Characters: Leofric of Wessex, Uthred Ragnarson/Uthred of Bebbanburg (brief), Mildreth (brief), Iseult (mentioned), King Peredur (mentioned)
A/N: First TLK post! They gave us a sassy, badass warrior that is absurdly large and slightly too old for me and since that’s exactly my type, I had to write about him. I want to make this a series as well, but I’m gonna start my Beric request after this and then my modern!Aemond fic/series to be hopefully. Also also, there’s a Grenn x reader sitting in my drafts rn. FYI, in this one I use italics for thoughts, which is new for me, so tell me if you like it! Also, I mention Grian who is, according to my five minute on Google, a Celtic/pre-Christian goddess of the sun, and specifically the winter sun. Since reader is Iseult’s sister in this, I imagine she would be a pagan, just not a Danish one.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned. They belong to Bernard Cornwell and the producers of The Last Kingdom. I do not own any gifs used. They belong to their original creators.
The farmstead you had been camping near for the past few weeks was quiet. There was only one man who you ever saw near the house, and sometimes a woman was with him. Workers tended the fields and took care of the animals nearby, but they were always too busy with their daily chores to notice. You did not necessarily need to hide yourself well, typically just spending your days in the woods foraging or hunting if you could and your nights sleeping in the barn on the grounds. Once the workers all left for home after their day, the farmstead was empty save for the animals you roomed with.
It was not luxury and it was nothing like the life you grew up with. The life you had up until two months ago almost felt like a sweet dream. There was much of it you missed, like your sister and a day filled with nothing but chores and gossip. Then your sister left, married off to some king in Cornwalum for her skills as a gwarch. A mother’s gift, as your own mother called it. Something she inherited from her mother, who received it from her mother, and so on. Only you did not receive it. Your older sister, Iseult, did and she was quite powerful. Her bride price was very valuable, more valuable than you could have ever dreamed of bringing to your family. That did not stop your father’s efforts. It took two more years for him to find someone who would pay a good bride price for you. The day he told you that he found you a husband was the day you ran.
The bleating of the ewe drew you from your thoughts. A small smile formed on your lips as she stared at you, annoyed that you were laying in one of her favorite spots. You could not blame her. The hay was a nest, keeping you comfortable. “I can make room for you, but I will not move.”
Scooting over, you grinned and patted the ground next to you, as though she could understand your jest. Instead, the ewe seemed to glare at you before settling down in another little nest on the other side. Shaking your head, you settled back down into your little nest of hay before closing your eyes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
—
You awoke early, as you have done everyday since you started sleeping in the barn. The workers woke early too, so you needed to leave the barn before any discovered you in your attempts to hold the sheep.
The trek back into the forest was quick, your surroundings becoming easier for you to manuever. Your first stop was the brook that ran through the country side. The cold water helped to pull you from the last of your sleep, waking you completely. You wanted to bathe soon, but you had not followed the brook far enough to find a spot deep enough. Instead, you began to forage for food, checking the traps you had set, smiling to yourself when two of your traps had successfully captured two rabbits. Two was too much to eat for just one meal but it would be just fine if you cooked them both now. Starting a fire later would not be smart, the workers on their way home would be more likely to see it.
—
Night begins to fall, watching from a ridge as workers began to go home. Once they were all gone, you snuck your way into the barn quickly, the final rays of sunlight twinkling through the trees. The sheep and the cows were in their stalls, along with a few new horses. You looked through a crack in the wall towards the hut. There was light coming from the house, but you did not worry. Surely it was just the lord and his wife who lived here.
It was easy to shrug it off as you made your way to a spot towards the back of the barn, where you could watch the doors with ease. As you tore into your rabbit, your mind drifted back to the last days you had with your sister.
You had wept as your elder sister held you, learning that she was leaving soon, and you were not prepared for the separation. Though you were 18 years old at the time, she was the only one who took care of you, loved you. She was always so gentle with you and always understanding. When her gifts came to her, she became your family’s jewel. Your parents preened over her constantly, your mother nurturing your sister’s gift. The work paid off and your sister’s abilities were soon sought after. It was a long time before they were sold. During that time, your sister taught you what she could, more about healing and herbs than seeing. When she did go into the woods to see, you went with her. Silence was kept between you, but you helped her as much as you could.
