#nellysofstormandsiege

[unlockyourmind-wp]

OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN X OC | CHAPTER SEVEN

Summary: Eldrid Byrnjarssdottir is born a storm. Her rage is like the wind beating the waves on the rocks. Her love is the thunder burning down entire forests. Her grief is like a hurricane, destroying the land with its raindrops. She isn't made for a soft or quiet life.

In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she has gained a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Soon her fight leads her to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is looking for his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever.

When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid's wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can't turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what destiny had intended to happen all along.

DESTINY IS ALL.

Author’s note: I can’t believe it’s been an actual year since I updated this story. I have no other reason than losing inspiration and motivation to write for this fic. I also don’t really know how or why my inspiration suddenly came back but I’m happy it did! I hope I manage to stay inspired because I have intention of giving up on this story. Tlk is still one of my favorite shows and I still love Eldrid so much. So the plan is to write as many chapters as possible while I’m still inspired and hopefully I’ll be able to update again soon! Please don’t hesitate to share your thoughts on this chapter. I’d love to hear from you guys!

Tag List:  @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @lauwrite1225 @magravenwrites @emilyhufflepufftlk @iamfandomnerd @trenko-heart​  @abzidabzy

Of Storm And Siege Masterlist

―♛―

CHAPTER SEVEN:

✧. ⋆ the will of a king

THE KING’S HALL AT WINCHESTER WAS DECORATED WITH COUNTLESS COLORS. Eldrid was led through the hallways by the priest who, she'd learned because of the many people greeting him, was called Father Beocca. As she walked both paintings and tapestries kept greeting her around every corner. They depicted the stories of wars, of a god hanging from a cross and of men with circles surrounding their heads while the common folk kneeled for them.

Even as her eyes traced the intricate lines of the paintings, Eldrid stayed aware of the route they had taken so far, always prepared for a fight. Especially because she'd been forced to leave her weapons at the door. She respected the reason but still wasn’t very fond of having to separate with her beloved sword. Walking through the castle without it felt like an itch she couldn’t scratch. But it wasn’t like she had any other choice than to obey.

Beocca led her into a large hall, where he finally came to a halt. “Wait here, king Alfred shall be here shortly.”

She nodded at him and watched as he left through a door on the opposite side of the room.

With a sigh her eyes turned back to look at the many paintings. Once again, she found herself torn between curiosity and loathing for the Saxons and their strange ways. She couldn't understand worshiping a god who allowed himself to be killed by humans. Neither could she understand how people could gain an almost god-like status themselves by becoming a saint.

Yet despite her disgust, there was one painting in particular that caught her attention. Many soldiers were gathered upon a hill, their spears raised behind their king, who was seated upon a white horse. They were facing a shield wall with many angry Danes cowering behind it. The very sight of it made her blood boil. Her people would never cower during battle. Yet that wasn't what had drawn her attention about it.

It was the golden rays shining through the clouds above the heads of the soldiers. While on the side of their enemies, the sky was dark. She supposed it was meant to symbolize the presence of their god. The ironic thing was, by painting dark clouds at the side of the Danes, they had placed their god at their side as well. Thor's storm clouds surrounded them like a shield wall, protecting them just as fiercely. How was it that the Saxons knew so little about their religion, while the Danes knew everything about theirs? It seemed like a rather strange and unfair situation to her.

"I wasn't aware the Danes appreciated art," a voice spoke from her right, soft spoken, yet filled with undeniable authority. "Their homes always appear so empty."

Every muscle in her body tensed. She couldn't help herself, not when facing the man who'd killed so many of her people. With her nails pressing into her palms, she turned to look at him.

King Alfred was lean but not very tall. He appeared calm and trustworthy, yet there was a vigilance within his eyes that made him look older than he probably was. It gave him an air of confidence that made it easy to see why so many people spoke of his name with both respect and fear. He wore a simple red robe, his hands folded in front of him as though he was forever in prayer.

“We’re a much more…practical people.” Eldrid was barely able to hide the edge in her voice. If the only reason she’d been summoned here was to be insulted, she would rather leave. And she didn’t plan on going quietly…

Her eyes flickered towards the door where Steapa was standing guard. His gray eyes were following her closely, hands resting on the hilt of his sword. No matter how many drinks they’d shared over the winter, she had to remind herself he was Alfred’s man. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if she so much as blinked the wrong way.

“Such is the life of a people always on the move,” Alfred said as he studied the painting. Then, he finally turned to face her, his eyes suddenly cold as he added: “Of a people not belonging anywhere.”

“Such is the life of a Viking,” she said, throwing his words back at him with venom dripping from her tongue.

The king didn’t comment on her lack of respect. Instead he merely nodded, saying without needing words they simply disagreed on the matter.

“Is there a reason you wanted to speak with me, Lord?” She questioned, her eyes briefly wandering to Steapa. Even after all this time, he still couldn’t hide the disgust on his face at the way she managed to say the king’s title with burning mockery. It only made it that much more fun to continue doing so.

“Indeed there is,” Alfred said as he finally turned away from the painting and walked towards the table in the middle of the room. He took a seat and gestured for her to do the same.

She did, though not willingly. If she had to defend herself, a seating position would only make it harder to do so. She clenched her jaw, her muscles wound more tight than the string of her bow. She simply couldn’t allow herself to relax within the lion’s den. Even if her men had been here, ready to storm the castle at the sign of trouble, she still would have been unable to let go of her nerves.

“I have been told Earl Ragnar went to you for help to find his brother Uhtred,” Alfred spoke calmly, though his eyes were drilling into hers as if trying to read her soul like a book.

“You have been told correctly,” she replied, holding his gaze steadily.

“I take it the two of you know each other.”

“We do.” She leaned back into her chair, hoping to fool him into thinking she was slowly letting her guard down. “We spent a lot of time together in our youth.”

Alfred mirrored her movements, immediately letting her know he would not be fooled. “Is that the reason you decided to help him?”

Eldrid narrowed her eyes at him, deciding to stop dancing around what he truly wanted to know. She wasn’t one for playing games and she absolutely despised politics. “You wish to know why I helped to free Uhtred Ragnarsson?”

“I admit the thought has crossed my mind,” the king said with a nod. “A Dane who helps to free a man fighting for the Saxons. It seems quite an enigma.”

“Not an interesting one I’m afraid, my Lord. My men were tired of chasing ghosts and they respect Young Ragnar. I was simply providing them with a battle worth fighting.”

“Ah yes, the matter of your enslaved family,” Alfred said, resting his folded hands on the table in front of him. He appeared to be deeply lost in thought.

His knowledge of her motivations shouldn’t have surprised her, yet she couldn’t help but feel impressed. The man seated in front of her certainly wasn’t the fool so many Danes had often made him out to be. Though she was very curious to the reason he had chosen to reveal the extent of his knowledge.

“Precisely,” she said slowly.

“So, what have you decided to do with your time now that you’re no longer chasing ghosts?” 

Even if he had phrased it as a question, she knew it wasn’t. It was a demand. Finally, the truth of the matter had been revealed. He wanted to make sure she wasn’t planning on plundering his lands now that she no longer had a goal to pursue, or so he thought. Apparently his knowledge was limited after all, or he would’ve heard about her setting her sights on Kjartan. Or maybe that was what he wanted her to think.

“I have decided to join Earl Ragnar,” she replied, seeing no point in hiding her plans. “He has a blood feud with a Dane in Northumbria, as do I.”

“Another war,” the king said, sounding suddenly exhausted.

“It must be done.”

“Even if there’s another choice?”

She frowned. “I don’t see I have another choice, Lord.”

He leaned his elbows on the table, still looking at her with that soul-piercing gaze. “Uhtred is my oathsman. He will fight to keep our borders safe and to do so he needs men.”

Eldrid scoffed, unable to help herself. “You’re asking me to fight for you? A Saxon king?”

“In freeing Uhtred you have already done so,” he replied calmly, seemingly unfaced by her disdain. “What I’m asking is no different.”

She got to her feet, pretending she hadn’t seen Steapa reach for his sword. “It is different and I will not fight for a king who cannot see why.” She bowed, never taking her eyes off of him. Then, without another word, she headed towards the door.

“Eldrid?”

With a sigh she came to a halt, looking back with reluctance.

“If you do change your mind, the offer stands.” He straightened his back “If you don’t, well, I would hate for us to become enemies.”

“Lord,” she said with a nod.

With quick steps she left the hall behind. This time, the colors on the walls passed her by in a blur, her eyes only focused ahead. When she finally reached the gate, she all but tore her weapons out of the hands of the guard holding them. Even if the weight of her trusted sword made her breathe a little easier, she was still seething with anger by the time she’d found her way back to the stables.

The small-mindedness of the king infuriated her. Did he really believe she would betray her people, all of her values and beliefs, simply because he asked her to? Maybe she was missing something here. Maybe it was some sort of trick or challenge to measure her reaction. If so, she’d probably failed. Not that she cared much. She preferred fighting with her sword, not with words or tricks. That was what she was good at.

“It went that well?” A mocking voice came from her left.

