#Sihtric x you angst

[imtryingbuck]

fluff - △ angst - ◯ Dividers by me🤍

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

I officially started to write the last firefighter chapter today. So now's a cool time to give the previous chapters a read, if you haven't already! 🖤🔥

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 -part 4 - Valentine's HCs

[thenameswinterfics]

SCIAMACHY

Fandom: House of the Dragon Pairing: Cregan Stark x DragonDreamer!Reader Settings: Season 2 and post season 2 Summary: As the second child of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn, your father arranged your marriage to the young Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark, in the guise of an arranged marriage that would strengthen the bond between your Houses. But you are haunted by visions of a bloody war shaking the Seven Kingdoms, and the seeds of your doubt are sown when your sister's claim to the throne is challenged. Word Count: 4,4 K Warnings: Angst, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of character(s) death(s), mention of child loss, mention of sibling loss, major spoilers from the book "Fire and Blood" (if you're only following the show please do not read this fic). A/N: I'm back! (sadly for you) This is my very first fic I've written for the HOTD fandom and the very first fic of Cregan. I'm nervous, maybe even more than when I posted my first Sihtric fic, probably because the fandom is vast. It came out different of what I've planned in my head and I lowkey hate the last part, but I hope you still could enjoy it! A special thanks to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for helping me with clearing my outline and for the title, and for her and @legitalicat for the quick beta reading.

Dedicated to my beautiful Cregan wife @sylasthegrim

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

Sciamachy: (n), a battle against imaginary enemies; fighting your shadows.

An unfamiliar chill ran down your spine as you walked through the dark corridors of the Red Keep, the place you were born but never called home. The soft crunching of the snow under your boots was the only sound you could hear as you juggled in the darkness, the faintest light in the form of rays filtering through the cracks in the walls and allowing you to see a little. 

The sight was vivid, far too vivid, and all you could do was rub your eyes vigorously, hoping that when your vision cleared you would find yourself surrounded by the crackling fire and warmth of your room in Winterfell, the place you were sent against your will but would be forced to call home once you became its new lady. 

But no matter how hard you tried to clear your vision: you would still recognise the long, oppressive corridors you had walked as a child, emptied of the countless soldiers of the Kingsguard that guarded it. Each step became an echo of the memories you thought you had buried with time, but which rose to the surface like a breath of fire from the dragon's jaws. 

You could still hear the voice of King Viserys, the father who despised you from the moment you took your first breath, guilty of stealing your twin brother's life and living in his name. A father that neglected you for not being born as a man.

You could still hear the voice of your sister Rhaenyra, sweet as honey and warm as a mother's embrace you had never known. You were the little sister she always wanted, the glimpse of freedom amidst her duties to the Crown and the relief from the pain of losing a childhood friend. And it mattered not that you were the quietest of her family, avoiding banquets and receptions in the throne room and sneaking out whenever you could, collecting the brightest bugs and muttering meaningless words, flinching when someone touched your hand: you were still her perfect little sister in her eyes. 

And her love was all you wanted right now. 

Your bittersweet thoughts were interrupted by a loud roar from outside, the sound so loud it made your head spin and your stomach churn. You quickened your pace, hoping to find a larger crack in the wall to see what was happening outside. And there you found a vision that made you freeze.

You saw two dragons, an older one and a younger one, chasing each other across a stormy sky, their dragon scales glowing under the lightning and thunder as their bodies pursued each other in a majestic yet macabre dance. It seemed an innocent game between them, but the claws and talons of the older dragon prevailed over the younger, and you watched helplessly as he fell to the ground like a comet from the sky, swallowed by the sea.

You walked on, your eyes never leaving the scene outside, wanting to help the little dragon disappear into the water. But the more you crossed the corridor, the heavier the air you breathed became, and roars of pain, of burning lands and clashing swords filled your ears like a cursed chant. 

You covered your ears and closed your eyes, stopping your journey towards the throne room. When you opened your eyes again, you saw a room far different from the one you were accustomed to: the vibrant and noisy ambience turned into a ghostly one, the faint rays of moonlight illuminating the Iron Throne. A bloody crown, Jaehaerys' crown, lay abandoned on the throne, rivulets of blood running down to your feet, two dragons lying restlessly behind it. Two children stood before it, their backs to each other, holding each other's hands; you could feel their tortured gaze as they watched the bloody chair, and your heart broke at the sight. 

As you approached, trying to touch the crown, soft footsteps made you turn and you heard a wolf howling in the distance.

And then you woke up. 

Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honour must pay its price. 

These were the words that came out from Cregan Stark's mouth as he escorted Jacaerys to the Wall. They were a testament to how the men of the North were bound by his rigid code of values and honour, and how none of them had ever forgotten or wavered from an oath. 

And when the Stark were called upon to renew their allegiance to House Targaryen, nothing would make them waver.

His father Rickon had already done so when he was summoned to King's Landing and bent the knee to Rhaenyra Targaryen, and a few years later it was Cregan's turn to renew the oath by accepting King Viserys' offer of marriage to the new lord of Winterfell. The young wolf had recently been freed from the regency of his zealous uncle Bennard, and an arranged marriage to a Targaryen princess would strengthen the bond between the two houses since the times of Aegon the Conqueror and Tohrren Stark. 

But when he saw the melancholy in your lilac eyes, Cregan realised that politics was nothing more than a sweet lie masking a more sinister purpose: you were no longer welcome at the court of King Viserys, no matter how much your sister begged to keep you under her protection, or how much Alicent Hightower dared to show a glimmer of mercy. You would have been a young dragon raised by a pack of wolves, and as his future wife it would have been his responsibility to look after you.

And now he was called to be sworn to House Targaryen again, on the brink of a civil war that could involve the North in Southern affairs. 

“The realm will soon tear itself apart if men do not remember the oath sworn to King Viserys and to his rightful heir,” Jacaerys announced solemnly, walking through the narrow corridors of the Walls, Cregan at his side. The Lord of Winterfell was holding Ice over one shoulder, the sword as heavy as the title inherited from his father. 

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince,” Cregan retorted, occasionally bowing his head to some members of the Night’s Watch, “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between North and South,” he added, a hint of heavy responsibility in his voice. The threats in winter were much greater than in summer, with the Night's Watch and the men of Winterfell stepping up their activities on the Wall, ready to turn back any outside threats. Furthermore, it was rare to see the intervention of the North in matters concerning the South, but Cregan could not ignore that oaths were broken. And traitors had to pay for it.

“War is coming to the whole realm, my lord,” it was the Prince of Dragonstone’s turn to retort back, “Whilst your men plan to raise guards against wildlings, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. My mother’s claim has been compromised, and little I believe your lady wife could turn her gaze away,”

The words that escaped Jace's mouth left Cregan in a state of astonishment, his brows furrowing and hardening his already stern face. He had never expected the prince to use his wife so cleverly, even though she was a trusted member of his house whom he had sadly never met in peaceful circumstances.

“The Queen has not forgotten the love she has for her sister, and King’s Landing will welcome her again once my mother succeeds in keeping the realm united,”

“My lady wife has her sister's fate very much at heart,” Cregan continued, his gaze softening a bit at the thought of you, “and you arrival put her in a state of worry, my prince,”

The two young men then stood on the Wall, looking out over the untamed land, now covered in white snow. A biting wind whipped around them as Cregan explained how such powerful creatures as the dragons refused to cross the spaces beyond the Wall, highlighting the dangers of the unknown that folded these lands, while he and Jacaerys negotiated the number of men willing to aid Queen Rhaenyra's cause. Cregan himself knew the importance of keeping an oath to a man's moral integrity, and while his duties were tied to the Wall and the threat of the wildlings, he could not ignore the dispute over the king's word. 

“My lord,” one of Cregan’s men arrived, forcing the two young men to interrupt their conversation, “Urgent news from Dragonstone,” 

The Wolf of Winterfell took the parchment in his hands, and from the brief glance he shared with one of his men, he knew the contents were far from frivolous. He let the paper slip from his hands to read the message, and a sense of astonishment struck him like the chill of the North: his lips curled into a grimace, his eyebrows furled slightly as his grey eyes scanned the words printed on the paper. He could have thought it was an unfortunate joke, but the seal of House Targaryen only confirmed what he had read: 

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Cregan lifted his gaze to rest on Jacaerys' brown eyes and watched as the young prince's face contorted in confusion, then grief as he glanced at the parchment in Cregan's hands, and hot tears watered his eyes, streaming down his sharp face until two small rivers crossed their path on his chin. The young lord watched helplessly as the Prince of Dragonstone staggered backwards, clutching his chest in a tight fist as if trying to hold it together; it was a sight familiar to Cregan, for he had also lost his younger brother and remembered the same sense of helplessness creeping through his veins. 

But as Jacaerys collapsed in grief, a new weight hit Cregan's chest, a sense of dread blossoming in the centre of his stomach as he steeled himself for what was to come. 

He would have to inform you and to bring the news of Lucery’s death. And it wouldn’t be easy.

The bright orange sun hid behind the imposing mountains of the North, its last rays illuminating the tops of the peaks and tinting the snow a soft pink. As the light faded, a few amber rays filtered through the windows of your chambers, illuminating them with a soft glow - the gentle warmth of the sun blending with the heat of the great fire in the centre of the room, accompanied by the soft crackle of the wood.

You sat quietly at the foot of your bed, embroidery hoop in hand, watching your son Rickon play with his wooden toys beside you. A few handmaids moved about your chambers, preparing the large table for the dinner you and Cregan would share that evening. Your lilac eyes rested on the small figure of your son, who returned them with a broad smile. But as you raised a hand and gently rubbed his swollen cheeks, you were seized by a sense of unease. 

It had been a long time since you and Cregan had been married, and from the first night you spent in Winterfell your mind had been haunted by dark omens hovering over your family name. Glimpses of what had happened in the past and what would happen in the future passed before your eyes like dancing shadows, sometimes appearing even when you were fully awake. You could still hear cries for help filling your ears, dragons fighting in the sky with claws and breath of fire, and sinister whispers plotting an overthrow of power, the image of your father's bloody crown on the throne still vivid in your mind. 

The people of Winterfell had always regarded you with suspicion, for you were far from the Targaryen princess they had always imagined. But Cregan had never dared to question your tastes, however strange they might sound, and whenever the duties of lordship allowed him a moment's respite, he would gladly accompany you to the far reaches of the North and catch whatever bugs you wanted. In winter, when the temperatures were too harsh and the bugs were nowhere to be found, he would wrap his great arms around your form and listen to your strange rhymes as he gazed into the fire. 

Your prophetic dreams ceased after you gave birth to Rickon, but they returned when a raven came from Dragonstone with grim news: the death of your father the King, the usurpation of your sister's claim by the Hightowers, and the loss of Rhaenyra's only daughter. Fear settled in your heart as you remembered the figure of the young dragon swallowed by the waves of the ocean, and you wondered if even innocent children would fall victim to this dangerous game of power. 

The doors of your chambers swung open and Cregan appeared. The handmaids greeted him with a nod of respect, and you gave him a small smile as you watched Rickon rise and reach his father, who scooped him up with his free hand and kissed his little forehead.

But it was when he looked at you that you realised something was wrong. His eyes, softened by the sight of you, held a pain that seemed to be fighting him. It was as if he were carrying a burden too heavy for him to bear, heavier even than his duties as Lord of Winterfell, and the sight surprised you: you had never seen Cregan so troubled by anything.

"Leave us alone," your husband's voice echoed in the room, once again wearing his mask of severity, "I need to have a few words with my wife in private,” 

The handmaids bowed their heads and quickly left the room, one of them holding Rickon in her arms. There was an unspoken tension in the air as Cregan cautiously approached you and sat in front of you. He had always been an attentive and protective husband, showing a side that differed from the stern image he gave his men.

“You seem quite troubled, husband,” you spoke softly, your voice faltering slightly. Cregan replied with a heavy sigh, covering your hands with his larger ones and rubbing them with his calloused thumbs.

“Dreadful news came from Dragonstone, my love,” Cregan said in a hoarse voice, choosing his words carefully, as if talking to a wounded puppy, “Your sister, the Queen, lost a child again,”

You felt the ground beneath your feet, surroundings had become as muffled as your husband's voice as he recited the contents of the parchment:

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Feeling like you were about to pass out, you rolled over onto your side and gripped the wooden footboard in a tight vice. You immediately covered your mouth and looked down at your feet as your mind slowly processed the news, but the shock was so strong that no tears came. Your mind raced back to the dream you'd had weeks before Jacaerys' arrival, seeing pieces of a puzzle you couldn't quite understand until now: Lucerys was the dragon that fell from the sky, and Aemond was the other one who sank his jaws into his flesh.

You felt Cregan's worried gaze on you as one of his hands moved to your arm, rubbing it gently in a soothing way. “It pains me to see you so devastated, my sweet wife,” he spoke quietly, breaking the wall of silence between you, “but you must know that House Stark will stand against-“

“I need a moment, please,” your trembling voice interrupted him as you found the strength to stand at your feet, your thick robes swooning with every step you took in the room. You paced back and forth, one hand rubbing the bridge of your nose while the other supported your lower back, grief and confusion mixing in your head as you felt like you were about to succumb to madness: for a moment you wondered if Rickon would fall victim to the Dance as well, but no bad omen was attached to him and that brought you a moment of peace.

Your restless walk ended as you approached the large window of your chambers and saw Vermax flying restlessly outside. It pained you to see such a magnificent creature as a dragon so distraught over the loss of his kin, and it pained you even more when a flash of his fate crossed your eyes as you saw the dragon dancing among hundreds of arrows.

“It is said that dragons can feel their masters’ emotions,” a rough voice came from behind, and you saw Cregan looking outside like you, “They feel their pain, their turmoil, and they share the same grief.” 

“He is preparing for his last flight,” you murmured quietly, turning your head slightly and locking your lilac gaze into his grey one. You felt Cregan’s hand resting on your waist, allowing him to pull you closer and join your foreheads together. 

"Winter is coming, my love, and I need my men here to defend the Wall," he spoke softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the warmth of your skin against his, "but House Stark will pledge its support to Queen Rhaenyra by sending her thousands of Greybeards to fight in her name. Your sister's claim will be upheld and your nephew will succeed her," 

"Jacaerys will never be King of the Seven Kingdoms," you confessed defeatedly, looking down at your feet, "the only kingdom he will see is of sea and salt. He will never see his mother sitting on the Iron Throne. I have seen it,"

Your words brought a heavy silence to the room and you both withdrew into your thoughts. You saw how quickly Cregan and Jacaerys had bonded, how they spent their days hunting and drinking together while they negotiated the terms of war. Luke's death would not be an accident, and you hoped your words would reach your husband, that he would understand the destructive force dragons could be once they went into battle.

Instead, Cregan's only words were his arms wrapped around you, sealing your body in a protective embrace. He whispered words of comfort, kissed your temple and promised victory over the usurpers.

But deep in his heart, he knew it would not be easy.

Grief and anger were the emotions Cregan felt as he rolled the parchment in his hands, his eyes darting over the words written in pitch-black ink. He cursed himself for not believing the signs of your dreams, for thinking that fear had created them for you. But even this time you were right.

The Battle of the Gullet had been costly for the Blacks, and the death of Jacaerys Velaryon was a low blow the queen would not forgive her usurpers. It was Cregan again who had the task of bringing you the unfortunate news, and his eyes would forever be haunted by the sight of your grief: he saw you holding Rickon as the news of blood and cheese reached Winterfell's ears, and those same dull eyes came back to you as you leaned against the wall at your nephew's death.

Not even the news that King's Landing had fallen into the hands of Rhaenyra and Daemon could ease the paranoia you lived with, but it only served to fuel your dark prophecies. Few letters were exchanged between Cregan and Rhaenyra, with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms constantly asking for her beloved sister and inviting her to return to court and serve if she wished. But Cregan always refused her invitation. 

For the truth was that you were safe in the great lands of the North, surrounded by nothing but the love of Cregan and Rickon, far from that viper's nest that was the Red Keep. It took time for you to adjust to the harsh cold of Winterfell and the coldness of its people, but your calm and gentle nature opened a breach in the heart of his hardened lord, and with it, the people began to love you. 

The night was cold, and the heat of the fire was not enough to protect them from the blizzard raging outside. Cregan could not sleep, tossing and turning, hoping that the Old Gods would grant him some much needed rest. It was only after tossing and turning on his side for the umpteenth time that he saw you awake too, your platinum curls falling gently to your shoulders and your lilac eyes gazing absently at the small bed where Rickon rested. 

The young wolf wrapped his naked arms around your waist and pulled you close, his chest pressed against your back, the layer of your nightgown the only thing separating your bodies. "Sleep seems to have left you too," he said in a harsh voice, his lips brushing against your neck. You closed your eyes and let out a shuddering breath. 

"I have no reason to be asleep, dear husband," you replied absently, the softness of your voice melting his heart. Cregan knew that your mind was far from him, and he feared that your prophetic dreams had imprisoned it again. He let out a long sigh before speaking again.

"A raven came from King's Landing in the morrow," he spoke quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Rickon, "your sister will be pleased to welcome you to the capital and give you all the honours of a Targaryen princess,”

He felt a small chuckle escape your mouth and lowered his head, resting his newly bearded chin on your collarbone, "If it is your wish to reach her, I will order some of my men to arrange a safe journey south for you." Cregan went on, his voice faltering at the thought of leaving you alone while Rhaenyra dealt with her opponents. But you were his wife and the light of his eyes, and if you wished to regain your lost time with your sister, he would accept it without objection.

But the slight shake of your head surprised him, "It wouldn't change anything. Rhaenyra would be dead the moment I reached King's Landing, and the gods know what horrors await there.”

Cregan's brow furrowed, and for the first time he seriously considered the words of your prophetic dreams: if the Dragon Queen was indeed about to die, what would happen if he left his wife alone in the grasp of the Greens? A shiver ran down his spine, anger boiling in his chest at the thought of you being taken prisoner by Aegon the Usurper. 

"That will probably not happen," the Lord of Winterfell scoffed, tightening his grip as if he secretly feared you would disappear in his arms, "You have nothing to fear, my dear woman. Your sister is Queen now. Once the usurpers and the breakers of the oath have paid for what they have done, there will be a reign of peace and prosperity. 

"It will not be her," you murmured, rolling to the other side to face Cregan. You leaned your hand against his cheek as you looked at him with your melancholy eyes, "Rhaenyra is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but a crown of ashes will adorn her head and a cloak of fire will wrap her body.”

Cregan leaned into your touch, but he could not quite relax at the grim revelation you gave him: he wanted to find comfort in your presence, but your words were as hard as boulders, carrying a heavy weight he wanted to lift from your shoulders.

"I can hardly see it," he murmured, his voice tinged with doubt, "Rhaenyra is a strong woman, gathering as many noble men as she can for her cause. The kingdom will be stable under her leadership."

