#iseuld

[songesoleil]

Tristan und Idolde / tristan and Iseult.1865.. by A. von Volborth.(18.?19.?).

[lykomama]

House Full of Heathens

Slightly Fix it and Very Poly. Reader x Sihtirc, Reader x Finan, Reader x Osferth, Reader x Leofric, Sithric x Uthred, Sithric x Finan, Sithric x Osferth, Finan x Osferth.

Ch 1: No Oaths

You have found yourself in the company of Skorpa of the White Horse, though you are not sure how. They are a fragtag band, only fortunate enough that the people of Cornwalum are no fighters. There is no silver in the plunder and the livestock is skinny. No worthy sacrifice for Loki or Tyr.

Skorpa does not know who you are. That your father is Harald Finehair, a great King among Danes. Nor does he know you ran away to escape that life. To be free and anonymous.

You have half a mind to leave Skorpa behind and strike out on your own. Find a comely man to fuck and a nice fat bull to dedicate to Loki.

This opportunity is presented in the guise of Uhtred Ragnarson. His ragtag band of Saxons strikes a deal with Skorpa, though you know Skorpa is lying, you see it in those piss coloured eyes. Fucker. You have no time to warn Uhtred of the deceit, though. Things escalate quite quickly. And before you know it, King Peredur is dead. His silver is ripe for the taking. Sadly, there are no comely men to be found., only Peredur’s shadow queen. And she is looking at Uhtred like his cock is made of gold.

And of course, Skorpa makes off with the silver. You don’t follow him out of Peredur’s timber keep. You have long since had your fill of his band of poxy whoresons.

“Oi, Uhtred, one of Skorpa’s men is still here.” Says a tall man, who is in Uhtred’s company. You take off your helmet, throwing it at his feet. Uhtred looks up from Iseuld and begins to laugh. “That, Leofric, is no man. This is a Shield Maiden.” He says. The man gapes at you. You smirk at him. “Yes, Leofric, I am no man.” You purr. “But! The Battlefield is no place for a maiden!” Leofric protests. “Don’t you know some of the fiercest warriors are women.” Says Uhtred. Leofric opens his mouth, but Iseuld shakes her head.

“Come, I will help you to the rest of the silver.” She says, The men follow her out of the keep.

The men dig up the dungheap with their hands and the last of their dignity. You and Iseuld stand by and watch. “The gods have it in for this one.” You say. “Utred?” Asks Iseuld. You nod. “They will test him, time and again. They will reward him for his labours, but gods will he have to fight. Especially with Kings.” You say. Iseuld nods. “Are you a seer?” She asks. You shake your head. “I am sometimes given dreams. I had dreams of Uhtred and his companions. I dreamt of glory and I dreamt of death. And maybe those death’s don’t have to come to pass.” You reply

The silver is swiftly divided and you approach Uhtred. “Son of Ragnar, my sword is yours.” You tell him firmly. He gives you an up and down. A small smirk tugs at his lips. “I will gladly accept. What is your name?” He asks. “I am called Y/N.” You reply, extending your arm. He clasps you by the elbow. “Just Y/N?” Leofric asks. “Y/N Haraldsdottir.” You reply. “Harald? You mean Harald Finehair?” Uhtred furrows his brow at you. You nod in answer. “Is that someone I should know?” Leofric asks. “He is one of the greater Dane Kings.” Uhtred replies.

Leofric bodily turns to you. “Princess.” He gives you a stiff bow. You burst out laughing. The Saxon looks at you, obviously startled. He casts his gaze to Uhtred, utterly nonplussed. “Something I said.” He mutters. Uhtred smiles widely. “I think this shield maiden has not been named heir to her father’s realm. This is not uncommon, even for sons.” Uhtred replies. “I am not a princess.” You add. “Very well, not a Princess.” Leofric concedes.

You ride out with Uhtred’s little band. Back to Wessex. For them at least. You have not yet been in Wessex before. It is just heading into the next adventure.

Uhtred parts from the group. To do what, you cannot quite make out. “Stay with Leofric.” He says to you, before he leaves. You have half a mind to just leave and find another useless band of Danes. You swore Uhtred no oaths. But you stay with Leofric anyway. He smiles so charmingly and he has a sharp sense of humour. You decide you quite like him.

You ride beside him on the trek back to Winchester. It is a hard ride and by the time you arrive, you feel like your arse is made of wood, but at least you got somewhere substantial.

“You go find yourself an inn or an alehouse. I will come find you and tell Uhtred where you are.” Leofric says. “Where will you go?” You ask. Leofric looks down and chuckles gently. “I am going to have to see the King.” He says. “Find me after that?” You smirk up at him. Leofric ponders on the answer for a little while. But then he grins widely. “If you have yourself a room at an inn, I will.” He says. “I got silver enough for it.” You answer. “So you do.” Leofric agrees.

He takes his leave and you are left to your own devices for a few hours. You explore Winchester on your own, wandering the narrow streets and take in the houses and people and the animals in the streets.

