#erik and sigefrid

[lord-aldhelm]

February 2, 2019 Jeppe and Arnas goofing off while everyone else was trying to rehearse a scene on the set of The Last Kingdom season 2. From The Last Kingdom TLKTV

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Beautiful men wearing eyeliner. This is my first try in Gif collages.

Taglist: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

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[dailytlk]

ERIK & SIGEFRID THURGILSON / THE LAST KINGDOM 2x06

[cheesesandwichsanto]

Forever lasting love

Summary: Life as Erik‘s and Sigefrid‘s little sister was never easy, and hiding your love was even harder.

Pairing: Dagfinn x f!reader / Thurgilsdottir

Warning: mentioned death, mentioned pregnancy

Word Count: ~2.7k

A/N: So I haven’t seen any fics about my man Dagfinn (just look at those dark eyes and his silky smooth black hair) and I thought maybe I write something up for him. English is not my first language.

If you enjoy the story; likes, reblogs and comments are really appreciated 🖤

GIF by @cheapcakeripper

Being Sigefrid’s and Erik’s sister wasn’t always easy.

You wanted to be your own person, to step out of their shadow.

Not just been known as the “Thurgilson’s little sister”.

You wanted to marry one day, maybe have some children.

But even finding a husband was impossible with those brothers.

Or Better said: this one brother.

Erik was always kind - A calm man, thinking before speaking.

Sigefrid, on the other hand, was the complete opposite - Rude. Short-tempered. Always saying what came to his mind.

And the worst part: overprotective.

Every man who approached you, he scared away. Every man who spoke to you, he interrupted.

Sigefrid was much worse than Erik, because Erik trusted you not to do something stupid. What they both had in common, however, was that they loved you unconditionally. Protecting you at all costs, not wanting you to get hurt.

There had always been that one man you admired: Dagfinn, Erik’s most loyal warrior.

He was aware of your feelings for him- because he felt the same way.

Even years ago, back in Norway, those feelings have bloomed. But it was impossible for him to be with you openly, as a couple at least.

Your father, Earl Thurgil, didn’t approve of him. Years ago, you tried talking to him about marriage, but he only said that Dagfinn will never be good enough for you.

That even though he was a warrior, he was still just the son of a farmer, that you should forget about him. That you should marry a warrior of noble origin.

Being with you as your protector was fine for Dagfinn and your brothers.

They trusted him.

And that’s how everything started - hiding from the world to be together.

At first, it was just taking a walk outside of Beamfleot, acting as your guard, defending you from any possible danger.

Stealing each other kisses, holding hands and whispering sweet nothings.

Then you both took it a step further, meeting at the lake in the forest on a sunny summer afternoon.

“Hey Dagfinn! The water is really pleasant, come join me!” You laughed, swimming a few strokes.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea… what if someone sees us?” He asked nervously.

“How many times have we’ve been caught? Zero. Come on” you said, coming to a halt, standing in the lake, the water up to your neck. Dagfinn looked around, shed his clothes and joined you in the warm water.

You splashed water in his face and he smiled at you. As you swam towards him, he caught you in a hug, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Someday I’m going to walk up to your brothers and I will tell them I have the most beautiful woman on Midgard. They will ask who it is and I’m going to say, it’s your sister.” He smirked, giving you a quick kiss “and then we will marry and have a bunch of little warriors running around.” Kissing you again.

“I’m really looking forward to this day.” You grinned, while pulling him in for another kiss.

However, everyone who sneaks around will be caught eventually.

And here we are, where Erik caught you in flagranti.

It was like any other day.

The warriors were busy preparing for battle, practicing archery, swords fighting and many other things.

You wanted to go for a walk.

Seeing nothing except stone walls all day could be crushing.

Of course Dagfinn joined you as your guard, it was too dangerous to stroll alone through the woods.

But this time you both were laughing too much for Erik’s liking, as he saw you walking out of the gate together.

You reached the edge of the forest, looked around to see if someone followed.

Thinking you were alone you grabbed each other’s hand and walked deeper.

What you didn’t notice, was Erik hiding just in time before you could even see him.

When he reached your secret spot, he saw you and Dagfinn.

He pressed you against a tree and kissed you passionately, your hands roamed each other’s body.

But before you both could take it further, you heard a branch snap.

You both looked at each other in shock.

“Who is there? Show yourself!” Dagfinn yelled, while drawing his sword.

Erik appeared from behind a tree.

“Lord, I didn’t realize it was you…” Dagfinn said, lowering his sword and bowing.

“Don’t think I didn’t see what you two were doing” Erik said, sounding slightly angry.

“Erik, …” you murmured. “Y/N… be quiet. Dagfinn, she’s my sister”

“I know Lord, but … I love her, and I want to be with her…” Dagfinn stated, confidently “please give me her hand in marriage.”

You looked from Erik’s face to Dagfinn’s.

You really hadn’t reckoned with that.

“You want to marry her…” Erik gave it a thought “I see how you make her happy, how you protect her and that’s all I want my little sister to have. I want to know her to be safe. I agree, but it’s not only up to me. you will have to ask Sigefrid too - he’s the oldest, and you know what he’s like when he sees a man talking to his precious Y/N” Erik explained, then looked at you “I let you two alone now, but tell your brother, or I tell him”. You nodded.

Erik turned around and walked back to the fortress.

“What was that?” you said while turning to Dagfinn. “I saw a chance and took it, now my only problem is your other brother - but I will figure it out somehow” he reassured you, taking your face in his hands, and giving you a peck on your forehead.

That evening you sat in the Great Hall with your brothers and Haesten, the plates full of meat and the cups filled with ale.

They talked about capturing Princess Aethelflaed, and how she was the way to becoming rich men.

You noticed Dagfinn stood up from his seat, walked towards your table and stopped in front of it.

“Lord Sigefrid, may I talk to you for a second?” he asked your oldest brother politely.

“I don’t have secrets in front of my men - just speak Dagfinn” he said, laughing, his men joining in.

“Lord, I want your sister’s hand in marriage.” Dagfinn replied.

The hall went silent.

Haesten looked at Dagfinn as if he just had gone crazy.

“You? You want to marry my dear little sister…” he started laughing again “and what do you bring to the table that makes me agree to giving Y/N’s hand to you?” He asked further, mockingly “nobody is good enough for her!”

He slammed his only remaining hand on the table “so how bold of you to assume I would just agree!” He screamed, getting up his seat and trying to grab Dagfinn by the collar.

Thank the gods that Erik interfered and grabbing Sigefrid’s hand.

“I agreed to this marriage, brother. Our sister is a grown woman, she can decide for herself, right Y/N?” Erik, as calm as ever, explained. “Yes, I can decide for myself, and I want to marry him Sigefrid, I love him” you said with courage in your voice, looking from Sigefrid to Dagfinn and giving him an encouraging smile, which he returned.

“No she can’t decide for herself. She doesn’t know how hard this world is. She doesn’t know how men really are. He’s going to break her!” He screamed, pushing Erik’s hand off him, throwing his chair furiously in the next corner and storming off into his chamber.

“Nothing to see here, continue eating and drinking!” Erik told the fellow warriors, then turned to you and Dagfinn.

“Y/N, I knew he was going to react like this so please go and talk to him, he can’t stay mad at you for long” Erik spoke.

“I will…” you told him, pulling him into a hug before walking towards your brothers chamber. You knocked at the door, not waiting for an answer as you entered, seeing him sitting on a chair, his head hanging low.

“I knew this day would come, you are grown now, but to me, you are still the little girl I protected from everyone. It’s hard for me to accept that you won’t need me any longer as your guardian…” Sigefrid said with sadness in his voice.

You walked towards him.

“No one said I won’t need you anymore to protect me… you are still my big brother, you will always have to protect me, but you don’t have to do it on your own,… with Erik on one side,… and hopefully Dagfinn on your other. You know he’s a good man and he has proven himself more than enough…” you said with a low voice.

Sigefrid got up, walked towards you, and pulled you into a hug.

“I agree to this wedding, but by the gods, if he hurts you, I will kill him…”.

You chuckled, that’s how your brother was. “That’s totally fine with me” you answered smiling.

You both were married that day.

No other day could ever compared to it.

Your love was unconditional.

Your destiny has been knotted by the Norns, and finally, you both could be together.

Dagfinn was always by your side.

When your brothers captured the princess, he came riding into the fortress, jumped down, and run immediately into your arms.

When Erik fell not so secretly in love with Lady Aethelflaed, and you both helped him hide it from everyone else, knowing how forbidden love felt.

When the pigs arse Lord Aethelred came to negotiate a fair price for the princess, and Erik almost started a fight because he knew how bad she had been treated by him, you both held him back.

When you were raided and the princess was rescued by Uhtred and his men… when Sigefrid stabbed Erik and your heart broke, giving his life for the only woman he never could be with. Even when you got the news of Sigefrid had been killed by the princess.

He had protected you from the enemy and you clung with the thought of them entering Valhalla together.

After everything, you stayed in Beamfleot. Haesten was now the leader.

He ordered the fortress rebuilt and pledged loyalty to King Alfred of Wessex - at least, that’s what he wanted them to believe.

Two years passed since your brothers’ deaths. You just want to live in peace with Dagfinn, somewhere without the constant threat, and trying to start a family.

But he had duties - Haesten’s loyal second in command.

You and him traveled constantly with Haesten from Beamfleot to Winchester and back again. Even after the alliance with Sigurd Bloodhair, Cnut and Ragnar the Younger.

But no matter what happened, you both were never separated.

Riding back to Beamfleot from Dunholm, Haesten, Dagfinn and you arrived at a nunnery in Winchcumb, hearing that Lady Aethelflaed was hiding there.

You surrounded the building, taking the few guards there at the campfire hostage.

The abbess came out, at first complete oblivious.

When she noticed Danes standing everywhere, she ran back inside the nunnery.

She returned shortly after and claimed that she does not know what we were talking about, when we demanded for the princess for the 100th time.

She was a bad liar.

How stupid does she think we were?

After killing the last guard, the abbess picked up an axe.

You just saw your husband grabbed a spear and launched it into her chest.

“What are you doing? That was really not necessary, she would not have been able to hurt any of us” you said calmly to Dagfinn.

“You could just have taken the axe out of her hand” Haesten added.

Dagfinn stood between you and Haesten, glancing from one face to the other, clearly confused.

Walking towards the entrance, he noticed many horses in the stable - but no guards to be seen. Probably hiding inside.

Haesten’s men tried to enter the building, but came back out quickly.

Uhtred and his warriors were inside.

A new plan was needed.

You tried to guilt the princess into surrender. “Didn’t my beloved brother Erik give his life for you?” You yelled into the direction of the nunnery, seeing the princess hiding behind a window.

“He sacrificed himself, where’s the gratitude? How many more must die for you? What about your child? I saw her, she bears a certain similarity with my brother, don’t you think?” Suddenly, the door opened, and Uhtred tried to pass off Skade instead of Aethelflaed - and of course that idiot Haesten fell for it.

Skade was taken back to Beamfleot.

Days passed.

Lord Uhtred and his warriors posted up outside the fortress.

Provoked and tricked by Uhtred, Haesten followed him for a fight.

He ordered your husband to lead the warriors, and suddenly the Saxon Army came from nowhere.

Haesten fled, and you had no other choice but to follow.

He pulled your horse behind him, not seeing your husband nowhere on the battlefield.

You hoped Dagfinn was alive and safe.

You felt constantly sick after arriving at the camp in Hunstanton.

After a few days, horses approached and you couldn’t believe your eyes.

Dagfinn was among them.

You had almost lost hope.

You ran to him, and he pulled you into his arms, as if never wanting to let go.

Pulling out of his arms, you took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply.

Later, cuddled together in your tent, you whispered against his lips “I thought you were dead, that I would never see you again”.

You caressed his cheek with your hand, your other hand propped up your head. “I have to tell you something,.. I am with child my love. You are going to be a father.”

His eyes widened.

He sat up.

“Wait… really?” He asked, smiling as tears of joy formed in his eyes “we have tried for so long my dear wife, now we are finally having a family”

You sat at the campfire, between Sigurd Bloodhair and Dagfinn.

It felt strange seeing one of Uhtred’s men sitting with you, but Dagfinn assured you he turned against his Lord, after witnessing the whole incident with his own eyes and ears.

But Dagfinn got tricked, Lord Uhtred planned his warrior to infiltrate the camp, to get the witch Skade back.

And he got away with it.

Weeks later, the pleasing news of King Alfred’s death arrived.

The warriors were in high spirits - it was time to fight.

The army marched towards Wessex.

You rode alongside your husband through the forest, when suddenly, arrows flew your way. You were attacked.

You defended yourself quite well. But for every Saxon you killed, two new ones appeared. Dagfinn was out of sight, standing far away from you, seperated by Saxons.