You shook your head slowly again, your eyes filled with sorrow, "But the Dragonfire is stronger than she is, and what she has built will crumble with her," you paused for a moment before continuing, "A throne of iron swords will give way to a wooden one, and only when the cripple breathes his last will a child step in, wearing Rhaenyra's crown like a burden.”

Cregan closed his eyes and tightened his grip, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face as he slowly digested what you had told him. He had learned over time that your dreams were not mere hallucinations of a daydreaming mind, but a prophecy destined to come true, no matter how hard you tried to alter the course of events. The deaths of Jacaerys and Lucerys were living proof. 

“I swear on my honour that I will keep raising my banners for the rightful queen, no matter how gruesome our fates will be,” Cregan retorted, lowering his head more until your foreheads met again, “What will be of us?”

"You are bound by your honour and will fight for Rhaenyra until your last breath, my love," you murmured, absently tracing circles on his cheek with your thumbs, "The wolf will cry in the dragon's nest, and his wolf will be heard in the darkest hour. And only when order is restored will the wolf return to his pack."

Cregan stood in silence, his chest rising slowly as he held his breath, the realisation dawned on him: the intense activity on the Wall and the organisation of the harvest had always prevented him and his men from making a proper march on King's Landing, hoping that the Greybeards he had sent would be enough to fight for Rhaenyra's cause. But your words have confirmed that his men will march on King's Landing, and he hopes to find a less devastated city than the one his wife has described.

“Cregan,” your gentle call awakened him from his thoughts, his head resting on your hands, “promise me you will come back to me and Rickon. Swear it,”

The young wolf stood silent for a moment, his eyes drinking in your beauty: it would be painful to leave you behind, but if your prophecy came true, he would be forced to honour his oath and fight for his queen. And so he took your head in his hands, closing the distance and sealing the promise with a long, bittersweet kiss, tasting of farewell but full of hope.

“I swear it.”

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.

Cregan Stark Taglist: @sylasthegrim @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

[little-diable]

Ragnarök - Sihtric (smut)

This was written for @whitedarkmoonflower since they won my 15k celebration as a reader! I hope you enjoy this as much as I do, lovie! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading his, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: After a brutal fight Sihtric can’t find his lover in the crowd of knights he fought with, praying to the gods that the female warrior he loved was still alive.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, a bit of angst, but mainly focused on their relationship

Pairing: Sihtric x fem!warrior!reader (1.8k words)

Picture from Pinterest, credit to the original owner

„There the dim dragon will come in flight, the glittering serpent, from Dark Mountains below. Bearing corpses in its feathers, as it soars over the plain, the Dark-Striker. Now she will sink down.“ - Völuspá: The Prophecy, Ragnarök

The battlefield was muddy, blood stuck to Sihtric’s features, arms, and armour. A sight that would leave any person who had never stood on a battlefield frightened, a sight Sihtric was all too used to. The fight had been brutal, no longer held back by rules, laws even knights would follow in battle, no, it had been awfully primal, watching men choke on their blood, swords and axes piercing hearts, stomachs, and lungs. 

But even though Sihtric found a sick sense of satisfaction swapping through him whenever he killed an enemy of theirs, he no longer managed to focus on the victory he should be celebrating with his friends and brothers. All Sihtric could focus on was trying to find her amongst the still-breathing soldiers, praying to his gods that she was alive. 

Panic began to swap through him as time kept ticking by, without any sight of her, the one his heart called out to, the one that had claimed Sihtric as hers many moons ago. (Y/n), the one he shared his bed with, the female warrior that had stolen Sihtric’s heart the first time their paths had crossed. He had instantly been drawn to her, admiring the fire burning in her eyes, the teasing words rolling off her tongue all too easily, she had been one of them from the first moment on, a warrior others looked up to.

Sihtric didn’t pick up on the call of his name, not caring about the way Finan tried to hold onto him, all too aware of his friend’s panicked state. The Irishman kept murmuring his name, hands covered in mud and blood, just like Sihtric, grasping his leather armour to stop his friend from carelessly stumbling over corpses of once honourable men and their horses. 

“Sihtric, look at me.” Finan eventually managed to catch Sihtric’s frantic gaze, allowing the man to catch his breath as his heart raced in his chest, urged on by the fright clinging to him. “What is with you?” 

“(Y/n), I can’t find her, I-” a cry wanted to claw through the once so fearless man, not used to being guided by his emotions like he was in that very moment. “Finan, where is she? She can’t be dead.”

“We’ll find her, I am sure she’s also trying to find you.” Finan let go of his friend, turning towards Osfeth with his head tilted towards his right, wordlessly trying to tell the young monk to follow the two. No further word was spoken as they combed through the endless seeming blanket of corpses, flipping some that had a similar build and hair colour like (y/n), praying every single time that it wasn't her. 

“What if she was taken? Gods, Finan, I left her alone, I wasn’t there for her.” Neither Osferth nor Finan was used to hearing Sihtric speak words this uneasy, clearly struggling with the fear he was held hostage by. No reply was spoken as Finan focused on something, or rather someone, unable to bite down his smile as he forced Sihtric to look in the same direction.

With a gasp rumbling through Sihtric, he took off running, pressing his sword into Finan’s hands before he left them behind. His body collided with (y/n)’s, pulling her into his chest with a relieved sigh leaving him. Sihtric’s lips kept kissing her forehead, trying to prove to himself that she was alive, held close to his heart, not leaving him any time soon.

“I thought I’d lost you, don’t ever leave me like that again.” His murmured words left (y/n) chuckling, shifting her weight to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. They could taste one another’s emotions, tongues tangled, hearts beating in unison, finally able to breathe through their fear, their pain. 

“I am sorry, I don’t know how I got lost in the crowd. I’m alright, I promise.” Her eyes flickered to Finan’s and Osferth’s approaching frames, shooting them a quick smile before she pressed another kiss to Sihtric’s lips, whispering a soft “I’d never leave you like that”.

……

The moon stood high in the dark sky, reflecting in the cold water currently teasing their limbs. Sihtric held (y/n)’s naked frame to his equally bare skin, still shaken up by the way he had looked for her hours ago, unable to let go of his uneasiness. 

No words were spoken as they cleaned themselves, removing the reminders of a brutal but successful battle. Another victory men, women, and children would talk about for centuries to come, they were sure of it. 

But even though the others had tried to pull the two lovers into their traps, wanting to celebrate their victory with endless pours of ale, neither Sihtric nor (y/n) had been in the mood to spend time with those they loved like their family. Sihtric had pulled (y/n) away from the crowd at the first chance, needing to feel her close with a sober mind and clear thoughts. 

“I have never felt more frightened than today, the thought of finding you dead because I wasn’t there to protect you-“ Sihtric choked on his words, having to force his teeth into his lower lip to stop his cries from clawing through him. A facade (y/n) saw through all too easily, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

The kiss wasn’t as heated, as forceful as the one they had shared on the battlefield, but it had something equally emotional to it, transmitting their every longing. A soft moan left (y/n) as Sihtric’s strong hands found her behind, pulling her against his hardening cock. She held a special kind of magic over the man, making waves of lust thump through his veins at any given chance, his very own Ragnarök, the chaotic end of his world, and those the gods had crafted for themselves.

“Sihtric,” she mewled his name, movements slowed by the river, needing a few moments till their legs finally found their way around his waist. His cock rubbed against her folds, making both hiss in anticipation, knowing that this night would yet be another one filled with endless orgasms, with their insatiable desire for one another driving them on. “I need you, need to feel you, need to make sure that you’re still here, with me.”

Sihtric forced her into another kiss as he started walking towards the meadow leading up the hill, shielded by the darkness from any drunken men and women that may find their way down to the river. A gasp managed to leave (y/n) as he placed them down, pinning her against the ground with his weight on top of hers, not leaving any space between them. 

“You’re mine, my woman, my warrior, till the day I die. I’ll never leave your side again, just the thought of losing you makes me want to end my own life. No day is worth living if I don’t get to share it with you.” The words Sihtric whispered against her swollen lips drew tears to (y/n)’s eyes, staring at her man with love and longing swimming in her pupils, only ripped out of her trance as she felt his calloused fingertips on her pulsing bundle. 

Expectedly he circled the soft flesh, finding enjoyment in the sounds she let go of, begging him for more, needing to feel him buried deep inside of her. There was no need for any words, nothing would ever manage to describe what they felt for one another, what they needed to do to give in to their longings. 

With his eyes burning through hers, Sihtric aligned his cock with her entrance, slowly pushing into her after he coated himself with her arousal. He took his time, wanting to savour every moment, wanting to hear the gasps leaving his lover as he sank even deeper into her, still having to adjust to the stretch after all these months. And only after (y/n) managed to choke on his name did he allow himself to properly take care of her, set on a ferocious rhythm that made both their hearts race in excitement. 

Profanities left Sihtric as he interlaced his hands with hers, pinning them over her head to keep her in place. He needed to control the moment, especially after a day like this, a day where he had gotten a glimpse into a future he wanted to avoid at every cost, needing to change their fate as he still had the power to do so. She was his end and his beginning, a story that had found its beginning in Muspell, the place not even the strongest souls had managed to endure, but no matter the biting heat, he’d walk through it all if it meant getting to love her. 

“Look at me, Sihtric.” (Y/n) forced his piercing eyes to focus on her, feeling his thoughts start to wander as the speed of his rough thrusts momentarily began to falter, needing to catch him before he could slip into a realm filled with darkness. “I’m here, with you. Nothing and nobody can ever change that, I’m with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

With her head being lifted from the ground, she kissed him, taking over the control to flip them around, straddling his lap. Both were desperate for their release, needing to feel that blinding sensation they were aching for. Sihtric kept watching her, marvelling at her, admiring her with his hands wandering up her frame, cupping her naked breasts. 

The way he pinched her hardened nipples forced her to arch her back, head rolling back to let go of a deep, gritty moan. Sihtric could have come from the sound alone, having to stop himself from giving in as he felt her walls flutter around him. He watched her fuck herself on his twitching cock, sneaking one hand down her frame to rub her bundle. 

And with the call of his name, (y/n) came, scratching at his naked chest with the intense feeling racing through her body. Once again she found herself pressed to the ground as Sihtric searched for his high, fucking into her even faster than before. He came with a gasp, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. A sight so beautiful (y/n) wanted to freeze the passing by moments, forever needing to remember this very second. 

“I love you, and nothing will ever change that Sihtric Kjartansson.”

[aphroditesmoon]

sweet

osferth x warrior!reader

summary: osferth is in love with you but you are not used to receiving this much attention from anyone.

warnings; nsfw(smut), black cat/golden retriever, slight angst, simp osferth, clueless reader.

a/n: back on my osferth bullshit bcs the movie is coming n yet my fave is de@d😻

°°°

You're not exactly sure how you got to be apart of Uhtred's team. Actually that's not true, you remember exactly how.

The four warriors were being attacked by the same Danes that had owned you silver, lots of them. It was a coincident that killing them gave you what you were owed and Uhtred and his men's freedom.

Uhtred had made it his mission then, to find out more about you, wanting to make sure you weren't a spy or threat after noticing that you weren't exactly apart of the danes not christians. After deeming you harmless (at least to them) and incredibly depressingly lonely, he decided to scout you in as one of his men, like a bored man picking up a grumpy wet soggy kitten from the street.

You made sure you were paid more silver than any of the other men, insisting that you're worth more than them by your skills itself, and soon enough, you stuck with them as if you had always been there all along.

You got along well enough with all of them, letting yourself fall gently in the warm feeling of what it's like to have a semblance of a family.

Though with all the intelligence of a skilled warrior you have, you had not noticed the baby monk Osferth's obvious attempt to pursue you for 2 years now.

You admit you like Osferth more than the others. He was respectful, kind, and has never treated you less like any woman should be treated, although some would argue you barely counted as a woman.

Did you like him romantically? You can't say, making it a principle to never yourself aim for a love like that, it's just not for you.

But when the awkwardly charming warrior monk had kissed you during the festive night of Yule eve, your instinct was to immediately push him away from you, receiving a very offended expression followed by stutters I apologies from him before he scrambled away, like a dog kicked by it's owner.

The next day, you received multiple glares from Finan, and sympathetic grins and chuckles from Sihtric and Uhtred who had found this situation all too amusing.

Osferth had started to avoid you almost completely, never making eye contact and never directly speaking to you unless necessary. And it hurt you.

You should apologize, you knew that. But you weren't exactly sure if what to say, your feelings were complicated even to yourself.

It only gets worse when you found out you'll be staying with Osferth during one of your little missions. Arranged in purpose by Uhtred for sure.

When evening arrives, you notice Osferth leaving the pub early, closing himself in your shared room. You shook off your guilt and grabbed the bottle of liquor, walking away to seat yourself by the empty corner of the loud place, seeking for some peace.

If only peace could ever exist in your life.

You tipped the bottle into your mouth again, taking a big chug from it, wishing the ale would taste a little less like shit.

Taking notice of Finan from the side of your eye, you sigh loudly and cursed him out. The man only gave a humourous laugh and sat next to you.

"If this is about Osferth again, then you shouldn't tire yourself-"

"Oh this is definitely about Osferth." He agreed, receiving a groan from you.

"Finan please-" You started, rudely being cut off. "You did a number on him lad, he's been acting like someone just killed his dog and it's been two weeks." His voice was gentler than before, the worry obvious in his voice.

"I didn't mean it." Your mumbled out meekly, eyes drooping. "I didn't mean to push him away."

"Well that settles it the doesn't it?" The Irishman concluded. "Just go apologize and hump him." You snorted at his easygoing response and shook your head.

"He doesn't just want to hump, he wants to love." You clarify. "And that's so bad, why? I've seen you staring at him like he's made of sunshine and rainbows laddie, I'd thought you'd be happy to have him feel the same way."

You wince at his words, hating the sappy description of yourself that he gave. Rainbows and sunshine.

"Because it doesn't make sense does it? Of course I'd like him, he's kind, and sweet, and everything I don't deserve, everything I am not."

You speak the last word like a curse, a bitter taste on your tongue.

Glancing towards the half drunk Irish, you almost hate yourself for saying what you did, the pity in his eyes was worse than any insult you've had thrown your way.

"You carried Aelfwynn on your back while she was sick and lied to everyone about getting sick from her just so she'd have a chance to reach the royal healers, you've put yourself in front of the lady Aethelflaed to protect her more time than anyone could count, hell you've done it for Osferth more time than he could remember.

- So if you say you're not deserving of kindness and sweetness one more time, I'll make sure to hide the biggest frogs in your bathwater as a punishment."

His voice was teasing, but his eyes were set on you, narrowing down like a nagging father, and you almost hugged him there and then.

"Yeah whatever." You shrugged and look away.

You hear him sigh loudly, as if to prove a point and tried to hide your small smile.

"I should apologize." You repeated your early statement. Rubbing your face tiredly, the liquor doing a terrible job intoxicating you. "Yeah, and you should hump-"

"Goodnight Finan, I'm not listening to you anymore!" You exclaimed loudly and annoyed while getting up on your feet to retire to your small room.

The walk to your room was short but it felt like forever, standing in front of the door, you take a moment to collect some thoughts and steady your heartbeat before turning the knob open.

You feel relieved as you step in, seeing that Osferth was still awake, sitting by his side of the bed, folding in his dirty clothes.

He must've just bathed, you thought to yourself. When you walk closer you notice that his hair was damp, confirming your suspicions.

He acted as if he didn't hear you, but you know he did.

"Osferth." You called out, voice weaker than you intended it to be, almost like you're pleading him.

The silence was agonizing before he responds, you see him stiffen. "Yes?"

You hated how much more confident he sounded than you, but you were the one who owed an apology, so you force your ego aside and placed yourself next to him on the bed.

"I um- I wanted to, apologize?" There was that stuttering now. He raised an eyebrow at you and you feel your face burn.

"Apologize. Yes, I wanted to apologize." Getting your breath under control, you try to appear more put together.

His eyes look away from you and move down to stare at the floorboards. "Whatever for?" He asks, sounding uninterested.

"For pushing you away, when you...kissed me." You answer.

You were watching for his reaction like a hawk eyeing it's prey, feeling uneasy and scared. "Oh, tis not your fault, twas' mine, I should've asked." He says kindly, his old warmth returning to his voice.

"But it's not, nothing could ever be your fault Osferth, You've no foible and if anything your flaw is being too good and having no flaw-"

"Do you think you could ever love me?" He cuts you off, a demanding tone.

You turn silent from your rant, heartbeat fastening. "But why? Why me?" You breath out.

"Osferth-" You start, standing up to face his seated self. "-You could have many lovely beautiful woman to love you the way you deserve, I'm sure of it, we've all seen how they fight for you." You insist.

His face turns into a frown and he stands up along with you, face inches apart from yours. "I don't want anyone else, you're the only lovely beautiful woman I want." He snapped.

You grow frustrated at his statement and turn to walk in circles, not meeting his gaze.

"But why? I am not beautiful or ladylike- and don't tell me I'm wrong, I hear things too- and I'm not kind enough to those around me as I should be, and I am, god, so terribly, terribly horrible in my moral compass Osferth.

- Why would you want to be with someone so miserable?", You point out with a humourless laugh, feeling so vulnerable and pathetic you could break in an instance.

You feel his hands grip your shoulders to look at him as he stops you from pacing around.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to convince you that you're all I think about, you are the most beautiful piece of art to me, and to have your heart, to be able to love you the way you deserve, is all I'll ever wish for in this lifetime."

You would've asked him if he had practiced that if you weren't so shaken by those words, so baffled.

"Don't be ridiculous Osferth, what- tell me, who you'd choose between me and Eadith, or me and that redhead from last night- or the lady Aethelflaed herself?" You hated how much self pity you were drowning in, all the insecurities you've worked so hard to push down, to look past from yourself.

"You. You, you and you." His response was quick and without hesitation. You wanted to kill him for that's or kiss him, you couldn't decide.

"I would choose you over anyone because there is no one else for me, can't you see?"

He was staring at you with stars in his eyes and his breath was hot on your face.

You couldn't remember when or how it happened, but all you knew was that one if you had leaned forwards and your lips became one with eachother's.

There was no regret in yourself, letting your fans wrap around his neck whilst he moves one arm to hold you by your waits and the other cupping your cheeks.

Your fingers move to tangle in his hair as you let your mouth open slightly for your tongues to dance together.

You pressed your faces harder if it was possible devouring the taste you've been forbidding yourself to take a bite from. His arms around your back tightens and soon you feel both his hands move down to the back of your thighs and you instinctively jump to wrap your legs around him.

He groans in the kiss, palms full holding squeezing your ass. You let a rare growl escape you as you feel yourself tighten around him.

Walking you back to the bed, you don't release your hold over him even when he lays you down on the bed.

Your hands roam wild at his body, grasping at his new tunic to be taken off. He gets the message immediately, pulling away to pull it over his head before going back to sucking lips with you.

