Hey! Picture this. Sihtric and Reader swimming in a pond/river and playing and stuff like that, and the Sihtric getting so soft because he had never played with anyone in the water and confessing his feelings for Reader and everything is so cute. One of those hot summer days and them being best friends and sneaking from Uhtred to go and spend the afternoon there together. I'm soft for Sihtric. 🥺
I just love how you write Sihtric. It's so perfect.
Ok first of all, thank you so much for the ask and the compliment. I just love that Dane so damn much and how he can be both quiet, soft, and gentle but also a completely confident, protective warrior too. It makes writing for him really fun. Plus just look at him.
Second of all, I adore this idea as a prompt. It instantly got images and ideas floating around in my head. So I hope you enjoy, my dear!
The sound of the rippling water brought a slight smile to your lips as you approached the bank of the creek. The slow moving water slowing your thoughts along with it.
There was always a gentle breeze that stirred the air in the small gully the waters had created over the eons. The breeze was a welcome gift in the late July heat.
Sitting your basket down in the rocky pebbles, you hummed a gentle tune to yourself and removed your shoes. You paused to wiggle your toes in the cool water before reaching down to grasp one of the shirts in your basket.
Caked with dirt and grime, the cloth was in desperate need of a wash. Still humming to yourself, you strode across the pebbled shore towards the tall boulder that juts out near the giant oak tree.
You love that tree. It’s roots gnarled and twisting amongst the beach and the water. Since moving to Coccham, this spot has become your favorite haunt. Sometimes there would be others who came and enjoyed it as well. It was not a secret place, by any means.
But it was often empty and peaceful. A good place to let your hands focus on washing your lord and his warriors filthy sparring clothes while your mind could be cast adrift.
All people find their minds wander while doing those menial and mindless tasks. You were no exception. And recently, while washing their mud stained shirts, your mind would drift to the images of those warriors practicing in the yard.
A certain lithe and muscular Dane in particular. His muscles glistening with sweat under the heat of the sun. His smile when laughing with Osferth brightening his eyes only to be replaced with a ferocity of a bear when he was on the attack.
You felt a flush of heat radiate across your face imagining those eyes staring at you with the same passion.
The sound of a pebble shifting on the beach caught your attention. Turning to look over your shoulder, you see no one there.
Suddenly, you catch movement falling out of the corner of your eye and in the next instant there is a splash.
Screaming, you drop the shirt from your hands and step backwards only to slip on the watery rocks and fall.
Your fear instantly fades as you hear the boisterous laugh emanating from Sihtric’s chest as he steps on the beach, splashing water as he walks.
Reaching down, he picks up the shirt, his own shirt out of the water then offers you his hand.
“I could not resist, Y/N.” His voice is still shaking with laughter. “You startle so easily.”
“Yes, Sihtric. But you would think I would be used to it by now with you lot always popping up from God knows where to give me a fright.”
Still smiling, that radiant smile, he pulls you to your feet and holds you arm as you steady yourself. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Do not be cross. We do so out of adoration for you and all you do for us!” His tone, still full of mirth, matching the twinkle in his eyes as you turn your face to meet them.
You cannot help yourself but to allow your lips to curve upward matching his. “I know that, Sihtric. But now look what your jests at my expense have done. My skirt is now wet and I still have all your,” you emphasized your words by poking a finger into his chest, “clothes that need washing before I can go home and change.”
His next words shocked you.
“Forget about our clothes. I will help you to wash them later. Come swimming with me.” Sihtric’s hand had never left your arm from when he pulled you up to stand.
“What?” Your tone is incredulous.
“Come swim with me, Y/N! The day is hot and the water is cool and it is a perfect day for it!”
You laugh at his words and move to pull your arm away, turning to walk back up the beach. “You have gone mad, my Danish friend. I have work to do. Lord Uhtred will want his shirts as will Finan and then,” but your words are cut off as you yelp in surprise.
Sihtric has wrapped his arms around your middle from behind, lifting your feet effortlessly off of the ground.
Your protests fall on deaf ears and mix with the giggles that you cannot contain as he strides into the water with you wrapped in his arms.
Despite yourself, you cannot stop from laughing and gripping onto the muscular cage his arms have trapped you in. The feel of his chest, pressed so strong against your back sends your heart fluttering and a wave of heat to pool in your abdomen. His breathy laughter at your protests tickles your ear.
Sihtric’s legs continue splashing into the water until he reaches a small gully in the stream bed that dips low. Stumbling slightly to catch his footing, he releases his grip on you and you both end up standing, hands on your knees, bent over in laughter as the water flows gently by you. You’re in up to your waists and without any shoes on your feet, you reach out to hold onto Sihtric’s shoulders to keep from slipping on the rocks below.
In between fits of laughter, you manage to choke out, “What has gotten into you, Sihtric?”
