#skade fanfic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Angeeeeee

I'm suffering from terrible cramps at the moment and I just saw your requests are open especially for wlw

can I please have a Skade one where she helps reader with our monthly curse? smut pls I'm begging 🥺

🩶🩶🩶

Bru, my darling, I realise that your monthlies have likely ended by now. But I hope this serves as a comfort the next time Auntie Flo pays you a visit.

Warnings: Time of the month mentions, fingering but not quite, tiddy succin'. Word count: ~1200

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

You groan softly upon waking. The muted sunlight seeping through the canvas of the tent above your head indicates that it’s morning and has been for some time. You clutch at your lower belly with a muffled grunt, silently cursing your body for not allowing you a single waking moment’s peace from the curse of your moon’s blood. It’s your second day of bleeding and though you have tried your best to hide your discomfort from Skade, not wanting to hinder your progress as the two of you travel together, it is becoming more difficult to do so. The dull ache has grown to an insistent nag that plagues your every movement.

You stretch out an arm, surprised when you feel an empty bed roll instead of the warm body you’d expected to be next to you. You sit up slightly, wincing as the heaviness of your lower abdomen protests painfully, and peer through the slither of a gap in the entrance to your shared shelter.

Skade, flaxen hair cascading down her back as she hunches over a small fire, stirs a pot that’s suspended by a tripod of branches.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You call out to her.

She turns to you, before wordlessly moving to fill two wooden cups with the steaming liquid she’s been stirring and ducks into the tent. She hands you one and sits cross legged in front of you.

You sniff at the beverage, wrinkling your nose in distaste at the unappetising earthy scent. “What is this?”

“Nettle tea,” She says simply. “It helps me when I have my moon’s blood.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as she tells you this. She knew. Of course she knew. It was impossible to hide anything from Skade, she was too perceptive.

“I suppose we should start moving again soon, I have wasted half of the morning sleeping.” You say, eager to change the subject.

“We are going to stay here another day,” She tells you. “You need to rest.”

Your eyes widen, guilt blooms heavily within your chest. “That is dangerous…”

“I am dangerous,” She smirks. “No harm will come to us.”

“You cannot do this for me.” You plead, eyes wide. “We must keep moving.”

Skade sighs, rolling her eyes. “Women are afflicted by this because men are too weak willed to endure it, but there is no shame in being in pain. I see your suffering. Accept my help, and drink your tea before it gets cold.”

You smile gratefully at her and lift the cup to your lips, taking a sip. You grimace, the taste is bitterly unpleasant against your tongue. “That is vile,” You cough. “I cannot drink this!”

Skade grins, snatching your tea from you and turns slightly to place both yours and her cups just outside the entrance of the tent. She fixes you with an intense stare when she turns back, her blue eyes bright even in the shade of the canvas roof above you.

“I have another idea,” She begins. “Something that will soothe you.”

“Will you use your power?” You ask curiously, nervousness and excitement prickling at your skin.

She huffs a soft laugh, shifting forward and pushing you back as she hovers over you. “Not the power you’re thinking of. But this remedy is just as ancient.”

You stare up at her, heart fluttering wildly in your chest as the long waves of her golden locks fan around your face like a shroud. Her face is so close to yours that your lips are almost brushing, but when you lean in, she pulls back with a wolfish smile, a silent denial of what you seek.

Her fingertips deftly push up the hem of the rough spun linen of the shirt you wear, dancing delicately across the exposed flesh of your midriff, causing your breath to hitch. She smooths the flat of her palm over your stomach, before bringing it to rest against your lower abdomen, applying gentle pressure.

The warm sensation of it is a relief against the cramps you’ve been suffering. You sigh, allowing your eyes to flutter closed.

“Better?” Skade asks, her breath tickling softling against your cheek.

“Yes.” You whisper quietly, almost afraid that if you speak too loudly the moment will end.

It is then that she allows her lips to meet yours, slow and unhurried. You kiss back, relaxing as every movement serves to ease the tension in your body. You can taste nettle tea, but it is far sweeter upon her lips than it is from the cup.

Skade breaks away, moving to mouth at your neck and collarbones. Her free hand makes quick work of plucking open your shirt buttons, pushing the fabric apart to reveal your breasts to her.

You gasp, arching your back as she latches onto a nipple, swirling her tongue around it. The added sensitivity caused by your blood serves to heighten the sensation, waves of arousal causing you to clench around nothing.

It is then that you feel her hand move from your abdomen, her fingers breaching the waistband of the trousers you wear. You freeze, eyes going wide.

“What are you doing?” You ask in hushed panic.

Skade releases your breast with a wet pop and stares up at you. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” You surprise yourself with how quickly you answer, how certain you sound, how sure you feel.

“Good.” She purrs, eyes darkened by lust. “Then let me do this. It will feel good.”

She moves her attention to the opposite nipple, laving her tongue across it before suckling gently, as her hand continues its downward trajectory. You jolt slightly as you feel her push her fingers across your mound, cupping roughly before pressing down to spread you open. Her middle finger seeks out your bud, circling slowly, and you shiver, whimpering at the way it makes you tense and throb.

Your whimpers increase in cadence, until they are lewd moans as her circles become tighter, faster, more precise. The coil in your gut winds impossibly tight and she kisses you feverishly as she feels you tense up, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as you fall apart, white hot waves of pleasure rippling through you, all the way to your toes.

Skade withdraws her hand once you still, laying on her back beside you, watching you intently as you gasp for breath.

“Better?” She asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

Once you are lucid enough to form a response, you notice that the ache inside you has disappeared almost entirely. You feel boneless in the wake of your peak. “Much.” You breathe.

“It’s a pity that the moon has not seen fit to align us, so that we may suffer this together.” She muses, rolling onto her side and stroking your hair.

“You would want to suffer with me?” You ask, your heart fluttering, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“For as long as the gods allow it.” She tells you, resting her head against your chest.

[chiaracognigniart]

The Doom in Our Blood Comes Back character portrait - Day N 22 Baela the Glorious (version N2)

So this, for now, is officially the last portrait of this long series of portraits. I decided to end it with the same character I started it cause I realised that in these past weeks, my style developed, along with my technique and so I wanted to redraw this first piece. A lot of you loved this series and I hope to continue it even the next year, maybe with some OCs this time. I will keep posting my art here, especially ASOIAF-related stuff and maybe not only TDIOBCB-related but even canon illustrations. Thank you so much for your support, your love really made my day💖 Happy Christmas and a happy New Year to everyone 🎄✨❤️

[solinarimoon]

On Raven's Wings - Chapter 7

AN: I apologize for such a long absence in updates for this story.  I have not abandoned it!  Thank you to anyone who is sticking with it.  

