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Author's Chapter Notes:
OK here we go again, masses of thanks to ariadne for the banner of course
and thanks to my wonderful reviewers
marsbar, juli, midnightgirl, fyreburned, dusty, darkrivertempest,I'm bloody english and cordykitten
and Darkeyedseer, it was great to hear from you again.
Buffy was up late the next morning. She and William had shared the bench at the jarls table, listening to the music and the stories. Leif had given William a ring from his finger for telling Beowulf to the appreciative crowd and Buffy had loved the way the low timbre of his voice seemed to caress her skin. There had been dancing as well, the warriors taking their turns to escort the ladies present in fast round dances. Buffy hadn’t sat a single one out. But her favourite was when she had William’s hand for a more sedate slow dance and their bodies shadowed one another. It was very late, or should that be early morning, by the time the little party made their way back to the Booth. Leif had offered them a pallet for the night but Buffy wanted her own bed.

She and William slipped beneath the covers. The linen was chilly against William’s skin and he pulled himself closer to Buffy’s warmth. Pulling the woollen blankets over the pair of them he wrapped them both in the protective cocoon of their sleeping area. She responded to his touch with a little tremor. William knew that sign. It meant his lady wanted him: it had been days since they had last made love. The travelling and the Thing had dampened any ardour they may have been feeling.

But not tonight. William could feel Buffy’s hand tracing a pattern up his arm and across his chest. She stopped at a nipple and rubbed her thumb across it. It made him even harder, if that were at all possible. He shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. Buffy used her nails from her right hands to slowly and softly scratch her way down his body. His cock was already so hard, he drew in a ragged breath as her fingers skimmed his manhood, her thumb rubbing the few drops of pre-cum over the head. He felt her other hand follow the line of his hip and circle around his buttocks. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He pushed Buffy onto her back and started to nibble and kiss her down her neck and along her collarbone. He could feel her shudder and tremble under him; with his hand he felt down to that secret, most womanly of places and rubbed her clit bringing her up to her first release. He could hear her moans and whimpers as she neared her orgasm. Her body shivered from just his touch; her nipples were as hard as pebbles. He licked and tasted one as his free hand rubbed the other, while his fingers pushed their way into her body. She was so tight and wet for him: he loved the way her body seemed to draw him in deeper and deeper. He could feel her juices release as she reached her first juddering completion.

Now he could be a little selfish, she had had her first release. He rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him. Buffy felt his hard thigh push between her legs, rubbing her clit with every move. Buffy rode his leg, pushing harder and harder against him; she spread her legs wider and lifted them across both of his thighs, so she was straddling him. She could feel his engorged cock pressing against her stomach. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, and she hoped William wouldn’t be too upset by her taking control. She leant her whole body forward, her breasts rubbing his chest, William felt like every inch of his skin was on fire, his breath coming in short sharp pants. She pushed forward, further up his body until she could feel the swollen tip of his wonderful, thick, long cock at her entrance. Buffy slid back, taking the whole of him inside her.

William gasped, this was one of the forbidden positions but it was wonderful. He kissed Buffy on the lips, deep and longingly, his tongue begging for entrance into her hot, welcoming mouth. He could hear the moan escaping from his body as her felt her muscles stroking him; he lifted his hips, shoving deeply into her body. He could feel his tip brush her womb with each stroke, her body grasping at his as though it were an iron hand in a velvet glove. They fitted together perfectly. Buffy was making the most wonderful whimpering sounds with every movement of his body. They soon set a rhythm that left them breathless and desperate for each other. He could feel his climax coming; Buffy felt him swell and stiffen, then felt that wonderful hard stroke that meant he had shot his seed deeply inside her. It was almost better than orgasming herself, when she knew that she had brought him to completion. His cry was swallowed by her tongue and they fell back into each other’s arms. Buffy slipped off his body but slid back into the shelter of his arms; there she fell asleep, safe and secure.


The next day was quieter and Buffy and William just wondered around the market looking at all the sights and sounds.

