#finan fanfic

[tlkfaerie]

Ribbons ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

pairing: Finan x reader

a/n: Response to a lovely request! My first request, actually! Finally doing a solo Finan piece :) A bit soppier than I had originally planned, but I love it and I love Finan soooooo. Also the circumstance / sequence of events aren't entirely accurately in line with the events of the show but we move.

MDNI!18+ : TW finan x reader, dom!finan, virgin!reader, virginity loss, manhandling, kissing, very brief mentions of loss, fingering, p in v sex, confessions of love, slight breeding!kink

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Things were tense when the men staggered back to the stronghold. They had won their latest battle involving Mercia and Bloodhair, though at the cost of a disastrous curse upon Uhtred's family. You selfishly prayed for Finan's safety, despite the two of you not being together. You were great friends, and though the others were familiar to you too, it was Finan that you truly wished to return in one piece.

You spent your time at home praying for the souls of those who had been lost, thinking about the wise words that Hild so graciously bestowed on you. You felt her absence more than ever, needing her sweet guidance, but aware that she was already spread thin. Everyone was.

As winter crept into your home, you wallowed slightly, missing everyone. But you had a duty, an alehouse to run. It was where you had met everyone originally, and had turned into somewhat of a cornucopia for Coccham. You knew that in order to keep spirits high, you'd have to open it up and welcome everyone in. Your hearth was where you had first met Finan, sitting with Uhtred as the two of them laughed. Hild had introduced you, and your speechlessness was the source of several laughs.

You had sat with them on the table that night, laughing with Hild, who you truly saw as your aspiration. Uhtred noticed this, joking about how you reminded him of his children, which had made you huff slightly. You were embarrassed of this, but Finan assured you that you were alright, muttering some joke about how you clearly had the spirit of a warrior within you to deal with these drunken men.

It had been a slow night, but you would rejoin them when you could, smiling at Finan every now and then. Finan's eyes had scrunched up too, but his lingering look had you blushing all throughout the night. From then on, the warriors had frequented your place. You and Finan would often sit and chat. He loved that he could talk to you. For once, it was not about war, or combat, or blasted shield walls. He was sick to death of hearing the names Alfred or Edward, and you gave him peace from all of that.

It filled you with warmth to see everyone so carefree and jolly, especially as it was your father's wish when he opened the alehouse to make an honest place of it. Every now and then, a regular face would vanish, and you felt it like a sting in your core, but you carried on nevertheless.

You lived just above the alehouse, walking down the steep wooden steps as you tried to alleviate your chill. Nothing seemed to work. Lighting candles and preparing some food for the hungry travellers that would arrive soon. You had heard news that the travelling party were returning from Winchester within the next few hours, feeling sadness at the inevitable loss and pain that would be felt all through the town, but also the deep, hidden feelings of desire that you so heavily pushed to one side.

Every time you saw Finan leave, you felt a tinge of regret within you. After all, he was Uhtred's right hand man by all accounts, and great responsibilities were often given to him. What if he were to never return? You supposed it was silly to think more of your confessions being told than him returning with his life, but you were sick of pushing down these feelings. You felt like some sort of angel when his gaze fell on you, which it did, often. And when he would come in for a final glass of ale, though what you didn't know is that he was really just looking for an excuse to talk to you.

He had seemed grave when you saw him last, trying to keep smiling at you but looking away darkly every now and then. You, none the wiser, had given him a cheerful departure, promising a full meal for him and his friends upon his return. You had assured him that the plate would be waiting for him, only if he came home in one piece. The gesture was halfhearted, though to him it was a challenge. He had left beside Uhtred, meditating upon his horse about you.

You.

Finan really, really loved you. He was always incredibly outgoing, and so you assumed he would just wed someone more like him, but Finan dreamed of you almost every night. It tortured him that he was so quick with his words, and yet they seemed to disappear from him whenever he saw you. Your plump lips, your wide eyes, full of life and unsoiled by the rot of death. You were the exact opposite of what he encountered on his missions and tasks, and though he loved his life alongside his trusted Lord, he wanted something to do it all for. And that something was you. He would make sure of that.

As both of your feelings nearly spilled over each other, it was time for someone to do something.

It seemed like you had wasted your whole day, silently waiting for the evening to come, when finally, you heard some commotion - your heart sent flashes of longing through you. You felt somewhat pathetic, watching the door of your alehouse for that specific person to come through. But, when you know, you know.

Suddenly, a stream of townsfolk walked in. Some came holding hands, some even came with their children, which you didn't mind, offering them some meat pies and ruffling their hairs. You spoke with some of the women, delighted to have their husbands back and eager to get you away to spend time with them soon. You joked about being stuck behind the brewery, handing out copious pints of ale. Within the next twenty minutes, your hands were so sticky that you started flapping them furiously.

Finally, you made your way outside, wanting to do a round of everyone sitting on the benches. There, you found Finan and Osferth. Sihtric was over in the corner, with his wife, the two of them beckoning you towards them.

Giving them quick greetings, you drunk in some of the news from Sihtric, who informed you that Uhtred was still in Winchester for some time with Hild, and that he had suffered a great loss. Your head bowed at that, not wanting or needing to know any more. You wished the both of them and their children well, before granting a weak smile to the two men now before you.

Osferth gave a weak smile, fondly remembering happier times in the alehouse and wishing he could match his previous energy. You hugged him tightly, knowing he was more sensitive and newer to the trade of being a warrior, though you didn't expect him to hold on so tightly to you. You sunk into his unfamiliar embrace for a moment, before Osferth pulled away.

And there he was. Finan. You had never seen him looking more tired, slightly long hair giving him a dishevelled look. Though equally, he was beautiful. No amount of sadness could take away the kind, observant look in his eyes. He seemed to be in his own world, and you didn't want to disturb, but then he looked at you, and the faintest smile stretched onto his lips.

You wanted Finan to hold you. You wanted his warm embrace then and there, but something told you it would take a little more time. His brows are furrowed and a strong wrinkle emerges between them, telling you that he is far from relaxed. You gulp slightly, the promise of a meal still hanging in the air.

With a hand still on Osferth's shoulder, you said nothing as you gave him an empathetic nod, tilting your head and smiling as best as you could. Your chest filled with relief when his little wrinkle disappeared. The shadows lifted just slightly, and there he was. He understood you somehow, an unspoken look flittering between you, and then you were gone.

There was so much you wanted to talk to Finan about. You ached to have your friend back, even if that dynamic did pain you. He still came to the tavern, even when Uhtred returned, though he was unusually silent as weeks flew by. Even as things picked up and spirits were back to normal, Finan seemed to be stuck somehow.

You entertained mostly Uhtred and Sihtric most nights, helping them heal ever so slightly with perhaps a little too much ale. You had even begun watering it down less, which did not go unnoticed by them. You prayed with Osferth too, mostly to keep him company.

It wasn't until a whole month had passed that you could no longer take it. Finan's usual loud voice could no longer be something of the past. You needed to tell him how you felt. You knew that you had to do something tonight.

You spent far too long in the mirror during the hour before you would open. You knew it would be a busy night, as the snow had finally ceased, and people were no longer cooped up in their homes. They would want warm drink and entertainment, and you would give them just that.

"Come on, Y/N." You nudged yourself, looping two ribbons into the two braids that you had meticulously gathered with your unruly hair, pinching your cheeks before letting out a slight laugh. You hadn't realised just how much you truly valued Finan's entire personality until it changed whenever you came near. Surely freshening up a bit would impress him?

Meanwhile, as though he was mirroring you, Finan ran his hands through his hair, sitting patiently in his own company. He had been surrounded by his loud companions all day, laughing and working, enjoying any semblance of peace that he could. The Irishman thought of nothing but you, however, and felt that if he did not do something soon he would combust into a million pieces.

Truthfully, after his last visit to Mercia, he had pulled back from you slightly. He needed you so deeply, but couldn't bear the thought of making you wait around for him, worrying if he would come home or not. There was also the additional danger of his weapons everywhere, his being at Uhtred's side constantly, and the threat of having something so precious to him be so targeted. He wanted you more than he wanted to breathe.

After that first day where you had been babbling to Hild in your alehouse, he was stunned. He was in awe of how you ran the place, even with the death of your father, never allowing anyone to step on your toes, even though he would have been more than willing to help. He admired your trust in things, never fearing of the worst, unlike he had. Since his days on the ship, all he had craved was something, anything, to come home to.

Nothing had filled that space until he saw you prancing around the alehouse, clumsily spilling drinks and shaking your sticky hands in his face to annoy him, your loud laughter echoing in his mind even now as he had tried to pull you into the mess you had made.

The memory shone in his mind, so prominent that he quite literally couldn't think straight. He didn't want to be absent towards you now, but his very existence intermingling with yours was a threat to your life, and perhaps your happiness. Could he do that to you?

As the tavern bustled into life, you couldn't stop fiddling with your braids. Some of your friends had offered to touch them up, which only worried you more, but they teased you still, pinching your cheek when you had confessed to them what you were going to do tonight.

You would your hands into the handles of at least ten cups, delivering them to the table of several hefty warriors who barely fit on your stools, making a mental note to get some warrior-friendly seating arranged.

"Here you are boys," you greeted them lightly, recognising a few, particularly Uhtred, who looked like he had seen better days. His hair was loose, strewn all over his face, but a smile graced his face, which reassured you.

"You might want to slow down, Lord," you teased, anticipating his reaction. He cocked his brow, piercing blue eyes observing you graciously. "Y/N, you're too good to me. Too good." He raised a glass to you, and you playfully rolled your eyes, a renewed sense of confidence overtaking you.

As you were about to turn around, you collided with hard leathers, belonging to a very firm chest. Towering above you was Finan. You quickly fiddled with your braid, hoping he would be enticed by them. So stupid, you thought to yourself.

"Have you forgotten what incredibly handsome men look like, or are you just surprised to see me?" said Finan, voice just above a whisper. Your eyes widened at his question, hand coming up to slap his bare arms. He hadn't been this perky in a while, and it shocked you, to say the least. You were happy to see him back to normal. Though he always carried an air of dominance with him, the softer side of him was always welcome.

There was a strange determination in his eyes, as if he had woken up. "Trust me, with you in front of me every day, I could hardly forget what a handsome man looks like." Your emboldened state of mind matched his newfound confidence, and the two of you were back to being the same people that you were when you first met. Finan forgot, just for a second, about the reek of death and its hanging in the air.

Instead, he took you in. Your fresh braids, which he suspected you had done just for him. He felt so warm, even in the bitter winter, and your eyes gazing at him as though he was the kindest man on earth brought him more security than anything else in the world.

His presence alone was enormous. You had to shake your head to remember what you were really here to say to him. He had laughed at your previous remark, taking the confident proudly.

"You look so beautiful, Y/N." he stated fondly, content to spend the rest of the night with you. Your cheeks heated at his words, and you looked away, but not before his strong hands found your chin, raising your face to meet his brown eyes once more. He simply could not wait any longer.

"You always look beautiful, and I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel like you aren't", he huffed, acknowledging his own mental absence. You felt the tenderness in his touch, against the rough scarring on his hands. You smiled sadly, wishing he didn't have to be treated so roughly. Your softer hands found his, holding them tightly.

"I suppose I sh-" but before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by a loud crash. You were quick to inspect the commotion, not realising that the two of you were still firmly holding hands. It hadn't occurred to you until his grip tightened, dwarfing your entire hand in his. You couldn't help but smile, especially when you discovered what the scene before you was all about.

Two women were having at it, fighting like animals. These were women you knew, and so you were shocked to see them go at one another, enough even to draw blood. You considered for a moment why two familiar faces would be fighting, but the two had recently mentioned their escapades with Osferth, who was a babbling mess at the scene before him.

Finan cursed. Truly, he couldn't help but laugh. Of course, this stupid baby monk would intervene in some way, he thought to himself. You giggled at Osferth's expression as the women were finally separated by Finan, who begrudgingly let go of your hand. He felt so juvenile, clinging to you like a crush, but he simply couldn't help himself.

"Umm, I thought monks weren't allowed to hump," was all he said, before leaving the poor boy to defend for himself, returning to you. As he walked over, you felt the life reemerge within him. He was smiling so much you almost couldn't take it.

"Now that's a hero," you laughed as he spread his arms out, congratulating himself. You couldn't keep yourself from moving about, however, unable to stay still in his presence. Your mind constantly filtered through possibilities of what he was about to tell you, meanwhile your own looming confession was being stuffed further and further back in your mouth. You weren't entirely sure what he was going to say to you. Perhaps he was going to tell you to stay away from him . . .

Any suspicions of his rejection, however, were entirely forgotten when both of his hands came to cup your face. The act felt so intimate that your legs almost quivered, and you braced yourself to fall over. His head leaned back slightly, and he breathed heavily, taking you in. Finan, filled with confidence, had bee brought to his knees by you. You and your ribbon braids.

"Can we talk somewhere, please. Perhaps when it's a little less busy, lady?" you understood, but couldn't help the frustration that grew within you as your conversation was prolonged yet again. You simply nodded, but that didn't seem to be enough for him, judging by his widening eyes.

"After closing, Finan, come up the stairs, I'll be in my room." You hadn't realised just how suggestive that sounded until Finan's eyes widened even more, and he cocked his head with a cheeky grin, retorting something about you being more forward than ever. You slapped his chest, mocking his childishness, though before you could fully manage to hit him, he grabbed your wrist with ease.

His arm flexed, and he quickly pulled you in, your feet stumbling to keep up with his strength, until you felt his breath on your face, and you were close enough to be touching his lips.

"Quite the invitation, lady," he half joked, but in reality, he as already counting down the hours. "I will be there, Y/N."

After what felt like the longest night in history, the last of the crowd finally retreated from the alehouse. You were itching to see Finan. Since the two of you last spoke, you had barely seen him. Uhtred was shamefully taken home by Sihtric, who you were amazed was sober. The rest of the men and women left together, and you said your final goodbyes, closing the doors. This time, however, you didn't lock them.

You trudged upstairs, tiredness hitting your body. After hours, you finally took a seat on the edge of your bed, fiddling with the silly plaits that you had worried so much over. You sensed Finan's presence when there was a slight moan of old wood being pressed as he walked up to meet you. You had so much to say to him you could hardly contain yourself, rising from your sitting position.

Finan gave a polite knock, but didn't bother waiting, bending under the doorframe before returning to his natural state, giving you an incredibly sheepish look. You stuttered slightly, but told him to sit. You quickly realised that a man had never been up to your room. It was spacious enough, with a large bed of furs and enough space for plenty of candlelight.

"Please, sit, Finan." you held your hand out as if to show him the way, guiding yourself to the edge of your bed. Finan let out a small laugh at your sudden formality, bending as if giving you a mocking bow before sitting next to you.

Even though he had been the one to initiate conversation last time, you made it your mission to get there before him, wanting to get your own point across before he said anything to you.

"Finan, I have to tell you," you started, feeling an awful mist of tension heating up your body suddenly, " I just - I hate," you sighed in frustration, groaning as you could hardly get the words out. Finan seemed heavily amused, beckoning you to continue.

"I just really enjoy when you're here." Pathetic. "And I don't like it when you're gone away for weeks. And I worry for you when you're not here, even though I have faith in you."

Once you break the seal, you can hardly stop. Finan takes in every word as though it is gospel, but you hardly notice as you babble on.

"Obviously you're strong, and umm, and handsome, and you speak well enough to get yourself out of trouble,"

"Oh, do keep going, lady. I've never been so flattered." he raised a hand to his chest, feigning shyness. You glared at him, embarrassment curling itself around your neck, blocking any clear thought from entering your head. Finan quickly sensed your frustration, placing a hand on your thigh to steady you.

But that just made it worse.

"And then I think we're good, but you don't speak to me f-for weeks, Finan. And then you touch my thigh like this!" You could almost laugh at yourself, truly, "and I just want you all of the time, and I think we . . . I think we should be together."

With your final declaration out of the way, you feel a fatal sense of worry overcome your body at his shocked face. The hand on your thigh doesn't move, however. It tightens.

"Y/N," he starts, and you brace yourself for the worst, "Please, I want to be with you too. I stayed distant, because, well because I didn't want anything to happen to you. If I am with you, then I'll have something to actually fight for," he looked down as he continued, clearly stressed, "but then if I have something to fight for I'll have something to lose as well."

You began to understand him clearly. With what he had seen, particularly with recent events, there was always a risk involved. Perhaps what made him so good is that everything he previously needed to protect was always on the battlefield with him. The two of you together would be a constant source of worry for him. You could be kidnapped, taken hostage, injured while he was away.

"But, Finan, every time you've left, nothing has happened to me. I'm here, aren't I? Entirely whole."

"But it's different, or, it would be different," he stressed, hands flying up as he spoke.

"The only difference is I'd be yours. And I want to be yours, Finan."

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. His hand ran through his beard, and any semblance of composure that he had snapped when you bit your lip. Perhaps he was being ridiculous. Perhaps he was thinking about things too deeply. After all, he was an entirely competent warrior. If anything happened, he would be able to solve it.

He could barely control himself any longer, when your hand came to fiddle with the ribbons weaved into your loosening braids. You had never looked more innocent and enticing - he physically couldn't stand what you were doing to him.

Meanwhile, you took note of his chest heaving, feeling your own heartbeat gain speed. You decided to let even more out, noticing his gaze shifting to your hair.

"I plaited these for you, I thought they would impress you." The sheepish truth had you looking down, realising that the two of you had been stupidly restricting one another whilst simultaneously trying to impress one another in a hideously drawn out back and forth. Sorrows had settled, and now you wanted him. You needed Finan.

"They do impress me, most definitely," he assured you, teasing you slightly with his reaction. He found you utterly adorable, that you had done some little change to please him, "but you already caught my attention without the ribbons, Y/N."

The cross around his neck gleamed as it dangled, moving slightly as he leaned down to meet your face as you sat beneath him on the bed. The tenderness of the moment had been replaced by burning passion.

"Finan, I-"

"Say my name again."

"Finan-" You couldn't even finish before his lips crashed into yours. Everything melted away when you kissed. Every semblance of a problem disappeared, and it was just you and Finan. He revelled in the idea that you were his woman, spoiling himself with the very thought of it.

You, meanwhile, were growing incredibly impatient. The man in front of you was something else, his muscles straining as his hands trailed down to your waist and picked you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his strong waist, arousal beginning to leak from within you as his grip tightened. He couldn't get enough of you, and he never wanted to let you go.

"I hope you know, love, that I'm keeping you forever." He smiled, adjusting you a little so that you felt the bulge of his crotch just underneath your sex, friction causing you to whine slightly. You weren't entirely sure if Finan was aware that you were a virgin, but the feeling of his body against yours prevented you from saying anything.

"Let me hear you." he demanded as he looked up at you, and thought he was still the Finan you knew, an air of seriousness had overcome him, and the words that came from him were dominating. You understood now how he managed to control armies the way he did.

You buried your head between his neck and shoulder, drooling slightly as you let out a moan at Finan's undying strength. With your undergarments pulled to the side by the stretch of his fingers, he made sure to move you up and down ever so slowly, rubbing against his crotch even more until your naked sex could take it no more.

The fabric of his trousers was an obstacle that you needed to be removed as soon as possible. Though the friction created waves of pleasure, the way he was holding you had you panting for more.

"Please, Finan, take them off." you looked into his eyes, which held an amused stare. He took your worn out image in, unable to believe how lucky he was. Any negative thought about the relationship between you two could be dealt with later, right now he had you securely in his arms, entirely fucked out without him even properly touching you yet.

You fastened your legs around his waist, which made him laugh. "You're telling me what to do now, is it?" truthfully, he would let you do or say anything you wanted. He was wrapped around your little fingers, and he knew it well.

"Love, I can't do what you ask if you continue to cling to me like a pup," he wore a toothy grin on his face, amusement growing in time with your own frustration. You loosened your thighs from his hold, and he set you down gently on your own bed. You fidgeted when you realised what would happen once his trousers were off, if you even managed to wait that long.

You watched him undo his breeches, only to around halfway, not even letting them slide down his legs before he came to you again. You leaned your head into his arm, nuzzling instinctively into his hold like some trained animal. You felt you would burst, declaring "I love you," before he could say anything else.

"I love you too, you and your ribbons." he flicked your braid with his finger, drawing you in to a loving kiss. You were slightly stunned at his lack of hesitation, any precaution having been abandoned by him. Finan felt it as well, the swell of pride that filled him as he announced his love for you, not even questioning the words. He knew them to be true, and he knew that with you as his woman, he was entirely complete.