His hands have moved to hold onto your waist once more. The feel of them resting there surprises you at how natural the gesture comes on, how comfortable and secure it feels.
Still with mirth lacing his voice, Sihtric stares down at you, smirking and catching his breath before he answers. “As a child in Dunholm, I did not get to run and play in the sun or splash in the waters like most children.”
You were aware that his childhood had not been a happy one. He had spoken of it to you at times, usually after he had a round or two too many at the tavern. He’d have his arm slung round your shoulder and maybe make a small comment about the bastard life with Osferth before he then shifted away making more jokes and singing loud drunken songs.
This time was different. There was no ale. And no instant diversion to another topic.
Instead you watch as his smile fades. Both of your chest rise and fall, still unable to fully catch your breath. Sihtric’s hands press tighter into your waist, ever so gently drawing your body closer to him. His thumb moves in slow arcs up and down.
For a moment the idea crosses your mind to stand on your toes and catch his lips in yours. Instead you watch as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, face towards the sky.
Droplets of water trail lazily down his throat as you see him swallow before taking a breath, opening his voice to speak once more.
“You make me feel like I could have that joy in my life, Y/N.”
That heat in your stomach grows and any chance of your fluttering heart slowing down is lost. “The happiness and lightheartedness I never experienced growing up, I feel that when I am with you, Y/N.” Bringing his face back to meet yours, his eyes search your face. Looking for an acceptance to his words. A man lost and looking to be found.
“I thought,” you swallow, trying to hold back the lump forming in your throat, “I thought I was alone in my feelings for you.” You can not help it as a slow tear makes it way from your eye.
Sihtric brings his hand up to gently cup your face, his thumb wiping at the tear.
“You are not alone, Y/N.”
You feel as Sihtric pulls your body flush with his own. His face so close that his breath on your wet skin sends shivers down your spine.
He moves his hand slowly from your face to cup the back of your head as he murmurs, “I’m going to kiss you, Y/N.”
And then, as soft as the water that flows around your bodies, his lips meet yours. Your hands slide along the shapes of his arms to encircle his neck as you feel him lift your body against him. The hand on your neck moves back to grip at your hip.
Slowly, tentatively his tongue licks at your lip asking permission to explore. Sighing, your mouth opens to give him access. He tastes of dried fruits and honey, of hot summer air.
Deep in your core, there is an ache growing. It is only stirred more when you feel Sihtric place you back on your feet. A hand moves to slide up your waist and settle along your ribs for a moment. Again, as if asking for permission.
You shift your body against him, feeling the excitement growing in his trousers and a soft moan escapes your throat.
Sensing that is permission enough, you feel as water drops fall off his hand as is slides up and gently cups your breast, his thumb finding your nipple. The friction of his thumb over your clothes and the feel of the slip of the water is driving you mad. A throbbing desire has started at the entrance to your core. A moan escapes his own lips as he feels how aroused you are against his touch.
Breaking his lips away from yours, he smiles and whispers “I have wanted to be with you for so long, Y/N. Kissing you feels like finding a home I never knew I was missing.”
The smile that radiates from you lips meets his own and you kiss once more. Only to hear the shouts of Lord Uhtred approaching the banks of the stream.
“Sihtric! Sihtric, where are you? Stop pestering Y/N. You are needed in the yard.”
Stifling your laughter, you called out, “he will be along shortly, Lord. He will need to find dry clothes first.”
You laugh more and grin up at Sihtric as you feel him fighting to contain his own laughter. The both of you can see Uhtred standing at the top of the hill now staring at the pair of you. He is shaking his head, but smiling.
“Confess your love to the girl another time, Sihtric and meet me in the hall.” Uhtred turns to walk away, but not before shouting over his shoulder, “and do not be wet!”
“Shall I expect you to confess your love to me this evening or will you make me wait again?” You chuckle placing a small peck against the corner of his lips.
Catching your lips before you can pull away, Sihtric replies, “Yes, you can expect me tonight. And every night thereafter.”
take my hand (and take a life)
ch 1: something borrowed || sigtryggr
sigtryggr/stiorra
rated e for everything? swears, violence, horniness...
mafia arranged marriage for the @tlkfanficfest summer bingo
prompt: crime/mafia au
War is bad for business.
And in a crime family business is always personal. Never more so than when a hasty marriage is used to solidify a much needed truce. Stiorra has always wanted to do her part for the family but she didn’t think she’d be doing it in a white dress. Now she finds herself far from home, in the bed of a former enemy who promises he won't touch her until she asks him to.
Aldhelm is surprised to learn that Aethelred has broken up with Aethelflaed. He's less surprised to discover she’s decided to take it lying down, so to speak.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Finan x Aldhelm.
They are both oath men, the most trusted warriors of their respective Lord and Lady and it is a role hard to bear. It is made of a constant frustration of having the right to give their opinion but not the power to impose it, even when they are sure to be right.
