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@bebbanburged
• DESTINY IS ALL. ⤖
independent & selective roleplay blog for uhtred of the last kingdom. verse dependent & headcanon based.
managed from @princewished. this blog is 18+.
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@kingalfrcd sent: " i’ve… made some mistakes. "
Uhtred huffed softly—wetly. The tears were kept at bay only just; his pacing was the only thing affording him privacy, even if only a veneer. Though Alfred's body now failed him, Alfred himself had never lost his keen sight nor sharp wit, and both were too often used to Uhtred's detriment.
Still, Uhtred could not find it in himself to feel ashamed nor shunned. He had been with Alfred many years; had hated him and been hated; had scorned him and been scorned; had betrayed and been betrayed by. But he had also loved and been loved, and that was, to Uhtred's immense shock—though somehow not to his surprise—worth the pain.
Loved and been loved, hated and been hated. Had made mistakes, and had been on the receiving end of Alfred's own.
He could say with confidence that Alfred had not suffered worse in their relationship, though he could acknowledge that there was fault to be placed upon both of them. It had now come to the time that Alfred and his God confronted blame and suffering and punishment, and that Uhtred embraced forgiveness and love and tenderness.
He and Alfred had always been opposites. They fit too well within Alfred's chronicle: the perfect antithesis, down to Alfred, who deliberately recorded his legacy in literature, and Uhtred, who unwittingly forged his own in loyalty.
Loyalty—that which Uhtred though had no reward. In truth, rewarded too much, too late. Too final. How to now tell the man that he has so despised (and loved, and loved) that he had finally given Uhtred the appreciation that he had earned, and yet that it was too final by far?
Uhtred stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, trying to disguise how he dashed away his tears. When he felt he could look up without betraying himself, his voice was as steady as it was softened by sincerity. "Leave them now, lord. I have my peace. I give to you yours."
𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏
i’ve made emotional ones before but also, angst?? bon appetit!
“ i can’t do this alone… “
“ i can’t do this without you. “
“ nothing is worth losing you. “
“ i can’t lose you! not again! “
“ i don’t wanna lose you! “
“ i love you… “
“ i never should’ve dragged you into this. “
“ you’re not alone, [NAME]… you never were. “
“ if something happened to you… that would be because of me. and i can’t have that. “
“ …did you know about this? “ “ this is all my fault… “
“ i/we/you lost… “
“ you won’t win. “ “ this path you’re on… it’s gonna get you killed. you know that, though; don’t you? “
“ i can’t stop. “
“ you would tell me if something was wrong. wouldn’t you? “
“ it’s like you’re not really here; even when you are. “
“ don’t you get it?! if anything happens to you, i… i don’t know what i’d do! “
“ you have no idea how important you are to me, and i’m tired of waiting for you to figure it out, and i sure as hell won’t wait to announce it over your reckless ass’ grave! “
“ no! i’m not leaving without you! “
“ i can’t do this anymore… “
“ you don’t even know me. “
“ what have you done?! “
“ you’re shaking… “
“ i’ve… made some mistakes. “
“ you are nothing to me. “
“ you were never nothing to me… “
“ stop it. enough of this self-sacrificing bullshit! stop acting like you have nobody who loves you! you have me! so no! you don’t get to be a martyr. not today! we can figure out a different plan… “
“ i would’ve done anything for you… “
“ i’d risk everything and anything for you. “
“ i’m not a good person. “
“ please don’t look at me like that… “
“ i believed in you! “
“ we can’t lose… “
“ what?! what am i supposed to do?! please! tell me, what the hell am i supposed to do?! “
“ please, just go… i’m not the kind of person anyone needs to be around right now. “
“ what happened to you? huh? what happened to you to make you this way? “
“ they’re coming for you. right? that’s why you’re pushing me away like an idiot? because you don’t want me getting hurt? “
“ nothing’s going to be as good as it was before. “
“ you lied to me! “
“ i didn’t mean for any of this to happen! “
“ i can’t trust you anymore… “
“ i know it’s selfish. god knows, ever since we met, i’ve been the reason behind every threat and danger that’s come your way. but… i honestly can’t say that i’d change a second of it. “
“ it’s been an honour knowing you. “
“ there’s nobody else i can turn to. only you. “
“ i don’t trust anybody else. not the way i trust you. “
“ we have no choice… “
“ why?! why are you helping me?! “
“ it’s too late. there’s nothing more we can do… “
“ please don’t go… don’t leave me. “
“ you are everything to me. okay? EVERYTHING. i can’t lose you… “
“ you deserve better than this… better than me… “
“ i thought i could give you a better life. instead, i’m the reason it’s gotten worse… i’m so sorry. “
genuinely just under two years ago @bebbanburged asked: ❛ i was worried something happened to you. ❜
WHAT TO SAY? Alfred’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. His relationship with Uhtred had been… TUMULTUOUS, to say the least. With Uhtred refusing to accept the existence of the one true God, with Uhtred failing to respect Alfred’s authority on multiple occasions, with the Danes calling Uhtred the next KING OF MERCIA…
And yet, there had always been something there. A connection. A BOND. Alfred had never wanted to admit it; he STILL didn’t, but how long could he deny the truth?
