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still-with-you · 2 years

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Oh, this is beautifully written!! 🥺♥️

Memories Feel Like Weapons

This short one shot was inspired by Taylor Swift's song 'Would've, Could've, Should've' from her 'Midnights' album.

Aethelflaed thinks back to her time with Erik and her feelings about losing him and trying to move on.

Some smuttiness, but not much. Fingering and mentions of sex.

Tagging: @still-with-you @emilyhufflepufftlk @solinarimoon @lauwrite1225 @morosemagick @medievalfangirl @93xdiagonxalley @blah-blah-blah-bla

Aethelflaed watched her daughter, Aelfwynn as she ran around the estate laughing. She smiled as Uhtred's men, Finan and Osferth, chased her. Aelfwynn's blond hair, so much like his, blew in the wind behind her. Aethelflaed closed her eyes and could hear his voice as if he stood beside her.

“You are a beauty, lady, you deserve to be loved and held,” Erik whispered to her as he lowered her to the ground by the lake. “You deserve a soft bed and a gentle touch.”

Aethelflaed looked into his blue eyes. “I will settle for a gentle touch and to truly feel desired and seen,” she answered as she felt his hands run up her dirty dress.

“I desire you, princess, and I see you,” Erik whispered. “You are so beautiful,” he kissed her again deeply.

She ran her hands down to his trousers and undid the ties, her hands shaking. Her experience in the matters of sex had come from her husband and he had used her over and over without a care for her feelings or her pain. Erik was different, so far, but Aethelflaed was still not sure if she would like bedding him anymore than she had her husband.

She moaned as Erik's fingers slid to her cunt and began to play with her folds. She bit her lower lip to stop from being so loud. Erik's fingers slid inside of her, stroking her as his thumb pressed up higher on a sweet spot it would seem that made Aethelflaed's legs tingle and the breath leave her lungs. Erik smiled and chuckled.

“I will show you how it should be between a husband and wife, how pleasurable the act can be,” he promised.

By the feel of his experienced fingers, Aethelflaed believed him.

For the first time, she enjoyed a man humping her.

“Where were you just now?” Uhtred's voice broke into her memories.

She startled and turned to look at him. He gave her a soft smile and she returned it. She looked away from him as she heard Aelfwynn laughing. She smiled as she saw Finan carrying her daughter over his shoulder as Osferth chased them. Sihtric was standing a ways away shaking his head as he gathered their things.

“I was in the past,” she whispered softly remembering Erik's laughter and how much Aelfwynn's reminded her of him.

She felt Uhtred place a hand on her lower back. He stepped closer to her. She was reminded that he too had lost his love, Gisela, just months before. His loss much fresher but no doubt just as painful as Aethelflaed's was.

It was probably why he had come back to her estate after the latest battle. He did not wish to go back to Coccham where his wife was not waiting for him. And it was also why she had allowed him into her bed. He needed the comfort and she perhaps did as well.

“The past?” Uhtred asked. She glanced at him and saw him watching Aelfwynn as well. “I believe I don't have to ask which memories of the past you were reliving.”

Aethelflaed turned away from Uhtred. “There are moments, in the middle of the night, when I ache for him, for what could have been, what should have been. And the pain,” she paused, “I regret it. I regret ever going with Aethelred to Lundun, I regret falling for Erik. I regret it all,” she admitted.

She felt Uhtred pull her closer to him. He kissed her temple. “You may regret it, but your time with Erik gave you a beautiful daughter,” he said.

Aethelflaed closed her eyes. “It did but the memories of those days,” she reached up and wiped her tears away, “they are like knives at times. I think of them and they cut me wide open all over again to the pain.”

Aelfwynn's laughter pulled her back away from the pain. She turned and laughed as Finan fell to the ground dramatically as Aelfwynn tackled him. Osferth stood beside them laughing as Finan played dead. Sihtric walked over as well laughing. Aethelflaed closed her eyes and felt Uhtred wrap his arm around her waist and pull her closer.

“Memories can feel like weapons,” he whispered. “They come and they cut us open anew reminding us of the happiness and love we have been robbed of; that has been ripped away.”

Aethelflaed nodded. She opened her eyes and looked at her daughter, Erik's daughter. “The wound of losing him has never closed. There are times where I dream of him and I wake hearing his ghost demand when I have erased him from Aelfwynn's life. I know she deserves to know the truth but I cannot,” Aethelflaed stopped.

“You cannot tell her or anyone, Aethelflaed,” he said softly. “To the outside world, Aelfwynn must remain Aethelred's.”

Aethelflaed nodded. “I know. I just wish it would have been different. That he would have lived.”

