#aethelflaed x oc

[assortedseaglass]

We Have This Hope - III

Osferth x Lady-in-Waiting

[Masterlist]

Story Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Mentions of Violence, Strong Language, Religious Guilt, Smut

Notes: Barely proofed. Will do later. Hope you enjoy my loves. H x

Aefry and Osferth’s mutual fascination continued over the week and, much to Aefry’s delight, she was provided with plenty of chances to see him, for wherever Aethelflaed went, Uhtred seemed to follow. What’s more, wherever Aethelflaed and Uhtred went, so too did her ladies and his band of warriors. 

Following their fleeting meeting after mass, Aefry had glimpsed Osferth on her way back from the meadows just beyond the keep’s edge. She’d spent the day there with her book of psalms and her pages of drawings. Butterflies, plants, the skies above her and the ripple of the Itchen river. Wrapped in a shawl and sat beneath the old oak that guarded the grassland, Aefry was content to draw, read and daydream. Of her parents, of life beyond the keep, of warriors, of the boy with rough-shorn hair and worried eyes…

The day was drawing in when she made her way back to the warmth of the keep, the grey sky purpling as the sun descended below the trees. A brisk coolness settled on her cheeks, and she felt them turn red. These transitory days of autumn, like those of spring, brought a promise of something on the horizon that only the birds above them could see. In a life so still and, though she was grateful of her position, monotonous, Aefry found the quiet adventure in them thrilling. She thrilled too when, against the darkening sky, a white horse gleamed. Walking slowly, it’s head bobbing with each step, it looked like a spectre. Her cheeks burned all the hotter when she saw the man leading the horse to the stables. 

Head downcast like that of his steed, he too seemed aglow in the twilight. Pale skin smooth as clay, his breath taking flight against the cold air. With his shoulders slumped, Aefry saw not the shy yet brave warrior monk she had become so intrigued by those last days, but a boy. Somehow, despite his quiet courage, he seemed defeated. Not once had he looked up to see his progress towards the stable, glancing only at his feet as they shuffled across the hard earth. He was missing the gentle sunset, had not stopped to look in the direction of the blackbird singing in the hedgerow, not noticed how she stood at the edge of the field, watching. She had to know what troubled him. Spurred on by that desire, any decorum left Aefry as she hurried forward. 

At the rustle of leaves underfoot nearby, Osferth glanced up. Catching each other’s eyes, they both abruptly stood still. Osferth, hand at his sword, gawked at her. Aefry wobbled on the spot, having been caught rushing towards him. The white horse huffed and a great cloud of its breath rose into the sky. 

The look that lingered between them was a second longer than proper, and Aefry became once more a young lady of propriety. Smiling gently, she moved slowly towards Osferth. He glanced quickly at the white horse, patting its thick neck as if finding something to do. Not even Uhtred or the King stirred this much nervousness in him. 

“Forgive me, Sir-” 

“Osferth,” he corrected. Aefry was relieved to see a small smile curve his lips. 

“Osferth,” she whispered his name. To say it aloud, with no title, seemed indecent. “I am on my way back to my mistress, but when I saw you-” Aefry teetered on the precipice of this confession. Did it reveal too much? “Forgive me. I thought you looked sad.” 

Osferth looked straight at her then, and the hand that rubbed the horse’s neck fell to his side. “Not sad, my Lady, just defeated.” 

“Defeated?” She took a step closer to him, eager to know what caused the good man’s disappointment.

Osferth saw the worried crease of her brow and hurried to reassure her.

“Finan, he has been teaching me to spar. ‘Properly,’ he says.” It was as though the moon had risen early. All at once, Aefry saw the purple blooming under his eyes and the small grazes to his cheeks. When he held out his hands, dropping the reins of his horse to reveal the smattering of bruises across his knuckles, she gasped and took hold of them. 

How intoxicating it was, this woman’s worry for him. Excitement, rapidly followed by shame, overcame Osferth and with all the effort he could muster he took his hands back from her. How wanton, to crave more of it. 

“Wait, please,” Aefry said, turning in the direction she arrived from. Osferth watched her reach the edge of the meadow and crouch by a green mat of vegetation. In the low light, it was as if watching someone ascend from deep water. As she walked back to him, a handful of green clutched in her hand, she slowly came back into focus. Osferth shuffled from foot to foot and swallowed, looking quickly back to the horse. Blinking quickly, he saw the outline of her inside his eyelids. The ripple of her long hair, the sturdy footsteps towards him, her silhouette growing ever closer as her hips swayed side to side beneath the modest tunic she wore. He knew at once he would recount the image of her walking slowly towards him in the twilight. That night, in all likelihood. Osferth blushed and bowed his head. His boots were caked in mud, no doubt his tunic torn and much the same. He flattened the hair on his forehead and, shame yet again welling up inside him, hastily dropped his arm. 

“I acknowledge my sin to you, and hide not my inequity-”

“Pardon?” Aefry had begun tearing the leaves in her hand as she stopped before Osferth.

“I-er, she is-she is restless,” Osferth gestured to the horse.

Even with his head bowed, his body stooping to appear small, he towered over her. Aefry came eye level with his leather cuirass, and the cross the rested there. A good man indeed. Funny, Aefry thought, that she found the holy men of the keep so pious they bordered on arrogance, boring to the point of inertia, or else more sinful than those they preached to. Power, she supposed, was the currency of man, and there was plenty for those who had taken holy orders under the command of the King. In Osferth, however, the presence of the cross at his chest calmed her, for she had seen the truth that he was a good man. Ruled not by power, but by his kindness and conscience. A true man of God. He was still shuffling uncomfortably at her side.

“Well then,” Aefry said with a gentle smile. “We best get you both inside.” Her twinkling eyes met his and Osferth’s heart drummed unsteadily in his chest. She turned on her heel and made her way towards the stables. With the click of his teeth, Osferth and his steed followed eagerly in her wake.

The closer they drew to the dimly lit stable, the clearer the voices within it became. That is to say, one voice. The two men inside barely noticed as Aefry pushed open the door and slipped inside. Instead, it was the sound of horse hooves on the dampened ground that told the men they were no longer alone. 

“Hurt your bollocks as well as the rest of your body?” Finan said to Osferth, indicating the horse he hadn’t ridden and laughing heartily. Sihtric smirked but continued brushing the dark horse he rode. Beside them, Aefry appeared from a small stall with a bowl of water.

“Fuck!” Finan jumped back at the small woman’s seemingly sudden arrival. 

Blushing at the language, Aefry laughed. “Perhaps, Osferth, you should take sparring lessons from me. He may be the brute but I clearly have the cunning.” She playfully nudged Finan’s shoulder and found he didn’t budge. It made her giggle all the more and the three men stared at her. Sihtric in question, Osferth in amazement and Finan in mirthful admiration. Unaware, Aefry continued tearing the plant in her hand and adding it to the bowl.

“What have you there?” Sihtric’s voice was quiet. 

“Yarrow,” Aefry offered him one of the flowering stems. “It helps to soothe swelling.” She watched as Sihtric turned the flower between his fingers. Despite his height, his fearsome, bicolour gaze and endless stoicism, there was gentleness to this man she was certain many overlooked. To all of them. Whereas it was plain in Osferth, behind the tough exteriors of Sihtric and Finan lay good-hearted souls. Sihtric with his childlike wonder, Finan with his easy humour. Uhtred too possessed a tenderness, if the way he looked at Aethelflaed was anything to judge. 

Silence, but for the huffing and shuffling of the horses, settled about the stable. Aefry worked the yarrow and water into a paste, unaware of the silent exchange occurring above her head. 

Osferth, still shy around his adoptive comrades and overcome with an emotion entirely foreign to him in the presence of Aefry, looked everywhere in the stable but her. Occasionally, as he glanced between the ceiling’s beams or the hay-strewn floor, he caught either Finan or Sihtric’s eyes. Sihtric, in his usual way, fixed him with a knowing stare somewhere between teasing and curiosity. Each time Osferth caught Finan’s eye, however, he entered into a silent battle with the Gael. 

Finan indicated Aefry with his head, encouraging Osferth to step closer, or else would mouth instructions. “Talk to her!” “Say something!”. Once or twice, he even caught Finan making lewd gestures. When the Gael balled his fist before his crotch, Osferth’s eyes widened and he darted into one of the stalls. In doing so he brushed against Aefry’s shoulder, and the warmth he felt beneath her shawl sent a surge of lightning through him. 

Flustered by the commotion of his own sudden movement, Osferth almost lost track of where he was and what he was doing. He span around. “I’m sorry, my Lady-” Osferth’s voice died. Aefry was watching him with a smile. No annoyance at his carelessness, worry no longer knitting her brow. Simply smiling at him. 

Though bolder than he was, Osferth had noticed in his few meetings with the lady-in-waiting, of which this was the third, that, like him, Aefry was content with silence. He wished then that he had the courage for idle chatter. This lingering silence was torturous. The more she looked at him, and the more he looked at her, the more likely it seemed to him that heaven truly was real and not just a tool to frighten men into subjection.

“Let me see your hand again,” Behind Aefry, Finan walked past the stall and winked. Osferth didn’t move, and so Aefry came to him. Mistaking his infatuation for his earlier disappointment, she reached out and took his hand. Osferth almost whimpered. He bit the inside of his cheek to silence himself and released a ragged breath through his nose. 

“I’m sorry, but the yarrow will help.” 

Osferth let out a shaky laugh at her unknowing sweetness. “‘Tis fine.” When she began massaging the yarrow into his knuckles, Osferth held his breath, for never before could he remember being touched with such gentleness. 

He barely remembered his mother. Sometimes, he thought of her running her hand over his head, but was unsure if this was a memory or merely something his mind had conjured up in the absence of her. When he entered the monastery, it was with the clap of his uncle Leofric’s hand at his back and a promise that he would always be near. 

In their memory, Osferth touched the cross at his chest. Aefry’s eyes flickered there but she asked no questions, and began rolling a torn piece of cloth about his hand.

Behind the walls of the monastery, Osferth knew nothing but prayer and penance. 

The blond hair his mother had allowed to grow long was roughly shorn, his clothes were replaced with itchy hand-me-down robes, and despite having lived so meagrely before, he would have given anything to sleep on the hay mattress of his uncle Leofric’s rather than the wooden board and blanket of his shared quarters. 

That first room he shared with two other boys, Arric and Hablendan. He did not need to ask why they were sent to the monastery. The abbots looked at the three boys with an obvious disdain that they did not show the other novitiates. They were woken between matins and prime, then set to work preparing breakfast for the sleeping monastery. After a long day of work and prayer, Osferth and his companions would say compline, or vigil before Sunnundaeg, and await the abbot to permiss them sleep, long after everyone else had retired. 

Bastards. Shame of father and family. That was why. 

“A stain upon the good King’s virtue.” 

“Nothing but a whore’s shame.”

“It would have been far better if you had never been born.”

When Hablendan succumbed to a fever aged eleven, the penitential psalms were hurried, his anointing near forgot, and the abbots slung him in a haphazard grave beyond the monastery wall. Only Osferth and Aerric kept vigil.