You feel his own hands wandering around your body, exploring your untouched haven. He dips his hand inside the collar of your own shirt and rips it off easily, earning a shocked gasp from you.

"Didn't think you had that in you." You joked breathlessly. He gives a small shy smile as he pushes you to lay back down on the pillow. "You have no idea how many other things you've awakened inside of me."

His lips trail down your neck, biting and sucking at your sensitive spot while his hands have their fun squeezing and palming your breasts.

You let out a wild moan, throwing your head back, your nails, trying their best not to leave marks on his back.

"Fuck you're stunning." He swears, also rare occasion. You feel your cunt clench at his words an thrusts up your hips to meet his, receiving a strained groan from the man.

Not relenting in his torture on your tits, he releases one of them to move his hand between your legs, palming your drenched cunt between the thin barrier of your underwear.

"Osferth- please." You whined, rutting againts his hand like a dog in heat.

He only uses his hands to palm you harder, bringing you to tears as you search for friction. "That's it angel, fuck my hand." He groans out, entranced by the sight of you, glistening in sweat and fucking yourself on him in all your beautiful glory.

Both your arms are above you head now, gripping hard on the furs as you grind harder on his hand, clenching on nothing, feeling your orgasm nearing.

He rubs a finger on you clit furiously and you feel yourself explode on him, eyes blurry as you cried out his name repeatedly, a prayer answered.

Feeling yourself come down from your high, your body relaxes againts his bed and your head spins with euphoria. Osferth wipes his hand off before climbing over to lay next to you.

Your head finds comfort on his chest as his hands finds home around your body. It was dizzying, what just happened. And it was most probably the best hump you've ever had, not that you make it a habit to hump around.

You glace up to meet his eyes, already gazing down at you with a small smile accompanying them. "Does this mean you've forgiven me?", You jest and his smile widens as he leans forward and kisses your forehead. "Only if you promise to let me love you." He bargains.

You feel a grin making itself known and let out an unfamiliar giggle, "You're so sweet it's nauseating."

[volklana]

I Really feel That I'm Losing My Best Friend.

Modern!Sihtric x Reader

Title Comes From This Song:

Request: Hi lana!! Can I get a best friend modern sithric x fem reader smut? They're just friends until everyone in their friend group brings up that reader and sithric would be a cute couple and it changes the dynamic of the relationship and they begin to have sexual tension until it just blows up

Thank youuu

A/N: I am awful a writing smut so I did my best. I'm really sorry if this wasn't what you wanted. But you know me by now there has to be angst dripping through the plot

Also this is not proof read because I have a fever, but I will correct any mistakes I come across xx

“You always fucking cheat,” you pouted attempting to swipe the cards from Sihtric’s hands and his eyes glistened with mischeviousness.

“Do not,” he laughed incredulously, pulling them away from your hands, to which you physically attempted to wrestle them out of his grasp, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

Uhtred had bored of the game ten minutes ago and was lying sprawled out on the sofa, his head resting on Gisela’s lap, bottle of beer resting on his stomach, and rolled his eyes at the exchange between you and sighed.

“Are you seriously telling me you two are not fucking?” he swiped and Gisela gave him a warning look over the hand of cards she was still holding.

Sihtric completely stilled in your arms and you immediately retreated.

“Oh come on!” Uhtred urged looking to Finan to back him up “I can’t be the only one who thinks this right?”

“We’re just friends,” Sihtric stuttered and Finan and Uhtred laughed.

“I’m your friend and you don’t look at me like you want to take all my clothes off,” Finan teased and Uhtred smirked his way.

“Leave them alone,” Osferth chimed in and you were grateful for a second, “I’m sure they’ll tell us when they are ready,” he smirked.

“It’s not like that-really, we’re just friends,” Sihtric tried to persuade, absolutely refusing to meet your eye.

“I’d like Eadith to be my friend,” Finan winked to Uhtred’s raucous laughter.

“In that case me and Gisela are just friends,” Uhtred chimed along too and you couldn’t help but shrink at being the cause of everyone’s laughter in the room.

“Uhtred!” Gisela warned with a stern look, to which he shrugged in surrender.

“C’mon, you’d be such a cute couple,” Finan added and Sihtric was rising from his spot on the floor, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment and made his way outside to light a cigarette.

Gisela booted Uhtred off her and tutted “Now look what you’ve done.” 

Your stomach was uneasy as you made your way into the kitchen to get another drink, you could hear Gisela and Uhtred arguing. She was scolding him for being such an arseling and you were grateful to her. 

“You know how shy he is!” she chided.

You watched Sihtric outside, pacing up and down as he smoked. He ran his fingers through his hair and your heart skipped a beat, when he suddenly looked in through the glass and into your eyes.

You made your way outside and he offered you a cigarette which you gladly accepted, and ducked down to meet the flame of his lighter.

“Are you alright?” you tried after a few minutes of uneasy silence.

“I just wish they would cut that shit,” Sihtric sighed “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“They don’t have to be,” you said softly “Sihtric we know what we are, nothing they say matters, okay?”

He nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Are we good?” you asked, bumping his arm and he laughed a shaky laugh.

“Always,” he replied.

Uhtred appeared sheepish after a few minutes, scratching the back of his neck, and Sihtric laughed.

“Did Gisela send you out here?” 

“No-Yes. Kinda.” he sighed “The bottom line is I was joking. You’re my friends and I love you both and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“Forget it,” you smiled kindly, squeezing Sihtric’s hand in yours. 

Sihtric tossed and turned on Uhtred’s sofa, you were sleeping soundly on the pull out bed on the floor beside him but Sihtric was sick with anxiety.

He cursed himself for being so weak. It was getting hard to deny to his friends that there was nothing between you both when he couldn’t even deny it to himself any more. He was ashamed at the tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill but he swallowed the lump down and willed them away, just as his father had taught him to.

Be a fucking man, it was drilled into his head from as soon as he was old enough to comprehend and he turned his back to face away from you.

Despite his father’s beatings, despite how much he tried to stomp it out of him, Sihtric was soft and he was so painfully in love with you that sometimes his chest physically hurt with longing.

It was pathetic- he was pathetic.

Sihtric drove you back to your apartment the next morning and he was unusually quiet the whole ride back. Usually he would come up for a coffee, but when he didn’t unbuckle his belt and left the car running, you uneasily retrieved your overnight bag from the trunk of his car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you smiled, testing the waters and he gave a tight lipped smile in response.

“Of course, it’s what friends are for,” was all he offered but he didn’t get out to hug you the way he usually did and you climbed the stairs to your apartment with a feeling you couldn’t quite place brewing in your stomach.

You and Sihtric did everything together. You had a weekly cinema date without fail once a week, every week, since you met. Sihtric was a film fanatic, he consumed movies both in the theater and on his own in his apartment. You suspected it was because he was never allowed to watch films as a kid and now he was making up for lost time. You knew just enough about his childhood to know that it was not a happy one. His mum had died, leaving him to be raised by an abusive father and an older half brother who relished in torturing him. Sihtric never went into specifics but you knew that he had gone hungry and dirty for periods of time and the thought of it broke your heart. Because Sihtric was an absolute light in your life, whenever you were with him you were carefree, his joy for the little things in life was absolutely contagious, like the first time you had made him try cotton candy and you watched his eyes widen and a huge grin broke out over his face as he devoured it. But your absolute favourite thing you did together was the spontaneous late night drives in Sihtric’s car with the windows rolled down, singing along to whatever playlist was on, and on so many of those rides you wondered what it would be like if Sihtric were to put his hand on your thigh, or throw his free arm over your shoulder while you snuggled into his side, but you had to quickly dismiss these thoughts, because he had made it abundantly clear time and time again that you were his best friend and you would never risk losing him because of your little fantasies.

Except it felt like you were losing him already since the night of the party...

You collapsed onto your bed and checked your phone for the thousandth time, to find nothing, no memes, no song recommendations, no silly pictures, Sihtric had sent you absolutely nothing in the last four days and you were trying not to let it upset you, but you couldn’t help but feel hurt. This was the longest you had ever gone without hearing from him, he always texted you multiple times a day, and now you were getting radio silence.

You picked up the stuffed bear that Sihtric had won you at the fair a few months back and gave it a squish sadly, it still smelled vaguely of Sihtric's cologne after you had begged him to spray some on him.

You quickly snapped a pic of you kissing its cheek and sent it to Sihtric.

‘We miss you x’

Sihtric opened the message and sighed, how was it possible to be jealous of a damn stuffed toy.

You bit the inside of your cheek, you could see he had opened the message but no little dots popped up to indicate that he was typing back.

You let thirty minutes pass, feeling sick with anxiety the whole time, and when he still hadn’t replied you climbed under your sheets and switched out the lights.

Sihtric felt bad opening your message and not replying, but he sipped his drink as Osferth returned from the bathroom, face briefly lighting up when Osferth announced this round was on him.

While you lay in bed trying to figure out why you were crying.

‘Wish it was me there with you x’ 

He typed after a few hours, and deleted and typed again, before he accidentally pressed send in it his drunken stupidity. He fumbled to quickly unsend it, but the blue tick lit up indicating that you had read it. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, as you considered what you wanted to say, once you crossed this line, you weren’t exactly sure you would be able to put the genie back inside the bottle. 

‘I wish so too x’ 

After what seemed like an eternity he replied,

“Goodnight, y/n, Sweet dreams xx”

Sihtric was avoiding your messages and dodging all your calls. Your heart broke even more when you saw an insta story that Osferth shared of him, Finan and Sihtric at the movies, your stomach sank down to your toes because you had always thought that was yours and Sihtric’s thing.

You messaged him for the umpteenth time that week, ‘Have I done something wrong?’ But just like the previous messages you had sent, he opened but never replied.

Your heart was breaking, you were getting up going to work, and coming straight home and getting into bed. Your anxiety was the worst it had been in years and you kept a hold of your phone, willing a notification to come through anything at all that would show you Sihtric was still your friend. You were going insane at night trying to figure out what you had done wrong, had you offended him somehow? Or worse, had he sensed your feelings for him that night at Uhtred’s and just didn’t want to have the awkward conversation, or let you down gently. 

But the final nail in the coffin came when Gisela texted you late on the Saturday exactly two weeks after the night Uhtred had decided to stir the shit. 

‘I’m so sorry you couldn’t come tonight. It’s not the same without you!’

Your head was whirling, and you felt like you were going to be sick, until our phone lit up again.

‘Sihtric did invite you didn’t he?’

You could have landed Sihtric in the shit by telling her that he hadn't, but you knew Gisela would gut him from the inside out if she knew he was treating you like this, so to protect him you replied.

‘Of course! I’ll catch you next time xx’

Sihtric sat on his reading chair, the lamp in his living room the only thing lighting his apartment. His stomach was twisted up in knots and it wasn’t from the alcohol, it was because of you. He’d been avoiding you for weeks now. Dodging your calls and making excuses to not meet up and when that wasn’t enough he just stopped replying to you altogether. Radio silence.

He knew you didn’t deserve to be treated this way, and if it had been any other man treating you like this he would have offered to kick the shit out of them, but he couldn’t risk you seeing him this way. He had tried for so long to pretend that he had no feelings for you, to act as if you could just be friends, but ever since the night Uhtred had spoken his feelings out loud it was like a damn had burst and trying to bury his feelings now felt like trying to stop the tides with his bare hands.

 The crippling fear of losing you sent him into an avoidant survival state, he had never been shown a healthy way to navigate conflict or loss and so he did what that scared little boy had always done. He hid.

He sipped his brandy,enjoying the way it burned. The ‘what ifs’ swimming around in his mind. What if I were just honest with her? What if she turned her face away in disgust? What if she cast me aside? What if she couldn’t overlook his confession and ever be his friend again. Or, and his heart picked up speed, what if she felt the same?

He was pulled from his thoughts by a gentle knocking on his door, he was tempted to ignore it until the knocking progressively became more insistent.

Finally relenting he opened the door to see you before him, face a mixture of hurt and anger, and red eyes a dead give away that you had been crying.

“We need to talk,” you shook and Sihtric mindlessly stepped aside and allowed you to come in, but he remained frozen to his spot by the door when you reeled on him.

“I don’t understand Sihtric, you’ve been avoiding me for weeks now. You are my best friend and I feel like..I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know what I’ve done!” 

“Nothing!” Sihtric choked, shaking his head furiously “You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m going through some shit and I just- I needed to deal with it alone.”

The anger softened from your face but the hurt remained, “You know you can talk to me Siht, so you don’t have to go through anything alone. You can tell me anything. Including- if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.”

He didn’t.

He didn’t want to be your friend anymore, he wanted to be so much more, but the fear of rejection kept him rooted to the spot. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked, voice wobbling. “I’m still learning how to communicate, I will try to do better for you I promise.” 

“Sihtric,” you cried crossing the floor and pulling him into a hug, “You don’t have to try. You just have to be you,” you muttered as your arms locked around his shaking form.

“I just really missed you,” you whispered into his hair, the smell of his apple scented shampoo that you loved filling your senses. 

“Gods, I missed you too,” he replied, shaking, but grasping on to you. 

And so things went back to some form of normality but the weight of two unspoken confessions were hanging over the friendship. 

You were officially invited to group outings again and you and Sihtric slipped back into a somewhat familiarity with each other. 

Except Sihtric felt like he was trapped in a snare. Every time you spoke, his eyes lingered on your lips imagining what they would feel like to kiss, what they would look like wrapped around his- he shook his head before his mind could even wander down that path. He was consumed with longing for you, day and night it was all he could think about, but fear of losing you always knocked whatever bravery he had within him to tell you the truth. 

Until the night he saw you across the dancefloor, dancing with another man, head thrown back in joy as he moved his body in time with yours to the beat and before he could even think straight he was marching across the floor and grasping your arm.

“Sihtric?” you questioned face full of worry.

“Please, I need to talk to you?” he begged and you followed him in an instant outside, completely ignoring the call of the man you had been dancing with moments ago.

Sihtric paced back and forward in front of you and you tried to reach out a hand to steady him but he swatted it away. 

“I have to tell you the truth,” he finally rushed “I can’t hold this in any longer. I’ve tried, believe me I’ve tried so hard to- but I can’t do it anymore.”

“Sihtric?”

"-I’m in love with you y/n. Painfully. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been avoiding you because I know you don’t feel the same and you just want us to be friends, but I can’t pretend anymore.”

You were silent for a moment, considering him, “Who said I just wanted to be friends?” you asked bewildered.

“What?” Sihtic reeled, mismatched eyes boring into yours in surprise.

“Sihtric Kjartansson," you sighed "It is you who wanted us to stay friends. I have always wanted to be more.”

“What? He repeated face scowling trying to understand.

“At Finan’s birthday last year, you took the forfeit over the dare to kiss me, because you said you didn’t want to kiss a friend. From that night on I tried to put my feelings to bed.”

Sihtric pinched the bridge of his nose in disbelief “I didn’t kiss you that night because once I kissed you I would never have been able to stop.”

“Then I really wish you had kissed me that night,” you smiled and took his hand “In fact I think you should kiss me now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice , he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands and kissed you.

You looked up at Sihtric through hooded eyes, his naked torso glistening with a sheen of sweat. His slender body and muscled arms looked like a god carved from marble in Ancient Greece and you were willing to get down on your knees and worship.

He placed his thumb on your bottom lip, sliding your lips open as he inspected your waiting form below him.

“So beautiful,” he mused, dark eyes raking over your body “So beautiful and mine.” 

You hmmd against his thumb, and he moved to hook his finger under your chin forcing you to look up into his eyes “Say it,” he commanded “Say that you’re mine.”

Your eyes fluttered with adoration and the hazy smile that crossed your face had Sihtric’s pulse racing “I’m yours Sihtric,” you promised, “Only yours.”

“Let me show you,” you begged and you moved with him towards the bed, where he sat looking unsure for a moment, until you pressed a gentle hand to his chest, motioning for him to lay back. Others who did not know Sihtric like you did might have expected a dominant, possessive lover but you knew him better than anyone else in the whole world.

What he needed was to be taken care of, to be shown he was worthy of love and given it freely, and reassured that you were going nowhere and now that you’d had this taste of him you truly would never leave him again.

You were lovedrunk as you kissed down along his neck, collarbones, his chest and followed down the length of his abdomen, before finally taking him in your mouth.

He was a whimpering, moaning mess beneath you and he surprised even himself when he eventually found the strength to stop you, picking you up and flipping you over before slipping inside you with a gasp.

He picked up a pace that had you gasping and grabbing at his strong back for something to hold on to. Something to stop you falling off the edge. When you could finally not hold on any longer, urged by Sihtric’s whispers for you to let go, you did, seeing stars as you gripped him through his own release. 

If there was one thing you had learned about Sihtric it was that he truly meant what he said when he told you that he would never have been able to stop with one kiss, the man was insatiable. His lips or hands were always on yours and you did not know where he found his stamina for in the bedroom but one thing was for sure, he had never felt this kind of love in his entire life and he was never letting it out of his grasp again. 

Tagging: @canyonmoon-2@sihtricfedaraaahvicius@whitedarkmoonflower@shamrockqueen@thenameswinter99@foxyanon@acdassenza@thatawkwardlittlefangirl @gemini-mama

[fieldofdaisiies]

I've Got You

ship: Sihtric Kjartansson x female!Reader type: angst/fluff word count: 2k warnings: talks of violence and wounds summary: I've become obsessed with TLK again and maybe also with Sihtric; so here a little fic about you and Sihtric riding together on a horse back after he saved you

~all rights reserved~

"Come on," Sihtric says to you, pointing at the large, dark horse beside him. It looks majestic and at the same time absolutely terrifying — you have never been on a horse in your whole life and– 

"Come on, we need to leave. Now." There is urgency in his uttering, yet his gaze remains empathetic.

The convent where you have spent your entire life in was suddenly attacked. They mercilessly took down the guards, hurt you and your sisters, and as you tried to flee, one of the brutes followed after you. Despite your attempts to escape, his blade managed to slice into your calf, leaving a deep gash there. Unbeknownst to you, help has arrived outside, slaying the attackers. 

And out of nowhere, a man appeared in the corridor you tried to escape him, almost like a heroic figure emerging from the turmoil of the battle. With skill that was beyond you, he killed the attacker with his sword, ending his life right before your eyes. 

With remarkable ease, the man who revealed himself as Sihtric then swept you up in his strong arms, carrying you over his shoulder outside into safety.

Once joined by other men, and also some of your covent sisters he placed you on the ground next to a large horse and this is where you find yourself now, staring at him with eyes and your mouth wide open.

Your heart is beating so incredibly fast, hammering against your ribcage. There is so much pain in your system, so much panic, and fear, your whole body is shaking with the terror of what just happened. 

You suck in a sharp breath, then another, your head feeling dizzy as tears start to cloud your vision. 

"I…I can't…ride," you stammer, a whirlwind of emotions brewing in your mind. Your feel how your fingers tremble, how wobbly your knees are. The ground beneath you is covered in frost, crunching when you reposition your feet.  