Your next words, however, did catch him off guard.

"I've never been with a man, Finan." you confessed, maintaining eye contact with him as you waited for his reaction, worrying that he would be less eager to bed you with your inexperience. Finan tried to fight the impure thoughts as they wavered in his brain, unable to keep his hands off you as he thought of a way to reassure you without sounding too patronising, as he usually managed.

When he still didn't say anything, it prompted you to finally look away from him, wondering if he really cared about it as much as you thought.

"Hey, where's my lady gone?" he moved to sit beside you, feeling somewhat of a fool that his bulge was straining against the half of his breeches that still hung from his hips, and you with your dress bunched up so high that all he could think about were the stockings slipping down your delicate thighs. You didn't have the faintest idea of the impact you had on him right now.

He wasn't entirely sure how much more restraint he could exercise. "I don't care about that, I want to be the only man that ever gets to touch you from now on, anyway." he buffed his chest to try and make you laugh, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of laughing, too engrossed in lulling over the words he had just uttered.

"I want to be your only woman, Finan." and with that, you kissed him forcefully, adjusting your body so that you could straddle his frame, his heavy arms wrapping around your waist, bringing you further into his kiss. His hands moved down to your ass, squeezing firmly. Your mouth remained open when he allowed them to slip further down your thigh, toying with the hem of one of your stockings. They were cheap things, made for you with the purpose of convenience, and yet he was treating them like they were pure gold.

"I don't think I'll be sharing you with anyone anytime soon, love," he managed to whisper into your ear, your hands finding his hair and gripping tightly when he inserted two fingers into you, the promise of 'getting you ready for him' hanging in the air. The feeling was unlike anything you had experience, a welcome intrusion to your core. You felt his fingers curl, pushing up as far as they could go, meanwhile his thumb also occupied a space on your clit, rubbing ever so gently whenever he could to bring you pleasure.

You felt your thigh muscles trembling as you still straddled him on your knees, his head on your shoulder, occasionally kissing your neck, creating his own little mark on you. Finan knew he was possessive. He had to remind himself to be gentle with you, however, removing his fingers and inserting them again, wanting to tease you slightly.

You gave a quick tug to his thick hair in retaliation, which he seemed to like as he groaned and leaned back in order to see your face. You couldn't help a satisfied grin, otherwise looking rather empty as you thought of nothing but pleasure.

"Careful there," he said, returning his attention to kissing your neck, marking it with a slight bite. His warm lips on your skin affected you in ways you hadn't thought possible. You wondered why he hadn't put his fingers back inside of you, but you felt him fidget beneath you, until his cock was fully out, brushing back and forth against your sex. The two sensations together, of his lips and his cock, very nearly sent you over the edge embarrassingly soon.

The ghost of pleasure kept pulsating at your core, his hand moving his cock back and forth ever so slowly, sometimes seeming as though he was about to slip in and then releasing altogether from you. You hated it, the absence and the longing, playing tricks with your mind and turning you into some kind of depraved whore.

"Finan, I swear-"

"You swear what, lady?" he taunted you, still not close enough as his arm adjusted its claim around your waist, your breasts squishing into his own chest as you practically kneeled over the top of him, wanting to push him down to finish the job yourself.

"If you don't hump me soon, I will personally ban you from this very alehouse." shocked at your own feistiness, you hadn't imagined Finan to take your word so literally. Before you knew it, your back hit your bed of furs, and Finan now kneeled above you, playing with himself, tugging back and forth, his hard cock so prominent you felt it would break you.

And break you it did. His tip finally breached your walls, before his entire member felt your insides. Your core was so full, so unbelievably full. The pressure seemed to build before he even began to move, and you released several short pants, biting back a moan that he seemed to want to encourage out of you as he moved his hips just slightly, his muscled core meeting your soft, pliable thighs, now up in the air, hanging from his grip.

You were entirely at his mercy, so pliant for him, and so good for him. "I hadn't expected you to listen well, and you proved me right," he started, moving in and out once, so tantalisingly slowly that you felt every curve, vein and pulse going through him, "I told you to be careful, didn't I sweet girl?"

Though he was teasing, he still wanted to make sure you were okay. He didn't move until your face lost the scrunch and your eyes opened to look at him, heavy breathing turning into moans as your impatience move.

"Move, Finan." And that was all he needed to hear, moving in and out of you with some force, his hands clamping into the soft flesh of your thighs, still admiring the stockings that you wore, reminding himself to ask you to wear them more often.

Your lips fell open in a gasp when he sped up even more, soft 'good girls' coming from his lips in murmurs. He let go of one of your thighs, letting your leg fall to the bed, while his free hand now moved to your stomach, pressing down on your core and feeling exactly where he was inside of you. He pumped so rhythmically that you began to think you'd truly reached heaven, the additional pressure applied by his strong hands becoming too much for you.

He watched your face, assessing you to ensure you were still comfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you in any way. You felt funny, a strange tingling, almost like a warning, reaching your core.

"F-Finan, I think . . ."

He shushed you, understanding what you meant. Who was he to deny such a lovely maiden what she wanted? "Just breathe, Y/N, don't fight it, sweet girl," he guided you, the pressure of his hand increasing. He maintained his pace, feeling your walls tighten and squeeze around him, clamping so hard he struggled to keep up.

"Come on, there we are," he further encouraged, and normally, you'd tell him to shut up, his words embarrassing you slightly, but you were so filled with delicate pleasure that you couldn't risk losing it. The immense pinch in your core finally snapped, and you were coming around him, pumping him for all he was worth as your arousal came to its peak. Your face made him positively weak at the knees.

"There we go," he cooed, his hand coming to your clit to stimulate you more, though you began begging him not to, trying and failing to grab his wrist in the process. You bit your lip instead, eyes all glossy and strained as you looked at your lover as though he was God. Perhaps he was, because no mortal man should have been able to make you feel so good.

"Please come, Finan." you whined sweetly, and he could never deny you as he had done before. He would listen to you if you told him to do anything, let alone come, which he did gladly, pumping you full of his seed, thinking briefly about the pups you could share. The pups that you would share.

His heart pumped ten times as fast as he bred you, vowing to be the only man to touch you ever again. His possessiveness had seemed to grow in the last hour, and he lifted you suddenly onto his lap, caressing the top of your head as you panted in unison.

"We'll speak properly tomorrow," he began, stroking your now undone hair. Your ribbon barely hung on, and you wound it around his fingers, the fabric reminding him of your sweet confession, something that he knew he would tease you about for years to come, but secretly loved, "sleep for now, love."

He stayed awake for most of the night, observing you every now and then, mostly focusing on the sway of the candlelight. He had seen his lord go through so much, and now he had something too precious to lose, he vowed that the same would not happen to him. Even if it cost him his loyalty.

#finan #finan the agile #finan x reader #finan imagine #finan smut #finan x y/n #tlk #tlk fanfic #finan fanfic #tlk finan #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric smut #the last kingdom #osferth #uhtred

[mommytauriel]

+ · 。~ attractive things finan does.

pairing: Finan x female! reader | genre: fluff | warnings: none that I know of, kissing is mentioned a few times | wc: 822 |

synopsis: an attractive man, does attractive things

request: no

note: I’m slowly trying to get back into my tlk writing, so I thought it would be perfect if I made a finan version of ‘attractive things they do’ comment what character I should do next for this! 🤗

Thank you @dailytlk for letting me use the lovely gif!

always helps you. Even when you don't need help, he is always there to help you. He enjoys knowing that he is making things easier for his love. Whether it's helping you with picking up your arrows when you practice or helping you on your horse, all things that you could easily do yourself. Some would think that he's just really possessive (he is to an extent) but he genuinely finds so much joy in helping you with things. He also likes knowing the fact that he's also just making things easier for you. He just likes taking care of you. No matter what it is, he's always there to help you. Sometimes he does get possessive, but he really just likes it if he's the one helping you and not others.

brags about you. He is very proud to have such a wonderful significant other like you and is not afraid to let others know. He knows that others find you beautiful and would jump for the opportunity to be with you, so sometimes it's to let others know that you are his and to make them jealous (he likes reiling them up, but can you blame him?) but the other times is simply because you make him so happy and he can't stop talking or thinking about you. He mentions you a lot, but when he gets tipsy/drunk that's when he really brags about you to his friends, they don't mind it. They like seeing their friend so happy and in love. Finan is your biggest supporter but sometimes he can get a little carried away but it's okay. You know it's just because he loves you very much.

always finds a way to touch you. I think it's no surprise that Finan is a clingy lover, he just loves having you close…and touching you. In bed the two of you are always touching, he loves cuddling and holding you close to him. He’s not picky on sleeping positions, as long as the two of you are close and he knows you're safe, he’s fine with anything. When you're walking together, he’s holding your hand or has his hand on your lower back, guiding you. When you're standing next to each other, his arm is wrapped around your shoulder or waist. When you're out drinking with your friends he likes to have you close by his side or sitting on his lap, his arm around you. He likes when you lean your head on his shoulder, or hold onto his arm. When you kiss he can’t keep his hands off you, holding your waist, his hands on your cheek, his hands exploring your body even though he has every part of you already memorized. He finds so much comfort in your touch, it reminds him that he’s not alone.

keeps eye contact. Finan is attentive, especially to his significant other. He wants them to know that he is listening/paying attention to them. So whenever you’re talking to him, his eyes are always on you and you can’t help but get flustered under his gaze. He also just loves looking at you, his eyes are always finding you in crowds. He just gets so lost in your eyes, and he can’t help but imagine his future with you. He sees happiness and his future in your eyes. He truly loves you. (He’s quite the romantic tbh) He enjoys flirting with you and watching your reactions, he just finds you so lovely and he loves how reactive you are to him 🤭

enjoys teasing you. Okay so I can see how this can be seen as something that’s not attractive, but with him it’s not like that. Finan doesn’t tease you in a negative way, his teasing doesn’t leave you annoyed and upset. No, his teasing leaves you, flustered and needy. When your doing something like cooking, he likes to hug you from behind and leave kisses on your neck, he doesn’t listen to you when you tell him not to distract you, and just when you give in and turn around to kiss him; he gives you a teasing smile and leaves you to what you were doing. Or when your laying in bed ready to sleep, that’s when finan starts to tease you, soft kisses, small touches…it’s obvious what he’s doing and you try so hard not give in, but of course you do (I mean it’s finan like come on, who wouldn’t)and when you give in, he gives you an innocent smile and a kiss on the forehead, stopping his advances and saying goodnight. And that leaves you flustered and needy. Finan knows you so well that he knows what he can do to get you to that point of giving in, only to stop once you do. He knows what he’s doing and he knows how to do it well, and that’s hot as fuck.

note: hello everyone! I’ve missed you all 🥹 I’m sorry I haven’t been able to post anything for like a month, but like I said in the first note, I am trying to get back into my tlk writings.

I hope everyone has been doing well! And I hope you all enjoyed this! I enjoyed writing this, finan is such a fun character to write for, I love him so much!

I also want to say to the people who have sent in requests! I have seen them! And I do plan on doing them! I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to get them out, I’m not a fast writer 😵‍💫

Please comment and tell me what you think of it, I would love to hear your thoughts.

taglist: @clairacassidy @mads-weasley @bubblyabs @childsuppor

copyright © 2023, all rights reserved. you can't copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layout.

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom x reader #finan the last kingdom #finan x reader #finan imagine #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom fluff #mark rowley #finan the agile #tlk finan #finan tlk #finan #finan fanfic

[halfmylife]

Sleep Will Not Come

Pairing Finan x Reader

Summary Finan comforts you when you can’t sleep

Warnings none

A/N I just wanted to write a little Finan drabble because I missed writing for him

There had been no escape since you’d gotten home. Even time you’d tried to even shut your eyes, the scene played out again. The battle roared on and the only thing that mattered was him. You’d thought your heart had stopped when you lost sight of him. You thought you might never recover.

Yet even after it all ended and you found your way back to one another, you couldn’t let go of that feeling. It was suffocating. All you wanted to do was breathe again.

It was well into the night when you finally gave in, sweat beading across your forehead and down your neck. You didn’t know what relief you’d find but you couldn’t lie awake all night.

You scooted to the edge of the bed, hoping not to wake Finan beside you who had settled quite quickly. That was not the case. As soon as he heard you adjust yourself, he snapped awake, already alert.

“Hey what’s the matter?” His voice was softer than usual, barely above a whisper as he scurried to your side, his arms instantly bringing you into his side. “Is there something wrong?”

“I cannot sleep, that’s all.” But that wasn’t all. Every time you shut your eyes you were doomed. The dreams that plagued your nights were not dreams at all but horrors.

“Is something bothering you?” You knew he meant well, he always did but how could you even put your dreams into words.

“When I try to sleep, it’s like I’m there, back at the battle.” Your voice was strained and you could not look at him as you spoke. Your fingers trailed over his bare chest as you continued “Except it’s different. Every time I lose you and it wakes me.”

“But you didn’t lose me.” His hand cupped your face as he forced you to look at him.

“I know but just the thought of it…” you trailed off, shaking your head unable to even imagine the feeling, the pain that would cause you. “I don’t know if I can face that.”

“No man is gonna kill me in battle.” He stroked your hair, tucking some stray strands back behind your ear so he could look at you fully. “Not when I have the most beautiful wife fighting beside me.” It was times like these you wondered how you had managed to marry such a wonderful man.

“I don’t know how many battles I have left in me.” You admitted, half defeated. You wanted nothing more than to stay in Cookham with your husband and let the troubles of the world resolve themselves. Would they truly miss two warriors? You could start a family and have a home. What more could you possibly want?

“Neither do I.” He whispered, his thumb rubbing gently across your cheek. “But I know that no matter what, I’ll always be by your side.”

“And I by yours.” You whispered back, eyes searching his. A faint smile crept on his his face as he studied you in the dark.

“C’mere.” He held his arms out enough for you to wriggle into them, nestling your head into his neck as he started to leave kisses in your hair.

In his arms there was no battle, no struggle. Just security. It was just him. That was the only comfort you needed.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight, not ever.” Even though the dread still filled you, you knew that much was true and you wouldn’t let him out of your sight again.

#the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #finan #finan the agile #finan the last kingdom #reader fic #reader insert #x reader #finan x reader #finan fanfic

[itbmojojoejo]

River of Sins / Finan x OFC x Osferth

Pairing: Finan x Fem!OC x Osferth

Summary: Osferth had been mustering the courage to confess his growing feelings for Elowen, a maiden from Cornwallum who settled in Coccham, but stumbles across her meeting with Finan.

Warnings: MDNI18+ NSFW. Voyeurism. Oral (F Receiving) UnprotectedPinV(I will not write medieval contraceptive methods.)

Wordcount: 1.08k | Other Works.

Authors Note: Thank you @persephones-journey for the lovely prompt request, it haunted me from the moment I received it. You devil, you.

Osferth stirred gently from his slumber, his lips curving into a small smile. He had dreamed of her again, of Elowen. 

The young woman with sleek sandy-coloured hair always worn in different small braids pulling it away from her round face that was constantly sun-kissed, and golden, even in the colder weather when everyone else paled. 

He would never forget her arrival in Coccham, her sing-song tones spinning tales of a life in Cornwallum and why she chose to travel, the deep hues of her green eyes sparkling inside the candlelit inn. 

Today’s the day, he thought. Today he was going to finally confess that after all these months of quiet observation and exchanging kind words only to blush at the bright beam she would gift him that he had grown an almost unbearable amount of adoration for her. 

As he walked through the burr towards the river where he knew she would likely be laundering clothing he tried to make a mental note of what to say. You are captivating and when away I want nothing more than to return to you, hold you, and be the reason you smile… No. Elowen, I dream of you. All I do is dream of you.

As Osferth approached the clearing trees his stomach sank, brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to understand the sight not far from him. 

There on the grassy bank of the river, the woman who held his affection was nude, but not alone. She straddled the lap of a man he would be able to pick out of any crowd, even if it was only the back of him he could see, Finan. 

Elowen’s head fell backwards with Finan’s lips and teeth ravaging the column of her neck, soft sighs coming from them both as her hips rolled against his, clearly lost in their salacious act. 

Osferth’s head bowed as his cheeks grew crimson with heat, a twinge of jealousy and hurt hitting his chest. You fool, of course it was destined to be unrequited. 

The will to walk away and be rid of his emotions was broken by Elowen’s breathy gasp hitting his ears. Osferth’s curious eyes flickered up to see her laid on her back, breasts rising and falling quickly with Finan's head dipped between her supple thighs spread wide, her hands buried in the Irishman’s thick hair. 

Osferth couldn’t make out where Finan’s hands were, or what they were doing but it was quite obvious from the moan Elowen broke off by biting down on her lip that she was enjoying it. 

He only just noticed the fabric of his trousers becoming taut against his groin, and even more to his surprise how his mouth was watering at the sight of her being defiled so openly, where anyone could stumble across her and Finan’s entanglement. 

“Finan…” she whined tugging his mouth away from her core, his beard glistening with her juices. 

Finan bit at her hips, stomach and chest making his way to her lips with a devilish grin, his words coming huskily, “I’m going to ruin you.”

Elowen’s lewd laughter cut off with a sudden sharp whimper as Finan’s cock sunk into her cunt with quick force. 

Look away, return home, this isn’t for you to see, Osferth's mind rattled off but his feet refused to move. He was entranced, his near-silent breaths quickening. 

Elowen’s hand fell away from the bicep she held to the ground, her fingernails digging into the dry earth disrupting the blades of grass and mud. The slapping of skin on skin from Finan’s brutal thrusts almost reached the same volumes as her helpless cries.

Finan growled as he roughly took Elowen’s legs and crossed them at the ankles, positioning them over his shoulder and sank his weight onto the back of the blonde woman’s thighs against her chest. A satisfied moan from her filled the otherwise quiet sky.

Osferth’s hardening erection pulsed causing him to harshly palm at it for a moment before rearranging his cock to sit more comfortably in his trousers beneath his albe.

His gaze trailed from Finan’s hand gripping Elowen’s thigh to her crossed feet resting on the Irishman's shoulder, her toes pointing and curling with a curse tumbling from her swollen lips. The thought that maybe he could be the one to elicit such a reaction one day had his cock throbbing. 

The idea of leaving now to release his building arousal was tempting, but he wanted to see her fall apart and lock it away in his memories. If I cannot have you, at least I will have that. 

Elowen’s unrestrained mewlings began to come breathier, faster and louder as Finan mercilessly snapped his hips against her soft body over, and over and over again. Eventually, he placed his rough hand over her mouth muffling her pleading noises. 

No, let her pleasure be heard! Osferth internally begged, his fingers twitching against the bark of the tree he remained behind. 

“I know darlin’. You’re so fucking tight, let it go.” Finan rasped, a sheen of sweat glistening across his brow. 

He removed his hand from her mouth and knotted his fingers through the hair at the crown of her head, her hands scrambling to clutch at his back as her body tensed under him. Broken gasps with muttered curses fell from Elowen’s mouth, her eyes fluttering closed. 

Osferth bit his bottom lip, focusing on how her grip eased as Finan’s pounding stuttered with a pained groan before letting himself all but collapse on the smaller frame of Elowen. 

After a few moments of the pair catching their breath, Elowen’s musical laughter rang in Osferth’s ears, 

“Get off.” She smiled playfully pushing the Irishman away, and he rolled over onto the grass beside her with his own laugh, his fingers reaching out to stroke along her stomach. 

Osferth found her flushed nakedness was a thing of beauty to witness, the droplets of sweat budding across her brow as she hummed with satisfaction, her thighs trembling underneath the morning sun. 

The pangs of jealousy returned as Finan stood, hauled Elowen up by her hands, and slung her over his shoulder. She giggled as he slapped her arse when he walked into the water, squealing loudly before he sank them both beneath the water's surface, washing away their sins. 

Osferth finally turned away to return home, his head swimming with conflicted emotions of desire and guilt, but he knew one thing was certain, that he would still dream of the maiden from Cornwallum. 

#the last kingdom fanfic #osferth x oc #finan x oc #osferth fanfic #finan fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk fanfic

[moonlight-rider25]

Ale House Maiden

Purely TLK sumt! Featuring reader, Finan, Sihtric, and Uhtred. 

Word count:  6019

Warnings: Rated X, swearing, light bondage, unprotected sex, all the jazz...

