associate waiting in the express lane at bootlix (ha. ha.) with some quack voiced bitch in front of me who clearly had too many items and wouldn’t shut the fuck up to her husband and the guy in line behind me. i was carrying two milks and an already-paid for box of yogurt pretzels and when they slipped out of my hand and scattered all over the floor she didn’t blink an eye. didn’t even look in my direction when i then dropped my sunglasses bending over to pick up the pretzels. bitch
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CAN I ASK FOR BOTH 1 AND 2 WITH ALDFLAED PLS IM BEGGING
YES YOU CAN!! 1 + 2 being: a conversation you wish had happened in canon + expression of love.
This turned into a whole thing, whoops.
Read below, or on ao3.
Hope (Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, rated T, 1.5k)
When finally she sees Aldhelm again it does her heart good. Despite her insistence to the contrary, the thought that he may have succumbed to his injury crosses Aethelflaed’s mind more than once in the weeks that pass between their meetings.
He’s speaking with one of the guard at the other side of the courtyard and when his eyes flick towards her briefly a restrained smile flits across his face.
She walks towards him at a leisurely pace, waiting for the other man to take his leave before she approaches too close.
He greets her with a bow of his head, bending at the waist by force of habit and grimacing slightly as he does.
“Please do not trouble yourself,” she says, laying a hand on his arm without thinking. He stands as if turned to stone, and she pulls her hand away, heart racing. Despite their exposure, something about this encounter feels even more intimate than their last. She had not expected that.
“Lady. Your victory was well-told.” Aldhelm’s voice is warm, though his eyes remain as shrewd as ever.
“You are looking nearly healed,” she says, no interest in discussing matters of war for now. “I am glad of it.”
His eyes are fixed on her as he replies, “I have recovered, thanks to you.”
“I could not very well have let you bleed to death on my floor,” she chides gently. “If you had wanted to meet your end, you ought to have gone elsewhere.”
He huffs a laugh, followed by another painful grimace, but this time she refrains from reaching out.
“Your husband is within,” he says, glancing towards the palace.
Aethelflaed frowns. “Why have you returned, Aldhelm? Do you not fear he may strike again?”
And as he meets her eyes, she knows the answer, and it sends a familiar quiver through her the way his confession had those weeks ago.
He’s returned for her. Out of duty to her, and to Mercia—they are one and the same to him. It is equal parts calculated and reckless to slink back to the side of the man who’d tried to kill him—who’d tried to kill them both. But she was here, and so was he, and their reasons were not so dissimilar.
“I will happily leave if you have an errand for me,” he says, a hint of levity entering his tone. “But otherwise, my place is here.”
“I have no errand for you,” she replies, narrowing her eyes as she shakes her head. “My only orders were to stay alive, and so far you have not failed me.”
A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth again, this time he barely fights it. “If you are pleased, then so am I.”
She sweeps by him with one last glance as she says, “I must greet my husband. I am sure he will be as happy to see me alive as he was to see you.”
And though his face is gone from view, she can see his gentle smile deepen clearly in her mind’s eye.
***
Aldhelm retires that evening well after the rest of the household has gone to bed. He had hoped to catch one more glance of Aethelflaed as he sat by the fire, but she had vanished some time ago.
When he reaches his room something stays his hand at the door. It is closed, as he’d left it, but his years of soldiering had made him attuned to any small changes in his surroundings, and it has saved his life too many times for him to second-guess his instincts.
He draws his weapon and pushes the door open gingerly. He had been right. The room is not empty.
Aethelflaed sits on the edge of his bed mending a tunic—his tunic—and looking so at ease he nearly questions whether by some trick he’d arrived in her room instead of his own.
“You do not sleep, Aldhelm?” she asks easily, glancing up from her work just long enough to cause the color to rise in his face.
He returns his knife to his belt and closes the door behind him, not sure he should, but certain it cannot remain open. “I found myself lost in thought. But you, Lady, are also awake. Do you not sleep either?”
Aldhelm steps closer, heart pounding, and sees the garment she’s mending is the robe he’d been wearing that fateful night in Winchester. The bloodstain, by some miracle, had disappeared after vigorous scrubbing with ash and cold water, but the jagged rift in the fabric had remained, Aldhelm finding himself strangely averse to repairing it. The gash was an echo of the scar on his own body which served as a warning that might reinforce his better judgement should he find himself again at odds with Aethelred. A warning which now has been turned into a message with quite a different tone. Wounds will heal, rifts will be repaired, and his heart will continue beating for a singular purpose—he can no longer deny it does. He had admitted it to her, those weeks ago, now he has admitted it to himself.
“You needn’t trouble yourself.” Objection is futile for many reasons, not least of which is the mesmerizing effect that her elegant and efficient needlework has on him.
“It’s no trouble,” she replies. “And I’m nearly done.” Indeed, as she speaks she pulls the final stitch and inspects her work. “There. You can hardly tell.”
When she offers him the garment he accepts, and it feels somehow heavier than he remembers. Her hands linger near his, fingers buried in the folds of the fabric.
“My lady, you endanger yourself by being here.” He cannot help but remind her.
She lifts an eyebrow in that authoritative way of hers. “You ought to worry for yourself more than you do me, Aldhelm.” And as she traces along the line of her stitches her fingers brush his.
He’s struck suddenly by a memory from several years ago: Aethelflaed in profile, sitting atop her horse as she commands the Mercian fyrd. Something about her expression now makes it impossible for him not to recall that moment. He wonders if perhaps that was the moment when his heart had begun to turn towards her. He cannot be sure, for he had found himself ambushed by sentiment before he’d even realized that his affections had been capable of attaching themselves to such an object.