You tried to reach him, and the last thing you saw, as you looked in his direction, was a sword going through his chest.

He gasped for air.

Blood running down his armor.

He fell onto the ground.

You run to him as fast as you could, and knelt down, cradling his head

“No, no, no, don’t close your eyes, please stay with me, you can’t leave me alone, please Dagfinn, please!”

You pleaded, tears running down your face. “Love… take” he coughed blood “care of… our child…” more blood followed “I…love……..you…”.

His breathing stopped.

His eyes became lifeless.

It was too late.

You held his head in your hands, refusing to let him go.

He had been everything.

Now you had nothing.

You were lost.

The war was lost.

How were you supposed to raise this child alone?

Suddenly you felt a blade pressed against your neck.

“Drop your weapon and get up” the voice commanded.

You turned around and saw a brown haired man with a beard, the Irish man, one of Uhtred’s warriors.

You took the blade and held it in front of your heart, squeezing it so tight, it cut open your palms, and warm blood dripped down your arms.

“Please finish it, please!” You pleaded, crying. “No, you are coming with us, we won’t harm you, I promise.” He said simply, pulling out a rope and tying your hands together.

There was something in his eyes you couldn’t identify.

The next thing you remembered was waking up in a camp - a camp full of Saxons.

[persephones-journey]

Here it is. This was requested by @thatguytj11

I hope I did it justice lol

here it below if prefer but be warned. there is smut, more smut, and smut. Zero plot.

Sigefrid walked towards the barn where they were keeping the princess, Aethelflaed. He had waited for Erik to come back to the hall after seeing to Aethelflaed's needs of a meal and a bath. He had heard the men grumble and talk.

They were all convinced that Erik was bedding the princess.

And they all wanted their turn.

Sigefrid, himself, also believed that perhaps Erik was bedding the princess. But he was not going to confront his brother without the proof.

Hence why he was headed towards the barn.

He needed to know for sure.

He opened the door to the barn and walked in. He stopped when he heard the moans. He slowly walked closer and closer. The doors to where Aethelflaed were kept was closed. But Sigefrid could see in from the crack.

He moved closer to it and peaked inside.

His eyes went wide and his cock grew hard as he watched Aethelflaed on top of Erik. She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she moved her hips up and down her hands pressed against Erik's chest.

“You are beautiful,” he heard Erik whisper to her.

Aethelflaed smiled and Sigefrid groaned. She was beautiful. She was even more beautiful, naked taking pleasure from his brother. He bit his bottom lip as Aethelflaed took Erik's hands and moved them from her hips up to her breasts. She pressed them there and smiled.

“I want you to touch me,” she said softly.

Sigefrid pulled himself away from the crack. He pressed himself against the wall of the barn. He opened his trousers with one hand, making quicker work of them than he ever had in the past. He spit in his hand and slid his hand inside and began to stroke his cock. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds coming from the room behind him.

Aethelflaed's moans and sighs. Erik's soft grunts.

Sigefrid stroked himself wondering what it would feel like to have Aethelflaed do it. He was sure her hands were soft and delicate.

“Princess,” he grunted softly as he stroked himself, running his thumb over his tip and jerking himself harder and faster.

“Erik,” Aethelflaed moaned.

“That's it, Aethelflaed.” he heard Erik say, his brother's voice filled with want and desire. “Come on my cock. That's it, take what you need from me.”

Sigefrid tried to hold on but he could feel the pull in his balls and lower stomach. He stroked faster and harder and came all over his hand and in his trousers. He closed his eyes and cursed. He heard Aethelflaed come undone behind the closed doors. Sigefrid tucked himself back in his trousers more and did them up.

He walked out of the barn before Erik caught him.

A plan, or rather, offer began to form in his mind. He smirked.

Oh, this will be fun.

***

Sigefrid did not waste any time. The next morning, when most of the men were still drunk, passed out, or sleeping, he waited for Erik in the hall.

He smirks as he sees his brother enter the hall. He walks over to Erik and grabbed his arm tugging him from the hall.

“What-,” Erik started.

“We need to have a discussion,” Sigefrid stated softly.

Erik raised his eyebrow but said nothing. Sigefrid pulled him around the side of the hall and Erik leaned against the outside wall and crossed his arms on his chest.

“What is this great discussion we need to have?” he asked.

“It is about the princess,” Sigefrid said, “and you humping her.”

He saw his brother eye him. Immediately, Erik pulled his mask up that he used with their men when he did not wish them to know what he was thinking.

“I do not-,” Erik started.

“Brother, stop,” Sigefrid said his voice soft and soothing. He pressed a hand to Erik's chest. “I heard the two of you. And I can understand why you wish to hump her. She is a prize.”

Erik eyed him. “Is that all you have to say?” he asked.

Sigefrid smiled. His brother knew him and knew him well. “No, that is not all I have to say,” he stepped closer to Erik. “I wish to have one night with her.”

“No,” Erik quickly answered.

Sigefrid shook his head and tsked his brother. “You did not let me finish,” he muttered.

“I do not have to let you finish,” Erik said. “I know the lady will never go for it.”

“Not even if after I decide to let her go,” Sigefrid said. “With you as well, if you wish?”

Erik was quiet. Sigefrid eyed his brother. He could see that Erik was considering it. “You swear it?” Erik asked.

Sigefrid smirked. “Would I ever lie to you, brother?”

“Yes,” Erik answered without hesitation.

Sigefrid chuckled and shook his head. He grabbed Erik by the shoulders. “I am not lying about this. One night is all I ask. You can even join us if you wish.”

“You were not going to have her without me being there,” Erik said.

Sigefrid smirked. “So, I will have her then?”

Erik rolled his eyes and walked away. Sigefrid smiled though. He knew his brother. Erik was going to give into him. He rubbed his hands together and had a little spring in his step as he walked.

He would get what he wanted. He always did.

***

Aethelflaed paced. She walked past Erik towards the end of the room and turned and walked all the way back. He let her.

She did not know why she had agreed to this. No, do not lie to yourself. You know why you agreed. The thought of being with Erik and being free of everything. You cannot say no to an offer like that.

“You do not have to do this,” Erik told her softly as she turned to pace back. She stopped in front of him. “When he gets here, I can tell him you changed your mind.”

She looked at Erik's blue eyes. So caring, so filled with love.

And for her.

She reached out and pressed a hand to his chest. She stepped closer to him and leaned in. She smiled against his lips as he kissed her softly and gently.

“I can handle your brother as long as I know you are beside me,” she whispered as she pressed another kiss to his lips.

She smiled as Erik deepened the kiss. One kiss lead to another and another. She felt his hands on her hips pulling her closer to him. She sighed into his mouth when she felt his cock, hard against her. She pressed herself against him. She jumped when she heard the door open behind her.

“Don't start anything without me,” Sigefrid said as he walked into the room.

Aethelflaed turned in Erik's arms. She felt his hands grip her sides more and he pulled her so her back pressed against his chest. She eyed Sigefrid as she felt Erik kiss her neck. Sigefrid smiled. He pulled off his tunic and she realized he had left off his sword hand. His stump was covered with just a leather cup glove of sorts so she did not see the scar.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked as he stepped closer to her.

She eyed his muscular chest and his dark chest hair. He smiled and she felt herself get wet. She had never been attracted to Sigefrid before, she had been more scared of him. But now, she could see his appeal. She sighed as Erik ran his hands up and placed them on her breasts. She saw Sigefrid's dark eyes watch as his brother's hands kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples through her nightdress.

“I hope you like my hand as much as you like my brother's,” he growled.

“Should we take this off?” Erik whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes as he tugged at her nightdress.

She opened her eyes and looked at Sigefrid. She saw the hunger in his eyes. Desire pooled in her stomach. She had never been looked at like that. Aethelred looked at her like she was beneath him, Erik looked at her like she was a precious jewel to be cherished and loved.

Sigefrid looked at her like he wanted to ravish her and take her roughly and thoroughly. All the stories her lady maids and her mother had whispered to each other that Aethelflaed had heard growing up. About how Danes were monsters and would throw women down and take them in the dirt while covered in blood and mud.

Instead of being scared and terrified, Aethelflaed found herself being turned on. She wanted to know what it would feel like to be taken like a common woman.

She wanted to be ravished and used.

“I see that look, princess,” Sigefrid said as he stepped closer to her. She felt his fingers under her chin as he tilted her head back to look at him. “You want me to take you, don't you?” he asked as he leaned closer.

Aethelflaed nodded. She felt Erik's fingers undoing her nightdress and she let him. Sigefrid leaned in closer and rubbed his nose against hers.

“No, princess, I need to hear you say you want me to hump you. I need the words. My cock is aching to be buried in you, but you get nothing until I hear you say what you want,” he whispered.

Aethelflaed whimpered and Sigefrid smiled. She sighed as he kissed her nose and her cheeks. He was being surprisingly tender. She moaned when Erik's hands landed on her bare breasts. She felt Sigefrid's finger and thumb pinch her chin gently. She looked him in the eyes.

“Well?” he asked smirking.

She licked her lips. “I want you to hump me,” she said softly.

She felt Erik smile into her neck. Sigefrid laughed. He pressed his hand to her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Is that all you want, princess?” he asked. “Just my cock in your cunt thrusting into you, using you liek you were a common whore?”

“Sigefrid,” Erik warned.

“It's all right,” Aethelflaed whispered as she pressed her hand over his, “I do not mind his foul language.”

“See, brother? She does not mind,” Sigefrid goaded him. “Now, princess, I asked you a question.”

“I,” Aethelflaed felt herself blushing. “I have come to like when Erik,” she swallowed and found herself too embarrassed to continue.

“You like when my brother what, my pretty princess?” Sigefrid said. His hand moved from her cheek to her nightdress. Erik had finished undoing the buttons, so when Sigefrid grabbed the nightdress and tugged, it fell down exposing her breasts. Erik helped her pull her arms out of it and pulled it the rest of the way off her body so that it pooled around her feet.

Aethelflaed gasped as Sigefrid reached forward and took one of her nipples in his hand. He pinched it and twisted it. The pain mixed with pleasure. He wore a smug smirk on his face as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

“I like when Erik sticks his face in my cunt,” she answered her voice getting shaky as she rubbed her legs together.

Sigefrid laughed. He let go of her nipple and moved his hand lower, his fingers dancing along her skin. She moaned when he cupped her cunt, rubbing his palm against it.

“Oh,” he said smirking, again with a smug look on his face, “our little princess is wet, Erik. It would seem she enjoys my foul language,” he laughed.

Aethelflaed bit her bottom lip and whimpered. “Please,” she begged as she jerked her hips, rubbing her cunt more against Sigefrid's hand.

“Please what?” Sigefrid asked as he leaned closer. He finally pressed his lips to kiss her. His kiss was all passion. It was raw and messy and powerful. He claimed her lips and pushed his tongue into her mouth to stroke hers.

She moaned into his mouth and grabbed his arms to stay upright. She could fee Erik's hard cock against her ass but it was Sigefrid's cock she ached to have buried inside of her. She moaned and whimpered when he pushed two fingers into her. Erik usually went slowly starting with one, but not Sigefrid. He pushed two blunt fingers into her, forcing her to take them. She did; stretching and aching for more. He crooked them a certain way and bit her bottom lip tugging on it.

“You want me to hump you,” he growled. “You want my cock inside of you, owning you,” he added.

“Yes,” she moaned as he let go of her lip.

He laughed. “Erik, put her on the bed,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Erik whispered to Aethelflaed.

She nodded as Sigefrid slipped his fingers from her. She already felt empty. Erik wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her to the bed. She watched as Sigefrid pulled off his boots and began to undo his trousers. Erik kicked her nightdress aside. Aethelflaed sat on the side of bed and watched as Sigefrid pulled down his trousers. His cock sprang up and Aethelflaed's mouth went dry.

Sigefrid's cock was thicker and longer than Erik's. It was beautiful though and her cunt throbbed to be impaled on it. She turned when Erik chuckled. She blushed but he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“It is all right to like what you see,” he told her softly. “There is no shame in it.”

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Aethelred did not,” she shook her head, “nevermind.”

“No, tell us what that shit for brains thought,” Sigefrid said. He walked over to them, kicking away his pants, “there is no need to hold anything back.”

Aethelflaed watched as Sigefrid fell to his knees in front of her. He placed his hand on her thigh and pushed it gently. She opened her legs wide watching as he moved more in between them. He turned and kissed her inner thigh. She yelped when he bit down, biting her skin hard enough to draw blood.

“Sigefrid,” Erik warned.

“What?” Sigefrid said as he pulled away from the bite. Aethelflaed felt him lick it after. “A little love bite never hurt anyone,” he turned and looked at Aethelflaed, “you were saying,” he went one as he placed his mouth back over the bite and began to lick and suck on the skin.