You've been serving at the Cookham ale house for as long as you can remember; a career choice your mother thought would fit you well seeing as your greatest qualities in life were your big bosoms and your ability to flirt with any man near. She wasn't wrong; and through the years the job served you well. Especially when intoxicated men became regulars leaving handsome tips for you. A few of those regulars in more recent years were none other than Lord Uhtred and his men. 

The moment they stepped through the ale house door your heart nearly leaped out of your chest. They were all devilishly handsome; their hair, their voices, their demeanor and the courageous ways they carried themselves, their huge toned bodies that towered over normal towns folk… not to mention their especially kind tips of silver. There was nothing that you loved daydreaming more, than the mere image of one of those strong men taking you in their arms and having their way with you up against the wall, or on a table, or even outside behind the ale house…

It was an especially rowdy night at the ale house, and you were nonstop from the moment its doors opened. A celebration of sorts was happening within the town and along with it, many eager paying individuals ready to celebrate by getting drunk. Your forehead damp from the hustle in the ale house, you poured several more cups full of fresh ale, gathered them in your arms and set out for the table to place them at. Squeezing your way through the crowded ale house and over a few passed out drunk on the floor, you made your way over, and set the large cups of ale down with a thud. You felt the eyes of the men heavy on you, as they usually were, while you unloaded your arms of the cool drinks.

"Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen?" You ask without looking up.

"I'll take a tall drink of you lassy!" His thick Irish accent cuts through the rowdy ale house as he speaks.

You glance up towards him, his glistening brown eyes peer up at you. You try your best to compose yourself after realizing who it is that's speaking to you; Finan. You'd know that voice anywhere. You smirk and dramatically toss your hair back behind your shoulders exposing your well rounded and exposed chest.  His eyes light up, and the other men near him lean closer getting a better view.

"Make that two!" Shouts another man near Finan.

"Ayee, yer married, ya fool!" Finan teases the Dane looking man you know of as Sihtric.

You giggle to yourself and bite back your bottom lip, eyeing them dangerously.

"Perhaps after closing, darlings." You wink as you tell them flirtatiously.

A few of the other men begin cheering, hooting and whistling towards your comment but you dismiss it to natural manly behavior. You smile pleasingly and begin to depart from the table when you bump into a rather large man.

"My apologies." You say discreetly, trying to weave through the sea of men. 

But he stops you. His giant rough hands on your shoulders; you stare up in disbelief before you. His piercing blue eyes stare down at you, turning your insides to goo just being so close to him.

"My lord!" You say clearing your throat. 

He chuckles to himself and eyes you devilishly. 

"What can I..do for you?" You ask sheepishly.

"Oh, no! No not at all.." You reassure him in a shy voice.

"Are my men giving you a hard time?" He asks with a smirk though his huge calloused hand.

You swallow hard peering into his deep blue eyes and try to maintain a steady breath. He releases your face, his thumb trailing down across your chin, he slips between you and others heading back to his table. 

He releases your shoulder with one hand and traces his thumb along his bottom lip, deep in thought as his eyes trail up and down you.

"Well let me know if they do.." He says, finally; in a raspy whisper. 

Stunned, you fumble your way through the crowd back to the bar and down a lonely cup of ale. You wipe your hands on your apron and begin pouring more drinks for the eager men sitting before you. Your mind spins from the events that just happened but your muscle memory kicks in and drinks are being served as usual. Men smiling and ogling over you leaving you handsome tips in the process. 

He stands still for a moment still eyeing you. Then cranes his head down closer to yours and places his hand on your chin gently pulling your face towards him.

A little while later you hear the shouting of men begin to start a brawl in the middle of the ale house; you roll your eyes and sigh looking around to see if anyone is breaking it up. Of course per usual, the onlookers are doing no such thing; other than shouting them on, and encouraging the behavior. You toss your arms full of ale onto the closest table and rush to the center of the room. Two very drunk individuals are shoving each other around the circle of shouting men. 

"Out, come on we can not have this in here!" You shout over the crowd.

Shoving your way through the formed circle of men you reach the center and see the two inebriated trouble makers.

"ENOUGH!" You try to yell louder over the noise "GET OUT, OUTSIDE WITH YOU! NOT IN HERE!" You shout louder.

You yell in pain and cover your face. You pull your hand back and see the bit of red dripping from your fingers. Your eyes wetten as you swallow the mouthful of blood. You spit on the floor and grip your white apron with shaking fists. 

"STOP IT NOW!" You demand as loudly as you can.  Your voice is still not heard. But instead the larger of the two is cast in your direction and his big bald head smacks into you.

"GET THE FUCK OUT YOU BASTARDS!" 

Your words are of no use as the two men grasping each other by the shoulders fling one another around the circle. 

The crowds yelling settles a bit as the attention has been taking from the men to you. And swiftly you see a table of men get up at once and grab the unruly men in the middle of the circle. Their presence opens a wide hole in the sea of men and they pluck the belligerent fighters from the floor and drag them outside. 

A dark figure emerges from behind, casting a large shadow on you.  You hear him plunk himself down at a seat by the bar without a word.

"Damnit!" You yell as you spit again. 

"Sorry…I'll be right with you.." You inform them over your shoulder, still trying to steady the bleeding. Your rag finally turning less and less red, you spin around and spy Uhtred sitting at the bar waiting patiently with a handsome smile painted across his face.

You breath wavers, uncurling your clenched fists, you wipe your face again with shaky hands. Seeing more redness still forming at your lip, you storm off back to the bar and rinse your mouth a few times with some water. But the redness still remains. 

You bite back your grin, trying not to wince at the pain as you eye the heroic warrior sitting so patiently watching you tend to your bloody lip. 

"Oh dear", you snicker "Can I help you?" You ask, your voice full of laughter. 

"Perhaps.. but I believe I should help you first." Uhtred grins and extends his arm out towards you. 

You inch closer to him and he reaches out grabbing a clean rag from behind the wooden bar. He dips it in a nearby cup of ale and gently dabs it over your swollen bottom lip. You cringe at the sting and instinctively reach up clutching his huge arm.

"It's alright." He whispers to you calmly. 

You release his arm and he cautiously tries to dap at your lip again, even softer this time.

"...Thank you." You tell him.

He smiles and continues to cater to your swollen lip, you can't help but stare madly into his gorgeous blue eyes, watching his two perfect pink lips turn up a little as he tends to you. 

"What's your name?" He asks.

"...Y/N" you tell him faintly. 

"Well, Y/N…" He allows his words to linger in the air for a moment.  “You’re going to be swollen and sore for a bit but I do believe you’ll recover just fine…” A smirk turning up at the corners of his lips. 

You relax against him a bit, comforted by the tone in his words. A smile spreads across your face instantly stinging your lip and flees, all too quickly. 

"Thank you, my lord.. I suppose I am in your debt…" 

His smirk grows into a smile.

"Please, call me Uhtred.'' He tells you with a grin.  His eyes twinkle in the dim light as they peer back at you. “..Though I hate to inform you, your debt will have to be paid to my men.." 

He pulls his hand away and drops the stained rag on the table before you. You cast him a look of suspicion and he laughs leaning against his elbows on the bar. His face only inches from yours; he sits peering into your eyes for a moment and it makes your mouth go dry.

"Your men?"  You ask, swallowing down the harsh lump as best you can.

"Mmm, mmhmm" He hums quietly before taking a long dip of ale.

You peer around the side of Uhtred's head and spy Finan and Sihtric standing watching you from a distance. 

"They were hoping since they cast those bastards out; as you so lovely put it…" Uhtred places his ale cup back down on the table. "...That you would make good on your promise…" He says with a mischievous smirk.

Your eyes peer back towards the incredible handsome man addressing you.

"What promi…." 

Your face fills with redness and you feel the heat rising in your chest. Uhtreds stares at you with a charming and equally malicious look as you come to the realization. 

You run your hand through your hair and take a long sip of Uhtred's ale holding it in your mouth wondering how you landed yourself in such a spot. If only all things were as easy to conjure if only by daydreams and imaginings. 

"Your men?" You ask after a large gulp.

"Mmm"

"Sihtric, and Finan?" You take another large gulp of the ale.

"Mmmmhmm."

"Wish me to bed!?" 

Uhtred casts his look down towards the table and you finish his remaining ale in his cup for him. He shakes his head and looks back up grinning ear to ear at you.

You pour another full cup of ale for Uhtred and grab another for yourself as well, gulping its coolness down in disbelief. 

"...I can't disagree with them." He says, shaking his head again.

"No?" You ask him, bringing the cup to your lips again.

"Why do you sound so surprised?.." he asks, staring back at you. "You’re beautiful, tough,…bonnie, as Finan would say." He chuckles as the words escape him.

Uhtred leans back in his seat and taps lightly on the table.

"Well…" you say before taking another long sip.

His face is soft but still smiling and you can't help but stare back into his delicious blue eyes.

"..Well?" Uhtred asks in a smooth mysterious voice.

"No, I can't.."

"...Well they're going to have to wait till I shut down the house.." You tell him with a sly smile, reminded by the stinging of your lip instantly. 

You place your cup down by his hand and allow your fingers to graze past his huge calloused knuckles. He grabs your hand and pulls you closer toward him in a smooth, gentle motion.

"We'll be back then.." He says only inches from your face. 

He releases you and stands gesturing to the others before heading out the door. Finan and Sihtric keep their eyes on you till the last second before disappearing into the darkness. 

"And no more brawls tonight!" Uhtred calls out over his shoulder before disappearing along with them.

You slump down behind the bar and clutch your chest. Your head whizzing in every direction. (What on earth have I gotten myself into...)

*******************************

The rest of the night spirals by in a furry. You do your best to keep your focus on the tasks at hand, but it's nearly impossible to keep calm knowing what's in store for the end of the night. You keep replaying the conversation in your mind wondering if it was all just a bluff, then your heart drops out of your stomach thinking about standing and waiting for no one in the darkness after you lock the ale house up. Drink after drink floats from the bar by your hands and before you know it, the bar has died down. You try your best to cast the rest of the men out and tidy up the few remaining cups from the tables. Your mind is almost at ease before you hear the door open and footsteps entering. 

You turn and see them standing and watching you; lust and wonder heavy in their eyes.  You clear your throat and dump the cups into a pail. Sihtric and Finan stride towards you and lean up against the bar.; slick smirks on their face as they eye you devilishly. Uhtred appears from behind them, his arms crossed and not so impressed looking. You swallow hard meeting his eye. 

"Why the long face?" You ask leaning forward against the wooden bar on your elbows.

 Finan and Sihtric carefully watch your movements and seem to be pleased.

You allow your hips to dip and dance for their amusement and you hear the two whistle and hoot in response. Uhtred, clearly unamused by their comments, slams his fist upon a nearby table, and you spin around startled. 

"Well, come boys…" you tell them, waltzing out from behind the bar and towards the back rooms of the house. 

"She is a lady and will be treated like so!" He commands them in a deep low voice. 

Uhtred smirks but says nothing. 

You feel the smile creeping up across your lips and bite it back.

The men look at you, and you point them in the direction down the hall.

"Second room on the left.." You tell them.

They skitter away eagerly and you turn your head back to Uhtred. He inches closer gripping at your waist.

"You don’t have to do this, you know..." He tells you quietly.

He shakes his head a bit, the smirk emerging at the corners of his lips. You roll your eyes, leaning in against him, playing with the straps on his chest.

“Is that a hint of jealousy I detect in your voice?” You ask him with a giggle.

" ..I would.." you pause staring up towards him wondering if you should utter the words on your tongue. He returns the mournful look towards you and you swallow hard trying to gather the words once again.

You suck a deep breath in and exhale with a sly grin on your face.

"...I would gladly take you over those two, anyday…" you tell him quietly. 

He grips your hand in his and brings it to his mouth pressing a soft kiss on it. You pull your hand away and replace it with your own lips. The touch instantly hurts your lip from earlier. Uhtred pulls back gently feeling your swollen lip graze against his.  You peer up into his glimmering blue eyes and he watches as your chest rises and falls with each deep breath. You reach up and pull his head closer, colliding your lips together again, regardless of the pain it's causing you. He pecks gentle kisses on you at first. Being mindful of your swollen lip, but before long, has his mouth enraged upon yours. His tongue tangles with yours as you moan into him. 

His hands slide up your sides gripping the ties of your dress before unlacing the back and prying it from your body. You gasp against him and he pulls his head back taking in the view of your naked chest as he peels your dress down over you. He chuckles under his breath and licks his lips before pulling you back towards him; sucking and kissing at your neck and shoulders. You wrap your hands around his neck and moan softly against him as your core quivers from his touch. 

He breaks his mouth from your chest and spins you around. Tightly held in his arms against him you feel his hard eager cock pressing gently against your ass. He unties the rest of the ribbons down your back and allows your dress to fall to the ground. He presses hot wet kisses over your bare shoulders.  You reach up entwining your hand in his hair; his hands come out from behind cupping and groping at your tits. He spins you back around and looks you up and down in your nakedness. His hand winds down over your bare ass, and he pulls your thigh up around him. His fingers graze against your wet core and he snickers watching you groan and pant at his touch. 

"Go settle their needs…" He tells you, his fingers edging into your wet core. 

You groan against him as you feel his warm blunt fingers slide inside you for a brief moment.  

You meet his eye and smile brightly at him, he places you softly down on the ground unwrapping yourself from him and smacks your ass as you stumble down the hall before him. 

“..Keep that for me, yeah?”

Your legs wobbly as you make your way down the dark hall; a grand grin painted across your face.  You wrap lightly on the door and Finan opens it with a lustful smile. He swings the door open and pulls you in admiring your body. You swallow hard and he takes your hand gently in his. You stand naked in between the two tall muscular men, they've striped their outer clothes off but only you stand naked between them.

“But that mouth…” he tells you in a whisper, then pecks a small gentle kiss on your lips. 

Sihtrics fingers trace long gentle strokes down your shoulders followed by light wet kisses. He grips your hips firmly and grasps at your naked perky ass. Finan stands a few steps back, enjoying the view.  You smile flirtatiously at him, enjoying Sihtrics mouth; hot and eager upon your sensitive skin. You bite back a gasp as Sihtric presses himself against you forcefully, his hands slither out from behind you and go in opposite directions.  One up to cup your breast and the other down between your legs at your wet core. 

Sihtric mumbles low against your ear.

“She's ready for us, already.” he informs Finan with a chuckle.

Finans tongue darts out of his mouth and licks his lips. You meet his eyes and gleam at him, allowing Sihtric mouth to caress down your neck and shoulder. Finan shifts in place and swiftly removes his thin shirt swiftly up over his head. His chest speckled in hair gleams with a thin layer of sweat and he tosses his shirt to the side watching you. His arms flexing as he does and you giggle quietly watching him with a smirk. Finan smiles back at you and makes sure your watching him while he tugs at his waistband.  His cock stands protruding against the thin layer of fabric. He pulls his pants taunt against himself and thrusts dramatically in your direction before smiling and reaching his hand down into the thin layer of fabric against his hard cock. 

Finan sucks a deep inhale in and meets your eye, while his hand in his waistband strokes his hard cock slowly. 

“Oh no,” Sihtric purrs seductively in your ear. “He likes to watch…” 

“Ay I think she also likes to watch…” Finan says in a low husky tone.

Sihtrics fingers creep down between your legs and make small quick circles around your swollen mound. You groan quietly, instinctively reaching out towards Finan, but Sihtric keeps you in his grasp.

Sihtric cups your ass and you instinctively jump up into his arms. He engulfs your nipples with his mouth and you let a low moan escape you. He sucks and laps eagerly at your chest, backing you towards a tall standing workbench and places you carefully on it. His mouth swiftly moves down the front of your body and you tangle your fingers into his hair as he makes his way slowly down between your legs. You lean back against the cold bare wall, arching your core towards him and he moans happily nipping at your thighs.  You watch as Finan admires the sight of your bare chest rising and falling rapidly.

“..Can’t disappoint him now can we?” You giggle against Sihtrics' neck.

Sihtric begins slowly at first, licking soft laps at your wet core. You moan against him pulling at his head, but he takes his time and builds you up slowly.  You feel his warm soft tongue dart out and drag across your sensitive clit and gasp. He reaches up with a hand and begins tracing tiny quick circles around your bud. Lapping and sucking gently around his fingers. You pant against him, eagerly trying to edge him on to move harder or faster. Finan is busy at work in his pants, breathing heavily as he watches you enjoy Sihtric.  

You flash Finan a devilish smile and turn yourself around against Sihtric. His arms caging you as he takes in the view of your nakedness.

You feel Sihtric smile against your wet throbbing core; and he stops. He rises up meeting your face, his hand still circling your eager clit. He presses his hard cock springing from his pants against your wet entrance and you wrap your arms around his neck desperately trying to encourage him towards you. He snickers, then plunges his fingers in between your wet aching walls and you cry out against him. 

“She's ready for you.” Sihtric laughs over his shoulder. 

Your eyes burst open as his touch escapes you. Sihtric is quickly replaced by Finan approaching you. His gleaming chest rising and falling as he places his hands firmly against your thighs. You pant against him and he grabs a handful of your hair, snapping your head back staring deeply into your eyes.

“Easy there kitten,” Finan whispers. “We're just getting started…” 

His huge rough fingers dance across your wet mound swirling and rubbing against your already so sensitive clit.  He reaches his hand up and sucks your wetness from his fingers. You swallow a heavy moan down your throat watching him eye you viciously as he does. He releases your head, grabbing at your ass and scooting you towards the edge closer to him. You buck towards him feeling his hard cock press gently into your thigh.  He cups your face, keeping your eyes set on his. 

“You have very beautiful eyes, my lady” He tells you slowly.  “I want to see what they look like with my cock resting deep inside you.”

You groan against him, bucking forwards still, searching for his cock with your hands, you line him up with your entrance and buck against him. His strength outweighs yours but the tip of his cock urges you to push further. You dig your fingers into his trim waist pulling at him to get closer. He beams down at you, holding himself back from you. 

A low chuckle erupts from deep within him. 

“We can do this all night, if you'd like…” He says with laughter dancing in his tone. 

You swallow a hard dry lump down your throat and try to relax against him. He smiles devilishly and takes your hands pressing a light kiss on both of your knuckles.  You watch him as he wraps a piece of rope around your wrists intricately, binding your hands together.  Your breath slows a bit, he watches you carefully. 

He places your bound arms around his neck onto his huge broad shoulders. Unable to do much more, you intertwine your fingers in his thick hair, tugging at it watching his eyes flutter as he growls low.  He holds your jaw with one of his hands and digs his fingers into your waist with his other. 

“...Behave..” He says in a low growl.  

His eyes are full of lust and determination. You lick your lips, eyeing his twitching cock only inches from you.  You buck towards him and he pulls out of reach.  You bite your lip meeting his eyes and buck towards him again, your ass nearing the edge of the table; yet he pulls away further. You grip another handful of his thick black hair and pull harshly at it.  He smiles as he groans out. You release your fist of hair and his head curls back with a grand smile on it.

“...That… is not behaving…” he tells you through a smirk.

You grasp huge handfuls of his hair with both hands this time, pulling him towards you with all your might.  

“..Then give me what I want, damnit…” You breathe heavily against him.

He smiles and reaches down between your legs, watching your eyes flutter open and closed as you moan softly against him. You feel his hot tip finally at your entrance, your core aching with anticipation. You swallow hard peering back into his deep brown eyes filled with lust and he watches you carefully…presses himself ever so slowly between your sore soaking folds. You groan against him, biting at your bottom lip trying to keep your eyes open for him to watch. His face studies you carefully watching as you take him inch by inch. Finally you feel him pressed against you and you explode with a moan against him. 

His face turns up into a devilish smile and he sits for a moment pressed as deep as he can be inside you. You pant against him and he pulls back a little before starting to thrust slowly and harshly against you. Your body jolts with each thrust and you moan against him, digging your fingers into his sweaty scalp as you buck towards him.  

“Faster!!” you pant against him. 

Your core slowly builds and twists up into a long awaiting spill.

He grunts against you, his mouth catching your neck and sucking hard against your damp sensitive skin.  He grips your thighs and pounds harder against you, your moans and his grunts filling the thick air around you. 

“Right there Finan!” You cry through your breathlessness. “Don’t stop!” Your walls clench tight  around his cock inside you knowing your own climax is just upon you. He groans a loud moan and stops abruptly.