Warnings: canon-compliant character death, death by fire, amnesia, loads of pent up angst and regret

Word Count: 3.543

Raven’s Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

AO3 if you prefer

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jerking awake, Liva coughed and covered her nose with her tiny hands.  She sat up, continuing to cough and peering over the edge of the loft where she slept.  Terror and panic welled up in her stomach and gripped her chest as she cried out.  Flames were licking the edges of the long house and sparks rained down from the thatched roof overhead. Smoke was collecting near her, drifting up to the ceiling.  Crawling back, Liva cowered against the wall and covered her head with her arms.  

“Rag…” she coughed, the smoke burning her throat, “Ragnar! Sigrid!”

“Liva!” She heard Thyra shout followed by a bellow of rage from her grandfather amidst the roar of the fire growing more and more steadily.  She looked back over the loft to see them all.

Liva’s hoarse voice cried out again, breaking with a sob for her grandfather.  Turning to look up at her, Ragnar stalked over raising his arms.

“Jump to me, child.”

She grabbed up her nightdress around her legs and shifted to the balls of her feet, still kneeling.  She coughed harder now.  Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, streaking through her smoke stained cheeks.  Getting her balance, she pushed herself off the ledge into nothingness only to be snatched from the air roughly and firmly a mere moment later.  Ragnar crushed her to his chest, brushing his hands through her hair swiftly and resting his forehead against Liva’s own as he settled her bare feet to the floor.  The tender moment lasted no longer than a second, before he bodily swung the young girl into the waiting arms of her aunt.

“What do we do?” Thyra pleaded for a solution.  “Mother, what can we do?”

Coughing more, Liva buried her face in Thyra’s arms as the young woman looked to her mother.  Thyra’s fingers dug into Liva’s shoulders as she hugged the girl from behind, enveloping her and trying to shield her from the panic. 

Sigrid looked from her daughter to share a meaningful stare with Ragnar.  Stepping forward, she hugged the two girls close while shouting over the sound of the timbers burning and beginning to crash.

“There is a weak spot in the wall, just behind the loom and furs.  Air drafts in from the cracks while we sit and weave.  Do you remember?”

Thyra nodded her head and gripped Liva impossibly closer.  Liva knew of the spot her grandmother spoke of.  Often she had fallen asleep laying at her grandmother’s feet, listening to her stories as she wove the yarn Liva and Thyra spent all year spinning.  She wove cloth and Liva liked to imagine she wove her stories into the fabric as well.  The sound of the weights tethered to the dangling strands shifting along with her fingers as she wove always matched evenly with the cadence of Sigrid’s stories.  And the draft from the winds slipping through the cracks in the wall brushed along Liva’s face as she rested.  

It was this corner of the home that her grandmother spoke of now.

“It is weak from rot and age and would not burn well.  It will give way if forced upon. If the flames have not found it, you can shove against it and make a way out. Go, Thyra.  Take Liva and go.”

Ragnar’s voice broke through as he gripped his daughter’s arm in farewell, “Find Uhtred and Brida.  Once you are out, run to the woods and find them.”

In the next instant, Liva was on her knees, crouched next to Thyra and pressing herself against the rotted logs in the wall.  They were soft and shifted under the weight of their thrusts.  With Thyra shoving with all her weight against the logs, Liva scrambled and scratched, digging at the earth beneath the wood.  She cried out and covered her head with her hands when a loud crash of a fallen beam landed behind them followed by a whoosh of flames rippling closer.  

Thyra shifted herself back from her knees to her bottom and kicked out viciously at the wood. It began to splinter more and soon a hole large enough for them each to squeeze through took shape.

“I’ll go first and you follow,” Thyra gripped Liva’s hands, wiping away the girl's tears and smudging the soot on her cheeks.

She turned and shifted herself, crawling and wriggling to squeeze through the hole.  Liva waited tensely, little cries of worry slipping past her lips.

As soon as Thyra was through, Liva crawled forward, slipping her head through the wood and peering around.  She saw Thyra standing only two paces away, peering around a corner, looking for any unwanted attention. 

Liva’s younger and smaller frame didn’t have nearly as tight fit getting through the hole.  But as she scrambled through and cleared the wall, she heard Thyra cry out.  Shakily, Liva stood up and watched two men round the corner and grab at Thyra.  They looked enormous.  Dark and terrifying, silhouetted by the flames of her family's home.  

Liva froze in panic.  A raging, bellowing sound rang out from the front of the longhouse.  Ragnar the fearless was going to Valhalla.  Time seemed to stop.  Liva was aware of Thyra struggling against the grasping hands of the two men.  She was aware of another crash as the roof of their home continued to collapse.  She could hear shrieks and cries and shouts all garbled together one over the other.  

And then she was running.  Straight into the forest.  Her bare feet pounding against the undergrowth and her arms pumping at her sides.  She was vaguely aware of someone pursuing her.  A danger that was tracking her down.

She had never run so hard in her short life.  There was a burning in her lungs from the smoke and the ash.  There was a burning in her legs from fleeing through the woods in the cold.  And a burning in her mind at the terror and confusion waging war on her young psyche.

In a matter of mere minutes, she had awoken to chaos and lost all she held dear in her world.  And now she was running for her life.  She knew to head towards the hills in the forest to the West.  That way led towards the blacksmith’s charcoal fire.  It led to Uhtred.  But which way was West? 

Chancing a glance over her shoulder, Liva gasped hard seeing her pursuer looming in the distance.  His legs were longer but hers was a child’s stamina and she fled for her life.  Liva turned back and continued running, clambering up a steep hill to her right.  

Up.

Up towards the hills.

When she reached the top, she turned sharply back again crouching and looking for any sign of the man.  Her breath came in quick, shallow rasps.  She quickly wiped sweat and soot and tears from her eyes, trying to clear her blurred vision.  Smoke from the burning hall was melting amongst the trees and shrubs of the forest.  Giving her a final shelter and hiding her path from the man.

She thought she could hear him crashing around and fading away, but she was too scared to risk moving to look.  Minutes passed.  Only a few brief minutes, but Liva stifled her coughs and tears until she could hold them at bay no longer.  Choking on the smoke and the grief, the child stood and looked to the sunrise.  A sun rising over the still flaming remains of the hall of Ragnar.  Sobbing, Liva stepped back.  A sudden and intense need to flee gripping her.