Arric left the monastery suddenly, and from time to time Osferth imagined he had run away with a tradesman or visiting abbess. That way he could believe a life beyond that harsh place existed. A monastery in a warmer climate perhaps, or a new life altogether. 

“Osferth?” 

So tender was her voice that Osferth thought he’d imagined it. The voice of Hablendan or Arric. Perhaps even his uncle or mother. 

He blinked in the dim light, and felt a warmth about his hands. She had taken both in her own, and held them gently before her. Her eyes, a muddy mixture of browns, were looking up at him with concern. 

“‘Tis fine,” he said again, although the lump in his throat betrayed any attempt at ease. Aefry nodded, held his hand a moment longer, then let go. Osferth twitched awkwardly before coughing and clearing the stall to make way for his horse. That he had been about to take her hand once more, Aefry did not know.  

“Will your mistress not worry where you are?” Sihtric was heaving his horse’s saddle onto one of the stable beams.

“If Lord Uhtred is with her, I doubt it entirely,” Aefry said with a smile. “Her mother, however-” The men laughed. “I am away. Remove the dressing in the morning and the swelling should have gone down,” she addressed Osferth. “If not, seek me out and I will gather more.” 

“He surely will,” Finan stepped forward with yet another gleeful glance in Osferth’s direction as he wrapped a cloak around his shoulders. “I’ll walk you back.”

Osferth’s heart sank. He had not known Finan long, but it was enough to see the long looks women gave him. Wit, kindness, honour, strength. How could he possibly compete? Aefry and Finan were backing out of the door when Sihtric nudged Osferth’s shoulder and nodded in their direction. Aefry was looking hopefully at him over Finan’s shoulder.

“Goodnight Osferth, goodnight Sir,” Sihtric nodded his head at Aefry. Osferth bowed a little. 

“Come,” Sihtric said to him. “You have more to learn than swordsmanship.” And together they trudged towards the inn on the outskirts of town, Osferth hanging off his every word. 

In the opposite direction, Finan and Aefry walked in comfortable silence. The sun had set fully and torches flickered at the welcoming gates of the keep. In a few moments, they would be sheltered in its warmth. Aefry’s stomach gave a rumble and she laughed. 

“Thank you, Sir, for walking me back,” Finan smiled and Aefry continued. “Though, and I do not mean to offend, I suspect it was not for my safety.” Expecting to see annoyance in her eyes, Finan looked at her. To his pleasant surprise, he saw her eyes twinkle in the low light. A broad smile stretched across his bonny face. “I do believe Saeflaed will have returned from her father’s by now.”

“I would not have let you walk back alone, lady-”

“Aefry.” She corrected, holding a hand to her chest. He copied the movement.

“Finan.” Aefry nodded and Finan continued. “But a glimpse of her would not go amiss.” 

Aefry’s smile widened. Finan had thought her a meek little thing at first, smaller than her companions, not so pretty as Saeflaed or outspoken as Adburh. But he saw now that he was wrong. Behind the round cheeks and rosy complexion, pleasing manner and quiet reserve, a brightness burned within her. Quick to help and to laugh just as he. The youngest of Aethelflaed’s ladies, he thought perhaps, despite Saeflaed’s beauty, that Aefry was his favourite.

“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Aefry said, her voice full of that longing awe one heard in a girl recalling a princess, or a little boy dreaming of the battlefield.

“I’ve never seen a fairer lass,” 

“And here she is,” she indicated the keep gates, where a golden haired girl stood waiting. Aefry turned to Finan, a knowing glint in her eye. “Almost as if this meeting were planned.” 

“Not a word to your mistress of Uhtred,” Finan held her arm gently. 

Aefry held a finger to her lips as she slipped away, and Finan watched as she clasped Saeflaed’s hand before disappearing through the gate. 

Over the next few days, the three men and three women followed their leaders like a gaggle of children. 

Having told Aefry how much she liked the man, Saeflaed either clung to her arm or Finan’s, whispering hurried observations in the former’s ear, flirtations in the latter’s.

“His wit is as sharp as his sword!”

“There’s something about his eyes,”

“I watched him train the monk,” Aefry’s ears pricked. “His arms, Aefry!” 

Poor Adburh was quite taken as ever by the silent Sihtric, but the discovery of his wife had left her quite bereft. 

“Many a man takes a mistress, Adburh,” Saeflaed had said.

“I’ll not be a man’s whore,” Adburh snapped from beneath her bedsheets.

“Not even a man so beautiful?”

Adburh sniffled and Aefry silenced her friend with a quick glance. 

When next they saw Uhtred and his men, all walking the halls and corridors of the keep as he spoke to Aethelflaed in hushed tones, Aefry was forced to abandon her position by the monk to remind Adburh that she was at court. At once, the red-headed girl’s shoulders straightened, the crease of her forehead vanished and her steps became lighter. 

“He is a handsome man, ‘tis true,” Aefry whispered to Adburh. “But not the man for you, my friend.” Adburh’s face soured at once and she made to protest. Aefry didn’t allow it. “Aside from his marital status, he is far too quiet and serious. Imagine the household you would run together! You, fearsome and outspoken. He, fearsome and silent. That poor man would not stand a chance.” Adburh laughed sadly and linked her arm through Aefry’s. Together, they processed behind the others.

Uhtred and Aethelflaed were a way ahead now. Uhtred too, seemed equally bewitched by Aethelflaed as Adburh was with Sihtric, and Aefry was glad to see a man bestow her mistress some compassion. The image of a gentleman in her presence, Uhtred listened to Aethelflaed’s words as though she were bestowing upon him a prophecy. He walked half a step behind her at all times, and always, his gaze was directed toward her. 

Finan and Saeflaed, still holding his arm, were a few paces behind them with Sihtric. Aefry giggled as Saeflaed’s golden curls bounced animatedly as she spoke to him, and Finan looked over his shoulder at the noise and winked. 

Osferth saw him do so and glanced to where Aefry and Adburh walked. The moment he looked at her, Aefry’s steps faltered. 

“Are you alright?” It was Adburh who sounded concerned now. 

“Yes. Yes, fine,” Aefry resumed her steps and looked to Osferth. He had turned back to face the front. Let him look round again, please. The strange sensation that had made its home in Aefry’s chest ever since she met the monk stirred, and she gulped a few times to steady her breath. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Adburh,” Aefry lay a hand atop her friends. “Believe me when I say, I am fine.” Adburh eyed her suspiciously but they continued ahead. 

Osferth walked alone between the groups, hands clasped behind his back. As people passed them in the corridors, going about their business, Aefry found a new appreciation for his height. She had seen few men so tall. He was taller than Finan, that was certain. Now, she saw he was taller than Uhtred and much the same height as Sihtric. She thought of the three warriors and their broad backs, and her mind wandered to what lay beneath Osferth’s robes. Whether he would become as muscled as them as he continued his training- 

I’m sorry. Let him look at me, and I’ll spend Sunnandaeg in the chapel. 

Aefry did not know precisely what it was that she longed to see, but when Osferth turned to look at her again, his mellow eyes brightening when he saw her already watching him, she felt a small part of her desire to be seen by him sated. 

“Aefry, your cheeks are flushed. Are you certain-”

“Adburh!” Aefry dropped her friend’s arm in annoyance and took a few rushed steps forward before realising where she was; a step or so behind Osferth. When Adburh stomped past them, her temper flaring, Osferth startled and gazed back. Upon seeing Aefry so close, he startled again but smiled all the same.

“Her fires are burning rather hot today,” Aefry mumbled, giving Osferth a small curtsy. 

“Is everything well?” said Osferth as he watched Adburh storm ahead.

“She had some bad news,” Aefry wouldn’t betray Adburh’s feelings, no matter her annoyance.

Osferth hummed and waited for Aefry to fall into step beside him. Unlike that which she had shared with Finan, Aefry could not say their silence was comfortable. On the contrary, both seemed strained to think of something to say and altogether uneasy. 

“The yarrow worked-”

“How is your practice-”

Both spoke together, blushed and allowed the quiet to resume. After a moment, Aefry took Osferth’s hand. Perhaps it was an excuse just to touch him, but she brought his knuckles to the light of a passing window and examined his bruises. The yarrow had worked indeed, for she could make out the bone and blue veins of his hands. His hands. How small hers suddenly felt underneath his. When she looked up at him, she saw he was still staring down at their entwined hands. 

“Do you need anything more of me?” she whispered.

Osferth’s eyes flickered to hers. “Lady, I-”

“Come on, Osferth!” 

Finan’s voice boomed down the corridor and Aefry stepped quickly away from Osferth. Onward they walked. 

“That is much like how he speaks to me when teaching,” Osferth said lowly and Aefry laughed. “But he is kind do it, and a good man.”

“That he is.” 

Osferth watched her from the corner of his eye. She smiled as she looked in Finan’s direction and he tried to quell his jealousy. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” he whispered. 

Ahead, Uhtred and Aethelflaed had stopped outside a large cabinet of rooms at the fore of the keep, and Aefry, distracted on their journey there, noticed at once that it was the study of the King. She quickened her steps, leaving Osferth’s side, to stand behind her mistress. It would not do for Lady Aelswith to see her at the side of one of Uhtred’s men and not her daughter. 

No sooner had she, Saeflaed and Adburh settled behind Aethelflaed did the door to the cabinet open. Father Beocca stepped out and grasped Uhtred’s hand. A moment after, the King entered the corridor and all in his presence bowed their heads. Aethelflaed kissed his cheek. 

“You are ready?” He said to his daughter and Uhtred, to which they nodded and entered his private chambers with Beocca. As Aefry bowed once more, she noticed the King’s intelligent eyes carry over Finan and Sihtric, before flicking to the man stood still in the corridor.

Subtly, so imperceptibly, Aefry saw Alfred falter. From her reverent position, she looked sideways through the veil of her hair.

Osferth was looking pointedly at the ground, his shoulders a little stooped, his head a little bowed.

When the King turned away, Osferth looked up and saw that Aefry was watching him again. With a sad smile and nod of his head, he retraced his steps, away from his fellows, and out of sight. A haunting sadness had returned to his eyes, and Aefry thought of little else all evening.

Early one morning under the guise of prayer, Aethelflaed brought her ladies-in-waiting to the town chapel so she may share some secret with Uhtred before he and his men left for the north.

Finan and Sihtric were stood at the door, happily talking when they arrived. They bowed to Aethelflaed as she passed, sharing a knowing look, and greeted the ladies. Saeflaed placed herself by Finan and leant gaily against the stone wall so that her hip jutted just so. Adburh, too, stood scandalously close to Sihtric. He said nothing. Aefry did not worry about Osferth’s own whereabouts, for she knew he would be inside.

Sure enough, when she pushed open the chapel’s great doors, daylight streaked into the chamber and set him aglow. Sat on a simple wooden bench at the back of the chapel, his head was bent in prayer. Like a moth to a flame, she drifted towards him, sitting carefully beside him as he prayed.

The creaking of the wood gave her away, and Osferth opened one eye. When he saw her sat beside him, he smiled and relaxed in his seat. Together, the monk and the young lady sat in contended silence at the back of the chapel. After a while he looked at her fully and saw the happiness on her face.

