#thegn

[centuriespast]

KISS, Bálint Portrait of a Thegn 1842 Oil on canvas, 94 x 72 cm Déri Museum, Debrecen

#you sexy thegn

[expeditionviking]

Asleifr after the Duell

#asleifr grimvardarson #expedition viking #thegn of skjern #logic artists #expeditions: viking

[teecupangel]

After Mirage I went straight to Valhalla for the first time cause I love Basim. I just got to the Oxenfordscire arc to when you free the thegns. And right now Im following Siguard and Basim walk halfway across the map becuase their horses are constantly running into them and this is harlarious.

Then I imagined it as another Desmond being reborn and him doing that to Siguard was too funny.

I’m going to assume this is another case of Desmond becoming a horse AU and roll with it XD

.

Eivor has no idea what was happening.

Desmond was one of the best horses in Ravensthorpe.

Hytham had been the one to capture him near their settlement a few weeks after they had landed.

According to Hytham, Desmond had approached him a day after he taught Eivor how to do a leap of faith and he managed to ‘capture’ him.

When Hytham recounted the story to Eivor, Desmond had let out a huffing sound that made Hytham hush him, as if the two were keeping a secret.

If Eivor was to make a guess, she believes Hytham didn’t capture Desmond and more like bribed him or maybe even pleaded with him.

That’s what Eivor learned about Desmond.

He does not do well with being pulled or hit. He’d even kick and jump away.

But talking to him and asking him to run or to go left?

He’d do it if one was to ask nicely.

Or…

Eivor’s try and tested method, give Desmond berries.

They were meant to be Eivor’s emergency provisions but berries were plenty around these parts so she didn’t mind sharing them to Desmond for a much smoother ride.

That was why she had not been surprised that Hytham has asked Desmond to be Basim’s horse.

Basim had been amused with his acolyte talking to a horse like he could understand him but he humored Hytham and spoke to Desmond the same way.

Sigurd had been confused but paid it no heed.

And Eivor whispered to Desmond to behave.

And now…

Eivor has no way of explaining to the two men that the horses are running away from them because Desmond ordered Sigurd’s horse to follow him.

She had seen Desmond do it multiple times before.

She was already starting to believe Desmond is not just any ordinary horse… that he might even be a shapeshifter…

Might even be Loki in disguise.

She was sure Desmond is doing this not to tease them but because he had gotten fed up as well.

Or…

Maybe Eivor is just projecting her own feelings.

What she will say is that…

There really was no need to get even her horse to follow him, making them run towards them until they’re near and just running away.

Soon, Sigurd was going to snap and tell them to just find new horses.

And only then will Desmond and the horses return and let them ride them.

Eivor was sure of it.

#desmond is turned into an animal subgenre #desmond is turned into a creature subgenre #funny enough #while i was writing this #i wrote desmond was one of the most horses in valhalla #my brain simply went away for a moment #and it took me a second to be like #wait that doesn’t make sense #assassin's creed #desmond miles #basim ibn ishaq #sigurd styrbjornson #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

[synintheraven]

✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary: the crew goes raiding in an attempt to gain riches and reader keeps taunting Sihtric as he's still reluctant to her being there at all.

✵tw: mentions of blood/violence, violence, fire (as in provoked fire, burning stuff?)

✵word count: 1,5k (note: will try to keep chapters about this long so I can divide the story into many chapters hehe)

characters info | part one | part three

It was raining. The air smelt of wet grass and damp earth, filling my nostrils. Watching as water drenched the timber of the floor, or how drops fell from the thatched roof over our heads.

It was a cold, dark night and I missed the warmth offered by fire and a dry cloak over my shoulders. But everyone was sleeping and no one suspected a few wolves were quietly wandering among sheep.

We had managed to find a small village, still safe from the clutches of the Great Army’s Danes. It lay on the Black Bourn River, hidden behind willow trees and yellow reeds: looking like no more than an old ruin from afar, but with enough riches to fill our ship.

The place was scattered with small houses going inland, following the road through empty fields and skinny farm animals, stopping where a sad tree marked the entrance. There were no guards, no fighters; only a few old hounds and a single rusty bell to the far side of the village, near the deserted docks.

Yggr was standing by the entrance of the hut, peering outside as we waited behind him. The place smelt like animal dung and water was passing through the holes in the thatch. But we had swords in our hands and eyes sharp, ready to surprise sleeping Saxons.

—Sihtric, Y/N: you two, go. —He beckoned towards the thegn’s house, whose position was given away by the bigger size of its estate.

We went fast, but quietly. Keeping hold of our weapons and avoiding puddles, walking carefully through the bushes.

Sihtric went first, guiding me through the village as he avoided the light from torches and bonfires. Searching for a way into the hut, for doors creaked and we couldn’t risk getting caught, at least not until we had seized the thegn.

We had managed to find an uncovered window, revealing a small area with a table and leftovers from supper still scattered around. It was our way in, though we needed to remain unnoticed.

I jumped through, and scooted the room to ensure there was no one else around, looking for spying eyes before Sihtric came through. Yet the darkness of the room hid no one, not even when thunder brought some light through the wooden window.

The man we were searching for was resting only a few steps away from us, a poor straw wall being the only thing in between us and the four of them; two children, the man’s wife and our target. I moved slowly, approaching his wife and kids, while Sihtric stood behind the man.

He held his short sword to the man’s throat, awakening him with a soft blow on the chest before speaking. —Where’s the silver? —He said in English, but to me it sounded like he was making up words.

The Saxon’s answer was decisive, for it was up to him whatever we were to do next: he could either scream, therefore have Yggr burn everything and everyone to the ground, or he could stay calm and save everyone by giving us a simple answer. Yet by the Dane's reaction, I suspected his answer wasn’t the one we wanted.

—You lie! —He bellowed with a frown, awaking the man’s family. —Tell me where the silver is or she will kill them.

The man remained calm, despite the cold steel threatening the flesh from his neck. His wife, however, looked around with eyes wide open and sat on the furs determined to cry for help, though my sword pointing towards the kids made her reconsider.

—Burn in hell, heathen. —The thegn snarled back, spitting on Sihtric’s face while his kids and wife felt nothing but terror.

Whatever he had said set the Dane’s eyes ablaze and, all of a sudden, there was nothing but rage in his face. Stumbling on his own feet and with his eyes fixated on his poor wife’s worried expression, the man had his wrists tied together and was then forced out of the hut.

Rain drenched their clothes as they stood in the front yard, both facing the burning huts and Yggr’s warriors as they looted the place.

—You chose your pride over your people, now you’ll see them burn! —He spoke loudly, kicking the man’s legs and forcing him on his knees. Then, I suppose, proceeded to repeat what he had said in English, causing the man to twitch around and try to get rid of Sihtric's hold.

