#bad boy aethelred

[wheres-mylove]

damsel in distress | sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

Summary: Sihtric arrives in Winchester for Aethelflaed’s wedding, and finds a princess for himself by the way - the bride’s younger sister with a feisty temper and an overpowering desire to break Aethelred's nose. But there’s a little more to the story than just that.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 2.9k

The young warrior stared at the ground, not daring to look his lord in the eye. He had warned him. Everyone had.

“She's gone?” Uhtred asked, trying out a sympathetic tone, realizing it was not the time to mock his friend's misplaced feelings.

“Yes, my lord,” Sihtric confirmed quietly. “The silver too, before you question me about it. Gone with her.”

“No woman, no silver,” Uhtred summarized and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just so we're clear, I would have agreed to the marriage. Suffer if you're foolish. But not for too long. You need to find someone decent.”

“We would have named our first son Uhtred, lord,” he said, absentmindedly staring ahead.

“No, you would not,” the older warrior replied, visibly grimacing.

“It doesn't matter now,” Sihtric muttered, earning a comforting pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile from Uhtred.

“Find Finan, we'll meet in the main square.”

Sihtric Kjartansson walked gloomily ahead, pondering why he had such bad luck in life. He took out his anger on a few pebbles scattered on the dusty road. The gods were not too kind when it came to sending him a woman who...

“Sorry, sorry!” He heard a girl's voice behind him and several other irritated grunts or a hushed 'Watch out.' He turned his head slightly and it was a miracle he avoided colliding with a cloaked figure in a visible hurry.

“If you'll excuse me, lord,” the girl quickly spoke, not even bothering to give him a passing glance, squeezing past him and running into a narrow passage between a stable and a nearby dwelling.

Sihtric furrowed his brow and observed the stranger leaning against the wall, anxiously looking towards the main street. With her slightly tilted hood, he was certain she was a young woman, clearly running away from something or someone.

What was he if not a hero?

“My lady,” he began, but faltered at the sight of her angry gaze.

“Are you crazy? Go away,” she snapped, waving her hand at him dismissively. The hood fell back, revealing the girl's face in all its glory.

Sihtric didn't know what to do. The lady was beautiful. But also pissed off.

“God, you idiot,” the girl said with a heavy sigh. Then she grabbed his arm forcefully, pulling him into a dark alley with her and positioning him with his back to the street.

Sihtric still didn't quite understand what was happening. Being pushed around by a mad gorgeous woman was not part of his plans for today. He didn't have any plans at all since the last one ran off with the remnants of his wealth.

“If someone is hiding, they have a reason for it and don't want someone standing in front of them, announcing it to the world,” she scolded him like a disobedient child, and Sihtric felt himself blushing.

“Right. Makes sense. I apologize, my lady,” he stammered, not taking his eyes off her.

She was even more beautiful up close.

“Discreetly look behind you and see if a monk is coming this way,” she instructed him gravely, to which he gave her a half-surprised, half-amused look.

“A monk is leading the chase?”

“Yes, you see, I'm a witch, and I was about to be burned at the stake this afternoon.”

Sihtric chuckled softly, but he complied with her request. He thought the girl was joking, but indeed, a monk was heading their way. Slightly bewildered but definitely annoyed, he was looking around vigilantly.

“Are you really a witch?” Sihtric suddenly asked with a hint of uncertainty.

“I sacrifice boys like you,” she replied without a trace of a smile, but mischievous sparks danced in her eyes. He smirked. “But seriously, you might come in handy. The holy man won't sniff around here for long. Let’s make him look away.”

She threw her arms around his neck, and without hesitation, Sihtric placed his hands on her hips.

Only after a few heartbeats did the absurdity of the situation dawn on him. He stood very close in a dark alley with a girl whose name he didn't know, protecting her from the wrath of a monk.

“But honestly, what about your troubles?” he asked gently.

“Brother Ceolwulf sometimes gives me calligraphy lessons. My father says I scribble rather terribly. I ran away to avoid that pleasure. And apparently, Lord Aethelred is due to arrive soon,” she almost spat the name as if it left a foul taste. “Maybe I'll go see that prick. Quite a commotion over a simple farce.”

“You don't fancy lords from Mercia and royal weddings, my lady?”

The girl didn't answer; instead, she scrutinized Sihtric intently. He felt a wave of embarrassment under the piercing gaze of her sharp eyes.

“And what business does a Dane have here?” she asked after a while, smiling slightly at the sight of his blush. Brother Ceolwulf flashed behind Sihtric, so she tightened her grip and rested her head on his chest. The warrior held his breath. A stream of muffled words reached him. “No, no, you can talk; that rascal is just behind you. You could also use a bath, you know? Great, he went searching on the other side. You could also tell me your name, for the sake of appearances and decency.”

“I'm Sihtric, lady,” he said with a laugh, which (Y/N) not only heard but also felt. “Together with my lord Uhtred, we arrived…”

“Uhtred?” the girl interrupted, raising her head with surprise. “You serve Uhtred?”

“Do you know him?” Sihtric tilted his head, intrigued.

“Oh, I'm in trouble,” she said barely audible, more to herself than to him. “I have to go. I apologize for the assault.”

She took a few steps back before Sihtric panicked. He didn't know her name. He didn't know where to find her. And he definitely wanted to see her again.

“What's your name, lady?” he called after her, but she had already blended into the crowd heading to the main square. He wasn't sure if she had gone to greet Aethelred. Even if she had, he wouldn't find her in that mass.

Brother Ceolwulf came to the same conclusion. The reprimand for the princess of Wessex would have to wait.

The delicate fabric of her blue dress fluttered with each touch of the wind as she gracefully crossed the courtyard. They strolled towards the main hall.

“I only have two options: jump out the window or become a nun,” Princess (Y/N) announced in a calm manner.

“Only jump out the window, my dear,” Father Beocca specified. “Nuns would chase you with crosses and torches in their hands.”

(Y/N) looked at the priest. He had an amused expression. And a soft spot for the princess. According to Alfred's commands, he shouldn't tolerate certain behaviors and opinions. But how dull it would be if he asked her to stifle her carefreeness and restrain her sharp tongue.

“I was just praying a moment ago.”

“Yes, with the intention of our heavenly father making your sister run away from the altar.”

Aethelflaed didn't run away from the altar. She paid no mind to her sister's efforts, who, with sheer willpower, tried to steer her away from it. (Y/N) saw that the bride was enchanted by her groom, and she wanted nothing but all the happiness this world could fit for her. But something in the back of her mind warned her about Aethelred. An unbearable premonition. She blinked a few times, telling herself that she simply didn't consider any man worthy of her dearest sister's hand.

She scanned the gathered guests with her gaze. At the back of the hall, she spotted Uhtred. She nodded at him slightly. He raised an eyebrow with a smile. They had last seen each other when she was a little girl and kicked him in the leg. She wondered if he still limps.

And then she noticed Sihtric.

The warrior paled the moment he saw her standing side by side with the king.

His stranger. The king's daughter. The princess.

Only he could have such damn luck.

“It's her. The girl I told you about. It's her!” He nudged Finan's arm, to which the latter chuckled.

“Sure. Your whole story sounds shady already. Don't involve noble families in it.”

“I'm telling the truth!”

“I believe ya. Yesterday, for example, when little ol’ me was drinking beer with king Alfred…”

Sihtric sighed, but he didn't try to convince his friend anymore. He didn't register the entrance of the bride or a word spoken during the ceremony, and especially not Finan's mocking. His eyes were fixed on the princess in the blue gown. He held his breath when she finally looked at him. She smiled faintly but immediately averted her gaze, with a violent blush on her cheeks.

Sihtric Kjartansson felt his heart beat stronger.

Uhtred embraced the princess with laughter, still wondering how she had transformed so quickly from a snotty child into a breathtaking woman.

Sihtric paid special attention to that breathtaking part, as he was having trouble with that.

“The older you get, the uglier you become. Good to see you, Uhtred,” she greeted him politely. The man snorted and gestured towards his companions.

“Princess (Y/N), these are my friends…”

“Sihtric,” she greeted, bowing her head. He smiled widely, and Finan's jaw dropped, before he realized he should probably bow too. The idiot wasn't lying. Unbelievable.

“Do you know each other?” Uhtred furrowed his brow, looking at the young Dane, then at the princess. “Is there something I don't know?”

“Yes, we've been secret lovers for the past year,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Sihtric's face took on various shades of red, much to Finan's delight.

“You haven't changed at all,” Uhtred commented with a wave of his hand.

“I would be more at ease if this reception wasn't so dull,” she said, wistfully glancing at the cup in Uhtred's hand. “Is he watching?”

Uhtred glanced at the king and nodded. (Y/N) groaned.

“So, after Edward, it's your turn?” Uhtred inquired, earning himself a murderous glance from the princess.

“He'll probably be a twat or at least hundred years old,” she grumbled in disappointment. “Beocca presented me with a list of potential candidates. About each one, he says they are pious, as if I were looking for a personal priest and not a husband. Why can't he say that one of them is kind? Wise? Or handsome.”

She shifted her gaze to Sihtric and smiled mischieviously.

“We only hope to be invited to your wedding, Princess,” Finan laughed, observing his friend's bashful demeanor. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he'll be no older than ninety-nine.”

“That's kind of you. By the way, Sihtric, did you take that bath-”

“Princess!” Father Beocca called out as he passed by. “Maybe nunnery isn't the worst idea.”

Humorous remarks and a grin froze on her lips when (Y/N) looked into her sister's eyes. The food tray nearly slipped from her hands.

Aethelflaed didn't have to say anything. She didn't have to scream or complain about her misfortune. (Y/N) understood everything from that one look and felt the unpleasant sting of tears.

“I will kill him,” she declared forcefully, slamming the tray onto the wooden table with a loud bang. “I will kill that arse.”

“(Y/N), please...” Aethelflaed whispered. “It won't do any good. And I am capable of handling it myself.”

“You shouldn't even say that,” her sister protested, getting closer and gently placing her hands on Aethelflaed's cheeks. They were wet. “It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright.”

She planted a kiss on the top of her head and headed towards the door.

“Don't tell anyone, (Y/N). Especially not father,” she begged, getting up.

“I'll only speak to those who already know,” (Y/N) replied, barely containing her anger towards Aethelflaed's pathetic husband. “You're the Princess of Wessex, for God's sake. You're his woman, and he shouldn't treat you like this. He won't have a cock if he lays a hand on you again, trust me.”

“You'll get into trouble, (Y/N),” Aethelflaed warned, shaking her head nervously. “He can hurt you as well-”

The princess didn't listen, for she had already left the chamber. Blind rage consumed her, but so did a sadness so great that it was even more dangerous than her anger. She knew there was something wrong with him. She shouldn't have allowed this marriage to happen.

She should have protected her sister.

Aethelred appeared just in time. He strode down the corridor, his posture straight, absentmindedly trailing his hand along one of the tapestries.

“Lord Aethelred,” she snarled, making no effort to be polite. “I was hoping to have a word with you.”

The man turned slowly, bestowing upon her the sweetest and most deceitful smile.

“Little princess.”

(Y/N) tried to calm herself, but she wasn't making much progress.

“Let's get to the point,” she hissed, finally getting Aethelred to reveal his true face from behind the mask he wore daily at the royal court. “I saw my sister and the state she's in. I will not tolerate such insolence or cruelty. Who do you think you are? Hurt her again and I...”

That pile of shit started laughing.

“Terrifying is the barking of an angry bitch.” He took a few lazy steps in her direction. “I almost pissed myself in fear.”

“And you should, because I promise that...”

Aethelred rushed forward, pressing her against the wall with a hand around her throat.

“Well, what? What will you do? Maybe you'll switch places with her to spice up this tedious life of mine a little bit."

Sihtric wandered through the palace, looking for lord Uhtred his excuse, but in reality he hoped for an encounter with the princess. They were about to head out from Winchester soon. Leaving without saying goodbye was not something he wanted.

He found them just in time as (Y/N) pushed Aethelred back with all her might and punched him in the face. They all heard the unmistakable crunching sound.

Lord of Mercia was trying to regain his balance, clinging to his bloody face in shock.

“You whore,” he snapped, but Sihtric was already nearby, placing his hand warningly on the axe.

“Hope I misheard something,” he said to Aethelred, voice dripping with venom, and then looked at the princess. “Are you alright?”

“She broke my nose, of course she’s fine,” the man snorted, trying to stop the flow of blood. “You will answer for it. Just wait. And your heathen friends won’t rush to your rescue, I assure you.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, holding on to the fist that struck Aethelred. She watched him leave with an absent look in her eyes, and then as if she finally registered Sihtric's presence.

If he had come a few moments earlier, he'd surely fling himself at that arsehole in her defense. But it turns out she was perfectly able to fight back. Sihtric felt a sudden surge of admiration and respect for the princess in a beautifully embroidered dress, who did not hesitate to throw a punch.

“Are you sure he didn’t do anything to you? Shall I go after him?” he asked, but instead of answering, (Y/N) slid slowly down the wall. Sihtric crouched beside her, worried as never before. He gently held the injured hand. He raised her bruised knuckles to his lips, but left only the ghost of touch on them. “Princess?”

“He hurt her,” (Y/N) sobbed helplessly. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but she had a feeling Sihtric would know how to keep a secret. “He hurt her and he will hurt her again, and there’s nothing I can do. He will hide behind his title, behind his lands, wealth and nobility. He was right. I can't do anything."

