#emilyhufflepufftlk

The land inside these city walls brings too much bitterness, the name of the city itself felt like a lemon on Uthred’s tongue. That was the reason why he wasn’t glad to be in Winchester at all. This very road is the road he and Brida first entered the city by and his path had started. These very people, never seeing him as part of their life, he was a Dane, he still is, even after saving Wessex more times than any Wessex’s King had, he still a Dane in their eyes. But, of course, a Dane they are happy to see. 

The nice tavern where he was drinking till he saw the stars flying in the bright blue sky, the house his family lived in - everything was giving him a heartache. 

“Lord?” Finan pulled the hand and squeezed Uthred’s shoulder, shaking his unconscious mind. “‘S everythin fine?” 

Uthred blinked a few times, trying to hold back emotions overwhelming his mind completely, standing so near the house his wife and his children lived in when the time was… better? “Yes, I’m fine, let’s go”

“Will we stop at the tavern or do we go straightforward to Edward?” Irishman glanced over Uthred’s face, tracing the fading look of distress. Oh he knew Uthred hated meetings with Edward. Treating his family line well enough, the bastard was even more stubborn than his father was. Probably his mother’s fault. 

“We go to Edward, faster we get there, faster we get to the tavern.” To tug a silly smirky smile was an act of hard work, but Uthred wanted to prove Finan he was fine. 

By the time they came to the King’s Palace, there were only two of them, Osferth was lost out of sight, probably tangled in women’s hands trying to get him into their bed, and Sihtric, well, Sihtric was roaming the main market in search for something Sig asked him to buy. 

When Uthred got lost again, in the scents and buildings of the past, and bumped into someone in the street, Finan took him by the hands. “I’m not sure everythin's fine, lord.” 

That silly smirk on Uthred’s face appeared once again, but died down as soon as he looked his friend in the eyes. 

“There’s nothing good left here.” Uthred rolled his eyes after a brief look around. Finan had noticed the little shrug his lord and friend’s face tried to hide. “Every good thing in this city is gone now, Winchester only causes me pain.”

“I don’t believe there’s nothin that can bring you joy?”

“There’s nothi…» Uthred shifted on his legs, looking past Finan into the crowd. “Nothing.”

“Lord?” 

Uthred shook off Finan’s hands and slid into the crowd like a ghost, making his way through all the people till he was standing a foot away from the man that caught his attention. 

It was like seeing a ghost from the past. Uthred’s knees weakened at once and he almost found himself on the ground if not for Finan’s hand, catching him under an armpit, and trying to catch a glimpse of Uthred’s thankful smile, or something else that would have tell Irishman he’s still with him here, and not roaming the bitter tasted memories once again. He felt Uthred’s grasp been wrapped tight around his hand, helping him to stand, but his eyes were focused on that mysterious man Finan had no idea why intrigued his friend so much. While Finan was hoping to see Uthred’s face smiling at him softly, Uthred heard his heart throbbing in his ears louder with every step, with every oddly familiar detail of that man. 

Uthred was shifting on his feet, and have you ever saw Uthred of Bebbanburg, Uthred the Godless, the DaneSlayer staying nervous like a little girl, eyes grazing the tall figure in front of him in search of any hints of why his legs had drove him to this man. 

“No…” he muttered in disbelief, eyebrows raised, giving his face such softness you wouldn’t have seen so often. “It cannot be…” tracing the so familiar features, the mannerisms he knew so well and finally his eyes fell on the weapon the man possessed. 

Uthred’s eyes fell on the ax that was hanging on the man’s belt, and he felt his heartbeat cease. The ax he saw almost twenty years ago and the cross that had been carved into the wooden grip right before Uthred’s own eyes. 

The flashbacks wave covered Uthred whole, the pictures of the little hut, a firepit barely heating the cold bitter air, Iseult sitting next to him and the sour conversation with Eanflaed. The memory so soft and harsh at the same time, Uthred didn’t know how to shake it off. He didn’t notice his fingertips touching the cold metal of the ax, and the same second as he did, he felt the sharp point of a sword resting on his throat. 