Something like sympathy passes over Sihtric's face and he reaches out and gently grabs your arm, his touch surprisingly tender. "Then we are riding together."

The words struck you immediately — riding with him, with him on the back of the horse! 

You are a good Christian woman, you have never been so close to a man. It scares you, but the emotions are not stronger than the panic inside of you, and the urge to leave this place. You need to get away, fast. You know what you witnessed will haunt you forever, but staying here for longer won't make it any better. You need to get away from here. 

One after the other your sisters are lifted onto horses as well, always riding with one of Sihtric's companions. A few of them are guided towards a very small carriage, your gaze following them until they disappear. 

A gentle breeze starts to blow, gradually cooling the air around you and you find yourself shivering, both out of fear and the cold. 

"Ride with me?" you hear the man next to you ask, almost like he is waiting for your consent. And God in heaven above, he truly is. 

"Yes…" you say in a voice barely above a whisper, seeing tendrils of breath in front of your face. 

Without hesitation and with strength that is beyond you, he lifts you off the ground, gently, and onto the back of the majestic, dark horse, onto the fur placed their. Your legs swiftly wrap around its strong body as you clutch the pommel tightly, a feeling of fear gnawing at your gut. 

You're so high up, perched on this powerful creature. Your rob shifts upwards, revealing the pale skin of your legs and another shudder courses through you. If he notices, he does not let show, his gaze trained only on the horse, his jaw tense. 

Sihtric wastes no time in mounting the horse behind you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Uncertain of how to react, you remain frozen as he edges closer, gently pushing his chest, nothing but solid muscles beneath his leather armour, against your back. You feel how your hips are enclosed by his strong thighs, capturing you. 

A shiver runs through you as you make contact with him – it's a sensation unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

A breath whooshes out of you when you urge yourself to relax your body. You can't escape the closeness to him up here, so you might as well give into it before you make your both fall off the horse. 

"Let's go!" one man commands. He looks like the leader of the group, but you don't know for sure. Sihtric behind you shouts his answer. His warm breath tickles your neck, causing the hairs on your body to stand on end. 

Your hands tremble as he wraps one arm around your waist for support and takes the reins with the other hand. Why did you let him touch you so intimately? What's come over you? This is not like you. 

The wind grows stronger, now flakes of snow starting to fall, getting caught in your hair. It is growing colder, and the horse finally starts to move. It is bumpy, and despite the strong arm around you, you fear you might fall. 

You shift slightly, trying to find a more secure position, but this elicits an unexpected groan from the man behind you. 

"Don't do that," he grumbles behind you before urging the horse to move a little faster, albeit at a slower pace than the others. 

You are left confused, your body all of a sudden tense again and you don't move at all. Soon, you fall in line with others, their horses moving gracefully in sync with yours, all trotting at the same pace. The rhythmic beat of hooves hitting the ground creates a melody around you that slowly soothes the panic inside of you. Yet, your breathing is shaky and ragged, suddenly the memories of what you saw flooding your mind again — you see it all, the blood, the pain, the violence. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, your eyes close and you try to level your breathing. Small snow flakes land on your face and get caught in your hair. You blow out a long breath, heart beating so unsteadily in your chest. Biting down on your lower lip, you try to direct your thoughts to more positive things, thinking about happy times in the covent. 

Sihtric watches you from behind, your figure so fragile in his strong arms. It almost feels like you could break any second, and he knows that you were close to doing so back at the convent. 

His mission is to protect you now, forever, it seems like it is his destiny. There is something about you, something that brings out an enormous sense of protectiveness. He has seen the flame of determination vanish when you first made eye-contact in that corridor. 

Sihtric looks at you for a moment longer, revelling in the warmth and the feel of your body against his. 

You, other than he himself, even smell nice, like chamomile and parchment. From time to time he can feel you shudder, the little clothing, the robe you are wearing, not shielding you from the cold of the winter. He wishes he would have given you his coat earlier, but right now it is too late and he can only provide you warmth with his body. 

Once you arrive and once the wound on your calf is looked over and taken care of, he will see that you are provided with a coat and fur to keep you warm. 

Another shudder courses through you, your body trembling in his hold. 

"I've got you," he assures you, his voice suddenly so very soft and calm, and you offer a hesitant nod. 

The horse carries you through the landscape at a not too fast pace, allowing you to take in the surroundings — snow covered landscape, looming mountains, and weathered trees. You have never been out here. 

"You are safe now." You feel his hand move from your waist to your hip, no longer gripping you so tightly.

"And you don't ever need to fear again." It is another young man whose voice you suddenly hear and your head whips to the side. He is wearing a soft smile, one of your sister's is seated behind him on the horse, both her arms wrapped around his torso. "None of you needs to fear, you are safe now." 

You find yourself nodding at him, his kindness warming your chest a little bit. 

"Osferth," he whispers and you tell him your own name in a silent voice. "Y/N."

With the tilt of his head, and an empathetic smile on his lips, he urges his horse to move faster, past you. Your eyes stay on your covent sister and the man for a moment longer, until you look back at the head of the horse you sit atop. 

The landscape starts to darken in the distance and you find yourself wondering if you will stop soon, and build up so tents where you can sleep in. But then you actually don't know if they even have tents with them. You don't know where they normally sleep. But the one thing you know is that you will never sleep in your bed ever again. And that unsettles you — you will never have the comfort of your once safe space again. It will never be the same again, you will never have your old life again. 

It is almost like he can feel his distress, leaning in the slightest bit closer. 

"Would you like to go faster as well?" Sihtric inquires, his grip on your hip tightening slightly. 

You nod and he signals the horse to pick up the pace, and it obeys, galloping across the snow-covered land with newfound speed. 

In order to keep you safe, he pulls you even closer, and the sensation is exhilarating. There is no space between your bodies, and for a moment you think you can feel his heart beat through his skin and leathery armour. 

You've always been afraid of riding, but right now, you're completely lost in the moment—galloping across the land, drawing closer to the edge of the forest. You feel free, alive, all of a sudden as the cool wind whips across your face, through your hair and feels your lungs. 

And then— 

Frustration surges through you as you abruptly come to a halt.

Everyone has stopped, slowly climbing of their horses. It almost seems like this all works without any conversation passing between them. 

Without hesitation, Sihtric shifts behind you, letting go off your waist and also dismounts his horse. 

You watch, eyes wide open and wary, how people start to hurdle around, gathering and collecting things. Everyone is tasked with something, many collecting firewood, some already starting to build up tents. You don't even know where to look, there is so much happening. 

"Y/N?"

Slowly you turn your head to the sound. Your name from his lips is like the most beautiful song you've ever heard, it brushes your skin, your terribly cold and pebbled skin, like a feather. 

Sihtric extends his hand for you to follow suit. "Let me help you dismount the horse."

He watches you closely as you reach for his hand, trembling, cold fingers curling around his. 

You don't know how to dismount the horse, still wearing the long robes. You hesitantly, and with great difficulty pull your leg over the back of the horse, and suddenly—

You lose your balance and start to slide and eventually fall, but before you can hit the ground, he swiftly wraps his arm around your waist, catching you, clasping you tightly to his body. "I got you," he once again says, carefully placing you on the ground, allowing you to regain your footing. You take a deep breath and look up at him, offering a mumbled thank you. Your eyes lock. 

"Always," he replies with a sincere look in his eyes, and a smile tugs at your lips. You want him to see how grateful you are what he is doing for you, but you can't find the right words. 

"I will see that someone looks over your wound, then we will find you warm clothing and a place you can sleep tonight." He steps away, extends his arm to show you the way to…

[eth-edwards-73]

Bastards, betrayal

Sihtric Kjartansson x fem oc warnings: angst, don't really know how else to describe it lol word count: 2242

Freydis Eyvindottir could curse everyone alive on the planet with the way she was glaring at Uhtred and his men. She had been captured together with Dagfinn and some of the others and was itching to get as far away from this place as possible. She had not touched the food in fear of it being poisoned although the other Danes had eaten of it and not dropped dead, still the fear of poison made her throat close up so she couldn’t even swallow the food even if she wanted to.

She toyed with the food on her plate as she felt Finan’s stare on her back, she knew why, of course she knew why, she was the only woman in the whole company Haesten had, or at least the only shieldmaiden. Women fighting was uncommon for the Saxons which is probably why he was staring at her, she concluded before throwing a very nasty glare his way and if looks could kill, Finan would’ve been six feet under.

“Freydis, keep your nasty looks to yourself, you don’t know what they’ll do to us.” Dagfinn hisses at her and she throws an equally nasty glare to him which makes him shut up quickly. Freydis pushes her plate away from her because she’s not going to eat it and she just wants to rest her arms on the table in peace without being hindered by a plate.

“I don’t give a shit about what they’ll do to us, Dagfinn, they’re allowed to know how much I dislike them.” She sneers back at him before briskly dropping her head on her arms and grumbling some curses under her breath.

Freydis lifts her head again when she hears Sihtric raise his voice, she’s interested in what he has to say.

“Of marching North and then South, of being called a traitor.” Sihtric says, rather loudly and Freydis tilts her head to the side in interest, waiting for Uhtred to react as the tension rises in the room.

“If you’re unhappy in my service, leave.” Uhtred retorts and her eyes dart to Sihtric who shoves himself up from the table.

“I have fought for you!” He angrily exclaims as he gets into Uhtred’s face who just smiles mockingly, an almost scoff coming from him.

“You fight because you enjoy it, stay or go, i do not care.” Uhtred tells Sihtric and Freydis smirk, knowing this dispute will blow up any second.

“He does not mean that, he does care.” Finan speaks up, trying to mend the situation before it runs out of hand even further, Freydis just lets out a small snicker at that, making Dagfinn glare at her again.

“Stay or go, Sihtric Kjartansson, it is your choice.” Uhtred calmly tells Sihtric, keeping eye contact with the young warrior.

“Just sleep.” Finan says, a little more firm now.

“I will leave first light but I will return and if you are here still, then I will kill you.” Uhtred tells Sihtric and Freydis lips part in disbelief at what the older warrior just told the Dane. Murmurs break out under the Danes as they watch Uhtred leave the hall but she stays silent, something’s off about this but she can’t quite put her finger on it.

“Abandon him, boy, you’re a dane, first and last.” Dagfinn speaks up and she roughly smacks him on his bicep, glaring at him but Finan is as quick as her with his reaction and he sneers a quick ‘quiet’ at Dagfinn. 

Later that night Sihtric frees all the Danes in return for them taking him to their camp, Freydis doesn’t trust him that much is clear but she doesn’t put it into words, she just silently stares at him as they travel, trying to figure him out.

The first few days back at the camp are quiet, Freydis keeps observing Sihtric, waiting for his mask to slip but it doesn’t so she slowly starts lowering her guard and just trusting that he really has changed sides and now belongs to the danes.

Now she’s sitting by the fire, nursing a cup of ale as she watches the wood burn, it’s night and everyone is sleeping but not her, she can’t sleep, she never really can. She flinches when Sihtric suddenly sits down next to her, she didn’t even hear him coming which surprises her since she’s normally very alert and one of the first to notice something. 

“Why are you awake?” She asks him, not looking away from the flames that lick at the wood. Freydis takes a small sip from her cup as she awaits his answer.

“Couldn’t sleep, Dagfinn snores rather loudly, doesn’t he?” Sihtric asks her with a small smile, trying to get her to warm up to him. Freydis scoffs and nods, swirling her ale around in her cup.

“He really does.” She snickers while shaking her head, remembering the time she slept in the room next to him for a week and didn’t get a second of sleep at night because of his loud snoring.

Both of them don’t speak up again that night, just enjoying the silence and each other's presence, or at least, Sihtric enjoyed her presence, the feeling wasn’t mutual. 

Seeing each other by the fire became a habit after that, they both would just sit in silence as they stared at the fire, Sihtric sometimes falling asleep because of his lack of sleep with Dagfinn snoring.

“Why are you still here, Sihtric?” Freydis spoke up when he sat next to her for the fiftieth something time, staring into his heterochromic eyes to make sure he couldn’t deceive her.

“Uhtred was right, I do enjoy fighting.” He just shrugs, he’s not telling the whole truth but Freydis decides that she won’t pry any further so she just nods before looking back at the fire.

“Why are you with Haesten?” Sihtric asks her, looking at her curiously, he can’t figure the Danish woman out, she’s so guarded and nothing gets through to her, she barely even shows emotions in her eyes. She’s a mystery he desperately wants to decipher. 

“I don’t know. I guess I enjoy fighting like you do.” She replies with a shrug. Freydis inspects her braids, noticing that they’re starting to loosen, she pulls a face and lets out an agitated sigh, annoyed that she has to redo her hair but she pulls all the braids out anyways and starts rebraiding them.

“Do you want me to help you with that?” Sihtric quietly asks her, looking at her struggle with her hair.

“Yeah, uhm sure, that’d be nice, wait here, I’m going to get my beads, it has been a long time since I’ve last had them in my braids.” She tells him before quickly rushing to her tent and returning a few minutes later with a small pouch of beads in her hand.

After that interaction, Freydis slowly started opening up to Sihtric, letting him in and letting him see more of her emotions. They grew closer over time and created a friendship on a foundation of mutual trust, a friendship that wasn’t really a friendship at all, rather something more, something with a simmering tension that the other Danes picked up on too. “Can I tell you something?” Freydis asks Sihtric, sitting between his legs as he braids her hair again, carefully pulling at the strands of hair. Sihtric lets out a small hum in agreement and waits for her to say what she wants to say.

“I’m a bastard too, well sort of.” She blurts out, fiddling nervously with her hands. 

“My father already had a wife and kids when he started his affair with my mother, i was conceived and born out of wedlock so i’m a bastard according to most but when i was four summers old, my mother married my father and became his second wife.” She explains, Sihtric is paying attention to her words carefully and intently.

“When she married him, it was like I stopped being her child, my father already disliked me and his first wife did too, as did my half siblings. She was the only person I had and she just… She just stopped caring.” She softly tells him, it’s clear that she has a hard time talking about this so Sihtric pulls her up into an embrace, gently running a hand down her back in soothing motions, trying to support her. 

“You asked me why I was with Haesten and the truth is, he was an escape. I was well trained because my father cared about his status as a warrior but no one in that family cared for me in any other way than how I would affect their reputation. So when Haesten offered an out, I jumped at the chance, wanting to get as far away from my family as possible.” She confesses as she pulls away from his embrace slightly to look him in the eye. Sihtric just gently brushes the pads of his fingers over her face while smiling at her, there’s not a single hint of judgment making Freydis relax again. 

Freydis laughed as she looked at Sihtric watching her swim, completely bare since she had stripped her clothes off just a few minutes ago. His hair softly got blown around by the wind and hers moved with the current of the water. He was in the wind and she was in the water, both at peace and dancing around their feelings for each other. 

She left the water soon after, joining him by the fire, now clothed. She wrings out her hair and sits a little closer to the fire to make it dry quicker. 

“I was thinking last night.” She tells Sihtric who snickers and makes a lighthearted joke about that being a first. She glares at him but smiles anyway and gives him a friendly smack. 

“So you know how we both hate our fathers, right?” She asks him and he nods, waiting for her to continue. 

“I was thinking, we could always just stop introducing ourselves with our last names and just decide on another last name.” Freydis tells him with a grin and sparkling eyes and he shares her excitement, they giggle about it together for the rest of the night, joking that now they’re nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter. 

Their relationship blossomed, the fleeting glances, the gentle touches, the smiles, everything became very real with a few kisses and nights spent together in the same bed being thrown into the mix. And for the first time in her life, Freydis truly felt like she belonged somewhere, like she meant something to someone. Sometimes she even had the passing thought about love, wondering if she truly loved him and if she wanted to spend her life with him, the answer to that question was always yes. 

It doesn’t faze her when Bloodhair dies, she expected this and she knows well enough that Skade had something to do with it but she doesn’t word it. Freydis, Sihtric and some other Danes travel to a village soon after his passing.

She laughs with some of the other Danes when they arrive at the village but frowns when she sees Sihtric slipping off somewhere. Quietly she follows him only to see him stand in front of Uhtred, Finan and the others crouching behind Uhtred. She makes sure that she isn’t seen as she watches the interaction, a knot forms in her throat as anxiety settles in.

“Do you have something to say to me, boy?” Uhtred asks Sihtric.

“I do.” The man she’d grown to love states and unsheathes his sword. “Yield to me.” Uhtred raises his hands and drops his knife and for a second all her anxiety leaves, that’s until Sihtric shoves the tip of his sword into the ground and hugs Uhtred. 

Her lips part as she watches the scene, tears welling up in her eyes as heartbreak and hurt flow through her. He tricked her, he used her and he betrayed her, that’s all she can think at that point. She doesn’t even try to be quiet as she darts away, back to her horse, she knows that he saw her and she knows that the other men also did but she can’t bring herself to care as she hauls herself back onto her horse before galloping off again, tears streaming down her face as the realization settles in. 

It hurt, it hurt so much when she thought that she had finally found her person, it turned out he just used her as a way to infiltrate the group she belonged to. She cried in Brida’s arms when she arrived back at the camp, not even able to bring out a single word as she just sobbed into the woman’s chest.

Freydis follows behind Brida as the two women run together to where the sounds are coming from, Freydis has her bow in hand. They run onto the docs and see Uhtred sailing away with the others out of his group. Sihtric’s eyes widen as they fall on Freydis’ tear stained face but she just glares at him, hatred and rage in her eyes. Sihtric feels his heart shatter at the hatred in her eyes even though he knows that it’s well deserved, he betrayed her in the worst way imaginable and it’d surprise him if she ever found it in her heart to forgive him.

I kind of got carried away with this one so i'll have to make a part two but uhh enjoy :)

[imtryingbuck]

Uhtred

Sihtric

Finan

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Little Seer

Pairing: Sihtric x reader(female) x Finan

Authors note: there was something in the air again 😅 Brainstorming and writing together with the talented and amazing @little-diable is an absolute pleasure. Thank you so much for co-writing this little story with me! 💖💖💖

Warnings: SMUT 18+, a bit of angst, the usual things

Summary: as if being Skade's sister wasn't challenge enough, you are faced with an impossible choice between two warriors, competing over your heart

Word Count: 4,8 K

You closed your eyes and inhaled the cool, crisp morning air. A fleeting aroma of freshly baked bread wafted toward you, evoking a vivid memory of work-worn hands kneading dough on a high table, so tall that your nose barely reached its surface.

"Go fetch your sister," a soft voice urged, and you giggled as a finger touched your nose, leaving a white flour mark on it.

"Skade, Skade, where are you? Mom is baking bread," you called out cheerfully, your voice ringing through the yard like a bright, joyful stream. Your small feet carried you from one building to the next.

