#abbess Hild

[synintheraven]

Goddess Abbess Hild, my beloved <3

[synindoodles]

Another day, another beauty and today's is Hild😇

[see hq on portfolio]

[transfinan]

Them 🥰

[emilyhufflepufftlk]

Hild | Season 5

[florilegia-or-what-you-will]

Caedmon the Shepherd

While it was mentioned in class that Caedmon was a shepherd, I cant find it stated explicitly anywhere in the text. If he was a shepherd than that would be impeccable branding on the part of God. After all, Jesus is often thought of as a shepherd leading sheep. It would be very thematic for Caedmon, a man divinely blessed with a gift for translating biblical stories into vernacular poetry, to likewise be a shepherd.

[ladyinred2248]

The Offering, Finan x Luna, Part 9

Warnings: Mature. Minors DNI.

Summary: The crew return to Coccham. Luna keeps a secret from Finan. Setting is Season 3, Ep 8.

With Sihtric’s help, the crew had recovered Skade. Sihtric’s stomach turned as he watched Uhtred and Skade kiss when he reunited them at the tree.

Gods help him, she is bewitching, pure evil. Sihtric thought.

The crew had escaped just in time, stealing one of the Dane’s boats, Haestan glaring in anger as Uhtred held up his sword at him with pride as they rowed away stealthily. The crew took the ship down river to journey to Coccham.

The next morning, Finan and Luna sat in each other’s embrace wrapped in Finan’s cloak at the end of the boat as Sihtric walked to them with a smile on his face, taking a seat next to them.

“You are to be a wife to the Irishman, sister?” He asked as his eyes caught Finan’s, giving him a smirk.

Luna nodded with a smile. “Yes.  And I am most thrilled to meet your wife, and see your estate. I feel like I have a family for the first time in my life...” 

Sihtric and Finan held eye contact as Sihtric hesitated to reply.

“We have not been to Coccham for some time. And now that Uhtred is an outlaw… I fear it is our estate no longer.” 

“His children are there, no?” Luna asked. “And his wife?”

Sihtric paused as his eyes fell.

“The Lady Gisela… died in childbirth, love. A while back.” Finan muttered in her ear as she laid against him.

Luna’s heart broke for Uhtred as she had not known of Gisela’s fate until now. Sihtric looked at her and grabbed her hand. “Our destiny is in the hands of the Gods. We will be a family. You have my word.” Sihtric said as he stood up to leave them, rejoining the other men.

Finan and Luna were silent in their embrace for a few moments, Finan running his hand through her hair.

Finan looked up to see Uhtred and Skade embraced in a kiss in the distance.

“Christ…” he muttered under his breath as Luna looked up to see what had caught his eye.

“Is his intention to kill her or to bed her?” Luna asked with disdain, cursing in old Norse.

Finan shook his head and sighed. 

As the crew arrived at Coccham and docked the boat, Finan caught up to Uhtred as they approached the gates.

“Is the idea we simply walk into Coccham like we’ve never been away? Directly to the hall?” Finan asked him.

“Yes,” Uhtred answered both questions.

“And if another Lord resides there?” Finan continued.

“We ask him to leave, my friend.” Uhtred replied.

“I can do that…” Finan said, and then looked back at Skade following them a few paces behind.

“Are we to expect a wedding, Lord?” Finan asked and then leaned in closer. “We did not risk our lives for you to hump the bitch. Or do you plan to kill her with your cock?” Finan said in a low tone with his deep accent as Luna eavesdropped the conversation from behind Finan, smirking at his remarks.

“My plan is to see my children,” Uhtred replied.

As they entered Coccham, a man approached Uhtred, relaying to him that Alfred’s men were taking food and grain to feed the army, most of the village’s winter stores. As the crew approached the hall, Priests sat and feasted in the hall that was once Uhtred and Gisela’s. Uhtred became angered not only at these people stealing from the people of his village, but at the sight of a cross hanging in the hall. Uhtred ordered the priests and Alfred’s men to return half of what they had gathered from the village after a stern altercation. Uhtred was reunited with Abbess Hild, who told him that his children had been taken to Winchester under the care of the Crown, which infuriated Uhtred. Hild agreed to help Uhtred in his quest to see his children at Winchester, but warned him that he would need to travel carefully as they would be watching for him.

“Finan,” Uhtred gestured him over. 

“Lord?” Finan responded.

“Have the priests unload half of what they have taken. They must go back to Alfred and you will be riding with them.”

“All the way to Winchester…?” Finan asked.

“I will follow and find you.” Uhtred insisted.

“And what of Skade?”

“She stays with me,” Uhtred replied, the men holding hesitant eye contact for a moment,

“I will find you in Winchester. That is where I must be. Unseen.”

“And if Alfred decides to take us hostage?” Finan asked.

“He will have you watched, nothing more. All you need to do is drink ale and spend time with your woman.” Uhtred smirked.

“I can do that. We all need a good woman!” Finan said sternly as Uhtred walked away.

Finan, Luna, and Sihtric prepared to journey with the priests to Winchester, the priests showing kindness to Finan, but giving Sihtric and Luna troubled looks.

Osferth came to Finan as he was readying to leave.

“What is happening? Why is she not dead?” Osferth asked.

“She has beauty and power, Osferth,” Finan replied, “Over men who believe in their own reputation.”

“She is evil, he has promised her death,” Osferth continued.

“Pray for him. He’ll need it.” Finan replied as he walked away, shaking his head.

The journey to Winchester was long. One of the biggest reprieves for Luna was having Sihtric back. It eased her mind and brought her comfort to know that he had not betrayed them; his loyal attitude and continuously joyful presence was welcomed.

Even with the return of Sihtric, Finan was quiet during the journey to Winchester, his mind wandering into dark places. He worried for Uhtred being more entranced by Skade by the day, and nightmares plagued him as his impending marriage to Luna grew closer. He was sure he wanted to marry her, but it triggered the deeply held trauma he had from his past life. Luna worried for him and wondered if he had changed his mind about her, watching him closely for signs. She knew it was a foolish thought each time she looked at him and he gave her a smirk and a wink, or when he grabbed her at the waist to give her a deep kiss during their travels.

The crew stopped along the way and made camp as dusk settled on the horizon that day.

“You have been avoiding me.” Luna said quietly as she stood in their tent, creating a small altar and drawing her dagger to cut into her palm, blood spilling into a chalice. Finan had grown accustomed to her pagan offerings, but the sight of it was still fascinating to him.

He watched her fill the chalice and turned to sit down on their bed of furs.

“I have,” he agreed. “I am not myself.”

He watched as she took cloth and wrapped it around the cut on her palm, securing it tightly.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” She said lightly. “If you have any intentions…tonight would be the night to bring them to light. Do you wish to confide in me, Lord? Or will you suffer in silence?” Luna asked.

“Lady, this is not something you can help me with. What Haestan did to us…  It opened my eyes to the dangers ahead. The witch is taking hold of Uhtred, with nothin’ I can do about it... I do not care so much what happens to me… but I care what happens to you.” He replied in his Irish brogue.

Luna kneeled beneath him as he sat. “Finan, we are warriors. As you told my brother, death is a hazard. You should take Haestan’s head. And eventually…you should take back your kingdom and we should kill anyone who stands in our way. You must remember who you are. Your God is with you.” She replied sternly, giving him a small nudge to the shoulder, standing to attend to her altar once again.

Finan stood to join her, looking at the altar, observing her practice. He then suddenly took her dagger, cutting a slit into his palm, joining the blood with hers in the chalice as Luna looked at him in shock.

“Finan! What are you doing?” She asked with a raised tone.

Finan chuckled and then met her gaze. “An offering to your Gods, perhaps. And to you, my lady. Your words hold deep truth… We are warriors. And we will rise.”

They shared an intense gaze at each other for several moments, and Luna smiled. She grabbed his palm to observe the cut, licking his blood from her thumb as she set it down, then gestured to grab a cloth. “I will gladly die trying, my Lord…with honor.” She replied softly as she wrapped his palm in cloth. Finan paused for a minute to quietly observe her again.

“Luna, you have been keeping somethin’ from me. And like ya said…now is a good time to bring it to light.” He said firmly as he looked at her.

She met his gaze and gave him a puzzled look.

“I’m not sure I know your meaning, Lord.” She answered softly.

"Milseán… you have not seen your month’s blood in some time.” 

Luna’s heart began to race at his inquiry. 

“Lord, I... it doesn’t mean that…”

“That ya are with child?” Finan asked as he embraced her, looking into her eyes with a soft gaze.

Luna hesitated and bit her lip.

Luna nodded at him. “I...” She whispered back hesitantly, “Yes.”

“…Oh my God!” Finan rang out in his Irish brogue as he gasped, gripping Luna in a tight hug and bringing her lips to his in a smoldering kiss.

Luna’s nerves settled and she giggled at his excitement as he picked her up and swung her around.

Finan picked her up in his arms and brought her over to the furs, Luna chuckling as his beard tickled her neck.

“Mo bhean chéile,” Finan whispered as he trailed kisses down her neck to her chest.

Luna gestured to take off Finan’s tunic, breaking from their kiss for only a moment as it came off. 

Luna placed her hands on Finan’s back, and he immediately hissed through his teeth. “God, ya are so cold, woman! Your hands are like ice!” He said as he shuddered and chuckled.

“Yes I’m freezing, warm me up!” She joked with him, putting her cold hands on his stomach to torture him.

Finan groaned and laughed as he pinned her down. He paused after their laughter and looked into her eyes.

“Ya make me so happy… I… I have no words. I get to be…” Finan trailed off.

“A father, Lord!” Luna rang out as she cupped his cheeks in her hands as he looked at her.

Finan laid atop of her giving her a slight chuckle, laying his head on her chest, letting a few tears slip off his cheeks to fall onto her chest as he rested there for several moments.

“…Tomorrow we shall be in Winchester, and Beocca can bind us in union,” Finan muttered as his head lay upon her chest, “do ya… mind if it’s in a church?” 

“No, love… I do not mind. I respect your faith as you have respected mine. I would love to honor that.” Luna responded.

“Perhaps it can be, outside the chapel, in nature? To honor your faith as well?” Finan inquired.

“Lord, that would be wonderful.” She smiled and held her arms around him.

“I have to tell Sihtric!!!” Finan said excitedly as he jumped up from the furs.

“No, love, it is too soon for that!” Luna said as she laughed, watching Finan bounce around with high energy and joy.

“Uhtred then!” He replied.

“Lord, no, Uhtred isn’t even here! It is too soon!” She laughed.

“Baby monk?” He asked as Luna shook her head with a smile.