“What has you smiling, my Lady?” Osferth whispered in her ear as they sat side by side. Aefry looked up at him. 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 Aethelflaed 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. On occasion, he had seen her about the keep with Aethelflaed and her other companions. Where Adburh and Saeflaed seemed suited to keeping the princess jovial, the lady beside him must have been picked as a companion for her quiet sincerity. When Aethelflaed fell into clouds of despair, it was Aefry she went to to lift her spirits.

When Osferth stumbled upon Aefry in the town, or sat in the meadow beyond the keep, she moved with 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 Aethelflaed 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.

“What do you think life would have held for you? Had you the choice?” Aefry knew the question was intimate, and should he rebuke her, she would understand. To her happiness, he did not.

“I do not think it matters, lady.” Visions of himself as a prince, or an ealdorman with wife and child flashed before his eyes. “My lot was chosen long before I was born.” Aefry knew he was thinking of his father’s actions but said nothing, only let him continue. “With another mother, another father, in a different realm perhaps my life would have been different, but it does not do to dwell. I am thankful for what I have been given.”

He watched her side, for she had turned to face Uhtred and Aethelflaed solemnly. Her lips parted delicately, plainly thinking over what he had said. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from the braid knotted at her nape, revealing the pulse point on the elegant column of her neck. Osferth was struck with the desire to run his finger along it and the britches beneath his tunic tightened. He shifted on the hard pew. 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 Aethelflaed departing through the door behind the chancel.

“Will you pray with me?”

Her hand was still in his and she squeezed it before clasping her own in prayer. “Of course.”

Aefry 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 beautifully distracting, so 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 abbot 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, placing her own candle upon the shrine having silently finished her prayers. 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 Wintancaester.” Sadness befell Aefry’s eyes and Osferth said the only thing he could think that would ease her unhappiness.

“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.”

Aefry 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. Aefry 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 so as to feel close to him.

“I must away, my lady.” His words were abrupt, their sudden intimacy overwhelming.

“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 Saeflaed, from Finan and Sihtric, and from him.

In the meadow beyond the town, beneath the oak tree, Aefry let her tears fall.

“The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night,” she said aloud to the grasses and the birds. Please, she begged, please let him come back.

Notes: Matins, prime, compline and vigil are part of the liturgical hours in the catholic faith, and are prayers that are said throughout the day. Typically for a monk, there would be matines, prime, lauds, none, sext, vespers and compline. Vigil came before holy days and some even took nocturnes which is around 1am. I used to live with a monk (true!) and sometimes I would do lauds with him. Fifteen minutes of quiet is a lovely way to start the day!

Tags: @arcielee @babyblue711 @elizarbell @chilling-in-my-head @skikikikiikhhjuuh @fan-goddess @sylas-the-grim @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @targaryenrealnessdarling @doomwhathouwilt @gemini-mama @myfandomprompts @bcon24 @humanpurposes @wise-owl @bookwyrmsblog @yentroucnagol @allthefandomtherapy @hightowhxre @elizarbell

[icarusignite]

New masterlist

Masterlist

House of the Dragon

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

The Last Kingdom

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

Current WIPS

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Lockwood and Co

- I thought I dreamed her

On their latest mission yet, the ghost takes a special interest in Lockwood and it is up to Lucy to bring him back to reality.

- I love you forever (I'm not a dreamer)

Lucy and Lockwood’s first date and first kiss

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

Criminal Minds

-  Steady Your Heart in Mine (Spencer Reid)

Exam season brings you a lot of stress and Spencer Reid is there to walk you through it.

[nellyharrison]

I glanced back, noticed the three Vikings approaching us, and begged Aethelflaed to get up as I pulled her to her feet.  We kept running, but they were faster.  I faced them, keeping Aethelflaed behind me as I held my dagger out in front of me. “She’s a fighter,” one of them chuckled.  “I like them fiery.” “You will not touch her,” Aethelflaed insisted, my hand reaching back to squeeze hers before I slashed at one of the men when he got too close.  My eyes widened when I saw the gash on his arm, his shout of pain followed by a command to take us.  The man next to him charged me, grabbing my wrist to try to disarm me, but I remembered something Finan had taught me.  I dropped the dagger from that hand, catching it with the other hand before stabbing the blade into his leg.  He yelled as he fell to the ground, but when I turned to face the other man, he was throwing a punch that knocked me to the ground.  “Melkorka!” the princess screamed, the sound distorted as my head was ringing. “Why do you Saxon women always have to be so difficult?” the man that had punched me asked, rubbing at his knuckles.  I realized I had dropped my dagger, my eyes blinking to clear the spots dancing before them as I felt around the ground for it.  “It would be simpler if you did not fight us when we came for you,” he mused, glancing over at the princess.  “Leave with us, and I will let her live.”  Aethelflaed looked over at me, my eyes meeting hers as I slowly shook my head, urging her not to go with him.  My hand continued moving along the forest floor until I found my dagger, my fingers wrapping around the hilt before pulling it closer to me as I tried to get to my feet.  “Fight us, and I will kill her here and now,” the man threatened, making his way towards me.  He grabbed my hair from the back of my head, yanking my head back with a sneer.  “I imagine someone will miss this pretty face.” I breathed heavily through my nose, anger filling me before I let out a rough exhale and plunged the dagger into his chest.  His eyes widened, looking down to find the blade buried deeply inside of him and watching as I ripped it from him.

Chapter 6 of "My Heart Is In You" by NellyHarrison

[morosemagick]

Lost Voices | Chapter 12

“You can take it back, it's good as gone

Well, flesh amnesiac, this is your song

And I hope what's left will last all summer long

And they said that boys were boys, but they were wrong”

TAGGED:

@solinarimoon ​ @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites ​ @lauwrite1225 @93xdiagonxalley @trenko-heart @illjustgositinthecorner @blah-blah-blah-bla @lizblogging @saint-helga @osferth @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @filliandkili @mrsalwayswrite @amuddleofnervouswords @medievalfangirl @persephones-journey

[foxyanon]

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

[emilyhufflepufftlk]

A massive thank you to everyone who participated in my challenge. I have loved every single one of your creations and I’m so honoured to have such talented friends. If you haven’t posted your entry yet don’t worry, please take your time. Post when you are ready and I’ll add you to the list. 💜💜💜

Ems500 Challenge Master List:

Say You’ll Remember Me (Finan x OC) by @morosemagick

Long Live All The Mountains We Moved (Aldhelm) by @persephones-journey

Soon You’ll Get Better (Uhtred x Aethelflaed) by @princess--of--the--dragonstone

Brida - Lover cover by @axe-does-writing

New Beginnings (Sihtric x Reader) by @geekandbooknerd

You are the best thing, that’s ever been mine (Sihtric x OC) by @persephones-journey

Begin Again (Osferth x Reader, Finan x Reader, Finan x Ingrith) by @geekandbooknerd

Death by a thousand cuts (Aethelstan x Ingilmundr) by @princess--of--the--dragonstone

It only hurts this much right now, what was I thinking the whole time? (Aethelstan) by @persephones-journey

Right Where You Left Me (Uhtred x Aethelflaed) by @persephones-journey

To Exile Above All (Aethelstan & Aedgyth) by @volvaaslaug

Fall From Grace (Osferth x Reader) by @itbmojojoejo

Vigilante Shit (Eadith & Aethelflaed) by @princess--of--the--dragonstone

It Dies, and It Dies, and It Dies, a Million Little Times (Finan x OC) by @persephones-journey

He Was Long Gone, When He Met Me (Rognvaldr x OC) by @persephones-journey

Uhtred x Aethelflaed by @lonnson

Have my back, yeah, everyday (Coccham squad) by @persephones-journey

Nothing Lasts Forever (Finan x OC) by @persephones-journey

This Is Me Trying (Aelfwynn) by @princess--of--the--dragonstone

I was enchanted to meet you (Osferth x Reader) by @halfmylife

The Moment I Knew (Aethelstan x Ingilmundr) by @magravenwrites

You were all I wanted, but not like this (Finan x OC) by @persephones-journey

[anoncat6]

PETRICHOR | sihtric x oc | part five

part one part two part three part four

5. like rotten fruit

Sihtric’s horse wasn’t fast enough.

The camp was decimated. Dead bodies littered the ground

And Sihtric’s horse hadn’t been fast enough for him to find Ghylena.

Beocca was wailing, screaming pleas for his wife, Thyra. 

Steappa called for the Lady Aethelflaed.

But Sihtric was pacing, scouring the grass for his fiancé; praying to the gods they shared that she was still alive and well enough to be found. His panic sealed his throat, and if he could scream he would, he would yell and shout and beg as well, but he could barely breathe.

He was so engrossed in his desperation that he did not notice Thyra’s return, nor the horse she rode atop.

“Sihtric…” Finan had been searching with him, only now he roughly pulled him aside, “Sihtric, look!”

Sihtric followed Finan’s arm, allowing his eyes to recognise Shaeda, without his typical rider, and then he was running towards Thyra.

Even Sihtric, as strong and healthy as he was, could not reach Thyra before her husband had, dragging her from Shaeda’s back and into his arms.

Finally reaching the group gathered around the priest’s wife, Sihtric whispered with wild eyes, “Ghylena?”

Finan took Shaeda’s reins, soothing the horse, looking for any sign of his friend, and finding none but her empty scabbard and a splatter of blood that he moved to hide from Sihtric.

Uhtred spoke now, placing a soothing hand on his sister’s back as he asked, “Thyra… Thyra? Thyra, where is Aethelflaed? Where is Ghylena?”

“You will answer,” Aethelred’s voice sparked anger in Sihtric, but again Beocca beat him to the mark.

The priest seethed, “Of course she will answer!”

Sihtric took a tentative step forward then, “Lady, what happened? Where is my… where is Lena?”

“I— I do not know. We ran and… and she, Aethelflaed, was gone. Then Ghylena came, she saved me. 2 men were chasing me, and she killed them. She rescued me, and then, then she went after the Lady.” Thyra was breathless and her voice shook, cracking near the end. 

Aethelred and his men began planning, sending out search parties for Aethelflaed and yapping orders, but Sihtric didn’t care. All he cared about was Lena, and she was gone.

“Which way?” Sihtric gripped his sword in hand now, preparing to search the the forest, Finan and Uhtred preparing similarly.

Uhtred once again pulled Thyra from her reverie, “Thyra, which way did she go?”

Turning towards the forest, the men around her moved to follow her directions before halting in their tracks.

A lean figure, bloodied and unsteady, limped from the tree line.

Sihtric felt his eyes water, then blinked back the tears before sprinting ahead of everyone else. Uhtred and Finan followed behind him, the three men kicking up the mud behind their steps.

He wasn’t fast enough.

Ghylena stumbled further out into the camp, her beautiful face and hair coated in a thick layer of blood and ichor. She looked more like a walking corpse than the ‘dead man’ Bjorn had. 

Sihtric called to her, “Lena! Ghylena!”

His fiancé took one more step, her legs gave up, and she collapsed to the ground.