The last thing she said to you will always ring through your ears. “We will meet again, sweet sister.” She tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “But you cannot marry, not who father chooses. You simply need follow the bear. He will bring you back to me.” You nodded through your sniffles, holding onto her as tightly as you could. Moonlight shone on the two of you, raven hair shimmering beneath it.
Two years later and you still had not found the bear that was meant to lead you. Though you were also not entirely sure how a bear would take you to your sister. Nonetheless, you trusted her sight and would be ready to follow.
The creak of the barndoor snapped you from your reverie. A tall shadow appeared and you cursed, scrambling to a stall. The resting cow looked up at you, lowing as you approached in a crouch. You held your breath, drawing the dagger that you had tied to your waist. “Who’s in here?” A deep voice called, the signature hiss of a sword drawn from its sheath following, “I saw you. Come back out.” You cursed again before swinging out again, taking a low stance with your blade.
The man was much closer than you expected, with a torch sitting in a sconce between you. The flickering light revealed the scarred, though quite handsome, face of a very tall man. “What are you doing here?” His blade was level, though he did not appear to be very worried.
“Sleeping. The sheep make good company.” He scoffed at your answer. “What are you doing here?” You straightened slightly from your stance, trying to relax the tension. It was quite obvious to you that this bear of a man would have no trouble disarming you, let alone killing you. But there was still a chance you could talk your way out of it.
“The same, by invitation of the lord of this farmstead. Don’t think I can say the same for you,” he stated. You answered only with a shrug. “If I put away my blade, you will as well.” It was not a question, but you nodded your agreement anyways. He began to sheath his sword and you rose, putting your own blade away. “Been here long? Seem to know the locals quite well.” He nodded to the barn animals who had returned to their resting.
Another shrug from you. “A few months. They cried when I tried to leave.” He chuckled at that, looking you up and down.
“What’s your name?” You turned to look at the ground where the rest of your rabbit laid, tossed in your panic to hide. A beat of silence as you picked it up, brushing the hay and dirt from it before taking another bite.
“So many questions. I thought Saxons were supposed to be Christians and gentlemen.” You held out the rabbit to him, a peace offering. Despite having already eaten himself, he accepted.
“I’m deciding if I should tell the lord that you are here. He is not happy, and I do not think you would wish to cross paths with him this night.” There was a small twinkle of mirth in his eyes despite the serious sound of his words.
“(Y/N). Of Cornwalum. You?” He raised a brow. A Briton was not something he had expected to see in Liscumb but here you stood.
“Leofric of Wessex. Can’t save I’ve met a Briton before.” He tossed the rabbit back to you before moving to sit in what looked to be a decently comfortable pile of hay. “How’d you get out here?”
You finished the last bit of rabbit before tossing it into one of the back corners of the barn. “I walked, mostly. Ran a little bit. Even got to ride a horse for a while. Though the horse and the running were on the same day.” He chuckled at the mischievous grin on your face. “What is a warrior of Wessex doing sleeping in his lord’s barn?”
Leofric’s eyes followed you as you paced slowly, more out of boredom than nerves. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. Here you were, silver-tongued and beautiful, with full hips that were hugged by the pants you wore and alluring eyes that seemed to call to him from the very depths of his soul. For a man like Leofric, you were a sight to feast on. Though a God-fearing man, the ancient and arcane feeling that washed through him when he met your eyes had him questioning. “It’s my lord’s wedding night.” He smirked at you slightly. “I cannot say that I wish to be privy to it.” His eyes flicked back up after their southward expansion when you stopped, sights locking on each other. There was a beat of pregnant pause.
“Then do not worry, Leofric of Wessex. You shall have a silent night to rest.” A twinkle mirroring his own caused the great warrior’s heart to falter a moment. Though not entirely unfamiliar, the stutter was not something he had felt in quite a long time. With a final small smirk gracing your lips, you slipped into one of the nearby stalls where you were met with a small bleat of an ewe. “I told you, they missed me.” A soft chuckle was met to that.
“If you are to hold the sheep for warmth, then whom should I?” His flirtatious words made you grin, though he could not see it.
You responded without missing a beat. “The cow seemed lonely.” He gave another bark of laughter at this, and you couldn’t help the small laugh you let out. Laying down, you made yourself cozy in the bed of hay. Snow was falling that night, and a freezing wind blew through the cracks of the barn. A shiver ran through your body as you tucked your knees into your chest, another attempt to keep the warm in. After a while of silence, you were able to finally fall into blissful sleep.