She was shaken by a wave of tears, and Sihtric instinctively embraced her with one arm and supported the back of her head with the other. She cried there on the cold floor, in the arms of a warrior who couldn't stand the sight.

He knew what was going on. And his heart ached at the thought.

“You were very brave,” he whispered, letting her lean on his chest. “Others would look away. You confronted him. You are a brave, brave girl.”

He kept saying it like a mantra, holding her in his arms until the crying subsided. He wiped the tears from her face with the thumb of his hand when she finally lifted her head.

“I won’t run away from that either,” she whispered in a faint voice. Sihtric raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture. “I can laugh about it and put it off, but I’m just a woman with a cursed title before my name. They'll hand me over to a man I won't choose. And he will have the right to violence as soon as we tie the knot.”

Sihtric shook his head. This fate wasn’t meant for her. There was strength and courage in this lady’s heart that demanded freedom. And demanded love, the wild and untamed kind. 

“It can not be like that. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t have much power in this matter, Sihtric. You don’t make the rules.”

“Let me decide for myself.”

He looked into the eyes of the princess and knew that the battle he would have to face was beyond his means. The only witnesses to this promise were the faces on the ancient tapestries. Men's faces behind unbreakable laws, traditions and customs.

But Sihtric Kjartansson was a warrior. And if there’s one thing that warriors can do, they can fight.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - Osferth (The Last Kingdom)

honestly, got this idea from that one episode of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air that absolutely broke me and made me revisit my abandonment issues. so yeah, this is gonna be sad. i apologize in advance🤷🏻‍♀️(p.s. don't read this while listening to hurt by Christina Aguilera or because of you by Kelly Clarkson)

Warnings: spoilers for TLK (obvi, and for Death Of Kings), angst, hurt/comfort, daddy & abandonment issues (like same, i kin osferth honestly), Alfred was a great king but a shitty father (in the show at least), kinda bittersweet

word count | 2.3k🤙🏻

You all stood in king Aethelred’s throne room, watching King Alfred and your leader Uhtred discuss battle plans. It all sounded very important but all you could watch was how Osferth’s lips turned into a frown as his father embraced his daughter, Aethelflaed. He looked like a kicked puppy and all you could do was glare at the King with disdain.

You hadn’t been in this team of Lord Uhtred for very long, but long enough to know that you cared deeply for each one of your companions and would give your life for any one of them, but especially Osferth. You were there when he first introduced himself, so shy and soft spoken, wanting to be like his uncle. So to see him so sullen made you want to drive your blade into the King’s skull.

You never understood why being a bastard was bad, but everyone said it like it was one of the worst things you could be, especially if you were a bastard of a king. Osferth was always introduced as a bastard first, never as a warrior or one of Uhtred’s men, always just King Alfred’s bastard. It didn’t sit right with you, and it clearly made him uncomfortable. You tried to never think of him as Alfred’s bastard, just your friend. Osferth was the sweetest person in the world, so how on earth would anyone ever give him away? You saw how it affected him, even if he didn’t show it. You saw how he looked at Edward and Aethelflaed, that envy and longing. He just wanted to be loved and accepted, and Alfred took that from him. You had no respect for the king.

Osferth couldn’t even be in the presence of Edward, his half brother, having to quietly excuse himself. You couldn’t let him go on his own. Ever since you met the boy, you’ve had an overwhelming urge to keep him safe, always anxious whenever he was out of sight. You felt bad for still wanting to protect him, knowing he’s proven himself time and time again that he can defend himself. It was hard to not to think back to the time when he cried when he killed his first man. War makes you desensitized, whether that was a good thing or not.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly once you caught up with him.

“Mhm.” He hummed, his eyes not meeting yours.

You frowned. “You don’t have to lie to me, Osferth. I thought we were closer than that.”

“It’s not that.” He sighed, resting his hands inside his leather chest armor, a cute quirk he got into the habit of doing. “I just don't want to waste my breath on him…”

“It’s okay to have feelings about it, you know? You don’t have to keep it all bottled inside, not around me.”

Osferth did continue to keep his feelings bottled up since that day, and it made you upset that he was just suffering in silence. Your worrying became even worse after the battle where you all fought against Haesten’s army, your baby monk getting harmed in the process. Thankfully, the damage wasn’t too bad but he’d be out of fighting for a while so he could heal. You made no qualms when you were tasked with taking care of him at his half sister’s estate, you tried to do that all the time anyway. You still wanted him to open up to you, but you didn’t want to push him. You weren’t a bastard but you understood what it was like to not have a parent want you, you knew what complicated and conflicting feelings came along with it. He didn’t have to be alone in his struggle.

Osferth made no mention of the conversation you had with him that day, only thanking you and expressing apologies whenever you helped him around his injuries (although he made a habit of calling Finan a slave). You tried not to speak of it, not wanting to upset him, especially when he was healing from his physical wounds. You could see how exhausted he was, how his once bright blue eyes dimmed with pain. He was more irritable, uncharacteristically so, to the point even Finan was tired of taking care of him. You could see he was hurting, but you didn’t know how or when to bring it up.

It seemed all those suppressed emotions came to a head one day, a loud crash being heard throughout the building, coming from Osferth’s room. You took off in that direction, seeing a disheveled Finan right outside the boy’s door. “What the hell is going on?” You asked.

“I made a joke, just teasing, then the lad went off like an absolute nutter.” Finan huffed, “I was trying to give him some water but he threw it back at me and it broke.” You made a move to walk into the room, but he put his arm out to stop you. “I wouldn’t. I’d just let him be for now, until he calms down at least.”

“Come on, it’s not like he’s going to hurt me, Finan.” You pushed his arm out of the way and promptly entered the bedroom.

You almost expected the room to be in ruins, but all that looked out of place was the shattered pottery that once held water scattered on the floor. And Osferth, sitting with his back turned to the door on his bed, his head hanging low. “Sorry Finan, I didn’t mean to get so upset…” Osferth whispered softly, turning his head to only see you and not the Irishman. “Oh, uh, didn’t know it was you.”

You smiled weakly, coming to sit next to him. “It’s okay, but are you?”

Osferth shrugged, a slight blush coming to his face at your close proximity. “He just made a joke about me being…ya know. He does it all the time so I don’t know why I got so mad. He’s not angry with me, is he?”

You shook your head. “No. He seemed like he kind of felt bad, this time, at least…Ever since that day at Aethelred’s estate, you’ve not been yourself. I know you haven’t been showing it, but I can feel that you’re upset. I think talking to someone might help, it doesn’t have to be me obviously, but someone. Maybe Sihtric? Since he’s-” You were interrupted by the sounds of soft sniffles and whimpers, your brows immediately furrowing in concern as soon as you saw Osferth’s pained expression. “Osferth?” You whispered softly, cautiously reaching out to hold his hand, afraid to scare him away.

“I hate feeling this way.” He sniffled, using his other hand to angrily wipe away a couple fallen tears. “Alfred never even tried to talk to me, never. As soon as I was born, he forced me into the monastery. I’ve never known anything else, so why do I feel this way? How can I miss something I’ve never had? Even now, I’m nothing to him. I’ve never been anything but a burden to him…”

“You are anything but a burden, Osferth.” You spoke sternly, anger welling up inside you at Alfred for making your best friend feel that way.

“But I am! I’m an embarrassment. That’s the only reason Lord Uhtred even let me join him in the first place. All to embarrass the…king.” He spat.

“Osferth…”

“Why doesn’t he want me?” Osferth cried, his tears falling off his cheeks onto your hands that held his on his lap. The pain in his voice even made you tear up, and all you wanted to do was wrap him up in your arms and never let him go. I want you, I want you more than anything in the world, you wanted to say. But all you did was squeeze his hand tighter and pulled him onto your chest, holding the back of his head and running your fingers through his hair soothingly.

“You are not a burden.” You whispered into his hair, pulling him to you as close as humanly possible. “Not to me, not to Uhtred, not to anyone. Anyone who even thinks that will meet the end of my blade. Alfred is a fool to not see your worth and if I could, I’d cut off his head without remorse.”

Osferth quickly shushed you, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw hesitantly. “Such talk is treason.”

“You’re worth it, Osferth.” You spoke with such sincerity it made the pale boy blush, his tears cascading down over his pink cheeks made such a beautifully sad portrait, his eyes a stark blue from crying. You couldn’t help but lean forward and gently kiss the wrinkle in between his eyebrows. “You’ll always be worth it to me.” You took a deep breath, your heart hammering inside your ribcage. “Unlike Alfred…I’ll never abandon you, baby monk. Even in death, you wouldn’t be rid of me.”

Osferth chuckled tearfully, looking up at you in awe. “You’re an angel, you know that?”

Now it was your turn to blush, but you gently shook your head. “I do not.”

“You are. It’s because of you I know God exists. How could He not when such a woman as you is sitting before me?” Your breath catches, a fluttering feeling rattling around in your stomach as you and Osferth look into each other’s eyes. “Can I…can I kiss you, my lady?” He stuttered, a hopeful expression on his face.

“Please…” You whispered in reply, both of you leaning forward and capturing his lips with yours.

And you decided to stay with him that night, refusing to leave his side even when he said he was feeling better. You held him in your arms, allowing his head to rest against your chest, the sound of your soothing heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

Eventually when the death of King Alfred was announced, it didn’t shock anyone; he was frail and sickly and should have died a long time ago, but that didn’t make it hurt any less for anyone. He was called great for a reason, he was loved and respected by many, even his enemies. His family were devastated, his friends, his allies, even those like Uhtred who were reluctant in following him at first. Except you, you had difficulty finding any sympathy in your heart for really one reason only: Osferth.

You had no respect or shroud of kindness for the king in life, so why would you in death? All you cared about was Osferth and how he felt.

You thought back to all the times you’d walk in on Osferth crying, always quick to wipe away his tears like he never was crying in the first place. He was so quick in concealing his emotions that anyone else never would’ve noticed, but you always did. After being with Alfred in the throne room, when he looked so relieved that his daughter was safe, Osferth would excuse himself. Whenever Uhtred had discussions with Edward or Aethelflaed, he would do the exact same thing. You knew he had to be feeling something towards his father’s death, whether he would admit it or not. You just wanted to be there for him if he needed you.

Like any king’s death, the aftermath was chaos. You all had to worry for Uhtred for a while there, but everything turned out alright in the end. People were celebrating the new King Edward’s coronation, drinking and humping the night away, but Osferth was nowhere to be found. You had asked your boys if they had seen him anywhere, but no one knew and all Finan did was joke that he might be finally losing his virginity. Not that helpful.

You finally found him sitting against one of the walls of the town, drinking a pint of ale. His lips instinctively upturned in a brief smile when he saw you walking his way, though his eyes looked weary. “What are you doing all the way out here, huh?” You asked softly, crouching down to sit next to him, causally taking a sip from his mug.

Osferth shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“Oh, yeah? About what?” You reached over and interlaced your fingers with his, smiling when he brought your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

“Before Alfred died…I visited him.” He exhaled shakily, and you couldn’t help but gasp.

“What did he say?” You asked curiously, but also dreading the answer just in case.

Osferth smiled sadly, tears already welling up in his eyes. “He apologized to me, that it was his fault for me being the way that I am…said he’d put in a good word for me when he got to heaven.” He chuckled weakly, wiping away some of his fallen tears. “He said I was a good man…that he was proud of me, called me his son.”

You teared up at his confession, squeezing his hand tighter. “And…did that make you feel better? Was it closure?”

Osferth’s bottom lip trembled, nodding his head, turning to look at you with a tearful crooked smile. “It was…but I didn’t need to hear it from him to know I’m a good man. I am. You showed me that better than he ever could.”

You smiled bashfully. “Oh, Osferth, you flatter me. But I am glad you made your peace with him, even if it came late.” You kissed his hand as well, moving closer so you could lean your shoulder against his. “Really, my love, are you okay?” You asked seriously, only to receive a sweet kiss on your cheek, causing heat to bloom in your chest in contrast to the cold temperature.

“I am sad, but I’ve lived without my father my entire life. I’ll be okay, especially when you’re right here with me. It’s only you who I need by my side. It’s you I wouldn’t be able to live without.”

“Good, because I don’t plan on leaving you any time soon, my baby monk."

literally wish he and alfred had more screen time TOGETHER, and curse the writers for not including their talk before alfred died. seriously.

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Puppy Boy - Animal Shelter Sihtric Long Fic

Ch 1 - This Fucking Kid

"Heya kiddo." Finan ruffles his young tennant's hair. Sihtric groans, almost spilling his milk. "I am not a kid, I am 21!" He yells. "You're a kid, kid." Finan chuckles, sitting opposite the young Dane. "How was yer day?" He asks. "A lot." Sihtric murmurs. "Oh?" Finan furrows his brow. "Kinda overstimulated right now." Sihtric replies.

Finan owns a construction company, he's well off and unattached. He lives his best life in a house he built himself and works from his home office. He's Irish and does everything his Catholic upbringing forbids.

Sihtric is all but a decate younger and rents Finan's attic. He works at the local animal shelter and could not be more different from Finan even if he tried. He's shy, peculiar and more often than not straight up bad with people. He gets along much better with the animals he takes care of. And he hasn't had a girlfriend since he was sixteen. He is not at all unattractive, though somewhat dorky and clumsy in the way he dresses. Even the glasses he wears are kind of cute.