But there was no way back. Yggr and his men had heard us and set the thatched roofs ablaze.

It was quite a sight; fire burning bright in the dark night, as the storm and the villagers tried to stop it from spreading. Some men attempted to go after our crew and tried to use hooks, small axes or whatever they could find to defend their belongings, their land. And they died or got seriously injured, fighting with skilled warriors and not mere farmers like them.

Yggr was standing only a few steps from us, stopping his frenzy for a moment to look at the thegn. The light from the fire lit his blonde hair and the fresh blood running down his axe, which he pointed towards us.  —Is this what you want, Saxon? —He said with a deep voice, loud enough to be heard despite the heavy storm and screaming warriors around him. —Show me the silver and I’ll spare your life and those of your people.

Sihtric held the man’s head, forcing him to look at our Jarl. He must have been trying to seem strong and unbreakable, looking somewhere into the sky while murmuring unknown words; but a man’s pride has limits, and we had pushed his too far.

—Enough! —He pointed with his head, sighing as my Dane companion forced him to stand once again. —It’s inside the well, there!

The formidable Norse swung his axe around, allowing the water rain to wash the blood from the steel as he moved it towards the startled Saxon. The man was brought closer to the well, which was covered in mush, grass and a few rocks, a subtle cover for the hoard hidden inside.

But as the men searched for treasure, I remained next to the house; still pointing my sword at one of the kid’s throats, his sobbing mother watching as her husband surrendered what little wealth they had to us.

One full bucket of trinkets and the few horses we managed to steal, that was all. Merely enough to buy dirty furs or grain, far from Yggr’s dream to become a proper lord on his first week raiding East Anglia.

The Ragnarsson’s Army had scourged Britain and rid it of the bigger, wealthier riches, and there was nothing we could do about it. We had too little a number to fight them, let alone to try and invade the only territory that remained Saxon and clean of Danes: Wessex.

That was the country’s jewel, the only one that couldn’t be taken. A kingdom that promised the dreamiest treasures and plenty of big, fertile lands for each and every warrior following the brothers.

There was word that King Alfred’s kingdom was stronger since the King’s brother passed, but we Danes and Norse thought the bastard was only lucky; for there were more ships navigating the rivers each day, all of them coming from their homes in the North.

I was sitting next to Sihtric, silently watching the dancing flames in front of us as he sharpened his sword. While Yggr sat near the crumbling wall on the far side of the camp, staring somewhere into the foggy land around us.

It was a dark cold night, without a single star in the sky. The thick fog covering the land around us and the heavy rain falling on the river, deafening every other sound.

Our hiding place now had a timber wood floor and a poorly built thatched roof, along with a small bonfire to warm us. Though we still had no walls, the tall pillars built by giants being the only kind of cover against wandering strangers and the autumnal weather.

—Those tall buildings with old men in dirty robes. That’s where the good stuff is at. —Said a man sitting behind us, loud enough to be heard despite the storm. —We won’t survive long here, trapped in these muddy ruins like a hare surrounded by wolves.

—Soon, hare, you’ll become the wolf. —Sihtric paused, his eyes fixed on a deep nick over the sword’s blade. —But there’s nothing left for us in those places, or here in East Anglia.

—Where are we going, then? —I interrupted, taking the weapon from his grip. —To put this big boy knife of yours to good use, I hope.

Sihtric barely showed a smirk, but I could tell he wasn’t happy sharing his belongings with me, nor with my teasing jokes. —Until the scouts come back, nowhere. —He slowly took his sword back then cleared his throat awkwardly, but kept his bold, mismatched look on me.

—You’re going spying. —Said Yggr, joining us to stand beside the fire, his hands hovering over the warmth. —I can’t sit and wait for them to return, so you’ll join Ivar Ragnarsson in Mercia. Just the two of you.

#sihtric x reader #sihtricxreader #sihtric x you #tlk fanfiction #tlk fanfic #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric kjartansson x reader #my writing #rtv #road to valhalla

[gilgalahad]

Karl Fitzgerald - Saxon Thegn

#fighting man #karl fitzgerald #saxons

[burningknucklecraftworks]

Finished product first, held by my wonderful spouse. Northshield is a kingdom big on the power of light. Our motto includes illumination as a virtue. We have a star named Griffin's Light. On top of the society A&S badge being a candle, our A&S awards are the Black Flame and Brigit's Flame. Since about year two of my tenure in the SCA I've dreamed of making a lantern scroll to honor that aspect and now I've done two. I'm so grateful to be surrounded by people who inspire me to push my boundaries and make cool art.

As such, these are lantern scrolls for Brigit's Flame awards, the GOA level Northshield arts and science award. One is for my wonderful friend Thegn Samson Muskovich (aka Samii), who does so much for the arts and sciences of the SCA. From metalworking with bronze and silver, to leatherwork and armoring, to teaching about existing as a trans person in the SCA and deep diving into the experience of the Gullah Geechee and making sure we know that the experience of Africans trafficked to America is as period as their resilience and resistance. I'm so proud that he's my cousin in the Choctaw tribe. The second is for the magnificent Dame Katerinka Lvovicha (aka Kat), who received her Brigit's Flame in 2015 but never got the scroll for it. She also does so much for Northshield, especially in the realms of heraldry and scribal arts, and she blasts a path for all Northshielders to feel safe by being extremely proactive about pronouns, cultural touchstones, and literally offering housing and travel assistance to people.

The inspirations for the project include these four lanterns and Morgan Donner's lantern build video. In the top row are two illustrations from period showing lanterns. The red lantern is from Book of Hours, MS M.972 fol. 1r, and has a bit of a splayed shape with a wider base and a turned dome at the top. It also has horn panels that aren't quite perfect fits for each side panel, as evidenced by the uneven horizontal lines. The second lantern, held by a crotchety dragonesque beast, is from Breviary, MS M. 8 fol. 158r and has a flat top with straight sides.

The second row shows two lantern awards made by other SCAdians. The first was made by Brig Ingen Erennaigh for a baronial service award called the Coill's Beacon, and the second is an Award of Arms by Northshield's own Tatiana Melville.

My original plan was actually to make a couple of so-called Viking lanterns like the kind you see all over Etsy. These usually consist of a top and bottom disc of wood, with dowels in between, and parchment or rawhide wrapped around the exterior. Extremely simple, and the parchment provides the perfect scroll text surface, but thanks to Morgan Donner's video, I now know those are dated to the 1800s. The idea of illuminated parchment stuck with me though and I decided to make a lantern more along the lines of the Breviary lantern but with simulated parchment in place of horn panes. I felt this was a good compromise between my original plan and a documentably period shape.

I didn't leave myself enough time to make this scroll, between the shield I made for Crown Tournament and Halloween festivities. Thinking fast, I ran out to my local hardware store for some precut 6 inch rounds. The ones I got have an ahistoric Roman ogee routed into the edge, but they'll add some nice visual detail to the scrolls.