“No! Don’t stop!” You cry again, thrashing against him.

He pulls himself out, his cock dripping with the murky white seed. He pants watching you with a smug smile as you squirm angrily aginst him. He picks you up and you buck against him, your wetness covering him as you twist insatiable in his clutch. You pant against him and he drops you to your feet. You collapse against him, your legs tingling and unable to hold you. He steadies you carefully before unhooking your arms from around his neck and uniting your wrists. He flashes a final devilish grin before inching aside while you almost collapse completely, before grasping onto Sihtrics' now bare body taking Finans place. 

Sihtrics fingers dance at your soaking core and you groan while squirming against his huge hand. He flips you around onto your stomach and gently bends you against the table. You pant against the hard wooden surface and feel his fingers trace carefully between your slick throbbing folds. 

“Do it!” you demand through your breaths. “Do it now!” 

You moan against the table arching your back up towards him and feel his throbbing cock as he lines up with your soaking entrance.  He plunges himself deep into your wetness, you groan loudly as your body jolts against his. You brace yourself. He squeezes your ass as it jiggles against his thrusts and arch your back as he dips in and out of your aching core. 

“I’ll have to personally thank all the Gods for your plump little feisty ass when I meet them” he tells you before smacking your other cheek.

He grunts as he slams wildly deep within you. You feel the waves building within you again and push harder against him with every thrust. Your breath staggers as he collides against you, he smacks his hand harshly against your ass again and you cry out against the table. Your climax builds more and more with each thrust as you moan out in pleasure. His thrusts quickly turn sporadic and ravenous as you hear him grunt from behind you. 

Sihtric smacks your ass hard and you groan out.

“I’m so close!” You moan out.

Your body quivers against him and the table.

“Cum, Sihtric, cum for me!” 

“Tell me to cum!” He shouts through his grunts.

He smacks your ass hard and your cry out

He slows and pulls himself out, you feel the hot seed spill out over your ass and lower back and squirm under him, your own orgasm quickly disappearing away as he pins you between himself and the table. You moan against the hard surface and pant wildly. 

“Christ, tell me to cum!” He demands again.

“Fucking bastards!” You mutter to yourself, while prying your shaky body from the table. 

They chuckle as they clothed themselves and you grab someone's nearby shirt before fleeing the room. 

“Thank you, my lady!” Finan calls happily down the hallway after you with a laugh. 

You wrap the man's shirt around you barely covering yourself and step out into the lit main room of the house. A smile grows across your face when his eyes shoot up and meet yours. He sits shirtless against a large wooden chair covered by a large fur, his blue eyes sparkling; peering back at you, his chest sculpted perfectly and his muscles bulging as he shifts restlessly in the seat. 

(Fuck) you whisper to yourself as you step cautiously towards him. He extends his hand out to you and you intertwine your fingers with his as you seat yourself carefully down, straddling one of his legs and gently rubbing your wet core against his huge string thigh. He groans softly gazing at you with heavy lust filling his eyes. You lean in against him and he catches your mouth with his finger. 

“...Keep that pretty little mouth for me?” he asks in a husky groan, tracing little circles around your lips with his thumb.

You reach up caressing his strong jaw in your fair little hands, and smile.

“Of course.” You answer him with a giggle.

He smiles back and pulls you against him, capturing your mouth hungrily and forcefully. You moan against him and he plucks the shirt down over your tits, his hands kneading and stroking them. You trace your hand down his toned chest to the opening in his pants. You eagerly pry at the ties concealing him and finally his huge hard cock springs free. He groans against you as you carefully grab his cock and feel him twitch slightly against you. He grasps your tiny face and his tongue invades your mouth hungry and wanting. He groans against you as you stroke him up and down. 

You pry your lips from his, and quickly replace your fair little hands with your hot wet mouth. He bucks up towards you and groans happily; his huge hand gently urging your mouth down further around his throbbing cock. You moan against him, your own core pulsating and eager to feel him inside you finally bring you to your long awaited orgasm. He sucks in a sharp breath as he thrusts himself down your throat. You choke back his throbbing cock, squealing slightly and he releases his hand from you. You pop up panting and place yourself on top of him, he inches down in the chair against the fur allowing you better access to him.

You hover over him, aligning yourself with him, and he twitches his throbbing cock against your soaking entrance. You whine out and he sucks your nipple into his mouth. 

“Uhtred!'' You moan as you lower yourself down on top of him. 

You feel your walls quiver as they wrap eagerly around him and he squeezes his rough fingertips into your hips. He grunts and thrusts up against you, sending a shudder through your body. You grind yourself hard against him, bouncing up and down on him. You pant and groan loudly as you ride him and he thrusts with you, making your orgasm grow quickly and wildly.  With each motion, you feel your stomach clenching tighter and your walls clutching faster against his cock. You dig your nails into his shoulders, riding him hard, he grunts with you and soon you feel your climax coming to a head. 

“Look at me Y/N, look into my eyes.” he pants breathless against you. “I want to see your face..”

He grasps your face and pulls you down close to his, sucking at your neck and jaw.

He thrusts up against you as you come undone on top of him. He moans watching you spill over his throbbing cock and you feel him shift his pace faster. You collapse against him, panting as you come undone on top of him. He holds you carefully, still plunging deep within you, letting you ride out your high limply on top of him. You shiver and then relax against him, before he lifts you effortlessly and spins around setting you on the table. His mouth catches yours and he devours your sweet sounds as he thrusts hard and fast against your aching core. You cling against him, wrapping your legs around his waist and pant as he fills you completely again. 

“Uhtred!” you cry bucking hard against him. "I'm so close!"

“Right there!” you squeal.

“Do it again” He says in a husky moan.

You grind against him and pant trying to keep your eyes open as you feel the knot inside you begin to erupt. 

You reach up clutching his huge strong neck and grind against him as he plows hard against you. He carefully clutches your throat with his huge hand sending a whole new kind of sensation down to your core. You gasp quietly as he rocks in and out of you watching your eyes flutter open and closed. Another orgasm tightening up in your stomach as he bucks against you. 

“Uhtred!” you squeal again. 

He thrusts sporadically, finally releasing his hand from your throat and you moan out loudly.  You buck up against him as the waves crash through your core again, leaving your legs tingling and your stomach uncurling. You rock against him as he moans into your bare shoulder. You feel the hot heat burst out inside you and groan happily against him. He gradually slows his pace, panting against you. You pull him back, colliding his lips with yours again. He pants heavily against you, resting his forehead to yours. After a long moment of catching his breath, he slowly pulls out; his tip dripping in cum as he leans over you panting. You reach down and grasp his twitching cock and he groans low against you. Your core throbs from pleasure and he leans down, capturing your mouth a final time with his. 

“Uhtred..” You pant against him.

He smiles coyly against your lips exhaling heavily.

“...One more time?..”

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[bhxrdy]

if i had a heart | finan

author's note: this came to me in the span of a lunch hour. nothing supernatural this time, just regular finan during his kingdom era. lots of fighting and lots of angst. thank you to sweet angsti & @gemini-mama for being my betas! to whoever will read this, hoping you will enjoy! lots of love & stay safe 💕

      Another day, another war. 

Lost in the thickness of battle, in the midst of blood, dirt and agony, he fought primarily for survival and second for victory. 

There was no space for the mind, the body having taken control of all his senses; he became a puppet, guided by the strings of his master as his movements were met with agility, ruthlessness and hunger.  

The clashes of swords sang chaotically, the harmonies calling for Death with its mighty chorus articulating the choreography to its final spiral, tilt and jump.  

He fought with all his might, ignoring the soreness in his muscles, tiredness etching itself onto every inch of him. 

He had to go on - there was no choice in the matter. 

He met every opponent with brutal force, his arms swaying as he gripped his sword and dagger tighter within his palms, the handles encrusting themselves onto his skin; he kept moving on, following the steps of Death’s dance, entranced by the motion, until he took a tumble of his own. 

It was sudden, the harsh impact he met against the ground; he landed on his back, the air escaping his lungs at the sudden abrasion.   

It took him a moment to regain himself, shaking off the heaviness of the blow while he tried to move. 

He was stuck against the grass, unable to get to his feet. 

Only then did he notice he was being stared at; cold eyes locked onto his, shocked as they took him in. 

He mirrored the other’s expression, incapable of breathing as realization dawned onto him, the weight hitting him like bricks onto his head.  

The warrior furrowed its brow, left in disbelief at what they were seeing.  

To each other, the pull of their throats reached for one another, screaming amid the noise surrounding them within the short seconds they made contact. 

“Finan?!” 

“Áine?!” 

Both names spoken in unison, both drudging up a past from dust, the woman’s features swayed swiftly to an amused look. 

She smirked to his bewildered gaze, her lips letting out a soft scoff with a glint of the devil twinkling in her eyes. 

“It’s Katla, actually.” 

      It was bloody, and dirty; the screams of men - of her friends - covered her ears in such torment, she could only drown the noise out with the vibration of her weapons, her sword in one hand, her shield in the other. 

She was battered and bruised, just like the rest of them, her skin painted in mire and crimson, the war adding color to her disheveled braids.  

She kept moving, refusing to slow down at any cost. 

It was glory or it was Valhalla - the motto carved into her bones as she moved to the drums of footsteps, the quiver of swords. 

Men were falling around her, a praying mantis devouring her opponents with starvation trembling at her core. 

All went well, she stood taller by the growing ration until she met a worthy adversary - a man she had not thought about in a long time. 

It was only when she pushed him to his back, only when was she using her weight to ground him, did she finally notice who she was fighting.  

Her heart stopped.  

For a split of a second, she was back in Ireland - in the throes of unmitigated foolery, in the middle of lies and deception, in the center of lust and carnal depravity - until she was pulled back to war with a blow to her body. 

She met the ground, the mud staining her armor as he firmly held her, forcing her still though she did not listen. 

She never did. 

She started fighting him off, using her strength to push him off her. 

He had questions, so many of them, they grew and grew until they took over him, phasing him out of the sudden pain she inflicted on him. 

Unable to move her upper body, she used her legs; she used her knee and kicked him right between his legs inciting a wounded groan from his throat. 

She pushed him away and took a breath as she jumped to her feet, the Irishman taking his own moment before following her as well. 

Everything else surrounding them was gone; the cries of battles shut off as they stared at one another. 

He was looking at a ghost he thought, his eyes never wavering away from the woman that stood in front of him. 

He remembered her as an Irish maid working in his castle, a woman he had encountered many years ago when he was but a prince.  

The woman he had fallen in love with - Áine. 

But they were ripped apart by duplicity and illusion, and they never saw each other again. 

Not until today. 

He couldn’t feel his heartbeat anymore, the blood running cold through his veins. 

They were in a standstill, unable to speak as heavy breaths caught up to their lungs.  

She quickly picked up her sword, her shield left at her feet. 

She was about to take the first step and run away, to leave him without uttering another sound, when she saw Finan quickly glance behind her. It was almost unnoticeable. 

Almost. 

Katla turned around just in time to stop another man from hitting her. 

She met him with her blade striking the other, the contact trembling through her wrists and arms as they hung closely against her cheek. She noticed the pendant hanging around his neck, Thor’s hammer standing out proudly. She huffed mockery under her breath and pushed through, forcing him away from her with no harm to her skin. 

She engaged in a fight with the newcomer, the woman using her strength to defeat him; she was close to winning, the moment long duel was seeing its end just as she hit the other man, making him fall to his knees. 

She was to strike, her weapon famished for blood when Finan ran to her, stopping her from killing his brother in arm. The Irishman pulled her away, the sudden movement causing her to stumble backwards until she was caged within the man’s embrace, her arms stuck by the sides of her body, her sword fallen on the ground. 

She cursed at him while Sihtric stood at his feet, wiping the blood away from the corner of his mouth.  

“Let me go!” She was trying to fight her way out of Finan’s arms, her body moving against the tightness of his grasp as she yelled for his demise.  

She then saw Sihtric coming at her; once he was close enough, she used her legs and lifted them up high enough to kick the Dane in the face before she used the back of her head and knocked Finan, the impact violently echoing against her skull and his nose. 

She fell to the floor as she was released from his hold. She went for her sword and her shield and ran away without looking back, getting herself back into the battle she had fallen out from for the short minutes. 

Recuperating themselves from the aggressive blow they just met, Sihtric yelled at Finan while catching his breath. 

“Who is that?!” 

Finan couldn’t find an answer - he wasn’t able to conjure up the words as they died in the back of his throat, his gaze stuck to the woman disappearing within the mass of bloodied bodies. 

His shoulders depleted, still processing what he had just witnessed, what he had just gone through.  

He was lost in his thoughts, his mind drifting back to the mother land for just a moment; it was the hectic sound from the Dane that brought him back to the battlefield, the other man calling for him as he threw Finan’s abandoned weapon back at him. 

The Irishman caught the sword, startled as the noise came back to cover his ears. 

The second the handle nestled itself into the imprint of his palm, he fell back into the choreography, the dance steps swiftly coming to life at the motion of his body. 

      Time was lost amid the war that raged against the fields, its green decaying for ruby and clay. 

The fight was over, and King Edward’s army was victorious. 

Katla remained away from the crowd, not wanting to be found as she hid away within the woods. 

She sat on the ground against the trunk of a tree, her body numb and weak as she bled, the darkening red marking her with disdain. 

She attempted to steady her hands as she worked around her wound, which resided close to the right side of her abdomen; the Saxon sword that pierced her was unforgiving, unrelenting, determined to see her die. 

She was refusing to listen, to give in when she wasn’t done with her fight. 

She tried patching her bruise, tearing a piece of her clothes to cover and apply pressure in the hopes to calm the bleeding. She wrapped it around her and made a knot tight enough to occupy weight over the cut, freeing her hands. 

She leaned her head back, resting it against the tree, and closed her eyes.  

She took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the pain that seeped through her body, her skin sustaining several cuts and blues. 

She could feel tears lining across her eyelids; she refused to let them escape. She forbade herself from tumbling further than she had already, not wanting to accept such weakness that befell her. 

She had to get up to her feet, she had people to look for. 

She had a fight to finish. 

Her moment of silence then broke, shooting her eyes open in attention. She heard the soft crunches of branches break on the ground and stuck her back further against the trunk, carefully reaching for her sword while ignoring the tremors of her hand. 

Adrenaline budding in the pit of her stomach, she tightened her grip against the handle, her head slightly tilted towards the noise.  

She prepared herself for a duel - it was either the enemy or one of her own. The telling would be the appearance. 

“O-oh-” 

He froze in his steps, taken aback by the sight in front of him.  

She furrowed her brows, not recognizing the intruder. 

The young one examined her silently, noticing her state as he swallowed a shaken breath, holding his fear back. “Y-you’re hurt.” 

Katla didn’t answer. 

She remained calm, taking in the man’s stance. He had dirty blonde hair, light eyes and his armor only covered his upper body under his robe. 

A monk, she thought. 

She cursed under her breath, leaning her head backwards and looking away from him for a moment. 

The man in question slowly backed away, glancing between Katla and the view to the edge of the forest behind him, where everyone else remained. 

She heard his voice again, louder as he called for attention. 

She turned her head back to him, alarmed, and used whatever strength she had left to get up to her feet, her sword acting as an anchor. 

The adrenaline growing within her, she went after him.  

Taken by surprise at the outburst, he felt weight blowing right into his stomach, bringing him to his knees as he coughed. She roughly pulled him from the back, gripping at the collar of his clothes as she heard rapid footsteps approaching them. 

She then picked out her dagger and held it in front, the blade ghosting over the young monk’s neck. A slight fearful whimper escaped him, drowned by the upcoming noise that came for him. 

Finan had started running, hearing panic coming from the woods.  

His feet taking flight, he stopped suddenly when he saw Osferth with a sword hanging over him, ready for the kill. 

He looked up to meet the predator; the color drained from his face, his eyes wide in horror, in shock. 

Katla couldn’t move, the throbbing pain becoming the storm with heavy waves thrashing at her every particle. She pushed the discomfort aside the best she could, gripping at what she held, clenching her jaw and staring straight back at Finan with nothing but spite covering her irises. 

“Stay away or I’ll kill the monk.”  

Finan dropped his weapon, arms up in the air in surrender. He was cautious, careful not to provoke her. “Áine, be sensible. You don’t have to do this.” 

“F-Finan, she’s wounded!” Osferth’s voice broke through, the young one attempting to dissuade the situation; he didn’t dare move, knowing that one inch could get him killed. And so, he remained on his knees, afraid. 

Katla hit him in retaliation, making him groan at the impact while his head started pounding as a result. 

He spoke again, the tremors reaching his tongue, not yet ready to give up. “W-e can h-help you-” 

She hissed, speaking through her teeth as she leaned by his ear, tugging at his collar and slightly tightening it around his neck. “Shut it unless you want the knife in your throat, monk.” 

Finan stared in fright, his body frozen, his heart erratic against his ribcage.  

She had lost her accent - the sweetness of her Irish dying and dissipating from the illusion she had created so long ago. 

It all came back to him like a flood in the middle of the desert, sand turning to mud and growing heavy at the weight of their past. 

‘Katla, she said.’ Her real name resonated between his ears, his heart cracking with every letter. He still carried her after so long had passed - from the moment she had appeared when he was but a young prince, to the day they met across the Irish fields, his army against hers, to today - when they met again, years later. 

She had infiltrated herself into his life, manipulated his heart like a pawn on a chess board; each movements intricately thought from the lingering stares, to the soft touches, to the gentle hush of words and to the aching pleasures of the flesh - all done to encage the king, falling in front of his queen, powerfully seducing him to defeat. 

He had learned of her origins during battle - when his kingdom was in danger from Danes, from her, his treacherous beloved. 

Though his heart broke at the sight, when their swords met, when the clashing of metals reverberated through his bones - he was changed man. 

He needed to be, as he had his people to defend, his family to protect. 

“The fallen prince of Irland!” She muttered a chuckle, mocking him almost while still holding onto the monk. “You were meant to be dead. How did you survive your ship?” 

Rumors had spread of the prince’s liaison with his brother’s wife; how he fell in love, carried out a secret affair, ran away with the milk maid - and how he was disowned and sold to a slave ship.  

She hadn’t let the news phase her, even ignoring the little speck of ache that twisted her heart.  

She had done her duty, accepted the consequence and moved on. 

Finan swallowed the lump in his throat, still careful. “And what about you? The last I saw of you-” 

“I died?” She let out another rumble at the back of her throat. “Surprise.” She spoke in a light tone, antagonizing him.  

The last he saw of her was the moment she had been carried away by a horse during their duel; the impact should’ve killed her, her body flying from the animal’s breast. She had been so close to killing him but was saved by the grace of the beast. 

She had to be a ghost, he thought.  

A nightmare.  

He watched her, eyes wide, as she held onto her hostage, the poor monk fearful for his life.  

Finan took a step, a small one. She tightened her hold around Osferth’s collar, making the young man groan from the discomfort. 

“I told you not to move.”  

He ignored her words, remaining still on his feet. “Am I really going to fight you again?” 

She shrugged with no care. “You decide.”  

“Áine-” 

Feigning exasperation, she shook her head, displaying a farce of disapproval. “It’s Katla. Katla. Áine is dead. Your pretentious little maid is long gone.” 

He exhaled a breath, a saddened sigh toppling over the depth of him. “Why?” 

“Have the English waters dull your brain, Irishman?” She huffed, slightly bemused by his lack of thought. 

“Katla.” He pressed onto the letters, her true name straining at the edge of his teeth. 

She held her head higher, the taunting smirk carved into the right side of her lips. “Now, we’re learning.”  

A soft torturous groan escaped Osferth once again, putting Finan on his toes. “Let him go, I beg of ya.” 

“You’re begging now?” She shared a baffled chuckle, enjoying herself despite the tickling ache that bore into her. “Years apart and nothing has changed.” She slightly loosened her hold onto the boy’s throat, leaning on her good side as her eyes remained on Finan, dying for some entertainment. 

“Do you remember when you used to plead to me, darling? Begging for pleasure, swearing with that tongue of yours, imploring me to give you what you desperately wanted.”  

She was taunting him, the sound of her voice growing in degradation against the man standing in front of her. 

And the more she spoke, she used her words as armor against the throbbing pain that emanated across her limbs, the blood of her open wound seeping through the fabric of her shirt. 

She remained tall, firmly holding her knife against Osferth while she did not look away from Finan, ignoring the movements that slowly came to surround them. They were interrupted by a small crowd; other warriors having joined him in helping free one of their own from her grasp.  