Continue West.  Uhtred and Brida will have seen the smoke.  They must have heard the screams.  She knew she must find them.  Stepping back again and shifting to turn, the leaves under her toes slid and gave way.  She fell, tumbling a short ways before something hard smacked her head and then the smoke filled her vision until all she saw was black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hiding a shaky breath by sipping her wine, Liva paused and looked up at the faces of those surrounding the table.  She found the words had come easily once she had started.  Keeping her eyes down, staring unfocused at the wood of the table, the events of that night had tumbled from her lips.  A story that wanted…that needed to be told.  

But she knew these next words, the questions left unanswered would not come so easily.  

“That is terrible, Liva.”

It was Osferth who spoke first.  Liva gave a short nod in agreement at the simple truth from the gentle and comforting presence of the warrior monk at her side.  

Hild found her voice next, also offering support and condolence.

“It is a miracle you survived such a horror.”  Liva looked up to see a genuine concern radiating from her.

A large, calloused hand reached out to grasp her own.  Uhtred squeezed her hand tightly, but she could not meet his eye.  She could not face whatever thoughts would show on his face.

Liva’s chest had begun to tighten and she was fighting back a large lump growing in her throat, when Finan spoke up from the other end of the table.

Clearing his throat, the Irsihman asked what Liva felt sure they all wished to know.

“So what happened to you after?”

Liva found herself staring at Finan and unable to answer his question.  The silence around the table grew.

“You hit your head. What happened after?  When you woke up?” he clarified, trying to guide a response from her.  Trying to get her to answer the question at the front of everyone’s mind.  For the briefest moment, Liva’s focus shifted beyond Finan.  

Sihtric sat, arms folded across himself with tense shoulders and his jaw firmly set.  His stare did not move from his plate.

Liva opened her mouth to speak but found her throat constricted and dry.  She took a sip of her wine, lowering her eyes and fixing her gaze on her own hand fidgeting with the rim of her goblet.

“I do not think you will accept my answers,” she replied, finding a strength and steadiness to her voice that surprised her.

Uhtred still said nothing.  Only squeezed her hand again.  She still could not look at him.

It was Hild who reassured her.

“We may surprise you, Liva.”

Live chanced a glance up to meet Hild’s face. She saw nothing but genuine concern. Another slow breath and then she continued, haltingly. Her words unsteady and unsure. 

“My truth is that I do not know what happened to me.  I only know that the next I remember…my next solid memory is standing at the edge of a field. A man with a bow kneeling in front of me, asking me what happened. It was Gallen.  And he and his wife took me in and raised me.  Everything else in between…” 

She shrugged her shoulders.  Lifting her face to meet Finan’s face and then HIld’s she let her silence grow.

“So you remember nothing,” Finan questioned her, not unkindly but with a clear skepticism at her confession. “Nothing from the time you knocked your head to when someone found you?”

Liva nodded, “I remember nothing of meaning.  Or nothing that makes sense anyway. The memories,” she paused, worrying at her lip, “they’re like ghosts.  Not truly there.  When I try to remember them they fade away.  Always at the edge of my sight and never full on.  They are a child’s memories.  Jumbled and confused. Lots of green leaves and trees and brush.  And small hands covering my own.  And,” she stopped shaking her head slightly and knotting her brow in concentration.  She shook her head again, more firmly then continued, “I feel sure someone helped me in the forest.  You can see the scar just below my hairline.”

Liva ran her fingers through the fine, flaxen strands that framed her face brushing them back to reveal a faint white mark.  She fingered it gently and continued, “it would have bled a lot with how hard I must have hit it.  It remained bruised and swollen for days and days.  But when Gallen found me, my face was clean and a bandage was wrapped around my head.”

“Perhaps it was Hlin, the protectress guarding your life in the wood.”

Skade picked up her cup and leaned back from the table.  The woman had listened quietly to Liva’s story, her face betraying no emotion. But now she continued, the fanatical craze growing in her eyes, “Or it may have been Vithar.  Silence and Revenge.  These are his domain.”

“I have never sought out revenge,” Liva sneered.  Her words spoken as much to herself as to the woman across the table.

“Not looked for it, but would have taken it had the chance presented itself. No,” Skade smirked in agreement, “but something has stolen your memories from you.  And why would your mind need those thoughts removed?”

Before Liva could bite back a remark across the table, Osferth’s soft voice pushed back against Skade’s musings.

“She was a child with a head wound.  And some kind soul helped her.”

“Baby monk is right,” Finan interjected, quickly chancing a glance towards Uhtred at the head of the table. “It is often so in battle after someone gets a good, hard hit to the head.  Things grow fuzzy.”

Hild spoke up in Liva’s defense next, offering Liva a warm smile, “And I think it matters little if a person can remember all the details from an event that is years since past and held so much pain already.  What matters is that a sister who was lost is now found.”

Liva’s brow furrowed slightly although her mouth slid upward in a timid smile at the group’s easy defense of her story.  Accepting her truth on its face.  She had not anticipated such kindness. And even with the guarded reserve coming from Sihtric and the instigating remarks from Skade, Liva was glad to have spoken her story aloud.  

“I am sorry, little bear.”

Uhtred’s words broke through her thoughts and his hand gripped hers tighter.  He had remained quiet while she spoke. So his voice, quiet but firm at her side startled her. 

She sensed there was more her brother wished to say, but his voice was not cooperating.  She squeezed his hand in return and gave him a sad smile.

“Well since we are telling stories, Munnin,” Sihtric’s voice, quietly slinked from the end of the table, lilting and full of the weight of mead.

Finan scoffed and shifted back in his chair, putting a heavy hand on Sihtric’s shoulder and muttering under his breath, “Och, will ye no leave anything alone tonight, ye little shit.”

Quickly, Osferth stood to help as Finan muscled Sihtric out of his chair and began ushering him out of the hall.  Uhtred, Hild, and Skade all watched on, each with varying looks of anger, shock, or enjoyment playing across their faces at the chaos that arose.

Liva quickly stood, her chair toppling backwards and clattering onto the ground.  The calm and peace she had felt from giving voice to her story about the hall burning replaced instantly by the same sharp anger she had felt in the forest when she and Sihtric had both drawn their blades.

At the sound of her chair hitting the floor, Osferth’s had turned, his attention distracted, allowing her to step past him.  

Stepping up to Sihtric, Liva planted her feet. Her hands were curled tightly into fists at her side and she clenched her teeth as she looked up to meet the Dane’s eyes.  

