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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 11 months

Note

Do One of Sihtric falls in love with a Saxon maid of lady Gisela and ends up having a night with her which generates a pregnancy. But the problem is that Sihtric is still married but has feelings for the maid!

Warnings: suggestive, other than that; none.

Pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

Summary: see request!

Word count: 4,9k

Note: thank you for your request & patience! Hope you'll like it :)

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @heimtathurs @bubbles-for-all-of-us

'I wanted to have a reason to come back home, lord.'

********************

'Lord,' you said, giving Uhtred a firm nod as he passed you on your way to lady Gisela. He smiled and was followed by Finan, who you greeted with a smile, which Finan returned with a slight bow. You felt your cheeks redden when suddenly Sihtric appeared as you continued on your way. A sly smile appeared on his face when he locked eyes with you as he closed in.

'Lady,' he said softly, brushing his fingers lightly over yours in passing.

'Sihtric,' you smiled shyly, and you both glanced back over your shoulder before you disappeared behind the corner.

Gisela, Uhtred and all his men always treated you kindly, as if you weren't just Lady Gisela's maid, but also a friend to the family. They made you feel appreciated, which was a nice change from the previous Lady you had worked for. But despite them all being kind, Sihtric was the only one who always called you lady. You weren't deserving of that title, you were still just a maid, which you had told him once already, but he had clearly ignored that. You knew he was married, so you didn't think much of it at first, but as time passed he became more flirty with you, which made you confused. But the real problem was, you were head over heels for him.

Uhtred and his men had only recently returned home after rescuing Aethelflaed from the hands of the Danes, Erik and Sigefrid. Gisela wanted to celebrate their safe return and you helped her dress up for the event, but she had forgotten her necklace in the bedroom, which you had just fetched before you ran into Uhtred and his men.

'Lady Gisela,' you said when you found her, 'here, the necklace.'

'Oh, thank you!' Gisela smiled and turned so you could put the necklace around her neck. 'Have you been running?' she suddenly asked when she faced you again.

'Running, my lady?'

'Your cheeks,' she giggled, 'all red.'

'Oh,' you embarrassedly looked away, 'no, I wasn't running.'

'Oh,' Gisela looked at you for a moment and giggled again, 'so then it is a boy?' to which your cheeks heated up even more.

'So it is a boy!' Gisela smiled and took your hands, 'who is it?'

'It's… no one. I don't have a chance.'

'Oh, don't be foolish. Any man should be lucky to have you, tell me.'

'No,' you chuckled lightly, 'I mean it. I do not have a chance. He- he is married.'

'Oh,' Gisela said softly, her smile fading.

'Oh, no, no! It's not Lord Uhtred!' you quickly said, 'I would never!'

'Thank the gods,' Gisela laughed, 'but I wasn't worried about that. I know you have no feelings for him, it is clear to me. But I still wonder who…,' she raised her eyebrows.

'Sihtric,' you blurted out, quickly hiding your face in your hands.

'Sihtric?' Gisela gasped softly, 'but… he married when you already knew him?'

You could tell she felt sad for you, knowing you must have been heartbroken at the entire turn of events. And you had been. You had avoided Sihtric for a few weeks after his marriage, and avoided his wife even more so, but you couldn't keep away from him as he was often around Uhtred, who was married to the lady you served.

'I would never want to ruin his marriage, my lady.'

'I know. I know you wouldn't. But,' she paused, 'I actually have noticed how his eyes always find you when he's here.'

'What?'

'It is true,' Gisela smiled softly, 'men are not to be understood, so I do not know what his intention is with you. But maybe,' she paused, 'maybe he didn't marry the right woman. We all know that sweet boy rushed into marriage,' she chuckled lightly.

'Does it make me a bad person that I hope his marriage fails?'

'No, it does not,' Gisela comforted you, 'if your heart belongs to someone, it simply belongs to that person only.'

'But it seems his heart does not belong to me, my lady, it doesn't make sense.'

'Trust destiny,' Gisela squeezed your hands lightly, 'take any chance that is given to you.'

'Even if he is married?'

'Even if he is married,' she winked, 'he is still the only one who decides to let his eyes wander to you. So why not enjoy it? He will be at the celebration tonight,' she giggled, 'so I think you should put on a pretty dress, and not be a maid tonight, but a lady.'

'Really?'

'Really. Let me help you pick something to wear.'

'Thank you, my lady,' you smiled, 'but… won't his wife be there too?'

'She will,' Gisela smiled cheekily, 'but you are ten times the woman she is. Don't tell anyone I said that,' she chuckled, 'now, hurry. Let's find you a dress!'

*******************

Sihtric fidgeted with his rings as he waited for his wife to finally get ready and join him to the celebration. He cursed himself for thinking of you, while his wife was right there, but he couldn't help himself. He was attracted to you, even more than that, he simply had feelings for you. But he was married and he loved his wife, at least, that's what he kept telling himself. He would never want to harm her, but he had to be honest, marriage with her was not how he thought it would be. She always complained about everything. About him, about his work, about Uhtred, about the town, about the house he had bought them with his own silver. It seemed like nothing was ever good enough for her, and Sihtric didn't know what to do about it. He married her to feel loved, to not be alone anymore and to give him a reason to get through each battle. Yet he doesn't feel loved, he doesn't want to come home after battle and spends a lot of time on his own outside near the river, or getting drunk in the alehouse with Finan. The latter she complained about too. Sihtric also wanted to be a father, but his wife was reluctant, which put another strain on their marriage.

As Sihtric waited for his wife to dress up, he suddenly thought of the first time he had seen you. It was a late, cold winter night when he had to stand watch. The entire Burh was quiet and empty as everyone was asleep, except for you and Sihtric.

But you never knew he had seen you that night. You were awake because Gisela had been feeling a little under the weather that evening. You had just brought her some tea, and as you were done tidying up the kitchen, you saw it was snowing. And you ran outside.

Sihtric immediately fell for you when he had seen you that night, in the middle of the empty town square, lit up by torches, holding your hands up to the sky as you swayed and twirled in the snow falling around you. Sihtric melted at the sound of your soft laugh, and he wanted nothing more than to join and dance in the snow with the beautiful lady he saw that night, but he couldn't leave his post. He remembered your features, even though he had only seen you from a slight distance, and he had never gotten you out of his head after that. Shortly after that night, he found out who you were, and when you would barely speak to him, he took it as a sign he would never have a chance with you. So he tried to forget about you and ended up getting married.

He never knew you didn't talk to him because you couldn't stop yourself from blushing whenever he was near, and you were too shy to speak to him, he was a warrior and you were just a maid.

Sihtric smiled at the thought of you when his wife finally walked in the room.

'I have decided I will not be going tonight.'

'What, why?' Sihtric asked, agitated.

'I am tired.'

'But,' he scoffed, 'I've been waiting here for you for over an hour already.'

'I do not wish to go,' she said curtly.

'Fine,' he shrugged, 'but I am going.'

'No,' she snapped, 'I want you to stay here, with me.'

'Sigdeflaed, no,' he said, 'they are celebrating for me too. I can't not show up, I am going.'

'If you go now, then you don't have to come back.'

'What?'

'You can sleep at Uhtred's. He always needs you anyway.'

Sihtric sighed and heatedly grabbed his cloak before he walked to the door.

'I have never mistreated you, I gave you everything, yet you gave me nothing in return,' he said before he slammed the door shut behind him.

*****************

You nervously picked at your dress as you were watching Sihtric from a distance. He looked so handsome tonight, as per usual, but it seemed like there was something different about him. As if he seemed… happier, more free. You suddenly felt someone nudge your shoulder, interrupting your gaze at the young warrior.

'Have you noticed it too?' Gisela said, nudging your shoulder again.

'What?' you felt flustered, knowing she had caught you staring.

'Sihtric.'

'Y-yes, I noticed him,' you smiled shyly.

'No, I mean, he's alone. His wife is not here.'

'What?' you quickly looked around the room, then back to Gisela, 'where is she?'

'Uhtred told me they had a bit of a fight before he showed up tonight,' Gisela smiled slightly, 'so, I think you should go talk to him.'

'What! No, no. I cannot, my lady.'

'Yes, you can. I didn't dress you up nicely for nothing,' she teased, 'go to him.'

You sighed and blushed again. But before you could turn to walk over to Sihtric, Gisela pulled you back by your hand and quickly loosened the laces at the front of your dress a little, showing a bit more cleavage.

'Okay, now go,' she smiled.

'I-I… my lady, this… I-'

'Make him realise what he could have had,' Gisela winked and gave you another push.

'But-' you tripped over your dress as she pushed you, and you were caught by Uhtred, who chuckled at you before his eyes grew bigger upon seeing your… dress. He opened his mouth to speak but Gisela hushed him and motioned you to go.

'She is to make someone see what he missed out on,' Gisela smiled.

'Who?' Uhtred frowned, still a little flustered by the sight of your dress and "the laces" at the front.

Gisela and Uhtred both watched you awkwardly take a step forward and another back, several times, before you finally went to sit down next to Sihtric.

'Sihtric?' Uhtred chuckled, 'serious?'

Gisela nodded to which Uhtred looked thoughtful for a moment.

'She would be a perfect wife for him,' he eventually said.

*******************

You hesitantly sat down next to Sihtric, keeping your face turned from him. Sihtric didn't notice someone sitting next to him, as he was busy trying not to spill a jug ale while Finan, clearly drunk, tried to steal the jug out of his hands which involved a lot of laughter and shouting from both men.

You took a few deep breaths, looked over at Uhtred and Gisela, who gave you both a reassuring nod, and you finally turned to Sihtric and opened your mouth to speak.

'Sihtri-' you got immediately interrupted when Finan shouted something as you suddenly felt the entire jug of ale splash all over your face, throwing your hands up in a reflex as it splashed into your hair, in your half open mouth, down your noticeable cleavage and into your dress, while the rest spilled down into your lap.

The entire room suddenly became quiet, looking over to where Finan's shout came from. And then everyone laid eyes upon the woman, wearing a beautiful light pink coloured dress, who was now drenched in an entire jug of ale. The jug of ale which Sihtric held in his hands, the jug of ale which Finan had tried to steal from him, making it a game of pulling the jug back and forth between them, before Finan decided he wanted to prank Sihtric. So Finan had let go of the jug, just when Sihtric gave it a firm pull, and the intention was for it to spill all over Sihtric. But Sihtric wasn't drunk yet, so he was quick to react and, not knowing someone sat next to him, he brought the cup over his shoulder, avoiding it entirely but spilling it all over you when Finan had shouted 'behind you!' to Sihtric just as you just opened your mouth to speak. Sihtric turned to you right after he heard Finan, but it was already too late.

Uhtred gasped when he understood what had happened, as did Gisela and grabbed her husband's hand.

You opened your eyes and huffed, spitting out whatever ale had gotten into your mouth. You looked down at your dress and you felt your cheeks turn the reddest they could possibly go when you knew the entire room was looking at you. You heard people start to laugh and several men whistled at the sight of you in your, now ruined, dress soaked with ale.

'Lady,' Sihtric gasped, only now seeing it was you, 'I- I'm so sorry!' he turned back to Finan, giving him a panicked look.

Finan, equally in shock, just shrugged at him and couldn't bring out a word. Sihtric turned back to you, still holding the jug and just watched you, breathless. He was in complete panic and felt horrible for what just happened, but despite the incident, he was mainly too stunned to speak as he took in the sight of you in that pink dress, which he had just ruined, still thinking you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

'Eh, a-a toast! Time for a toast!' Gisela suddenly said, drawing all the attention to her, 'everyone gather around!'

And as everyone turned their heads to Gisela, you lowered your hands, blinking rapidly and trying not to panic. You felt so embarrassed. You weren't mad at Sihtric, or at Finan, it was an accident. But you just couldn't look at Sihtric, who was still gazing at you, completely smitten while feeling equally ashamed. You quickly stood up, avoiding eye contact with everyone and you turned to run out of the room as quickly as you could. Gisela saw you run away and quickly told the crowd that Uhtred would like to say a few words, shoving her husband towards the crowd, leaving him speechless and desperately trying to find anything to say while Gisela ran after you. She beckoned Sihtric to follow, and he dropped the empty jug out of his hands as he jumped up to run after her.

Gisela found you in your room, upset and ashamed. She ordered Sihtric to fetch buckets of clean water, clean rags and a towel. Sihtric was quick to return, and then she told him to fetch clean clothes for you. He quickly went on his way while Gisela helped you out of your dress, cleaning you up as fast as she could.

'Please, my lady, will you leave? I can clean up myself. That is not your duty.'

'Don't be foolish,' Gisela hushed.

'No, please. I-I wish to be alone.'

'Are you sure?' she sighed.

You nodded at her and took the rag out of her hands, cleaning yourself up further while she gave you an understanding smile.

'I will tell Sihtric to leave the clean clothes outside the door for you.'

'Thank you,' you said before she walked away. You quickly cleaned yourself up and covered your body with the towel when you heard a knock on your door.

'Who is it?'

'S-Sihtric, lady,' his voice muffled through the door.

'You… you can come in,' you said, desperately wanting clean clothes.

Sihtric walked in and closed the door behind him before he directed his eyes up at you, holding his cloak in his hands, but he quickly looked down at his feet when he saw you were only covered by a towel.

'Lady,' he said, nervously, 'I-I couldn't find your clothes, or any clothes for that matter. So I-I… here,' he held out his cloak to you, keeping his eyes fixated on his feet, 'take my cloak, lady, please.'