She felt Uhtred hold her closer. “I know that feeling. I know the ache of that wish,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “but as much as I regret Gisela's death, the truth is I would not change a single moment I shared with her for anything. Even if it was so too short a time, loving her, made me a better man,” Aethelflaed turned, her blue eyes looking into Uhtred's, “just as loving Erik made you a better woman, a better leader.”

Aethelflaed nodded. She let Uhtred wipe away her tears. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She kissed him back softly. She pulled away when she heard Aelfwynn squeal. She turned and laughed as she saw her daughter running towards her.

“Momma!” she yelled.

Aethelflaed crouched down and caught her daughter in her arms. She held her close and tight. Uhtred was right; loving Erik had given her Aelfwynn, and that she would never regret.

Ever.

#dont mind me I'll be here crying for a little while :')#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #aethelflaed #erik thurgilson #uhtred #ale reads

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still-with-you · 2 years

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Even though the context was sad (Gisela my beloved 😔) I loved their dynamic!! The dialogues were soo fun to read, I can picture them from the start to the end. It's exactly what would happen if they talked about this lol

It's Me, I'm the Problem, It's Me

This story was inspired by the song 'Anti-Hero' on Taylor Swift's new album 'Midnights'.

It's about our Coccham squad trying to get Uhtred to see that since Gisela's death, he's been the problem. And needless to say, it does not go well.

Tagging: @still-with-you @morosemagick @solinarimoon @lauwrite1225 @medievalfangirl @blah-blah-blah-bla @93xdiagonxalley

Uhtred rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he walked towards the stairs in the great hall of Coccham. He heard the quiet and hush in the hall and he hated it. He missed hearing Gisela yell at their children or Finan's loud laughter as he teased Gisela and she teased him back. Or Osferth's voice offering to help her with the chores while Sihtric and Finan teased the former monk for being a suck up.

Instead all he heard was his men going through the motions and the sounds of the food being set out and chores being done.

But no laughter.

Not any longer.

He walked down the stairs and saw Finan first. The Irishman had Storria in his arms and was holding her still as Osferth brushed her hair.

“What happened next, Finan?” Storria asked her voice soft but her eyes were filled with wonder.

“Well, the large kraken,” he started.

“There are no such things of krakens,” Osferth answered.

“And have you ever been to sea, baby monk?” Finan asked.

“Well, no,” Osferth said.

“Then shut it.”

“That's not very nice, Finan,” Storria said.

Uhtred snorted causing everyone to turn his way. He saw Storria smile as she saw him. Finan placed her on her feet and she ran over to Uhtred. He picked her up and swung her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. He rubbed her back and closed his eyes.

Holding her close brought him comfort.

But the pain was still there.

It felt like another part of him was missing.

“Storria, why don't you go help Young Uhtred and Ealhswith collecting herbs and vegetables for dinner tonight?” Finan suggested.

“Okay,” Storria kissed Uhtred on the cheek. “I'm going to go throw dirt at Uhtred,” she said as he placed her on her feet.

“That is not what I said,” Finan called after her as she ran out of the hall. He turned and looked at Uhtred. “She is trouble.”

“She is her father's daughter,” Sihtric answered.

Uhtred shook his head. He walked over to the table and sat down. He poured himself some ale and drank it. He did not miss the looks Finan sent Osferth and Sihtric. He had no doubt they were about him. Most things were about him these days, whether he wanted them to be or not.

“Finan, tell me what is on your mind,” Uhtred said softly as he drank more ale.

“Lord, it's,” Finan sighed, “Uhtred, you are spiralling,” he said softly.

Uhtred looked at him and nodded. “I am,” he said.

There was no denying it. The decisions he had made since losing Gisela two years before, they were reckless and borderline insane. He could have died countless times, his men could have died. And yet, he still did them. He lied and said he was only doing what needed to be done, that he was doing it for Alfred or to get Skade back and on and on.

But the truth was he was toying with the Gods. He was demanding them to decide every time whether he lived or died and joined Gisela. And every time, there was a part of him that was disappointed that he lived. And then he felt guilty that he was disappointed and on and on the cycle went.

“It has been two years, lord,” Osferth said softly. “Lady Gisela would not wish for you to be hurting and,” he stopped.

“And dragging us along with you,” Sihtric said plainly. “It is not just your life, lord, you are endangering it is all of our lives.”

“You do not need to come with me if you do not wish to,” Uhtred said simply.

Finan scoffed. “Aye, of course, we are just going to sit here in Coccham and watch ya ride off to set an entire village on fire or raid a Dane camp all on ya own,” Finan glared at Uhtred, “and who would bring ya back home to ya children?”

Uhtred shrugged. “I am sure I could make it back home on my own.”

