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Chapter Text

You had been travelling with Uhtred and his men for around a year now. You felt they were more of a family than simply a ragtag band of warriors or even friends, and were positive they all felt the same. Until the addition of yourself, Osferth had been the youngest of the group. Because you were closest in age, you felt closest to him, though the other two men, Finan and Sihtric, were like older brothers to you. You could not have found a happier place to be anywhere else.

Now that Uhtred was reunited with his two children, Young Uhtred and Stiorra, they accompanied the group, along with a young woman named Eadith who you suspected Finan was developing feelings for. Aelfwynn, the daughter of Lady Aethelflaed, and Aethelstan, the bastard son of King Edward, also joined them. As such, you all felt a responsibility to care for the two, neither of whom were over the age of ten. You knew that both Aelfwynn and Aethelstan were niece and nephew to Osferth, which perhaps explained his care of them being slightly more than just an obligation.

You had been travelling for a few days now, and it had been Osferth’s suggestion to stop and rest for a while, as the children were growing exhausted. Aelfwynn in particular had weakened, and it was clear that she would only get worse if they didn’t stop. So you did, and Osferth quickly took over Aelfwynn’s care.

You were sitting next to Finan, who was playing games with Aethelstan on the bank of a stream, when your gaze drifted across and opposite the water. You watched Osferth sit down next to Aelfwynn and pass her his water skin, the fond smile on his face bringing one to your own face too.

“If you need anything, just tell me, alright?” you heard him tell his niece gently.

“Thank you, Osferth,” Aelfwynn smiled, handing the water back and promptly preoccupying herself with the stones around her.

You decided you would join them and stood up, ruffling Aethelstan’s hair as you did so. Neither he nor Finan really noticed, now engrossed in blowing a little boat fashioned from leaves and twigs down the stream. You carefully made your way down and around to the other side, before sitting down next to Osferth. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” you said.

Osferth smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s nice, having children around. I never knew Finan could be so gentle.”

You laughed. “I think that was a surprise for all of us,” you said, “although I figured you would be a natural with them. I always forget you’re their uncle.”

“Well, it’s nice to finally be able to care for them,” he smiled rather wistfully. “It makes me think what it would be like to have children of my own some day.” As he said it, he looked across at you without meaning to, and blushed.

“I think about that too, sometimes,” you admitted, watching the tiny waves of the stream wash over each other. You were unaware of Osferth’s eyes on you, though you had him in mind as you spoke. “I wouldn’t mind a son or a daughter of my own, to be honest. Or both, if I was lucky.” You smiled a little at the idea of it.

“Me neither,” said Osferth, and you finally turned to look at him. Your eyes met for only a moment or two before you both looked away, your cheeks burning. “Although I don’t really know when-”

At that point, he was interrupted by Aelfwynn tugging on his sleeve. “I’m tired,” she told him, and she certainly looked like it. Osferth scooped his little niece up into his arms, and she rested her head on his chest; within minutes she was fast asleep, and the sight warmed your heart.

“She’s snoring again,” Osferth smiled, “but she never believes me when I tell her that she does. She tells me I’m making it all up every time.”

You laughed. “Well, she’s defending her honour, isn’t she?” you joked, and he chuckled. “She’ll be as great a lady as her mother one day, I know it.”

“And I hope I’ll be there to see it,” Osferth said, “maybe with some children of my own.” He looked down at the little girl in his arms as he spoke. It was clear he cared deeply for Aelfwynn, especially to yourself as you watched him hold her gently. You had known you’d liked him for a while now, but seeing him caring for Aelfwynn like she was his own was incredibly sweet, and you smiled as you thought about what it would be like when he did have his own children.

“You will be, I’m sure,” you said, and he met your gaze with a smile, the same smile you had grown to love.

“What about you?” he asked softly, and you blushed.

“I’d love to,” you answered quietly.

Chapter Text

Maeve's mother often told her that she was lucky to be friends with the young princes of the kingdom of Ulaid, and that she should never forget that. She was taught never to push her luck, and to restrain herself at all times. These lessons were royally influenced. Her mother worked as a maid to the queen, and her father was a warrior in the king's army. But Maeve was a girl of seventeen at the time, and she often disregarded these lessons. Her friendship with Ulaid's princes remained a strong one, though it had come about in a rather unique way. 

Three years before, Maeve had been out buying food for their supper when a boy came hurtling into her out of nowhere, spilling all the things she had bought on to the ground. She was already irritated after having to bargain with one of the sellers over the ridiculous price of some carrots, so this tipped her over the edge.

"Would you watch where you're bloody going?" Maeve snapped at the boy, who already looked apologetic and was bending down to help her pick them up. 

"Sorry, Lady," he said, "my brother and I were just messing around. I didn't mean to knock your things over." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he said so, lifting his cloak a little to reveal clothes finer than she had ever seen before. Clothes befitting the nobility, in fact. 

"Lady," she muttered, shaking her head. "I'm no lady, I'm hardly a woman! But you must be some ealdorman's son, so no wonder you're the way you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the boy asked, now standing up and slightly affronted. Maeve stood up immediately to face him.

"Needn't you worry, your Lordship," she said, and there was no mistaking the mocking tone in her voice. "I'll be on my way, then, if you don't mind." She made to walk away, but what the boy said next made her stop in her tracks.

"I'm no ealdorman's son," he told her, and this time there was a grin on his face. "If you must know, my name's Finan." 

"As in… the king's oldest son?" Maeve said, completely caught off-guard. "The prince, Finan?" She was incredibly embarrassed at the thought of it, but more so at what her mother would say if she knew her daughter had snapped at the prince and made fun of him. 

"The very same," Finan said, and the smug tone of his voice only served to infuriate Maeve even more. "My brother's over there, Conall he's called. If you've heard of him." This was a jab at Maeve - of course she had heard of the pair of them - one was the heir to the throne of Ulaid, for goodness' sake! Her face was burning at this point, and it was painfully obvious too - her cheeks had reddened and she could no longer meet his eye.

"Well, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," she muttered. "Lord," she added as an afterthought. 

"Don't worry about it," Finan shrugged. "Would you like to join us for a short while? My brother gets on my nerves sometimes and I could do with some company." Maeve laughed a little as his brother called out in protest, and decided to do as she was asked. He was the prince, after all, and he seemed nice enough. She kept this last thought to herself, however, not wanting to boost his ego further.

Maeve came to discover that both Finan and Conall were very good company, and they soon became friends. By the time she was seventeen, they were thick as thieves and often got into a lot of mischief, most of which Maeve would have been punished far more harshly for had she not had the protection of royalty. She would not trade their friendship for anything, but there was only one thing that constantly bothered her about it. The brothers would argue frequently, and often refused to speak to each other for days on end. It was usually up to Maeve to talk things out between them and get the boys to reconcile, and it was no easy feat.

However, the days that they seemed to like each other were just as frequent and these were the days that Maeve loved most, though she had to admit she preferred spending more time with Finan rather than Conall. At first she chalked it up to their ages being more similar, but soon she had to come to terms with the real reason why. 

It hadn't escaped Maeve's notice that Finan was growing into a fine young man, but it was more than that. He was incredibly handsome, and was becoming the talk of the young ladies of the town. When she realised how that annoyed her, she began to understand why. Maeve had feelings for the crown prince, and as that realisation was made, those feelings grew intensely. What was there not to like? He was funny, very funny, and a bit of a charmer too, when he wanted to be. When he smiled, it reached his deep brown eyes, the kindest she had ever known, and his hair was always ruffled, no matter how hard the queen tried to flatten it each morning. 

All of this scared Maeve more than anything. Her other friends would tell her this was simply an infatuation, something that was a part of growing up, and she would soon grow out of it. It wasn't as though she was the only one, either; most of the girls her age couldn't take their eyes away from him whenever he passed by. But what if this wasn't an infatuation? What if she truly had feelings for him, and not just the hormonal kind? The king would never allow his heir to marry a commoner with no connections or alliances to her name. More importantly, she highly doubted Finan himself thought of her as anything more than a good friend, and these two thoughts caused her to force her feelings down and ignore them.