And Sihtric wasn’t fast enough to catch her.

<>

Ghylena never expected to find the sounds of a marching army and horses’ hooves to be soothing, but in that moment— with her head tucked into Sihtric’s neck and his arms around her back, holding her to him— she felt more tired than she ever had.

“Sihtric?” She croaked, her voice scratchy thanks to the purple fingerprints which bloomed on her throat, “Where are we?”

Unaware that she had woken up, Sihtric tightened his grasp on her, afraid to let her go. 

“Wessex, huntress,” He pressed a featherlight kiss to the top of her head, “We’re to leave this army soon and head home to Coccham.”

The rumbling of Sihtric’s voice in his chest was soothing, and Lena closed her eyes again, comfortable in his presence, trusting him to keep her safe. Trusting him not to let her fall from the horse.

Her chest still hurt, but thankfully it was just badly bruised— no broken ribs.

The weeping cut on her thigh had been cleaned and wrapped, and the ragged tear across her back and shoulders was thankfully only surface-level; Thyra, being the only woman, had been the one to wrap a bandage around her torso for that particular wound. 

Ghylena felt battered, bruised like rotten fruit.

Probably look like it too, she thought.

Uhtred’s sister had made her thanks known repeatedly, as had Beocca. Ghylena couldn’t remember ever hearing the phrase “thank you” so much in one day. 

Timidly, Ghylena raised her head to look across from her, catching sight of Shaeda beside them, his reins tied to Sihtric’s saddle. Her weapons had been retrieved, then. They sat on his saddle, as clean as ever. 

Looking further up the line, Lena made eye contact with Finan, who sent her a grin and a reassuring nod. She was unaware of the concerned glances the Irishman had been sending her whilst she slept. He had been the one to retrieve her weapons, the one to see the carnage she had left behind, and the beasts of men she had killed.

She tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

The horse’s trot jostled her ribs with each step, and breathing hurt.

Everything hurt.

Uhtred was even further ahead, but he looked as strong as ever and unharmed. 

Good, Ghylena thought, Gisela will be pleased her husband is whole. What the sight of her sister will do to her… 

Lena wasn’t looking forward to that particular berating. 

Beocca and Thyra rode ahead of them all, sharing a horse like Sihtric and Lena were—but unlike Ghylena, Thyra was riding astride, able to keep herself awake and upright.

Ghylena could only catch a glimpse of the bright red hair and priest’s grey robes before her neck grew tired again, her head drooping back to its rest at Sihtric’s shoulder.

“Sleep, Lena. I’m here, you’re safe.”

A whisper was all she could manage, “I know.”

She fell asleep again.

<> After they left the larger army that headed for Winchester, they rode for the remainder of the day before setting up camp that night.

When they had first stopped, Sihtric had gently woken her, whispering into her ear as Finan approached them. Sihtric tentatively handed his fiancé over to Finan as she slipped down from the horse.

Once she was off the saddle, Finan silently holding her in his arms, Sihtric had swiftly followed and traded his horses’ reins for Lena, carrying her bridal style before gently setting her down on the grass.

She had fallen asleep again whilst camp was set up, no one brave or stupid or uncaring enough to wake her and risk the wrath of the men who loved her.

The sun had set and the moon had risen, the stars a comforting blanket above them all as they ate dinner. Lena was cradled upright in Sihtric’s arms to eat something.

His arms and legs caged her in, keeping her warm and secure, wrapping her in him.

Once they had ate, she lay down, her tender body nestled to Sihtric’s steady bearing.

She wasn’t asleep, content to enjoy the warmth of the fire and the soothing rhythm of Sihtric’s hand as he stroked her shoulder, careful to avoid her injuries.

“Sihtric, I know you won’t like this, but you’re the best man for it…” Uhtred began, breaking the silence.

“I need you to take Rypere and go to Beamfleot, where Erik and Sigefrid’s fleet lie— that is where they’ll be. I need you to confirm the Lady Aethelflaed is alive and how they are treating her,” Uhtred spoke gravely, with Sihtric silent, “Send Rypere back to me at Coccham with your news, you will remain there and you are to spy. We will need to know every part of Beamfleot.”

“But, lord—“ Sihtric began.

A rasping croak interrupted him, “Go. Sihtric, go.”

Even Uhtred looked shocked, his gaze locking on his sister.

Finan leaned closer to Ghylena, probably trying to stop her from straining her voice, but she batted his mothering hand away, weakly sitting up. 

Sihtric’s hand ghosted across her back, frozen at her words, but not so surprised that he wasn’t holding her close.

“Go to Beamfleot. Spy. I will stay at Coccham. I will be safe.” Her voice wavered, each word a challenge, but powerful.

Sihtric was still silent, staring at Lena, then at Finan who simply nodded.

Looking up at Uhtred, Sihtric nodded, “Yes, lord. I will leave tomorrow.”

A shaky breath of gratitude escaped Ghylena who subsequently sagged into her fiancé, determined to sleep as much as possible on the journey home.

It was in her best interests to look as healthy as possible before reuniting with her powerful, protective, big sister.

-> up next: 'blood and oaths'...

[asa-writes]

An Eye for an Eye - 04

“Sinful Confessions”

Osferth x F! OC - 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: period accurate gender stereotypes, fluff, sexual innuendos, adults talking about sex, just general saucyness

Chapter Summary:   Aemma and Osferth make their way up to their camp halfway to Cirrenceastre, getting to know each other better. Much better, in fact. ;)

Aemma nodded and spurred her horse on, letting Osferth overtake her, as they made their way onwards, just as Uhtred had commanded them. "You know the way and you can read the signs, I'm without letters". 

As they left the village, she nervously scratched her head, opening her heavy braid. "I'm really not that creative with horse names. What should I call her? Maybe Hooves?"

"Hooves is a good name, my Lady. I have never thought of giving mine a name," he chuckled and pointed ahead, over the grassland that stretched out on his left and the forest and hills on their right. "What can you tell me about yourself my lady? Do you have any siblings? We can play twenty questions along the way if you'd like to get to know me as well. We shall travel most of the day."

She nodded gently as she levelled her horse to ride on the same height as his. Hooves farted loudly and neighed. "Sweet Jesus, maybe I should've called her wind." She paused for a second and rearranged herself in her saddle. "Sure, but I'm really not that Interesting. I'm Aemma, daughter of the gruff Paega, Coccham's alehouse master. I have no siblings. What about you, if I may ask?", she asked nonchalantly.

Osferth chuckled and smiled at her. "Hooves is a great name, please do not change it. But let me tell you, I think I could hold conversations with you for days without getting bored," he said with a grin. He paused before saying, "My name is Osferth, the illegitimate son of King Alfred. My mother was Lady Ecgwyn – she was such a kind woman. My father had two legitimate children with his wife – Edward the Aetheling and Aethelflaed of Mercia."

Aemma gasped, realizing she had ventured too far. "Oh, I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to..." she stammered apologetically as she shrank back. He registered her expression in a split second, his face contorting with confusion and concern. "What is it?" His eyes were wide with fear that he may have said something to offend her. "Please, tell me my lady, what is the issue?"

"I didn't offend you did I? I just... I mean, it makes sense... why else would the king send you to go to a monastery when you're a small boy...", she sighed and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, I really didn't know."

Osferth shook his head and smiled. "No, you couldn't offend me my lady, it takes very little to actually offend me." He sighed, relieved at her words. "There's very few who know my story, I've never really thought it important." He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, looking at Aemma. 

As they rode together, Osferth took in every detail of Aemma's countenance; her lightly tanned skin that seemed almost untouched from years of hardship and a strength he observed in the way she sat atop the horse. He was mesmerized by her composure even amongst adversity – her lips would curl when she chuckled, a hint of melancholy barely perceptible in the crease between her brows. Her demeanour spoke of hope and fortitude; a courage that inspired him and had him watching with admiration as her thick hair swayed against her back with each powerful canter of their horses. They journeyed on, until the long grass began to whisper secrets only the wind and hooves could understand.

"Would you like me to speak as we ride or when we are at camp and have more time? I would not wish to trouble you, my lady," he said shyly, seeing as Aemma had noticed him staring at her. 

She blushed and bit her cracked lip. "Uhm, I don't mind talking to you at all right now. Riding in silence would be more fitting to a nun, would it not? So back to the twenty questions, I guess. Uh .. what is your favorite time of the year?" she asked, scanning her eyes over Osferth's body. He looked better than any man she had seen in Coccham, she thought to herself. 

Osferth grinned and turned onto another road once they had reached a crossroads. "Alright, let us continue, then. My favourite time of the year is early summer, the warmth on my skin, the fresh flowers, the brightness of the sky and the sound of the birds. I love watching plants grow, it fascinates me, especially as I love the forest. What is your favourite time of the year my lady?”

Aemma puckered her lips into a coy smile, a look of discomfort flashing over her face as she steadied herself in the saddle; her back injury had begun to flare up again. "Winter is my favorite season," she said through fluttering eyelashes. "Everything just looks so spooky and deliciously mysterious under the darkness. Plus, it's much easier to sneak away unnoticed in the cloak of night." With a slight giggle and playful blush, she pointedly ignored his gaze.

"Sneaking away, you say?" Osferth asked with a mischievous glint in his eye, giving her a teasing smile. "My lady, I do hope you weren't getting yourself into any trouble that could potentially taint your virtuous reputation!" 

"Oh, no need to worry about that," Aemma cooed, leaning closer, grinning widely. "I was always quite the good girl...at least until someone came along to corrupt me." She gave him a sly wink before turning her attention back to the road ahead. 

Osferth raised an eyebrow. "Care to tell me about your misadventures? I'm sure it's far more interesting to hear of your past rather than talk about who has the better horse name."

Aemma winked at Osferth, her eyes sparkling with mischievousness, as she slid off of Hooves. "I just need to stretch first," She said, allowing herself to fall onto her knees and giving a deep bend to her back before quickly springing up again. "Ahh, that's better."

"Sure," she continued, her voice taking on a honeyed tone. "How much detail do you want? It's quite juicy, you know." She gave him a flirtatious smile and cocked an eyebrow.

Osferth blushed lightly, his smirk widening as he met her gaze. "I'm a big boy my lady, and I'm confident I can handle it. Lay it on me..."

She spurred Hooves’ on and grinned. “So… there’s a saddler in Coccham, Leofwine, right? He’s about one or two years younger than you. He must have known I needed someone to show me the ropes when it came to certain activities,” she said with a sly smirk. “He used to ride me like a horse! But he seemed to like the oral one the best, so that quickly became our favourite pastime.” Aemma blushed furiously, not quite sure how Osferth would take this admission.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You did WHAT!?”

Aemma tried her best to maintain her composure despite the heat of crimson embarrassment flooding through her veins. She shrugged coyly and offered him a mischievous smile. “I’m no saint! I thought you knew that by now. Why else would I be running around town in the dead of winter?”

“How did you like your lessons?” he asked suggestively, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk, still facing the path in the path in front of them. “You’ve certainly given me quite the story to think about with your escapades my lady, bravo.” 