"Need to leave ya alone for a while?" Finan asks. He knows how Sihtric is by now. Sihtric peers at his watch. The thing looks like he's had it since he was twelve. "When's Uhtred gona be here?" He asks. Finan throws a glance at the digital clock on the oven. "In half an hour or so." He replies. Sihtric groans softly and gets up. "I'll go take a shower and try to decompress a bit." He says. "Just be down by dinner. And it is okay if you go back up when it gets too crowded." Finan assures him.

Sihtric nods and heads upstairs to shower.

He let's the hot water run over him, pictures it washing him clean from all the stimuli of today. He takes Finan's body wash, liking the scent of it, much better than his own. He can't afford the luxurious products Finan has, but he knows Finan doesn't mind if he uses them from time to time.

Once's he's cleaned up, he allows his mind to wander.

At first, they don't go anywhere in particular, meandering to the pretty woman who adopted one of the bunnies today. Sihtric liked the look of her freckles and full, round breasts. His cock swiftly hardens and his hand wanders south. Groans tumble from his mouth as he strokes himself. His imagination runs wild, picturing warm, full breasts, leaking with milk. "Mama, please." He whimpers, tugging firmly on his cock. "G-gods." He sputters.

He cums quickly, painting the tiled wall of the shower generously with his seed.

He comes down for dinner, find Uhtred, Halig and Leofric already there.

"Hello boy." Uhtred purrs, eyeing Sihtric up and down. Sihtric flushes so brightly his glasses almost fog over. He knows Uhtred well, but never really gets used to the covetous way he's being looked at. Especially considering Uhtred has a wife and kids. "Heya nerd." Halig grins at Sihtric as the youth sits down. Sihtric smiles a small smile at him. Leofric just grunts at him. Leofric is in his 40s, he's got nothing in common with Sihtric. But it's fine, Sihtric does not mind.

Over dinner, Uhtred starts whinging about his employer and Leofric, who works for the same firm, assures Finan it is not that bad. Sihtric just sits by, shoving Finan's superior cooking into his face.

After dinner, the others pile in. Aethelwold, Edward, Aethelflaed and Erik, Haesten, Dagfin, Aldhelm and Aethelred, Eadith and Ragnar and Brida. Sihtric is pretty sure Finan wants to shack up with Eadith. The Irishman can barely keep his eyes off of her.

Sihtric joins in for a few round of whatever card game has been brought out, but quickly gets overstimulated, so retires to his bedroom. Only Aethelwold hassles him for it, but Sihtric doesn't care for that guy's opinion.

He puts his headphones on and listens to Valhalla Calling on repeat for half an hour at first.

He touches himself again after that, his jumper between his teeth, abs glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as he strokes his thick, long cock. He doesn't really fantasize about anything. He just focusses on the feeling of fucking his fist. But of course he can't keep his mind on track. He wonders what it would feel to fuck a warm wet pussy, or a tight hot arse. To just slip into another person's body, feel their heat and pressure. "Oh Gods." He groans. He imagines what it would be like to drown in another person's scent. To press his face between two warm breasts or a firm chest and just inhale. He feels his climax building, his mind wandering further to suckling on hardened, sensitive nipples. To feel fingers rake through his hair and be praised.

It is the undoing of him. He spends himself all over his chest and abs.

It isn't that Sihtric is unattractive and he's had a few girlfriends in high school. He's kissed a boy in a club once. It was the only time he'd ever been to a club. And he made out with Uhtred when he got genuinely wine drunk. But all of that has been at least two years ago. He hasn't gone to a club in aaages. He hasn't made out with anyone in what feels like a decade, which it of course is not.

He's not a virgin, but the first time he's had sex, when he was seventeen, was uncomfortable and he just avoids it now. Not because he does not want to fuck. Gods he wants to fuck and be fucked in return. He has desire in spades. But he gets anxious when he thinks of the discomfort. He isn't even sure what the discomfort stemmed from, all he remembers from the entire ordeal was a fierce rash on his cock, but a clean STI test.

He doesn't have to work weekends. But still he spends all his time at the shelter. The animals never judge him for being odd. And the other people working the shelter got used to him being a bit a lot peculiar by now.

So eh heads out to the shelter saturday morning, after his morning work out. He works out twice a day, before work and before dinner. Working out makes his mind calm. He does the hard labour, bringing in heavy bags of kibble, cleaning the kennels and wrangling the big dogs. The weekend volunteers are very grateful that all they have to do now is feed the animals and socialise them.

After lunch he takes the dog for a run, each in turn. Running makes his head empty too. And the dogs love to get out of the kennel and show their best side. He does not draw too much attention, with his thick glasses and oversized hoodie. No one would suspect those hoodies hide rockhard abs and behind those glasses are mischievous eyes.

"Ah, Sihtric, there you are." One of the volunteers calls out, once he comes back from walking Tusker, a young staffie husky mix.

Sihtric quickly puts Tusker back into his kennel and goes up to the volunteer. "What's up?" He asks gently. The volunteer gestures him to follow into the office. Sihtric obliged, following to the elder lady in charge for today. "What can I do, ma'am?" He asks politely. "I need you to take Pretty to the vet, that hairball has been bothering her long enough now." The elder woman says. "Yes ma'am. I'll grab a carrier." Sihtric says diligently. "No need to, we already have her ready to go." The volunteer mixes in.

So he is brought Pretty, in her carried. "Thanks." He mumbles. Pretty hisses, she is uncomfortable. "Yeah yeah, I know." Sihtric cooes soothingly. He takes the carrier to his beat up old ford. Carefully he secures Pretty on the passenger chair and drives to the vet office in town.

You hear the front door bell chime. A walk in!

"Be right with you!" You cry out, making sure the file you were working on is saved. You get up from your desk and head into the waiting room.

You stand eye to eye with possibly the cutest boy you have ever seen. Holding a crate with the angriest cat you have ever heard. "Hi, who's this?" You ask. crouching before the crate. You peer into the crate, facing a moody calico persian. She hisses at you and you cast your eyes up at her person, waiting for an answer. You gaze up into dual coloured eyes, through glasses that magnify his long lashes. He looks so innocent it almost breaks your heart.

"What's her name?" You ask sweetly.

The youth swallows thickly. "P-pre- .. Pretty." He stammers. "And what is going on with Pretty?" You get back up and smile up at the young man. Fluster dusts his cheeks. "She .. she has a hairball stuck in her tract." He stutters. "Oh goodness, that is why she is so crabby, huh?" You cooe. "No... no, she is always like this." The youth shakes his head.

"How about we start with some paperwork, I'll get Pretty comfortable while you fill it out.¨ You cooe. "Yeah.. s-sure." He nods, extending you Pretty's crate. You take the crate and smile sweetly at him. "Come, follow me." You lead him to the treatment room. He eagerly follows after you.

You pull out some papers, handing them to the young man, while you put the crate on the sterilised table.

"Come here, pretty Pretty." You cooe. The persian hisses. "Alright, you take some bribery, I see." You chuckle. You grab a tube of chicken paste from a drawer and open it, holding it for Pretty to smell. Pretty cranes her neck and takes a little taste. "Good Gal." You cooe, slowly pulling your hand back. Pretty follows along to keep licking the chicken paste.

Sihtric feels his ears burn when he hears you praise Pretty. It unlocks something inside him and his jeans tent. He swears under his breath. This is not a bodily reaction he needs right now. He does his best to will his boner down, but you again praise Pretty for being so cooperative in exchange for yummy snacks. His cock throbs eagerly and he pulls his hoody over his crotch.

"I .. erm..." He has no idea what to say anymore, handing you the paperwork. He pointedly avoids looking you in the eye. "Thanks." You cooe, quickly reading through the form. "Sihtric Kjartansen?" You ask, to verify his name. "Yeah, I work for the local shelter." He replies. "So, Pretty is a shelter cat?" You ask. Sihtric nods. "Y-yeah." He stammers. "Why hasn't she been adopted yet?" You asked. "Cuz she is a bitch to everyone." Sihtric replies. You can't help a soft giggle.

"Now what is going on with Pretty?" You. "Hairball, won't pass. We have tried everything." Sihtric replies. He finds that it is easier to talk when he talks about the animals. Though he can't look you in the eye. "Are you giving her baths?" You ask. "N-no.." Sihtric stammers.

[fucktgisshitok-blog]

Good For Nothing

A/N: I randomly decided to write an Aethelred story because well...look at him. Moodboard was made by @tephi101 which I requested from her. And if you don't know who she is, hop on over to her blog. She is amazing. If you want to be tagged just let me know and i will add you to the list loves.

Warnings: Cussing, Neglectful/Abusive "parents" (the characters are written as 18 so not sure if it really falls under neglect and child abuse but wanted to put it in case), Favoritism of a child

Chapter 1

Aethelred's POV

“Aethelred! Alfred! Breakfast!” I heard my mother yell. I rolled my eyes and pulled my pillow over my head. It was too damn early to deal this dysfunctional family. I cursed my father every day for leaving me here with her and her new husband, Athelstan, along with their little entitled prick of an offspring. Alfred was a few years younger than me. Me, being eighteen and a 6th form college student and him, being fourteen was in Secondary School.

I heard his annoying feet trudge past my bedroom door and I threw my pillow across the room. I hated this place.

I got out of bed, stretched, and adjusted my junk to sit comfortably in my boxers. I pulled a pair of jeans off of my computer chair and slid them on. Then I tugged a plain white t-shirt over my head and slipped into my leather jacket. I sat back on my bed to kill the time I had before I left. “AETHELRED! Downstairs! Now!” Came my mother's “stern” voice.

“Jesus Christ I'm coming!” I yelled back, stepping into my socks and leaving the room. I descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen where I was immediately caught off guard by a sharp slap to the face. “What the fuck?”

“We do NOT curse or use the Lord's name in vain in this house. Am I clear?” My mother asked me.

“Yes.” I snapped back, hatefully, rubbing my sore cheek. I gritted my teeth together and sat at the table.

“Eat your breakfast, Aethelred.” Athelstan told me.

“I'm not hungry.” I stated. I wasn't about that healthy and organic non-GMO shit that they were. I was going to get a pizza at lunch.

“Oh, Aethelred, dear?” My mother said in her sickeningly sweet yet ‘'I have an ulterior motive’ voice that was constantly being used on me and not Alfred.

“Yes, mommy dearest.” I sighed sarcastically while batting my lashes.

“You are eighteen now.” She continued.

“I'm aware.” I said, looking over at my half brother with disgust as he scarfed down some turkey bacon.

“Athelstan and I have decided to cut you off. You need to get a job. Learn some responsibility. We aren't going to be paying for your car, your phone, and you are also going to pay us for your wifi and electric as well as water used.” My mother said, smiling at me while she chewed her food.

I set my jaw. “You and Athelstan have decided, huh?”

“Yes. It was decided last night.” Replied my step father, not looking up from his newspaper.

I shot up out of my chair and headed for the door. “Wait! You have to take Alfred to school!” My mother yelled.

“The little bastard can walk!” I screamed back and slammed the door behind me.

"Aethelred!" I looked up at Athelstan's voice.

"If you keep acting like this..." He started, trying to use his stern 'dad' voice on me.

"You'll what? Huh?" I asked, testing him. He started to walk towards me and I knew that for even a smaller man that he could pack a punch. I stood my ground, which wasn't that hard. I was 6'1 and he was 5'9, but I knew my mom would phone the police if I touched a hair on his head. He puffed up and I tried not to laugh as I looked down at him.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't disrespect my son anymore." He said, firmly.

"So what? Again I am the piece of shit here?" I demanded.

"Yes. Just like your father." He stated calmly, but smirking slightly, knowing that he got me. I punched the top of my car in anger and started to reach out for him.

"Dad?" Alfred asked, from the door.

"Go back inside, Alfred. Get your stuff. I will be taking you to school today."

My nostrils flared in anger and I threw open my door and got into my car. I inserted the key with shaky hands and threw it into drive and sped down the road.

Victoria's POV

I woke up next to my late to school thanks to last night's conquest. “Brad. Get up. Get out. I'm late.”

“Already? We just had sex last night.”

I rolled my eyes. Bless the idiots. “No you fucking moron. For school.”

“Oh yeah. That.” He said, with a smirk. “Or…”

“No or. Go.” I said, standing up and running to my bathroom. “You better be gone by the time I get out.” I demanded.

I sat in my shower and let the water hit me. Once it started getting to lukewarm I stood up and washed my hair and body. I shut the water off and listened for Brad. Nothing. Wrapping myself in a towel, I made my way for my room to get dressed. My usual outfit. A leather skirt and a plaid shirt tied up. I decided to wear my white tank top that read ‘Sex Does The Body Good’ underneath it. I slid on my red knee high socks and put my thigh high boots on. For normal people, they wouldn't be thigh high because they aren't 5’3.

I put on some eye makeup and blood red lipstick and popped some gum into my mouth. I lit a cigarette and walked out the door, putting my ear buds in. I blasted my favorite band, Fame on Fire in my ears and started in the direction towards school.

I obviously wasn't paying attention for some time because I glanced to my left and a car was barreling towards me. I ran off the crosswalk and onto the sidewalk, grabbing a pole to stop myself. I didn't see the driver but noticed them roll down the window and fling their hand with the middle finger up. “Fucking shithead.” I muttered and continued on my trek to Hell.