She made her way through the thinning crowd to the wine seller, and asked for a sample of his wares. Holding out a small horn to her, the man started talking delivery of barrels of French wines, to a place mutually agreed. Buffy tasted the golden liquid and handed the horn over to William. Their hands met on the horn and he took the drink with her still holding the horn, as he’d seen Anya and Xander do: he held onto her hand as he brought the horn to his mouth. Sipping it he then passed it back to Buffy and held it to her lips and they shared the last between them. Buffy looked up into his eyes and he wished he could take her there and then, daylight and witnesses be dammed. She made his trews tight just thinking of her, and the look in her eyes told him she felt the same way.

‘Well?’ asked the seller, breaking the mood.

‘I’ll take three small barrels delivered to the market in Hardangar by next month.’

They settled the price to be paid on delivery and after checking the barrels they moved on, their bodies nearly touching as they moved through the crowds. Buffy stopped by a man selling fine oil. She needed a barrel of that for soap and hand-cream making. A small barrel would be enough and she paid to have it delivered up to the booth.

Connor watched the pair of them. He had heard their noises last night and it reminded him of Willow and Tara, the noises that pair made had him hard every night. He was going to have to find himself a wife and soon, but today he had business with the Jarl. He wished he could find some way of helping his mother and her lover. Wyrd was strange, the Norns wove intricate patterns that few could see but it tended to work out well, if one had faith.

William looked pensive as they wandered around hand in hand. Buffy loved the market and it was her only opportunity to spend money.

‘What is it, William? Have I done something to upset you?’ she asked.

‘No, nothing.’

‘Well something has, Wessex, now what is it? Come on tell me or I’ll tickle you!’ she threatened with a smile on her lips but her eyes were shadowed by whatever worried William.

‘I was thinking, even if you lived in Northumbria, Wessex or Mercia, I wouldn’t be wealthy enough to support you, you are so far above me.’

‘Oh William, I have spent a fortune this market and I know it, but I have made that money myself. I wouldn’t cost you anything, in fact I would learn your ways and work out how I could make money for your hall. My braid fetches good prices: those goblets I bought with the money I made from my own work. The spices and jewels were bought with the silver I got off the raiders who tried and failed to take us; the oil and wine from the profits off of our own furs and woollens. I have cost nothing this year. The fabric came from the reward money Leif paid the hall for the killing of one declared wolf’s head. I make profit for any hall I live in: and you are not below me. Your father sat in a king’s hall, as did mine. Your mother served a queen - as did mine. You are a younger son; I was the only surviving child. That is the only difference. If you were a beggar I would make you your fortune within five years and your hall would be lauded and praised as Connor’s is. Do you hear of my hall? You didn’t even know I had a different hall, did you? No, and nor should anyone. I carry the keys to Connor’s hall and that is where my loyalties lie. As they would to your hall if I held the key there.’

She shook his hand off of her arm and stormed off, her eyes flashing with anger. How could he think that of her, that she thought so little of him? She turned to see him, still standing where she’d left him, then thought about what he’d said: that she was above him, that she was his superior. She looked at his face and realised how much she’d hurt him. She ran back to William.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just…hate that you would think that of me. I have never treated you like a thrall, have I?’

It’s alright my love. I shouldn’t have got upset because an amazing lady is good at her job, and no, you have never treated me as anything other than a noble. And you’re right, we suit each other.’

‘We do. I’m just bitchy Buffy this week, my back hurts and my stomach aches and I just want to get home.’

William had been with Buffy long enough to realise what she meant, it was her flow. He held out his hand and took hers.

‘Come on, let’s get you comfortable.

They made their way back to their booth. The day after next they would be leaving and they intended to enjoy the feast over the next two nights. William was due to tell the last part of Beowulf and Buffy wanted to hear it.

Connor was waiting to talk to William when they got back. He watched as William wrapped a heated fire-stone in a piece of woollen cloth, gave it to Buffy and helped her to bed, kissing her gently on the forehead; he recommended she sleep until it was time to get ready for the feast.