Splitting my poplar side beams to width was vaguely harrowing on my radial arm saw. It would've been better to use my bandsaw but it's really not set up for use yet, so I made a janky jig and stood off to the side.

I was successful, and began the annoying process of carving 24 dowel tips.

Tools of the trade, and five doweled supports installed in the first base.

The coping saw did a great job of parting off each dowel end.

Dog bless the Shinso rasp. This thing makes my woodworking experience so much easier.

I got one set done and checked my progress. This looks really, really good so far.

I then grabbed some copper and went to town making the candle holders. I wanted these to have some give for different diameters of candles, including electric candles. These were made entirely off of Morgan Donner's video and aren't based on anything I personally researched, so I can't say anything to their historocity beyond knowing that sheet copper definitely wasn't the material of choice back then. I used a spare fat poplar dowel to form both holders.

I then used sidecutters to make the flanges, and bent them out flat. I used some brass brads to nail the holders to the bases, and pressed them through with my drill press just as I did with the tacks to the targe I made last month.

At this stage I needed to do a test fit, and boy was I happy with the way it looked so far. Now, I must say that this is not enough spacing between the candle and the lantern roof. It'll probably be alright, but it could also get pretty dang hot and risk a fire in there. A shorter candle would be better, but I have a hundred of these beeswax candles so I'm gonna give them away as gifts whenever I can.

Since the Book of Hours lantern is red and Samii's livery colors are red and gold, I painted his lantern red. I used a few different paints mixed together to achieve this shade, and then I sprayed the whole thing with matte polyurethane sealant.

I decided to make Kat's a nice golden oak color in contrast to the red lantern, based on so many being light colored in the various illustrations and illuminations I saw. It was down between this and painting it blue to match her arms, but I think I'm glad I did two very different finishes. The poplar is so green that the oak stain couldn't really compensate, but it's not bad. This lantern was sealed with finishing wax.

At this point Kim stepped in to get the scrolls done. This is Pergamenata, a perennial favorite of SCA scribes for having a similar surface feel and translucency to animal parchment. Usually I do illumination and word smithing while they just do the hand writing, but this time they took on all three of those tasks, much to my joy.

Here's Kat's scroll panes before color. You can see Kim used a template made off my test fit of the lantern to get the spacing correct. They used Speedball india ink and matched the hand to the calligraphy in CNM XXIII.C.124 Velislavova Bible, which they also took the design of the torch from.

Both scroll panes inked, painted and drying. We chose these scrolls to try tempera paint for the first time and the translucency of the tempera on the translucency of the perg is just so good.

Here's Kat's scroll panels with the oak-stained side supports.

Here's Samii's scroll panels with the red side supports.

The final assembly process. I had to cut the scroll panels into individual panes, because the spacing wasn't perfect. I used wood glue to affix the perg panes to the backside of each support, holding or clamping alternately to keep everything in place as the glue-wet perg curled away from the supports and then uncurled as the adhesive cured. It was a pain in the ass but it worked out. I then had to form two bronze rings for the tops of each lantern, and install hooks and loops to close the back pane, which has one end loose and wrapped around a thin piece of basswood.

Here is the final assembly completed, showing the door hooks made of bronze and the eyelet screws made of brass. This is not a very historic door shape, but it's what Morgan Donner hacked together for her lanterns and if it worked for her it'll work for me.

Kat's scroll completed as well, and here's the only view I have of the top suspension ring.

And of course it's not a lantern if you don't see it illuminated. I gave both recipients a beeswax candle and an electric candle, and this photo was taken with the electric candle in place. I had to wrap gaffer tape around the base to make it fit. The electric candle is actually pretty bright! Look at that pretty red paint, and not the fact that the support is slightly angled.

#sca #society of creative anachronism #my crafts #reenactment #lantern #medieval #scribal #scrolls

[illtakeyoutowonderland]

The One (Part 12)

The one with the speech

Sihtric x Reader

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

"I'm noticing this village is different to others we've passed" Finan pointed out as they approach to a small village in Crugland

"It prospers" Osferth also pointed out

"In the heart of Danelaw, it prospers" He retorted and Uhtred chuckled 

"I have thirst, my friends"

Once inside the village they left the horses and made their way throught the streets "Everyone here is as fat as a buttered bishop"

"A buttered bishop?" Osferth asked Finan

"A buttered bishop" Finan stated and Y/N laughed at them "Do you have a problem with that?" He said as he got distracted by some woman 

"It not polite to stare" Y/N said as he pushed him a little to follow Uhtred

"You are no fun, Lady" He told her as he made a face to Osferth who only rolled his eyes

They made their way to an ale house when a short man stopped them "You!" He called Uhtred "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Uhtred retorted, arrongance dripping from him

"I am Guthlac, thegn of this place" The man said with enough confidence

"What's a theng?" Y/N whispered to Finan 

"Like an earlman but not quite" He vagely explained

"Wow, thank you for explaining it so clearly" She said to him and he gave her a look she ignored

"I am Uhtred of Bebbanburg" He introduce himself to the man 

"Never heard of it" The man said and all Y/N could think of was really? There were like 5 people in this century

"We serve the Lady Aethelflaed. And thus, Mercia" Uhtred explained "As do you, no doubt"

"We are Mercians, yes"

"Fat Mercians" Finan whispered and Osferth rolled his eyes but Y/N chuckled 

"What do you want?"

"Food and ale. A place to sleep, rest a while" Uhtred said "And I'd hope that our beds will be warmer than your welcome"

"No swords" Guthlac said, clearly uncomfortable with the new visitors "Leave your weapons with your horses. My doors will be open to you"

"I will not give you my sword, but you have my word" Uhtred replied "We're here for food, ale and rest, nothing else" 

"Very well" Guthrac was very easy to convince "But be warned, we don't take kindly to..."