'Oh,' you said softly and reached out to take his cloak. You threw it around your shoulders and dropped your towel. You wrapped yourself in his soft, warm cloak and went to sit on your bed.

When Sihtric noticed you were covered up he looked at you again and nervously shuffled towards you.

'Lady, I am so sorry. I am a fool. I-I… I didn't mean to- I didn't know you sat next to me. I-,'

'I know' you sighed, 'I know it was an accident.'

'Please, lady, tell me how I can make it up to you,' he shuffled closer to you as he spoke.

'It's fine,' you chuckled lightly, 'I just wish we will forget about it.'

'Of course, my lady.'

'And stop calling me lady, please, I am not a lady,' you sighed, 'I'm merely a peasant.'

'I think of you more as a goddess,' Sihtric smiled shyly, and he hesitantly chuckled, 'lady.'

'You truly are a fool,' you smiled, 'sit down.'

Sihtric cautiously sat down next to you, and even though he tried, he could not keep his eyes off you. He loved the way you looked, all wrapped up in his cloak, and he would throw a drink in your face every damn day if it meant he could wrap you in his cloak afterwards and be this close to you.

'I- I thought you looked very beautiful tonight,' Sihtric said softly as he looked at you like no man had ever done before, 'even now.'

'You haven't even seen me before you spilled the ale,' you laughed softly.

'But I have. I saw you with lady Gisela, she took your hands and she must have said something funny, because I saw you smiled.'

'Oh,' you blushed, 'where is your wife?' you bluntly asked, wanting to distract him from your red cheeks.

Sihtric sighed, looked down at his feet again and shook his head lightly.

'She's home. She didn't want to join me tonight.'

'But why? I mean, it's kind of a celebration for you too.'

'I told her that too,' he chuckled, 'but she refused. And,' he paused, 'she kind of kicked me out too.'

'What?'

'She said if I left tonight, I wouldn't have to come back. That I should find a bed at Uhtred's, because he always needs me anyway. Or so she thinks.'

'I'm sorry, Sihtric,' you said softly and instinctively reached for his hand, 'you deserve better.'

Sihtric looked at you with big eyes and allowed your palm to rest on the back of his hand.

'I-I'm sorry, that was very rude of me. I overstepped. I don't mean to insult your wife-'

'No,' Sihtric hushed you, 'you're right, actually. She hasn't,' he paused for a moment, 'she hasn't been good to me. But I married her, so,' he chuckled painfully, 'it's what I deserve.'

'It's not,' you turned to fully face him and took his hand in yours, 'you seem really sweet,' you blushed, 'you deserve someone who will make you happy. Not someone who makes you unhappy. When was the last time you were happy? Like, truly happy?'

Sihtric looked down at his hand in yours, and for a while he didn't speak. But you didn't mind that, you always worried you'd feel awkward when you'd finally be alone with Sihtric, and you had practised it a million times in your head, but now it was finally happening there was no awkwardness. Not even when you were both silent. And then you saw how his lips curled into a shy smile and he rubbed his thumb over your hand.

'One night,' Sihtric spoke softly, 'quite a while ago, when it was winter. It was a cold night when I had to stand watch back then, and it started to snow. It was the first snow of the year and everyone was asleep,' he smiled lovingly recalling the memory, but kept looking down at your hands, 'and suddenly, in the middle of the night when no one was around, and the fresh snow was still untouched, I saw how a beautiful woman danced in the snow. All alone. Without a care in the world. And she was smiling, and it was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. She was,' he chuckled, 'she was actually the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And all I wanted was to join her, to take her hands and dance with her. Because, I thought,' his smile faded slowly, 'I thought I could marry her. And maybe I could be as free and careless and as happy as she was. But I didn't think I had a chance with her, so I never married her. But… I still think she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And if I hadn't been a fool,' he sighed and shook his head, 'but, to answer your question, lady,' he looked up at you and smiled, 'that night was the happiest I had ever felt. Knowing that someone like her exists. Someone who enjoys the little things, like dancing in the snow at midnight. Someone who - who enjoys little things like that, the same way I do.'

'Sihtric,' you sighed, completely taken aback once you realised he had seen you that night. He took both your hands and pulled you closer slowly.

'And I have never stopped thinking about you,' he whispered as he leaned into you. And he lightly brushed his lips against yours, before he gently cupped your cheeks and kissed you deeply, lovingly, and most of all longingly.

All kinds of thought ran through your head as he kissed you, but mostly the thought that he was married. But then you remembered Gisela told you to take any chance you could. And this was your chance. This was the man who your heart belonged to. So you allowed yourself to get lost in his kiss, and you pulled him gently on top of you as you laid down.

His lips were soft and warm, slightly chapped but still gentle while firm. His hands were slightly damp, warm and rough, and he held your face with all the care in the world, as if he was terrified to damage the beauty he was finally holding. And you brought your hands up to his neck, pulling him even closer, his skin smooth and warm under your fingertips. He was patient, tender, kissing you slowly while he took his time to bring his hands down from your cheeks to the clasp of his cloak around your neck, opening it just as slowly as the way he dragged his tongue over your lips. He'd been dreaming of this moment ever since he first saw you and wanted to savour every second he finally had with you. He kept his slow pace as he moved his hands under the cloak, his fingertips carefully tracing over your skin while he pushed the dark fur off your figure. And he only broke the kiss because he wanted to watch how he slowly exposed you underneath him. His breathing was heavy, but slow and steady, as he watched your naked body with adoration, as if he had never seen such beauty before. His eyes were full of passion, love and most of all; happiness. Sihtric smiled at you, tucking a strand of damp hair out of your face as he asked, 'do you want me tonight, my love?'

You sighed with a smile and said you wanted him, with pure bliss and disbelief as you looked up into his mismatched eyes. Your cheeks, rosy, just like his while both your faces glistened in the candle light as he leaned back in to kiss you.

And the way you parted your lips for him, so he could slip his tongue inside your mouth, felt just as natural to you as the way you parted your legs for him, so he could bring his body in between your thighs, before his hands and lips discovered every inch of your body.

Squeezing, kissing, grabbing, licking, pinching, sucking, pulling and biting every part of you he possibly could. He would worship you tonight, like the goddess you were to him. And he thought of all those stories about Valhalla. That it is a paradise and a place of pure happiness. But he'd swear that Valhalla would be nothing compared to your body. And he made love to you that night as if it was the last time he'd ever make love. Slow, passionate, sensual and lustful love. He'd praise you, whispering how good you feel, how delicious you taste, how beautiful you are and how nothing and no one could ever compare to you. He'd moan sweet nothings in your ear as he slowly bucked his hips into you, letting you enjoy every inch of him inside you while you gave him pure happiness and made him feel so unreservedly in love with you. And he could never love anyone the way he loved you, just like he could never feel more loved by anyone other than you.

You kissed each other through your highs, and he held you close when you both felt yourself coming back to this world again. And Sihtric must've told you a thousand times how he loves you and how he would rather die than not have you. And you said that he should stay the night, since his foolish wife did not wish to share her bed with him and he had already made your bed warm, so it was only fair if he'd get to sleep in it.

The next morning you woke up with Sihtric in your arms. And as he tried to wake himself up, you made sure he felt loved. Planting soft kisses on his forehead, his temple, the tip of his nose, his jaw, his chin, then kiss each scare on his face before you kiss his lips. And you both wished he could stay, but Uhtred needed him. And he thought about how his wife had been right, and how she would've cursed at him again before he'd leave for Uhtred, whereas you had pulled Sihtric close, standing on your tiptoes to somewhat match his height, and you kissed him until his lips were bruised, leaving him with your memory before he left you to change into his armour at home and then took off with Uhtred and Finan.

********************

It had been a couple of weeks since you had slept with Sihtric, and Gisela knew something was wrong when she saw you throw up in the morning. She confirmed what you already feared; you were pregnant. You told her what had happened. Gisela was in shock, as were you, and she immediately called for Uhtred, who had only just returned, to tell him what had happened. Uhtred left, and moments later he came back, dragging Sihtric along with him by the collar of his dirty armour and he shoved him inside the room. Sihtric kept his eyes at his feet, as if expecting some form of punishment. He glanced at you a few times and you could see the concern on his face.

'Sihtric,' Uhtred said curtly, 'you know what you have done.'

'I-I'm sorry, lord, it won't happen again, lord,' he said quickly.

'You are married!'

'I am, lord.'

'Happily married?'

'I am not, lord.'

'Have you spoken to your wife?'

'No, lord, she seems to have packed her belongings and left in the night during the celebration, lord.'

'Sigdeflaed left?'

'Yes, lord. It-it appears to be so, lord,' Sihtric said, still avoiding any eye contact as he focused on his feet.

'Why did you lie to me?'

'I-I would never, lord.'

'Then why did you tell me you wanted to marry her?'

'I wanted to have a reason to come back home, lord,' he paused, 'a-and to feel loved, lord.'

'And now she's gone?'

'She is, lord.'

'Are you hurt?'

'No, lord, I… I am free.'

'And you love this woman?' Uhtred pointed at you.

'Yes, lord,' Sihtric said shyly and gave you a quick glance.

'And you swear to honour her and protect her?'

'Yes, lord, I swear it,' Sihtric kneeled down fast and held his Mjölnir pendant in his hands, 'on Thor's hammer, I swear it, lord.'

'And you are willing to marry her?'

'Yes, lord!'

'And you have humped her already?'

'I, I-' he sighed, embarrassed for you more than for himself, 'yes, lord,' he said quietly.

'You wish to have a family of your own?'

'Yes, lord.'

'And you are ready to become a father?'

'Ye-,' Sihtric paused and looked up at Uhtred, confused, 'lord?'

Uhtred chuckled, as did Gisela. And you just stared at him, anxiously awaiting his reaction when he finally looked at you.

'I-I am to become a father?'

'Yes,' you smiled cautiously and nodded, 'I…I carry your pup, Sihtric.'

He needed a moment to process your words. 'My- mine?' he gasped with a smile.

'And I do not wish for this child to not have a father.'

'I will never let that happen,' Sihtric stood up and took you in his arms, 'my child will feel loved by both parents, you have my word. I want to marry you, if-if you will have me, my lady.'

'I am not a lady,' you chuckled and looked up at him, 'but I will be your lady.'

#sihtric x you #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric kjartanson #tlk

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assortedseaglass · 11 months

Text

Steadfast & Forever

Request: Could you pretty please do an Osferth one-shot of him just having sweet little moments with a lady-in-waiting of Aethelflaed? Where their paths cross occasionally when Uhtred and the gang roll through, so they cannot really be together, but just burn and pine for one another??

Thank you, Ilysm 💜

@arcielee

Osferth x Unnamed OFC

Warnings: Language, religion, adult themes

Word Count: 6.2K

Notes: Let’s just ignore the canon, shall we? For the sake of the story, I’m keeping everyone in Winchester.

The sun was high when she first met him. Soft fingers of it streaked through the courtyard window into her Lady’s room. She watched them stroke the stone and tapestries, noting that the dappled light against Æthelflæd’s face seemed to ease her, and she sent up a prayer of thanks.

Æthelflæd had returned with the King and her husband in the early hours, dress dirtied and eyes dark, mind polluted by the ways of men beyond court. For hours, her ladies-in-waiting hovered at her side, stroked her hair when her mother retired to bed and listened to her whimpered recounts of her imprisonment. Of the gentle Erik, his cruel brother Sigefrid, her escape with Uhtred and his men, and the ensuing fight. Æthelflæd and her ladies drifted into sleep terrorised by faceless men and their brutish abandon, and by daybreak, only one remained sentinel over her mistress. The youngest of Æthelflæd’s three ladies-in-waiting sat curled at the foot of her bed, a book of psalmsopen by her side. Between casting a watchful eye over the sleeping princess, her eyes drifted to the window where a mistle thrush sang its fluting midday song. Its speckled breast quivered as it lifted its joyful voice, and the lady felt her heart aglow. Despite the terror of recent weeks, she remembered that beauty was at every turn.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The sound at the door was quiet, as though the hand behind it were tremulous, but in the hush of the castle, still following Æthelflæd’s return, she heard it. She glanced to her mistress, and to Adburh and Sæflæd beside her, but they did not stir. With gentle feet she hurried to the oaken door and set it open a little. No-one. Wrapping her shawl tighter about her shoulders, she stepped into the empty hall, only to find it was not empty at all.

A man took a shuffled step backwards and she drew the door close to her side, obstructing the stranger’s view of her mistress. A cursory glance told her that he was a holy man, though man was stretching the fact; he looked no older than she, perhaps even a year or so younger. She suspected he was tall, were it not for the stoop of his shoulders and the bow of his head. Even from where she stood, she could see the tendons of his jaw pulsing with tension against the shorn sides of his head. He fumbled with the threadbare sleeves of his woollen cowl, watching his hands with fixed scrutiny and jostling the cross at his chest. A monk.

She smiled at his bashfulness, still wary of opening her lady’s chamber door. “May I help you?”

At being addressed, his head shot up and, at seeing the lady before him, stood a little taller. “Isshealright?” The words were urgent, and once she had recovered from the urgent blue of his eyes, she saw that they were wide and red-rimmed as though he had spent a great many hour crying. No, not crying. Awake.

