#out of wessex ( ooc. )

[honey-im-hotdog]

Pretty Boy

Finan x Reader x Sihtric

Author’s Note: Hi! This is my very first time writing for The Last Kingdom, so please cut me some slack if the characters are a bit ooc. There simply is not enough poly stuff for these two in my humble opinion. I need to be between them both so bad. Okay, please enjoy!

As always, reader is supposed to be gn+vague, so if you catch any mistakes related to that please let me know.

Words: 0.4k — a quick one since I just wanted to get it out :)

Warnings: fluff; pet names (love, pretty boy); kissing; reader is said to have hair with braids but no description of length or color, etc; cheesy as fuck.

Summary: A cute moment spent within Sihtric and Finan's arms.

Check out my other stuff :)

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“What are you thinking about?” Thick with sleep, Finan’s voice is a warm blanket.

Your head tilts to the side as you brush a leaf down his face, smiling softly as his eyes close in bliss.

“Hmm,” you hum as his eyes open and pin you with his stare, “just that you are too pretty to be real.”

His eyes widen, “‘Pretty?!’” he says in mock offense. “I am ‘pretty’ to you? That’s all?! I am a fearsome warrior, I’ll have you know!” His hands fly about as he exaggerates his words.

You can’t help but giggle at his grumbling, feeling your chest warm as he shakes his head side to side in your lap. Your fingers are quick to find the short braids Sihtric wove into the Irishman’s dark hair, the metal beads matching the ones in your and the Dane’s hair.

“Fine, fine! You aren’t pretty.”

As if it were possible, the man grows even more bewildered when you leave your sentence at that. “Excuse me!” His accent thicker than ever.

The laughter bubbles out of you, “What? You didn’t wanna be pretty!”

His mouth opens and closes like a fish as he tries to come up with a response.

You feel the vibrations of Sihtric’s laughter against your back before you hear it. His arms squeezing you just a little tighter. “Keep tormenting him, my love. Misery looks good on him,” his words are said into your shoulder, eyes also peering down at Finan. The smile clear as day in his voice.

“You fucking heathen, you!” Finan sits up in faux rage, but you’re quick to grab his arm and pull him into your chest; smothering his face in light kisses in between your quiet laughter.

“You are the bravest, scariest, toughest, handsomest warrior to have ever walked Wessex. And I am in awe everyday to call you mine.”

The Irishman cups the crown of your head to pull you into a soft kiss. The both of you smiling through it.

You feel Sihtric nuzzle his nose into your neck after a while, “And what about me?”

You and Finan pull away from each other with a laugh.

“You, my friend, are an oaf.”

“Finan!”

He just laughs at your gentle smack against his bicep.

You rest your head back on Sihtric’s shoulder, the hand not holding onto Finan reaching up into his hair. “You are the sweetest, kindest, gentlest, most fearsome,” you lightly pinch Finan as he starts to protest, “warrior, Sihtric. My pretty boy.”

He kisses the spot just below your ear, mumbling his thanks and returning your praise tenfold.

Finan tilts his head back, humming in disapproval. “You got that last bit wrong, love,” it’s Sihtric’s turn to be pulled down, “he’s our pretty boy.” Sihtric moans the second their lips connect.

The embrace between the three of you tightens as you get lost within kisses and caresses for the rest of the night.

[kingalfrcd]

hey everyone! thank you so much for always supporting me on here throughout everything <3 there’s honestly been a lot going on and i’m super active on my multi, and i really miss writing this bastard, so i’m going to be moving alfred to my multimuse! find him on @multimuse-rp <3 that being said, i’m keeping this blog’s url in case i ever want to return! love you all so much!!!!

[aelfred]

There needs to be more movies about Alfred the Great.  I mean, just because he wasn’t consumed with sex outside of marriage and corruption doesn’t make it uninteresting. He to this day, is one of the most influential Kings that ever ruled England, and it’s for so much more than what he did to finally drive the Northmen out of England.  He did so much more and he did it with a heart of kindness, cunning, and did it all, while maintaining his Christianity.  

So yes, give me more movies, preferably historically accurate ones, that don’t obsess over the burning of cake.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Hvítr gown, nýr life (Ubbe x Reader)

This is my contribution to @geekandbooknerd​ 2k followers challenge! Congrats again, my dear! 

My prompt was: "People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." - Cassandra Clare, City of Glass. 

Couple notes for this fic- Bjorn & Torvi are still together because reasons. Italics mean speakers are using Old Norse. 

The title means ‘White Gown, New Life’ in Old Norse. 

Also, this is my first time writing Ubbe so.... hopefully its not OOC?

Words: 4800

Warnings: one or two swear words. implied sex. I think that’s it???

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

"You cannot truly be considering this!" Bjorn thundered in the small, enclosed room. 

 Ubbe observed his elder brother- a man he had aspired to be like his whole childhood, a man he still looked up too, regardless of his faults. "Of course I am."

 Bjorn slammed his hand on the wooden table, making it shake, as his voice shook like thunder in the room. "You are throwing your future away!"

 "I am protecting our future!" Ubbe snapped, finally rising to his feet, irritation leaking into his tone. He met Bjorn's incensed blue eyes with his own resolute gaze. "We need allies, alliances, everything to make father's dream come true. If this is the price I must pay to fulfill Ragnar's dream, then I will gladly do it. It is not about me. It's for our people."

 After a long, tense moment, Lagertha pushed off the wall she and Torvi were leaning against. Gliding closer, she moved to stand in front of Ubbe, tears swimming in her eyes. Gently, she cupped his cheeks. "Your father would be so proud of you, Ubbe. I pray the gods bless you with happiness in this."

 "Thank you, Lagertha." Relief swelled in Ubbe's chest. If he had Lagertha's support, he knew Bjorn would come around. 

 Since they fled Kattegat and came to England, he had watched the shieldmaiden age before his eyes. He could not help but wonder if her soul yearned for Valhalla and to be reunited with Ragnar. Not that he could blame her. To hear her speak of Ragnar and his approval of Ubbe's actions, it only further solidified his choice. 

 Torvi spoke up, surprising him.  "I think Ubbe should do it." When Bjorn opened his mouth to interject, she snapped her gaze over to her husband. "This is his decision, Ubbe. He has asked for our advice but it is up to him. We need security and this, though we don't trust them, this can provide that security."

 Bjorn huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine! Do what you want!" 

 "Thank you." Ubbe softly said, looking at all the family he had left in this world. "I'll go inform King Alfred now." 

 With a firm stride, he left the quarters they had been given in Wessex. After some time trying to locate the young king, a passing servant was able to tell him Alfred's location. Thankfully the king was in his private study, reviewing petitions from the worker's guild. The guards at the door allowed Ubbe entrance only after the king called out to allow him entrance. With a look of unrestrained animosity, almost begging him to give them a reason to throw him out, the guards opened the door for him to pass. Ubbe nodded his thanks, but never removed his hand from the sword at his side until the door closed behind him. 

 Straightening in his chair, Alfred looked up from the papers spread out over his desk. "Good afternoon, Ubbe. I suspect you have sought me out because you have an answer for my proposition."

 "I do, your highness." Ubbe paused, knowing how his life was going to irrevocably change once he answered. "And I will accept. I will take a Saxon wife to further the alliance between us."

 "I am greatly pleased by your decision." The dark-haired man pushed away from his desk. He moved to a nearby table to pour them both a cup of wine, something these Saxons seemed to favor, as he continued speaking. "Alliances must be built on trust and understanding. A political marriage certainly helps solidify that trust."

 Ubbe received the cup, missing the taste of ale from his homeland. After taking a small sip, he stared at Alfred. "So what do we do now? Do I meet some potentials or is there a matchmaker?"

 "No, I already have someone picked out for you. My cousin." Alfred answered without hesitation before pausing in contemplation. "What your father and my grandfather would think of this arrangement….our families tied by blood."

 "Yeah…. What is her name?"

 "My cousin? Lady Y/N. Fear not, she comes from a well-respected family and with a substantial dowry. She has spent most of her life at a nunnery, so there is no fear of her virtue being tainted."

 "Great." Ubbe sighed out. Though he knew Alfred meant all that to be reassuring….it felt anything but. 

 *****

 It was not until almost a month later, Ubbe met his intended bride; with the wedding set for three days after her arrival. Apparently King Alfred and some of the Saxon noblemen were keen on the arranged marriage happening as soon as possible. 

 Ubbe stood off to the side in the throne room. With his hair freshly braided and pulled back and wearing one of his nicer tunics, he hoped he appeared princely. Even if by Saxon standards, he knew he fell woefully short. Lagertha had given him a nod of approval as they waited in the throne room. Though outwardly he kept his face passive and calm, his insides twisted into knots and his hands were clammy. 

 "Are you still certain about this, brother?" Bjorn clapped Ubbe on the shoulder as he whispered, eyeing the Saxons standing around. 

 The flaxen-haired Viking glanced over at King Alfred, who sat on his throne, talking in hushed tones to one of his advisors while his mother looked on with a sour expression. 

 Ubbe answered solemnly. "Aye, we need this alliance."

 With a grunt, Bjorn removed his hand but stayed at his brother's side. Something Ubbe appreciated. Although Bjorn had no issue airing his thoughts on this foolish alliance and how Ubbe was making a mistake in regards to choosing a wife again, he kept his complaints behind closed doors. In front of the Saxons, they presented an united front. 

 The large doors to the throne room opened with a groan. All eyes turned to witness as a sole figure cautiously yet gracefully walked forward, head held high and hands clasped in front of her. 

 "Cousin!" King Alfred exclaimed, rising from his throne, arms spread wide. Immediately, he descended the few stairs with a fond smile on his face. "Your presence has been missed here at court."

 The woman dipped into an elegant curtsey, her dress gliding around her like water. "You are far too kind, my king."

 As King Alfred embraced his cousin in a warm hug, Ubbe could only stare in shock. Standing there in a deep red gown, the woman looked like a goddess. Ubbe had prepared himself mentally for his intended bride to be marginally pretty like most of these Saxon women, but someone he easily overlooked. Not her though. Without even saying a word to him, he felt beguiled by her. It was more than just her physical beauty, it was in the way she carried herself, with grace and a nobility. It reminded him distantly of his mother. A woman who knew her place and dignity. This woman, his intended bride, was truly stunning. He could not help but wonder if the true reason for her prolonged residence at a nunnery was not because of piety but to preserve and protect her. Something he was suddenly immensely grateful for. 

 "This is your betrothed." Alfred walked her over to where the Vikings stood, at the bottom of the steps leading to his throne. With a pleased smile on his face, he introduced the two. "Ubbe, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, this is my cousin, Lady Y/N." 