Tag list: @tephi101 @unic0rn-world @supernaturalvikingwhore @misskalonthelady @jacksonroth @grungyblonde @filthyshieldmaiden @lol-haha-joke @captstefanbrandt @two-unbeatable-beaters

[wlfkssd]

Hide & Seek

summary : ABO AU. ivar cheats at plays hide and seek with his sons and finds his youngest, baldur, is incredibly bad at it. 

pairing : ivar x aethelred ( with mentions of hvitserk x aethelred ) warnings : as stated, this takes place in an ABO au - if you don’t like it, don’t read it, basically. mentions of hvitserk’s daughter being pregnant at 17. word count : approx. 1500

On sunny days like this one, when the wind only dares kiss the shore of Kattegat's great dock, Ivar has come to appreciate spending time with his sons. There are countless things they could be doing; training with the sword, hunting, or learning runes but today is a time for play. The game is hide and seek and Ivar has no intention of losing to any of his children - though he knows they should all feel the pride of success at least once in their lives.

Perhaps one day the battlefield will allow it.

"I am coming, little piggies." He says, voice rising and falling in his usual cadence as he stalks from one stall to the next in the market. Many of the settlement's residents watch in amusement at their king - gone is the once feared ruler and welcomed is one who knows what love is.

Thanks in no small part to his husband, omega, and father of his children. Prince Aethelred of Wessex.

In the beginning, their union was one of unease. Ivar's suspicions as to why the prince might choose him above his brothers having been the main cause of any such rifts that formed. Given Ivar's status as a beta, surely his brother Ubbe would have been a better choice but perhaps Aethelred had been taught a little too well. Perhaps he knew better even than Ivar how to survive this life. How to choose a strong and intimidating mate.

Of course, the daughter he bore with Hvitserk didn't help much either.

That little girl was first to arrive and she brought much light to both Aethelred and Hvitserk's lives. With her golden hair and her blue eyes; taking the best parts of each parent and becoming an elegant yet incredibly capable young woman, now, at seventeen. Long past are the days when she would sit on Hvitserk's shoulders and knock him on the head with her carved, wooden sword. Now, she stands by his side, shoulder to shoulder. Very tall for her age.

Needless to say, when Ivar comes up beside her, eyes narrowing as she pulls her cloak in closer to her, he can see she is hiding something.

"Uncle Ivar." She begins, turning her head to look at him, a genuine smile beaming. Her long, braided hair looking, for all to see, the exact same as Hvitserk's. "If you are here to buy furs, there is no need. My father said he would have more by the next full moon."

"I was actually looking for my sons. We are playing a game, you see, and I would hate to lose." Ivar treads the ground, steadying himself as he tilts his head. "What are you hiding, huh?" Blue eyes shift to her cloak and up again to her face, one hand slowly reaching out to part the material.

"If there is something I am hiding, it is not one of your sons." Allowing the two pieces of long, green fabric to fall aside, something is indeed revealed but it isn't so much a child. Yet. For her belly shows only the first signs of life growing inside.

"You are with child." Ivar's eyes widen but he allows her to pull the cloak tight again, concealing her secret. "I hope it was your choice or one of the alphas here will lose his cock today."

Looking down, she blushes. And that is everything Ivar needs to know. It was conceived in love.

"He says he wants to marry me but I don't know how to tell my father or Aethelred about this." Arms close in, tight and protective, around herself and Ivar takes a breath, having seen the gesture before when Aethelred was carrying his boys. The fingers that had so gently revealed the truth now catch beneath her chin just as softly and Ivar's gaze is filled with nothing but promise.

"We will tell them together, if that is what you want." He lets it sit for a moment before humming. "But for now, I must ask if you have seen my sons."

Nothing comes for free with him and his niece laughs, one hand coming out to grasp around the leather brace on his wrist. "I saw Baldur running towards the long house."

"Thank you." Giving her forehead a kiss, Ivar slips past her, stake on the bottom of his crutch picking up the soft dirt of the trodden path leading to the long house. Two guards move aside for him when he arrives and goes inside.

A child's laughter faintly rings out before Ivar allows himself to be heard, very obviously, coming in. Low fires burn, giving the room an orange glow but also keeping it warm against whatever chill might still hang in the air from winter. Hvitserk is to the right, sleeping off the mead from their feast the night before and, at the end, upon the throne to the left, sits Aethelred.

His robes are typically saxon; the way it has always been. It's one of the things Ivar has come to admire most about his omega, really. That sense of stubbornness that's even more brutal than his own. He approaches but Aethelred doesn't even look up from the small pile of papers upon his lap.

To the right side of the throne, a very definite shape is covered by Aethelred's cloak and a pair of feet stick out. 

That will be Baldur.

"Husband," Ivar begins, coming to stop a few feet from the steps up to the thrones. "Have you seen our son?"

"Which one, Ivar? We have four." Aethelred's voice is nonchalant, as though anything in the world would be more interesting than answering such a silly question. But anyone with eyes could see he is amused.

"I think you know exactly which one, Saxon." No spite comes with the name and Ivar even sees Aethelred smile with his down-turned eyes. While waiting for the answer, though, Ivar takes his time to look around falsely, leaning to search behind this pillar and that before, after a short moment, Aethelred's cloak giggles.

Though he tries to shush the small boy, Aethelred can't stop himself from showing his husband just exactly where their son is.

"Huh. Strange. It sounds like my son Baldur is laughing at me. Did you hear it?" Carefully, Ivar approaches once again, taking the steps one at a time. Slowly, slowly. As he nears, Baldur lets out another giggle.

"No. Perhaps it is only your imagination, King Ivar." And with that, Aethelred lifts his head, using the full power of his heavy blue eyes to draw his mate in close. It works, of course, and they're very soon face to face, feeling one another's breaths.

"Well, then, as we are alone, I don't see anything wrong with a kiss."

Mere thought of a touch is halted, however, when Baldur throws the cloak aside to reveal himself. His perfect face is scrunched into a sneer that amuses not one but both of his parents as they part. The noise he makes is one of disgust but before he can run, Ivar snatches him up by the waist and lifts him with one arm, planting a solid kiss on the crown of his little boy's black hair. Wriggling, Baldur pushes at his father's chest, wanting to escape and, once he's let down, his legs carry him away as fast as the wind now gathering up outside.

"You're not hiding anything else from me, are you? Huh?" Though in the past such a question would have come from insecurity, now it only comes from Ivar's need to sit, for peace and his legs' sake.

"Not today, Ivar. No."

"Thank the gods." He sits, heavily, down on his father's throne and sighs. Being one step ahead of everyone has been exhilarating for as long as he can remember but, now, knowing about Hvitserk's daughter's child, it only feels like a burden.

One that Aethelred can all-too-readily see upon his face.

"Are you well, love?" Large, tender hand falls to Ivar's forearm and he feels the reassuring squeeze of Aethelred's silent promise to listen to whatever may be bothering him. But only if he wishes to share.

"Yes. I am well enough. It is only... I have spoken to your daughter and I think it would be wise for you to do the same. Without my brother. Knowing Hvitserk he will jump to conclusions." Ivar gestures, idly.

"Conclusions about what?" Aethelred sits forward, brows furrowing as he moves the parchments from his lap to the floor. "What has happened, Ivar?"

"You will have to speak to her. I swore I would say nothing in exchange for her telling me where the boys were. That is all."

For a long moment, Aethelred blinks and then he sits back, having decided in his mind to speak to his daughter before evening. "So you cheated?" Is the next question that comes out and Ivar laughs beside him.

"Of course I did. It was a game I was not prepared to lose."

[lauwrite1225]

Splendide mendax. Aldhelm x Eadith

Summary : Aldhelm has always had a bad eye on Aethelred's mistress, Eadith. But the turn of events teaches him that he shouldn't have misjudged her so fast.

A/N: I announced it, and there it is, my new crackship.

It isn’t a surprise to Aldhelm when Aethelred removes him from his position as Commander of his household soon after the battle against the Danes. He can’t tell if he is relieved, this position so close to the Lord of Mercia was giving him the possibility to at least temper him. But Athelflaed undeniably represents his idea of what kind of leader Mercia deserves, and being her trusted man has more value than any title.

No. What comes more to a surprise to him is the man who succeeds him one day. The young son of a Mercian traitor, ambitious despite the disgrace of his family. Aldhelm can’t really blame the boy for his ambition, who wouldn’t try anything to take back what they lost? However, it doesn’t mean he likes it either. He knows Aethelred and someone pouring honey in his ear would only increase his delusional goals. 

But what makes Aldhelm even more weary of Eardwulf’s intentions, and mostly the manner he wants to reach them, is the presence of his sister, Eadith. A pretty flower she is, with her fiery hair and emerald eyes. She laughs and smiles all the time, and as much as Adhelm finds the sound and vision quite pleasant, he can’t help but see through it. The way she regularly seeks for Aethelred’s gaze across a crowded room and her fingers lightly grazing over his arm when he is close enough to her. Athelflaed doesn’t miss it either and despises it. Not that she is jealous, she hates her husband even more, but she doesn’t like the woman’s intention toward Aethelred and she fears for her own life. After all, he already tried to have her killed on his own, an over - ambitious woman whispering in his ear is all he needs to try again. 

So, it’s more out of support for the Lady of Mercia that he starts to dislike Eadith and keeps staring at her with a bad eye. And it doesn’t fade with time. In early summer, Aethelred plans to attack the Danes while they are supposedly sailing toward Ireland and neither he nor Athelflaed doubt this decision to be the result of Eardwulf and his sister’s plans. But things don’t turn as gloriously as it should have and saxons, mercians and welshs find themselves united against the Danes. And despite a great victory that Aldhelm claims proudly to have been led by Athelflaed, it has cost many lives, and mostly one that will bring discord in Mercia : Aethelred’s. 

Now Mercia needs a new Lord but Ealdormans can’t agree on a man and Edward suggests that a peacemaker should be nominated. Of course, it’s Eardwulf that is chosen, the man he is sure is at the origin of this mess. And Aldhelm is now pacing in circles in his bedroom, trying to find a way to reverse the situation until a series of knocks brings him to a halt. He opens the door, his eyes widening in surprise at the woman standing in front of him, looking nervously around to make sure they aren’t being watched. 

“Lady Eadith.” He says, scanning her from feet to head.

She finally dares to look at him, her fingers playing with one of her bracelets. “Lord Aldhelm.” She looks another time behind her, Aldhelm following her gaze. When she turns to him again, she straightens her shoulders, a determination mixed to what he guesses is fear burning in her eyes. “The Lady Athelflaed needs you.” He furrows his eyebrows, confused by what sounds like a plea. “My brother locked her up for her to mourn her husband. But I think it’s more to have her out of his way.”

Aldhelm’s hand holds the handle of the door tighter, he should have predicted such things to happen. At least, Uhtred is already gone to protect Aelfwynn from Edward’s men in charge of bringing her back to Aeglesburgh and to her betrothal, Eardwulf again. He opens his mouth to thank her for this information, but suddenly, the thought of her brother makes him weary again. She’s Aethelred’s mistress and her brother is about to have the highest position in Mercia, why would she betray her brother now, when what they have been seeking to take back, and even more, is finally in their hands.

“Why are you telling me that?” He asks, almost coldly and despite the fact that they have never really talked to each other before, it shocks her and she makes a small step back. 

She looks down to the ground, her arms wrapping around her chest as to hide her sudden vulnerability and Aldhelm regrets the roughness of his words. “I think we all can make a mistake on the person we should believe in.” She says shamefully, looking up to him with sorry eyes. 

Aldhelm clenches his jaw, feeling more concerned than he wishes he would have been by her words. His hand loses grip on the handle and comes to scratch his beard as he thinks of a way to put Athelflaed out of this situation. Eadith patiently stares at him, but she starts to play again with her bracelets, the cling of the metal reminding Aldhelm of the time passing. 

Eventually, he stares back at her, not missing the light of hope in her pupils. “Tell Lady Aethelflaed that I will wait for her with horses to flee out of Aeglesburgh. But you must tell me in which room she’s locked up.” Eadith nods vigorously and she immediately indicates him the exact location of the room before they take different directions. 

Thanks to Eadith, an hour later, he and Aethelflaed are riding out of Aeglesburgh in the night with only the moonlight to allow them to see through the darkness. Even the Lady of Mercia is stunned by the sudden change of side of the red hair who’s now riding to find Uhtred and his men to warn them of their changement of plan. 

During the following days, Aldhem thinks occasionally of Eadith and how she bravely decided to go against her brother. It reminds him of his own realisation about Aethelred and he regrets having judged her so badly all this time. He also didn’t properly thank her for her precious help and fortunately, God gives him the occasion to.

He crosses her in Aeglesburgh’s palace corridor the morning after he came back with Aethelflead, Sihtric and Young Uhtred, dull and mourning as they thought the poor Aelfwynn had succumbed to the sickness. But thanks to Eadith again, they were wrong. And so, when he sees her in her purple dress, now rid of its brightness after spending days crossing the countryside, walking gracefully, he gives her a smile. She immediately slows her pace, averting her eyes as Aldhelm keeps walking towards her. 

When they are close enough, Aldhelm joins his hands behind his back and clears his throat. “I should thank you Lady.” He keeps smiling and she raises two surprised green eyes. “And I also should ask you for forgiveness for having misjudged you.” He adds, bowing his head slightly.