What she could not know was that Finan was also beginning to see her as more than that. In his eyes, she was the prettiest girl in town, as well as the wittiest and the smartest. He found it difficult to take his eyes away from her at any given moment, and only looked away when she turned to look at him. Even then, he would often meet her gaze and hold it for as long as he would dare. Those few seconds were perhaps the most content he had ever felt. Her eyes were as green as the emeralds that rested in the crown that one day would become his, and he regarded her just as priceless. He couldn't begin to count the freckles that dotted her face, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

After another one of the brothers' arguments, Maeve sat with Finan on the edge of a cliff, both of them swinging their legs. It was unbelievably dangerous, but they loved the thrill of it. This was where they would go after another row, to cheer each other up, before she would leave to speak to young Conall. Finan decided to poke some fun at Maeve.

"Wonder how long it'd take if I connected all those dots on your face with ink," he said, poking her cheek. Maeve slapped his hand off.

"As if I'd let you anywhere near it," she said, rolling her eyes, though her stomach was doing backflips. "And they're called freckles, you brainless toad." Insulting him was one of her favourite pastimes, even if she didn't really believe any of her words held any meaning. He never took them seriously anyways.

"I knew that," he smiled, his gaze lingering on her face as she turned away to watch the waves crash onto the shore down below. The wind blew her hair into his face several times, but he did nothing to move it. Maeve had lovely hair, he thought, it was long and curly, almost black, he reckoned, and he longed to run his fingers through it sometime, braid it even. He thought of Maeve teaching him how to braid hair the year before after he had asked her to, and smiled at the memory. 

One morning, Maeve set out as usual to meet the two princes at the barn near her home. When she got there it was empty, but she rolled her eyes and figured they would probably be a little late. That was usually the case. She waited an hour, and then two, before she decided to head down to the palace to see where they were. Either Finan or Conall would have told her if they were not going to be there that morning because they had royal matters that needed attending, so this unexplained disappearance was unnatural. 

When Maeve arrived at the palace courtyard, she found that a big crowd was gathering. Near the front of it was her mother, so she pushed through to stand beside her. Her mother hushed her as they watched the scene unfolding in front of them. 

"You will not repent for the things you have done?" the king asked in a dangerous voice. Maeve's eyes travelled to see who he was addressing, and her heart dropped when she saw that it was Finan. He was stood facing the king, breathing heavily with anger.

"Never, Lord King," he said quietly. "I stand by what I did."

An uncomfortable silence engulfed the courtyard, before the king finally looked up again. "Get out," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. There was no response from Finan. "I said get out!" he roared, making Maeve and the rest of the townspeople visibly jump. Finan did not move a muscle, however. "You are no longer welcome in this kingdom. I hereby exile you, Finan of Ulaid, and you are never to return in my lifetime on pain of death. Do you understand?" 

Maeve watched in horror as Finan nodded. "Yes," he said in a steely voice. His omitting of the word Lord was noticed by everyone, including his father, who was incensed. 

"And anyone who wishes to join this man in leaving Ulaid is forbidden from returning on these same conditions!" the king shouted. "I shall say no more on the matter." As he turned around to leave, the crowd began to disperse, talking amongst themselves. They seemed to know why Finan was being exiled, though a heartbroken Maeve did not. Finally, it was just the two of them in the courtyard, after her mother whispered that she would be waiting at home for her.

"What happened, Finan?" she asked, her voice cracking. "What did you do that… that angered them so much?" She took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry.

"I had an argument with Conall," he sighed, "and he… he hit a new low. That bastard insulted my mother. She was queen before she died and my father remarried, and had Conall. She was and always will be a queen in my eyes, so for him to say what he said…" At this point he was seething with anger. "I punched him. I punched the bleeding, living daylights out of him and I swear to God I would do it again."

"How is he?" Maeve whispered, terrified to hear what he said.

"He fell unconscious," Finan spat, "as quickly as  possible. The little bastard runt. I kept hitting him until they pulled me away. God knows if he's dead or not. If he is, I couldn't care less."

"Don't say that," Maeve pleaded. "Please don't say that. He's your brother, Finan. Remember? Remember all the good times the three of us had together, all the mischief we'd get up to and the jokes we'd play on people? And he can't be dead, I know it. The king would have outright accused you of murder if he was dead, and he hasn't said anything about it."

"It doesn't matter," Finan said bitterly. "I can't come back. It's all over, Maeve. It won't be the same anymore and we both know it. You've got two choices. You can stay here with Conall or you can come with me. We can leave together, start all over again… or you can tend to my dear brother's wounds at home."

Despite her sorrow, Maeve was furious. "That's not fair, Finan! You can't do this to me, you know I care for you both the same! I have had to sort out every single row the pair of you have had for three years now, and I did it without a complaint because I care for you two idiots! This isn't something I can help you with, this is too big for me and I hate it so much. You think I want to see you go? I don't, I want you to stay but I know you can't. And I can't leave with you, Finan. If I go, there's no return. It's more than Conall. I have a family here, a life here. Ulaid is my home, I can't leave when everything I've ever known is here! Please, don't do this to me, Finan, please . It's not fair."

Finan sighed. "I'm sorry, Maeve," he said after a moment. "I didn't think about it, I… I don't know. It's just that I don't know how I'm going to do this alone, without you by my side as the greatest friend any ex-prince could ask for." 

Maeve laughed a little, though her vision was blurred by tears. "You were everything I could ask for in a friend," she told him, swallowing the painful lump in her throat. "I'm going to miss you so much, you reckless bastard." She hugged him tightly, and he held on just as tight, neither of them ever wanting to let go. She only stood back as they saw a guard leading the horse that would take Finan away from Ulaid and out of her life forever. 

"Goodbye, Maeve," Finan said, roughly wiping away his own tears. "I swear I'll never forget you and everything you've done for me." He mounted his horse, and with one final, lingering look at her, he turned and rode out of the gates. It was the last Maeve would ever see of him for a long time, and she fell to the ground and sobbed. She wished she had told him how she truly felt, how his face was sometimes the only thing that could get her through a particularly tough day, but it had all been snatched away from her. Finan was gone, never to return home again.

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

Several years had passed since Finan's exile, and Maeve had had no word of his whereabouts since the day he left. Though her heart had grown heavier with each day that passed, she learned to live without him. That didn't take away any of the pain she felt; the first few weeks after his exile were some of the worst Maeve had ever suffered in her lifetime. Without the support of her family, she knew she would have collapsed completely, but with it she slowly returned to her former self, even if it took a long time. 

Maeve was now a young woman, but her taste for adventure and mischief never left her, though she learned to control it a little better. Her mother had  told her of some cousins that had moved to Winchester some years ago, when Maeve was a small child, and Maeve had immediately begged to visit them. Winchester was very far away, yes, but it would be the most exciting adventure yet. She had never before left Ulaid, and it would be a chance for her to see what else was out there in the world. After a lot of pleading, Maeve's mother reluctantly allowed her to go. Their goodbye was tearful, and it would be months before they would see each other again, but it would all be worth it.

The journey was difficult and fraught with danger - there were many instances where Maeve's life was threatened both directly and indirectly, but she finally managed to make it safely to Winchester after a long period of travel. It had exhausted Maeve, so she headed to the nearest tavern with the money she had left and asked for a room to spend the night and a drink, resolving to track down her cousins the next day. As she sat at the closest empty table, she lowered her hood, shook out her hair and waited for her drink.

Finan had come a long way since his days as an exiled prince. He had had a lifetime of experiences in the years since he had left Ulaid, first as a slave on a slave ship, where he had met Uhtred of Bebbanburg, and then became one of his most trusted warriors and friends upon being freed. Together with Sihtric and Osferth, they were a close-knit group of friends, more like a band of brothers. That day, he was sitting down, drinking ale with them and laughing at the stories from their first travels together when he noticed a familiar shock of dark hair from the table in front of him… except it couldn't be her, could it? How could it be? She had told him she could never leave Ulaid and her family, especially not when his father was still alive. But he was dead now, and Conall had reigned for years, so there was hope yet.