Carefully, Finan tried to place himself between them, but with Sihtric staggering he only succeeded in placing an arm between the pair while supporting Sihtric and stopping Liva from stepping closer.

“Go on then, Kjartanson.” 

If he was back to calling her that bloody raven then she would name him his father’s son.  Her words struck their mark and she watched as Sihtric’s eyes that had been fogged over from drink snapped to red hot focus.

“Ask me your questions from the woods again.  There is no knife at my throat this time,” she glowered, “I will give you answers.”

She was vaguely aware of Uhtred’s own chair crashing to the floor as he stood up at her remark.  There was a scuffling and bodies shifting noisily and in an instant Osferth and Hild were between Uhtred as the man stalked towards the three.

Liva and Sihtric’s eyes bore into one another, laced with rage.  Finan tried without success to maneuver between them or pull them apart.

“Ask me,” she shouted, while she felt Hild’s arms come around her waist and try to pull her away.

“Why weren’t you at Dunholm,” Sihtric bellowed back, forcing himself forward and out of Finan’s hold. 

In an instant, his face was in hers.  So close his forehead pushed back on hers for a moment.

“Bloodhair brought his people to Dunholm.  We were there.  And Ragnar was there.  But little Liva, Little Munnin was nowhere to be seen.”   His words were full of biting ferocity.  Liva felt spittle fly from his lips.  His rage fanned her own anger and the confession spilled from her lips just as furious tears ran down her cheeks.

“I was there!” She roared.

Sihtric’s face flashed from anger to shock and confusion.  The shoving and disorder surrounding them faded at her words as they all registered what she had said.  

Liva allowed the tears to continue to roll down her face as she choked out her next words.

“I was at Dunholm.  I saw you,” she shoved him hard once in the chest and he took a step back into Finan’s arms.  

“I saw all of you,” she turned and looked at the faces of the people around her.

“Then why not reveal yourself then, Liva? Why not…. To Ragnar?”

She could hear the confusion, a stunned pain in Uhtred’s questions.

She turned towards him, half lunging and half collapsing into Hild as she cried. 

“Because I was a coward, Uhtred.”

Sobs choked her words.

“Because my father abandoned me long before our home was burned to ash.  And because,” she looked past them all to see Skade standing on a chair to better see their quarrel.  The woman grinned her self-satisfied grin, reveling in the chaos.

“Because I let the witch’s words worm their way into my mind.  She gave me fear and doubt and it is why I lost any chance to ever speak to my father again.  And it is why I am loath to see others heed any vile lies that spill from her lips.”

Liva pushed herself away from Hild.  The abbess had held her and steadied her since gaining her side.  But now, Liva wrestled herself away and gave no moment’s pause before letting her anger move her forward.

Snatching a dagger from Finan’s hip, Liva rushed at Skade.  She swung the blade high, aiming for anywhere she could strike.

Warrior reflexes on high alert, Uhtred was on her in an instant.  His arm wound around her waist, while his other grabbed her wrist, forcing her to drop the blade.

It all was over in mere moments.  Liva slumped against Uhtred’s chest and grasped to hold onto his arms as he enveloped her from behind.

The only sound came from the logs burning in the hearth and their own heavy breaths while they all processed the last several minutes.

Tears still flowed down Liva’s face, unchecked.  When she looked up, it was Sihtric’s face, his eyes on her that she could not turn away from.

His brow was ridged in bewilderment and uncertainty.  And his eyes looked on her more softly.  

A chuckle from Skade to their backs broke the quiet.  She stepped down from her chair and wound herself around to Uhtred’s side, placing her hand atop Liva’s own.  Liva’s rage had quelled but she felt the anger burn bright again at the feel of Skade’s hand on her skin.

“Though you say you do not seek out revenge, Liva Ragnarsdottir, does not mean you will not avenge when opportunity strikes.  Perhaps avenging Ragnar is the path the Gods have laid at your feet.  Whether you seek it or not.”

Liva could not stay to hear any more of Skade’s lies.  She wanted to argue with her.  Strike out at her again.  Scream and cry and tell her and everyone else in the room that she did not care what path the gods set before her.  

She wanted to tell them all how she had watched them from the rafters of the roof at Dunholm as they sat together and schemed.  She wanted to yell that she had instead turned her back and ran.  That she was a coward.  

Instead, she twisted herself away from her brother and stalked past everyone’s staring eyes.  She flung open the door to the hall and as she walked away, she heard the sound of more scuffling along with HIld and Osferth pleading with Uhtred.  There was a sound of flesh hitting flesh and a body dropping to the ground with a grunt.

She did not turn around to see who had been hit.  

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[witchthewriter]

hii! would you be willing to write for Skade too? she's a wlw icon to me lmao and she deserves more fanfics just like tlk itself <33

Oh my god yes! I would 100% write for Skade. She was actually terrifying and I loved her so much.

[aadmelioraa]

It's almost 2023, so I figured I'd share my updated The Last Kingdom fic recs since I have been meaning to do that all year. Below the cut you will find some shippy stuff, some introspective pieces, and a variety of characters featured (several of whom rarely get fanfic). I hope if this post crosses your path you may find a new favorite! I did limit my selection to complete fics, but you can find more recommendations, both works in progress and complete, under my ao3 tlk bookmarks. Happy New Year, and happy reading!

the leap by @irisdouglasiana

Season 5 cottagecore nuns fixit for Aalys and Aelflaed. Fixit fics are not usually my vibe tbh but this one is perfectly complex and bittersweet.

A Hard Story to Know by @wildwren

Post Season 5 fic. Aelfwynn processes her grief at the loss of her mother with the help of Aldhelm and Eadith. This fic broke my heart and mended it several times over.

no escape by @volvaaslaug

Wonderful Eadith character study and I adore the prose style as well.

come go with me by @wendy-daahling

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm political marriage (for MERCIA of course), slow burn with lots of delicious pining.

the drowned and the damned by @irisdouglasiana

Canon divergent AU centered around Osbert, Uhtred's youngest son. Addresses family trauma, cycles of violence, and legacy within the world of the show and does it in such a thought provoking way.

and, lord, she found me just in time by @jeynepoole

Hild x Iseult hurt/comfort bathing fic...so tender and so lovely.

a rope in hand for your other man by @jeynepoole

This fic is definitely for a niche audience, but if the idea of an Aethelflaed/Aldhelm/Aethelred threesome intrigues you, check it out...and there's more where that came from.