“What do you want from me?!” The heavy voice snapped Uthred back to reality and he stepped back from the tension of the sword on his neck. 

“You better to put down your sword boy…” Finan sneered, unpleasant by the possible danger to Uthred. He placed his blade atop and moved it away from Uthred’s throat. But Uthred waved him off, demanding him to put his sword back into its scabbard. “Lucky you, but don’t make me draw my sword a second time.”

The man’s face was untouched by Finan’s mocking, he drilled Uthred’s instead, not breaking eye contact once. “What do you want? Wanted to steal my ax? Not look like a thief to me.” 

Uthred ducked back, holding his hands slightly up, so the man could see he wasn’t trying to defend himself. “N-no,” he breathed, shaking, still not quite believing in what he was seeing. “This ax, I know it, I mistook you for another person, you just look exactly like him.”

“Like who?” He still held his sword before Uthred’s chest, though people around the square started chattering and a few guards were looking at them, touching the hilts of their swords. 

“Uthred, we’r wastin time, remember what you said? Sooner we meet Edward, sooner we meet our ale. Savvy?” Finan repeatedly pointed to the king’s hall and to the tavern, looking tiresome. 

Suddenly, the sword vanished from Uthred’s throat, it gnashed on the stony steps of the palace’s stair. 

“Uthred?” the man craned his neck to look up Uthred closely, as if he hadn’t been studying him this all time. “You are Uthred? Of Bebbanburg?”

“Lord Uthred for you, boy.” Finan tugged a sly smile, peering at the man from under his brows. 

Uthred hissed at him, and Finan put his hands up in a mocking way. He was silent for a heartbeat and then looked into the soft brown eyes of the boy next to him, not noticing how his own eyes were covered with a veil of tears. “I am, and you?”

“Osgar, lord. You, you knew my father” the man was a huge pal, but he was quivering, cracking on the word father. 

Uthred lost any words as his mind became empty in a matter of seconds, letting the picture of his long lost best friend took all the room inside his head. His jaw fell open as he cupped his face in his palms, looking at Osgar with ashy, marble eyes. That was the moment Finan saw the first tear breaking through and rolling down Uthred’s cheek. 

“You’re Leofric’s boy…” From fighting the painfully sour urge to cry, the words that came out of Uthred's mouth were creaky. “You look just like him.”

Not even thousands of horses could stop Uthred from pulling Osgar into the bear's embrace, clutching his body as he once did with his father's. His fingers creaking on the leather of Osgar’s mail, and Osgar drowning in the fur of Uthred’s cloak - the hug was so desperate, it screamed of tears, of pain and friendship. 

They could stay there forever, sniffling, tearing up, but the man showed up, calling Uthred to haste and see the King. 

Uthred teared himself off Osgar and cupped his face softly, clapping his cheek with one palm. “Meet me in the tavern after the witan is over.” He smiled wildly, and Osgar nodded. He then turned to Finan, taking SerpentBreath out of her scabbard and giving her to the palace’s guard. “Find Osferth, tell him to meet us in the tavern later.”

The witan was dull. Not cause Uthred’s head was busy thinking about Osgar and Leofric, feeling sharp stones filling his chest on every thought about his long lost friend. Not only cause of this, but because witan were always dull. What was the point of talking about bridges, and trading, convincing Edward that Sigdryggr was a friend and he did want peace, if he could lead yourself into the middle of a snowstorm, letting the wet, huge flakes of time long past stick to him, into the snowstorm of warm feelings and lovely old times blooming in his mind like the flowers in the spring. Uthred wanted witan to end, sooner the better, he had a far more significant person waiting for him in a tavern. 

He bursted out of the King’s Palace like water bursting from the cliff into the lake, each and every step making earth shake under his feet. In his mind, he already had answered all of the Osgar’s questions, covered all the topics he could even think of, Uthred was so happy to see the face that reminds him of the good old times, he almost forgot to take back SerpentBreath from the palace’s guard, but his enthusiasm vanished as soon as he bumped into the tavern’s door.