 She curtsied to him, her movements so graceful like they were part of a dance. When she spoke, he was further enchanted, for even her voice was beautiful. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ubbe."

 "It's just Ubbe. Since we are to be married, we can skip the formalities."

 A coy smile played on her lips. "As you wish….Ubbe."

 "Excellent." King Alfred beamed. "Perhaps a walk in the gardens to better acquaint yourselves would be desirable?"

 Before Ubbe could whole-heartedly agree, wishing to learn more about his intended bride, a sickly-sweet voice interrupted. 

 "Y/N has only just arrived. We have wedding plans to finalize and she must try on her dress." Princess Judith interrupted, wrapping an arm through her niece's while pointedly ignoring the Vikings. "Maybe another time, but I am sure y/n will be quite busy with preparations. Come, my dear."

 With that, she swept her niece out of the throne room as if the Vikings had the plague and she refused to breathe the same air as them. But before y/n disappeared, she peeked over her shoulder and met Ubbe's gaze with a tender smile teasing her lips, then disappeared from view. 

 "There is much to finalize and my mother wants to ensure the wedding will go smoothly. You and y/n will have time after the wedding to become acquainted." Alfred said, studying the direction his mother and cousin vanished. With a sigh, he pulled his gaze back to Ubbe. "Now that introductions are made, I have matters with the clergy to attend to."

 Ubbe barely paid attention when Alfred walked away, returning to his throne and listening to some priests whine about something petty. 

 A bump of a shoulder against his own drew Ubbe's attention back from thinking about y/n. 

 Bjorn leaned over to whisper conspiracingly in his ear. "Well, at least you won't have a problem bedding her." 

 *****

 The wedding ceremony was outlandish and dragged on for entirely too long. Between the many prayers of the priests and the rigid formality of everything, Ubbe was ready to draw his sword and spill some Christian blood, just to break up the monotony. Even Lagertha appeared ready to fall asleep from where she stood. 

 The only aspect that kept his attention was his bride. Watching her walk down the aisle, he almost swallowed his tongue, leaving him gaping at her in a slack-jawed awe as she slowly approached. In her flowing wedding dress, a crown of flowers in her hair and eyes alight, she appeared ethereal. Standing in his nicest tunic and pants, he knew he paled in comparison to her, but he did not mind. 

 When the priests tried to forcefully convince Ubbe to dress in Saxon clothing for the wedding, he not-so-subtly threatened to decapitate them if they mentioned it once more. He was a Viking and would dress as such. Besides this was to be a physical representation of an alliance between Saxon and Viking, it would make no sense for him to dress as a Saxon. 

 Thankfully Alfred agreed with his thoughts, so the clergy kept any further comments to themselves. 

 Once the wedding concluded with Ubbe and y/n proclaimed man and wife, the couple was escorted to the celebration. The following feast was beyond lavish, with drink and food in overflowing abundance. To his dismay, Ubbe found himself unable to converse with his new bride. Either Alfred was introducing him to someone new, some nobleman pestered him with questions or worst of all, Judith purposefully continued to make excuses that pulled y/n away. When their eyes met, he could see the apology in them, which lightened the stone in his heart. 

 As the feast progressed, Ubbe found as more time passed, the more his gaze drifted to his bride. The gods had truly blessed him with this marriage. Watching her, he was captivated. Although, he found his hand frequently shifting to reach for the hilt of his sword no longer strapped to his side. All the appreciative or lustful looks she received from other men did not go unnoticed, and if one of them tried to lay a hand on his new wife, he would not be held accountable for his actions. His fists could be just as deadly as any weapon.

 Finally, the time was called for the bedding ceremony. 

 Alfred and some of the clergy explained to Ubbe what happened during a bedding ceremony when he was learning about the wedding's customs and the vows he would have to recite. To say the Ragnarsson was shocked was an understatement. It sounded barbaric…. and him and his people were called the heathens. But he understood the need to maintain protocol for building the alliance and the trust of the Saxons. 

 So that was how he found himself walking down a corridor with Bjorn at his side, while the feast and celebrations continued on without him. 

 "Are you sure about this?" 

 Ubbe rolled his eyes at his elder brother, his stride never faltering. "You did not have to agree to it."

 Bjorn scoffed, keeping pace. "And miss out on all the fun?"

 The two brothers laughed, the sound loosening some of the tension in the bridegroom's body. When Alfred told Ubbe he needed a witness to represent his people at the bedding ceremony, Bjorn was the only option. When Ubbe initially told his brother about the tradition and asked for Bjorn's presence, the hulking Viking had doubled-over in laughter, followed by making several crude comments about the need to instruct Ubbe on how to properly bed a woman. The discussion ended in a brotherly tussel but Bjorn agreed. 

 Especially when Ubbe explained his plan. 

 The bedroom was in the wing of the royal families' rooms. Since y/n was related by blood, she was given a room there whenever she came to visit and naturally, this meant it was where the marriage would be consummated. Several candles were lit but the bedroom was kept dim to give an illusion of privacy. A quick glance at the bed made Ubbe raise an eyebrow at the generous size and the curtains draped around it. A fire burned in the fireplace providing warmth in the bedroom, a sharp contrast to the stern, cold faces of the clergy who waited. 

 The bishop who married them stood off to the side with two other clergy, all in their robes and barely suppressed looks of disgust on the priests' faces. Two female attendees fussed over y/n, clearly everyone waiting for Ubbe and Bjorn. Once again, Ubbe had to force himself to keep his eyes from staying glued to his new wife. She stood there in a thick robe, with her hair falling about her shoulders loosely, free from the bridal veil. Her gaze jumped from Ubbe to the clergy and back as she nibbled on her bottom lip, clearly nervous about what was to occur next. Cheekily, he sent her a quick wink, hoping that would help settle her nerves. If the blush that grew on her cheeks said anything, at least she was not repulsed by him. 

 The bishop stepped forward. "Are you prepared to consummate your marriage to Lady Y/N before God and man?"

 "I am." Ubbe defiantly met the man's eyes. 

 "Then by the power given to me by the Holy Church, let the two become one in the sight of God and these witnesses and the marriage shall be complete." With that, the man drew their strange cross sign in the air and stepped back to rejoin his fellow clergy. 

 The two attendees helped y/n out of her heavy robe, revealing a thin, white nightgown that seemed to only enhance her beauty and innocence. Desire thrummed in his blood at the sight of her, but Ubbe ignored the sensation for the moment. The heavy robe was laid on a nearby chair and the two women left the room with a quick curtsy, leaving only the men and y/n. 

 After a shared look with Bjorn, Ubbe walked over to his new bride, keeping his movements slow so as to not startle her. Her hands were clasped before her, but even as he approached, he could see the faint tremble in them. Her gaze never strayed from the floor. The confidence seen previously in her seemed to have melted away into anxiety, making him think of a skittish colt. He could not help but wonder what changed, if it was due to him or what was supposed to occur between them. 

 Standing before her, he gently reached out to take her soft hands in his own larger, calloused ones, pleased when she did not flinch at his touch. Although her gaze remained downward. 

 "Are you alright?" He whispered, aware of the four pairs of eyes watching their every move. 

 "Of….of course, my lord husband."

 "Remember, I told you to call me by my name."

 That caused her head to snap up and meet his gaze. Now he could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her swollen bottom lip from constantly worrying it. 

 "It'll be alright." He tugged her bottom lip from between her teeth. The way her breath hitched at the intimate touch made his heart pound. He gave her hands in his, a quick squeeze. "Trust me, yeah?"

 After a moment, she gave a faint nod, still eyeing him warily but appearing less like she wanted to flee, mutely squeezing his hands back.

 A voice broke the stillness in the room, immediately causing her to tense again. 

 "The two of you must proceed to the bed to finalize the union. We do not have all night to wait for confirmation of her virginity and consummation." One of the priests drawled with an apparent undertone of disdain. 

 "Then it is a good thing you don't have to wait any longer." Ubbe retorted, narrowing his eyes at the priest. The man huffed but a quiet rebuke from the bishop had the priest pressing his lips together. With one final, assessing scan, the flaxen-haired Viking shifted, pulling his new bride into his side and wrapping an arm around her waist. He felt her tense against him but ignored it to stare at the three clergy with a mocking smirk. "Bjorn."

 At the sound of his name, his brother moved from leaning against the doorframe. A scowl on his face, and with the shadows cast over him, made him appear more looming and menacing. "Everybody out."

 The three clergy looked back and forth between the two Viking brothers, clearly confused and intimidated. 

 "You can't….we must witness…."

 "I SAID EVERYBODY OUT!" Bjorn roared, pulling the axe from his side and waving it in the air. "OR DO I NEED TO SPLIT YOUR SKULL TO HELP MY WORDS REACH YOUR TINY BRAINS?!"

 The three scrambled, eyes wide in terror, tripping over their long robes in a pathetic attempt to reach the door faster. The bishop turned around, hands grasping the golden cross hanging from his neck. "King….King Alfred will hear of this." He stuttered out in feigned confidence. 

 A deafening war cry from Bjorn practically shook the room in answer. That was enough to silence the bishop and have him flee, following his companions.

 At Bjorn's roar, y/n began shaking like a leaf, her hands tightly holding onto Ubbe's arm wrapped around her. He further pulled her against him, providing shelter from his brother's fury. Even as the room fell back into silence, he could still feel her trembling in his arms. He prayed to the gods that this did not darken her view of him and cause her to fear him. 

 Once the room cleared and the pounding footfalls of the clergy could no longer be heard, Bjorn turned around with a grin, scratching the back of his neck with his axe. "You know Alfred will be upset when he finds out." 

 Ubbe smirked. "We can't let him have everything he wants, yeah?"

 That made Bjorn chuckle. "I'll go guard the door." He pointed his axe at Ubbe, still grinning. "You owe me for this."

 "Scaring priests shitless isn't enough for you?"

 Bjorn scoffed. "I can do that whenever I like."

 "We'll name our firstborn after you."

 Bjorn waved him off, opening the wooden door and stepping out. When the door closed, the echoing sound seemed to fill the empty space in the room. 

 Ubbe peeked down at the woman in his arms. "Are you alright?"

 "Your brother….is….frightening."

 "Aye, don't tell him that though. It would only inflate his ego more."

 Once he was certain she was steady on her feet and would not faint, he pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her head before striding away to the other side of the bedroom. Quickly he pulled off his tunic and boots, tossing them onto a nearby chair and then flopped onto the massive bed in only his pants. If nothing else could be said for tonight, he knew he would sleep well. The bed was comfortable, even rivaling his own bed back in Kattegat. With a pleased groan, he tucked an arm under his head and settled under the covers. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, his eyelids sliding closed.  Even though he felt like he spent most of the day standing around and kneeling for the wedding, it was still tedious and draining. Thank the gods it was over. 

