Finan fidgeted nervously, shifting from one foot to the other as he stood before the priest who looked at him with a slight hint of annoyance.
“Be still,” Uhtred spoke from beside him.
“I can’t.” Finan barked back as he scratched at his beard, a telltale sign of the Irishman’s nervousness.
“If your new bride sees you fidgeting like a child she will turn around and refuse you.” Sihtric teased, he was enjoying the Irishman’s suffering.
“Aye well maybe that’s for the best.” Finan uttered lowly to himself.
*~*~*~*
He had laughed when Uhtred came to him and proposed marriage to him. “You’re not exactly my type lord,” he teased playfully.
Uhtred rolled his eyes. “Stop being an arseling and listen to me.” He ordered. “The lady of Mercia requires an alliance be made between King Hywel of Weales and her people,” Uhtred had always had an unhealthy habit of rushing to Aethelflaed’s aid, even if she did not need him to.
“And you want me to marry him?” Finan continued to tease causing Uhtred to growl in annoyance at his man. “In all seriousness lord I do not understand what you want from me? How can I, an Irishman, assist with the alliance of the mercians and the Welsh?” Finan’s playful demeanour shifting to that of a serious one.
“King Hywel has offered his niece’s hand to seal the alliance but Aethelflaed has no one to offer in return,” Uhtred explained.
Sihtric approached the two men sat deep in discussion, a dark smirk on his features as he sat beside them. “Have you told him?” He asked continuing to grin.
“You knew?” Finan shot daggers at the Dane. “Why am I being offered as the sacrificial lamb?” He grumbled.
“Because I am already married,” Sihtric shot back.
“And because he is a Dane. King Hywel has refused every suitor that has been offered up until now.” Uhtred gave Finan a look of desperation, his eyes pleading with his friend to agree to the marriage. “You are a Christian, you are a celt and you are a nobleman.”
“I am not a Welsh Celt,” Finan spat before he paused for a moment. “I am not a nobleman my lord?” A look of confusion sat deep on his face.
“You will be if you agree to the marriage, Lady Aethelflaed will make you a nobleman of Mercia and gift you and your wife land for your contributions to the alliance,” Uhtred smirked as he revealed the news to Finan, a knowing glint in his eye. Finan would be a fool to refuse such an offer.
*~*~*~*
“God I’m sweating,” he choked out as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. The anticipation was too much as he stood at the alter in front of the priest.
“We know,” Sihtric said with a look of disgust on his face as he eyed his friend.
“I don’t even know what she looks like!” Finan began to spiral. “What if she’s a beast,” he turned to Uhtred, “lord I do not think I can go through with this ya’ know,”
Uhtred smirked as the doors to the church opened. “It’s too late for that now,” he patted Finan on the back.
Finan swallowed nervously, he sighed before making a silent prayer to god, pleading that his bride would at least be somewhat attractive.
Finan turned to look at the woman now beside him, the woman that would be his wife. His eyes landed on your face, darting across your soft features before he simply uttered “wow,” just loud enough for you to hear him.
You held his gaze for a moment, eyes dropping at his exclamation of your beauty as you stifled a small laugh.
“Do you still wish to withdraw from this union?” Uhtred asked in a whisper.
Finan shook his head, a small smirk in his lips as he marvelled in your beauty. “Are ya ready father?” He asked turning to the priest who cleared his throat and began the ceremony.
You laughed unabashedly as Finan twirled you, catching you as you stumbled into a table close by. You weren’t drunk, not even close and neither was he. No the reason for the clumsy dancing, if you could even call it that, was all thanks to your two left feet.
You should have been embarrassed, you would have normally, but right now all you felt was the spark that lit your skin alight at where Finan’s hand held you tightly around your waste.
“Easy now,” Finan whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Steady on you go,” he teased as he helped you gain your footing.
You couldn’t help the visible pout on your face as he pulled his hand away. Your eyes lingering on his face, on him. The object of your desire.
“Don’t,” he spoke, his voice deeper, slightly harsher than before. “I’ve told you already, don’t look at me like that.” You dropped your gaze to the floor, a flame of embarrassment burning through you until your cheeks broke out in the all telling red blush. Finan exhaled a painful sigh, his hand rubbing over his overgrown beard. “I’m sorry,” he uttered. “I don’t mean to be-“
“Cruel?” You interrupted him. Finan could only frown at your interruption. His teeth tugged at his lower lip, a tell tale sign of how frustrated the Irishman was feeling. “You do this all the time.” Your lips pressed into a tight line, your nose scrunched briefly as you sniffed back the tears that welled in your eyes. “If you do not like me Finan then-“ you were silenced suddenly by the sound of Finan chuckling.
“You know I more than like you.” His words caused a rush of excitement in your chest while simultaneously causing a deep, heavy pit to open up in your stomach. You would have been happy to hear such a confession if it wasn’t for the rueful smile that sat on his face.
“Then why do you push me away every time it feels like I’m falling in love with you?” You asked boldly. You felt naked, totally bare as you laid your heart out in front of the man who was rejecting it.
“Because I am not a good man,” now it was your turn to chuckle in disbelief. “It’s true.” He doubled down.
“Finan you are the kindest, most gentle man I have met.” You reached out, grabbing at his hand and squeezing it. “If you are not a good man then I would be forced to believe that no such man exists.” Finan closed his eyes briefly, blinking back his own tears this time.
“You deserve a good life, with children and a home and- and a man who can protect you and take care of you-“ each word he spoke seemed to sting worse than the last. “I’m not that man darling.” That was the final blow. You couldn’t stop it, could no longer hold the tears at bay. Finan swiped the first rogue test from your cheek, rubbing his thumb gently before pressing his forehead against yours. “I can’t be that man no matter how badly I want to, I’m sorry.” He pressed a deep kiss against your head as more tears streamed.
You heard him take one last shaky breath before he turned around and walked out of the alehouse and out of your life, letting you go one last time to find the man that he decided you deserved.
Sihtric slipped from your bed, silently pulling his trousers on before grabbing his boots. He held on to them tightly, it was far easier for him to remain covert without them on. His movements were careful, his footsteps light unlike the heavy guilt that filled his stomach as he crept across your room.
Once he had reached the front door he paused. He told himself not to do it, he willed himself not to look back. He knew how much it would hurt to look at you one last time. But he was unable to stop himself.
The heaviness that sat in his belly turned into a deep dark pit that swallowed him, a tightness squeezing at his chest as he took in your sleeping form in front of him.
“I’m not doing this to be cruel,” he whispered. “I’m doing this because I can’t -“ his voice hitched, “I can’t look at you and tell you that we can’t be together anymore.” Sihtric swallowed the thick knot that had formed in his throat. He turned away from you, his hand grabbing at the door handle. “I’m doing this because I love you.” And with that he left, with his boots in hand he disappeared into the night.
With each step he felt heavier. He knew you would wake and search for him. He knew you would break down when you realised all traces of him were gone from your home. And he knew that you would cry, he could practically hear it now, your sad whimpers turning into a breathless sob as you realised he had left you. He wasn’t one for crying. He could probably count on one hand just how many times he had cried in his life but never the less he could not stop his own tears from welling, blurring his vision as he continued to trudge on, putting as much space as he could between the pair of you before the first slice of morning light would cut through your window and wake you.
It wasn’t unusual for you to be visiting your future kings bedchambers under the cloak of night. In fact it had become a fairly regular appointment for you. He had summoned you, like he did most nights by sending one of his most trusted guards to your room.
You knocked two times, sharp but delicate raps that let him know it was you at his door. “Come in,” he called from his chambers. You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself as you pushed the door open. You found it so amusing when he used his “king voice” as you had named it.
“My lord you summoned me?” You said sweetly as you made your way to his side. “Are you having trouble sleeping again? Or did you just miss me?” You teased playfully, dropping the act of the dutiful servant waiting on her king.
Edward normally loved playing along, commanding you to meet his every need and desire behind his closed door but tonight he was different.
“Edward?” Your voice was full of concern as you took in the solum expression on his features. “Is everything alright?” You reached out, resting your hand on his shoulder as you studied him.
Edward lifted a large purse, dropping it onto his bed beside you both. The sound of coins rattling told you the bag was heavy, full to the brim with more silver than you had ever seen.
“That is for you.” His voice was stiff, in-fact his entire being was just that, stiff and stoic. He was complete expressionless.
“What for?” Your brows knitted together as you took a seat on his bed.
“For your service.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke. He kept his eyes trained elsewhere.
“My service?” Your confusion only seemed to grow. “What service? Edward what are you talking about?” You pressed your palm against his cheek, taking note in how he audibly sighed at the touch. You pushed him to face you, forced him to look at you.