"Strangers with swords?" Osferth asked mocking innocence

"Yes, that" Guthlac pointed out and then left

"And now he will send a messenger to the Danes, which oculd be to our advantage" Uhtred explained to his friends before entering the ale house

Another uneventfully day passed as they sat all day at the ale house. Y/N was long bored and considering sleeping on that same table when Finan spoke "I had more fun at the burying of my father" 

"You knew your father?" Uhtred asked him and Y/N realized how little she knew of this men's past 

"I knew his fist" Finan replied and Y/N's heart sunk a little. She rubbed his arm in a comforting way and he patted her hand before he drank the last of the ale on his cup. No words were needed between them. Nor was the place Y/N thought

"They are here, Lord" Osferth announced as he looked outside from one of the small windows

"I see you watching" Everyone heard Guhlac's voice from outside "Tell our visitor, Uhtred, he is surrounded" 

"We all heard it, dude" Y/N said rubbing her temples, tireness and annoyance filling her mind and Finan chuckled at her

"What's a dude?" He asked her

"Like a man but not quite" She replied mocking his previous response and he gave her an annoyed look

"Men with weapons, Lord" Osferth came closer to the table to inform "Some with bows"

"He has sent his messenger" Uhtred explained "Now he plans to keep us here"

"Inside an alehouse? I can think of worse places" Finan said and they both laughed

"How about a room with like 30 drunk men?" Y/N said to no one in particular, she was clearly in a bad mood

"We would never hurt you, Lady" One of the men from another table said to her and the rest nodded. She looked at them and offered them a smile

"I am more worried about you all hurting yourselfs" She joked and they laughed. She couldn't consider them friends per se, but they had welcomed her in a very warm way. It was like travelling with 30 big brothers who were constantly protecting her and making her laugh. She couldn't complain.

"Guthlac belongs to the Danes. They will hear we're trapped and will ride to kill us all" Uhtred explained to their men "Which is good. There will be less men at their camp. We are a distraction"

"And we are surrounded" Y/N said as Finan agreed. Uhtred sent men to watch the doors

"Uhtred, I wish only to talk" Guthlac said from outside again

"I didn't know weapons could talk" Y/N said mocking him from being armed 

"Lesson number one on weapons..." Finan said as he chuckled and they both laughed

"Then talk"  Uhtred said sternly 

"I do not wish to fight"

"That is a shame. Nothing finishes and evening in an alehouse so well as a fight"

"Uh, maybe a woman?" Finan said making everyone laugh

"Can't argue with that, my friend" Y/N said as she drank more ale and they all gave her a questioning look to which she only winked at Finan and shrugged

"You are outnumbered. There is no way out, and we have bows" Guthlac exasperatedly said "You should yield. Yield and our men will live. They only want Uhtred"

"You are a traitor, Guthlac"

"You cannot escape!" Guthlac was losing his tiny patience "I say it agan, we only want Uhtred"

"You are all free men, free to chose" Uhtred said to his men who told him they were not going anywhere and Y/N fake coughed "And free woman" Uhtred said to her giving her an annoyed look

"Yeah, I don't know" She jokingly said as she played with her cup "I think I should sleep on it..." Finan put a hand on her mouth to shush her as Uhtred started giving orders. She pushed him away "So much for a free woman" But Finan only laughed while she rolled her eyes

They barred the doors and put out their swords. Sihtric's knife on Y/N's hand and she really wished she didn't have to use it this time, as Uhtred went upstairs

"We cannot climb out, Lord" Osferth said to him "The bowmen will have us" and then threw him an axe Uhtred asked for

"What now, Lord?" Finan asked him so they could also know the plan

"Bring me fire!"

"He just loves burnig things" Finan sighed

"He'd love hell" Osferth added making Y/N chuckle as Finan made his way upstairs with the requested fire

"Fire!" She heard Guthlac scream and the rest of the men started shouting indistinctly trying to put down the fires Uhtred had created "Stand with me!" Guthlac said but no one listened. The shouting continued for a few minutes and they left the ale house once they were sure the men had left Guthlac alone "Spare me, Lord" He begged "The Danes made me comply. I had no choice" But Uhtred didn't listen

"Never forget!" He said as he stabbed the man "You serve the Lady of Mercia. First and last" and with that they were all back to the horses and on the rode again

The next day they were in the forest once again watching over some camp "Once night falls, even the king of shadow walkers would find no place here" Osferth said

"Someone's coming" Finan whispered as he pushed Y/N behind him and they hide even more. They waited for a minute or two before Osferth recognize the man

"It is Sihric" They all stiffened and Y/N got suddenly very nervous she was glad she could hide behind Finan

Uhtred stepped outside the bushes and both men faced each other "You have something to say to me, boy?"

"I do" Sihtric said as he drew out his sword and pointed at Uhtred "Yield to me" Uhtred raised his hand and dropped his sword in defeat and Y/N understood nothing, until Sihtric's sword also fell and both men laughed as they hugged each other

"You were playing us" Osferth said in surprise "My godness, they were playing us, Finan! Why?"

"If you had not believed it, nor would others" Uhtred explained

"I fooled you" Sihtric said to Finan as they greeted each

"No, I knew" Finan said, clearly not knowing

"No, you did not" Sihtric replied "Was I good?"

"A little" Osferth said and Uhtred made a not convincing face 

"I'm telling you, I knew" Finan said as he hugged him and they all laughed. Osferth run to hug him as well and Y/N's heart warmed as she saw his friends so happy to have him back "I hope it was all worth it"

"I hope so, too" Sihtric said "Y/N" He said her name breaking her out of her trance 

"Aethelflaed suggested I should slap you on the face if I ever saw you again" 

Sihtric was taken aback by her words. He didn't really know what to expect when he saw her again, he wished for a warmer greeting like his friends had done, but he understood "And what are your thoughts?" He asked carefully

"I suggested I should stab you with your own knife" Sihtric's eyes widened as Finan and Osferth chuckled and Uhtred looked between them with a knowing smile 

"You kept it" There was hope in his voice

"Of course I kept it" She said rolling her eyes "They wouldn't let me near any other weapon"

"You are a hazard near any other weapon" Finan said to her

"Because you won't teach me" She retorted with an actitude and Sihtric smiled at her

"What do you know?" Uhtred asked him, bringing back the importan subject to the conversation "We saw Cnut on the road"

"Only Haesten is at the camp" Sihtric explained

"What of Bloodhair?"

"Dead" Sihtric replaid "He fought with Haesten and was killed by Skade"

"Of course she did" Y/N said not surprised at all

"She's a witch like no other"

"That's what she wants you to think" Y/N said and they looked at her but she didn't have the energy to explain to men of the 9th century how her mind worked so she said no more

"She knows I'm near?" 

"Yes. And she knows of your promise to shadow-walk, but there are too many guards" He explained "She is allowed to collect grass and herbs by a tree for her spells" Uhtred gave him a confused look "It is a single tree on the other side of the camp. You cannot miss it"

"Tell her I'm here and take her there tonight" Uhtred ordered "You have never failed me Sihtric. I will see you at the tree" He dismissed him as they laugh and Sihtric gave Y/N a last look before he was gone. Her heart raced a little and she felt blush covering her cheeks

She watched him walk all the way back to the camp until she could no longer see him by the amount of bushes. She cursed him for making her feel that way, she was supposed to be angry at him, she did not understand. Finan patted her shoulder making her look at him "What?" She said to defensive and he gave him a cheeky grin before Uhtred called the both of them to hurry up.