“Agh,” Finan groaned and then sat back down, smiling. “Fine. Our lil’ secret.”

Taglist: @persephones-journey @gemini-mama @bhxrdy @king-alfred @alexagirlie

[illtakeyoutowonderland]

The One (Part 13)

The one where she made a friend

Sihtric x Reader

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Y/N stayed close to Roger the rest of the way back to Coccham. Half looking for some quiteness and half enjoying the look of hate Sihtric was giving the poor man everytime they shared a laugh

Once on the ground again, Uhtred and Finan lead the way while Skade walked alone, unlike the rest of the group. Y/N decided she would get the answers she needed so she walked up to her "Skade!" She called her ignoring the protests of Osferth and Sihtric. Skade looked at her and Y/N offered her a smile, showing her she came in peace

"We will not be friends, Lady" She said the word in a mocking tone as she looked away from her

"Not trying to, witch" Y/N mocked her tone and Skade smiled at her. Y/N knew both of her friends in the back were listening to every word "Unlike you, I do not want to be here. I do not belong" She stated "I want answers"

"You wish for an easy way out" 

"I wish to go back home, yes" Y/N stated

"You are a terrible liar, Lady" She said slowly with a smile "You have no home" Y/N froze on her steps for a second knowing too well what she meant. No one was waiting for her. She had friends, yes, but she was knew in town, no one knew her well enough. She hadn't bonded with anyone really since she had moved and started her knew job. Running away from your problems can give you that. 

"I saw the fire" Y/N referred to her dreams and this caught Skade's attention. She could see Skade knew what she meant. She had seen it too "It is all I see when I sleep"

"Fire means change. You are tied to Lord Uhtred, you'll be one of the reasons he thrives or dies. You'll have to make decisions, you will have to choose. " Skade said walking away from her "You cannot escape destiny, Lady"

"So no pressure at all" Y/N said to herself, feeling the look of Osferth and Sihtric heavy on her back

"Lord" A man approached the group "You will not remember me"

"I remember" Uhtred said to him "You are Edwin. You're married to Mildwynn"

"Lord, they have taken more than half our winter's store. Animals and grain" Edwin explained as they all saw how the soldiers packed away the food "They say it is to feed Alfred's army, but we will certainly starve"

"Who did this?"

"They're at the hall, Lord" The man said lastly 

"Stand aside. I want no blood shed, no man killed" Uhtred said to the guards outside the hall but no one moved

"He said stand aside! Now!" Sihtric intervined and the men finally moved "Thank you. I should not need to raise my voice" But Y/N felt shivers down her spine. Was she aroused by this? She was, she would admit it only to herself as she took a deep breath and tried to play it cool. But the feeling in her stomach continued as she followed them inside the hall and unconsciously sat next to him as Uhtred and Bishop Erkenwald discussed over a cross. Sihtric gave her a look but did not complain on her company. He instead handed her something to drink as he grabbed a cup for himself

"Is my cross, Lord" A woman said from the doors of the hall "My doing. I put it there. And I wuld like it to remain there, unless of course, your plan is to once again be the Lord of Coccham. I meant no insult" And with that the cross fell by the hand of Skade

"Now, perhaps, we may eat"  Skade said, clearly annoyed by the situation

"When you leave, you will take only half of what you have gathered" Uhtred said to the Bishop "I understand an army must be fed, but my village will not starve"

"The king will not approve..."

"The king is a ghost!" Uhtred exclaimed "Nothing more than that"

"Lord" The blonde woman called Uhtred "May we speak furher, privately?" She asked as they both left the hall only to Skade to follow them

"Who is she?" Y/N asked as Finan and Osferth joined them at the table

"That would be Abbess Hild" Finan said "She's a friend"

"You shouldn't be amongst all this men, Lady" Bishop Erkenwald interrupted them looking at Y/N

"There are a lot of things I shouldn't be doing, apparently" She mumbled to herself and heard Sihtric chuckled next to her as she drank an entire cup of ale in one sip, earning a disaproving look from the Bishop

"I can offer you a safe place amongst the church. Close to God" Y/N snorted thinking of an innapropiate joke but a look from Finan and she decided not to say it 

"I am close to God" Y/N said instead "Osferth is a priest and Finan is also a good christian, well, sort of" Finan rolled his eyes at her and the Bishop sighed clearly giving up and Y/N smiled at her victory

"Come on you two, we have work to do" Finan then said to Osferth and Sihtric but Y/N also joined them as they were leaving the hall "Uh, where are you going?" 

"I am not staying alone in a room full of priests" She said grimancing "I have a feeling they are more likely to sacrifice me than the Danes"

"Only if you are a virgin" Osferth said jockingly making the group laugh

"Then I guess I am safe" She said shrugging and ignoring the look of surprise on the three men

"Finan" Uhtred called and he was gone to listen to his Lord's orders. Apparently some of them were to travel to Winchester with Hild, the Bishop and the other priests "You are going with them Y/N" He said to her once they all gathered and stopped her from protesting with a stern look

"I was really hoping to sleep on a bed tonight" She said as she ready her horse with the rest

"Yes, I will not miss sleeping on the cold ground this time" Osferth said and Y/N noticed he hadn't gathered his things

"You are not coming?" She asked and Osferth told her something about Uhtred's orders "You leaving me alone with them?" She said pointing to Finan and Sihtric

"Hey!" Finan complained "You should be grateful of my company"

"Is that what you said to the woman you bed?" Hild commented and Y/N snorted making Finan shut his mouth and dislike "I'm Hild"

"Y/N" She replied and offered the abbess a smile "I bet Uhtred told you my story" She said once she noticed the too well known look. The one almost everyone gave her, the I know you are not from here look.

"He did" Hild stated and close the distance between them "You are safe here" She simply said and Y/N thanked her. Mostly for not losing her mind like the rest had done

"My men are free man still" Uhtred said as the Bishop approach the group "They'll travel with you to Winchester, ensure your safe return" 

"I have a guard" The Bishop replied "And Wessex is not a land of banditry"

"Priest and eldearmen aside" Finan added "You should never refuse the offer of a sword, Bishop Erkenwald"

"Is it your intention to remain at Coccham?" The Bishop asked Uhtred

"My Lord's intention is to rule at Winchester" Skade said and everyone rolled their eyes

"My business is my own" Uhtred stated 

"And your children?"

"Are Christian now" He said as if he didn't care

"I will ensure they are cared for" Hild promised making Uhtred shrug. Y/N hugged Osferth goodbye and they were all on the road once again "I do not like her" Hild said looking over to Skade

"No one actually does" Y/N replied and they rode next to each other for the rest of the journey

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@secretdreamlandmentality

@superawesomegeek

If you wanna be tag, let me know! 💜

[nine-of-words]

(Naga + Four of Swords)

M Naga x Demisexual M Elf Reader

Wordcount: 6004

Content Warnings: Old Injury/Chronic Pain, Scars, Religious Themes/Trauma, Cloacal Sex (Reader Tops); As a baseline, all Drakkith have both sets of reproductive organs and are typically bigender. Sometimes individuals choose to identify as solely one gender, as is the case with Salim in this story.

This one ran a little long, and personally I blame inherited catholic guilt.

Rain again today.

A loathsome drizzle.

You watch it patter down from your post by the door to the grand hall, the water pooling on the autumn leaf litter you haven’t had a chance to rake in days. You rub out your aching, fussy shoulder.

"My, it's really coming down out there. No end in sight.” Mother Abbess appears at your side and clicks her tongue, as if chiding the weather might make it stop. “And the station broadcast said because of the magical nature of this cold front, that it’ll carry on like this for several weeks. Weeks! Can you believe it, Ser?”

"Hmmh." You grunt in acknowledgement, not really feeling the desire to socialize; the burning ache from your shoulder to the fingertips on your casting hand- your former casting hand- is more than enough to turn you off from pleasant conversation. The rain only makes the aching and the stiffness worse.

"Perhaps it'd be smart to prepare some of the extra beds, just to be safe?" She says thoughtfully,  in her usual cheery, warm tone. "Any travelers unfortunate enough to be caught on the road now will want to shelter here until this awful downpour finally stops."

You came to this temple to recover from the injury that took you out of service. Once a knight-sorcerer, you’re now, technically speaking, only a knight, and a very underworked one, at that.

You used to be able to help people. Now you are another glorified doorstop, guarding a sleepy temple that not a single beast nor bandit has dared to touch in the time you’ve been here. They seem to be repelled from the place, regardless of your presence.

The longer you’re here, the more you realize your recuperation time seems to not have an end. You come to suspect that you’ve been left here to rot.

You let out a long, withering sigh. You’re still far too young to have been politely yet forcibly retired in everything but name- shoved in a corner to collect dust. But while you crave the bloodrush of combat, you know that realistically, you would not be able to hold up the way you are now.

Evening meal time rolls around, the chattering of the young initiate priestesses carrying over even to the end of the long table where you solemnly eat.

“No, that’s impossible. You’re just making things up for attention-”

“I’m telling you, it’s haunted!”

Then Mother Abbess joins the table, interest sharply piqued. 

“What’s this silly business I hear about ghosts in the temple? You know, our good knight goes to great lengths to make sure the temple is safe for all of us.” The older woman turns her attention to you with a playful smile; what you now know is her way of trying to rope you into joining in on the conversation, like a mother trying to goad her shy child into speaking up. “Have you seen any ghouls or spectres on your patrols lately, Ser?”

“Not one.” You shake your head, then continue to chew in silence.

“See ladies, there’s nothing to worry about!”

“No Mother, not the temple- the crypt. It’s coming from inside the tomb! We heard it!!” 

“Hilde and I went to refresh the altar for the dead, like you asked, but- oh, the sounds! Banging, scraping, groaning like pain! It was far too terrifying. We ran back before we could even think of finishing.”

“Well, that’s no good. This certainly isn’t the time of year to slack on honoring the dead, either.” She taps her chin in thought with the hand not holding her spoon. “Ser, do you think you might be able to go check the crypt after supper? So we might have some peace of mind.”

Obedient as always, after you’ve eaten, you re-don your armor just in case, and slog out into the rain and water-logged mud, towards the temple for your obligatory ghost hunt. 

You’re not going to find any ghosts, you’re sure. At most, perhaps a weak, trapped lesser spirit that can’t even communicate properly- but even that seems unlikely. At least the younger residents of the temple will be able to sleep soundly at night; that is enough of a reason for you.

The main door hangs ajar, left to creak as the wind moves it back and forth.

You click your tongue. The young sisters must’ve fled in such a hurry they left the door open. Still, you steel yourself and sharpen your senses despite the lack of obvious threat, just as your training has taught you.