“I no longer require your company anymore. It is improper and sinful and it must end now.” His words sent a surge of pain to your chest. He was practically looking through you as he spoke so coldly about your passionate nights, the nights you’d spent making love to one another. The nights you’d spent falling deeply, madly in love with him.
You hadn’t realise it but tears had began to fall from your eyes, your hands shaking with both anger and hurt.
“So we are done-“ you choked out, holding back the sob that threatens to rip from your throat. “And you wish to pay me? Like a whore?” You couldn’t control it, your voice wavered at the last word. Is that all you were to him? Is that all you had ever been? Had all the nights he held you in his arms, worshiped you, proclaimed his love for you. Had it all been a lie?
“I will not take it.” You stood quickly, your body knocking against Edward’s as you rushed past him to the door.
You were halted as Edward took hold of your wrist, his eyes once again focused elsewhere as if he could not bare to look at you. “Take it,” he said softly as he pressed the bag into your hand. “Please just take it,” he sounded so defeated, as if he was the one being cast aside. As if it were you who had summoned him in the night only to throw him to the side like a piece of unwanted rubbish.
Edward let go of your wrist, his hand clenching into a fist as he listened to your broken whimpers before you closed his bedroom door. Once you were gone he come undone, his knees buckled causing him to drop to the floor, his own broken sobs being unleashed now that he was alone.
“She is a servant Edward and you are to be king!” His mother scowled. “Think of what your future queen would think of such debauchery!” She spat. “You will end it with her or I shall rid us of her. Indefinitely.” He knew it wasn’t just a threat. It was a promise that his mother would hurt you if he didn’t do it first.
He was protecting you, putting you out of harms way but why did it feel like he had just caused you an unbearable amount of pain? Why did it hurt so much to keep you safe?
~~~~~~~~
Hi guys I’m backkk👀🎉 I’m sorry I’ve been MIA, I’ve had the WORST writers block🥲
I know I don’t normally write for Edward but I’ve been cooking up this prompt for our boys and I just really love this one so wanted to post it first!😘
Authors note: based on this request. Thank you so much my dear @marauders-make-me-cry for challenging me to write for Sigtryggr.
Warnings: SMUT 18+, practically pwp with a very little plot, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, inappropriate use of religious facility (ok, they fuck in a chapel, so if you're sensitive about it – this is not for you), certain power imbalance at least in the beginning
Word Count: 2,9 K
Summary: to save your convent from the flames, you volunteer to tend the wounds of the savage warlord who just took over your city. What you expect is a bloodthirsty brute. What you discover is your destiny.
“You come here every night.”
The voice is calm, even melodic, softened by the Danish accent, making every word sound like sin. It comes from somewhere behind the old stone pillars, hidden in the shadows like silent guards along the walls of the small chapel.
You close your eyes and wrap your fingers tighter around the small rosary the abbes had pressed into your palm as you were dragged away in the dead of the night.
The choice offered had been as simple as that: provide a healer, or watch the convent burn. You had stepped forward without a second thought. Better one novice lost than the whole house condemned.
The beads bite into your palm, but you welcome the sting. Your novice’s head rail has slipped askew, half-unpinned with loose strands of hair falling across your eyes. The mother superior would have ordered penance for such slovenliness, but she’s not here and you can choose your punishment yourself.
“Tell me,” the voice continues, closer now, and you jump to your feet, looking around, searching for the source of it. “What do you pray for?”
The footsteps approach almost silently with that careful confidence of a wild cat, moving through grass, sneaking upon his prey.
You step back instinctively, and your back hits the edge of the altar.
Your fear had painted him as some heavy-browed monster, savage and rude, all teeth and rage. The man you had found bleeding in the old library of the late King Alfred, God rest his soul, had looked nothing like that.
Long and thick hair, falling loose over his shoulders, clean-shaved but sharply cut face, startlingly young for a warlord that had just forced Winchester to its knees.
His leather armour had been stripped away and lay discarded on the floor, leaving him in breeches only. He sat on a simple scribes bench, heavily leaned back against the table, his bare, muscular chest heaving hard as he held a blood soaked cloth pressed to his side.
His eyes had caught the moonlight from the window. They were steel blue, you had thought at first, but the longer you looked the more you saw the comparison didn’t fit. The blue was deeper than metal, stormy and strangely warm.
A scar cut over his left eye and down his cheek. It was healed cleanly, the kind of work that speaks of a skilled hand. It should have been frightening, ugly, a warning… somehow it was neither… somehow it only made him look…
No, you don’t want to think about that.
Yet you had, more often than you wanted to admit, more often than you could forgive yourself for.
“I pray for forgiveness,” you whisper, keeping your eyes down, as the shadow stops a few strides from you.
“For saving a heathen’s life?”
“Every life is worth saving.” you don’t need to look up to know it’s him.
Arms behind his back Sigtryggr tilts his head, studying the room like a warrior studies a weapon he doesn’t know yet how to hold.
“Your God is strange,” he says at last. “He asks for suffering instead of joy, for himself, and for all who follow him.”
Sigtryggr’s gaze quietly slides toward you, and the drum of your pulse at the base of your throat is getting faster and louder.
Fear, you tell yourself again.
You've been telling that to yourself too many times.
He takes a step closer, and your breath catches sharply.
“Tell me,” his hand reaches out but stops a breath from your jaw. He can see you trembling.
“Why would someone so beautiful, brave and gifted like you choose this?” he gestures at the emptiness around you. “Why choose suffering over life. Over family. Over children. Over a hearth of your own?”
Rough, calloused fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face up and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks.
“Life?,” you ask back, looking up into those warm blue stormy eyes. “A life means belonging, means being owned – by a husband, by a lord, by a king," you say quietly. “In the convent, I belong only to God. That seems like a kinder cage.”
Sigtryggr makes a short, harsh sound that strikes the stone and comes back at you, hollow and mocking.
“Saxon thinking,” he sneers. “You think ownership is the only shape a man can take with a woman.”
“Is it not?”
His thumb drifts to your mouth, a ghost of a contact against your lips. No pressure, no claim, just a soft brush, tracing the edge of your bottom lip, but it makes you draw in a shaky breath as your pulse leaps hard somewhere lower.
“In your world, maybe,” Sigtryggr murmurs. “In my world a woman can own land, can leave a husband who fails her, can choose to stand with a shield and axe beside her brothers. We do not chain what we value. We worship it and we fight to keep it.”
You try to speak, but the words scatter, lost in the warmth of his body so close to yours you can feel every breath against your skin. A thick and soft fog gathers around your mind like a blanket you don’t want to kick away in the cold of the night.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he continues calmly, his thumb still grazing your bottom lip. “What do you pray for? What kind of forgiveness do you expect from your God? For what you have done…”
His eyes hold yours.
“…or for what you’re about to do?”
“I…” you stammer, the air fills your lungs but refuses to leave.
“Schhh, don’t fight against it,” his thumb presses firmer, just enough to part your lips. “Open wider.”
Your heart slams against your ribs and heat floods your face, your chest, your everything, shame and something far worse coiling together in your belly.
Your mouth opens, his thumb slides through your parted lips and you moan.
Oh God, it’s just a tiny, soft little sound, slipping out before you can catch it, but he hears it.
“Then let me answer that prayer tonight,” he whispers, leaning in until his mouth hovers a breath from yours.
He doesn’t kiss you, he simply holds you there, lips parted and breath mingling with his in hot uneven bursts, until something inside you snaps like dry stick underfoot. You have no name for it, no prayer or excuse to hide behind. Your hands simply lift on their own, your fingers thread deep into the thick strands of his hair and you pull him down, pressing his mouth to yours.
It’s only then that he kisses you, and it’s not soft, not slow or gentle. His lips crash against yours with no hesitation, no mercy.
He groans into the kiss, his tongue pushes past your lips without asking in deep, claiming strokes that make your head spin and steal every last coherent thought from your mind.
You moan into his mouth. It’s helpless and broken, and he drinks the sound from your lips with a satisfied smirk. His teeth catch your lower lip, tugging sharp enough to sting, then soothe it with a slow lick.
His hand pulls away the fabric covering your hair and they cascade down over your shoulders in thick waves. You gasp.
His hands trail over your hips and start pushing up your gown as he kneels down in front of you, grabs your leg and places it over his shoulder.
“What…” you try to protest but then you feel the first hot brush of his breath against your core and your whole body jolts. His tongue, broad and wet, unhurriedly laps a slow stripe from entrance to pearl and you cry out loud, as your knee threatens to buckle. Your hand flies to your mouth to stifle the sound as you brace yourself hard against the stone at your back, forgetting its true purpose.
“Oh God,” you whimper as Sigtryggr’s tongue starts moving against your cunt, flicking over your pearl in firm, steady strokes. He chuckles in satisfaction against your core, his tongue delves inside you and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop your hips from bucking forward, chasing the pleasure.