 "Um, my lord…." 

 "Ubbe." He interrupted, lips twitching in amusement. "Or husband. Whichever you prefer."

 "Ah, Ubbe….are we not….?" Her hesitant voice trailed off, but the unspoken question lingered in the air. 

 He snorted. "I have no plans to force myself upon you just to appease your priests and bishop."

 "But we must consummate the marriage."

 "I will only have sex with you if you desire me as your husband and not just to fulfill an obligation."

 The following, prolonged silence caused him to open his eyes and look over at his new wife. It was apparent she had not moved from where he left her. He expected to see fear on her lovely face or revulsion at the idea of her ever willingly wanting him to touch her. Instead, she seemed to be studying him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. That confident woman he had previously met, making a reappearance. 

 After holding her gaze for a moment, he patted the bed next to him. "Come lay down. I doubt standing there all night will be pleasant."

 With a soft smile, she stepped over and crawled under the covers, but maintained an arm’s length distance between them. They both laid on their backs, together yet alone. The only sounds were of the crackling fire and their breathing. 

 Before he realized it, Ubbe found himself speaking, filling the silence with his babbling but strangely felt he needed to share these thoughts with the woman beside him, the woman whose life was now tied to him, whether she wanted it to be or not. 

 "I doubt this is the marriage you were dreaming of as a little girl. Probably expected some prince or lord….not a Viking. Your people only see us as heathens, as barbaric devils, at least that's what one of the noblemen said. That we cannot stop the evil and destruction we cause because we are possessed." He snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. After a deep breath, he turned his head to look at her, amazed to find her already watching him. His tone softened as he continued. "I'm sorry you were forced into this marriage. I know it might not mean much to you but I vow I won't ever physically harm you or force myself upon you. After all the wedding ceremonies, you can return to the nunnery if that is what you want."

 Her eyes widened momentarily, then drifted away as she worried her lip once again. As he waited for her to speak, his gaze traveled over her face, taking in the small details that until now he had not been able to observe. It would be a blatant lie to say he did not desire to lie with her, to touch and taste her. The current state of his manhood was evidence enough of how simply gazing at her beauty affected him. He made a vow to her. If nothing else, he hoped they could be friendly to one another. 

 To his shock, she rolled onto her side, facing him completely, hands tucked under her cheek. Without hesitation, he mirrored her action, but kept his head cradled on his arm. 

 "I have not traveled much," she quietly said, almost shyly, "but there is one thing I've learned through my studies and the observation of others. People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." She paused as if choosing her next words carefully. "I do not think you are a barbaric devil or….or possessed. I think…."

 "What?"

 "I think you are very brave and strong. Not many would seek an alliance with those that fervently claim them as an enemy….nor be kind to a simple noblewoman."

 He smirked, finding himself charmed by her honesty. Carefully, he reached over and brushed a thumb over her cheek. "You are no simple noblewoman, my lady."

 "If you are just Ubbe, then I request you call me, y/n."

 An unexpected, loud banging on the door startled them both. Y/n gasped and rushed to sit up against the headboard, eyes wide with fright. Ubbe immediately pushed himself up, making sure to put himself between his wife and the door, unsheathing a dagger he had subtly slipped under his pillow. 

 "Are you two done yet? Some ugly priest out here wants to know!" Bjorn shouted through the door. 

 Ubbe groaned, putting the dagger away, before calling back. "No! This woman is insatiable! Tell the priest to come back in the morning! Hopefully I can still walk!"

 A harsh bark of laughter preceded loud arguing, which could be heard through the door. Raised voices crept underneath the door frame, the loudest being that of Bjorn. Ubbe stayed perched on the bed, to assist his brother if the need called for it. No matter what Alfred or those whiny clergy ordered, no one would be witnessing any consummation of his. Ever. Eventually, the voices dwindled like a dying flame until only silence could be heard from outside. Ubbe figured Bjorn must have won the argument, or used enough threats of bodily harm, since no one entered the bedroom. 

 The dagger returned to its sheath under his pillow. A habit he had since childhood. A glance to his side showed his wife still shifted as far away from the door as possible, hands clutching the sheets in a tight grip. He reached a hand out to her. "It's alright. Bjorn won't let anyone in."

 She took his hand, still eyeing the door warily. "What did you say to him?"

 "Ah, nothing important. Just to keep the priests away."

 "Ok."

 "We should go to sleep. Today has been long." He stated after he coaxed her back under the covers and no longer sent glances towards the door. Only after she was settled did he relax. Laying on his back, an arm behind his head, his eyes closed almost instantly. He could hear her shuffling occasionally but he paid it no mind. Sleep slinked into his mind, hovering on the edges. 

 "Ubbe…." A barely-heard whisper pulled him from the brink of sleep. 

 "Yes?"

 "What if….what if I want to."

 "Mmmm?"

 "Um, fulfill our marital duties."

 Well, that got his attention. He turned his head to the side, noting how her gaze traced over his bare chest slowly then lifted to meet his gaze. "Are you asking me to have sex with you?"

 "Yes." She bit her bottom lip, even as her eyes never strayed from him.

 "Are you sure?"

 She nodded. 

 "Hmmm….well, I may be convinced but….you have to kiss me first."

 Cautiously yet deliberately, she scooted closer until they lay side by side. In a graceful movement, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his in an innocent, chaste kiss. Her lips were softer than even the pillow beneath him and by the gods, she was going to be his undoing. After a moment, she leaned back, gazing down at him with a nervous yet endearing smile. Before he could say anything, to encourage or instruct, her lips descended on his once again, but this time hungrily. His initial surprise transitioned to a carnal satisfaction when a soft moan slipped out of her after he tugged on her bottom lip. Their mouths connected with a needy kiss, sending a jolt of electricity through him. All thoughts of sleep forgotten. 

 Suddenly, he flipped them over, pinning her underneath him, taking charge of their love-making. She giggled at the abrupt action but that was quickly silenced by his mouth crashing against hers and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. 

 As she kissed him back passionately, he wondered if maybe this marriage was not such a bad idea. If the way her lips eagerly sought his, her hands gripped onto biceps as if to keep her steady, her back arched as he trailed open-mouth kisses down her neck….maybe the marriage could be more than just political. 

 Soon enough, all thoughts vanished from his mind that were not related in regards to exploring the exquisite body of his Saxon wife and listening to her moan his name repeatedly. 

[nephilimsss]

infedility. alfred the great

PAIRING ➨ alfred the great x reader

GENRE ➨ historical fiction, fantasy.

SUMMARY ➨ as aethelred’s wife, you knew you should have been tending to his every needs as you had been taught when you were younger. but stuck in a loveless marriage had you seeking out other ways to satisfy your needs. luckily, your brother-in-law is on the same boat.

WARNINGS ➨ mentions of smut, adultery, ooc elsewith.

MASTERLIST

you glared down at elsewith as she walked arm-in-arm with alfred through the royal villa. you weren’t jealous of the fact that she was with him, no, at the end of the night alfred met up with you in the secret room the two of you shared and sated every single one of your needs, even if it took him a while to open up to you at first. you were jealous that she was able to call him husband and show him off around wessex. you wanted to be in her shoes, to be the one recognized as alfred’s wife, to be able to show your love and loyalty to the king instead of having to hide it behind closed doors. catching your eye, he continues to talk to elsewith while his index and middle fingers do that little flutter in front of his left thigh. the two of you did it whenever you needed the other, especially in front of your spouses. 

you bow your head, pretending to be interested in the fruit stand next to you. aethelred was somewhere, most likely with ethelfled, the daughter of bishop cuthred. you weren’t jealous of her, either. you were in fact very happy for the two of them, as you wish aethelred would be happy for you if you were to let him know of your crime. were you a sinner, for loving one as much as you love alfred? even if the two of you were married?

you were a christian woman in a christian city in a chistian country, and while you may not see your love as a crime, the rest of your countrymen would. especially the men. they would most likely want to hang you up in the middle of the villa for all to see, a sign around your neck claiming you of what you were. but as of right now, you couldn’t care any less. you had alfred warming your bed at night. 

but it was still elsewith he had to go back to. 

elsewith was a nice woman, you knew that, but sometimes she was too weak for a queen. she didn’t know what to say and when to say it, she kept her mouth shut, and she never knew of how to care for alfred when his illness put him into a deep sleep for days on end. it always you next to judith, helping her make his salves and foraging for the needed ingredients. it was always you he placed his trust in, always you he went to for comfort, always you he reached for when he needed a hug. it was always you. 

and he had been forced to marry her. 

making your way through the castle, you went the familiar path you had taken many times before, locking your sight on the door that held back the room with the bed tucked away in the corner. that same bed you took alfred so many times in, introduced him to many different positions and multiple fetishes you had first heard from your married friends. 

knocking on the door three times like the two of you had practiced, alfred opened it to let you in, grabbing your arm and tugging you into the room. as soon as the last centimeter of your dress made its way through, he closed the door behind you, locking it immediately and pressing you up against the wood. “my mother knows about us,” he whispers lightly. your eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening as your mouth opens to speak. he promptly places his hand over the lower half of your face, keeping you quiet whilst continuing to speak. “she doesn’t blame us, however. she tells me that i need to do whatever i need to in order to gain an heir for the throne. even if it means laying with my own brother’s wife.” 

he pulls his hand off your mouth, seeing your face drop into one of relief. she didn’t blame you for sneaking around with alfred. 

few moons passed after your talk with alfred about his mother, and yet again, you were on your stomach, feeling your brother-in-law continously thrust his hips into yours, your breaths leaving in small bursts. “f-fuck,” you reach behind you to grab at his moving hip, grasping at the dark material of his tunic as your knuckles whitened at the force of your hold. “you fuck me so good.” 

the door to the chamber opens, alfred’s hip stopping just as he thrusted back inside, his cock nestled deep in your wet walls as your husband, aethelred, stared down at your in disgust. “i was wondering where my wife was,” he began, “and i thought she would be out in the fields picking more things for your salves, but instead i find her getting fucked by my own brother.” 

you sigh, head bowing as your forehead rested against the pillow just a few inches above you. you should be ashamed, ashamed that your husband found you in such a lewd position, but instead, anger filled your heart. here he was, shaming you for something he was also doing. he always left to warm ethelfled’s bed, and when he finds you doing it as well, he has the nerve to be vexed? “by my own brother!” he scoffs. “the one who is apparently so righteous, he could barely lay with his wife on their wedding night!”

“aethelred,” you warn.

“i ought to have you hanged in the villa!” 