You light the lamp and kick the excess mud from your boots before you descend the stone stairs into the darkness. You’ll take a look around, then you’ll be back up to the dry warmth of your bed, trying to sleep through the dull pain in your arm.

Inside, the crypt is dark, damp, and smells of old incense and lamp oil. The only thing that lives here is spiders and mold, surely. But the echo of your footsteps and the haunted atmosphere makes you feel starkly like you’re not alone here.

But in your search, you find nothing amiss. You only find the silence of the dead. Whatever was here must be long gon-

A noise in the silence, like a pained voice.

Was that a groan?

The hairs on your neck stand on end, your pupils constrict, sweat beads on your forehead. Your heart starts racing, gripped by a cold fist of terror.

Your good hand flies to the hilt of your sword.

“REVEAL YOURSELF!” You boom into the supposedly empty crypt, projected voice reverberating off the stone walls.

You are an extensively trained, battle hardened knight. Few things can shake you.

But perhaps you were wrong to doubt the young priestesses, this time-

The cold-burning torches in the chamber seem to flicker all at once.

Stone grinds on stone. The lid of a nearby sarcophagus moves in front of your eyes.

Your hand clutches the gas lamp, feeling your knuckles go white under your gauntlet, watching the stone lid continue to move back. You expect to see some spectral or skeletal hand rise from the gap, someone long dead disturbed from their eternal slumber.

You half-pull your sword from its sheath, ready to deliver this revenant to its second death as soon as the rest of your body breaks out of your fear induced paralysis.

Instead of a translucent or rotting set of digits, though, a slender, intact and solid olive-skinned hand reaches out, grasping aimlessly, followed by the other one.

“What in the Lady’s name-” You sputter, trying to make sense of the seemingly living person currently inhabiting the tomb.

With a pained groan, the rest of their body rises out of the dusty sarcophagus. They’re wobbling fiercely, barely able to support their own weight, but you get a good look at them.

Smooth, cinderous dark brown hair. Sleepy, heavily lashed, almond shaped eyes. Expensive looking clothing far too thin and flimsy for proper insulation needed for the beginning of the wet, cold autumn in the Rowenian wilds. 

…And the bottom half of a serpent? Specifically, scales of a vibrant gradient of variated oranges and yellows, with splotchy black stripes running horizontally down, from trunk to tail.

You know people like this exist, but you’ve never interacted with one in person, even in your travels during active duty. A type of the dragon-people. Naga, if you recall correctly.

“What in the blazes are you doing in this crypt, serpent?” 

“Pleassssse-” Their voice trails off weakly, slurring and nearly incoherent, grabbing at you in desperation. “Heeeelp.”

Desire to help those in need wins out over your own hesitance and shock and perhaps small bias, and you reach out the arm that they seem to be gravitating towards, despite it being your bad one. Their skin is cold as ice where they hold onto your neck for balance, their thin clothing still damp and clinging to them.

They immediately collapse against your body, laying their face on your shoulder. You can’t help but think that the weight feels good against your plate. When was the last time you were touched like this…? 

You can’t remember.

You quickly shake the thought away. There are more pressing matters.

You help them back to the temple, through the soggy ground. Mother Abbess and the rest of the priestesses still milling about after supper are surprised to say the least, and you set the stranger to rest in front of the main fireplace in the dining hall, hopefully sufficiently fulfilling their request for heat.

After Mother Abbess has shooed away the rest of the prying eyes and only you, her and the new visitor remain, she addresses them.

“Let me fetch you some hot broth and some blankets, dear. That will help you warm up while we have a chat.”

You watch the naga closely, arms crossed and feet planted, while Mother Abbess goes to retrieve some broth from the kitchens. Given the naga’s incapacitated state, you doubt they could be a threat right now even if they tried, but you are trained to be ready for one, regardless.

After a few minutes, they shudder and stretch out their limbs, seeming to come back to life a bit. They turn their head to look at you, the sharp lines of their features backlit by the fire. 

“Here you are, dear.” She hands them the wooden bowl full of heated broth.

“Thaaaank youuuu.”

A long, slender black tongue creeps out from between their lips and dips into the liquid, sampling it with a gentle flutter.

Seemingly finding it to their liking, they retract their tongue and start to sip from the edge of the bowl like a civilized person.

Then they smile at you, as if to silently address the fact that you’re staring, making your face flush in uncharacteristic bashfulness. Prickly heat creeps up the back of your neck- from standing so close to the fireplace in plate armor and nothing else, you’re sure.

“My name issss… Sssssalim. I am a man… and a healer by trade.” He manages to speak slowly, his voice gradually losing the harsh hissing noise and settling into a more subtle, faint accent as he pulls himself together. “Thank you for the… assisssstance…”

Mother Abbess gives him a brief introduction to the temple, herself, and even you, much to your chagrin.

“However did you come to be inside our temple’s crypt, Salim?”

“I had paid a merchant to transssport me through the mountains, for a job placement from the order I have waiting in the city. But during a break for the oxen… I spotted some mushrooms that are an essential ingredient for a rare curative balm, so I went off to collect them… The merchant seemed to have left me behind during that time,” He recounts the story, surprisingly even-tempered while recalling it when he’s described essentially what amounts to paying someone to leave you to die in the woods. “I wandered for what must have been days, it started raining… it didn’t stop raining… then I saw the stone marker for the temple… it seems as if I took the wrong door in, but by then I was too dazzzed by the cold to find my way out… but I got here all the same.”

He lets out a hiss of a laugh at his own folly, a sound you can’t help but find downright charming.

…Charming? What’s gotten into you this evening?

“Oh, what an unfortunate experience you’ve had! Good thing we prepared those spare beds in the guest dormitory earlier.” Mother Abbess beams, placing a wrinkled hand on her sternum. “The good knight will show you where you can sleep, Salim. You’re free to stay here as long as you need.”

He thanks her profusely for the hospitality, and then they indulge in a bit of idle chatter which quite honestly, you could do without. Once he seems to have recovered enough to move around, you escort him to the guest dormitory.

“You will sleep here.” You say curtly as you direct him to one of the made-up bunks closest to the small hearth in the guest hall you stoked earlier. Then, before you can even second guess why you’re saying it, add; “Do not even consider sneaking into the sisters' dormitory, or I will not hesitate to cut you down.”

“Ah, that won’t be a problem- if you’re implying what I think you are.” They say in the most polite manner possible for such an unprompted accusation. Their black tongue flickers in consideration, seeming to taste the air like any other snake’s would. “Even if I had nefarious intentions… There’s nothing that suits my particular interests to be found there…”

“Right.” You say, then think to yourself; Perhaps he only finds others of his kind suitable as potential mates. 

…Good.

Over the next few days, Salim seems to begin to make himself right at home at the temple. He enjoys spending time in the library and chatting with the sisters in the dining hall, while you prefer to spend your time as far away as you can while still keeping a watchful, distrustful eye on him.

…Only for the sake of security, of course. 

Despite him claiming he has no interest in them, the young priestesses are all a bit too interested in him for your liking. Instead of their usual chatter when not doing their duties, they’ve started gathering to listen to stories about his travels with the rapt attention a child would give a shiny new toy, or a schoolgirl would dote on their first crush.

If you thought that Mother Abbess trying to force you to socialize was bad before, you now know the strife of having to endure conversations with Salim, as well. It’s nearly every time he lays eyes on you, it feels like, with the curious looks and the incessant questions.

His presence in the temple makes you feel… strange. 

Wrong, somehow. A benign sort of malaise.

You try to bury it, and just go about your normal routine.

Mother Abbess has the bright idea to enlist Salim into doing health check-ups while he’s here, which he readily agrees to do as gratitude for the aid he’s already received. Over the next few days, everyone has had their turn having a physical, while you have been conveniently busy every time that you might be called to have yours done.

But as the rain continues to pour without signs of relenting, and the surrounding wilderness grows saturated and flooded, the aches and pains are only getting worse and worse, harder to ignore by the day. It hadn’t interfered with your duties yet, but one day, you finally slip up. The Mother Abbess finds you struggling to collect the stack of dry firewood you’ve dropped across the stone floor of the main hall, then proceeds to tear into you in her characteristic, most loving of ways.

"-And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re avoiding having your physical. But you need to have your injury looked at, at least! It has been causing you pain; I see you struggling with it, even if you hide it well, Ser." Mother Abbess scolds you after helping you to pick up the logs, complete with finger wagging. "We finally have a healer in the temple again after old Mother Alys passed, so stop being so stubborn and make use of his services while he's here! He may only be here until the rain lets up, as far as we know- and then you’ll have lost the opportunity completely. You will go, if I have to see you there myself!"

“Yes, Mother.” You grumble out your reluctant agreement. As much as you wish it wasn't true in this case, she rarely guides you wrong. “Escorting me will not be necessary. I will go of my own accord.”

"It would not hurt you to make a friend, either.” She adds, emotionally kicking you in the ribs while you’re down. “There is nothing in the scripture forbidding having a friend."

Obedient as you are, you force yourself to pay him a visit in the quiet, mostly unused infirmary. You part the privacy curtain, walls drawn up and ready to get through this experience- but instead you’re met with a precious sight.

Salim seems to have fallen asleep in the padded chair in the corner of the room near the hearth, serpentine lower body coiled up around himself, a book propped in the dip between layers of scaled tail.

He finally seems to wake. Warm toned eyes blink open, their pupils constricting into lines as they take you in.

“Oh, why hello. My last patient finally arrives…” Salim yawns and rubs at one eye. “It was so quiet and serene back here, and the fire so pleasant- It seems I couldn't help but doze off…”

He rises lithely and arches his back like a cat waking up from a good nap in a sunny spot. The book on his chest slides down his body, seemingly forgotten.

Reflexes sharp as ever, your hand snaps out to catch the book before it falls. You don’t need to read the title to recognize it, but you skim it anyway.

Lady Night’s Good Knight, and Other Courtly Tales

You’re very familiar with this book- it’s a collection of old knight’s tales, simple parables that are intended to be bedtime stories for children. What is he doing reading this, of all things? You would assume a healer as erudite as he’s shown himself to be would be reading one of the numerous dusty old historical manuscripts or books cataloging flora and fauna of the area.

“Oh! Have you read this book before?” He gestures to the tome you’re now pondering in your hands. “I found it in the library and was far too intrigued to pass it over.”

“Back when I was a boy and not once since.”

“The tales inside are quaint, but enjoyable. I had never given knighthood much thought before coming here, but I admit I’m quite intrigued by the idea now. …Back home, there are no knights. Or I suppose everyone who is physically able is a knight, in some regard- it depends on how strictly one considers the definition of chivalry.”