You are no longer in command of your body, it moves for him, obeys his every call, answers his every touch. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you try to steady yourself, your thighs tremble, and the desperate, filthy sounds that roll over your lips are the lewdest you have ever heard.
He seals his lips around your pulsing bundle and sucks, gentle at first, then firmer. Your vision fractures and stars burst behind your eyelids as you come apart with a sob.
He loves it, the little, desperate whines that roll over your lips as you squirm and try to push him away. The way you beg him to stop, only to twist your fingers harder into this hair and pull him back closer. The way you surrender to the pleasure he’s giving you. The way your hips shamelessly dance against his mouth because you can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of him. The way your thighs tremble around him as you come again and again on his tongue.
Your legs are too unsteady, the altar stone at your back the only thing keeping you upright, as he finally releases you and raises back to his feet. You feel his hands at the backs of your thighs as he lifts you up.
With hooded and half lid eyes you watch him undoing his breeches and freeing his cock.
He is bigger than you imagined, longer, thicker, the shaft veined and heavy, glistening at the tip from how long he’s been hard for you.
The sight steals the air from your lungs, you swallow hard, and whatever flickers across your face must speak louder than words.
Sigtryggr leans in slowly and this time the kiss is different. It’s soft and slow, his lips move over yours tenderly and with no rush, tongue licking teasingly into your mouth and coaxing a quiet trembling sigh from you.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers against your mouth. “I’m going to be gentle.”
He gives himself a few slow, firm strokes and steps fully between your parted thighs. The blunt head nudges your entrance, breaching you slightly without pushing inside. Your breath catches and your eyes squeeze shut.
“Look at me,” he orders and your lashes flutter open almost against your will.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, dragging his open mouth along the line of your jaw, “did your God ever make you tremble like this? Did he ever look at you the way I am looking at you now?”
You cannot answer with words, all you can do is stare back, and let the truth of his words sink into your bones.
Because the truth is no one has ever looked at you this way.
The blue in Sigtryggr's eyes is nearly gone now, it’s swallowed by dark pupils, by hunger and need.
But there is also so much more.
There is such unguarded admiration, as though you are not merely beautiful, but rare. He looks at you as if you’re something precious and fragile that the world has overlooked until this moment, until him.
The way he studies you feels like worship and conquest braided together. It’s a look of a man who has fought across seas and battlefields yet suddenly finds himself holding something worth more than any hoard of silver or land. Like you have been entrusted to him not as spoils, but as a gift he never expected and now cannot imagine living without.
It’s only now that you notice the tremor in him.
“Tell me you want this,” he whispers and his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, tracing the swollen curve of your lower lip where he bit and soothed it earlier. The touch is gentle, careful, in stark contrast to the thick press of him still teasing your entrance.
You cannot answer, words have deserted you, all you can do is a small, helpless nod while fresh heat floods your core and your hips twitch forward on instinct.
Sigtryggr exhales a low, shuddering sound that vibrates between you. His one hand cups the back of your neck, thumb stroking along your jaw, holding you steady while the other guides himself as he begins to push inside.
Your nails dig into his shoulders and a soft, broken whimper escapes your throat. He stills, letting you feel every thick pulse of him inside you.
“Breathe,” he whispers, thumb stroking the frantic pulse at your throat. “I’ve got you.”
Your breathing steadies, it’s still shallow and trembling, but steady, and only then does he push deeper, rolling his hips in a slow, careful glide.
You feel his cock parting your walls, the fullness is overwhelming, almost too much, your walls flutter and clutch around him, greedy despite the sting of the stretch.
“Let me look at you while I take you,” he rasps. “I want to see every flicker on your face when I fill you. Every flutter of your lashes. Every gasp. Every time those beautiful eyes lose focus because the pleasure is too much to hold. I want to watch you unravel. Because no god, no man, nothing will ever take this from me.”
You whimper as you try to keep your eyes on him and he thrusts into you, breaching your barrier and sheathing himself to the hilt. You cry out and he swallows the sound with his mouth as he kisses you, deeply, urgently.
“I’m yours now,” he whispers as he stills again, letting you adjust, letting you feel the impossible fullness, the way your body molds itself around him like it was made for this sin. “I swear this is the only time I will ever hurt you.”
You look up at him. His eyes are molten and all you can see in his warm and stormy, dark gaze is something you can’t name it other than love.
The real kind of, the consuming one, the one that takes everything you are and gives everything he has in return. The kind that burns you down to ash and then hands you fire-wings so you can rise again, brighter, wilder, forever changed.
“God forgive me, I’m yours,” you echo, voice trembling but sure and it doesn’t sound like surrender, it sounds like a promise, like a beginning.
A stray tear rolls down your cheek, and he kisses it away instantly, then he begins to move.
Slow and patient at first, eyes never leaving yours, he draws his cock out almost to the tip, letting you feel the drag of every veined inch along your walls. Then he rolls his hips forward again, sinking back deep in one smooth thrust.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he breathes against your lips, as he does it again. “Of us. From the first moment you stepped into that library. I knew I was meant to be yours.”
You moan, wrapping both arms around him to cling to his shoulders as he takes up the pace.
“I knew,” he rasps and presses his forehead to yours, “that the only purpose of conquering this damned city was to find you - my beautiful Valkyrie.”
There is no holding back the sounds now.
Soft whimpers, fractured moans, breathless gasps, they all pour from your lips as he thrusts into you harder and faster. The thick head of him nudges some hidden unknown spot inside you again and again, and the pleasure that coils white-hot with every thrust is almost too much to bear.
Your hips begin to move on their own, lifting, rolling, chasing every stroke, meeting every thrust, and he starts to breathe heavily with you.
Your hands are everywhere, your fingers tangle in his long hair, clutch the back of his neck. He holds you in place with one arm around your waist, the other braced on the altar behind you, as he ruts into you.
Sigtryggr's mouth finds yours again between thrusts, swallowing your cries and feeding you his own low groans.
Your cunt grips him like a living thing: tight, wet, pulsing around his length in helpless little flutters that pull him in deeper as though your body itself is trying to keep him there forever and he can’t remember ever having felt like this.
He can feel the way you flutter when he twitches inside you, the way your walls ripple and clutch around him. You’re the one claiming him now, drawing him under with every involuntary squeeze, every breathless clench that makes his hips jerk forward on instinct.
It feels like a siren song, low, hypnotic, thrumming through his blood and bone, calling to him, promising that if he ever tries to pull away the world will go dark and cold without you.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Take me. Claim me. Give in to the pleasure.”
And you do. Pleasure crashes through you in blinding waves, your thighs clamp around his hips, walls pulsing and fluttering around his cock in helpless, rhythmic spasms. Your head snaps back and your jaw slacks, eyes rolling back into your head as your climax washes over you and your whole body trembles against him.
He holds you through it, he holds you through every shudder, every moan, every gasp. His hips keep moving as he thrusts into you, harder and faster, while his lips whisper soft praise into your ear.
You go limp in his arms, a pliant, spent, trembling mess. He slams into you one final time and then he follows, he spills inside you and fills you with his seed, hips stuttering against you, breathy sounds rolling over his lips in a language you don’t understand.
His mouth finds your throat, teeth grazing your racing pulse, tasting the salt on your skin.
“Will you be my queen?” he asks and you sob a quiet, broken “Yes” as you pull him into another kiss.
Uhtred had always known he had feelings for you but unfortunately he hadn’t realise the weight those feelings carried until he was taken and sold to the slavers.
Life was less than bleak on the slave ship. His belly was left hungry and his body ached, wishing for the sweet release that death would bring to him. But even when the hunger was too much to bare he thought of only one thing. You. Uhtred made a silent vow to his gods that if they would let him live as a free man once again he would find you and he would take you as his woman.
Finan:~
It was just another average day. Finan was enjoying the peacefulness that life in Coccham brought him. He had headed down to the market to pick up a few things and that’s when it happened.
His eyes landed on you and immediately he felt it. Just seeing you filled him with a strong sense of euphoria and comfort. It was an odd sensation, the mixture of excitement and contentment that you brought to him. He almost felt like he would float away with the delight that swelled in his chest yet he was rooted to the spot as he watched you, unable to pull himself away.
That was when he realised how much he loved you and you were completely unaware of it.
Sihtric:~
The handsome Dane was never short of offers from women to warm his bed. He had a way with women, a charm that seemed to have them lining up at his door wherever he went and he was always eager to perform for them but not tonight.
Sihtric had found himself in a quiet room, behind a locked door with a very busty blonde woman who was more than eager to bed him. She made quick work undoing his belt and pulling down his trousers, wishing to taste the dark headed Dane but he just could not rise to the occasion. This was a first for Sihtric and although he felt a little ashamed and embarrassed all he could think about was you.