"Shhh, what are you doing? Stop yelling! You just scared all my spirits away," an irritated hiss made you freeze in your tracks as your lively, smiling eyes met two stormy, piercing blue ones. Your face twisted into a mocking grimace as you stuck out your tongue at your sister. Her giggle was soft and sparkling, reminiscent of a tiny bell's chime, as she took your hand and you both skipped joyfully back to the house.

Long before the big wooden gates of Dunholm creaked open to welcome the small traveling party, you had already known she was approaching Dunholm. The runes never lied to you. Bound by the same blood and the same divine gift, your destinies were intricately woven together in a delicate tapestry of love and hate. You knew you couldn’t escape each other and  no matter how hard you tried to defy this fate, you had always failed.

Your palm tightened around the shaft of the Nithstang you had crafted tonight, wet and sticky with the warm blood dripping down your fingers, as you forced your eyes open. Your steps, steady and resolute, carried you to the small paddock across the inner yard, now a makeshift prison.

"Release him!" Your voice, edged with a metallic tone, carried a hint of the anger simmering deep within you. Something stirred in the shadows at the back, and a silhouette began to move closer to the bars. Two familiar, deep pools of dazzling blue met your gaze.

"You know I won't," a challenge danced on the plush lips curved into a smirk. "You should know me better by now, little sis."

"Don't make me use my power against you," you warned, your breath forming small clouds of mist as you spoke, casting a shimmering, translucent veil over your sister's face and giving it a mysterious glow.

"You wouldn't dare," Skade smirked, tilting her head defiantly.

"You leave me no choice," you replied, not with anger but with a surge of resolve. With a loud cry, you swung the Nithstang high into the air, driving it deep into the ground to face the place where your sister was imprisoned.

Your love for her was deeply rooted in every fibre of your being, yet you despised the monster she had become, transformed by power-hungry men who sought to use her for their own ascension. It was this profound care for her, this need to protect her even from herself, that had driven you to carve the ancient runes into the wood under the cover of night. The power of love was stronger than the power of hate, yet your sister, as mighty as she might be, still failed to recognize this simple truth.

Fear and caution had long been your constant companions, often mingled with respect, but genuine fascination and appeal seldom visited your life. You struggled to suppress your smile as you constantly felt two pairs of eyes almost burning into your back each time when you turned away.

The dark brown eyes exuded warmth, strength, and protectiveness, creating a comforting presence that seemed to envelop you each time you entered the great hall. The peculiar, mismatched eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity, radiating a sense of possessiveness. They darted around the room, absorbing every detail, as if laying claim to every word you spoke and every move you made.

An Irish-accented voice, rich and booming, reached you near the stream just as you were about to lift the heavy buckets brimming with water. "May I help you?"

"Thank you, that's very kind," you replied with a smile, watching the sturdy, well-built Irishman effortlessly lift your load and nod for you to lead the way.

To break the somewhat awkward silence, you inquired, "How's Lord Uhtred?"

"He's well, thanks to you, lady. On the way here, I had my doubts he'd even make it," the warrior replied, his voice thick with genuine worry and care. The soothing quality of his words made you turn and cast a warm smile back at him while noticing his shoulders straighten and his eyes light up with a friendly glow.

Having seen him spar before, it was clear that beneath his somewhat soft and pappy shell lay a core of steel, marked by agility and resolve.

"Lady, I was looking for you..." greeted a cheerful voice accompanied by a bright smile at the steps before your hut. "I... I was riding out the horses, and there, in the meadow, I thought of you when I saw these," stammered the young, handsome Dane, revealing a bouquet of wildflowers he had been hiding behind his back. His gaze quickly shifted to his feet.

The bouquet was not a mere haphazard cluster; it was artfully arranged—a vibrant swirl of colours with bright yellow flowers at the centre, gently transitioning to soft pink and white ones around the edges, framed by green leaves.

"They are beautiful, thank you so much, Sihtric," you said, your eyes widening in surprise. Your fingers lightly brushed against his as you accepted the flowers, inhaling their sweet scent. A muffled scoff from behind made you bury your face deeper into the bouquet to hide your amused smirk upon seeing Finan roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Lady, let me..." Sihtric hurriedly ascended the few steps and swung the door open for you, you stepped inside and Sihtric followed you, letting the door close just before Finan could enter. You turned to him with a surprised smile and, hearing Finan’s disgruntled curse behind the door, Sihtric quickly opened it again to let in the visibly annoyed Irishman.

"Please put the buckets there," you directed, pointing to a wooden bench in the corner while turning to fetch a vase for the flowers from the cupboard.

The sound of shuffling feet and muffled murmurs behind you indicated that both warriors were hesitant to leave. As you turned to face them, Finan spoke first, "I... I placed the buckets on the bench... I..." He scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting around the room, seemingly searching for something to say.

"Oh, your door is half ajar; it needs fixing," Sihtric suddenly exclaimed. "I'll fetch some tools and be right back."

"You've never held a hammer and nail in your life, you don’t even know what they look like, and now you want to pretend you can fix a door?" Finan scoffed, clearly upset he hadn’t noticed the issue first.

Sihtric hurried off to fetch the tools, leaving Finan behind, still bristling from the earlier mishap and determined not to be outdone by the young Dane. “I can fix that just fine without his help,” Finan muttered, eyeing the slightly ajar door as if it were a direct challenge to his capabilities.

When Sihtric returned, he clumsily carried a bundle of tools wrapped in cloth. Finan was already examining the door, squinting critically. “Here, let me show you how it’s done,” Sihtric announced with a confident swagger, setting the bundle down with a thud.

The two warriors stood side by side, peering at the assortment of tools, which included a couple of misshapen awls and a few worn hammers. “This one looks about right,” Sihtric said, picking up an awl with an uncertain glance.

“That’s not how you hold it, give it here,” Finan scoffed, snatching the tool and holding it upside down. You watched, amused, as they fumbled, each trying to outdo the other with bravado that was clearly unfounded.

“Here, you need to tighten the hinges,” Sihtric suggested.

“No, the alignment’s off. It needs a new hole,” Finan countered, eyeing the frame as if he could will it into compliance.

Sihtric attempted to use a hammer, gently tapping around the hinge as if coaxing it to tighten by itself. Meanwhile, Finan, now wielding an awl, tried to carve a new hole in the wood, his efforts resulting in a crooked and unnecessary indentation.

The result was a door that hung even more awkwardly than before. 

“You know, maybe we should just ask the carpenter in the village,” Sihtric finally conceded, stepping back to examine their handiwork, which looked worse than when they started.

Finan, though reluctant to admit defeat, nodded in agreement. “Let’s just say woodworking isn’t our calling,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their earnest but bungled efforts, appreciating the entertainment, if not the craftsmanship. “I think that’s wise,” you agreed, still smiling. “But thank you both for trying. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

Everything went quiet suddenly, with just shy glances and nervous shuffling of feet filling the air. It was getting awkward, but it was obvious neither warrior wanted to leave. The question in their eyes was so clear and so charming that this time, you couldn't help but let a grin slip.

Their fondness for you was apparent, neither attempting to conceal it, as they'd been playfully fighting for your attention for a week now, and you'd be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. The two warriors were as different as fire and water, their contrasting energies sparking against each other with every word and gesture. 

You really appreciated how Finan always looked out for you, always there to lend a hand, careful and attentive. His support was rock solid, his eyes always warm, and he never missed a chance to gently tease you.

Then there was Sihtric, with his wild, spontaneous streak that drew you in just as much. He’d show up at all sorts of odd times with flowers, or suddenly appear at your hut with a huge smile and a basket full of goodies, just because he’d found the perfect spot on a nearby hill to catch the sunset. No matter how tired you were, his laughter and sheer joy were contagious, always managing to sweep you up in another adventure.

Both warriors truly brightened up your life, even helping you momentarily forget the deep worry your sister's presence constantly evoked. As time passed, it was clear Uhtred was committed to his decision to stay with his brother, which only seemed to make the boys more hopeful whenever they looked your way. But what really amazed you was something quite rare, something you hadn’t seen before—even with their ongoing competition for your attention, their friendship didn’t waver—not even a bit.

They were both waiting for you to make a choice between them. And honestly, as much as you wanted to decide, making up your mind just seemed impossible.

Stars were twinkling in the sky as you rolled your head back, letting the river run through your hair as you took your bath. Darkness wrapped itself around you like a veil, hidden from the drunken men you didn’t want to cross paths with, the nosy fighters who’d give a lot for a good look at your naked frame. 

Your body had ached as you found your way down to the river, desperate for some moments alone, away from the confusion of being close to Sihtric and Finan pushed through you and the confusion your sister managed to push through your veins with every rising of the sun. It was a steady back and forth you should be all too used to by now. 

“Here’s good!” The raspy voice echoed through the air, dripping with his Irish accent while forcing your eyes away from the sky to watch the two men walk closer. For a moment, you didn’t move, letting your curious eyes watch the two as you waited for them to notice you. But Finan and Sihtric kept undressing, not picking up on your closeness just now.

“It’s not very honourable of you to disturb a woman’s bath, now is it?” Humour flushed through you as you spoke the word, chasing the protection the dark water offered. Only your head and throat were visible, hiding the body both Finan and Sihtric had been imagining the past days, chasing highs with their minds solemnly focused on you. 

“Apologies, lady.” SIhtric stumbled over his words, drawing a loud laugh from you as you kept on watching them. 

“Would you mind some company?” It was a bold question the Irishman asked, knowing that this could take an ugly turn. Perhaps it was the mead flushing through your system, perhaps it was the thrilling coldness of the river, whatever it was, it forced your mouth open once again, giving room to your words rolling off your tongue. 

“If you can behave, I wouldn’t mind your company, no.” The hum leaving Finan seemed to snap Sihtric out of his trance, averting his gaze as the two kept undressing. For some more seconds, you allowed yourself to study their muscular frames, a sight that left you trembling with heat pooling between your thighs before you eventually let your eyes wander back up to the sky. 

“It’s a beautiful sight, aye.” Finan’s voice wrapped itself around you as he moved closer, marvelling at the starry sky. Even though you kept your eyes focused on the sky, you couldn’t help but focus on the heat he emanated – a heat that only grew stronger as Sihtric also stepped towards you. “But we are fortunate men, us two, we don’t have to look that far for a beautiful sight.”

The words left you laughing, unable to bite down your smile as you turned towards the two men. Mischief was swimming in their pupils, it seemed as if whatever back-and-forth they had felt between one another had found some end, a compromise perhaps. Whatever it was, it drew them even closer, giving you the chance to pull away before overstepping any boundaries 

“Others may no longer respect your honour if they see you here with us, lady.” Sihtric’s husky voice was about to draw a moan out of you, reminding you of the words you had imagined them to speak as you had chased your high just this morning, thinking of these two warriors now caging you between their bodies. 

“And why is that?” Slowly, you rose, exposing your naked chest to Finan, who was standing in front of you. You felt Sihtric tugging himself against your back, with his tensed abs pressing into your soft skin, with his hardening cock pressed against your behind. An unfamiliar heat took over, guiding your every moment – you were about to slip up, about to give in while your mind was silenced. And for the first time, you were alright with letting go, diving head-first into an adventure you had been dreaming of for days. 

Sihtric’s hands found your waist, keeping you pressed to him as Finan’s warm hand cupped your cheek. You could feel their breaths teasing your skin, making you feel as if you were their sacrifice, one with the fire they were about to toss you into, leaving you trembling and aching – all because of them. 

“Once you lose your honour to us, we won’t let you go again, little lady.” You scoffed at the nickname Finan used for you, a sound that was turned into a moan as Sihtric’s fingers danced down your stomach, finding their way to your pulsing bundle. The moan that clawed through you had nothing human-like to it, torn between a warrior’s cry and an animalistic growl. A sound so sinful, you felt both men chuckle; a chuckle of victory; a chuckle of excitement. 

Tonight you were theirs. Tonight you wouldn’t break free from their grasp. Not tonight. 

“Oh, gods.” The words clawed through you as Sihtric’s fingers began to move in circular motions, rubbing your bundle of nerves just enough to make the hairs at the back of your neck rise. It felt as if you were trapped by some kind of spell, chaining you to these two men who explored your body with their lips. Finan’s beard scratched your skin as he kissed your throat, dipping his head down to find your hardening nipples, all while Sihtric’s teeth teased the spot where your shoulder met your neck. 

“No gods will answer your prayers tonight, pretty lady. For now, you’re ours to play with.” Sihtric’s raspy words were about to push you over the edge, chasing your release without feeling either one of them buried deep inside of you yet. You were desperate for more, torn between different sensations that left you trembling and aching for more. 

“I want you, please.” It was pathetic almost how needy you were, too far in to pick up on the sly grin tugging on Finan’s lips, wordlessly communicating with Sihtric. 

“How do you want us?” Finan’s lips teased yours, not kissing you fully, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But nothing could pull you from these two, not tonight at least. Sihtric tightened his grip on you as you kept quiet, adding more pressure to his moving fingers, toying with your pulsing bundle. 

“Speak when you’re asked to, don’t play any games.” You choked on your gasps at Sihtric’s demanding command, leaving you shuddering between them. 

“Both of you, I don’t care how, I just need you.” Within moments you were shifted around, pressed down on a nearby stone to balance your body as Finan positioned himself behind you. You were close to passing out, letting your racing heart guide you as your glassy eyes wandered down Sihtric’s muscular front, straight to his twitching cock. The Dane positioned himself in front of you, fingers pulling your hair together to draw your mouth closer to him. 

“Who are we to deny a pretty lady’s wish, huh?” Finan pushed into you without another warning, tearing another moan from you that was silenced by Sihtric’s cock. Your mouth engulfed him, lips wrapped around his tip to suck on him. His taste stuck to your tongue, a taste you’d forever remember, just like the feeling of Finan finally fucking you. The Irishman didn’t grant you any mercy, he fucked you as if the Devil himself was chasing him, a sensation so strong your walls kept fluttering around him.

“What a devilish mouth for such a sweet seer.” Sihtric’s praises shot shudders down your spine and drew sounds from you that vibrated on his cock as he pushed further down your throat. You were close to seeing stars, close to letting the darkness that called your name swallow you. Tonight you didn’t care about what may happen to you. Tonight you didn’t care about losing yourself to these two handsome warriors. Tonight you were simply theirs. 

“You feel divine, lady.” Finan groaned his words as he fucked you even deeper, pressed down on the cold stone that would surely leave its marks on your body. This night would leave its bruises on you, bruises you’d forever remember, while silently hoping that they’d leave some more on your body in the upcoming days and weeks. 

Tears ran down your warm cheeks, tears of desperation and lust, drawn from your eyes by the feeling of Sihtric’s cock nudging your throat, by the feeling of Finan’s calloused fingertips rubbing your overstimulated bundle, pushing you over the edge within moments. 

Finan fucked you through your high as Sihtric groaned your name, painting your tongue and cheeks white with his release. You didn’t dare break eye contact with the handsome Dane as you swallowed, not even as you felt Finan stain your behind with his cum. It was a moment so intimate that you were sure neither Finan nor Sihtric could ever forget about it, just like you. 

The three of you were heavily panting as silence wrapped itself around you, drawing a laugh out of you as you rose back to your feet. You couldn’t help but shake your head as you studied the two for another moment, trying to accept what had just happened. 

“What’s so funny, lady?” Finan pulled you against his broad chest, grinning in success as you clung to him, wordlessly telling the two that you weren’t planning on running anytime soon. 

“I’m just happy, I think.” Your eyes wandered towards Sihtric, grinning at the man who looked at you as if you had hung up the stars in the sky yourself, a true masterpiece only a few were fortunate enough to take in. 

“We won’t let you go again, we stay true to our words.” As much as you wanted to give in, to let this dream suck you into its grasp for some more moments, you couldn’t, breaking out of your hazy trance. Carefully you stepped away from Finan to sink back into the cold water, cleaning yourself for one last time that evening. 

“Don’t make any promises, Irishman. You don’t know what’s coming upon us, it will be cruel, guided by my sister’s hands.”

The clang of weapons and the wild shouts from the crowd echoed off the walls of Dunholm, deafening you with the force of a thunderstorm. You had always been certain of the foolishness and recklessness of men, yet they continued to surprise you.

Your decision to serve Ragnar was based on his ability to listen and consider matters without letting emotions cloud his judgement—a rare trait among men. But this time was different.

Your eyes shifted, catching a glimpse of Skade at the far end of the square. How had you missed it? Distracted by a fuzzy haze of love and admiration, you hadn't noticed the spider spinning its web behind you, the viper weaving its venom into the hearts of men. Now, you were forced to watch as arrogance and false pride shattered the fragile peace you had so carefully helped to nurture.

"Are you satisfied? Do you really think this will bring you anything?" you hissed into Skade's ear.

"I’ve won, little sister. I always win, whatever it takes. There’s no turning back. Uhtred is mine. He will come to rule all Danes and Saxons; he’s been born to lead. I’ve seen that. And I'll rise with him. He's bound to me, and there's nothing you can do about it," she whispered back, her words slicing through you like the sharpest knife, reopening old wounds you had struggled to heal.

“This is no game, Skade. Stop this madness. You’ve gone too far. You took a life that wasn’t yours to claim, just to replace her. This will have consequences, and you know it. Release him and stay here with me. Please, sister,” you pleaded, knowing deep down it was likely futile, but you had to try.

There was a subtle shuffle of feet before your sister finally turned to face you. Your pleading gaze met her icy stare, the chill from her eyes almost freezing your words in midair.

“Did you enjoy the company of those two fools, calling themselves warriors?” she asked coldly, her chin lifting slightly as she tilted her head to the right, scrutinising you through her long lashes. “Tell those two hounds to stay behind, or if they're foolish enough to follow their master, tell them not to interfere with me. You know better than anyone what happens to those who get in my way.”

You couldn’t remember how you got home, the sound of the door, shutting behind you with a loud thud as you slammed your back against the gnarled wood, startling you. You slid down the door to the floor, elbows on your knees, cradling your head in your hands.

Sobs wracked your body, starting quietly and gradually becoming louder and uncontrollable, until you threw back your head, releasing a loud, desperate cry that tore through you. Yes, you knew all too well what happened when someone interfered with your sister. You knew the agony of feeling like your heart was being ripped from your chest, leaving a wound that wouldn't heal, a wound that lingered for years.

She had taken everything from you once, and without a moment’s hesitation, she would do it again. Of that, you were certain.

"Come with us," Finan urged, his large, rough palm reaching out for yours while his thumb gently traced circles on your skin.

"We will care for you, protect you," Sihtric added, his two-coloured eyes searching for yours, but you stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. You pulled your hands away from Finan’s gentle grip and, needing something to occupy them, began nervously adjusting and straightening your clothes. You shook your head, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. 

"Stay here, both of you, stay with me," you countered, finally lifting your head, your eyes pleading as they moved between Sihtric and Finan.