She took a sharp breath, swallowing the lump lodged at the back of her throat, and quickly glanced around the new bodies trapping her like an animal. 

Terror filled her, submerging her under its weight as ache pricked like a needle, forcing her body to surrender.  

She still decided to remain ignorant, refusing to listen to the pleas. 

She was not going to let him win. 

Some of the men slowly approached them, just as Finan did once again. 

Though he remained alert to the situation, he knew she wouldn’t be able to hang on any longer; it was clear from the look in her eyes, from the growing uncertainty that tainted her pupils. She was hurt, her body at her mercy for rest. 

She saw them move and yelled, her voice booming across the distorted circle. “Do not get any closer, Finan!” 

One of the men dismissed the hostile words, noting that the injured Dane would not be able to hold her own. 

At the sight of movement, Katla fought back, proceeding with her promise. 

The tip of her blade grazed the boy’s neck, firmly enough to create a thin red line to appear against his dirty skin.  

He winced at the burn, feeling blood slowly flowing from the bruise. 

The contact agitated Finan as he yelled to the other men, his voice loud with authority and irritation. “Stop! Stop moving!” He looked around to make sure the men were following his orders before tilting back to Katla. 

Determination at his feet, he stared her down. “Let him go. You don’t want him. It’s me you want, love.” 

The words had slipped out unintentionally.  

She chuckled, shrugging it off as it held no meaning to her; Finan had regretted it as soon as had come out, old habits gnawing at him from cracks under his bones. 

“I don’t want you. I want my freedom.” She spoke through her teeth, her hand jerking the young man with one sharp wave, the fabric of his collar pulling at his throat. 

Finan raised his arms in the air once again, speaking attentively as he eyed his friend before looking up to the woman. “Then you’ll have it. Just let him go. Please.” 

A darkening smile reached her, almost stunned. “Again with the begging!” 

The second violent motion she did against Osferth was not as strong as he had expected; Osferth had sensed the warrior was growing weaker, the hold of her knife against him trembling ever so gently. 

The blood loss was apparent now that they were in a stalemate. 

Finan was about to speak once again, trying to reason with her when a sudden strike caught them off guard. 

She felt an abrupt searing sting on her left upper arm, forcing her to drop her weapon alongside her hostage; an arrow had been shot, the item penetrating through with its head sticking on the back of her arm. 

To the loss of contact, Osferth set himself free as he got up to his feet and turned while backing himself away from her. 

With Katla now defenceless, Sihtric ran and grabbed a hold of her, forcing her arms behind her back just as Finan followed, making sure Osferth was well. 

She struggled within her caged trap, her lungs burning from the ruthlessness of her voice as she screamed from pain and from anger. She was forced to follow the Saxon men as they dragged her away from the trees, her steps leading her to the edge of the forest. 

She met Finan in passing, the deadly glare sending shivers down his spine, his blood running cold once again. He saw red lining the inside of her dried lips, the color painting the inside of her mouth down her throat.  

She coughed a blood clot and spit it right at his feet in pure distain.  

Finan remained still, his heart shattered. Unable to look at her anymore, he turned away letting Sihtric take the lead as he pushed the woman forward. 

He did not move, running a hand from his hair down his beard as he took a breath as gentle panic made him tremble. 

This could not be real, he thought.  

She was meant to be dead, to have succumbed to brutal force the last time they had fought. 

He cursed, a short breath escaping him as his hands rested on his hips, taking in today’s events. She had stood in front of him, as alive as ever, as enraging as ever, as frustrating and as beautiful as ever. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised anymore; he should’ve learned from his past lessons. She had deceived him before, hurt him - so why not again? 

He found her sword a feet away, along with her dagger. He picked both of her weapons and trailed behind the others, his mind losing control within the traffic, his thoughts jammed one into the other. 

      She soon found herself forced to limp back to camp as the King ordered the death to the Dane survivors - including her. 

She was forced to stand on her knees in front of the man in question. She spat at his feet, blood reaching his boots, and spoke as she stared straight into his eyes, with all the malice in the world. 

She could tell he was close to snapping, her words irritating his ears; she found it amusing how easily it was to break him. 

But he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She smirked, brow arched as she harassed him, ready for the final blow. 

Instead, he remained unmoving, simply looking at her with his temper simmering at the edge. “You should be thankful your death will be swift. I might as well leave you here to suffer your wounds.” 

“Why don’t you?” She cussed at him once again, a spit of blood landing on the wet grass. 

Edward ignored her words, turning his attention away as he called for one of his own. 

Katla recognized the name, the letters having been cursed so many times, by so many people. 

She was finally going to meet the one they called the Dane Slayer. 

He walked towards them, his sword in hand and his back straight. She observed him as he spoke to the king, her focus placed on them without a care for what was going on around her. 

She clenched her jaw when a sharp pain throbbed on her right side. She took in a deep breath, clenching her left fist with her fingers digging into her palm while her right hand went for the wound, pressing gently and ignoring the uselessness of the movement.  

Her weapons were thrown by her side; she did not lift her head up to see the Irishman looking down at her.  

She picked up her sword with tremor coursing through her veins, using the ground as a reliable surface before adjusting herself back on her knees. She lifted her sword so the point of the blade pierced the grass, the body standing proudly in front of her, dressed in the blood and cries of its victims. 

She dismissed the ache that gnawed at her, from the bruised arm, the multiple cuts, the headache to the stab wound she had suffered from earlier on.  

Resting her hands on the pommel, she let go of her stomach, the blood trailing down from her waist while the one on her arm mimicked the flow; now open and freely escaping. The attempt at bandaging overthrowing its usefulness. 

She kept one knee on the ground, the other bent, and lifted her head to stare straight at her executioner, daring him with a glower, a sparkling of venom. 

“Do it.” She arched her brow, not wavering away from the blue in his eyes, the words spitting out of her with red tainting her lips. “Glory or Valhalla.” 

Finan stood on the sidelines, silently watching, completely disheartened. 

She was the enemy, so why did he care for her predicament? Why was he praying for her survival when he knew deep down it would have still meant nothing to her? 

Why hold a flame for the betrayal he suffered? 

He was but a young man when they first met. She had become a breath of fresh air sweeping him away from the suffocating life of a prince - she had become his distraction, titillating him with such sin within his castle walls and beyond, it had created friction with his former life.  

She was of the devil, they said - a danish spy that had infiltrated her way in as an Irish maid, seeking secrets from within. 

The truth of it all was only divulged across the field, the day they had fought. She had become the snake in the garden, an illusion of blissfulness to the morose life of a royal. 

She had torn him apart, deceived him, entrapped him in guilt and shame. Only when he met someone else had it all dissolved, dissipating from his mind as the warrior became but a ghost, death trapping her and pulling her away from his thoughts. Only when he met his brother’s wife had everything truly changed. 

Katla tightened the grip on her sword, trying to push passed the physical affliction coursing through her body, the blood swimming down like a quiet river, running away from the confine of its old vessel.  

Uhtred lifted his sword, ready to proceed with the King’s order in reluctance.  

The end of the blade was hovering above her chest, right under her pendant. 

She closed her eyes, took a breath as she finally welcomed Death, singing prayers to the gods for a seat at the table. 

It was over. The growing weakness hovering around her deafened her hearing, making her finally give up. 

She waited for the blow, the blade to push through and kill her. 

She had waited, and waited but nothing came of it. 

Too long seemed to have passed. 

She frowned as she opened her eyes only to find Finan standing in front of her with Uhtred walking away. The Irishman had quietly pleaded his friend to stop and not go through with the prosecution. 

She grew angry, she was annoyed. 

She was pissed off. “Are you going to put me through the sword?” 

Finan sighed, his shoulders dropping. “No. You’re free to go.”  

She was startled by his words but did not let it show, her eyes locking him in while trying to understand his surrender. 

He had the opportunity of a lifetime. To kill her and avenge what had happened with him back in Ireland. To get revenge against her betrayal.  

She could not comprehend why he was letting her go when a simple swift motion of his sword could give him everything he’s ever wanted. 

“What are you doing? Is this a trick?” 

He bit the inside of his cheek, taking a second before looking away from her. “No trick. Just go.” 

She was unrelenting, struck with quiet disbelief. “You sparing my life doesn’t change anything. I’ll find you in the next battle and kill you if I ever come across your sword again.” 

The bourgeoning anger boiling within the remains of her blood gave her strength, mitigating the pain within her weakening body.  

She leaned against her sword, a dark chuckle escaping her dry throat as she swallowed the clot that wanted out.  

Finan couldn’t stand this any longer. Mirroring her emotions, he became irritated. “What the hell is the matter with ya?!” His voice echoed with sudden acuity, catching her off guard for a split of a second, waiting for his loss of control. “It wasn’t enough you destroyed my life in Irland, you had to come after me again here?!” 

“I’m sorry, love.” The mockery in her tone, as she spat her words, sent shivers down his spine, the unwelcoming strain of syllables raising his skin. “Did I step on your crown again?” 

“Áine-” 

“It’s Katla.” 

He huffed, aggravated by the dissonance of her state. He was close to reaching his limits, standing right at the precipice of a cliff. “Who are you?” 

The right side of her bloodied lips curved upwards, an amused smirk gracing him. “I’m the woman you loved, remember?” A low chuckle escaped her once again. “Sweet Áine, a simple maid for the impressionable Irish prince that needed distraction from his duties.” 

Taking in her words, he dropped his head, his heart growing heavier.  

“Did you ever love me?” He spoke softly, a strenuous task grabbing him by the throat. 

He didn’t know why he asked when it had been ever so clear, but the words needed out, they needed to be spoken and thrown into the air for breath.  

She pondered, in mockery. “No. I never had the heart for you, my dearest. You know this.” 

“I do. Which is why I’ll sleep better knowing ya are about to die.” 

A small laugh out, the devilish snark across her face sent daggers straight into his chest. “You’re just as much of a coward as you were in Irland. Pity you couldn’t hold your crown.” 

He sighed at her words and gave her one last look of guilt before he turned his back on her, walking away and leaving her where she still sat on the ground. 

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she pushed herself up to her feet, a groan from the back of her throat escaping her.  

She knew her body was betraying her; she felt weaker by the minute, her heart straining to keep her alive, desperate for eternal sleep. 

She coughed again, the strength of the disruption making her spit as a blood trail left her lips to reach the mud in front of her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she eyed her old lover while he was already a couple of feet away from her. 

She was given mercy and she hated them for it. 

“I-I’m not done with you!” She struggled to speak, her voice hoarse as she tried to call for him. “F-Finan-” She grabbed her waist, her hand pressed over her wound while stumbling, falling on one knee. 

He ignored her, not having the heart to deal with her any longer; he had to give her up once and for all. 

Back on her feet again, she groaned from the pain, the rumble shaking her to her core, her eyes never looking away from him. 

She held her sword tightly and took a leap, running after him. 

She wasn’t done with him just yet. 

      Warrior instinct gripped at him, like a moth to a flame.  

He heard the rapid footsteps behind him, heavy and struggling. He made a quick turn without a second thought and grappled at the body that came to him. 

It took him a moment to realize what he had done – he saw heartlessness coated in darkness; it was cold and harsh, it was grey and callous. He was staring right into her eyes, his own wailing aghast. 

His left hand gripped her shoulder, the other one holding his dagger as the blade sunk right at the upper centre of her stomach. 

They remained frozen, simply staring at each other in shock and horror. 

Jolts of reality striking him, he slowly let go of the knife, catching her in his arms as she fell against him. He cursed to himself while rambling continuous apologies through his heavy breaths, his voice broken while whispering closely against her, lips to ears, his ‘I’m sorry’s’ with misery, the letters repeated over and over again like a prayer.  

A guttural scream ricochet across the field as Katla was cradled against him, his arms wrapped around her as he fell to the ground; the voice from afar held anguish and terror, shaking the earth underneath them. 

Tears in his eyes, he was succumbed under sorrow and regret, wondering why his heart wore him heavy when he should have felt lighter, content that she was finally meeting her end, hating her for what she had done to him. 

Yet, he seemed incapable of complying. 

She had died in Ireland. The woman in front of him was simply a ghost, a phantom. A shadow of the woman he had once deeply loved. 

Hearing the shattered screams, he turned his head to find a young woman freeing herself forcefully from some Saxons’ grasp before she started running towards him. 

Finan held tighter onto Katla, his gaze falling back to her as she was patiently waiting for her last breath. 

She could only watch him, no words escaping as her mouth drowned under the weight of her blood. She was struggling to breathe, his heart squeezing itself under his chest as he stroked her hair away from her bruised face.  

She found herself smirking at him, a light tug of her lips while she remained mute under his quivering touch. He was holding onto her wounds, trying to stop the bleeding even though he knew it to be a futile attempt at rescuing her. 

“No!” The heavy pants from the runaway reached him. “Mother!” 

It was spoken under her native tongue, but he still knew its meaning, the term evident to his eyes. The weight of the word shook him like a quake. 

The intruder fell to her knees and pushed Finan away harshly, forcing him to relinquish his hold onto Katla. 

The young woman held her mother in her arms, softly calling for her, soothing her as tears fell.  

Katla smiled - it was warm and loving; it was a smile he had not seen for a very long time. She then softly muttered her daughter’s name under her breath. ‘Rúna’. 

Finan was quiet, trying to approach them but the young one quickly grabbed her knife, holding it against him with the look of death in her eyes, coal painted around them. “You’ve done enough. Stay away.” 

He surrendered, hands mid-air. 

Rúna turned back, finding her mother’s sword next to her. She picked it up and gently wrapped the woman’s hands around the handle, making sure she was tightly grasping it. 

He was paralyzed, studying both women until he could only look at the newcomer. 

His gut screamed at him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. 

He knew she was his - it was the way she looked that had given it away; she held a ghostly resemblance to his own mother. She had Katla’s eyes but yet looked like his own. It was in the nose, in the way she furrowed her brows, the texture of her hair, though the colour was his own, that made it look like he was staring at the shadow of his late mother. 

Her soft sobs pierced through his thoughts. His daughter was leaning over her mother’s body unable to hold onto her tears any longer.  

Katla had quietly gone, finally caving under the song of the Valkyries, forgetting the man who’s heart she broke, for the sight of her own child. 

“May your journey be safe and swift... And may you find glory in the feast hall of Valhalla.” Rúna whispered under her breath, caressing her mother’s cheek, closing her eyes gently with her fingers. 

Defeated, he stayed quiet and watched, silently letting his own tears fall. 

      The scent of smoke filled the air, the flames of death burning bright against the darkening sky. 

Rúna stood in front of her mother’s funeral pyre, watching the flames burn her body.  

Finan approached her carefully and stood next to her, his head straight and watching the fire as well. 

She glanced towards him. “We thought you were dead…” She had spoken softly, a bitter aftertaste decorating the back of her throat. “You were taken to that ship-” She stood taller, looking away from him and back in front of her. “You are dead. You’re nothing to me.” She whispered her words under her breath, a mantra she tied around her heart. 

His own broke, the pieces unknowingly desperate for salvation. 

“Come back with me.” It was gentle, the tone of his voice carried to her ears in a cautious manner. “You don’t have to be alone.” Her shoulders tensed, her teeth stacked tightly within her jaw. “Come home with me.” 

She snapped her head towards him, letting the embers of the fire caress her cheek as the pieces floated with the small wind. “Home?” She scoffed in disbelief. “You took that away from me, and now you expect me to forgive you and come back to wherever it is, with a stranger?” She held his gaze, her irises darkening the longer she stared at him. “You are nothing to me. I do not want you. I do not have the heart for you.” Her words hit him like boulders falling from a cliff.  

He should’ve expected this. 

“You will always be known as the man who killed my mother, so don’t expect anything from me.” She leaned in slightly closer towards him, her words just as menacing as the glare drenching the colour of her eyes. “Next time I see you, I’ll kill you.” 

He tried to push passed the remark, but the gaze was enough to make him stop. She meant her words - she could kill him right on the spot. 

She had no love for him, nor for the ghost of him, nor for the part of her that was him.  

She had no heart to give him as it had died with her mother, the entity burning along her body in front of them. 

All over again, he could only mourn now, never thinking his past would have crossed the ocean to haunt him, let alone come to him in the form of a resentful daughter. 

Rúna bid her final farewell, holding onto her mother’s pendant as she placed it around her neck, in unison with her own, before reluctantly walking away, the sun setting just behind them. 

She turned her back on her father without even a word of goodbye, leaving the Irishman now to stare at the pyre burnt to a crisp. 

He was left with the ashes and embers of his lost love as they hung around him, following the breeze that shifted across the field, the creatures dissipating into patterns that held no true meaning - simply dancing alongside Mother Nature’s breath. 

She had broken his heart, the young maiden who had stolen it by the simple look in her eyes. 

He should’ve known they were held by malevolence, by trickery. 

She never loved him and he should’ve known this, but he was a foolish young man, stuck in a prison with a crown on his head.  

She had given him freedom - the illusion of it, a tainted love, and he fell for it, like Adam to the apple. 

He fell to his knees, the fire almost out as he succumbed to his grief, cheeks stained of tears and anger fueled in his fists as they rested on his lap, tackling the fabric of his pants.  

His head fell back, looking up to the sky, the discoloration inviting night into its warm embrace. 

Flashes of his past took over, pain striking him like lightening breaking into the skies, like a violent lashing strapping him into torment. 

He wanted to convince himself, with every fiber of his being, that she could have loved him; he could almost imagine it. The softness of her being, so enthralling, engaging, mesmerizing. Like a siren calling for her sailor. 

Had she not worked against him, tricking him, spied on him, she would’ve loved him the way he did for her. 

If she had a heart, any smudge or speck of it at all, she could've loved him.  

He was fooling himself, desperate to grasp onto strands of a lie to ease the pain of her perfidy that embedded itself deep into the marrow of his soul. 

If she had a heart, she could have loved him, he kept thinking. 

But even in death, she had no love for him - only depravity marinated her bones, her core yearning for simple primal desire. 

The wondering haunted him, a shadow stuck at his feet, a lonely companion. 

“Finan?” He turned at the sound of his name, the young monk calling from a few feet away with his gentle voice. “It’s time to go.” 

Without a word, he looked back to the pyre, the fire now almost gone. 

He wiped his tears and stood to his feet with great weight on his shoulders. 

He gave one last look to the lost woman and eventually found strength to walk away, turning his back to his past once again. 

God knows if he would ever see his daughter again.  

-----------------------

xoxo

#the last kingdom #finan #finan x oc #tlk fanfic #finan imagine #finan the agile #the last kingdom fanfic #finan fic #mywriting #mark rowley #finan fanfic #tlk

[scorpionrising]

there is love that doesn't have a place to rest — ch. 3

pairing: finan x fem!oc word count: 3556 content warning: this fic deals explicitly with the trauma of sexual assault. while there are no drawn out, graphic scenes, it is made explicitly clear what is going on. for context: oc is uhtred's daughter and was captive in dunholm for all her childhood. proceed with caution. additionally, expect canon typical attitudes, behaviors, violence, etc.

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“i wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery and i can wish that all i want, but it won't bring us together plus, i know whatever happens to me, i know it's for the better" –phoebe bridgers, waiting room

A week had passed since her father left at the behest of King Alfred, and Ravna spent each day with Osferth in the woods, allowing him to teach her all about the Christian religion. She was not sure she believed any of it— a pregnant virgin was just a bit too absurd for her— but they made for good stories. She thought of the Romans, and the Greeks before them. How many different gods had they believed in? How many gods before them had been worshiped? For this reason alone, Ravna could not count anything out. Or could she believe in anything at all? 

“Monk! I had a thought,” Ravna said, finding Osferth in the alehouse. 

He was sitting with Finan, but she chose to ignore the other man. Osferth’s brows shot up upon seeing her. She did not make a habit of entering the alehouse, often finding it too loud and the men too abrasive. Osferth put down his mug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You say your god is good, yes?”

“Uh, yes. He is all good, just as He is all powerful.” 

“If He is both, then how can He allow evil to exist?”  

This was what Ravna did not understand. She had long since accepted that her father’s gods, if they did exist, cared little for her. Her father’s gods never claimed to be all good. But Osferth’s god did. Osferth’s god positioned himself as a father who loved his children. If she was this all-good and all-powerful god’s child, she could not fathom why he allowed for her to be abused as she was. 

“He did not create evil,” Osferth said.