He did not want the woman in front of him, he didn’t want any woman in fact. He just wanted you. That’s when he realised that you owned his heart and subsequently his manhood also.
Osferth:~
Osferth did not know what love felt like. Unfortunately he had lived his life without truly ever experiencing it. He was the bastard son of the king, ripped from his mother’s arms and shipped off to a monastery to live as a child god.
Life had been cold for poor Osferth, the only bit of warmth he had ever felt was from you. You were another bastard, born from a noblewoman and a man who was not her husband and much like Osferth you were sent away to prevent your poor parents of looking at the sin they had created.
When Osferth was accepted into the group of men that followed Uhtred he paid his old life no attention, grateful to see it behind him. That was until tonight. As he laid on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the stars as the campfire gave out its last few flames, he found himself craving you and the warmth you had once given him. That’s when he realised he loved you and he always had loved you.
Sigtryggr:~
As Sigtryggr warmed his hands by the fire he couldn’t help but let his gaze wander, immediately finding you. He always seemed to find you.
You were stood with another man, laughing curtly at what he could only presume was a lame joke the man made in an attempt to make you laugh and unfortunately it had worked.
Sigtryggr was normally a very astute man. He was always calm in the face of tricky situations, calculating every move before he made them. Always able to maintain the level head that made him such a formidable warrior but as he watched the man stood in front of you clearly undressing you with his eyes he felt his blood boil. It took all of his willpower to stop himself rushing over and pummelling the fool right infront of you and that’s when he realised that he loved you. You stripped him of his clear mind, making him nothing more than a man in love. A man in love with you.
Edward:~
The prince realised his true feelings for you after his mother handed him a list of what she remarked were “eligible ladies of nobility,”
“Eligible for what?” He asked confused.
“To be your future queen,” she said with a smile.
It should have excited him, the idea of a wife, someone to bare his royal heirs but instead it filled him with a gut wrenching sadness as he realised just exactly how he felt about you.
You had been the woman warming his bed at night and keeping his mind busy with his constant thoughts of you but it was only now that he was told he would be married to another that he realised what you shared was not just lust, he loved you.
Sihtric sighed as he raised his feet up from the ground and rested them on top of the stool in front of him. “I need ale.” He spoke directly to Osferth who had just taken a seat opposite him. “I’ll get it shall I?” Osferth offered sarcastically, knowing it was an order from the Dane. “Good boy,” Sihtric teased as he sunk deeper into his seat, another exhausted sigh escaping him as the young monk stood up.
“What are you doing?” The young Dane asked, noticing Finan who was sat rigid, neck strained to look through the single window at the front of the ale house.
“Waiting.” The Irishman
spoke absentmindedly.
“Again?” Sihtric asked with a frown, sitting up to look in the direction Finan was so focused on.
Sihtric watched in amusement as he observed his friend sit, gaze fixed on the small window. Finan resembled a well trained hound, sat waiting eagerly for their master to return home.
“I believe the next round is yours,” Osferth said as he placed three flagons of ale down on the table, clumsily spilling some of the beverage as he did so. The liquid splashing over Finan finally pulled him back to reality, away from the small window.
“Oi watch ya meat head.” Finan scolded the younger man as he tried to wipe the ale from his clothes.
Osferth muttered a quick sorry before taking a seat and picking up one of the remaining cups.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Uhtred addressed his men as he approached the table, picking up what should have been Finan’s ale. “My meeting ran over,” Uhtred explained after a large sip of the much needed beverage.
“How is the lady of Mercia these days?” Sihtric asked with a grin causing Osferth to chuckle quietly.
“She is well.” Uhtred said quickly, the tone of his voice a little too serious.
“I bet she is now after your visit.” Osferth teased, trying to hold in his laughter as Sihtric chuckled loudly.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Uhtred snapped.
“Ah well my lord you see when a man and a woman love each other very much-“ Sihtric burst into a fit of laughter before he was able to finish causing Osferth to spill more ale in a fot of laughter.
Uhtred began to lecture his men when he took note in the lack of quips made by his right hand man. Finan was usually the one to lead the charge in verbal assaults, throwing jokes around at every god given opportunity. Uhtred paused his rant momentarily, turning his attention to Finan who had not yet spoken a word.
“Finan? What’s wrong?” Uhtred asked, his eyes skimming over to the small window and then back to the Irishman.
“Sorry- what were ya saying about your lady?” Finan asked halfheartedly, pretending to take interest in what his lord was talking about.
“What are you watching the window for? Are we expecting company?” Uhtred reached for the dagger in his waste band as he began to grow uneasy.
“Don’t pay him any attention, he’s waiting for apples.” Sihtric waved a hand dismissively. Uhtred frowned, confusion clear on his face.
“Is it that time already?” Osferth asked with a smirk.
“Almost,” Sihtric answered before taking a sip of his ale.
“What are you arslings talking about?” Uhtred asked growing impatient.
“Everyday around the same time we come to this alehouse.” Osferth began to explain.
“And it’s not because we enjoy the ale.” Sihtric grumbled as he turned his nose up at the last sip of his beverage.
“No, it’s because our friend here demands it.” Osferth nodded his head towards Finan.
“But why?” Uhtred asked. The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the loud screech of Finan’s stool against the dirty wooden floorboards. Uhtred and his men watched as Finan quickly rushed out of the small house without uttering so much as a goodbye to them.
“Would you like a hand my lady?” Finan called out in his politest voice.
“Surely you have other things you must attend to Finan?” You asked with a smile as you watched the Irishman approach you.
“Nothing as important as this,” the Irishman said with a smile. You stepped aside as he took hold of the handles of your apple cart.
“We come here because that simple headed fool is useless with women.” Sihtric joked as he watched his friend through the small window.
“So you mean to tell me that you come here every day so Finan can carry an apple cart?” Uhtred said with a look of exasperation.
“Yep,” Osferth nodded with a smile. “Every day we come here so he can wait for her.”
“There she goes and there he follows.” Sihtric said with a chuckle.
“I think it’s rather sweet.” Osferth said earnestly.
“I think it’s desperate.” Sihtric teased.
“I think I need to give you more work.” Uhtred chuckled.
The ale flowed a little too easily, the towns celebrations almost in full swing as every one prepared for the feast, inhibitions and morals loosening more and more, if that was possible for the town of Rumcofa.
You handed another loaf of bread to Ingrith and she gawped at you. “Another?” She questioned. You just gestured to the men sat outside your home, all hacking into the spread that was meant for the blood month feast.
“Oi,” she swatted them away. “This is for after the hunt!” She scolded causing the men to scarper away.
“Now do ya see what I have to put up with?” Finan said to Sihtric, both men smirking at the blonde who swatted her husband lovingly.
“So cruel to such an old man,” you teased causing Finan to throw a piece of the bread you had baked at your head.
“Are you going now?” Ingrith asked her husband who nodded before planting a kiss on her lips.
“Happy hunting,” you said to Sihtric who smiled and nodded his head slightly in thanks. “May Ullr bless you,” you said reaching forward to the Mjolnir that the Dane wore around his neck. “I suppose this will give you all the luck you need,” you smiled, letting his necklace go. Sihtric watched you in awe, shocked that you knew that Thor’s hammer was a symbol of good luck for the Dane’s.
“Come on lover boy,” Finan grabbed the younger Dane by the back of his scruff, tugging him to follow. Sihtric waved before he turned and followed the Irishman to the hunt.
The hunt had been a success which only caused the townspeople to further indulge in the ale that had been stockpiled for the occasion, including you.
You laughed loudly as you danced around the fire with the other unwed women around you. Your mother would have scolded you if she was still alive, chastising you for behaving like a pagan. You had to admit you had began to find the faith of the Dane’s more and more alluring ever since arriving at the town of Rumcofa, especially after you had met a certain dark haired Dane.
Sihtric watched you dance, truthfully he had watched you all night, he was thankful that his friends were so overly intoxicated to spare him the embarrassment of their teasing.
He smiled to himself as he watched you stumble. Your movements had slowly gotten more and more uncoordinated as the night progressed, the ale making your once graceful steps clumsier but alluring nonetheless.
You laughed loudly as you twirled around, Sihtric thought you looked like a little girl the way you spun around and giggled hysterically. There was something so pure in you that he felt he had always been denied due to his cruel childhood. He couldn’t help but let his smile grow, your laughter becoming infectious to him.
Although you were thoroughly enjoying yourself the mixture of alcohol and dizziness from your twirling sent you completely off balance, tumbling to the floor.
Sihtric stood quickly, dashing forward to help you back on to your feet and that’s when he felt it, the tipsiness in his own head, shifting his centre of gravity as he tried to steady himself.