There is a cart selling meat pies, and you buy one. You enjoy the rich flavours as you walk and eat your pie. Then you find yourself an ale house to have a pint. And Leofric finds you there.

“There you are.” Says the Saxon. You look up from your drink. “I’ve been looking for you for a good while now.” He sits down beside you. “I have been trying to enjoy the piss water you Saxons call ale.” You retort. “That is called ale because Alfred wants people to be able to work come morning.” Leofric gestures to the barmaid. She nods and pours him a pint, too. “It sucks. I’d rather have water next time, but clean water is likely not an option in a place like this.” You reply. Leofric nods and pulls some silver from a pouch at his hip.

“You Saxons are so dirty.” You say. Leofric looks at you, mildly disgruntled. “There is shit in these streets, I have seen you bathe only a handful of times and by the gods, clean water is harder to come by than gold.” You tell him. Leofric scoffs, but he can’t tell you you are wrong. “So that means you won’t take me to bed?” He asked with a sly smirk. You ponder on a reply for a while. You know he has no opportunity to wash. He’ll smell of horse and sweat. His mouth will taste of ale and old blood, but so will yours. You suppose you’ll just not suck his cock.

“I’ll find an inn.” You say, draining your ale and getting up. Leofric follows your example. He throws a few more coins on the table, for the barmaid. “Come, I know a good place.” He says. “A clean place?” You ask, with a wicked smirk. “Woman, you sure are something.” Leofric scoffs. But he takes you by the hand and leads you from the alehouse to a three story, timber built inn. It is a very good looking building, less run down than the alehouse.

“Is this to m’lady’s liking?” Leofric asks. You look up at him and smile. “Yes it is. Also, I am not a lady. I am a shield maiden.” You tell him. “I doubt you are a maiden. I won’t be the first man you hump.” He sounds very convinced. You chuckle and pull some silver from your coin pouch. “My pay.” You tell him. “Very well.” Leofric agrees.

It takes you only a handful of minutes to be given a key to a room and head upstairs.

Once the door shuts behind you, Leofric shoves you against its wooden surface. His eyes are dark and full of desire. “Go on then, take me.” You hiss. Leofric chuckles and cups your face with his huge hand. He does smell of horse, but not as bad as you expected. You close your eyes and hear Leofric make an approving little sound. Then he leans in to kiss you slowly. It is almost experimental. Not like he does not know how to kiss, but like he is trying to find out what you will like best.

You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him back greedily. Leofric groans loudly. He is not expecting you to be so forward. But you are a Dane, not a Saxon. You know how to please a man for true. And this most certainly does not include meekly doing as you are told.

You start shoving him backwards, to the bed. Leofric grunts against your mouth, but puts up no fight. It is not easy, Leofric is absolutely huge, but slowly you manage to shove him to the bed. Leofric falls down on the bed, looking up at you. He grins and pulls you down on top of him. “Come here.” He growls. “Gladly.” You murmur.

You renew the kiss, bracketing his hips with your legs. Leofric groans and his hands slide to your ass. He grabs wickedly at your leather clad flesh. You moan into his mouth. You begin to rock your pelvis against his. Leofric swears against your lips and tries to keep you still. But you won’t let him hold you back. You will ride him! You will show this Saxon how Danes do things properly. You lick into his mouth, letting him know you are fully going to assert yourself. It does not matter that he is bigger. You have a lot of underhanded tricks up your sleeve. Leofric groans, not at all of a mind to complain. His tongue flicks out at yours and he tugs at your tunic. He is not taking this slow. You don’t want him to take it slow. It has been a while since you last had a man.

You break the kiss to sit upright and pull your tunic over your head. Your leather armour has been discarded hours before. Leofric licks his lips and gazes up at you. His fingers bunch in the cloth of your light undershirt. “Take this off.” He growls. You smirk and shake your head. “I hear no please, Saxon.” You cooe. “I don’t have to beg you, Dane.” Leofric growls. He helps you out of your undershirt. Once it is off, his hands go to your breasts right away. His palms are warm and his fingers calloused. You lean into his touch.

Leofric massages your breasts and pulls at your nipples. You close your eyes and revel in his ministrations. Soft, sweet moans pour from your lips.

And then he starts to grind up at you. He is hard in his breeches. You press back down on him. Leofric groans deeply and his hand slips down to the rim of your own breeches. His thumb trails slowly from your navel to your lacings. You shudder a little at how tender the ministration is. But then Leofric makes quick work of the laces of your breeches. “Take this off.” He growls. He’s quite demanding in his tone. “Ask nicely.” You purr. But Leofric shakes his head, beginning to tug down your breeches, as far as he can manage. This bares the better part of your arse and your womanhood.

“I smell you.” Leofric growls, grabbing you firmly by the arse. He growls and digs his fingers into your flesh.

You slide off of him to wriggle out of your breeches.

Leofric hurriedly sheds his clothes as well.