He knew about the rumors, rumors that spoke of his illness progressing, rumors that spoke of him ON HIS DEATHBED — or already dead. He had spies, spies that NOT EVEN THE WITAN knew about, spies that reported to him DIRECTLY and told him everything the people were saying — about him, about Wessex, about Daneland.
And even about UHTRED.
Uhtred, who said he was WORRIED. Not mislead, not misinformed, not deceived. Worried.
For a moment, the usually calculating look in Alfred’s eyes faded. HIS EXPRESSION SOFTENED, a peculiar warmth washing over him. It wasn’t just Uhtred’s words; it was his face. He looked… RELIEVED.
“I am alive… AND WELL,” he finally replied, his voice as calm as it usually was — but there was a SUBTLE DIFFERENCE in his tone, something almost similar to… affection? It was subtle, but it was there.
And just as quickly as it had made itself known, it disappeared, his tone STILL CALM but more neutral now. “I recognize your concern for my wellbeing. It is… APPRECIATED.”
Uhtred was aware, often to painstaking degrees, just how little Alfred cared for him.
Alfred was a smart man, for all that he was cruel; he cared enough for Uhtred as a warrior and a weapon. Yet there was a stark difference between caring for someone's wellbeing and caring for someone as they were on the whole, and Uhtred had spent many nights rolling it over in his minds like tumbling rocks. Alfred had infected him with the anxiety of deep thought, and Uhtred now catered to that sickness as though it was something dear. When it demanded attention, Uhtred faithfully obliged.
It was, ironically enough, how Uhtred viewed Alfred, though perhaps to a less bitter degree. It was difficult for Uhtred to view the things he had conjured from himself with any sort of derision; as a rule he allowed himself to be dictated by instinct, and such a sentence demanded a lack of judgment. The circumstances that stood beyond his control, however, were given no pardon, and Alfred least of all.
Yet there was an undeniable connection between them that seemed to transcend their roles, insofar as Uhtred was permitted certain privileges. It brought forth memories of Earl Ragnar's hounds. There were two in particular that he'd favored: Anksel and Søren, the best of his hunting dogs. Before Uhtred had been named a son of Ragnar, he had spent many nights watching as they were fed scraps from Earl Ragnar's own plate. They were treated with abundant affection, patted and petted and praised, though this never dissuaded Earl Ragnar from smacking them soundly if they stepped out of line.
It was this part that hurt the most, particularly now that Uhtred was under Alfred's thumb and, in fact, in Anksel and Søren's position. He could remember well that even though they were tools, they were also loved.
Uhtred couldn't claim that Alfred shared the depths of the affection that Earl Ragnar had held for his hounds... though he sometimes believed he saw a glimmer of it. And that was enough---just as the pats and praise were for Anksel and Søren--- for Uhtred to disregard the abuse and come running back again. Because for all of the bad times, the good times were good.
Alfred was the illness Uhtred couldn't shake; the collar he couldn't slip from. But only because he simply wasn't trying to escape. There was something about Alfred, something captivating and compelling, that prevented Uhtred from forsaking him.
So when he'd heard the rumor that Alfred had been abducted, it felt as though his very lungs had constricted. The world had become bereft of air. Finally laying eyes on Alfred provided relief that Uhtred had only once felt: the first gasp of sweet air after nearly being drowned in a tub. The treasured ability to breathe after such desperation.
Alfred's tone was warm, which helped chase away some of the shadows in Uhtred's thoughts. He'd been plagued by different visions on his race back to Wessex, and the so-called appreciation Alfred was expressing was a comfort, even if it was to be regarded as only for Alfred's well-being.
Uhtred nodded and wet his lips, eyes scanning for injuries nonetheless. It would be like Alfred to lie about his state to avoid being vulnerable in front of him, foolish as that sentiment was.
"I'm glad of it, lord," he said when he'd determined there were no concealed injuries or ailments beyond what was now typical. "Rumors are traveling quickly, and with growing panic. They range from your abduction to your beheading."