Meanwhile in Mercia by @skatingthinandice

This series is an absolute staple of Aethelflaed x Aldhelm fanfic and I am very grateful for it. Essential reading!

Daughter of Darkness by @ulfrsmal

Gen fic focused around Brida and Thyra's relationship and trauma that I, for one, desperately needed. *this fic is locked, you will need to be logged into your ao3 account to access...I still have a few invitations to send, if you need one feel free to DM me!

I go you go, my dear by alittlebitalexis

Two Osferth x Eadith fics for the Eadsferth truthers among us (no for real they were cute). Fluff and smut.

When the Party's Over by @wildwren

Aethelflaed x Erik College AU. Part of a series, read Part 1 first, I am just particularly attached to this part for...reasons.

The Maiden by @wildwren

Pirate/Witch AU for Aethelflaed x Skade. This fic is HOT and creative and HOT and gorgeously written and HOT.

To Curse a King by @pokeasleepingsmaug

Skade x Sihtric smut fic featuring magic and knife play. Very fun and sexy.

Saint of Shitty Reasons by @volvaaslaug

Edward Modern AU character study that hits 95% of my kinks.

Most CURSED among God's kin are aethelings by @wildwren

Aethelwold character study. A masterpiece though and through.

Lay Down Your Arms by @skatingthinandice

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm post Tettenhall smut, and a most worthy entry for the #GET IT AETHELFLAED tag.

clever-tongued by @tsukkinami

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm smut with wonderful tension and intimacy, it's just top tier! A classic.

in my dreams we survived by @irisdouglasiana

Hild character study, really lovely angst that makes me tear up every time.

poison by @irisdouglasiana

Brida x Skade enemies to lovers...need I say more?

fortune cookie by @jeynepoole

Competent stepdad Aldhelm, Modern AU Aldhelm & Aelfwynn bonding. A warm blanket of a fic.

[foxyanon]

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

🥑☁️ answered here!

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

It’s hard to pick just one but I actually have an author rec list!! It’s right here!

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

I don’t particularly hate any character but I do dislike a few. I’ll go with Skade from The Last Kingdom for this one

-She’s an actual badass and stands her ground

-She states things as they are, even when she’s being manipulative, she’s still brutally honest about things

-She didn’t feel the need to be liked by everyone, and was unapologetically herself

[violet-moonstone]

Skuld the Sorceress headcanons

shoutout to the httyd comics for giving me a bunch of characters to use in my fanfic. (this is for my thw rewrite)

so my backstory on skuld is that sometime after the events of httyd 2, she joins forces with the northern alliance, and while she's still up to her "sorceress" bullshit (at least thats the plan for now) she also has legitimately useful information about the barbaric archipelago that she's learned from travelling around and duping people. so she is actually useful but probably uses the mysticism to embellish and make herself appear more powerful. I think it would be great if she were like the mellisandre to drago's stannis (as in a mystical advisor blowing smoke up his ass about his destined greatness. i use a lot of asoiaf characters as analogies. except in this case skuld isnt a true believer, she's just a survivor who will say and do anything necessary). I really want to have some scenes of her giving vague-ass prophecies about the outcome of battles that could be interpreted as positive or negative based on the desires of the person listening. i love when shit like that happens.

I imagine she's particularly good friends with griselda the grievous and despite not being particularly fond of children in general, she likes griselda and chaghatai's kids, especially oktai . I'm thinking chaghatai probably sees through the sorceress thing and doesn't trust her. ragnar is probably scared of her.

I want drago and skuld to actually be completely head over heels for each other but extremely hesitant to show anything other than lust because both of them think about love as a weakness. aghhh i cant get them out of my head!

also im using the premise of the fire tides as setup, so drago has that tormpentipede dragon attatched to his shoulder. uh...this is going to make intimacy between them...interesting. i have some ideas but idk how wild i wanna make things

anyway im in love with this villain couple and i need to draw them (especially with skuld in some new outfits i have in mind for her. i put some inspiration photos below)

got some mellisandre obviously. the second photo is great because wings of war (working title for the wip) is also going to take place in fall/winter and i love the image of skuld surrounded by drago's freezing, exhausted soldiers meanwhile she's all elegant and unscathed

hildur from norsemen. i love this conniving bitch with my whole heart. she's my favourite character in the show. also definitely using her fur lined cloak as inspiration

reluctantly adding skade the witch from the last kingdom because i cant stand her but i like her clothes and accesories. I love the concept of her character but idk...maybe it was the acting? something about her felt whiny and juvenile when she should have been intimidating and sultry. anyway. next.

morgana pendragon my actual wife. i. love. her. free my girl, she did all of that but like...can you blame her???

anyway, i think my ideas for skuld's clothes will look a lot like morgana's winter outfits but with the colour schemes of her gowns pre-villain arc.

i think skuld's outfits were a lot more similar to skade's before she joined the northern alliance, but the more she gained influence, the more they (specifically griselda and drago) were willing to indulge her finer tastes

[tiarnanabhfainni]

writing a tlk fanfic (i know) and i am doing the most hamfisted metaphor for skade, it’s embarrassing honestly. still going to write it tho

[wildwren]

Oh hi, I wrote an Aethelflaed x Skade, Pirate / Witch AU for @tlkfanficfest​ bingo. It is unhingedly kinky, spectacularly cracky, and very possibly a crime against The Children. If you like D/S kink, piracy, witches, ballads, or simply agree with the (objectively true and righteous) opinion that Skade just needs a good railing from a hot Dom mommy, then this might be the fic for you. 

Read on AO3

It is inspired by this traditional ballad

CWs: Self-Mutilation, Suicidal Ideation, Drowning Mention, Dom/Sub, Bondage, Imprisonment, Hostage Kink, Power Imbalance, Mind Control, Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Biting, Hair Pulling, Oral Kink, Hand Kink

Known only as “The Maiden,” Skade is a siren, a sea witch — as feared as she is desired for her power to control the minds of men. She has watched ships break themselves on the cold floor of the North Atlantic, she has seen the life drain from men’s eyes like blood on the sand, and she has liked it. Now, she is on the run, trying to sing her way into a new story. 

But when she is taken captive by the notorious pirate, Captain Aethelflaed, she finds her skills faltering, her tongue empty, and her throat dry. Will Aethelflaed finally put an end to “The Maiden”? Or has Skade simply found someone who can give her what she truly wants? 

[pokeasleepingsmaug]

To Curse A King

Back on my bullshit again, so here’s a Sihtric x Skade crackship. 