“Pardon?” she stepped out into the hall. The monk coughed and looked at his feet, and she crouched so that he might look at her. Pride swelled in her chest at the rosy hue blossoming on his cheeks. She found herself gazing at him in the bright light midday cast about the keep. All the holy men she knew were old, or dirty and pale from days at the altar. The oblates and novices never strayed into the keep. This man was regal, almost beautiful in his boyishness. She blanched. Who was this man that had this effect on her? A stranger lurking at the doorway of her mistress, with his kind eyes and gentle voice.

“Lady Æthelflæd. Is she alright?”

“Er, yes,” she recovered herself. “But she is resting. I’ll tell her you wished her well -” Her eyebrows raised in question of his identity and, realising he had said nothing other than to enquire as to Æthelflæd’s health, he offered his name.

“Osferth.”

“Osferth..?”

“Just Osferth. She will know.”

The lady nodded with a chuckle. “Well, Just Osferth, I will tell her you were here.” The monk relaxed at the nickname and exhaled with a small smile. The lady in turn beamed at him and they watched each other a moment. The events surrounding Æthelflæd’s capture and return had upended life in the King’s keep. A princess of Wessex imprisoned by Danes and rescued by a pagan. People forgot their stations, and whether on the frontline of the terrible affair or listening to whispered tales of it on the wind, returning to normalcy was proving difficult for the people of Wintancæster.

Through sleep-starved eyes Osferth admired the woman before him. The remnants of braids creased her hair, and despite the hour of the day, she looked as though she had just woken. He supposed, being one of Æthelflæd’s ladies, she may have, or else not slept at all. The eyes hidden by the curtain of hair were dark with exhaustion but bright with kindness, and he found he didn’t care that his cheeks grew hotter under her gaze.

A maidservant turned into the corridor and Osferth jumped back. “Thank you, lady,” the nervous monk had returned and, with a quick bow, he made his leave. She watched him go, took the tray of bread and fruit from the maidservant and backed into her mistress’ chambers, the smile that tugged at the man’s lips ever-present in her mind.

“Who was it?” Æthelflæd’s voice was hoarse but in the stillness of her rooms, her lady-in-waiting still jumped. Æthelflæd stood in the centre of the room, barefoot and wrapped in blankets, pouring herself a tonic from the pitcher at her table. Adburh and Sæflæd slept soundly in the bed, and Æthelflæd approached her lady-in-waiting for the tray. Even after her ordeal, she was tender as she waited an answer.

“I’m sorry, my Lady,” her companion said. “It was a monk, asking after you.” She thought of his kind face and smiled. “Have you been spending much time with the young oblates, my Lady?” The gentle teasing of her voice made Æthelflæd laugh and she continued. “This young monk seemed very taken with you. He called himself-”

“Osferth,”

“Aha! I’ve caught you! Do not fear, I shall not tell you dear husband,” she said the words with sarcasm. “Or your darling mother-”

“He is my brother.” Words died, and silence hummed between the two women. Æthelflæd’s eyes darted to her two other companions, still snoring softly, and whispered once more. “He is my brother.”

“I don’t underst-”

Æthelflæd took her by the hand and led her to a bench covered with furs. “The rumours are true. My father sired a bastard. Many, who knows. When the boy’s mother died, my father sent him to a monastery. There, my father could keep a watchful, if distant, eye on him and pretend to the rest of us that he doesn’t exist.” The lady covered her mouth and urged her mistress to carry on. Adburh stirred on the bed and the two stilled. When she didn’t wake, Æthelflæd continued. “Osferth begged Lord Uhtred that he may join him, as a warrior-”

“What?” she whispered her shock, and Æthelflæd nodded.

“The only reason, so I’m told, that he let the monk join was to embarrass my father.”

A flash of memory whipped through her mind. Walking to the kitchens to prepare food for herself, Æthelflæd, Adburh and Sæflæd, she had passed the throne room and heard the anguished voice of the Queen. Something about “the bastard and the Dane-lord or whatever he is or isn’t.” Even after Æthelflæd’s wedding to Æthelred, petulant little Æthelwold could be heard crowing throughout the town. “The bandy-legged bastard hasn’t even held his own cock, let alone a sword.”

“-and he was the one that killed Sigefrid,”

Her mistress’ last admission shocked her into the present.

“The monk?”

“Yes! Struck him through the back with his sword.”

“A warrior monk,”

“And a King’s bastard,” She grimaced at Æthelflæd’s use of the word but said nothing, her mind reckoning the image of a feared Dane-lord being slain by the young monk.

The next time she saw him was in the chapel, only a day later. Members of the King’s household made up the small congregation, seated by rank from the farthest pew to the first. Everyone from servants to council members gathered in the chapel, waiting for mass to begin as the King and his family processed towards the altar.

She watched Æthelflæd, her arm draped over that of her husband, glide towards her seat, ever the image of regal duty despite her tired eyes. Members of the congregation bowed to her mistress, some with kindness and some with pity, and as the lady watched the royal family pass her by, her eyes fell to the man stood at the back of the chapel, eyes downcast but still standing a head above everyone else.

At first, she thought he was attempting to make himself smaller so as to avoid the King. It was when Father Beocca began the service by invoking the cross, however, that she saw he was already in prayer, for he was the first to kneel and the first to murmur under his breath. He was alone, the rest of Uhtred’s men notably absent, and she forgot her own prayers to watch him a peaceful moment. Sæflæd nudged her shoulder, and she turned back to the priest. She followed the service, bowing her head when Beocca instructed and kneeling when the others knelt, but her mind was not on the Lord. No, it was on the lonely warrior monk five pews behind.

“Mass has ended, go in peace.” Father Beocca had barely finished speaking before the King turned to leave the chapel. Naturally, his mood in the days following Æthelflæd’s return had been stony, and many an hour had been spent locked in discussion with his council, to which he was no doubt returning. The congregation waited for the family to leave, and Æthelflæd’s lady looked over her shoulder once more to watch the monk. He was gone. She cast her eyes desperately around but they fooled her; many holy men of the congregation sported that ridiculous hair, but not one was her monk. Her monk. She shook herself and, with Adburh and Sæflæd, followed her mistress from the chapel.

The day was bright yet the air was damp and dewy. Rain would come before nightfall. She bid farewell to her companions and mistress, curtsied before the King and Queen, and stepped into the morning. Like a fish through water, she moved amongst the crowd. Priests were gathered around Father Beocca, discussing his sermon. She had thought to find him there, but she was wrong. Onwards she went, past gossiping noble ladies, haggling merchants, and even Uhtred’s bonny-faced right hand man. Fingal? Was that his name? Still, she could not see the warrior monk and all hope of finding him faded. Jostled by commonfolk going about their daily business, she turned to make her solemn way to the keep but halted where she stood. There! Towards the town stables, hands raised to avoid bumping into the crowds, that was definitely him.

“Sir,” she called out, gathering her skirts in her hands. “Sir! Please wait!” She hurried as fast as she could, for ladies-in-waiting did not run and it would not do for such gossip to reach the Queen. Whether he ignored her intentionally or could not hear her over the din of the crowd, she did not know but pressed on regardless, thanking the Lord for his height as she kept him in her sight. A few more strides and she could reach out and touch him…

“Sir!” Breathless with the effort of her hurried steps to catch up with his strides, she reached out and clasped the edge of his cowl. “Sir-”

The man jolted and looked to his sleeve, his gaze following the delicate hand there to the lady’s face. An emotion she didn’t recognise glazed his eyes, but all the same, with a blush he smiled timidly. She dropped his sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I did call,”

“I’m not a ‘Sir’, I am-“

“‘Just Osferth’, yes.” The lady smiled, then realised he may not recognise her, covered as she was by her Sunnandæg veil. “We met yesterday, when you came to my lady’s chamber?”

“Yes, yes,” the monk rasped and cleared his throat. After all he has done, she thought, and he is still shy. “Should you not be with her?”

“No, on the Lord’s Day we are left to do as we please.” She was desperate to speak with him. “My lady spends it with her mother.”

“I am glad to see she is well. Lady Æthelflæd, I mean,”

“Yes,” Neither said anything, and Just Osferth watched, torn between amusement and embarrassment, as the noble lady stood before him and directed her smile at him alone.

“Forgive me,” he said, his lips curving in one corner. “Was there some service you require of me, my Lady?”

It was her turn to blush, and Just Osferth liked the sight of it beneath her veil. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Um, I just wanted to say that she told me who are, Æthelflæd, and what you did.” She paused as the monk’s face fell. “That- that was very brave.” She finished with a whisper. The monk’s eyes fell to the ground and one hand brushed the cross at his chest.

“It didn’t feel very brave,” His voice was small and she found she wanted to see his smile again. She carried on in forceful tone.

“To leave your life at the monastery, join the service of a famed warrior, despite the ridicule it may bring you, and then slay the brute Sigefrid? To me, that is brave.”

If Just Osferth had been pink before, at her words of praise he turned crimson. “Thank you, my Lady.” Again, they watched each other, this time in an awkward but pleasant silence. Something about this lady’s curiosity of him made the monk feel that emotion he #found most elusive; pride.

“How long do you plan to stay in Wintancæster?” The lady said, eyes alive and hopeful.

“As long as Lord Uhtred pleases,”

“Then I hope it pleases him to stay a while.” And without another word, the lady bowed to the monk and departed. He watched her go, her veil billowing against her tunic in the passing breeze and the people that parted with good-natured smiles as she passed. A hand slapped him on the back.

“What’s the matter?” Compared to the lady’s, the Irishman’s brogue was like a carnyx. “Never had a pretty girl talk to you before?”

The monk swallowed, his eyes still on the retreating form of his sister’s lady-in-waiting. “I’ve certainly never had one bow to me.”

Her fascination with the monk continued over the week, and she was provided with plenty of opportunity to see him, for wherever Æthelflæd went, Uhtred seemed to follow. And wherever Æthelflæd and Uhtred went, so too did her ladies and his band of warriors.

They followed their leaders like a gaggle of children. Sæflæd confided in her that she found the Irishman, Finan, greatly appealing. “His wit is as sharp as his sword!” “There’s something about his eyes,” “Do you think he is married? I haven’t heard mention of a wife…” The young lady, too, liked Finan for his bright humour, loyalty and, though he tried to hide it, kindness. Poor Adburh was quite taken by the silent Sihtric, but the discovery of his wife, Sidgeflæd, had left her quite bereft. Uhtred seemed equally bewitched by Æthelflæd, and her youngest companion was glad to see a man bestow her mistress some compassion. Æthelflæd had brought them to the chapel to share some secret with Uhtred under the guise of prayer. At the door, Sæflæd laughed at something Finan said while Adburh stood scandalously close to Sihtric. He said nothing. The monk and the young lady perched on pews at the back of the chapel in contended silence.

“What has you smiling, my Lady?” Osferth whispered in her ear as they sat side by side. His hands were clasped in his lap, his head bowed slightly to hear her answer. Wherever he went, he always looked in prayer, and she wondered if it was the same on the battlefield. If he fought with as much grace as he did everything else.

“Those two,” she indicated Uhtred and Æthelflæd with her eyes. “It is good to see her smile again.” From the corner of his eye, he watched her face glow with tenderness. It seemed her permanent state. He had often seen her about the keep with Æthelflæd and her other companions. Where Adburh and Sæflæd seemed suited to keeping the princess jovial, the lady beside him must have been picked as a companion for her quiet sincerity. When Æthelflæd fell into clouds of despair, it was she that she went to to lift her spirits. When he stumbled upon her in the town, or sat in the meadow beyond the keep, she moved with the same serenity, like river buttercup in a stream. It struck him that she was prayer incarnate; contemplative, curious, calm. When tending to the horses, he watched her in the meadow. She gathered flowers, read beneath the oak tree, or when not alone, talked spiritedly with her companions. Just as fascinated as she was with the monk, he too was with the lady-in-waiting.

“Though she doesn’t show it, not to Lord Uhtred, she is sad.” The monk titled his head towards her as she spoke. “You are away tomorrow, are you not?”

He nodded, eyes scanning hers. Would she be sad when he left? As Æthelflæd was for Uhtred?

“Take care, Just Osferth,” she smiled. His mouth twitched at the corners, and she knew he wanted to smile. “What?”

“My lady, do you think perhaps you could simply call me Osferth? The others have given me their own name, I should like to hear mine just plainly.”

The lady’s eyes lit with mirth. “What do the others call you?”

He sighed and looked at the cross atop the alter, as if pleading for help. “‘Baby monk.’” He whispered it in her ear like he was at confession, and she would have shuddered were it not for the ridiculousness of the name. She sniggered and the monk pinched his nose.

“Are you a monk anymore? She had turned to him slightly, though she still glanced at her mistress every now and again. “Now that you are in Uhtred’s company?”

He thought a moment and watched his hands. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

She took his hand in hers and faced him directly.

“You are Osferth.”

“That I am.” There it was again. Pride. Looking at her pretty face, open with kindness and judging of nothing as she watched him, Osferth felt that whatever he had been, or would be, was fine because she saw him. She. He watched her side, for she had turned to face Uhtred and Æthelflæd. Her lips parted delicately, before a full smile played across her face. Her eyes were hidden from him by a few strands of hair that had fallen loose from the braided knotted at her nape. He could see the pulse point on the elegant column of her neck and he was struck with the desire to run his finger along it. The britches beneath his tunic tightened and he shifted on the hard wood bench. Damn. Faintly, as though listening through water, he heard her say something similar to “we should leave them be.” He looked up to see Uhtred and Æthelflæd depart through the door behind the chancel.