Sometimes the frustration threatens to take the best of them despite their blind loyalty.
A/N: This is an entry for @tlkfanficfest bingo. NSFW and intended for 18+ readers.
Warnings: Smut, not for underage readers.
The air was thick with the humidity of summer. Tiny beads of sweat peppered your flesh. One drop slowly made its way from your neck to slide down your chest and across your breast. The trail agonizingly slow and placing a strain on your already sensitive skin.
A hand reached out, slowly catching the moisture, gently rubbing it back and forth across your erect nipple. Gentle, smooth, circles. Thrilling your responsive nerves.
Cool metal caused your shoulders to shiver, despite that sweltering heat, as his rings grazed your skin when he cupped your other breast in his rough, calloused hand. Gently at first, then with slightly more force, he pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the sensitive nub with expert deftness.
You arched into his body as you felt his tongue slide across your nipple, licking the salty moisture and then nipping at your fleshy skin.
The whiskers from his beard scratched at the sensitive nerves of your nipple before he placed it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around in languid circles.
“Sihtric,” you breathed as your hand found his wrist, guiding it away from your chest to place his fingers at the opening to your core, “touch me. Please.”
He followed your words and slowly slid two fingers into your folds, finding you dripping and ready for him.
“You like that, Y/N?”
You mewled an affirmation at him, not even knowing if it was words you said or just sounds.
His fingers had begun a gentle rhythm gliding up and down across your clit and easing off and on pressure against your mound.
“So wet for me, Y/N. Say it. Tell me how wet you are, Y/N.”
“I’m wet for you, Sihtric. You make me so wet.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As it so often is with dreaming, your body decides to begin waking from your slumber at this unfortunate moment. Cursing the timing of your dream, you wonder what had occurred to wake you. The hall you were resting in remained quiet and still in the night air. The only sounds coming from the muffled snores of your companions and the soft crackle remaining from your cookfire. In traveling across Daneland, moving to reclaim Bebbanburg for Uhtred, you had found the old and abandoned hall sat atop a low hill. It provided a safe, sheltered place to camp for the night.
Stifling a groan, you place your fist between your legs and squeeze them tight together, attempting to relieve the built up pressure from your dream.
After rocking against your own hand for a few moments, knowing you will not find a release, you throw off your thin blanket. Tossing your legs off of your bench, you pad your feet across the hall to reach the door and step out into the warm, smothering summer night.
Walking around the corner of the hall, you hope to encounter a breeze to relieve the heat, but the air is still.
The moisture between your legs is a reminder of the frustration of waking. Sighing, you wonder towards the low stone wall that surrounds the hall. You rest your arms on top and tilt your head back, breathing in the air and gazing up at the stars.
Without warning, you feel a hand snake around to cover your mouth and another grasp your waist as a warm, solid body presses close behind you, trapping you between the wall.
Instinctively, you reach for the knife sheathed on your hip, but your attacker anticipates the move and grasps your wrist, stopping you cold.
You still as you hear his voice, “You should not be out here by yourself, Y/N. This is Daneland afterall. Next time it might be a different Dane who finds you alone.”
Sihtric’s mouth is so close, you can feel the movement of his lips against your ear. His voice is soft and firm.
Slowly, after several moments, he moves his hand away from your mouth and brings his arm back to rest on your hip, releasing your wrist.
But he does step away. Instead his hand moves to pull your hair away and reveal the curve of your neck.
“What are you doing?” You manage to breathe with only a small quiver in your voice at having his body so close, his fingers touching you so softly.
“I heard you, in the hall.” he whispers.
“I tried to leave quietly.”
“I heard you before that, Y/N. In your sleep.”
Shocked, you crane your neck to turn and meet his face, the tip of your nose meeting his.
“And what did you hear?” Your voice is low, barely a whisper.
“You spoke my name, Y/N.” Sihtric’s voice matches yours, deep and rumbling. The heat in your center is renewed.
Your eyes meet his as you feel his strong, rough hand creep back around to grasp your throat and the hand holding your hip slides across to the slow flesh of your abdomen, one finger tracing the edge of your pants.
“Mmmm, yes.” You affirm and watch as his gaze moves down to watch your lips. They’re parted slightly as your breath has become slow and husky.
“Something about being wet, Y/N. And my name.” His eyes track back to yours and you feel his fingers slide just below the line of your pants.
There is a question in his stare. And a look of pure lust.
“I was watching you, Y/N, while you slept. Watching you and wanting you. Wanting to touch you. To kiss you.” His voice is dangerously low. And you squirm under his touch, feeling more moisture, creeping from inside your core. The throb of desire, torturous and delicious.
“I have wanted you for a while, Y/N. I want to be inside of you. I thought that you wanted that too and then I heard you tonight. Purring my name. Hips moving in your sleep. Is this what you want, Y/N? Tell me no and I will stop,” he confessed while laying slow kisses and sliding his tongue across your neck.