The only one to immediately notice his suddenly quiet demeanour was Osferth, who nudged him. "Finan, are you all right?" he asked, slightly concerned. Finan sighed.

"I'm gonna try something," he told Osferth, who remained confused. "Just - Maeve!" He didn't know where the courage to shout her name to a girl who was probably not even her in the first place had come from, but he was soon rewarded for it.

Maeve thought she heard a voice yelling her name from behind, but hesitated a little. It couldn't be him… could it? It was supposed to be impossible. How had she managed to find him so far away from home? Of course, it could just be wishful thinking, but that voice was so distinct it had to be real. Nobody else in this tavern could have the Irish brogue that Finan had. She turned around and her eyes widened.

"Finan?" 

Neither of them could believe their luck, each staring at the other in disbelief. Though both of them had certainly grown, it was unmistakable. While Finan remained glued to his seat in shock, Maeve stood up at once and walked over to meet him, her eyes welling up with tears in spite of her efforts not to cry. "You're all grown up," she said finally, and both of them laughed. He stood up and smiled, before they hugged each other tightly, making up for the years they had lost together.

"I never once forgot you," he promised her, his gaze never once leaving her face. "You were the greatest friend I could have ever asked for, and I wish I had told you just how much I bloody appreciated you being there for me and my idiot brother when we'd argue and get angry, and how you were the only one that could calm me down -" 

"Don't worry," Maeve smiled, squeezing his hand. "I know. I never forgot you either. Y'know, I appreciated you too, from the time you helped me pick all those stupid things up when you bumped into me the first time around, even if I thought you were an annoyingly smug bastard at first."

"Ah, that bit of him never changed, then," Sihtric quipped, eliciting a laugh from Maeve. Finan took the opportunity to introduce all of them to her. They all knew of Maeve and the story between them - it was something Finan spoke of many times, both on the slave ship with Uhtred and afterwards, but Maeve herself had a lot of catching up to do regarding Finan.

A few hours later, they were all slightly drunk and laughing together, and Maeve felt like she was at home with these men, who seemed to have accepted her as one of their own already. She found herself sneaking more and more glances at Finan as the afternoon progressed into the evening, only to find him looking back most of the time. She would immediately look away, her face burning, but nobody noticed - or so she thought.

Contrary to what the others believed, Osferth had not had as much to drink as perhaps Sihtric had, and quickly noticed the looks that Maeve and Finan shared over the table. A grin spread across his face as he quietly nudged Sihtric and whispered his suspicions in his ear. Unfortunately, Sihtric was too drunk to be tactful and started laughing. "Finan, is there anything you're hiding from us?" he said loudly, throwing an arm around his friend. "Your, uh, love for someone, perhaps?"

"You're drunk, you silly bastard," Finan laughed, although his eyes betrayed him. How had they been so quick to notice? Maeve was still as beautiful and funny and vivacious as she had been when they were seventeen, and he realised then that he was still in love with her, and had never stopped loving her the whole time. He had simply been distracted.

"What about you, Maeve?" Osferth said, causing her to blush somewhat.

"What about me?" she asked sharply, setting her ale down. She could hear Sihtric snickering faintly in the background and resisted the urge to lean over and smack his head with his mug of ale. 

Osferth shrugged. "I think you know," he said rather enigmatically, and took a sip of his drink, which did nothing to hide the smirk on his face. The whack on his head that followed came as a surprise to no one but him.

"I don't," she said, and took a sip of her ale, mimicking him. However, she did know exactly what he was talking about, and it mortified her to know that by now everybody could tell that she still had feelings for the Irishman. 

Osferth nudged Sihtric again, still ruefully rubbing his head, and motioned for them to leave for a little while. Sihtric surprisingly took the hint and stood up, downing the rest of his ale in one. "I'm going home," he announced, stumbling a little as Osferth steadied him. "I'll meet you two outside here tomorrow with the baby monk, alright?" He grinned at them both and left with Osferth, who was rolling his eyes to the heavens.

This left just Maeve and Finan at the table. 

"I might as well tell you the truth," Finan said after a long pause. Maeve looked at him curiously. "Look… I haven't stopped thinking about you once since I was exiled. I loved you in Ulaid and I love you now, Maeve, honest to God. You were the only woman I ever had any feelings for." He forced himself to meet her eyes, and felt a jolt in his stomach to see her looking right back at him with a smile he had missed seeing for so long.

"Really?" she asked, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. But the look in his eyes was so earnest he must be telling the truth; she had never known him for a liar. "Then I suppose it'd be the right time to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Maeve took a deep breath before she answered him. "That I love you too," she said softly, "that you were the first boy I'd ever held feelings for and that I never, never forgot about you once in all that time. And I didn't tell you because… because I thought it could never be, you being a prince and me being nothing but a village girl."

"You meant more to me than just a village girl," Finan told her, taking her hand. "You were there for me the way nobody else was, you knew all of my secrets and you kept them and you never once judged me. You helped me, Maeve. And now we can finally put our past behind us."

"I know," she said simply.  "And I'm glad for that."

When he kissed her, she felt as though she was finally complete.

Chapter Text

Every battle was different, Aella thought, until it was the same. Whether they won or lost, there would always be injured men she needed to attend to, and their pain was often difficult for her to handle. She was not always successful in healing them, and those times were the worst. All she could do at that point was try to ease their pain and comfort them in their final moments as they wept for their mothers and breathed their last, but the only thing that made it all even slightly bearable was that she did not know any of the men personally.

That was, of course, until Aella saw Sihtric being carried into a tent, seemingly unresponsive.

Her heart dropped at the same time the things in her hands did, and she rushed into the tent after him. To her relief, he was still awake, but his face was contorted in pain. She hurried to his side and removed his armour and tunic as fast as her trembling fingers would allow her to, revealing a deep gash in his side. There was blood everywhere. The sight frightened Aella for a moment, before she took a deep breath, allowing her healing instincts to override her fear, and she quickly reached for bandages, needles and thread, the lot.

“Will he be all right?” Osferth asked nervously. His face had gone pale, and Finan had an arm around him, both looking incredibly worried.

“Yes, I-I think he will be,” Aella said shakily, more to comfort herself as she worked. “Could you both leave us for a little? I’ll come and see you once I’m done-”

“‘Course,” said Finan immediately, and patted Osferth’s back. “Come on.” The pair of them left, though Aella hardly noticed, her attention now focused solely on Sihtric’s wound. She was finding it difficult to stem the bleeding, having to control her breathing at the same time as she tried not to let her fear hinder her actions. He’ll be fine, she repeated in her mind, he’ll recover.

“How bad is it?” Sihtric asked suddenly, causing Aella to flinch. Her heart was pounding in her chest once again, as it was prone to do whenever he spoke to her. He had lifted his head only for a second to speak, but it proved to be too much for him, for he immediately sank his head back down and let out a ragged breath.

“Not too bad,” Aella responded, training her eyes on his wound as she finally managed to stem the flow of blood, and smiled a little, before cleaning it. Next she threaded a needle. “You’ll be fine eventually, but it will ache for a while after I’ve stitched you up.”

“Well, I’ll take that over this any day,” Sihtric said, wincing as the needle pricked his skin. Aella chuckled. She admired how brave he was in the face of such pain, because that gash certainly was deep, and wondered how he was able to restrain himself from crying out or indeed from making any noise at all. If it had been her in Sihtric’s position, she knew she wouldn’t have lasted this long. As soon as she was convinced that he was not in any immediate danger from his wound, she allowed herself to relax a little as she continued stitching it up.