The night had fallen and it was too quite. Y/N had stayed behind with the rest of the men, Uhtred not wanting to risk her safety and she didn't complain this time. She was talking to one of the man called Roger, one who she had shared many conversations lately, when she heard the voices

"Uhtred is here!" She recognized Dagfinn's voice and then the conmotion started

Uhtred and the rest run towards their hiding place and they joined them on the run, Sihtric on the lead. They stopped on a corner, hiding from other soldiers when Sihtric spoke to Haesten's men "We are under attack! Haesten says to ready the ships!" Y/N's heart was fast on her chest "Untie them now!" 

Uhtred drew out his sword and everyone advanced. Him, Finan and Osferth with a few other men made it to Haesten's men and Y/N decided not to look as they fought them. They all made it to one of the boats and some of the men positioned themselved on the rows

"Make sure it doesn't list, lads!" Finan screamed "Ready the oars!"

"And pull!" Uhtred ordered and they were moving

"Pull!" Finan encouraged them "Pull like a darn slave!" And Y/N remembered the stories, how he and Uhtred had been slaves, how they had met and survived

"Lady!" Roger pushed her away from the borders when the arrows started to flew. He covered her with his own body, something that didn't go unnoticed by Sihtric

She saw Haesten getting to the port, but he was too late. And angry. She swore she could see smoke coming out of his ears and his face was an angry red. She didn't feel sorry for the man. She felt a pair of eyes on her and found Skade staring at her with hatred in the night and for once, she wished she was the only woman between these men again.

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

@secretdreamlandmentality

@superawesomegeek

If you wanna be tag, let me know! 💜

#the last kingdom #finan #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fic #sihtric x reader #sihtric the last kingdom #uhtred #uhtred of bebbanburg

[leofrith]

[fic] honor bound

fandom: assassin’s creed: valhalla

characters: eivor/leofrith, ceolbert, sigurd, ivarr, ubba, dag, ceolwulf, more to be added

rating: mature

warnings: canon-typical violence, others listed by chapter

In the absence of her jarl, Eivor finds herself tasked with the care and keeping of her entire clan, the young heir to the Mercian throne, and a former thegn who appears to be more ghost than man. Betrayed by his king and left for dead, Leofrith is set adrift without a purpose and living among those he once called enemies. But as they both set out to right past wrongs, they find that the line dividing friend from foe is thinner than it seems, and that purpose—and companionship—can be found in unexpected places. OR Leofrith has a crisis of faith, joins the Hidden Ones, and falls in love. Not necessarily in that order.

read here: chapter i

#assassin's creed #ac valhalla #eivor varinsdottir #leofrith #leovor #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #i didn't actually mean to hit post on that draft just now i was only tinkering with it for the millionth time #but FUCK IT WE BALL #this one goes out to all the leofrith girlies. all five of us. 🥴 #this fic has been rotting my brain since november and shows no signs of abating any time soon #i've never done a masterpost for a longfic before so this is gonna be a process of trial and error #and now i will log off or else i'll keep editing this thing forever and ever #honor bound #this is a writing tag #my fic

[idkyetxoxo]

Seven | Allure | The Last Kingdom

"He just loves burning things," 

"He would love hell." 

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

Standing beside Finan and a now recovered Osferth, we awaited Uhtred's arrival. "Sihtric has left with the prisoners," Finan revealed once again, and Uhtred nodded in acknowledgement. I couldn't shake the feeling that this for some reason didn't surprise him, he accepted it too easily.

His gaze flickered to me. "I am sorry, I know how you felt about Dagfinn," Uhtred offered, his voice tinged with remorse. I simply shrugged, masking the turmoil churning within.

Internally, I felt a profound sense of betrayal. Sihtric had once been among those who defended me from Dagfinn, yet now, his decision to join their side felt like a knife to the chest.

"I know how to break the curse, but reaching Skade is a near-impossible task," Uhtred continued, his words laden with the weight of uncertainty. I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Sihtric's departure has unsettled the men, they blame you," Finan disclosed, his expression grave as his voice quieted towards the end of his statement. "Some may not want to go looking for her again, rightfully so," I said, acknowledging the legitimacy of their concerns.

"What about Ragnar?" I asked quietly, pulling Uhtred aside as the others granted us a moment of privacy. His gaze met mine, a solemn understanding passing between us as we delved into the depths of our shared sorrow.

"A blade must be wet with Ragnar's blood, and with that blade, the man who killed him must be killed," he revealed, his voice tinged with a somber resolve. A flicker of relief washed over me, knowing that Ragnar's restless spirit would find solace in the halls of Valhalla.

"That way Ragnar will be free to enter Valhalla," Uhtred continued, his words carrying the weight of our collective grief. "We will use my blood," I offered, determination coursing through my veins. Yet, his suggestion caught me off guard.

"Yours or Thyra's," he proposed. "I will do it. It's the least I can do after the pain I caused him," I demanded, my voice heavy with regret and longing.

Uhtred's hand found the back of my neck, drawing me close until our foreheads touched. "We will do it together, the man who took Ragnar from us will pay," he vowed, his words a solemn pledge of justice and retribution.

As Uhtred departed to confer with Aethelflaed, a sense of purpose enveloped him, his resolve unwavering in the face of adversity. With a speech prepared, he rallied his men, his words resonating with the clarity of purpose and determination. In that moment, the fractured bonds of loyalty were restored, united in their pursuit of vengeance and redemption.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

Uhtred, Finan, Osferth, and I rode into a village nestled deep within Daneland's heart. Approached by Guthlac, the thegn of the village, we requested nothing more than food, shelter, and a tankard of ale. His reluctance to host us was evident, especially when he insisted we surrender our weapons with our horses, an offer we vehemently refused.

Our tenure in the alehouse proved short-lived. I reclined, kicking my feet up on the table and tilting my head back as Uhtred delineated our predicament. Guthlac's allegiance to the Danes meant imminent danger. He warned of impending attacks and offered an ultimatum, yield, and our men would be spared. I couldn't help but emit a dry laugh at the sheer audacity of Guthlac's proposal.

As Uhtred ascended the stairs, crashing through the roof, he commanded Osferth to pass him the torches. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Finan remarked, "He just loves burning things," while Osferth quipped, "He would love hell" as they set about obeying his demands. 

The conversation caught me off guard, and I sputtered on my ale, laughter erupting from within as I struggled to regain my composure.

Amidst the distraction outside, we slipped away. Guthlac's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as Uhtred shook his head. 

"Allow me the honor," I offered, a sardonic smile curling my lips. Stepping forward, I deftly spun my dagger in the air before plunging it into Guthlac's chest, a sense of satisfaction flooding through me. With a reminder to the villagers of their allegiance to the Lady of Mercia, we departed, leaving behind a village changed by our visit.

The four of us concealed ourselves in the nearby woods as the Danes descended upon the village. 