Summary: Skade wants to secure the Danish victory the only way she knows how, and there’s only one man in the Danish camp who claims to have knowledge of curses. Set when Sihtric has pretended to betray Uhtred and is in the Danish camp. 

Trigger Warnings: Blood, knife play, smut

Tagging: @whenimaunicorn​ @aadmelioraa​ @itslaurenmae​

AO3, if you prefer.

Skade does not flinch as the knife pierces the skin at the crook of her elbow, and she does not struggle against the firm hand holding her wrist in place. She has cut herself so many times in the working of her magic, it does not even bother her when someone else holds the knife.

The knife drags from elbow to wrist, the cut long but shallow, blood welling in a slow trickle, and Skade has always thought the brightness of blood is beautiful against her pale skin. A twisted thought, perhaps, but why else would the gods call her to such a life, if not to revel in that which gives her power?

She meets the eyes of her unwilling assistant, the only man among this whole company of useless Danes who claims to have any knowledge of curses. He is probably not the only one, in truth, but the only one who is not afraid to be called unmanly. He has proven herself time and again on the battlefield; any who dare to call him such will meet a swift end within a square of hazel rods. He told her he threw a curse once, met her eyes steady and calm when he said it, not a hint of remorse, and Brida laughed.

Skade believes him. It is her business to know things; and rumors fly around this camp. Hasten knows even more than Skade herself, and he can't keep a secret when he's in his cups. Sihtric may call himself Elflaedsson, and his father may have been killed long before Skade sailed to this doomed island, but she knows who it is that whelped Sihtric on a Saxon slave-girl.

She is not surprised that Sihtric once threw a curse, and she has a fair guess about his target. He is ideal for this spellwork, anyway. Dane and Saxon in one body, one eye blue and the other brown, the perfect melding of light and dark.

Sihtric stabs the knife into the cold ground, burying it to the hilt, before he grabs Skade’s bare arm and swipes his pointer finger through the blood. He touches each of her eyelids, his fingertip light as a butterfly, before his hand darts to her lips and paints them, too.

Skade slides the knife from the sheath at her waist and cuts Sihtric's arm from wrist to elbow in one deliberate stroke, an equal and opposite wound to her own. She stabs it viciously into the ground beside his, drags her finger through his blood, and touches his eyelids and lips.

Finally she takes their arms and presses the wounds together to mix their blood, the first of their two joinings under tonight's new moon: the time when secrets come to life, when clandestine affairs are revealed, when the darkest impulses of man and nature hold sway.

A perfect night to curse a king.

Sihtric shivers when she pulls his shirt over his head, but he’s still as stone when she draws the runes on him: algiz, for protection, right over his heart, because this is a spell that can so easily go awry. Naunuz, for distress, low on his belly. It is no secret that Alfred has troubles there.

Skade grabs the wooden bowl that waits by the fire, bitter herbs and crushed mushrooms steeping in water boiled before Sihtric cut her arm. It should be at full strength by now.

Skade gulps half the bitter liquid down. Sihtric takes the bowl from her hands, and his eyes, grim and unreadable, meet hers over the rim as he tips it to drink. His throat bobs in long swallows. He shakes his head, as if to rid himself of the taste, and tosses the bowl into the fire.

The flames jump higher as they lap up the dregs of the potion. Skade should be annoyed that he tossed her best bowl into the fire; instead, she is only transfixed by the dancing of the flames as the magic begins to move in her. She takes off her own dress as Sihtric unties his trousers. The night air is cold and comforting against her flushed skin, raising goosebumps on her arms when a light breeze hits her.

She rubs her hands over her arms and finally looks over at Sihtric, sitting cross-legged a few feet away from her. His clothes are neatly folded by the fire, she notes with faint amusement. This will not be a joining of tenderness, but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy it, anyway. Her cool gaze sweeps him over, admiring the planes of his face in the firelight, the play of silver scars over his sword-Dane’s body. He is a man without an inch of softness on him, all hard muscle and sharp angles. He may be the most beautiful man she has ever had.

Skade starts toward him. Her hand lands on his shoulder, and she’s shocked by the warmth of him. The magic always does that, makes her surprised by the smallest physical sensations, brings a more intense awareness to every feeling. She revels in it and fears it: the way it makes her powerful and vulnerable all at once. Every blessing must come with its own curse, she muses.

For all that Sihtric is a warrior, for all that he will be the vessel for her curse to pass to Alfred--for all that it will hurt for the brief time the curse is within him--she does not think that he will take advantage of her in this vulnerable state.

He wraps his arms around her waist as he falls to the ground, and Skade is shocked when his lips press gently against hers. “It will hurt,” she reminds him softly, almost feeling guilty, but his momentary suffering will be nothing in the face of Danish victory. The death of Alfred will all but secure it; it is his iron will and cunning mind that have kept them at bay.

“I do not fear pain,” Sihtric assures her, his breath warm and sweet against her lips. His hands are curious and soft as they wander over her, exploring the heft of her breasts and the curve of her waist before sliding to the junction between her thighs. She knows this is not a joining of affection for him, either, but still she appreciates the consideration he shows to make sure she is prepared.

He flicks a deft finger over the nub at her apex, and Skade allows herself to tangle her fingers in his soft hair, to trace the tattooed snakes curving over his ears, to enjoy the hitch of his breath as her fingertips skim down his neck. She wraps a hand around his thick shaft. His skin is delicate as petals beneath her palm. She strokes him slowly, her mouth dropping open as she savors the feel of him in her hand.

His finger moves back to explore her slit. She’s already wet after his expert work on her clit, and he slips a finger into her to judge just how ready she is. He curls it unexpectedly, hitting a spot that makes her gasp against his lips, and she can feel his smile. His hands settle firmly on her hips, guiding her. Skade lines her opening up with his head and slides onto him as slowly as she can bear. She dreads the moment when he’ll fill her completely, when the curse will enter into his body. Finally, after what feels like an eternity but is only seconds, she’s taken every bit of him.

Sihtric gasps and writhes beneath her; a lesser man would scream. Skade can see his pain in the way he tears into his own lips with his teeth, can feel it in the fingers bruising her hips. “Hurry,” he rasps, and Skade is compelled to obey. She rides him hard, her hands pressing his shoulders into the ground as he tries to curl into himself. She hates to deny him that, his body instinctively seeking relief from the agonies of her curse.