Osferth snorted. Uhtred raised an eyebrow and looked at the former monk. He gave him a hard look, one that in the past would have send the boy scurrying away. Instead, Osferth just stood there and looked at him. Uhtred turned and saw Finan eyeing them.

“I don't think ya wish to be here any longer, Uhtred,” he said his voice soft. “The last time ya were like this, we were at sea,” he added.

Finan's words caused the quiet hall to fall even further into silence. This silence was heavy and filled with pain and hurt. Uhtred looked away from his friend and focused on the table in front of him.

There was truth in Finan's words. Too much truth to face sober; or drunk for that matter. Uhtred let his fingers dance across the table top, tracing patterns in the wood, following the cracks.

“I am tired,” was all he said.

“Tired of riding into battles without a plan?” Sihtric asked.

“I have plans,” Uhtred countered.

Finan snorted. “Shield walls, burning things to the ground, and prayers are not battle plans,” he stated.

“They work,” Uhtred shrugged.

“Until they don't,” Osferth commented. “And one day, they won't.”

“And I would really like to not die before the birth of my next child,” Sihtric added.

Uhtred knew they were right. He looked at Finan. “It is not my fault that the King continues to demand that we patrol the borders of Wessex and keep it safe.”

“You're right, the King does demand our help and service,” Finan said. “He, however, does not demand the stupid plans that go along with it.”

“He is asking me to help, so, Finan, I do believe he expects the stupid plans,” Uhtred found himself answering.

“So,” Sihtric said, “lord, you are admitting the plans are stupid.”

Uhtred looked at them. He sat straighter. “Are you trying to say I am the problem here?” he demanded in his lord voice.

“Well, lord, we know it isn't us,” Osferth said carefully.

Uhtred opened his mouth to disagree, to argue. He stopped though. He looked at the faces of Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth. They all looked at him, concern and love on their faces. He remembered every battle, every skirmish. They had fought by his side; always. Every stupid plan, every crazy pitched battle that they had no way to win, but win they did. These three men had believed in him, had held him together more often than any of them probably cared to admit.

It hit him then.

They were not lying.

He was the problem.

He was the one who had refused to listen to his men; who had spent the past two years wallowing in pain and refusing to move on.

“Oh,” he said. “It is me,” he muttered.

“It is you what, lord?” Osferth asked softly.

Uhtred looked at the former monk. “I am the problem,” he answered.

“Huh,” Finan said as he crossed his arms on his chest. “I thought there'd be more yelling, more denials, and much more ale before ya came to that conclusion,” he said.

Uhtred glared at Finan. Finan shrugged. Uhtred rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his face. He dropped his hands and looked at his men.

“You three already came to that conclusion,” he said.

“Moments after I met you,” Sihtric said.

“When you set fire to that village in Mercia,” Osferth said.

Uhtred looked at Finan. “And you?” he asked.

Finan smirked. “I always knew you were a problem, the moment you showed up on the Trader, I knew,” he said.

Uhtred rolled his eyes. “I knew you were trouble as well.”

Finan held up a finger. “Ah, being trouble is vastly different than being a problem. People like trouble, they do not like problems.”

Uhtred looked at him. “They do not like trouble.”

“I like trouble,” Sihtric admitted. Finan smirked and Uhtred looked at the Dane. Sihtric sighed and gestured at Finan. “I don't like Finan's type of trouble,” he said causing Finan to curse, “but I do like trouble.”

Uhtred looked at Osferth. Osferth crossed his arms on his chest. “I suddenly wished I had listened to the king and Father Beocca and stayed in the monastery all those years ago,” he said.

Finan laughed and Uhtred rolled his eyes again. “What now?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” Finan said. “I had not planned on you actually admitting you are the problem here.”

Uhtred groaned. He rested his face in his hands. “I just want some ale and peace and quiet,” he muttered.

“So did we,” Finan said. “But then you dragged us into burning down the village around us.”

Osferth held up his finger. “No, lord and you burned down the village. I stood watch,” he clarified.

Sihtric snorted and laughed. “You were a part to it.”

“I was not.”

“Baby monk,” Finan sighed, “standing watch is being a part of it.”

Uhtred chuckled. “Apparently, I am not the only problem around here.”

Finan pointed a finger at him. “Hey now, it is easily to look at someone else and call them a problem than admitting it's been ya all along.”

Uhtred looked at Finan and levelled him with a look. “Exactly.”

Uhtred crossed his arms on his chest and watched as Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth each looked at the other. He waited. He smirked as Finan's face fell.

“Well, shit,” the Irishman said as he sat at that table. “I am also a problem,” he muttered. He looked up at Uhtred. “I'm a problem because I enabled you,” he said.

Uhtred shrugged. “I never said you weren't,” he smirked.

“Me as well,” Sihtric answered as he sat beside Finan. “I am also a problem.”