Sihtric’s fingers had slid slowly lower, gently grazing your skin and his thumb on your throat drew slow circles.
You raised your hand to his face, pulling his lips to meet yours as your other hand guided his further to your folds.
“I want you, Sihtric.” You whisper against his lips and gasp as you finally feel him begin rubbing along the top of your sensitive nub, then lower to slick his fingers in your wetness.
He growls, feeling how wet your body is at his touch. “You are wet for me. All for me, Y/N.”
“Yes, Sihtric. Only for you.”
His hand leaves your throat to travel down undoing the laces to then shove your pants to your knees, exposing your ass to him and giving his hands unhindered access to your pleasure.
You lean your body back to rock against him and shiver as he enters two fingers inside your slit. Your hand finding his neck again as you grasp at him behind you.
“I have needed this. Needed to feel you for so long, Y/N.”
His words are caught in his throat as you wedge your free hand between you to stoke along the bulge of his cock, strained against his pants.
Sihtric removes his fingers from you and uses your fluid to stimulate and pulse along your clit making you momentarily forget your own ministrations of his cock.
You brace yourself against him, one hand on the stones in front of you and one holding onto him. He groans, feeling your ass grinding against him and the swelling of your cunt.
“My Gods, Y/N”
Feeling brave in your ardor, you turn to face him, kicking your pants off and pulling at the lacing on his pants. You slide them down, freeing his erection.
“I need more than your fingers, Sihtric.”
“As you command, Y/N.”
He uses the moisture from your cunt to wet himself and then, with the strength of the warrior he is, grips your waist to hike you up between himself and the wall.
His girth as he enters you stretches your walls, painfully at first. But he is still, watching for your face to relax.
“You’re so big, Sihtric.” You gasp. Slowly the discomfort gives way to a delicious fullness as you begin to rock your hips on him.
“God, you fill me up so much. Your cock is so good in me, Sihtric,” you pant as he begins to meet your rocking with his own.
He holds you up with one of his arms, ths muscles tight and strong around your body. Freeing his other hand, to bring those fingers you love back between your two bodys. He rubs along your clit, in rhythm with your bodies, but his eyes lever leave your face.
“You are gorgeous, Y/N. So fucking beautiful. The faces you make with my cock inside of you.”
“It is so good to me,” you whisper through ragged breaths.
“Put me down, Sihtric. Let me ride you.”
Sihtric does as commanded, gently removing himself and lowering you to the ground. He drops to his knees and licks at your folds, sucking at your swollen nub before rolling back to allow you to straddle his lap.
Slowly, you ease him inside you. His eyes never leave your face, seeing every twitch and hearing every short gasp escape your lips.
You have waited for so long to feel him inside of you, desiring his touch from afar. It does not take long for you to feel your climax building. He can read you and feel the clench of your walls around him.
He brings his hands up to grasp at your back and brings your body forward, exposing your neck to his mouth. His tongue trails along your collarbone and you feel his teeth nip at your flesh, then the pressure as he finds a sensitive crook to leave his mark. You can feel the bruise of his kiss already forming.
His hand reaches up beneath your shirt to graze his fingers across your nipple, finding it hard and swollen. In sync with the rock of your hips, he flicks his fingers across your nipple and the sensation sends shock waves across your whole body.
You throw your head back as you find your ecstasy. Clenching your walls around him, you ride your orgasim and moan his name.
You feel his hips buck and he is not far behind you in his climax. He grips your hips hard enough to leave bruises and buries his face against your chest breathing heavily.
After a few moments, slowing his breathing and holding your body close, Sihtric flips his body over to lay on the ground, bringing you with him to lay entwined.
He laughs deep in his chest while clutching you to him and he presses a kiss to your forehead.
“Thank you for talking in your sleep, love.”
You can feel his lips smiling against your face as he continues.
“Otherwise I would have never had the courage to confront you with my desires.”
You chuckle and look up to his eyes, “Sihtric, the great Danish warrior, Oathman to Uhtred, was afraid of me?”
Sihtric kisses your lips and replies with a grin, “no longer, Y/N.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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AN: Well loves, this is the final chapter for this story. Depending on how season 5 of the show goes, I may do more and I may do one-shots for Cwen and Sihtric later too. I am honestly incredibly proud of myself for finishing my very first multi-chapter story. And I am beyond thankful for each and every one of you who thought it was worth your time to read. Thank you! From the bottom of my Dane loving heart. I have more stories planned featuring our favorite cinnamon role Dane and some new OCs so be on the lookout! The moodboards provided by the lovely @serasvictoria
Warnings: Smut. Smut with feelings. (So this also counts as my outdoors entry for @tlkfanficfest bingo axe card)
Word Count: 3877
Fields of Wildflowers Masterlist
My Full Masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hild found Cwen some old novice robes that fit comfortably enough. The abbess then cleaned Cwen’s face and put a soothing poultice on some of the deeper scrapes and bruises before sending her off to bed.