—
Grian emerged from her slumber and the early rays of her light began to illuminate the sky. Your eyes fluttered open with a yawn following quickly. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before rising quietly. Soft snores carried from the other side of the barn, affirming that the man from last night, Leofric, was still in the barn though sound asleep. With a final stretch, you stood and made your way out of the stall. Leofric leaned against the wall in the same place as last night, his head fallen to the side in his slumber. A soft giggle escaped your lips as you looked down at him. Such soft and small noises from a man so big were nothing short of amusing.
Quickly and quietly, you slipped from the barn. The gray dawn of morning held the chill of the long winter night. Soon, you were free, traipsing through the woods as you began your day.
—
It wasn’t long after you left before Leofric woke. In fact, the soft knock of the barndoor closing was what roused him. It took a moment for him to truly wake, but when he did, he shot to his feet. Leofric took a few partially stumbling steps towards the door before yanking it open. To his dismay, you had disappeared before he could call out your name. The slight ache in his heart had nothing to do, he told himself, with the fact that you left before saying goodbye or anything else.
With a sigh, he shut the barndoor again and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes as he waited for the fog within his head to abate. One breath, two and then he righted himself. She would have been a good hump, he thought to himself almost forlornly. Deciding to give no further thought to it, he exited the barn and started for the hut where he hoped to find something to break his fast.
—
The day passed as any other, Grian warming the sky as much as she could. Her journey across the sky was unmarked yet unchanged, descending the same as it had ascended. As night fell, Leofric thanked Mildreth for the dinner in his hands, ready to make his quick escape to the barn. Pale dusk began to settle outside and, standing in the doorway, he could’ve sworn he saw a figure disappear near the barn. The air in the room was a bit… tense between Mildreth and Uhtred, but not in the way they had been when he yelled at her the day before. This was the tenseness of a wedding night, and Leofric had no intentions to find out if he was right.
“You do not wish to sleep in the house, Leofric?” Mildreth inquired politely.
“No, lady. The sheep will be missing me.” Uhtred snorted with laughter, eying his friend mischeivously.
“Taking extra with you tonight, Leofric?” There was a gleam in Uthred’s gaze that reminded Leofric of why he had wanted to knock a tooth or two out of the arseling’s gleeful smile when they first met. “Worked extra hard today, I hope.”
Leofric glared at the arseling, tilting his head at the playful challenge. “Aye lord, I did. So hard, in fact, that I think I deserve this as well.” The taller man grabbed the horn of ale from Uthred’s hands before taking a long swig. “Well, I’ll bid you good night lady, arseling.” He gave them a curt nod before making his way to the barn.
Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see you sitting across from where he had slept. “Missed the sheep?” he questioned teasingly.
“Aye. The one in the back, I’ve decided to call her Veldicca. She has been too great of company for anything else.” You were lying, of course. What you should have done was find somewhere else, gone anywhere else, but you didn’t. You came right back to this barn, and the reason for your return was now sitting across from you.
Leofric chuckled as he stretched out his long legs in front of him. Grabbing one of the extra chunks of bread that he had taken at dinner, he tossed it to you. “Have you been thinking of me, Leofric of Wessex?” A shiver ran down his spine at the teasing tone of your voice.
“Not at all.” Lie. You have haunted my thoughts all day. “I was extra hungry tonight, but I will be a gentleman and share my food with the lovely lady.” He gave you a small wink, which only made you return it with a small smirk.
You opened your mouth for a retort when the barndoor opened. Startled, the both of you jumped to your feet, hands flying to the pommels of weapons. “Leofric, I wanted to tell yo-...” Uthred stood in the doorframe, his words faltering mid-sentence when his eyes landed on you. A confused and somewhat concerned look graced his features, eyes flicking between you and Leofric. “Who is this?”
It had been an extremely long day at the end of an extremely long week—a long term, and a long year, even—and all Hild wanted to do when she got home was finish submitting her final evaluations and then go directly to bed.
But the instant she unlocked her door she knew she was in for an unpleasant evening.
The temperature inside was nearly as cold as the snowy December weather outside. Frost had even begun to form in the corners of the kitchen windows—old windows that the landlord had promised would be replaced months ago.