Eldrid came to a halt and turned to face Ragnar. He had just finished saddling his horse and was now watching her with amusement flickering within his gaze.

“As well as you can expect from a Saxon king,” she replied bitterly, then frowned. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Alfred released us,” Ragnar explained. “Brida has gone already. I told her to gather our men at Loidis, like you asked me to.”

It felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest. Her anger disappeared like snow melting beneath the sun. “That is good news.”

Ragnar nodded with a smile, though she couldn’t help but notice it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was strange how quickly she had learned to recognize his facial expressions. Now, after spending several months together, it had become a habit.

“That is not all, is it?” She asked, taking a step towards him.

The man before her inhaled deeply, as though gathering strength for what he was about to say next. “Uhtred is Alfred’s oathsman again.”

“So I’m told,” she muttered.

When Alfred said it, she hadn’t even considered why. But when looking at his brother, who so clearly needed him, she wondered why Uhtred had chosen to give up his freedom once again. By swearing an oath, he remained a slave, tied to the wishes of someone else. He wouldn’t be free to choose the fights he wanted, or needed, to fight. Perhaps Alfred had somehow forced him to, but she had no idea how.

“I feared Alfred would not allow him to join us, but he has. He’s sending some men with us to restore Guthred’s authority.” He looked close to rolling his eyes.

A humorless chuckle escaped her lips. “I doubt even their god has the power to restore the authority of such a turd.”

Ragnar grinned. “Brida said the same.” Then his expression turned serious again. “But I do not care. All that matters now is killing Kjartan and freeing my sister.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “Then let us do just that.” She winked. “The will of the king be damned.”

#tlk #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #finan #finan the agile #Finan x OC #finan fanfiction #the last kingdom oc #nellysofstormandsiege #nelly unlocks her mind

[unlockyourmind-wp]

OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN X OC | CHAPTER SIX

Summary: Eldrid Byrnjarssdottir is born a storm. Her rage is like the wind beating the waves on the rocks. Her love is the thunder burning down entire forests. Her grief is like a hurricane, destroying the land with its raindrops. She isn't made for a soft or quiet life.

In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she has gained a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Soon her fight leads her to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is looking for his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever.

When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid's wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can't turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what destiny had intended to happen all along.

DESTINY IS ALL.

Tag List:  @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @lauwrite1225 @magravenwrites @emilyhufflepufftlk @iamfandomnerd @trenko-heart​  @abzidabzy

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, typical tlk themes

Word count: 2250

Of Storm And Siege Masterlist

―♛―

CHAPTER SIX:

✧. ⋆ south

IN THE DISTANCE ELDRID COULD SEE THE NUNNERY waiting for them on a hill, the sun casting its light over the highest bell tower. Their horses carried them swiftly over the green fields towards the building of stone. They had been riding towards Epchester all morning at high speed. Uhtred was eager to see the woman who had been waiting for him. Eldrid couldn’t be less interested in the reunion of the happy couple but it seemed fate had wanted her to go in this direction and so she followed. For no one could reject their fate.

Her brother steered his horse next to hers, looking around in a manner that let her know he wanted to discuss something without being overheard by their companions. Only when he was sure no one was listening in did he speak. “You really think going to Wessex is the best thing for us to do?” He asked. “The men will not fight for a Saxon king.”

Eldrid raised her eyebrows at him. “You were the one who told me to form an alliance with Ragnar.”

Bjorn nodded. “I did and the men have gladly followed the son of Ragnar the Elder but they won’t follow us into Wessex without the promise of plunder.”

He spoke the truth, of course he did. Hunting slave traders had made her men rich. She never allowed them to keep the women, which was a strange thing to do and she knew it but she refused to stand by and watch them betray their wives and rape other women. It had taken them a while to follow that order, but in the end it had turned them into honorable men. However, any plunder they managed to find, they were allowed to keep. And more often than not the slave traders had ships filled with silver, pelts and even strange things from beyond the sea. If she brought her men into Wessex without the promise of any plunder awaiting them, they might refuse her.

“Okay brother,” she finally spoke. “After we freed Gisela you will ride to the encampment and tell the men to Loidis. They are to wait there for our return. I will tell Ragnar to send his men to join them.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied with her decision. “As you say.”

She needed every able bodied man if they were to attack Kjartan and by allowing her men to take some rest with the promise of being joined by Ragnar’s men, they would be happy to do so. Much happier than if they were to follow her into Saxon land without being allowed to raid.

They were close enough to the nunnery now to spot one of the nuns running inside to sound the alarm. Eldrid could only imagine the fear she must feel upon seeing the look on Uhtred’s face. He was ready for war, ready to fight for his woman.

They dismounted their horses and left them in the courtyard.

“Gisela!” Uhtred shouted, looking around with wide eyes.

“Uhtred! I’m here!” A female voice came from inside the main hall of the nunnery.

Uhtred hurried towards the door, pulling it open, only to freeze when his eyes landed on the scene awaiting him inside. “You will let her go!” He shouted as he made his way inside.

Her hand went to her sword as their group followed him inside the hall. Only then did she see the priest standing in front of Gisela, as the poor woman was being held in a tight grip by a couple of soldiers. One even held a sword to her throat as Uhtred approached. She must have put up an impressive fight for this many soldiers trying to contain her.

“You are too late,” the priest spoke as he walked up towards Uhtred.

She recognised him. It was the priest who served Guthred and told them Uhtred was lost. The urge to run her sword through his chest had been strong before, but it only grew in strength now.

“You will let her go,” Uhtred repeated, staring at Gisela with wide eyes.

“She is married now,” the priest said. “She belongs to Aelfric.”

“It is a lie, Uhtred,” Gisela said, her eyes filled with fire.

“Where is Aelfric?” Uhtred questioned, looking around. “If he’s not here he cannot be married.”

The priest looked at him with utter hatred and spat: “By proxy, you fool! This man stood beside her in place of Aelfric.” He gestured at a man with fearful eyes who stood beside him.

“Marrying someone without them being present makes you a fool, priest,” Eldrid said, speaking his title with so much disgust the man took a small step back.

She swore she could hear Finan grin from behind her but didn’t turn around to find out.

“Did you hump her for Aelfric?” Uhtred questioned the fearful looking man, who shook his head, unable to utter even a simple word.

“He did not,” Gisela spat.

“Then there is no marriage, it is a lie,” Uhtred said.

“She is married and it cannot be undone,” the priest continued with his hateful voice.

“Make her a widow,” Ragnar suggested.

Eldrid smirked. “I like that.”

“No!” The man finally seemed to have found his voice.

Another priest spoke up. “Gisela is married to Aelfric, not to Aiden.”

Ragnar chuckled and shook his head, turning Eldrid. “Do you understand any of this?”

She shrugged, playing along. “I’m afraid I do not. You Christians have very strange rituals. I’d like to try it. If I were to kill this man would Aelfric die as well?”

“Perhaps we should kill them all,” Ragnar said, walking up to stand beside his brother.

Eldrid stepped forward as well, her hand on her sword. Finan came standing next to her, seeming almost eager for a fight. Her brother was right behind them, scanning the room with his sharp eyes to make sure no one would escape.

The priest stumbled back, holding up his hand to stop his soldiers from doing anything. He scanned their group of warriors and decided he would probably lose for he made a gesture and the soldiers let Gisela go.

She ran towards Uhtred, who didn’t hesitate to take her in his arms, reunited at last. Then the soldier took a step towards the priest, but Gisela was quick to pull him back, holding his face in her hands to try and calm him. Uhtred took a deep breath, letting her guide him away to the door.

But the priest was foolish enough to open his mouth again and that was his doom. “Do as you wish!” He shouted. “In sight of God she’s married!”

Uhtred turned back around, his eyes wild. “Say she’s married again!”

“She’s married!”

He stormed forwards, sword in hand and grabbed the priest by his throat, pulling his head back. “She’s what?” He snarled.

“She’s married!” The priest repeated and his words made Uhtred shake him violently.

“Uhtred!” Hild cried out but Ragnar stopped her from interfering.

“Is she married?” Uhtred said, his anger now gone and filled with the calm certainty of battle descending upon him and Eldrid knew then the priest was going to die.

And still he cried out: “Yes!”

Uhtred kicked him in the stomach, which made Hild scream again but he ignored her. “Say it one more time, priest and I swear the devil will take you.”

“You’re nothing but a heathen and the bitch is married!”

That was the end of it, Uhtred pushed his sword through the man’s chest and he collapsed onto the ground, dead.

The other priests standing around all stumbled back, away from Uhtred and the deadly anger that shimmered in his eyes. Then he lifted his sword and pointed it at the man the priest had called Aiden. “You!” He shouted. “You will go to my uncle and when he asks of his wife, you will tell him she’s in the bed of Uhtred of Bebbanburg.”

Aiden swallowed nervously before finally nodding.

At last Uhtred turned around and left the hall.

Eldrid grinned at the priests, enjoying their fear. Then she spat on the ground before following the others outside. She ignored Hild, who stood shocked in the door opening, staring at the priest’s dead body. She couldn’t care less for the dead priest. He had, after all, brought it upon himself.

