the gardens of the Abbey. Somehow, they ended up in the stables. Cenric’s majestic black horse was the only one in the stalls and was chewing hay slowly. “Poor thing” Aoife said lowly “It must miss running.” She could feel his gaze on her skin “She sure does, she’s always being restless.” he stepped closer and the horse pushed her face against the palm of her owner. Cenric caressed her with long, slow strokes and gestured Aoife to approach them. “Put your hand under her nose, let her smell you.” The horse sniffed her deeply, tickling Aoife’s wrist with her warm breath. She couldn’t help but laugh lightly and the sound amazed the animal that shot her a wary look and then pushed her long face against the girl’s shoulder. The strong, affectionate touch took Aoife by surprise and she stepped back, losing her balance. She felt Cenric’s strong touch against the small of her back, sending shivers down her spine. Aoife held her breath, careful not to break the perfection of that experience. No man had ever touched her before, not even a brush of fingers, and the pressure of Cenric’s hand on her was secure and strong and made her head spin. It was just a moment, though, then he drifted away to run his fingers through the mare’s coat; she mimicked him and it felt like the most precious velvet under her fingertips. “What’s her name?” she asked then timidly, she hoped he would not notice the shortness of her breath and the blush on her full cheeks. She could hear him smile through his words “Godiva.” “Godiva!” Finan turned around shooting a knowing smile to the black mare that was grazing grass a few steps further. “Ye’.” Aoife smiled fondly at the creature “A valuable gift.” “He must have loved you dearly.” Finan noticed, watching her through his thick eyelashes. Aoife could not meet his eyes, fearing that she would break in tears in front of that stupid fire “Shush, let me talk.” “She must have cost a fortune.” “She was gifted to me.” Cenric answered and his amused smirked appeared under Godiva’s neck “You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” She smiled brightly “You promised me you would tell me your story.” He chuckled, watching her intensely “Indeed I promised. What do you want to know, lady? You can ask me freely.” “I have to ask?” He raised his eyebrows, a blank expression on his face, and with an exasperated groan she pointed at his chest “Who hurt you? And how? And why?” “So many questions…” “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He rolled his eyes “I will, you eager woman, but I’m tired and sore. I say we rest for a while.” The sun had begun peeping out from the clouds and its warm kiss tinted Aoife’s face of a dark pink; she took of her shoes and settled her long skirt to cover her naked feet while she sat on the soft grass. She had dragged out from the stables two hay bales, for him to sit on, and was now waiting patiently for him to answer her questions. Knowing exactly, and enjoying greatly, the effect his secrecy had on her, he took his time to get comfortable and enjoy the warm sun, a rarity in his lands. When he reopened his eyes and they got used to the light, he found her already staring at him, with her pretty, fresh face on her bent knees that she was hugging tightly. He smiled again, impressed to still be able to do it; he had tortured her enough and, as hard as it was for him to open up, she had treated him much better that he deserved and, for reason he could only associate with the attractiveness of that young peculiar woman, he was eager to guide her through the lighter path of his dark past. ��There’s not much to tell, lady.” “It won’t take long, then.” He was playing with the wood stick and Aoife waited patiently while he collected his thoughts. “My father gave me Godiva.” he finally said, eyes fixed on the grass. “I was seventeen at the time, ready to leave for my first battle against the Danes. He gifted me his best horse because he was certain I would die in that battle and he wanted my last friend to be that majestic horse. I would never forget the surprise on his face when I returned home, alive on Godiva’s back. I left for battle many times after that and I returned each time. I’ve been a warrior for the past seven years and I am certain I’ll be a swordman for the rest of my life.” he patted his chest lightly “And this wound is nothing more than a misunderstanding between swordmen in the ale house down in the village. Warriors are proud people, especially when ale is involved.” he raised his eyes to look at Aoife “I’m sorry if you were expecting a compelling story, lady. My life is not worthy of songs.” She knew he was lying, or at least he was not telling the entire truth, no one would be that much secretive about such normal life. Also, she was just a nun, but she knew that no tenants could afford a horse like that, and she was quite offended he would think she was fool enough to believe his simplistic explanation. Yet, she accepted what he was giving her, hoping that time would also heal his wary soul. “Thank you for talking to me.” He looked up to her, astonished “You’re a peculiar creature, lady.”

