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t-a-a-1 · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do bayverse optimus ?Tlk if you can.It can be whatever you want i love your scrumptious writing hehe also ignore this if you're uncomfortable!^_^

Raindrops

Summary: Optimus asks you a very important question.

A/N: Written after the happenings of TLK. 4K Words

Raindrops

....

Everyday since he met you, he’s asked himself the same question.

“Would you come with me?”

It was a question he had imagined the answer to. A resounding ‘no’.

Optimus didn’t see any reason why you would want to go with him to Cybertron. Leaving your friends, family and career behind. All the commodities Earth provided you will be gone the moment you decide to come with him.

And it’s not like he offers you a beautiful home. Cybertron was hostile, after the war it had become ruins. He dreamed many times of showing you his home in its golden age. You would have loved the museums, the theaters, the libraries, the arts. Would you have loved them as much you love your planet? Would it be enough for you to want to stay?

“It seems Earth and Cybertron’s destiny has always been intertwined,” the sun is setting. Optimus looks at his home planet, now on Earth’s orbit. “If that had been any other celestial object, it would probably cause catastrophic events. But it seems like Cybertron was made to not disturb Earth’s gravitational pull and magnetic fields.”

Your field wasn’t physics but you had basic knowledge on how things worked. Just like he expected you to do, you started to ask the real questions. Something he was trying to avoid as long as he could.

“But I wonder if that’s because Cybertron currently lacks a core … Maybe once we are able to restore it, Cybertron’s gravitational pull will be too strong and destroy Earth.”

You look at him but he seems lost in thought. You didn’t blame him, having his home planet back must be unbelievable. After so many years of war and lost friends, what he always wanted is right here.

“When that happens, we’ll have to send Cybertron back to its original place in the universe.”

You expected him to continue the conversation some way or another but it's as if he wasn’t listening or rather he did not want to. Maybe he is tired of everything and wishes to leave immediately. Probably not wanting to deal with humans anymore.

Sighing heavily, you turn around, the wind moving your hair. The smell of the grass was strong and so a new aroma. It was hard to describe. Metal but alive. It was probably Cybertron. It didn’t bother you but it was different.

Looking back at Optimus made you realize that maybe he wanted to be alone. It is a lot of process for today.

“Well, then I guess this is goodbye–”

And suddenly, a servo is in front of you. Stopping you from walking any further. You look back, only to find Optimus’ faceplate extremely close to you.

“I-I … My apologies, I don’t know what took over me.”

It’s like you triggered something in him with your words. But you weren’t sure what. Now he looks confused and lost. As if I wanted to say more but can’t or don't have the words. You wanted to guess but your mind made you believe stupid ideas. Ones in which you prefer to not indulge any longer. They will only cause you unnecessary pain.

“It’s alright, you must be emotional. That’s all.”

You wait for a few seconds in which you could see Optimus’ blue optics in all of their glory. They were beautiful as they were mysterious. So close that you could see the small circuitry and cables that make up his optics. Such intricacy that you find yourself lost in them.

And then … you are ashamed.

“I must go.”

You say as you look away, expecting him to move his servo but he doesn’t.

“I must go.”

You say again and this time you see the hesitancy in his faceplace.

He slowly removes his servo and distances himself from you. His optics looks away and then looks at you in a repetitive manner.

“Do you–”

“I–”

“Oh sorry, you go first–” You raise a hand, trying to get his attention only to be interrupted by the Prime.

“No, you go first.”

It was awkward. And the fact that it was that way made you wonder what went wrong. In what moment did things between the two of you become so uncomfortable? Was it just the sudden realization of final peace? Was it too unrealistic for the two of you to believe? What is it?

“Nothing, I was just wondering if there’s something you wanted to say before I leave?”

Optimus servo clutch into fits. He opens his intake but nothing would come out. It was strange to see him this way. So confused, so … innocent. As if he was a kid trying to ask for another piece of cake. Too shy to ask and yet you find these small moments to be a treasure.

“I was just wondering …”

He hesitates again. He closes his optics and lets out a heavy vent. Turning his entire body around, you are unable to see his faceplate.

“When the time comes … Will you …”

His voice becomes so low that you are unable to hear him.

“What?”

You ask him, confused by his sudden lack of confidence.

“Will you … me?”

He says again but the loud wind and low tone voice weren’t helping the situation.

“... What?”

You ask once again, your voice gets louder, showing your clear annoyance at being unable to hear him.

“Will you come to Cybetron with me?!”

Suddenly, he turns around, you can see his faceplate again.

It was that expression again. One that you had only seen a few times. That of pure distress. Worriness. Anxiety. You had seen it before. During that time you had been captured by a Decepticon, badly injured and bleeding. His troubled expression was the last thing you saw before going unconscious.

But now? What was that distressed look for? What was he so worried about?

“I, I–”

What were you nervous for? Why were you stuttering? Your cheeks are getting hotter and you can’t speak. You can’t manage words. The expression on his faceplate had left you stunned as your brain tried to understand the reasoning behind it.

The longer you take to answer, the more pain is evident on his faceplate. His eyebrows squish together and his optics tremble. His lips formed a thin line that slowly became an upside down smile. He is begging you to end his torment and yet you know you have to tell him the truth.

It’s quiet around the hangar.

A small base had been built near Stonehenge. It was the logical thing to do after Cybertron had appeared above the ancient pillars. Although the American Government wasn’t too pleased to make negotiations with the British to let them have a base in their land.

You weren’t even supposed to be here but due to all the commotion in the last days, they let you stay. As well, Optimus and the rest of the Autobots enjoyed your stay. No one asked you when you will leave nor ever mentioned that you were a bothered. So you decided to stay for a couple of days until things settle down.

And because your boss had asked you to stay and bring back the full story when you are done.

“Are we just going to pretend Prime is ok?”

“Not like we can do much either or.”

They probably didn’t see you. As they were too busy talking to each other, carrying a few boxes of what you thought to be Energon. Meanwhile, you were typing on your laptop behind some piles of metal. It’s not like you were hiding but you rather found yourself a place where you could not be bothered when you needed to concentrate.

“I still can’t believe (Y/N) said no … I thought the two of them had a strong bond.”

“Yes but everything she knows is here,” Bumblebee puts down his box as Hot Rod walks close by. “Besides, they were too different … things wouldn’t work out.”

“But does she even know that Optimus’s processor has identified her as his Conjunx?” Hot Rod also puts the Energon box down and sits on top of it. “Boss-Bot won’t be able to attach to anyone ever again … Isn’t that a bit cruel?”

“Cruel?” Bumblebee inquiries. “His Conjunx is someone who lives a fraction of our lives. The universe enjoys the game and the Primes are the pawns.”

“And they know how to play well.”

It started to rain. It wasn’t unusual for rain to come and go in England.

The bots look at it with amusement. This was unknown in Cybertron. It will take a long time before they can rebuild Cybertron and go back home but this will be one of the things they will miss the most.

“What is a Conjunx?”

You came out of your hiding spot, behind the bots and they quickly stumble in their steps as they look down on you.

“What are you doing there?!”

“What is a Conjunx?”

You ask again, not caring whether Hot Rod or Bumblebee looked like they just had seen a ghost.

“You don’t need to know that,” Bumblebee quickly starts to walk away while Hot Rod keeps looking back and forth. He looks hesitant but doesn’t speak, waiting for Bee’s next action.

“You said Optimus saw me as his Conjunx,” you don’t move but rather speak loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes but there’s no need–”

“She should know,” Hot Rod interrupts the talking yellow Mustang.

“Optimus wouldn’t want it,” Bumblebee stops walking and turns to look at his comrade and you. There is certain determination in your eyes, letting him know that you won’t stop pushing it until you find the answers you were looking for. You had always been known for that, probably something Optimus likes about you.

“Optimus will die of sadness if she doesn’t know.”

Bumblebee doesn't say a thing but just ex-vents heavily.

“Would you stay with me?”

That’s what you wanted to ask but you already knew the answer. A resounding ‘no’. There was nothing for him on Earth. Humanity had once betrayed him and now he is doubtful. Humanity will help rebuild Cybertron and after that the transformers will leave. It would be a selfish thing to ask him to stay. You can’t ask him to give up on everything he fought for. His home, his family and friends, everything was on Cybertron. And you just were a human who wanted him to stay.

It’s still raining.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop looking for him.

Although you can already feel yourself getting sick. Your hair is wet and your clothes damp.

It wasn’t unusual to rain in England but you hated how unpredictable the weather was. The wind was also strong but the base was already too far away to back away now. You had to find him.

Suddenly, a truck you immediately recognized makes his way towards you. The bot you were looking for appeared in front of you but he aggressively stops and opens his pilot door, signaling to go in.

You didn’t hesitate and jumped right in. Optimus closes the door and starts driving away as you are welcomed with warmness. Although you were cold and tired, you didn’t wait any longer.

“I was looking for–”

“Have you gone mad?” Optimus asks, his voice showing his clear annoyance. “ What are you doing in the rain without proper protection?”

“What? That doesn’t matter, I was–”

You wanted to start asking questions but you started to sneeze.

“How can I leave knowing you are this helpless?”

And after that, all previous questions left your mind.

“Excuse me? I can take care of myself.”

“Your actions tell me otherwise.”

You roll your eyes, maybe he had a point. Running in the rain to look for him was probably not the best of ideas. But you were not about to tell him that.

“And what about you?” you sneeze again although more softly this time as to not to prove his point any further. “Aren’t you too told to be outside without an umbrella, you could be getting rusty anytime now?”

Optimus didn’t say a word. Your words will resonate at the back of his processor. He can’t believe he ever thought you would say yes to coming to Cybertron with him. You were right, he was an old rusty robot. Too many scars, too many mistakes and injuries. He can’t provide you with anything. Not even a family.

And yet he is selfish.

And you sneeze again.

And again.

“Great, I think I am going to get sick.”

He hates that word. Cybertronians also get sick but rarely. But humans are different. According to his research and observations, humans tend to get sick often and tragically a lot of them die.

Optimus didn’t want to say a word, his pride told him to stay quiet. That you don’t need his concern, you do not wish it nor want it.

But you sneeze again.

“I’ll be taking you to the closest hospital,” he says as he makes a turn, heading for the closest road.

“I am not going to the hospital, it's just a cold–”

“You are going to the hospital and it's final,”His voice is demanding but you don’t care.

“No, I won’t–”

“Why won’t you take my feelings into consideration?!”

His inside trembles. You could feel how his engine gets louder. The air coming from his vents got warmer and for a moment you felt your heart race. Out of guilt for making the Prime lose composure.

“What if you die?” he asks again. “What would I do after you are gone?”

The more he talks, the more desperate he sounds. As if he was living the circumstances he speaks of.

“Have you thought what my life would be like without your presence?” you feel the seatbelt across your chest get tighter. “Do you really wish for me to be tormented for eternity.”

“This isn’t about me going to the hospital, is it?”

He doesn’t respond, his silence answers your question.

“Let me out Prime, I want to talk to you, face to faceplate.”

He drives off the road and takes you to a heavy section of a nearby forest. Raining still, the tall trees prevent the rain from fully touching the ground. But some drops still make it through. Not like you cared about getting wet, you already were but Optimus had other plans.

Opening the door and removing the seat belt, you jump out of his alt form. You watch him transform, a scene you will never be tired of. It's beautiful as it is scary, yet he is gentle. He knows it can be scary and he moves slower, softly as if not to scare you.

Optimus doesn’t mass shift but he tries to see you at an eye-level. It must be uncomfortable for him and before you ask him why he doesn’t size-down, you feel him move closer.

He puts one of his large servo on top of you, protecting you from any rain from touching you.

“I want you to be honest with me,” you say as your breath is agitated, your heart pumping against your chest. “I need to hear it from you.”

“What do you feel for me?”

Without you knowing, Optimus’ spark is also pulsating strongly against his chassis. He moves his optics away for a second, only for them to return to look at you.

“You are a valuable asset to the Autobot cause.”

“Is that all?”

“You are also an important comrade.”

You didn’t expect him to fully understand what you were asking. But you were hoping he could read your undertones.

“I am giving you one last chance,” you say, your hands turning into a fist. You weren’t the best at this either and if you were honest, you didn’t know what you were trying to achieve. “Is that all you feel for me?”

The Prime has always been known to be eloquent. Especially with words. But when it comes to you, he loses all sense of vocabulary. It didn’t use to be that way. There used to be a time when you meant nothing to him but a friend.