Sihtric’s pain seemed to have subsided a little, as his breathing steadied, and he became aware of Aella’s free hand resting on his chest, only moving very slightly every minute or so. The corners of his lips turned up as he watched her work. Her brow was furrowed in complete concentration and she hardly moved, apart from her skilled hands. A stray curl of hair fell into her eyes, and it amused him to see her irritatedly blow at it out of the corner of her mouth, only for it to fall back into her eyes. Almost without thinking, he lifted his hand and brushed it away from her face.

Aella felt her cheeks redden as she realised what Sihtric was doing, even more so when her gaze fell upon his face, his smile sending butterflies fluttering in her stomach. He was always capable of doing that to her, even now, as she tended to his injury. “Thank you,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. Her hands stilled for a moment when he met her eye, and her heart was thundering so loud she was half-worried he’d be able to hear it. The sensation she felt when she was around Sihtric was nothing new to her, but only more intense - she had never been alone with him for so long, let alone in such close proximity, and Aella cursed how hot her face was growing.

“It’s all right,” Sihtric said, lowering his hand as slowly as he dared. His fingers momentarily brushed Aella’s cheek - which was no accident - before they fell to rest at his uninjured side once more. He had felt just how warm her cheek was, and smirked slightly. It certainly was not that hot inside the tent, and they both knew it. Privately, he thought she was incredibly pretty when she was embarrassed - her cheeks had grown pink and she had a shy smile on her face, unable to keep looking into his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time, and her gaze had dropped back to his wound. “Are you almost finished?” he asked her as she tied off the stitch.

Aella wiped her forehead and let out a breath. “I only need to bandage you up and then you’re done,” she told him, feeling suddenly disappointed. Sihtric sighed a little, though his disappointment was not as clear. “Can you sit up for me?” Aella asked him. He was able to lift himself up about an inch before falling back down, grimacing. Immediately, she put an arm under his back and put his arm around her shoulder, lifting him up slowly, careful not to tear the stitches. Sihtric’s breathing quickened as he felt a shoot of pain in his side, and sighed with relief as soon as Aella steadied him.

With the roll tightly clasped in one hand, she began to bandage his abdomen. It took a long time for Aella to completely cover the wound, as large as it was, but she found it even harder to focus on the task at hand rather than his bare chest. He was certainly muscular, she had always assumed that, but without a shirt on, it was so much more obvious. That, coupled with the feeling of his breath on her neck as she worked, made it incredibly difficult to concentrate, and she fought to steady her own breathing at the same time. None of this went unnoticed by Sihtric, unbeknownst to Aella.

After a while, Aella finally straightened up, now done checking that the bandages were staying in place. When she met Sihtric’s eye again, the persistent smile on his face sent her stomach into backflips, and she didn’t hide the smile spreading across her own face. “You need to rest,” Aella told him quietly, and he allowed her to lower him down onto his back.

She got up, and he wondered for a moment if she was leaving him - he smiled broadly when she returned seconds later with a damp cloth and sat down, pushing his hair away from his forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed on his face. The sudden coolness was welcome to him, but more so was the warmth of Aella’s smile.

She reached across him to put the cloth down once she was finished. As she withdrew, Sihtric caught her hand, his own heart beating furiously. Aella paused what she was doing and met his eye, finding herself unable to look away. They gazed at each other for what felt like an eternity, before Sihtric’s free hand reached up to cup her face, as he drew her in and finally kissed her. The first kiss was short and sweet, and long overdue. Aella leaned down and kissed him again, the kiss growing more fiery and passionate. It was Sihtric who had to pull away first, his breathing shallow as his hand travelled down from her face to her neck-

“Aella, is he all ri- oh,” they heard Finan call from the tent’s entrance. The concern on his face was quickly replaced by a grin. “So he’s all right, then?”

That damned Irishman, Aella thought as she turned away in embarrassment. Sihtric rolled his eyes as Finan laughed and walked out, presumably to tell everyone and their mother what he had just seen.

“Well, if this is what it takes, maybe getting injured isn’t so bad,” Sihtric smiled. “Minus Finan’s little interruption, of course.” Aella pressed a kiss to his cheek and chuckled.

“Don’t you go thinking like that next time,” she warned him, “you might not be so lucky either way.” But when he pulled her down for another kiss, she didn’t object.

Chapter Text

At first, Nairna had expected to travel alongside these men for company and fight when she needed to, for a short while and then go her own way, as she was often accustomed to doing, but fate clearly had other plans. A month or two was all she had planned, but after a year, these men were far more than travel companions to her. 

They had taken her in as one of her own very quickly. She had sworn loyalty to their leader, the lord Uhtred, for whom she had a great deal of respect, and befriended the other three men soon afterwards.

Her and Finan had taken to each other almost immediately, Nairna being Scottish and him Irish. Neighbours had been what Finan had referred to the two of them as, though by now they may well have been siblings. They got along very well, making light-hearted digs at each other the way siblings would. She had a quick word for everything he said.

"You're just like him," Uhtred would say, a hint of a smile on his face, "except you're a woman."

"And prettier," she grinned, sticking her tongue out at Finan, who gave a mock-offended gasp.

"You wound me!"

Nairna had found Sihtric to be far more quiet and reserved than the rest, though he had accepted her almost immediately. He was one of the greatest friends she could have asked for, someone willing to sit down and talk whenever she needed to, or simply just to sit in silence with for a while. 

And then there was Osferth. 

She hadn't noticed him at first, his horse being behind the other three, but on that first journey he had sped up to meet her and introduce himself, catching her by surprise.

"Are you a monk?" she asked rather bluntly, taking in his haircut and the robes he was wearing. She frowned at the breastplate and chainmail on top, wondering what his story was. Whatever it was, she was interested.

"Yes, lady," he responded politely, only meeting her eye for a few moments before his gaze dropped to his hands again. "I was raised in a monastery most of my life but I wanted to be a warrior instead, like my uncle Leofric was, so I joined Lord Uhtred."

Nairna hummed. "So you're a warrior-monk instead, then," she amended, "right?"

"Of sorts, lady, yes," he smiled, and Nairna found herself smiling along with him. He was rather sweet, she thought, and she began to like him almost immediately. 

"You can just call me Nairna, y'know," she reminded him soon after. "I'm no lady."

"Alright, Nairna," he said rather tentatively, as though he was testing out the sound of her name, and smiled.

A year on, she was close with all of the men but especially him. She wasn't sure what it was exactly that made her seek out his company more often than the others. Perhaps it was the calm security she felt whenever she sat beside him and talked about anything at all, or maybe it was the genuine warmth of his smile that could always bring one to her own face.

Whatever it was, she liked being by his side, and while the other three had picked up on this, they decided not to say anything to either of them about what they thought of this. Not yet, anyway.

One particularly hot day, she was stretched out by the river bank while the other men took their horses to one side to drink. Osferth had offered to take Nairna's horse along with his, noticing how exhausted she looked, and rather gratefully she relented.

There was not even a breeze that day, and the hot sun was beating down on her until she huffed and stripped off her armour, leaving her in her linen undershirt and trousers. The water looked shallow, and she didn't mind getting her clothes wet too much, so she slipped into the water to wash.

Nairna shivered at the cold sensation of the water as it submerged her up to her waist, before she splashed some on to her arms and her face to get used to it. She was well aware that she couldn't swim, but the river was almost completely still, so she allowed herself to relax.

She hummed a tune as she washed her hair, the area quiet but for the sounds of leaves rustling and the men chatting in the distance.

Suddenly and without warning, the current rapidly began to quicken, causing Nairna to lose her footing. As it grew faster, she was mustering everything within her to try and remain above the water, but soon found herself weakening as the force of the current increased.

She started to panic, trying to reach the edge of the bank and grab on to it, but she was being swept too far to be able to reach.

"Help!" she gasped, fighting to keep her head above the water. "Someone, please!"

The effort soon became too much and Nairna was swept underwater, her outstretched hand breaking the water's surface as she desperately tried to signal for help. 