“Will you pray with me, my lady?”

Her hand was still in his and she squeezed it before clasping her own in prayer. “Of course.” She knelt before him and he swallowed, shifting his hands beneath his tunic before kneeling beside her. Osferth wasn’t sure how long they prayed. Or rather, how long she prayed and he tried to. Her devoted mutterings and deeps sighs of breath were distracting, and he settled on watching her pray instead. She leant her head on her hands, as though this would open a direct channel to help her commune with the divine. She glanced up on occasion, to gaze at the altar, before casting her eyes down. When she hastily wiped a tear from her cheek between devotions, he found he could take it no more and moved towards the offertory shrine next to the tabernacle. He hadn’t seen someone so moved by prayer since the monastery, and even then he believed the Abbott did it to scare the oblates into servitude.

He took a candle and, placing it next to its fellows, lit it with a taper. Closing his eyes with the flame in hand, a moment’s solace finally found him, and he prayed for that which he always could. When he opened them she was there beside him, having silently finished her prayers, placing her own candle upon the shrine. As if in slow motion, he watched as she covered his hand with hers and moved the taper he still held to the wick. The candle flickered into life, and she let go.

“Who did you light your candle for?” she whispered, watching the flames dance together.

“My mother.”

“I lit mine for you. I want to see you safely back in Wintancæster.”

“I shall try, my Lady.”

She nodded. “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”

His lips parted with barely supressed awe. “Psalm ninety-one.”

She nodded again. “The psalms are my favourites.”

“My lips praise you, because your faithful love is better than life itself.” Osferth whispered, his eyes intent on hers.

“Psalm sixty-three.”

“Yes,” Each time he was near her, his voice floundered. It seemed it was not just he who struggled. The light of the chapel cast Osferth in a soft glow and his eyes, pierced by the sun, looked aflame. She watched as his tongue ran slowly over his bottom lip and, mindful of their place in God’s house, pressed the back of her hand to his.

“I must away, my lady.”

“Yes, you must,”

Osferth swallowed, and with some urgency said, “But I will see you soon.” Her beautiful face became doleful as she looked at the bidding candles and he stepped closer to her. Her eyes, brimming with tears, took in his face and as he made to brush them away, she stood on her toes to place a chaste kiss against his cheek. Frozen before the shrine, Osferth listened as her steps carried her from the chapel, away from Adburh and Sæflæd, from Finan and Sihtric, and from him.

Their acquaintance continued thus for years. Each time the warrior monk left for battle or reconnaissance, apprehension grew to terror in her stomach, and she kept vigil over the smattering of gifts he left at her chamber before he departed; the book of psalms he was given when he entered the monastery, a carving of Saint Mary from a carpenter he met on his travels, even a piece of embroidered cloth inherited from his mother.

Each time he returned, safe and bolder still than last she saw him, her apprehension grew to euphoric joy. When he arrived on horseback, arm in a sling and thinner than she had ever seen him, her heart rejoiced. Even when he burst through the castle gates, young Ælfwynn in his arms, and the heat between her legs and ache in her womb dissolved as the red-haired healer coaxed smiles from him, she could not help but rush to the chapel with prayerful thanks.

Finan burst into the cabinet with little regard for any inhabitants that may be within. He had searched the castle high and low; the ride to Wintancæster had been plagued by depraved images of her, so keen and inviting; he had been without a woman for months.

He glanced around. Books and papers were scattered across the table, and a godawful tapestry was hung opposite the window. Empty.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, turning for the door.

“She isn’t here,” the voice was calm and certain, and Finan near jumped from his skin, unsheathing his sword. “And Adburh is married.”

“Jesus, woman,” he hissed, free hand clutching at his heart.

“Sæflæd will be about town though, I am sure.” She looked at the weapon with vague amusement. The shadowed chair she sat in was surrounded by books, and one hung lazily from her hand as she watched the warrior. “How are you, Finan?”

“Alive, though your scaring almost ended me.” He looked at her closely. Her eyes still shone with kindness, though they were hollower than he remembered. Before, she looked like a girl reaching for womanhood by the hand. He saw now that she had grasped it. A quiet assurance had settled about her that she lacked before. He chuckled. The monk would love her. “Yourself? Has your mistress given you leave?”

“My Lady would allow me but with the others gone, her husband and her mother, the Queen, bid me stay.”

“Ah,” he beamed at her. “A woman of duty.” The lady before him hummed with non-committal and cast her book aside.

“What’s troubling you?” Finan sheathed his sword and sat against the table. The lady sighed.

“Duty.” Her voice was strong. “I love my mistress, and I am glad for my position, but sometimes I wish to be known as more than Æthelflæd’s lady. Don’t you? To come back from war and be more than Uhtred’s man? Wouldn’t you rather Finan the Agile? Sihtric the Noble? Osferth the Gentle? Not the Gæl, the heathen and-”

“King Alfred’s bastard?” The smile never left his face.

“Don’t call him that,”

“It’s the truth,”

“I don’t care.”

Her tone was sharp and Finan studied her. Perhaps he had misread her furtive glances at Osferth over the years, their awkward encounters. “Do bastards make you angry?”

“Not at all. But it angers me when people sully the good monk’s name with our King’s.”

“Careful, lady. That is treason-”

“Will you tell?” He smirked and she continued. “He is kind, courageous, everything our King pretends to be. The anger it causes me, to watch our King live in piety while the product of his so-called “sin” is ordered away to do his bidding! At the behest Uhtred at the behest of Alfred himself.”

“Finan,” The warrior startled at the voice, and the lady jumped to her feet in alarm.

“My lady,” she curtsied hastily, her voice edged with shame. Æthelflæd stood in the door to the cabinet. She ignored her lady and spoke instead to Finan.

“Uhtred is ready for you, we are to attend council with my father.” She directed her gaze at her lady-in-waiting. “You may take your leave for the day.”

“Yes, my Lady,” she looked to Finan, who merely nodded his head, and she dashed for the door. As she passed Æthelflæd, the King’s daughter took her by hand and smiled. She allowed Æthelflæd to hold her there a minute, expressing silently her sorrow as her mistress pressed understanding into her palm. When Æthelflæd let her go, she hurried along the keep’s corridors, head bowed and hands clasped together. Perhaps if people thought she was in prayer, they would leave her be. She bumped into Sæflæd at the courtyard gate, returning from town.

“Where are you scurrying off to?”

Head still cast downwards, she saw from their boots that Sæflæd was accompanied by two men. “Nowhere,” she said hastily.

“Wait! Don’t you want to say hello-” But Sæflæd’s plea fell on deaf ears, for her companion was already at the bottom of the castle steps and walking beyond the gate.

The walk to the meadow behind the blacksmith’s was a short one. Approaching midsummer, it was already full of flowers, from forget-me-nots to foxgloves, and the long grass swayed in the delicate breeze. She settled beneath the oak tree in the far corner of the meadow, brought her knees to her chest, and cried. Hidden amongst the flowers, she chastised herself for speaking so freely in the house of the King. What if it were not Finan and Æthelflæd that found her, but the Queen or one of the Abbotts? Surely she would have been locked away or brought before the King by now. She cried, because what she said was true; she detested the King and wished beyond all measure that she could have some semblance of a life for her own. Her tears came ever more willingly at the guilt she felt. A lady-in-waiting in the house of the King, crying over her envied position. And she cried because Finan and Uhtred were in the castle, and that surely meant that her warrior monk was there too. Safe. Finan would have told her otherwise.

Her hands ran through the grass at her side, yellowing in the heat of the sun. She ripped a few of the dry strands from the ground and began braiding them. She would see him later, in the chapel or about the keep. Perhaps at a feast. No, he and the King would avoid each other. They always did. She pondered how the years will have changed him. Whether that tenderness that soften the sharp lines of his face still lingered, or weather battle and hardened him. Would he be quiet as he was before, or loud and righteous like his leader? She sniffled, fear prickling at the boundaries of her mind at the thought of non-acquaintance his absence may have brought, and her nose on her sleeve.

“Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” She inhaled deeply and found comfort in the words. “Weeping may stay for the night, but-”

“-but rejoicing comes in the morning. Psalm thirty.”

She shot up from the ground, swaying a little where she stood. When had he snuck upon her? How long had he been there?

“Osferth,” her voice was a mixture of shock and pleasure.

“My lady,” he bowed his head and she felt her heart tighten. “I tried to say hello earlier, with Sæflæd, but you were otherwise busy.”

The years had changed him, it was true. Gone was the timid monk she had met at Æthelflæd’s door, with his careful eyes and quiet voice. Before her stood a warrior, lean and broad, self-assured and world-worn. She smirked a little at his hair, sandier and ruffled, but still shorn using a bowl. She supposed needs must while travelling. Beneath the long hair across his forehead, his eyes still shone. Blue and brilliant in the summer sun, she bit her lip as they watched her with gentle intensity. Osferth had seen this world before, she was certain, and had come back to love it just the same.

He was unafraid to look at her now, though a small smile still played at his lips and pink flushed his cheekbones. They were sharper than before, hollowed out by years of rigorous labour and little food, but she found she wasn’t averse to the hard visage it gave him. Still he blushed, but he was bold in showing his vulnerability and, when she smiled back at him, he looked to the ground only fleetingly before meeting her gaze. Self-efficacy, rather than outright embarrassment, seemed to have bloomed in his adulthood.

“How many years has it been? Two?” she murmured.

“Three, my lady.” Osferth corrected quickly. “You haven’t changed at all, much to my pleasure.” He was charming too. It was his boldness that did it, and in three long strides over the meadow, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight against her.

“I’m so glad you’re back, my friend.” Her voice was muffled as she pressed her face to his shoulder, but Osferth caught every word. His hands rubbed her back and settled at the soft curve of her hips as she looked at him. Eyes drawn to the closeness of her face, the parted pink lips and wide eyes, he saw red mottling her cheeks and tears glistening on her eyelashes.

“You have been crying?”

The hands that had found his shoulders dropped in a flash, rubbing roughly over her face. “Yes. Well, I was, but I am fine now, please don’t worry yourself.” She sat back on the patch of scrub, flattened by her bottom, and busied her hands with the braided grass. Osferth sat beside her, facing out to the meadow and watching insects dancing in the hazy light.

“Has it something to do with Finan and Æthelflæd?”

The lady sighed. “He told you?”

“Only that-”

“Osferth, I’m sorry,” she cut across him. “I spoke out of turn. I only said those things about your father-”

“You have no need to apologise. Believe me, what ever you have spoken, I have thought worse.” She let out a blubbering laugh and wiped her nose once more.

“Thank you,” she whispered, following his eyes to watch the insects and birds go about their afternoon flutterings.

“May I ask, though? Why did I get ‘gentle’, when the others got ‘agile’ and ‘noble’?”

“I’ll kill Finan,”

“Now that I would like to see,” he nudged her leg and she laughed, real and hearty. “Why not ‘Osferth the daring?’”

“Or ‘fearsome’,” she added.

“Yes!”

“Because gentle is who you are, Just Osferth, to me.” She watched as he ran his thumb over the braided grass she had made earlier. There was a moment’s silence before either of them spoke again.

“I like that you see me that way, my lady.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Now enough of this hiding. You are missed at the keep.” She beamed up at him, illuminated by the sun as he had been when she first saw him, and took his hand. Through the meadow they walked, back towards the castle and their duties, neither speaking as they did. Their hands, brushing against the grass and cow parsley, remained entwined. When they reached the blacksmith’s, Osferth turned to her and grasped her hand with both of his.

“I am glad I saw you, my Lady, for we are away again. It will only be overnight,” he hurried on when he saw her open her mouth to protest. “To see a tradesman in Æwielltun about stocks of leather. When I come back,” he took a step closer. “Will you grant me an audience? There is something I wish to ask you.”

“Yes,” it came out as a whisper and she nodded furiously. “Yes,”

The monk laughed. “Good. Ok,” He laughed again and the lady found she could not help but join him. “Well,” he said through his bashful smiles, looking over his shoulder to the castle. “I must go. I’m sure Lord Uhtred will have something terribly important to tell me about the journey.” His jovial sarcasm was barely hidden and she laughed. His hand left hers as he began to step away. Before he could move beyond her reach, however, she grasped his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Yes, my lady. Tomorrow.” Walking backwards a few paces to keep her in his sight, he grinned and turned proudly towards the castle gate. She watched him go, and no sooner had he vanished from view was she dashing into the stables. The white mount he always rode stood between its darker companions and she hastened to it. From the pocket of her dress, she produced a cross, made from braided grass, and tucked it into the horse’s bridle. An hour later, when Uhtred and his men had departed, she retired to her chambers to find a posy of forget-me-not, foxglove and cow parsley resting on her bedstraw pillow.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered.

Note: I had Osferth kill Sigefrid, as it happens in the books. Adburh and Sæflæd, the other ladies-in-waiting, are names from Anglo-Saxon Royal Charters. I hope you enjoyed, I am thinking of maybe expanding this so feedback is welcome! Also! I was brought up a catholic, so it was nice to whip out some phrases, finally they feel useful. The title is from a psalm about love. Also! Cabinets were small room in castles used for studies etc. Finan and MC weren’t just chilling in a wardrobe.

#ewan mitchell #osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x oc #the last kingdom

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foxyanon · 4 months

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The Vampiress and the Dane: Part 1

Summary: I suck at summaries, but this is based on a conversation I did with AI Sihtric and my OC, Corvina.

Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Corvina

Word Count: 4,500

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

TW: Sexual themes, blood, violence, older woman/younger man dynamic

Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Last Kingdom nor do I own any of the images used.

Dividers by @arcielee and @saradika-graphics

He hated her. Absolutely despised her. Couldn’t stand the very sight of her. At least, that’s what he told himself every night when those irritating thoughts of her found their way to the forefront of his mind, his hand sliding beneath the waistband of his breeches to fist his cock, her name falling from his lips as he pictured her writhing in pleasure beneath him when he spilled himself in his hand.

The woman he both hated and craved for nearly three decades. No, not a woman. A vampire, a very old and powerful one at that. Corvina.

He hated her pale skin, as soft and beautiful as the snow of the lands of Norway where she was born. He couldn’t stand her perfect ruby red lips, so kissable but hiding those sharp pearly, white fangs of hers. He despised that long dark brown hair, the way it fell in soft waves down her back when she wore it loose and how it contrasted with her skin, making her look even more unnaturally stunning. The worst was her eyes. Those damn gorgeous and absolutely mesmerizing blood red eyes. He swore just one look was enough to cause any sane man to fall under her spell, the result of her vampiric compulsion.

But he’d be lying because he knew that wasn’t it. After thirty years of knowing Corvina, Sihtric knew it wasn’t magic she used to charm men like him. It was her gentle and caring nature, so unlike the others of her kind. It was the way she was always there for him and his friends, never with a harsh word or judgement. He was so used to being talked down to by Saxons and Danes alike, be it for his paganism or his status as Kjartan’s bastard. But not with her, never with her. No, her sweet voice and kind words always caused his cheeks to flush red and he hated it. She should be spiteful and cruel, like he had been taught all vampires are, but no. She had to go and be different, so caring and thoughtful and gentle. Sihtric had wanted to scream to the gods themselves that they were truly cruel to curse such an amazing woman to be an immortal beast, destined to live her life in the shadows.

He remembers the first time Uhtred had told Finan, Osferth and him about her. He was barely 20, a fresh faced warrior in his lord's service. It was 886 at the Battle of Beamfleot when Uhtred decided to attack the fortress in an attempt to free Aethelflaed from the clutches of Erik and Sigefrid. There wasn’t enough men to successfully storm the fortress and Uhtred knew it, so he said he called in a favor and everyone was thrilled for the aid. How was Sihtric supposed to know it would be the very being who would haunt his every waking thought and even dreams? He remembers seeing her walking into the camp the first night, how she seemed to appear from the shadows beyond the light of the campfire. He was startled by her sudden appearance, so speechless as she gave him that little knowing grin that he almost didn’t notice the predatory gleam in her unusual eyes. Uhtred had introduced Corvina to the others and Sihtric could only stutter out a half-assed greeting to her beautiful face, before she turned and started discussing how many men she brought and plans to get Uhtred to Aethelfaed. He remembers how stunning she looked in the heat of battle, cutting down her enemies with ruthless efficiency in that damned black armor looking every inch a warrior queen that he knew she was. His breeches felt tighter when he saw her covered in blood, her eyes glowing fiercely and fangs on full display when she dragged Sigefrid in front of Uhtred, tossing his body to the ground like he weighed nothing. The siege was a success, Aethelflaed and Erik eloping and leaving East Anglia behind to start their new life, thanks to the financial contributions of none other than Corvina. Finan and Osferth gave Sihtric a hard time afterwards, saying that he was acting like a fool in love. He vehemently denied their claims, saying he was just surprised a creature like her would help them and he worried for the price she would ask. She never asked for anything.

Then of course there was that whole situation with Skade and Bloodhair, the way that damned witch cursed his lord and friend. Uhtred’s health had been failing fast and they weren’t going to make it to Dunholm, so he made the choice to seek out Corvina for her help. Of course, she opened the doors to her castle and removed the curse, never once asking for payment for her aid. Sihtric had tried to offer her one of his armrings (after Uhtred told him to give it to her) and she simply smiled, saying she wouldn’t take anything and that she was happy to help a friend. That was the first time Sihtric snarled at her, deciding then and there that she must be a manipulative creature, because no one is that nice for no reason. He hated her and he hated that hurt look in her eyes after he yelled at her even more, but his pride wouldn’t let him apologize for his outburst. No, in his youthful ignorance and arrogance, he doubled down and simply glared at her. She was a vampire, a creature of the night. A beautiful monster. He went back to his wife later on, but Sidgeflaed was only a sorry reminder of who he really wanted. He remembers taking his wife from behind that first night back, the sight of her brown hair reminding him of Corvina. It’s no surprise when he said another woman’s name in his marriage bed that his wife would be angry, leaving him and taking the children with her. He truly loathed Corvina then, blaming her for his failed marriage because he refused to accept that he was well and truly in love with her.

When Uhtred failed to regain Bebbanburg from his estranged cousin, Wihtger in 910, the men fled to the safety of Corvina’s castle and Sihtric was practically seething in frustration. He hated that they came knocking on her door looking like kicked dogs and she just let them in with a sympathetic smile, telling them they were welcome to stay as long as they needed to. Uhtred had firmly told Sihtric to mind his manners, because they couldn’t afford to get tossed out now and if he snapped on Corvina again, they would really make the square. Sihtric had bit his tongue for most of their stay, seeing her move about the castle like a damned angel amongst men. She dressed in the varying styles of the world, but he remembers that Grecian gown the most of all. The fabric was a beautiful shade of purple, something he’s never seen even the wealthiest kings of this land wear. The fabric flowed over her soft curves, her hair pulled back and pinned with golden laurel leaves. She looked like a goddess and his mouth watered at the sight of her, sitting atop the throne as she held court for her undead minions. He hated her, he told himself as he hid inside an alcove and jerked himself off, imagining burying his face between her thighs and devouring her on that very throne in front of everyone. He imagined she tasted like that ambrosia she spoke of from her time in Greece, all sweet and addicting. He felt burning shame when he came and made a mess of the wall and floor, knowing it was wrong to crave her but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stand the way her very existence seemed to bring about powerful emotions, and he hated not feeling in control of himself. He snapped at Finan and Osferth when he had returned to them, their mocking smiles grating on his nerves. As per usual, Corvina just had to glide up to them at that moment with her signature alluring smile on her face, asking what was wrong. Sihtric sneered at her and made some snarky remark before storming off, never seeing the knowing look on her face.

That was nearly 8 years ago now. Today, they stand in the war camp just outside Bebbanburg planning an attack. Uhtred intends to win this time and of course, he just had to ask Corvina for help. Sihtric had been avoiding her like the plague he convinced himself she was, but he couldn’t dodge her forever. She walked into the command tent, carrying herself with an authority that took the breath right out of his lungs. She was wearing her usual black armor, her dark hair braided back and not a hair out of place. She cut Sihtric a look, her red eyes piercing into his soul for a moment before she smiled brightly at Uhtred, hugging him with a laugh and a joke about how old he had gotten. Even Finan and Osferth, his own battle brothers, had hugged this despicable creature like an old friend, even though that was exactly what she was. He thought she looked just as beautiful as the first time he saw her nearly 30 years ago, before bitterly remembering that she doesn’t age due to her vampirism. His lips pressed into a thin line and he simply nodded at her, determined not to piss both her and Uhtred off if his mouth got away from him. Plans were made for an attack the next morning, her men joining the shield wall alongside Uhtred’s forces. Even if he couldn’t stand the sight of her, Sihtric knew she was a formidable ally and warrior, commanding respect from her people and instilling fear in the hearts of her enemies.

Sihtric found her later that night, standing on the edge of the field beside the coastal fortress and staring out over the moonlight grass. He knew her eyes were better suited to the darkness and she always studied the battlefield before the fight, something she claimed she learned from her time with the Roman Legion. She stood there with her hands clasped loosely behind her back, her back straight and head held high.

“If you are here to sass me, Sihtric, you will find I am not in the mood,” Corvina spoke in a calm voice, looking over her shoulder at the warrior. She couldn’t deny he had grown into a handsome man, the top half of his dark hair braided and the rest hanging in curls that would make anyone jealous. He was sporting a goatee, and she wondered what it feel like against her cold skin. He looked damned good, the muscles of his arms flexing as he crossed his arms and stood next to her. She wanted to bite him and those arms, wondered if his blood tasted as good as he smelled. She saw his jaw tense before he took a breath, looking at her with a serious expression.

“No, I am not here to sass you Corvina. I wanted to make sure you understood the gravity of what is happening tomorrow. We aren’t just reclaiming Bebbanburg for Uhtred, we are fighting for the fate of Northumbria itself,” he said firmly, already aggravated with himself for his thoughts running wild.

Corvina sighed, turning to face Sihtric with an exasperated expression. “I know what we fight for and we will not lose. You have fought on the shield wall with me before, you have seen me fight and you know I am not in the habit of losing. But I can tell from your tense stance that is not the real reason you are here, is it?”

Sihtric nodded, his eyes finding Corvinas. He always found them captivating, the red hue switching from a bright red to a deep burgundy depending on her mood. “No, I came because I wanted to make sure you will keep your end of the bargain. No feeding on the soldiers before or after the battle, your men stay in control and don’t succumb to bloodlust in the middle of the fighting, and all those other promises you’ve made,’ he replied in a tense tone, grinding his teeth together as he looked away from the pretty little vampire that had haunted him for his entire life.

She rolled her eyes and looked away, placing her hands on her hips as she looked down and shook her head, her words coming out with a defeated tone as she spoke. “You already know I will uphold my word, Sihtric. We have this conversation every time I agree to fight with you lot. By the gods, I am tired of this.”

Corvina turned to look at Sihtric, licking her red lips and staring into his eyes with an intensity the Dane didn’t quite like. “What have I ever done to you to make you hate me so? I have been nothing but a good and kind friend to you all, never betraying any of you like so many others have, and yet you treat me with the same level of animosity you did when you were 20. By the Aesir, you are 51 years old now. What in the hell have I done to you for you to hold a grudge after all these years?”

He remained silent for a moment, considering her words carefully. He knew had been harsh towards her in the past, his youthful ignorance causing him to be suspicious of the supernatural. He was older now and he knew better. He knew she was a powerful and loyal ally, but he also knew she could be ruthless and unforgiving. Admittedly, he had taken her for granted without fully appreciating the nuances of her character. After a moment he spoke, avoiding her searching gaze. “I know that you have never betrayed us and I know that you have been a good ally. But the fact remains that you are a vampire, and for most people that is enough to inspire fear and loathing.” It was a cop out, and they both knew it. He couldn’t admit to her that he just wanted to be in her presence, finding it to be both soothing and resolute, like an anchor in the eye of the hurricane.

Corvina shook her head, looking up to the stars and taking a deep breath before responding. “That might be most people, but you are not most people. I asked why you specifically hate me. It’s been 30 gods damned years, Sihtric. I have fought for you, taken hits for you and still it's not enough. I am owed an explanation at the least,” her words were firm, her tone indicating she wanted answers and she wanted them now.

Sihtric looked at her, his expression hardening as all his repressed emotions boiled over in the worst way possible. “Because you are a fucking vampire!” He exclaimed, his voice ringing out in the quiet of the night. “You drink blood for Thor’s sake! How can I trust someone like you?” He shook his head, trying to reign in his temper before spitting out. “You are a monster and I will never trust a creature like you.”

Hurt crossed Corvinas face for a split second before her own face hardened, her lips pressed into a thin line. He knew calling her monster was the one thing she hated, and he suddenly wished he could snatch the word back if it meant she wouldn’t look at him with such disdain.

“Goodnight, Sihtric,” she said in a harsh tone before suddenly turning on her heel and walking away with a stiff stride, determined not to let him see her cry. She may have been undead, but that didn’t mean she was completely heartless.

Sihtric watched Corvina retreat, feeling guilt and anger surge through him. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but his emotions got the best of him and he started running at the mouth before he could stop himself. He started pacing, muttering under his breath trying to calm himself down. “Dammit. I need to apologize to her…but first, we have a battle to win.” He went back to his tent after several minutes of cursing himself for his actions, trying and failing to get some sleep before the battle tomorrow.

He woke early the next morning, preparing for the battle and checking on his men, making sure everything was in order. He didn’t see Corvina around the camp, but he forced himself to stay focused on the fight ahead. He needed to keep his head on right if he wanted to survive the day, but he thought to himself that Valhalla would be a preferable end after the way he acted last night.

By the time the sun starts rising over the horizon, everyone is in position on the battlefield. The two opposing forces face each other, shields up and swords in hand, the deep breath before the fighting breaks out seeming to slow time. The early morning rays shone across the field, a low fog hanging between Wihtger’s men and Uhtred’s. Corvina stands next to Sihtric, their shields locked tightly in formation as they wait with bated breath for Uhtred’s command. Despite the events of the previous night, they both have grim and determined expressions on their faces, stone cold focused on the enemy.

Once the signal was given, all hell broke loose. Wihtger’s men clashed hard with the wall, but the joint forces of Uhtred’s and Corvina’s armies were not so easily broken. The sounds of clashing metal and wood, along with the battle cries of the warriors filled the otherwise calm morning air. Once the wall finally broke, Sihtric and Corvina fought back to back, slicing through their foes with brutal efficiency. He smirked when he saw Corvina hit her stride, her supernatural speed and agility unmatched by the Scots and the rest of Wihtger’s men. He saw the moment they realized what she was, the fear in their eyes for the split second before she cut them down. He tried not to stare at her, his axe swinging through the air as he managed a fatal blow on his own enemy.