Aethelflaed closed her eyes and sighed. “Aethelred told me it was unseemly for a wife to look at her husband's cock,” she whimpered as she felt the leather of the cap on Sigefrid's stump on her other thigh. “He only ever liked to hump me from behind with my head buried in the sheets. 'Bitches who need to be bred, should be bred the right way' he would tell me.”

She felt Sigefrid growl against her skin. He moved his mouth from her thigh and rested his cheek against it. She watched as he looked up at her, anger swirling in his dark eyes.

“Your husband was a shit,” he said firmly. “His cock was so tiny he probably could not take you any other way,” he added.

“He never made her come either,” Erik added. Aethelflaed turned and looked at him as his fingers brushed her hair aside. “She did not know what a climax was until I buried my face in her cunt.”

Aethelflaed watched as Sigefrid reached up and let his fingers run up and down the folds of her cunt, playing with her slickness. He sighed and moved his face closer. She felt his breath on her folds as he sighed. She whimpered and jumped a bit when she felt his warm tongue lick and tap that little bud of pleasure. His dark eyes never left hers.

“Our poor little princess' cunt was neglected as was her pleasure bud,” he whispered, his warm breath hitting her cunt and causing her to get wetter with need. “It must have been the will of the gods' you were there at the camp and we took you,” he added. Aethelflaed moaned when his tongue licked her folds once than again. He pressed his tongue on her pleasure bud, lapping against it over and over. She could feel the pleasure building. He stopped and rubbed his nose against it gently. “The gods wanted your perfect little cunt to be ruined by the Thurgilson brothers,” he said, his voice low and full of desire. She whimpered as she felt his finger run along her entrance, teasing her by barely slipping in before pulling out and rubbing against her folds. “It needs to be stretched and filled to the brim,” he sighed, “do not worry, princess, we will make you climax over and over and over. You will come so many times you will beg us to stop.”

Her breath hitched in her chest. “You promise?” she whimpered.

Sigefrid laughed. Erik did as well. Sigefrid looked at Erik. “Our little princess continues to be a surprise,” he hummed and turned to press a soft kiss to her other thigh. She saw the look he gave Erik. “I will bury my face in her cunt, make sure her breasts aren't neglected,” he said.

“I promise, brother,” Erik said as he pulled off his tunic, “it will be my pleasure.”

Aethelflaed barely had time to take a breath before Sigefrid's face was pressed into her cunt and Erik's mouth fell on one of her nipples. She reached out and grabbed his braided hair with one hand while the other gripped the furs.

She moaned and closed her eyes as she felt Sigefrid slid his tongue into her, licking and sucking up her juices. She pressed her hips against his face and he rubbed his nose against her pleasure bud in return. Over and over. Erik's mouth sucked and nipped at her nipple while he moved his hand to knead her other breast. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the brothers and their tongues since it seemed they worked in sync with each other. Erik's tongue would lick and swirl around her nipple as Sigefrid's did the same inside of her.

The pleasure was nothing she had felt before as it washed over her. Her mind did not know where to focus on; Erik's mouth or Sigefrid's. She moaned and gave herself over to the pleasure. She felt Sigefrid's nose rub her pleasure bud harder. She gasped as her legs began to tremble. Erik moved his mouth, switching with his hand and taking her other nipple into his mouth. The nipple he left was sensitive and she hissed as he placed his hand on it and kneaded her breast. She could feel herself tittering on the brink of falling into the pleasure completely. She was almost there.

Sigefrid seemed to sense it. He pulled his tongue from her entrance and slid two fingers into her. He moved his mouth and sucked hard on her pleasure bud. That was all it took.

Aethelflaed could not stop the loud moan of pleasure that fell from her lips as she fell into pleasure. She clenched around Sigefrid's fingers as her body trembled. She tugged on Erik's hair but he would not stop sucking on her nipple. Sigefrid also did not stop sucking on her pleasure bud. He crooked his fingers inside of her and pressed them deep into her wall. He began stroking it and it was like liquid fire on an already burning inferno.

“I can't,” she cried out as she felt tears roll down her cheeks. She bucked her hips up and Sigefrid pressed his stump down on her mound and hips holding her down. He sucked harder on her nub and his fingers pressed deeper into her. He added another finger and she ached as he stretched her more.

“Shh,” Erik whispered as he finally lifted his mouth from her nipple. He moved his lips and kissed the valley of skin between her breasts, his tongue gently tracing circles in her skin. He placed his hands on her breasts, cupping them as his thumbs flicked her sensitive nipples. “It's all right,” he whispered into her skin.

She cried and opened her eyes. She looked down at him. “I,” she arched her back as she felt the pleasure flood her again and her body trembled. She moaned and cried as she came again. “I can't, not again,” she began to sob as Sigefrid's tongue lapped against her pleasure nub. She whimpered as she felt his fingers began to move in and out of her as they scissored her, stretching her even more.

“Do you want us to stop?” Erik asked seriously as he moved so his face hovered above hers. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Say the word and I will tell Sigefrid to stop,” he whispered against her lips.

Aethelflaed kissed him back. She pushed him away then so she could breathe. She whimpered as more tears rolled down her cheeks. She let out a sigh of relief as Sigefrid finally pulled his mouth from her pleasure nub. She felt his mouth kiss up onto her mound. His fingers stayed buried inside of her though, pressing every so often into that spot that caused pleasure to roll over her like a fire burning along a log.

She could feel the pleasure beginning to consume her.

“Stop already?” Sigefrid asked as he placed a hot messy open mouthed kiss right below her belly button. “But I haven't speared you yet with my cock,” he said as he licked her skin to her belly button.

“That does not matter,” Erik said. Aethelflaed's blue eyes looked into his. “If you cannot handle anymore, I will stop him,” he whispered again. “Are you all right to continue?” he asked.

Aethelflaed blinked. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow breath. She did not wish to stop. No, she wanted to have his cock as much as he wanted her cunt. She opened her eyes and looked at Erik.

“I am all right,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?” Erik asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I don't want to stop,” she added.

“You heard her,” Sigefrid said. “Now let me hump her,” he answered.

Aethelflaed laughed a bit. She watched, with half opened eyes, as Erik moved. She felt Sigefrid pull his fingers from her as he stood. She looked down and saw him place his cock on her mound. She swallowed as she saw how far it reached; almost to her belly button. She looked up and saw Sigefrid smirk at her.

“I am going to ruin you for anyone else,” he said. He looked over at Erik. “Even for my brother here,” he teased as he shoved him.

Aethelflaed heard Erik huff and roll his eyes. She turned and ran her hand down his bare chest. “Take them off,” she whispered to him as she pulled at his trousers.

Sigefrid laughed. “Princess, my perfect little princess,” he said as he slowly moved back, his cock moving along her skin, “you will not be able to take him after you've had me. You will be too tired,” he laughed.

Aethelflaed moaned as she felt Sigefrid move his cock and rub its tip up and down her folds. She sucked in a breath as she felt his tip move along her entrance, barely slipping in before he pulled out. She looked at him.

“I have another hole,” she answered.

She smiled as Sigefrid laughed. It was a loud bellowing laugh that seemed to take him by surprise. She smiled as reached out. She took hold of his stump. She held it close to her chest, in between her breasts. She slowly undid the leather ties and pulled it off. She saw Sigefrid watching her. She tossed it aside.

“I want to feel all of you against me,” she said.

“Oh, princess,” he said laughing, “I think I am falling for you,” he added.

Before Aethelflaed could answer, Sigefrid pushed his cock tip into her. She moaned and arched her back as she felt herself stretch wide to fit him. His cock rubbed against her walls, stretching her in ways Erik and Aethelred never had. She felt Erik climb off the bed and the sounds of his boots and trousers hitting the ground but she focused on Sigefrid and his cock.

“Oh,” she breathed out as she felt Sigefrid push deeper and deeper into her.

“Oh, princess, you are still so tight,” he groaned as his hand gripped her hip. She knew she would have bruises. She moaned and hissed as he rubbed his stump along her sensitive nipples. “Your husband's cock must be so small and tiny for you to still be so tight,” he added.

“I know,” Erik answered. “I have had her over and over,” he added. “Her cunt never seems to stretch out.”

“Hmm, princess,” Sigefrid moaned as he thrusted into her, filling her completely. Aethelflaed gasped as she felt how deep he was inside of her. She looked down and whimpered as she saw the bulge outline of his cock in her lower abdomen. “I fear we will not be returning you to your father,” he answered as he ran his stump down along her body. He pressed it down on the bulge. “My cock is already in love with your cunt.”

She breathed out. Her breath turned into a low moan as Sigefrid dragged his cock from her. He smirked at her as she reached out and grabbed his stump. He snapped his hips and thrusted into her hard and fast. She whimpered as tears rolled down her cheeks. She felt Erik's hands then, back on her breasts playing with her sensitive nipples. She barely had time to breathe before Sigefrid was dragging his cock from her again and thrusting back into her.

“Yes, that's it,” Sigefrid rasps as he dragged his cock from her again and thrusted into her. She moved a bit on the bed, Erik moved closer to hold her closer to Sigefrid, who began pounding into her over and over.

Aethelflaed moaned and closed her eyes. She clenched around Sigefrid's cock and felt his cock twitch. He kept pressing down on the bulge over and over and it added to her pleasure. She grabbed Erik's hand from her breast and moved it down to her mound. He seemed to know exactly what she needed. He ran his fingers lower and began to rub her nub. The sound that came from her mouth then was a sound she had never heard before. It was a mix between a moan and a whimper.

“I do love that sound,” Sigefrid said as he continued to thrust into her.

With Sigefrid's powerful, hard thrusts and Erik rubbing and flicking her nub, it did not take long for Aethelflaed to shatter again. She sobbed, actually sobbed, as her whole body shook. She closed her eyes, tears rolling unchecked from them. She dug her nails into Sigefrid's stump and the back of Erik's hand. She whimpered and sobbed as she saw white lights behind her eyelids. She heard Sigefrid chuckle as he dragged his cock from her.

“Help her up on her hands and knees,” Sigefrid told Erik. “I need to show her how one humps from behind. And make her come one more time.”

“Sigefrid,” Erik said his voice filled with caution and worry.

“Come now, brother, she is fine,” Sigefrid said. Aethelflaed huffed out a breath and nodded; or at least she hoped she nodded. “Plus, in that position, she can take you in her mouth.”

“He's,” she paused and took a slow deep breath, “right,” she finished. She began to roll over. She felt Erik's hands on her. She turned and grabbed his beard and tugged it bringing his face closer to hers. She kissed him and he kissed her back. She pulled away and looked at him. “I can take it,” she whispered to him.

He nodded. “All right,” he said. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. “Let me know if it's too much.”

She nodded. She pulled away from him and slowly rolled over. She closed her eyes. She could take another round.

Just one more time, she thought to herself.

***

Sigefrid watched as Aethelflaed moved on her hands and knees in front of him. His cock twitched as he saw her wet cunt in front of him. He looked up when he saw the look Erik gave him. He smirked and shrugged.

“You should see the view, brother,” Sigefrid answered as he stepped closer to her. He took his cock in hand and rubbed it up and down her folds again. His eyes watched as she clenched her cunt around nothing and whimpered. “It is fucking beautiful,” he answered as he pressed his tip into her.

“The view I have is also beautiful,” Erik said.

Sigefrid moved slowly, which was against how he usually humped, as he watched Erik move his cock closer to Aethelflaed's mouth. He saw Aethelflaed reach out and take Erik's cock in hand and stroke it. Sigefrid moaned, not caring who heard, as his princess' tight cunt sucked him in further and further in as he moved slowly pushing into her. His own cock twitched as he watched his brother's cock get taken into Aethelflaed's mouth.

“After I have filled you, later, my princess, you will take me into your mouth,” he grunted as he thrusted filling her completely. He held still for a moment when she choked on his brother's cock. He smirked and slapped her ass. “You just need practice in taking cocks in your mouth,” he grabbed her ass cheek and pulled it gently, giving him a view of her puckered hole. He reached out with his stump and ran it down her ass cheeks smiling as she shuddered. “And maybe one day, you can have both of us in your two holes here,” he added.

“Sigefrid,” Erik snapped at him. “She is not a common whore.”

“No, she isn't,” Sigefrid answered. He held her ass cheek tightly as he pulled his cock out of her, missing the feeling of her tight warmth around him. He pulled his cock out until his tip was barely inside of her and slammed back into her. He smiled as his thrust pushed her forward and she took Erik's cock deeper into her mouth. He did it again and again. He felt her clench around him. He looked up at Erik. “She may not be a common whore, but she is enjoying being used like one.”