“aethelred!” you yell back. you push a shocked alfred off of you, wincing as his cock fell out from within you, and the young king rushed to cover himself with the furs. as you stood up, the skirt of your dress fell down to your ankles, hiding your modesty from the two pairs of eyes. both of which have already seen you in such lewd positions. “you’re such a fucking hypocrite, aren’t you? you go behind my back and fuck ethelfled all you want, leaving your poor wife to fend for herself, expecting her to cook and clean and keep your bed warm as you stuff your cock into another bitch! and when your wife goes out and finds herself someone who loves her as much as she loves him, you get angry. you might call alfred righteous, but he is just human. we all are! every single one of us!

“we can never be righteous,” you continue. “we are all too corrupted to even reach it. so, while we are here on earth, who are we to deny our desires? after all, it’s human nature to procreate. and procreation must come from sins of the flesh, but also of pleasure!” you throw a vessel at aethelred, hitting him on his ribs. “and didn’t your mother do the exact same thing? didn’t your father? didn’t alfred come from adultery?

“we are all human, aethelred. accept it.” 

[valhallasubstitute]

In Times of Celebration...

Osferth x reader

Prompt #13 – ‘There was only one bed’

It’s not every day that the future King turns seven. Edward invites Uhtred and company to join the celebration in Wessex, but you and Osferth arrive later than expected. Due to your late arrival the ale house has only one room available…and that room only has one bed…

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT, unprotected sex – it’s the ninth century they have an excuse, you don’t. fluff

A/N: My first celebration request done! This is my first time writing Osferth, so I apologize if it’s a little OOC, like Sihtric, his lack of lines haunts me :/

Anyways I’m gonna write the requests in the order they were submitted in so if yours doesn’t pop up as quick as you expected then don’t stress cause you’re on the list and I love you all equally

WC: 2476 - this is ridiculously long, I wanted to set the scene and then got carried away whoops

Tags: @bebbanburgsflame - thank you my love for the request, @flowers-in-your-hayr

It was late when you arrived in Winchester, but the usually dark streets were filled with candlelight and laughter. The future king was turning seven the next day and evidently the best way to celebrate was to grab yourself a cup of ale in one hand and a pretty girl in the other.

Osferth’s hand was on your lower back as you weaved your way through the packed streets, guiding you gently as he smiled at the drunk passers-by, knowing all too well that the rest of your friends would be exactly the same.

The tavern was heaving with people and your good spirits were starting to dwindle. It had been a long ride; your horse was newly broken and while beautiful she was difficult and Uhtred had lost patience with both of your attitude’s. The others had ridden on while Osferth had stayed behind with you. You had ended up swapping horses and how well your horse behaved for the gentle monk had grated on you, but you couldn’t really blame her.

But you could blame Osferth for having the most uncomfortable saddle to ever grace Gods green earth. All you wanted to do was collapse on to the nearest bed and dream away the ache of the ride, but first you had to pay for the room.

The owner was a difficult man to find but his smile was wide and offered the room at half price. You began to protest but he insisted.

‘The healers assure me that my wife is to give birth tomorrow, praise Him. I believe it to be a good sign that he should share a birthday with the future king of Wessex – why should I not share my happiness with you?’

‘Do you hear that Y/N? Praise him indeed.’ Osferth’s smile was infectious, and you couldn’t help but share in his joy.

‘Thank you for your kindness.’

Your gratitude quickly faded as you walked into the room, it was modest, and the bed looked like heaven but there was only one filling the room. Turning to Osferth with a startled expression you expected him to turn on his heels, ready to ask for another room right along with you but he just shrugged and took your bag inside.

‘Osferth what are you doing?’

‘Unpacking?’

‘But- ‘

‘I know but we should be grateful we even got a room.’ He beckoned you, a reassuring smile on his face. You wanted nothing more than to rid him of the look. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share a bed with him, rather it was a problem that you did. And here he was, smiling at you like it was perfectly fine. Of course you had slept beside each other before, your furs being laid next to each other when you were on the road or napping by the river side by side when at home but you had never shared a bed with him, under the covers, layers of clothes removed… You fought quickly to hide the blush that threatened to out you.

‘I will sleep on the floor; you can have the bed.’

‘You cannot sleep on the floor Y/N.’

‘Then we should ask for another room- ‘

‘There are no other rooms.’ He was laughing at you quietly, his amusement was gentle and light, never pushing you too far. ‘And besides, I do not believe it was such a reach to think us together.’

You threw a pillow at him in an attempt to hide the deep red that was rapidly spreading across your body. He caught it with one hand, a light dusting of pink appearing on his own cheeks.

‘Are you going to help me unpack?’ you shook your head with a grin, settling back into the soft linen. Osferth rolled his eyes but quickly resumed the task at hand. With his back turned you took the opportunity to admire him.

You were surrounded by beautiful people constantly. Your Lord and the men that served him always made the scenery just that much prettier but there was something about the baby monk that had gripped you body and soul. Under all those robes and armour, you knew laid a warrior’s body. To assume otherwise would be a mistake, one you would not make twice.

It took him a while when you first met for him to look you in the eye but when he finally did you were lost in a soft world of blue. Combine that with a jawline that could cut sharper than your sword and you were all in from the very beginning.

And then he grew into himself. You watched along with the others as he stood a little taller, spoke a little louder, held your gaze for as long as you could manage.  Boy to man, lamb to wolf, friend to fantasy.

You were so lost in the idea of him that you barely noticed him removing his armour in front of your very eyes until the leather hit the ground. You were transfixed as the layers of clothes were placed on a stool, and milky skin was revealed.

There were hardly any scars, save the large one on his abdomen. He was slighter than the others, but the muscle rippled as he moved regardless, his strength was as quiet as the rest of him but in its silence, it screamed the truth.

You watched as he leant down and undid the laces of his boots. His hands were a frequent visitor in your thoughts. They were calloused from hard work and a hard life, but they held your soup bowl when you were ill, despite the fact it burned him a little. They guided you through packed crowds, keeping you safe and in sight. And when his fingers brushed against your own it felt like God had put him on this earth to make you feel alive.

As he approached the bed, dressed in breeches alone, you found yourself flustered, your thighs clenching together on their own accord.

‘What- why are you undressed?’

‘I do not wish to sleep in my armour Y/N, we’re not on the road and we’re here to enjoy the celebration. If it offends you then I can re dress?’

‘No. I- You’re right.’ You nodded your head as you said it, convincing yourself that he was right and ignoring the pit in your stomach as you removed yourself from the bed.

You started with your boots, kicking them to the side of the room. You had none of the finesse that Osferth had, not when you could feel his eyes on you. Glancing at him every now and again as you removed your weapons you could see him watching you through thick lashes. He had more subtlety than other men, but the intention was the same.  

The thought sent tiny sparks through your body, and the colour of his face brought you a little satisfaction. Despite your best efforts his eyes made you clumsy, the knot of your armour unyielding against your fumbling fingers.

You turned yourself away from him, a half-arsed attempt to hide the affect the situation was having on you. You didn’t even hear him coming up behind you and the feel of his hand covering yours made you jump. Your hand dropped to your side like a stone does when thrown into a river and Osferth’s breath fanned against the back of your neck.

His hands made quick work of what yours could not and before you knew it you were lifting your arms, letting the man behind you remove the armour completely. The two of you stood there, your back to his chest, heat radiating off each other and your breath coming out in quick puffs. You turned to him with downcast eyes.

The cross that sat on his chest snapped you out of the lust that coursed through your veins. God did you want this, but you pushed yourself away with a murmur of thanks. He was your friend and a man of God. And despite being a warrior of Uhtred’s your nerve evaporated.

The candles were blown out and your body stiffened as the bed dipped as Osferth climbed in. You could still feel him, his proximity making sleep impossible.

While your body lay perfectly still your mind tossed and turned – you had seen the desire in his eyes, felt his breath coming out quick and hot against you. He had made no move to push you and you had stepped back. But what if you hadn’t?

You rolled over, expecting to be greeted with his back but instead you were met by his face. He looked at peace, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Your intention was not to wake him, but the light tracing of his face stirred him, his hand moving in a flash and long fingers coming to grip your wrist.

‘I shouldn’t have pulled away…’ Your voice was barely a whisper, but his eyes were fixed on you. His grip eased on your wrist and his touch moved from your arm to your waist, squeezing gently.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room and the single thin layer of fabric that separated you from Osferth felt like entirely too much.

You sat up and Osferth followed, confusion evident on his sharp face.

‘Y/N what are you doing?’

Your hand gripped the bottom of your tunic and pulled it over your head before your courage was lost to the night. The air nipped at your skin, your nipples hardening with the ghost touch. Osferth’s eyes were everywhere, desire mixing with the confusion as you crawled towards him.

‘What I should have done.’

He reached for you tentatively, his hands cupping your face and bringing his lips to yours. They were soft and gentle, his tongue parting your lips in exploration.

The taste of him was intoxicating and you climbed into his lap in seek of some relief.  

Your hands went from the slopes of his shoulders to the rim of his breeches. He tugged himself free and a blush spread from his chest up to the tops of his ears. The sight of him did not disappoint, his cock stood proud and was already leaking precum.

You had been with other men, but none quite had this effect on you, the want, the arousal, it was all him. The sight of him in such a state pulled a moan from your lips and another wave of wetness to pool between your thighs.

The rest of your clothes were removed, and you lay bare before the monk, your back arched as his hands slowly explored all there was to touch. His touch was feather light, leaving goose bumps in his wake. His lips followed his fingertips and as he tweaked one nipple, he took the other into his mouth, humming as you moaned.

He circled it with his tongue, letting his teeth graze it as he pulled away. Leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses he moved his attention to the other breast, his free hand slowly making its way south.

His name was pulled from your lips in a whine, the pressure of his thumb circling your clit exactly what you needed. His knuckles grazed against your entrance and you could feel him smile against your skin.

Needing to ground yourself there was no better anchor than his member, you could feel it sitting against your thigh. It felt like velvet to touch and the way his breath hitched made your body tingle with anticipation.

The way you held him left Osferth breathless, his own rhythm lost in the way you stroked him. You could feel it, still pumping him you guided him to your entrance.

Unable to censor yourself you gasped at his size. He lingered, teasing you with both his body and smile. His lips melted against yours as he entered you, hot breath fanning your face as gasps and moans filled the room.

Like everything else surrounding you, Osferth was gentle. His pace was steady and his thrusts deep, your fingers lacing together as you pulled him closer, your heels digging into his thighs.

While he used his free arm to prop himself up, you used yours to caress his face, pushing away the strands of blond hair that obscured your view of his pleasure.

You could feel yourself growing closer, relishing in the way he breathed your name as you clenched around him. Releasing your hand, he slipped his own between your bodies finding that sweet spot once more.