But you had never stopped looking for him. After the attacks in Chicago, even after Sam’s death, an occurrence in which he blamed himself, you never stopped looking for him

What is it? Why did you do it?

“Look at the rain … Can you count each drop that falls from the sky?”

Optimus moves his optics to look at his surroundings. The rain, the trees, the beauty of nature. It cannot compare to you.

“No, I can’t,” you respond quickly, your face full of wonder.

“Then, you are the rain,” he says. “And I am trying to count.”

He sees your hands soften. Your expression had become awkward, with now avoiding eyes and pink cheeks. He has this need to hold you but respects your anatomy.

“I can’t tell you how I feel because there are not enough words to describe it,” he calculates his words but he finds himself taking longer to answer. “I could recite you all of Cybertronian poetry and yet that doesn't feel enough for me.”

You keep looking at him and he looks away. Your eyes were too beautiful and it distracts him immensely.

“But if you were to ask me to count each star in the universe I would,” he lets his spark do the talking, finally subsiding the yearning it has been holding for a long time. “If you asked me to bring you a star, I would bring you a constellation.”

“This old rusted body belongs to you but if you ask me for my silence and distance, I won’t retaliate.”

“And if I asked you to stay with me, on Earth, would you do it?”

You know it was a selfish question. You didn’t want to make him choose between his world and you. But you just had to know if there was a small possibility, a small chance that the life you had with him could still be a possibility.

After the accidents in Chicago, you had looked for him, only to find him broken. Sam’s death had affected him greatly but in that grieve of losing loved ones, something sparked.

Three years. You had lived with him for three years, in an isolated cottage. Where he could have all the dandelions he wanted. Where he could care for animals and the two of you would look at the stars and try to count them. Each one of them.

“If that’s what you wish,” Optimus says. “I would stay by your side as long as you would have me.”

“I can’t,” you look away this time. “I won’t ask you to stay with me.”

“You have a duty to complete and Cybertron is your home,” there is more to it. More doubts than you are able to articulate. “When you asked me to go to Cybertron with you, I said no because I don’t think I am worthy to be on your side.”

“Have my actions made you feel this way?”

“You are Optimus Prime … I think anyone would feel unworthy,” you pause, thinking about the earlier events. “But today, Bumblebee and Hot Rod told me that you see me as your Conjunx.”

Optimus opens his intake only to close it. He looks side to side, trying to evade eye contact. One of the few times you can tell he is shy. But him acting in such a way has also made your body betray you. You wonder if he can tell just how nervous you are.

“Does that mean — You do?”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” his voice is delicate with an apologetic tone. As if you had just caught him stealing extra energon from the resource room. “Without noticing, my processor had one day started the Conjunx Ritus and as time passed, we both successfully completed the requirements.”

“And before I knew it, my Spark belonged to you.”

“But we are so different.”

“And yet here we are,” he makes a pause and he hears the rain. He tries to calm down before asking his next question, knowing that this will break his Spark. “Does my affection displease you?”

“No, no, I just–” you stumble with your words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Is there a possibility that perhaps, in your heart, you reciprocate my sentiments?”

And you stay silent. Mostly because you don’t fully know what is going through your heart and the implications behind it. Can this even be possible? Are your feelings even real? Can he comprehend what your feelings are? Can this … Whatever it is, be real?

“Please end my torment,” his faceplate looks to be in distress, his optics yearning. Longing for something unknown to the both of you. “Your silence makes me have hope and I don’t want to suffer when you destroy my delusions.”

Gently, you walk towards him. You reach out a hand and touch his faceplate. Rubbing your soft skin against his cold metal. You watch his optics close, his engine gets louder just a bit but you hear him. As if your touch had saved him, healed him from whatever his processor agonized him with.

“You are cold,” you say as you put your forehead against his faceplate. “Until you get warm, I’ll stay with you.”

Optimus didn’t need to ask further. You didn’t have to say anything either. He just basks himself into this moment. Not knowing what the future holds but he doesn’t care as long as you are with him. This moment won’t last forever but he wants to think that one day it could be true.

A moment were he believed he could spend eternity counting the raindrops and stars in the sky with you.

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I’ve seen all the Bayverse movies but TLK is a movie that is a bit hard for me to write about because I don’t understand it much lol. But I still hope you like this and that it's not too OOC?

It was fun to write this! So thank you so much for the request! :)

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thekinslayed · 1 year ago

Text

Lovely As Can Be

summary | Your path crosses with Osferth's once more, who has blossomed into a different man from the last time you saw him. (based on this request.)

pairing | osferth x maid!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, public sex, grinding, osferth's not a virgin in this one Lord, fluff (lots of it), sharing an orange is a love language

wordcount | 6.5k

song rec | Would That I - Hozier

note | surprise surprise! here's something with our baby monk (who is looking super fine in that gif)! a certain scene was inspired by ophelia (2018), can you spot which one? :D

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

You had been helping the young maids put up the freshly washed linens to dry when you were informed of the arrival of some guests. Wiping your wet hands on your apron, you left the girls to welcome the travelers who were to stay in Mildrith’s inn. Passing by some of the other help scurrying around, you keep an eye on their tasks, giving out instructions when you catch something that would not pass your madam’s standards.

An amused scoff left your lips when you reached the front of the house, a familiar group of warriors awaiting you with enthusiastic grins. Uhtred called out your name, greeting you warmly.

“Ah, King Edward’s dashing knights,” you jested, greeting them all with a smile and a nod.

You were only a girl when you first received the pleasure of meeting Uhtred and his group of warriors. Freshly sixteen, Mildrith had taken you under her wing to work as a maid in her husband’s inn. It was the biggest in town and was frequented by most travelers when traveling south, hence the constant need for help within the establishment. In the first months of your position, you had spent many an hour scrubbing floors, cleaning out bed pans, and pouring mead for guests.

It was a couple of months after your assignment that the arrival of the arguably infamous Uhtred of Bebbanburg sparked much excitement within the town, especially in Mildrith’s inn where they were sure to be staying. You watched, wide-eyed, as the Dane and his group strolled through the establishment, carrying such a commanding presence that everyone had stopped to look at them. Behind the group, you noticed a lanky figure trailing behind them, swathed in holy robes, appearing smaller than the rest despite being the tallest.

‘A Christian monk travels with Danes, how odd,’ you thought then.

You remembered his blue eyes, always wide like a frightened doe. It was clear he was barely a warrior, freshly taken under Uhtred’s wing, but you had treated him with no less respect than you did the older men.

He was a boy back then, and now, standing before you, was a man; Osferth was now a seasoned warrior like the rest of them. When his back used to be hunched in insecurity, he now stood tall, chest proud.

“Look at you, baby monk, looks like you’ve grown some hair on your chest," you commented, hand propping up on your hip. His build now filled out the robes nicely, shapely muscles filling in the loose crevices of the garment.

“Ah, he’s grown them alright, even more down his–” Finan began, but a slap on his shoulder from the king’s bastard had him cutting his words short, bellowing in laughter.

“Very nice to see you again, my lady,” Osferth greeted sweetly, giving you a slight nod.

“Sweet as ever,” you cooed, turning to the other men, “unlike some of ya!”

They opened their mouth to protest, but you quickly led them into the inn, ignoring their complaints of faux offense. You led the men to a long table in the dining area, where the afternoon meals were beginning to be served. The group of warriors sat down, weary and starved from their long journey. You called a younger maid to fetch some mead for the guests, before bringing over some bread and stew.

“Looks like Mildrith has you ordering people around now, eh? No more scrubbing floors for you then?” Uhtred mentioned, making you chuckle while pouring the liquor into their cups.

“She has me watch over the newcomers, especially the clumsy ones, but aye, I earned my right to not be cleaning chamberpots now, my lord,” you responded, placing the jug of mead back onto the table. “Doesn’t mean I don’t get my hands dirty now and then!”

You took a seat beside Sihtric when he scooted over for you, urging you to sit with them. There was a reprieve from the ache in your heels, joints relaxing in relief after long hours of being on your feet. You asked the men about their journey, listening in awe at all the battles they fought and the lands they traversed since you last saw them.

“And they hung us upside down from a tree! I mean seriously, they could have just tied us to a trunk and be over with it, but no, they had to dangle us like some roasted pigs!” Finan exclaimed, hands waving wildly at his retelling. A laugh bubbled from your chest, mixing with the deeper chuckles echoing from the table.

Behind you, some stable boys had passed by in search of some mead to cool off after hours in the hot midsummer sun. Spotting a familiar head of dark hair, Uhtred points to Eadric, turning to you.

“Isn’t that…? Call him over, I want to know if he is keeping you happy as a married woman!” He exclaimed in sincerity. Confused, you turned around to who he was pointing at, before pulling down his extended arm before he could call Eadric over.

“Keep it down,” you said in haste, the smile on your face dropping. All four men looked at you in confused concern, looking at you as your gaze dropped to your lap.

“I am not a married woman. Eadric and I, we did not…” you trailed off, shaking your head lightly.

“What?” Uhtred asked in bewilderment, gaze flickering to your former lover who had walked away to return to the stables. “But you both had been so eager to marry!”

“I know, I know. He, uh, he had a change of heart,” you explained, rubbing the back of your neck. They all looked at you in pity, so you plastered a rueful smile on your face, waving it off.

“Tis no matter, we were young, and we were foolish. I-I’ve moved past it, really,” you reassured them.

“If you need us to do anything, just say the word,” Uhtred said, earning a nod from the rest of the group.

“Aye, Sihtric is quite skilled at making things look like an accident,” Finan said lowly, making you giggle as the Dane nodded eagerly. Osferth sat silently, watching the light in your eyes dim at the turn of the conversation.

“Thank you, but there is no need,” you said gratefully. With a deep sigh, you rose from the bench and smoothed out your skirts. “Well, I shall go see that your rooms are ready, and if there is anything you need, you know where to find me,” you told them, before leaving them to their meals. You were unaware of a pair of icy blue eyes following your retreating form as you walked away, busying yourself with your tasks once more.

Before dusk had begun to settle into the horizon, Mildrith had sent you off to gather some greens for supper from the market. You had hurried to old Hilda’s shop, filling your large basket with greens for the stew as well as some potatoes and grain. You all but waddled back to the inn, balancing the heavy basket on your hip, willing yourself not to drop anything into the damp earth on your way back.

“My lady!” A familiar voice called out behind you, making you stop in your tracks. You lifted the basket higher on your hip, keeping a firm hand on the wooden carrier to prevent it from sliding down further. Osferth rushed to you, taking the heavy basket from your hands.

“Let me, please.”

“I do not wish to burden a great warrior with a task so little, Osferth,” you tried to reason, but the monk had already lifted the weight with ease. He smiled at you, shaking his head.

“No great warrior would deny a lady his aid when she needs it, he would be less of a man if he did so,” he explained, walking beside you back to the inn. An amused smile lifted on your lips, turning to look at the taller man beside you. Your eyes studied the shadows the setting sun cast upon his face, now more structured and manly than you had last seen him. The plumpness of youth had melted and given way to a sculptured jaw, an aquiline nose, and pursing lips. His bright blue eyes once shone with exuberant wonder and apprehension now reflected a more mature wisdom. He carried himself with an air of confidence you had never seen in him before, one that belonged to a man who was sure of himself.

Catching your gaze on him, Osferth turned to you, raising his eyebrows in question. Your cheeks flushed at being caught in the act, your lips lifting into a shy smile.

“You seem so different now than when we last saw each other,” you said. The monk’s eyes caught the way you slightly bit your lip, watching how the plump flesh reddened at the contact.

“Different in what way, my lady?” Osferth asked.

“You seem stronger. More confident,” you told him, trying to pick the right words to describe the change you have seen in him. “Like there is a fire burning within you.”

A smile touched Osferth’s lips as he glanced at you, the corners of his lips curling upwards. Your eyes meet his icy blues, his dirty blonde tresses appearing much darker in the dimming sunlight. A hum left the monk’s lips, keeping his eyes on yours for a moment longer before returning to the road.

“I suppose I have,” he agreed. Osferth’s longer legs made for bigger strides, and the taller man shortened his steps when he noticed how fast you had to walk to keep up with him. He turned his head to look at you once more, “though I suppose I could say the same thing about you, my lady.”

His gaze roamed over your features, taking in your flushed cheeks, the rosy pink of your lips. Surprise sparked in your orbs, making him chuckle when you turned to him.