Aemma blushed even deeper, her eyes widening at the implication of his words. “I had to learn it somehow, Osferth. Don’t tell me you’ve never indulged in such temptations? Or… indulged yourself?” 

Osferth pretended to be scandalized and feigned shock. “You’re asking me such things my lady? Never would I!” He shook his head in mock disapproval before a devious glint appeared in his eye and he let out a shy laugh. “If I were any other man I’d call for a duel! Now that you have exposed such private matter, I can never look at you the same way again!”

She bit her lip and grinned, watching the trees and hills pass by while one of the horses neighed. After a few minutes of silence where the both of them were grinning and blushing, Aemma suddenly twisted around in her seat, lowering her voice into a shy whisper. "Ugh, usually I'm not so... Sinful but something about you and this whole new situation just flipped a switch in me, I'm sorry."

Osferth smiled at her words, finding her mischievious side a welcome aspect of his new companion. He chuckled as he turned to face her, "There is no need to appologise my lady, I find your 'sinful' side quite appealing."

Aemma looked up at him and gave him a quizzical look. "May I ask about your sinful side? What... What activated it and ... What.. Uhm, do you think about?", she asked, slightly embarrased yet cheerful.

Osferth was taken aback by the sudden question, his cheeks turning a bright red as he stuttered for an answer. “Well, uh... I sometimes think of a girl I knew…” He paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts before continuing. He hoped that she didn't notice that he was lying; he had thought of her, in the last few days, at least. “I mean, I’ve had some experiences and all but I’m still technically a virgin. When I’m in private though… well… you know what they say about idle hands. So… yeah there is that," he finished off with a shy smirk before looking away in embarrassment. "I'm a man and have a man's... Desires. I hope you know what that means my lady, do you need me to elaborate further or shall I leave it at that?"

Aemma blushed heavily, her cheeks nearly matching the red of Osferth's. She knew exactly what he meant and was surprised at how forward and frank he had been with her. She couldn't help but find it cute and a little hot, even though she was awkward about the whole thing. “No, no I think I got the gist of it," she replied softly, still blushing as she looked away from him. After a few moments of silence she timidly added, “But… if you wanted to… I mean… if you have any interest in me… would that be okay?”

The corners of Osferth's mouth started to twitch as he tried to hide a smile, yet the amusement and embarrassement he felt at her words were clearly showing on his face. "I suppose you already know my answer to that question but yes I am very interested in you. I must admit my lady you bring out the devil in me."

He paused, straightening himself in the saddle. “My lady, tell me: have you always craved for freedom? Or does your wild side come from a desire to escape your mundane life?”

Aemma exhaled and patted Hooves' neck. "I guess you could say that working at the alehouse since I was ten gave me an appreciation of freedom. Serving my parents only to get food and shelter – being made to feel like I owed them something – that's when I realized I wanted more. But becoming a housewife with a bunch of noisy kids in Coccham... that would have been worse than anything."

Osferth's eyes widened at her words. "I'm sorry my lady, I can only imagine what you had to go through growing up, you're a stronger woman for it." He paused and smiled, looking up into the stormy skies. "So what's your plan for your future? What do you wish to do with your freedom?" he asked quietly, his eyes gleaming curiously. A distant clap of thunder rolled over the hills. The sun disappeared behind the thick blanket of clouds ahead of them, turning the previously lush green nature into a dreary scenery.

"I will probably fight for Lord Uhtred with you until... Until... I don't know yet. As long as he needs me," Aemma said quietly. She had a small, almost secret smile on her lips, barely visible from the corner of her mouth. Her hair framed her face in a gentle wave, the wind gently lifting it and blowing it behind her back.

Osferth couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the woman in front of him. She had a fuller figure than the women of Uhtred's tastes - her dress hugged her body tightly, highlighting each curve and angle. Her dark hair hung down to her waist, accentuating her delicate features and making her look even more alluring than before. He was drawn to Aemma's strength yet there was also something vulnerable about her which made him want to protect and care for her. 

He sighed quietly in admiration as they continued riding on. The wind blew stronger as they neared their destination, bringing with it a coolness that reminded Osferth of the battles that awaited them in the coming days. Yet despite the chill in the air, his heart felt warm as he watched Aemma ride alongside him; he was proud that she had chosen to fight for Uhtred and himself, understanding what kind of risks she faced. He truly admired this courageous woman who had thrown away everything she had known to pursue freedom instead - he could only hope that with his help, she would find it one day.

"What are your hopes and dreams when you fight and win against the danes? What would you wish for? Would you like to live somewhere in particular, have a family?," he asked shyly, hoping not to overstep Aemma's boundaries.

She blushed and looked to the side, hiding behind her dancing hair. "I'll Probably... Start a family with... Someone that... loves me," she muttered and avoided Osferth's gaze. 

"That's a wonderful thing to wish for, my lady, a family that will love you. Is there anyone in particular that you have your eye on? Any gentleman in our company that you have your hopes set on?," he said in a gentle, yet teasing way, slowing his horse down as they neared a small valley, the thunderstorm still raging in the distance. The valley was nestled at the entrance of a forest, nestles between steep cliffs and dark trees. In the distance a towering storm cloud could be seen, its lightning flashing across the sky. The thunder echoed through the air as cold winds blew, bringing the smell of rain with it.

Aemma playfully rolled her eyes and rode towards a group of trees which grew closely together. She jumped off of Hooves and tied her and Osferth's steed to the trees, before helping him descend as well. "Don't tease me Osferth! You already know my answer. I get a serious expression and sigh once more. I just hope that you.. I mean, my gentleman, will be patient with children. I don't want to leave you as fast as I joined you."

A wide smile spread across his face, and a soft laugh escaped him. "I've heard that one could... be close, without having to fear pregnancy. We shall see when the time comes."

Aemma's eyes widened at Osferth's suggestion, her face turning bright red once again. She fumbled with her hands, unsure of how to respond, but the thought of being intimate with Osferth was also enticing. "I...I don't know about that, Osferth. I mean I've heard of it too but I don't know if it's safe," she said softly, looking down at the ground beneath her feet.

Osferth stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, my lady. I want you to feel safe and loved with me," he said in a gentle voice, his eyes searching hers.

Aemma looked up at him, feeling her heart swell with affection. "I do feel safe with you, Osferth. You make me feel like I'm not alone in this world," she said, placing her hand over his on her shoulder.

Osferth smiled at her, feeling a warmth spread through him. "I will always be here for you, Aemma. I promise," he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

They stood there in silence for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the wind rustling through the trees and the distant thunderstorm.

[osferth]

nainowale ne - part one

summary: Estrid does not know what to expect when she is taken to live with the Saxons. An unlikely friendship with their beloved princess turns into something more, a feeling she does not completely understand, but whether she will be able to come to terms with it is another matter entirely.

word count: 4.4k

tagging: @marv-llous @lauwrite1225 @maggiescarborough @volvaaslaug @wildwren @aadmelioraa​ @emilyhufflepufftlk @for-bebbanburg @poguesmaybank @cheerylogan @northumbria @geekandbooknerd @morosemagick

part two

Estrid's earliest memories were of her first journey to the south of the land, though not with the Saxons she would later serve. Her father, Gunnar Gunnarson, had been amongst the Danish raiding party that had ravaged several villages on its way south - and closer to Wessex. Estrid was instructed to learn the ways of a true Danish warrior since Gunnar had no sons to carry on his reputation. As a result, she joined her father through village after village, even though she was only ten years old. Despite her efforts, she was not as brave as she wished. By the time they rode away, her tears had usually dissolved the kohl on her face, and her father would scold her for that as he reapplied it. There is no use in crying for the dead, he would remind her.

Afterwards, the group spent a day resting in the woods. Estrid was twirling her seax in her hands again. She knew her father was less than pleased that it was still as clean as the day she had received it, but she could not bring herself to use it.

The decision was made to meet with a larger army of Danes at the next village, where they would then join forces and invade Wessex, finally sacking it. Estrid, on the other hand, couldn't lie to herself and pretend she wasn't frightened. In spite of her father's assurances that she would not be involved in the actual fight, her fear was redirected towards him.

“What if you die in battle, Father?” she asked that night, seated cross-legged beside him. 

Gunnar chuckled as he warmed his hands over the fire by the stream. “I will not, little one,” he told her earnestly. “I promise you.”

“But if you do,” Estrid pressed, refusing to let her father convince her so easily, “what then? What if we lose?”

“It is almost like you want me gone,” her father joked.

“Father.”

“Oh, alright,” Gunnar capitulated, turning to face his daughter. The amusement on his face had fallen away. “If all else fails, you must flee, Estrid. Until you find your people, run as fast as you can, as far as you can go. You must not let the Saxons catch you, but if they do… you’ll remember what I taught you, won’t you?”

“I will, Father,” Estrid said, more resolutely this time. She looked down at the seax in her belt and swallowed, hoping she would find enough courage if it came to it.

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

The next morning, they rode towards the next village beyond the woods. But instead of simple villagers, they were met with soldiers - Saxon soldiers, and many of them at that. Estrid, like many of the other Danes around her, immediately recognised that something was wrong. Her father, whose horse was standing near the centre of the group, cursed under his breath.

“Get down,” he murmured to her at once.

“But I-”

“There is no time to argue, just get down!” he said insistently.

Estrid reluctantly did as she was told and ran to the back of the group. Her grip tightened around her seax as the Danes rode forward to meet the Saxons, her feet still planted firmly where she was standing. She knew they would not be able to leave without a fight, but from her position on her father’s horse, she could not have even begun to count the number of Saxons before them. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she began to wonder if this was a losing battle.

Only a shout from the Saxons was what prompted her to move, and she found a brief shelter behind a tree some metres away from the village gates. It was a safe enough distance for her to witness the clash, but nothing could have prepared Estrid for what she was about to see.

She did not care to look for anyone but her father, but she was straining to see him in the midst of the fray. Eventually, she spotted him; he was in vicious combat with a Saxon, his back turned away from her. Just as he managed to run the soldier through, Estrid noticed another emerge from behind him. She cried out to him, but the sound of swords clashing and the shouts of the men were too loud. The realisation came too late for Gunnar; as he whipped around, the man drew his sword back and plunged it directly into her father’s chest.

The sounds of battle fell away. Estrid’s eyes were impossibly wide as she stood there in stunned silence, watching Gunnar’s body crumple and fall to the ground.

Then she started screaming. She screamed and screamed until she could scream no more.

Gunnar Gunnarson was dead, and Estrid was alone. She did not want to wait any longer, for she knew it was finished. It felt as though she had lost everything.

And so the little girl forced herself to run. It took everything within her to turn away, but turn away she did, for the words of her father were all she had left of him. You must flee, Estrid. There is no use in crying for the dead.

Into the woods she escaped, while the fighting raged on behind her. Several times she became desperate to stop, but she only allowed herself a few seconds to breathe before she continued to run. She could not let the Saxons find her.

A long while had passed before Estrid finally decided to stop and rest by a stream. Upon finding it, she realised that she had run back the way she had come - it was the same stream beside which she had sat with her father just the night before. She slumped down in defeat, tears streaming down her face. Her body was aching badly and she was exhausted. She wiped her face roughly and cupped her trembling hands into the stream, lifting the water to her lips.