#dailyragnar ❤️❤️❤️
you: sends me my daily ragnar dose
me:
@fantasywritten's Leofric sent: you're talking out of your ass.
"Maybe I am," Uhtred said. A sly smile lounged on his face, teasing. daring. "Are you going to put me in my place, farmer?"
Oh.
It was seldom that Leofric used his name (had Leofric ever used his name before now? Uhtred couldn't recall), and a jolt of heat began to pool low in his belly. It was serious now; that much Uhtred could plainly see. They had crossed a threshold. No turning back now.
Not that Uhtred wanted to.
"I never said I minded," Uhtred pointed out, a brow arching. The fingers digging into his collarbone were a welcome point of contact, firm but not yet painful. There was a part of Uhtred that wanted them to bruise anyway.
Though it was clear that they both knew precisely what was going on, it wasn't as if they were somewhere private. "If you are to prove your word," Uhtred said, and his tone was challenging even still, "maybe it's best done away from prying eyes."
HE WANTED IT, TOO. Leofric hadn’t feared rejection; the only thing he’d feared was the POTENTIAL AWKWARDNESS afterwards. Which, come to think of it, could very well still happen — but Leofric was pretty sure their banter would continue. Perhaps with more flirtation.
BUT UHTRED WAS RIGHT about taking this to a more private place. It wouldn’t do either of them good to be seen humping. But, as usual, Leofric couldn’t resist pushing Uhtred just a LITTLE BIT more.
“That eager to GET ME ALONE, are you?” His grip tightened, fingers digging in slightly more harshly before he released Uhtred completely. Even so, he didn’t break eye contact. It was clear that his desires were growing stronger by the second, and yet, he still couldn’t tear his gaze away, as if he was bewitched by some spell (not that he believed in those, anyway). “Go on. LEAD THE WAY.”
Those fingers dug in more harshly, pinpoints of pain blossoming beneath them just before Uhtred was completely released. The change was immediate: a chill swept over his skin, goosebumps rising in its wake as all of the heat in his body was sent southwards.
Right. Leading the way.
"Happy to let me lead, then?" Uhtred smirked, jerking his head as he began to walk. "I should have known; Saxons really don't know how to properly handle a sword."
@fantasywritten's Leofric sent: “Prove to me you’re more than just a pretty face, arseling.”
Uhtred grinned, swinging his sword around to loosen his wrist. It was cramping a little; it didn't hurt yet, only ached. Uhtred would have to mind it. "I thought Saxons were blind, what with your plain women and scrawnier men. It is good to know that you appreciate appearances, farmer." Maybe Uhtred could make that work to his favor. For now he continued to circle Leofric, waiting him out. His wrist would keep, at least until this final duel was concluded.
@fantasywritten's Leofric sent: “Paint me like one of your Danish girls.”
"Oh? And am I to hump you as one as well?" Uhtred's hands came to rest on his belt, his tone amused. "I've never considered myself an artist, though I'll suffer through an attempt. For your sake."
@bebbanburged asked: "Can you hear me?"
THE VOICE WAS MUFFLED. Alfred could barely make it out. And yet, it was a voice he would recognize anywhere, a voice that had both tormented and soothed him, a voice he could NEVER FORGET.
But the owner of the voice was the only thing clear in this situation. Nothing else had registered in his mind yet. His eyes, previously closed, slowly began to open; his muscles began to twitch as he blinked, taking in the world around him. CONFUSION filled Alfred’s eyes as he managed to speak, his words coming out slightly slurred.
“WHAT HAPPENED?”
The relief that flooded Uhtred was instant, though the panic inside him was hardly doused. "Lord," he exhaled, dipping his head a little. He was dizzy from holding his breath. "You fainted."
Uhtred had seldom felt true terror; it was not, as a rule, an emotion that a warrior could allow himself. Fear, certainly: Uhtred's stomach still knotted before every battle, his hands sweating as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a shield wall.
But real terror, the paralyzing kind, was not to be indulged. This was the difference between life or death, of himself or his men; it was one of the few real principles Uhtred lived by. Conquering that terror was necessary if one was to lead a life such as his.
Watching Alfred hit the ground had nearly undone him.
Uncomfortably hot, still flushed and sweating from the way his stomach had flipped, Uhtred cleared his throat. "You've a lump on your head, just there." He didn't touch it; his fingertips ghosted, feather-light, through the hair just above Alfred's ear, trying to indicate the location without actually aggravating the injury.
@fantasywritten's Leofric sent: you're talking out of your ass.
"Maybe I am," Uhtred said. A sly smile lounged on his face, teasing. daring. "Are you going to put me in my place, farmer?"