After a couple hours of fighting, Uhtred’s side had cut a swath through the usurpers' forces and Wihtger was engaged in a one on one battle with Uhtred. Sihtric and Corvina pick off a few stragglers, the rest scattering to the winds at the decisive loss only to be run down by Corvina’s vampire spawn before they reach the edge of the battlefield. She turned her back for just a second, slashing the throat of a still twitching man when a monster hunter snuck up behind Corvina. She realized what was happening just as the hunter brought a silver dagger up, driving it deep into her side. She cried out in agonizing pain, dropping her shield and bringing her sword down across the man's neck, his blood spraying across her face. She collapsed to the ground with the dagger protruding from her side, another hunter running up with an elder wood stake in his hands. Corvina hissed menacingly at him, her fangs elongated and eyes glowing dangerously as she struggled against the man.

The moment Sihtric heard Corvina cry out, he turned and his heart nearly stopped. He didn’t hesitate to charge forward, swinging his axe with precision and decapitating the hunter, pushing his body off Corvina before dropping his weapon and kneeling by her side. He quickly pulled the blade out of her side, knowing that her natural healing abilities will kick in now that the silver is removed. He tossed the blade off to the side before reaching down and scooping Corvina up into his strong arms, quickly carrying her out of harm's way. Her head lolled back as she lay in his arms, Sihtric only half aware that Uhtred stood victorious over his cousin's body as he half ran back to the camp. He heard her mumble his name and he pulled her closer, looking down at her quickly with a soft expression before turning towards where her tent was. Where she was normally so strong and independent, she now looked so vulnerable in his hold. He felt a whirlwind of emotions within him, but he pushed them aside and focused on getting her back to her tent.

“Shh, It’s okay. I’ve got you, Vina,” he whispered, ignoring anyone who tried to stop him. Once inside her tent, he moved to lay her on her bed and began removing her armor and clothes, wanting to get a good look at the wound.

She hissed in pain, feeling Sihtric remove her leather cuirass and pulling her ruined tunic up enough to expose the wound to his focused gaze. She tightly gripped the furs beneath her, her breathing heavy as Sihtric grabbed a bucket of water and clean rag to begin cleaning the blood away from the gash in her side.

“I need to feed, it’s the only way I will heal. I know you hate me for being a vampire, as you so kindly put it last night, but this is who I am, Sihtric,” she said through gritted teeth, her fangs glinting in the low light of the tent as she looked into his mismatched eyes. The hurt from him calling her the one thing she hated was still fresh in her mind, but she refused to stoop to his level even if she wanted to.

He looked at her, his expression softening when he saw how much pain she was in. He hated seeing her hurt and hated even more that she was right, she needed to drink blood if this wound was going to heal properly. That thought caused him to remember exactly what she was and his usual sneer found it’s way back to his face. “Fine, but don’t think for a second that I’m doing this because I like being your snack. You’re a dangerous creature and I hate having anything to do with vampires,” he growled, his jaw clenching as the image of her feeding from him sent his mind racing with less than innocent thoughts.

Corvina sighs exasperatedly and shakes her head, sitting up with a groan and a wince as she clutches her side. She gives Sihtric an expectant look, her tone questioning. “Oh, so you go from despising me for being a vampire to offering yourself up to be my breakfast? How generous of you, Sihtric. You told me last night that you didn’t trust me, so what the hell changed for you between then and now?”

He glared at her, his face flush with embarrassment and anger as she called him out. He knew he was being hypocritical, but he didn’t need Corvina telling him that. His frustration at the whole situation came out first, and he naturally lashed out at her. “Oh just shut up and feed from me already! You should just be acting like a predator, a monster like any other supernatural entity but you just have to talk to damn much.”

There it was again, that derogatory term. Corvina took a breath and stood up from her bed, speaking in a harsh voice that belayed her hurt. “Fuck you, Sihtric Kjartansson.” She slowly made her way to the entrance of her tent, determined to flag down one of her own people if it meant getting away from the most infuriating and oblivious asshole in all of Northumbria.

“Don’t you dare leave! You are injured and need to rest,” Sihtric shouted as he jumped to his feet, running up and grabbing Corvina’s arm by surprise, pulling her back towards him. His grip was firm, intended to keep her close to him and not to harm her. Not that he could anyway, seeing as how she had an impressive threshold for pain. His breath was hot on her ear as he whispered menacingly, the thought of her soft lips on another person causing jealousy to rear its ugly head within him. “If you think you can just go out there and find someone else to feed from…think again.”

Corvina growled back, turning and shoving Sihtric off her. Even injured, she was still stronger than a human and he stumbled backwards with the force she used against him. “Do not presume to touch me or give me any commands. I have put up with your unjust treatment of me for long enough. Your stubbornness and pride has cost you a friend this day. Enjoy your victory, Sihtric, and be gone from my tent when I return,” she snarled at him for the first time in their long friendship, letting the startled man see her righteous fury painted across her face. She knew she looked every inch of the ancient vampire she was, her fangs elongated and eyes glowing the brightest red Sihtric had ever seen. She closed her eyes and shook her head, muttering something under her breath about stubborn men and how they are the same in every age and land. She then turned on her heel and left her tent, leaving Sihtric behind with his scattered thoughts. He stood there staring as the flap of the tent blew in the soft early morning breeze and the sounds of people returning to camp filled his ears.

After the initial shock of seeing her lash out at him in that manner wore off, all Sihtric could think about was how his breeches suddenly felt a lot tighter and he hated everything about it. He groaned and ran a hand down his face, feeling both frustrated and aroused at the way everything went down. Frustrated at his own stubbornness and prejudice against vampires despite her best efforts to prove otherwise, and aroused at getting to see her in all her glory and have it directed at him. Despite himself, he thought she looked beyond magnificent and he finally understood what it was that had made her the vampire queen in that moment. After a few moments, he left her tent and walked out into the busy camp as the high from their win filled the air. He couldn’t help but envy the lucky person who she would feed on, wanting nothing more than to be in their shoes before the shame of thinking such thoughts came back to the forefront of his mind. As he made his way through the war camp and back to Uhtred’s side, his first thought was how he hoped he hadn’t pushed her completely away. His second? He wondered if he groveled enough at her feet if she would take pity on him and let him fall into her bed rather than someone else after the celebrations tonight.

Gods help him not muck this up, because he wasn’t sure he could handle another night of just him and his hand.

Taglist: for the Sihtric girlies @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @chompchompluke @mrsarnasdelicious @bouncehousedemons @gemini-mama @whitedarkmoonflower @synindoodles

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #Sihtric x vampire!oc #older women and younger men #vampire!oc

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lexyleblancc · 1 year

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Goddess of love and beauty {Erik Thurgilson}

Summary: You are taken captive alongside your cousin. When you reach Beamfleot you are met with a man who wishes to show you what it means to be truly loved.

Erik x Fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

Warnings: None! just some fluff for our guy :)

Your eyes looked to the man left in the room, backing away from him slightly as your legs hit the back of the wooden bed. “I’m not here to hurt you Lady, I assure you.” The man spoke, bowing his head slightly as he did. His eyes met yours for the first time as he looked to you through his lashes.

“If you didn’t wish to hurt me, then you wouldn’t have taken me in the first place.” You couldn’t help the tone behind your words, anger. He shook his head, stepping back from you and giving you the space to breathe. “I should be back at that camp, either dead or taking care of anyone who held on long enough to live.”

“I understand, Lady.” He spoke once more, his eyes watching as you found yourself pacing back and forth. How is it that you end up in a situation like this? Why didn’t you take up Uhtred on his offer to live amongst them when it was offered to you? Or why did you refuse to yield to the Dane’s that killed your father all those years ago, leaving you to wind up on your Aunt’s doorstep with nothing more than you could carry from your lands. Everywhere you turned it seemed like you made the wrong mistakes, like God was punishing you for nothing more than trying to navigate this life. “Tell me your name.”

“(Y/N).” You found yourself complying to his request, but your eyes never left him.

“Erik, my Lady.” He told you in return, walking to the door and mumbling something to the man on the other side. “I have requested for something to be brought down to eat. You look as though you haven’t had a meal in months.” Erik, as you now knew him, told you. You nodded your head, slowly lowering yourself onto the bed, welcoming the furs beneath you. Erik slowly allowed himself to sit on a lone chair, making sure to keep enough space between the two of them.

A man walked into the room, holding two plates of food and placing them onto the table. “Leave us, I’ll call when there needs to be a guard again.” Erik spoke, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Yes, my Lord.” The man said quickly, his eyes lingering on you briefly before he left the room and closing the doors behind him.

“Tell me, Lord Erik, what do you assume you will get for me from the King?” You asked, looking at the steaming plate of food sitting on the small table in front of you. You wished nothing more than to dig into the plate, fill your stomach until contentment washed over you. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to reach over and allow yourself that, you couldn’t allow the man in front of you see you in such a state.

“My brother expects the king to pay for the safety of both you and the princess.” Erik told you, his eyes drifting from you and down to the plate in front of him. Erik reached out first, picking at the food in front of him as you let out a laugh. Truly you did try to suppress it, but you could not bring yourself to hold the laugh back as it rumbled through you, making Erik raise a brow in your direction.

“My uncle, he will not pay you a dime for my return.” You told the man, suppressing your laughter finally. “You will be paid well for Aethelflaed, I assure you. I have no claim to anything, I am a lady with no land. My parents were murdered, and so I hold no value to the king.” You told the man before you, slowly allowing yourself to pick at the food in front of you. “I have nothing to offer him, no man sees me in terms of alliances, not even a knight cares for me.” You informed, making Erik let out a sigh.

“So you’re telling me… you hold no importance?” Erik asked, his question being worded carefully. Although you were unaware of it, hearing it voiced by someone else would hurt more than when you whisper it to yourself. You held no importance in the eyes of the king, only to his dear daughter. You were lucky to be able to find such a good friend in your cousin over the years, being at her side through most of your lives.

“It would seem that you speak the truth.” You muttered, pushing the plate away from you and no longer hungry. “So now that you know the truth, what is it you wish of me?” You asked, leaning further into the furs beneath you.

“We will figure it out, but I promise Lady (Y/N) there will be no harm done to you.”

Erik stayed true to his word over the next coming days, and even so much as less harm came to Aethelflaed. They had not taken her since the first night, but Erik would come and bring you on walks. He brought you to bathe in peace, eat and drink without fear, whenever he beckoned you answered.

“Lady (Y/N).” The doors to the cell were opened, and Aethelflaed gave you a small nod before you stood from beside her to stand. A guard nodded his head in the direction of the hallway past him, to find Erik standing there waiting for you.

“Lord Erik,” You greeted, bowing your head slightly as you walked towards him. “I figured I would answer your call at some point. You did not come yesterday.”

“I am sorry for keeping you waiting Lady (Y/N).” Erik spoke, offering you his arm as you two continued to walk. “If I’m not mistaken it would seem that you missed my company.” The man couldn’t help the tease, but you smiled nonetheless.

“Don’t gloat, Erik, it doesn’t suit you.” You hummed, feeling the warmth of the sun dance along your cheeks as you stepped outside.

“Apologies, dear (Y/N).” Erik said, his hand falling in place over yours that clung to his arm. “I wanted to show you something, but first I arranged for you to bathe.” Erik told you, guiding you through the streets of Beamfleot and to the river in which you have bathed a few times already. A handmaiden was waiting for you, a cloth for drying tucked under her arms and by the looks of it, clean clothes sitting on a stool beside her.

“No looking, Erik Thurgilson.” You teased, making the man raise his hands in defeat and turn his back once you approached the maid. The water was welcoming as you slowly kneeled further, wetting your hair and using an old cloth to help rid yourself of any dirt.

You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder to the man who had his back turned to you. Erik was a man of his word, and kept watch instead of falling to his own will and turning to look in your direction. You couldn’t deny the fact that Erik was handsome, and spending time with him was peaceful instead of making you fearful. Erik was truly sweet, and on top of living up to his word and keeping you safe from others, he doted on you any chance he got. Baths, food, trinkets, clean dresses that would have been fit for a queen.

“I fear I do not deserve a dress as beautiful as this one.” You spoke, walking alongside Erik long after you had gotten out of the river and dressed. The man looked down to you, shaking his head in response.

“Why do you think such things about yourself?” He questioned you, making you frown in return.

“My God has never been kind to me, I guess I have followed in his footsteps.”

“I think the wrong God is looking out for you then.” Erik told you, a small smile tugging at his lips while he watched your face contort in confusion.

“What God would be looking out for me then?” You questioned him finally, your hand squeezing his arm tightly.

“One of my Gods, Freyja.” He told you proudly. His eyes now trained ahead of the two of you as he led you to a so-called surprise. “She is the goddess of beauty, as well as love and war.” He spoke.

“What are you trying to say to me, Lord Erik?” You pushed, trying to find his eyes. “Are you calling me beautiful?”

“I am.” Erik said with a smile. “I am also suggesting that maybe your God isn’t the God you were intended to pray to.”

“You mean to say, you think I should be a Dane?”