"You have grown more beautiful," his tone was matter-of-fact, like he was stating a simple truth. The words made your heart flutter, the breath catching in your throat for a moment. You had never been one to be bestowed such compliments, thus making the smallest of praises leaving you flustered. Osferth's eyes twinkled as he continued to stare at you, enjoying the way he seemed to make you flustered in his presence. "You have a certain glow about you, my lady. Like the warm touch of the sun on a summer's day.”

“My, it seems you have become a warrior and a poet,” you jested, earning a chuckle from the man beside you.

As you neared the inn, young Ida had passed by the pair of you, carrying dried linens. You did not miss the way her eyes caught Osferth’s, the man beside you smiling at her. The young maid immediately blushed, ducking her head as she walked by. His gaze followed her passing form, craning his head back as she passed. You ignored the strange feeling in your chest at the sight, returning your eyes to the muddy road.

“I am certain Uhtred and the others had you meeting all kinds of girls around the land, seeing as you are now quite the charmer,” you teased Osferth, bumping your elbow into his. The young monk made a grunt of amusement, turning back to you. It had gone unnoticed by you when he had begun to walk much closer by your side, the back of his hand brushing against the back of yours with the sway of your arms.

“You think I am charming?” He arched a brow at you, a playful tone coloring his voice. You rolled your eyes as he spun your own words back at you, chuckling as the bastard nudged your elbow in return.

“Oh dear, I fear all that time on the road has taught you all the wrong things,” you said, letting out a comical sigh that made Osferth laugh. As both of you reached the inn, you gestured for the warrior monk to hand you the basket, but he refused, telling you he shall take it to the kitchens for you, ever the chivalrous gentleman. You led him through to the bustling kitchens, busy in preparation for supper, where he had dropped the basket. Many words of thanks left your lips at his gracious assistance in hauling the heavy load of produce around for you.

“It is no trouble, my lady,” Osferth waved off. Looking around the area, you subtly reached into the basket, pulling out an orange to give to the taller man. You had secretly bought it for yourself, splurging on a treat you had not seen in ages. You handed it to Osferth, who looked equally in surprise.

“Where did you get this?” He asked, eyes wide at the side of the bright fruit. He took it into his larger hand, lifting it to his nose to smell the sweet scent of its zest, his lips letting out a delighted sigh.

“This was the last one Hilda had, and I just couldn’t help myself,” you said sheepishly. “You can have it, Osferth, for helping me with this.”

“Oh no, I cannot, my lady! ‘Tis yours!” Osferth exclaimed, handing the round fruit back into your hands. You shook your head, pressing it back into his grasp.

“No, please! It is no matter, I am sure she shall have some again. ‘Tis summer after all, and the season brings much fruit into our harvest,” you explained, earning a sigh from the young warrior. You gave him a small smile, placing your hand atop his larger one. “I doubt you can find these on the road anywhere else.”

“Thank you, my lady, you are most gracious,” Osferth expressed, giving you a sincere smile. You stared up at his blue orbs, the corner of your lips lifting into a smile of your own. A strange warmth spread across your chest, making you feel coquettish and timid as the blonde towered over you. The tips of your shoes were a hair inch away from the tips of his boots, his warmth engulfing your entire being. At this distance, you had a direct view of the cleft of his nose, and the way his pupils changed in diameter as he gazed at you.

You were broken away from your trance by the sharp voice of Mildrith, calling you over. Your feet took a small step away from Osferth, clearing your throat. The young warrior sniffled, looking at his shoes and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I should go, Osferth,” you said, giving him an apologetic look. He nodded in understanding giving you a small smile.

“Of course, I shall see you at supper, then?” He asked, to which you nodded. You watched as the young monk walked out of the kitchen, pocketing the orange you had given him. You couldn’t help the way your lips lifted higher, a girlish chuckle leaving your lips when he gave you one last look before disappearing down the hall, shooting you a roguish smirk.

“Oi! What are ya gigglin’ over there for? Get a move on, missy!” Mildrith scolded, making you jump. You squeaked out a small apology, bowing your head when you passed by her to get on with your work, unaware of the way the mistress of the house shook her head at you in amusement, a small smile breaking out on her own lips.

One thing that attracted the numerous guests to the inn was the suppers. They were always boisterous, rowdy, and filled with music and chatter. Even the townspeople spend their nights at the inn, making the establishment somewhat akin to an alehouse with the drinks that flowed and the laughs that echoed through the room. Tonight was no different, the common hall was packed with guests and local folks alike, and chatter bustled through the air as you maneuvered around the room, refilling cups of ale with the jug in your hand. You greeted your regulars, ignored the advances of some that already had one too many cups of liquor, and kept your eye out on anything else your guests might need. You checked on the younger maids walking around, guiding the ones who were a bit unsure of what to do. When you had first started at the inn, working the suppers intimated you, with your timid nature and clumsy hands. The overlapping noises left you rattled, coupled with the growing rowdiness as the night went on. As you gained more experience and became one of Mildrith’s most trustworthy workers, you took it upon yourself to look out for the newcomers, treating them kindly instead of punishing them for every slip-up they made.

You had quickly exchanged your empty jug for a fresh one at the kitchens before walking back into the hall once more. You heard a voice call you over, turning to Finan who was waving you to their table. As you approached, you spotted the women sitting beside each one of them. You recognized them from the brothel a few doors over, a frequent presence during nights like these in your establishment. It was no surprise that Uhtred and his men had found their companions for the night so quickly, their reputations certainly bearing no lie about their proclivities. Your eyes flickered to where Osferth sat with his arm around a young brunette’s shoulders. You caught the way her fingers toyed with the cross pendant around his neck, leaning into the long expanse of his neck. The corners of your lips dipped slightly at the sight, a strange twinge in your belly. You caught yourself before anyone could notice, plastering a wide smile on your face.

“Enjoying the night, boys?” you asked the table, refilling their cups.

“Aye, good to not be shitting in the woods for once!” Sihtric exclaimed, earning laughs and cheers from his companions. Osferth sat silently, observing the way you rounded their table. He tried to catch your eye, but you seemed to be focused on the jug you held in your hand as you poured ale.

“Why don’t you come sit with us for a while? You are working too hard!” Uhtred urged, to which you only gave a smile.

“Tempting, my lord, but my madam would not be too happy. It is quite a busy night after all,” you said, earning disappointed groans from Finan and Sihtric. You shook your head at their antics, before excusing yourself. For a brief moment, your eyes meet Osferth’s, who had been staring at you the whole time. You gave him a small smile and a nod, before walking away, letting out a sigh as the corner of your lips dropped.

You stood by a pillar, leaning on your weight on the wood while watching the crowd. A man had stood on top of one of the tables, strumming his lute while the guests sang along. In the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure approaching the other side of the column, mirroring your position.

“Alright?” He asked, shooting you a concerned look. Another sigh left your lips, keeping your eyes on the lute player, feeling his gaze on the side of your cheek.

“M’fine, Eadric,” you said with indifference. Neither of you spoke for a moment, letting the echoes of the singing crowd fill the space between you.

“Mm, I know you. I can still read you well, you know, despite how we stand now,” he expressed, a somber tinge in his tone. A scoff left your lips, shaking your head at him slightly.

“Well, considering you can hardly read a few words on a scroll of parchment, I think it best if you stop fretting about me.”

“I will have you know I am capable of discerning whole sentences now, by year’s end perhaps I will be able to read you a sonnet to win your heart once more!” A laugh left your lips at his words, bubbling out before you could swallow them down. Your former lover looked satisfied with successfully getting a reaction out of you, smiling as your cheekbones lifted.

From his place at their table, a young warrior monk watched you and your former husband-to-be. The brunette beside him had been whispering nonsense into his ear, yet he paid her no mind, keeping his attention on you and the way you turned to Eadric, leaning to say something into his ear over the crowd’s noise.

As the night grew darker and the jugs of ale turned empty, you stayed on your feet, cleaning up in the kitchens away from the ruckus, alone. No Eadric, no Osferth, no grimy hand of a drunkard to grab you close. This was your favorite part of the night, to be granted a moment’s reprieve from the chaotic bustle of your days. It was peaceful to have a moment alone with your thoughts like a soft howl of wind on a dark night. Your hands worked mindlessly to scrub the dirty dishware while you let your mind run loose. There was little room for one’s thoughts in a position like yours. The days would often feel autonomic— clean off the linens in the morning, be in the kitchens by noon, and pour ale for the guests in the evening. The surprise of welcoming old friends like Uhtred, Finan, and Sihtric was a pleasant deviation from your otherwise monotonous life.

And dear Osferth. You supposed you had always been quite partial to him among the rest, you were close in age and personality, or at least you were. Where you were timid, Osferth was equally as shy, yet now, he had blossomed into something greater, forging his name into history, all the while you had remained a closed bud still rooted to the soil you had been planted in. As much as you missed the clumsy, doe-eyed baby monk, the warrior sat in your madam’s hall had as much power to render you weak as he did to wield a sword. To be under his gaze had you blushing like a young maiden, and he a dashing knight.

You shook your head, snapping out of your reverie. Osferth had seen many things and met countless faces, surely you did not hold a light to the girls that had come his way. It was no use to be feeling this way, not when he was to leave by the moon’s turn, not when you shall be left alone once more.

Dawn had barely broken through the horizon when you had risen from your cot, stretching your aching limbs with a groan. You had slept for barely three hours, but your body had grown accustomed to your early mornings, often rousing from your slumber with the sun’s rise. The air held a slight prickle of humidity during the summer, giving you no need for furs and a fire during the night. The rest of the inn laid fast asleep, and with the few more moments left to your own, you gathered a clean set of clothes, taking silent steps across the creaking floorboards to step out. The smell of the earth was refreshing, coupled with the morning dew that sprinkled the green grass. It was quiet, save for the howls of mourning doves that echoed through the trees. Humming an old tune to yourself, you made your way to the lake past the thick of the woods, placing your clean clothes on the ground before shrugging off your dress. Clad in only your thin cotton shift, your bare feet padded on the soft soil to approach the lake’s edge. You dipped a toe in, testing its temperature, before stepping down the shallow surface. The water held a slight bite of cold, just how you liked it. You took careful steps across the soft earth, the water rising higher up to your waist. You bent your knees to fully submerge yourself into the cool water, staying underwater for a moment, before breaking the surface to catch your breath. The water felt wonderful on your skin, even more so as it soaked your hair clean of yesterday’s muck. You bathed peacefully in the lake, scrubbing on your scalp and swimming across the water. You allowed yourself to settle, granting yourself a moment of calm before another busy day. Your eyes closed as you let yourself float on the water’s surface, humming to yourself once more.

The quiet peace of your morning was disrupted when you heard the first sounds of approaching footsteps. Alerted, you returned to your feet, looking around for the source. You had no place to hide, not when you were right in the middle of the forest’s clearing. You spotted a large rock situated against the lake’s edge, covered by tall, wispy grass, prompting you to quickly swim towards the stone and lean against it in hopes of hiding your bareness. Through the grass, you spotted a pair of boots approaching where your clothes had been placed, giving away your presence.

“My, a magnificent fish has come to shore!” A familiar voice called out, echoing through the air. Warily, you poked your head out to catch a glimpse of the intruder, only to find the warrior monk. You felt a relief to be discovered by Osferth rather than a stranger, your lips lifting into a small smile as you regarded him.

“Are you here to fish my lord?” you played along, feigning innocent curiosity. You crossed your arms over your shoulders to cover your chest as you stepped away from the rock, revealing yourself to the royal bastard. It seemed he had awakened not too long ago either, evident from his blonde tresses that were slightly ruffled. His feet took steps closer to the lake’s edge, while his hands crossed behind his back. He flashed you a lopsided grin at your query, shaking his head lightly.

“No, no. Though I am a warrior and have traversed these lands and back, I have no skill for the waters. Perhaps the fish will allow me to admire its beautiful scales instead?” he asked, blue eyes raking over your wet form. You bit your lip as he stared at you, cheeks warming despite the cool air. Stiff buds poked against the wet fabric of your shift, still covered by your arms.

“There are far more handsome fish around here, perhaps you may find some better use of your time with them,” you suggested, making the warrior monk’s thin lips twisted at your words.

“I would rather not, I find this one particularly breathtaking,” he said, looking at you with a gaze that made your skin tingle. Your mind raced with uncertainty, while your skin burned with desire. To be graced with Osferth's magnetic presence had ignited a deep pulsating ache within you, one not easily stoked by any man. Under the morning sun, you gazed upon his face. He was handsome, very much so. The royal blood in his veins graced him with a beauty higher than that of any common man, but all his rugged edges were all thanks to his time as a warrior walking with Danes. You desired him, and now, he stood before you, all yours for the taking.