Estrid knew that she should have kept moving after that, for she was not safe yet, but she was too tired to care any longer. Nightfall came, yet she continued to curl up on the grass, her cloak wrapped tightly around her. She had cried for several hours, but now she was numb. Estrid was only able to take comfort in the fact that her father was feasting in Valhalla with the rest of her ancestors. Holding her seax close to her heart, she finally closed her eyes and sent a prayer to the gods.

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

The thundering of hooves jolted her awake only a short while later. Estrid quickly got to her feet and started to run without a moment’s hesitation. The sound was coming closer, so she forced herself to keep going. Somehow, she knew that whoever it was, was unwelcome to her. 

She could only outrun a horse for so long. It overtook her from behind and came to a stop just in front of her. Estrid recognised the man seated astride it as Saxon immediately, and her mouth twisted into a snarl. He may not have been the one to kill her father, but he was still a Saxon. And she was beginning to loathe Saxons.

“Little girl, what are you doing here by yourself?” he asked her. “Where are your mother and father?”

Estrid glared at him. With a shaking, rage-filled voice, she spat, “My father has gone to Valhalla.”

“Valhalla, eh?” the Saxon repeated tauntingly. “Is that what you believe?”

“It is true!” Estrid shouted. “It is true and you will all go to Hel!”

She was surrounded, but she refused to remain civil. The men around her simply laughed, infuriating the girl even more.

“Let’s take her to the king,” one suggested, and the others all began to voice their assent.

Estrid frantically shook her head. She looked down at her seax, but found she was unable to turn it on herself. Her fear was too great for her to end her life here. “No, no, I don’t want to, I won’t go-”

The ride to Winchester felt like a lifetime for Estrid. She ignored all the jibes and taunts and remained silent. Touching the seax, hastily shoved up her sleeve, helped her to stay calm - or as calm as she could be. Tears continued to stain her face, but she did not make a sound.

But she was powerless against them and had nowhere to run. The man dismounted and, ignoring her kicking and screaming, grabbed her and sat her on his horse, before climbing onto it himself. He clicked his tongue and they all began to set off in the opposite direction.

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

They finally dismounted outside what Estrid assumed was the palace. The man immediately grabbed hold of her forearm, as though she would run away.

“Get off me!” Estrid snapped, but the man only held on tighter. “You’re hurting me!”

He ignored her and all but dragged her through the gates, down the hallways, past the guards who looked down their nose at her. She glared back at them for as long as she dared until she was met, finally, by the doors to the court itself.

It did not look the way she had envisioned the court of a king to be; it was a lot plainer and far smaller. Estrid looked around, and remembered then that these were Christians, known for their piety and humbleness - or at least, their attempts at appearing that way.

She turned to the front, where she expected the king to be. And indeed there he was, standing a few feet in front of his throne, but the sight of him surprised her. He, too, looked far more unassuming than she had anticipated the great King Alfred to be. His crown was as simple and plain as his court, his throne, even his clothes. Perhaps the piety of other Christians was all a big show, but with this man, it felt real.

“What is your name, young lady?” Alfred asked her, his voice gentler than the men that had brought her to this place. He stepped forward, but stopped when Estrid moved back a little.

Estrid had considered remaining silent, but he was a king and angering him would not do her any good, even if his demeanour was calm and collected. “I am Estrid Gunnarsdottir,” she said. The pride in her voice was evident to all present.

“I see. And your father was one of the Danes at Wincelcumb, was he not?” Alfred did not seem malicious, but simply curious.

“I don’t know if that was what the village was called,” Estrid said, “but yes. He was.” Her voice trembled slightly on the last two words, something Alfred picked up on immediately.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said quietly. Estrid frowned - she had not expected to be treated with any compassion, but she appreciated it, even if she was still suspicious of him.

“Thank you.”

If Alfred noticed that she refused to call him ‘lord’, he did not speak of it.

“Do you have any family left to return to?” he continued. Estrid paused, and then shook her head. She had only her father, and now he was gone, she was utterly alone. Dwelling on it would make her cry again, and she did not want that in a court full of Saxons, so she tried not to think about it too much.

“Will you kill me?” Estrid asked suddenly. Alfred looked at her, his brows furrowed.

“Certainly not,” he told her. “You must be close to the same age as my own daughter. Instead…" He pondered for a moment, before an idea appeared to strike him. "I shall send you to live with her maid. You will have a home and you will learn a trade, too.”

Estrid did not like the sound of being a mere maid, but she hoped it would only be temporary. They could not keep her here forever, and she certainly preferred it to being dead. She could not shake her guilt, however. Estrid had told her father she would turn the seax on herself if she was found by the Saxons, and yet here she was, standing in a foreign court full of her father’s enemies. She almost wished Alfred had treated her with the contempt he clearly treated her fellow Danes with, but she was only a child and he had been very lenient. Her throat tightened and she fought the urge to cry again as Alfred had the maid brought in.

The woman was in her mid-forties, if Estrid had to guess, and had a rather stern countenance. She learned her name was Gytha. Clearly, Gytha was not fond of the idea of housing the child of a Dane but, with orders from the king, she did not appear to have any say in the matter. Instead, she simply thanked the king and ushered Estrid out of the courtroom.

“I expect you will be baptised soon enough,” Gytha said briskly. “It would not do to have a Danish girl serve the princess of Wessex.”

“Does the princess of Wessex have a name?” Estrid asked innocently enough. Gytha glared at her and suddenly pinched her arm. Estrid winced. “What?”

“You have a lot of training ahead of you,” Gytha snapped, “if you are to continue speaking in such an impertinent manner. The princess is called Aethelflaed, and if you are caught speaking to her the same way you have spoken to me, you will be punished.”

Estrid nodded, rolling her eyes when Gytha looked away. She had no idea what impertinent meant, but she assumed that whatever she had said had displeased Gytha. It was not as though she had meant any rudeness by it, she thought irritably.

Gytha led her to the quarters where Estrid would be staying alongside her, and announced her intention to have the girl cleaned up before the night was over.

“You cannot be wandering around the palace halls dressed like a Dane, the queen would have a fit. One is already enough as it is,” Gytha added, muttering under her breath. Estrid smiled to herself, though she wondered what the woman meant. Was there another like her?

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

Gytha had taken Estrid to the river nearby to bathe, because in her words, she was “absolutely filthy”. Estrid thought it was an exaggeration, but at this point she knew better than to argue with her. Turning Estrid into a Saxon girl meant teaching her all the customs of the palace, including how to address different people, how to behave “in general”, as Gytha had said and, most importantly, removing any physical signs of being a Dane. Her unruly brown hair was now pinned back in two braids, her clothes replaced with a blue linen dress and a dirty white apron to go over the top. 

 Estrid privately thought she looked incredibly stupid, but Gytha seemed positively delighted at the results.

“You look just like a little Saxon girl now!” she said, her voice devoid of any contempt. Estrid was only happy that her appearance had served to lessen the woman’s distrust of her, but she did not like the way she looked one bit.

Danish blood was what ran through her veins. It was something that she vowed to never let herself forget, even if she was now clothed as a Saxon. She could almost imagine her father laughing at how she had been transformed, and she was unsure whether the thought cheered her up or made her want to cry even more.

Her seax had been discovered and confiscated by Gytha, despite much protestation from Estrid. But Gytha stood her ground - Estrid was a Dane still, and had a long way to go before she could be fully trusted. She would get it back when she had proven she was trustworthy.

Estrid was furious. She had no intention of playing by their rules, not when the only artefact she had had of her father’s had been taken away from her.

It was nearly midnight when Estrid was sent back to her quarters, which she now shared with Gytha. Fortunately for her, Gytha was a deep sleeper, and also evidently not very good at concealment. Estrid discovered her seax under Gytha’s pillow after a quick search, and quietly drew it out. The girl only wanted it for comfort, and so she crept back into bed. Pressing it to her chest the way she had only a few hours ago, she began to think of her father again, and silently cried herself to sleep.

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

Morning arrived, and Estrid was awoken by a shadow over her bed. She started and sat up, finding Gytha standing over her bed with a displeased look on her face… and her seax in her hand. Estrid sighed and rubbed her eyes, a little sore from the previous night’s tears.

“I should have known not to trust you,” Gytha snapped. “Did I not expressly tell you that you could have it back once you-”

“But I didn’t use it!” Estrid protested, cutting across her. “I did nothing with it! I just wanted it because… because it was my father’s.”

She trailed away, looking down at her hands, while Gytha paused. When she did not speak for some time, Estrid frowned and looked up. It did not seem like Gytha to be silent for long.

Gytha was looking at her in what appeared to be sympathy, which took Estrid aback more than anything.

“I should have realised, child,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. But you must understand,” she continued quickly, though without any of her previous anger, “it is still a weapon, and if you are to be trusted around Princess Aethelflaed you cannot have it unsheathed. I shall try and find you a scrap of leather to sheathe it in, and perhaps you can carry it around that way. If you promise not to take it out,” she added sternly.

Estrid smiled, despite Gytha’s tone. “Yes, of course!” she said, her spirits lifting slightly. “Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me, child,” Gytha replied, and though her voice might have returned to its usual flatness, Estrid noticed the ghost of a smile pass over her face.

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

Several weeks had passed since that day. Gytha was taking her role very seriously, meaning Estrid was trained in the strictest manner - although she always strived to keep Estrid’s fragile state in mind, something the girl was grateful for. She was taking her father’s death very hard. But if she was to serve a princess, she would have to be as well-behaved as possible. It took a long while before Gytha felt Estrid’s behaviour and mannerisms were up to scratch.

Estrid was washing her face and getting dressed as quickly as she could, something that prompted a scolding from Gytha. But the girl could not help herself. She had been promised she would be meeting the princess that day, “under strict supervision, of course, and only after breakfast, you impatient little imp!”

No insult could dissuade her. She had never met a princess before. Of course, she had met a king, but a princess felt much more interesting, especially one who was her own age - there could be a friend found with her. The only thing that held her back slightly was the fact that these were Saxons. Her guilt at not feeling hatred towards every last one of them resurfaced every time she had a positive interaction with them - mostly Gytha, though she was sure the same would go for the princess.

Gytha continued to scold her for the way she “shovelled that food down”, and for the way that she hurtled towards the door. Estrid was forced to wait there until Gytha finished her own food as maddeningly slowly as possible, before she was finally allowed outside.

“Where is Aethelflaed?” Estrid asked, looking around. Gytha huffed.

“She is a princess, or have you forgotten already? She’ll be in the garden, I expect. The weather is lovely this morning.”

“Well, where is it?” Estrid asked impatiently, causing Gytha to roll her eyes.

“You’re standing in it right now. She is over there.”

Estrid followed Gytha’s gaze to where Princess Aethelflaed was. She was with another woman, and their backs were turned to them - evidently she hadn’t noticed the presence of the maid and the Dane girl.

Just as she was about to walk over and meet her, Gytha gripped her arm. “Please remember your manners when you speak to her, for heaven’s sake,” she whispered.