She scrunched her face at him. “But you said evil and sin comes from Eve eating the apple because Satan told her to, and Satan was created by God, was he not?” 

“But God also created free will. He does not control us, Ravna.” 

“If God created free will and bestowed it upon people with the option and opportunity for evil, then He created evil!” 

A few eyes were looking their way, certainly whispering about her outburst. Finan glanced around the alehouse and leaned across the table. 

“Hey, just take a breath now, ceann bheag.”

She rounded on him, eyes narrowed. What gave him the right to tell her to do anything? 

“I believe I was talking to Osferth, not you,” she hissed, relishing in the fact that he actually leaned back in shock from her ire being turned on him. Sniffing, she looked back at Osferth. “I do not find myself satisfied with your response. Think on it some more and find me in the morning with better answers.” 

Osferth cracked a smile, despite the uncomfortable tension between her and Finan.

“Are you hoping to convert, Lady?” Osferth asked teasingly.

“Maybe if I find you convincing enough,” Ravna responded in the same tone. She stuck her tongue out briefly and smacked the tabletop. “Right, then. I’m getting myself a drink.” 

Both men looked shocked, which she took some pride in. Still, it was rather annoying. But, if it took her sitting in the alehouse for hours on end and drinking until her vision blurred for them to see her as the grown woman she was, she would do it. She would show her father and Finan both. She had no need for a nursemaid. 

Coin purse in hand, she sidled up to the counter and held her chin high. Men were crowded all around her, but she refused to waver. She had something to prove. 

“Lady Ravna.” 

Ceolmund, the second son to the alehouse and tavern owners, stood behind the counter. His older brother, Alewulf, was somewhat of a warrior and had gone north with her father. 

“Hello,” she said. “I would… like a pitcher of ale, please.” 

Ceolmund’s smile was a bit crooked. “You drink with your father’s men, lady?”

She pursed her lips. “And what of it?”

“I am surprised,” he said. 

Then, he looked around and leaned in, beckoning her closer. Confused, Ravna complied. Ceolmund’s lips brushed along her ear and she bit back a gasp in surprise. 

“Tonight is the full moon, Lady. When the moon is at its peak, come to the mouth of the river so you need not drink with your father’s men.” 

She pulled back and arched an eyebrow. “What happens tonight?” 

He grinned ear to freckly ear. It would be a bitter lie to say she was not intrigued. 

“Us young people get to live,” he said. 

“Very well,” Ravna said. “I will join you.”

“Good!” He smacked the counter for good measure. “I’ll go get your ale now, Lady.” 

When she returned, she must have been grinning as well. Osferth’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead and he turned to Finan, who was staring at Ravna with his mouth agape. 

“What?” she asked. 

“What did he say to you?” Osferth asked. 

“Nothing,” Ravna said simply, pouring herself a mug of ale. 

“No, he said something!” 

She rolled her eyes. “Osferth, I am allowed to have friends other than you, no?” 

He deflated a bit and took a deep sip from his mug. Smirking to herself, Ravna poured some ale from her pitcher into his now empty cup. With a grin, he knocked his mug against hers and they took large gulps in tandem. Finan looked decidedly put out. Good, she thought, not feeling guilty in the least. 

The ale was strong, but she knew it would be. Her father encouraged Ceolmund’s father to brew it the way Danes did, as Saxon ale was often so weak. Ravna’s head was spinning a bit, but she found she did not mind it. She quite liked the feeling, actually. With Osferth’s aid, she drank the entire contents of the pitcher rather quickly. Delighting in the way the whole world around her seemed to tilt as she stood up, Ravna placed her palms on the table to steady herself as she giggled shrilly. 

“I… am going to…” She trailed off, losing the thought. “Oh! Yes, I will get more ale.” 

Finan grabbed the now empty pitcher and pulled it out of her reach. “Perhaps not, Lady.”

Annoyed but less angry than before— thanks to the ale, in all likelihood— Ravna turned on Finan. Feeling her lips curling into a grin, she snorted and lunged for the pitcher, but he was too quick for her and pulled it further away. 

“Finan,” she said shortly, rolling her eyes, “I am grown. I am no child, and you are no nursemaid.” 

He reared back as though she had struck him, and it granted her the opportunity to steal back the pitcher. Clutching it to her chest, she swiveled around to go back to the counter, but Ceolmund was already a few paces away. 

“Lady Ravna,” he greeted, walking to meet her where she stood. “I’m off now. Would you like me to accompany you on your way?” 

Blood rushed to her face, pooling in her cheeks. A bit carelessly, she tossed the pitcher aside and nodded. 

“That would do,” she said. 

He grinned quite charmingly and offered her his arm. 

“Oi!” Finan interrupted. “What’s this about?” 

“Ceolmund is accompanying me on my way so I do not need to walk alone in the dark,” Ravna said, cocking her head to the side. “Do you find that unacceptable, Finan?” 

Osferth was hiding a grin behind his hands and very pointedly looking away from Finan. Finan, however, seemed downright perplexed and his face was turning a bit red; dark eyes obscured by the scrunch of his eyebrows. When he did not respond, Ravna turned back to Ceolmund, victorious, and took his arm. 

“So, will you tell me now what it is that you’re bringing me to?” 

“Revelry,” Ceolmund said simply. 

And revelry indeed it was. With a large fire going and bodies milling about, Ravna thought back to the many festivities held over the years at Dunholm in honor of the gods. While these were Christians around her, they were not so different. 

“We drink mead instead of ale here,” Ceolmund said. “Beatrice makes it with the honey from her father’s bees.” 

Ravna nodded, amazed by the sight before her. In her years of living in Coccham, how had she been so vastly unaware of this happening every month? Since she mostly kept to herself, there were a great many people she realized she did not know as unfamiliar faces swam past her. Even Beatrice, who Ceolmund was still talking about, Ravna did not know. She felt bad for it, as clearly everyone knew who she was. 

“Lady Ravna!” 

Sybil, the blacksmith’s daughter, ran over with a wild grin on her face, a crown of flowers askew on her head. Of the people in the village, Sybil was perhaps one of the only people outside of Ravna’s family that she would consider a friend. Even then, she was unsure. 

“Sybil, I’ve said many times, you need not call me Lady,” Ravna said. She glanced at Ceolmund and bowed her head. “Nor do you, friend.” 

Sybil reached out and grabbed both of Ravna’s hands. “Well, Ravna, you must come join me for a dance!” 

Ravna did not even have the chance to respond before Sybil pulled her away from Ceolmund. Though there was no music, aside from three men who were hardly more than boys drunkenly singing, those who were dancing around the large bonfire seemed to have a tune in their minds. Giggling, Ravna twirled around Sybil as the two of them created their own tune. 

“I’m quite pleased you’re here!” Sybil said, swiping a mug from a young man’s hand and taking a deep sip. “You must join us more often.”

She offered out the mug and Ravna took it. The mead was delightful, far superior to any ale she ever had. It tasted of honey and fruit and spices; it tasted of the gods. 

“I would like that,” Ravna said, now used to the buzzing feeling the drink gave her. “It might be hard once my father returns.” 

“It is the same for the rest of us,” Sybil said. “Many of our fathers joined yours, and we do this with our freedom!” 

Sybil flung her arms out and spun around freely. It amazed Ravna. The looseness, the recklessness, the carelessness. It was all she ever wanted to be. She drank until she was stumbling over her own feet, but Ravna was unsure if she could say she ever had such fun. 

Ceolmund found her some time later, just as drunk as she was. 

“Lady!” he said, all too loudly. “Would you like to take a walk with me?” 

On the very far depths of the horizon, Ravna could see the beginnings of sunrise, lightening the dark sky above. 

“Perhaps you could walk me back to town,” she said. 

“Of course, Lady.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ceolmund, please, I wish for you to only call me Ravna.” 

They walked hand-in-hand, tripping over one another, their own feet, and tree roots alike. The village center was deserted entirely by the time they finally found their way back. For some reason unknown to her, Ravna was giggling loudly and constantly. Ceolmund did not seem to mind, however, and instead grinned at her with that crooked smile of his. She stopped to stare at him, and perhaps count the freckles on his face. There were a great many, and she was fascinated by them. 

“Ravna,” he whispered, “may I kiss you?” 

It was perhaps because no one had ever asked her that question before that she did say yes. Ceolmund was not the most experienced or skilled of kissers, but him asking her permission made it the best kiss of her life. She curled a hand around the back of his neck and clutched him close, letting her bodily knowledge take over. 

They stumbled back against a tree, his hands roaming all over her body and lips trailing down her neck. This, she thought, was what being young was for. She clutched his curls in hand while his fingers fumbled for the strings on her breeches. She giggled some more, but this time it came out as half a moan. 

“Ceolmund,” she whispered, tugging at the root of his hair. “We’re too exposed.” 

The mere fact that he paused and pulled away from her to look around almost made her want to drop to her knees and push all fears of being caught aside. But to do so, would be to act like a child. She wanted to be treated like the woman she was, so even in her drunken haze she knew she could not. Not right now, at least. 

“Yes.” He sighed, chest heaving. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Anyone could stumble upon us,” she reasoned. 

But, then, she kissed him again. She kissed him over and over and over again until the sky turned orange with sunrise. Drunkenness abating and replacing itself with a throbbing head, Ravna began to pull her hands from Ceolmund’s hair. 

“I should return home,” she mumbled against his lips. 

“That would be for the best,” he agreed, still kissing her. 

She dragged her teeth along his bottom lip and forced herself away. She did not look back at him as she walked home. If she did, it was likely her self restraint would fall apart, and she really needed to be home before Gisela awoke to tend to Stiorra, who always rose with the sun. 

Another week passed, and Ceolmund, who was not so interesting or smart as he seemed that night of the full moon, proved himself to be a kind young man who was undoubtedly fond of her and never tried to touch her more than she liked him to. (It was the kindest a man had ever treated her, so it surely meant something.) Unable to deny the fact that she liked it when he kissed her, even when she was not mind numbingly intoxicated, she found herself sneaking around to press her lips to his at any given opportunity— which naturally led to her pressed up against the back of the alehouse with his hands creeping up underneath her tunic. And that was when and how Finan found them. 

“Oi!” 

The brogue was undeniable, forcing them to separate at the sound of his voice alone. Lips wet and swollen, Ravna cursed quietly. Ceolmund looked as though he were about to shit his breeches. 

“What do ya’ think yer doing?” Finan barked, marching over to them and grabbing Ceolmund by the collar of his tunic.  

“Nothing,” Ceolmund said loudly. “We were doing nothing!”

“That’s your lord’s daughter, boy,” Finan said.

“Y-yes, I— I know.” 

Ravna groaned. She was well aware of her father’s orders to Finan to keep her safe and make sure she was well, but this was absurd. 

“Finan,” she said, wrenching his hand away from Ceolmund, “let him go!” 

When his fingers released the fabric, Ceolmund stumbled backwards and then began to run. She rolled her eyes and rounded on Finan. 

“What is wrong with you?” she screamed, flinging her hands into the air. “He was doing nothing wrong!”

“Oh, he was doing plenty wrong, lady,” Finan said. 

“How is what he was doing any different from what you do to the women in the tavern?” 

He stared at her in shock, but she was not finished. 

“And how is what I was doing any different from what those women do to you? I am a woman, Finan, not a girl! I know very well what that was. I am not stupid, nor am I the naive child everyone believes me to be!” 

Seething, she stomped in the opposite direction Ceolmund ran. She needed to be far away from everyone, Finan especially. How dare he embarrass her like that? Who did he think he was? Her hands shook in her anger, vision blurring at the edges. She was unsure whether she wanted to scream or sob more, so she would go into the woods and do both. She would beat her knuckles bloody on the tree bark if she desired. 

Her fury remained. She stood at the riverside, throwing rocks as far as she could to force it to leave her. A twig snapped behind her and then there was the telltale rustle of leaves. She gritted her teeth and let out a groaning shout as she threw another rock. She would not acknowledge him. She refused. He would have to come to her and force himself into her line of sight. 

“I apologize, ceann bheag. I should not have grabbed the boy like that.”

How she hated that nickname now. Less than a month ago, she found it sweet. Little one. Now, she knew what it meant. She was a small child, and always would be. Tears of anger and resentment flooded her eyes, stinging in the wind as she tried to hold them back. She sniffed and sat down on the embankment, knees pulled to her chest. She closed her eyes as she heard Finan move closer and sit down beside her. 

“You’ve barely spoken to me since your father left, ya’ know,” Finan said. 

Ravna pursed her lips. 

“And I don’ know why,” he continued. “Seems like ya’ will talk to anyone an’ everyone but me.” 

Anger getting the best of her, she snapped, “I heard you, you idiot!” 

Her cheeks were wet, the tears finally having spilled out. A deep crease appeared between Finan’s eyebrows.

“The day before my father left, I heard what you said to him,” Ravna elaborated. “And you were right, Finan. I do not take kindly to it.” She swiped at her face and sniffled loudly. “I do apologize for being such a burden when I was foolish enough to believe we were friends.” 

He swore in a low voice, more a grumble than words, and ran a hand over his beard. She watched him from the corner of her eye, wanting to turn to him but wanting to be steadfast more.

“Ravna,” he said quietly, softly. “Ya’ never should’ve heard that.” 

“And yet,” she muttered, a bitter and sour taste in her mouth. 

“I do not think ya’ to be a burden.” His voice was gentle and slow, as though he were trying to find his footing. 

“What do you think of me, then?” she asked, finally turning to look at him fully with blazing eyes. “Because I do not think you see a woman.”

“Well, I don’ see a man!” 

She rolled her eyes, curbing the urge to kick him. 

“You know quite well that is not what I meant!” 

She shot up and moved to stomp away, but got up just as fast and grabbed her arm to stop her from walking away. His hand had a tight grip on her, just above the crook of her elbow. 

“What ya’ need to understand is, on the ship all your father talked about was his little girl who had been taken from him.” 

She was not proud of the manner in which she gasped— both at his touch and the subject of the slave ship being raised. Neither he nor her father ever spoke of their time enslaved, and she could not blame them. How often did she discuss her time at Dunholm, after all? 

“And that’s what ya’ were when I met ya’!” 

“But I am no longer a child!” she exclaimed. 

“No,” he agreed solemnly. “Yer a woman, to be sure, and ya’ have been since the time ya’ stepped foot in Coccham.” 

“Then why do you all continue to treat me as one?” She glared up at him, furious. “You likened yourself to a nursemaid and begged my father to change his mind. If you are so unhappy here, I grant you leave to join my father. Go! If you wish it, go, and I will hold no anger in my heart.”

“Lady,” he said, “I would not do that.”

“Why? Because my father asked you to?”

“Because I care about ya’!”

She watched as his eyes crinkled at the corners and his hand not holding her arm lifted, perhaps of its own accord judging by the shock in his eyes, to take hold of her face. The calluses on his palms, made from years of training with swords and pulling oars, were rough against her cheek, but she was too preoccupied by her surprise at the sudden touch to care. 

“You’re not just Uhtred’s daughter. You’re far more than that.” 

His hand slipped past her cheek to cradle the back of her head, and then he pulled her into a tight hug. Sniffling once more, she tucked her face into his chest and slipped her arms around his torso. After a moment, she pulled her arms away and took a large step backwards with a burning face. She really ought not to have allowed herself to step so close. It was inappropriate. 

“I am glad you see me as I am,” she said quietly. 

Above their heads, a cloud shifted and sent a bright beam of light directly upon Finan’s head. It illuminated him in a brilliant shade of gold, and she needed to look away from how bright he was, lest she do or say something absurd.    

#finan x oc #finan fanfic #finan x reader #finan the agile #the last kingdom #tlk fandom #osferth #sihtric kjartansson #uhtred of bebbanburg #finan tlk #tlk fanfic #finan #tlk uhtred #tlk season 3 #mark rowley #the last kingdom fic #osferth x reader

[idksmtms]

Finan Masterlist

Series

Under construction...

Oneshots

No, No, and... Maybe - (Finan x Uhtred's Daughter!reader - coming soon)

Finan was completely devoted to his Lord Uhtred, which meant a complete devotion to his Lord's family. Sure, he hadn't seen you since you were a babe, but he didn't expect anything to change when he arrived to defend Aelfwynn and the monastery. He didn't expect to find an absolutely beautiful, absolutely perfect woman... An absolutely off-limits woman...

Novice in Love - (Finan x Novice!reader - coming soon)

Once the Lady Aelswith began to care for Aethelstan, a young novice was appointed to look after him. When Sihtric and Finan arrive to the monastery, they find all the children taken care of by this young woman. She journeys with them to reunite Aelfwynn and Aethelflaed, and through all this, manages to fall in love with the charming Irishman.

AUs

Coming soon..

#finan the agile #the last kingdom #finan tlk #mark rowley #tlk season 2 #finan the last kingdom #finan x oc #finan fanfic #finan x reader #finan x you #tlk #tlk fandom #finan #seven kings must die

[emilyhufflepufftlk]

My hand was the one you reached for | Finan x OC

Chapter 16: we will never go back

A miracle has occurred and I have actually written something!!

Read on AO3

@lauwrite1225 @persephones-journey @solinarimoon @morosemagick @blah-blah-blah-bla @cibs @anotherwinchesterfangirl @medievalfangirl @93xdiagonxalley @gemini-mama @magravenwrites @trenko-heart

#my hand was the one you reached for #the last kingdom #finan #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #read on ao3 #finan fanfic #finan x oc

[thethyri]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐰𝐲𝐧𝐧❟ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞❟ ❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 ❞

𖦹. 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ Wulfwynn wouldn't have believed it if someone had told her that her greatest loss would bring her her greatest joy.

𖦹. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 *𖧧₊‧ It has been days and days. But Wulfwynn kept fleeing and hiding. Until she stumbled upon her saviours, in depths of the woods.

𖦹. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character) x Sihtric Kjartansson x Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Finan x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Sihtric Kjartansson x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Uhtred of Bebbanburg x Wulfwynn of Northumbria (Original Female Character), Osferth x Ealhflæd of Cent (Original Female Character), Leofric x Mereswyth of Wessex (Original Female Character).

𖦹. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Show Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Not Show Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Show Rewrite, Show Dialogues, Canonical Character Death, Non-Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Wounds, Multiple Graphic Descriptions of Battles And Post-Battles, Blood On Several Occasions, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Burn, Sexual Content, Mild-Sexual Content, Multiple Graphic Smuts (Ratings Specified In Concerned Chapters), Multiple Non-Graphic Smuts, Protective Finan, Possessive Finan, Finan Needs A Hug, Finan Backstory, Protective Sihtric, Jealous Sihtric, Adorable Sihtric, Sihtric Backstory, Protective Uhtred, Uhtred Is A Little Shit, Soft Osferth, Adorable Osferth, Osferth Backstory, Leofric Lives, Clapa Lives.

𖦹. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 *𖧧₊‧ Mild-Graphic Description of Bruises And Injuries.

𖦹. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ₊̇*⸼ 2,912k.

𖦹. 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 *𖧧₊‧ 892-895 AD ⵓ 6th November 892 AD - 9th November 892 AD ⨾ Uhtred is 34-37 yo ⨾ Finan is 37-40 yo ⨾ Sihtric is 24-27 yo ⨾ Clapa is 43-44 yo ⨾ Osferth is 29-32 yo ⨾ Wulfwynn is 18-21 yo.

THE VODKAS MENU. + THE SERIE MENU. + CHAPTER TWO. + Archive Of Our Own.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN CIPPANHAMM AND MELKSHAMM, WESSEX, 892 AD.

      Fear. Dread . It crept its way into the heart, maliciously, viciously, its hideous claws jagged, and hooked, burrowing in its throbbing flesh. It gnawed venomously into the guts, tangled into hundreds of hundreds of tightly knitted knots. It crawled malevolently into the lungs, its coarse scales scraping, and into the throat, its rugged tongue scratching. It soaked bitterly into the bones, into the marrow, cold, terribly cold.

      Wulfwynn was devoured with fear. Wrecked with dread. She felt the ache in her limbs, the burn in her lungs. She felt the cold whipping at the crusted scratches that littered her knuckles, her palms, her knees and her muddy heels. She felt the soreness of the swelled bruises that dotted her thighs, her arms and her wrists, her neck and her ankles, and her cheeks. They scattered across her body, mingled with her freckled flesh, scarlet and maroon, melded with her delicate moles, purply and olive.

      Wulfwynn felt utterly terrified.