The room was plain, holding only a bed and a small table. And there was a lingering aroma of some floral fragrance Cwen couldn’t place. She laid down and was asleep within a matter of minutes.
When she awoke, it was with a start to find an arm weightily draped across her waist.
Turning from her side to lay on her back, Cwen saw Sihtric dozing soundly next to her.
He had found a moment to clean the grime and gore from his face and body, she noticed as she took in his features. His armor and tunic lay discarded by the door to the room and Cwen took a moment to take in his resting form. The line of his jaw and the length of his neck. His shoulder, rounded and firm, with long muscles leading along the arm hooked around her waist. She felt the heat radiating off his bare chest.
In his sleep, the warrior’s face was relaxed and his breathing even and shallow. His mouth hung slightly open, a quiet snore escaping him every few breaths.
Cwen raised a hand to brush the hair from his forehead and trace the lines along his brow.
She smiled when she felt him stir under her touch. Without opening his eyes, he reached a hand up to grasp her own and bring her palm to his lips.
“I am glad you took my advice and rested,” he hummed against her palm before pulling her body closer into his embrace.
“Is there peace?” she questioned after nuzzling against his neck and trailing her fingers along his collarbone.
“For now, it seems.”
“Tell me.” Cwen asked, sleep still clouding her voice.
Sihtric rolled onto his back, sliding his arm to rest under Cwen’s neck as she nestled into his side.
“They’ve given Sigtryggr Eofiwich. And he promises to remain peaceful and in alliance with Wessex and Mercia.” Sihtric paused, running his fingers gently through Cwen’s long hair. Hild had also spent time using a brush and comb to work through the knots and tangles that had accumulated during the siege.
“That can’t be all though,” Cwen asked while turning her face up to meet his, “What about Stiorra?”
Cwen felt as a rumble passed through Sihtric’s chest as he laughed.
“And what about Stiorra?”
Cwen propped herself up on to her arm, her mirthful smile mirroring his.
“Is she part of the bargain?”
“Why would she be?” Sihtric’s eyes glittered mischievously.
“Because they have fallen for one another. Stiorra and Sigtryggr.” Cwen’s words were sure and matter of fact.
Sihtric moved to place a strand of hair that had fallen across Cwen’s face before he asked, “Now what would make you say that?”
Sighing, Cwen laid herself back down and nestled into his side. Her fingers absent-mindedly finding the hammer amulet draped across his chest. Tracing the intricate designs.
“Well I don’t know exactly. I have never even seen them in the same room together,” and her words were interrupted by a scoff from Sihtric. She hushed him playfully before continuing, “but it is in the way they speak about each other. As if he truly sees her. And she, him.”
Here she paused, her hand stopping it’s fidgeting with the hammer. She took a breath then continued, vulnerability lacing her words, “It is not much different from the way I believe you see me. From the way you have watched me and seen me since the fields of Saltwich. You see me and know me. The true me. And that is love. To have someone see through you to your soul. Or your spirit, your essence. Whatever term you wish to give it. When a person can see your rough edges, the parts that are broken, the fragile things…” her fingers began fiddling with the pendant once more, nervous as she continued, “a person who can see that in another and appreciate it, accept it. That is love. That is what will help someone to heal. Find peace. Happiness. I see who you are and you see me for who I am. I see that mirrored in the way Stiorra and Sigtryggr speak about one another.”
Cwen’s voice got quieter as she stopped her rambling. Her fingers continued to place their anxious energy into toying with the necklace until she felt his strong hand wrap around her own, stopping her movements. He moved to place his knuckles below her chin, tilting her head up so he could catch her eyes.
“What have I done in my life to deserve you, my lady?”
Now it was Cwen’s turn to scoff at his use of the term lady once more before he continued, interrupting her.
“It is true. I have been blessed by the gods and I do not know why. I am nothing but a bastard son who has killed more men than I can count. Many who were probably good men.”
Cwen stared into his face as he spoke. She watched as his brows stitched together and the line of his jaw flexed. His eyes growing distant and clouded.
“Then you do not see what I see, Sihtric.” Her hand rose from his chest to caress his neck, fingers smoothing themselves through the curls of his hair, coaxing his eyes back from whatever unfocused horrors he was imagining, back to her.
“You are a man, devoted and loyal. I see your heart. A heart that is fierce and passionate, but also kind and warm. It is gentle when time or place calls for it. I see that in how you are with the children and with me. You have shown me time and time over that the quality of your heart is pure. It is all those things that make who you are. A warrior. A heathen but not a barbarian as some Christians would paint you. These are the reasons you follow Lord Uhtred. These are the reasons you fight. And they are good qualities.”
Cwen watched while he listened to her words. The lines of his face eased and the whites of his eyes glistened more brightly. The lovers brought their lips together, the language of a whispered kiss speaking more deeply than either could with words.