“A kingdom full of knights sounds like a blasted nightmare.” You find yourself speaking far too candidly before you can stop, remembering what your more active days in the order were like. “That’s a recipe for far too many pissing contests for my liking. Everyone wants to ride in and play hero, and not a soul can fill out a single page of paperwork.”

“Healers never want to do their paperwork either.” Salim’s face lights up in amusement, a soft hissing laugh escaping his lips. You experience a short moment of pride that you’ve made him laugh, followed by that strange feeling- some mix of joy and terror and confusion filling you once again. 

Suddenly a ball of nerves forms in your stomach, realizing you’re about to let him touch you.

“Let us get this over with quickly,” You gripe, setting the book on the end table and taking a seat in the chair across from him. “I still have duties to see to before night falls.”

“Of course.” He says politely, and efficiently prepares what he needs to get down to business.

It’s a needlessly vexing experience; being poked and prodded, performing tricks on command like a well-trained hound, with Salim uttering the occasional hum that may be a good hum or a bad hum, for all you know- And the invasive sensation of his hand on your chest to auscultate your heartbeat and breathing has your skin prickling under your collar.

“My, are you a wonderful specimen. Steady heartbeat, clear lungs, good color to your gums.” Salim praises you after he’s finished examining your general health with the medical kit still left over from the old healer. He now motions for you to undo your shirt. “You are an exceptionally healthy man. Barring this one glaring area, it would seem. Let us take a look…”

You hesitate, but you relent and untie your loose, simple linen shirt just enough to slip your arm out of the sleeve. One hand gently slinks up the back of your firm upper arm, the other holding your elbow.

It’s a dreadful, ugly thing, your bad arm. Discolored and shiny from the healed burn from your fingertips all the way to your clavicle. To make things somehow more ghastly, the veins on your arm are ruddy black and fully visible from where the overloaded mana scorched through your blood.

"And your magic is fire." He says, a statement, not a question, as he manipulates your arm to inspect the way your scarring behaves. "Mine, as well."

You can already tell his alignment is fire; if not clear from the familiar hum within you in acknowledgement, it is clear from the pleasant smell of recently extinguished candle that seems to always permeate his general vicinity.

"It was. Why does it matter?"

"The raw power still radiating from this…" The way he looks at your arm feels almost reverent, his eyes glimmering. "You would have been quite the sight to behold, were you not? Before all of this damage."

“Does this endless prattle have a meaning?” You say, your nerves forever raw when it comes to this subject. “What are you seeking?”

"I simply thought since we share the same mana alignment, that you'd enjoy speaking about it. And that we could perhaps come to know each other better…" He hopefully looks up his brow at you, still holding your arm aloft in his elegant hands as he inspects you like some piece of meat for slaughter.

You grit your teeth, pulling your scarred limb away.

“My magic was a gift from the Lady. Now, it is gone- Revoked. Of course I don’t want to dwell on that fact. What more is there for me to say about it?”

"...I apologize if I have caused any negative feelings to resurge. I only wished to propose… a mutually beneficial arrangement between us. We could be of great assistance to one another, even share some comfort-"

"I don't want or need your comfort," You snap, pulling your shirt sleeve back on, confusion at your own feelings bubbling up into anger. "Unless it's bloody healing. Can you help with this pain or not?"

"I am capable, and the solution is related. Being a sorcerer, your mana is continuing to generate internally- perhaps moreso than normal to overcompensate for the weather. However, the damage to your arm is preventing the natural release of that unused accumulation, also due to the weather. Due to the age of your injury, I'm sure you already are familiar with the treatment for this particular predicament; Siphoning.” Salim pauses, waiting until he sees your nod in understanding before continuing. “…While my own mana stores have not fully recovered from my jaunt through the woods, not in such damp conditions as these. So, I could take this excess from you, through touch… If that was a prospect you found appealing…"

“I do not.” You say, standing to depart so abruptly that the chair scrapes the stone loudly. “I will wait this out, just as I always do.”

“I do not think that is very wise...” Salim says grimly. You see concern etched in his features.. “But I would never force a patient to accept treatment.”

You don't want to think of it. Nor do you want to think about why your heart starts racing when you are close to him, or why your eyes always seem to catch on the sheen of his scales like they do on a well polished blade, or why the simple act of a gentle examination of your weakest part feels so good, so right, when he was the one doing it.

Giving up the chance to have a wife or a family never felt much like a loss when you were first training to be a knight. You had never felt much desire for one or the other, either way. But now… you finally feel this carnal sort of desire… and it’s for some monstrous serpentine abomination.

Another test of your virtue? Fine. You won’t give in.

Cold, wet days pass into cold, wet nights. Tonight you lie in your bed awake, overheating from the inside out, the blazing heat radiating from your arm. Your good hand clutches at your shoulder, knuckles white from the grip as your writhe, blankets fully kicked off and biting a spare scrap of leather to keep from waking the whole temple with your screams.

This is certainly the worst flare up you've ever had, the old scar burning nearly as terribly as it did the day the explosion happened, when a magical attack overloaded your system and destroyed the ability for your own mana to properly cycle through your body. A broken circuit.

Typically flare ups only happen around excess of the corresponding element. But in such oversaturated conditions of the opposing element- in your case, the water in all this blasted rain- what remains of your mana becomes volatile, trying to overcompensate for your surroundings with nowhere to naturally leech off to.

But you are strong. You can weather this pain, like you have time and time before…

It just needs to pass already.

So close to the brink of being driven to complete madness by the torment, you almost fail to notice the door to your chambers slowly creaking open. The only light filtering in is from the window, as you've left your hearth unlit to avoid making your pain worse. But even in the low light, you can recognize those undulating movements anywhere now. 

"...I can feel the energy cresting all the way from my bunk," Salim's soft, worried voice says from the shadows- as if it was ever going to be someone else, slithering into your private chambers in the dead of night. "Please… allow me to help you."

"Fine! Fine. Do what you will to me, serpent," You growl, barely snarling back tears as the leather strap falls from your gritted teeth. "Just make it stop."

You expect maybe for him to come to your bedside and lay his hands on your arm from there, but instead you feel the weight of Salim slithering into your bed beside you. 

He entangles your arm with his upper body, pulling your hand towards his face to gently cup his cheek, your forearm tight against his body in its bent position. Every part of his exposed skin that he can feasibly manipulate into touching yours finds its way there; arms, hands, chest. Even his long tail winds itself around one of your legs.

Normally being pinned by another person’s weight like this might cause you to want to escape from the claustrophobic feeling, but it doesn’t seem to appear this time, only a strange sense of security after all the thrashing in pain you’ve been doing this evening. You find a comfort in it that you didn’t know you could crave.

The heat in your arm continues to grow, but it flows with purpose now. The molten energy flees your body, in favor of migrating into the naga’s body instead.

Sweeping tingles run over the surface of your skin in waves, wherever it has contact with his. The sensation is so overwhelming, almost like the ground falling out from below you, despite laying securely on a bed, but with an added layer of temperature fluctuating wildly. 

Then… Relief. Finally, some modicum of relief.

This is what your sword must’ve felt when the blacksmith pulled it out of the forge, you hazily decide.

You're nearly euphoric in the simple absence of the white-hot needles jabbing into your flesh from the inside. It might as well be ecstasy, compared to what you’ve been enduring.

Thank the Lady- you think to yourself, before correcting yourself mentally. No, she gets sufficient enough praise the rest of the time. This time, it is 'thank Salim'.

You barely have the sense to care that that’s probably blasphemy, blinking the rims of your eyelids dry. Your heaving breaths finally start to even out into their normal, resting rate of rise and fall.

Finally in a calm, bearable state, you become acutely aware that you're now left in this close, pointedly intimate embrace with him. Shining starkly in the darkness, his irises have started to glow in a saturated vermillion hue, no doubt from the copious amount of magical energy he’s just taken in.

"This should suffice," Salim finally says, sounding sleep-drunk from all of the warmth of the mana he’s absorbed. He seems hesitant to actually let your arm go and depart, still holding your hand to his face, fingers weaved in yours. "I can leave now, if you wish."

"I do not wish for you to go." You admit, taking nearly all of your strength to keep your voice from shaking in fear of what that means.

"Oh?" He traces the fingers on his free hand down the inside of your forearm. How pleasing that simple pressure feels on the parts of your body usually used to the weight of heavy armor- which is most of it.

The feeling of the smooth, bare skin of his chest on your arm is just too enticing to let go, and your resolve crumbles.

The temptation is finally too much, and you're overtaken by the desire that's been gnawing at you despite your attempts to quash it.

You seize him at the back of the neck, pressing your mouth to his.

Salim seems shocked into stillness for a moment, before he relaxes in your grip, moaning his approval into your open, greedily searching mouth, and grasping the back of your own head with his hand. His fingers immediately catch in your hair, the sensation sending a flash of pleasure over your over-sensitive nerve endings. 

That long tongue you've thought about so much over the last several days glides across yours, winding around your own like his long serpentine tail is wound up between your legs, coiling around you.

Your free hand searches his side, grabbing anywhere you can find purchase. You want to take in everything; the sensation of soft skin that you know, though starved of, but also the new, enthralling sensation of hard reptilian plate underneath your fingers. It's smooth and rigid, yet still malleable as his dense muscles move underneath. 

You trace every crevice and crest you can reach where scale meets plate meets skin, investigating all the differences in texture. His body is positively drenched in warmth now- your warmth- and hot to the touch underneath your hands.

The solid feeling of Salim's tail between your legs feels dangerously good. You find yourself grinding against him to meet the rolling movements of his hips, already this close but desperately wanting to be closer, somehow.

You don't have to see it to know the thin linen sleeping trousers you wear to bed are not concealing anything at this point. The fabric is pulled taut against your arousal, barely even forming a barrier between the smooth plates of Salim's underbelly.

You barely feel any shame now, brazenly rubbing your hard cock against him. It simply feels too good to be embarrassed about at this point.

"This isn't a result of mana," Salim rasps in a moment taken to breathe, lips still hovering over yours. You can feel his dexterous fingers fiddle with the laces, and his tongue flicking at your neck. "But I can treat this heat as well…"

"Please," You growl.

Salim quickly loosens the laces just enough to push the fabric down as much as he'll need to, every minute trace of contact stoking your desperate need.

The darkness doesn't deter him all. His darkvision clearly must be better than yours- making lining up the wet, soft crevice between his belly scales with your waiting member trivially easy.

You can barely contain your excitement as your throbbing cock catches on the edge of his slick vent. The only thing you've felt before has been your own hand, in the times when you've needed release. You need to know how being squeezed inside him feels.