They made their way back to their horses and Eldrid walked up to her brother. “I will join you as soon as possible,” she said. The only reason she was going to Wessex at all was to make sure Uhtred and Ragnar kept their promises and would join her to defeat Kjartan. She would much rather stay with her men than go into the strange Saxon land to the south, but she couldn’t bring herself to trust the warrior who had fought for Alfred just yet.

Bjorn nodded and she knew he wanted to tell her to let go of her worries. He trusted Ragnar and Ragnar trusted Uhtred. But he also knew that wouldn’t be enough to convince her. She needed to trust the warrior himself before she would let her men march with him. “We will be waiting for you,” he promised.

They embraced and then Eldrid walked back to her horse, got into the saddle and joined the others as they left the  nunnery behind. They made their way across the fields and she rode up next to Ragnar. “My brother is going to gather our forces at Loidis,” she spoke. “If you have any men left loyal to you, you should tell them to join us.”

Ragnar nodded. “After we have seen Alfred I will send a messenger to gather my men.” He smiled at her. “And then we will march to Kjartan.”

With that promise burning in her heart, she rode to Wessex. The road was long, even if they tried to take as little rest as possible. She noticed both Ragnar and Uhtred were eager to get the business with the King over with. Their blood feud was waiting in the north and so it felt strange to gallop south instead.

Eldrid couldn’t care less for King Alfred and whatever he was planning to do but she had to admit she was growing more and more curious to Wessex as they approached. It was strange to see a land unoccupied by the Danes. Here their religion was free to be practiced and less hidden than in the northern parts of the Saxon lands. Almost every village they passed had a church. In the more poor villages it was usually only a wooden shed with a cross attached but in the more wealthy parts the building was extravagant and obviously better cared for than the structures surrounding it.

She couldn’t understand their religion and the strange rituals they practised but that didn’t make it any less interesting to see. She half surprised herself by feeling that way, thinking she couldn’t have cared less about the Saxons. But perhaps they were more interesting when they were free of the influence of the Danes.

After several days of riding they reached the city in which the king had his hall, Wintancheaster. As they rode through the streets people looked at them with distrust and some even spat on the ground in front of her horse. And Eldrid was immediately reminded why she disliked the Saxons so much, always thinking they were so much better because they served one god instead of several. Her awe for the country disappeared almost as quickly as it came.

Ragnar and Uhtred left to go find the king and Eldrid, Finan, Steapa and Hild decided to wait for them while quenching their thirst in a nearby tavern. After one sip of the ale, however, Eldrid came to regret that decision.

Hild noticed her disgusted look and smiled softly. “They brew it differently here,” she explained, while drinking hers without problem.

“It appears they do,” Eldrid agreed, deciding her thirst was worse than the taste and taking another sip.

“I’ll tell ya,” Finan spoke, already having finished most of his drink. “There is no finer ale than in Irland.”

Eldrid looked at him, amused. “Have you tasted all the ale in the world before making such a claim?”

He frowned at her. “I’d like to see how much ale it would take for you to stop trying to wound me, my Lady.”

She couldn’t stop the grin appearing on her lips. “A lot more than you might think, Irishman.”

“Is that a challenge?” He questioned, tilting his head.

She shrugged. “Not one you can win.”

Before he could try to restore his honor however, a priest interrupted their petty squabbling by calling out her name. Frowning she looked up at the small and bald priest, clothed in grey robes that seemed way too big for him. “Yes?” She questioned.

“Father Beocca,” Hild said, a smile on her face as she stood up to embrace the man.

He clumsily returned the hug before focusing his attention on Eldrid. “Are you Eldrid Brynjarsdottir?” He asked and she winced at the way he pronounced her father’s name with his Saxon accent.

“That is me,” she confirmed. “What do you need, father?”

Her mocking tone at his title either went over his head or he decided to ignore it. Instead he took a deep breath and said: “The king wishes to speak with you.”

―♛―

Author’s note:  So it's finally summer break which means I finally had the time to finish this chapter! I'm not really sure how to feel about this one but I did really enjoy Eldrid mocking Father Eadred with Ragnar. Also I will never get tired of Finan and Eldrid banter, so yeah maybe I do like this chapter more than I first thought haha.

#tlk #the last kingdom #finan #finan the agile #finan x oc #finan the agile x oc #finan fanfic #finan fanfiction #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #tlk fanfiction #nelly unlocks her mind #nellysofstormandsiege

[unlockyourmind-wp]

OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN X OC | CHAPTER FIVE

Summary: Eldrid Byrnjarssdottir is born a storm. Her rage is like the wind beating the waves on the rocks. Her love is the thunder burning down entire forests. Her grief is like a hurricane, destroying the land with its raindrops. She isn't made for a soft or quiet life.

In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she has gained a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Soon her fight leads her to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is looking for his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever.

When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid's wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can't turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what destiny had intended to happen all along.

DESTINY IS ALL.

Author’s note: On this episode of "how petty is Eldrid Brynjardottir..." This chapter was an absolute joy to write, I swear. At first it was mostly dialogue until I decided to add the hunting scene and that might've been the best decision I have ever made. I'm very proud of how it turned out and I hope guys enjoy reading it! Also, I really love Eldrid's fascination with Uhtred. He is so unlike everything she expected and it's so fun to write. But of course not as fun as Eldrid being totally annoyed with Finan ;)

Tag List:  @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @lauwrite1225 @magravenwrites @emilyhufflepufftlk @iamfandomnerd​

Warnings: Mentions of violence, hunting, typical tlk themes

Word count: 2764

Of Storm And Siege Masterlist

―♛―

CHAPTER FIVE:

✧. ⋆ unlikely allies

THE FIRE CRACKLED SOFTLY BENEATH the starry night sky. Little orange sparks drifted upwards to join the blinking lights in the heavens. In the distance the sound of the sea meeting the shore lingered, the only sound that accompanied the soft cracking of the wood that fueled the flames.

They sat in silence around the fire, all of them with their own thoughts to keep them company. Eldrid stared into the flames, wishing she could shove Kjartan into the heat and watch the skin melt from his bones. He had bought her family, like they were worth nothing more than cattle, and she was going to make him pay for it. But she couldn’t simply march up to the gates of his fortress and demand he’d step outside. She didn’t have the men needed to storm the walls, or the supplies for a siege. She had nothing but her anger to keep her going. Finally she had a name, finally her search had ended and now she didn’t have the means to see it through…

“Halig,” a soft voice cut through the heavy silence.

Eldrid lifted her gaze from the flames, watching as Uhtred finally seemed to have shaken the ghosts haunting him, at least long enough to worry about his friend.

“He has been taken down,” Ragnar reassured him. “Wrapped and buried with shield and sword.”

“You will say words for him, Hild?” Uhtred questioned, though his gaze remained focused on the flames.

“I have,” the warrior nun nodded. “I will, always.”

Silence settled on their group once more and Eldrid found herself watching the one they called Daneslayer. So far, she wasn’t impressed, but she had to remind herself he spent the whole winter as a slave. Life at the oar was hard and cruel and maybe she should be impressed at the very simple fact that he’d managed to survive. 

“Northumbria is torn,” Ragnar spoke up, breaking the silence once again. “Aelfric did not come to Guthred’s side. Erik and Sigefrid and Kjartan do what they please.”

When his words didn’t get so much as a nod from Uhtred, Ragnar looked up at Hild. The nun hung her head in despair and Eldrid could only imagine the pain they felt at seeing their friend and brother so completely broken.

“You haven’t asked how I come to be here,” Ragnar tried again, his eyes focused on Uhtred’s face, watching for even the littlest of signs that he was being heard. And, as if hearing his brother’s silent wish, Uhtred finally turned his gaze towards his brother. “Alfred,” Ragnar chuckled, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it. “Alfred sent us.”

Eldrid shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, still not used to being in the service of a Saxon king. She could tell herself she was doing this for Ragnar as many times as she wanted but the truth was she’d brought the enemy one of his best warriors. Though, looking at Uhtred’s broken and scarred body, he seemed to have a long way to go before returning to the man he’d once been.

“I believe the King of Wessex cares for you,” Ragnar added.

But Uhtred’s eyes were empty and unseeing, staring at the grass as though everything around him was nothing but a dream.

“You’re Uhtred’s brother?” The Irishman spoke up, seeming to doubt for a moment, as if he was afraid he wasn’t allowed to speak at all.

“I am,” Ragnar confirmed.

The flames reflected in the eyes of the Irishman as he looked between the two Danes. “You look nothing like each other.” A small smile tugged at his lips.

The tension was broken by a few soft chuckles. A weight was lifted from their shoulders and suddenly the fire felt warmer, the dark less haunting. Despite her worries, Eldrid felt the smallest of smiles appear on her own face, though it fell almost as soon as it came when Hild spoke up, filling the air with tension once again.

“Uhtred, you should eat,” she urged, holding out a plate for him.