A subtle cough from the doorway broke them apart.
Hild stood, a kind smirk on her face.
“I would remind you that you are still in a church, Sihtric. And even though you are heathen I will have you respect this home of my God.”
Cwen rolled over, burying her face in her hands and stifling anxious giggles while she heard Sihtric apologize and then the rustle of Hild’s robes as she moved away from the door.
But Hild called over her shoulder to them before she had made it out of earshot, “Uhtred is looking for you. King Edward has spoken with him.”
“Tell my lord I am on my way.”
They heard Hild laugh before she replied, “He wishes to speak with Cwen.”
The pair glanced at each other, confusion on both of their faces. Slowly, they moved to sit up and make ready themselves.
“But Sihtric, you haven’t answered me!” Cwen exclaimed.
When he looked askance at her as he did the laces up on his tunic, she continued, “Stiorra? Is she leaving for Eofowich?”
Sihtric smirks without raising his eyes again to meet hers, instead focusing on his lacing.
“Well?” Cwen moved to help him secure the armour and interrupt his avoidance.
“She will be going as a hostage,” he replied. But the mirth behind his eyes showed his agreement with her notion that it was not a hostage arrangement.
“Lord Uhtred must be furious,” Cwen mused.
“He was quite, yes.”
Sihtric turned to grab his bracers off the floor and Cwen took them from him, sliding them onto each of his forearms in turn.
“So what does he need with me, I wonder?”
Sihtric shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as they walked out of the door to find Uhtred.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The king has charged me with the care of Aethelstan.”
Uhtred and Cwen were standing underneath the arches leading to the inner courtyard of the church.
Hild was walking with Eadith to stretch and warm some of her muscles, while an anxious Finan looked on. He was clearly only half listening to whatever Osfeth and Sihtric were discussing. It made Cwen smile, before turning her attention back to Uhtred.
“With care for Aethelstan? But Lady Aelswith had been planning to do that?”
Uhtred sighed, “Plans have changed. Apparently Lady Aelswith is in poor health after the siege. And Edward wants Aethelstan removed from Winchester. It will be safer for the boy.”
“Aelswith offered me a place in her household caring for him before we left Mercia. I turned her down but not because I don’t want to help Aethelstan. Did you wish to speak with me to ask for my help?”
Uhtred chuckled dryly and looked down at his boots, scuffing the dusty dirt.
“It is no secret, I am…,” he trailed off before clearing his throat and starting again, “I will be able to teach him the shield wall and battle tactics. And other life lessons but I am lacking in many skills when it comes to raising a child. I would ask you for help, yes.”
“And you will have it.” Cwen smiled, her words sincere and happy.
It was at that moment that Sihtric approached, wrapping his arm around Cwen’s waist and drawing her close to him as she leaned back into his embrace.
“You have chosen a good woman, Sihtric.” Uhtred clapped his friend on his shoulder.
“I have, indeed,” Sihtric paused, pressing a kiss against Cwen’s hairline making her grin despite herself.
“But may I have a word alone, Lord?”
Cwen glanced between the two men before excusing herself to go check in on Eadith and Hild.
After joining the two women, Cwen continued to glance back to where Sihtric stood speaking with Uhtred. The two men stood close together while Sihtric spoke, but his words did not travel and Cwen did not know what they discussed.
After only a few moments, she saw Uhtred embrace Sihtric and the two clapped each other on the back before breaking apart and Sihtric turned to walk to Finan and Osferth, who were standing in the path that Hild was guiding them along. Sihtric beamed at her as they approached, his smile filled with adoration.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After eating a light lunch with everyone, Sihtric excused himself and asked Cwen to join him. He led her to the edge of Winchester and outside the walls. The Saxon camp of King Edward was still scattered across the surrounding field, but the couple walked beyond the scattered tents and cookfires. Here and there, men were mulling about, collecting their things, preparing to return to their homes.
“Where are you taking me, Sihtric,” Cwen looped her arm through his and leaned herself against him as they strolled.
She smiled when she felt his breath on her ear as he leaned close, “Do you remember the last time you asked me that question?”
His voice was low, husky.
The implication sent shivers along Cwen’s spine. Just as it had while riding in the fields outside of Aegelesburg, she felt her body stir.
They stayed quiet as they walked, both feeling the rising thrill in their energy.
Cwen tried to keep her breathing steady while her heart began beating steadily faster and faster. The feel of Sihtric’s movements against her as they walked gave her shivers, every place where his skin brushed hers leaving trails of gooseflesh.
Eventually, they moved off of the main road and began to cross onto hunting trails, through woods and fields. It may have been along the route they had come to Winchester. That seemed ages ago and had been in such haste, Cwen thought she would have no idea if she had been through this way before. And there was no way she could focus clearly on her surroundings with the anticipation of being with Sihtric again.