She leans down to kiss him, tasting blood on his lips, and he twists his fingers into her long hair and anchors her mouth to his. He kisses her like a man desperate to feel something, and Skade is glad to give him what little distraction she can offer. She guides one of his hands from her hip to her breast, kisses him with as much sweetness as she can muster. It doesn’t feel like enough as he shudders beneath her, each breath a gasping groan.

Skade redoubles her efforts, feels herself start to clench around him. She’s just on the edge of coming when he suddenly throws her off and lunges to all fours. He wraps one hand around his cock and strokes himself quickly, once, twice, and then spurts his seed onto the ground. He freezes when he’s finished, trembling and panting, and fear cuts through the magic, cuts through her arousal, heavy and sick.

“Sihtric?” Her voice seems to shock him into awareness, and he raises his gaze to her with a nod.

“The pain is gone.” He sounds giddy with relief, and he loops an arm around her waist and pulls her close. His skin is clammy despite the night’s chill, and sweat plasters his hair to his cheeks. He presses a slow kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Good thing you remembered to come onto the ground. For all that he’s a Christian king, he’s still bound to the land. The curse will go to him through the ground,” Skade says. She told him this earlier, but this is the closest she can come to telling him that he’s done well. She does not have that kindness in her.

“The next time you need help with curses, ask someone else,” Sihtric breathes against her skin.

“I thought you did not fear pain?” Skade asks, brows rising, gently teasing. She strokes his hair back, allows herself a small moment of tenderness to kiss his temple.

“I fear curses,” Sihtric corrects. He looks at her with wide eyes luminous in the firelight, and he is utterly tender as he guides her to lay back on the ground. “And the women who throw them.”

But that fear does not stop him from kissing her slowly, from covering her body with his, from keeping her in dark woods until their fire is little more than embers.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Skade domming Uhtred’s daughter reader 👀🤭

This is so horrid, I'm so sorry lmao

Warnings: Dead dove, do not eat. Dom/sub dynamics, dubious consent, knife play, tiddy succin', oral (f receiving, duh), orgasm denial, coercion, incestuous voyeurism. Word count: ~1k

“Just let me go, I haven’t done anything!” You plead with the flaxen haired seeress that stands above you.

Skade crouches in front of you, bright blue eyes staring into yours. “I know you haven’t, but I need you or your father will not come. I’ve no intention of hurting you, unless you want me to.”

You try to ignore the way her last few words set your pulse racing, focusing on the soreness of your skin beneath the roughness of the rope that binds your wrists together. “Will you at least cut me free?”

She laughs, though it is humourless. “Do you think me stupid? You will run the moment I loosen your binds.”

“I-I won’t!” You bargain, desperately trying to think of a way to win the witch’s favour. “Whatever it is you want from my father, what if I gave it to you instead? Set me free and I’ll ensure that it is yours.”

Skade’s eyes travel over the length of you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I want your father to submit to me, to be mine. Will you submit to me?”

You swallow thickly, your mouth running dry at the way she regards you - a cat toying with a mouse. “Wh-what would that mean?” You manage to stammer.

“It means…” She produces a dragger from her sleeve, and for a moment you think she intends to cut your bindings, until she brings the blade downwards in a slash, slicing open the front of your dress, exposing your breasts. You gasp, your eyes widening “...that you’d be mine. Would you like to be mine?”

This woman cannot be in her right mind, exposing you like this, asking you if you’d like to be hers. How does one person belong to another anyway? Was she asking you to be her slave? “I don’t know what you mean!” You protest, hating the way you can feel your nipples pebble against the coolness of the forest air.

“I will help you to understand.” She tells you, gripping your wrists by their bindings and raising them above your head. “Keep these here.”

You do as you’re told, leaning your wrists back against the trunk of the tree you sit against, above your head. You let out a yelp of surprise as Skade leans forward, wrapping her lips around one of your nipples and sucking harshly. It sends a jolt of arousal through your body and your fingers scrabble frantically against the bark of the tree, trying to find purchase, before lowering. “What are you doing?!” You ask nervously, taken aback by how you respond to her touch, uncomfortable that you crave more.

She releases you with a wet pop, roughly grabbing your hands and placing them back where they were. “I said to keep these here. You won’t like it if I have to tell you again.”

You comply with her command, keeping your hands still as she returns her attention back to your chest. You whimper beneath her attention, breath coming in shallow pants as she palms at the soft flesh, flicking her tongue over both peaks.

Just as you feel you are about to lose yourself in the sensation, she stops, eyes boring into you as she looks up. “Will you submit to me, daughter of Uhtred?”

Tears of frustration well up in your eyes as you emit a piteous whine. “I don’t know what you’re asking of me!”

She rolls her eyes. “I need your submission, not your curiosity. Keep your hands where they are.”

You tremble as she moves lower, but do as you’re told, watching in shock as she pushes your dress up around your hips and tugs your smallclothes to the side. “You…you cannot touch me there…” You say weakly, attempting to close your legs.

She pries them back open, before grinning at you. “Oh, but I can…”

You mewl eagerly as she laves the flat of her tongue through your folds, the sensitivity of your body to her touch at odds with the thought in your mind that this is wrong. That thought becomes hazy and far away as Skade begins to circle your bud, sending warmth rippling through your body as you clench around nothing.

You no longer recognise your own voice, the sounds leaving your lips are too needy, too wanton to possibly be you. With every suckle of her lips and lap of her tongue you are dragged closer to the edge of a precipice, and just as you are about to topple over the edge, she stops.

“Submit to me.” She orders huskily. “Give yourself to me.”

“I don’t…I can’t..” You cry despairingly, frustrated at the loss of the sensation she was urging you towards and still not knowing what is being asked of you.

The sting of the slap she delivers to your aching centre causes you to jolt and you squeal at the pleasurable hurt. Skade kitten licks at you, soothing the pain she’s inflicted, slowly dragging you back towards the euphoria you’d experienced moments before.

“Say you’re mine and I’ll continue.” She whispers.

The last of your resolve crumbles, you still don’t know what you are agreeing to, but you don’t care. You’d tell her anything in this moment just to keep her between your thighs.

“Yes!” You sob. “I submit, I’m yours!”

Your legs shake at either side of Skade’s head as she rewards you with several deep licks to your pearl that finally have you falling into oblivion, a chant of “yours, yours, yours” tumbling from your mouth, as you arch against her.

She raises her head, a look of satisfaction lays serenely across her pretty features. “See how easily your daughter submits to me, Uhtred?” She calls out. “Perhaps now you will do the same.”

Your blood runs cold at her words, snapping you out of your blissful haze as you turn your head to meet the horrified stare of your father.