Aethelflaed muttered something but it was choked off by Erik's cock in her mouth. Sigefrid pounded into her, using her over and over, thrusting into her without a pause. He looked down and watched as her folds stretched around his cock. They were puffy and swollen with need and when he dragged his cock from her, they sucked him back in as if her cunt ached and needed his cock to fill her.

“Aethelflaed,” Erik moaned.

“Are you close to coming, brother?” Sigefrid said as he felt the pull in his own balls and lower stomach. He was also close. But he would not come until he made her come one more time. He wanted to fill her as he felt her clench hard around him.

“I am,” Erik moaned. Sigefrid watched as he grabbed Aethelflaed's hair and pulled it up behind her head. He tugged her head back and Sigefrid watched as Aethelflaed pulled her mouth from Erik's cock, a spit trail still connecting them. “My angel princess, do you want to swallow my seed?” he asked.

Sigefrid snorted. “How nice of you to ask,” he teased.

Erik used his other hand and wiped some sweat from his chest. He flung it at Sigefrid. Sigefrid laughed. He thrusted into Aethelflaed harder. He moved his stump so it was under her and ran it along her stomach. He felt her tremble as he moved it lower. He pressed it against her pleasure nub and felt her move her hips so that her nub rubbed against it. It also meant that she pushed back against his thrusts.

“Yes,” she moaned as she moved her hand pulling Erik's cock back to her mouth. “I want your seed, my love,” she told his brother.

Sigefrid groaned and pressed his stump more against her pleasure nub as he continued to pound into her. He felt his own body begin to tremble as his felt his climax coming. He held off feeling Aethelflaed's own body begin to shake more and her cunt clenched around his cock over and over. She was so close. He knew he could hold off until she came.

He watched as Erik shoved his cock into Aethelflaed's mouth. He saw Erik's body shook and he felt Aethelflaed's cunt clench hard around his cock as she swallowed his brother's seed. He heard Aethelflaed's moans, whimpers, and half sobs as she sucked his brother dry. He thrusted into her harder over and over. She choked and let go of Erik's cock. Erik pulled his cock away ad Sigefrid grunted and moaned as Aethelflaed cried out again.

Her whole body shook violently almost and she went limp. She fell forward and Sigefrid saw her drool; it was white, which meant it held not only her spit but Erik's seed. He continued to thrust into her cunt, hard and fast as he rubbed her nub quickly. Even though she was passed out from the pleasure, her cunt clenched so violently around his cock, Sigefrid couldn't stop himself; he came.

He roared as he spilled his seed deep inside of Alfred's daughter. His body shook and trembled like he had never felt before. He felt her body shudder again and she moaned as she came to. Sigefrid held himself still wanting his seed to go deep into her womb. He stopped rubbing her nub and ran his hand along her spine.

“Such a good princess,” he whispered. “You are truly showing us some Saxon hospitality by taking our seed in your belly from your mouth and in your womb from your cunt,” he leaned down and licked her spine. She whimpered as the action pressed his cock, which was still half hard deeper in her. “You enjoyed it, didn't you? Us filling you from both ends?”

“Yes,” she breathed out so softly. “I did.”

Sigefrid laughed and kissed down her spine. He felt his cock go completely limp as he finished filling her. He slowly pulled his cock from her, smiling with pride as she whimpered and hissed. The moment his cock was completely out of her, she slumped over to her side. Sigefrid pulled her leg and rolled her back over to her back. He saw Erik lean forward and whispered to her as he pressed soft kisses on her face and stroked her hair.

Sigefrid's eyes took her in. The smear of his brother's seed on her lips and chin, the sweat that glistened her body, her red pebbled nipples, and finally, her puffy lower lips that were smeared with her wetness and his seed. He watched, his cock twitching and aching to stuff her again, as his seed dripped from her and fell on the furs.

“No more,” Erik said as he turned and saw the look in his eyes. “Brother, no more,” he said again.

Sigefrid huffed and held his arms up. “I was not going to take her,” he said. He smirked. “Not yet anyway,” he added with a wink.

“Sleep,” Aethelflaed muttered.

“We will, princess,” Erik answered. “After I wash you.”

Sigefrid moved and laid on the bed beside Aethelflaed. He smirked as she rolled over and snuggled close to him. He stroked her hair and rubbed his stump along her back. He looked up and watched as Erik came back with a cloth and some water. He began to wash between her legs and her body from juices, sweat, and their seed.

“We had a deal,” Erik told him in Danish.

Sigefrid nodded. “We did,” was all he answered.

He looked down at Aethelflaed as she muttered and sighed against his shoulder. Yes, they had a deal. But now that Sigefrid had had the princess, he was beginning to think they were not going to give her back. And...

He was also thinking that if Erik was going to run away with Aethelflaed, Sigefrid was going to join them.

After all, a good brother shared his wealth with his brother.

[emilyhufflepufftlk]

Erik & Sigefrid | The Last Kingdom

Requested by @itbmojojoejo

@morosemagick @solinarimoon @trenko-heart @medievalfangirl @persephones-journey

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Top 10 TLK characters? 👀

1-10: Sihtric.

[synintheraven]

Here's my last sketches from season 2 👉👈

[osferth]

confessing

request: She is the sister of Uhtred and she’s a total badass in combat. Maybe that Uhtred sees how Osferth looks at her and when he says something about that he gets all flustered.

pairing : osferth x reader

@unleashthelion im so sorry its been so long 😭 u might not even be into tlk etc anymore but take this anyway

You were only a baby when Bebbanburg was usurped by your uncle Aelfric upon the death of his brother and its heir, Uhtred, captured by the Danes. As a result, you grew up in the fortress never knowing your brother, only anecdotes from Aelfric and your mother Glenna - the former dismissive, the latter loving and wistful. 

Glenna was your one saving grace during your time at Bebbanburg. Having been married to Earl Uhtred after his second wife passed away following Uhtred’s birth, she became his stepmother and loved him as her own. She spoke often of the days following your own birth with fondness in her eyes, describing how Uhtred was a permanent presence by your side - how he had loved his little sister more than anything. 

It was Glenna that inspired your desire to meet Uhtred again, but for years you never got the chance. 

For your safety, she never once voiced her anger and disapproval over Aelfric’s usurpation until you were together in private. He was never fond of you to begin with, and you learned early on that had you been born a boy, you would not have been allowed to live for very long. 

She was the only true protection you had, and when she sadly succumbed to illness you knew, even at the age of eleven, that until you found Uhtred you were totally alone. 

The year following Glenna’s death, you accompanied Aelfric, his priest Aidan, and his army of 200 men to Eoferwic, to meet with King Guthred and march on Dunholm. The infamous brothers Sigefrid and Erik were also there, but that hardly registered. After being told rather gleefully by Aelfric that Uhtred was dead, you were in little mood to do anything except passively go along with everything… until the Northmen inexplicably revealed that your brother was still alive. 

You successfully hid your joy while Aelfric raged and planned to leave upon the advice of Gisela, Guthred’s sister. With little love or need for you to begin with, your uncle left you in Gisela’s care, perhaps hoping that some misfortune would befall you and rid him of his unwanted niece. 

Recognising your neglect at Aelfric’s hands, Gisela led you from the meeting and promised to keep you safe. The two of you escaped Eoferwic together and found sanctuary in a nunnery, where you spent the next three years in relative peace. Understanding your desperation for any information about your brother, she revealed her knowledge of him and described everything - how he had grown up and found a family alongside Danes, his appearance, his personality, his love for her, and the words he spoke of his beloved sisters: blood and adopted alike. 

When the nuns could protect you no longer and your uncle’s priests arrived to forcefully marry Gisela to him, you feared losing the only constant you had found in your life - until you were joined by four more people. 

At once, your eyes locked on the man that angrily strode forward. Though he had grown tall and his hair now long like a Dane’s, you knew that this was your brother. 

Too stunned to speak, you could only watch as Uhtred ordered the abbot to release Gisela’s hand. Although he did, he refused to stop repeating the fact that she was married to Aelfric despite Uhtred persistently telling him to stop - which resulted in him killing the man, and it surprised you less than you thought it would. Glenna had always told you what an impulsive boy he had been, after all. 

After reuniting with the man she loved, Gisela beckoned you over, and it was only then that your presence was even recognised. 

“Who is she?” asked Uhtred as you stood before him. 

“Your sister,” Gisela replied, beaming at you. “Y/N.” 

“Hello,” you mumbled shyly, unsure of what else to say. 

Uhtred stared at you for a moment, his eyes wide. “You are certain?” 

“Your uncle left her in my care three years ago, just after you were taken.” 

You could see the tears swimming in your brother’s eyes before he swept you up in an almost bone-crushing hug. 

“I missed you, ástin mín,” he whispered. “I wish I had been there to see you grow.” 

You were crying too, but your tears were those of joy. “Mother told me all about you. All I wanted was to find you, but I never thought I could.” 

“You are here now,” he said, “and I promise I will never lose you again.”

~~

Uhtred was a man that kept his word. He brought you to live with him and Gisela in Coccham, where you stayed as a family. You had always hated feeling so powerless, and so you requested your brother to train you as a warrior - you had only been foolish enough to ask this of Aelfric once, but you knew Uhtred was nothing like him. 

He agreed at once, jumping at the chance to bond with you at the same time as improving your ability with a sword. 

Under the tutelage of your brother and his friends, you quickly grew into an adept fighter. As the years passed, you became a worthy opponent in sparring matches, your skill nearly as refined as those who had taught you. 

Despite the upward turn your life had taken, there were things you still wanted. As much as you loved Uhtred and his friends, you needed someone your own age - a companion you could spend your downtime with. 

Just as you were on the cusp of becoming a woman, your wish appeared to be granted when Osferth entered your brother’s service. Although Uhtred was sceptical of his potential, you couldn’t care less - Osferth was the same age as you and would surely improve with time, just as you had. 

His gentle manner and soft-spoken words were such a vast difference from the brusqueness you were used to that you instantly took a liking to him. He was always careful to address you as ‘Lady’ until you insisted he used your name instead - which was a slow change, given that he would often accidentally revert back to the term of respect. As much as you jokingly scolded him for it, you never truly minded - he was so sweet that you could never be annoyed with him for long. 

You trained alongside Osferth and saw him through Beamfleot, the first taste of battle either of you had ever had. It was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, and it brought the two of you closer than ever. 

Although battle, maturity, and time spent with Uhtred’s friends had greatly improved Osferth’s confidence, there was only one prospect that rendered him as nervous and shy as the day he had first asked to join Uhtred. 

You. 

Although the two of you were close friends, he had long wanted something more. His heart had yearned for you since the day he first laid eyes on you, and every day after that. He loved everything about you - your laughter, how you fought, the way your hand slotted perfectly in his, the cheeky grin that often graced your features… he could go on. 

He wished you knew the truth, but he could never bring himself to admit it and risk ruining the friendship you had. 

One afternoon, you were sparring with Sihtric while Osferth sat close by with Uhtred. 

He watched you parry a blow with a deftness that made it look ridiculously easy, and smiled fondly. You were incredible in combat, and he both adored and envied you for it. 

His gaze was solely on you which, unfortunately for him, was soon noticed by your brother. 

“Enjoying the view?” Uhtred teased, nudging him a little. 

Flushing, Osferth quickly averted his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean, Lord,” he mumbled. 

“You have all the subtlety of a nun in a brothel, Osferth.” 

“Lord!” 

Uhtred snorted. “Well, your affection for my sister has hardly gone unnoticed.” 

Osferth’s head shot up at once. “She knows?” 

“I meant amongst the men. As far as I know, Y/N has no idea.”

“Oh.” 

An amused Uhtred watched his shoulders visibly sag. “I’ve never seen someone look so disappointed and relieved all at once.” 

“I don’t know what to do,” Osferth sighed, his gaze returning to the sparring match before him. You had just managed to knock Sihtric to the ground, laughing as you helped him back up. 

“You could try talking to her,” Uhtred suggested, a wicked gleam in his eye. 

Osferth looked at him sideways. “I am not you, Lord.” 

Your brother hummed. “No, you are not.” 

When he said nothing more, Osferth rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m going inside-” 

“No, you are not.” 

Huffing, he sat back down. “Why, Lord?” 

“You will talk to her,” Uhtred decided. “You’ve been yearning long enough.” 

Osferth frowned. “And what if it goes wrong, or- or what if she doesn’t like me? I can’t ruin our friendship, Lord. It’s not something I want to lose.” 

“You have a choice, Baby Monk. Either you take a risk and maybe get somewhere, or you can remain silent and get nowhere at all.” 

Before Osferth could respond to that, you and Sihtric approached the two of them.

“Did you see me knock Sihtric on his arse?” you snickered, leaning on your sword slightly. 

Uhtred smiled. “I did, ástin mín.” 