The man barely seemed to have the energy to shake his head and instead closed his eyes for a moment, conveying the same message. No.

A look of defeat crossed her face but she forced it away and turned to the Irishman instead. “Finan,” she pressed.

Between haunting for their meal and setting up camp, Eldrid wondered where the nun had found the time to learn the Irishman’s name. Or perhaps Eldrid had been too caught up in her own anger to make time to assure the two men they’d rescued were alright.

“Oh, we will eat, Lady,” Finan assured her. “But our tummies are small. And our feet have barely touched dry land. It’ll take a little time to find ‘em.”

Hild nodded, finally deciding to give up as she put the place back on the ground.

“Are you his brother?” Ragnar questioned in return.

“We are…” He searched for the right words, his gaze focused on the motionless form of his friend. “We are bound. I would say.”

Ragnar seemed satisfied with that answer, nodding in appreciation. She supposed it was easier for him to carry his guilt when he knew Uhtred hadn’t been completely alone during the torment of life as a slave.

“What about you, Lady?” Finan spoke up again, his gaze now focused on her.

She took a deep breath. “I’m here because I made an oath to Young Ragnar. I swore I would help him find his brother. I do not care for Alfred’s plans.” Even after spending the entire winter mocking Steapa with her lack of care for the Saxon ways, watching him scowl at her disrespectful tone never tired her.

To her great surprise, a smile appeared on Finan’s features and for a moment she felt slightly taken aback. “Careful, Lady, or the big man might cut you in your sleep.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Careful, Irishman, none who questioned my skills live to see this day.”

His smile did not falter. “I do not doubt it, Lady.”

“It is true,” Ragnar nodded, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I have a sour arse as proof.”

Eldrid felt herself smiling as she looked at the Dane. “It might be time to think of returning home and settle with your woman.”

He grinned at her. “Not for many years, my friend, not for many years.”

Another round of laughter broke out and finally the tension seemed to have dissolved into the smoke, whisked away by the wind. Though soon enough, Eldrid got to her feet, bidding the men goodnight and making her way to her tent. As the night passed on, however, it became clear to her that sleep would not come to her. Her mind was caught thinking about the ways revenge might be possible after all, ways she might get her family back. But it was all day dreaming, for her army would never be big enough to get Kjartan outside of his high walls. And so all of her plans to enact her revenge were brought to a halt.

When the first morning light came sneaking through the cracks in the tent, she got up and got dressed. Then she made her way outside, where Bjorn had already started readying himself for the morning hunt. To her great surprise however, the Irishman was standing next to him. He’d gotten rid of his slave’s attire and managed to find armor that fit him much better. He even managed to get his messy hair in somewhat decent shape, now bound neatly together in his neck.

As she approached, the two men fell silent and looked up at her.

“That frown will be etched permanently on your face if you’re not careful,” her brother spoke as he handed her a bow and a few arrows. A teasing smile tugged at his lips.

She glared at him, not bothering to form a reply.

“What’s on your mind?” Bjorn questioned, his teasing smile slowly fading.

Her eyes briefly flickered to Finan, who was pretending to be focused on the string on his bow, before looking back to her brother. Her message was clear, not here. “I’m hungry,” she finally said, her tone cold as steel, indicating that this would be the end of it.

“Then what are we waitin’ for?” Finan spoke up, grinning as he headed towards the treeline.

Eldrid frowned at him as she followed, the bow in her hand the quiver slung over her shoulder. “Should you even be out here?” She questioned, her eyes scanning his skinny and exhausted body.

He turned around to look at her, continuing to walk backwards. “There’s nothin’ better than breathing the free air again, my Lady. I’m right where I wanna be.”

She couldn’t help the mocking smirk from appearing on her features. “You might want to turn around again, or you’ll be right where you don’t wanna be.” She gestured towards the tree root right behind him, but he managed to turn around just in time to stay on his feet, taking away the opportunity for a good laugh.

“If we are to catch our breakfast, you two might have to be more quiet,” Bjorn suggested, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

Eldrid ignored him, but did keep her mouth shut this time. With their weapons at the ready the three of them made their way through the greenery. She tried to put her feet down as softly as possible, recalling everything her father had ever taught her about hunting. It’d been a while since she’d do so herself, but that morning she needed the distraction. She desperately needed a target to point her anger at. She wanted the string to cut into her fingers so the pain would distract her from the uselessness she felt.

The last of the morning fog had been driven away by the watery sun when Eldrid first spotted the fresh tracks on the ground. She gestured towards her companions and as silently as possible they continued stalking after their prey. Heel first, then toe, keeping as close to the ground as not to scare their possible prey.

Finally she spotted the deer, its brown fur barely visible from the tree it was standing behind. She held up her hand, signalling for them to stop. Then she pointed to where she’d seen the animal before carefully reaching for one of the arrows. Slowly she put it on the string of the bow, lifting the weapon, ready to fire.

Just before she released her arrow however, another cut through the sky, striking down the deer mere seconds before hers did. With a scowl on her face she stood back to her full height, watching as Finan grinned at her before walking over to fetch the deer. He returned with the animal slung over his shoulders, still grinning broadly.

“I spotted it first,” she told him as she glared at him.

He shrugged. “And it was my arrow that killed it first, Lady.”

She wanted to punch his smug face. “What kind of barbaric country must Irland be if everyone shoots what isn’t theirs,” she sneered as she started to turn around to head back to the camp.

“No more barbaric Denmark I’d say,” he was quick to reply, “they invaded what isn’t theirs, didn’t they?” He grinned before adding with a mocking tone and a wink: “My Lady.”

She could hear Bjorn try - and fail - to stifle his laugh behind her, but she didn’t bother turning around to look at him. Instead she kept her eyes focused on the road back to the camp, not bothering to join in the conversation about hunting that started between her brother and Finan.

By the time the camp came back into their view, Eldrid’s hand had turned white from holding her bow so tightly. Her annoyance at the Irishman behind her was a bright burning flame and she was glad for the distraction of the others, at least it meant no longer having to listen to that annoying accent of his…

As Finan got to work on skinning the deer, she took a seat next to Ragnar, who handed her a jug of ale with a knowing smile on his face. “You seem awfully cheerful this morning,” he grinned.

She took the jug and swallowed a mouthful of the ale, relishing in the way the drink burned its way to her stomach. “I have nothing to be cheerful about,” she told him, her gaze still focused on Finan, annoyance twisting her veins with every move he made.

“I see,” Ragnar mumbled while taking a swig of the ale himself. “But it is more than that Irishman bothering you, is it not?”

With a scoff she shook her head, having spent the entire winter with the Dane had apparently made sure he’d become very fine tuned to her emotions. She was yet to determine whether she appreciated that development. She wasn’t used to anyone but her brother being able to read between the lines so perfectly. It was unnerving.

“It is,” she finally caved, knowing the Dane well enough to realise lying would be useless.

Before he could reply however, their attention was drawn to Hild and Uhtred as they emerged from the field on their right. Uhtred looked cleaned up and...alive. He walked as though his spirit had returned and the sword stripped to his back only added to that. Whatever Hild had told him, it had brought out the warrior in him and for a moment Eldrid was stunned by the different man that was suddenly standing before her.

The two joined them near the fire and Steapa handed Uhtred a jug of ale, which he downed almost immediately, earning a chuckle from the big man. “You have a thirst, lord.”

Uhtred nodded. “Mm, I do. It’s good.” His voice was filled with strength, none of the weakness of the previous evening lingered in the tones.

“I’m pleased,” Steapa said with a smile. It wasn’t often Eldrid had seen him smile before and it only added to her curiosity of the legend of the man seated across from her. “Alfred waits for your return,” the man then added, his face back to business again.

“We have business here, Steapa, in the north,” Uhtred replied as he put the jug of ale down.

She couldn’t help but feel slightly surprised at his words. She’d thought a warrior saved by a King would want to make sure his gratitude was known, but Uhtred didn’t seem all that interested in returning to Alfred.

“I gave my word,” Ragnar spoke up. “We go to Wessex.”

The words of his brother seemed to genuinely distraught Uhtred. “But we are here. Now.”

Ragnar shook his head. “I gave my word. We go directly to Wessex. Kjartan can wait and Thyra” - his voice broke but he managed to pull himself together enough to finish - “she must wait.”

Eldrid sat up straight. “You plan to go after Kjartan?” She questioned, her interest suddenly peaked.

The brothers held each other’s gaze for a moment before Ragnar finally nodded. “We do, in time.”

Her gaze went to Bjorn and in his eyes she could the very same plan that had formed in her own mind. “Then I will join you. You may have his head but I want his hands. He shall regret ever touching my family.”

A smile had appeared on Uhtred’s face, almost eager at the prospect of taking down the man who had wounded his family so deeply. “And I will be most thankful for your sword.”

She felt herself smile in return, finally feeling her sense of purpose returning again. The weight of annoyance that had lingered in her bones all night finally seemed to feel lighter. She had found a way to attack Kjartan after all, to find her family again. Even if it meant having to go to Wessex first, she finally found a way.