Your orgasm creeped up on you slowly, your back arching and your chest brushing against his as you called out, your cries of bliss mixing with the celebrations still raging on below.

Osferth’s own release came quickly after, a soft moan interrupting your panting, his brow creased and mouth silently begging to be kissed.

As you came down from your high Osferth pulled you to him, your limbs tangled as you faced each other, the smiles on your faces couldn’t be hidden, but neither of you had any desire to do so.

‘This may be forward Y/N-‘Your laugh interrupted him, your eyes wide and filled with amused exasperation as you gestured to your naked bodies.

‘I think we’re past forward, Osferth.’ His laugh was soft, and you watched as pink creeped into his complexion once more.

‘You are far more than a friend and I thank God for you, I do not wish to be without you.’

‘After tonight, you do not have to be.’

 *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The future king of Wessex was paraded through the hall, the priests that proceeded him unable to keep him in check but the atmosphere in the room was one of happiness and good humour.

If anyone were to look over at you, they would think you were overjoyed, the smile on your face rivaled that of the Queen. In reality your hand was slotted with Osferth’s, his thumb tracing circles over your knuckle.

You could feel Finan’s eyeing the two of you, but you could not find it in you to care. You watched as the Irishman lean into Uhtred ear, his voice just high enough to hear above the chanting.

‘I think it’ll be a marriage we’ll be celebrating next.’ You blushed as your Lords eyes fell to you, but Osferth seemed to beam at them, his hand squeezing yours. When he spoke, his voice was as happy as you had ever heard it.

‘I wouldn’t be surprised either Finan.’

You didn’t know what filled you with more excitement at that moment  - the fact that he wanted to marry you or that you got to show him just how willing you were when you returned to your shared bed.

[iseultdeservedbetter]

Cooking Your Heart Out

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

This is my entry for the @tlkfanficfest (I do hope that I did everything alright, Gosh this is my first time in it, so I hope to have done everything alright, if I didn’t just let me know).

I chose the prompt ‘Osferth, he tells people he loves them (platonically) by the food he cooks.’ and I hope that this won’t be cringy or anything, I hope you’ll like it!

(also this is set up in the same modern AU as this fic, if you are ever interested)

SUMMARY: Osferth find much more changing his job and discovering a few new flavors of his life.

WORDS: 4, 2 K

WARNINGS: Family Drama, Domestic Abuse, Talk of Infedelity, Slightly OOC Osferth-Aethelflaed

Osferth, he tells people he loves them (platonically) by the food he cooks.

It wasn’t that Osferth didn’t have emotions.

If anything, it was just the contrary.

He had too many emotions and didn’t know how to describe them, being slow in a way that was related solely to his emotions, as if he couldn’t think about them and rearrange them fast enough, before he had to act on them.

He had to think before expressing himself, and when he ended up finally figuring out what he was feeling and what he felt like saying, the person that he wanted to share those feelings with ended up losing their patience and leaving him alone.

And as a child Osferth had been a very alone child, enough that the cooks of the seminary where he had grown up in had taken pity on him and taught him a few of the many mysteries of the kitchen.

Osferth had been quite a quick learner, soon being able to peel potatoes, cut tomatoes and managed to bake a good loaf of breath.

And by the age he had moved away of the seminary, he was able to properly survive on his own without having to go back to instant noodles and take out.

And most importantly he had learnt a way to communicate his feeling.

A healthy way.

He had started at first cooking for his fellow friends over at the seminary, stealing a few pieces of loaves and a bit of chocolate cookies that he had ‘helped’ make and then he had moved onto preparing the dinner for the priests, even trying to corrupt a few of te teachers with food.

Do take them by the guts, they said.

But when his small world had become less restricted, once he had chosen not to follow up with his vows and enjoy a mundane life with the life allowance that a long-distant uncle had left him, in case he preferred college over seminary, parties over prayers, he had started truly delving in his passion.

He had set up himself in a business degree, although he had started working as a side job in a few restaurants, both as a waiter and both as a help in the kitchen, although he had the bases but not the true experience, and yet he picked up quickly and he loved cooking.

And even more than that he loved expressing his feelings through food.

Although he might be slow at communicating his feelings, he certainly was good at recognizing the one of others.

After he had joined the college life, he had found himself living with three men that were the portrayal of virility, Finan with his kisses to his mirrored image, Uhtred and his desire to fucking conquer back his family property and finally Sihtric and his work at risk as a professional hacker.

Although they did act as ‘true alpha males’, Osferth had learned to recognize exactly when they were down and when they needed a bit of comfort.

And gave it to them through food.

Finan had a rather confusing love life, and it wasn’t unusual that sometimes he might end up being the one with his heartbroken (but could you seriously blame the other poor idiot on the other side, probably having heard one too many cock joke?) and Osferth knew all too well that the best solution for a broken heart was anything with chocolate, experimenting new receipts with it, solely for him.

Uhtred, instead, could be the hardest on himself, not knowing what he was and not knowing what he truly wanted, but following a path that had been carved for him by someone else, so Osferth went softly with him, an homely meal that gave him some resemblance of an home he had never known.

Sihtric, lately, had a crush for a girl.

They all speculated about it, like some old ladies at a tea club, seeing the way he’d just stare at the computer, before blushing intensely at the screen, grabbing his head in his hands and then breathing loudly.

And then he’d go back to his work, like nothing happened.

Well, he got something spicy to get him to gain the confidence he was missing.

When Osferth had finished college, he had thought of following up his dream of continuing to express his emotions through food.

The fact that he was becoming quite good at it did help quite a bit.

But he hadn’t many references and neither he had a license that proved his talent, ending up in smaller restaurants and simple bars.

Although clients keep on flooding there.

An old lady had once insisted on waiting for Osferth’s turn for a whole hour and then admitting to the shy boy that ‘she loved his cooking because he certainly expressed his heart through it’.

Never a compliment had made him feel better.

And never had he been happier when his boss, in the last restaurant he had worked in, had bought him back a small ticket to him, alongside a hefty tip.

At first, he had felt quite awkward seeing it was a number and all his friends in the kitchen had made fun of him, saying ‘how easily he could pick up girls with his wonderous cuisine’.

And then he had turned around the ticket, discovering that it belonged to Aetheflaled Wessex, the daughter of Alfred Wessex, one of the richest people in the whole city, owning quite a few buildings, but much more a lot of restaurants.

And he had left one in particular to his daughter, as a wedding present.

The Mercia.

It wasn’t a big restaurant and not as big as her father’s own ones and her brother’s, but Aethelflaed was told to have the economical genius of her father and everybody wouldn’t have been surprised to see the restaurant become much more famous that her father’s in a few years.

If not months.

Hence he had been surprised that from all the expensive chefs she could choose, she had taken the time to learn about him, taking a meal at his shit of a place, nothing important and neither remarkable, simply to eat one of his dishes, leave him her number and quite the tip.

The small ticket had her number on one side and a small indication of the interest that Aetheflaed felt for his culinary skills, suggesting that she met him at the Mercia to taste truly his talent, although she had already been impressed to learn what he could do in a poor-piss restaurant.

And although the proposal was tantalizing, it had taken him quite a few days to actually pick up the phone and contact Aetheflaed, being directed to her by an elegant male voice.

He was surprised that it wasn’t any secretary to take care of his appointment but instead Aetheflaed in person replied and talked with him to take the appointment, and although Osferth had reasoned that she probably preferred to hand-pick and take care personally of each thing, he was still surprised by the way she seemed truly interested in everything he said.

Even going as far as concluding the call with ‘I was truly hoping you’d give me a call’.

He couldn’t have scored a point with a girl like that, for sure.

So it wasn’t that.

And he wasn’t anyway famous to be called over by people like her.

Maybe she was a psycho although she didn’t look like one.

And in the end, his big dream of learning more about cooking and the professional kitchen, won over his own self-preserving instincts (helped by a few screams and ‘threats of encouragement’ from his beloved roommates).

The day he had met Aetheflaed at ‘The Mercia’ he had found her trying to set up the main hall with tables and chairs, deciding its formation alongside the male voice he had heard over the phone, recognizing him as Aldhelm, a private lawyer, probably working for Aetheflaled and her husband, Aethelred.

Who was nowhere to see it.

But were the rumors true, in that wedding there wasn’t much love.

But he shouldn’t stick his nose in that.

He was supposed to work in the kitchen, and he should have stuck to that.

Again, as soon as Aetheflaed raised her head to meet his face, she immediately repeated ‘how glad she was of finally meeting him in person’, making Osferth, inevitably blush, although he could detect a pretty shade of red on her cheeks as well, obviously feeling as awkward as him.

For which he was almost glad.

Almost as much as when he realized he hadn’t to talk much, because she started explaining pretty quickly the role, saying that she knew he hadn’t any true experience in a ‘proper restaurant’, but he certainly didn’t lack of creativity and passion, which were two things that she hoped to valorize in her restaurant.

‘… if you accept, I do think that it’ll be a good learning experience’ she explained, a focused expression scrunching up on her face, nothing in her was insecure as she slowly continued with the explanation ‘… the pay is good, if it is something that you are worried about it and we can talk about the hours and when you can start’.

‘I am in’.

It was a quick choice, because he had thought about it from the start of it all and he couldn’t help but want to try new things, even more when the chance was right in front of him, offered to him.

And although even Aetehflaled seemed surprised by it, she soon seemed to come back from the shock and smirked, immediately involving him in a soft hug, in which he didn’t know what to do, growing tight underneath her, enough to make her understand his own uncomfortableness and she immediately released him.

‘Sorry, I am just excited!’ she had apologized, and again that awkwardness appeared in Aetehflaled’s eyes, but Osferth was used from the time in seminary to work with his lowered head, so he didn’t say too much.

And in the end the work was indeed a learning experience, enough for him to discover new meals and new ways to express himself, although the turns were of long hours and since they were a new restaurant they hadn’t much free time or free space for mistakes.

Even more when Aetheflaled’s husband, Aethelred, the one who owned half of the actions of the restaurant, certainly wasn’t happy of its opening, thinking that it was a loss and ‘a business that wouldn’t have made them much money’.

He put everybody in the restaurant, Aetheflaed comprehended, at unease.

But everyone was even more determined to prove him wrong.

Starting from Osferth.

Although there was no interest in him for Aetheflaed he admired dearly the woman, a bit younger than him and already so strong and determined in everything she started, wanting everything and taking it for herself, with the help of Aldhelm, who shared her similar views.

Osferth got along quite well with both and many times than not he found himself dining with Aethelflaed, at the end of long hours, and Aldhelm, alongside the kitchen staff, exchanging small trivial thoughts and talks that made her seem more earthly.