The cacophony of the thoughts and inner voices in his mind turned into empty nervous silence. He’d been staring at the wooden door for a long ten minutes, catching glimpses of Osgar and Finan sitting inside, at the corner table. People were looking at him with curiosity, some making jokes about fighting the wine problems and how they knew the feeling, but Uthred was only shifting from one foot to another, until he finally tugged a firm smile and opened the door.

“So, you are here!” He sat himself into a chair, across from Osgar, who was sitting on the other side of the table. Osgar already ordered a few cups of ale to be served, so when Uthred came, he didn’t need to wait too long to ease his throat. 

“Tell me about my father!” Uthred didn’t get a chance to even take a sip of ale, the boy started piercing him with questions from the moment Uthred sat down. 

The warm smile spread on his face, as he leaned on the armrest of his chair, gulping from the cup. Osgar was twitching on the edge of his chair, seeing the glimpses of fire in Uthred’s eyes.

“You father was the biggest pain in the ass, boy,” he put down the cup lazily and then rapidly bent in two, laying his elbows on the table. “but there wasn’t any man I trusted the most. Not once I trusted him with my life, and he never, never failed me. He risked his life for me and I don’t know how and why have I deserved this from him, cause it’s me who always was a pain in the ass, honestly.” he poured the dry, gloomy laughter down with a huge gulp of ale, eyes looking empty, aiming the wall behind Osgar’s head. “He was my first friend in these lands, without any reason, he’d always been there with me when I needed him, until he wasn’t.”

For a few moments there was silence. Osgar gave Uthred the time in peace, battling his own emotions, because the tears are always hard to stop from falling. Uthred lips were set in the firm line, twitching and he had to bite them on the inside to stop, to distract his brain from the pain the memory had offered him. When he laughed at the thought he had, Osgar saw the trace of blood running out of his mouth, and Uthred wiped it out with his wrist.

“When I was on my deathbed, a few years ago, my Gods decided to torture me, they could make me see so many people I have failed, my whole family that I lost and then failed on so many levels, but they decided to show me Leofric…” Finan, who was sitting in silence this whole time, shrugged on the memory, picturing dying Uthred having visions so painful that he wanted his life to end. “He was talking to me when I was unable to even speak. He was making an enemy out of me and that was my Gods wanted, to make me squeal from pain, and I did”

“My father? He would never!” Osgar seemed to be offended by Uthred’s words, he never knew his father, but he wanted to believe Leofric would never hurt someone he loved and cared about. And Uthred was the one. “He would never hurt you like this!”

“I betrayed everything he believed in! I betrayed England, I betrayed my king, I fucking panched Alfred, put the knife to his neck, I betrayed his faith…” he was looking into the almost empty cup, circling it in his fingers. “Did I said until he wasn’t’?” Osgar looked at him in question, slowly nodding. “Forget it, he’s always here, always here when I need him, always give me councile, I’m not always listening and then fuck up hugely, cause Leofric’s always right…” Uthred brought his weary stare at Osgar, eyeing his every inch. “Where have you been all these years? You have to be twenty… six?”

“You have a keen memory, Lord.” Osgar smiled, waiting for the additional question he was sure was about to be asked.

“I tried to find your mother, but I failed.”

It was Osgar’s time to look into an empty cup, smiling with the corners of his lips while in his eyes only gloom and sadness rested. “She fled from Winchester after my father’s death. She had no strength to live there in the town full of people who knew him so well, asking her, paying their condolences each and every time they met her on the street, it was all way too painful for her. And she just fled.” he waved to the barmaid and continued, waiting for the next cups to arrive at their table. “We’ve been living in a little village near Ethandun, just so we can always visit him. His grave, Lord, it’s like one of an ealdorman,”

“I ordered it. I told you, he was one of the greatest men I’ve ever met in my life.” Uthred took the ax Osgar lay on the table near him, following the old carving with his thumb, memory flashing the pictures from the hut once more. “How is she now, your mother?”