You looked around, making sure there was no one else in your surroundings, before uncrossing your arms and standing tall, baring your chest to his eye, pathetically covered by the now translucent fabric of your wet shift.

“These waters can get quite lonesome for a fish like I. Perhaps my lord would like to join me?”

You visibly gulped as Osferth shamelessly stared at your breasts, waiting with bated breath for his next move. Keeping his eyes on yours, the warrior monk disrobed. He had been without his cuirass, only his robes and breeches. Piece by piece, Osferth’s pale flesh became exposed to your watchful eye. He had placed his robes neatly beside yours, before removing his boots and unlacing his breeches. A small gasp left your lips when he pulled his trousers off, standing tall with his gradually hardening cock on display. An amused huff left the monk’s lips at the way your eyes were stuck on his length, chest puffing proudly under your gaze. He was well-endowed, this he knew, it was what garnered attention from all those women after all. His long, muscled legs approached the edge, cock swaying with every step forward. A warmth in your belly grew as the young warrior dipped into the water, prickling your skin as his eyes stayed on yours the whole time. Your chin tilted upwards as he towered before you, the difference in your heights making you feel covered in his shadow, protected.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening?” you asked, voice dropping low with the change in proximity. Osferth hummed, giving you a small nod.

“Yes, though I admit, it would have been much better if it had been spent with your presence beside me,” Osferth said. His warm breath fanned across your face, the heat of his flesh radiating against yours, causing a shiver to run up your spine. His orbs flickered across your features for a moment, his hand hovering above your arm, yet not touching you. The corners of your lips shifted into a downward smile at his words.

“My apologies, my duties prevented me from doing so. Though it seemed the seat by your side had been occupied. Either way, you had splendid company, only the best in town for the King’s warriors,” you replied softly. He shook his head slightly at you, sniffling lightly.

“It was not her company I sought.”

His large hand covered the width of your arm, pulling you closer into his space. Your hands placed themselves on his chest upon instinct, while his slithered around your waist. His aquiline nose dipped into the skin of your cheek, breathing in the scent of your flesh. Your eyes fluttered close upon the contact, your heart thumping at the feeling of a growing stiffness poking against your thigh.

“How did you know where to find me?” you whispered in his ear.

“I had stepped out for air after my morning prayers. It was then I caught a glimpse of you, walking into the woods,” he explained, lifting his head to look at you. Your fingers trailed against the edge of his jaw, feeling the small prickling of his lightly growing stubble beneath your fingertips.

“You followed me?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him. A sheepish smile formed on his thin lips, while yours lifted in amusement.

“Tis not safe for a lady to be alone in these woods,” he reasoned, tone light and almost playful. He furrowed his eyebrows in mock concern, shaking his head lightly. A chuckle left your lips, reverberating against Osferth’s chest.

“I know these woods better than you, Osferth,” you replied, to which he only shrugged. “Did the Lord speak to you in your prayers, leading you to me?”

“Aye,” he nodded. His hands squeezed the softness of your arms, before drifting down to settle on your waist. “He all but called me a fool, for letting a beautiful lady walk away from my midst without showing my affections.”

“I am no lady.”

“You can be my lady if you will it so,” he said. Osferth’s calloused hands cupped the sides of your face, keeping your eyes on him.

"You have met the most beautiful ladies in the land, and you will meet more. I am but a simple maid, why me?" you questioned, voice dropping to a whisper. A wistful sigh left his chest, thumbs caressing the plump flesh of your cheek.

"A flower may bloom in the most ordinary of gardens," he whispered softly, his voice carrying the weight of genuine fondness. "And yet, it is that very simplicity that makes its beauty all the more extraordinary."

His head dipped close to yours, your lips just a hair's breadth apart from his. "You have always enraptured me, from the moment I had first stepped into your midst," he confessed.

“Do you jest?” You asked, searching for any sign of any sign of insincerity; you found none.

“I do not jest about matters of the heart,” he whispered, leaning his face closer to yours. You couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered shut when his nose nudged against yours. His lips pressed a kiss against one cheek, then the other, almost in reverence. Your hands on his chest slithered up to wrap around his neck, pressing yourself further into his build. Your foreheads pressed together, basking in its each other’s warmth for a moment before Osferth leaned forward to capture your lips in his. A gasp left you in surprise, though you had quickly softened into his arms. You had let him lead you in pace, clearly having less experience than the well-traveled monk. The only other man you had kissed was Eadric, and even then you were young and had no knowledge of the ways of the flesh. This was different; Osferth kissed you the way a man kissed a woman, a lover, a wife. It was all-consuming, a kiss that bordered on gnawing, coupled with his wandering hands that caressed and squeezed your curves. They were rough despite the fabric of your shift separating his touch from your bare flesh, and as they cupped the sides of your thighs, he silently urged you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You obliged, letting him carry your weight with his hands supporting your rear. His stiff length is pressed between your bodies, its veiny underside pushing against the dip in your folds. A whimper permeated the air between you when he guided your hips to rub against his shaft, one echoed by a grunt from the warrior monk. It was an odd feeling, though deliciously pleasant. It was different from when your fingers would circle your pearl as you lay in your cot, biting back your sounds of pleasure lest someone heard through the thin walls. Your hips began to move with Osferth’s rhythm, grinding your pearl against his cock.

“Osferth…” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his once more. The man had started to pant against your lips, small grunts leaving his lips.

“My lady,” he moaned out, before smashing his lips against yours. The kiss was frantic and desperate, with tongues dancing against each other and teeth clashing. You moaned against Osferth’s lips when his cockhead snagged against your folds, rubbing deliciously against your pearl. The prickling heat in your belly began to grow, but you needed more.

“Please, Osferth,” you pleaded against his lips, before letting out a whine.

“What is it, my lady? Say what you need, and it is yours. I am all yours,” he responded. His eyes met yours, which had turned clouded with a heady tinge. There was a wrinkle in between your eyebrows as they furrowed in desperation.

“Take me, all of me,” you said. Your hand reached behind you, taking hold of his cock to guide it to your slit. With another deep kiss from Osferth, he breached your entrance, sliding you down his length. Your moan echoed through the breeze at the stretch, prompting you to bury your head in his neck. You bit hard into the junction of his shoulder from the slight sting; the lack of intimacy with another man leaving your walls unaccustomed to such a stretch. Osferth’s chest vibrated against yours as a deep moan left his lips when he bottomed out, stilling for a moment.

When the pain in your walls began to subside, your hips slowly began to move. Large, calloused hands remained on your rear, guiding you up and down his prick. There was a slight ripple in the water from your movements, growing into small splashes when your hips increased their pace.

You tugged the collar of your shift down, exposing your breasts to the morning air. Osferth leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking on the stiff bud while a hand massaged the other. Breathy moans of pleasure freely fell from your open lips, singing a tune so sweet to the monk’s ears. Your fingers gripped the hairs on the back of Osferth’s neck, your hips never losing their rhythm. His lips switched to suck on the other breast, leaving soft marks on the supple flesh, marking you as his.

“Do you like this, my lady?” Osferth asked against your skin, before trailing his kisses upward to suck on your neck.

“Yes, oh yes!” you whined. The thought that someone shall hear your moans and discover the pair of you was forgotten with the way your mind grew dazed in Osferth’s embrace. Your nipples rubbed against his taut chest, the fine sprinkle of hair on the milky flesh ticking your sensitive nubs.

“You are the most divine,” the young monk moaned, squeezing your rear. Your lower lip is caught between your teeth tightly, almost breaking flesh as you neared your precipice. The sensation of your pearl rubbing against Osferth’s pubic bone threatened to send you into overdrive, shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. The warmth in your core bloomed upwards, starting to spread to your chest. Your walls began to squeeze his cock, signifying the start of your release.

“Osferth, ah, I am going to–”

“Go ahead, my beauty, let it go for me,” he coaxed you. Your release washed over you like a dam breaking through its walls. A whine left your lips as your eyes shut, your features scrunching together in bliss. Osferth’s eyes stayed on your face, watching you get lost deep in your delight. He continued to bounce you onto his cock through your release, before pulling out to quickly tug at his cock under the water’s surface. With the sight of your panting chest right before his eyes, Osferth’s cock released spurts of his seed. The clear water was painted with the cloudy fluid, diffusing into the lake.

Recovering from the euphoric daze that had overtaken you, your eye stared into Osferth’s icy blues. You bit your lip to suppress the gigantic smile that had lifted your cheekbones, a giggle bubbling out from your chest. Your lover merely raised his eyebrows, a smile breaking out on his sculptured features.

“What amuses you, my sweet?” Osferth asked softly. You merely shook your head, before leaning your head against his shoulder in an embrace.

“Nothing, I am merely overjoyed,” you replied. A radiant glow fluttered in Osferth’s ribcage, his lips pressing a kiss against your hair.

After rising from the water and redressing, you and Osferth sat on the grass in silence. Your head was leaned against his, while his arm wrapped around your figure, rubbing your back in comfort. You wished for this moment to last for eternity, that you would not be called to your duties, and him to his own. Alas, such power was out of your hands, thus you willed yourself to savor the warmth of his embrace as much as you could.

You felt him reach into his pocket, turning to look at him in surprise when the orange appeared in your sights. The same one you had given him in the kitchens.

“Why have you not eaten it?” you asked. You could smell the citrussy zest of the fruit in his palm, sweet and inviting.

“I was hoping to share it with you,” he said, making you blush. He began to peel the orange, its scent spraying all over. His grip had been too tight, lacking gentleness with the fragile pulp that ended up crushed under his fingertips. You laughed at the juices that spilled on his hands, before gesturing for him to hand the fruit over.

“You are making a mess! Here, let me,” you offered. The smiling warrior handed the orange to you, watching your gentle fingers peel the fruit expertly. Once the rind had been removed, you had handed it back to Osferth, but he had split the fruit in half, giving you the bigger portion. You let out a delighted hum as the sweetness coated your tongue, savoring the taste you only come by so rarely. Osferth watched you with bright eyes while eating his own.

In the quiet still of the morning, moments before you were to be called back into the inn, you sat with your lover upon the grass. You shared an orange, along with soft kisses and words of tenderness. You knew naught what the end of the moon shall bring you, nor the end of the day, but you had this moment, one you shall always think of fondly.

#bella writes ✍️#this is queued #osferth x reader #osferth tlk #osferth x you #osferth x y/n #osferth x oc #osferth #the last kingdom #ewan mitchell

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angelofalls · 3 months ago

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Lion Angelo - Body Expressions

Fiddling around with making my TLK sona act more like a cartoon lion than a realistic lion (my logical / "gotta be realistic and make sense with their anatomy" thinking brain always keeps me from going full on cartoony sometimes)

Need to exaggerate character poses in the future but aye baby steps

#feral furry art #furry art #fursona #drawing #lion #angelofalls #cartoonist #The Lion King fandom #tlk oc

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australet789 · 29 days ago

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TLK: On the run

"Mom, are we there yet?"

"I don't feel my paws..."

"I'm hungry! I want to go back home!"

Home. Avci let the word resonate inside her head. Yes, her pride used to be home, she also called it like that when she was young and naive. Before the Great Khan sent her sister away. Before she had her three girls and knew the fate that would follow them if she stayed.

The safety of her cubs mattered the most. And she would make sure that no one dared to touch them.

"Soon, my little stars. We will find a home soon."

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

Updated Avci's design to her original color pelt. Her half-sister she is talking about is Ananda! The irony is that Avci, Ananda and Sarabi all came from the same pride (Sarabi it's not related to them. She was the daughter of the Khan), so the first getting to The Outlands in this piece and then becoming a Pridelander it's going to be an interesting subject to touch.

#the lion king #tlk #tlk fanart #tlk ocs #lions #illustration #my art #pictures arts #artists on tumblr

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bluegekk0 · 7 months ago

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I turned Grimm and Vyrm into lions. Thank you, late night inspiration.

#i really like the designs so perhaps it'd be another au spin off #or maybe ocs idk #gekko.art #feral pk au #fpk #vyrm #grimm #the lion king #tlk #pale king #troupe master grimm

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dreikling · 8 months ago

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Was recently browsering through my DA gallery and found this piece and simply couldn't help but remake this one with smol Mali instead hHH <3

While I was making this piece, I remembered a time when my father and I went outside at dawn just before the sun just started to rise and watched it, for me, still a child, it was so magical to see the dark blue sky turn to a orange-ish pink shade - I wanted to give that experience to Mali somehow, so probably this will be the inspired lore for this image.