"Sihtric," Osferth spoke up, his voice tinged with uncertainty and I turned around only to face him, his expression betraying a weighty revelation. "You have something to say to me, boy?" Uhtred's tone was solemn, his gaze piercing through the shadows.

"I do," Sihtric declared, drawing his sword and pointing it towards Uhtred. "Yield to me," he commanded, his words hanging heavy in the air. I scoffed, instinctively reaching for my dagger in response.

Uhtred raised his hands, dropping his weapon to the ground. My brow furrowed in confusion as Sihtric smirked, lowering his sword before enveloping Uhtred in a hearty embrace. Laughter echoed through the woods, mingling with the tension that lingered among us.

"You were playing us. My goodness, they were playing us. Why?" Osferth's voice quivered with disbelief, his confusion mirroring my own. I shook my head in disbelief, returning my dagger to its sheath.

Uhtred's laughter broke through the tension. "If you had not believed it, Osferth, neither would others," he explained, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I fooled you," Sihtric chimed in, a jubilant grin lighting up his features.

"No, I knew," Finan interjected, his resolve unwavering. "No, you did not. Was I good?" Sihtric teased, prompting laughter.

"I'm telling you, I knew" Finan persisted. Sihtric's gaze met mine, his expression shifting. I met his gaze briefly before turning away, retracing my steps towards the others. 

Despite the ruse, his words had struck a chord of truth. A reminder of his ill intended feelings towards me. The release of Dagfinn remained a reality, its repercussions lingering, collateral or not the damage was done.

The echo of his footsteps trailing behind me was impossible to ignore. Seated beneath the sheltering canopy of a tree, I griped my blood-stained dagger tightly, my knuckles turning white with the force of my anger, I refused to meet his gaze as his figure loomed over me.

"I just..." he started, his voice faltering before he let the words die on his lips.

"It's all right," I interjected, my tone devoid of emotion. "You managed to fool us, well done." The words tasted bitter on my tongue, a sharp acknowledgment of his deceit.

I watched as he sighed, a heavy weight of resignation settling over him. I could sense his guilt and remorse. However, the damage had been done. With a flick of my wrist, I cleaned my dagger on the grass, the rhythmic motion a contrast to the chaos raging within my soul.

"Don't worry," I added, my tone clipped, yet resolute, "I still meant what I said. You're still the real problem to me, at least." I held his gaze.

Looking back up at him, I didn't miss the subtle shift in his expression. His face contorted momentarily, betraying a mix of emotions, from remorse to stoicism. His hand wandered to his jaw, a nervous habit that spoke volumes.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he turned away and returned to the group.

Sihtric conveyed the news that Bloodhair had met his death, leaving only Haesten at the camp's helm. Skade, the bearer of Bloodhair's fate, knew of Uhtred's promise to shadow walk, yet the camp bristled with guards, rendering the task perilous. 

However, a sliver of opportunity emerged. Skade was granted the liberty to gather grass and herbs near a solitary tree on the far side of the camp.

Uhtred, seizing the moment, instructed Sihtric to convey his proximity to Skade and to bring her by the designated tree.

Guided by Sihtric, Skade joined us beneath the sheltering boughs of the tree, and the six of us stealthily retreated as Haestan's forces stirred in response to our presence. Sihtric deftly led us to the dock, where we launched a calculated assault on the guards.

In the heat of the skirmish, one of the guards lunged for Skade. Despite harboring a fervent desire for her demise, I knew Uhtred would not sanction such an act. In that crucial moment, my instincts kicked in, propelling me into action to shield her from harm's way.

The clash of metal rang out as the Dane's attention swiftly shifted towards me, his axe whistling through the air with deadly precision. Reacting with lightning reflexes, I countered the impending strike, the steel of my dagger finding its mark in his leg. But victory came at a cost, his blade grazed my ribs, tearing through fabric and flesh alike, a searing pain erupting through my body like wildfire. 

Blood blossomed across my garments, staining them crimson but I pressed on, unleashing a forceful kick that sent the Dane hurtling into the murky waters below, a splash marking his descent into defeat.

With resolve, I set foot upon the ship, the wooden deck beneath my feet a sanctuary. As the sails unfurled, carrying us away from the scene of conflict, I cast a defiant gaze towards Haestan, his frustration etched upon his face like ancient runes. 

With a smirk, I couldn't resist the urge to mock him, punctuating with a kiss blown in his direction and a small wave.

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

love a bit of miscommunication x

#aethelfaled #alfredthegreat #danes #enemiestolovers #finantheagile #historicalfiction #love #osferth #ragnar #saxons #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtrickjartansson x reader #sihtric x reader #slowburn #thelastkingdom #thelastkingdomxreader #thyra #tlk #tlkxreader #uhtred #uhtredofbebbanburg #uhtredragnarsson #vikings #xreader #the last kingdom x reader #tlk fanfic

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Viking Cassian au 👀👀👀

Hehehe I'm so glad Viking!Cassian is getting all the love. He deserves it. I already answered this one here but here's a little bit more detail 👀

So. It's the late ninth century in England, and Nesta is a Saxon woman married to Tomas, the king's cousin, who is a landless thegn (a nobleman who basically lives with the king's court). Cassian is a viking who came over from the north to settle, and they meet when the king of Wessex signs a treaty with the leader of the raiding vikings (should this be Rhys? I feel like it should be Rhys). An affair ensues. Viking!Cassian is incredibly hot and also kinda violent. Wears lots of leather but also takes care of himself because historically, vikings took hygiene and haircare seriously. Is he going to teach Nesta how to braid her hair Danish style? Yes. Yes he is. Probably going to go something like this:

Cassian looked at her and his face softened. Sitting up, the sheets pooling around his waist and exposing the tracery of scars across his chest, he held out his hand. "Come here," he said gently. Nesta straightened, tilted her head. "If I get back into that bed with you, we'll never leave it." He smirked. "True. But I’m not asking you to get back into bed with me.” He patted the space at the edge of the mattress before reaching over to the small table by the bed and picking up his comb. "Sit."

#ask game

[expeditionviking]

I have been dreaming of this moment: when I can finally create them in 3d. For years. And finally the time has come! Oh man someone has to write me a fanfic…. I still love them. (my render... i had the "the washing took longer... moment in mind)

#asleifr x female thegn #expedition viking asleifr romance #expedition viking asleifr #asleifr grimvardarson #asleifr #expedition viking #daz 3d studio #daz3d #daz3dart #render #photoart

[bantarleton]

Today in 878, the Battle of Edington: Alfred the Great and his West Saxon army defeat Viking army of Guthrum the Old.