You looked across to Osferth, but his gaze remained fixed on the ground for some reason. 

“Do you two want to come to the alehouse with me?” you suggested, hoping Osferth would respond, but your brother spoke up first. 

“I think I’ll miss it today,” he said. “I’m going home to my wife.” 

“And I’m going to mine,” Sihtric added, but you already knew that. 

“S’pose it’ll just be us, then,” you smiled at Osferth, “unless you’ve also got a wife that I don’t know about.” 

Finally, he looked up at you and returned your smile. “Lucky for you, I haven’t.” 

~~

The alehouse was bustling when you arrived, but you managed to wangle a small spot in the back corner, half-hidden by a wooden beam. It was cosy enough, and neither of you minded one bit. 

As you sipped on your ale, you quietly observed the man before you. Every time your eyes dropped to your mug, Osferth’s gaze would find itself back on you - although he was trying to be subtle, you noticed, and it amused you to no end. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Y/N. Is something bothering you?” 

Osferth received a grin in reply, one that made his heart flutter in his chest.

“Not at all. I was just waiting for you to say something. I’ve realised I talk far too much, see, so I thought you might like a turn first.” 

“You don’t talk too much,” he said at once, his expression hardening. “I don’t mind. Why, has anyone told you that you do?” 

“No,” you assured him. “Just some introspection, I s’pose.” 

His features softened at that. “Perhaps you should do a little more of that, then,” he smiled, “if that’s your conclusion.” 

“Perhaps,” you chuckled. 

After a moment, he took a rather large swig of his drink. “You fought really well today,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. For the first time, you felt you saw something else in his eyes, something beyond his usual fondness for you, but you could not be certain. 

“Thank you,” you replied, beaming at him. “You… did see me knock Sihtric on his arse, didn’t you?” 

“Of course I did,” he answered, “and I thoroughly enjoyed it, too.” 

Both of you laughed then, only breaking eye contact to take another well-needed sip of your drink. Your heart was starting to beat uncomfortably quickly, and you suddenly felt the need for a little extra confidence just by sitting across from him. 

“You and Uhtred seemed deep in discussion about something,” you pointed out. “Was it something important?” 

Osferth exhaled before answering. “It was - it is. It’s really important.” 

“Care to share?” 

He frowned into his cup before finally answering, refusing to meet your gaze once again. “I like you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’d hope so.”

Despite whatever he was seemingly wrestling with, his eyes momentarily shot up to give you an exasperated look. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Sorry. Go on?”

“What I meant was…”

He trailed off for a moment.

“Yes?”

“Y/N,” he groaned. “Give me a second.”

You grinned. “Alright. Sorry.”

Although you were being as patient as you could, the time he spent poring over his drink was beginning to feel like an eternity. Above all else, you did share Uhtred's blood... and your brother wasn't exactly famous for either his tact or his patience.

"D'you have feelings for me or something?"

His head shot up at this but, despite what you had expected, he didn't deny it. Instead-

"Yes. I do."

And for once, it was your turn to be silent. You felt incapable of saying or doing anything except staring at him.

The silence that descended upon the two of you stretched on for an uncomfortably long time as you processed the news with wide eyes. Osferth was beginning to fidget uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on his mug of ale - this silence could not bode well for him, surely-

“So do I.”

At once, his head shot up again, and if this moment was not so serious, you might have laughed at the comically shocked expression on his face. His eyes were wide and his lips parted, as though he truly had not expected such an answer from you.

“For you, I mean,” you added stupidly. “Not - not me, obviously.”

Why on earth would you say that?

Osferth stared at you for a moment, an unreadable look in his eyes, before he started laughing. Soon, you joined in, the two of you in fits of giggles, perhaps brought on by happiness or sheer relief that your feelings were mutual.

When they eventually subsided, you regarded him with pure fondness… though there was a gleam in your eye, too. At once, he picked up on it and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he questioned, his lips quirking up into a smile.

You grinned at him, reaching across the table to take his hand. You didn’t miss the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks when you did so.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Laughing, he obliged at once and stood up to walk home with you. And for once, neither of you let go of the other.

[legitalicat]

Forged From Death - Sihtric Kjartansson x Widow!Reader

An: Thank you so much @foxyanon for the request and officially turning me into a Sihtric girl. I hope this is everything you wanted. And @zaldritzosrose thank you for creating the header you are amazing!

Masterlist here!

Separate from the normal CW section for a special attention. This is going to be dark as reader thinks cruelty of her husband, Sigefrid, and her father towards those around them. No explicit examples of violence or abuse. I really was just trying to capture emotions without talking of direct acts.

CW: Language, political marriage really, Sigefrid is not a good man, neither was reader's father, warlord husband and father, scared child, character death, P IN V sex, fingering, dirty talk, gets quite dirty lots of smut, breeding kink, vague talks of pregnancy kink, she/her pronouns, use of you, reader not really described or named, FLUFFY, Stepdad!Sihtric, found family trope, soulmates trope kinda, love and lust and first sight

Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x reader

Word Count: 6.2k

You knew what you were. A bargaining chip, a prize. Something akin to a crown, symbolizing power. With your own father being a man who bargained in fear rather than respect, you weren’t surprised when your husband was the same.

Sigefrid Thurglison, rather quickly upon marrying you, decided his family’s wealth and power would be found in England. So, you sailed along with him and his brother to find this for yourselves. You, the dutiful wife, who knows your fate would be worse had you denied your father’s arrangement. You, who disappointed your father from birth by just being a daughter, who he could only use as a piece in his games but never actually respect. You, who married a man just like him.

You remained silent throughout. You played your part well, perhaps too well. Your name was used as a way to remind men of the force your husband could bring upon England. Even if they weren’t directly familiar with your father, they remembered the tales their fathers spoke to them, and they bowed at Sigefrid and Erik’s feet.

Until they met a man by the name of Uhtred. You couldn’t tell if he wanted to die or if he was just too stupid to realize that death was a very real possibility. But he was quick to anger your husband and his brother through way of opposition. And, apparently, Uhtred did not heed warnings well. He was unconcerned with the possibility of your father showing up.

“If he wanted England, he would be here,” said a voice from behind Uhtred upon your first meeting. You looked for the source. When you saw the man, you were certain your heart stopped for a moment.

You had seen beauty before. Land, sky, men, women, all of which held a certain captivating air about them. And yet there had been nothing as beautiful as the man who stood before you. You heard Uhtred refer to him as Sihtric, and your eyes made their way over his form. From his brown hair, to his striking yet mismatched eyes, over the angles of his face, and the swell of his muscles that already could be seen straining against the silver bands he wore, there was no part of him you felt was not hand crafted by Freyja herself to be the perfect embodiment of everything she represented.

And Sihtric noticed you. By the gods, did he notice you. You were pretty, prettier than any woman he had ever seen. He couldn’t tell what started swelling faster when he saw you looking back at him and smile: his cock or his heart.

That was the day he swore he would have you.

When he saw you again, it had been over three years. He hadn’t gone a day without thinking of you if he were honest. He was waiting so he could have his chance with you. Those few moments of seeing you was what carried him through the years. You were the face he saw with every victory and every stroke of his cock.

He only wishes it were under better circumstances.

You still resided in the fortress after Sigefrid laid dead on the ground. You knew the only way any of this would end would be if Sigefrid died. And you knew, as you listened to the herd of feet approach the room you were hidden in, that he had.

Sihtric was the first in the room. He knew that Sigefrid would never leave you far behind. It was unfortunate such a man had the honor of being your first husband. Sihtric, though, was perfectly fine being your last.

A feeling that did not waver when he saw you holding a small child close to your body. There was a fear in both of you, but you had the rage of a mother in your eyes. He could see it, and he wanted you more for it.

“He is dead?” you asked Sihtric as others, Uhtred and another you vaguely recognized, came into the room.

Despite having only seen him once, you knew Sihtric could be trusted. You couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was lust clouding your judgement. Perhaps it was a sign. Or maybe you were being stupid and crazy and you would only end up right back where you have been your whole life.

But, his eyes made you feel like that would never be the case again.

“Aye,” he said to you. “How old?” He nodded towards your child, your daughter, who looked at him in fear. He held up his arm, wordlessly keeping Uhtred and the other man from coming any closer.

“Four. She was born here, before we were sent away,” you told him truthfully.

“Her name?” he asked you. He continuously looked between your faces, barely capable of holding himself in place and not taking you in his arms.

“Astra.”

He said nothing else to you for the moment, instead crouching down to be on the same level as your daughter. She clung to you tightly.

“Hello, Astra. Are you hurt?” he said quietly to her. In silence, she shook her head. “Is your mother?”

“Mama is safe, I am safe,” she whispered.

It caused your heart to ache when you heard her repeat the words you told her when everything got quiet. Had you never left England, you would’ve been able to leave Sigefrid. You knew you would have had somewhere to take Astra to keep her safe from him. But when your husband was banished, he swore he would return with your father, and you knew better than to wait around for that. Your only saving grace now was that your father had died before you got back to Norway.

“Would you like to leave here? You and your ma can come with me, if you would like.”

Astra looked up at you, tears in her eyes as they had been all day. You knew that while Sigefrid had never touched either of you, he had given you both more than enough reason to be fearful. And you wanted so badly to make sure she never had to live with this fear again.

Your daughter looked to him and nodded silently. He extended his arms towards her slowly.

“Come then, little one. I will get you out of here,” he said softly. Astra, who had never trusted anyone but you, walked directly into his arms.

The sight of his arms wrapping themselves around her small body caused your heart to ache. It was something you had never thought to wish for, your daughter being in the arms of someone but you. Now you could only pray that this was her new normal.

“I’ve got you little one,” he whispered and stood up, holding her close. “I want you to close your eyes tight and put your forehead against my cheek until I tell you. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded. You watched as she squeezed her eyes shut, her whole face squinting up. Her forehead rested perfectly against his cheek, her brown hair matching his in a shocking way. It almost felt as she was made of him.

“You are as pretty as your ma, brave just like her too,” he told her. You were surprised when you heard her giggle. He looked to you. “Take my arm, Lady. “

You did as he said, stepping closer to him and holding tightly to his arm. He made sure you were not questioned or stopped as he led you out of the fortress. He already had stepped in as your protector and you barely knew him.

When you were outside the walls and far from the carnage, Sihtric finally stopped. You watched as he sat Astra down to stand on her own. He told her it was safe to open her eyes, and she looked relieved when she opened them and saw you.

“Lord,” Sihtric said as he saw Uhtred approach. He instinctually moved to stand between you both.

“Are more men following him?” Uhtred asked you, looking at you over Sihtric’s shoulder. His hand remained on his axe, though he did not unsheathe it.

“He was the last of them,” you told him. And that was the truth. Any men that hadn’t abandoned him before this battle laid dead.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” he asked.

You knew the truth of what he was asking. You were a widow now. Your husband’s family were meant to take care of you now, and your daughter. But Sigefrid was the last of his family, having killed his own brother during his last rampage. Their father had long since been dead and had no living brothers.

“No, Lord,” you told him. “He had no surviving family. And my own father died two winters ago. I was the only child.”

He looked past you to Astra. You could see in his eyes he did not trust you. And you did not trust him. You could not find it in you to trust anyone but Sihtric. But good men, which you ultimately believed Uhtred to be, did not harm little girls.

“You may come with me and my men, then. Until you find other…arrangements,” he said gruffly.

It was three and a half months when you began to worry about your future. You thought of Astra and worried endlessly for her. Her father’s reputation would stain her future forever, you feared. You had no way to provide for her truly. Should your fears be proven true, you wouldn’t even be able to arrange a proper marriage for her when the time would come.

But, you thought perhaps you were worrying too much for Astra. You stood in Uhtred’s hall, watching as Sihtric, Osferth, Finan, and Uhtred spoke, Astra settled peacefully on Sihtric’s lap. She was loved so deeply by Sihtric, and by extension the men he fought beside, one could be forgiven for thinking he was her father. Interestingly enough, she looked more like Sihtric than she ever did Sigefrid.

Uhtred looked to you and nodded, having noticed your presence for the first time. You two had a somewhat uneasy trust in each other now. Well, trust that if either of you betrayed Sihtric, or the others, the other would respond with a blade. And that seemed to make you friends.

Sihtric noticed you, immediately lighting up when he looked at you. He beckoned you to him, to Astra, the both of them holding your whole heart.

You were insane, you knew it. But from the moment you saw him those years ago, you loved him. He was obvious. You would burn down all of England for him if he were to ask.

He had never done anything but protected you and Astra from the very first moment. The day Sigefrid died, it could’ve been so much worse for her. But Sihtric was the one to make sure that no bad ever touched her since he met her.