Hild sighed deeply, her breath creating a faint cloud as she exhaled. The same thing had happened last year right before Christmas. She should have expected it to happen again. It was going to be far too cold for her to concentrate on her work tonight. She really needed to find a new flat before her lease expired.
The radiator in her bedroom was cold to the touch as she turned the dial back and forth to no avail. She sighed again, and in her irritation gave it a solid kick. It didn’t improve the functionality, but it did make her feel slightly better.
Her fingers trembled with cold as she pulled her cellphone out of her coat pocket to call her landlord. They didn’t pick up, of course, so she left a somewhat curt message and made a mental note to phone again in an hour.
Accepting her fate, Hild slipped out of her coat and put on a pullover and cardigan over her turtleneck, then her coziest scarf. She was just struggling to pull her house shoes on over the bulk of two extra pairs of socks when she heard a knock at the door.
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Perhaps it was a repairman? Unlikely, but she wasn't expecting anyone else.
She shuffled to the door and opened it to find Iseult, her downstairs neighbor. The neighbor she’d wanted to speak to a dozen times or more, but had not yet got up the courage. The neighbor she’d found herself wondering about on a lonely night more often than she cared to admit.
“I thought I’d find you home,” Iseult said. Fortunately, she did not appear to be clairvoyant.
Hild’s face must have registered some surprise because Iseult smiled slightly as she added, “I may have heard you kick the radiator.”
“Oh—sorry if I disturbed you,” Hild said, flushing a bit at how she’d let her temper get the better of her. Noting that her neighbor was also wrapped in several layers of knitwear she added, “I take it your heat is out as well.”
“It’s the whole building, I think.” Iseult’s voice sounded as irritated as Hild felt.
“Would you like to come in?” Hild offered, and then immediately wondered if that was a stupid question. She had nothing much to offer, particularly without working radiators.
Iseult smiled again, a bit softer this time, but her eyes brightened. “Thank you.”
“We may as well stick it out together, I suppose,” Hild said, knowing that she would not have the evening she had planned no matter what.
She led the way into the kitchen and gestured to the electric kettle on her countertop. “Cocoa? At least we don’t have to rely on the gas for that.”
“Sounds lovely.” Iseult took a seat at the kitchen table, chafing her upper arms for warmth.
“You haven’t lived in this building long, have you?” Hild asked as she set two mugs on the counter and turned the kettle on.
“Only a few months. The start of your school year, I think.”
Hild glanced toward her guest, her mouth twitching into a smile despite her best efforts. She was surprised but pleased to find that she was apparently a person of interest. “Well, clearly you know I’m a teacher. What about yourself?”
“I’m a jewelry maker.” Iseult gestured to the earrings and necklace she was wearing. “I also do tarot readings out of my flat.”
“Ah.” Hild dropped her eyes to her hands and bit her lower lip.
“You do not approve, I know,” Iseult said in a carefree, almost musical tone.
Hild turned back, eyebrows raised. “Oh?”
Iseult huffed a gentle laugh. “It’s not an insult, Hild. I know that you are religious.”
Hild was about to ask how when her gaze fell on the wooden cross hanging above the sink. She turned back to see Iseult’s eyes alight with laughter.
“You’re at church every Sunday, too. I hear you get up earlier that day, and sometimes I see you return in your formal clothing.”
Hild would not have characterized a mid-length wool skirt and a pair of oxfords as formal, but looking at Iseult in her worn, wide-legged corduroy pants and scuffed clogs perhaps they had different standards of formal wear.
“So you’ve been spying on me,” she said, attempting to lighten her tone as she tore the cocoa packets.
Iseult chuckled and pulled her sleeves down around her palms.
“There is only so much to do during the day between appointments. I like to read by the window, so I happen to see everyone coming and going.”
Hild added hot water to the mugs, stirred, and added a bit more. The spoon clinking against the ceramic was the only noise in the room for a moment.
“Thank you.” Iseult’s fingers brushed against hers as she accepted the mug of cocoa. Hild nodded, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest, and took a seat across from her.
“The heat’s not likely to be fixed today,” Hild informed her in a somewhat apologetic tone, as if it was her fault. “Last winter the same thing happened, and it took an entire weekend to resolve.”
Iseult’s eyes widened and she shivered reflexively. “Goodness, what did you do?”
Hild remembered how Uhtred, who had been staying with Sihtric at the time, had come over and not left for…about seventy-two hours, by her calculations. That solution would not do this time around, and it wasn't just because he had a girlfriend.