Salim doesn’t even extract himself from the coiled embrace he has you in, nor shift his weight. Once he is sure he's got the tip lined up where it needs to be, he simply starts pressing his hips flush to yours, taking you in.

A low, incomprehensible noise of approval escapes him as presses himself forward, all the way to the hilt. His fingertips grip at your chest while your own seek purchase in the dips of his hips.

Your jaw clenches involuntarily. He's hot, almost unbearably so. You knew he would be, but you weren't ready for the sensation of being enveloped by such sweltering, magically augmented heat. 

If the siphoning felt like your sword being pulled from the forge, this is being plunged back into it.

Your lack of experience doesn’t seem to matter anywhere near what you thought it would, not with Salim doing most of the hip movements. You thrust forward as much as being on your side and wound up by him allows, not content to be completely idle.

You're not going to last long like this, but you’ve got to try.

The writhing continues, locked in a slightly damp, molten knot of limbs and starved kisses, until you’re clenching every muscle just to let it continue a bit longer. The grip of Salim’s tail only gets tighter and tighter, until it culminates with a series of forceful contractions around every part he has you captive. That does you in, your own pelvic muscles violently tightening as Salim’s hole saps you of everything you have to give.

Afterwards, Salim doesn’t say anything, but the ragged breathing into your neck is just as good as any words he could say, anyway.

You lie there, skin still tingling all over with heat and a burn deep in your muscles- a pleasant kind in comparison. Eventually you drift off in the darkness, still holding a firm grip on the serpentine body entangled with you about the hips.

You sleep like the dead. 

When you wake in the morning you feel revitalized, like you're a new man.

It doesn’t take you long to notice your visitor from last night is nowhere to be seen. You briefly consider if it was all a lewd, feverish, hallucinatory dream…

Only it couldn't have been a dream- your arm is nearly devoid of pain as you clench a fist and flex your muscles, and you can still hear the rain pattering against your chambers' window.

Just as a small twinge of panic starts to set in, you hear someone slip into your chambers.

It’s exactly who you expect it to be, and he’s carrying what looks like two servings of warm breakfast on a tray. When your eyes meet, his mouth curls into an enigmatic smile.

“Good morning.”

“There was no need to coddle me like this.” You protest, sitting up in bed as he sets the tray down on your desk and takes a seat on the paired wooden stool. “I’m perfectly capable of making it to the dining hall.”

"You are sorely in need of time to recover… I've told the Mother that you are to do nothing but rest today."

"And I'm sure she found that terribly agreeable." You say, running your hand down your face in frustration. She's constantly chiding you to take more breaks as it is, and now she has reinforcements.

"Of course she did. Healer's orders," Salim says very seriously, though the glimmer in his eyes is clearly playful. "Though perhaps, depending on how you're feeling now… you may require additional treatment..."

Despite the exasperation, you can’t stop the twitch of a smile on your lips.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[anoncat6]

PETRICHOR | sihtric x oc | part nine

part one

9. dunholm and beyond

Osferth had been the one to come find her, sent by Sihtric to tell her of Bloodhair and Haesten’s arrival at the gates. The men had been playing games and drinking ale in the yard, but Ghylena found her solitude in the stables with Shaeda.

Her body felt tender, tired and broken. She hated it, hated what it couldn’t do. 

She hated the blonde witch who had done this to her.

Ragnar opened his gates to Haesten and Bloodhair’s men, Aethelwold amongst them.

The ramparts were cold, but Ghylena stood silent and unmoving. Her skin was grey, her lips unsmiling. Her voice was heard few and far between recently, and only when she was addressed directly.

She stood behind Osferth, eyes staring blankly into the night. Sihtric wished she would look up at him— a glance, a glare, a blink. Anything. 

He wanted her attention, but he knew he didn’t deserve it. Not when he had failed her so monumentally. Not when he couldn’t protect her.

His wife stood, a stone statue against the northern wind, eyes glassy and hollow. Sihtric had never seen someone look so stoically immovable and dangerously fragile, it frightened him. His wife was of glass now, and he feared that he was watching her shatter.

<>

They were gathered in Ragnar’s hall now, a discussion of joint armies and a march south for Alfred’s throne. Uhtred warned them of how their alliances would fall apart— with greed being all that minded them together— proposing Ragnar as the man to lead them. 

Ghylena was sat in between Sihtric and Osferth, behind Uhtred on the benches. It was the closest she had been to her husband in days.  

She stopped paying attention to the words being spoken, the wars being started, when she felt it; Sihtric’s hand, calloused and warm like she remembered, slowly slid into her lap, an invitation. His gaze didn’t falter from Ragnar, but as she looked towards him, grasped onto his hand and pulled it close to her. 

He was warm, and his lips twitched slightly in relief, and Ghylena relaxed. He was here now, touching her and yet he didn’t look to her. Lena felt less alone.

<>

After that, after the ceaseless and choking days of avoiding him, Ghylena clung to Sihtric, but still spoke little. He didn’t push her to speak, only to eat and drink and sleep. 

They shared a bed now, sleeping side by side again, and when her nightmares came he would wake her, whispering soothing words into her hair and rocking her until she fell back asleep. 

The first night she laughed, a small huff at a stupid joke Finan made, Sihtric pulled her aside to give her it; a gift, he said, holding out the small wrappings of fabric, inside of which sat a pair of earrings. Gisela’s earrings, the ones she had worn when she was married.

“Hild gave them to me. She thought you’d like to have them.” 

The Abbess’ kindness struck Lena, and her hands trembled again as she put the jewellery through her piercings. She held back her tears now, having decided she had wept enough for Gisa. Gisela wouldn’t want her sister’s sorrow.

“Thank you.” She croaked as her husband pressed a kiss to her temple.

“She is with you always, my love.” Sihtric gazed openly into her eyes, pressing the truth into them as if applying a balm to her wounded soul.

<>

Beocca and Thyra arrived soon after that, a comforting sight to Ghylena who was slowly improving in health, though her pale complexion still made Uhtred cast worried glances. 

Beocca brought news to them of Aethelflaed’s plight, and not soon after, they were leaving Dunholm behind once again, the priest and his wife travelling with them for a time before they left for Wessex.

“Uhtred,” Ghylena called from her horse, riding beside him, “Uhtred, you may not be Ragnar’s brother any more, but Thyra is right. You will always be my brother too, despite…”

He smiled at her, a half-smile, “Despite everything that has happened. I know, Lena. You will always be my sister, know that.”

A small, real, smile crossed her face then. A rare thing in recent weeks.

<>

The third night they made camp on their way to Winchcombe, the sky was alight. Greens and blues danced in the stars, shimmering like a blanket of water above them all as they watched on their backs.

Ghylena lay beside Sihtric, at the edge of the camp yet still close enough to their own fire.

Something about the sky brought peace to her, a calm she had not felt in an age. If she could not do it now, she knew she never could. Steadying her heart, she spoke into the night air, “I’m sorry, Sihtric.”

He balked, twisting his head to look at her then, “For what?” 

Pulling all her strength to her heart again, trying desperately to mend her soul alone, she replied, “For losing him. For… for failing you.”

He sat up then, anger in his eyes as he grabbed her face, “No. No, Lena, don’t ever say that.”

She looked at him, and he was beautiful; the sky a radiant halo of colour behind him, he was ethereal. 

“Ghylena what happened to you— to us— it wasn’t your fault. Losing Gisela, Skade’s curse, the will of the gods… whatever it was, never would I blame you.” The anger drained from him then, anguish replacing it, “I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. I’m sorry I let you believe this lie for so long.”

“You needed time. I underst-“ she whispered, grazing his face with her palm.

His eyes closed, tears escaping from below his dark lashes, “I didn’t know how to help you. I watched you break, and I— I couldn’t fix you. But I know now.. you are your own strength, Ghylena. You never needed me to fix you, because you are not broken. It is why I love you. You are strong enough to get through this, and you are strong enough to heal.”

“It doesn’t feel like that, I don’t feel strong.” 

He drew close, ghosting his lips over hers, “Then I shall remind you every day, I will never let you forget just how strong you are, my love, I swear.” 

Lying back down, he drew her close by her waist, encouraging her to pillow against his arm. They fell asleep entwined together under the dancing lights in the sky, and Lena slept better than she had in weeks.

<>

“Your guards are not, Lady.” 

“Not what?” Aethelflaed questioned the men at the nun’s table.

“They’re not guards,” Sihtric elaborated for her, glancing at his wife over the meat he ate.

Lena turned to the Lady of Mercia, “Their swords are trinkets. I’m sure they’re loyal, but they are not guards.” 

Uhtred spoke then, “They are barely men.”

As it turns out, they were right. When Haesten arrived, he had taken Aethelflaed’s men hostage and killed them one by one. The Abbess who reminded Finan of his mother proved herself braver than initially thought when she agreed to speak to the Danes outside their doors. When the spear struck her chest and killed her, Ghylena winced.

“Lord, now?!” Sihtric asked, begging to fight.

Uhtred tamed him, “We do nothing, yet.”

Haesten’s demands for Aethelflaed prompted yet another argument, but Uhtred managed to convince her that turning herself over was redundant. 

Haesten’s men advanced inside the hall, surprised when they were met with a shower of arrows and a wall of men upon opening the doors.

Ghylena fought with her axe this time, striking harsh blows through the air and moving quickly to avoid the same. When they had killed the first wave of men, Haesten’s men blocked all doors but the main entrance.

“Uhtred, we need a plan.” Ghylena cautioned.

“Osferth, you will open the door on my word and retreat. We form a shield wall and then we negotiate.” 

“Negotiate?”

“Haesten will want his prize.” Uhtred’s words sparked realisation in Ghylena’s mind, and she looked to Skade before resting one palm against Sihtric’s chest, a gesture of comfort and home.

“To the door!” Uhtred’s orders stood, and as Finan and Sihtric stood at the door with their shields, Ghylena found her bow in the hall, readying herself behind her men again. A familiar feeling returned to her, the worn grip of wood a comforting weight in her hand; another part of her mended, the typical violence strangely healing. She was back on her path, realigned with her fate.

As the deal was made, Ghylena found her soul pulling together, emptier than it had been, but whole again. She would fight.

They left the next morning for Saltwic, Aethelflaed’s Mercian estate, as the sun rose.

-> up next: 'edward's army'...

[bagheerita]

Hild: I have found my peace and I give up my sword to become an abbess.

Osferth, wherever he is: *perks up* My time has come...

[idkyetxoxo]

Eight | Vagabond | The Last Kingdom

"You're far too good at doing nothing and getting away with it."