And although Osferth had been for a long time sure that he knew nobody who acted like him, certainly Aethelflaed had a few characteristics that reminded him of himself, like his stubbornness and his shyness, although she hid quite them well.

‘When your father is Alfred Wessex… sadly there isn’t space for much shyness’ she had once commented and for a moment she had looked at him, a moment too long to be simply accidental.

But he hadn’t commented it.

Not wanting either of them to feel uncomfortable for something that maybe he had only seen.

But once he had heard something and he had been able to simply blame it on his tired mind.

Although he knew that it was bad to listen on a private conversation between Aethelred and Aethelflaed, he couldn’t do much when they screamed like they thought they were the only ones in the restaurant.

Which was partially true, because the staff had been sent home for the night, but Osferth had slipped inside to take the gloves he had forgotten back in the place.

He had bene exiting the kitchen lockers’ section when he was startled by two voices hurling insults against each other.

‘… I can’t fucking believe that you won’t consider fucking closing this place’ Aethelred’s tone was arrogant in a way that immediately made him unlikable, but he couldn’t deny that he mostly sounded like ‘clichey second-class Disney villain’.

‘Father gifted it to me!’ insisted loudly Aethefllaed, her tone loud with passion and hurt ‘… and I’ll do what I want with it’.

‘We are losing money fast…’ shot back Aethelred and as much as he hated hearing that, it was true.

Aldhelm, who took care of these things, certainly wasn’t very positive about their earnings, but insisted that it was simply the beginning and they were slowly setting up their own clientele, which was extremely difficult to do without losing any money.

“… and changing this whole place in the nightclub you wanted won’t make us regain the money lost!” she replied shouting loudly, as she looked at the man in the eyes, before regaining her composure, but without backing away from him “… this is my place, you have dozen of other things to play with, leave me at least this one…”.

Something on Aethelred’s face softened in some way, almost as if he had been taken by surprise by her comment, by the way that sounded like a plead, and then his face roughed up in a horrible smirk.

Worse than a Disney villain’s one.

“I don’t fucking care” it was so full of disdain that even Osferth, who wasn’t inside the conversation shuddered “… I didn’t marry you, because of your fucking business knowledge, I married you for your fucking money and if I don’t have those, I can easily divorce you and take everything with it!”.

Aetheflaed shivered, but again, she didn’t lose any confidence.

Which was quite amazing, according to Osferth.

Had it been Osferth he would have pretended nothing happened.

Had it been Uhtred he would have punched Aethelred in the face.

Which was something that he shouldn’t have done, since he used Uhtred as a measure to avoid doing stupid things.

‘Would Uhtred do it?’ he asked himself and then he wouldn’t do what he had come up with.

He started to get uncomfortable by the conversation, mostly because it started getting much more personal as Aetheflaed backed up her discourse and pretenses with the knowledge of Aethelred’s multiple affairs, as he presented her the same ones.

But suddenly something caught him off guard.

‘… and you know what? The fact that you are a fucking shitty businesswoman is shown by the knowledge that you hired that shitty cook just because he is your fucking half-brother, a bastard’.

And he didn’t have to do the math to realize who he was talking about him.

And yet the surprise hit him all over again, small hints that had been left on his journey suddenly revealing themselves to him, as he slowly reasoned with them, thinking about whether they were true or fruit of his imagination.

But soon, he had much more to worry about, when Aethelred slapped Aethelflaed.

The woman was surprised by the slap, and Osferth was halfway through to intervene, not certainly to fight the blondie cliché, but to put himself between them to stop any other fight to erupt.

But before he could do something, Aethelflaed answered tenfold the slap with one of her own, enough to make Aethelred back off, then moving another hand to his stomach, but stopping it before it could do some further damage, Aethelred immediately bending himself as if to stop the hit.

“Fucking touch me, again, you, coward, and believe me I won’t give you a warning” the words sounded so tight that he was sure that Aethelflaed’s now conjoined fingers could have snapped broken.

But it certainly was of quite impact on Aethelred, running away as a coward.

The promise of a lawyer, his last words, as Aethelflaed relaxed her expression, some kind of restless tiredness written in her face.

Aethelred might have been a coward, but he was a creepy one.

And one that did need law.

Had he been her, he would have also been worried.

But he had much more traumatic things to take care-

Was he… seriously Aethelflaed’s half-brother?

He hadn’t ever met his father.

His mother had said that it had been a ‘wrong night’, calling Osferth an ‘happy incident’, in her most ‘hyppie’ tone.

He had been too young to properly ask questions and then he had been pushed in the seminary, where every child was a ‘child of God’ and his questions about his paternity had been pushed back, alongside many feelings that he didn’t feel like expressing.

But the knowledge that Alfred Wessex had spawned him was crazy.

To start with the fact that Alfred Wessex was one of the most morally righteous people he had ever read about, truly an enlightened businessman, and he didn’t know how his mother had met Alfred and how she could have hidden such a secret for so long.

And how Aethelflaed might have discovered.

He must have heard wrong.

And whatever it was he had researches to do, at home.

Not where he could easily be discovered as a Peeping Tom.

He was halfway through waiting for Aethelflaed to leave, when the woman moved to also grab something from the lockers, and she caught him.

And that was awkward.

And the normally quiet Osferth found himself trying to stutter some kind of reply.

“… I didn’t… I just…” and then with the highest shriek he could have ever mustered up he uttered “… my gloves!”.

And showed her his faux leather biking gloves, a Christmas gift that Finan had thought funny for the ‘pacifist’ of their group.

“… you heard everything, right?” Aethelflaed’s approach was much more fatalistic.

But she didn’t seem angry.

Although, from what he had heard from Uhtred, a very unreliable source, when women weren’t angry when they should be… it meant you were fucked.

Thoroughly fucked.

“… yes” and his honesty most of the time didn’t pay off, but Aetheflaed simply nodded away, pushing his gaze off of him in a way that seemed thoughtful, as if she was evaluating the entire situation.

And Osferth was sure he’d be fired.

“I didn’t… I won’t say anything” he muttered, also making the awkward sign of zipping up his mouth.

“I don’t worry about that” she commented, before another tired and annoyed breath left her lips “… actually it is nice to have witnesses for when I’ll eat up my husband in court, if he is serious about the divorce thing…”.

“He is an asshole” again that bluntness wouldn’t have saved him, but Aethelflaed smiled sadly at him.

“You are kind of right” she commented “… he wasn’t… he might seem all that prince charming bullshit when I first met him. But believe me those are the worse. I married him as a naïve girl and I grew up too fast with him, not as a wife but as a martyr”.

“… I am sorry” and if there was one way that he could express his emotion other than food it was through one-liners.

Still Aethelflaed seemed to realize the strength of the words and their genuineness.

“Not your fault” she muttered, before she spoke right about the elephant in the room “… did you hear everything everything?”.

‘Don’t say it! Don’t say it, Osferth’ his mind screamed inside of him ‘… don’t ruin yourself more than you already have done’.

“… I did hear about me being your brother”.

What the heck?!

Did he seriously have two different paths between his mouth and his brain?

“Oh” Aethelflaed was too nice to mumble the obvious ‘oh shit’ that followed “… I… this is… “.

“I won’t say anything to anyone” commented tightly Osferth, trying to slowly undo all the wrongs he had done “… I don’t even understand if it is true or just…”.

“It is true” commented lapidary Aethelflaed.

And this time Osferth wasn’t able to stop the ‘oh shit’ from leaving his mouth.

“Oh shit, indeed” commented softly Aetheflaed, echoing his thoughts perfectly “… if it helps… I had a mental breakdown when I discovered it…”.

“How? When? What?” it must be all a joke.

Where were the candid cameras?

“Your mother worked over in my father’s staff in our house, and apparently my father didn’t have the morality he has now back then… your mother fell pregnant with the fruit of an affair with my father” his shocked looked must have been enough to ask for more info “… I found it through… Facebook, you were in the ‘people you should know’ or something like that… and you looked familiar, I checked in you… I admit that I stalked a bit”.

Was he even more confused, now?

Probably.

“… the similarity with me was quite striking and I couldn’t… couldn’t just put it down” she mumbled “… you have to know that before I had this place and everything… I was going through a bad period and I … investigating on you helped me”.

“… I run some check through the staff, I thought that maybe you had worked with us, but I found your mother and let’s just say that I kind of had an hitch about what might have happened, remembering that my mother mentioned about having had problems with the staff back then…” her reasoning was slowly starting to make sense, which made everything much more confused “… and I just put one plus one together, hearing about you and through Leofric… and my father”.

Did Alfred know that he was his child?

Had his rich uncle ever existed or had Alfred simply funded his son’s studies?

But right now, all he could focus on was the fact that Alfred had rejected him, and although he had had his own reasons and had his mind been clearer he would have agreed upon them…

… it still hurt.

And it was a new sensation.

He didn’t know which meal he could cook to soothe it.

“.. I swear I didn’t want to stalk you, but I found out you worked in that bar and you seemed so much interested in food and I needed a cook…” now it was Aethelflaed that was rambling “… I swear that what Aethelred said wasn’t true! I didn’t choose you for nepotism… you are really talented…”.

But Osferth had much more pressing matters at heart.

Like understanding why.

“Why did you search for me?” he didn’t mean to sound that rough, but she had to understand him: he had just discovered of having a father… and a sister, and although the former hadn’t ever wanted to meet him, meanwhile Aethelflaed had fought through much to meet him again, and he didn’t understand why “… don’t you have already a brother?”.

The words seemed to hit deeply Aethelflaed and for a moment he was scared of having hurt her.

“… I do…” her tone was unsure “… but I just… as I have said, I had a tough period…”.

“So, I am a charity case”.

He didn’t mean to sound that intolerable, but if there was one reason why he had repressed many of his emotions was that he knew he was able to accidentally blurt out things like that when he was nervous and under pressure.

The first thing in his mind would be the first on his tongue.

And although people said to appreciate honesty, it wasn’t true on the long run.

“No, you aren’t” now Aetehflaed’s voice was definitely uncomfortable and pleading as if she was the one who had been left shocked by the news.

And he had to reason that maybe it was the truth, indeed.

“… I just…” she didn’t know what to say, and Osferth couldn’t help but recognize that that gesture ran in the family “… I just wished to maybe see you… maybe see if we could get along… I just…”.

And although she didn’t mean anything at all, it had a meaning to him, a meaning he understood.

And even worse than the rambling came soon the tears, as stubborn as their own owners, as if they didn’t want to fall from her eyes, staying there and being held there.

“… I just wanted to get to know you, although it is something crazy to say”.