“What about Gisela?” Hild spoke up suddenly.

Uhtred turned to her so swiftly that Eldrid thought his neck might break. “What of her?” He questioned, distraught. It fascinated her how he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, brutally honest with the way he felt.

“She is safe,” Hild assured him. “She waits for you at the nunnery at Epchester.”

It seemed like they had one more stop before Wessex. But Kjartan wasn’t going anywhere. She had waited this long, she could wait a little while longer.

#tlk #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #finan #finan x oc #finan fanfic #finan fanfiction #the last kingdom oc #nellysofstormandsiege #finan the agile #nelly unlocks her mind

[unlockyourmind-wp]

OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN X OC | CHAPTER FOUR

Summary: Eldrid Byrnjarssdottir is born a storm. Her rage is like the wind beating the waves on the rocks. Her love is the thunder burning down entire forests. Her grief is like a hurricane, destroying the land with its raindrops. She isn't made for a soft or quiet life.

In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she has gained a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Soon her fight leads her to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is looking for his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever.

When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid's wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can't turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what destiny had intended to happen all along.

DESTINY IS ALL.

Author’s note: Chapter four is here! This is one has gotta be my favorite one yet. Lots of stuff is happening and I really hope you guys enjoy it!

Tag List: @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite​ @lauwrite1225​ @magravenwrites​ @emilyhufflepufftlk​​

Warnings: Typical The Last Kingdom themes

Word Count: 2497

Of Storm And Siege Masterlist

―♛―

CHAPTER FOUR:

✧. ⋆ salt, sea, scars

A SHOUT LEFT HER LIPS as the clang of steel meeting steel echoed through the camp. The men cheered and the sound was like a wave breaking against her bones. She couldn't help but grin at her opponent as he tried to gather his balance. Young Ragnar had challenged her to a friendly competition to test her skills with a sword. Soon, however, the entire encampment had gathered around to watch. Some were cheering for their Lady, while others encouraged Ragnar. She had spotted Bjorn standing at the sidelines with Kara at his side, the two of them exchanging bets as they watched their friends test each other's skill.

She was no longer the little girl who'd climbed to sit on top of Ragnar's shoulders. She had learned her way with a sword and did not fear to show him that. He had been surprised by her skills at first but had soon managed to regain himself. Eldrid had lost track of time as they exchanged blows. At times it seemed like he might win, only for the battle to turn around in her favor seconds later.

Autumn and winter came and went while they had tried to find Sverri but every path came to a dead end. Eventually they’d made the choice to set up camp for the winter and try again to find the slaver in the spring. Ragnar had tried his hardest to keep searching but with the days growing colder and the snow blocking the main roads, they had been forced to set up camp and built shelters. Eldrid understood the Dane's pain. She too wanted nothing more than to find her family. It’d been strange to see the roles reversed, with her pleading for rest for the men while Ragnar endlessly tried to find information that might help them. It’d almost made her pity the burden placed on her brother’s shoulders all these years when he tried to keep her in check.

To distract himself from the thought of having failed his brother, Ragnar tried to keep busy with playing games, holding tournaments and drinking until his legs could no longer hold him. And now, as the days slowly grew warmer again, he had dared to challenge the Lady of Death herself. But they were very evenly matched and both were growing tired of the seemingly endless fight. However, just as Ragnar readied himself to attack her once again, she finally saw her opening. He had forgotten to protect his left side and so she brought her leg up and kicked him against his thigh. He tumbled down and she was on top of him within seconds, pressing her blade against his throat.

For a moment he lay there, catching his breath while the crowd stayed silent. Then a booming laugh left his lips and the men surrounding them broke out into loud cheers.

Eldrid grinned at him and removed her sword from his throat, then got back to her feet and offered him her hand, helping him stand up again.

"You are quite the warrior, Lady Eldrid," Ragnar said, a wide smile on his face.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Or maybe you're just getting old."

Her men broke out into laughter while Ragnar faked a wounded expression. He pointed his finger at her. "Well, this old man can still drink.' He turned to the crowd and held his hands high. 'Bring on the ale!" Another loud cheer erupted through the encampment.

"My Lady!" Beneath the loud cheers of the men, Eldrid caught a voice desperately trying to get her attention. "Lady Eldrid!"

Her eyes found Brør, making his way through the crowd, a man she'd put on watch near one of the beaches she suspected Sverri might land if he were to make his way back to England. She hit Ragnar on his shoulder to gain his attention and he followed her as she made her way over to him. His face was red, as though he had made haste to reach them.

"Speak," she ordered as soon as she reached him.

"A ship is making harbor on the beach. They have slaves aboard," Brør said as he tried to catch his breath.

Her gaze flickered to Ragnar, whose features had hardened. "Could it be Sverri?" She questioned.

"Let's find out," the Dane spoke before turning to his men. "No more Ale! We prepare to make our way to battle! I want every man on his horse!”

Eldrid made her way through the dispersing crowd towards her tent. She was already wearing her armor and sword from the sparring session earlier, all she needed were a few more of her knives, which she hid in multiple layers of her leather armor. Lastly she put on her cloak before heading outside, towards the stables. 

Hild was waiting for her, holding the reins of her horse ready. The two weren’t exactly friends, but over the months they spent together an understanding had grown between them. Two women having to prove themselves worthy among men created a bond of understanding, grown from the silent glances exchanged whenever another cock measuring contest took place.

Eldrid nodded at her, taking the reins in her own hands before climbing into the saddle. She threw a look over her shoulder, watching as her men stood ready behind her. Ragnar directed his horse next to hers, the two exchanging a look. This could be it, the moment he’d find his brother again, something she’d dreamed of for years now. She inhaled deeply and gestured at him to give the signal.

“We ride!” He shouted and he wasn’t even finished before Eldrid had spurred on her horse.

They rode through the green landscape towards the beach. After having spent most of the winter here, Eldrid knew the lands like the back of her own hand. She led their man over small roads and through green fields. Her heart was beating like a war drum in her chest. It was possible the slaver who Brør had spotted wasn’t even Sverri, they had after all no idea what the Dane looked like. But if Jonis had spoken the truth all those months ago, Sverri would be back here sooner or later and she refused to let him escape.

As they approached the dunes, Ragnar lifted his hand, making their group come to a halt. “We need to be sure, or word of our intentions will spread and Sverri will never show himself,” Ragnar said.

Eldrid nodded. “Then let’s make sure.” She got down from her horse, watching as Ragnar did the same. Together they made their way up the hill, staying low in the high grass surrounding them. Crawling forward on her arms, she managed a look over the hill, watching the camp that was set up before them. Tents were scattered around the sandy hills, a ship lying anchored in the sea. A row of men, slaves, were standing by one of the tents. Even from this distance she could see their bones through their skin and it made fury flare up inside of her.

In front of the slaves stood a few men who looked like warriors, not like the usual buyers who were present at these auctions. One of them was wearing an eye patch, looking very pleased with himself as he talked to one of the slaves.

Beside her, Ragnar tensed, his hand going to his sword as he watched the scene unfold. “One-eyed Sven,” he growled beneath his breath.

Her eyes went back to the Dane as he challenged one of the slaves, handing him a sword. She had heard stories of Sven Kjartansson and his father Kjartan the Cruel. How they bullied, plundered and dishonored their people. She also heard the story of how Kjartan was banished, when Sven had looked at Thyra Ragnarsdottir’s nakedness. And as her eyes went back to Thyra’s brother beside her, she could see him trembling with the rage of those memories.

The slave challenged by Sven the One Eye stumbled forwards with the sword in his hand. But he had no strength left to even do as little as stand and he fell before he could attempt to land a strike. As he fell, they caught a glimpse of his face and Ragnar was on his feet immediately, running back to his horse. Judging by the fury on his face, Eldrid had no doubt that they had, at last, found Uhtred Ragnarsson. She got back on her feet and ran towards her own horse, climbing back into the saddle as fast as she could.

Ragnar lifted his sword as a battle cry filled with an earth-shattering rage left his lips. He urged their men forward, the heavy fall of hooves thundering in the sky as they broke out into the clearing. Eldrid had taken her own sword in her hand, screaming as she charged at one of the slavers, striking him down before he could even think about running away.

In the distance she could see Sven’s men attempting to escape and she reached for one of her knives. She held the blade between her fingers, drew back her arm and released the blade, watching as it turned end over end in the air before finally finding its target. Her knife landed in one of the escaping men's neck, bringing him down.

Another one was killed by an arrow fired by one of her men while Steapa brought down his axe into the belly of another. Her eyes searched the clearing for any foes left, before finally landing on a man in a blue tunic, attempting to make an escape towards the boat still anchored in the sea.

“Sverri,” she growled, jumping down from her horse. She sprinted across the clearing and as she reached the slaver, she kicked him against the legs, bringing him down on his knees. With a shout of a rage she lifted her sword, revelling in the fear flashing through his eyes, but instead of killing him, she merely pressed the blade against his throat, holding him captive as she watched Ragnar getting down from his own horse. Every vein inside of her screamed to simply slit Sverri’s throat and it took her every bit of willpower to remind herself that she needed him alive, he might be the last person who knew where her mother and sister were.