This scene represents an attempt to instil weapon skills in a group of the Wessex fyrd during the reign of Alfred the Great. The seated monarch views the efforts of two warriors hurling javelins. The warriors are all men of the same hundred (an administrative sub-division of a shire), and will march together on campaign, and in battle will serve in the unit commanded by their shire- reeve who stands at the left hand of the king. Tents provided shelter for Anglo-Saxon warriors during musters and when on campaign. The basic structure of an Anglo-Saxon tent seems to have been similar to that of a modern ridge tent. The warriors are not fully equipped for battle but rather are dressed in long-sleeved Anglo-Saxon tunics, and tight leggings which are probably similar to the hose of the later medieval period.

Artwork by Gerry Embleton from the book 'Anglo-Saxon Thegn AD 449–1066.'

#Saxon #Saxons #Anglo-saxons #history #Alfred the great #military history

[synintheraven]

✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary: Sihtric and reader continue their journey to Tamworth and find some trouble along the road as they start to trust each other.

✵tw: mentions of violence, fluff bits hehe

✵word count: 1,1k

characters info | part three

The fire before us was slowly dying and the cold wind rustled through grass and leaves, the casting shadow from the nearby tower growing smaller by the minute.

We had crossed into Grantebridgescire’s territory and found refuge between crumbling walls and thick bushes. The high land allowing us to see what lay inside the main city walls: poor houses scattered all around and surrounded by farm fields and trees, with a Dane-style longhouse emerging from the small huts. To the other side of the palisade, Danish ships were being repaired and soldiers dressed in armour watched over the land, looking for any remaining Saxons wishing to retake their city.

But, with the sun above us, it was time to continue our journey.

I felt the refreshing air blowing on my face, staring at Sihtric’s broad shoulders as he rode before me and the flickering reflection from the silver pieces decorating his hair. Recalling the night before; when he laid down over the yellowing grass, facing me with tired eyes as the flames from the fire danced in his gaze. And I remember thinking he looked warm.

He reminded me of my father’s feasts inside Stavanger’s main hall: the smoke filling the room, the flickering fire, the smell of mead and ale. It brought to my mind Sigurd’s welcoming smile, the stench of ale coming from his dirty, salty beard as he embraced me in a long hug after spending weeks at sea.

Yet I fell asleep and woke up in Britain’s green hills, ready to get on the horse and ride through quiet forests, sunny farms and mysterious ruins with a Dane.

He was still a rather quiet man, Sihtric: ever serious, almost afraid to show a smile and always staring at me as if I was to thrust my sword onto his back at any given moment. But, my childish jokes and constant teasing were slowly revealing the real man, hidden behind that leather armour and dark fur cloak.

We were in silence, nearing the river that would allow us to cross into Oxenefordscire; hearing the chirping birds, the autumnal breeze brushing over the trees and the streaming flow of water.

Behind us, the green lush hills and Saxon villages grew smaller, almost merging with the distant marshes of East Anglia as a land of patched grass, farms and thatched roofs promised a peaceful journey ahead.

Though as we crossed the river to reach the stone road, I saw Sihtric awkwardly adjust himself on the saddle, letting out a sigh before turning to me. —Their King sold himself to the Danes, but many here trust Alfred to come rescue them from the wolves. —He explained then tossed the hood of the cloak over his head. —Should any Saxon get in our way, we are to be two wandering strangers, nothing more.

I sensed the tone in his voice, a reminder that we looked like most Danes; the thick furs, the braids, the silver pieces on our hands and arms. So I covered my head, copying him as we remained close, cautiously following the road deeper into Oxenefordscire.

There were eyes on us. My heart was racing and my hands kept shaking uncontrollably, his touch only made it worse. I reached the knife hanging on my right, scanning the small town in hopes to find a distraction to get out of there.

Studying the small huts circling the big hall, the thatched roofs needing no more than a spark to set ablaze and the church’s wooden cross no more than a blow away from falling; noting the coloured windows on their God’s house and the bonfires near the alehouse, but we were helpless.

Buckingham was hardly a village on the river side, surrounded by trees and bushes that offered some sort of cover against Danish warriors; yet that didn’t stop them from taking the city nor from killing its former thegn, leaving the villagers unprotected. At least, until the Heathen Army left for Tamworth, turning a small group of warriors into easy prey for angry farmers.

And now they stood around us with wary looks and hooks on their hands, ready to attack.

—Do not lie; you two are too well armed to be Saxons. —He paused, though only Sihtric understood the words coming from the man’s mouth —Who sent you?

—We’re not with the Danes. They’re looking for war, but we want peace. —Sihtric explained in their language, his hand holding tight to my wrist.

Yet as the man moved his hand slowly towards the short sword hanging about his waist, the Dane snatched the axe he kept hidden under his cloak; watching as every man and woman stared with wide eyes, only waiting for their leader’s order to attack.

We couldn’t fight, and I was certainly not willing to perish in a stupid fight among farmers and a Dane, at least not until I’ve had my revenge.

I breathed out, trying to convince myself there was a way out of there; that we would find a gap, hurt the right person or simply have Thor help us, bring a sudden flash of lightning to keep these folk away. But the sky was clear, gaps between buildings were defended by armed men and the right person could be anyone.

—We don’t want a fight, we’ll grab the horses and be on our way. You’ll never hear from us again. —He tightened his grip, this time pulling me closer towards him and forcing me to stand by his side.

Wondering if he had a plan that was yet to share with me, or if he was simply about to offer me as a peace cow and finally rid himself of my company.

—Kill the bastards! —The man bellowed, his people repeating the words and turning them into their war cry as they grabbed whatever weapon-like object they could reach.

So we ran.

He was still holding my arm, clumsily guiding my way through angry farmers and their hooks, spears and bread knives. Only thinking about how we were to reach the stables, while screaming men threw their weapons and angry women chased after us, mere seconds away from our feet.

I could hear my feet thumping on the ground, the clinging of my own weapons on the scabbards as I ran after the Dane; still holding to the mail on his bracers, surprising myself with my willingness to follow him, blindly.

Until he climbed on his horse’s saddle and the screaming farmers caused mine to escape my reach, while the remaining beast breathed heavily, squealing as its eyes searched for a way out. But Sihtric held the reins tight, once more offering me his hand and pulling me closer, positioning me right behind him before the horse could hurry out of that damned town.

And so we rode, far from the Saxons in Buckingham and straight into Dane-ruled Ledecestrescire.

#sihtric x you #sihtric x reader #sihtric fic #sihtric fanfic #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric kjartansson fic #sihtric kjartansson fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fic #my writing #road to valhalla #rtv

[rrover]

all art is about makign you go "yippy FUcking doodle!" and if it's not about making you go "yippy FUckinh doodle!" thegn its about the absence of Maakinh you go say Yippy Fucking Doodle hope this helps 😁🌼🧚🍄🐌✨

#scampers #aromantic #re: ''all art is about love or absence of love''

[goodqueenaly]

Bonus House Words Wednesdays: House Elesham of the Paps

I don’t do House Words Wednesdays as a regular thing anymore, but if I get a request to come up with words for a House and I feel like I have enough to say then I’ll come back to it from time to time. @ravensinthedaylight requested words for House Elesham, so fuck it, here we go. (The list of Houses I’ve done, as always, can be found here.)