“Sihtric,” you exclaimed happily at the sight of him. “Dance with me,” you begged as he lifted you to stand on your feet. Sihtric paused, he was not one to dance, especially not in front of so many people but as he looked at you, staring up at him with those big puppy dog eyes begging him, he just could not refuse you.
Sihtric reached out his hang to take yours before he spun you around causing you to squeal happily.
You weren’t sure how long you had kept the poor Dane on his feet to dance with you, it was definitely longer than he would have allowed had you both been sober.
You both laughed as you swayed. Stopping to take a bow once the singer had stopped singing momentarily.
“Do you want another drink?” He asked, your hand still clasped tightly in his own.
“I should not,” you said sensibly, placing a hand on your head. “I will pay greatly for this tomorrow,” you chuckled, swaying ever so slightly as the ale went to your head.
“Come, let’s get you some fresh air.” He pulled gently, guiding you away from the crowd of drunks. You walked a short distance, allowing Sihtric to lead you wherever he was taking you.
He stopped and ushered for you to sit down on the bank of the river before he took his place beside you. You inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the dewy grass beneath you.
“Have you fetched me here to bathe?” You teased. Sihtric’s cheeks blushed a slight shade of red causing you to nudge your shoulder against his playfully before you both chuckled lowly.
“I just thought you’d like it here,” Sihtric plucked a blade of grass from the dirt, tying it up in a knot and fiddling with it.
“I like the river,” you said honestly. “I like it more when I’m with you.” You inched closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder. Sihtric returned the affectionate gesture, resting his own head on yours gently.
“I do not like dancing.” He proclaimed aloud causing you to frown slightly. “But I like dancing with you.” You smirked, sitting up straight to look at him. He offered you a genuine smile, one that caused your chest to squeeze tightly before a pleasant tingly feeling spread through you.
You leant towards him, pausing slightly to watch if he would follow your lead. You felt his breath fan over your face, a strong smell of ale accompanying it. Although you had initiated the kiss it was Sihtric that followed through. The hairs of his moustache tickled at your skin momentarily before you felt his lips press against yours. They were so warm, so gentle as he kissed you.
You placed your hand on his chest, steadying yourself against him slightly as you returned the kiss. Sihtric wrapped his fingers around the hand you had placed against him, giving it a gentle squeeze.
You had always imagined kissing Sihtric would be wild, animalistic almost and this was anything but that, not that you were complaining. The kiss was sweet, soft and gentle while still managing to express just how much the Dane wanted you.
You weren’t entirely sure who pulled away first. Sihtric exhaled, a gently sound of amusement and contentment escaping him as you looked at you. He ran his thumb across your cheek, giving you a look of absolute adoration. You placed your head against his shoulder once more, his head resting atop of yours again as you made a mental note to thank Odin for letting your path cross with the Dane’s.
The battle came to a steady halt. The land surrounding you was strewn with dead bodies, the bodies of your enemy’s and the bodies of your kin. You could hear nothing but the loud thudding of your heart beating in your chest and the shallow breaths escaping you as you tried to steady yourself. There was finally silence after the cacophony of battle that had previously filled the air. That was until the surviving men raised their swords and cried out in victory, an animalistic whaling of celebration and mourning.
You dropped your sword, the weight of it finally catching up with you. Your hands shook without it, as if you had been clinging on to it for dear life, well you supposed you had been. Without it you would have been one of the fallen soldiers laying face down in the mud.
You joined in the cheering, fist raised to the gods as you let out your own battle cry. Your eyes scanned through the battleground, a flood of relief washing over you as you spotted Sihtric and Osferth stood with Uhtred, all of them alive and well. And then you spotted him, Finan.
Immediately you were drawn to him and he you, as if an invisible thread was being pulled by the gods sending you rushing to one another. Once you were within his reach he grasped hold of you, his arms pulling you into a crushing hug as he took a moment to inhale your scent. A perfume of sweat, blood and fear but with a hint of something he was so familiar with, the aroma of you. Finan pulled away quickly, too quickly for your liking. You would have attempted to pull him back close to you if he hadn’t crushed his lips agains yours in a bruising kiss.
It took you a moment to react. You had never had any sort of physical intimacy with Finan before, fearing that crossing such a line would compromise your friendship. As if there was an unwritten rule somewhere that both of you seemed to follow out of fear of what would happen if you danced that line.
It didn’t take you long to reciprocate the Irishman’s advances though. You quickly kissed him back with equal amounts of need and longing.
Finan’s hands gripped at your face to deepen the already heavy kiss, one of his hands snaking round the back of your head, ringers knotting themselves into the tangled mess that was your hair. He needed to hold you close to him, as close as physically possible to make sure that this was real, you were here in front of him, unharmed and allowing his tongue to slip past your lips.
You gripped at his leather armour, holding onto him as tightly as you could out of fear that he would pull away too quickly once again.
You pushed at him slightly, breaking the kiss in need of air. Although he allowed the kiss to finish, both of you a panting mess, he still held you firm against him, whispering a prayer of thanks to his god before he pressed his forehead against yours.
Finan belched loudly, the men around him laughing while you grimaced. “Oh don’t pretend to be a lady,” Finan teased as he wiped the ale from his whiskers with the back of his hand.
“Excuse you, I’ll have you know I am the finest lady you’ll ever meet,” you shot back at him playfully before taking the cup of ale from his hands and chugging it back.
Uhtred smiled as he watched Finan jump to his feet and attempt to retrieve his stolen beverage before you could finish it.
The playful commotion came to a halt once Sihtric had taken his seat around the fire with you all.
“Did you get them?” Osferth asked excitedly.
Sihtric smiled as he threw the deck of cards to the young monk. They were a little worse for wear as you thought as you eyed the grubby playing cards but they would do.
“What are ya waiting for?” Finan returned back to his seat. “Deal us all a hand boy,” he clapped his hands together, eager to play.
As Osferth shuffled the deck you watched as each man pulled out their pouches of silver, each throwing a number of coins onto the floor. Uhtred took note of your puzzled expression, “we play for coin.” He explained with a smile.
Osferth held out your deck of cards but you shook your head, “I have no silver to wager.” You tried not to pout but you could not help it, you were so disappointed.
“You don’t have to play with coin,” Sihtric spoke.
“What else could I offer?” You asked.
“You are a woman,” he said with a cheeky smile. “You have other things to offer,” the men all chuckled. If it were a different group of men you would have taken his comment as a sigh of disrespect, you would have felt uneasy at such a joke but the four men sat around you were no threat and you knew that.
“I will pay for your first round,” Uhtred threw a single silver coin onto the floor with the other pieces of silver. You smiled, nodding your head in thanks to the long haired man sat opposite you. On your first encounter with the lord you had thought him to be a dangerous man, someone you wished to keep your distance from but soon you had come to know him as a gentleman, a kind man, especially towards you.
“You’d best try to win some silver this round girl,” Finan teased before the game began.
You rubbed at your temples, an exasperated sigh escaping you before you threw your cards down in defeat. Sihtric smirked as he picked up the silver coins, his victory making him smug as he did so.
“You almost had him,” Osferth said patting your back. You had picked up the game pretty well for your first time, learning the game quickly and almost winning the prize of coin for yourself.
“Another round?” Finan asked, he was eager to win his silver back from the smug Dane. The men all threw their coins into the circle once more.
You looked at Uhtred, a slight pleading look on your face. Your lord chuckled, “I offered to pay for your first game,” he smiled. “Looks like you will have to wager your feminine charm this time,” he teased causing you to pout.
“Fine.” You held out your hand to Osferth, waiting for your cards.
“What are you playing with?” Finan asked with a grin.
“A kiss.” You blurted out quickly, the idea of wagering yourself causing your cheeks to flush a slight shade of red.
Osferth handed you your cards and you began to inspect them, an excuse to ignore the men sat chuckling infront of you.
You played the game ferociously, with more to lose this time you simply could not allow yourself to be beaten again. Finan was the first to lose, he blamed Osferth for giving him a “crooked set of cards.” Next was Osferth, the poor monk never seemed to win at these types of things.
The game you were playing was a danish one so naturally to two Dane’s excelled at it.
You placed your card down, smirking at the expression on Sihtric’s face as he realised you had bested him.
“You little witch,” he teased before dropping his remaining cards to the floor. Finan cheered at Sihtric’s lose, causing the Dane to strike him playfully in the arm.
“And then there was two,” Uhtred spoke pulling your attention back to the game.
“Not for much longer lord,” you teased.
Uhtred would not admit it but something stirred deep inside him when you called him that. “Tell me, have you been kissed by a lord before?” He asked as he placed one of his cards down.
“No,” you answered quickly before placing your own card down on top of his. “And I have no intention to.” You said smug knowing your card had beat his.
