ThatOldGirl
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Summary
Aethelwold watches Leofric and Uhtred as they raid in Cornwallum, he understands what he sees.
He glances over at the other fire, where Leofric and Uhtred sit. They’re in conversation, their faces close together — Leofric’s scarred and cragged, shadows from the fire turning his eyes blacker than his hair, like the Devil’s pits, Uhtred’s smooth and young, his scars pink and somehow handsome, they make a strange picture side-by-side — their laughter quiet. They are always like that, at taverns in the presence of whores, in the square surrounded by their men, even before King Alfred. They talk like they’ve known each other more than a few years, faces close together, knowing every word to say to make the other laugh.
“Arseling,” Leofric says and shoves Uhtred on the shoulder so he goes sprawling in the leaf litter, laughing that harsh, barking, Dane laugh of his. Leofric pulls Uhtred back up to sit on log they’d dragged over to the fire and picks leaves out of his hair for him, Aethelwold feels a little like he’s plunging into cold water while he watches, so he looks away and goes back to tending the stew and fire.
Bookmarked by ThatOldGirl
30 Jan 2026