      Twiddled branches and tangled roots scrapped at her calves and knees as she delved into the depths of the woods. Breathy sobs escaped her chapped lips, while the cold that chilled her lungs licked at the salty tears that soaked her cheeks. The writhed birches swallowed the misty, gloomy skies, engulfed the pallid gleam that shimmered between their leaves. And they’d swallow Wulfwynn too. They'd swallow her whimpers, and they'd choke her with their branches, they’d throttle her with their roots—

      Wulfwynn sobbed panickedly, as she whisked hurriedly between the pines and the bushes, her heart onto her tongue.

      They’d scratch, and scrape, and rasp, and snarl and sneer and—

      A strangled yelp choked in her throat as she stumbled onto a root. She swayed abruptly and fell. Whimpers and whines of throbbing anguish and nauseous panic swirled through the cinnamon and crimson leaves that twirled around Wulfwynn as she hurtled down the muddy hill. And she gasped breathlessly as she slammed into a thick trunk.

      Wulfwynn clutched the bark, chafing her fingers, and wobbled, then rose quiveringly, but rose nonetheless, before her heel slipped in the mud and she tumbled again. She grunted as she fell, and fell, and fell, down the hill, down, down, until she landed into the dirt. Wulfwynn laid into the leaves and the dirt, perhaps an eternity, perhaps an instant, furled and shuddering, her heart throbbing into her temples and her knees and elbows aching.

      But, though she struggled, arose onto her palms. Bitter tears fell from her reddened cheeks, from her chin, onto her scratched, scarred fingers and between her knuckles. And then, a shout resonated through the pines, 

      “Lord !”

      Fear gripped at Wulfwynn’s heart with it crooked claws. She fumbled panickedly with her kirtles and skirts, shuffled and tumbled, and wobblily arose, but fell onto her knees with a frustrated whine. She huffed shakily.

      “Lord !” Wulfwynn prayed. She prayed fervently, as the worried yell swivelled in the chilly whiff. “Are ye— Are ye alright?” She’d have chuckled, but Wulfwynn merely sobbed. “Ye’re— Uhtred !”

      She peered hesitantly and her glance landed onto the cross that dangled before her teary eyes. A heavy huff tickled her cheek.

      “Ye’re alright, lass, ye’re alright,” He murmured quietly as he knelt. She felt his pity, his gentleness and his kindheartedness, and she sniffled. Her heart swelled. “Ye’ll be alright, I promise.”

      Wulfwynn nodded meekly. His soft promise poured onto her sore scratches and scrapes, syrupy and smooth and warm. Her heart seared with a sour tincture of gratitude and lament, with a driblet of reassurance and a splatter of solace. Her glance anchored into umber orbs, tinged with warmth and kindness, and worry.

      “Finan.” A whistle tickled Wulfwynn's guts. “ Finan !”

      “Lord,” Finan startled, as he leapt onto his muddy boots. Wulfwynn shivered as the chill tickled at her neck. "She's hurt, Lord."

      “Hurt?” The Lord —Uhtred, she assumed— inquired, with doubt and incertitude. And a tinge of scepticism. “Quite hurt.” Finan affirmed, and nodded.

      A chiffchaff chirped. “Lord?” Queried a soft murmur. “She indeed seems quite unwell.”

      The Lord’s glance landed unto the salty tears that streaked her cheeks, unto her bruises, and her scratches and scrapes, and she felt oddly, yet agreeably, absorbed into the frosty depths her eyes plunged into. His stare felt cold, but she embraced that cold. She felt queerly reassured, comforted, shrouded into that cold. The Lord hummed quietly. And nodded. Wulfwynn huffed a breath of relief.

      Finan knelt beside her, his knees in the mud, and she felt his warmth caress her as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Wulfwynn grabbed her tattered kirtles, and Finan muttered, “ Jesus .” as he glanced at her legs. She grasped his hand, hers frail and fragile in his callused palm. She grunted with anguish, as she struggled to arise, but her knees buckled.  

      Finan's hold tightened, "Gently, gently." he reassured her softly, "Osferth!" he beckoned with a whistle and a nod. Saddle buckles rattled, leaves rustled and an arm slithered across her back. “Apologies, Lady.” and Wulfwynn uttered a quavery huff. 

      “Gently.” Finan repeated as Wulfwynn arose slowly. “Alright. We’ll get ye onto Sihtric’s horse.” 

      Osferth nodded. He gently took ahold of her elbow, and they strode to the horses. They approached Sihtric’s horse, and Wulfwynn glanced at the silhouette sat astride its saddle, shrouded in furs, as Sihtric’s stare anchored into hers. She felt Finan’s warmth fade when he stepped back and unbuckled his cloak's buckle, before he wrapped the warm, woollen garment around Wulfwynn’s shuddery shoulders. 

      “It’ll keep ye warm.” Finan murmured as he tucked the hood on Wulfwynn's messy, tousled curls and tresses. “Ye’ll ride with Sihtric. Alright?” 

      She nodded. Finan approached the horse and leaned down. He cupped his callused hands, fingers knotted, and Wulfwynn grasped his arm as she hesitantly placed her heel in his palm. "Alright. I'll hoist ye there and Sihtric will get ye, huh?" Wulfwynn hummed and, quite facilely, Finan lifted her. She gracelessly threw her leg across the saddle and, as he told her, Sihtric grabbed her. “Ye’re good?”

      “Good.” Wulfwynn muttered with a nod. Finan’s eyes widened at the hoarseness of her mutter but he nodded nonetheless. 

      He and Osferth hopped back onto their horses. Wulfwynn fidgeted a bit, and grabbed Sihtric's thick, woolly ebony mantle with her fingertips. But he felt it and turned, and gently grasped her wrist before he wrapped it across his chest. 

      Wulfwynn jolted when he softly spoke, “You may hold on.” And, although timidly, Wulfwynn slipped her arms around Sihtric’s waist. Her fingers gripped the crisscrossed leather of his cotte, and her fingertips stroked the fur that flanked its edges. The scents of cinders and smoke, of dust and caked mud and hay tickled her nostrils. Yet she felt oddly soothed as she faintly breathed into the heavy wool. 

      “We ride!” then hailed Uhtred. 

      Wulfwynn’s legs dangled from the horse’s rump, and swayed slightly with his sturdy strides. The muffled thud of hooves as they rustled dead leaves, the snorts of the horses, the chirps of the birds and the warmth of Sihtric's furs cradled Wulfwynn. And slowly, as she fell into slumber, her head lolled and bobbed, and then, settled between Sihtric's shoulders. 

      And Wulfwynn slept, as much as she hadn't slept in weeks.

₊‧𒀭⋆₊

      The noisy hustle and bustle of Wintanceaster was quite pleasant. With the yells of its merchants, as they tempted the villagers with their trouts and lampreys, their hot loaves of oat breads, their goat cheeses, and their turnips and parsnips, and their pears. The bright, merry talks of the villagers. The jolly chuckles and giggles of the children. 

      Wintanceaster was noisy and Finan basked in its noisiness.

      He particularly appreciated this noisiness, as it differed considerably from the howls and yells that engulfed the field. As well as the smells. The scents of mud sodden, thickened with blood, of tangy sweat and barf were, at Wintanceaster, the scents of roasted pork and latterly brewed barley ale that wafted from the taverns. 

      Yet, this bustle hadn't awakened the lass, whose scratched and scraped arms were wrapped across Sihtric's chest, and whose reddened, bruised cheek was squooshed against his back, although she was shrouded with Finan’s hood. But Sihtric wasn’t bothered in the least. 

      “We'll take her to mine." declared Finan, as they strided towards the stables. 

      A snort. "Really? Huh." Clapa chuckled wickedly. He glared at the Dane. "Well, we're not gonna get her to yers, are we?" Finan retorted. 

      “He’d frighten her.” Uhtred sniggered, as he glanced at the giant. Clapa smirked.

      “Frighten her? I’m but meek, sweet and gentle as a lamb, Lord.” He protested, and Uhtred chuckled, “Huh-uh.”

      They approached the stables and alighted from their steeds. Finan felt the soreness in his legs as he neared Sihtric’s horse. He nodded towards Clapa, “Can ye take her?” and the Dane contourned the horse. He held his arms towards the lass, and Sihtric gently peeled her hands from the crisscrosses of his cotte, before Clapa slithered an arm across her back, as she slipped into his arms, and then slithered a hand beneath her legs. “I’ve got her.”

      "Alright." Finan nodded. The muddy strands of straw of the stables crumpled beneath the soles of Sihtric's boots, when he leaped from his horse.

      The lass’ forehead was nestled in Clapa’s neck, and the hood had flopped back a tad from her head. Finan’s glance fell onto the maroon and olive bruises that dotted her cheeks and chin, the scarlet slit that carved in the slope of her nose and the split etched into her plump, chapped lip.  

      He then turned to Osferth, “We’ll need yer balms and herbs.” 

      “Aye.” he nodded and hurried to fetch the leather satchel on his saddle. 

      They then took her to Finan's. He didn't quite considered it— well, considered it what? A haven? His? His haven? Nah, his haven was Coccham. This was but a humble, wooden hut, scarcely adorned, with a bed padded with straw and wool, draped with a few woollen and linen pillows and blankets, and a few furs. A table, scattered with bowls, melted candles and a hutch of trinkets, stood in the corner, with three stools. Light linen sheers flanked the walls, near the bed, while a wooden chest sat beside it, and a bench stood in the corner, near the entrance. 

      Clapa settled the lass onto the bed, with greater gentleness than Finan had hoped, and, with care, Finan unbuckled the buckle of his coat and slipped the wool from the lass' frail, delicate silhouette, before Clapa laid her tousled head onto the pillows. 

      “‘Tis still as modest as it was the last I was here.” enthused Uhtred, as he entered the hut with Osferth and Sihtric. 

      Finan stared at the lass an instant, and then turned to Osferth. He startled and hurried to the table and, amongst the wooden bowls, grabbed the dusty pestle and mortar. He then brought the herbs onto the table from his satchel, and glanced at the sleeper before he took the yarrow. 

      They stared quietly at the monk, as he grabbed the pestle and mashed the dried yarrow into the mortar. He then grabbed a bowl and poured a quaff of his gourd, and sprinkled the dried plant. Osferth then took the bowl and told Finan, “It’ll soothe her body.” 

      Finan took the bowl and nodded. Softly, he knelt onto the bed's edge, and slowly tickled the beverage between the lass' chapped lips. 

      “Then?” Sihtric queried as he neared the table. Osferth took the bowl back. "Then," he mumbled, as he tossed plants in the wooden bowl, and took the pestle, "I'll tend to those scrapes and scratches with chamomile," he grimaced, as though he was scraped and scratched, "and soothe her bruises with nettle." 

      Sihtric glanced at the lass and the frown between her brows. And a tinge of concern tickled his chest. Osferth grinded the chamomile and the nettle in the bowl, and then poured a quaff, “She’ll heal.” he assured, as he approached the bed and settled on the edge. 

      “But she’ll need a while. She’s quite enfeebled.” he murmured softly, and placed the bowl onto the woollen blankets. “But she’ll heal.”

₊‧𒀭⋆₊

      Wulfwynn felt cradled. 

      Shrouded in the softness of the wool of Cynefrith's sleeves across her hips, and swaddled in the warmth of Eadgyth's skirts and kirtles, her legs entangled with hers. She felt utterly well.

      She hadn’t felt well in quite a while. But between Cynefrith and Eadgyth, she felt soothed. 

      Yet, Wulfwynn stirred in her slumber. She nestled her nose in Eadgyth's tangled and tousled tresses, and hummed with contentment when the scents of chamomile tickled her nostrils. She felt Cynefrith’s gentle breath tickle the back of her neck. 

      Wulfwynn sighed with delight. She laced her fingers with Cynefrith’s, and Eadgyth wrapped her arm around them, and cuddled them. 

      And an ache clutched at her chest.  

      Wulfwynn’s brows furrowed. She huddled and clutched Cynefrith's lithe fingers, and snuggled into Eadgyth's neck. But she gasped as her chest tightened. 

      And she sobbed. Whiffs of cinders and embers, of nettle and of dust swamped her nostrils and tickled her guts. She sobbed, and sobbed, as the ache clawed at her heart. 

      Sleep left her, slowly, so slowly it felt an eternity. 

      Her sight remained blurred a moment before she discerned the shutters, and the pale gleams of the morn that crept between them. Then she glanced beside her. But Eadgyth wasn't there. And when she turned and peered above her shoulder, Cynefrith wasn't there either. And then, she remembered. 

      The yells, the tears. The lake. The sobs, the pleas. The plains. The blood. 

      Cynefrith wasn’t there. 

      Eadgyth wasn’t there.

      They weren’t here.

      Wulfwynn whimpered. There was neither Eadgyth nor Cynefrith. There weren't their embraces, merely linen blankets and furs. There wasn't their warmth, just a woollen and straw mattress. They weren't there. 

      She sobbed, her hands clutched at her chest. She sobbed, her scraped and scratched knees beneath her chin. She sobbed, muffled into the blankets. She didn't hear the squeak of the wooden door and the creak of the boots onto the floorboards. 

      “Lass?” 

      Wulfwynn perked and winced. "Ye're awake, at last." Finan huffed, as the concern that etched his face melted into relief. Wulfwynn's tears trickled from her cheeks and wetted the blankets. Finan approached the bed. 

      “Ye’re alright, lass. Ye’re alright.” he reassured her. But Wulfwynn wasn’t alright. 

      Her lips quivered, “I,” she huffed quietly, feebly, “I fled, but I—” and faltered, “I fled,” 

      “Hey, hey,” Finan neared her, and she felt her heart thump, "I— I fled but I—" she sobbed, "But—" And Finan gently seated at the bed's edge, “Hey, ye’re alright, lass, ye’re alright.” he repeated. “Ye’re fine,” he murmured softly. 

      Alright. She was alright. Wulfwynn nodded. Was she alright? She wasn’t quite. But she nodded nonetheless. Her sobs ebbed. She felt, as she had felt with Uhtred, oddly, yet agreeably, comforted and reassured when her eyes anchored into Finan’s. But she felt terribly feeble too. And sore. 

      “Ye shouldn't tire yerself too much. Ye're still weak and ye haven't eaten yet.” he uttered prudently, as though he feared he might frighten her. “Ye’ve slept quite a bit and Osferth has tended to yer,” he swallowed, “wounds.”

      Wulfwynn glanced down at her hands, wrapped in thin strips of linen, folded around her thumbs and knotted in the crook of her palms. The whiffs of chamomile and nettle wafted to her nose when she wiggled her fingers. She noticed she was no longer garbed in her shredded skirts and kirtles, drenched with sweat, sullied with guts and smeared with mud and dust, but a linen shift that smelt of sage. Hence why she had felt so comfortable in her slumber. And she frowned. If she’d been changed, then had they—

      “We haven’t.” Finan assured, halting her thoughts, as though he knew what she was wondering. “Osferth merely tended to the wounds on yer arms and legs. Yer virtue is untarnished. Lord Uhtred's sister and Abbess Hild tended to those he couldn't. And then changed ye.” 

      She nodded shyly. “W-Where,” she licked her lips, “Where are we?” 

      “Wintanceaster, Lady.”

      He stood from the bed and went to the table, in the corner, where there were three stools and, scattered onto the table, dusty baubles and wooden plates, bowls and cups. “Have I,” she straightened slightly and grimaced, “H-Have slept long?”

      He picked a goblet and grabbed the jug, near a plate in which there were the scraps of a meal. Wulfwynn then wondered if they had remained there while she slept. “About three days. Since we arrived.” 

      “Oh.” she murmured. Finan returned to the bed and handed her the goblet. She whispered her thanks, and wondered if he had heard her, but as he nodded, she thought he must have. She took a sip and felt the soreness of her throat. 

      Then her stomach rumbled.

      Her cheeks dusted with embarrassment and she coughed. She hadn't eaten but a few berries in days, and hadn't eaten aught but stale bread in weeks. The mere sight of the scraps of a meal had her stomach growl. 

      "Ye must be famished." Finan frowned, as if concerned. He then nodded, as though approving a thought he'd just had. "Alright. I'll get Hild fer ye and we'll take ye to the tavern. I'll be quick." 

      He then turned on his heels and strode out of the hut.

CHAPTER TWO. + Archive Of Our Own.

©TheThyri. All rights content belong to @thethyri​​. Do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works in any way or on any other platform without my permission. Gifs rightfully belong to @dailytlk.

#˗ˏˋ — the vodkas.🍷 #˗ˏˋ — the tales of wulfwynn. ☄️ #the last kingdom fic #tlk fic #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #tlk fanfiction #the last kingdom x oc #tlk x oc #finan fic #finan fanfic #finan fanfiction #finan x oc #sihtric fic #sihtric fanfic #sihtric fanfiction #sihtric x oc #uhtred fic #uhtred fanfic #uhtred fanfiction #uhtred x oc #the last kingdom oc #tlk oc

[csigeoblue]

Amongst the Chaos - Finan x fem!Reader (The Last Kingdom fic)

Disclaimer: obvi don’t own any material for The Last Kingdom. I struggled with writing this or not cause I’m not usually good at period pieces so wish me luck 😆

______________________

The sound of many hooves and yells awoke you from your slumber unexpectedly setting your entire being on high alert and double as much once you saw Finan had not made it home yet. You sprung up out of bed and peered out the window to see the commotion.

Men on horseback dropping pieces of fire onto any houses close enough to their path.

You grabbed your knife as a last resort for protection.

As quickly and quietly as you could, you snuck out of the back of your house and said a prayer in hopes it would still be standing after this night. You had to find Sihtric’s brood and make sure they were all alright.

On the other side of the village, Finan jolted awake at the table he’d been drinking with Uhtred and Sihtric when he heard an arrow land close to him. To his surprise, it was on fire then he refocused and could hear the chaos going on around him.

His main priority was to find you and figure out what the hell was going on.

The trio quickly jumped into the fray outside. Swords clashing with the strangers dressed like Danes. The floor was wet from the rain earlier that night making it slippery as they fought.

“Y/n!” Shouted Finan.

“She’s not here. Must have gone after Sigeflead” Sihtric offered as he took his sword out of another man’s chest in order to keep moving. Finan grunted in acknowledgment as his opponent fell to his knees too.

“Aye she’s probably counting all your babes.”

It didn’t make him feel better to jest. You had grit that’s for sure but not a warrior by any means. You were a farmer through and through could grow anything anywhere with your skills. A gap in the path thru the fighting gave them enough of an opening to cover more ground and run to Sihtric’s just down the road in the direction the invaders likely came from.

You made it to Sihtric’s door and tried to catch your breath. The smoke in the air made it hard to see in front of you. For a moment you got caught up looking at the destruction around you when someone opened the door and pulled you inside by the collar of your night dress.

“What do we have ere, eh?” A man with a shaved head and dark look in his eye gave you the once over. To your surprise, this man had company… Sigeflaed and her four young children huddled in a corner. When your eyes met, she face hardened with a slight nod.

“Let them go. You only need one of us to have some fun.” You looked back at your captor hoping he’d consider it. He smirked at you and paused pretending to think it over.

Abruptly he threw you to the floor in the opposite direction of Sigeflaed. The fall hurt and your head bounced on the chair there but it was the perfect distraction.

“Siggy, now!”

Sigeflaed rushed the man from behind to throw him off balance as the oldest of the children led the rest outside. You slid your knife out of its sheath and slashed as quickly as you could towards both his ankles. With a shout, he threw Siggy out the open door and fell to his knees.

You stumbled onto your feet towards the door but he latched onto your ankle and pulled you down. As you went down you looked up and saw what you hoped was Finan’s figure in the distance.

“FINAN!”

His eyes widen as he saw you fall and call out his name. He shouted back “I’m Here!” and pushed himself faster to get to you when he saw the reason you fell. A man maneuvered himself over you and started choking you. Fínan’s blood boiled.

“Oi, get your hands off her”

He swung his sword around swiping at both forearms of your assailant causing him to loosen his grip on you. The man screamed in pain while you took deep panicked breaths gently soothing your neck. You kicked the man on the floor as Sihtric made a move to end him. Finan took you in his arms.

“Moh gra, I’m here.”

“Love, I’m alright.” Though it pained you to get the words out. You were grateful it was over.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fic #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #finan the last kingdom #finan the agile #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #finan fanfic #finan fic #the last kingdom fanfic #uhtred #uhtred of bebbanburg #uhtred ragnarsson

[halfmylife]

I’ll Always Come Back to You

Pairing Finan x Reader

Summary Finan returns home to find you aren’t there.