She cleared her throat. “Just…coped.”
“Well, do you have any tips for coping?” Iseult asked innocently.
Hild took a sip of cocoa, hiding behind her mug temporarily. “Lots of blankets, I suppose.”
“I have a hot water bottle, but I imagine you might have one too.”
Hild shrugged. “Yes. It helps, but…”
“Well, we may as well camp out together, in the meantime. That is…if I’m not overstepping.”
Hild gazed across the table into Iseult’s warm brown eyes and wondered if there was any world in which she would deny her.
“You’re not over stepping at all. But I confess, I may not be very good company tonight. I’m feeling rather crabby, to be perfectly honest.”
Iseult’s smile wrinkled her nose. “Crabby is fine by me.”
Hild’s smile in return felt a bit too broad, but she couldn’t help it. Iseult was charming in every sense of the word. She regretted it had taken her this long, and a minor catastrophe, to spend any time with her.
“It’s warmer in the next room,” Hild offered, rising to her feet. “Better windows in there.”
They made their way to the couch, and Hild gathered every blanket she could find. She even brought her down comforter from the bedroom and offered half to Iseult, who graciously accepted. They were bundled up nicely now, though Hild found herself quite irritated when yet again their landlord ignored her call. Her irritation was tempered by her enjoyment of Iseult’s companionship and the low current of accompanying nervousness.
She flicked on the television, not wanting to leave the burden of conversation entirely on her guest.
Iseult laid her head against the back of the couch, curling slightly on her side so her body faced Hild.
Hild adjusted her posture, and her knee bumped up against Iseult’s leg. She nearly pulled back, but Iseult didn’t move away, so she didn’t either.
Iseult leaned a bit closer after a time, eyes still fixed on the television, but Hild was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than the woman beside her.
“Is your school term finished?” Iseult’s eyes opened and closed slowly. She seemed to be trying to keep herself awake.
“Yes, I won’t quite know what to do with myself for the next two weeks,” Hild replied.
“What do you normally do between terms?”
“Well, they always need help at the church this time of year. That, and try to rest if I can.”
Iseult cocked her head slightly. “Rest is good.”
“I’m not very good at it, I'm afraid,” Hild felt compelled to admit.
“Like everything, it requires a commitment to practice,” Iseult said softly.
She was sincere, but there was a kind of levity behind her demeanor. Something that made Hild feel a bit more seen than she typically did. Normally that would make her uncomfortable, but with Iseult, it didn’t. It was as if she was standing behind a sheer curtain, waiting to pull it aside and step forward, but in her own timing.
“How would you advise I commit to practicing?” she asked, staring at the television but not watching.
Iseult chuckled and pulled the comforter up around her neck. “This is a good start, here.”
Hild shivered and instinctively moved a bit closer. “I suppose this is God’s way of telling me to take the night off.”
“Does your god speak to you often through the incompetence of your landlord?” Iseult asked.
“Not exclusively, no.”
Iseult’s nose wrinkled in amusement and she leaned a bit closer still.
When she took Hild’s hand under the coverlet, Hild was certain her heart had stopped beating.
Iseult’s eyes were clear and bright as she asked, “Does your god have rules about this?”
“Some men claim he does,” Hild murmured, “but I’m not in the habit of listening to men.”
Iseult’s smile widened as she leaned forward to brush a kiss to Hild’s lips. Hild’s breath caught. She froze, then cupped Iseult’s face gently as she kissed her back.
It was a good kiss—perhaps a little awkward, somewhat tentative at first, but building in feeling almost immediately. A spark had ignited between them—cold flint and steel striking against each other and creating something beautiful that had not existed there before.
Hild’s face grew warm—she was sure she was blushing quite deeply—and the heat spread throughout her body from her core. Her fingers, twined in Iseult’s, were still cold, but that’s not why they were trembling.
“You don’t need much practice at that,” Iseult said coyly, leaning her forehead against Hild’s.
Hild felt a laugh tumble forth, and clasped Iseult’s hands between her own to warm them.
Iseult laughed too, and tucked into her side. Hild wrapped an arm around her and pulled the coverlet tighter.
Half an hour later, they were both asleep. They’d wake in the morning light, still wrapped up in each other, to a missed call from their landlord. The heat would be fixed in time, but they would devote themselves to other pastimes while they waited.