“Lady, if you wanted to, I would teach you what it means to be a true Dane.” Erik told you, stopping you two from walking any further. “I have wished from the moment I saw you that I could truly make you mine. If not even a Saxon warrior would be foolish enough to look in your direction, I’m here to tell you that I have.” Erik brushed your hair from your face, tilting your head up so you would meet his pleading eyes.

“And what does Sigefrid think of this idea of yours?” You questioned, knowing that Erik would not be here talking to you about this if he hadn’t talked to his brother first. “That’s why you didn’t visit yesterday.” You pieced together slowly. Erik nodded his head, a small hopeful smile on his face as you spoke. “Is this my surprise?” You asked, making Erik let out a low laugh.

“The surprise comes if you say yes, Lady. If you would like to spend the rest of your days intertwined with that of a heathen.” There was no arguing with yourself, no picking the path you thought was right this time. Only one path called to you, the one that led you closer to Erik. There was no way you would go back to the King willingly now that you have been shown what it is like to be wanted. A window peaking into the life of happiness was standing in front of you, begging to chase after it for the rest of time.

“I am with you Erik, for however long we have left in this life.” You whispered, his forehead falling against yours in an attempt to live in the moment for a second longer. A smile tugged at your lips, you knew this would be the right choice for you. You would finally be free of the crown, be with a man who would truly love you, a man who you could love.

“Then I must admit there was no surprise my Lady, just the promise to be the man you need me to be.” Erik told you with a laugh, making you laugh in return as his hands moved to cradle your face.

“Just kiss me Erik.” You said softly, happily returning the kiss as his lips met yours. It would be the first of many, and if every single one brought an army of butterflies to your stomach like this one did - they would be returned happily every time.

#the last kingdom #finan #erik thurgilson #sigefrid #sihtric #finan x reader #erik x reader #uhtred #osferth #sihtric x reader #imagine #the last kingdom imagine #uhtred x reader

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itbmojojoejo · 9 months

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Crimes Of Passion | Part 9

Pairings: Finan x OFC & Sihtric x OFC

Summary: In the unravelling chaos Sihtric finally discovers Runa's plan.

Wordcount: 3.5k | Part 1 | Other works.

Warnings: MDNI18+.Alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of violence, blood, death and use of weapons.. If I have missed anything please let me know!

Authors note: It's been a while, but here it is. A huge thank you to @arcielee for being a gem beta reading this and correcting my awful punctuation xo

During the drive back from The Beamfleot, with the sun still bathing the roads in its heat, Runa had insisted on being in the driver's seat, probably with the intention of leaving the group as soon as possible. Sihtric felt less confident than he originally had at the plan Uhtred and Runa had orchestrated and that unease only worsened after his boss broke the news of Aetheflaed’s intentions to flee with Erik.

“So what do we do?” Sihtric’s lighter flaming to life sent a small trail of cigarette smoke into the air.

“Nothing changes, we get Aethelflaed out but Erik will be with her when we do,” Uhtred shrugged, finally taking a sip of his whiskey and looked to Runa, “Did Sigefrid take the bait?”

“He said he’ll consider it,” She shrugged.

“What if he says no?” Finan asked, finally taking a sip of his drink.

“Then I just turn up on a day of our choosing and tell him I’ll join anyway.”

“You know I can’t guarantee your safety with this plan, right?” Uhtred said, glancing between Runa and Sihtric, who inhaled deeply through his nose and took a swig of his whiskey.

“I know what I agreed to.” She doubled down.

“She can handle herself, she’ll be grand.” Finan smiled in an attempt to ease everyone.

As the group worked their way through finishing the first bottle of whiskey, Gisela reappeared with a fresh bottle and a warm smile and spoke of her ideas for the new decor with Uhtred. Finan groaned when she mentioned trying to incorporate yellow to brighten the space and stood from the table taking the planning papers with him and pointing out proposed spaces for additional windows.

As the Irishman went on a tangent about colour schemes being pointless, Uhtred and Clapa joined, leaving Runa and Sihtric alone at the table.

“Stop looking so worried,” Runa muttered, growing tired of his worried eyes constantly falling on her.

“Why did you agree to be a sacrificial lamb?” Sihtric breathed.

“This is only going to work with a distraction in place, and I’m no lamb.” She prodded the table emphasising her words.

“So what are you then?” He asked, leaning his elbows onto the table.

“A wolf in sheep's clothing.” She smiled and swilled her whiskey glass, beginning to feel tipsy.

“Promise me you’ll find out who that cousin is before it all kicks off? You know he’ll go straight for you,” Sihtric kept his gaze forward with his serious tone, he didn’t like any part of this plan but he knew there was no use in trying to get it stopped.

“It might not even go to shit.”

“Runa...” He groaned with his glass thudding on the wood.

“Alright, I promise.” She offered calmly and hesitantly smoothed her hand along his shoulder, the warmth from her palm leaked through his shirt with ease and he relaxed at her touch.

There was barely a cloud in the light blue sky of the afternoon that was lighting up the inside of Bebbanburg’s Beacon. The occasional swirl of plaster dust lifted from the floor slowly resettling on the crinkling dust covers protecting new wood flooring, Finan and Clapa were trying to throw small nails into a mug a short distance away from them while Sihtric sat with Osferth, quietly discussing the younger man’s struggle with romance.

“Runa called,” Uhtred announced, standing in the empty bar space with his hands on his hips and all four men looked to him, “It’s tonight.”

Sihtric’s top lip curled up briefly and he let out a quiet huff; Osferth pressed his lips into a tight line knowing the worries his friend had at their next job.

As the sun set, Sihtric watched the golden hues dance off Runa’s copper waves falling freely past her shoulders as she climbed the stairs of the hotel from his car near the back of the parking lot. His thumb tapped impatiently off the steering wheel as he checked the time again to see how long they had left before having to meet others at the back of the hotel.

“Hey, if it comes down to it, you know she can handle a fight,” Finan soothed from the passenger seat.

“One with this amount of money involving men that would see her dead?”

“Can’t believe I’m even admitting this,” Finan muttered and cleared his throat, “Runa is the last person I would want to back into a corner, if those lads have any sense they won’t even try it. Now, let’s get this done.”

Erik’s man, Dagfinn, opened the delivery bay door that was situated further down from the employee’s entrance in the alleyway and offered the group an apprehensive nod before leading them through a narrow corridor attached to the old victorian stairwells the chambermaids use to get around the hotel without being in the guests’ way.

Climbing the even narrower and creaking stairs, they came up to the floor Aethelflaed was being kept on; not a single person was around as Dagfinn unlocked the door to reveal the young woman sat on the edge of the bed, anxiously fiddling with her fingers in her lap.

“Uhtred!” She stood from the bed looking relieved that he had actually done as he said he would.

“Let’s make this quick, we don’t have long.” He responded, guiding her out of the room back towards the stairwell they had just climbed where Erik now stood quietly waiting with Osferth and Clapa at his side.

“Your brother?” Uhtred asked him.

“Distracted, as planned.” Erik answered, his blue eyes sparkling as they landed on Aethelflaed, for a moment Sihtric thought it was sweet, even if they were an odd coupling.

“Hey!” A tall young man with ruddy hair called out from the end of the hallway and began to approach followed by a second person, “Where is she going?”

“Not one of yours I’m guessing?” Finan asked Erik, shoving his hands in his pocket.

“No, Sigefrid’s.”

“Alright then.” The Irishman revealed his hands now covered in thick wide brass knuckle dusters and smiled as he turned to meet them.

Before either of the two workers had the chance to ask any more questions, Finan smacked the closest once and he dropped like a sack of potatoes, making the other turn on his heel and bolt.

“I got him.” Sihtric said coolly and gave chase.

“No!” Erik called out but it was too late.

As Sihtric rounded the corner on the tail of the runner, they both stopped in their tracks as they stood face to face with a group of four other employees. One instantly launched themselves at Sihtric and he ducked, quickly tossing him over behind him, making the man crash through a wooden table.

He straightened up just in time to block the one he’d chased,who was now brandishing a knife; Finan quickly caught up with what was happening and crushed the young man’s wrist, making him drop the knife and catching it in his own hand. He plunged the blade into his belly with a blank stare as Sihtric handled the others with Clapa.

“You agree we get Aethelflaed out by any means necessary?” Uhtred asked Erik as he looked around the corridor.

“Do what you have to.”

And with that Uhtred returned to the room Aetheflaed had been staying in followed by Osferth.

“Find me some matches.” Uhtred said calmly as he began to bundle up the sheets and pillows in the centre of the bed and he poured whiskey on top of the bedding.

Osferth watched on with furrowed brows as Uhtred threw not one, but three lit matches onto the bed and a small fire came to life. As they returned to the hallway, Osferth was ordered to follow Sihtric and Finan who were now chasing the fleeing men through the hotel with Clapa.

Just before going with Erik and Aethelflaed down the narrow staircase Uhtred pulled the red handle of a fire alarm, setting it off and alerting all guests to the fire.

For Runa time seemed to slow down to almost a stand still as she began to step away from the plush sofa, the high pitched fire alarm was pulsating in her ear in time with the steady beat of her heart as she inched closer towards Sigefrid. Her hand flexed on her gun as she raised it and his head lifted with widened eyes as his man told him of Aetheflaed being taken; in that moment he realised he’d been played.

As her finger pulled the trigger time snapped to its usual flow; Sigefrid put his hand up and ducked to the side with a guttural cry. Runa cursed at herself and stepped forward taking aim once again, not seeing Boltan launching himself at her from the left; she grunted with the air leaving her lungs as his clenched fist landed a heavy blow to her stomach and sent her backwards onto the floor.

Swallowing the urge to vomit at the force she was unexpectedly hit with, another hard crack hit her ribs as the tall blue eyed man kicked her where she lay. Runa swung her hand that was still gripping the gun towards him and Boltan dropped to kneel on her chest, she involuntarily screamed out at the crushing weight making her lungs burn barely, noticing that she’d dropped her weapon in the struggle.

Boltan’s eyes stared into her’s as he brought his hand to her face and pushed it sideways into the floor, harshly pressing it into the cold tiled floor. Runa squeezed her eyes shut and clawed at his arm and leg, trying her best to keep breathing when suddenly Boltan was gone. She gasped for breath sitting upright in an instant with her entire body burning and screaming at her when more hands gripped at her shoulders with fingers digging into the clothed flesh pulling her up off the floor.

“Fuck off!” She rasped and threw her head back in an attempt to hit the person that had a hold of her.

“It’s me! Runa, it’s me.” Sihtric yelled over the alarm still screeching through the building and turned her around.

Her fingers gripped at his shirt sleeves with a panic visible in her eyes that Sihtric had never seen before. Looking to the right Runa saw Finan laying into Boltan with brass knuckle dusters hitting him all over his body with crimson patches blooming in the wake of his fists.

“We have to go!” Osferth called from nearby, taking the time to grab Runa’s blazer and picking her gun up from the floor.

The alarm fell silent letting the sounds of grunting and shouting be heard; Clapa was fighting his way through a group of men trying to clear a path for the group to exit, Finan and Sihtric were throwing their own punches to anyone approaching from the back and Osferth gripped Runa’s elbow keeping her close in the middle as she struggled to keep her body from going into shock.

“Erik!” Sigefrid bellowed out over the chaos and the group looked to the lobby they were currently fighting their way towards. Erik paused with Uhtred at his side and quickly pulled Aethelflaed behind him to shield her from what was about to come their way.

As the angry brother now cradling his hand with a bloody bullet hole through the centre, came barrelling towards the fleeing group with his men; Osferth instinctively curled his arm around Runa’s waist and dragged her backwards, protecting them both from the fresh crashing of bodies. Now that the group was dispersed and with a new wave of adrenaline coursing through her veins, Runa turned to Osferth who watched on wide eyed, much like he had during the fight at The Dunholm.

“Get to Uhtred, go.” She pointed him in the direction of his boss struggling to protect Aethelflaed, glancing over her shoulder she witnessed Weland grappling with Sihtric pushing him further back into the casino that was starting to fill with smoke with brutal strikes. Thinking on her toes, she tugged her blazer free from Osferth’s grasp and nudged him away.

“Runa!” Osferth yelled, wanting her to go with him.

Ducking and weaving her way through the fight, she twisted the blazer in her hands and wrapped it around them tightly into the form of a makeshift garrote as she came up on the back of Weland; with a deep breath, she leaped and threw it over his neck pulling it tight with a grunt.

The mountain like man stumbled and grabbed at the material restricting his breathing as Runa’s knee dug into his back. Sihtric took the opportunity to straighten his stance and steady his staggered breaths, with the grit of his teeth he followed right hook with left hook punches to Weland’s ribs causing him to double over from the attacks on both sides.

Weland tried to fling Runa off of him with no luck and Sihtric launched upwards with an uppercut taking the giant off his feet causing him and Runa to fall back into the glass table she had been sitting at not long ago.

No noise left Runa as the glass shattered underneath her, with Weland crushing her much smaller frame, but the beast was not done fighting as he managed to produce a switchblade from his trousers. Her face contorted into one of pain as she struggled pulling the fabric around his throat even tighter and feeling small shards cut into her skin.

Without a second thought Sihtric rushed forward and wrestled the knife free from Weland slamming the blade into his torso repeatedly until his body went limp. Runa’s arms dropped down with a low grumble as Sihtric rolled the dying man off her and helped her to her feet.

“This place is burnin-”

A single gunshot ringing out made everything stop, the fighting, the shouting, all of the chaos. In the middle of the hotel lobby Osferth stood stone-faced, holding Runa’s smoking revolver and Sigefrid laying at his feet, dead.