Osgar shrugged, pulling away the empty cup. “She passed away a few months ago, that’s why I’m finally here.”

Uthred’s brows knit together as he covered Osgar’s hand with his own. “I’m so sorry to hear that…”

“She’d been sick since I was a boy, I’d been looking after her till she passed.” Osgar’s eyes once become filled with light and joy. “She’s finally with him, with my father, I buried her near him, so they are both in peace now.”

After a few moments more cups of ale were put down on the table and everyone had their turn to drink, Uthred fell forward on his hands, drilling young Osgar. “So, you came here to follow your father’s steps?”

“Aye, lord, though Edward I don’t much like.” he gulped from the cup, looking around in hope nobody heard him except Uthred and Finan.

“Then you’re truly following his steps.” Uthred laughted out, pointing out to the boy that Leofric despised Alfred by all means, but still was one of the most loyal men to the King in the whole Kingdom. “What about following his other steps?”

“W-which?” Osgar bent his head on the side, being quite intrigued by Uthred’s proposal. He held his cup just under his lips, being caught in the middle of the drink.

“Come with me! Live with us, my people will be happy to have you, are you, Finan?” anf Finan Ayed, laughing, clasping his jug with one of Uthred. “See? your father lived with me the whole time I knew him, so my doors are always open for you.”

“I… I… I don;t know what to say, honestly, I never thought of–”

“Lord, you’ve asked for me?” the moment so pure was ruined by one baby monk busting into the tavern, looking around in horror. “They nearly killed me, the girls!” Finan almost choked on the ale from the ugliest laugh, waving to Osferth to come and seat by.

“Osferth! Come here quickly, come, come, come!” Uthred was patting the seat next to him, eyes just so sly and cunny, Osferth backed up when he saw the stare. “Don’t you recognise the guy?”

Osferth seated down, still looking rather uneasy with the way Uthred was looking at him. He eyed Osgar and shook his head. “Have we ever met?”

And Uthred burst into laughter, pulling Osferth closer, wrapping his hand around the monk's shoulder. The nervous smile was stretching on Osferth's face, and he looked at Finan pazzled. 

“Let me introduce you, my boy, Osgar, your cousin!” 

Osferth, being drinking the ale already, gugged on the liquid and started coughing, not knowing on whom to look, Uthred or his knewfounded cousin. “My cousin?!”

“Osgar is Leofric’s son, and Osferth,” Uthred turned to Osgar, gesturing to his coughing friend. “is the son of your father’s sister,” he tilted forward, and by twitching his fingers he asked Osgar to bend over the table. “and Alfred’s bastard son” he whispered, hiding his mouth with the palm. 

For the few heartbeats the two men were studying each other in silence, they eyes squinting and widening with every second.

“You do look like Leofric a lot…” Osferth breathed out, mind frozen by the unexpected knews, but his chest was fire, it was hot like the stones on the summer day, spreading the warmth through his entire body.

“So?” Uthred put the jug on the table, making both Osgar and Osferth look at him. “Will we celebrate the new family member this week at Cookham or not?”

Osgar was twitching on the edge of his seat again, trying to die the ugliest smile he could ever stretch on his face down, looking from Uthred to Osferth and to Finan, who was happily drinking his ale. “You will!”

Thank you for reading this one! I'm happy I actually finally posted it ah ah Hope you liked it ❤

TLK taglist: @thespiritoflife @lauwrite1225 @mrsalwayswrite @kingslionheart @cxrgans @magravenwrites @the-irish-girl @katbookwurm @morosemagick @lllostgirlll (cause I'm bold to assume you're maybe interested lmao)

Leofric taglist: @valhallasubstitute

One month before Alfarblót, or the last harvest festival before winter as she tried to explain to Finan's foreign sensibilities, Randwulf asked his mother if she would be making the raisin tarts again. This caught her completely by surprise because she did not think the three year old would remember them from last year's festival nor be aware enough of the time to know to ask. She wasn't planning on it, but she couldn't say no because he asked the question too sweetly and she could finally spoil him. 