Her mouth falls agape, blinking several times at him. And suddenly, she giggles, a sound more beautiful and pleasant than any bird song Aldhelm has ever heard. She stretches out a hand, wrapping it around his arm, her thumb lightly grazing over the fabric of his sleeve and his still joined hands part. This time, it’s him who’s almost too shy to meet her eyes, but when he finally dares to, he is rewarded by their softness and brilliance. “You’re forgiven Lord Aldhelm.” She smiles kindly. 

Her hand drops to her side again and with a last smile and a small nod, she continues her way through the corridor and Aldhelm can’t help but watch her leave him until she disappears from his sight. He lets out a sigh, realizing he has been holding back his breath. Maybe it had been his greatest mistake, to have misjudged her. 

[putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty]

The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 2

GENERAL A/N: Hi there!

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

A/N: Hi sweeties! I have received so much love already, this is really the best fandom ever! I hope you enjoy this character, you’ll be familiar with many parts and hopefully amused by Aoife’s twist on them, I do love her dearly. Also, I have decided to shorten the chapters cause they where way to long! Bacetti, Cate!

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

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

Chapter’s warning: Not really, blood maybe?

Words: 2213

Chapter One.

Chapter Two: Ale and Princes

There was no sign of nuns through the corridors while she run down the stairs, weapons tinkling under the new dress and cloak Aethelflaed had gifted her.She had washed herself from the dirt and the blood of the battle and was now looking like a lady. A tired, sad lady. Aethelflaed was waiting outside with the warriors, all of them already on the back of their mounts; in her left hand, the Lady was holding the bridles of Aoife’s horse. “You are a strange nun” Uthred stated “why do you have weapons and a horse?” “They were gifted to me years ago.” Aoife simply answered, jumping easily on her mount and patting her on the neck. “They are expensive gift.” the other Dane noticed, and she turned to shoot him a weak smile. “Someone really cared for me.”

Aylesbury, Mercia

They arrived at Aylesbury when the sun was setting, and Aoife thanked God when the route opened in front of them and, among the white of the snow, appeared the stone walls of Aylesbury. They rode among the tents of the soldiers and, at the doors, they were welcomed by a line of guards, shields and spears pointed in their direction. Behind them stood the tallest and scariest man Aoife had ever seen, who pulled out his sword when they came closer. Next to him, Aoife saw a somehow attractive man, with dirty blonde hair and an unripe face; she guided her horse closer to Finan’s, feeling unsafe under his gaze. “That’s Aethelred. Lady Aethelflaed’s husband” Finan told her, noticing who her eyes were following. It was all clear now, Aethelflaed have told her stories about the weasel that her husband was. He was the one threatening her friend and Lady’s life. Once again Finan had to stop her from throwing her dagger at someone. “You need to stop being so impetuous.” He snorted with a half-smile “You will put us all in great danger sooner than later.” She grinned “He would not be missed.” “He is a Lord.” Finan insisted “Stay nice and quiet, would you?” They watched in silence Uthred and Aethelflaed discussing with that mountain of a man and Aethelred, probably explaining the situation. Aoife couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but she didn’t care. She had never seen the snow outside of the property of the Abbey and it was nice how soft it looked over the walls of the fortress. She didn’t notice Finan watching her, smiling at her amazement; and he didn’t notice Sithric and Osferth staring at him, amused. Finan was known and, made fun of, for quickly fall in love with women and that pretty warrior nun was no exception, but Osferth was worried for the young lady’s feelings; Finan was also one to love you during the course of one night and forget about you the morning after. However, Aoife was innocent but no fool, and the monk was sure enough that she would reject his attempts. Or at least he hoped so.

It was decided that the outlaw Uthred and his companions could pass, but they had to leave their weapons outside. Finan tried to protest, but his words were ignored by the Lord, while his guard repeated the order slower, as to mock Finan’s intelligence. Guards were sent to collect their weapons and Aoife didn’t like the way her guard was watching her as a prey. “You done?” she asked harshly when his eyes fell on the modest neckline of her dress. He quickly left her side with a small bow and behind her back she heard the Dane, whose name was Sithric she had discovered, laughing. “You have a temper, nun” and he walked with her through the gates.

They were left as enemies outside the hall, Aethelflaed nice enough to choose to stay with them and not to feast with her family. Aoife, at her side, soon found out that she wasn’t the only one with a temper problem; Finan, who she was sure had a desire to die, not only stood his ground to the huge warrior, but also made fun of his orders. The men did not seem intimidated, though; he smiled menacingly to the Irishman and patted him on the chest. “Steapa!” Uthred intervened “Food and ale would be appreciated.” The warrior agreed and turned to enter the hall. “And Steapa! Good food!” Finan added, under the amused looks of his companions “Meat! And lots of ale.” Uthred pushed him playfully “He will have your head one day.” “He just has to try.”

Under the supervision of Steapa himself, the diverse group of outlaws and ladies were drinking and eating at the alehouse. Aoife had never drunk ale before and she was quite enjoying the sweet and earthy taste of the beverage that she was gulping down. “You should slow down.” Osferth suggested, over the chatter of the others “It is not the strongest, but it will confuse your thoughts.” She smiled sweetly “Thank you, Brother.” She had just discovered that Osferth was a bastard child of Alfred and she did know how it felt like to be an unwanted consequence of illicit love. She decided that he deserved to know that he was not alone and that there was nothing to be ashamed of. “Osferth” she called softly, and the monk turned to her with a smile “I just wanted you to know that I too am the bastard of a Lord and a maid. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You have claimed a family of your own. A family of bad smelling, brutish men, sure, but still a family.” The monk smiled widely and squeezed lightly her hand “I sure do. Thank you.” “That was very sweet.” a voice whispered in her hear. She turned around and almost brushed the tip of her nose on Finan’s. The man was sitting very close to her; she could smell the ale in his breath, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He was much taller than her, and he had dropped his head on his close fist to look at her. His eyes were not hungry, but curious and perhaps even sweet. He was so unbelievably handsome that she found herself at loss of words. She didn’t have to worry however, because who she assumed was a young Lord approached Steapa telling that an approximation to a Witan had been gathered and they were required. None of them knew what an approximation to a Witan was but they all emptied their cups and quickly followed Steapa inside the hall. It was a large room, warmed by a fire that burnt right in the centre. The floor was made of wood, the wall of stones. Aethelred was sprawled on his throne, at his left stood a young man and, against the walls the men of the Witan, priests and lords in their heavy cloaks, watching them enter the room with stern faces. Not a warm welcome. She didn’t need Aethelred’s comment to notice the absence of King Alfred; she had never met him, but she had heard great stories about him, and closing her eyes she could create an image of what it should look like. She was disappointed by his absence. “I am here in place of the King. I’m here to speak for the King.” the young boy stated, and Aoife could easily assume that he was Aethelflaed’s younger brother, Edward, the atheling of Wessex. Weirdly, all Aoife could think of was that he looked something like Osferth. Aethelflaed was invited by her husband to say what she had come to say. The men of the Witan received with suspicious her accusations of Haesten, who was a declared ally of Wessex. When the Lady explained how Haesten had threatened her life and Uthred had saved her, the one questioning her was her own husband. “I am at a loss, how is it that Uthred knew of this danger? How is it that he knew exactly where to find you?” “An irrelevant question.” Aethelflaed commented coldly; Finan and Aoife made eye contact and they had to look away to not burst laughing. A man of the Witan, old and unpleasant to the eye and the ear, supported Aethelred’s suspects with impossible stories of Uthred’s betrayal, about him planning Aethelflaed’s killing with Haesten, all to earn her trust and get once again close to King Alfred. It was such a fool story that Aoife couldn’t imagine anyone believing it. She couldn’t be more wrong. “A spy?” Aethelred insisted. “An assassin, even.” the man replied. Neither her nor Finan were smiling anymore, it wasn’t going as expected and Uthred’s patience was visibly running thin. “Should have expected nothing different.” he said, his eyes rolling in exasperation. Surprisingly, in the defence of the outlaw, Aethelflaed was joined by her brother. “Seems rather grand strategy, Lord Aethelred” he stated, turning to the Lord, “and for what?” “It’s here, among us.” the young lord, the one that had guided them to the hall, answered. “And under guard.” the atheling replied bluntly, “Then let us get to the truth of the matter.” an imperious voice resounded throughout the room. King Alfred had entered the room, and, despite his sickly appearance, Aoife could feel the power he exuded. He was surely a man of strong, uncompromising mind and where he lacked with physical strength, he more than compensated with great presence and spirit.

Uthred had then explained his intention to the King; in exchange of him saving Aethelflaed, he asked for one thousand men to attack Beamfleot and defeat Haesten. He was clever enough to point out that the fall of Beamfleot and Haesten would mean a great loss for the Dane army and consequently ensure peace in Mercia and Wessex, for a while at least. Prince Edward spoke in favour of the agreement, but Alfred, supported by the men of the Witan, decided not to trust the outlaw and declined his request. He then invited the Dane to leave as the free man he was in Mercia, but he would remain an outlaw of Wessex.

***

The group found itself once again sat around a table outside the alehouse. They weren’t pleased by the outcome of the Witan. For what Aoife could understand, it was crucial to reclaim the Dane seer, Skade. It had something to do with a curse she had casted on Uthred and that was apparently putting them all in great danger. Aoife was no one to discharge others’ beliefs; on the contrary it made her appreciate Uthred more. He had saved Aethelflaed despite the danger that his choice entailed. She was quite surprised by how much she was enjoying the warriors’ company; they were kinder that she expected and, usually, it was a pleasure to spend time with them. That moment was the exception, but she could not blame them for being quiet and angry. They had been left without hope nor plans; and even if she was confident that they would soon find a way to reclaim the witch, she understood their fears. She was the first to notice the priests approaching, behind them came Prince Edward. He sat down next to his sister, Aoife on his other side. He shot her a questioning look and she gracefully bowed her head; but it was clear that he had more urgent issues to address. Osferth, at Aoife’s other side, excused himself and left before she could even turn around; it was clear the situation was paining him greatly. Words of curtesy were exchange between the people; Aoife, who didn’t know neither the priests nor the prince, sat in silence. She could not help but laugh, however, when the priest, who had taken Osferth place next to her, kindly stated that he couldn’t waste his prayers for Finan, being that he already belonged to the devil. The Irishman’s eyes moved from the priest to Aoife, and a corner of his mouth curved upwards in a smile, hidden by his bushy beard. “Could well be right.” he admitted. The other priest urged to get to the point, considering the dangerous position the prince had put himself in; the statement caught the attention of the entire table. The first priest asked them all to appear uninterested, for the safety of the presents, and, as strange as it sounded, a heavy silence fell on the group. “How… how many men does Haesten have?” Edward finally asked. Aoife watched hope return on Uthred and Aethelflaed’s faces. “Maybe as many as one thousand.” Uthred answered. “And a fortress.” the prince recollected. “Beamfleot.” Edward asked how Uthred could be sure to defeat him when it seemed impossible to do. Uthred pondered his words, then answered calmly that a siege would require the sacrifice of three thousand souls; Haesten, however, wouldn’t resisted the opportunity to kill him and would follow him outside. Fighting on open ground would increase their chances of winning. Prince Edward took his time to think about it, listening patiently to the warriors’ advices. He then decided, with a proud smile on his young face, to grant Uthred five hundred men. He swore to be there, the day of the attack, hidden in the wood with his army of half a thousand men.

Aoife hand run on the blade of her sword.

Chapter Three.

[hecohansen31]

Hello,darling!!!😊 Can i request 11. "Sit on my face immediately."60. "Your tongue? Incredible. 10/10, would recommend." from the nsfw list with Aethelred??! Pleeeease?? I need my fix of Aethelred!!!😆🤭😏

WARNINGS: Mention of Sex, Mention of Fight and Family Issues.

“Come here” you mumbled annoyedly at Aethelred’s antics.

That big cat of your boyfriend had been holding a grudge against you since the start of your fight, which had happened this morning, after his phone had blew up with an extremely horrible notification.

You hadn’t meant to involve yourself in his family’s business, but you felt like he might need a second point of view, in this case.

Aethelred had been complaining about how Alfred had always been the family’s favorite,

It wasn’t Alfred’s fault that he was Ecberth’s favorite, because you could say that this brother’s rivalry was taking quite the toll also on him.

But if you had to blame somebody, it would have for sure been Judith, that woman being quite the cunning one, pushing Alfred in front of Ecberth, meanwhile she held back Aethelred, something that had always made the older brother stick in the shadows.

‘… and it isn’t so bad to sit in the shadows’ you had commented confronting Aethelred that morning, knowing fully well how much of a toll the entire family business was for Alfred, since the poor boy looked like he had suddenly aged up, since he had taken over the York corporation ‘… we wouldn’t have for sure met if you had been in your brother’s place’.

You had met Aethelred in a club in Ireland, a few years ago, meanwhile working there as a bartender, the smart young boy searching a part-time job, as he finished his studies.

And Alfred was prepared to become Ecberth’s heir.

Aethelred worked alongside you at that time, and it didn’t take you long to realize that you had a slight crush on your lovely coworker, and on your last shift together, with a bit of tequila and a huge amount of vodka, you had confessed to him your feelings, discovering from his bourbon tasting mouth that he felt the exact same.

You had then moved onto transferring in London with him, when he had finished his master there, finding a quick job, meanwhile he started working beside Alfred, although as he always said: ‘it was more beneath Alfred’.

You knew it bothered him, and you understood it, because siblings’ rivalry were something that always always existed in families, even the best ones (which Aethelred’s wasn’t) and they were tough on the people that didn’t get the ‘lucky part’.