“Now now,” Uhtred plucked a card from his deck. “If it is your fate you would be foolish to deny it,” he spoke so slowly, his deep voice dancing around you with every word. You fought back the shudder that wished to tear through you from the way he was looking at you. The desire in his eyes becoming more and more evident with each minute that passed and he did nothing to try to hide it.
Uhtred placed his card down, the king. Your mouth fell agape as the realisation of your lose hit you.
“Fate is all,” he smirked gently before he picked up his winnings from the floor. You sat rooted to your spot as Finan stood announcing his need to piss. Sihtric stood with him and declared that he would be going to check his traps for rabbits.
Osferth remained seated, warming his hands with the fire that still burned. “Osferth,” Uhtred spoke. “Go and fetch water from the stream,” his lord commanded him. Osferth, now realising that he was interrupting something, stood abruptly and rushed off to the direction of the river bed.
Uhtred stood over you, his hand outstretched to help you to your feet. You took it, letting him pull you up.
“You do not have to kiss me,” he said with a gentle smile.
“But I wagered it. The men would think me a coward if I do not pay.” You said.
“And I will tell them to hold their tongues.” He said it with such an authority you could not help but shiver slightly. “It was just a game,” Uhtred picked up a stick, poking it at the fire causing the flames the grow higher.
“Uhtred, I am a woman of my word and you do me an injustice by not collecting on my debt.” You stepped closer to him, eyes watching his carefully.
“Is that so?” He asked dropping the stick. “I would not want to offend you my lady,” he smiled as he closed the gap between the pair of you. His lips brushed against yours gently but only briefly. The peck left you wanting and Uhtred could see it plain as day.
“The next time I kiss you will be because you begged for it,” he whispered against your ear before he turned back to the fire, a large grin spread across his lips. He was enjoying this, enjoying how much you had clearly wanted him to kiss you more.
~~~~~~~
This was supposed to be part of a preference I was writing for all of the last kingdom boys but I made this too long so thought it would be better on its own😅
Prompt: While staying at the local whore house with his men Sihtric mistakes you for a whore.
Sihtric removed his hood as he stepped inside the ale house, shaking the rain from his body like a wet dog causing Finan to grimace as he wiped his face clean of the rain water Sihtric had shed onto him.
“About time,” Uhtred called from a table deep within the tavern. His men quickly made their way to him, each taking a seat opposite him.
“Lord,” Finan spoke. “Any news?” He asked, voice low as he side eyed the men sat in ear shot.
Uhtred’s shook his head before taking a sip of his drink. “The lady wishes us to stay and wait,” he was referring to the lady of Mercia who had once again asked Uhtred for his assistance.
“Wait?” Sihtric asked. “And do what?”
Uhtred smiled at his brothers before answering, “drink, eat,” he gestured to a group of women stood close by, all of which were hungrily eying up the three warriors. “Take a woman,” his last words caused his men to smirk.
Finan leant back in his chair, his hand brushing against his thick beard as he eyed up the women. “This is a whore house?” He asked with a grin on his face.
“It is an ale house that offers- additional services.” Uhtred said causing his men to laugh amongst themselves.
“Ale lords?” The barmaid appeared at their table with a large jug of ale and some cups. Uhtred nodded and so the barmaid poured each man a drink, passing it to them one by one.
“Well aren’t you lovely,” Finan lulled out causing you to blush. “Why don’t you take a seat with us,” he gestured to the empty seat beside Uhtred.
You smiled, “I think I have a lady better suited to keep you company lord,” you quipped back, nodding your head to one of the lady’s near by. Then men turned their attention to the curvy brunette now stood in front of them. Finan eyed her hungrily as she curtseyed for them. You took your leave once Uhtred and had pulled her on to his lap, much to the Irishman’s dismay.
Although the woman sat with them was very beautiful, with rather large assets as Finan would put it, Sihtric couldn’t help but let his gaze wander off, following you around the tavern as you bounced from table to table, pouring ale for any patron with silver to offer.
He found himself intrigued as he watched you seemingly float around the room, offering smiles to every man that looked your way but refuse every advance that was made at you.
“Ya’ like that one do ya’?” Finan spoke from beside him. Sihtric nodded, continuing to watch you.
“She’s bewitching,” Sihtric chose his words carefully. Finan chuckled.
“Well she wasn’t too keen on me so have at it,” the Irishman teased before he began to chat up another lady of the night.
The evening crept on, time passing as more ale was drank in the small tavern. Uhtred had left his men, choosing to instead spend his night with the woman you had recommended to him. Sihtric watched on as Finan whispered sweet nothings to the woman that was sat on his lap.
“Do you need company lord?” A woman asked sitting beside him. Sihtric pondered for a moment before shaking his head to dismiss her.
“Jesus will ya just go and ask her how much?” Finan said noticing his danish friend refusing yet another woman’s advances.
Sihtric shot him a dirty look before sipping the last of his ale. “She’s a looker, I’d pay her now before one of them beats ya to it.” He nodded in the direction of the other men sat eyeing you hungrily as you worked.
Sihtric sighed, Finan was right, although he would never admit it out loud. He stood and slowly made his way to you.
“Lady,” his voice was soft as he spoke. “Do you not tire of your work?” He asked as you finished wiping down the empty table. You tucked the rag into your apron, dusting your hands off as you did so.
“A woman’s work is never done,” you smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
Sihtric returned the same smile on his lips, leaning forward he hooked his finger under your chin causing a deep blush to rise up from your chest all the way to your cheeks.
“How much does a lady like you cost for the night?” He purred out, his lips inches away from you.
You didn’t answer at first, instead you stared at him wide eyed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I am not-“ Sihtric furrowed his brows slightly as he watched you stammer. He had never known a whore to blush so much.
“Lord I am not- that type of lady.” You finally spat out, your brows knitted together as you frowned at him.
Sihtric’s expression seemed to mirror your previous look of shock as he felt a blush creeping over his own cheeks. “You are not-?” He looked for the right word but you beat him to it.
“A whore?” You spat out before shaking your head.
Sihtric pulled away quickly, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck uncomfortably as he cleared his throat, wishing the gods would make the ground beneath him open and swallow him up.
“I can only apologise lady, I only thought- because the other women-“ he looked over at the woman sat on his friends lap.
You couldn’t help but smile slightly as you watched the Dane in front of you fumble over his words. “I understand,” you said causing a wave of relief to wash over Sihtric. “But I do not offer such services,” you said with a small chuckle.
Sihtric nodded, a grin on his face. “That is a shame,” he winked before turning to leave you in peace.
You turned away quickly, once again cleaning the already clean table as another blush crept over your skin at his words.
Prompt: Finan seeks comfort from you after taking a man’s life
The night air was cold. The kind of cold that whipped at bare flesh if anyone was foolish enough to leave theirs exposed. Finan’s breath was visible as he ambled over the frost covered ground, each deep exhale coming out like a puff of smoke.
He lifted his aching arm, pressing his palm firmly against the front door before pushing it open sluggishly, almost as if the door had been far heavier than it actually was.
Finan sighed as he used the last of his strength to drag himself through the threshold of his dark home. He shuffled to his bed, stopping momentarily to take your sleeping figure in. You looked so peaceful as you slept under the thick pile of furs, completely at peace in your slumber.
Finan felt a twang of guilt ping through his chest as he watched you, knowing he was about to pull you from your rest for the selfish reason of his needs.
He did not have to touch you to wake you. He didn’t need to shake you or call your name or cruelly pull the furs back to make you stir. Instead you awoke on your own, your eyes immediately finding him at the foot of your bed as if you had sensed his presence alone.
You sat up, hurriedly shuffling to the edge of the bed to reach out to him. And that was it. At the sight of your open arms Finan crumbled. The rigid fierceness that normally seemed to radiate from him melted away almost instantly, a strangled sob escaping him as he dropped to his knees at your feet, his head in your lap and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He wept.
You stroked his messy dark hair, ignoring the wet sticky substance that seemed to sit amongst his tousled locks. Finan continued to sob against you, as if your touch was opening him up, hacking away at the thick impenetrable walls that encompassed him.
“I’m sorry,” he chocked out against you, his grip tightening, becoming uncomfortable but you knew he needed this. He needed you. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. You said nothing, just shushing him as you continued to stroke him the way a mother would stroke a sobbing child.
Your hands ran down from his hair, over his soaked cheek causing him to eventually look up at you. You offered him a solemn smile, rubbing loving circles against his cheek. He stared up at you, his eyes conveying so much pain and hurt. He was a sorry sight to behold. His hair was a mess, his eyes wild and sad and his skin was splattered in the crimson colour you had grown far too familiar with since falling in love with the Irishman.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said gently before helping him to his feet.
Finan sat on the floor, his blood stained clothes discarded. You dipped the rag in the lukewarm water, wishing it was a little warmer for him but it was late and you didn’t have time to wait for the fire to warm it anymore.