"And yet, here you are, falling for it every time,"

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

King Alfred's decline was palpable, evident in the frailty of his form and the weariness etched into his features. Despite the lack of explicit confirmation, his impending demise loomed over us like a shadow.

Yet, even as we grappled with the weight of Alfred's failing health, another threat emerged in the form of Bloodhair, a menace whose absence brought little relief, for his companion Skade proved to be a source of relentless irritation.

Alfred had now issued strict orders to lock down Winchester and apprehend Uhtred following the unintentional killing of a man who had disrespected Gisela.

In my perspective, the man's disrespect towards a deceased woman warranted consequences far worse than what Uhtred had inflicted, reflecting the depths of his crudeness considering that Gisela had been nothing but a warm and kind-hearted woman.

With Skade held captive in Uhtred's home like a ticking time bomb, and Uhtred pacing the floor lost in thought, I considered intervening but opted against it instead ensuring Uhtred's children were being looked after properly.

After finishing braiding Stiorra's hair and tucking her into bed, I finally glanced outside. There, I observed Finan and Sihtric blocking the path to Uhtred's house, while Steapa engaged in a heated debate with Finan.

Eager to eavesdrop, I pushed through the crowd and spotted Hild at the back. Hurriedly, I beckoned her to join me grasping her arm and pulling her through the crowd with me.

Steapa's inquiry pierced the tense air, "So, she and the abbess may enter where we may not?" Finan's laughter danced on the wind, "We're scared of them," he jibed, annoying Steapa further.

Hild intervened with a soft whisper in Finan's ear, "You're goading him," she cautioned, but he remained undeterred. "I am abbess and enjoying it," Finan retorted with a mischievous gleam.

"Please, keep goading him it's the most entertainment I've had in a while," I quipped, prompting a playful response from Finan, who placed a hand over his heart, "Anything for you," he vowed, as Hild and I proceeded towards the house.

"You enable him too much," Hild remarked, to which I simply shrugged, a smile playing on my lips. "You're also attracted to him," she teased, catching me off guard. 

Recoiling slightly, I rebuked, "You're an abbess, don't speak like this," though her smirk remained unabashed.

"I may be an abbess, but that doesn't mean I'm blind," she countered.

Uhtred faced Alfred's demands, insisting that swearing allegiance to Edward would bind him to the boy for life. Beocca presented Uhtred with a choice, accept punishment or witness his friends turn against each other.

Handing off his weapons to Finan and Sihtric, Uhtred informed Steapa of his peaceful compliance with the king's summons. I halted his progress with a gentle touch to his chest, locking eyes with him, "Are you sure?" I implored softly.

My eyes searched his for any signs of resistance, regret and contemplation.

"Trust me," he whispered, and I acquiesced, sensing a divergence from the expected outcome. Steapa assured him of Alfred's mercy but that did little to quell the obvious tension in the air.

As expected Uhtred's flight from Winchester with Steapa and the Wessex guards hot on his trail, driven by his alleged threat to Alfred's life, marked the onset of our journey towards Dunholm, laden with uncertainty.

── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ──

Skade had surely revealed her true nature, an embodiment of evil living up to her reputation. Despite Uhtred's recovery from the sickness she had inflicted upon him, I couldn't help but harbour ill wishes toward her. For now, she belonged to Haestan a burden we gladly shed.

Our presence in Aegelsburg sought an audience with Edward, seeking his support for our cause. Positioned beside Sihtric and Osferth at the back, I observed Finan's antics, goading Steapa with irreverent jests.

"What if I need to piss?" Finan's voice rang out, punctuating the tension. Steapa, with a sudden halt, pivoted towards Finan, his expression laden with frustration. "Then take out your cock," Steapa retorted sharply, "and if you mistake it for a weapon, what then?" Finan's quick retort elicited a suppressed chuckle from me, my hand hastily covering my mouth to stifle the laughter.

In that moment, I must confess, Finan's audacious banter ignited an unexpected response within me. A primal surge coursed through the depths of my being, stirred by his brazen demeanour. He remained oblivious to the effect he had on me.

As he turned, shooting me a wink, I shook my head, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions. Sihtric, placed an arm on my shoulders guiding me away from the exchange with ease.

Seated upon a weathered wooden bench, I toyed with the uninspiring fare provided by Steapa, my appetite dulled by nostalgia for modern cuisine. "Not hungry?" Osferth's inquiry drew my attention, and I merely shrugged in response.

"I miss modern-day food," I confessed, idly pushing the flavourless meat and bread around my bowl. "I would quite literally kill for a slice of pizza right now," I muttered under my breath.

Without hesitation, Sihtric seized my bowl, initiating an impromptu exchange that left me rolling my eyes in exasperation. 

"You might as well take the food I'm still chewing on," I grumbled, but Sihtric's playful gesture caught me off guard. As he reached for me, I instinctively recoiled, tumbling off the bench and onto the ground, prompting laughter from Sihtric, Finan, and the others gathered around our table.

Accepting Osferth's offered hand, I allowed him to help me back onto the bench "You're a rat," I muttered swiping my food back from him and presenting it to Osferth "This is why the sweet baby monk is my favourite," I added, affectionately tousling Osferth's hair.

"I didn't do anything," Finan protested, his voice a low rumble amidst the laughter. His gaze met mine in a silent exchange, a knowing spark igniting between us like a hidden flame.

"Ah, but that's precisely the problem, isn't it, Finan?" I replied, my tone teasing yet tinged with genuine warmth. "You're far too good at doing nothing and getting away with it."

A playful smirk tugged at the corner of Finan's lips, a silent challenge passing between us "And yet, here you are, falling for it every time," he quipped, his voice low and melodious, eliciting a roll of my eyes even as I denied his claim, knowing deep down its undeniable truth.

We maintained eye contact for a while as a silent symphony of desire unfolded, each glance an unspoken invitation to delve into the depths of attraction, a magnetic pull neither could resist.

Whilst we ate, Edward had pledged his support to Uhtred, promising an army at Beamfleot despite his father's wishes. 

True to his word, Edward's commitment worked in our favour, culminating in the unwelcome return of Skade to our group, a development I silently lamented.

── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ──

Seated together in an alehouse, our weariness tempered by the joys of victory, I extended my gratitude to Uhtred as he placed a cup of ale before me. The atmosphere buzzed with camaraderie as the men indulged in the ale, their laughter echoing through the dimly lit alehouse.

"You all drink like seasoned alcoholics," I jested, savouring the ale's slow descent down my throat. Uhtred shot me a playful glare, prompting laughter from the others. It also prompted Uhtred to recall memories of our shared past, weaving tales of revelry and recklessness.

"I recall the day Iseult and I stumbled upon you in the forest, barely coherent from your hangover," Uhtred teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I was celebrating," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Uhtred leaned back, a satisfied grin etched upon his face.

"Speaking of the past," I interjected, leaning forward with a playful gleam in my eye, "shall I regale everyone with tales of how insufferable you first were" Uhtred's expression shifted, a mixture of amusement and apprehension crossing his features. "No, you will not" Uhtred quickly protested.

"Yes, I would," I affirmed, glancing around the table, the anticipation palpable in the air.

"No," Uhtred's voice cut through the jovial atmosphere, a warning etched in his tone. I shook my head, determined to shed light on a moment from our shared past.

"The day I saved Hild," I began, bracing myself for Uhtred's inevitable reaction. He groaned audibly, a preemptive acknowledgement of the impending embarrassment.

"Lord Uhtred here had the audacity to declare me foolish for risking our safety, even going so far as to wish upon me the very horrors inflicted by the Dane Hild faced to be taught a lesson," I concluded, the weight of Uhtred's words hanging heavily in the air.

"What?" Osferth gasped, disbelief evident in his voice. Finan's jaw tightened, his gaze flashing with indignation "And you remained with him?" he questioned, his voice laced with incredulity.

"Unfortunately," I admitted with a playful sigh, acknowledging the complexities of our bond.

"Lord, that's just," Sihtric interjected, struggling to find words to encapsulate his astonishment. 

"Now my men think me a heathen," Uhtred groaned putting his head down. "Well, at the time, I certainly believed you were," I countered, a hint of jest in my tone.

"Consider yourself fortunate I didn't retaliate with more than just words on that day," I added pointedly, a playful threat disguised within the jest.

"Shall we also recall that you then decided to grace me with a slap across the face?" he interjected, his tone laced with playful accusation. I paused, feigning contemplation for a brief moment.

"I may have conveniently left that detail out," I admitted with a nonchalant shrug, unable to suppress a laugh that bubbled up from within me.

Glancing at Finan, I found him wearing a steady smile, his eyes alight with amusement now.

Uhtred's response was a tender embrace pulling me close to him, his gesture a silent acknowledgment of our shared history and the enduring bond that transcended even the darkest moments of our past. 

As he nuzzled my hair and placed a gentle kiss upon my brow, I couldn't help but groan in mock protest, the warmth of his presence a comforting reminder of the bonds that bound us together, despite our flaws and follies.

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

AND IF YOU MISTAKE IT FOR A WEAPON LIKE HELLO WHO LET HIM SAY THAT AND GET AWAY WITH IT also two of my fav finan scenes 🤤

Tag list - @jasontoddorjasongrace

[synintheraven]

As promised, here's my season 2 edits (;

[mrsarnasdelicious]

TLK Christmas - Christmas with Hild

"It has been a while." You hear someone say. You look up to see Hild approach. A gentle flush draws onto your cheeks. "Abbess." You whisper. Hild sits down beside you. "Just call me Hild." She says softly, taking your hand. You smile a small smile and squeeze her hand.

"What brought you to church this Christmas?" She asks. You flush and look away. Hild places a hand on your knee. "Come now, you did not come here to pray." She says softly. You heave a soft sigh. You may have lost your faith, but you have not lost your feelings for her. But you know you can't tell her. She is an abbess.

It can't be. Never again.

"You are not here for god, are you?" It is no accusation. Hild sounds so sweet. Your heart churns. You shake your head, not trusting your voice. You are here for her, and only for her. You are here for something that was once. You are here for the past. And yet the present is sitting right beside you. And she is looking like an angel. "Oh Hild..." You whisper. The abbess smiles and kisses your temple. She squeezes your knee and leans against you.

"You can stay for as long as you like." She whispers.

"Happy Yule." She whispers and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. "Happy Christmas." You mutter, your heart racing in your throat.