And then he is on you. His large body eclipses yours as he kisses you greedily. You moan against your lips, dragging your nails up his back. Leofric groans in answer. He presses his cock down against your folds. You roll your pelvis up at him. Leofric bites back a groan and grinds back down on you. “Gods.” You hiss into his mouth. “You want it?” Leofric growls. “Yes, hump me.” You whisper.

You don’t have to tell him twice.

He lines himself up and pushes into you. You moan loudly. Leofric adds a wordless moan to yours. You tilt your pelvis a little, to give him a better angle. “Go ahead, hump me.” You encourage him. A thing you won’t have to tell him twice, of course. Leofric pounds into you as though he hasn’t had a woman in weeks. And this might be the truth of it, though you have no way to make sure, bar ask him. And know better than to ask a man about when he last had sex.

Leofric presses his face into the nape of your neck. “You feel so good.” He growls against your skin. He slams his pelvis against your, over and over again, without holding back. The sounds rising from it are obscene. You moan and claw at his back. “Feisty little heathen.” Leofric murmurs. He nips at the lobe of your ear. You moan and rock your hips into his thrusts.

And then you judge he’s had his fun. It is your turn.

You grab him by the shoulders and topple him over. Leofric grunts, not expecting you to be this strong. Shoving down onto the bed, you straddle him. Your folds press down on his cock, which is wet from your cunt. Leofric groans darkly, squirming below you. He is not accustomed to a woman on top, it would seem. “Don’t struggle, I won’t hurt you.” You tell him. “You could not hurt me even if you tried, Little Heathen.” Leofric chuckles dryly. You reach out to grab his throat, quick as a snake. Leofric’s breath hitches. “I am a shieldmaiden, Saxon. I can hurt you.” You hiss. You press your fingertips into his skin. Leofric grabs your wrist, trying to get you to leave off. He is strong, but you are no meek little girl. You resist him. But with your free hand, you line up his cock with your wet core. “God, you are something else.” Leofric rasps. “I know.” You affirm, sinking down on him.

You ride him, your fingers still at his throat.

Leofric groans and tries to trash below you. But you know by now how to keep an unruly mount in check. “Make me cum.” You hiss at him. “Wh-what?” Leofric gasps. You finally let his throat go and instead taking his hand. You bring his fingers to your clit. “You know how to give a woman pleasure, don’t you Saxon?” You purr. “Of course I do.” Leofric huffs. “Then do it.” You order. Leofric rubs his thumb at your clit. You moan and roll your pelvis into his touch. “That is what you like, huh?” Leofric rumbles. “Any woman does, as you keep your touches gentle.” You reply.

He keeps rubbing you. And you keep riding him.

Your muscles tense and your inner walls clench down on Leofric’s cock. Leofric groans loudly and his ministrations begin to falter. “N-not yet.” You whimper. “I ca-can’t.” He grunts. “Just a little more.” You hiss.

You are so close.

“A little more.” You order. “My God, woman-” Leofric snarls. “Make me cum, Saxon.” You tell him firmly. “You will be the death of me.” Leofric growls. But he obliges. He keeps rubbing unsteadily at your clit. But it is enough. The tension inside you peaks and your core clings onto his cock. Lightning blazes down your spine and sets you ablaze. “Oh Gods.” You moan. Wetly, all tension gushes from you and your inner walls contract on Leofric’s cock. “Christ!” Leofric grunts. He bucks his pelvis up at you. He spends himself deep inside you. “Goddamn.” He groans. You smile down on him. “Well done, Saxon.” You smirk.

Slowly you get off him.

You lay down next to him, panting slightly. “Not bad, for an unwashed Saxon.” You smirk at him. Leofric chuckles hoarsely. “Not bad yourself, you heathen.” He replies. “It is always better with a Dane.” You tease. Leofric scoffs in reply. “You are awfully full of yourself.” He says. “I know myself well.” You reply with a wicked smirk. You roll over and kiss him fiercely. Leofric groans and pulls you close. He is not truly cross with you. He is just bruised in his pride.

The next morning you wake up with your face pressed against Leofric’s bicep. He is snoring lightly.

You decide to let him sleep and slip out of bed. You put your clothes and boots back on and head out. First to make your water and then to get yourself some breakfast. Your mind is barely on Leofric. He is not your future. He is Saxon and you are Dane. You need a fellow Dane to grow with, not a man like Leofric, as much as you enjoy him, for now.

You break your fast in the inn’s common room, on your own. You notice how people are looking at you. They know you are different, they know you are not of their god. And that makes you bad. Horseshit, of course. There are plenty of Gods to go around and worshipping some over others says nothing about someone as a person. It says only anything about which Gods they look to for strength, hope and comfort.

You try to ignore the whispers and the looks. You have better things to do than to get into a discussion with Christians today. Winchester is a big settlement and you have exploring to do. You gotta learn the secrets of this place, partly for the hell of it and partly because secrets give you a power over the people who might want to harm you here.