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eu-nicola · 2 months ago

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convenient marriage

summary: Sihtric is forced to marry the king's niece to silence rumors about his love affair with the queen

english isn’t my first language (warning: ¿?) (words: 10,6k)

i know that the tags are not correct, it's just to reach more people

The king’s hall was bathed in the golden light of the afternoon, which filtered through the tall stained-glass windows like blades of fire. Incense was burning in one corner, and the distant murmur of the court barely slipped through the thick stone walls. In the center of the hall, standing like a forged statue, Sihtric Kjartansson remained firm, arms crossed behind his back, brow furrowed, and heart as agitated as a war drum.

The king’s voice rose, serene, confident, assured.

"I do this for you, Sihtric," he said. "For the good of all. I want no scandals. No whispers in the corridors or drunken poets singing lies with a hint of truth behind them. I owe you this. You have served me well. With loyalty. With steel."

Sihtric lowered his head, clenched his teeth. He loved him, respected him. The king had been more than a lord: a savior, a leader, an almost paternal figure. But he was also the husband of the woman Sihtric desired with every fiber of his being. The woman who smiled at him with her lips, but spoke with her eyes. The woman who, in another life, would have been his.

And once, she had been.

The king stepped closer, placed a strong hand on his shoulder.

“I will introduce you to my niece. She arrived this morning from Wessex. She has manners. Beauty. Education. She is the best I can offer you to put an end to this delusion. What happened… what could have happened with the queen, will be left behind. This engagement buries it. You understand, don’t you?"

Sihtric looked up.

“Yes, my lord," he replied with a firm voice. But inside, each word tasted like betrayal.

The door to the hall opened softly, and the breeze from outside carried the scent of fresh flowers, sage, and something else a sweet, sophisticated perfume that imposed itself without being cloying. The young woman crossed the threshold with the grace of someone who knows she is being watched. Her dress was deep blue, cinched at the waist, with golden embroidery that wound like rivers over the fine linen. Her hair, a shining gold, fell in an intricate braid that crossed her crown like a diadem, adorned with small jade stones.

She had large eyes, a little proud. She walked with elegance. She wasn’t very tall, but her presence filled the space as if she were. When her eyes met Sihtric’s, they studied each other. She analyzed him with the attention of someone who knows she’ll be judged in return. And he… he only saw what was evident.

She was beautiful.

But she was not “her.”

“My lovely niece, Eadlyn," said the king with a smile, "let me present you to Sihtric Kjartansson. One of my bravest men. My confidant. The man with whom I hope to seal a lasting bond between our houses."

She curtsied softly.

“It is an honor," she said firmly but politely.

Sihtric bowed his head.

“The honor is mine, my lady."

They looked at each other for a moment longer. There were no awkward smiles or uncomfortable gestures. There was a tacit admiration. Recognition. But no emotion. Nothing that burned.

The king looked at them both, pleased.

“You see, Sihtric? She will be a good wife. She has education, wisdom, and impeccable lineage. Besides..." his voice dropped a tone, "she’ll silence the gossips. No one will doubt you if they see you with her. No one will remember rumors or… past mistakes."

Sihtric nodded.

“I understand. And I agree, my lord. If this is what you desire."

“And you desire it as well," added the king with a smile that allowed no argument. "Because it is the right thing to do."

Just then, the doors opened again. Like a shadow that had remained hidden within the walls, the queen entered the room.

Her dress was dark green, fitted, with long sleeves that brushed the floor. Her dark hair was braided into a single rope that fell over her left shoulder, heavy, perfect. She walked with the grace of a queen. Her eyes, those eyes Sihtric knew better than his own, landed first on him. Then on the young woman beside him.

“Lady Eadlyn," she said with a smile that was anything but sincere. "What a joy to finally have you at court. I’ve heard so much about you..."

The king’s niece bowed respectfully, though her expression remained cold.

“Your Majesty. The honor is mine."

“want to help you with your dress for the ceremony," the queen said, walking toward her, nearly circling her. "After all, you’re part of our family. And I can’t allow someone of your beauty to appear in anything less than perfection."

Eadlyn tilted her head, with that same attitude of someone enduring a situation out of courtesy, not pleasure.

“I would greatly appreciate it, Your Majesty," she replied without enthusiasm.

“The queen gave Sihtric a fleeting glance. It lasted barely a second. But that second seemed eternal.

And he knew, deep within, that there would be no peace in this engagement.

Hours later, the dinner had been formal and proper. The great hall was filled with laughter and clinking goblets, the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread floating in the air like a comforting caress. Eadlyn had sat beside her betrothed, just as the king had arranged, and although they had exchanged only a few words, both were cordial, polite, even slightly conspiratorial in some shared glances when the older nobles began speaking too loudly or repeating dull stories.

Eadlyn was no fool. She knew the rumors circulating the court, the whispers about him and the queen, the awkward silences when her name was spoken alongside the sovereign’s. But she also knew what was said about him as a man of honor, a loyal soldier, someone who had never failed his king.

And she wanted to believe in that. In “that” man.

After dinner, with a slight nod, she took her leave and retired to her chambers, assisted by her ladies. She walked through the silent corridors, her skirts barely brushing the polished stone floor. In her mind, one thought beat like a drum: two days. Two days until she would stop being a free lady, to become a wife, someone’s woman whom she barely knew. But she would do it. For her uncle, for the realm… for herself.

The next morning dawned mild and clear, as if the sky itself knew something important was coming. The windows of the queen’s chamber were open, letting in a soft breeze that made the white linen curtains billow. The sun's rays fell upon the mannequins that held the dresses crafted at record speed for Eadlyn.

There were seven in total, each more elaborate than the last.

The queen was already there, standing next to a maid holding a velvet box filled with hair ribbons. She wore a simple yet elegant black velvet dress, her hair tied in a low bun braided with golden threads. Her eyes landed on Eadlyn the moment she walked in.

“Did you sleep well, Lady Eadlyn?" she asked in her carefully measured tone, so polite it stung.

“Yes, Your Majesty," she replied with a small curtsy. "Thank you for receiving me so early."

“This is your day. Nothing is more important right now." The queen took a few steps toward the dresses and gestured with one hand. "These have been prepared by the best seamstresses in the realm. I want you to choose for yourself. Nothing imposed. Not today."

Eadlyn stepped forward confidently, letting her eyes roam over each gown.

The first was pure white satin, adorned with ivory lace on the sleeves and hem. Too traditional. The second, a cream color with golden and green floral embroidery: beautiful, but it didn’t feel like hers. The third was sky-blue silk, a nod to her mother’s family crest, with open sleeves that trailed to the floor like wings. She admired it… but didn’t choose it.

She examined the others carefully, listening to the queen’s comments, opinions that didn’t intrude.

And then she saw it.

The sixth dress.

It was a pearly white, almost silver, with gold-thread embroidery in subtle spirals. The neckline was straight, elegant, and the sleeves were long but of translucent tulle, as if the skin breathed through the fabric. The skirt was wide, but not heavy. It fell gracefully, like water sliding over stones. And at the waist, a barely noticeable ribbon that enhanced her figure without exaggeration.

Eadlyn stood still.

“That one," she said, almost without thinking. "I want to try that one."

The queen nodded, showing no surprise.

“It is beautiful. Perfect for you."

“Then I’m glad it chose me," Eadlyn replied.

A barely perceptible smile appeared on the queen’s lips.

When they dressed her, and Eadlyn saw herself in the mirror, the entire room seemed to stop. The gown embraced her figure with delicacy, accentuated the curve of her back, and the golden hue of her hair contrasted elegantly with the pale fabric. She looked like a statue carved by masterful hands.

“It fits you perfectly," said the queen, approaching from behind, her hands gently touching the sleeve edges. "Sihtric won’t be able to take his eyes off you."

Eadlyn tensed slightly. Just for a second.

"I hope he looks beyond the fabric," she said softly, watching her reflection.

The queen tilted her head. Her eyes met hers in the mirror.

“You’ll look like a wife," she said simply. "The rest will come or it won’t. That’s how it is in noble marriages."

Eadlyn didn’t reply. She just lowered her gaze to the golden embroidery of her dress. She thought of her mother, of stories of forced love, of feigned fidelity, of pacts sealed with cold kisses. And still… she had faith. Not blind. But resolute.

That night, the castle slept, but not in peace. At that hour, darkness embraced the hallways with a heavy silence, broken only by the creaking of stone beneath cautious, deliberate steps. The torches flickered with weak flames, and the shadows danced on the walls like spirits refusing to rest.

Sihtric walked through a narrow corridor, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He shouldn’t be there. He knew it. But something stronger than reason, older than loyalty, pulled him forward. It was that invisible thread he had never been able to cut.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to.

The queen was waiting.

She wore a soft linen tunic, almost translucent under the faint candlelight. Her hair, so often braided, now fell loose over her shoulders. She turned slightly when he crossed the threshold, and on her face there was no fear or regret. Only a tense, broken calm.

“I thought you wouldn’t come," she said in a low voice.

“I thought I was strong," he replied.

Neither moved at first. The silence between them was thick, alive. Sihtric looked at her as if trying to memorize every line of her face, every shadow beneath her eyes, as if he knew that after that night, he’d have to live with only the memory.

“Eadlyn is beautiful," she said, stepping closer. "She’ll be a good wife."

“I know."

“She’ll be good for you. She’ll give you children, respect. Stability."

“I know," he repeated.

She looked up at him, closer now, so close he could feel her breath.

“But she won’t give you this," she whispered.

And then their lips met. Not with violence. Not with fury. As if the world had been waiting for that moment. The kiss was long, restrained, desperate. She clung to his neck, he held her by the waist as if afraid she might vanish in his arms. Their bodies spoke the language they had tried to forget. One that had never stopped burning beneath the folds of duty.

They parted moments later, barely, their lips still brushing.

“This can’t go on," said Sihtric, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“And yet, it will," she replied.

“We won’t meet in secret," she said, almost in a whisper. "But there will always be a place to find each other. A glance in the hall. A word in a letter. A whisper in a corridor."

“And if I fall in love with her?" he asked, as if betraying himself by saying it.

The queen smiled sadly, touching his face with her fingertips.

“Then you’ll be happy. And I… I’ll pretend not to care."

The wedding took place the next day in the Grand Temple of the Realm, a structure of white marble with columns as tall as ancient trees. People gathered from dawn: nobles from distant lands, lords, ladies, knights, even lucky villagers who had secured a place among the crowd. The bells rang through the valley, announcing the union of the king’s warrior with his favorite niece.

Eadlyn prepared in a chamber lit by stained glass that cast warm tones. The dress she had chosen embraced her like a second skin. Her ladies braided her hair into golden crowns resting like molten metal atop her head. Her face was serene, but her eyes couldn’t lie. There was hope, yes. And beauty. But also a trace of fear. Fear of not being enough. Of not being loved.

The queen entered unannounced.

They looked at each other.

For a moment, they said nothing.

And then the queen approached, gently adjusting Eadlyn's veil clasp and said:

"You're perfect."

Eadlyn watched her from the mirror.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Are you nervous?"

"A little."

"That's natural. The first day doesn't define what will come. Love can grow over time. And if it doesn't... respect may be enough."

Eadlyn nodded. She wanted to believe her. She wanted to think those words were sincere. And perhaps they were.

Sihtric waited for her at the altar, dressed in a ceremonial battle tunic, his scars visible, his posture straight. When he saw her enter, something in his chest stopped. Eadlyn walked towards him as if floating. Beautiful, golden, strong. Her future, though uncertain, became tangible with every step.

The queen's eyes, seated beside the king, watched him. And in that instant, when their gazes crossed among the crowd, there was no hatred. No jealousy. Only a silent understanding.

They were not going to stop seeing each other.

The vow was spoken. Their hands bound with the sacred ribbon. The kiss was chaste, respectful. The bells rang out. The people cheered. And so, Sihtric became a husband.

The wedding banquet was at its peak. The tables overflowed with jars of wine, hot bread, spiced meats, and fruits bathed in honey. Music filled the great hall, and the clamor of the guests grew with every toast. Sihtric had remained serene throughout the evening, playing his role as husband, raising his cup, responding with a smile to the greetings, thanking the good wishes.