“Uhtred?” Ragnar called out as he walked up towards the slaves, who had been watching with wide eyes as the battle came to a quick end. “Uhtred!” He came to a halt in front of the slave who was still seated on the ground. His hair was tangled and dirty, his face covered in burns and cuts. But his eyes looked the worst of all, void of life and strength, instead filled with ghosts of horrors that had haunted him during his time in captivity.

Carefully, as though approaching a rapid animal, Ragnar knelt down in front of his brother. “It’s me,” he spoke softly. “It’s me, Ragnar.”

For a moment Uhtred simply looked at Ragnar, as though he couldn’t truly see him standing before him. Until finally recognition flashed across his face. “Ragnar?” He mumbled, his voice breaking as he let himself fall into his brother’s embrace. He clung to his brother’s arm as he sobbed. The sound cut through her bones and made her wince from the raw pain that echoed through the whimpers.

Ragnar held him tightly, a pained smile on his features. “Did you believe we would abandon you?” He questioned then he gestured towards the rest of his men. “Free them all.”

Several men walked forward and broke the chains holding the slaves in place. Eldrid turned away, focusing her attention on the man she was holding captive. “Do you know who I am?” She hissed, her tone venomous.

Sverri nodded, his entire body trembling. “I-I do, my Lady. I can tell you where your family is,” he muttered. “But you must swear to spare me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but movement caught her attention. She lifted her gaze and watched one of the slaves as he came to a halt few feet away from her, his eyes focused on the slaver in her grasp, utter hatred burning in his eyes. For a second she watched him, his dark hair and scarred face before moving her gaze back to Sverri.

“Tell me where my family is,” she snarled, pressing the blade closer against his skin.

"Swear you will not harm me,” Sverri replied, resistance burning in his eyes.

She inhaled sharply to calm herself and then answered: “I swear to any god willing to listen to your plea that I will not harm you. Now speak."

For a moment the man stared at her, as though not quite believing her words but when her gaze darkened with impatience he quickly opened his mouth. “Kjartan, my lady. Your mother and sister were bought by Kjartan.”

Her heart hammered in her chest at the mention of the name. Finally, after years of searching she had a solid lead on where her family had been taken to. As it turned out, Ragnar the Fearless’ children weren’t the only ones who had a blood feud with Kjartan. “You swear this is the truth?” She questioned.

“I swear, my Lady,” Sverri spoke, his eyes holding no trace of a lie.

She lowered her sword. “Good.” Then she turned around and walked up to the slave, holding out her sword to him. “He is yours to kill.”

“My lady you swore!” Sverri cried out as the man before her took the hilt in his hands.

She turned around to the slaver. “I swore I would do you no harm, I said nothing of this man.”

Sverri got back on his feet, attempting to run away, but the dark haired man was faster, placing the tip of the sword against the Dane's throat. His entire body was trembling, tears of rage and the taste of freedom crawling down his cheeks. Then he pushed the blade forward, skewering Sverri’s throat.

“Pull,” he snarled.

With the splattering of crimson blood, he pulled the sword back and Sverri dropped to the ground, dead. A shaking laugh left his lips as he turned in a small circle, looking around as though he had woken up from a horrible nightmare. Finally free.

Then his eyes fell on Eldrid and he slowly walked over, holding out her sword. She reached out and took it, holding his gaze as he seemed to search for words. “I suppose I should thank you.” He was irish, she realized then, a long way from home.

“He deserved to fall at the hands of those he wronged,” she replied. Then she turned around and made her way over towards her brother, fire burning in her heart at the sight of this new path laid out before her.

#the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #finan #finan x oc #finan the agile #finan fanfiction #finan fanfic #the last kingdom oc #nellysofstormandsiege #nelly unlocks her mind

[unlockyourmind-wp]

OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN x OC | CHAPTER ONE

Summary:

Eldrid Byrnjarssdottir is born a storm. Her rage is like the wind beating the waves on the rocks. Her love is the thunder burning down entire forests. Her grief is like a hurricane, destroying the land with its raindrops. She isn't made for a soft or quiet life.

In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she has gained a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Soon her fight leads her to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is looking for his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever.

When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid's wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can't turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what destiny had intended to happen all along.

DESTINY IS ALL.

Author’s note: hello everyone, for a while now I’ve been writing and working on my finan fanfiction. This book has also been published on wattpad but since a lot more tlk fans are here on tumblr I decided to published the book here as well! Have fun reading and if you want to be tagged in the next chapters, let me know!

Warnings: Blood, Violence

Word Count: 2340

CHAPTER ONE:

✧. ⋆ with every slaughter comes a cost

THE WAILING WIND AND SHUFFLING footsteps were the only sounds heard in the courtyard of the fortress. The watery morning sun colored the sky a pale blue. A color void of hope and warmth. A cold fog clung to Eldrid's clothes as she sat hidden between the battlements. She tried to ignore it the best she could and focused all of her energy on the rows of slaves stumbling along the ground below her. Her fingers brushed the string of her bow in anticipation. The weapon was placed on her lap, but firmly in her hands, ready to be used. Unease was growing within her bones as she sat there. What was taking them so long?

She sat as still as a statue while the sun continued the climb, clearing the fog with its golden rays. Eldrid was not known for being patient and it took her every bit of strength she had to remain seated and not go looking for her men. After all they'd been through she knew she could trust them and she did, fully.

And her patience was paid of. Her eyes caught sight of a white owl soaring the sky. A small breath of relief left her lips but she could not linger on it for too longer. Her body tensed up as she prepared for the chaos that would soon follow. Her eyes went back down to the courtyard where the slavers were busy with counting the rows of slaves that had gathered there. Her eyes fell on one man who had just entered through the gate, being pulled forward by the chains bound around his wrists and ankles. He was tall and had brown hair that fell over his shoulders. His features were sharp, like that of a hawk. Out of her father's three children, Bjorn looked most like their mother. So much so it had hurt to look at him when she was taken all those winters ago. Whenever Eldrid felt the memory of her slipping away, her eyes would find her brother and she would remember.

There was nothing, however, left to remind her of Yrsa. Her younger sister, as fair as the flowers that grew beneath the sun. Out of Brynjar's children she was the only one with warm eyes and a carefree smile. But nothing so fair was allowed to remain untouched in this world and Eldrid had forgotten what her soft features looked like. All she could remember were her pale hands, holding Eldrid's fingers tightly in a last, desperate attempt to hold on to freedom. She remembered like it happened yesterday. The feeling of her little sister's hands being ripped from her own as she was sold, ripped away from her home and freedom.

Which was the reason she was seated on the cold stones of the last Danish slavers fortress along the south coast at this very moment. From the sea to the Scandinavian lands to the east. She had rid every town, every market, of the men who dared to put others into chains. All while searching for her mother and sister. She knew it brought her father grief to see his daughter dedicate her life to violence and slaughter but his wishes had never held her back. She also knew he had made Bjorn swear to look out for his younger sister. Her brother, too loyal for his own good, would follow her to the ends of the earth and back. And maybe it had started because of a promise but Eldrid knew that was not the reason he had stayed.

For just a moment Bjorn glanced up at the battlements, almost as though he could sense she was thinking of him. Eldrid knew he could not see her, but he would know she was there. She could see his body tensing with the anticipation of the coming fight even from his distance.

One of the slavers stepped forward to search Bjorn for any possible weapons he might have hidden beneath his clothes. Eldrid knew they were expecting a rock, or maybe a stick but definitely not the short sword hidden in his breeches. Just as the slaver reached out his hands the white owl in the sky started making its descent. The animal dived down through the sky toward the slaver seated behind a table to count his victims. The very moment the owl reached the man and buried its talons in the slaver's eyes, the fight broke loose.

Bjorn reached for his short sword and pushed the blade into the slaver's throat. While Eldrid rose up from behind the battlements and fired her arrow into the chest of another slaver. Screams erupted all over the courtyard as the chained men and women searched for cover. Hoves came galloping through the gates. Eldrid's men came charging through the fortress like a storm send by the gods themselves. Every slaver met his demise by sword, axe or arrow.

Eldrid revelled in the chill left by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her fingers ached from pulling back the string of her bow time and time again but she never lost her focus. Her arrows came raining down from the heavens like thunder send by Thor, striking down every enemy who had dared to take away the freedom of men and women alike. When she had fired her last arrow she lowered her bow, her eyes taking in the state of panic and chaos they had created. As always there would be one slaver left alive but it was never because of her. Anyone who would come close to her met his doom. Her sword was hungry and her heart was restless. She could not find the compassion within her soul to care about these men. Turning on her heels, Eldrid headed for the tower on her right hand. She kicked the dead guard aside, his lifeless body falling to the ground. She had used his corpse to block the door to stop anyone from entering the battlements without her knowing. She didn't spare the man a single glance, entered the tower and started descending the stairs to the battlefield below.