Finally, he stopped walking and Cwen took in their surroundings.
They were at the edge of a low lying glen, leading up to a small hill crested with trees. The glen was carpeted with tiny white and violet-blue flowers, all migling together. Cwen breathed deep, enjoying the musty aroma of the woods to their backs, earthy and solid. She tried to slow her pounding heart.
“I told you I wished to cherish you, Cwen,” Sihtric pulled her body flush against his before cupping her face, “and I mean to do just that.”
His lips ghosted across hers before he moved to nip underneath her ear, his tongue languidly tasting her skin in between gentle kisses down her neck.
“Sihtric,” she moaned out his name, her hands grasping hungrily at his hips and pulling him even closer to her.
“I will never grow tired of hearing you moan my name,” he whispered against her collarbone.
His fingers found their way up from her waist to begin undoing the laces at her collar, before moving the fabric apart to reveal the skin of her chest.
Despite the heat of the late summer, his fingers left goosebumps dancing along the trails they made, slowly fanning their way over to caress one of her breasts.
Cwen sighed as his kisses continued along her neck and his fingers lightly pinched at her erect nipple.
She could feel the swell in his trousers bulging against her hips and longed for more.
Slowly, she reached her hand down from his hip to cup along his length.
The groan her movements brought forth from him flushed Cwen with a sense of pride that she could cause him to make such noises.
“Mmmm, woman,” he growled, “I planned to be making these noises come from you,” but Cwen interrupted him.
“And what if I wish to show you how I cherish you too?”
Sihtric leaned back on his heels to stare at Cwen. Her shy smile and mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
In an instant, his mouth was on hers. All sense of calm replaced by fire.
Both sets of fingers fought to undo the buckles and ties holding cloth against skin.
All the pain, all the terror over the past weeks. Separated by barriers and words. All of the emotions of the heart came crashing out against each other.
Swiftly, Cwen slid her dress down from her shoulders to pool at her feet, leaving her chest bare and only a thin underskirt draped off of her curving hips.
Sihtric, breathing heavily, stood back to admire her form, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist up to the slope of her breasts.
While his hands roamed her body, Cwen undid the lacing holding his bracers and leathers on, removing them deftly.
Smoothly, he lifted his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it in the grass by their feet, only to then drop to his knees, peppering kisses along her abdomen while his hands reached behind her to grasp and gently knead her bottom.
Cwen sucked in a breath as the feel of heat pooled deep in her core, mingled with a throbbing pull at her opening. She wanted to feel him touch her there.
She ran her fingers along his head, nails scratching along his scalp, before he tilted his face up to hers to see the passion burning in her eyes.
“Come here, Cwen.” His voice was deep and sensual, causing another thrill to ripple through her swollen womanhood.
She slid her body down to meet him, feeling his lips trailing up now, to find her nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue against the hard nub. His hands bunched at her skirt, pulling it up around her as she lowered herself.
Once she was on her knees, he brought his face to hers, kissing her lips once more while growling, “Lay back for me.”
Cwen lowered herself back, while Sihtric’s body, hard and strong, loomed over her, sheltering her, enveloping her.
Again, he brought his lips to her skin, licking and sucking gently at the dips and shallows of her neck and shoulders.
She shuddered when his hands left the skirt, now rumpled around her waist to trail down her hip. He had slowed their pace once more, gradually bringing his fingers to rub against her swollen center. Slow, short strokes followed by an even slower long stroke circling the moist opening of her slit.
She moaned and arched under his hands, yearning for more but relishing the feel of his hands on her.
Slowly, his kisses moved lower, back to her nipple, drawing circles around it before he continued even lower.
Cwen opened her eyes, when he sat up, removing his hand from her wetness.
Sihtric leaned back on his knees and shifted Cwen’s hips as she watched him eye her hungrily.
He began to lean down to her, his breath hot and heavy on her aching core.
“Sihtric, what are you,” but her words were replaced with a rasping moan as she felt his tongue on her. He trailed his tongue up from the dripping moisture of her slit to press and flick against the nub of her sex making her gasp outloud.
Sihtric looked up to meet her eye, now sucking at the nerves before he answered, “I am cherishing my woman, every part of her.” And he then moved back to lap at her with the flat of his tongue.
Licking her lips, Cwen felt as her hips unconsciously rose to meet his actions, continuing the slow rhythm his fingers had started. Slow and small strokes followed by a longer stroke, the pressure always building then pulling back as he pulled her to the edge.
When he brought his fingers to her opening and slowly pushed one then another inside, Cwen felt herself arch and moan his name.
Her fingers found themselves raking through his hair as he moved his fingers inside her, matching the rhythm of his tongue.
Cwen felt herself rising to the edge, “Sihtric,” she groaned while his actions became faster, matching the pumping of her hips rising to meet him.
And she came undone, her legs tensing and squeezing as he brought her to her high.