But when he finally found a moment to breathe, he discreetly stepped away from the crowd. He leaned against one of the stone columns that flanked the hall, watching his new wife from there.

Eadlyn was laughing at that moment, seated between two ladies who were showering her with compliments. Her golden hair seemed like a living crown, her eyes sparkling with a mix of shyness and grace. She was beautiful, as everyone said. But beyond her beauty, there was something that unsettled Sihtric: that quiet dignity with which she looked at him when no one else was watching. As if she knew more than she let on. As if she were waiting for him, not just as a husband, but as a man.

"You've been very still, brother," Uhtred's voice said beside him, interrupting his thoughts.

Sihtric didn't respond immediately. Finan appeared from the other side, chewing a piece of meat as if nothing could disturb him.

"So, you're married now, huh?" Finan said with a crooked smile. "Does it feel different?"

Sihtric sighed, not taking his eyes off Eadlyn.

"I don't know. Everything has happened too fast."

"That's normal. The important thing is that you did it. It's the right thing," Uhtred said, patting him on the shoulder. "The king trusts you. And the girl... she seems kind."

"And flexible," Finan added with a low laugh, receiving a warning glance from Uhtred. "Come on, don't make that face. It's not a punishment to marry a beautiful woman."

"It isn't," Sihtric admitted quietly. "It's just that... some things aren't easily forgotten."

The two friends fell silent for a few seconds. There was no need for him to say more. Uhtred knew. He always knew. His gaze scrutinized him gravely.

"Listen," Uhtred finally said. "You don't always choose whom to love. But you can choose whom to respect. And if she's your wife, make it worth it. Get used to her voice. Her laugh. How she looks at you. Not everything starts with fire. Some things ignite slowly."

Sihtric nodded, pressing his lips together.

"I'll try."

"You'll make it," Finan said, giving him an elbow nudge. "Though tonight, you'll only have to try once, if you know what I mean."

"Finan..." Sihtric grumbled, unable to prevent a fleeting smile.

"Come on, Sihtric!" Finan laughed. "It's your wedding night. The first one! Maybe the most awkward, the most uncomfortable, but also the most fun. I hope you're not too rusty."

"You should be more nervous about what she expects of you, not you of her," Uhtred added with a half-smile. "Do you think she hasn't been watching you all day? I wouldn't be surprised if she's more ready than you."

Sihtric shook his head, resigned, though an uncomfortable heat rose up his neck.

"Enough, both of you. I got married hours ago and now you're talking to me as if I'm going to an execution."

"Sometimes, it's the same," Finan said with a laugh. "But with less clothes."

Later, the moon was high when the door to the marriage chamber closed behind them.

Eadlyn walked first, in silence. Her steps were soft, and her dress glided like a stream of silver across the floor. The maidservants had left minutes before, leaving the room in perfect order: the bed was covered with clean sheets, fresh flowers adorned a side table, and the candles spread a warm, dim light throughout the room.

Sihtric stayed near the door for a moment, watching her.

She didn't look at him immediately. She walked toward the vanity, calmly removing her rings, one by one. Then she spoke, without turning.

"You can sit down if you want. There's no hurry."

"I'm not running away," he replied, taking a few steps forward.

"Neither am I running toward you," she said softly.

Sihtric clenched his jaw. He walked up to her and stood by her side. He looked at her in the mirror. Her eyes met his reflection: hers calm, his... filled with everything he couldn't say.

"I know this is strange," she murmured, finally turning to face him. "But I'm willing to try, Sihtric."

"So am I."

Silence fell again, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable.

He raised a hand and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. She didn't pull away.

"You're beautiful," he said in a quieter voice.

"And you're gentler than they say," she whispered.

She began to untie the strings of her dress, slow and precise. He helped her, with careful hands, no rush. When the dress fell away and she stood before him, wrapped only in a linen cloak and her golden hair loose over her shoulders, he looked at her not as a man who demands, but as one who learns.

He kissed her then. Slowly.

There was no clumsiness, no wild fire. It was a union of two who were just beginning to know each other, but were willing to do so with respect, and perhaps, with time, with tenderness. She received him with her eyes open at first, then closed, surrendering without fear, but with care. He was patient. She was generous.

It wasn't overflowing passion.

Hours later, with the candle almost melted and the warm air between the sheets, Eadlyn looked at him from the pillow.

“Thank you for not pretending.”

Sihtric turned his face toward her in the dim light.

“Thank you for being braver than I am.”

She smiled, and for the first time that night, she touched him without formality. She gently stroked his chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

They didn’t say anything more.

And although Sihtric’s heart still belonged to someone else… in that moment, he allowed himself to rest in the idea that, maybe, he could learn to love his wife.

The days after the wedding passed like pieces on a board moved with precision. Shared breakfasts, brief walks through the castle gardens, public meetings where Eadlyn and Sihtric walked together, spoke politely, sat next to each other. To the eyes of the kingdom, they were a perfect couple. The noble niece of the king and his most loyal warrior. A marriage that represented stability.

But behind the walls of their chambers, the story was different.

Eadlyn tried. She looked at him with the naive hope of someone who wishes to be enough. She learned his silences, his gestures. She sat by his side at night, asking him about his day, his battles, even his childhood. And Sihtric responded. He responded with respect, with kindness… but without commitment. As if there were an invisible wall that she couldn’t break through.

Sometimes, he looked at her as if he wanted to love her.

And other times, as if it pained him not to.

Everything worsened when the queen began visiting them more frequently.

She didn’t do it openly. She was subtle. She would appear at breakfasts, under the pretext of “family time.” She offered to accompany Eadlyn in choosing new fabrics or reviewing the tasks she now had as the wife of one of the king’s closest men.

“You have good taste,” she said, running her fingers through a dark blue silk.

Eadlyn smiled politely. The queen was refined, intelligent, elegant. She made everything seem like a noble teaching, a guide between women. But every piece of advice was a subtle stab, a warning. And above all, a way to remind her that she had been there before. That, in some way, she still was.

One night, Eadlyn decided to confront the wall.

She waited for them to lie down. The candle burned next to the bed, and the light cast a still, tense profile of Sihtric.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her voice barely trembling.

Sihtric looked at her, surprised.

“No. No, Eadlyn. You’ve been… much more than I expected.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re so far away from me? Why do you speak to me as if we’re always surrounded by people, even when we’re alone?”

Sihtric closed his eyes. He sat up in bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

She didn’t respond at first. She moved closer, sitting in front of him, barefoot, her white nightgown floating over her thighs.

“You can’t hurt me with the truth, Sihtric. Only with silence.”

He looked at her. And it was then that she saw him clearly. In his eyes, there was something broken, something ancient. It wasn’t cruelty. It was pity. It was contained desire. It was the shadow of someone else.

“Do you still see her?” she asked, her voice firmer than she thought possible.

He hesitated to answer.

“I don’t seek her out. But she’s always there.”

Eadlyn didn’t cry. She didn’t make a scene. She just nodded.

“I’m not blind, Sihtric. I’ve seen how she looks at you. How she speaks to you when the three of us are together. With that soft voice, with that smile. As if it were a conversation that started long before me and hasn’t ended.”

Sihtric took her hand.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could love you as you deserve.”

She looked him in the eyes.

“Then do it. Try. But don’t ask me to share your heart with her. I’m not a child. I’m your wife.”

The next day, the queen asked Eadlyn to accompany her to the castle’s greenhouses.

Amid the sweet aroma of flowers and the singing of birds, the conversation began as always: calm, elegant.

“You seem stronger these days,” the queen said as she cut a thornless rose. “That’s good. A husband needs a strong wife.”

“I’m just trying to live up to what’s expected of me,” Eadlyn replied.

“And you’re doing an admirable job,” she said, before turning around. “Though you shouldn’t pressure yourself so much. Some men are like wild dogs. You can try to tame them, but in the end, they always remember the first hand that caressed them.”

Eadlyn stopped.

“Was that advice, Your Majesty? Or a warning?”

The queen smiled, calmly.

“It was the truth. You have his name. His bed. His alliance. But I have his memories. And not everything that’s seen in public is what’s felt in the dark.”

For the first time, Eadlyn felt a real chill being near her. The queen didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. There was a way she claimed the space without moving, as if the air knew whom it should obey.

“Sihtric is mine,” Eadlyn said, this time more firmly.

The queen leaned in to smell another flower.

“Maybe. But not entirely.”

That night, Sihtric found a note under his sword.

It only said: “The queen has called for you again. This time, decide for yourself if you respond.”

He stared at it for a long time. The fire in the hearth flickered like a dilemma.

And elsewhere in the castle, Eadlyn looked toward the door… waiting.

But no one entered.

The next morning, a veil of clouds covered the castle, casting soft shadows over the stones. And there was Eadlyn, walking with firm steps toward the queen’s chambers.

She didn’t ask for permission to enter.

The two maidservants guarding the door exchanged nervous looks, but a word from the king’s niece was enough to make them step aside.

The queen was sitting on a dark velvet divan, a glass of wine between her fingers, still dressed in her embroidered silk robe. Her hair fell loosely like a river of dark fire over her shoulders, and her expression barely changed when she saw Eadlyn burst into the room.

“So early, dear?” she said, not looking up from her glass. “Shouldn’t you still be in bed?”

“I haven’t come to play at good manners,” Eadlyn replied, closing the door behind her. “I’ve come to speak to you as I am: Sihtric’s wife.”

The queen put her glass aside and calmly crossed her legs, evaluating her.

“Then speak.”

Eadlyn took a few steps forward, not sitting down, as if afraid that if she relaxed, the queen would swallow the air in the room.

“You’re interfering. You’ve been doing it even before I arrived. And you’re still doing it now, with smiles and soft words, but with the clear intention that he doesn’t belong to me entirely.”

“What a dangerous word… ‘belong,’” the queen replied, looking at one of her nails distractedly. “Men are not rings that you place and forget. Nor are feelings.”

“I’m not interested in what he felt for you before,” Eadlyn said, stepping closer. “I care about what you’re still seeking from him now. The looks. The notes. The private conversations. I see everything. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

The queen looked up. Her eyes were like a frozen field.

“And what do you expect to achieve with this visit? A confession? An apology?”

“No,” Eadlyn said firmly. “I expect respect. I expect you to step away from what no longer belongs to you. You’ve had Sihtric. Whatever you shared, it’s over. Now he’s with me. And if he ever learns to love me, it will be in spite of you, not because of you.”

For the first time, a flash of emotion crossed the queen’s gaze. Not fury. Not jealousy. But something older. Pain. Nostalgia. And maybe… fear.

“You think this is so simple,” she whispered, standing slowly. “As if love obeyed laws. As if it could be cut like a rope. You see it as a rivalry between women. But you don’t know what it’s like to love someone who can’t be yours without everything else falling apart.”

“Then let it fall apart,” Eadlyn said, her eyes burning. “But don’t drag the rest of us down with you. Not me. And not him.”

There was a long silence. The two women measured each other. Not with shouts or blows, but with the cold determination only possible between two who love the same man.

The queen took a step toward her, gently.

“And if he comes to me? Even without me seeking him? Will you still blame him?”

“No,” Eadlyn said. “But I’ll make sure he remembers every night that he has me. And every morning too.”

The queen stood still for one more second, as if the answer had hurt her more than she expected. Then she smiled.

“Then we’ll see who tires first.”

Eadlyn turned without another word. She opened the door with determination and left, leaving behind a fragrance of dried flowers… and war declared.

That night, Sihtric found her sitting alone on their bed, her hair loose, hands intertwined on her lap. He approached cautiously.

“Are you okay?”

She lifted her gaze, without a trace of doubt.

“Are you?”

Sihtric didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“I spoke with her,” Eadlyn said. “I’m not going to let her stay between us. No matter what you still feel. I’m here. And I plan to stay.”

“Sihtric…” he whispered, his chest tight.

“Don’t say anything now,” she interrupted, standing in front of him. “But if you ever decide to go to her again… at least have the courage to tell me to my face.”

And with that, she got into bed, turning her back to him.

Sihtric stood there for a moment. Feeling the weight of love that hadn’t gone away… and the one that was beginning to be born.

And he knew, with cruel certainty, that he couldn’t have both.

But he couldn’t let go of either.

The days following the confrontation with the queen were strangely quiet. Meals were shared with measured smiles. Walks through the garden were made in silence, hands intertwined more out of habit than desire. No one raised their voice. No one crossed a line. Routine settled in like a warm blanket covering a fire still burning beneath the surface.