[kingslionheart]

Aelswith <3 for the character ask

1: sexuality headcanon: either bisexual or pansexual, still trying to figure it out because i can't let go of the potential there could have been with some women on the show

2: otp: aelswith x alfred <3

3: brotp: aelswith & eadith, even tho there could be some romantic potential there as well

4: notp: noneee

5: first headcanon that pops into my head: she would like painting, i don't know why but just know it is true

6: favorite line from this character: "Abbess Hild, be sure to wash your hands", I AM obsessed with the passive aggression

7: one way in which I relate to this character: the way she's always there for her family

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: i don't know if it is the fever that's making me go insane and forget most things, but i can't think of anything right now

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? cinnamon roll, i don't care

[cibs]

Part 5: “Take it in, breathe it out” Rating: Mature Previous part Next part Pairings: Finan x OC, Uhtred x Gisela x OC

Hranni’s neck tilted back just short of being too painful as the abbot’s guard moved his sword to her throat. She heard Wenna protest as Uhtred stalked forward. She noticed Hild and two others flanking him by the door, one a clear Dane and the other a dark haired man.

“I’ll find her, and when I do she will be married by proxy to lord Aelfric.” Eodred spat out, near shaking with anger at Uhtred.

“Unless he comes down to hump her himself, she will be the wife of no one. Now let the woman go, and crawl back to my uncle,” Uhtred matched his tone. He looked much thinner, and his hair was as wild as his eyes were. “Tell him the only bed Gisela will be in is mine.” He drew his sword, and the men behind him matched the action.

Eodred waved off the man holding Hranni, and she quickly moved forward behind Uhtred. He tilted his chin back towards the others, and so she joined Hild and the blond Dane. God, she wished she had time to grab her own seax as she felt near naked without a weapon.

“She will be his wife!” Eodred protested.

“Say it again.”

“Lord Aelfric will have her as his wife!” Eodred yelled in Uhtred’s face as he moved right up to him, only for Uhtred to brandish a dagger and pierce Eodred’s gut. The abbot made a pitiful sound of shock, and fell to the ground. Hild protested, and the Dane held her back.

“You, do you remember what I said to tell Aelfric?” Uhtred held out his blood-soaked dagger towards Brother Trew, who took one look at the dying abbot and nodded before practically sprinting out of the nunnery. Abbess Wenna put her hands on her hips and only sighed, muttering something about the mess.

“Hranni,” Uhtred turned to her, with worry clear on his face.

“Behind the nunnery at the treeline, whistle twice.” She told him, and he was off with the men. Hild stood silently, staring at the dead man with a puzzled expression.

“Sister, I’ll be back. Don’t let them leave without me.” Hranni told her, and without waiting to see if she even noticed she passed Wenna to go collect her things.

In her room, she quickly tore off the novices’ clothes she wore, leaving her in a thin shift and the trousers she wore beneath, before she pulled the armor from below her cot. She pulled the mail and leather on, finding the weight of it comforting. She tied it at her waist with a leather buckle, tucked her seax into the small sheath hanging from her hip, and wrapped her thin, brown scarf around her neck. In case of a fight, her father had long taught her a man might target her for being a woman. To avoid this, Hranni found a way to wrap a scarf around her head so in an instant she could pull part up as a hood and veil her face below the eyes. Hrodstaeinn joked she looked like a boy fresh in his first fight, but she found the wrap comforting.

She threw Randwulf’s spare clothes into a bag, and moved to where she left him earlier for a nap, but found the boy awake and drawing idly with charcoal on the stones. The little boy smiled brightly as she bent down to pick him up. His bright brown eyes were so much like hers, and the only thing setting the two apart so far was a mop of lightly curled red hair.

“Hi mama.”

“Hi baby,” She spoke fondly as she put him on her other hip. “Remember that adventure I told you about?”

“I think so.” He wrapped his tiny arms around her neck as the pair passed back out towards the entrance.

“Well, it’s time for an adventure.” Hranni told him, and came back to see only the Abbess remained.

“Ah, dear. I know you are to leave with Gisela,” Wenna came to her and patted Randwulf on the back. “We’ll miss the both of you. Be good, daughter.” With that, she cupped Hranni’s cheek for a moment with a warm smile. Hranni tipped her head forward to press their foreheads together.

“I will. I promise.” Wenna pulled back, and Randwulf waved back towards her, calling out a goodbye as she left.

Outside, she saw Uhtred with Gisela. The pair held their heads bowed together in whispered conversation as the men around them prepared horses. She walked to the group with Randwulf, and Hild emerged from the throng of horses leading one over to her.

"Hild! I am glad to see you. I am sad to say I thought he was lost, but I should not have doubted you." Hranni said.

Hild's eyes reached down, clearly noticed the cross Hranni wore above her armor. "God is good," she glanced back up and sent a little wave at Randwulf who started enraptured at the beast in front of him. "You've done well with him."

"I… yes. I've had much help. The abbess said God takes care of babies and fools. And I had the baby." Hranni pressed her temple gently to Randwulf's head.

"Now, Uhtred said you were a severe woman with a mean face and a meaner punch," An accented voice said from behind the women. It was the dark haired man with Uhtred, and Irish evidently. "Now you do look like you could throw a mean punch." He came up to them with his own horse.

Hranni sighed, "And so you are the person Uhtred gossips to then?"

"Yes, called Finan. And we had a fair bit of time to talk, Lady Hranni." He played at a bow. He looked just as ill as Uhtred had in the hall, thin through his form with sunburnt lesions starting to recover on his face.

"Not a lady anymore, Finan. Did you come to share the lord's insults as your way of introducing yourself or did you have something else to say?" Her words faltered the smile on his face a bit.

"Aye, no. Apologies, if I offended. From Uhtred's stories he's told of me and of shieldmaidens, I pictured someone," he paused, and Hranni knew he must be struggling for something polite to say. "Different."

Hild arched an eyebrow at him. "She's as bound to finishing this as we all are now."

Finan seemed at a loss for words then between the two women. "Aye. Right. I did bring a spare horse for you." He passed the reins to Hranni, then realized she couldn't grab them with Randwulf on her hip. "And this is your son?"

Before Hranni could retort, Randwulf pointed at Finan and asked, "What's on your face?"

"Oh this little man?" Finan laughed and ran a hand over his beard. "Hair, like on your head. You'll get it one day. You've spent far too much time around women if you don't know that." He joked and reached out to tussle his hair, but Hranni pulled away.

"Ah ah, no." Hranni tutted. "Hild, can you hold him for a moment?"

Hild obliged, amused. Hranni grabbed the reins out of his hands and hoisted herself up before placing Randwulf right in her lap. "You look like shit." Hranni told Finan, and with one arm wrapped around Randwulf's little frame and another gripping the reins tight, she wheeled around to find Gisela. Finan's bright laugh followed her, further inciting her annoyance with him.

She did not have a relative peace for two years ruined in one day only to then deal with disrespect from the first rogue Uhtred picked up. She knew these Saxons, and the Irish she guessed now, didn't respect shieldmaidens. And now she was a shieldmaiden and mother to a little boy, which doubled the pressure she felt to prove herself to Uhtred's band as a worthy warrior. Gisela said Uhtred wouldn't dare prevent her from their inevitable march on Dunholm, but still she worried.

The riders had all mounted while Finan kept her, and she found Gisela and Uhtred at the front of their little band.

"Lady!" She called out as she moved in step with them.

"Hranni," Gisela turned to her, face glowing with happiness. "I'm sorry you were hurt in my place."

Hranni quickly shook her head. "Nonsense. It's what we agreed, and it would have worked if not for the lord surprising us all."

"I will thank you then for your protection." Gisela replied. "We are on our way to Winchester, before Dunholm."

Hranni's puzzled face at the thought of going south before north again prompted Uhtred then. "I have matters to settle with king Alfred. Then, Dunholm."

"Uhtred!" A deep voice called out. A tall Saxon, Finan and the blonde rode up to their small group. "No more delays. We are straight to Winchester now."

"Of course, Steapa. Our delays are the lady Gisela, my woman, and lady Hranni Hrodstaeinsdottir." Uhtred said.

This Steapa only grunted.

"Hrodstaeinn of Gyrwum? The shipbuilder? Ah, you must be Hemmingr's wife." The blonde asked, taking a firmer look at her.

"Yes, my father." Hranni answered back. The man seemed pleased at the mention of her father's name.

"Ragnar Ragnarson, Lady. Your father's work saved me in some of the fiercest storms I've sailed in. My little brother failed to mention that." She knew the name, and recalled vague memories of a much younger man with his father in Gyrwum.

"He would have appreciated that." Hranni answered.

"I heard of Kjartan's raid on Gyrwum, my heart is heavy with the loss of your parents and husband, I hope you know." His voice turned soft then, and pained. She likewise remembered the hall burning of Ragnar the elder some years ago. It turned her father to Kjartan's door in a bet to please the man in hopes of avoiding a fate that turned inevitable.

"Thank you." Hranni said, unsure of what to reply to this man who also lost much at the hands of Kjartan. "But I have more to share, but news is sparse. Eoferwic has been taken by Guthred again, Sihtric and Clapa remain in his army. The brothers Sigefrid and Erik run around Northumbria like chickens without their heads, and nothing but silence from Dunholm."

"We'll gather men to raid Dunholm after I am done in Winchester. There will be revenge aplenty to satisfy us." Uhtred spoke firmly. Even with the same gauntness afflicting him as Finan, resolve made him appear stronger.

"I am concerned with the living first." Hranni knew in her heart Katla lived still. She was sure her absence would be felt, but that pull towards her remained strong. She absently reached for the cross hanging from her neck to play with. Wenna always said God would give her strength when she had none for herself.

"You mean to ride with us to Dunholm?" Finan cut in then. "With your son?"

Hranni's face flushed in frustration at his doubt. Before she could spit her anger out at him, Gisela spoke. "He will be with me, and she has not spent these years idle. Only months ago she killed a man with only the protection of a nun's garb and a kitchen knife."

"Hah! You should not doubt a shieldmaiden, they know more ways to kill a man than we ever could. They're clever, and spiteful." Ragnar laughed. "Tell me, what did he do to deserve your rage?"

"He tried to rape a novice. It caused me no more anger than when I must remove a weed from the garden. It is just a necessity." It truly felt nothing more than that to her.

Ragnar only laughed again, while Uhtred's face turned stony for a moment before returning to that pleasant look he always seemed to have around Gisela.

"I am glad you remained with Gisela all these years. Finan has done much of the same for me." Hranni realized they met while enslaved then, which explains an Irishman in the middle of Northumbria. The man himself only smiled politely at her. If Uhtred trusted him, she must too for Gisela's sake. If given the chance, she would love to smack him into the dirt in a brawl. His larger frame still thinned from slavery promised a strength she knew would be challenging. The last sparring match she had was years ago with her father who routinely threw her to the ground near every match, but he was a hard man with decades of experience and little tolerance for silliness. She felt her jaw tense at the memory and quickly snapped the thoughts of fighting, her father, and Finan away.