Three weeks and a day before, she got to work. And ever present in that time was Finan. He seemed keen on the celebration, or at least bored as harvest time did not mean much need to go far from Coccham. 

And so there he was in the market insisting he help carry the grapes she traded for one day. 

"If I help you make them, do you promise to let me partake in them afterwards?" He only smiled and winked at her as he popped a grape into his mouth. 

It was almost enough to get her flustered, but Hranni only yanked the bucket of grapes away from him. "If you eat all the grapes, you'll get nothing." She tried to scold him as she would her son for sneaking food before bedtime, but he was unfazed and only laughed. 

He was still undeterred into leaving her when she set about her next step. 

At her house, she prepared a table with a cloth sitting just outside her window so she could always keep an eye on it, and started carefully laying the grapes down. It was a perfect spot, and the weather promised the right amount of sun to dry them out in time. 

"And what part of cooking is this?" Finan asked, as he leaned against the house. 

"What part of helping is this?" She shot back, gesturing at him. "And your first lesson is that this is baking, not cooking." 

"Very well. Promise more lessons then?" 

Damn him, Hranni thought. 

The next lesson came a few weeks later. Her grapes had turned into raisins and only a few did not survive her collection due to Finan's thieving. She wanted to be annoyed, but every time he reached into her space to grab one and just so happened to brush against her back or her arms, all complaints died in favor of those small touches. It was not as if he never touched her, or God forbid she would never be able to focus when they fought back to back in whatever skirmish Uhtred led them into. 

No, this was far less predictable. This was intimate. 

After her raisin harvest was done, Finan dutifully ran off to collect the pork fat she had procured already not a moment after she asked. While he was off, she lit a fire and set a pot of water to boiling. He looked less than thrilled when she took the fat from him and put it straight into the boiling pot. 

"And what is this part then?" He asked, pulling a stool next to where she leaned over the pot. 

"Rendering the fat for lard. Have you never spent time in a kitchen?" 

Whatever clever reply he surely was about to come up with stopped when little Randwulf appeared from his nap and immediately went to Finan. 

"Can you pick me up please?" He asked, voice still tempered by sleep. 

"Fine, little lad. But this has to stop when you get too big." Finan sighed, clearly pretending to be put out, and faked a groan as he lifted her son up into his lap. "God you're getting heavy!" He joked, causing the child to laugh. 

Hranni got so distracted by the sweet moment she almost missed the pot about to boil over. 

By the time she got to straining the liquid out from the leftover pork fat, it was already approaching night and Finan had stayed with her the whole day, keeping Randwulf occupied and laughing. Every so often he would look over at her, something indiscernible but so decidedly warm in his eyes she would smile back for a breath before returning to her work. 

After she put Randwulf to bed, she returned to her main room to see Finan waiting patiently by the door. 

"Figured I'd get out of your hair for a few hours before I come back tomorrow." 

Something in her almost asked him to stay the night, but she quickly snapped the thought back. What if he wanted to do more than merely sleep? She felt something like lightning flash deep in her gut at the thought, but she could not risk Randwulf having any idea of what was going on. No matter how much she wanted him to stay. She thought having him closer than her own shadow would get annoying after even half a day, but here he was having spent the entire day with her only as she did her meal preparation and she didn't want him to go.

Instead of asking, she walked up to him and had to push herself all the way up on her toes to lay a kiss on his cheek.

"I'll be starting early tomorrow. Don't be late." She told him, and he only nodded with a small smile on his face and promised he'd be there. 

By the time Finan arrived that morning, Katla was gathering Randwulf to watch for the day and Hranni had started flouring her table. 

"Good morning, Finan." Katla said brightly and Finan waved a hello to her. "Any plans for the evening?" 

"He's coming to dinner tonight." Hranni replied before Finan could. 

"I am?"