“Aoife.” “Pardon?” She shrugged timidly “You keep calling me lady, but I am not. Just call me Aoife.” He tilted his head, in a caricature of a bow “Well then, Aoife. It was a pleasure to walk with you.” “I do not trust him, Sister.” The Abbess was standing at the window of her room, watching, if not spying, young Aoife and that ungodly man. Even from distance, she could see that their hands were brushing against each other. Months had passed since his wound had completely healed, but he had asked permission to extend his stay. “I need God’s forgiveness, Mother” he had said, and the Abbess was in no position to refuse, but she knew, without the slightest doubt, that his soul’s redemption was not the reason of his stay. “I’m not blind, Aeskel, nor a fool. They think they’re outwitting us with their sneaking around during the night, but I’ve seen them.” She turned around, and looked Sister Aeskel with her sternest glance, the other nun nodded cautiously. “We’ve always known we couldn’t force her into becoming a nun; it is not the path God had planned for her.” she reached her Abbess and they watched in silence the shy lovers laugh under the sun of the hottest summer Mercia had experience in a long time. “I’m aware of that, Sister.” the Abbess then broke the silence “But she’s our responsibility and she won’t leave this Abbey with less than the most respectful and god fearing man she deserves.” Aeskel sighed sadly “I do not trust him, Mother.” she admitted “There is something under his perfect appearance that does not convince me.” “You’re freezing, my love.” Cenric’s hands run up and down Aoife’s arms, trying to warm her up; with the sweetest smile, she held his hand, stopping his frantic movement. “It is weird, isn’t it? How hot the days and cold the nights are here.” “You balance it, though.” He trapped a strand of her hair with his long fingers “Cold during the day, the warmest during the night.” In the holy house of God, their love was blossoming like the most beautiful, strongest rose in England; every step was new for Aoife and she had blindly entrusted her soul and heart to his experienced hands. She knew he had known other women, in deeper ways that she had allowed him to know her, but she preferred not to wandered too much around those thoughts, knowing way too well that she could not compare to the beauty and wit of women outside that Church. “You’re insulting yourself, Aoife.” Finan interrupted her again sternly, squeezing her hand “I’ve known my fair number of women…” “Not interested to know those stories…” “Let me finish” he scowled her and she silenced, and his harsh features softened in the tiniest smile “I’ve known my fair number of women and your beauty exceeds every man’s desire.” he tapped her temple with two fingers “And your more brilliant than any man, king, priest or warrior, I’ve ever met.” he patted her blushing cheek sweetly “There’s still work to do on your innocence, though. But we’ll get there.” he smirked smugly “Go on with your story.” “You know why I am distant in front of the nuns, Cenric. If the Abbess find out what is going on between us, she will separate us forever.” she caressed his cheek, and his stubble tickled the palm of her hand “She has the power to do so.” “Then come with me!” he exclaimed fiercely, gripping her hair tightly “We shall escape this miserable place and ride back to Wessex, where we could get married.” he embraced her hips, pulling her body against his “And birth children.” “This miserable place is my house.” she protested lightly, yet she could not hide how torn she was. “Do you love me, Aoife?” he whispered on her lips. She did, how can she not love the man, who held her with passion and promised her the freedom and family she had ever longed? And yet again, how could love be such a selfish feeling, was she in love with him or was she tricking herself into believing she did, only because he was the key to the life she had always aspired? Her response to his offer would change forever her path, and she should have reflected more than she actually did. But she was young and hastier that she would have like to admit. So she kissed him, with such force to make him stumble backwards, and whispered “I will come with you.”