Connor pulled a couple of the benches outside for them to sit on. There was a hneaftafl board carved in one, and fox-and-geese on the other. The two men sat in the weak spring sun and played board games.

‘I need to speak with you. William. What you did, saving me from that injury, deserves a reward. Ask and it shall be yours. A portion of the fine, perhaps? Or would you like to stay here, with us, with Buffy?’

William looked up quickly into Connor’s eyes wondering if he were joking or not.

‘It’s no joke William, we would welcome you into our hall.’

‘What about Tara?’

‘She should go home, but there is a place for you.’

William stopped concentrating on the game. Connor took advantage of his distraction and moved his piece, taking one of William’s.

‘I need time to think. It’s a tempting offer, but I am needed at home. I would want to know how my family fare.’

‘Think about it, then.’

‘I will. It’s a hard choice. My heart says stay but I would bring nothing to Buffy, no money, lands: nothing, my title means nothing here. I would always be the Saxon hostage that she kept. She wouldn’t mind, I know that, but I would, and honour demands…’

‘Honour demands,’ Connor repeated before completely surrounding William’s king.



They decided to stay an extra day at the Thing, allowing Buffy to rest and get over the worst of her pains before heading back on the tough journey home. The afternoon of the last day saw the sun shining and people packing their belongings. Xander, Connor and the other men from their booth were getting into the rougher clothes they had with them. William watched with curiosity as they put supporting bandages on their knees and elbows.

Connor signalled to William. ‘You want to join in?’

‘What?’

‘The Ba’.’

‘The what?’

‘It’s a game. Aldis will throw a ball into the air and each team will try and get it back to their own booth; the one that does, wins.’

‘Sounds simple. I’d love to play.’

‘What my darling son has forgotten to tell you,’ Buffy interrupted, ‘is that there is only one rule…no weapons. I, like the rest of the ladies, am going to sit well away from the action.’

Connor grinned at her, then at William. ‘Well, are you in?’

William answered by stripping off his cloak and handing Buffy the small eating knife he had been using during lunch. And his grin made him look about 12.

The men made their way to the Speaker’s stone where Aldis was standing talking with Skapti. The crowd got thicker and thicker and Leif sounded a horn to bring the rabble to order.

‘The rules of the Thing are suspended for those playing in the game!’ he shouted. Which raised a great cheer from those standing around.

Aldis held up a leather ball, turned her back to the crowd and threw it high over her shoulder. One youth made a great leap into the air, hitting the ball towards a group of waiting men, and the game was on.

William found it hard to follow the action. Every time he got near the ball there was an elbow or knee aimed at him.

Connor and William saw a flash of leather go past them in someone’s arms and both made a diving grab at the same moment. Connor got his arms around it and tried to stand, but the weight of bodies pressing on him was too much. Xander slipped into his right and William managed to wriggle into a tiny space on his left; Connor managed to get his feet under him and broke free of the scrum that had formed around him. They were off and running. Blood dripped from a cut on Connor’s cheek and Xander was sporting a rapidly blackening eye. Then Connor was tripped by a man in a yellow shirt who grabbed the ball and ran off with it.

Buffy had watched for a while, but although she normally loved the ba’ she wasn’t up to standing around in the chilly wind. She made her way over to where Linden and Aldis were sitting, with a hurdle behind them to act as a wind-break. Linden made room on the bench for Buffy and signalled for a thrall to bring the Lady a hot drink. Dried nettles and blackberries with raspberry leaves in it made a refreshing tea that eased the cramps she was feeling.

The women sat and gossiped, watching the men play like children for most of the afternoon. The pack made its way back and forward across the open space until finally someone from one of the lesser camps made a break for it and managed to get the ball home. The cheers and shouts rang out; Leif presented the winner with a small purse of silver pennies and invited everyone to the final night’s feasting in his hall. The Thing would break on the morning.





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