Silence stretching between you, Finan stepped forward first. He enveloped you in a strong embrace, his arms a fortress that for a brief moment, warded off what was about to come. As he pulled back, his hands cupped your face, and he leaned in to place a tender, lingering kiss on your lips

Sihtric, his expression a complex tapestry of regret and resolve, moved closer. His farewell was quieter, more restrained, as if he feared that any show of passion might crumble his resolve. He took your hands in his, holding them between you both, his gaze finally locking with yours. Slowly, he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them softly, his breath warm against your skin.

Words were superfluous; everything that needed to be said shimmered in the air around you, poignant and bittersweet.

“Be careful. Don’t underestimate my sister,” you finally broke the silence, “She can turn Uhtred against you.”

You saw the disbelief in their eyes and sighed deeply. “You have no idea of what she is capable of. This is just the beginning.”

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[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

If you could insert yourself into one of the fics you wrote, literally any of them, & after you select it you are teleported into it & that is your new reality, which one would it be & why?

HALLOWEEN FIC!!!! 🦇🎃👻💀🖤

Okay, wow. I blurted that out, so first things first; damn, this is such a fun question, thank you!!

But okay, okay, why? I live & breathe spooky shit 24/7. Our house is always in Halloween mode (no joke) and I would dieee if that fic was the way I'd meet that cute and handsome sexy Dane. Legit, a dream *melts*. That entire fic is just a daydream tbh. I also have so many ideas to continue that Spooky!Sihtric fic. And as I truly wrote it first and foremost "for myself", I am 100% writing him as the fictional man of my dreams and I can't wait to throw in my passion and knowledge about the occult in the next chapters. Because we all need to create a nonexistent perfect guy in our minds, right?🥲 okay I am rambling, sorry!

Hey, what about you? I'd LOVE to hear which fic my readers would pick and why, please reply with your answers or send me an ask if you want to be anon 🖤

I'll be waiting 🥰

[thenameswinterfics]

CAOINEADH

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Banshee!Reader Settings: Season 2, brief mention of moments from S3 to SKMD Summary: While wandering outside Dunholm with his mother, Sihtric is visited by a creature whose presence brings terrible news to his family. Years later, the Banshee returns to the mortal lands and Sihtric, now grown up and in the service of Uhtred, faces the consequences of a bad omen. But the tragedy also brings them closer together. Word Count: 5,2 K Warnings: Angst, mention of blood, mention of death, mention of main character death(s), human/monster romance, hopeful ending? , me writing Finan's Irish accent. A/N: After a long time, I'm back to writing for my favourite Dane rat boy. I'd somehow forgotten how much I loved and enjoyed writing for him, especially after a period of putting him aside for a while. This feels like I'm republishing a fic of his for the very first time, so I'm terribly nervous. I hope you like and enjoy it. If you find the ending a bit rushed, I'm sorry. I finished it while it was late at night in my timezone, and everything will be fixed eventually when I'm awake and more aware of my actions. Many thanks to @foxyanon , @legitalicat and @zaldritzosrose for helping me with the Banshee lore, for writing Finan's accent, for the emotional support, for the beta reading and last minute corrections, and to @sylasthegrim for the early beta reading and emotional support as well.

This fic is my entry and first submission to the Fan-Frankentober event, organized by @fandomeventcenter. Here the masterlist to take a look at the other works.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header by me (template by @zaldritzosrose) Dividers by me and @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3 (COMING SOON)

Caoineadh: Irish and Scottish Gaelic pronunciation of "keening" (to cry, to weep); traditional form of the vocal lament for the dead in the Gaelic tradition.

By the time Sihtric stopped running, he had no more memory of the place he was in.

His hands, clenched into small fists, rubbed his tired eyes as he tried to scan the surroundings, looking for any detail that might help him orientate himself in the unknown space. He could not recognize the long tree trunks rising from the ground, their dry branches seeming to touch the twilight sky as he watched the sun's rays filter through the few remaining canopies. 

The place was eerily quiet, the sound of the wind blowing and moving the branches and leaves on the ground the only sound to break the surreal yet disturbing atmosphere. He felt a shiver run down his spine and the little Dane suddenly hugged his shoulder, as if to hide his head between them like a turtle. 

It was one of the few times he and his mother had left the strong walls of Dunholm together, Sihtric enjoying the fresh air of the forest while Elflaed was busy gathering flowers and herbs that he had little interest in. Sometimes his curiosity would get the better of him, his big, mismatched eyes fixed on Elflaed's wooden basket and how many herbs she had managed to gather. When his mother felt his eyes on her, she would patiently stop picking and crouch down beside him, patiently explaining what she was doing as she wrapped his small body around her, only to see her son wriggle out of her embrace soon after and play with small sticks nearby. 

Sihtric was usually a quiet and obedient child: when his mother asked him to stay close to her, he obeyed without a fuss. That day, however, something caught his attention, a heartbreaking wail that filled his ears and shook his heart: it was a gentle but sad song that carried pain and sorrow, hiding a sense of concern and care towards to whom it was addressed. Armed only with a small stick and with curiosity teasing him, Sihtric dared to disobey his mother for the first time, and entered into the woods while leaving his mother behind.

And there he was, lost in an unfamiliar place, with nothing to defend himself but a small stick. He was too young to call himself a warrior, barely able to hold a knife, let alone wield a sword that was too heavy for his tiny hands and a shield properly. Hiding and fleeing was the only option he could take in case of real danger, for he had spent his whole life hiding from the wrath of his cruel father; but the surroundings would make the task impossible, as the tall and twisted trees casted long shadows, and the undergrowth cracked with every step he could take.

Suddenly, the silence of the forest was broken by the same sorrowful chant that dragged him in the deep of the woods. Holding his wooden stick in his hands, Sihtric moved carefully in the direction of the voice, trying not to make noise while the ground cracked beneath his feet. 

The walk was short, and he found himself in front of a small lake he had never seen before. Squatting on the bank was a young lady in a blue gown, her black hair cascading down her shoulders like pitch-black watercourses, giving the little boy her back as she continued to sing her lament. Sihtric could hardly understand what she was doing, her head almost hidden beneath her shoulders, her hands working frantically to move the water in small ripples.

Holding his breath and trying to be as quiet as a mouse, Sihtric crept up behind her, lifting his small head and trying to find the right angle where he could see what she was doing underwater. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, fear and anticipation creeping into his bones as he felt the keening close to him, the chanting drawing him in even if he couldn't understand it. But as he crept closer, something beneath his boots cracked softly, and the sound was enough to make the lady turn and show her face to the boy.

It was the first time he met you. 

Sihtric watched with frightened eyes as your icy blue gaze locked on his and a low hiss escaped your mouth, your pale complexion adorned by scarlet tears rolling down your eyes. Behind you, piles of clothes lay scattered on the grass, others dripping in the water that had lost its transparency and had become muddy with blood. 

The little Dane found the strength to stand up and try to run away, but he soon fell, tripping over a stone behind him. Your ghostly presence, now calmed down after the initial fright, lightly approached him and crouched down. One of your slender hands rested on his cheek, your touch as cold as the death itself. But the words that came out from your lips were way colder, breaking the silence with your voice as soft as the silk but sharp as a piece of glass. 

“She cannot escape to the Other World.”

“She?” “Escape from what?” “What is the Other World she is talking about?” These were the words that filled the boy's mind, filled with nothing but fear and the coldness of your touch. But soon Sihtric's tiny body was enveloped in a familiar warmth, and two arms lifted him from the floor. It was only when warm, trembling lips were pressed to his forehead that he recognised the touch of his mother, who had searched for him after losing sight of him.

“Sihtric!” Elflaed cried while holding her son close to her. “Why were you here all alone? I told you never to leave my side, never! Oh, my sweet boy!” 

The young Dane watched as he silently pointed to the spot where you appeared before him, but a cold realisation hit him as you were no longer there, gone like ashes in the wind.

Sihtric did not answer, too lost in his mother's warmth and love, and the bad omen you gave him still shook him to the core. He clung to her presence, and each time your words echoed in his mind, he sought comfort in his mother's presence, even when they left the forest and the warmth of her small hut welcomed them.

But a few days later, the opening of the Other World shook nature and its creatures. And his mother's soul was claimed after a long agony.

Standing outside Eoferwic, you looked up at the walls that surrounded the town, admiring the mix of Roman, Danish and Saxon architecture that was unfamiliar to you: you were there when the Romans laid the foundation stone on the ground, and the same souls were the first you guided to the Other World, announcing the sad event in the form of a manifestation to the families you watched over. 

And you were called to do your duty again: to find the same boy you met years ago, to tell him that more of his family's souls will be claimed in the days to come. They will not be gentle and innocent like those of his mother and grandparents you guided through the other world: they were violent, reckless, stained with blood’s innocents and sins far from forgotten. But it was up to the god or gods to decide where their souls would go in the afterlife. 

Your pale eyes scanned the area, and when you found a small stream where you could wash the dirty clothes you were carrying, you walked over and dipped your hands into the cold water. You watched as your fingers swirled around the cloth and the water lost its translucency, a faint reddish tinge staining it.

The night was still, and a gentle breeze rustled the trees, lightly caressing your raven locks. You continued to scrub the clothes in the water as your wailing began, your lament filling the air and mingling with the sound of the rushing water as your eyes watered and scarlet tears rolled down your white face. 

As on that night, something soft cracked on the ground and your wailing stopped. You lifted yourself from the ground and turned towards the sound, and soon found yourself crouched beside a young man, probably trying to sneak up on you without attracting attention. 

He was a handsome man, the most beautiful your eternal eyes could ever have seen; his features sharp, his fair skin adorned with a few scars on his forehead, eyebrow and cheekbone, a knotted tattoo crossing part of his head, his dark hair cut at the sides and combed into three plaits and knotted at the back. These were features that were strangely familiar to you, your mind trying to remember when was the last time you saw him. 

But it was his eyes that captured you the most. There was pain, melancholy and innocence in them - the same light you had found in the bicoloured eyes of the little Danish boy you had reached outside Dunholm. You felt a sudden flicker of recognition, your eyes widening slightly as you recognised that lost and frightened boy in the man he had become. The years had moulded him into a skilled warrior, but the softness of his eyes remained unchanged, you noted. 

You chose a cautious approach, slowly closing the distance between you. You noticed his body trembling and his jaw clenching, his muscles not moving from where he was: it was still unclear to you whether he wasn't moving out of fear or anticipation.

“It has been a long time, sweet boy,” you broke the silence, using the same nickname you had heard his mother call him. Sihtric stood frozen, partly enchanted by your ethereal appearance and your voice, as melodious as the birdsong at sunrise.  

His eyebrows furrowed and his expression changed from alienation to curiosity: your figure was too familiar to him, but he could not remember where he had first met you.

 “Do… Do I know you, lady?” the Dane asked, holding his breath as the silent nod of your head answered his question. 

You took a long pause before answering him, "You do, in a way," you said in a soft voice that carried the weight of your grief. You took a step closer, noticing that the Dane was shifting his incongruous gaze slightly away from you, "But I have known you since you were a little boy playing spy in the deep forest.”

One of your hands reached out and rested on his cheek, the cold touch awakening something in Sihtric that he thought he had buried deep in his heart. He remembered your figure knelt near the lake shore, your icy blue gaze that penetrated deep into his soul, the cryptic prophecy you had given him but he was too young to understand.And then he remembers the mother he lost, and how it was one of the last nights they wandered the Dunholm woods together, and how after her death the Dane desperately tried to find you to explain, but you never showed again.

Instinctively, one of his calloused hands reached for yours, shivering at the cold of your pale skin. But he never pulled you away: instead, he leaned against you, finding the softness of your touch endearing.

“I remember your touch,” he murmured shyly, lowering his gaze as it briefly met yours, fascinated by your pale eyes, “It was you, all this time,” he continued, earning your satisfied hum.

“It is your family that forged our bond,” you announced with a solemn tone, absently doing circles on his skin with your thumb, “It was your mother’s souls that bound you to me.”

The mention of his mother made Sihtric snap back to reality, and pain filled again his mismatched eyes, “My mother��s soul?” he repeated in a whisper, a slight trembling could be heard in his voice, “What did you do to her? Why didn’t you save her?” 

His voice broke down when he asked his final question, and the red tears rolled down your cheeks furiously “Why did you take her away from me?” 

“It is not me who willingly chose to wrestle your mother from your arms,” you murmured softly, your other hand resting on his other cheek, cupping his face completely. Your thumbs gently wiped away his tears, and you could hear him draw in a sharp breath. Under the moonlight, you could see a faint blush in his cheeks.

“It is fate that foretells a mortal's permanence in this world and how their entry into the Other World will come about,” you explained carefully, as if you were talking with a child. “It is my duty to show myself to you and to guide you through the painful parts of death. Your pain is my own burning.” 

An uncomfortable silence fell over you, the weight of your words making it almost impossible for you both to speak. Finally, you summoned the courage to speak again, and your next words sent shivers down his spine. 

“The Other World is shaking, more souls from your family should be claimed,” You solemnly stated, and your words brought a sense of uneasiness and confusion in Sihtric. 

“Lady,” The Dane lowered his gaze, his cheeks burning at the sight of you, his body trembling at the surreality of the information he was receiving that night, “I have no family left outside my mother and my grandparents,”

You chuckled softly and shook your head, amused at his naivety, "Even if they neglect you, there are still ties of blood that fate will sever."

Sihtric clenched his jaw, his gaze darkening at the memory of a father who neglected you and looked at you with disgust only because he was guilty of being born a bastard, and of his half-brother who always looked at him with the same disgust for their father. The news of their imminent deaths brought him an unexpected sense of peace, and the chains of his tortured past will be broken forever: but he would fear how their deaths would affect him, when the damage they had done was far from repaired, and the memories of his past would knock furiously at his door, reminding him that no matter how hard he worked to forge his own path, he would forever be marked as a slave.

The Dane was about to open his mouth to reply to your words when a loud, rough voice called him out from a distance. 

“Sihtric! Come back here, yer little runt!” Finan’s voice brought him back to reality, forcing the Dane to shift his gaze and look at him. 

“I am coming, Finan!” Sihtric replied to him as quickly as he could, so that he could face you and ask you about the fate of Kjartan and Sven in death.

But when he turned his eyes again, you were gone. And a sudden emptiness filled his heart and saddened his soul.

Later in the evening, the atmosphere within the walls of Eoferwich was playful and joyful. Warriors gathered around small tables outside, filling their stomachs with food and ale while telling stories of women, successful raids, or simply myths and legends from their homelands. 

Sihtric's mind was elsewhere that night. It was common for the warriors who shared a seat at his table to see the young Dane so shy and taciturn, a pattern they justified from his earlier days as a slave in Dunholm, his eyes darting around while his body tensed at the proximity of the too many people in front of him.

But this time it wasn't the echo of his past that tormented him: it was you, your stunning, ghostly presence and melodious voice had bewitched him and altered all his senses. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, for he had seen you when he was a little boy, unaware that his world was about to collapse upon him and that he would have to rebuild it all by himself. Now that he was a young man and more aware of his own feelings and the world around him, it felt like a string pulling him towards you, longing for your touch and the way you spoke of destiny and its inexorable flow. And the mystery surrounding your figure made you even more desirable in his eyes, and he often wondered if he was facing a goddess herself.

Sihtric's thoughts about your figure were suddenly interrupted by Finan's speeches about his homeland, Ireland, its customs and its most famous legends. One in particular caught the Dane's attention, and he shifted his gaze from his reflection in the mug to the Irishman.

“I told yer tha these creatures ain’t nothin’ but an omen of death!” Finan spoke with such emphasis, looking at Clapa and the few men at the table listening to him. When he felt Sihtric's gaze resting on him, he continued his story. “Legends say they’ll appear in front of yer, sometimes washing bloodied clothes, and they’ll cryin’ and wailin’ somethin’ terrible tha will hit ya family.”

Sihtric listened intently to Finan's words and felt his hand tremble as he gripped his mug of ale. He felt all the dots connect at once, especially when he saw you washing dirty clothes and singing a mournful chant, your wailing so tearful that it filled the listener's heart with sadness. He also remembered facing you twice and seeing the tears of blood leave your eyes. 

There were no creatures like you in the Norse legends and beliefs, and Sihtric wondered how a creature from a different faith could become the spirit guardian of his family.

“I found a beautiful lady washing a pile of clothes not so far from here,” The Dane murmured against his will and soon the animated atmosphere died down and he shrugged as he felt all eyes on him. His mismatched eyes found the Irishman's brown ones and with a slight nod he silently ordered him to continue.

“She was singing something,” Sihtric continued, his voice faltering slightly as he could feel the intensities of their gaze on him, “It was a lament, something so heartbreaking that it chills the blood in your veins.”

His gaze rested on Finan while he spoke his last words, “She brushed my skin and was cold at the touch. And then she was looking at me with her pale eyes, crying blood-“

“Cryin’ blood, yer said?” the Irishman asked in an urgent tone, and Sihtric nodded his head. Then he reached for the Dane's shoulder and squeezed, but not too hard: Finan knew what the wrong touch could do to a former slave, especially one as young as Sihtric.

“That woman you claimed to have seen before… Did ya know what a Banshee is?” Finan asked Sihtric, and received a shake of head as an answer. The Irishman sighed quietly, and leaned his face close to the Dane. 

“Tha’s the spirit I was talkin’ about before. They’re bound at yer family and they’ll come wailin’ and cryin’ blood while announcin’ the death of yer loved ones. She can be either a gorgeous woman or a vindictive old witch. Tha’s someone ain’t to be trifled with, remember this.”

Sihtric gulped at Finan's description of the Banshee, which was nothing like what you really were. You were so gentle with him, taking care of his pain and not putting the burden of grief on his shoulders. How could such a sweet creature as you be the dangerous spirit that Finan described earlier?

“She treated me with nothing but kindness, Finan,” the Dane replied almost innocently, and the Irishman grinned at his words. 

“Then ya were a lucky bastard!” he retorted in an ironic tone, gently slapping Sihtric’s cheek and returning to his seat. 

The conversations continued with more stories of the Banshees and Irish legends until Uhtred broke the mood by calling for Sihtric, who obediently rose and reached for his Lord. And after preparing the final strategies of war, everyone fell asleep, thinking of the battle they would face at Dunholm and how you would draw the veil of death over their heads.

After a day of celebration, Sihtric found an opportunity to sneak out of Dunholm fortress through the small door in the east wall used by the servants. He followed the small watercourse that flowed into the forest entrance and, armed with his sword and dagger, he walked into the heart of the forest, his movements light as a feather to avoid any upcoming dangers.

Once again, the prophecy you told him about your family proved true, and on the day of the battle both Kjartan and Sven were killed, their souls taken by you and sent to the afterlife. While the event lifted a great weight from Sihtric's shoulders, free at last to forge his own destiny without the cruel shadow of his father tormenting him, he wondered if you knew the difference between your afterlife and his, and if his father's soul did not rest beside Elflaed's. The image of Kjartan distressing his mother even in the afterlife made his heart skip a few beats: he would rather accept slavery under the cruel Lord of Dunholm than see his mother tormented in heaven, having found the peace she never had in life.