She was feeling more hopeless by the minute as her consciousness faded. Her hand slipped under the water, until miraculously another hand grabbed it and pulled her forward, and an arm hooked under her shoulder and managed to pull her above the surface. 

"Finan, Sihtric!" she dimly heard a voice yelling, before her world faded to black.

When Nairna finally came to, she found herself lying down, her head resting in Osferth's lap. She started coughing without meaning to, weakly sitting up and immediately being hit with a wave of nausea.

"You're awake!" he said, and patted Nairna's back while she coughed. "How are you feeling?" he asked once she was finished.

"Sick," she muttered, settling back with a sigh. She did look rather pale, and she realised then that she was shivering. Her clothes had started to dry in the sun, but despite the heat were still cold against her skin. "I was only going to bathe," Nairna added rather huffily, "the water didn't seem so deep. Then it decided to have a go at bloody drowning me!"

Osferth laughed and put his arm around her, drawing her close to him. "I'll warm you up," he told Nairna, rubbing her arm, and she gratefully settled her head on his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest. "Do you not know how to swim, then?"

"No," she sighed. "I never learned how to."

"Maybe one day I can teach you," he smiled, and she chuckled.

"That would be nice, I think," she said. "As long as you don't chuck me headfirst into the river and go 'swim.' "

"You'd kill me if I ever did that," he laughed. "I wouldn't do that, don't worry, Nairna."

She said nothing, but smiled at the way he said her name. She quite liked the sound of it.

At that moment, Finan came over, with Sihtric following close behind. "You alright there, Nairna?" he asked her. "We were seriously worried when we pulled you out the river."

"I'm alright," Nairna replied, turning her head to face him but other than that, hardly moving from the position she was in. From the grin spreading across Finan's face, she knew what he was thinking, but was too tired to dispel those thoughts. He wasn't completely mistaken, however. She had grown to like the man holding her... more than that even. She liked every aspect of him, from his gentle nature down to the kindness he always showed her, even on the days when she was being a little more difficult than usual.

"Good," was all Finan said in reply, snapping her out of her thoughts, but now, she saw, he was looking at Osferth.

"Shut up, Finan," he said, before Finan could even say anything.

"What?" Finan said defensively, putting his hands up. "I didn't say anything, baby monk."

"Well, it's obvious what you were thinking," Sihtric supplied, a small smirk emerging on his own face.

"And what was that, then?" Finan retorted, still unable to keep a straight face.

"That our baby monk fancies Nairna," Sihtric finished, leaning back against the tree with a smug look on his face. 

"Well? Is it true?" Finan asked, folding his arms.

Nairna's eyes widened at this. She had never thought even once that he had liked her as anything more than just a friend… though Finan and Sihtric may well have just been teasing. However, both of them were looking expectantly at Osferth, so she supposed she would find out either way.

"Look, she's only just woken up, can't we leave it for a bit?" he asked them, clearly growing uncomfortable under the weight of their stares.

"Of course we can," Sihtric said quickly, cutting over Finan. "Come on, let's find Lord Uhtred. He should be here soon."

"Fine," Finan said, sighing exaggeratedly as he got up. "Try not to jump in any more rivers while we're gone, eh?"

Naina grinned. "I'll try not to," she told him, lifting her hand as the pair of them left. She turned back to Osferth with a little smile. "I'm sure they're just teasing you," she said, stifling a yawn.

"That's the thing, Nairna," he said quietly. "They're not exactly… well, lying."

"What d'you mean?" Nairna asked, her heart beginning to pound in her chest as she sat up and looked at him.

"I really like you, Nairna," he began, his gaze fixed on his hands, which were fidgeting nervously in his lap. "Well, I-I've liked you since we first met, 'course I have, but I mean… you, y'know, you're funny and you're an amazing warrior, you've always been really lovely to me, and… you're really- really beautiful, too," he finished shyly.

Nairna was unable to say anything for a moment, simply staring at him in complete shock before she remembered to speak. "Really?" was all she managed. 

When he nodded, a smile began to blossom on Nairna's face, which caught him by surprise.

"Then, I like you too," she told him, leaning up to press a small kiss to his cheek. It was impossible to tell who was blushing more.

"You mean-?"

"Yeah," Nairna finished for him, laughing a little. "I do. I like you a lot, Osferth. Granted, at first I was a bit confused about you, but I've always thought you were the sweetest person I'd ever met.  Plus, I've- y'know, I've been able to watch you grow into a fighter and a man, too. I wouldn't trade this for anything, really."

"Then, can I kiss you, Nairna?" he asked softly, meeting her gaze with a smile.

"'Course you can."

He tilted her chin up and gently kissed her, and Nairna felt like everything had finally fallen into place, the part of her that she had never known was missing was there, finally there. He pulled away soon after, trying to see what her reaction would be, and was swiftly met by Nairna with a second, more passionate kiss, her hand resting on his cheek.

When they finally had to pull away for air, it was with uncontrollable smiles on their faces. Nairna had almost forgotten how damp her clothes and hair still were, and she laughed as she realised. "I must look terrible," she said, still a little breathless.

"No, you… you're an angel," Osferth said softly, still transfixed, and she blushed.

"Even when I've just been dunked in the river?"

"Even when you've just been dunked in the river," he replied, and they both started laughing, before he pulled her in for another kiss. 

Later that evening, as Nairna sat curled up into his side, she started thinking about her future. Wherever her path would lead, she thought, she knew it would be intertwined with Osferth's.

Chapter Text

Sihtric had promised to come back for you when he left Dunholm all those months ago. As time passed, you began to grow less and less sure of the fact, resigning yourself to a life spent fighting for those who had wronged both you and your brother. Training was relentless, the rewards underwhelming, and the taunts from one-eyed Sven merciless.

You hated your life, wondering why the gods had been so cruel as to give you such a fate.

Sihtric was not a blood relative of yours, although you had much in common. You were a small child when you were enslaved alongside your mother, the only reason for your survival being your potential as a warrior in the future. She died of the sickness only two years after, leaving you alone. Being several years older, Sihtric had taken over the responsibility of caring for you and tried many times to protect you from Kjartan, often bearing the brunt of the violence instead.

Despite this, he never once blamed you, never once took his anger out on you. He was the only security you had and you loved him as a brother, so to watch him leave both broke your heart and terrified you.

Now that you were a teenager, you had to fend for yourself.

You were in the hall one morning when Sven stormed in with the news that Uhtred and Ragnar Ragnarson were in Northumbria and would surely attack. Although Kjartan was flippant, you had a feeling things would not go to plan. He ordered Sven to inform Thyra not to feed her wild hounds and, out of curiosity, you slipped out at once, following him down to the cells.

Having never before dared to venture down to where the “wild” daughter of Ragnar was being held, it was only then that you saw for yourself just how terrified Sven was of her - and listening to his voice tremble as he relayed the message made you smirk.

Her hounds barked as she screamed at him to get out, and you pressed your back against the wall as he did just that. As soon as he left, you let yourself become visible. Unsurprisingly, Thyra gave you a suspicious look.

“Are you another son of Kjartan?” she asked.

You shook your head, fidgeting with your sleeve. “No. I am Y/N. The son of a slave.”

“Why are you here?”

You had to be honest. “I heard that Sven was scared of you. I wanted to see if it was true.”

Thyra weakly huffed what you thought could be a laugh, and your shoulders sagged a little in relief.

“I think they’ll be successful, you know,” you continued quietly. “Uhtred and Ragnar. Kjartan says this fortress is impenetrable but I have heard your brothers are wily.”

“I have no brothers,” she repeated in a low voice.

Your hands clasped the bars of her cell. “I’m sorry. I understand.”

She gave you a strange look. “Do you?”

“I miss my brother,” you admitted. “Sihtric.”

At the mention of his name, her face softened. “Oh, yes. I remember him. He is kind.”

You sighed. “He was like a mother and a father to me. He took as many of my beatings as he could.”

“Beatings?”