You rang out the rag slightly before wiping it against Finan’s arm. He was covered in both blood and dirt. It would have been easier for him to just bathe in the river but that was not an option on such a cold night. It had become a sort of ritual now for you both. On the nights like this where Finan had taken another man’s life he would come to you and almost repent as you cleaned his skin and soul.
Ending another man’s life wasn’t easy, even if it was something Finan had done more times than he wished to count. It was his duty, to kill the men that his lord ordered him to. Bad men, he often told himself but were they truly bad? Did these men have anyone that would miss them? Loved ones that would grieve their loss? Did these men truly deserve to die? These were the questions that would plague the Irishman’s thoughts on nights like this and so he would push the thoughts away, burying them deep within himself to avoid thinking about them any further. The problem with pushing things down is eventually they get heavy, the weight too much to bare causing men like Finan to break and spiral. That’s where you came into things, his light and saving grace. You were the angel who cleansed him of sin, both his mind, soul and body.
You dipped the rag into the bowl of crimson liquid, the once clean water taking on the colour of the blood that mixed into it with every dip of the rag, wringing it out before brushing it over Finan’s cheek. His eyes were shut but he almost trembled with each swipe of the cloth in your hands. You wiped the rag against his cheek once more, this time stopping as Finan took hold of your wrist, holding your touch still against him. He pressed a chaste kiss against the inside of your wrist, a deep shaky breath escaping him as he seemed to ground himself against you.
You leant forward, your lips pressing a kiss against his forehead, then his nose before finally connecting with his lips.
Finan’s hands cupped your cheeks before he pulled away slightly to look at you. His eyes searched your features, for what you were unsure. “I pray to god you never stop looking at me like that,” he spoke, his voice not much more than a whisper.
You smiled gently before you stroked your thumb against his cheek. “And I pray to god you return home to me every day,”
Finan returned your smile only his held a sadness deep with in it. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes shut once more. You would sit like this for some time before making your way to your bed. It was bitterly cold, the fire not strong enough to fight off the painful chill that circled you but you would not complain. Finan needed you and here you would stay.
Prompt: Finan, Sihtric and Osferth are busy fawning over the new barmaid at the local tavern when a bet emerges to secure a kiss from the beautiful lady but who will be the victor?
Just a heads up… you’re not the barmaid😂 this is just a little Drabble I cooked up and thought it was funny so hopefully one of you will enjoy it🤪
You sat at the table, tucking into your dinner as the men sat around you continued to ogle the new barmaid.
“She’s spectacular,” Finan declared as he watched her from a distance.
“Isn’t she just.” Osferth agreed while observing the pretty girl.
“She is a sight to behold, I shall thank the gods for giving us such a beautiful woman to look at.” Sihtric said from beside you, causing you to roll your eyes.
“Christ boys, rather than watching the poor girl like she is your prey go and talk to her.” You said through a mouthful of meat.
“Do you think she will like me?” Sihtric said, straightening up his armour.
“Only if she likes little pretty boys,” Finan answered sarcastically.
“You think you would have a better chance?”
Sihtric chuckled.
“Better than you sunshine. A girl like that needs a real man.” The Irishman quipped back causing you to once again roll your eyes.
“Then let’s make it a competition,” Sihtric leaned forward, challenging the older man.
“Oh it’s on,” Finan mimicked his actions. “The first one of us to get a kiss is the victor.”
“What about me? Why am I being dismissed so easily?” Osferth asked earnestly.
“She is a Dane, she would eat you alive,” Sihtric said with a smirk.
“Well Finan is a Christian also,” the young boy argued causing the rest of you to chuckle.
“Yes but I’m Irish,” Finan said cockily, the same smirk on his face.
You smiled at the Christian, rubbing his hand reassuringly as Sihtric and Finan readied themselves for battle.
Finan stood first, his hand running through his hair in attempt to comb it down. As he went to take his first step his foot was quickly swiped from underneath him, sending him tumbling down.
He quickly steadied himself against the table before his backside made contact with the floor, shooting a murderous look at the Dane who had tripped him.
“Bastard,” he grumbled as he watched Sihtric make his way to the barmaid.
You and Osferth shared an amused look, enjoying the show your friends were putting on for you.
As Sihtric approached the pretty girl he fiddled with his arm rings, making sure they were clearly visible. He cleared his throat before he began talking to her. You weren’t quite sure what exactly he was saying but you could make out the word beautiful. Clearly he was complementing the lady.
Sihtric, although a fairly reserved man, was what many would refer to as a whore. His wild danish look seemed to make women melt almost instantly, like putty in his hands. It wasn’t often he had an empty bed.
Finan watched eagerly, praying that the barmaid would reject the handsome Dane for some reason.
“I believe she likes him?” Osferth questioned allowed as you all watched.
“No chance,” Finan said shaking his head, “she’s bored still, look at her!” He gestured towards them and you couldn’t help but agree with the Irishman, she truly looked completely uninterested as Sihtric continued to yap at her. You all watched as she shook her head before she turned away from him.
You and Osferth looked elsewhere as Sihtric trudged back to your table, a look of defeat and embarrassment present on his sharp features.
“Ah what’s the matter?” Finan teased with a large grin on his lips. “Was she not interested our your lad?” He teased, earning a clip across the ear from you.
Sihtric slumped back down into his feet, grabbing at his cup of ale and muttering a curse at Finan. “Go ahead old man,” Sihtric nodded his head at the direction of the barmaid. “Show us how it’s done.”
Finan stood from his seat and strolled over to the barmaid with an air of confidence surrounding him. “Hello darlin,” the Irishman spoke.
“Cocky bastard,” Sihtric grumbled earning a chuckle from Osferth. “Look at him puffing out his chest.” You couldn’t help but laugh, Sihtric was right, Finan was stood with his chest puffed out as he tried to woo over the barmaid.
Finan’s conversation seemed to outlive Sihtric’s. Some time seemed to of passed, your dinner plate was now empty and all of your cups needed refilling.
“I shall get us another round,” Osferth said as he collected the cups.
“It’s a shame there’s not a barmaid to do it,” Sihtric jabbed as he continued to watch his friend chat up the pretty girl he had failed to win over.
“Don’t be bitter,” you smiled. “There’s plenty of other women to warm your bed.” Sihtric smirked, his eyes moving through the different faces of women in the tavern.
That’s when you heard the harsh slapping sound near by. You turned back to see Finan holding his cheek as the barmaid stomped off with a very unpleasant look on her face.
“What happened?” You questioned as Finan returned back to the table, his cheek red raw and throbbing.
“She was not much of a lady.” Was all the Irishman said.
Osferth set the drinks down on the table before speaking, “he made a rather vulgar comment about her breasts,” he said fighting back the grin on his face.
Sihtric bellowed with laughter as he grabbed a cup of ale. “Then I am the victor,” he raised his cup in a cheers to himself.
“What?” Finan said quickly, “victor of what? The deal was to get a kiss,” he said, grabbing the ale from Sihtric’s hand and taking a sip.
“Yes and although neither of us succeeded in getting a kiss, you were slapped.” Sihtric said with a smirk. “That is the opposite of a kiss.” He said before snatching his beverage back.
The pair of them continued to bicker back and forth, Sihtric claiming himself the winner while Finan demanded a rematch.
“Children- children,” you called, standing to your feet. You picked up your cup, chugging back the ale quickly before placing the now empty cup onto the table. “You are both sore losers but the game is not over,”
Sihtric and Finan shared a look of confusion before Finan spoke, “what are you on about?”
“I am still yet to attempt, now once I have succeeded I would like two pieces of coin from you both.” You said as you stretched out your hand for them to shake.
Sihtric and Finan both erupted into a fit of laughter, Sihtric quickly agreed by shaking your hand first followed by Finan who wished you luck.
You quickly approached the bar maid who was now clearing a table at the other end of the tavern. “Lady,” you called getting her attention. “I would like to apologise on behalf of the men that approached you tonight,” you said gesturing over to the table of your friends who were all watching eagerly.
“Mmm,” she grumbled slightly. “You do not keep very good company,” she said.
“You are right, while they are not smart men they do have silver, I would like to propose an idea, a way for the both of us to get some coin out them,” she side eyed the men before looking back at you.
“Go on?” Was all she said.
“If you give me a kiss I will not only share the coin they give me but I can guarantee they will not bother you again.” The barmaid paused momentarily, weighing up the offer you had given her before she nodded, leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on your lips.
You turned to your friends, fighting back the urge to laugh as you watched them stare wide eyed, mouths agape. You returned to the table with your hand outstretched ready to collect your winnings.