Eadlyn clung to that calm. She wanted to believe things were changing. That Sihtric, though distant, was beginning to see her. To recognize her as something more than the wife chosen by the king. There were nights when he spoke to her more than usual. He touched her arm softly before bed. He had even smiled at her without having to.

She, naively, thought she was winning.

Until everything fell apart.

The rumor reached her like a cold gust while she walked through the upper gallery, from the lips of a maidservant who couldn’t keep quiet in time.

“…I saw him leave the queen’s chambers this morning. Alone. He seemed nervous.”

Blood froze in her veins.

“Sihtric?”

The maidservant’s eyes widened, pale, and she stammered some absurd excuse before retreating. But it was too late. The image had been engraved. The pieces fell into place: his evasive look at breakfast, his quieter voice, the way he avoided touching her fingers like he had the night before.

It hadn’t just been a conversation. She felt it.

And the doubt weighed more than the entire castle.

That night, Eadlyn sat waiting on the divan in her chamber. She didn’t change into sleep clothes. She remained upright, her dress still on, hands tense in her lap. The candle burned insistently, as if it knew it was about to witness a storm.

The door opened. Sihtric entered, closing it softly. When he saw her awake, he stopped.

“Didn’t you sleep?”

“Where were you this morning?”

The question fell like a stone. Direct. Solid.

Sihtric didn’t answer immediately. He lowered his gaze, sighed. Took a few steps.

“I spoke with her,” he finally admitted.

And the silence that followed was crueler than any scream.

“Why?”

“I thought it was better this way. That if we talked, if we made things clear…”

“And did you make them clear?”

Sihtric raised his gaze. He saw something broken in her eyes. It wasn’t anger. It was something more dangerous: disappointment. Accumulated pain. Insecurity. Desperation.

“Eadlyn…”

“What am I doing wrong?” she suddenly asked, her voice breaking. “Why can’t I reach you? Why do I try so hard and still not seem enough?”

Sihtric frowned, uncomfortable, tense.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth!” she screamed, tears running down her cheeks. “I’m not her. I don’t have her history with you, or her memories, or that look that makes you tremble. But I’m your wife, Sihtric. And I wanted to try. I really wanted… I wanted…”

“Because I don’t love you, damn it!” he exploded suddenly, with a dry shout that shattered the air. “I don’t love you, Eadlyn! I try, but I can’t! You’re not her, and that’s what kills me!”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Eadlyn looked at him, pale, as if he had struck her with a sword. The tears that had been falling stopped. Her body ceased trembling. Her face hardened.

She wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand, slowly.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” she said in a low, cold, empty voice. “I thought… I thought things were starting to change.”

She turned with grace, as if there were still dignity to salvage. She walked toward the door, and Sihtric, realizing his mistake, the sharpness of his words, called her.

“Eadlyn, wait…”

“No.” That was all she said.

And she left.

Anguish pierced her like a spear as she crossed the hall. She didn’t cry immediately. She had no strength. Her body felt light, undone. As if it wasn’t hers. As if it was another woman who had heard that, the one who had been rejected so violently.

She didn’t make it to her chambers.

In the middle of the corridor, she turned into a small rest room she knew, used by maids and visitors. As soon as she crossed the door, she fell to her knees.

The tears came like a storm. Uncontained, not elegant, not soft. It was a choked scream, a broken sob. And then… she vomited. Her body couldn’t hold on anymore.

One of the maids who had seen her enter rushed to her side. She knelt beside her, terrified.

“My lady, by the gods!”

“Don’t take me to my room,” Eadlyn whispered, still trembling. “No… I don’t want him to see me. Please… take me somewhere else.”

The maid nodded with tears in her eyes. She helped her lady to her feet, and together they walked to a smaller room, where hot water and clean sheets were already waiting. Eadlyn was bathed gently. Her body continued to tremble. Her head hurt. Her chest ached. Her heart seemed to have shrunk.

When they finally laid her down, she said nothing. She only stared at the ceiling, motionless.

“I don’t want to see him,” she murmured, before closing her eyes.

And that night, Sihtric’s bed remained empty.

And he, at the foot of the door, leaning against the wall, understood the weight of his cowardice.

The next day, the sun timidly peeked over the castle walls, casting its light on the cold stone. But no light was enough to dissipate the weight that hung over Sihtric since the night before.

Sleep was impossible.

The image of Eadlyn crying in front of him, asking with a broken voice what she had done wrong, hurt like a knife in his stomach. And worse still, hearing his own words shouting that he didn’t love her, that she wasn’t “her.” Words that he didn’t know whether they were as true as they were desperate.

He didn’t love her yet, but… he didn’t hate her either. She wasn’t indifferent to him. Seeing her hurt twisted his soul. And that, in his world, was saying a lot.

That morning, he didn’t go to training. He didn’t eat breakfast. He just wandered through the castle like a lost dog, searching for a door that would allow him to redeem himself.

But Eadlyn didn’t want to see him.

He knocked once on the door of the room where he knew she had been staying since the night before. A maid came out, visibly nervous.

“Is she okay?” Sihtric asked quietly, not hiding his anxiety.

“She had a fever this morning. She doesn’t want to eat. And she refuses to speak to anyone, my lord. No one… except us.”

“I want to see her. Just talk.”

The maid hesitated, swallowed.

“She expressly asked that you not be allowed in.”

Sihtric felt his soul break again. He clenched his fists and walked away without saying anything, his face hardened, his eyes burning. He had to do something. He had to find a way to mend what he had broken.

Later that same day, during lunch in the hall, the queen made her appearance.

But Sihtric didn’t look at her.

Not once.

Not when she sat near him. Not when, discreetly, she addressed him. He didn’t answer. He didn’t turn his head. He chewed without appetite, his eyes fixed on his wine glass.

“Is something wrong?” the queen asked subtly.

Sihtric didn’t blink.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

It was as if someone had thrown a dagger onto the silver.

The queen kept her composure, but something in her lips tightened. She stood up without saying more and left the room. Sihtric didn’t move.

Later, in the training yard, his friends saw him walking alone, grim, slamming his sword into a post with barely contained fury. Uhtred was the first to approach, arms crossed.

“Are you planning to kill something, or just your conscience?”

Sihtric didn’t answer. He kept hitting. The wood creaked with every strike.

“She doesn’t want to see me,” he finally said, his voice hoarse.

“And you didn’t let her see you before. Funny how life turns, huh?” Finan intervened, appearing behind with his sly smile and hands behind his head. “Maybe it’s for the best. Let you suffer a little. So you learn that words are like arrows: once shot, they can’t be retrieved.”

“I know,” Sihtric growled.

“Then do something. Waiting like a dog won’t make her forgive you. Go see her. Apologize for real. Not out of pity, but because you feel it. But don’t go thinking she’ll open her arms just because she sees your pretty face.”

“I don’t want her pity,” Sihtric said.

“And she doesn’t want your excuses,” Uhtred said firmly. “If you really care, you’ll show it with more than words. With actions. With loyalty.”

Sihtric lowered his sword. He was breathing heavily. His heart hurt. But it was true. He had to try to reach her… even if it was through a crack.

That same afternoon, he asked for permission again to see her. He didn’t insist. He just left a letter written in his own hand in the maid’s care.

“Eadlyn, I know I have no right to ask for anything. But I can’t stay silent after what I did. I was wrong. I let myself be blinded by the past, by something that no longer belongs to me. You are here, alive, real, present. And I failed you. I’m not asking you to forgive me today. Just to let me… show you that I’m not made of just mistakes. I’m willing to wait. As long as you need.”

The maid returned alone. No answer.

And Sihtric understood that the wound wouldn’t heal in days. That love, if it came, wouldn’t be by insistence. Nor by pressure. But because he would have to earn it.

And that night, when he passed by the hallways that led to the queen’s chambers, and she stepped out to meet him with a calculated smile and an inquisitive look… he simply turned his face and kept walking, as if she didn’t even exist.

Because in that moment, for the first time, he understood what he was willing to lose… and what he was no longer willing to keep touching.

The days passed like leaves blown by the wind, without stopping, without comfort.

Eadlyn didn’t speak to Sihtric again. She didn’t look at him during the dinners they shared in silence, nor at the events they had to attend. She didn’t search for him with her gaze, even when everyone present knew he was searching for hers.

She became a shadow in her own life. She smiled in public, dressed better than ever, walked with her head held high. But her heart hurt every time she felt him near.

Sometimes, she heard him pass on the other side of the door, standing still. She imagined him on the other side, with his hand raised, hesitating whether to knock. He never did.

And she, inside, cried in silence, hating herself for missing him so much.

Sihtric, for his part, became a man of few words. He threw himself into training with dry violence. He avoided any encounter with the queen, not only out of respect for Eadlyn but because now seeing her made his stomach turn.

Every night he passed by the room where he knew his wife slept, perhaps hoping to hear her voice, a sigh, a sign.

But nothing came.

Sihtric’s friends began to worry. Uhtred even tried to mediate in secret, but Eadlyn wouldn’t be swayed.

“He chose me last,” she said in a tempered voice. “I don’t want to beg for a love that will always look the other way.”

And with that, the conversation was closed.

Two weeks passed.

Then, one night, the wind brought something more than silence.

Eadlyn woke up suddenly, with her chest tight. A sudden nausea made her get out of bed urgently, and she vomited for the second time in three days. The maid who slept near her heard and ran to help.

“My lady, this is no longer from sadness…” she whispered, concerned, holding her hair. “You should see the healer.”

Eadlyn nodded, tired, defeated.

Hours later, the healer entered the room, with her wise hands, her ancient gaze. She examined her patiently, touching her forehead, checking her pulse, asking questions. Eadlyn answered everything with coldness, as if she were far from herself.

Until the woman stepped back and spoke with the softness of someone who knows her words will bring a storm.

“My lady… you’re expecting a child.”

Eadlyn stayed still.

“What?”

“You’re pregnant. There’s no doubt.”

The world stopped.

The maids remained frozen, watching her without daring to say anything. Eadlyn’s body didn’t react. Only her eyes trembled, fixed on some distant point, as the words echoed inside her.

A child.

From him.

And he no longer wanted her.

She felt the air escape from her. She wanted to scream, but no sound came. Only tears. Slow. Thick.

Sihtric was called urgently to the private wing. Finan and Uhtred were waiting for him at the entrance.

“What’s happening?” he asked, alarmed.

“It’s Eadlyn,” Finan said, serious for the first time in weeks. “She’s not well. You have to see her. Now.”

Sihtric didn’t ask further. He ran up the stairs, crossed the halls, and reached that room he hadn’t stepped into in days.

And when he saw her there, lying, pale, with her hands on her belly, her eyes red, and the maids looking at him with suspicion… his heart broke.

“Eadlyn…”

She turned her head with effort. Her face was wet, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t yell at him. She didn’t chase him out.

“I’m pregnant.”

Sihtric felt the earth tremble beneath his feet.

“What?”

“What you heard. I’m having a child. Your child.” Her voice had no tone. Just emptiness. “And I don’t know what you’re going to do with that, but I don’t care anymore.”

Sihtric took a step, then another, until he was next to the bed.

“Don’t say that. No… Eadlyn, I…”

“Are you going to shout at me again that you don’t love me?”

That silenced him.

She looked at him, hurt but firm.

“This child isn’t going to grow up hearing insults. He’s not going to see his mother begging for affection.”

“He won’t have to do that,” he said at last, with his heart in his throat. “Because I’ll be here. Because I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.”

Eadlyn lowered her gaze.

"I don’t want you to be with me out of obligation."

"And I don’t want to be alone out of regret," he whispered.

A long silence stretched between them. The maidservants discreetly stepped away, giving them space.

"I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me," Sihtric continued. "But I want you to know that since you pushed me away, I haven’t looked at anyone the way I looked at you. I haven’t touched anyone. I haven’t wanted anyone close. Not even her."

Eadlyn looked at him, and for the first time in days, something cracked in her armor.

After the confession, the tears, the exhaustion... she simply let him stay by her side. She didn’t ask him to leave. She didn’t avert her gaze. She didn’t harden her voice.

And for Sihtric, that was already a lot.

He sat in a chair by the bed, not touching her, not invading her space. He just stayed there. Watching her as she slept, with her forehead damp with sweat and her lashes wet. His heart ached to see her like this, fragile, when he had always seen her so elegant, so upright, so perfectly composed.

Now she was just her. A woman broken inside, carrying a child he had fathered and a resentment he deserved.