“We are seen as bastards,” you smiled sadly. “Kjartan does not care for us. Sven tormented us. But when Sihtric left, he said he would be back for me.”

Thyra bitterly laughed. “I have heard that one before.”

At once, you became defensive, although you were unsure how much weight your words carried. “He will, I know he will!”

“Perhaps he will come with Uhtred,” she said in a neutral voice.

“Perhaps,” you nodded, hoping fervently that she was right.

~~

When the attack came, you hid yourself away. Nobody would remember to find and force a green boy to fight, he would only become a human shield. You seized your chance, grabbing the keys to Thyra’s cell and hurtling down to free her as soon as you could.

Thyra gave you a weak smile, although you could tell she had been crying; her hounds gazed up at the two of you, before following you up to the hall with Thyra in front. As she led you in, the door opened and you instantly froze - it was Sven.

But then one of the hounds by your feet growled, and the terrified look on Sven’s face reminded you of how fearful he himself was.

Still, you hung back slightly, watching in silence as Thyra set her hounds upon him. You were stoic as they tore him apart, his screams becoming synonymous with Kjartan’s - who was standing in a shield wall by the window. As Sven finally fell silent, Kjartan’s eyes drifted to you, and you held his gaze, full of hate for the man that had enslaved you and your mother.

There was nothing he could do but keep going, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“We’ll be free,” you murmured, staring at Sven’s mutilated body.

Thyra said nothing.

It soon became clear that you were right. Shouts that Ragnar and Kjartan had made the square quickly reached you, and at once you made to leave.

“You will not watch?” you asked.

Thyra shook her head. “Go, Y/N.”

Swallowing, you doubled back and took her hand. “If he is with Uhtred, then I will go with him. And if you come too, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

Thyra gently cupped your cheek. “You are only a boy, Y/N,” she said.

“I’ll become a man soon enough,” you said at once, eliciting a rare smile from her.

“Find your brother.”

Before you left, she pressed her forehead to yours. It was with a reluctant gait that you walked outside. Hardly anyone noticed you, their eyes glued to the fight taking place. Kjartan hurled insult after insult, so it felt all the more deserving when Ragnar finally got the upper hand and drove a sword through his chest. You watched as he continued to hack at the body, feeling a vicious sort of satisfaction to watch the man that had stripped the dignity and hope from your mother be robbed of Valhalla, his body stripped of its own dignity.

Eventually, Uhtred held him back, and you finally tore your eyes away to search the crowd of warriors for your brother. Then-

“Sihtric,” you whispered, your heart pounding.

Your brother was there, right at the front, his helmet removed to get a proper view of Kjartan’s demise. His face was a blank slate, one he had mastered from years of abuse, but you knew his emotions were in turmoil.

You wove your way through the crowd rather than across the square, not wanting to be noticed by anyone but him.

And notice you he did.

“Y/N,” he murmured, so quietly you could only read your name from his lips. He enveloped you in a tight hug as soon as you reached him, and you held him just as tightly. “I was looking for you. I feared you were dead.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you grinned despite the tears in your eyes, and Sihtric laughed as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I promised I’d be back for you.”

“I know. I always believed you would.”

Sihtric fondly ruffled your hair, leading you away from the square towards the horses. “You have grown.”

You beamed, saddling your own horse. “I’ll be taller than you one day.”

“Keep dreaming, brother.”

~~

That evening, Uhtred questioned who you were. Sihtric introduced you to all those present as his younger brother, and it warmed your heart how quickly you were accepted as one of them, despite your youth.

After you reached Coccham, Uhtred briefly pulled you aside.

“Your brother is a loyal warrior, Y/N,” he said.

“I know, Lord,” you replied. “He is a good man. I hope to be like him someday.”

Uhtred ruffled your hair, a habit he had quickly picked up from Sihtric. “That is good. Although I hope that does not extend to his taste in women,” he added with a snort.

You laughed along a little awkwardly, unsure of what he was referring to. If Sihtric had a woman, you were not yet aware of it.

In truth, Uhtred did not have much to fear about your taste in women, because you didn’t have one at all. Your affections lay with men, although they had taken years for you to even recognise, let alone come to terms with.

The only one that knew of this was Sihtric - and he was more than understanding. In the time before his departure from Dunholm, he had been the one to help you come to terms with your feelings, after all.

As long as he was around, you were in good hands.

~~

Three years had passed since you moved to Coccham with Sihtric. You were on the cusp of becoming a man, preparing to swear an oath of loyalty to Uhtred after endless months of gruelling training. You had found many friends from many different backgrounds - Coccham had become your home.

For Thyra’s wedding to Father Beocca, you had travelled to Winchester with Sihtric, Finan, Uhtred and his wife, Gisela. He was a priest who had been present at Dunholm and prevented her from setting her hounds on her brothers out of anger and grief.

Thyra had emerged from her shell completely with the help of your friends, and you were fiercely protective of her. You knew Beocca would be good to her, having seen their love firsthand. It was with a wide smile that you watched Uhtred perform the ceremony. If anyone deserved to be happy and loved, you thought, it was Thyra.

Soon afterwards came the wedding of Princess Aethelflaed to Aethelred of Mercia, a man referred to by Uhtred as a bread-pudding of a boy. Your attention drifted elsewhere several times during the ceremony despite the fact that Father Beocca was presiding - Christian services simply bored you to death.

After the wedding, you sat outside on the steps of the palace, reclining slightly to soak up the rare sun. Sihtric was a little further down, embracing the woman he had told you he would marry someday. Uhtred and Finan dismissively referred to her as a whore, but you liked her. She was called Sigdaflaed, and she was a kind, funny woman who you thought was a perfect match for your brother. It was only the knowledge that Uhtred was also your lord that prevented you from stamping on his foot for saying otherwise.

Finan, however, was not, and so received many a shove for his crass words.

Currently, you were in half a mind to give one to Aethelwold, the insufferable nephew of the king who was lecturing Uhtred about… something or the other.

“All I will say, again, is that the dead man speaks the truth.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to block out the sound of his voice, until it was punctuated by another.

“Lord?”

“Some would say it is treason. No, no, this wedding is treason.”

“Lord?”

“This wedding is a betrayal of Wessex and the men of Wessex!” Aethelwold continued.

“Meaning you,” Finan muttered.

You snorted.

Aethelwold was incensed. “Should the king die, I have a strong and rightful claim!” he snapped. “Now, Alfred is working to make a new line of succession-”

“Excuse me, Lord Uhtred,” the voice shyly interjected again.

“Go away,” Aethelwold snapped.

Whoever the newcomer was, he was certainly persistent. Now curious, you opened your eyes, shielding them from the glare of the sun, and was surprised to see a novice monk no older than you standing nervously near a peeved Aethelwold.

“I am Osferth,” he said.

“You are a monk,” said Finan dismissively. “A baby monk.”

“Go away,” Aethelwold added.

Despite not knowing Osferth, you frowned at their rudeness towards him and gave Finan a shove.

“Oi!”

“Lord, you - you knew my uncle, lord,” Osferth continued regardless, although his eyes momentarily darted towards you and Finan. “His name was Leofric.”

Leofric was a name you recalled; Uhtred had regaled you all with many stories of the warrior, and adopted his favourite nickname - Arseling.

“Leofric was a great man,” Uhtred said.

At once, you noticed Aethelwold grin. “You are Alfred’s bastard son!”

You picked up a small pebble from the ground and hurled it at him. It made satisfying contact with the side of his head and he yelped, making you and Finan snicker.

“Ow! Lord Uhtred, control your Dane-!”

Uhtred, naturally, said nothing and you made to stand up, making Aethelwold flinch slightly. It did the trick - he shut his mouth at once. Lowering yourself down, you smiled at Osferth, gesturing for him to continue.

“I wish to join you, lord,” he said. “Be by your side as my uncle was.”

Finan looked disparagingly at him. “No, we have no need of a monk.”

He was about to receive another shove when Osferth spoke again.