“Fuck.” Was all Runa could whisper at the scene.

Standing outside in the parking lot next to her car, Runa watched in an almost trance like state at the fire engines working overtime to put out the flames that had grown and were devouring the hotel along with the buildings either side of it; it had taken longer than usual for the emergency services to arrive because they thought it was just a standard evening at The Beamfleot casino for its now deceased owners.

Finan, with his hands and shirt bloodied and face grief stricken, sat beside Osferth on the bonnet of another car in silence, the flashing blue lights illuminating his vacant expression. Sihtric put a lit cigarette into Runa’s fingers as six bodies were loaded up into waiting ambulances, the cries of Aethelflaed finally being quietened by Steapa’s car door closing on her.

“Let me take you home, there’s nothing left for us to do here,” Sihtric spoke to Runa quietly, and without thinking, she nodded. It wasn’t until the car pulled up outside her house and Sihtric, being the gentleman that he always is, opened the passenger door for her.

“Thank you, I can manage from here.” She smiled weakly, trying to suppress her wince from the pain all over her body.

“No, look at the state of you, come on.” He took her hand and she was in no position to argue with him.

She had spent the drive leant forward because there were still small shards of glass embedded into her shirt and skin, but as Sihtric pulled the key from under her doormat and unlocked it panic set in. Whether she wanted to argue or not, it was coming.

“Sihtric, wait.” Runa said with a hand on his arm as he pushed open the front door to reveal the dark hallway littered with haphazardly stacked boxes.

He paused at the sight, then flicked the light switch confirming that his eyes were not deceiving him.

“Runa?”

She didn’t respond as she walked past him with a large ball of regret building in the pit of her stomach. Sihtric followed her past the stacks into the living room where there were more half packed boxes with old newspapers piled up next to them to protect the more delicate items.

“How long is this trip of yours, exactly?” He asked fiddling with the edge of a cardboard flap knowing full well what this meant, he just wanted to hear her say it.

“I’m not coming back.” She sighed, walking through the open arch way into her kitchen, looking through the cupboards.

She put two glasses along with a half empty bottle of gin on the dining room table and poured the clear liquid into them. Sihtric tried his best to subdue the anger bubbling inside him as Runa put a carton of cigarettes beside the gin with her lighter, finally looking him in the eye.

They both looked haggard, Runa sparkled when she moved with the remnants of glass still stuck to her, and the pair’s clothes were wrecked with blood. Sihtric knew this was the worst possible timing, but he didn’t know how long he even had to have this conversation and he wanted answers.

“You lied to me.” He said flatly, there was no question about it.

“Yes, but let me explain, please Sihtri-” Runa’s voice was quiet, and her eyes widened at him cutting her off.

“No. Enough of this bullshit, Runa!”

“Don’t yell at me.”

Sihtric scoffed, his anger mixing with hurt. He had done all she silently asked for, when she was distant with him he never pushed to know why, just gave her the time she needed to work out whatever was going on in her head. When he thought it was Finan that held her affections, he was more than willing to back away and let them be, and he always defended her in her absence.

“And why not? I have tried being gentle with you, I have given you space, I have forgiven you without ever asking you for any type of explanation and yet you still lied to me!”

“I didn’t want to hurt you!” Runa slapped her hands down on the table, shaking her head.

“That seems to be all you do.” He responded with an incredulous laugh, his gaze still focused on her.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Runa closed the distance between them and took his hands in hers, “I am so sorry Sihtric.”

“Do you not trust me?” He asked, his hazel eyes searching her blue ones for any type of reason that would make sense.

“Of course I do.” She breathed.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me! It would have hurt but it would have been far better than finding out like this.” He dropped her hands and motioned to the mess around them.

Taking a deep breath Runa turned back to the table and downed one of the unmeasured glasses of gin, screwing her face up at the taste and picking up the cigarette carton.

“The way you held me when I told you I was going to Denmark in the first place was why I felt like I couldn’t tell you, I didn’t want you to ask me to stay.”

Sihtric wet his bottom lip and nodded slowly; he didn’t feel as though her answer made sense but he felt she was telling the truth. With a huff, he watched as she lit her smoke and rubbed her temple with her thumb.

Runa spoke up again, “ I don’t expect you to understand any of this.”

“Why do I feel like this is just you running away from something?” He pushed further.

“Maybe I am.” She shrugged and ignored the spasm of pain it sent through her back.

“Then tell me what it is!” Sihtric raised his voice once more, his frustration still present.

“You!” Runa retaliated, her own frustration making itself known with instant regret following.

“Me?” Sihtric stared at her with furrowed brows, his anger dissipating quickly and sadness taking its place.

“Yes. I fucked up, I had no business messing around with you or Finan and I jus- I can’t be here anymore.” Runa shook her head and took a drag of her cigarette.

“Is that what we were doing? Messing around?” He’d been certain that he wasn’t alone in love, Sihtric had felt it in her touch and seen it in her eyes, and her next words only told him he was right and she was denying it.

“That’s all I can let it be.”

“Got it.” He responded flatly and walked out.

Runa stood in her kitchen and swallowed the bitter tasting gin Sihtric had left untouched, closing her eyes when her front door slammed shut. She took a deep breath trying to keep control of her emotions but as she perched on the side of her table and dialled the only number she could think of calling, she felt the tears creeping up on her.

“Hello?” The calm voice on the other end answered, and Runa’s control slipped allowing the tears to fall.

“Brida...”

Taglist: @arcielee @emilyhufflepufftlk @finanmoghra @deandoesthingstome @gemini-mama

#the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric x oc #finan x oc #tlk fanfic #tlk fanfiction #sihtric fanfic #finan fanfic

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anoncat6 · 1 year

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PETRICHOR | sihtric x oc | part six

part one part two part three part four part five

6. blood and oaths

Gisela had been as angry as expected, if not worse; essentially locking her sister in her room for 3 days upon her return, and then only relenting after Finan pleaded her case for fresh air.

Surprisingly, Finan had been nearly as bad as Gisela, fussing over Ghylena and making sure she was comfortable. She suspected Uhtred had placed him on orders to guard her during her recovery, that or he had made some promise to Sihtric.

By the end of the first week, it no longer hurt to breathe and her voice had returned.

The cuts across her leg and back had itched like mad as they healed, but they too eventually pulled back together, leaving behind angry red scars.

When Ghylena had first washed after the bandages were removed, Gisela had been with her, gently cleaning her back for her and washing her hair. They had sat in silence in the lapping water, Finan on guard not far from the shore but out of sight.

Gisela’s fingers had ghosted over the red ridges, barely touching the ragged skin but still her baby sister flinched. Gisela winced, her eyes pained.

“They are hideous.” Ghylena’s whisper was hoarse, her voice usable yet rough, “I never want him to see them, Gisa.”

“Lena,” Gisela soothed, “Sihtric would rather have you alive and scarred, than not at all. They are proof, reminders of your survival. He will worship them for you.”

The skin around Ghylena’s throat had yellowed, the bruises fading, but still visible. All Gisela could see when she looked at them was a reminder that some man had his hands there, had tried to squeeze the life from her sister, and had failed.

He had failed, all 4 men had failed, because Ghylena had killed them.

Gisela touched the bruises gently, brushing over all of Lena’s scars and wounds, before caressing her cheek gently and kissing her forehead: “Beautiful. Brave. My strong warrior, my little sister.”

Lena cried, her tears melting into the water around them.

If Finan heard, he never said anything.

The time in Coccham went quickly after that. Ghylena healed more each day, and had even been hunting again, returning to fighting form after 2 weeks.

Her days were spent reading to Young Uhtred and looking after baby Stiorra.

Osferth, the baby monk from Winchester, had arrived soon after their return and had thanked Ghylena for speaking up for him. She found him sweet, like a young foal still finding its feet. If he wanted to be a warrior, he would need to learn quickly.

She missed Sihtric desperately, but when Rypere returned with news from Beamfleot, she couldn’t help but be proud of her fiancé. Soon after, she joined Uhtred on the road to Winchester.

Ghylena didn’t speak during the wittan, preferring to stay close to Finan and Gisela instead, and when Father Beocca approached them afterwards he smiled at her.

Her expression must have been hilarious when Beocca pulled her in for a hug, her arms glued to her side in surprise as Finan snickered at her face.

“It is good to see you so well recovered, My Lady.” Beocca beamed at her.

Nodding her head, Ghylena spoke, “And you Beocca, I hope Thyra is well.”

“She is, she is. Perhaps you should visit someday.”

“My sister and I would be happy to join you for dinner whilst the men are away negotiating, Father.” Gisela placated.

“Excellent, Thyra will be pleased!”

Another 2 weeks passed with Gisela and Ghylena waiting in Winchester for news before Uhtred and his men returned.

It was not long after that when Sihtric himself rode into Winchester with a letter for Uhtred from the Lady Aethelflaed. A plan was afoot to rescue the princess from the fort, and strangely it was Erik who had masterminded it. Once again, love had changed the fate of the kingdoms of Mercia and Wessex.

When she was finally reunited with her fiancé, Lena looked and felt like her usual self again, grinning up at him as he gently held her.

“It doesn’t hurt?” Sihtric checked again, desperate not to inflict any more pain on her.

“No, Sihtric, I told you. I am healed, I swear. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Ghylena comforted him.

“Good,” he smiled now, his eyes still smudged with black and wearing his armour, his intimidating figure was quite the contrast to his beaming grin.

Uhtred did not fight her when she decided to go with them for the rescue plan, having been reassured by his wife that she was indeed fully recovered. Sihtric simply knew better than to try and change her mind.

When they arrived at Beamfleot in the night, it was decided that Ghylena would be a part of Rypere’s group to attack from the water. She had always been a good swimmer, but as she approached the docks under the water— opposite to Rypere— she found it difficult to hold her spear in hand, kick through the river, and hold the reed in her mouth to breathe.

Still, she made it through the plan, leaping from the water with the rest of the men and spearing one of the guards through his heart before killing yet another with her axe.

Sopping wet and dripping river water from her furs and hair, Ghylena sighed at realising half the men were dead, and she was the only one from her group to survive.

As Uhtred berated Osferth— Lena hadn’t seen what he had done, but he was sure to never do it again from the way he flinched at Uhtred’s yells— Sihtric checked in on Ghylena, clasping her head into looking up at him as she also looked him over for injuries.

“I’m okay, just completely soaked,” she reassured him, trying for humour.

“You volunteered your esteemed swimming skills, Ghylena, don’t forget.” Finan joked.

Sihtric rolled his eyes, and Lena simply stuck her tongue out at the Irishman as they returned to the riverside reeds. Regrouping, the plan changed yet again, and now they were headed into the fort, deciding to simply free Aethelflaed themselves.

After Sihtric had fetched Erik from the hall, and it was revealed that Aethelflaed was now trapped in a cage, in plain sight of everyone, Uhtred was the one who suggested fires, but Ghylena had been the one to volunteer in setting them.

“I’m still more water than woman, it will be safest for me to be the one playing with flames. I will meet you back with the horses.” Ghylena said goodbye, quickly touching her forehead to Sihtric’s before stealing a torch and running to the closest buildings.

When Sihtric came running out with a woman in Aethelflaed’s clothing, Lena helped her onto a horse and out of the fortress, before preparing the other horses.

They waited, anxious and unnerved by the growing fires around them.

“Maybe I got a bit carried away…” Ghylena winced as the roof of the hall began to collapse.

“Look!” Sihtric pointed to Uhtred, who lead the charge out of the fires and towards them, “Up! Up, in your saddle now!”

Clapa, the great big bear of a man who had been with them since Ghylena first met them, sacrificed himself so they could escape. Charging past his fallen body, Ghylena stole one last look before she too galloped out of the gates.

Sigefrid and his man, Haesten, were close behind, with their men soon following as well.

Bursting past the trees and not slowing, they came across the joined armies of Alfred and Odda, thankful for the unexpected reinforcements.

When the King finally did give the order for a shield wall, Sigefrid’s men charging into what was sure to be their deaths, Sihtric and Ghylena stood side by side, ready to fight together, once again behind a shield wall.

Sigefrid, the tempest of rage and violence, was the one to burst through the shield wall, and then the Danes were upon them.

Somehow, despite the fray of men storming around them, all of Uhtred’s group managed to stay close by each other: Osferth, Finan, Sihtric and Ghylena never lost sight of each other in their first real fight together, protecting each other and surviving the night without an injury between them. It was nothing short of a miracle from the gods.

Right as the last of the men were killed, and the ones who fled escaped, Ghylena swore she saw a flash of amber in the forest, eyes that were too low to be a man. As soon as she caught sight of it however, it disappeared again, and Ghylena brushed it from her mind.

All too thankful to be back in Winchester— something she thought she’d never say— Ghylena had been the one to suggest they marry that day.

The reminder of their fragile mortalities had made her spontaneous, and Sihtric was all too eager to agree.

So it was, that the day before leaving Winchester, Sihtric Kjartanson and Ghylena of Cumbraland were married as one, before their gods and their family.

Coccham looked sweeter, more welcoming than it ever had before, with Ghylena now returning through its gates with Sihtric as her husband, Uhtred as the brother she would fight for, and with her fate more clear than ever.

Destiny is all.

END OF SEASON 2.

-> up next: 'the calm'...

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x oc #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #finan #uhtred #the last kingdom #osferth

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