[laketaj24]

Those Who Hold Thier Tongue

Author’s Note: Here is my drabble for the New Year, New Ship hosted by @whenimaunicorn!! Also Alfred is my secret crush on this show. I wanted to do horrible ungodly things to him all season one and two and I was devastated season three, though I still think he deserved to catch hands! Lol I hope you enjoy! My Last Kingdom Taglist is open!!!  My muse has returned and I am working through my queue!! Thanks for your patience if you haves something requested! And requests are open as well! I hope you enjoy!!

Heyy!!! Also if you have tagged me in work and I haven’t responded please inbox me it. I miss out on things getting lost in notifications!! Thanks in advance!! 

I made the gif. Alfred needs more love. Gah.

Last Kingdom Masterlist

The corridor beneath the royal castle was made by the pagans, Alfred didn’t like it, but the discretion it gave from the people of Wessex seemed to be the only thing he liked. He stood at the entrance of the corridor with his crossed in front of him. She was to arrive at the moon’s highest peak. But he didn’t take her word for it, she had a tendency to arrive late.

Skade appeared at the end of the corridor with the red streaks of paint down her cheeks. Something about her riled him, he liked it, no matter how savage she appeared. “King Alfred.” She smiled. Her slender hands drug down his chest. “It seems you have been waiting for me. I have something to offer you.” She smiled.

“I wish to have nothing from you other than what lies in between your legs.”

“I guess the rumors are right.”

“And what are these rumors?” Alfred turns his head in curiosity.

“According to the village gossip, most people agree you are in fact a gigantic asshole.” Skade smiled at him and took a step closer and her hands slid down to his leather belt. “But you do like our little visits don’t you Alfred?”

He didn’t deny her the truth but simply pushed her against the cobbled walls and pinned her hands above her head. “I honestly think that the problem with most Danes is that they like to hear themselves talk.” He lifted the heavy dress finding the slit between her legs. “Good things come to those who hold their tongue.”

“Is that s-,” Her words are halted by the intrusion of his long fingers thrusting into her and curling.

“Hush your mouth and you will see.” He smiled as he quickly undone the buckle of his pants and it clanged to the floor, echoing down the empty corridor. Alfred lifted her from the floor and instinctively her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Teach me something then King Alfred, King of Kings.”

Tags: @ceridwenofwales @whenimaunicorn @titty-teetee @supernaturalvikingwhore @geekandbooknerd @captstefanbrandt @pokeasleepingsmaug @carlya65 @therealcalicali @sparklemichele @earthsmightiestasses @stardustnthings @dangerousvikings @greennightspider @awesomerextyphoon @allonesharingonebreath @cas-kingdom  @rabeccablake @savismith @kittybites-94 @naaladareia @umnoyeahno @weegingiepie  @riottkatt  @ariellostatci @funmadnessandbadassvikings @marvelousthronewars  @untilwearestarsinthesky @thevikingsheaux @tiyetiye @prettythingsworld @miahelizaaabeth

[solinarimoon]

Will (fingers crossed) have the next chapter of Raven’s ready to post tomorrow 😁

[nxrdist]

[Requests Open]

🤔

I think I may start writing again. I used to write fanfic & drabbles all the time, but I got busy for a number of years. You know how it is 🤷🏻‍♀️. As some of you may know I just recently pcsed to love with my husband on base. The plan is to finish college, but as it’s the middle of a semester I’ve got time to burn.

If anyone wants to request a fic I think I’m just going to start with the following:

The Last Kingdom -characters I feel comfortable writing include Hild, Finan, Uhtred, Ragnar the younger, Aethelfled, Skade

Fable (video game) -characters I feel comfortable writing include Sparrow, Hero of Brightwall, Reaver, Ben Finn, Walter

Hell on Wheels -characters I feel comfortable writing include Bohannon, Eva, Declan Toole, Louise Ellison, Sean McGinnis, Mickey McGinnis, Elam Ferguson

Lucifer- characters I feel comfortable writing include Lucifer, Chloe, God, angles in gen, Maze

Characters I feel a particular interest in are highlighted, but will accept any of the listed! I don’t have any triggers and will write any subject matter. Character studies are totally fun. So it doesn’t just have to be shippy stuff :)

[cynical-harlequin]

Fandom: The Last Kingdom (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Æthelflæd Lady of Mercia/Skade Additional Tags: Arguing, Episode: s03e04, Angry Kissing, Enemies to It's Complicated, Unresolved Tension Summary:

While they are trapped in the besieged nunnery of Wincelcumb, Skade catches Æthelflæd alone to sate her curiosity about the princess for whose rescue Uhtred left behind everything. Æthelflæd is thoroughly unimpressed by her scrutiny but willing to meet her heads on, and might discover far more of herself in the seer than she could ever be comfortable with.

[whenimaunicorn]

The Last Kingdom Fanfic Masterlist

Uhtred x Reader - Pretty Boy - Danish warrior Reader falling for Uhtred 

Uhtred x Aethelflaed - That Will Not Convince Anyone - just a little fake-married fun

Uhtred x Skade - I Will Not Worship You - didn’t one little part of you want to watch him give in to her?

Uhtred x Hild - Too Good A Woman - Hild tries to comfort a drunk and lonely Uhtred. He’s even harder to shut down than usual.

Uhtred x Reader x Sihtric - It Would Be An Honor - smutty threesome; Sihtric asks for permission to marry, and Uhtred decides he will test the girl before approving. Sihtric more than he dared to hope for from his Lord.

Uhtred x Reader (me) x Ragnar the Younger - Splash - threeway in the pool; frat boy AU, self-indulgent kinky smut.

Uhtred x Reader x Ragnar the Younger - You’ll Just Have to Have Two - flirtatious modern drabble about these two teasing you into submission.

Ragnar the Younger x Original Female Character x Brida - Lessons - slow burn, multiple chapters, eventual polyamory

Finan x Reader 

   Guardian Angel - hurt/comfort fluff

   I’m sorry I’m not what you prayed for - Pirate AU

   we are in this together - crossover with Vikings’ Ivar the Boneless

Finan x Aethelflaed - Yield, With Intent - the Lady of Mercia takes a lover

Sihtric x pregnant!Reader - Ripe

bonus crack: OFC plays slap/kiss/fondle with Uhtred, Finan, and Sihtric

Spooky Drabbles (tlk-tober)

Iseult the ghost

Uhtred the vampire

Sihtric the seiðmann (witch)