Uhtred nodded. He looked at Osferth. Osferth looked back. “What?” he asked.

Uhtred leaned in. “Osferth, you are also a problem.”

Osferth, with that innocent look on his face that had pulled in many woman around Winchester and Coccham, and every woman they seemed to meet, looked at Uhtred like he had grown two heads.

“Lord, I respect you and have enjoyed following you,” he said carefully. “But I am not the problem, I have never been the problem, and lord, you will not convince me otherwsie,” he said firmly.

Uhtred was shocked. He looked at Finan and Sihtric. They were smiling and had smirks on their faces.

“I am going to go check on the children,” Osferth said as he turned and left the hall.

Uhtred shook his head. He leaned forward and looked at Finan and Sihtric.

“Osferth is definitely the problem,” he said firmly.

Sihtric looked at Finan. Finan nodded and sighed. “Aye, and back at square one,” Finan muttered.

Uhtred sat back and watched as Finan and Sihtric got up from the table and followed Osferth out. He looked at their backs.

“Was it something I said?!” he called after them.

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #uhtred #finan #sihtric #osferth #ale reads

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still-with-you · 2 years

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The Lips I Used to Call Home

So, I blame both Taylor Swift and @emilyhufflepufftlk for this story.

It was inspired by a song on Taylor’s new album ‘Midnights’. The song is ‘Maroon’.

It's about Finan on the slave ship thinking about the reason he was there. There is mention of rape, murder, and blood. It is not a happy story.

It’s 600 words of pain. I’m fine, really.

You have been warned.

Tagging: @still-with-you @solinarimoon @morosemagick @lauwrite1225 @medievalfangirl @blah-blah-blah-bla @93xdiagonxalley

Finan remembered the colour of her cheeks and lips. It was burned forever in his mind.

He remembered it so much, because in those last moments, that last time he had seen her, it was all his eyes could focus on.

They had both been so pink, they were red.

Maroon.

Her lips because of the blood that had stained them, and her cheeks from the tears she had cried.

As he sat in that ship, and he pulled that damn oar, those were the two images that filled his mind the most.

He lost himself in them.

Her lips.

They had been his.

How soft they had felt pressed against his. How warm they had been. Like a nice fire on a cold night. She had smiled so easily with him, his lips against hers as his hands roamed her body.

Her lips had brought him pleasure and soft kisses and sweet words.

They were bloodied and still, now forever in his mind.

Those last moments. They haunted him more than any of the happy memories he had shared with her.

“PULL!” Sverri yelled from the front of the ship, breaking into Finan's thoughts and memories of a lost love.

One day, you bastard, I will kill you.

Finan pulled the oar harder, biting down on his bottom lip until it bled. He spat out the blood and saw the colour on the wooden planks in front of him.

A deep dark red as it soaked into the plank.

Maroon.

Like the stain across her dress as the blood had dried.

No. Not that memory.

But it was too late.

His mind had wandered there.

Conall, his brother, and the men he had brought with him, dragging her from the home she had built with Finan. Finan being dragged out behind her, his knees hitting the stones and getting cut and bruised. She had been Conall's wife and Finan had known the fury his brother would have if he had caught them. But it had not mattered until the end. In the end, he had begged Conall to take his anger out on him, and leave her alone.

Conall hadn't. He had used her. Let his men use her. Forced Finan to watch as man after man climbed on top of her. She had cried and sobbed. Her cheeks turning red as she cried and begged. Conall had hit her over and over.

Her lips turned red as she bit the bottom one and the blood stained them. Finan had told her he loved her, told her it would be all right.

“You still love her now, Finan?” Conall laughed as he grabbed her by her hair. Hair that was the colour of sunshine, even now. He pulled her up on her knees. Finan kept his eyes on her face, not on her chest or the torn dress. Her eyes found his; eyes the colour of sky on a cloudless day.

“I do,” Finan said looking at her and holding her glaze. Her bottom lip trembled and he saw blood on the corner of her mouth. “I always will. Ya hear me?” he spoke directly to her. “I love ya and-NO!” he screamed.

Conall slit her throat. Finan watched as the blood ran down her collarbones and her chest. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Conall held her upright as the blood poured down her chest.

Finan cried and screamed.

Conall laughed.

Hours later, after Conall had tossed her down on the cold ground and he had left Finan with her body, Finan stared at her face.

Her lips and cheeks.

He could not look on the blood that stained her dress as it dried.

It was so red.

It was maroon.

“PULL!”

Finan was relieved to have Sverri yell and pull him from his memory. He averted his eyes from the maroon stain on the wooden plank in front of him.

He refused to.

He focused his mind on pulling the damn oar. Over and over.

And over again.