The words rolled off her tongue with pure honesty and he couldn’t help but feel, indeed, that matching piece settle in his puzzled chest.

The truth was that they were indeed siblings.

And he could have done much with that knowledge.

But for now, he focused on doing what he did best.

‘… do you think they’ll hate us if we use the kitchen for a midnight snack?’

Aetheflaled’s sad smile was a mirror of his own.

And he knew that she meant what she said.

Because he did.

---

@volvaaslaug​ (I really hope that is will be at least barely tolerable!)

[hecohansen31]

Don’t Fight Fire With A Sword

Alfred The Great+Kathleen (OC)

Wearing A Warning Sign:

“You say Come over baby I think you're pretty I'm okay I'm not your baby If you think I'm pretty”

“You should see me in a crown” by Billie Ellish.

(Previous Chapter) (Masterlist)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I know I haven’t been able to upload a lot of stuff lately and I have been mostly focusing on the series that sadly haven’t been getting a lot of attention, because they are the ones that have been left behind.

I am not going to lie, I am least inclined to do them, because of the lack of feedback gaining from them, mostly because I constantly think that nobody will read them, so if you are reading this story and you liked it, I wanted to ask if you could support me with a simple reblog and comment, because I am truly truly looking forward to know what you thought about it.

Please don’t forget that feedback makes our heart beat stronger and our fingers write faster!

SUMMARY: Trying to convince Alfred to save her sister might be much more difficult than Kathleen had planned, even more when the heathens’ plans come crashing against her own (Set up between the ‘Smart Saviour’ and ‘The Betrayed Ruler’, from my fic ‘To Kill a King’)

WORDS: 3, 7 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Violence and Domestic Abuse, Court Plotting, Arranged Marriage, Historically Inaccurate and maybe character being a bit OOC (I am sorry for that).

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More than a week had passed, and you were still Ivar’s wife and Kathleen hadn’t found a solution yet, that would have brought you home.

To your rightful home.

Although she had caught the king’s attention, she hadn’t convinced him to do much about your ‘problem’, since Alfred seemed focused only on the ‘best for his country’.

‘I do understand that you miss your sister…’ his eyes told you that he didn’t and if the entire story about Aethelred’s death was true, he had no way of truly knowing whatr it meant to miss a sister as much as you missed air ‘… but princess (Y/N) has done what she had to do for our country, the great Wessex… it is a sacrifice but it had to be made’.

‘You make it seem so grand and strong’ had replied Kathleen, as she hid her mouth and words it held in the cape of her long mantle ‘… but in reality it was nothing more than throwing her to the dogs’.

‘What would you expect me to do, princess?’ had shot back Alfred with a violence in his reply that only matched the tiredness she had noticed in her eyes ‘… if he had asked of me, I would have gladly marched over, willingly to his camping, but he didn’t… he chose your sister and she knew what would be the best choice’.

‘As if she had one’ the words had burned on Kathleen’s chest.

Because it wasn’t solely your injustice.

It was hers.

And Abigail’s.

Alfred had noticed immediately how truly bothered she had been, and Kathleen hadn’t wanted to continue the conversation that day, although she was well aware that Alfred would soon go back to his lands.

She didn’t know if she had to wish for that.

Or if she wanted him to stay.

Although he hadn’t done much for his sister, he certainly was one of the few that matched her brain and chatter.

Somebody that made her feel like an equal and not simply the dirt beneath their shoes.

Like her father.

He had noticed immediately how much time she had been spending with Alfred and that same night he had decided to act upon it, since he didn’t like his daughter meddling in his business.

‘What are you doing around the prince?’ he had asked her, after he had gotten her to meet him in his own private chambers ‘… you aren’t one to whore out your body easily, you never were… sometimes I thought it’d be easier for me, if you were, instead, like that’.

‘You already sold a daughter to the best offerer, isn’t it enough?’ she had retorted, seeing her father’s anger grow in his eyes and she had welcomed it gladly.

Rage made her feel reactive and made something similar to fire run in her veins.

It made her feel strong.

And she would have taken everything instead of the small scared child she had always felt before she started to fight back.

It didn’t matter that he would hit her harder if he she reacted.

She just didn’t want to be weak.

She would never be weak again.

But that night her father played dirty tricks once he had reduced her to nothing more than a bloody pulp.

‘Sometimes I wish that you’d be more like your mother…’ he had commented as he cleaned his hands in the basin of water he kept in his private chambers.

It had become a darker shade of marron due to the blood in it.

But it wasn’t only Kathleen��s blood.

She had made her father bleed and it was already a victory.

‘… she never fought me back, don’t you know? She was smart’ he had seemed to want to remember her mother, dirtying her memory, as Kathleen tried another weak attempt to attack him just to shut him up.

But he had punched her in the gut, making her vomit the small meal she had consumed with him ‘… your sister (Y/N)… they are similar, not only in the appearance… but I wonder…’.

And then he had shot the final blow.

‘I wonder if she also begs when he hits her’.

She had just been able to push herself away from the room as her father snickered aggressively almost turning in a choked cough for the harshness of it.

She had tried to shield her brain from it, from the intrusive images her father had filled her mind with.

But it hadn’t worked.

And she had fallen asleep with the thought of screaming that sounded at the same time like her mother and her sister.

That morning she had overslept till an obsessive knocking had brought her to drag her ass away from bed.

The previous night she hadn’t even been able to take care to her body, although she knew that nothing would show up on her face.

It was the only way a lady was properly beaten.

Never damage the precious goods.

Abigail still looked too concerned with whatever troubled her to notice Kathleen’s slumped walk, as she moved to lean on the door to avoid fall on her ass.

She had been the one knocking and she had an urgent light in her eyes.

“… they… they accused her of poisoning him” the words of Abigail were of one filled with pure panic, as she reacted almost hysterically.

“Sister… I don’t… I don’t understand you” spoke Kathleen as she invited her sister inside, mostly to be able to lean properly on a bed, as Abigail finally seemed to remember what was going truly behind her message.

“… it’s (Y/N)!” Kathleen’s ears immediately opened as she looked fully at her sister’s distressed face “… they accused her of having poisoned Ivar”.

“It is impossible” that was Kathleen’s first response.

You wouldn’t have done such a horrendous act.

And if you had, you wouldn’t have been surely discovered.

You had always been the smart sister.

“… Heahmund just wrote a letter” explained Abigail “… but a few days have passed since it first travelled”.

“They wouldn’t dishonor an English princess” again her words seemed only rightful “… they wouldn’t touch a single hair of hers”.

But at the same time her father’s words came back at her.

‘I wonder if she also begs when her husband hits her’.

She remembered Ivar’s growl as (Y/N) had moved to lower herself to grab the fallen ring, although had been gentle with her.

The promise he had made to Kathleen certainly wasn’t forgotten.

But how much was the value of a heathen’s word, truly?

‘Please God, I never asked you anything, I know I denied Your existence when mother died, but right now if my sister is even solely scratched, know that I’ll curse Your name and burn down Your fucking churches’.

She would have killed Ivar, for it, after she had burned all the churches in her kingdom.

“How did you know of the letter?” asked Kathleen suddenly, knowing that there was much more behind it “… did it arrive to you? Or did you hear about it…?”.

“Father received it, meanwhile we were having breakfast” explained Abigail, her eyes suddenly shining “… he and Alfred are having a council together, right now, father wasn’t… father isn’t happy with (Y/N)”.

“… when will he ever be” Kathleen spoke biting her lips to cease feeling pain as she tried to focus on what to do next.

Barging in the council would have certainly worked.

And even if she did that, what would she have said.

‘Go and retrieve my sister form that fucking heathens’ hands’ wouldn’t have been proper, but neither sweet words would have worked.

They were all she had used with Alfred.

She had to pass to diplomacy.

“Help me get dressed” she ordered to Abigail, as instead her sister’s eyes were set onto her bloodied sheets and Kathleen had to lightly shook her “… Abigail, I can’t barge in my nightgown”.

“You can barely move for all I care” she retorted, with a truly worried look.

“I’ll be fine” breathed out Kathleen as she flicked her fingers at her sister “… now bring me my red robe, I am going to war”.

---

Her entrance had been quite less impressive than she had thought, although Alfred had moved to look up at her, immediately, before ducking his eyes again on the maps that had been pulled out on the table.

And her father didn’t look in the slightest surprised.

“… my daughter, you missed breakfast”.

“I felt unwell” she commented tightly, as she shot him a light look, as if to say ‘because of you’ “… but now I am here, and I am worried about my sister”.

“Your sister has just won us a rather troublesome headache” although her father’s words were slow and soft, almost meant to make his advisors and Alfred laugh, his eyes held a deeper violence and rage.

(Y/N) had done a mistake and now their father was paying for it.

You had disappointed him.

“My sister is under process for something you made her do”.

It was an accuse and suddenly silence fell in the room.

It was a challenge for her father that immediately asked all the advisors to leave the room, except Alfred, on whom he hadn’t any power.

“Sweet girl of mine, I won’t let you insult me in front of my advisors” he spoke, hissing through his teeth with a harshness that didn’t go unnoticed even to Alfred, who tried to shift the attention away from you.

“This isn’t a game of blame” he spoke, as his youngish charm became an older and kinglier strength “… (Y/N)’s life, your sister and daughter, is at risk”.

“Thank you for pointing out what is truly important” Kathleen commented, as she thanked Alfred also with her eyes and he simply smiled before looking at her father.

“… we can’t simply let this go unnoticed, not solely to save her, but also because it’d just make the Vikings think that they can touch one of us, without getting punished” explained the king of Wessex, as the slight smirk on your father’s face disappeared.

“She isn’t one of us, anymore” muttered Kathleen’s father, keeping the words tight in his mouth, although Alfred caught on them, a true expression of shock on his face, hence it was Kathleen who brought attention to them.

“She is” she protested loudly “… she is a Saxon, an English princess, and she belongs to us”.

“She probably has a child of a heathen already in his belly, if the rumors are true” her father retorted “… he has tainted her already with his heathen’s way”.

Kathleen almost wished to let his father know of his son-in-law’s shortcomings, but she bit her lips and let Alfred separate them again, as this time an harsh look was sent her father’s way, effectively hitting him in his pride.

“What princess Kathleen says is true” confirmed Alfred “… she might have married prince Ivar, but that doesn’t diminish her in any way. I swore to protect her after everything was done and the heathens’ power over our land is destroyed, but that also involves the time she spends in the settlements”.

Your father didn’t look so smug now that he was defeated.

“… we’ll have to think of something” spoke Alfred, harshly, as he invited Kathleen to sit, taking in her lightly trembling figure, as he also helped her in the chair, adjusting it behind her, his finger lightly brushing against her back, with a gentleness that didn’t belong to his steely eyes “… first of all, what does the letter truly say”.