"He is?" 

Katla and Finan said in unison. Hranni did not even look up from her table as she started folding flour into the lard to form her pastry. 

"Yes. He's helping make it. I decided this morning. Finan, you will have nowhere else to be as the lord's hall and Sihtric's home will be closed to visitors tonight." Hranni replied matter of factly. 

Katla only shrugged and picked Randwulf up onto her hip before making her way out. 

Hranni looked up to the now confused Finan. "If you want to learn, you'll have to stop standing there and come help me." 

That caused something to shift, and he quickly stepped up to the other side of her table. 

"Yes lady, and I don't think it counts as an invitation if you didn't ask me in the first place." Finan chuckled at her, mirth in his eyes. She felt a heat creep up on her cheeks under his playful tone, but cleared her throat and pushed some flour and lard to him. She kneaded gently to combine, and tossed a few raisins in.

"What choice did you have? Drink alone tonight or have the dinner you will now help make?"

"You did say I wouldn't be allowed in any Dane household tonight, you don't plan on doing any heathen witchcraft to me tonight, do you?" He leaned over the table and Hranni swore he was trying to make his voice more gravelly and charmingly deep. 

The blush on her cheeks would have to be a cause of the heat. 

"Alfarblót is a private affair for each household and only family is allowed," she explained, and quickly added "Randwulf would be upset."

"Oh yes, I wouldn't want to deprive anyone of my company." His face was near level now and she met his eyes before getting embarrassed and averting her gaze down but got caught on his beard and his lips a heartbeat too long, but just long enough for his grin to break even wider. 

"Shush whatever is going to come out of your mouth and knead. Gentler than bread, it's not a fight." She looked down at the doughy lump she had formed. "That size."

"Yes lady. I can be gentle enough." And he got to work. 

Hranni was thankful he seemed to be done teasing at the moment, and he was surprisingly adept at making the dough after a few mistakes. She kept watching his strong hands and quick fingers gently shape and fold, and he was so focused on his work she didn't think he caught her staring. They passed the morning in silence, and once they were finished there was a pile of dough balls ready to be fried. 

She moved off as he put his last on the pile and added a bit of lard to her psn that had been heating on the fire. 

"Now this is cooking and baking, and it really requires attention." She reached up and pulled a ball down, and once the lard melted fully and was sparking up out of the pan she tossed it in. Finan came over and brushed his shoulder again near his whole arm because he was just so tall as he came to look.

Grabbing a pair of tongs, she carefully watched the side begin to brown and crackle and she flipped it over again. Then, she pulled a jar of honey she kept and carefully drizzled some on to the top. Once it started to melt into the dough, she quickly removed it from the pan to a waiting plate. 

"And that's it?" He asked.

"That's it. Your turn." She loved making these treats, and so rarely had the excuse to do them. Hranni playfully tapped her own shoulder back. 

He again quieted down as the two quickly fell into a rhythm. He watched the pastry fry, she would be mindful in telling him to flip it, and would pour the honey on herself before removing it from the pile. As they went on, she had to tell him to flip it less and less, only occasionally adding more lard to the frying pan as needed. Once they were all done, she silently divided them all into three baskets to get divided between the three Dane households as her Alfarblót gift to them. 

She picked up one, still warm and sticky with honey on top and carefully passed it to Finan. He took it and broke off a bite and let out an exaggerated groan. "God woman, I thought it'd be a lot of work for little reward but that is a fine job you did."

"We did. Next time, you can make them." She said. 

"Oh no. We're not done with our lesson yet." He replied and stepped into her space, finishing off the pastry. At his height, her eyes just met his nose so she had to look up as she quirked an eyebrow up at him.

"We can't leave your kitchen a mess now." And just like it was nothing at all, he brought her hand to his mouth and licked stray honey off two of her fingers. 

Hranni froze as she felt her stomach flip and heat start to pool between her gut. She tried to speak, but his tongue flicked down to her knuckles as he turned her hand before pressing a firm kiss to her palm.