But they couldn’t simply blame the favorite sibling when it was a corrupted system from the start.

They could simply focus on better things, such as the relationships in which they were involved.

“Fuck off” your boyfriend muttered as he reassumed his ‘emo phase’, facing away from you on the opposite site of your uncomfortable sofa “… I don’t want to hear another lesson on why this isn’t all fucking Alfred’s fault”.

“But it isn’t!” it almost felt childish to fight like this “… listen… I do understand how you feel… but plotting with other corporations to bring Alfred down won’t help you in the slightest”.

The messages you had found in Aethelred’s phone when you had used it this morning, since yours was dead, proved that Aethelred had been trying to contact other corporations, corporations that were rivals to Alfred’s one.

At first, you hadn’t thought much of it: in the end, you were the first one that would have been happy if Aethelred got away from the toxic environment that his family was involved in.

But you saw nothing good coming from him selling secrets to rivalling corporations, which was what he was agreeing to doing in the messages.

“… again, kindly fuck off” he muttered, as he faced completely away from you “… if somebody heard you speaking like that, they’d think that you were screwing Alfred and not me”.

And that certainly got to you.

And although you knew that Aethelred was speaking from the bottom of his deep insecurity of Alfred constantly being better than him, you couldn’t stand it anymore, and quickly slumped down the couch till you were right in front of him, pushing his face to turn to yours.

“Say something like that again, and no matter what, I’ll fucking leave you, Aethelred” his deep blue eyes, suddenly felt almost as if they had been pierced, as his pupils opened completely for the surprise at your words “… I understand that it fucking sucks that your mother is a bitch and I understand that deep down you feel like you aren’t the best thing I have ever had in my life because you aren’t Alfred…”.

You had certainly hit a nerve, with the way he tried to move away, from you, almost a fish caught in your web.

“… you can’t fucking understand” he tried to retort, pushing himself away, but you gripped tightly his arms, as his face shot up to meet yours.

“… I do, instead”.

You had been in the same situation as Aethelred over and over, pushed and turned by your family.

You had told so Aethelred, since it had been one of the main reason, why you had been happy to escape Ireland.

“… and I don’t think that getting your revenge over them will solve anything” because it would have just destroyed him, you could already see some signs of it, with the way he was constantly nervous and tired, aching desperately for a bit of relief.

In the end, even though he wouldn’t have admitted it, he loved deeply Alfred.

And hurting him, would have bene like hurting himself.

“If you want to get away from the family business, let me tell you, I will be beside you every step of the way” you explained, softening your tone, as you released Aethelred’s hands “… but I won’t stand here, meanwhile you destroy them and you, Aethelred”.

And gently you pushed him closer, hugging him to your chest, as he let himself be brought close to you, enjoying the warmth of your soft body, and there he cried, meanwhile you comforted him, cooing softly and pushing his soft hair behind.

“… I love you, Aethelred” you softly whispered to him “… you are the sole one that makes me truly happy, although you are a big big pouty beast”.

That gained a soft laugh from your beast, as he finally managed to face you again, laying a soft kiss on your nose.

“… what would I do without you” he commented softly, as he brought you onto his laps, meanwhile you tried to collect his tears with a few tissues, his eyes looking even more beautiful, as they were matched with a tight smile “… and let me tell you: sit on my face immediately, whenever you are angry you are ten times hotter”.

You knew that Aethelred was trying to shift attention away from himself, still unused to show such a vulnerability to you and you allowed him, gently leading him to your shared room, as the sound of soft laughs were soon interrupted by gentle moans and breaths.

You both found yourself again, meanwhile you tried to let Aethelred know that you loved him.

You did, truly and with every ounce of your being.

Once the deed was done, you soon found yourself muttering:

"Your tongue? Incredible. 10/10, would recommend” meanwhile your lover giggled, as he brought you closer to himself, caressing softly your back and you stared at him lightly pushing your elbows over his chest.

“Are you saying this to inflate my ego?” he joked, meanwhile you moved to lay a peaceful kiss on his plump lips, tasting still a bit of yourself, as your hands went to ruffle his hair.

“I would never… your ego is already big enough” you commented softly, with a smirk on your face.

“… my ego seemed to be more than simply big enough, a few minutes ago” he shot back, and you rolled your eyes, as you immediately softened your smirk, letting out a breathy sigh, as you brushed your legs together.

“This is the Aethelred that I love” you muttered, as you laid a few kisses on his chest “… the one that never lets the perfect occasion for an innuendo go”.

A kiss on his collarbone took him by surprise:

“… that one that never ever fails to make me laugh”.

The kiss on his Adam’s apple, made him stiffen as everything in your body awoke again:

“… the one that no matter what always listen to my rants and then offers me the best wisdom somebody could have ever given to me”.

The one on his chin was welcomed by a soft laugh:

“… the one that I love more than anything in this world”.

The one on his lips tasted of tears.

But you knew they were happy tears this time.

---

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Evertything Tag (want to be added? Just shot me a DM or an ask!)

@maggiescarborough

[honestsycrets]

Wretched Little Angels: Aethelwulf’s Choice

❛ pairing | ragnarssons x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | ivar takes over the reins, and everyone else is just along for the ride. 

❛  warnings | dark!fic, graphic non-con and violence, ivar being a dick, ivar planning, hostage situation, heavy angst. do not read if any of those will trigger you

They already knew what the possibility was.

“It’s possible that she may not even be alive,” Alfred spoke from the table.

It was a cold night, and his scarf was fixed around his neck, staring between his brother and his father. Aethelwulf paced from one side of the room to the other before coming to the table where they sat with full plates that neither had eaten.

“What if she is?” Aethelred returns. “She is a woman. They could be hurting her.”

By hurting her, all the men in the room knew what he meant.

“It is likely,” Alfred answers.

The question seems to really be what price they were willing to pay. For Aethelwulf, this was one in a line of disrespectful actions. It was the top of his list, no doubt, but it was not something he could so easily let go. Aethelwulf sets his hands on the chair, squaring his shoulders back.

“I’ll call him.”

“At what cost?”

The cost, he knows better than his sons. Aethelwulf runs his hands through his short black hair. His fist beats down on the table, effectively silencing his youngest son with his shrill that caused Alfred to scoot back in his seat.

“I want my daughter back.”

You should have stabbed Ubbe with that knife.

But you didn’t.

Hvitserk left you feeling burning raw and now, Ivar-- Ivar was something else entirely. His arm is thrown over your shoulder, dragging his nails over your empty stomach up toward your breasts. Your chest heaves under his fingertips. Your father is heavy on your mind. He is the sort of man to think he knows best and go through with it. Unless it was the words of grandfather, that was. He could always… do best.

Now that Aethelwulf was the one to deal with, well, there was no telling what he would do. You were sure of one thing. It would be reckless. When you glance over to Ivar, you know that this boy-- is more than he can handle.

“What are you going to do to them?”

“To your father?” he slides a lock of your hair from your ear. “That depends on him.”

“Please don’t kill them.”

This man, the Boneless, runs a chill down your back. You don’t know why. You only know that when he looks at you, he sees something little more then the daughter of a police chief. Ivar seizes your nape with his large hand.

“Oh? Well, I don’t really want you, so I don’t even need you,” Ivar whispers corroded words. A jangle of his belt reflects that he is loosening his pants. You don’t have to guess by now what he is about to do. “So let’s get down to business.”

It was fine. You’ve been put through worse. Ubbe was worse. Ivar less so. The grip on your neck tightens into bruised the size of the pads of his fingers. When you take him into his mouth, Ivar settles into petting your hair— almost like a good dog.

“Where is she?”

A warm voice asks, bursting with hot energy and frayed at the edges with his concern. You seize up under his hand, tightening your fist around his floppy cock. Ivar bucks his hips, and his cock responds in turn, swelling under your fingers.

“Nothing to worry about,” Ivar insists in a mouthy groan. “I am taking good care of her.”

You, as well as your father, know how much of a lie that is.

“If you lay a hand on my“--

“My brothers have done more than that,” Ivar answers, reaching down to stroke your hair. So close, but so far away, Ivar almost muses. “But if you want her back, you know what to do.”

With a click, Ivar drops the phone, cock throbbing and pulsing in your hand. A threat of moisture spurts from his tip and you take it with heavy-lidded eyes pressed together tightly that you refuse to let yourself cry. Whatever it was, you think, it wasn’t going to end well.

“You are going to hurt him, aren’t you?” Your voice teams with tension and fear.

“Well, he makes a shitty puppet.” Ivar laughs, tugging you up by a fistful of your hair. The burn of the cool air causes you to release his cock, which bobs excitedly when you whimper face to face with him. “But maybe you can level with me. Sit on my dick.”

You’re tired of it. The constant wear and tear of Ragnar’s sons tearing into your body. You let your knees fall apart under his prodding hand. Ivar’s lip twitches, somewhere between appreciation and annoyance that you could not follow a simple order.

“It’s not that hard to listen,” Ivar reprimands. He brings your hips down to him, slipping his hand underneath to guide his way into the hole that his brothers had all had. Pleasure thrums through him when he actually does slip in, and he shifts his hands around to grasp your shoulders to force you down onto him.

“You’re all used up,” Ivar says. “You don’t even have it in you to fight me.”

A succession of quick and shallow lines are pricked by one slow, deep one that Ivar made sure to know you felt. You know he tells the truth. Being used by the Ragnarssons almost becomes routine. If you ran, like with Ubbe, they would only make it worse.

“I suppose I’ll have to settle with this to send to your soft brother,” Ivar grasps a fist full of your hair again, dragging you against his chest. Ivar’s teeth catch your neck, rocked by a stuttering thrust of his hips. It’s no more than a hike in his breathing that marks that Ivar is cumming, deep when he drags you down against his hips.

His warm breath against your neck marks the release of his hot breath from your neck. He throws you off of his dick onto the leather seat of the truck. You catch the siding of the truck to stop you from knocking your head. But maybe it would be preferable if you didn’t have to be with these fuckers and knocked yourself out.

“You should sleep.” It’s almost with care that he says it. Though, from the events before, you question how a man like him could ever care about anything. “It might be a better option than being awake.”

The car door slams behind him. You jolt up minutes later when the coast is clear darting to the car door. The handle is locked when you try to open it. But of course, it could not be that easy. Sitting there, you find a certain green-eyed boy. “You’re like one’a them pastries,” Hvitserk says. “Always fuckin’ cream-filled.”

It would have been less painful to be with Ivar.

Your eyes relax from their wide, clear surprise at his presence. With another chance gone, you settle back down, pulling the small throw over your cold body and settling into a flat pillow that had seen better days. “Why are you here?”

Hvitserk holds up his gun, twisting it at you. “Sure as hell ain’t here for the pussy.”

You sit up, eyes rimmed by exhaustion, tugging your feet to your chest. It’s hard to sleep when someone like Hvitserk is there, teasing you outright for something that he knew you had no way of getting out of. Before long, the tears are spilling down your cheeks and you hate that-- that moment of desperation and overflowing emotion that leaves you a physical damsel in distress. Hvitserk stops, slipping the gun back on his belt and turning over the front of the truck to you.

“Why are you--”

“Why do you think?!” you lurch over, punching the head of his chair. You wish that you had hit him, but as quick as the mouseish thing was, Hvitserk moved to the side. “I hate you! I hate you and your stupid brothers!”

Hvitserk leans over the middle of the truck seats, letting a punch land on his jaw. He massages the area after the fact, not at all unfamiliar with the feeling of you spitting on him. It’s probably something he did deserve if he were to be honest, and he doesn’t hold it against you. If he were a woman…

“I’m not that bad,” Hvitserk says-- sounding if he’s trying to convince himself of that bit of knowledge. Your eyes well up with tears all over again when you come back to that pillow, squeezing it for emphasis.

“You’re the worst one!”

“Worst? Fuck man,” Hvitserk begins. “I’ve been nice! I didn’ do any of the shit my brother did, remember?”

“You were the first one. Time after time!” you state. An accusation, a sobbing accusation of that first time he caught you, mocked you with helping your father. Yeah, he remembers that. Hvitserk doesn’t know why he feels a flash of pity-- but when he feels it, he feels soft. He crawls over the seat.

“Hey,”

You scoot to the most impossible edge of that seat.

“Okay, except the wax.” He recounts wanting breakfast. That was a damn good breakfast after all that he did. You bring your blanket high to avoid looking at him. He debates reaching out, to peel the blanket down like he stubbornly would.

Except, this time, something holds him back.

“Thank you for your service!” says the barista. She hands him a steaming hot coffee which he takes, thwapping a packet of sugar against the cup. His phone begins to trill, and Bjorn shifts to his leather black belt.

Chief Aethelwulf, his work phone says.

“Hey chief,” Bjorn grins, pushing open the door for an older woman. She bobs in as he continues down the way to his car. Aethelwulf’s voice booms, shrilling about some fucker, ie. Ivar, with his daughter. “You found her? With the Ragnarssons?”

“A video? Never would’ve thought…”

He sets his cup down on the roof of his car and pops open the door. Ivar, what would he ever do with his baby brother, who regularly got himself into this sort of trouble. He would probably have a much easier time in negotiations. But no, of course not, things could not go so easily.

“Of course I’ll go with you.”