It was one of many ways that everyone knew you two would find your way to each other. Sihtric would give everything for and to you. As far as he was concerned, the universe began and ended in you and at your feet he would worship. And there had never been a moment in which you doubted his devotion to you or Astra.

“Go say hello to your ma, little one,” Sihtric said softly to Astra.

“Okay, papa,” she giggled as she crawled off his lap while you knelt down.

It was not the first time she had referred to him as such, but it touched your soul every time you heard it. Sihtric looked to you immediately to make sure you did not think to correct her. He was not deluding himself into thinking his presence in Astra’s life could erase all the bad. But he knew, without a doubt, that she was his. From the moment he first held her in his arms, she was his girl and there was no argument he would listen to.

Your darling girl ran into your waiting arms. She was giggling, as she had done since your arrival in Coccham. She was happier than she had ever been. She felt more peaceful.

“Mama, mama, papa is making me an axe,” she told you excitedly.

“Oh is he?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked up to Sihtric. He blushed brightly, especially when Uhtred and Finan began to tease him for being in trouble.

“M-my love, I only,” he said, beginning to attempt an explanation.

“She will need an axe if she is going to be on my shield wall one day,” Uhtred told you, grinning from ear to ear. He stood from his seat, drumming a bit on the table, before he jogged over to you and Astra. “And if there is one thing my Little Star will be it is an excellent warrior.”

You watched as Uhtred picked her up and put her on his shoulders. She squealed and giggled until she was settled on her perch.

“If you are teaching her, then I consider myself lucky to have such a warrior in my home,” you said, standing, while grinning ear to ear. “Perhaps she will be knowledgeable enough to teach our next child.” You looked directly at Sihtric as you said ‘our’.

“Our next ten,” he said back to you. He was still blushing a bit, but he enjoyed these moments.

“And you shall birth them all? If it is up to me, you get five,” you said to him.

“You would give me five more children?” he asked excitedly. You could practically see him buzzing.

“Should you decide to take me as your wife,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging to him as you walked over to the table he sat at.

Once you were in his reach, his arm wrapped around you, hand resting on your hip. There was no hesitation from either of you as Sihtric pulled you onto his lap and you wrapped your arms around him.

At first, you had withheld from such public affection. You were only a few months a widow, you felt as though there was some need to respect your loss. But, when your husband had been so cruel to everyone around him and Sihtric was such a soft presence, you lasted perhaps a week before you made your affections clear.

“You honor me, my love,” he said softly. “To think you have already blessed me with one, and are willing to bless me with more. One would be a fool to deny the chance to be your husband.”

You kissed his cheek. It was truly simple with him. There was no darkness. Only love and warmth flowed between you both.

“You will make sure she is careful?” you asked him, bringing the conversation back to the idea of Astra getting an axe.

“Of course, my love,” he confirmed to you. “You know nothing means more to me than the safety of my girls.”

It was less than a month later that you were married. Sihtric made sure it was everything you dreamt of it, everything you were not afforded the first time around. He was watching as you danced with Astra. He loved both of you more than anyone had loved two people.

“Congratulations,” Uhtred said as he sat next to Sihtric. “You will make a fine husband.”

“Thank you, Lord,” he said, smiling. His eyes went between you and Uhtred rapidly, wanting to make sure you never disappeared.

“I see our Little Star got a hold of your hair,” Uhtred smirked as he grabbed a drink. Sihtric’s hand moved to his head, where there was a tiny braid in his hair.

“There is no finer braider in all of England,” he said. “Finan has offered to keep her tonight.”

“Did he tell you Osferth and I were asked to come too?” Uhtred chuckled.

“He did, Lord,” Sihtric laughed, taking a drink of his ale. He sat the cup down, looking to his Lord, his friend. “I want her to be mine.”

“She already is,” Uhtred said. “Nobody will deny that.”

“No, I mean....I want Astra to be just as the children of my blood. I want her to inherit, I want to be responsible for her. Entirely. And should she and my wife allow, I want to give her my name,” Sihtric said.

Uhtred could see a determination on his friend’s face that he had not quite seen before. It shone through in a burning heat. He lived for the family he had with you now. No oath superseded his oath to the two of you, and none ever would.

“Should they wish it, it is done. I will make it known Astra is to be no different than any child of your blood,” he promised his friend. “Now, go dance with your wife. Take her to bed. We will keep our Little Star.”

With a clap on the shoulder, Sihtric stood from the table and began to work his way through crowd to you. You were twirling Astra around, making her laugh and laugh. He could not imagine a more perfect life for himself.

Sihtric chuckled when Astra noticed him and ran into his legs. He knew she was his. She was meant to be his daughter. He could not be bothered by something as trivial as blood. He, of all people, knew family was not limited to blood. Family was created by love, and he loved her enough to create a universe.

Then there was you, his dear wife. He thought you looked stunning in your dress, the deep red color feeling like the physical representation of his love for you. You were more than he could have ever dreamed of. All of his life, he wanted to be what his father wasn’t. A good, honorable man who stayed for his family and loved his wife. A man worthy of love and respect.

And he realized that’s exactly how you saw him.

“Hello, my love,” you said to him when you saw him.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked teasingly, picking Astra up when she stopped dancing.

“Yes, my love. Though, perhaps you would much prefer my husband,” you said, smirking.

“Aye. After all, I will never call you anything but my wife again,” he said and rubbed his nose against Astra’s cheek.

“Hehe papa,” she said as she hugged him tightly. “I love you.”

Sihtric could feel his heart skip a beat. She had called him papa for months at this point, that was no surprise. But, Astra had not told him she loved him. And there was something so precious about hearing it.

“I love you, little one,” he said softly, pressing his lips against her forehead.

You smiled at the two of them. You wanted to hold this moment in your mind for the rest of your life. Capture it, freeze it for all of eternity, something you could hold onto and remember love.

“Now little one, Uncle Finan is excited to start your time together. Your ma and I will see you in the morning,” he told her as he sat her down.

“UNCLE FINAN I AM COMING!” Astra shouted as she ran off through the crowd.

Every person parted to let her through, allowing your eyes to follow her path to Finan. She was loved by most any in town. Her personality was loud and bright enough so that everyone knew her. Of course, it helped that she was always right by your side, and you were always close to Sihtric.

And you knew, at least within the confines of the town walls, she was safe to move about. Most everyone would agree that harming a child is egregious. Everyone agreed that harming your child was the fastest way to ensure a brutal death by the hands of Sihtric, and a quick one by Uhtred and Finan. Even Osferth, sweet Osferth, would pray for his God’s forgiveness as he took the life of anyone who would lay a finger on Astra. She was loved, she was safe. For the first time in her life she did not flinch when she was more than an inch from your skirts.

“Being my wife suits you,” Sihtric told you, drawing your eyes from Finan and Astra to him.

He looked at you with pure adoration. He worshipped you. Made certain that he loved you enough to make the bad parts of your life feel like another lifetime.

“Just as being my husband suits you,” you said to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you tightly to him. He breathed you in, feeling overwhelmed by you. Everything about you was intoxicating to him. From your beauty, the way you smelled, the way your body pressed against his own, there was nothing that could dampen his desire of you.

“Then it seems we are in agreement,” he said.

“That it does,” you said softly, leaning forward slightly. Your lips hovered next to his ear. “And I think I would like to feel my husband.”

You felt him shudder with your words, the unmistakable hardness of his erection beginning to dig into you. It had not been difficult to get him excited these last months. Even after both of you had agreed to wait until you were married, you had enjoyed riling him up before he returned to his own home.

“I have dreamt of this night for years,” he muttered to you. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were mine. I dreamt of my cock sinking deep into you for hours on end.”

It was your turn now for a shiver down your spine. There was no part of you that could deny dreaming of the same thing for just as long. In the years trying to exist outside of England, the nights where you went to bed amidst yells and cheers during another fight to the death for Sigefrid’s amusement, you dreamt of his mismatched eyes. Of his sharp beauty. Of a life you now got to share with him.

You weren’t sure who broke away first between the two of you, but it wasn’t long before you were walking down the streets to his, no your, home. The home you would grow old together in, gods be good. And the two of you couldn’t keep from stopping every few feet, pulling the other for a deep, passionate kiss.

When you finally arrived at the house, he picked you up and carried you over the threshold. In fact, he did not put you down until he could place you on the bed. You had barely recognized that you were laying on it before he was hovering over you, repeatedly kissing your neck.

“Such a pretty wife,” he muttered with every kiss. You put your head back to expose more of your sensitive skin. “Have been blessed, haven’t I? Blessed by the gods to be given such a pretty wife.”

You placed a hand on the bag of his head and gripped his hair firmly. Despite the pull on his hair, you only brought him closer into you. You could feel him starting to grind himself against your thigh, desperately looking for some relief.

“Fuck, Sihtric,” you moaned out. But when his name left your lips, he nipped at your neck quickly. It took you by surprise, causing a quiet squeak to escape you.

“Be a good, pretty wife and do not use my name tonight,” he whispered in your ear.

“Such a demanding husband I have,” you teased. “So desperate to fuck me he has to rut against me like an animal.”

He groaned into your neck at your words, his right hand beginning to fumble with the fastenings of your dress. You ignored the shaking of your own hands, your need of Sihtric outweighing your nerves. This was meant to be, after all. And you had faith it would be perfect.

“Use your mouth for better things and perhaps I will let you fuck a child into me tonight,” you told him. This time it was not a groan, but a quiet whimper, that left his lips. His fingers struggled with undressing you, the way it was held to your body being more complicated than he had thought.

He pulled back entirely, sitting up on his knees as he began reaching for the knife he carried. He cut the fabric of your dress away from your body. You stared at him, eyes heavy with lust.

“Nothing but a dress, you can replace it,” he told you. You could only nod at him as he helped remove the material away completely. After a moment, the tattered remains of the dress and his knife fell together to the floor, just as quickly forgotten.

He stared at your naked form. He could not help it, truly. Everything about you was perfect for him. He leaned forward and kissed you once more, before his lips started trailing down your body. Along your jawline, down your neck, over your collarbone. He only took pause when he got to your breasts. Sihtric’s left hand began pawing at one while his lips wrapped around your nipple.

You moaned quietly as he sucked while massaging your soft flesh. Your eyes fluttered shut, whimpering every time he decided to graze your nipple with his teeth. You wanted to beg him to give you more, to pleasure your aching cunt.

He groaned to himself before pulling away from your breasts entirely, muttering a promise he would play with them more. You almost started to laugh, only for it to catch in your throat when his fingers found your slick. He smirked down at you.

“You must really enjoy this, wife,” he whispered teasingly. His fingers ran up and down your folds, deliberate in their light touching of your pearl.

“Of course, I have only dreamt of you as my husband a few dozen times now,” you told him. Your thighs trembled a bit as you resisted the urge to buck your hips into his hand.

He hummed quietly as he allowed his finger to sink into you. While you became a whimpering mess, he just slowly thrust his finger in and out. Never had you known such bliss. His finger felt thicker than you had anticipated.

“What is it, pretty wife? Cannot think through your pleasure?” he asked you, looking directly into your eyes.

Your resolve finally broke. With a moan, you allowed your hips to move to meet his hand. All you could think of was chasing your pleasure with him.

“You say I am demanding, but you are so needy,” he cooed. He pushed another finger into you, curling his fingers slightly with every thrust of them. His touch was perfectly focused on the spongy spot inside you.

“Love, my love, please, fuck, please,” you moaned. You couldn’t finish a single thought as you felt a band tightening behind your navel.

You had only experienced such a feeling with yourself. Pleasure had never been at the forefront of your life. Until now, at least, since Sihtric seemed determined to make you reach that point. He increased the speed of his fingers movements.

“Cum for me,” he practically demanded of you. His voice was quiet, meant only for your ears, but forceful in nature. “And then I’ll give you my cock. Such a good girl, you deserve it. Don’t you, my love?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered. You gripped the furs under you tightly, the edges of your vision going fuzzy.

“Deserve my cock, deserve my love. You have both, entirely, you understand?” he asked you, his thumb barely ghosting against your pearl.

“Yes, fuck, my love, my husband,” you whined pathetically. It seemed to please him, at least enough.

His thumb finally rested against the bundle of nerves, rubbing circles in time with every thrust of his fingers. The band finally snapped as you cried out, back arching off the bed. A jumbled mess of his name, husband, love, and expletives left your tongue.

You were able to watch as Sihtric removed his touch from you entirely. He brought his fingers to his lips before he sucked them clean, earning another whimper from you. And then you got to watch him undress, his shirt and pants being flung away in a matter of moments.

You weren’t entirely sure which of the gods had blessed you, but you thanked everyone of them when Sihtric stood naked before you. His toned chest and stomach was near flawless, save for a few scars earned in battle. The Thor’s hammer pendant rested against his taut chest. Your gaze washed over the grooves of his form, able to count each muscle, until they finally landed on his cock.