Finding you would be the only way for him to be reassured and to have the answers he wanted. But finding you would also mean surrendering to your cold touch, losing himself in your lifeless eyes that stirred emotions he could not believe he was feeling. Finan had warned him to be wary of spirits like you, but you were nothing more than a comforting presence at his side, a guardian who would watch over him even if he could not feel you.

Fortunately, Sihtric found the little spot where he had found the two of you the first time, remembering the details of the foliage and surrounding vegetation. And there you were, sitting near the shore, gazing out at the shimmering water, your presence quiet and not filled with your lamentations. When you appeared, Sihtric noticed how your pale face was cleared by your scarlet tears and held his breath at how even more beautiful you were without crying, the pale rays of the moon caressing your skin.

"You came," you said with a gentle smile as you stood up and approached him.

"I thought I would find you here, lady," Sihtric replied sheepishly, his cheeks turning red as he saw you closing the distance between us. He swore he had never seen such a beautiful creature as you. 

"I realised I never asked what your name was," the Dane continued, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. 

“Names are not important for eternal creatures like us,” you explained while you cupped your cheek in your hand, brushing his skin with your slender fingers, “you do not need to know my name to feel close to me. I will always watch over you, Sihtric.”

“I refuse to believe a creature as beautiful as yours is deprived of a name that does her justice,” Sihtric replied, closing his eyes while abandoning himself to your touch, ignoring the lump that was forming in your throat. 

You could not remember what your real name was, for you had forgotten it when death took you in its arms. You did not remember your former life as a young woman full of hopes and dreams, and how a violent death, coming from those closest to you, extinguished your light forever.

Ignoring all your thoughts, you shook your head and looked at Sihtric, who covered your hand with his calloused one and pressed his lips to your palm, feeling the coldness of your skin against his. It was a small gesture of affection that set a heart beating that you had forgotten you had, for it beat only with sorrow and grief.

"You claimed the souls of my father and half-brother today," it was Sihtric's turn to break the silence, wrapping his strong arms around your slender waist and pulling you close. Even though you were a ghost, you looked so real in his eyes and he was content to touch you and cradle your form.

"The doors of the Other World have indeed been opened to them," you replied, almost lost in his touch, "but for them there is another path to take, one filled with eternal pain and damnation."

The sight of his body tensing at your words saddened you, so you spoke quickly to reassure him, "Your mother and father have taken different paths in the afterlife. They will never meet again.” 

Sihtric felt another burden lifted from his shoulders, and his body suddenly became light: he was glad to see that his dear mother's soul was enveloped in the eternal light of beatification, while his father was probably rotting in the depths of Niflheim, surrounded by cold and darkness, for he died without a weapon in his hands. But even if he had gripped his sword tightly with his last breath, Sihtric did not believe that Odin would open the gates of Valhalla for him.

“Thank you,” the Dane whispered softly, giving you the first sincere smile you’ve ever seen while watching him growing up. His bicolored eyes shone with a renewed life, tasting that freedom he thought he could never have in his life. 

But a new realisation hit him hard, and the light in his eyes was replaced by a look of suffering: your duties were done, and you would return to the veil that separates the living from the dead, and watch over him silently but without concealment. He was not ready to say goodbye to you, not after he had found a person who would treat you with kindness and make his heart beat faster, it mattered not if that person was a creature from the afterlife or not.

“Do not go, please,” Sihtric pleaded in a feeble voice, his jaw clenching as well as the grip he had on you, afraid that you might vanish at any moment. He moved your body close to his own, resting his warm forehead on your cold one.

“I have to, Sihtric,” you explained quietly, though you felt your eyes burning and your scarlet tears about to escape. “I am bound to the spirit world, preparing families for their upcoming deaths. You are a young warrior, with life burning inside you.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the warmth his living body is giving to you, a warmth you used to radiate as well. And when you felt a rivulet of blood escaping from your eyes, Sihtric’s arms were quickly cupping your cheeks, wiping them with his tattooed fingers. 

"One day, when the doors of the Other World open again and the veil between our worlds forms its rift, they will give me the call to take you, and only there will you be mine forever," you added, the words slipping easily from your tongue as you lifted your gaze and locked it in his eyes. You have never had anyone look at you with love in their eyes, not even in your previous mortal life. Sihtric was sent to you to show you that a damned spirit like you could be loved and deserve to be loved. But he was the right person at the wrong time. 

“Promise you will live and wait for me until your hour will come.”

Sihtric took his time to calm down, closing his eyes and breathing slowly to calm the tears that were about to fall and to suppress the pain inside him. He thought he had found the right person to spend the rest of his life with, to take you as his wife and build a family with you. But he had to face the cold truth that you were not a living being and that you would soon have to leave his side.

The Dane opened his watery eyes again and looked at you with burning desire as he gently lifted your head with his hands. "I promise I will wait for you, my love," he swore, clutching his Thor's hammer with one hand, "and when that day comes and death takes him, I will be ready to go. And there I will be yours forever."

You both raised your faces to each other like a magnet drawing you close, sealing your eternal promise with a kiss that poured out all the love you both had carved out of each other, but that your time had not yet allowed. And when you reluctantly broke the kiss, you slowly turned and walked towards the small lake, your body disappearing into a cloud of mist that slowly dissipated into the air, the sound of a bird flapping its wings in the distance. Sihtric watched your disappearance with pain in his heart and watched over the lake until morning, when he returned to Dunholm to be reunited with Uhtred and the others.

Over the years, Sihtric had kept his promise and lived a true warrior's life, the once shy boy growing into a skilled warrior and confident man. He became one of Uhtred's most trusted allies and closest friends, and together with Finan and Osferth they wandered the borders of Mercia and Wessex, the Danelaw and East Anglia, eventually reclaiming Bebbanburg for Uhtred, who reclaimed his birthright and became its lord.

Feeling that you were always watching over him, you only appeared sporadically to bring him and his band of friends bad news: it was your job to inform him of the impending deaths of Gisela and Thyra while he was at Coccham, to warn him of Father Beocca's death before their first attempt on Bebbanburg fortress, and to claim Osferth's soul at Rumcofa. Uhtred was next, succumbing after a long and arduous battle, followed soon after by Finan, too old to even stand properly on his feet.

You were at his side, emptying his heart of grief as his mouth claimed yours in fleeting kisses before you went back to hide in the veil. You watched Sihtric grow old over the years, loving every single wrinkle on his face and every white hair that appeared over the years, while to him you were always the same young woman he fell in love with when he was a young and inexperienced lad.

And when he grew old and grey, surrounded by nothing but the walls of Dunholm, of which he had become lord, he felt the doors of the Other World open and a bird flap its wings, followed by the sound of a gash. With dying eyes and a tired smile, he watched you keep your own promise and claim his soul as he breathed his last, and feeling his body rejuvenated by the effects of eternal life, he took you by the hand as you reached the gates of the Other World, and with a long, desperate kiss, you sealed your eternal life together, and your souls at last lived and rested in peace.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.

Sihtric Kjartansson Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm @sihtricsafin @arcielee

@volklana @gemini-mama @ladyinred2248

[mommytauriel]

+ · 。~ promised to another p3

pairing: sihtric x female! reader | genre: forbidden romance? Angst, fluff | warnings: none that I know of | wc: 6.3k |

synopsis: eight months since everything in your life has changed, and it seems like things won't stop changing.

request: yes

note: I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get out! I was just really struggling on writing this part! This is more like a filler part. I do still hope you guys enjoy it!

Part one Part two Part three

The first week being back in Winchester was hard, actually the first few months being back in Winchester was hard…in many different ways.  Mentally you were exhausted, staying up late at night and stressing yourself to sleep thinking about Uhtred, and what he's going through. You didn't even want to think about how emotionally hard it was for you. The guilt you felt, the pain you felt with Uhtred gone and you leaving sihtric. 

It was physically hard because you were exhausted. You spent your nights staying up late, crying and thinking about Uhtred and sihtric. And when you did finally fall asleep, you didn't get to sleep for long because Lady Aelswith would make sure you were up so you could join her for morning prayers and breakfast with Aethelflaed. 

The fourth month you were tired of being sad, so you forced yourself to leave your room more. It wasn't healthy to lock yourself up in your room and avoid everyone. Matthew was happy to see that you were starting to get better, he had missed you. Matthew was against it at first because he was worried you would get hurt, but the two of you would go on walks through the village of Winchester. He noticed that it was helping you so he kept his worries to himself and just stayed alert. 

By the six month you were feeling more like yourself. You still had your moments of sadness; you just now knew how to handle them better. You have started doing many things to distract yourself from your feelings, you did a lot of reading, most of them being books that King Alfred has suggested. You spent more time with Matthew and Aethelflaed, Aethelflaed even joining you and Matthew on your walks. It was nice. 

The seventh month is when things started to feel more real for you. King Alfred had been lenient with you for the prior months but now that you seemed more yourself, he wasn't going to hold back. Whenever he had time, the two of you would be in his study, reading and learning more about history. And you enjoyed it most of the time, but when he would bring up Arthur and your future with him…your enjoyment turned to dread. You didn't want to talk about Arthur and the doom of your future with him. Lady Aelswith would try to talk to you about Arthur too, telling you about her and the king's betrothal and how she didn't like it at first but it was her duty to become a good wife to him. She even offered to teach you some ways on becoming a good wife, and well you couldn't exactly decline. You didn't want to learn how to be a good wife, you didn't want to be a wife in general! 

The eighth month was no different. 

Throughout those eight months you barely saw Arthur. Then again, you were also actively avoiding the blue-eyed man. It also helped that Arthur was very busy, busy with the king or busy going back and forth from Mercia and Winchester. You weren't complaining. The two of you have talked a few times, well more like he talked, and you just ‘listened’. A small part of you felt a little bad for treating Arthur like that, a very small part. Arthur has been kind to you, and you hated it. 

The garden in the back of the castle had quickly become your place of solace and solitude. If you went early enough in the morning, you would be completely alone…besides the times Matthew would join you. It was a very peaceful place; you could walk around and look at the flowers or sit at the bench and read…or just sit there and think. Today you were reading. 

Before you met sihtric you enjoyed reading love stories, but now you couldn't bear to read one. Just like how you couldn't dare to see public affection, it all reminded you of sihtric. And how you couldn't be with him. It hurt seeing or reading someone being so happy and in love when you weren't. You would feel a tug at your heart and soon your eyes would water it really hurt. So now you stick to history books, they aren't as fun but now you don't have to worry about crying while reading it. 

“What book are you reading today My lady?” A deep and familiar voice breaks you out of your thoughts. You blink a few times and look up from the page you have been reading over and over again. You squint your eyes from the bright sun that shines, when you look up at Matthew's figure. He was standing in front of you, clad in his black leather armor with his hands behind his back, a small smile on his face as he looked down at you. 

“The same book I was reading yesterday Matthew” You retorted with a sigh, closing the book and playing with the leather corners of the book cover. Matthew hums in remembrance, his eyes looking over your figure. He was happy to see that you look way better than you did months ago, you looked well rested. But he could still see some sadness in your eyes. 

“Lady Aethelflaed requests you to join her for breakfast” Matthew tells you, watching as your eyes lighten up at the mention of your dear friend. You stand up from the bench and with your free hand that's not holding your book, you fix your dress. You offer Matthew a small smile “Let's go then, wouldn't want to keep the princess waiting.” 

Matthew nods and leads the way towards Lady Aethelflaed’s room, She had breakfast sent to her room for the two of you. The two of you enjoyed your mornings where you had breakfasts together, the safety of being alone in her room let the two of you gossip as much as you wanted without getting scolded by Lady Aelswith. 

The two of you stopped in front of Aethelflaeds’s room, you greeted the guard who stood out of her room with a small smile while Matthew greeted him with a nod. Matthew softly knocked on the lady's door for you before he stepped back. You heard the sound of feet rushing towards the door and not even a few seconds later the wood door was being opened quickly. A smiling Aethelflaed greeting you.  

“Y/n! I've missed you, come in” Lady Aethelflaed smiles as she grabs your arm and pulls you into her room, you laugh at her eagerness and let her drag you into her room. You glance behind you to see Matthew giving a smile before he closes the door, leaving the two of you alone. You look back at her and see a wide smile on her face and a giggle escape past your lips. “You saw me yesterday Aethelflaed.” 

“I know that but still, i missed you” She giggled herself as she let go of your arm and walked towards the table in her room, which the two of you have eaten at many times before. You set your book on her bed before you follow her across her room. The princess’s room had a bunch of vases of flowers that the two of you had handpicked, her room was so fresh and comfy. 

“This looks delicious” you tell her as you look over the spread of food and drinks on the table. Athelflaed smiles and sits down at the table, pouring herself a cup of water “I asked for some of your favorites.” 

“You truly do spoil me” You send her a teasing wink as you sit down in the chair across from her, popping a green grape in your mouth. Athelflaed blushes and starts eating some of the fruit on her plate. You smile at her shy antics before you start digging into your food. It wasn't long before the two of you jumped into a conversation. 

“I know I have said this hundreds of times, but I'm so glad that you're back. It's nice to have someone I can talk to without worrying, mother is going to find out about what we have talked about” Aethelflaed tells you with a genuine smile after the two of you stopped laughing from the conversation beforehand. (The conversation being about a cute stable hand boy that had caught Athelflaeds attention) It was adorable seeing her so flustered talking about him, it kinda reminded you about how if was for you and sihtric. 

Athelflaed’s words comforted you and made you sad at the same time. They were comforting because you truly did miss her too, but they were sad because if it was up to you…you wouldn't have come back. Sometimes at night while you lay alone in your dark room, you would think about what you would be doing now if you never left, if Uhtred was never sold. You would have nights filled with laughter at ale houses with Uhtred and there was no doubt that you and sihtric would become closer. Maybe I would have told him I loved him already…I’ll never know now. 

“Speaking of missing you, I may or may not have overheard Arthur talking with my dad last night” Aethelflaed’s sweet but mischievous voice breaks you out of your sad thoughts. You blink a few times and look up from your plate to her. You raise your eyebrow at her words, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes at the mention of Arthur. You grip your fork tighter and give her a faint smirk “Overheard? You mean you eavesdropped?” 

“Y/n” She said with an embarrassed whine, gently kicking you under the table before continuing with a mischievous grin on her face “Don't you want to know what they were talking about?” 

“I have a feeling you were going to tell me anyway” You recalled from past memories, you knew she was going to tell you anyway. Aethelflaed doesn't pick up on the sarcasm in your town and she leans forward, excitement in her tone “They were talking about you, well more like Arthur was talking about you…he seems quite smitten with you.” 

“I don't know how he could be, we've barely talked” You responded with a confused look and annoyance in your tone. How could he be smitten with me? You made sure that the two of you had barely any chance to talk. You don't want him to like you, no you want him to hate you…it would make it easier if he did. It didn't feel right knowing that someone was liking you like that, it felt as if you were betraying sihtric in a way. You didn't like this feeling. 

“Arthur is a really nice guy y/n! You should give him a chance, who knows you might even find yourself liking him” Aethelflaed says cheerfully, again not noticing your tone. Aethelflaed has always wanted to fall in love, to have someone by her side for everything. Her desire to have that kinda love, blinded her from the negative parts that came with it. She didn't see the negative parts of your betrothal to arthur. But how could she? She didn't know about me and sihtric. 

She didn't know about how you were feeling, the feeling of being trapped in a relationship you didn't want, the heartbreak you felt with sihtric. There was no chance that you could find yourself liking arthur. To you, Arthur was just the guy that's ruining the happy future you hoped you and sihtric would have together. Maybe it was ruined the moment you left eoferwic. 

“Not likely” 

It seems my luck has run out; you think with a bitter sigh when you see who's standing at the other end of the hall. You had just left Aethelflaed’s room a few minutes ago after spending a few hours laughing and talking, you then parted ways with Matthew who was called off to do something. You were in a happy mood but that quickly joined to a mood of annoyance when you see your betrothed standing across from you, a smile on his face. 

“Lady y/n, I've been meaning to talk to you” Arthur says with a sweet smile as he steps closer to you. Your grip on your book tightens and you hold it to your chest, you offer him a weak smile. 

“I apologize but I have to get going, maybe another time” You spoke quietly as you tried to walk past him, only to stop dead in your tracks when you felt Arthur softly grab your arm to stop you. You let out a sigh, you knew you couldn't avoid him this time. You turn to face him and see him giving you a pleading look. You sigh again and move your arm out of his grip and mutter “You only have a few minutes.” 

“That's all i need” He replied with a charming smile, he cleared his throat before continuing “I wanted to apologize, I've been busy these past months and i haven't spent much time with you, I haven't gotten to know you.” 

“There's not much to know” you say in a dismissive tone, making it your mission to look anywhere but his face. You settle on the flower painting on the wall behind him. Arthur notices the dismissiveness in your tone and your actions, but he still tries to keep the conversation going. So, he ignores it and keeps the smile on his lips. “I don't know about that; I have a feeling there's a lot to know about you.” 

“Feelings can be wrong” You snapped as you finally looked at him, the two of you locked eyes. Arthur could tell that there was more to your words, a lot more meaning. I want to find out, he thinks. “You don't like me, do you?” 

“Is it that obvious?” You ask him sarcastically with a bitter tone as you tilt your head. Arthur stills for a moment and all the confidence he had going into the conversation with you disappears, at the sound of the bitterness in your tone. King Arthur had told him you would not be happy about the betrothal, but he didn't think you would be this difficult, especially with him being so nice to you. Is it going to be like this every time we talk? he thinks with a disappointed sigh. 

“Anything else?” You snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“Your friend uhtred, I saw him walk into the king's study” Arthur spoke with little emotion in his tone, it was obvious you didn't want this…he wasn't going to try so hard for nothing. He was tired of making the first move, one day you were going to realize that whether the two of you like it or not, you will be wed. He will just have to wait until you're willing to try, or when you're in a better mood. 

“Uhtred? He’s here?” your stone-cold persona dropped as soon as his words came out. Chills of shock run through your body, and you find yourself dropping your arms to your side, your grip on your book loosening. Uhtred, the Uhtred who you thought of as a brother was here in Winchester, in the castle? I have to see him. 

“The King doesn't want anyone to know yet, but I thought you should know. I know you guys were close, you must have missed him” he tells you in a soft tone, offering you one smaller smile before leaving you. You stood there for a few moments as you watched him walk away, you watched as his strong posture faltered and his hand moved up to rub the back of his neck. 

There was no denying that you felt bad about how you treated him, he went out of his way to tell you that Uhtred was back. He told you when the king told him that no one must know. He did that for you and all you did was treat him unkindly. You don't let yourself stand there guilty for much longer. I have to see Uhtred. 

You rushed down the hall towards the king's study, holding onto your dress so you won't trip. Your footsteps echo through the hallway, you make an abrupt stop as you turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the king's study. Just as you turn the corner the door at the end of the hallway opens and out steps steapa and matthew, following them is Uhtred. 