Oh.
It was seldom that Leofric used his name (had Leofric ever used his name before now? Uhtred couldn't recall), and a jolt of heat began to pool low in his belly. It was serious now; that much Uhtred could plainly see. They had crossed a threshold. No turning back now.
Not that Uhtred wanted to.
"I never said I minded," Uhtred pointed out, a brow arching. The fingers digging into his collarbone were a welcome point of contact, firm but not yet painful. There was a part of Uhtred that wanted them to bruise anyway.
Though it was clear that they both knew precisely what was going on, it wasn't as if they were somewhere private. "If you are to prove your word," Uhtred said, and his tone was challenging even still, "maybe it's best done away from prying eyes."
@fantasywritten's Leofric sent: “Aethelwold says Alfred was caught humping a nun once.”
"Aethelwold wouldn't know his arse from his mouth," Uhtred said, snorting into his mug. "I'd sooner trust a beggar with my coin purse than Aethelwold's word." Uhtred took a slow sip of his ale. "I'll be disappointed if there isn't more to that story, though," he admitted, and a grin burst forth. "I cannot imagine Alfred humping anyone, even with all of that practice on his knees."
Uhtred scoffed, rolling his eyes. "A man of God," he parroted. "As though priests have not humped and killed in the name of their so-called God. At least my gods are honest." Well, for the most part.
As for Alfred being his king... Uhtred scowled and took another swig of ale. "I have no king," he corrected, "and if I did, it most certainly would not be Alfred." This was true: Uhtred was not and never would be a man who Alfred could force beneath his thumb. Land or no land, that was a fact.
"Did he, though?" Uhtred asked after several more seconds. His curiosity wasn't to be tamed. "Hump a nun, that is."
Me (re)watching The Last Kingdom be like:
@bebbanburged
#dailyragnar 🥺🥺
@bebbanburged asked: "Are you jealous? It's most unbecoming." for Leofric
DEFLECTION. Immediate deflection.
Leofric snorted. “In your dreams, arseling.“ Unlike others, he was able to look Uhtred in the eyes as he lied — SO HE DID. No shame. “Enlighten me. WHAT do I have to be jealous of?”
"Ah---so you have been thinking about my shape and size. Don't worry, farmer. I won't tell."
Oh, but it was so easy to rile Leofric up. And so fun, too: Uhtred would be lying if he said it wasn't a favorite pastime of his. There was something to be said about having Leofric's attention, much less keeping it, and Uhtred was only a man.
"And," he added casually, "you certainly must know how skilled women are at performing, if only for the fact they hump the likes of lesser men than me or you."
He was toeing a line here. A razor's edge. He just couldn't help himself.
"No" he said, "honesty comes in rare form."
@fantasywritten's Leofric sent: you're talking out of your ass.
"Maybe I am," Uhtred said. A sly smile lounged on his face, teasing. daring. "Are you going to put me in my place, farmer?"
“WE BOTH KNOW I could beat your ass in a fight any day.” Maybe that wasn’t ENTIRELY true, but it was certainly true enough if Leofric managed to catch him off-guard. His eyes suddenly narrowed, hands gripping Uhtred’s shoulders as he thrusted his full weight forward, slamming Uhtred’s back up against the wall. TOO EASY. Uhtred may be fast and agile, but Leofric was stronger (hopefully). Lowering his voice to a whisper, Leofric took the challenge in stride, leaning in closer.
“Was THIS what you wanted?”
Pain flashed through his spine as all of the air in his lungs left him in one fell whoosh, accompanied only by a soft grunt. Leofric was heavy; Uhtred could throw him off, but where was the fun in that? Especially when Leofric leaned in so close that their noses were almost touching.
Was this what he wanted?
Yeah, actually.
Refusing to look away first, Uhtred's tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes locked on Leofric's. That smile was threatening to break free again---no longer teasing. coy. "This is the place you want me in."
@fantasywritten's Leofric sent: you're talking out of your ass.
"Maybe I am," Uhtred said. A sly smile lounged on his face, teasing. daring. "Are you going to put me in my place, farmer?"
@fantasywritten's Leofric sent: “Aethelwold says Alfred was caught humping a nun once.”
"Aethelwold wouldn't know his arse from his mouth," Uhtred said, snorting into his mug. "I'd sooner trust a beggar with my coin purse than Aethelwold's word." Uhtred took a slow sip of his ale. "I'll be disappointed if there isn't more to that story, though," he admitted, and a grin burst forth. "I cannot imagine Alfred humping anyone, even with all of that practice on his knees."