But he was there. And he intended to stay.

The following days were different. They still didn’t sleep in the same bed, but he began accompanying her on walks through the gardens. Sometimes they walked in silence. Other times, he told her stories from his childhood, about when Uhtred had taught him how to use a sword.

Eadlyn listened without saying much, but little by little, their glances lasted longer. Her voice was less cold. And her responses no longer felt like daggers.

One afternoon, while he was helping her up a step, their fingers brushed. Eadlyn didn’t pull away.

And Sihtric understood that she was yielding. Slowly, painfully. But yielding.

When the first moon of the pregnancy passed, the healer examined her again. Everything was in order. The child, boy or girl, was growing strong.

Eadlyn was paler, a little more sensitive, but her eyes no longer looked so dim. Sihtric never left her alone, and that confused her. She didn’t know if she should love him or be afraid of him. But every time he spoke to her softly, every time he brought her something she wanted, a mint tea, a piece of honeyed bread, a book of poetry... she felt the ice in her chest cracking.

One night, she sat by the window, cradling her barely visible belly. He entered quietly, without making a sound.

"Would it bother you if I stay?"

She looked at him, her eyes tired, but didn’t say no. She only nodded.

Sihtric took off his coat, crossed the room, and sat next to her on the couch. He didn’t speak. He only spread a blanket over her legs and draped it around her shoulders.

And Eadlyn, for the first time in weeks, leaned against his chest.

Just a little. Just for an instant.

But it was real.

That night, Eadlyn didn’t want him to sleep in another room.

"If you want to stay, you can… stay," she said quietly, facing away from him.

Sihtric stopped in the doorway, as if unsure if he had heard her correctly.

"Here?"

"Yes," she said, not turning around.

He nodded, though she didn’t see it.

He lay down on the other side of the bed, not crossing the center, as if there was an invisible line marking boundaries. But even separated, the air felt different.

Her breathing was slow. His heartbeats, more serene.

"Do you think about how it’s going to be?" she asked, not opening her eyes.

"All the time," he replied, staring at the ceiling. "I don’t know if I’ll be a good father, Eadlyn... but I’ll try. And I’ll take care of you. Of both of you."

There was a long, deep silence.

She turned her head slightly, still not looking at him.

"And if you never love me?"

Sihtric swallowed.

"Then you’ll have to put up with me as the husband who respects you, who takes care of you, who admires you... even though I’m still learning to love you."

And for the first time, a faint smile formed on Eadlyn’s lips. It wasn’t one of joy. But it was human. Real.

"It’s a good start," she whispered.

In the middle of the night, she woke up cold. She instinctively curled toward the warm side of the bed... and found his back. Sihtric barely turned, still asleep, and without thinking, he passed his arm over her.

Eadlyn stayed still.

She didn’t pull away. She didn’t cry. She didn’t think.

She just let herself be embraced. Because for once... she felt safe.

The days passed, and the room that once was silent and bitter began to fill with little things: a soft laugh, a shared gesture, the accidental touch that was no longer uncomfortable.

Sihtric no longer slept on the other side of the bed. Now he held her every night with the care of someone who knows they have a miracle in their arms. Eadlyn no longer cried when thinking of her husband. Now she watched him as he helped her put on her shoes or prepared tea with his own hands.

There were entire afternoons when they would go out to the garden just to sit under the same oak. He would read to her, his deep and slow voice, while his hand gently rested on her belly. Eadlyn found herself wishing that this would happen every day, like a prayer.

And when he laughed, something he did more often lately, she felt warmth in her chest.

One morning, while Sihtric adjusted her belt on her new dress, she turned and looked at him.

"Sihtric?"

"Mmm?"

"I don’t remember the last time I felt safe."

He froze, his fingers still at the knot of fabric, looking at her.

"Neither do I."

And then he kissed her. Softly. Briefly. Sincerely.

She didn’t pull away. She held on. And finally, she felt there was no fear anymore.

But light disturbs those who live in the shadows.

The queen, who had been watching from afar, felt the threat creeping up her back like a cold poison.

At first, she tried small things. Sending for Sihtric with silly excuses. Asking about his health. Leaving subtle gifts where he would see them and know they came from her. All without success.

He didn’t respond.

Not with words, nor with looks.

He no longer spoke to her, except in formal and distant terms. He no longer stopped to listen to her. He no longer pretended to be polite.

She stopped being an open wound. She became an unwanted presence.

And that drove her mad.

One afternoon, when Eadlyn was returning from a walk with Sihtric, she found a letter in her chambers. There was no sender, but the handwriting was feminine and elegant.

With suspicion, she opened it.

"Dear Princess,

It is admirable your effort to keep a man who, as you well know, was never yours from the beginning. I would like to remind you that what a woman cannot build from love, she cannot sustain from need. You have a child on the way… but do you have the father’s heart?"

Eadlyn’s heart beat fast. She felt anger. A sting.

And at the same time... she didn’t feel fear.

Because yes. She had his heart. Maybe not entirely. Maybe not the way she had dreamed. But she had it.

She crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire.

That night, while Sihtric gently caressed her belly beneath the blankets, she looked at him.

"I received an anonymous letter."

He frowned, concerned.

"What did it say?"

"That I don’t have you."

He sat up. Eadlyn remained calm.

"I want you to know," she said firmly, "that if you decide to leave, if at any point you realize your place is not here... I won’t stop you. But I also want you to know that while you are here, I won’t give up."

Sihtric looked at her, and for the first time, it was he who had tears in his eyes.

"I’m not going anywhere," he whispered.

And he kissed her.

Gently. With promise. With respect.

In the days that followed, the rumors began to fade. Because there was no longer a crack through which they could slip.

The queen watched them from afar, her face tense, feeling the ground slipping from beneath her feet. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break something that was being built on truth.

Eadlyn and Sihtric were now seen together at every ceremony, at every banquet. They spoke softly, touched each other naturally. They didn’t need to show love, because it was obvious. In the way he helped her sit down. In the way she looked at him when he didn’t notice. In how their bodies no longer repelled each other... they sought each other.

Love, or something very close to it, had found fertile ground.

And this time, no one was going to take it from them.

A few moons later, the rain hammered the windows like an insistent murmur, as if the heavens knew that today, nothing would be easy.

Eadlyn had been writhing in the damp sheets for hours. The labor had started at dawn, and it was already late afternoon. The midwives came and went with tense faces, bringing hot water, clean towels, and herbs to soothe her. Her hair, which was usually neatly braided, fell loose and sticky across her forehead. Her hands gripped the headboard, her knuckles white, her face contorted.

And yet, she didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She didn’t ask.

She just clenched her teeth and endured.

Sihtric hadn’t moved from the hallway since the pain started. There was no way to move him. Finan, more practical, offered him wine. Uhtred gave him a pat on the shoulder. But he didn’t listen. He couldn’t do anything but stare at the closed door, his eyes burning and his fists clenched.

Each muffled scream that escaped from the walls tore him apart.

"Damn it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Why is it taking so long?"

Inside the room, the head midwife leaned over Eadlyn, worried.

"My lady... if you don’t push now, with all your strength, the child is in danger."

Eadlyn’s vision was blurred. She couldn’t feel her legs. She barely remembered how to breathe.

"Is the baby... okay?" she murmured through gasps.

"The baby is still fighting. But there’s no time."

Then, Eadlyn closed her eyes, searched for something within herself, courage, faith, fury and pushed. With everything. With the last of what she had.

A scream tore through the room. It was not elegant. It was not dignified. It was wild, desperate, human.

And then, the crying.

A sharp, powerful cry. Full of life.

The child had been born.

Sihtric heard the cry before the door opened. And for a moment, he didn’t know if it was real. He stood frozen.

The door creaked open and a maid looked at him.

“It's a boy. Strong.”

Sihtric didn’t think. He entered like a hurricane, without asking for permission.

He saw her. White as the sheets. Sweaty. Exhausted. But alive.

And in her arms... a child.

Small. Wrinkled. With a dark lock stuck to his head. Sleeping, still with the recent cry on his lips.

Sihtric knelt by the bed, his hands trembling.

“Can I...?”

Eadlyn nodded weakly. She could barely speak.

He took the child carefully. He had never held anything so fragile. His rough fingers, weathered by war, turned soft as velvet.

“He’s perfect,” he whispered. “He has your lips.”

“And your frown,” she said, weak but smiling.

Sihtric laughed, with a lump in his throat, as a tear fell from his cheek.

“We will take care of him. We will protect him.”

“We will love him,” she added.

They looked at each other. There was no more pain. Only that new, giant emotion, that could not be named.

Later, Eadlyn rested, still weak. The room was quiet, with a soft golden light coming through the stained glass.

Sihtric sat beside the bed, with the child asleep in his arms.

“How will you name him?” Eadlyn asked, her voice barely audible.

He looked at her. He didn’t answer immediately. He only watched the little one, breathing softly, as if he already knew he was safe.

“Bjorn,” he said finally. “It means ‘bear’. May he be strong.”

Eadlyn nodded, closing her eyes.

“Bjorn... It’s perfect.”

And at that moment, for the first time, Sihtric felt complete. He was no longer just a warrior, nor the man caught between two women. He was a father. He was a husband.

He was free.

The queen did not appear that day. Nor the next.

Maybe she knew she no longer had power there.

Four weeks had passed quickly since Bjorn’s birth. The fortress was quieter, as if even the stones knew something sacred had been born there. The nights were brief and full of whispers: the baby’s cries, the soft steps of the maids, and the hushed voices of parents still learning how to be them.

Eadlyn had healed slowly. Her body, exhausted from childbirth, was regaining its strength. She slept little, but every time she opened her eyes and saw Sihtric with their son in his arms, life seemed more bearable, even beautiful.

That night the moon was low, huge, cut against the sky like a barely spoken secret.

Bjorn slept deeply in his wooden cradle. The candlelight flickered softly, casting golden shadows on the stone walls. Eadlyn was lying on the cushions, her hair loose, with a light linen tunic that left her shoulders exposed.

Sihtric carefully closed the door and approached her, letting his eyes speak before any words.

“He’s asleep,” he whispered, as if afraid to break the magic of the moment.

Eadlyn smiled at him, resting her head against the headboard of the bed.

“You’re doing well... as a father.”

“And as a husband?”

She raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Improving,” she replied playfully, though her eyes shone with truth.

Sihtric sat beside her, one knee on the mattress, watching her in silence.

“You look tired,” he said, caressing her cheek, “but also... different.”

“Different how?”

“As if you were reborn with him. As if... all the hardness in your eyes had surrendered.”

Eadlyn lowered her gaze, thoughtful. Then she took his hand and guided it to her belly, still tender.

“It still hurts a bit...” she confessed softly. “But not like before. It’s a pain that... reminds me that I’m alive. That I brought him into the world. That I’m not the same.”

“You don’t have to prove anything,” he murmured, his lips near her forehead. “If you want me to just stay here, with you, holding you, I will.”

She looked at him, that mix of laughter and tenderness on her lips.

“My body is sensitive... but not dead.

And you’ve always been good with your hands, husband.”

He let out a soft, almost fearful smile.

“I’ll be careful.”

“I always wanted to have many children,” she said jokingly, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “But maybe... we could wait at least a month for the next one.”

Sihtric laughed against her neck, slowly lowering himself, as if every inch of her skin was sacred, as if he were rediscovering it. His lips weren’t in a hurry. They touched, kissed, waited. As if asking permission in every caress.

She trembled. Not from pain, but from recognition. Her body, marked by life, was opening again. With fear. With desire. With love.

When their hands intertwined, there was no urgency. Only promise.

He loved her with the patience of someone who knows that the soul must follow the body, and the body must heal not only from wounds but also from emptiness.

Eadlyn surrendered to his kisses, his fingers, his warmth. She felt how the world reduced itself to the weight of his body on hers, to the shared breath, to the slow rhythm of two people who no longer sought each other to forget, but to find each other.

It was a silent, deep act. Like a prayer. Like a pact sealed without words.

And when it was over, when they both rested under the blankets, their son was still asleep, and the world kept turning.

“Do you still think I’m improving as a husband?” he asked softly.

She turned her face toward him, her fingers caressing his bare chest.

“Sihtric... If you keep this up, I’m going to have to play hard to get just to make you try harder.”

He laughed against her hair.

And for the first time in a long time, there was no past between them. Only the present. And a future, beating to the rhythm of three hearts.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fic #sihtric x oc #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom #tlk fandom #tlk #tlk fanfic

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