House Elesham of the Paps is a noble House from the Vale, though very little is known about its past (or present, for that matter). We don’t have a solid idea of when the Eleshams settled on their island, or from whence they came - whether they were, say, early-arriving Andals, drawn by the supposed divine promise to Hugor of “great kingdoms in a foreign land” but planting their flag even before they arrived to continental Westeros, or a First Men dynasty which, as the Upcliffs of Witch Isle appear to have done following the death of King Robar II Royce, held out as independent insular magnates until being conquered (that their name seems drawn from a variant on the English town of Aylsham - itself derived from “Aegel's Ham”, denoting the settlement of an Anglo-Saxon thegn - hardly provides more clarity). Frustratingly, the Elesham sigil is only described as “a black star between an inverted stone-colored double-pile, on a pink field”, without noting whether or not the star is seven-pointed (as with, say, the Sunglasses and Tarbecks) and thus more obviously Andal in origin. About the only conclusion the Elesham sigil can provide (as confirmed in the WOIAF app) is the presence on the island of its namesake hills (which, if the Eleshams were Andals, might have been seen by the family as the fulfillment of the Faith’s prophesied “golden land amidst towering mountains” reserved for the Andal people).

Nevertheless, the Eleshams do not seem to be too socio-politically lowly, at least as far as Westerosi aristocrats go. King Hugo “the Hopeful” Arryn was said to have taken the Paps only after a “long” struggle, which may suggest that the Eleshams and/or the Paps had considerable resources or defenses to resist royal conquest by the Arryns. Henrietta Woodhull, last of the prospective brides presented to the young King Aegon III, was said to have been the daughter of a landed knight from the Paps, so clearly the family has (or had, at the time of Aegon II’s reign) its own knightly bannermen, and thus some level of feudal standing. The Lord of the Paps was evidently considered aristocratic enough to marry one of the (unnamed!) daughters of Elys Waynwood and Alys Arryn - a meaningful dynastic match when Lord Jon Arryn had no surviving child before the birth of young Robert and none of the other Waynwood-Arryn children had surviving legitimate children of their own (save the (unnamed!) mother of Harry Hardyng), (No Eleshams have yet appeared in the main novels, though I would give a gold star if GRRM had as one of the guests at the Tourney of the Winged Knights Harry’s maternal aunt and/or her lord husband.)

So I made the Elesham words Fertile and Free. Whether or not the Paps as an island is a bountiful one is unclear, though the presence of multiple noble families (and the suggestion from Yandel that the Paps is one of those “quite large and oft inhabited” islands off the coast of the Vale) may indicate as much; in any event. the hills which give the island its name certainly evoke a sense of maternal fertility. (Too, if the Eleshams were Andals, such an emphasis on fertility might recall the land spiritually envisioned by Hugor of the Hill, full of the Seven’s gilded bounty.) Likewise, the “freedom” of these words works whether the Eleshams were First Men or Andals: either the Eleshams would boast of their independence from any of the native kings of the continental Vale (the foundation of that same disunity which Robar II tried vainly to correct), or the Eleshams would praise the freedom from Valyrian enslavement which their immigration to Westeros provided. Yet these words would be ironic in both senses: the Eleshams would have to bend the knee to the Arryn kings after their struggle, while the Waynwood-born Lady Elesham would “prove barren”, denied the potential of continuing the Arryn line through her children. 

(Also don’t @ me if this sounds similar to the Tallhart “Proud and Free” because I’m not GRRM who made three separate mottoes “None So Wise”, “None So Fierce”, and “None So Dutiful” and two other ones “We Light the Way” and “We Guard the Way”.)

#asoiaf meta #house words #house words wednesdays #house elesham

[stranger-rants]

Half inspired by my AC Valhalla playthrough / Half inspired by @robthegoodfellow 's Svensk Billy headcanon!

Viking Billy / Anglo Saxon Steve AU

Billy sails to England with his clan to join a nordic settlement. Seeking to strengthen an alliance with an Anglo Saxon thegn, the jarl of his clan asks Billy to train the thegn's son Steven for battle so that he will be strong enough to take over when he dies.

It's a tough job considering young Steven has lived a relatively privileged life, but he shows promise. He is eager to learn and good with an axe. Billy is wild and fearless when it comes to battle. A perfect choice to whip any whelp into shape and the jarl's favorite.

Their first day together, Billy easily tosses him into the mud and tells Steven they wont stop until he can knock Billy down. Steven's not used to getting dirty, and he hates it. He lunges at Billy, but Billy dodges each time.

When Steve is full of anger, frustration, and bloodlust, he's finally able to trip Billy. Steve falls on top of him and they stare at each other. Their mouths are open and panting. Then Billy grins at him. Pushes him off.

They bathe under a waterfall together. It's freezing cold, so they warm up by a fire soon after. Naked, save for some furs. They talk endlessly. Sleep under the stars. Steve becomes infatuated with Billy. His beautiful blond locks and masculine form.

After weeks of training, Steve kisses Billy under a tree. Billy has been with men and women before. He leans into it. Cups Steve's face. Deepens the kiss. It sends Steve into a panic. He's never felt this way before about a man, but he can't stop himself.

They spend many nights together. Exploring each other in many ways. Steve counts and traces Billy's scars. They cover Billy's chest and abdomen. He asks about the battles Billy won to acquire them. Billy says he survived a wolf attack as a child.

Steve's father is pleased with Billy's work. He says his son is like a new person. Soon they will head into battle to defend their lands from a rival thegn. Steve is expected to fight. Billy has never feared his lovers running into battle before... until now.

Steve holds his own, but takes an arrow to the shoulder. Billy goes berserk, lopping off heads and limbs as soon as he sees Steve fall from his horse. They win. Billy carries Steve off the battlefield. Watches day and night over him as he heals.

Billy tells him tales about his gods. About how courageous warriors will be welcomed into Valhalla when they die. That's why he doesn't fear death. He never has, but no one quite prepared him for this. No one has been this important to him...

Steve recovers - his scars a badge of honor. They fall deeper in love. They ride out on their horses to the tree where they first kissed. Billy knows one day Steve will take over for his father, perhaps marry a nice woman who will give him sons.

Imagine Billy's surprise when Steve practically proposes to him. When spring comes, the tree is in bloom. They join hands under the tree and they're tied in a symbolic handfasting ceremony. Steve never takes a wife, but raises many orphans.

Steve and Billy live and breathe side by side until they die from old age.

💜

I don't know. That's all I got.

#viking au #i guess ??? #harringrove #text post