He was blessed even then. His heavy cock bobbed with need. When his eyes caught yours, he smirked at your hungry gaze. He was long and thick enough to make you question just how exactly you were meant to take him in entirely.

Sihtric couldn’t hide his smirk when he grabbed you by the hips and pulled your body closer to his. He groaned softly as his cock now rested against you, already collecting your slick.

“I love you,” he said to you, his voice softer than the cocky look etched on his face would have you expect.

You tried to stutter out some response before he started rubbing himself against you. Anytime the head brushed against your pearl, the feeling stole your words and sent shockwaves through your body. There was a pride he felt at already having you responding like this before having even fucked you.

“I love…fuck, fuck me, fuck I love you,” you finally managed to get out.

“Good girl, using your words,” he cooed. He moved his cock to start pressing against your entrance. “Are you going to keep being a good girl, love?”

“Yes,” you said weakly and nodded

He smiled at you. He grabbed your leg gently, hooking it on his arm, as he leaned down to bring his face closer to you. Your knee pressed against your chest while he kissed you. You melted into his kiss, your hands releasing the furs you laid up on to hold his face gently.

Your kiss only ended on account of the way he couldn’t hold back his whines and whimpers when he pushed into you. He couldn’t help the way your name left him when you took half of him without issue.

He pulled himself away to look down at your face. After a moment, he looked between your bodies and groaned when he saw you impaled on his cock.

“Fuck, such a pretty wife I have,” he muttered. “You ready for more, my love?” he asked when he reconnected your gaze.

“Yes,” you told him, nodding eagerly.

He groaned as he moved his hips forward. It was pure bliss for both of you. His cock throbbed with every thrust, your walls clenching tightly around him. Every nerve ending in both of you felt like it was on fire as your connection only grew. Sihtric watched you every second, trying to make sure it was as mind blowing for you as it was for him.

His speed increased desperately. He needed more, you needed more. Your hands roamed his body, your moans filling his ears like a beautiful song. The head of his cock kept moving against the spongy spot inside, making your thighs tremble once again.

You watched him as he thrust into you. His pendant and your breasts moved in time with his thrusts, captivating him. You could see him teetering the line of control and instinct. He wanted this to be sweet for you, to be perfect, everything you deserved. He has heard enough stories of your life to know you deserved more than to once again be used for someone else’s pleasure.

“Such a good husband already,” you told him, gripping his biceps. His gaze softened when you spoke, his hips stuttering a bit. “We have all our lives for you to make me scream your name in pleasure, do we not? “

He nodded wordlessly. His cock never once stilled in you as he watched you. He kept grunting under his breath, every noise ending in what sounded like a whine.

“Then I say tonight, I want you to finish inside of me until there is no doubt that come morning I am carrying your child,” you commanded.

His mouth hung open, his hips slowing a bit as he stared down at you. You could see him searching for any uncertainty on your face. Yet, he could search for his entire life and never find in you any doubt of him.

You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned up and took his pendant of Thor’s hammer in between your teeth before looking directly into his eyes. His thrusts picked up in speed, going harder and deeper than before.

He closed the gap between you, his lips coming next to your ear as he finally released your leg. On one side all you could hear a symphony of skin slapping against skin as he fucked you at an almost bruising intensity. In the other, he began to whimper and whine for you.

“Pretty wife, amazing mother,” he whispered in your ear, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. He was throbbing inside you and you could feel just how close he was. The way he twitched and pushed against you, his weight pressing into your chest, the band started to tighten again.

“Already a desperate man for you,” he grunted. You were incapable of getting any sound to leave your mouth. All you could do was focus on his word, his sounds, his movements. He was all you knew to be true in this moment.

“Can’t wait to see you pregnant. Probably prettier, round with child and tits swollen with milk. Fuck,” he said to you as his hips started stuttering more frequently.

Your orgasm overcame you finally, causing you to cry out his name. You were barely aware of his whisperings still in your ear.

“That’s a good girl, fuck, yes, my pretty wife,” he practically growled in your ear. Finally, his thrusts stopped, his cock buried inside you as he released ropes of hot cum into you. Sihtric let out a sound with every throb.

You were trembling when he pulled himself from you, breathing heavily. Carefully, he maneuvered the furs out from under your body before carefully covering you both. You moved closer to him and laid your head on his chest. His arm wrapped around you, holding you as though he was terrified of you walking out the door.

You laid there in silence for several moments, basking in the way you felt. With being given from your father to Sigefrid, you had never known much of love or safety. You had never really known kindness. You had feared for so long that the violence and chaos both of them had brought into their lives and halls would haunt you forever.

Yet, laying here in Sihtric’s arms, you almost couldn’t remember how they made you feel. He made you feel so powerful, so loved, so worshipped beyond belief that you would now go days without thinking of the horrors of your past. Even Astra seemed to feel nothing but safety and love.

You turned your face to look at him. He was looking happily down at you, a cheesy, lazy little grin splashed on his face. You were certain nothing could get better than this.

“I love you,” you said softly. “Especially your eyes.”

He rolled them, yet the smile never faded. “Which is your favorite?” he asked.

“Oh no, that is like trying to choose a favorite mountain, or snowflake. Each so unique, so special, one would be an ignorant fool to pick a favorite,” you told him, smiling up at him. “Luckily, I do not have to. I get to enjoy them until I die.”

“Oh? And if I die before you?” he teased, kissing your forehead.

“You are not allowed. I cannot let you walk into Valhalla without me there to greet you, even if that means I will need to pick up an axe again,” you said simply. It was your truth. “I have spent my entire life waiting for the love you give me. You are not allowed to ever make me live without it again, husband.”

Sihtric tried to hide it, but you could see him wiggle just a bit, his smile spread further, when you addressed him as husband. In the moments past, he was too distracted by lust. But now it was sinking in, for both of you, and you felt just as joyful as him.

“Of course, wife. I would not dare leave you to raise our ten children alone,” he said, smirking as you laughed.

“I believe I said five more,” you told him, raising an eyebrow.

“I believe Freyja will bless us with a small army, as much as I plan to bury my cock in you,” he told you, kissing your forehead. “Speaking of.”

Sihtric smirked before kissing you again, pulling you on top of him. You felt your laugh rumble in your chest as you couldn’t help but kiss him back.

You were finally no longer a bargaining chip.

Taglist: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @gemini-mama @alexagirlie

[lord-aldhelm]

NOVEMBER 9, 2017

Posted on The Last Kingdom TLKTV Instagram account

"TLK Family - Priceless 💙"

I found an uncropped version of this photo as well

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Hey! Just wanted to say love your Sihtric fics. They literally give me life. As a new Last Kingdom fan (just started watching the show, on season 2 now). I was hoping you could write a one shot of Sihtric x Fem reader. Where the fem is like a healer very similar to Iseult in season 1. But this time reader is patching up our boy Sihtric. The reader is extremally worried for Sihtric. Hope this ask is okay. Thank you again!

The Witch

Part 1

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: Dear Anon, I'm so sorry it took me so long to write this. I loved the request, but unfortunately there were so many things in between. And lately I really struggle with writing, so I can tell you I have rewritten it at least five times and if I don't post it now, I will probably start all over again tomorrow. Sorry, I didn't manage to put all in a one shot, so this is Part 1.

Warnings: a bit of fluff and as per usual angst, but in delicate doses

Word Count: 3,4K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Sihtric's gaze repeatedly drifted toward the upper end of the grand hall, where Sigefrid and his brother Erik were seated. He tried to force himself to look away, just to find himself staring again as if pulled by an irresistible force. It was not the commanding presence of the two brothers that captivated him. No, it was you. 

The first time Sihtric had seen you was on the very first day of his arrival in Beamfleot. Deliberately, he guided his horse into a slow walk as he passed through the city gates, determined not to appear hasty or restless. He was supposed to look just like one among the numerous Danish warriors lured in by the boastful promises of wealth and vast lands, spread by Erik and Sigefrid. 

He paused at the stables, casually tossing the reins to a stable boy, and began to unfasten his saddlebag, taking in his surroundings with vigilant eyes, all the while sensing an unfamiliar presence, as if someone's gaze bore into him.

Sihtric turned around, finding no one behind him. His gaze shifted upward, scanning the city's encircling walls, counting the watchtowers and the spears positioned within them. It was precisely at that moment when he caught sight of you. You stood upon the ramparts, your attention firmly fixed on him, making no effort to conceal it. 

The sun danced through your unbraided hair, fluttering in the wind and what was meant to be a fleeting glance began to feel like an eternity for Sihtric, as he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. He was ensnared by the boundless depths of your dark, scrutinising eyes, as if they possessed the ability to peer into the recesses of his soul, reading his very thoughts. 

"Hey, you, lunkhead," a mocking voice snapped Sihtric's attention back to the present. "Barely arrived, and already fallen under the witch's spell?" 

A small group of warriors approached him, and Sihtric felt a slight flush of embarrassment as he chuckled nervously.

"What's it to you?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, the woman up there on the ramparts. The seer and Sigefrid's personal healer," one of the warriors grinned knowingly.

Sihtric shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I was just taking in the view. No harm in that, right?"

The warrior smirked. "Oh, there's harm, my friend. They say she can see right through a man's soul. Best be cautious with those lingering looks."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sihtric chuckled, feigning nonchalance, but as the group of warriors continued to jest and banter, he couldn't resist stealing one last glance in your direction, only to find the ramparts empty, with a few mocking ravens cawing at him. 

Sihtric didn’t expect to see you soon again, but there you sat, positioned to Sigefrid's right. Your slender fingers, adorned with golden rings, idly played with the ale mug before you, while your large and expressive eyes swept across the scene of feasting, drunken, and brawling warriors in the hall. In another corner of the hall, a more serious argument appeared to be escalating. Your voice cut through the commotion, addressing one of the warriors by name, and your firm and assertive gaze landed on the group. Instantly, their voices lowered, and the quarrel that had been unfolding came to a halt. It was as if you held a power over the gathering, a power that made Sihtric’s heart race and his palms grow sweaty. 

Each time your eyes wandered in his direction, Sihtric felt a shiver run down his spine and he hurriedly turned away, clutching his mug and engaging in forced conversation with a nearby companion, all in an effort to avoid accidentally locking eyes with your watchful and discerning gaze, just to find himself stealing secret glances a moment later.

No matter how hard Sihtric tried to clear his mind, your presence lingered like an indelible mark. Even as he finally sank into the bed assigned to him within one of the large barracks nestled along the city walls and closed his eyes, he found no escape from your haunting image in his dreams. It was a frenzied vision of a wild sprint through a dense forest.

"Come on, catch me if you can," your voice, soft and melodic, teased him, urging him in the direction of its origin. There you stood, leaning against a tree, a playful smile gracing your lips as you extended an inviting hand. He ran towards you, his breath heavy, not so much from the wild chase as from the electric anticipation coursing through his veins. Sihtric loomed over your fragile and gentle frame, trapping you between his body and the tree. Your lips half parted, so red, full and inciting lured him in with a soft moan, your fingers trailing up and down his chest. His hand tenderly caressed your cheek as he leaned closer, his heart pounding in his ears and his eyes widening in surprise as you dissolved into thin air just a moment before his lips could meet yours.

"Catch me, I'm here, I'm waiting," echoed again from a different direction, and the wild chase began anew.

Upon waking in the morning, Sihtric discovered himself drenched in sweat, his breath laboured, and his heart pounding, as though he had just completed an actual race. He cursed silently at his own foolishness, swearing never to venture near the grand hall in the evening to evade encountering you again. 

And during the day he even managed to focus on his direct tasks, he inspected the barracks, visited the camps outside the city gates and casually walked nearby the docs to get an overview of the ships and the crews on them, however, each time as the evening descended, there he sat, nestled in his preferred corner at the far end of the hall, his back against the wall, surreptitiously stealing glances at the beautiful witch, drawn to your every movement and word. 

Sihtric seethed with frustration at his own weakness, resenting the magnetic pull you had over him. At times, he couldn't help but wonder if you had really somehow bewitched him, making his attraction to you feel all the more maddening and cursed himself for not being able to get over this hopeless infatuation.

—----------------------------------------------

You had long been aware of the handsome, young, and bashful warrior whose gaze seemed perpetually drawn to you. It didn't escape your notice how his cheeks would flush with a rosy hue every time your eyes met his, and how he attempted to steal glances at you, convinced he was being discreet.

Your heart couldn't help but warm to the endearing way he watched you, the earnestness in his big, expressive eyes mirroring a genuine curiosity and fascination. It was as though he were a moth to your flame, his shyness only adding to his charm. You were used to men looking at you with desire, but the sweet, innocent adoration that radiated from the young warrior made your heart fill with an unexpected sympathy.