@tephi101​ @alicedopey​​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @tootie-fruity​ @titty-teetee​ @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ @ethereallysimple​ @deathbyarabbit​ @deathbyarabbit​ @readsalot73​ @natalie-rdr​ @lol-haha-joke​​ @lisinfleur​​ @hissouthernprincess​ @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol​ @vikingsmania​ @wish-i-was-a-mermaid​ @lif3snotouttogetyou​ @gruffle1​ @cris101071​ @gold-dragon-slayer​ @babypink224221​ @wonderwoman292​ @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes​ @generic-fangirl​ @chinduda​ @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope​ @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117​ @unassumingviking​ @ladyofsoa, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27​ @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13​ @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​

[cheapcakeripper]

WHY are there no Dane lovers on here? It’s all about Uhtred and his pretty boys. I think you are the only one who posts Dane content.

Sorry, it’ll be a long and a little messy answer.

Based on my experience of being in a certain TLK fb group, I would guess that a lot of people are stuck in fairy tale alike thinking that you can only (express that you) like the ones who are on the good side of the story. In this case it means Uhtred foreva!!!11. PB are basically in a double advantage situation, cause they can’t lose, cause plot (armor) and are meant to be liked, cause you know that in the end this is the winning side. You are basically mentally obligated to cheer for them.

I think some fans certainly see Danes as the more colorful, juicier side, but that’s it, cause at the same time it doesn’t change the fact that they’re these brute invaders pillaging poor England (like Saxons didn’t do the same earlier in history, but who would care). It’s certainly exaggerated in s4, cause the new writers are not even trying to pretend that they want to treat both sides with equal specificity. Once Uhtred got over his Dane/ Saxon confusion, so did the show and now it’s one way road till the finale.

I personally try to see TLK as many separate stories intertwining with each other, so even if someone does bad (in general or in not loving way towards main hero) things, it doesn’t mean they have no right to do it. I see people hate on Brida for being mad at Uhtred and I’m confused how 4 seasons in people don’t get that what he did was the worst that he could have done to a Dane. I see people hating on Wihtgar and I’m like “so what? he should just give up his legacy and do nothing, cause some stranger came at night and claimed that it belonged to him?”. We didn’t get deeper exploration of Aethelred’s character, but I was still annoyed at his treatment in s2, when we had multiple characters describing him in a bad way BEFORE we viewers had any reason to see him as a villain. And even then, I can’t brush off the fact that the rape of LoM happened right after she laughed at him for thinking that he’s a king, but she had no problem with calling herself a queen in s4 and mistreating people because of that status. So one’s good side in not necessarily other’s good side.

Side observation: we don’t really see Dane lovers on the show either. In s1 we had Ubba having a threesome with some ladies, but he was killed before he finished the deed. We briefly saw Boltan and Siggy with a woman, but both “dropped” the ladies in a smiliar way, cause more important matters came up. Then we had Steapa killing Siggy’s lover and Aethelwold killing Ragnar’s lover. TLK made it seem like it’s a miracle that Danish genes survived.

[eretriahs]

The last kingdom for the fandom and Uhtred X Gisela for the ship :)

omg yay, thank you darling <3

001 | The Last Kingdom:

Favorite character: I literally cannot choose between Sihtric and Finan

Least Favorite character: Aethelred

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): the only couple I actually loved was Uhtred and Gisela, but Ragnar and Brida were sweet too.

Character I find most attractive: Sihtric (he’s a handsome rat okay)

Character I would marry: Finan (I would totally marry Sihtric also, but there’s just something about Finan that screams husband material to me)

Character I would be best friends with: Osferth or Aethelflaed

a random thought: I wish they treated the women on the show with more respect, and also, how is it that out all the thousands and thousands of viking warriors, Brida seems to be the only female? I don’t buy it. lol sorry you got two thoughts

An unpopular opinion: If they have to make Eadith a love interest, I think she should end up with Osferth. I just think they’d be really cute okay (also lowkey thought they were setting that up by the waterfall)

My Canon OTP: Uhtred and Gisela

My Non-canon OTP: I don’t really ship it yet, but Aethelflaed and Aldhelm’s dynamic... I think they might be onto something there

Most Badass Character: Brida and Hild

Most Epic Villain: Idk, there are more antagonists than villains, but they’re all pretty shit people lol. I do enjoy Aelswith’s character though

Pairing I am not a fan of: ... is it bad that I don’t even want to write it?LOL it’s not that I hate them, I’m just super salty because I’m in love with him. (it involves a certain irishman and a redhead)

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Uhtred, when he left Brida to become enslaved by the Welsh. I honestly believe that Uhtred would never abandon her like that, especially since he knows what it’s like to be a slave. Like, I get that he couldn’t bring himself to kill her (she was his oldest friend and pregnant!) but he so would’ve at least tried to rescue her. It was bad writing, if you think of it as making Brida seem like she needs a man to save her. Brida deserves better. (It would’ve made a more interesting story-line too, rather than the crew just traveling through the woods with kids, not that I didn’t love the Coccham babysitters club.)

Favourite Friendship: the coccham squad!! love my boys 

Character I most identify with: hmm, maybe Sihtric? we’re both fairly introverted and quiet, but observant and loyal as hell

Character I wish I could be: Aethelflaed. this girl is strong and regal and has men falling at her feet. an absolute Queen.

002 | Uhtred x Gisela:

When I started shipping them: probably around the time we got to see their domestic life in Coccham.

My thoughts: Gisela pretty much died for nothing :/

What makes me happy about them: She made Uhtred a better man, the one is he now, and they really did love each other.

What makes me sad about them: that he didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye :(

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Things I look for in fanfic: never read a fanfic for them!

My wishlist: That she didn’t have to die I guess

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: since Uhtred was seeing Aethelflaed, I wasn’t totally opposed to it. they were good together.

My happily ever after for them: Gisela lived, Alfred didn’t ship the kids off to monasteries/convents and they got to raise their children in Coccham.

[frary-us]

“The biggest schemer of all, however, was Aethelred (or more accurately his right-hand man Aldhelm, who has never met a double-cross he didn’t enjoy). The new Lord of Mercia might look like a “pretty bread pudding of a boy” (great description, Aethelwold) but beneath the curls lurks a vicious, violent personality, as Aethelflaed was all too quick to learn. The scenes following their marriage – as the naive princess, taught by her father to speak her mind, struggled to adjust to life with a man who saw her as little more than chattel – were sensitively done. As Aethelflaed’s new husband continued to try and assert his authority in myriad humiliating ways, even trying to force Beocca to carry out a ceremony to assess whether she’d been a virgin before marriage, it became clear that Thrya’s warnings were right. Aethelflaed’s decision to stay despite that was heartbreaking and yet rang true: she is a king’s daughter who has grown up surrounded by politics all her life. She knows the importance of Mercia to her father’s vision and is determined to help him realise it, hideous husband and all. That said, if I were Aethelred I wouldn’t want to meet Aethelflaed’s sometime combat partner Steapa on my own late at night...... And how much do you wish for Aethelred’s untimely death?”

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

Huge9920 Apr 2017 17:41: Aethelred makes my skin crawl - his pretty, alabaster smooth skin and wide eyes are made truly hateful through the magnificent disdain the actor portrays. However, I would imagine he is not a character destined to last too long, especially if Steapa finds out how he has behaved towards the king’s daughter……………..

I must admit, that although I felt extremely sorry for Thyra at the end (Actually it is tragic), I wonder whether Aetheflaed would not be better off in the company of Erik than her horrid husband…. to be honest (Just saying). I mean clearly neither option is great.

brolene-> Huge99 20 Apr 2017 : I was thinking that, when the Danes were crudely joking about her to upset Aethelred - she’d be better off with them!!

[fucktgisshitok-blog]

Good For Nothing

A/N: Working hard on setting dates that my fics come out so just bear with my randomness until then. Catch up on chapter 1 here. @tephi101 made the moodboard. So all credit goes to her artistic abilities. :)

Warnings: Smoking, Language, Horn Dog Hvitserk's sexual content

Chapter 2

Victoria's POV

I walked up the steps that lead to the school and I looked up at it with dread. I should have just stayed home with Brad today. Biting my lip I walked in and was immediately greeted with the tardy bell. Fuck it. I decided to meet with my cousins where we usually met when we were late for our classes. Bjorn was already there. Ubbe was nowhere to be seen and Hvitserk was practically fucking a girl against the wall. I grimaced and rolled my eyes. I sat beside Bjorn and reached into his shirt pocket for a cigarette. I put it between my lips and he lit it for me.

“Where is Ubbe this fine morning.” I asked, taking a long drag.

Bjorn scoffed and took his own hit.

“Where do you think?” Hvitserk piped up, not taking his lips from his latest conquest's neck.

“Let me guess. With Torvi.” I stated.

Bjorn nodded, blowing smoke out. I knew he was upset. He had been in love with her for quite some time. Yet out of the blue Ubbe came along and swept her away. I patted Bjorn's hand. “It'll be okay. You'll find someone.” I stated.

We heard a door open and we all stiffened.

“Fucking bitch. Why can't I come stay with you?” We heard from the very bottom of the stairs. “I don't want to be there anymore, dad. Why did you leave me there with her?” I furrowed my brows and crept slowly down the stairs to see who it was. “Because Athelstan thinks he is my father and he isn't. No. But dad listen…”

You recognized the boy immediately. He was Aethelred. His mom was big on helping the school, money wise. He was a rich kid, what did he have to be unhappy about. “I only ever see you once every three years anyway. Maybe we can...dad listen to me, please. No…” You inhaled again and blew the smoke towards him. “I can't believe this. So basically you want me to ‘man up’. Un-fucking-believable. Where am I supposed to work here?” He asked, swatting away the smoke and then looked up at me. “I will call you back.” He hung up and glared. “Can I help you?”

I held my cigarette out to him. “Looks like you could use a hit or two.”

“Do you even begin to realize how fucking disgusting those things are?” He asked, wrinkling up his nose.

“Try it. You might like the buzz.” I stated.

Aethelred's POV

Did I want to take the risk of my mother catching the smell of cigarette smoke on me? Woman had a nose like a hound. Fuck it. I took the half smoked cigarette from this girl and put it between my lips.

“Now inhale.” Oh great. She thought I was stupid.

“I'm not an idiot.”

“By the way, the movie theater I work at is hiring. They are desperate for help so you can come with me and they will hire you on the spot. You game?” She asked. Who in the hell was she? Why had I never seen her before?

“Do you always listen to people's conversations?” I asked.

“Only the cute ones. Think about it, Aethelred.” She said and turned to go up the stairs.

What in the fuck? “How do you know my name?”

“I'm a psychic.” She said, before disappearing around the corner for the next flight of stairs. I was struck. That was the weirdest conversation I had ever had in my whole life. Yet my legs were following her path before I could even think. I rounded the corner and slowly crept up the next set of stairs before I heard talking.

“You do know that your father hates Athelstan right? And that Aethelred is Athelstan's stepson. Not to mention they were close knit with my father until he married that cunt Judith.” A guy said.

“I know. But he is intriguing and he seems to dislike them as much as our family does.” Her voice chimed in.

“I hope you know what you're doing.” Came the male voice.

“Hopefully him, soon enough.” I felt a blush creep across my face. I am a literal virgin. Not by choice. I have tried many times but was always cockblocked by my mother. I rounded the corner and looked at the group. Two guys and this random girl. I studied her face. “Oh my God! I almost ran you over today!” I yelled.

“Can you shut the fuck up man, before we get busted. You can talk normally. You don't have to yell.” Said the blonde boy beside of her.

“You also flipped me off. You really know how to woo a lady.” She said, pulling a flask from her friend's hoodie pocket. She popped open the top and took a drink, a single drop dripping from her lips and down her chin. I flicked my tongue over my bottom lip and forced myself to not wipe it off. She was beautiful. I was going to take that job just to get to know her better.

“So, am I giving you a lift to work or do we have to walk?” I asked with a sheepish grin.

Tag list: @tephi101 @jacksonroth @lol-haha-joke @two-unbeatable-beaters @supernaturalvikingwhore @misskalonthelady @grungyblonde @filthyshieldmaiden @unic0rn-world @captstefanbrandt

[shrikeofcreyden]

just finished the last kingdom and whew boy

you’d think after saving both kingdoms, saving both of edward’s heirs, and relinquishing leadership to athelflaed uhtred would be gifted the armies to retake bebbanburg but nope. as much as i love alfred, his kids certainly took his jackassery and continue to fuck over the one guy that’s gotten them to where they are lol. and then threw his daughter to the wolves (her compliance aside) because it was convenient to them

which is probably why i don’t like athelflaed and edward anymore as much as i did last season. there were moments where i felt pity for edward and where i loved athelflaed for being a bamf, but at the end of the day they continue to not realize uhtred’s sacrifices over their own.

like im probably pissing off a lot of people here but uhtred deserved better than athelflaed lol. esp with her riding on his ass about being chosen as lord, because uhtred really wouldn’t have been bad at all although im glad he handed over the reins to her.

furthermore, her attitude towards eadith was kinda gross and im not for it. you’d think as a woman during that time who had faced sexism and forced circumstances athelflaed would understand eadith and be kinder to her, but nah. and tbh she didn’t have any reason to hate eadith bc even though she was seducing aethelred there was clearly no love there and she was literally raped by him so like. wtf?