“How-“ Finan tried to question before placing his two coins in your hand. Sihtric shook his head as he handed you his, a smirk on his face as he did so. You hadn’t expected Osferth to add two coins from his own purse and so when he did so you could not help but laugh at the monk who had clearly enjoyed your small display of affection with the barmaid.
“And that boys is how you do it,” you teased before turning around and walking over to the barmaid to hand over her share of silver.
Prompt: you are Sihtric’s lover and you need to tell him you are carrying his child
The ale house was busy, every table occupied with men all chattering loudly amongst themselves. You paused briefly, eyes scanning the place as you searched for the familiar face of your lover who you knew would be sat at one of the tables with his men.
It didn’t take you long to spot him, thanks to the boyishly loud Irishman sat beside him. Finan’s voice bellowed through the establishment as he laughed loudly.
Once you had zeroed in on the back of his head you approached him, delicately weaving through the many tables and chairs to get to him, ensuring you did not get in anyone’s way.
You were greeted warmly by Finan who threw his arms open to welcome you to join them at their table. Sihtric’s hand immediately caressing over your backside before resting on the small of your back. “I did not know you planned to join us,” he said with an affectionate smile.
“Here you can finish this off for me,” Osferth said as he pushed his jug of ale towards you. The young monk appeared to be struggling to keep up with the more experienced warriors he was sat with.
You shook your head to decline, “thank you for the offer but I do not plan on drinking with you tonight,” you smiled politely. Finan booed at you loudly earning him a playful whack from the Dane beside you.
“If you’re here to claim your lover boy you’ll have to wait a bit longer,” Finan teased with a playful smirk on his lips as he took another sip from his cup.
“Actually I was hoping to speak to you briefly,” you said to Sihtric quietly. The Dane simply tapped his lap, encouraging you to sit.
You sighed internally, wishing Sihtric had understood that you were asking for a private moment with him, one without his men.
“Ooooh Sihtric I think your lady is in need of your attention~” Finan teased once again, a smirk on his lips as he sniggered with Osferth causing a deep blush to creep up from your chest.
It was no secret that you and Sihtric were lovers in every sense of the word. Although the Dane had not fully claimed you as his woman by taking you as his wife he was not secretive of his affection for you. He would kiss you and touch you as he pleased, not caring who could see him and when other men played you any attention he was always quick to chase them away.
You felt Sihtric tugging at your hand, pulling you to sit in his lap as his friends continued to snicker as they teased the pair of you. Normally the playful jabs would not bother you, they held a lot of truth as the pair of you were known to abandon the group frequently so that you could have private moments to satisfy your needs, but tonight you were feeling a little tender, insecure even.
“Sihtric,” your voice was firmer than you had intended. “I need to speak to you,” any smile that had previously been on your lips had vanished, your face stern as you peered into the dark headed Dane in hopes you could somehow communicate with him what you wanted to say without actually saying it.
Sihtric frowned, throwing a sideways glance at Finan who was no longer laughing or teasing you anymore. “What is wrong?” Sihtric asked, returning the same sternness in his voice. “Just spit it out,”
You sighed, this time for everyone to hear. Closing your eyes to search for the courage to say what you had needed to tell him, the sole reason you had ventured into the ale house tonight.
“Fine, if you will not take a moment to speak with me in private,” the annoyance in your voice clear as you spoke. “I am with child.” Your eyes left his momentarily as you said it, you had been nervous to tell him the news that he was to be a father. Sihtric was a good man, the sweetest man you had ever shared a bed with and although you knew he loved you, you had felt apprehensive to share the news with him as he was not your husband and this child had been created out of wedlock.
The men in front of you were silent. Deadly silent as they all stared at you. Your eyes once more found Sihtric’s and you nodded your head, a gesture for him to speak.
Sihtric remained rigid in his spot, until he felt the sharp kick from Finan underneath the table. The Irishman was spurring him on to answer.
“It is mine?” He asked causing the previously apprehensive feeling in your stomach to change into one of sheer anger.
You ripped your hand away from Sihtric’s, holding it to your chest as you peered down at him. “Excuse me?” You spat out, the insult from his question causing your brows to scrunch as you tried to suppress the inflamed rage within you. “Do you think me some common ale house whore?” Sihtric’s face dropped, his head shaking side to side as he fumbled over his words in an attempt to apologise to you.
“I- I- I did not mean- no of course you are not- I just- ah gods-“ he cursed as you turned on your heel, stomping your way through the busy crowd, this time demanding the men get out of your way and they did exactly that, not wishing to step in front of you as you charged through them as if you were on a war path.
Sihtric rubbed at his temples as he tried to understand what had just happened.
“A word of advice for ya, if a woman that you have had - relations with comes to tell ya that she is with child then you should always just assume you’re the father because else would she be telling ya?” Finan shook his head as he gifted the young Dane with such knowledge. Osferth nodded as the Irishman spoke.
“What the hell are ya’ still doing here?” Finan asked as he reached across the table, claiming Sihtric’s cup for himself. “Go after her,” Finan said exasperated. Sihtric stood to his feet quickly before rushing after you. “And get her some flowers,” the Irishman called after him.
“A big bunch of them,” Osferth added before the two men erupted into laugher once more.
Prompt: Finan stumbles across a lady trying to bathe at the river. Fearing him to be a peeping Tom she defends herself.
You placed your clean clothes down on the pebbles and stones beneath your feet before removing your boots and stepping into the stream in front of you. You hiked your dress up ever so slightly to wade in a little deeper, enjoying the sensation of the ever so slightly chilly water washing across your skin.
Today was your wash day and you had gone to your favourite spot along the river for some privacy. You had been bathing here for quite some time now. It was a tricky place to get to, the thick thorny brambles that surrounded the area acted as a security fence keeping others away. You had never seen another soul in this part of the river and the privacy it allowed you made you feel at peace as you bathed, taking longer than you probably should but what was the rush? Your dignity was safe, no one was ever around to sneak a peak at your nakedness.
Happy with the temperature of the water you stepped out, undoing the buttons on your dress before letting it slip down your body, pooling at your feet.
You slipped the straps of your smock off, once more letting it slip over your curves, relishing at the feeling of the summers sun on your now exposed flesh.
The sudden sound of snapping twigs caused you to turn, your eyes landing on a tall armour cladded man stood in front if you, pulling twigs and brambles out of his hair with a wince.
He looked back at you, his eyes momentarily drifting down your figure before rigidly returning back to your face.
You quickly grabbed at your smock, pulling it back up over your body to try and conceal yourself.
“I- oh Jesus lady- I,” the Irishman fumbled uncomfortably.
You picked up a stick at your feet, lunging forward and clobbering him with it. “You- dirty- heathen- bastard-“ each word followed with a whack of your makeshift baton.
The Irishman bellowed out at your attack, curses flying with each smack to his head or arm as he attempted to block your assault.
“Lady- ah Christ that was my head!” He cried out but you did not relent, continuing to fight off the man you perceived to be a threat.
“Right.” He said sternly, grabbing hold of the other end of the stick as you swung it at him again. “Now you listen to me.” He demanded. “I mean you no harm,” his free hand raising up to show you he was not a threat. “I did not mean to disturb ya’ lady,” his voice softer now.
Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You watched him as he gently tugged the stick from your grip, throwing it to the side out of your reach before raising both hands up in surrender.
You eyed him over carefully, taking note in how his eyes remained on your face, not slipping down to take in your undignified appearance as you stood in front of him in nothing more than your undercoat.
“My names Finan,” he said with a gentle smile. “I promise ya, I did not know you were here, I would never of approached had I known.” He seemed sincere you thought. Finan lowered his hands as you turned to pick up your clothes, putting some space in between you.
“Are ya not going to finish?” He asked.
“Absolutely not,” you retorted quickly.
“You can finish, you were here first.” He offered you a sweet smile. “I’ll go a little further down if ya’d like?” He offered kindly.
You paused before answering. Now was really the only free time you’d get to wash yourself and it was your favourite part of any day.
“You will not look?” You asked eyeing him up.
“Promise,” Finan said, drawing a cross over his heart with his finger. “I’m a gentleman lady,” he said, “besides I’d not want to be on the receiving end of that stick again,” he teased, rubbing at his head where you had hit him.
You smiled slightly, feeling slightly embarrassed all of a sudden. “I do apologise for that,” you chuckled slightly. “I thought you were a peeping Tom,”
Finan returned your smile, stepping closer as he did so. “It’s alright, I suppose a woman as beautiful as yourself should be able to protect herself,” you cocked your brow, taking note in the cheeky grin he was now wearing.
“I think it’s about time you take your leave lord,” you said trying to hide the smile on your lips from his comment.
Finan nodded, turning to walk further down the river just around the bend to give you some privacy. “Oh but darlin,” he turned, “if ya need me to do your back for ya just give me a bell,” he teased with a smirk before leaving you in peace.