“Yes, yes, I promise,” Estrid said quickly, shaking her arm free and walking over to the princess. “Uh - excuse me… Lady,” she added, remembering the title.

Aethelflaed closed her book and turned around, greeting Estrid with a smile. Her hair was a light brown, though it looked slightly blonde in the light, and her dress was simpler than Estrid would have predicted. But Alfred was her father, she remembered, and they all dressed simply. Despite that, it was not quite as simple as Estrid’s own dress - befitting of a Christian princess, she supposed.

“Hello,” the girl said, with all the politeness of a stranger making an acquaintance. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, what’s your name?”

Estrid smiled back, deciding Aethelflaed was agreeable, if rather regal for a ten-year-old. “I’m Estrid,” she said shyly. Now she was in the presence of a princess, her bravery dwindled a little. “I think your father wants me to be your maid.”

“Oh!” Aethelflaed said. “But I already have two.”

She gestured to Gytha and the other maid, who were engaged in conversation now.

“Yes, but they’re old, aren’t they?” Estrid said matter-of-factly. Aethelflaed’s sudden laughter caught her by surprise, and caught the attention of the two older women.

Estrid felt a little guilty upon seeing Gytha smiling over at her.

“I suppose you’re right,” Aethelflaed said after her laughter had died down. “I don’t really have any friends. No one my age, anyway.”

“Why?” Estrid asked. “I thought you’d have a lot. Wouldn’t everyone like to be friends with a princess?”

Aethelflaed blushed. “I wouldn’t know.” She looked thoughtfully at Estrid for a moment. “Would you like to be my friend?”

“Yes, if that’s alright,” Estrid replied, beaming. “But I might forget to call you ‘lady’ sometimes, I hope you won’t get upset.”

“Estrid, you’ve only called me ‘lady’ once today,” Aethelflaed pointed out. Now it was Estrid’s turn to flush.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Um - Lady.”

Aethelflaed burst out laughing again. Estrid was totally confused at this point.

“I really don’t mind what you call me,” the princess admitted. “You’ll have to be careful around my mother and father, though. I don’t think they’d be very happy if you forgot.”

“I’ve heard about the queen,” Estrid said, remembering what Gytha had said. “Apparently she doesn’t like Danes very much. Gytha said something about ‘one being enough’...?”

Aethelflaed grinned suddenly. “She probably means Uhtred,” she explained. Estrid frowned - the name was unfamiliar to her. But before she could find out any more, Aethelflaed fixed her with a searching look.

“Estrid doesn’t sound like a Saxon name,” she said thoughtfully. “Are you a Dane, too?”

Estrid was bright pink by this point, but she couldn’t lie to a princess. “Yes,” she admitted. “But didn’t your father tell you about me? It’s been a while since I got here.”

“No,” Aethelflaed said. “Maybe he was keeping you secret as a surprise.” The two of them giggled before Estrid remembered what she had wanted to ask.

“So who is Uhtred? If he’s the only other Dane here, I’d like to meet him too.”

“Why, so you can get together and plot to overthrow my father?” Aethelflaed joked, earning her a gentle shove from Estrid. The girl realised what she had done precisely a second afterwards, and began apologising profusely. Thankfully Gytha hadn’t noticed, and Aethelflaed simply waved off her apologies.

“Don’t worry!” she said sincerely. “If we’re friends, I’d rather you treated me like you’d treat any of your other friends. And to answer your question,” she added, “he’s a warrior. He fights in battle with my father… and he fights with my father too. All the time. Sometimes I wonder why Uhtred continues to come here if all they ever do is argue.”

“Maybe your father pays him a lot,” Estrid suggested. “Why else would a Dane live with Saxons?”

“Are you getting paid a lot by my father too, then?” Aethelflaed asked innocently, catching Estrid off-guard. 

“I wish,” she said, sighing dramatically. “But I have to be your friend for free. Maybe when we’re older you can pay me back.”

“How?”

Estrid thought for a moment. “I could have my own palace with a big garden and lots of horses,” she suggested.

“Don’t you only need one horse? You can’t ride more than one at the same time.”

“Yes, but horses need friends,” Estrid reminded her. “They get lonely too.”

“I know what that’s like,” Aethelflaed sighed. “I only really have maids for company. Sometimes my parents too, but if we’re all together it’s usually to pray. I play chess with my father whenever he is free, which isn’t for long. It’s because my brother is still too young to play with. He cries a lot and my mother is always fussing over him,” she added, rolling her eyes. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No,” Estrid said. “I wish I did, but I suppose I had the other children that lived nearby to play with. I don’t think I’d like to be a princess, it sounds too strict for me.”

“Still, at least I have you to be friends with,” Aethelflaed pointed out, smiling. “How much of the palace have you seen? I can show you around…”

The rest of the morning was spent doing just that. With Gytha’s permission, the two of them were allowed to traipse around the palace, while Gytha followed them from a safe distance.

Estrid’s rebellious nature was in complete opposition to Aethelflaed’s gentle, kind disposition, but by the time Aethelflaed was called away for prayers, the two of them had become solid friends. Estrid had all but forgotten her guilt over befriending Saxons by then, and it did not come back to shadow her since.

[assortedseaglass]

We Have This Hope - II

Osferth x Lady-in-Waiting

[Masterlist]

Summary: Aefry heard much talk about young monk who joined Uhtred's ranks. When he rescues her lady, the King's own daughter, and appears at her door, Aefry finds her interest far from quelled. Instead, it is piqued tenfold.

Story Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Mentions of Violence, Strong Language, Religious Guilt, Smut

In the days that followed Aethelflaed’s return, the city was awash with chatter about the rag-tag troupe of warrior men. Many had only heard tales of the men, of their leader’s clashes with the King, and of the brash Gael and stoic Dane that accompanied him wherever he went. Of the young monk that appeared at Aethelflaed’s door, however, Aefry knew nothing more than when they had first met. 

Indeed, such was the relief that Aethelflaed had returned, talk of Uhtred’s newest recruit, and his status as the King’s bastard, had dwindled from a simmer to little more than a stir. It wasn’t until a trip to the market, a day or so later, that Aefry heard mention of his name.

Since her return, Aethelflaed had spent much time in the company of her mother, and so Aefry and the other ladies were needed only when the King, Lady Aelswith or Aethelred were otherwise engaged. Saeflaed used her free days to visit her family. Adburh, whose own family lived in the very south of Wessex, spent her time at the market searching for threads and fabric fresh from the monastery. Aefry, with no family of her own, more often than not spent it in the meadows surrounding the castle, or else in a cabinet that Aethelflaed assured her no-one would use. This day however, Adburh insisted she didn’t want to be alone and so Aefry followed her into the stalls of the market.

It was full of the usual traders. Women selling dried herbs and woollen shawls, men flogging simple woodwork and crops. Adburh was her usual serious self, though Aefry was content to spend the day with her.

Many misunderstood her friend. Though she was only a few years older than Aefry and Saeflaed, Adburh had seen much in those years. Her hometown succumbed to fire, not by raiders but by mistake; the drunken keeper of the inn neglected the hearth and his fire spread from home to home, killing himself and many other, including Adburh’s father who slept in a drunken stupor. Homeless, she and her mother were taken into the care of a local abbey. Appalled by men’s idleness, the innkeeper’s and her husband’s, Adburh’s mother took the veil and committed herself to a life of religious servitude. Adburh, though her attitude suited it, was not inclined to become a nun like her mother. No, she spent her time sneaking from the abbey grounds to speak to those of the town, learning all she could from everyone she could. Sensing her daughter’s desire for education and worried about her continuing escapades, Adburh’s mother spoke to the abbess. Soon, they were Wintancaester bound, answering Lady Aelswith’s request for young women to attend her daughter.

Aefry wouldn’t forget the dark stare the red-headed Adburh gave her when they each entered the hall in turn before the King and his lady wife. Nor would she forget the way Adburh gripped her hand tightly when their guardians left them in the charge of the royal household.

Whereas Aefry had spent her time in the convent’s care reading or exploring the land surrounding Wintancaester, in the south, Adburh had learnt to weave. She arrived at court with few possessions, her makeshift loom and best needlework her pride and joy. Aefry watched her friend inspect the fabric from the monastery, a great fondness keeping her warm on the crisp morning.

“You have something in mind, Adburh?” Aefry watched her run her hands along some sheep’s wool.

“A cowl, perhaps. Or some hose.”

Aefry made a gentle noise of understanding and raised her eyebrows. “A cowl? With this wool?” She picked up the dark grey material. “Has the one you made last year perished? Or is it in fact for a dashing Dane-”

Adburh whipped around and covered Aefry’s mouth. “You saw what he wears. Winter approaches and he wears leathers with no sleeves and no scarf, cloak of fur to speak of.”

Aefry took Adburh’s hand from her mouth and held it. “I shan’t tell.”

“And not Saeflaed,”

“Certainly not Saeflaed,”  

Though Aefry was the youngest of Aethelflaed’s ladies, you would be mistaken in thinking it was Saeflaed. A golden-haired child of spring, buxom and bonny, she was admired wherever she went. That she too admired the men adoring her was not a point spoken amongst the friends and their lady, but was the source of great enjoyment and furtive glances between each.

It was not only Saeflaed’s womanly figure that delighted all, but her bright manner. Any room was illuminated by her smile, her countenance was warm, and she spoke freely and gaily to all. Where Adburh was serious, Saeflaed was merry. Adburh was studious, Saeflaed was flighty. Aefry wondered for a moment where that left her. A middling mixture of neither here nor there. Plain, she supposed.

Adburh suddenly gripped her arm. “Not a word, Aefry!”

“I told you I wouldn’t, Adbu-”

A golden mass of hair appeared between the two of them. “What have you there, Adburh?”

Adburh froze, for behind Saeflaed were Uhtred’s two right-hand men. The Gael and the Dane. Aefry raised herself on tiptoe, looking around the pair to see if the youngest of their party had joined them. Seeing that the monk was absent, she stilled, shame flushing her cheeks.

Adburh hastily stashed the wool in her basket and held it behind her back. Thankful of a distraction, Aefry took a step closer to her and took the basket from her hands.

“Wool,” she stated simply. “My winter shawl is tattered beyond fixing, and our mistress’s mother would have many an unkind word if she saw its state. Adburh kindly offered to make me a new one. Her skills are far greater than mine,” she added with a smile to the two men.

“You could make something for our boy,” the Gael said to Adburh, slapping the Dane on the back. He said nothing, yet the corners of his mouth twitching a little as he looked at the women. “Lord knows this will not help come Winterfylleth.” Sihtric shoved him.

“Y-y-yes.” Adburh nodded, her eyes wide as the Dane stared down at her.

“Aefry, Adburh,” Saeflaed stepped forward. “This is Finan and Sihtric.” Adburh curtsied a little awkwardly and Aefry held out her hand. Both men took it, Finan the Gael kissing it, Sihtric covering it with his own.

“Your reputations precede you, my lords.” Aefry smile gently. As Finan laughed, Aefry shuffled closer to Saeflaed. “And how did you come by these men?”