“I’m in love, Sister.” Aeskel looked up from the herbarium “Are you now?” “I am.” “You’re just a child, dear.” “Girls younger than me have already birthed children!” The nun stopped what she was doing and sat on a chair “Come, child.” she patted her knees and Aoife chuckled lightly but followed her silent order and sat on them, careful not to hurt the nun. Years had passed since the last time she had been in that position, yet wrapping her arms around the nun’s shoulders felt natural and familiar. Time was leaving its mark on her face, but, behind the deep wrinkles and the patches on her skin, she still was a beautiful woman, with big doe eyes and a pretty nose. “Listen to me, baby.” the woman said, caressing Aoife’s back and hair “Cenric is a good person, but you’ve known him for less than a butterfly’s life.” Aoife’s looked up to heaven, trying not to cry. She knew she was stubborn, and it was too late for the Sister to try and change her mind, she was to leave with Cenric. And yet, her heart was breaking in a million pieces, because escaping that place also meant leaving behind the only family she had ever had. “I cannot explain my heart, Sister. I wish I knew the words to describe such a deep feeling.” She kissed the nun on her forehead “But I leave this place with a burden on my soul.” Aeskel stiffened “Are you to leave?” The girl smiled and stood up “I will forever cherish our time together, Sister.” and left. She had packed her bags too soon. Cenric had instructed her to meet him at the stables, when the moon was at its highest spot in the sky. At dinner, she had excused herself early, as the emotions swirling in her stomach would not let her eat, and at the last lights of sunset she had already packed her few belongings. Surrounded by the silence of the dark, she had watched her feet scrape the wooden floor and waited, long enough for fear to overcome excitement. Luckily, when she was about to reconsider her choice, the moon touched the top of the dome of the sky, and she left, with her light sack and heavy heart. When she reached the stables, the cold had already pierced through her mantle and into her bones and she gladly welcome the warm of the horse’ breath. “Hello my love.” she greeted Godiva, patting her on the neck, “Are you eager to leave?” The horse neighed and pushed against her hand; Aoife grew fonder of Godiva every day and the animal too seemed to prefer her attention to those of everyone else. And so she waited her lover, patting his horse and listening to her heartbeats and the noises of the animals in the night. At some point, she slipped down to the floor and, when the first lights of the day brighten the stables, she was still laying there. No sign of Cenric. “That’s it? He was just gone?” Aoife smiled sorely “Just like fog. Nobody saw him leave or had the guts to tell me that he did, but he was gone.” she chuckled bitterly “The coward took his time to go to my room and leave his weapons as a gift. How generous of him, right?” “I really don’t know how I should answer to that, Aoife.” “You shall not.” she brought her hands to the fire, grazing the flames with the tips of her fingers. “Did you love him, Aoife?” Finan asked, before realizing that he didn’t want to know the answer and the more she thought about it, the more he wanted to pretend like he had not asked anything. She noticed his discomfort and put a hand on his face; her skin was hot and welcoming, and he relaxed under her touch. “Don’t take my silence as uncertainty, Finan. It’s hard for me to interpret my feelings at times, but I’m sure about this. He was handsome and I desired him, but I know now that love is something deeper, it is longing a body as much as a soul and a heart and a mind. I craved his body and the freedom he promised me, but when I closed my eyes and pictured a family and a happy life, he wasn’t part of it.” she shrugged, unsure “Sometimes I wonder where I would be now if he hadn’t left.” “Well, we’ll never know. And I’m glad about that.” Finan smirked smugly, then the sound of footsteps made him turn around. Two companions were approaching to replace them on guard duty. Finan patted Aoife on her back “Come on. Time to sleep.” “Thank God, I’m freezing.” she stretched her limbs and got closer to her friend, to enjoy the warmth of his body until they reached the tents. She hit his hip with hers “Thank you for listening.” He wrapped her shoulders with his strong arm “I have to say, I preferred you when you were quiet, you blabber wee thing.”

“Oy!”

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