The bang of the door being thrown open echoed through the staircase. Hurried footsteps came running up the stairs. Eldrid reached for her sword and pulled it out of its sheath. She came to a halt and waited for the footsteps to reach her. A man came running around the corner, his panicked breaths were annoying to her ears. He was in such a hurry to get away that he did not even notice the Dane standing before him until he had almost bumped into her. His entire body froze, his eyes wide with fear as he looked up at her.

Eldrid raised her sword, pointing the tip at his heart. The man opened his mouth, maybe to pray or maybe to beg. She would never know. Because before even one word had left his lips she had pushed the steel of her weapon through his heart. A startled gasp escaped his mouth. His body jerked unnaturally before becoming still. She pulled her sword back and watched with little interest as his corpse collapsed to the ground.

Another set of footsteps came rushing up the stairs and Eldrid raised her weapon again, only to lower it when she saw it was her brother. Their men must have released him from his chains so he could join in the fight. His eyes went to the corpse of the slaver and for a second his eyes hardened with hatred before he managed to compose himself. When he turned to look at her all the hatred was gone and instead replaced with the calm wisdom she was used from him.

'There is no one left,' she said, pointing with her sword up the stairs.

Bjorn nodded. 'Then let's finish this.' He turned and headed back down.

Eldrid followed him as they made their way out of the tower and out unto the courtyard. Some men were working on freeing the slaves while others were searching the fortress for silver and food. In the middle of the courtyard was the last man of the fortress left alive. He had been forced on his knees and was being watched closely by Kara. The raven-haired woman held the tip of her sword against his neck, her eyes watching him with cold disinterest. But even more chilling was the white owl seated on her right shoulder. Blood colored its talons bright red and its menacing eyes were staring at the slaver as if the animal was questioning his right to breathe. Ice, for that was what the animal was called, had been Kara's loyal companion for such a long time that Eldrid could barely remember seeing her friend without her trusted friend resting on her shoulder.

As soon as Kara saw Eldrid walking towards her, she lowered the sword. The slaver seemed relieved, but it disappeared as soon as Eldrid stepped into his few. Eldrid had been told her eyes looked as wild as a wolf about to jump its prey during a fight. She hardly believed it but whenever men looked at her with fear on their faces, it was hard not to believe it. Raising her sword she pointed the tip right beneath the man his chin, lifting his head so he was forced to look at her.

'Do you know who I am?' She questioned, her voice stone cold.

The man opened his mouth to respond but did not seem able to answer.

A sigh left her lips and she pressed the tip of her sword against his skin, raising her eyebrows as a silent question.

Fear seemed to make it impossible for the man to speak and so she could only catch one mumbled word. Death.

She couldn't help herself and scoffed at the mention of the name she had been given by the people of Denmark. She had heard the whispers of the Lady of Death who travelled the coast with her band of merciless shadow-walkers. It was said she could into a wolf and that looking at her would mean your death. Eldrid had to admit that to be able to shapeshift would have been magnificent. But the idea that she had help from the gods in accomplishing all that she had made her want to scream in anger. The gods had long abandoned her. She had not come here because of sacrifices and mumbled prayers. She stood here because of her own strength.

It took her all her restraint to not push her sword through the slaver's throat right then and there but she needed answers and so she dropped her sword. 'Tell me, have you any knowledge of a woman named Asfrid and her daughter Yrsa?'

The slaver whimpered and shook his head. 'P-please, I see so many faces, hear so m-many names! I can not possibly remember them all.'

Eldrid leaned in closer to the man, her voice like a wolf's snarl when she spoke. 'They will have been sold to you by the Earl Harkon. And trust me, you would remember him.'

She could tell by the way the man started trembling that he did indeed remember. Earl Harkon had been a huge man and known throughout Denmark for his cruelty. Though he now roamed the endless cold depths of Hel in disgrace. She had made sure he would never feast in Valhalla. For what he had done to her family, she wished she could have killed him a thousand times over. But it was done now. He was gone and she was left trying to mend the wound he left behind.

'Who did you sell those women to?' She snarled.

The man made the quick decision that he feared her more than he feared the slaver he sold her family to and finally started speaking. 'I do not remember the name of the man. All I know is that he was setting sail to England!'

Hot fury coursed through her veins at the mere thought of her family in the hands of those weak, god-fearing christians. This man had condemned her mother and little sister to the wild ways of the sea and poisonous whispers of priests. Her rage burned all her rational thoughts away and with one motion she pushed her sword through the man's throat. She could hear her brother sigh behind her but she paid him attention. She watched as the life slowly drained out of the man in front of her before she pulled her sword back, the slaver's body collapsing on the ground. Only then did she turn to look at Bjorn and Kara, who had clearly been sharing glances behind her back.

'We could have gotten more information from him,' Bjorn said, his eyes burning into her soul.

Eldrid straightened her shoulders. 'He refused to talk and so I refused to spare his life.' She walked past her brother and towards one of the torches that was attached to the wall. After quick glance around the courtyard she saw all the slaves had been freed and her man stood waiting for her next command. She threw the torch on a cart loaded with hay. It caught fire immediately, the flames spreading to the surrounding walls. Soon the entire fortress would be a sea of flames. She turned to face her men. 'Burn it all,' she ordered.

While the former slaves made their way to their freedom, the Danes set the entire fortress on fire. They walked out with the silver, food and their lives. For not a single man had lost his life in the battle. Eldrid took the lead as they walked outside, her heart burning with anger.

'So, to England it is then?' Bjorn questioned, coming to walk beside her as they headed back to their camp in the woods.

'To England it is,' Eldrid confirmed.

The Lady of Death was coming for every Saxon who had dared to touch her family.

#the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #finan x oc #finan fanfic #nellysofstormandsiege #nelly unlocks her mind

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OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN X OC | CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Eldrid Byrnjarssdottir is born a storm. Her rage is like the wind beating the waves on the rocks. Her love is the thunder burning down entire forests. Her grief is like a hurricane, destroying the land with its raindrops. She isn't made for a soft or quiet life.

In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she has gained a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Soon her fight leads her to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is looking for his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever.

When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid's wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can't turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what destiny had intended to happen all along.

DESTINY IS ALL.

Author’s note: Chapter three has arrived! This chapter has a lots of little banter moments that I love. So I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

Tag List: @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @lauwrite1225 @magravenwrites @emilyhufflepufftlk​

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2417

Of Storm And Siege Masterlist

―♛―

CHAPTER THREE:

✧. ⋆ the search for the dane slayer

HEADS TURNED AS THEIR GROUP of both Danish and Saxon warriors came galloping into the town. Eldrid had to admit it felt strange to ride alongside the Saxons. She had to keep reminding herself she was doing this for Ragnar, to find his brother and not to gift Alfred back his best warrior. When she told her men of their new mission, it had taken them some convincing. But Ragnar had made his plea well and so they followed. Though she had heard numerous conversations about Uhtred and if he was truly innocent of killing Ragnar the Fearless. The men might not have been convinced about his innocence but they were willing to follow Ragnar, content with a new path to follow.

Ragnar had thought it best they would first visit the man responsible for his brother's enslavement. Eldrid had been unable to tell if it was because he wanted information, or because he wished to shame the king for his actions. Or both. And so they had broken up their camp near the beach and rode for Cumberland to visit king Guthred.

After a long ride they had finally reached the city walls. Men and women gathered around them as they rode through the streets to the main courtyard. It wasn't a big town with only a few wooden houses. The palace came into their view soon enough and it seemed to be the only building with roman walls. Their party came to a halt in front of the palace. The unrest of their arrival had captured the attention of two priests, who came walking out of the hall and unto a balcony. She imagined they must have liked their place there, high above them.

'Sister Hild and company,' the oldest of the two priests spoke, 'What is your purpose?'

'We're here on the orders of Alfred of Wessex,' Ragnar answered. 'I want to see king Guthred.'

'You are a Dane,' the priest sneered, as if that made his request somehow unacceptable.

Ragnar simply smiled and Eldrid admired his calm demeanor for she probably would have beheaded him already. But not the son of Ragnar the Fearless, who instead calmy introduced himself. 'I am Earl Ragnar Ragnarson.' He gestured towards her. 'This is my friend Eldrid Brynjardottir. And this' -he turned to Steapa- 'is the warrior Steapa, Alfred's man.'

'Alfred sends his greetings to King Guthred,' Steapa said.

'And Guthred's sister?' Hild spoke up. 'Lady Gisela. Is she here? I would like to see her.'

'She is not,' the priest said, this tone suggesting that the woman in question was a topic he'd rather avoid. 'She did abandon the city.'

'Where to?'

'I have yet to find out, but I shall find out.'

Eldrid felt the need to drive her sword through his heart grow with every word he spoke. Before she could revel in that day dream however, another man stepped out unto the balcony. He had watery blue eyes, a pointed face and blond hair. He was wearing white robes and a sword around his waist. She could tell by the small bow that both priests made that this was the king. Yet nothing about him looked kingly. Not the way he carried himself, nor the way his uncertain eyes looked at the world around him, nothing.