You found yourself secretly delighted by his persistent glances, amused by his attempts to hide his interest. There was something about this young and undeniably handsome Dane that piqued your curiosity in return.

While the whispers and rumours surrounding you had labelled you as a witch, you knew well that your abilities were far from magical; they were rooted in your sharp wit, ability to observe and listen and your keen reasoning and you couldn't help but take notice that the young warrior always seemed to keep to himself. Unlike the boisterous and rowdy men in the hall, he never engaged in quarrels or brawls, and you had never once seen him completely drunk. 

You were intelligent enough to put things together and after inquiring discreetly and listening carefully to the tales and whispers circulating among the warriors and local folks, you were certain that the enigmatic young man was a spy. The question remained who had sent him. The idea that Alfred, the Saxon king, would employ a Dane for such a task seemed improbable.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, it struck you – Uhtred, the infamous Dane killer. This must be it. You had heard countless stories about him, a Saxon and a Dane, steadfast in his devotion to the old gods despite the repulsion it elicited from his King, renowned as a formidable warrior and a nobleman whose lands harboured both Danes and Saxons, living together in peace.

Your curiosity knew no bounds as you contemplated the implications of this discovery.

You had vehemently opposed this ill-conceived plan and had attempted to dissuade Erik and Sigefrid from their reckless pursuit. Impulsive and driven by their unquenchable thirst for conquest, they often lacked the foresight to plan for the long term. They were warriors, not settlers. Meanwhile, you found yourself tired —tired by the ceaseless cycle of men waging war and longing for someone with the courage to forge peace.

The weariness ran deep, as you were exhausted of mending wounds that you knew would barely have a chance to heal before the next battle, the next the final blow, erased the lives of the very fools you were striving to save. You had grown weary of gazing into the hollow, despairing eyes of the widows and children who had followed their men in pursuit of the elusive promises of wealth and fertile land. You were a healer, and you longed for an end to the relentless cycle of violence.

Even as both Danes and the Saxon town folks referred to you as a witch, with the former showing respect and the latter reacting with fear, crossing themselves and spitting in your direction, you knew who you were and had no need for anyone else's approval.

For you, healing was not just a trade—it was your heritage, your calling, a legacy coursing through your veins. You had absorbed the knowledge from your mother, who had received it from her own mother, continuing a long line of wise and strong women passing down their carefully gathered wisdom from one generation to the next. It was a blessing and a burden you carried with equal measures of pride and devotion. And as a healer, you held within your heart a sacred dream of peace and prosperity for your people. In a world already burdened with pain and suffering, there was no room for the needless and futile wars incited by foolish, power-hungry men.

Just a few days prior, you had experienced a heartwarming surprise when a young Saxon girl had come to you under the cover of night, secretly seeking your aid for her little son. She had knocked on your door, her trepidation clear, fearing the judgement of others but driven by her desperation for help. You had not hesitated to assist her.

Today, while crossing the bustling marketplace, your paths had crossed again. Your gazes had locked for a brief moment, and in that instant, you knew that the boy was well. Your heart swelled with warmth as you witnessed the unmistakable joy shining in the young mother's eyes. It was moments like these that constituted the greatest reward, the very purpose of your existence—to apply your knowledge where it was needed most, to offer help to those in dire circumstances.

—-----------------------------------------

"Damn," Sihtric muttered under his breath as he withdrew his knife from the lifeless body, observing as it slowly slumped to the ground.

Wincing at the unusual ache that prodded at his consciousness, Sihtric instinctively reached for his right side, as though attempting to locate the source of the unpleasant, slightly burning sensation that was steadily intensifying. Something sticky and warm trickled through his fingers, prompting Sihtric to extend his hand for a closer look, his vision blurring as the burning sensation in his side abruptly erupted into a sharp, overwhelming pain.

Blood. So much blood. It dripped from his fingers and streamed down his arm. With a forceful grunt, he pressed his hand against the area where the pain was most intense, as if attempting to quell it, and leaned heavily against the wall.

He had carefully avoided all the quarrels and brawls in the city, but this time there hadn't been any other option; the robust, black-haired warrior with a scar marrying his left cheek had recognized him and attacked in rage without a single word of warning. 

Gasping for breath, Sihtric tightened his grip around the hilt of his knife as the world around him began to blur slowly.

"No, no, no... come on... get a hold of yourself," Sihtric muttered under his breath, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his vision.

With a resounding groan, he straightened and forced himself to move forward. Each step sent waves of pain through his body, nearly causing him to double over. Gritting his teeth, he continued to stumble through the deserted, narrow streets of Beamfleot, using the wooden walls of houses to support himself.

Where to? He was alone here, without a clan, without friends or a leader. There was no one who would be willing to help him. It wasn't a conscious decision, but rather a pure instinct that guided him toward a small house standing apart from the others, nestled under an ancient oak tree with its imposing wooden arms stretched protectively overhead. Some distant memory in his pain-addled mind had led him to choose this small house as his last refuge.

Shivering, cold sweat covering his forehead, Sihtric pressed on, forcing his trembling limbs to take another step and then another until there was no wall left to lean on.

"Come on, just one more step... You can do it, you're almost there," a loud groan escaped Sihtric's lips as his knees and hands collided with the unforgivingly hard ground. He lay there for a moment, still, listening to his laboured breaths and feeling his heart racing in his chest. He was too close to give up now. He wriggled back to his feet, took a few steps, slipped and fell again, his hands and knees bruised and aching. The small house loomed just before him, just a few strides away. Stretching out his arm, he dug his fingers into the muddy earth, his nails breaking against some hidden stones in the trampled ground as he forced himself back on his feet again.

Sihtric had always imagined that death would come swiftly, like a clean cut from a sharp blade. But now, it felt more like falling asleep after a long, exhausting day, with everything around him dissolving into a soft mist.  He had fallen again and his strength was slowly waning, as with one last effort, he propped himself up on his elbows and crawled the final few steps to reach the door.

—--------------------------------------------------

It was late, nearly midnight by the moon's position in the sky, and the fire in the hearth was on the verge of dying out. You added more wood to the fire and watched as the flames danced and licked at the fresh fuel, gradually regaining their strenght. Sleep was a luxury you couldn't afford at the moment. The ointment for treating wounds was running dangerously low, and it was just the right time to prepare the fever-reducing potion, it was a new moon - the perfect timing to achieve its best effect.

Your eyes roamed around the spacious room, taking in the herbs hanging on lines along the walls, then returned to the mugs, flasks, and pounders scattered across the table before you. This place had once belonged to a local healer who had fled as the Danes drew near. Being Sigefrid's personal seer had its advantages, as no one had dared to challenge your declaration of this house as your own. 

A peculiar sound at the door jolted you from your thoughts, instantly commanding your attention. It wasn't a customary knock, but rather a feeble scratching. Instinctively, your hand sought the dagger hanging from your waist. With a gentle but purposeful motion, you retrieved the small yet potent weapon, a faithful companion that had saved your life on more than one occasion. Cautiously, you approached the door and swung it open.

"What in the world..." you exclaimed, taken aback as your gaze fell upon the grimy, hunched figure of a young man—a Dane. He gasped for breath, his body trembling violently, his right hand pressed to his side, and blood seeping through his fingers. His face contorted with pain, his large, expressive eyes silently begging for help.

By the way his eyes periodically rolled back, it was evident that he was on the brink of losing consciousness.

"Hey, look at me." Kneeling down beside the young warrior, you firmly gripped his chin, locking your gaze with his. And then, in a sudden rush of recognition, you realised who he was—your sweet and bashful admirer, the young warrior, the very spy sent by Uhtred.

"You're going to be alright. You're in the right place. I will help you. Do you hear me? You are safe here," you assured him as he struggled to catch his breath. The Dane nodded, sucking for breath in short, shallow intervals.

"I need you to stay awake. Can you do it for me?" The young man's eyes began to roll back again. "No, no, no, stay with me, look at me," you hissed in frustration and pressed your finger onto the wound in his side. The Dane cried out, but his gaze cleared.

"What's your name?" you asked, not because you needed his name, but because you needed his focus.

"Sihtric," came a barely audible whisper from his lips.

"I'm sorry, Sihtric, but I need you to stay awake and make one last effort. I need you to summon all your strength and help me get you on your feet. Come on, I know you can do it. You are strong," you said, placing his left arm around your neck and wrapping yours around his waist. As you pulled, you didn't expect his lean body to be so heavy, but to your relief, he still had enough strength to follow your lead. With a loud groan, he managed to rise to his feet. 

"Good, you're doing very well. The hardest part is behind us now. Just a few more steps to that table over there. Can you see it? You can lean on me. I won't let you down, I promise. But you have to find the strength to move your legs. I can't carry you," you reassured him, tightening your grip on his waist as you both took a step towards the table. You could feel his body trembling from the effort, leaning heavily on you, his breaths growing even more uneven and sharp. However, he managed to stumble in the right direction.

"Good, just one more step, and we're there," you kept talking, trying to maintain his focus. And then, you reached the table, allowing him to slump down. You supported his head as it slowly descended onto the hard surface and quickly lifted his legs, placing them on the table.

"This is going to be a long night," you murmured to yourself, your hands already in motion as you hastily gathered your supplies and placed the kettle filled with water over the flames of the hearth.

Your experienced fingers deftly unfastened the belt, untied the laces, and carefully removed the armbands. Eventually, everything was loose enough to pull the thick and heavy armour from the young Dane's body. Cutting away the blood-soaked linen shirt that clung tightly to the wound, you gasped in astonishment as your gaze traced the well-built, muscular frame of the injured warrior, wincing in pain on your table.

His body was marked with scars. You recognized each one, having treated them countless times before, but it was rare to see so many of them in one place. There were the short, deep scars left by knives, the long, straight ones undoubtedly from a whip, some uneven burns, healed sword cuts, and a few from axes, identifiable by the deeper cuts in the centre that gradually faded at both ends. Each scar had a different colour, with some older ones slowly fading away and others more recent.

He was so young; you would wager he hadn't seen more than nineteen or maybe twenty summers. Yet, his body was like an open book to your skilled eyes, recounting a long tale of torment and pain. Too long for his young age.

"Drink this," you gently lifted his head and brought a small mug to his lips. "It will dull the pain."

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[a-fic-reviewer-757]

The Saxon bride:

by: Space_Samurai | word count : 21,380 | AO3 | chapters: 10/10 | rating : Mature

Summary:

Erik and Sigefrid were never defeated, and now they have conquered many Mercian territories, each day getting closer to Wessex.

While the lord of Mercia licks his wounds on Winchester, the King of Wessex makes an irresistible offer to the brothers: his daughter’s hand in marriage in exchange of an alliance. They accept.

-

Or: Aethelflaed marries Erik instead of Aethelred.

Tags :

Arranged Marriage l Fluff l Cultural Differences l Weddings l Danes do it better l Non-Graphic Smut l Slow Burn l kinda corny

Review : 💜💜💜💜💜

What can I say about this one, apart from I love this. I actually love this couple and the fact that we only had two episodes with them is a crime they had so potential! So for everyone, that likes both Erik and Aethelflaed this is a good one.

[assortedseaglass]

Steadfast & Forever

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

Thank you, Ilysm 💜

@arcielee

Osferth x Unnamed OFC

Warnings: Language, religion, adult themes

Word Count: 6.2K

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

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

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

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

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

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

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

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

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

“Lady Æthelflæd. Is she alright?”

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

“Osferth.”

“Osferth..?”

“Just Osferth. She will know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Osferth,”

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

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

“I don’t underst-”

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

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

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

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

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

Her mistress’ last admission shocked her into the present.

“The monk?”

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

“A warrior monk,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, Sir. I did call,”

“I’m not a ‘Sir’, I am-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As long as Lord Uhtred pleases,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She took his hand in hers and faced him directly.

“You are Osferth.”

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

“Will you pray with me, my lady?”

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

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

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

“My mother.”

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

“I shall try, my Lady.”

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

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

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

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

“Psalm sixty-three.”

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

“I must away, my lady.”

“Yes, you must,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t call him that,”

“It’s the truth,”

“I don’t care.”

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

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

“Careful, lady. That is treason-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you scurrying off to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have been crying?”

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

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

The lady sighed. “He told you?”

“Only that-”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll kill Finan,”

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

“Or ‘fearsome’,” she added.

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you tomorrow,”

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

“Tomorrow,” she whispered.

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

[persephones-journey]

@thatguytj11 I finally finished it lol

Threesome featuring the Thurgilson brothers and Aethelflaed.

Porn with zero plot.

[emilyhufflepufftlk]

Erik & Sigefrid | The Last Kingdom

Requested by @itbmojojoejo

@morosemagick @solinarimoon @trenko-heart @medievalfangirl @persephones-journey