“As a warrior, lord,” he said steadily. “I wish to serve you as a warrior.”

You watched as Uhtred regarded him for a moment, hoping he would not turn the young man away. Despite his meek demeanour he remained stubborn, which intrigued you to no end. You began to wonder if Aethelwold’s words were true.

“Uhtred.”

Steapa had emerged from the palace, hovering over Uhtred. “Uhtred, you are wanted.”

Uhtred did not acknowledge him, continuing to observe the earnest monk.

“The king!” Steapa added impatiently.

“Enjoy the wedding feast,” Aethelwold muttered as he left, sulky at having been largely ignored.

When it became clear that Steapa was moments away from dragging him inside by the scruff of his neck, Uhtred stood up. “You. Find me again. Bring a sword and lose your cross.”

The smile that lit up the monk’s features inadvertently brought one to your own. “Thank you, my lord, I-I will!”

Beside you, Finan shook his head. “I’ll make sure the responsibility of training him falls on you, Y/N,” he said, and you only scoffed in reply.

~~

Evening had fallen and you were on your way home rather than joining Finan, Clapa, and Sihtric at the alehouse, electing not to have a sore head during training the next morning. As you turned a corner, you found yourself nearly bumping into the young monk from earlier.

“You’re a long way from the monastery, Osferth,” you smiled.

Osferth awkwardly laughed. “I’ve just left it, actually… for good. I remember you,” he added quickly, as though wanting to change the subject, “you threw that rock at Aethelwold.”

He seemed to be fighting a smile at the memory, which you found strangely endearing.

You smirked. “I did.”

“I don’t think I got your name…?”

“Y/N,” you answered. “Are you going to find Uhtred?”

Osferth nodded, and you grinned. “Then I’ll come with you.”

You were well aware that he probably already knew the way, but he didn’t exactly turn down your offer, giving you the excuse you wanted to spend a little time with him away from the others.

“Where will you stay?” you asked him.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I suppose I’ll need to find a room above the alehouse…”

“Or you could stay with us,” you offered. “Sihtric and I, I mean. We have enough room for the time being, and you won’t have to pay for it.”

He seemed genuinely taken aback by this. “Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t want to intrude-”

“You won’t,” you said automatically, waving him off. “Besides, my brother’s getting married soon, so when he moves out it’ll just be me left. And I wouldn’t mind a roommate,” you added with a smile.

Tentatively, he returned your smile. “Will Sihtric mind?”

You shook your head. “No, he’s not Finan.”

He huffed a laugh at that, making you feel strangely proud that you had elicited it from him. “He doesn’t want me around, does he?”

“He might act like it,” you shrugged, “but he doesn’t usually give nicknames to people he can’t stand. You saw how quickly he’s taken to calling you Baby Monk, no?”

“That’s true,” he smiled. “I think he’s forgotten my name already.”

You laughed. “Maybe.”

~~

It was dark by the time you both reached Uhtred’s home. Being more familiar with it than Osferth was, you guided him down to the dock by the hall, where you knew Uhtred liked to spend quiet time with Gisela.

“I’ll get going, then,” you said. “If I’m asleep by the time you’re back, just let yourself in, alright?”

Osferth nodded. “Alright.”

He waved you off as you left to return to your home, happy to have found a friend.

~~

Sihtric had still not returned from the alehouse by the time the door opened again. You were still awake despite your lethargy, anxious to ensure Osferth reached your home safely.

“How did it go?” you asked at once, jumping up to meet him.

“Good,” he answered vaguely. You cocked an eyebrow and he exhaled. “Well, the only reason Lord Uhtred allowed me to join him was to embarrass Alfred. But I think Gisela likes me.”

“Well, I’d say Gisela’s the smarter of the two,” you said, closing the door behind him. “Don’t tell Uhtred I said that, though.”

Osferth smiled conspiratorially. “I won’t.”

You beamed. “Besides, you’ve got plenty of time to prove yourself. Give him reason to let you stay, you know?”

Osferth was taken aback. “That’s what I said!”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Then I’ll hold you to that even more,” you grinned. “Right,” you added, looking around. “I’d give you Sihtric’s bed for now but he might still wander in later, so you can take mine.”

At once, he protested. “No, no, it’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor-”

“What kind of a host lets his guest sleep on the floor?” you countered, already pulling extra furs down. “Go on, take the bed. I really don’t mind.”

For a moment he looked conflicted, but eventually caved in at the stubborn look on your face. “All right. Thank you, Y/N, truly.”

At once you waved him off, but the warmth of his smile did far more to warm your cheeks than the roaring fire, and you knew at once that you were fucked.

~~

Training over the next few months was brutal as usual, but having Osferth at your side meant you actually looked forward to it. As Finan had promised, you were landed with the task of training the young man more often than not. If he ever noticed that you did not mind one bit, he would almost certainly revoke it.

At first, you were easy on Osferth, aware that the mere feeling of a sword in his hand was still largely foreign, but after a week or so you realised that if he was to yield any results, you would have to be tough.

“You’re seriously making me rethink whether I should’ve left that monastery.”

“Am I that bad?” you laughed.

The two of you had retreated to a corner of the alehouse to reward yourselves after a particularly gruelling training session.

“You’re a great friend,” Osferth smiled, “but a cruel mentor.

You smirked, even if being called his friend didn’t feel nearly as good as it should have. “Well, it’s because I’m such a great friend that I’m so cruel. I’d quite like to see you again after battle, you know.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “if my legs don’t give out on the battlefield first. What if I’m not meant to be a warrior, Y/N? I feel like an idiot compared to everyone else.”

“Everyone else started learning to fight when they were children,” you countered firmly. “Don’t compare yourself to them. I’m willing to bet you never even so much as picked up a weapon in all the years before you joined us.”

Osferth shrugged. “Even so, I’ll be nothing but a liability at Beamfleot.”

You frowned. “No, you won’t. Uhtred wants you there ‘cause you need the experience, and I want you there ‘cause… well, I’ll feel better with you nearby. Look, I’ll have your back, won’t I? Don’t worry so much,” you added with a grin, poking his furrowed brow, “or else that face will stick.”

He swatted your hand away but he was laughing now, and that was all that mattered to you.

~~

You had spent so long worrying about Osferth that you nearly forgot the fact that this was going to be your first experience of proper battle, too. As you travelled to Beamfleot, both of you were sick with nerves, but you were doing perhaps a slightly better job of concealing that than Osferth.

Instinctively you stayed by his side as much as you could, looking out for him as well as yourself.

Your training served you well - you were more than prepared, fending off every Dane that came your way, until you were forced to deliver a deadly blow to the last one.

The Dane fell to the ground for what felt like hours, and all you could do was watch helplessly as the life drained from his eyes. Time seemed to stop, and all you could hear were your rapidly shaky breaths, one after the other to try and calm yourself down.

“Y/N?” said Sihtric softly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You jolted suddenly, not realising that your brother had found you. “I killed one of my own,” you whispered.

“No,” he said firmly. “If you hadn’t killed him, he would have killed you first. Never forget it.”

He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, and you nodded.

“Don’t look at the body,” he added. “Just keep moving-”

“Sihtric, we need to keep moving!” shouted Uhtred, standing a little further down as the other men made their way over.

Sihtric chuckled, and you managed a smile. “Come on, Y/N.”

“Wait,” you said suddenly. “I’ll - I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Your brother nodded, patting your shoulder once more before joining Uhtred. You turned back, your eyes searching for Osferth.

Thankfully he was alive. He was standing over another dead Dane, clutching a bloody sword and in a similar state to you. At once you made your way over, stepping over bodies and trying not to look at their faces.

“Osferth?”

His eyes shot up, and his shoulders sagged in obvious relief. “Y/N.”

“Come on,” you said. “We need to keep going.”

But Osferth was frozen, and you couldn’t blame him for it at all. His strict religious upbringing meant he had probably never even seen death after such violence, let alone been responsible for some of it.