When she opened her eyes, he had moved his face to stare at her, but was continuing the motions of his fingers, still feeling her clench around him.
“You are the most beautiful woman,” he whispered, his voice deep with lust.
“Can you take me?”
Noiselessly, Cwen nodded, holding her arms out for him to come to her.
He moved, lithe as a cat, to bring his face to hers, kissing her passionately. She could taste herself on his lips and feel her own moisture in his beard.
Cwen slipped her fingers between his pants and his hips and slid them down with his help to release his bulge. He rolled off of her just long enough to slide his trousers off completely, before he was on her once more, his manhood hard and ready for her.
Guiding himself to her entrance, Cwen shifted her hips to better meet him.
As he pushed himself inside her, she met his eyes. He filled her completely, pushing into the hilt before he paused to kiss her. Then slowly again, their bodys began rocking together in a rhythm building steadily. Her small moans and noises driving him to push harder.
He built her up once more, feeling her body tensing beneath him ready to crash in ecstasy. Cwen cried out his name once more when he pushed her over the edge, feeling her walls clench him tight driving his own climax to follow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They lay in the grass, a tangle of limbs as their breathing returned to normal. Cwen found her hand in Sihtric’s as he toyed with her fingers, weaving them together with his. He brought her hand up to place a gentle kiss on her thumb.
“Be my wife, Cwen.”
Surprised, Cwen turned her face to watch him. He was focused on their fingers, still lacing them gently together.
He continued after a moment's pause, “I want you for my woman. My wife. From now until the end of days. I told you that all of my roads will lead me to you, Cwen. And I meant it. You are warm and kind. You are brave. And you make me happy. Happier than any warrior deserves to be.
His words were strong. Sure.
Cwen felt her eyes prickle as tears formed, blurring her vision. She blinked to clear them away as she saw Sihtric’s head turn to look at her.
“Will you be my wife, Cwen?”
Smiling, Cwen nodded her head furiously, “Yes, Sihtric, I will be your wife.”
Grinning, Sihtric rolled Cwen on top of him and kissed her, deeply before he pulled away.
Still smiling, he laughed, “Then I have something I need to give to you.”
Cwen moved herself off of him as he reached into his pants, reaching into a small pocket, hidden in the waist.
He pulled out a tiny pouch. He emptied the pouch into his palm. It contained a small golden ring. Simple and delicate, with just a few markings and designs along the band.
“This belonged to my mother. It is the only possession I have from her. Before my father,” he glanced at Cwen before he continued, “before he killed her, she gave this to me. She knew he would find out about what she had been doing to help the children of Dunhilm. And she wanted for me to have this. She has been the only woman to ever hold my heart. Until now. And I want you to have it.”
Cwen was speechless as he placed it in her palm, before closing her fingers over it and kissing her hand.
The tears she had been able to stem before, now ran freely along her cheeks. Gingerly, she opened her hand and picked up the ring. She slid it onto her finger and it fit perfectly.
“She would have loved you,” Sihtric added, wrapping his arms around Cwen and resting his forehead against hers.
“Thank you, Sihtric. I will treasure it and hope to honor her by wearing it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As they were getting dressed and beginning their walk back towards Winchester, Cwen gasped.
“Wait, won’t we need Uhtred’s approval to marry? When will you ask him?”
Laughing, Sihtric took her hand, “I have already asked him, love. It is what I wished to speak with him about this morning.”
“Oh you planned all of this then?”
“I did”
“Oh you are quite the romantic, my soon-to-be husband.”
Sihtric chuckled once more along with Cwen, “I guess I am.”
As they continued walking, Cwen asked, “So what did Uhtred say when you asked him?”
“He said that I would be a fool not to marry you.”
Sihtric pulled her close, kissing her temple as they walked, “And he is right.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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take my hand (and take a life)
ch 2: blood in blood out || stiorra
sigtryggr/stiorra
rated e for everything? swears, violence, horniness…
mafia arranged marriage for the @tlkfanficfest summer bingo
prompt: crime/mafia au
War is bad for business.
And in a crime family business is always personal. Never more so than when a hasty marriage is used to solidify a much needed truce. Stiorra has always wanted to do her part for the family but she didn’t think she’d be doing it in a white dress. Now she finds herself far from home, in the bed of a former enemy who promises he won’t touch her until she asks him to.
yes i updated again already, i love them leave me alone
take my hand (and take a life)
ch 5: work wife || sigtryggr
sigtryggr/stiorra rated e for everything? swears, violence, horniness… mafia arranged marriage for the @tlkfanficfest summer bingoprompt: crime/mafia au
War is bad for business.
And in a crime family business is always personal. Never more so than when a hasty marriage is used to solidify a much needed truce. Stiorra has always wanted to do her part for the family but she didn’t think she’d be doing it in a white dress. Now she finds herself far from home, in the bed of a former enemy who promises he won’t touch her until she asks him to.