[wlfkssd]

Midnight Caller

based on the prompt ‘hvithelred + midnight / early morning hugs’ sent in by @issadoragreen <3

summary : after a rough week, and with hvitserk not answering his calls, aethelred (thel) visits the lothbrok house at midnight to see him.

warnings : smoking, brief mention of ragnar yelling at hvitserk, mentions of divorce and a bad impression of gimli from lotr. a little bit of angst, not much though.

pairing : hvitserk x aethelred. small appearances from alfred, rollo, ubbe. as well as a tiny flirtation between ubbe and thel. 

words : 2,380.

notes : aethelred is referred to as thel a lot in this fic. just because it’s a little more modern.

The dial tone continues in its monotony and Thel shakes his head, lowering the phone from his ear before he hangs it up again. He stares at the screen and his brows instinctively pull close and tight.

Why aren't you picking up, Hvitserk?

"Any luck?" Alfred, his younger brother, stands in the doorway. He looks anxious; hands buried so deep into the single, long pocket of the oversized, borrowed hoodie to keep him from picking at his fingers in worry.

"No. It just keeps ringing." Thel's defeated and to pretend otherwise would be idiotic. Perhaps Hvitserk doesn't want to talk to him. Perhaps he doesn't want to see him anymore. "I should go over there and see if he's alright."

"At this time of night? What would mum say?"

That's hardly a threat and they both know it. Life at home hasn't always been plain sailing, especially with Alfred's illness and the fact that it's clear he's the favourite. But Thel doesn't mind. Quite the contrary; sometimes that leaves him free to do just about whatever he likes without much fear of repercussions.

Still, this? Maybe his brother is right. It's no time to be showing up unannounced.

"You're right, Alfie." That garners a smile from Alfred - nickname having been with him, practically since birth - and he turns to leave for his own room just as the dial tone strikes back into life.

Some seconds pass, long and unnecessary in Thel's opinion. He can only imagine what the excuse will be.

"Hello?" Ubbe's voice is quiet, softer even than usual and something about it sends a tingling jolt straight up Thel's spine. They're best friends - more like brothers, really - but some things just can't be denied.

"Is Hvitserk alright? He's not answering his phone."

There's a silence and Thel hears the heavy sigh come through loud and clear. In fact, it's far too close to the receiver for comfort.

"Our father came home." Four short words that set the scene for the whole conversation and the coming night. So easily let out and yet their weight now holds itself in the space between the two boys. "He has a way of speaking that isn't always what you would call nice."

And that's putting it lightly. In truth, Ragnar had come home after three long years of globe-trotting and demanded to know which of his sons intended to take over their family business. It was sudden and off-putting and had ruined the last of everyone's Sunday night.

He'd barely spoken to Ivar, choosing instead to focus on Ubbe and Bjørn as his successors. And why not? They are the oldest of his sons. Why wouldn't they want to inherit his empire, his wealth, his standing in Scandinavian society?

Because, for one, Ubbe had told him, he was still in school and wanted very much to become something other than what had come before him. Bjørn had said much the same; giving details that he was going into business with their uncle Floki for a while.

That left Hvitserk and Sigurd and being faced with a father he hadn't seen for years, yelling into his face and asking if he's man enough, wasn't the ideal reunion.

It also explains exactly why none of the brothers have been at school for the past two days. Now Thel understands and his heart eases off its hammering just a little.

"Do you think Hvitserk would see me, if I came over there?"

For the first time in the conversation, Ubbe seems to relax. The sigh slips into something more amused and he hums, lowly. "I think so, yes. It's a shame you like him so much. I could use someone like you right now. Calling at midnight and asking to come over, just to see me."

Shame indeed. Were it not for the fact of Ubbe's younger brother's charm, Thel might have eventually fallen out of friendship and into love with him, instead. But both know it's not to be and there's a moment of comfortable silence.

"I'm on my way, then."

They hang up and Thel takes a deep breath, relieved that the sudden silence isn't anything he's done.

Dressing warmly, Thel makes his way down the stairs and out into the night with a single thought; how can he cheer up his boyfriend?

Several different ideas run through his mind as he walks the short distance from one house to the other. He could pick a flower from each of the gardens on the way and present them to Hvitserk. He could jog to the 24-hour corner shop and buy him some sweets or a large bag of popcorn. Or he could just bring himself and the space between his waiting arms that so perfectly encompasses the one he's chosen to show and give his heart to.

That sounds about right. Sappy as it is.

Coming to the Lothbrok house, Thel slows and considers his ways of entrance.

Knocking on the front door is definitely out. That's far too obvious, isn't it? Plus, he doesn't know who might be sleeping. There is a light on in the living room but the windows blinds are all the way down and disturbing whoever is inside might not end well. Especially if it's Ragnar.

As he's standing there, looking at the house, a throat clears and sends him almost out of his skin.

"Staring won't get you anywhere." Flame of a lighter flickers into life and, for a few seconds, the identity of the voice shows itself. Then it's gone. Thel stands his ground, though, relief filling his veins now instead of fear.

"And scaring the shit out of teenagers won't get you anywhere, either."

Tongue kisses teeth in a gesture of disappointment at the language and Rollo stands up, causing the lamp above the side door to come on, illuminating him. The sterile shade reminds Thel of a hospital.

"What are you doing here, Aethelred?" Rollo asks on the exhale of his cigarette, smoke blown in a steady stream as his eyes focus on the boy before him. "It's a little late for studying, isn't it?" His expression holds so much knowing.

"I'm here to see Hvitserk." And that's all the explanation he's going to give.

"So it's true then? The two of you-" Rollo cuts himself off as he takes another drag on the cigarette, which now looks as though it's due to be snubbed out any moment. He holds in the smoke to delay but lets it out as he comes closer, towering over Thel the way one does when he should be feared.

Flicking away the cigarette gives a single notion.

Threat.

Instead though, it's an embrace that passes between them. A hefty one in which Thel is lifted quite literally off of his feet. And a hearty laugh bellows uncaring from Rollo's chest, still rumbling as he lets go and claps both hands to the teen's shoulders, looking him over.

"You're both terrible at hiding things, you know. Anyone with eyes can see your affection for each other." Maybe in the dark it's easier for him to say things like this; the veil of night covering all manner of distress at discussing affairs of the heart. Lagertha and Siggy have both torn him apart in their own ways but love spreads just as much as anything else. "Now," he sniffs and clears his throat, squeezing one of Thel's shoulders. "Do you need help getting into his window?"

"What?" What, indeed. Thel blinks up at Rollo, brows coming together as they had earlier over the screen of his mobile phone. "I was going to use the front door." He lies and hopes it's convincing.

It isn't.

"Nonsense. You English need to have more adventure." Rollo observes, all the while leading Thel towards the overhang beneath Hvitserk's bedroom window.

They come to stand, looking up at it together. From on the ground, it doesn't seem too daunting but Thel isn't keen on breaking a bone when he's got a big game at the end of the week.

"You expect me to climb up there?" Thel shakes his head, wishing he had asked Ubbe to wait up and let him in. Better than risking life and limb for the sake of adventure. In fact, he's sure Hvitserk would prefer he arrive in once piece and upset Ragnar than show up and immediately have to spend the next day and a half in the hospital with him because he fell.

"Come on. I'll help you."

Bending at the knees, Rollo widens his stance and lays his hands palms up in front of him, interlocking his fingers. He gestures for Thel to come closer with a jerk of his chin. Silently his eyes say he'll never forgive Thel if he doesn't find the courage to at least try it.

"Oh, fine. Fine." Thel huffs and, putting one hand firmly on Rollo's shoulder, he lifts a foot and places it into the waiting hands. One swift motion sees him launched up and onto the overhang. No problem whatsoever.

Rollo gives him a thumbs up for good luck and disappears, presumably to smoke some more.

Then it's just a glass pane that separates him from the one he loves. It feels strange to think, let alone to say, especially given that each of them is so young but, apparently, when you know, you know. And he knows.

Crawling on his hands and knees, uncaring as to the scuff to his black jeans, Thel gets close enough to see his own breath fog up the window and he pauses to peer inside. One hand cups over his eyes, blocking out the light of a nearby streetlamp.

Hvitserk is on his bed, curled around his blanket. One leg on top, one beneath. He wears only a pair of bottoms - Thel's, he notices. They're a loose fit and black and the pull strings are frayed from years of play and fretting. They're old but, somehow, Hvitserk makes them new. He makes everything new; vibrant.

The catch is unlocked so he doesn't even have to struggle with it before he's pushing up the window and slipping through. Hvitserk would say he's like Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible but that's difficult to believe.

Cool air moves the curtains and breathes life into what is otherwise a morbidly still room. Hvitserk's mobile phone lays dormant on his bed, placed in the concave created by his rounded position. As though he just watched Thel calling and calling and chose to ignore it.

No.

Maybe he couldn't bring himself to answer. Shock does strange things to people. Aethelred's own parents almost divorced when his father found out Alfred wasn't his. But they worked through things, eventually. So he's all-too-aware of just how debilitating that emotion can be.

"Hvitserk?" Thel whispers into the dark. It's the softest he's ever spoken and thinks, perhaps, he didn't actually make any sound at all. So, he tries again, not wanting to startle Hvitserk too much if he wakes.

"Mmm?" The noise is an obvious sign of exhaustion and Hvitserk doesn't turn over, immediately. He clearly thinks it's one of his brothers; come to disturb what little sleep he's managed these past few days. "What is it, Ubbe?"

Chancing the gesture, Thel sits on the side of the bed and tentatively lowers a hand onto Hvitserk's exposed shoulder. "It isn't Ubbe. It's me."

"Hello... me." For the first time in days, Hvitserk smiles. His eyes are still closed but that simple touch to his shoulder - naked skin prickling at it - is enough to lift his spirits from even the deepest of depths. "How did you-?"

"Your window was unhooked. I've told you about leaving it that way. Strangers could get in." The hand moves from bare skin to sandy braids and Thel's long fingers gently sweep through, earning him a contented sigh.

A contented sigh that precedes Hvitserk's eyes opening heavily. He blinks, adjusting to the light. "Did you climb up here?" His brows furrow at the thought and he turns over fully now, onto his back. The side of Thel's face that is visible looks to be smiling but it's hard to tell.

"Your uncle tossed me." Doing his best impression of Gimli, Thel ducks his face and laughs. It's almost silent but the moment is one of utter closeness, despite the humour, and after a minute, even that dies away, leaving nothing but the gaze of a sad boy looking into the face of the one he knows can rescue him.

Abruptly, Hvitserk embraces Aethelred's waist; not sitting fully but no longer laying as still and placid as he had been.

"I'm sorry I didn't answer you before. My father-" The very fact that Hvitserk buries his face tells them both all they need to know about the life of that conversation. It needs to be cut short.

"Ubbe told me everything. So you don't have to explain."

It isn't made clear exactly what it is Hvitserk has to do but by the way Thel directs him steadily with a hand at the back of his neck, the other having moved now from soft hair to rubbing at the space between his shoulder blades, and kisses him, it doesn't appear to be anything too taxing. Just be kissed. Even he can manage that now.

For a long moment, there's nothing in the world but them and it's blissful. All the heavy decisions in their futures and all the things they've done wrong in the past just melt into nothing. They're living for the moment.

Lips leave their tender mark on one another as Thel pulls away, briefly, nose bumping Hvitserk's, along with a touch of their foreheads to bring about the signal of parting. Not that it lasts long. Tiredly, Hvitserk shuffles further towards the wall, letting the blanket tangle itself even tighter into his legs and Thel kicks off his shoes and strips down to his shorts.

As they get comfortable, skin presses against bed-warmed skin; the soft, downy hair of Thel's soft tummy tickling the small of Hvitserk's back. Naturally, a groping hand reaches and finds an arm to pull over and a hand to hold in the darkness. The same lips, too, now part and breathe as one, chests rising and falling together.

"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" The question comes around a yawn and Hvitserk hugs Thel closer to him, looking back briefly and offering himself up for another kiss. Aethelred gives it, freely, leaning in for a series of small, affectionate pecks. Each brings about a satisfied sigh.

"I will stay until you fall asleep."

[lurakodi]

List of things I would change about Vikings

Bring Siggy, Siggy Jr, Sigurd, Ragnar, Athelstan, Helga and Gyda back

Make Gyda and Siggy Jr bad ass shield maidens

A "I hate you but I can't kill you because you are my brother " relationship between Sigurd and Ivar.

Sigurd would actually help Ivar deal with his anger issues

Siggy being a mother to the boys

Gyda showing her half brothers how to fight

Romantic relationships that doesn't last 2 episodes

Make it more historically accurate (example Sigurd got married to one of King Aelle's daughter)

Athelstan sassing Hehmund when he makes a comment how Athelstan isn't a real priest because he is friends with a heathen and has a child "I was going to ask you for advice but I heard moaning from your room so I decided not to disturb "

Magnus being best friends with Alfred and Aethelred

Imagine Siggy Jr falling for Alfred or Aethelred but Bjorn won't let her be with whom she wants to be because they are different religions (I am a sucker for that cliché)

Make Lagertha actually look old not put a gray wig on her

Imagine the king aelle's daughter being afraid of Sigurd but he says "I won't force you to do anything with me. You don't have to love me. You don't have to have my children. You are free to do whatever you want because I don't want to be in this situation either. But we have to for the sake of our people and our country. We don't have to be husband and wife but let us be friends. "

Gyda having an army and going on exploring the world with her dad.

Siggy Jr and Gyda not liking Margaret

"Did you spit in this soup Margaret? "

"How did you know? "

"I can taste the cum. "