He was staring at the man’s face again, and you knew you needed to distract him.

“Look at me,” you said, gently taking the sword from his shaking hands. He did as you said, and when he did you saw the tears brimming in his eyes.

“I can’t do this,” he murmured, shaking his head.

“You can,” you said, “I swear you can. You’re still alive, aren’t you? That’s a good sign - you proved Finan wrong!”

Osferth ran a hand through his hair, his panic seemingly growing. “No, no, I-I’ve killed a man, Y/N!”

“That’s what warriors do!” you insisted, when Sihtric’s words sprung to mind. “Christian warriors don’t go to hell, do they? And besides, if you hadn’t killed him, he would have killed you first-”

“Y/N!” bellowed Uhtred. “Grab the monk and move! We need to keep going!”

“Come with me,” you urged, handing him the axe from your belt instead. “Just stick with me and don’t look at their faces.”

You needed that advice just as much as he did, but he was so clearly disturbed that you felt compelled to hide your own distress from him for the time being. You needed him to feel secure with you.

Osferth was gripping the axe so tightly his knuckles were white. “Alright,” he whispered, letting you take his arm and lead him to rejoin the others.

~~

Even while Lady Aethelflaed was being freed, you weren’t able to fully focus. Despite wanting to stay close to one another, you were somewhat constrained by the orders you were given, and so could not follow him to the stables where he was to send the decoy away on a horse.

That meant the next time you’d see him would be on the battlefield.

After what felt like hours of knowing nothing, the relief that overwhelmed you upon finally seeing him again was short-lived as Sigefrid and his men charged at you. You took your place between Osferth and your brother, taking deep breaths to prepare yourself.

“Stand by me,” you murmured, seeing the fear in his eyes, “and no harm will come to you. I swear.”

He didn’t say a word as he stared at the Northmen, only nodding his reply.

In spite of their small number, Sigefrid’s men fought hard. You knew that after losing Erik, Aethelflaed, and the fortress, they were prepared to go to Valhalla that day - but you were not.

Sihtric’s words repeated themselves in your head as you fought. You lost sight of him after a moment and panic momentarily seized you until you realised Osferth was still beside you, holding your bloodless axe in both hands. You knew then that you couldn’t fail him, not when you had sworn to keep him safe.

So you swallowed your panic and continued to fight with all you had, the heat of battle consuming you as you slashed and parried and stood between Osferth and the enemy, until it suddenly dulled.

Aethelflaed had killed Sigefrid. It was all over.

You lowered your sword, breathing heavily as the adrenaline of battle seeped away. Beside you remained Osferth, and you smiled in unbridled relief.

“Come on,” you said quietly, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, finally meeting your eye and returning your smile, albeit a little shakily.

~~

Although the two of you were already close, Beamfleot bonded you together in a way that only your first taste of true battle could. You were inseparable after that, with Finan deciding he wanted to give you a nickname to match Baby Monk until you threatened to inform the fisherman’s daughter of his feelings for her.

A period of peace followed Aethelflaed’s return to Mercia, which allowed for Osferth’s training to continue - until the peace was disrupted once again. He was becoming more proficient with a weapon, almost ready for battle, as you cheerfully informed him after the battle against Bloodhair at Fearnham.

“You’ll be fighting in the next one, won’t you?” you said.

“Yes,” he smiled, “although I was quite content as a spectator, too.”

~~

Much had occurred between Fearnham and now, as you stood in the fields outside Beamfleot… again. So much that you could hardly wrap your head around half of it.

But you could not think about that now. You were outnumbered and surrounded by Danes on all sides, trapping you and the few men around you - including Osferth. You knew Edward had promised the men of Wessex as reinforcements, but so far they had not shown themselves. There were only so many Danes you could fight at once, as each time you felled one another took his place almost immediately.

“Where is Alfred’s army?” you heard Sihtric shout. “Why are they waiting?”

That same desperate thought filled your mind as you tried to fend them off. Your eyes shifted to the right, and you saw with a jolt of panic that Osferth had just attacked a Dane and caused him to fall from his horse, and another was heading his way.

Without thinking twice, you ran to him first and pushed him out of the way - but you couldn’t avoid the sword of the Dane whose warpath you were now standing squarely in. He slashed at you and you stumbled backwards, dropping your sword to clutch the gash in your abdomen as blood seeped through your fingers.

The pain was blinding. Soon you soon found yourself on the ground, your senses weakening with every second that passed. The voices around you grew quieter even as you strained to listen, to stay awake.

“Y/N, no!”

“It’s Alfred! Alfred’s army is here!”

“Stay with me, please - Sihtric, help me!”

You dimly saw the terrified faces of both Osferth and your brother before everything faded to black.

~~

You were unsure of how much time had passed when you finally stirred. At your bedside sat the one person you were most grateful to see.

“Osferth.”

“Oh, thank God. You’re awake.”

Your response was groggy. “Yeah.”

“You gave us a fright, Y/N,” he continued, breathing a sigh of relief.

Your hand moved to the aching spot on your abdomen where your injury lay, now cleaned and wrapped, and you winced. “How long you been here?” you murmured.

He exhaled. “All night. I couldn’t leave you, Y/N.”

You studied his face intently as he stared at his tightly-clasped hands. Dark circles had formed under his eyes from lack of sleep, and your tired heart swelled. “You been praying for me?”

His downcast eyes finally met your own. “Yes. I was… I was scared you wouldn’t wake up again.”

Smiling, you put a hand on his arm. “I couldn’t leave you either, Osferth. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Osferth returned your smile and sat a little closer, taking your hand in both of his. “I wanted to thank you, Y/N. I won’t ever forget what you did for me.”

“Huh?”

“You - you took the blow meant for me,” he explained patiently, despite sounding extremely shaken.

At once, the memories came flooding back in a torrent, of you shielding him whenever you could, fighting off Danes headed your way, pushing him out of the warpath of an attacker - but not fast enough to avoid the man’s sword. The pain had been excruciating.

“An’ I’d do it again,” you smiled weakly.

You were met with a look of confusion.

“Why?” Osferth asked, his voice hardly a whisper.

Reaching up with your other hand, you gave his furrowed brow a feeble poke. “That face’ll stick, you know.”

He laughed softly, gently pushing your hand back down. “Why would you want to put yourself through that again?”

“‘Cause I care about you,” you answered honestly. “I’d put myself through that a million more times if it meant you’d be safe.”

“Truly?”

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his face for even a moment. Osferth gave you a smile then, its familiar warmth so different from his usual smirk that your stomach flipped at the sight.

Before you knew it, that smile was a hair’s breadth from your own, silently asking permission to continue. In response, you leaned up a little to close the gap between you. Your hand dropped from his grasp as he moved to cup the side of your face, deepening the kiss.

“D’you fancy me, Osferth?” you asked afterwards, grinning weakly at him.

“I might do,” he replied with a smirk.

“You sure?”

He answered that with another kiss.

~~

For a while you lay there contentedly, closing your eyes while his hand absentmindedly played with your hair.

“I killed him, you know.”

“Hm?”

“The man that did this to you.”

Your eyes opened abruptly and you turned to him. “You did?”

He nodded with a frown. “I didn’t go in wanting to kill any man. But something in me snapped when I saw you lying there like that, and I… I wouldn’t let him get away with it.”

You smiled fondly at him. “I wish I’d seen that. I’m sure you fought well.”

He returned your smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you.”

“It weighs on you, doesn’t it?”

He sighed and nodded. “I have killed only once before. And you know what I was like after that.”

You knew, and you understood. You had been the same. “You will feel less guilt with time, I promise.”

“You know what’s strange?” he said. “I feel guilty for taking the life of another man, and yet I would do the same again and again if it meant you would be avenged.”

His words stole your heart. Taking his hand, you brought it to your lips and pressed a soft kiss there. “I love you, you know.”

He looked taken aback by this for a moment, before his features softened into a smile. “I love you too, Y/N. More than anything.”