A curt "yes, lord,'' is all Hranni managed, suddenly feeling a pressure on her brow which made her head ache. The new men, Uhtred's return, made her feel nervous and uncertain now that she did not have to be the sole protector. "I will be with Hild if you need anything."

Uhtred nodded and turned back to talk to Gisela as Ragnar and Steapa fell back in line. As she herself turned back, she felt Finan's eyes on her. She glanced back to see him looking after her, a disquieting look in his eyes. Hranni's spine shivered at the intensity. Whatever his judgment of her, as long as Uhtred's opinion did not change, it did not matter. That string tying her heart to Katla's tightened painfully as she turned back to find Hild.

[florilegia-or-what-you-will]

Commonplace Songs

So. Here’s the thing. I have a bad habit of skimming, especially when I’m reading rubrics. I don’t notice I’m doing it but it can mean I miss important bits of information, such as the part about your last entry being a 250 word retrospective. Luckily I am aware of this deficiency of mine so I tend to check my rubrics periodically to make sure I haven’t missed anything. So I wrote the post. But. Before I realized there was a set end to the life of this blog I still intended my own form of wrap-up. I decided to make a playlist with at least one song per reading from this class. Even after I knew I just had to write a lil paragraph I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here is the playlist anyway. [Commonplace Songs] Obviously it would be a bit of a time commitment to listen to the whole thing, so this was mostly just for my own enjoyment, but I had too much fun not to share. Notes for each song under the cut.

Abbess Hild & Caedmon, & Caedmon’s Hymn - Sisters of Mercy - Leonard Cohen

This one was honestly one of the most difficult to figure out. I generally struggled most to find songs for the explicitly religious texts, but I think this one works pretty well if you think of it as being from Caedmon’s perspective.

The Exeter Book Riddles - The Riddle Song - Joan Baez | Scarborough Fair - Simon and Garfunkel

These are cheating a little I know, since they both have very old origins themselves. I did consider including Schubert’s Swansong as a reference to Riddle 7, but I’ve tried to stick with songs that have lyrics.

The Wanderer - Man of Constant Sorrow - Joan Baez

Man of Constant Sorrow is really a modern version of The Wanderer to me. An exile “bound to ramble” away from their loved ones, unable to see them again in this life.

Deor - This Too Shall Pass - Danny Schmidt

This one is obvious from the title, and she makes rings! What more could you ask?

The Wife’s Lament - You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me - Dusty Springfield | One Too Many Mornings - Joan Baez

You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me really captures the tragedy of still being in love with someone who’s abandoned you. I think the desire for physical proximity really works with The Wife’s Lament. One Too Many Mornings works for the feeling of physical, but more importantly, temporal distance. The tortuous, and at the same time mundane passing of time, and the feeling of it being too late.

Wulf and Eadwacer - Farewell Wanderlust - The Amazing Devil

I struggled with this one. Another song considered was Better Man by Pearl Jam but I think Farewell Wanderlust works better even if it's less specific. It's got the anger, frustration, heartbreak, and defeat going for it. 

Dream of the Rood - The Becoming - Nine Inch Nails 

I decided no church music was allowed which made this one harder. I decided to lean into the slight body horror of the description of the cross shifting between bloodstained and bejewelled. Also: “He’s covered with scabs he’s broken and sore” just like Jesus! Obviously this doesn’t really suit the glorious tone the poem was going for, but I personally found the poem a bit unsettling.

Judith - Glory and Gore - Lorde | The Dismemberment Song - Blue Kid

Glory and Gore definitely fits the tone of the poem best, it's hard to explain why without going line by line, but trust me this one is exceptionally good for Judith. The Dismemberment Song is here even though it's not quite right, because it was suggested to me and it made me laugh. Content warning though, it is very clinically detailed about, you know, dismemberment.

The Battle of Maldon - Immigrant Song - Led Zeppelin

This one is pretty obvious right? I came so very close to including Waterloo by ABBA as well, but I do have some restraint.

History of the Kings of Britain - Set Fire to the Rain - Adele | Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears

Set Fire to the Rain is for Igerna. All that love, and vulnerability, and secrets, and distrust. This song is just about Igerna to me now, it's pretty perfect for her. Everybody Wants to Rule the World works really well for Arthurian legend. “Nothing ever lasts forever, everybody wants to rule the world”

The Mabinogi - Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac | She’s Always A Woman - Billy Joel

Rhiannon is ludicrously obvious, I don’t think I need to explain. She’s Always A Woman is also about Rhiannon, specifically how Pwyll defends her and keeps her as his queen even though everyone is against her.

Lanval - Who is She? - I Monster | Come Wander With Me - Jeff Alexander

I feel like a magical woman appearing out of nowhere to be your girlfriend would actually be pretty trippy, hence Who is She? Come Wander With Me is a bit more suitable tonally. Have fun wandering off, never to be seen again, Lanval!

Ancrene Wisse - Agoraphobia - Deerhunter

As you might expect, from a song called Agoraphobia, this works well for anchoresses. The lyrics match the actual daily life of an anchoress surprisingly well.

Middle English Lyrics - Luck Be a Lady - Frank Sinatra

With regard to The Lady Dame Fortune is both frende and foe

Sir Orfeo - Frozen Pines - Lord Huron | Word Spins Madly On - The Weepies

Frozen Pines captures the frozen-in-time-ness and its about seeking a lost loved one in the woods. It's perfect. World Spins Madly On works because time has also very much not frozen, and they are apart from one another, knowing, and at the same time not knowing, where the other is. Honourable mention to Nothing Takes the Place of You by Toussaint McCall, which just wasn’t quite right, but has a maturity the other two lack.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight I - Family Friend - The Vaccines

Poor Gawain is the only responsible adult at court. Jokes aside, this is a really good character song for Gawain.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight II-III - All in Green Went My Love Riding - Joan Baez

I’ve mentioned this one before. It's too perfect not to include.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight IV - Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons

Another character portrait for my favourite boy Gawain! This also works for him in Morte d’Arthur. He tries so hard, and always comes just a little bit short, and then blames himself mercilessly.

Canterbury Tales – General Prologue - Prologue: Into the Woods - Stephen Sondheim

I’ll be honest, I had no idea what to do for this one, but I committed to a song per reading. It does work well in a way. They are both prologues that introduce a billion archetypal characters at once, tell you what they want, and make fun of the a little. Sondheim could have done a kick-ass musical adaptation of The Canterbury Tales.

Piers Plowman – Prologue - Land of the Believer - The Weather Girls

Club music perilously close to gospel music, I wouldn’t be surprised if this genuinely was about Jesus and religion. I considered skipping Piers Plowman because we didn’t actually go over it in class, but I’m a completionist.

Chaucer – Canterbury Tales – The Miller’s Tale - You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi

Oh Absolon… I considered going with Tainted Love, but I needed a ridiculous song for a ridiculous story.

Chaucer – Canterbury Tales – The Miller’s Tale - Put the Blame on Mame - “Rita Hayeworth” Anita Ellis

On the other hand, Put the Blame on Mame is about a beautiful woman being blamed for disasters both natural and human, but which is supposed to, in my opinion, make you think about how ridiculous it is to actually blame a woman for that kind of thing.

Julian of Norwich – A Revelation of Love - Space Age Love Song - A Flock of Seagulls

I love taking songs that aren’t supposed to be about Jesus and making them about Jesus, and Jesus in the role of alien girlfriend is funny to me. That said, it does work really well for the transcendent vibe of medieval mysticism.

The Book of Margery Kempe - Crazy - Gnarls Barkley | Policy of Truth - Depeche Mode

I found it a bit difficult to take Margery seriously at first, because she is patently a ridiculous person, but is she really crazy just because others think she is? Trying to think of songs for her is actually what made me take more seriously what her life was like. She experienced many dangers and a lot of persecution for living her truth, hence Policy of Truth.

The Book of Margery Kempe - Sad Eyed  Lady of the Lowlands - Joan Baez

A singular, and shockingly untouchable woman.

Second Shepherd’s Play - Mack the Knife - Ella Fitzgerald | Sheep - Pink Floyd

I admit, these are both kind of joke songs, but they do work! Mack because Mac, sheep because sheep.

Second Shepherd’s Play - Under Pressure - Queen and David Bowie

The slightly more serious choice for this play. It matches the complaining of the shepherds at the beginning of the play, and it has references to prayer, and a desire for change that works given it is a nativity play.

Noah’s Flood - Rain on Me - Lady Gaga (feat. Ariana Grande)

Okay, hear me out. I know it's a club song, but it's actually perfect for Noah’s wife. I can’t go line by line, but it expresses disappointment with a relationship, be it with God or Noah, but it also expresses gratitude for being alive, even though they wish they were “dry” , a reference to rain, and alcohol.

The Crucifixion - Blowing’ in the Wind - Joan Baez

This one was really hard without just choosing a song literally about the crucifixion, which would be cheating. Blowing in the Wind is about ignorance and apathy to human suffering, which is also what characterises the Roman soldiers. Also, yes, I will pick the Joan Baez version of every song I can. Thank you for asking.

Mankind -  WWJD - The Axis of Awesome | Out of Touch - Hall and Oates

Mankind - Send Them Off! - Bastille

WWJD is another joke song, but you can’t tell me a group of demons in a morality play wouldn’t sing this. Like the demons in the play, it humorously pokes at a question people would really be asking about how they are supposed to ever live up to Jesus. Out of Touch and Send Them Off! are more straightforwardly readable as Mankind singing to/for Mercy.

Morte d’Arthur, book 1 - Tower Song - Martha Wainright | In the Blood (feat. Ashley Barrett) - Darren Korb

Tower Song is my other song for Igerna. It works along the same lines as Ste Fire to the Rain, but it's a little more vicious. I was torn about including In the Blood, even though it works well for Arthur, because of course it does, I transposed one young hero who is the future of his people, onto another. I still think the Arthurian angle changes the way the song reads enough for it to work, though.

Morte d’Arthur,  book 8 - Happy Ending - MIKA | Heavy Crown - Trixie Mattel

For Happy Ending, please see my previous post on Lancelot and Guinevere. Heavy Crown is for Arthur, “Winning’s losing with a couple strings [...] Gotta be the last to know”, I think it suits the melancholy of all the lost glory Camelot, and how inevitable the whole thing felt to Arthur the second he was confronted by Agravaine and Mordred about Guinevere and Lancelot