Her father threw it at Alfred, his eyes bored but scanning roughly over the sense of companionship that was slowly building up between Alfred and Kathleen, the latter surprised that the king of Wessex asked her to join in his reading.

‘Two eyes are better than one’.

And although sadly the letter seemed true, what had been left out by the hysterical Abigail was that you hadn’t been already processed, but you had been trialed on charges of attempted poisoning Ivar.

The verdict was still out.

“… this seems ridiculous” explained Kathleen to Alfred, who looked at her truly attentively “… (Y/N) is careful, if she had tried to poison him, she wouldn’t have been caught believe me”.

“I didn’t think that your sister owned such a brain” had commented her father, the third wheel of the appointment between Kathleen and Alfred.

“She must have been involved in some heathen plot, unwillingly” commented Alfred.

“But why?” Kathleen replied.

“To undermine our hold on them?” suggested Alfred, although he looked at it thoughtfully “… I have also heard that there have been some problematic fights between the sons of Ragnar, so that isn’t even to put off. Somebody might have wanted to undermine Ivar’s claim and they used her against him”.

“Thinking about that won’t still solve anything, if we stay here without doing nothing” commented tightly Kathleen “… they might put her to death, if they haven’t already”.

“We can’t just march soldiers in there” explained Alfred “… it’ll be considered an act of war”

“… and I won’t give you any men to send there for this crazy idea” rumbled her father, not that it got him much attention.

“We do not have to send an entire army, but we need to reinforce our hold on them” counterattacked Kathleen, and suddenly Alfred’s eyes were set up on her determination, something that made her blush lightly “… what I mean… what I mean is that we don’t have to make it seem like more than a casual encounter? Don’t you have soldiers on those borders?”

“… now that you make me think about it I do” remembered the king, before he grabbed onto Kathleen’s hands, something that made her blush spread further “… I’ll tell them to move there immediately, in the meanwhile do reply to bishop Heahmund to hold on and be heard”.

Kathleen’s father, to whom that phrase was shot at, didn’t look in the slightest pleased by being ordered around and he endured it with a smirk that spoke of pure annoyance.

And Kathleen shot him one back.

A victorious one.

But her sister still wasn’t safe.

---

After her resistance to her father she had moved back in her room to let Abigail know of Alfred’s interest in this.

Although he hadn’t uttered any word to make (Y/N) come home, he certainly had sided with her, which was already one step forward.

Although it didn’t calm her anxious heart.

You were going to be trialed.

And this made Kathleen nervous.

Although you did have Heahmund on your side, you would have been trialed by a jury of heathens, hence the process wouldn’t have been in your favor and neither it would have been something that you had knowledge of.

Kathleen had just to trust in Heahmund, you and the armies Alfred would have sent to defend you and bring you home, the most extreme case he had thought about, although your father had denied that option immediately.

‘She’d be a rejected wife, a true shame for this honorable household’ he had complained, but Alfred had shown to have had enough of Kathleen’s father annoying replies.

‘Your daughter has honored us through accepting to put her life on the line for information from the Vikings’ he had reminded Kathleen’s father ‘… if we have to welcome her back, after this, we will, gladly’.

She had enjoyed the tight expression on her father’s face.

And that was what was keeping her upright, no matter the injuries all over her body and the threat over her sister’s head.

She couldn’t do much for her sister, but she could do even less with the pain that shot through her body.

She hadn’t been allowed to join Alfred’s border troupes, both because it wouldn’t have been a conflict of interests and both for the fact that it had been thoroughly dangerous.

So, she decided to bind the few broken bones in her chest, mostly because she knew for experience that they would have healed on their own, although it’d be nothing but a painful experience.

Her father knew perfectly where to hit her.

She heard a knocking on the door, and gently hurried to finish the binding, quickly wearing an ample nightgown to avoid anything weighting on the binding, since the corset had already left its signs, only stealing painfully your breath.

She expected it to be some maid or someone tasked with spying over her by her father, since she had been quite bold with her affirmations and her control freak of a father would have gladly done everything he could to regain some semblance of order and power over her.

But instead it turned out to be king Alfred.

“Are you lost again, my king” Kathleen teased him, having grown quite fascinated with the way his cheeks flushed.

“I…” he searched for words, as his pink togue wet his full lips.

He certainly had a beauty in himself that made him as tantalizing as sin.

“… not this time” he promised “… I just wanted to check on you, you didn’t look your best, at the council”.

“Thank you for pointing out that I look like shit” uttered back Kathleen, faking an offended tone.

But she wasn’t truly, although some feminine instinct in her wanted to look her best for him.

She didn’t know what made him blush, the thought of having truly offended her or the curse she had uttered.

“… you never look like… you know what, princess Kathleen” he shot back, although his eyes didn’t meet hers, his voice was true “… but I couldn’t help but notice that you were limping, this morning”.

“I just fell from the bed” ‘and onto my father’s fists’.

It was the most common of excuse she had given out.

Usually people didn’t ask more, because they weren’t truly interested.

Kathleen had known since she had been able to read that people would have never ever truly loved her for what she was.

And they never would.

They faked their interest in her, because she would have been their future queen, since she was the sole heir to her father.

That was also the reason why she had been an utter and complete mess with her suitors, making one after the other run away.

It was the last rebellion she could give before it was too late.

“… that seems…” Alfred was smarter than anybody around her, so he probably knew that she was lying to him but maintained her secrecy “… I am sorry that you hurt yourself, princess”.

In the end, he chose not to get involved.

But his eyes asked of what he could do to help her.

“I was binding myself up to avoid any broken ribs” she explained, as she moved to the gauze left on the bed where she was laying “… I have a few cuts on my legs to take care of, would you be so kind to get me some salve from my beside table”.

Alfred seemed to understand that, although she appreciated his presence, she wanted a bit of privacy and as any normal royal attendant, he moved to the beside table, leaving her to tighten privately the gauze around her chest, as she hissed a shaky breath, Alfred’s shoulders quaking at that sound.

He almost made to turn around, but then his resolve was stronger, and he froze, moving to search in the drawers.

His ears became red as he found only scandalous undergarments, she had bought just to make you and Abigail smile brightly as you commented at the uncomfortableness of them.

He seemed to have the same thought.

“Wrong drawer, my king” she joked, as she moved the remaining gauze away, to let him sit beside you, something almost intimate setting up in the room.

“… sorry” he commented, before he opened the proper drawer and grabbed the small bottle with lotion, offering it to Kathleen who moved to shamelessly raise her nightgown up her legs, unveiling them.

And she couldn’t hide that suddenly the room became warmer as his eyes set up on her body “… isn’t this improper?”.

“Oh why?” she spoke, her rebellious streak appearing in her eyes “… I am just healing my wounds, if you think that is improper, that’s on you”.

Alfred seemed almost taken aback by her scolding and she smirked at him, as his lips moved in a softer smirk, before he passed her the salve.

“Then if you don’t see anything improper in this, may I help with your wounds?” the little king wanted to play, his eyes suddenly becoming flame “… wouldn’t want you to miss out any spot”.

“Then be my guest, my king”.

And she pushed the lid back in his hands and he opened it calmly, gently dripping a good amount on his fingers, before he softly spread it around his hands, lowering the box again on the beside table.

Kathleen moved one leg towards him, meanwhile Alfred sat himself on the chair next to bed avoiding the spot beside you, as if he was too shameful for that.

Kathleen, then, gave him one of her legs, pushing them on his thigh, as one last attempt to make him back out.

But it wasn’t enough.

And his eyes shot up to meet hers.

And this time it was her who backed away from them.

She should have thought about you.

In a dark cell, as you waited for your verdict.

Maybe risking the worst of sentences.

But now she was simply drowning in those pools of pure sky.

His hands were smooth, certainly the ones of somebody who was more used to paper than the swords.

Something that felt damnably good against her hurt skin.

The coldness of the cream gave Kathleen great relief, alongside the way it glided over her broken and dry skin.

And Alfred knew just how much pression to apply on most points of her legs, as she found closer and closer to that angelic face.

And slowly there was just the space of a breath between each other.

And Kathleen closed it with the only truly free movement she had ever allowed herself, beside the king.

And she asked herself, if this was all a plan or if her heart beating dangerously fast was true.

She didn’t care to find out, when Alfred pushed her closer to him, answering the kiss.

---

@queenboosha​​ @lovelylangdonx​​ @rls905​ @maggiescarborough​

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[kingalfrcd]

whenever i have days like today when my stomach problems start to act up and i feel as though i’m going to pass out from the pain, i always think of how much worse alfred’s pain must be, especially considering that they didn’t really have much medicine back then 🙃

[kingalfrcd]

WHO ARE YOU?

name :   allison

star sign :   leo

height :    5′2″

spotify shuffle:  currently obsessed with “my worst” by madilyn bailey ❤️

ever had a poem / song written about you ?: my friend wrote some poems about me!

last time you played air guitar ?:   it’s been YEARS lol

sound you hate and a sound you love ? :   i hate the sound of static, like tv static. i love the sound of (sammy lawrence’s voice) genuine laughter!

do you believe in ghosts ? :  yes!

how about aliens ? :   there’s no way we’re alone in the universe lolol

do you drive ? :   nope! my vision is too bad for that XD

what was the last book you read ? :   the ballad of songbirds and snakes by suzanne collins

do you like the smell of gasoline ? :   not particularly XD

what was the last movie you saw ? :  harry potter and the sorcerer’s stone! my best friend had never seen it so we watched it together lol

what’s the worst injury you’ve ever had ? :  ajdkajdjskjs ok so. idk if this counts as an injury? but i’ve had stomach pain so bad i basically passed out and had to go to the hospital

do you have any obsessions right now ? :   sammy lawrence, the last kingdom, roleplaying with you all <3, and playing video games

do you tend to hold grudges ? :  i wish i didn’t, but i’ve been hurt a lot in the past. so, yes. but when it comes to my family? not at all.

in a relationship ? :   i am!

tagged by: @bebbanburged (thank you so much!!!!)

tagging: @runaljod @bardbattled @wolfkcst @auriibus @countthedaysisurvived

[kingalfrcd]

it’s weird, i have SO MUCH MUSE FOR ALFRED but no inspiration to write my paper for college that’s due in two hours ahskhajsjs

[kingalfrcd]

surround yourself with people that make you happy 💕

[kingalfrcd]

it’s not munday but i love my new haircut so here ya go xD

[kingalfrcd]

hi… hello

[kingalfrcd]

hey everyone! just a heads up — tomorrow is my birthday, so i won’t be super active tonight or tomorrow. love you all! <333

[kingalfrcd]

taking a break <3333