It was clear that the power in Northumbria did not belong to this man, nor to his priests who seemed to try so hard to pretend that it did. This was a pretend king, a man who liked to think he had power over the Danes and Saxons that lived in the land. But Eldrid could tell from just one look that it was nothing more than a fantasy he was living in.

'You're his brother?' Guthred spoke. Even his voice lacked authority. 'You're Uhtred's brother?'

Hild looked at Ragnar. 'It is Guthred.'

Ragnar nodded at her. 'I am Lord,' he replied.

'Alfred sent you to do what?'

'To find Uhtred. He is in Uhtred's depth and would not see him harmed.'

The christian king indebted to a heathen. It sounded like a magnificent story, one that would be told for many generations to come and yet Eldrid had trouble believing it. Hearing about Uhtred's greatness was one thing but she knew she would not be able to believe it until she had met the man himself. How was it that he had the mighty king of Wessex sending out soldiers to find him? He had to be more than just a soldier. She could not help but admit she was growing more and more curious about this Uhtred.

'Uhtred is lost,' Guthred said. 'I am truly sorry to say that. My apologies to both you and Alfred.' He didn't sound sorry in the slightest and it made her blood boil. Apparently he was not only a false king but a liar as well.

'There,' the older priest spoke up again. 'You've had a wasted journey.'

Eldrid could not help herself, her hand was resting on her sword, ready to pull it out and cut off the man's tongue. But she knew it would do little to help the situation.

'Rest, please,' the pretend king offered, 'here, by all means-' 'You will tell me the name of the man who took Uhtred,' Ragnar interrupted him.

'I need to gather my thoughts,' the king spoke, shaking his head in confusion.

But while Ragnar pleaded to a man who would not help them, Eldrid felt her attention drawn to a little girl who was making her way through the crowd. She was holding an apple in her hand, offering it to Hild. The nun took it and when she did, her eyes searched the crowd and landed on a Danish boy dressed in black leather. The two seemed to have a wordless understanding before the boy turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

'Uhtred is indeed lost,' the priest snapped before turning and following the king into the palace.

Ragnar smiled disdainfully, his eyes filled with suppressed anger.

'Let's leave here,' Eldrid suggested. 'I refuse to remain in the company of cowards and liars a moment longer than necessary.'

And with one last disgusted glance over her shoulder, she turned her horse and headed for the gate. The rest of the party followed, leaving the small village and its coward of a king behind. As they rode for the rest of the men they left in the field outside of the town, Eldrid rode up next to Hild, watching as the nun held the apple tightly in her hand.

'Are you so beloved by children they just willingly give you food, sister Hild?' Eldrid questioned, knowing there was more to it than that but unable to pass an opportunity of teasing the nun.

Hild did not even spare her so much as a glance. 'Being kind certainly does not hurt.' Her tone was cold, a sign that she was very well aware of Eldrid's reputation.

She was unable to stop herself from smiling. 'You're unlike any nun I've ever met.'

'By "met" I assume you mean slaughtered?' Hild said coolly.

'I don't kill innocent people,' Eldrid snapped. 'Only those who deserve it.' And it was true. She had made it her life's mission to destroy slavers and their trade of human lives. She did not kill for pleasure or to pass time. There was no honor in slaughtering innocents.

'Some might argue that no man deserves death,' Hild said, still staring at the road ahead of her.

'You don't believe that,' Eldrid replied. 'Or you wouldn't be carrying that sword.'

Finally the nun turned her eyes to Eldrid, her cold demeanor melting away like snow beneath the sun. Instead her eyes seemed filled with an infinite sorrow. Then she took a deep breath and turned her eyes away again. 'Ragnar!' She called out, slightly taking Eldrid off guard. 'I know where to go next.'

The horses came to a halt and Ragnar rode to stand next to Hild, who was holding up the apple she had been given. When she opened her hand they could all see a small piece of parchment in her palm. A few words were hastily scribbled on the yellowish paper. There was a small hole in the apple in which the paper had been hidden. Eldrid recalled the young Danish warrior she'd seen exchanging glances with Hild. He must have been the one who hid the paper in the apple and sent the little girl to give it to the nun.

'What does it say?' Ragnar asked, who, just like Eldrid herself, never learned how to read.

'It's from Lady Gisela,' Hild explained, 'it says Uhtred was sold to the slaver Jonis.'

'Why is she helping us?' Eldrid questioned, wondering who the Lady was who undermined her brother's authority so fiercely.

Hild turned her eyes to Eldrid and her face said it all. Ragnar noticed it too and let out a booming laugh. 'He had a way with the ladies my brother,' he grinned.

'Do you know where to find this Jonis?' Hild asked Eldrid, ignoring the Dane.

'I have heard several slavers mention his name,' she recalled, 'I think I might have an idea where he could be hiding.' And without waiting for an answer she urged her horse to get moving again. They followed her as she drove through the hills and over the fields, towards the coast. Most slavers had a post near the sea, easy for trade and easy for an escape route. There was a part of the coast of Northumbria she had not yet searched and so that was where they were heading first.

They galloped through the hills and rode on for most of the day. It was late in the afternoon when she could spot a small campement between the trees ahead of them. They made their way inside with her and Ragnar in the lead and with Hild, Bjorn and Steapa right behind.

A man in a blue tunic came walking up to them, his suspicious eyes narrowed at them and, subconsciously or not, his hand went to the hilt of his sword.

'We would appreciate some water, for ourselves and the horses,' Ragnar told the man.

'It's yours,' the man spoke with a heavy accent, as he gestured for some of his men to go get some water.

They dismounted and she handed the reins to one of the men. He took her horse away to a few barrels in the corner of the camp. Then they walked closer to the man in the blue tunic.

'You are Jonis?' Ragnar questioned.

The man nodded. 'I am.'

'I've been told you took a man, a warrior, from Guthred of Eoferwic. You sold him as a slave.'

The man shrugged. 'I see the faces of so many creatures.'

Eldrid took a deep breath to contain herself at hearing his words, her hand going for her sword and every bone in her body screamed for her to take her sword and run it through this man. He didn't even have the heart to call his slaves men and shrugged their life away. He didn't deserve to keep breathing a moment longer.

Her disgust must have been clearly visible on her face because Jonis took a small step backwards. Ragnar put his hand on her arm and she released the hilt of her sword. 'We're not here to open your belly, Jonis,' Ragnar promised.

'Not yet,' Steapa said, making her smile.

'I'll pay you,' Ragnar said, ignoring the scared look that had appeared in the man's eyes.

Jonis, however, was distracted by something happening behind them. 'You will not feed the slaves!' He suddenly shouted, pointing at someone.

Eldrid turned around and saw Hild had been handing out food to the chained up men and women. Her face was as hard as stone when she shouted in return: 'And you will not bark like a great fat hound!'

Surprise flashed through her as she watched the nun drop the last of the food to the ground and then walked towards them. This woman had more fire in her than any other nun or priest Eldrid had come across and she hated to admit that she loved her spirit.

'You said you would pay?' Jonis asked.

'Yes I did,' Ragnar confirmed. He took a piece of silver out of his pouch and tossed it to the boy standing beside Jonis.

'A warrior slave,' Jonis finally spoke, 'called himself Osbert.'

The name was unfamiliar to Eldrid but it clearly meant something to Ragnar because he took out another piece of silver and tossed it to the boy once again.

'There was another man, smaller, Saxon,' Jonis went on. 'A sea trader named Sverri took them both.'

'Sverri?' Eldrid said, her voice sharp and her heart pounding.

'You know him?' Ragnar questioned.

She clenched her jaw. 'We've been trying to catch him for years but he keeps on slipping through our fingers.' She turned her eyes to Jonis. 'Where is he now?'

'Wherever the sea and the promise of silver takes him,' Jonis answered. 'Life at the oar is hard and short. Sverri will return, I'm sure. Refresh his crew.'

'When?' Ragnar asked.

'Autumn and winter will pass, but, come spring, the first full moon after Sigr Blot, we will gather for business at the beach. Sverri will be there, I swear.'

'And between that time he sails where?'

'His ships plough the roughest sea, he could be any place.'

'You tell us nothing,' Hild said in frustration.

'I tell you what I know to be true,' the man snapped at her. 'All you can do is watch the beaches and wait.'

'Thank you,' Eldrid said, then in a quick movement took her sword out of her sheat and pushed it through the man's belly. She ignored the gasps of shock from the people around her and watched with a small smile as Jonis collapsed on the ground, dead. She pulled her sword free and cleaned the blood with his tunic, the blue slowly becoming stained with red. Then she stood back up and gestured for her men to start freeing the slaves. Her eyes turned to Ragnar, who was watching her with a small frown.

'It was you who promised to spare his life, not me,' she said. Then she turned on her heels and headed for her horse.

#the last kingdom #tlk #finan #finan x oc #finan fanfiction #finan fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #nellysofstormandsiege #nelly unlocks her mind

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Eldrid: Text Posts

#The one with Finan and Eldrid has gotta be my fave #tlk #the last kingdom #finan x oc #finan #original character #text posts #nellysofstormandsiege