“I should let you rest.” That thoughtful line he has come to love so well has appeared between her brows.
“I am honored to have been visited by such a careful seamstress,” he says, taking a step back to allow her aside.
She smiles slightly. “I was told as a child to make my stitches neat, or they would not hold.”
“Precision is a strong suit of yours, I have noticed,” he remarks, awed that still she does not leave.
“Not, however, of my husband’s,” she replies, her tone darkly humorous. “And thank God for that.”
“Why are you here, Lady?” The question is as blunt as it is inevitable. It is late, and he is tired, and she is too exceptional not to be aware the effect she has on him.
Her expression turns sober, and he curses himself for his candor. “My apologies, I did not mean—“
She shakes her head. “Do not apologize. You are right, I should not be here."
“You do not intend to tell me why you’ve broached propriety for such a small task?” Aldhelm asks, folding the length of the garment in half and setting it aside.
“It is not a small task,” she replies, and lays a hand on his chest.
He places his hand atop hers as if to confirm he had not imagined it her touch.
“I should let you rest,” she repeats, but instead of moving away, she moves closer.
“You should rest as well,” he replies. “But only after you reveal your true purpose.”
Her eyes crease with a smile. “Do you suspect me of duplicity?”
“If you no longer suspect me, I feel compelled to maintain the balance myself.”
She breathes a laugh, but her grave look returns.
“If I were a more hopeful man,” he brushes his thumb along the curve of her cheek, “I’d invent some foolish reason for your presence.”
“Perhaps, Aldhelm,” she says, and his heart leaps at the sound of his name on her tongue, “Perhaps you may allow yourself a little foolishness, on this occasion only.”
He gently lifts her chin towards him. Her eyes are bright and clear, no trace of uncertainty in her face.
“I am afraid I shall play the fool too well,” he murmurs.
She rises on her toes to kiss him. “I have no doubt you will regain your reason, before long.”
And he wraps his arms around her and gives in to hope, at least for a night.
ok so i found your blog because i was looking back at some old post you made about your ideal uhtred/alfred fanfiction and then i saw your blog description and holy frick you ship Mary/Charles????? SO IT WASN’T JUST ME????? i was so disappointed by the show we didn’t get more charles, he was really my favorite one for her!!!! wow this makes me so happy
OH MY GOSH, first of all, my apologies that this took so long to respond to because I was on hiatus from my blog for a very long time and have been slowly working my way through asks sent during that time.
That Uhtred/Alfred post is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written for this blog because I love them so much and whenever I rewatch the show I just think about how stupidly stubborn their love for each other is. I can’t be more eloquent than that right now.
Re: Mary/Charles, it absolutely was not just you -- I actually joined Tumblr when Charles was on the show (that was one of the reasons I joined Tumblr in the first place), and they were popular here. Not Mary/Matthew popular (but nothing is ever going to be), but popular enough that there were a bunch of us talking about them and people making gifs and writing posts and, ugh, that was a really wonderful time. Because it absolutely looked for awhile there like he was being built up as her end-game love interest. Julian Fellowes gave them scenes that were ridiculous fun but also meaty as far as their differing views on the aristocracy and on love and marriage. It was a slow burn (I love those), and it felt like we were watching them build a future together.
Even when Charles got shipped off to Poland at the end of S5, I believed he was coming back because Mary was so obviously disappointed and it seemed like things were left unfinished, as was noted by quite a few reviewers who also expected that he’d eventually be back.
But then...yeah. :(
I’m always going to love them, though, and I’m always going to hold onto a secret hope for them, Henry or no Henry (that relationship was just terribly written in my opinion), because Charles was absolutely her best post-Matthew option.
Thank you for sending me such a great ask (two couples in common -- yay!); drop by any time!
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i love that u me and @plvtarch are the entire kenneth branagh fandom like we are rlly carrying this man to glory...where are our awards for being such dedicated fans in 2020 i would like to see them <3
Honestly, why don't more people realize how talented and hot he is? He has it all, UGH
You both are encouraging me to do more Ken posts, I haven't felt this sensation of wanting to post a lot about him since 2012 🥺💙
omg just realized i never sent u an ask! 2, 17, and 22 for the weird asks game if u dont mind <3
pepsi box blue or cheetos bag orange? ooh great question i'm gonna have to go with pepsi box blue
an earliest obsession you remember? the american girl brand i'm not talking one or two dolls this was so serious. my mother being as frugal as she was, would hunt for garage sales and Craigslist listings and eBay thrift stores etc etc for old abused dolls and would fix them up to mint condition, and i would style them and read every historical dolls book set (the originals of course) and other any other book the brand published! specifically a series called history mysteries along the vein of nancy drew, which i found on eBay and am now considering buying the entire 20+ book set series as a treat. anyway im prattling on but thats my fave childhood obsession and it endures to this day (if i had to work any retail in the world it would be ag and the DREAMM job would be working on their creative or marketing team like higher up either working with publishers and writing the books or writing promotional content ugh sorry rant over)
do you have a collection of cool rocks? aw noooo i used to when i was like 11 and studying geology at the library homeschooled by my mom it was such a cool little kit but i think i donated it in a move somewhere along the way
sihtric would be a florist in a modern au. look ik he has the look of a tattoo artist but remember when he brought flowers for his wife?? the man knows flower language ok <3
LOVE! | like it | neutral | eh… | don’t like that :(
I love this headcanon, it’s so cute!!! and imagine a tattoo AND flowers parlor, you get a tattoo and a fresh bouquet of flowers 😍💗