Saeflaed batted her beautiful eyelashes at Aefry. “I may have passed the tavern on my way home from father’s.”

“What a blessing,” Aefry whispered and Saeflaed giggled. Adburh’s eyes still lingered on Sihtric, though it seemed the Dane was either used to this or had not noticed. The three women turned back to the two men and Aefry found her voice again.

“Where is your companion? The monk?”

At that, Sihtric’s bicoloured eyes fell upon her. So too, did Adburh and Saeflaed’s. She swallowed, unnerved by the slightest degree. “You know Osferth?” The Dane said.

“No,” Aefry’s voice fell quiet, thinking fast so as not to expose the monk’s, nor Aethelflaed’s, secret. So as not to expose the King’s shame. “As I said, your reputations precede you.”

“The monk has been with us for all of five minutes and he already has a reputation to match ours,” Finan muttered.

“It was our Lady, actually, who told me,” Aefry was overwhelmed with the urge to defend the monk. To tell everyone what he had done. “That he was the one who killed Sigefrid.”

Adburh and Saeflaed gasped. “’Tis true,” Finan said. “Flung himself on the bastard’s back, forgive me, and drove his sword through his spine.”

Adburh gasped once again. Saeflaed took a step closer to Finan and held onto his arm, feigning faintness. Aefry, however, stared between them.

“How awful,” she whispered. “And-and-and where is he?”

“The chapel,” Sihtric said. “Every day since, he prays.”

“Poor lamb,” murmured Saeflaed, still clinging on to Finan’s arm.

“I know Uhtred has us teaching the monk,” Finan whispered to Sihtric, looking at the three worried women before them. “But perhaps he could teach us something?” The pair guffawed.

For the rest of that day, and the next, Aefry looked in every chapel and church she could find.

Hurrying at first light to the keep’s chapel, she ducked her head past the great oak door to discover Father Beocca deep in conversation with the King. She curtsied, excused herself from the chapel and made her way to Lady Aelswith’s private sanctum. Aefry highly doubted she would find the monk there, but her curiosity still carried her feet to the private chapel. She was right.

Lady Aelswith was knelt at the small altar. She turned her head slowly as Aefry entered the dark room but said nothing.

“Forgive me, my Lady,” Aefry whispered, bowing her head. “I-I was looking for my mistress.”

“She is with her husband.” Aelswith said simply, turning back to the altar.

In the public chapel by the keep’s gates, only a few priests sat in prayer. Each old and greying, Aefry moved on. She even walked so far as Icene Abbey to discover Osferth’s whereabouts.

There, she searched every dark corner and pew. By the tabernacle and the apse. She even asked the abbot. At the mention of the monk’s name, the abbot’s face darkened.

“That young man abandoned his faith, and his benefactor’s wishes, to go galivanting with a heathen. You will not find him here.”

“I do not think he has abandoned his fai-”

“You will not find him here.” The abbot said again, and the conversation was at an end. Weary and defeated, Aefry trudged on tired feet back to Wintancaester, the sky turning from vein blue to flame orange. Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric were frequently seen about the city and the keep. If I wait, just a few more days, Aefry thought, perhaps he shall appear.  

Sunnandaeg. In the public chapel a few days later, members of the King’s household made a 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.

Aefry watched Aethelflaed, her arm draped over that of her husband, glide towards her seat. Ever the image of regal duty despite her tired eyes. The congregation bowed to her mistress, some with kindness, some with pity and, as Aefry 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.

A thrill shot up her spine and every hair stood to excited attention.

At first, she thought he was attempting to make himself smaller 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 Aefry forgot her own prayers to watch him a peaceful moment.

Saeflaed, beside her, glanced at Aefry. Usually so devout, she was staring at the back of the chapel, the mass entirely forgotten. She followed her friend’s gaze and saw the strange young monk she had been so interested in the few days previous. He killed Sigefrid? Well, each to their own, and Saeflaed did not begrudge Aefry a crush. Indeed, it thrilled her to have something to tease her over. She glanced around the monk. Finan was nowhere to be seen and, with slight sadness, Saeflaed faced the altar once more.

Something bumped Aefry’s shoulder. Saeflaed, a small smirk on her rosebud lips. Aefry turned back to Father Beocca. She tried to follow 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 Aethelflaed’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 Aefry 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 Saeflaed, followed her mistress from the chapel.

The day was bright yet the air was damp and dewy. Rain would come before nightfall. She bade farewell to her companions and mistress, curtsied before the King and Lady Aelswith, 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.

“Aefry?” Beocca stepped through the crowd of men. “You have not been at chapel as often of late. Are you well?” He took in her knitted eyebrows and agitated manner. The gentlewoman before him huffed a smile.

“Quite well, thank you, Father. I thought I saw someone at mass, an old friend, and am eager to find them. Excuse me,”

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, Aefry 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 Lady Aelswith. 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.” Aefry smiled, then realised he may not recognise her, covered as she was by her Sunnandaeg veil. “We met the a few days past, 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 Aethelflaed, 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 Aefry’s turn to blush, and Just Osferth liked the sight of it beneath her veil. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I, um, I just wanted to say that she told me who you are, my Lady, 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 Aefry 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 Wintanaester?” Aefry said, eyes alive and hopeful.

“As long as Lord Uhtred pleases.”

“Then,” Aefry’s smile was gentle as she spoke. “I hope it pleases him to stay a while.” And without another word, she bowed to the monk and departed.

He watched her go, her veil billowing against her tunic in the passing breeze, and people parting 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.”

Notes: I think there will be two more parts before this goes beyond the end of Steadfast & Forever. Thanks for the love recently and I’m sorry if I haven’t replied to anyone – it’s been a bit bonkers.

Cabinet = a small study

Winterfylleth = October

Tags: @arcielee @babyblue711 @elizarbell @chilling-in-my-head @skikikikiikhhjuuh @fan-goddess @sylas-the-grim @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @targaryenrealnessdarling @doomwhathouwilt @gemini-mama @myfandomprompts @bcon24 @humanpurposes @wise-owl @bookwyrmsblog

[icarusignite]

TLK Masterlist

- Union of the Gods (Sihtric x OC)

Chapters: 0 / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

“The first thing God made is love Then comes blood And the thirst for blood So take me back Oh, drunken gods of slaughter You know I've always been your favorite daughter.”

- Valhalla Bound (Finan)

During the ransacking of Rumcofa, you save Osferth thus exchanging his fate for yours. aka you die and Finan’s reaction to that lol.

- Night Terrors (Sihtric)

Sihtric has a nightmare, and he accidentally snaps at you. What comes after is the most awkward confession of his life and you are oblivious af. 

- Praying's just a poor man's way of begging

You are Earl Ragnar's youngest daughter and the boy you've spent many pleasant afternoons with as a child was none other than Sihtric Kjartansson. Reunited after years apart, will the two of you be able to face the truth of your feelings or will it all end in heartache?

Will be adding more oneshots & stuff!

Taglist: comment to be added :)

[silverflameataraxia]

It anyone's interested, I've begun working on a playlist for The Last Kingdom. Even though Uhtred and Æthelflæd are on the cover, it's not exclusive to them, but rather the show as a whole.

I hope you enjoy!

[aadmelioraa]

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, Aethelflaed x OFC, Aethelflaed x Aethelred / Canon Divergent AU / Complete at 92k

Rated E for Sexual Content and Canon-Typical Violence Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Abuse, Forced Marriage, Reproductive Coercion, Pregnancy, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Angst, Depression

When Aethelflaed is abducted by Aethelred she's faced with an unexpected choice: return home to marry the Danish warlord to whom her father betrothed her, or accept her captor's proposal and become Lady of Mercia. Aethelred is handsome and charming, and the political power the Lady of Mercia has historically wielded makes his offer irresistible. But before long, her new husband reveals his true nature and begins to threaten Aethelflaed and anyone close to her. Struggling to survive Aethelred’s cruelty, Aethelflaed finds an unlikely ally in Aldhelm, her husband’s one-time confidant. Where Aethelred is hot-headed and vindictive, Aldhelm proves himself loyal and trustworthy. With Aldhelm's aid, Aethelflaed begins to assert personal and political power as she carefully manipulates her husband. After a violent confrontation Aethelred demands she produce an heir, so Aethelflaed turns to the only person she can.

Read on AO3

[morosemagick]

The Last Of The Real Ones | Chapter 3

Osferth follows Uhtred and the others back South to call upon King Alfred to help aid them against the Danes, but the path to help will not be as easy as they hoped

Start from the Beginning

TAGGED:

@solinarimoon ​ @thebohemianpenguin @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites ​ @unicornlovedust ​ @lalahmaria ​ @lauwrite1225 ​ @kissmyaxe140 @axe-does-writing @webreathfandoms @93xdiagonxalley @shadow-of-wonder @geekandbooknerd @for-bebbanburg @trenko-heart

[putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty]

My lil masterlist

My masterlist is hereeeee, I’m a true tumblr writer now *w* * indicates smut :)

The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC) [on hold] Chapter One: The Lady and the nun Chapter Two: Ale and Princes Chapter Three: Injures and betrayal Chapter Four: Iron and Water Chapter Five: Stories and Returns Chapter Six: Leaving Chapter Seven: Cenric

One Shots Dove (Finan x Reader)*

[emilyhufflepufftlk]

Ems300 Challenge Masterlist

Thank you all so much for participating in my challenge. All your creations have been so good! If anyone is still working on the prompts they picked, there is no rush! Whenever you have finished post them and I’ll add your work to this masterlist. Love you all 💜💜💜

The One with All the Cheesecakes (Aethelstan x Osbert) by @morosemagick

The One with the Lesbian Wedding (Aelflaed x Alys, Aethelflaed x Aldhelm) by @aethelreds

The One with the Blind Date (Sihtric x Uhtred) by @ulfrsmal

The One with the Birth (Finan x Ingrith) by @aethelreds

The One After Aethelstan & Cynlaef Kiss by @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

The One with the Cooking Class (Finan x OC) by @illjustgositinthecorner

The One after ‘I Do’ (Finan x OC) by @writingafterdeath

The One where Sigtryggr meets Stiorra’s dad (moodboard) by @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

The One where they are up all night (Tommy Shelby x Reader) by @runnning-outof-time

The One After Y/N and Sihtric Kiss (Sihtric x Reader) by @geekandbooknerd

The One Where Finan Can’t Flirt (Finan x Reader) by @nanahachikyuu

A Thousand Kisses Deep (the one with all the kissing) multi-couple edit by @amuddleofnervouswords

The One with the Morning After (Finan x OC) @persephones-journey

The One with the truth about Lions (general TLK) by @93xdiagonxalley

Flip the Switch (Aethelflaed x Aldhelm) by @aadmelioraa

New Family Member (Uhtred) by @errruvande

The One in Vegas (Osferth) by @persephones-journey

Blood Runs Thin (The One with Uhtred’s Sister) by @solinarimoon

The One Where they are Just Friends (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader) by @fandomhopped

My Guiding Lights (Tommy Shelby x Reader) by @mrsalwayswrite

The One Where Ethy Finds Out (Finan x OC) by @magravenwrites - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3