Warnings None (just some angst)

A/N this was requested by @biancathecool This is a follow up from Nothing Could Keep Me From You but can be read as a stand alone. I had the option of making it angsty or giving it a happy ending and I chose pain (I’m so sorry)

Finan had been gone for weeks and he was starting to feel it. Nothing ached more than his heart that yearned to be back with you. Thankfully, they were returning home and he couldn’t be happier about it. For the whole journey back he thought of nothing but holding you again, of seeing you smile, after you’d told him he’d been gone too long of course.

They were only a few miles from your village when they stopped. The four looked between each other for answers. Smoke was billowing above the tree line and the world seemed eerily silent.

“You don’t think that could be…” Osferth trailed off too afraid to say anymore as he looked over to his friend. Finan wasted no more time, rather than answer he tugged at his reigns and sent his horse into a gallop. The rest of the group followed behind, calling his name.

The village they had left only weeks ago now resembled a ruin. Houses had been burned to nothing but ash. Bodies littered the floor and blood stained the mud.

Finan only cared for one familiar face. Yours. He threw himself off his horse the moment he arrived, not hesitating to shout your name. He looked at every body, hoping it wouldn’t be yours. With every moment that he couldn’t find you, his heart pounded and he grew more agitated.

The only sound that could be heard was the shouts of your name as he searched every inch of the village. He needed to know you were okay. But the longer he was without you, the more he was convinced you were gone.

Until he heard a sob.

The sound of your breathing voice as you tried to shout his name, sent shivers down his spine. Still, he continued to shout your name, following the sound of your breathy cries as you called back. He continued to shout until he found you.

There you were. You’d tucked yourself behind the stables, almost hidden at a quick glance. That wasn’t what worried Finan. It was the blood that was pooling from your side. Your hands were covered in your own blood where you’d tried to stop the bleeding and your cheeks were stained with tears.

“Finan.” You whispered. He’d fallen to his knees beside you, pulling you closer and pushing his own hand to your wound. The bleeding didn’t stop.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” His voice shook as he held you. If you couldn’t feel his shaky grasp on you, his face wouldn’t have betrayed his fear in that moment. “Osferth!” He shouted, hoping to get help.

“It’s okay.” You said defeated. You had sworn that you would bleed out alone, never to be found. Now here you were in the arms of your love. You would not be alone in your final moments.

“We’re gonna save you, alright? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He spoke frantically, still holding you close. You smiled as you looked at him, committing every inch of his face to memory. What a sight to behold as you fade away. “Osferth!” He shouted again, more pained this time.

“It’s okay.” You repeated, your bloody hand now cupping his cheek and wiping away the tears that started to spill from his eyes. “You kept your promise.”

“Of course I did.” He said quietly, giving you a reassuring smile as best as he could manage, but his teary eyes betrayed him. “You know I’ll always come back to you.” He meant it. No matter how far he traveled or how long he was gone for, he would always find his way back to you.

“I never doubted you.” You smiled up at him, no longer having the energy for tears but trying to enjoy what little time you had left with him. You knew the inevitable was coming. “I think it’s my time to leave you.”

“No you’re not going anywhere.” He insisted. He searched around him for any sign of anyone before he shouted again. “Osferth!” They weren’t far away but Osferth couldn’t save you, none of them could, no matter how much he wanted it.

“I’ll always be with you, Finan.” You whispered, exhaustion taking over. You felt your arm drop from his face first before your eyes started to grow heavy.

“No, don’t close your eyes.” He grabbed your face, rubbing at your cheeks. Every inch of his body shook with a sob as you disobeyed him, your eyes shutting. His voice would be the last thing you would hear as he continued to beg. “Stay with me.”

But you were already gone.

#the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #finan #finan the agile #finan the last kingdom #finan x reader #Finan fanfic #tlk angst #reader fic #x reader #reader insert

[selmasemlan]

headcanon - The last kingdom

Author note: Okay, so I finished The lasT kingdom a few weeks ago, like not even 3 weeks ago and I absolutely love it. Like I have been obsessed ever since. The thing is, there isn't a lot of fanfics about it and the ones that have fanfic about it, are not very creative, soooo. I have an idea for a fic, that I might write. 

So the love interest is Finan, cause this man, THIS MAN. I love him very much.

anywhooo, we have 3 ocs and all 3 of them are women. 

It's the classic soldier, poet and king type of trio. 

The main character, the king, is Luna. She is of North African ethnicity and was sold as a slave, trained to be an assassin, but also a master of politics and rhetoric. She has also mastered the way of female energies. Like the doe and siren eyes thing. 

The second oc is Katarina. She is of Russian ethnicity, was also sold as a slave, and trained to be an assassin with the speciality to spy and be undercover. She is our soldier. She acts before asking questions, but that's why she follows Luna. Luna and her had the same slaver and Luna killed the slaver when he was about to rape Katarina. She swore her loyalty to her and has her back through it all. 

Our poet and the last oc is Mary, she is Saxon and lived in an abusive household. Her father would beat her and force her to make all the work, so basically a slave to her father instead. One day when Luna and Katarina travel through the village she lived in, they witness the abuse and killed the father. Mary was afraid to a start, but Luna being her soft motherly self with strays, took her in and helped her recover and gave her a choice to follow her. Mary accepted and was trained in the arts of the bow and arrow. 

Later on, King Alfred hears about these 3 women that would kill slavers and abusive men. He thought they would be good as a protection deal for his daughter. So he calls on them and Luna agrees to protect Athelflaed for a time. She makes Alfred promise that when the girls want to retire and settle down, that they are allowed to go of on their own. He accepts this deal and they protect and raise Athelflaed to become a strong woman. 

This all happens during the time between season 2 and season 3. 

During season 3 as Athelfaed flews the assassin attempt the girls follow her. Mary is visible and Luna Katarina is in the shadows.

When Athelfaed arrives with Uthred to Mercia to talk to Alfred, Luna and Katarina arrive a few moments later with the head of the assassin and present it to Alfred. This catches the attention of Uthred and his men. 

Sooooooo, this far, what are we thinking? Should I make this an actual book?

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #uthred of bebbanburg #uthred x reader #uthred fanfic #uthred fanfiction #finan the agile #finan x reader #finan fanfiction #finan fanfic #sithric

[bhxrdy]

timeless | introduction

author’s note: this came to me while re-watching the originals for like the 100th time. It was supposed to be a simple one part fic but didn't feel like it could fairly tell the story, so instead it will be a ‘multi-chaptered’ story. It’s modern!Finan with some supernatural/magical stuff. Hope you will enjoy as much as I’m enjoying writing it :) If you are interested and want to be part of the taglist, please let me know!

Main Characters: Finan x Rebecca (OC)

Length: 5 chapters

     Count your kisses, count your grudges. Make your sacrifice and hex your intended. A timeless clock is ticking away, never knowing when it will end.

CHAPTERS - ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

a special thank you to @persephones-journey for making this lovely surprise mood board. i love it ❤️

Lots of love & stay safe 💕

divider credit goes to the wonderful @arcielee

Playlist under the cut

#the last kingdom #finan #finan x oc #tlk fanfic #finan imagine #finan the agile #the last kingdom fanfic #finan fic #mywriting #mark rowley #finan fanfic #tlk #Photo by Ksenia Yakovleva on Unsplash #Spotify

[scorpionrising]

there is love that doesn't have a place to rest — ch. 2

pairing: finan x fem!oc word count: 2709 content warning: this fic deals explicitly with the trauma of sexual assault. while there are no drawn out, graphic scenes, it is made explicitly clear what is going on. for context: oc is uhtred's daughter and was captive in dunholm for all her childhood. proceed with caution. additionally, expect canon typical attitudes, behaviors, violence, etc.

read on ao3

“and if i would've known how sharp the pieces were you'd crumbled into i might've let them lay" –big red machine ft. taylor swift, renegade

“Why are ya’ doin’ this, Lord?” 

“You know why.”

“No, I really don’t.”  

Ravna knew she ought not to be eavesdropping. Her father would be quite cross if he found out, but her time at Dunholm taught her several things. The first being how to sneak around without being caught. She did not catch the beginning of her father’s conversation with Finan, but she could surmise enough what it was about. 

“Finan.” 

Father sounded pained, as if the words were being choked out of him. She dug her nails into the bark of the tree she was behind to keep from poking her head out. Surely then, they would see her.

“Lord, I belong at your side on the battlefield.” 

“I trust above all others, but what’s more important is Ravna trusts you above all others.”

She bit her lip to refrain from letting out a gasp. 

Finan sighed audibly. “She will not take kindly to ya’ leaving me here to spy on her.”

“You are not spying.”

“Oh, I’m not?”

“Just keep her safe, and make sure she eats.”

“Lord, is that not what Gisela is for? I’m a warrior, not a nursemaid.” 

The metallic taste of blood bloomed on Ravna’s tongue. A nursemaid. The urge to storm out there and confront them both nearly overtook her. A nursemaid! She wanted to scream. The last four years, she had thought Finan to be her friend—a true friend. Just as Sihtric was; just as Osferth was. She had for so long thought them equals. Clearly, he did not feel the same and saw her as a mere child. Squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying in her rage, Ravna reached up to where her teeth had split her lip and rubbed the blood away. 

“She will not talk to Gisela. She will not talk to me. She talks to no one as she does you.” 

Had he been reporting her words back to her father all this time? Her stomach churned. How many of the abuses she suffered at Dunholm that she spoke only to Finan of to spare her father the heartache did he know about? 

Perhaps she really was no more than a child, because she had been silly enough to think of him as an individual rather than her father’s man. Anger surged through her, a defense from the rushing wave of sadness pooling beneath her ribs. 

“Surely Sihtric would be better suited for the job. They grew up together, and his wife just had a baby.” 

“I need Sihtric to spy—”

“Lord, you have me acting a spy here!” 

“Finan!” Father’s words came out in a venomous hiss. “You will remain here, and you will take care of Ravna.”

“Very well, Lord.” 

“Osferth will stay as well. Invite Ravna to train with you both. It will serve her well. She ought to learn to protect herself.” 

With her father’s tone a bit lighter at the end, the two men began to walk away. Once she could no longer hear their footsteps, Ravna let out the short sob she had been holding in and sank to the ground. Back pressed to the tree, she drew her knees to her chest and pressed her forehead down. She stayed like that for some time, switching ceaselessly between furious and horribly sad. 

Still gnawing on her raw lip, Ravna hoisted herself up and marched straight for town. Nursemaid, she thought with a scoff. She was no child. She would prove both her father and Finan wrong. She did not need someone charged to look after her. She had survived on her own well enough at Dunholm. 

She entered the hall in a storm of rage, kicking up dust and dirt behind her as she stomped up the stairs to their living quarters. She slammed doors behind her, kicked objects out of her way, flung her boots off and across the room. It was a good thing she was alone. If her father or Finan dared show their faces anytime soon, it was likely she would make an attempt at stabbing them. 

“I’m a warrior, not a nursemaid,” she mocked in a horrible mimicry of Finan’s brogue. She blew a raspberry and entered her room. “Pathetic.” 

She flopped facedown onto her bed and sprawled her arms out. She would remain here until someone came to find her, and they would need to drag her from the bed if they wished her to move. 

Eventually, she must have fallen asleep, because soon flames were licking at her skin. They curled around her limbs like scorching hands, forcing her limbs apart and clawing at her throat. Smoke entered her lungs and her vision went hazy. She was burning. 

She coughed desperately, praying it would be enough to keep the fumes from choking her. She coughed and screamed and thrashed until—THUNK! 

She came to, no longer on her bed, but in a heap on the floor. She must have banged her head, because it was throbbing with a large lump forming on her forehead. Quietly cursing, Ravna rubbed her eyes and grabbed the bedpost to use as leverage to stand up. The world spun, all out of order for a moment. 

“Sister?” 

Feilan’s sweet voice drifted through the closed door. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes once more and wrenched the door open. Her little brother’s eyes did not even reach her hips, but they were gleaming up at her as wide as can be. 

“Mama sent me to come get you,” he said quietly. “Father is leaving.” His nose wrinkled and he looked around past her. “I heard you shout.”

“I merely fell from my bed,” she said, running a hand over the braid she had slept in. “I am well.”

His eyebrows crinkled together in concern that was perhaps too great for a six year old, but he stuck his bottom lip out and his hand as well. She forced a smile and took his hand, allowing him to lead the way down the stairs. 

Everyone was gathered down in the hall; Sihtric and Sig and their baby, Osferth, Hild, Gisela with Stiorra in her arms and Father at her side, and Finan—the great traitorous bastard. Father grinned at her, as though he had not been plotting with Finan a few mere hours before to spy on her.  

“And to think, I thought I’d be leaving without a goodbye from my eldest,” Uhtred said, raising his arms out as if to hug her.

Ravna permitted the hug, but cut it short. If he noticed her aversion, he hid it well. But then, a crease formed between his eyes. 

“What is this on your head?”

He raised a hand to her face and she promptly swatted it away while ducking out of his reach. 

“I fell,” she said. 

“Are you well?” he asked suddenly, fretfully. “Perhaps you should sit down—”

“I am fine!” she snapped. 

It was rare that Ravna ever thought to raise her voice. She did not like loud, sudden noises, and the shouts of men did little to make her feel at ease. She kept quiet for a great many reasons, but especially because she did not want to frighten others as she had been frightened. Father looked even more concerned now, which only served to infuriate her further. She was neither soft nor fragile, and she hated being treated as such. 

She had been thirteen when her father pulled her from the dark cells below Dunholm, but she was no longer that shivering, bruised child. Yes, the nightmares still plagued her, but if they had not stopped in the last eight years, she just supposed she would have to live with them forever. Just as she had been doing. Shooting her father a vicious glare, Ravna stomped over to Sihtric to wish him goodbye.

“Do not get yourself killed,” she said sternly. 

“He has already gotten this speech from me,” Sig said. “But we both know he won’t listen.” 

“No, he’s too pigheaded,” Ravna agreed. 

“I will not have you two conspiring against me while I am gone,” Sihtric said with a frown. 

Ravna smirked and looked over Sig’s shoulder at their son. The boy’s eyes had not been open once any time she had gone to visit, and she wondered if he shared the same mismatched eyes as his father. 

“I can hold Bjørn so you two can have a proper goodbye,” Ravna offered.

Sig grinned. “He got his proper goodbye this morning.” 

“Sig!” Sihtric hissed. “The baby!”

“The baby is too young to understand words, husband,” Sig said, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “Here, Ravna, you can take him if you like. He’s getting heavy in my arms.” 

Ever so carefully, Ravna reached out to take little Bjørn from Sig. With her oldest friend’s son in her arms, she could feel some of her anger sapping out of her. It was hard to be infuriated when holding something so sweet and small. She hummed quietly, bouncing the child in her arms as a tiny smile crept onto her lips. 

Ravna held him until Sihtric and her father left the hall together, already locked in fierce conversation about the rogues they were sure to encounter. Heaving out a great sigh, Ravna handed Bjørn back to Sig and made her promise to reach out if she needed help. Gisela had even offered her a space in the hall, but Sig—ever the self-sufficient woman—declined quite gracefully. Very pointedly ignoring Finan, Ravna marched straight for Osferth.

“I’d like another lesson on your Holy Book.” 

Osferth’s face split into a grin. “Of course, Lady.” 

He held his arm out for her. Snorting, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and began to walk.

“You know you do not need to call me that.”

“Oi! You two!” Finan called after them. “Wait!” 

Ravna rolled her eyes, which Osferth certainly noticed, giving the look of surprise that overtook his face. His surprise did not come as a shock, of course. How often did Ravna treat Finan with a sweet smile and wide eyes? Perhaps she really had been acting like a child this whole time; well, no more of that. She could be just as independent as Sig. 

“Is everything alright?” Osferth muttered. 

“Yes, of course,” Ravna said, smiling and batting her lashes. 

The monk’s face darkened by a few shades and he briefly looked away from her. He cleared his throat and avoided eye contact with her until Finan reached them. 

“Where ya’ off to?” 

“Prayer,” Osferth said. 

“Alone,” Ravna added sternly. 

She did not think she could bear to be around Finan right now, not with the knowledge that he would be likely reporting all her comings and goings back to her father. Would he write it down so he would not forget a single action she took? Or would he commit it all to memory and just inform Uhtred of the exciting bits? 

At her unusually cross tone, Finan and Osferth alike widened their eyes in shock. It was rare she ever got snippish, and even more rare for it to be directed towards Finan. She glowered, tightened her grip on Osferth’s arm, and began pulling the monk after her to walk away. If Finan thought he was being left here to act as a nursemaid, he could spend his time with the actual children. 

She led Osferth through the woods to the spot she loved so much, and sat down in a huff. There was a small smile toying at his thin lips as he mirrored her position. They sat close, facing one another with their knees touching. 

“So,” he began, “why are you angry with Finan?”

“I am not angry at Finan,” Ravna said defensively, scowling.

“Could’ve fooled me.” He grinned a bit teasingly. Then, his face organized itself into something a bit more somber. “Something is clearly bothering you, Lady.” 

“I’m not a lady,” she said, half blushing.

“You’re an ealdorman’s daughter,” he said as though she needed to be reminded of it. “That makes you a lady.” 

She rolled her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. The air was getting warmer each day, and soon she would be able to swim in the river without catching a chill. With summer came a sense of freedom she constantly longed for. It was a happier time, and Father’s eyes always had less worry in them when he looked at her. 

“Ravna,” he whispered.

She snapped her eyes towards him. Just like her father, and Gisela, and Sihtric, and even Finan now, there was a look of deep concern clouding his blue eyes. She clenched her jaw and tried to ignore the rush of anger. He reached forward tentatively and placed his hand over hers atop her knee.

“What is troubling you?” 

Was it pity in his eyes, or was it something else? 

“Everyone thinks me a child,” she finally said after a long moment. 

“Who is everyone?” Osferth asked. “Because I certainly do not see a child before me. I see a woman grown.” 

“That is different,” she said. “We are… of an age, with one another.” She wrinkled her nose and looked down at his hand covering hers. “I speak of Father and Gisela, and Beocca and Thyra, and—”

She stopped herself before she could say the last name, but Osferth saw straight through her. 

“And Finan?” he asked her.

She was not proud of how her face burned in response. Embarrassed at how obvious it was, she pulled away from Osferth and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. 

“I always thought him to be my friend,” she said quietly, ashamed at how stupid she had been all these years. “I thought he saw me as I am, not merely his Lord’s daughter.” 

She was not proud of the bitterness she heard creeping off her tongue as she spoke, but Osferth never judged. 

“You should not let it bother you,” he said in that quiet, contemplative voice of his. 

“But it does!” She exploded, falling backwards to lay across the large boulder. “What of when I have a family of my own? When I am a mother, will my father still have his men watching my every step to report back to him?” 

“I think it’s hard for him,” Osferth said. “He lost you when you were still a child, and he thought you dead for eight years, and when he found you again, you lived in Winchester with your aunt until you reached majority.”

“And that is my fault?” Ravna asked, shooting up with blazing eyes. “He did not yet have Coccham and I could hardly galavant across the country with him!”

“I did not say that,” he said gently. “I mean to say, you left his life as a child and reentered it as a woman.”

“It has been years,” she hissed. 

“But far less time than you spent away from him,” he said. 

She hated how he was right. Letting out a loud groan, she slumped back down and stared up at the cloudy sky through the tree branches. The birds above were chirping some absurd song, louder even than the rushing of the water below them.  

“Your father loves you, Ravna,” Osferth said, a heavy sigh falling from his lips curdling the words a bit. “Many cannot say the same.” 

She thought briefly of Kjartan, and the bruises he would paint across Sihtric’s skin, but what was most prominent in her mind was King Alfred. His cruelty to Osferth was an understated one. Whelped onto a servant girl, tossed into a monastery without a second thought, and never acknowledged. It always brought an overwhelming sadness to her heart when she thought of it. She reached a hand out until her fingers found his, and she grabbed onto him.

“You are loved, Osferth,” she said. “Surely you know this.” 

She turned her head to look at him. His head was bowed down, the hand she was not holding tracing the cracks in the boulder. He glanced back at her and smiled just a bit. 

“Now, tell me about Eve and the apple again,” she commanded. “I do not understand it.”

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