You hold your breath and your eyes immediately water at the sight, you pay no attention to steapa and Matthew, you just look straight at uhtred. You couldn't believe it. You watch as he looks up from the ground, he has a look of anger on his face but when he notices you standing at the other end of the hallway, his face softens, and his eyes widen. 

Before you could think, your legs were already rushing towards him, and he met you halfway. You closed your eyes as you threw your arms around his shoulders. You let out a sigh of relief when you felt that he was truly there, he's really here. Uhtred wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close. The pain he felt when you jumped in his arms did not compare to the feeling of relief that he was feeling, you were okay, you were safe. Uhtred tightens his hold on you and just closes his eyes and relishes in the moment. you were really here. 

“Oh Uhtred” You sniffle out, a few tears slowly rolling down your cheeks, you had imagined this moment for months, but this was better than anything you could have imagined. To have him really back. One of his hands moves to cup the back of your head. His heart hurts when he hears you sniffles of sadness, he whispers soothingly “Shh, it's okay little flower, don't cry.” 

“I didn't think i would ever see you again” You cried quietly, your hold on him not loosening. You were afraid to let go, afraid that if you let go of him, he would disappear. Matthew and steapa watch from afar, both of their hearts warm at the heartfelt reunion. 

“It's okay y/n, i'm here now.” 

But for how long was the real question? 

Uhtred didn't stay long. You got the answer to your question.  You tried to be understanding, you knew that what he was going to do was important, important to the king and important to him. But you couldn't help but feel a little upset that he left you so soon. I didn't have enough time with him. After the two of you reunited, you spent the next few hours together talking. Well, more like you talked and he listened. You refrained from telling him about Arthur, you didn't want to ruin the moment. You were surprised when he told you that Lady Gisela was here with him, you would have to see her soon, you missed her. 

He then left you after he promised to see you soon, the next time you saw him was the next day when he was getting ready to leave. You found out two new things that morning, he was leaving, and he had gotten married. You were hurt by the new information. Hurt that he was leaving so soon and hurt that you weren't invited to his and lady Gisela's wedding. But like you said, you tried to be understanding. 

It's okay y/n, he’ll be back soon. You think to yourself as you stand by Lady Aethelflaed’s side, watching as Uhtred and his company leave Winchester. You glance at Gisela who's watching Uhtred leave, a look of sadness on her face. You truly felt for her, her husband just got back, and now he's leaving. You glance at Aethelflaed to see her watching Uhtred go, a look of adoration on her face. Your eyes widened, she looked lovestruck. How interesting. 

You glance back at Uhtred, and you can't help but feel a little emotional as you watch him ride out of sight. You let out a sigh before turning around and walking back into the castle, Matthew following behind you. Both of you were feeling quite down at the moment, you because of Uhtred and him because of Hild..he would never say it aloud, but you knew the truth. 

“Are you alright my lady?” Matthew asks behind you, his voice gentle and worried. You sigh and fold your arms in front of you as you walk towards the gardens in the back of the castle, in the need of some solace. 

“I’m just tired Matthew, I’m just tired.” 

The next day you spent your morning eating breakfast alone in your room, you didn't go out to the garden, instead you read in your quiet room. You didn't really want to see anyone; you also didn't want to run into Arthur. You knew you had to talk to Arthur soon, you had to apologize. But you just weren't ready for that. 

You were peacefully reading until Matthew knocked on your door and let you know that Lady Gisela would like to see you in the village. For a second you considered declining, you were in no mood to be around anyone. But it was Lady Gisela, she knew no one here, she probably felt so alone and out of place. So, you told Matthew yes and you got out of your bed and walked towards your door. 

Matthew greeted you with a small smile when you opened your door, and you greeted him back with a smile of your own, a weak smile. Matthew grew a little worried, he didn't want you to go back to how you were months ago. He wouldn't let that happen, not again. The two of you walked in silence through the castle and to the steps at the entrance of the castle. Standing there at the bottom of the steps was Lady Gisela, a smile forming on her lips when she sees you approaching her. She had missed you. 

“Y/n! thank you for joining me” Gisela beamed as she pulled you into her arms for a hug. You smile softly and hug her back, relaxing into her comforting embrace. After a few moments you pull away and link your arm in hers, the negative feelings you felt earlier were slowly leaving you. “Thank you for inviting me, it will be nice getting out of the castle.” 

“Do you not leave often?” Gisela asks you as the two of you start walking, Matthew walking a few steps behind you. Lady Gisela thought about you a lot through the eight months, like others she was worried about you and how you were taking this change. So, she was happy to see that you were okay, well at least seemed to be okay. 

“Me and Matthew go on walks out of the castle quite a lot, sometimes aethelflaed joins us. But I haven't really had a chance these past few days” you tell her, and she smiles at your words. 

“So, tell me, how has it been living back here in Winchester?” 

“It's definitely been different since the last time I was here, I lived carefree. But now it's…oh never mind” You let out an annoyed sigh when you couldn't put your feelings in words. Gisela frowns and squeezes your arm reassuringly and when you look at her, she gives you a comforting smile.

“It's okay y/n, just tell me what's on your mind” Gisela said softly as she looked at your side profile. What was bothering you so much? She wonders. 

“I am betrothed to Arthur of Mercia” you say quickly before you could stop yourself, you needed to get this off your chest. There was no one else you could talk to about this. You didn't look at Gisela when she gasped at your words, you just kept walking. Gisela’s eyes widen at your words “What? When did this happen?” 

“The king told me the day I came back” You frowned as you looked back on that day, so much sadness and heartbreak. Everything changed that day. 

“And how do you feel about this?” Gisela frowned as well, she had an idea on how you were feeling, and she knew it wasn't a good feeling. She continued to rub your arm reassuringly as the two you walked, she waited for your answer. 

You let out a heavy breath before responding. “I feel a lot of things, but it doesn't matter how I feel, the king has made it clear that it's my duty to marry, my duty to marry Arthur.” 

“Oh y/n, have you told Uhtred? If you are not happy with this you know Uhtred will find a way to stop this” Gisela halted her steps, causing you to stop as well. Matthew stopped a few steps behind the two of you and he looked around, making sure there was no danger to you. You look away from her when you see the look of pity she gives you. I don't want pity; I want a way out of this betrothal. 

“I didn't want him to worry” You shake your head no; you feared Uhtred might try to kill Arthur if he found out. I can't tell Uhtred, not yet. You move to continue walking but Lady Gisela stops you by gently holding onto your arms. You look at her and she gives you a look a look of sympathy and says “He will always worry about you y/n, you know that.” 

“If you ask him to get you out of the betrothal, he will do everything he can to get you out of it” Lady Gisela tells you, her tone serious. You nod and continue walking, Gisela walking by your side. You think about her words, Uhtred has made it clear that he would do anything for you. Would he hurt Arthur? Would he argue with the king? Would he take you away from the castle? You didn't know what he would do, but you knew that what he would do, no matter what it is, would only cause more problems. I didn't want that. I just want my life back to the way it used to be. 

“That's what I’m afraid of” You mumble to yourself as the two of you continue walking. Was there a way to save me from this situation, without things getting bad? There is no way King Alfred would give up on this betrothal, it meant so much for him…well it meant so much for England. You weren't stupid you knew why this was happening, it was for alliances, it was for resources. It wasn't for love. 

It would be love if it was sihtric…

“Who is it?” Her calming voice broke you out of your sad thoughts about your lost lover. You tilt your head and give her a confused look. “What do you mean?” 

“I can see it in your eyes, you're in love. So, who is it?” Lady Gisela repeats her question, watching your side profile for your reaction. So much has happened, she felt bad that she wasn't there to help you with it. Matthew, who overheard the question, stiffened. 

“It’s…it’s sihtric” You whisper to her with a flustered smile. This was the first time you said it aloud. You of course thought about it, you thought about it a lot. But saying it out loud, it made it more real. God, you missed him, every day you wished that you had more time with him. 

“Sihtric?” She repeats his name as she slows down her steps. She had a feeling there was something going on between the two of you, but still. She had hoped you didn't say his name when she asked you. 

“Yes, sihtric he’s- Gisela what's wrong?” You ask her when you noticed she stopped walking with you. She holds onto your forearm and looks at you with sympathy, she didn't know how to tell you this. “Oh y/n i…” 

“What is it?” You give her a confused look, but you start to worry when you notice the look on her face. Why is she looking at me like that? you think anxiously. Matthew took a step forward to the two ladies’, concerned as well. 

“I’m sorry y/n, before I left, I saw him with a woman…they were quite close” Gisela tells you in a soft tone, hoping that it would break the news to you easier. Matthews's grip tightens on the hilt of his sword and his jaw clenched in anger at her words. You felt your arms drop to your side and your heart stop at her words. No no no, sihtric he wouldn't do that, he wouldn't do that to me. You didn't think you knew words to describe how you were feeling at that moment, all that you could say was a quiet and emotionless “Oh.” 

“I could be wrong, sihtric is a good man, he wouldn't do that to you” Lady Gisela says quickly, feeling terrible when she sees the storm of sadness in your eyes, but the emotionless look on your face. She couldn't just not tell you; she couldn't do that to you. But like Gisela said, sihtric is a good man, he wouldn't do that to you, right? Did she see wrong? 

“Are you sure it was him?” You ask her in a weak tone, your eyes begging her to realize that she did see wrong. You don't think you could handle another heartbreak, not like this. You move your hand to your side, finding it hard to breathe with the tight dress and your panicky state. I’m not okay, everything is not okay, I can't do this anymore. 

“Yes…but like i said, i could be wrong” Gisela tells you, but you don't focus on her words, in fact you couldn't really focus on anything. It felt as if you were stuck and everything was moving past you, you were stuck…you were alone. You started to feel overwhelmed and started to breathe heavily as the sounds around you got too loud and the sound of your heartbeat was pounding through your ears. I need to get out of here.  

“I apologize Lady Gisela, I'm not feeling too well, I should retire to my room” You weakly voice out, your eyes averting to the dirt ground they were standing on. You couldn't look at her, you couldn't let her see how hurt you were. I don't want anyone to see me like this. 

“Oh, of course. I hope you feel better” Gisela tells you with a worried smile, she wanted to say more, to have you stay with her, but she just didn't know what to say. She knew you were feeling heartbroken, you needed some space. You don't wait for her to say anything else before you turn around and walk back to the castle, your dress ruffling against your legs as you walk quickly. You averted your eyes from Matthew when you passed him, Matthew was right, sihtric wasn't good for me. 

Every step you took your heart pounded harder in your ears and your heart broke even more. You bring your shaky hand to wipe off a tear that escaped from your watery eyes before anyone could see it. Like Lady Gisela said, she could be wrong about sihtric. 

But it was too late, the doubt had already sunk in. 

You didn't know what to do. You had become so dependent on the thought that sihtric cared for you too, that you were special to him. So, hearing Lady Gisela's words really hurt, in ways you weren't prepared for. Did I really spend these eight months being heartbroken for a guy that didn't even care about me? You think bitterly as you stare down at the bush of flowers. 

You have been in the garden for an hour or so. After you left Gisela you went to your room, and cried in your bed until your cheeks became sore, but you soon felt trapped in your room and with your thoughts. So, you decided to take a visit to the gardens. It was difficult to convince Matthew to let you go on your own, but he reluctantly agreed when he saw your watery eyes. You needed to be alone, in a place you felt comfortable. You had a lot to think about. 

There was a part of you that believed that Lady Gisela simply saw wrong and that he cared about you. But the other part of you knew that he was a man, and you have heard many stories about man and how unfaithful they are. Sihtric wasn't like that, he was different right? He had to be. You were so caught up in your depressing thoughts that you didn't hear the upcoming footsteps, you only noticed that someone joined you, when they sat by your side on the stone bench. 

You wipe your cheeks, making sure there was no evidence of you crying before you looked up at the person sitting next to you. You sniffle and tilt your head to see the side profile of Arthur. He was looking down at the bush of flowers, his hands folded in his lap, and he had an emotionless look on his face. But when he feels your stare, he turns his head to look at you, giving you a small smile. He had noticed your red eyes, but he didn't say anything about it. 

“I’ve been looking for you, Lady Aethelflaed said I would find you here. It's a nice spot” Arthur mused as he looked around the garden, he had seen this place many times, simply just walking past or walking through. He's never really spent any time there, he can see why you like it. He had seen you on the same bench the two of you were sitting on, many times before. He just never had the courage to talk to you, you always looked so content. He didn't want to ruin that. 

“It is very peaceful” You voiced out quietly, taking a deep breath, smelling the many scents of the flowers that surrounded the two of you. It truly was peaceful. You look towards the willow tree that gave the bench you were sitting on, shade. It was a hot evening, but the shade made the weather feel perfect. Arthur watched your side profile, watching as you close your eyes for a second to take another deep breath. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful. 

“I wanted to apologize” Arthur started as he broke the silence. You look away from the willow tree and to him, a confused look on your face. When you see the sincerity in his blue eyes you can't help but feel guilty. You cut him off quickly, before he can say anything else. “You have nothing to apologize for Arthur” 

“I should be the one apologizing, i have done nothing but treat you terribly when all you have done was treat me nicely” You continued, you tone soft and guilty. You couldn't look into his eyes anymore, you felt guilty for the way you treated him. You look down at your lap where your fidgeting hands rested. You clear your throat before you look back up, tilting your head and locking eyes with blue eyes. “I really am sorry Arthur.” 

“I forgive you y/n, and I understand why you did” He nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. How could he be so understanding? So sweet? I wouldn't be if i were him you thought. 

“A person with no sight could see that you aren't happy with this betrothal” Arthur began after he let out a tired sigh. You look down at your lap again, feeling bad. He was right. Arthur continues, his tone kind and promising. 

“I know I am not the person you want to marry, but I promise I will try to be someone you would actually like to be around.” 

“I don't hate you Arthur” You spoke softly, as you shook your head no. His words had comforted you in a way you didn't expect. But your words were true, you didn't hate him. He was kind, understanding, and handsome. You couldn't hate him, you tried to…but you just couldn't. Things would be easier if I did. 

“You just hate the thought of being with me” he says straightforwardly. Arthur watches as your lips part and your eyes soften, he knew he was right. And it hurts. He really wanted you to like him, because he liked you. He barely knew you, but the things he had heard about you, he liked. There was just something about you, your aura. 

“Arthur I-” 

“It's okay y/n, I understand. I really do” he tells you with a nod and fake smile, his tone a lot sadder than he wanted it to. He looked away from you and back to the bush of flowers, beautiful purple violets. He loved violets, he had a feeling you liked them to. 

“Can, can we start over?” You broke the silence with your hopeful tone. You knew that there wasn't a way to stop you and his betrothal, so there was no reason to keep up this stone-cold act anymore. The hope you had was gone, just like sihtric. It's time for me to move on. His eyes widen at your words, and his look of shock turns to a content smile. “I'd like that.” 

“Friends?” Arthur asks you with his charming smile, holding his hand out for you to shake, his eyes not leaving yours. A laugh escapes your lips, and you offer him a smile of your own, shaking his hand. I'd like that.

“Friends” 

note: sadly no sihtric in this part :( but that’s okay, he will be back in the next part! I’m sorry for all the angst but like it was needed 😫

This is definitely not my best writing, but I just wanted to get this out as fast as I could. like I said at the top note, I was really struggling with this part. I rewrote it like 2 times.

The next chapter will be the three year time skip, and just a warning! Reader will be different, it’s been three years a lot will have changed for her, and her relationship with sihtric will also be different. I hope you guys are excited cause I’m lowkey worried about writing the next part (I have no idea what’s going to happen, genuinely)

I really hope you guys enjoyed this part! Please let me know in the comments how you feel! And feel free to send in some asks about the series, I would love to answer them!

Comments, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

taglist: @clairacassidy @mads-weasley @haikyusfics @emilyhufflepufftlk @bubblyabs @kitkat1690 @brianochka @solinarimoon

Copyright ©️ 2023, all rights reserved. You can’t copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layout.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Dressed all in white (Sihtric Kjartansson x reader)

synopsis: When Sihtric and you meet life feels like a dream. Never in a thousand years could you have thougth such heaven could turn into such hell.

warnings: heavy angst, emotional manipulation, hurt/comfort but very little comfort, grief, physical violence, afab reader

word count: 3.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @foxyanon @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: This is probably one of my darker fics, so please know that it is completely okay to save this and read later if you currently aren´t in the right headspace. If you have recently lost someone close to you please know that eventhough it will suck and it is important that it sucks for a while it will get easier eventually. And if it doesn´t, counceling is always a good option imo

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It almost felt like a dream now, thinking back to that evening. A beautiful dream you wish would have never passed. But every dream had to end sometime. The end to yours was Sihtric standing by the docks of your hometown after a months long stay, hugging you tightly as he kissed you on the forehead and promised to write as often as he could.

“Do not cry, my love. I will return to you before you know it.” It was the only consolation you got.

That and half of his lord Uthred´s crew. Amongst them, Finan. As Sihtric and you had grown closer, so had the Irish man and you, though in a far more platonic sense. Ever since that night you felt like the dream that now ended began. As you stand there, Finan´s arm around your shoulder. As you wave off Sihtric until the ship is barely a spec on the horizon, you allow yourself to reminisce about the night you all had met.

There had been word of a large group of Danes having come to town all day. No matter where you went you would become privy to whispers about the large group of men. How their leader was a Saxon raised by Danes nicknamed the Dane slayer. The rumours made your mind run wild with imagining how this Dane slayer would look like. All your brain could come up with, was the picture of a beast of a man. Tall, covered in muscles and scars with long hair and a long beard. A barbarian, in short. Which was all but not what greeted you at the tavern that evening.

Long before you set foot over the threshold you could hear the screaming and laughing and music. A big group of Danes had taken over the tavern and in the midst of them sat the Dane slayer himself, Uhtred Ragnarsson, with three of his seemingly closest men. Throughout the night there was an abundance of food and ale, men and women started dancing on the tables to the music and you were no different from them. Finding yourself pulled into a conversation with the Irish man and the Dane, shocked yet fascinated by their stories and in the end, being spun around by them to lively melody after lively melody, singing dancing and laughing until the very ungodly hours of the morning. The two men had you laughing until your tummy hurt and kept you on your feet until your legs ached. When the time came to go home, or rather to choose who to take home with you, your choice fell onto Sihtric. In hindsight you weren´t even sure why your decision fell on him, all you knew was that it was easy to decide. For some odd reason the Danes soul felt like it was calling out to you.

One night turned into many and your choice that fateful night only proved to have been the right one. Finan was sweet to you, but Sihtric was infinitely sweeter. After only a short while you had no room left in your small house for the heap of flowers that he gifted you, he never talked over you in conversation and made a point to include you as best as possible and the best thing was that he listened. He actually listened with great interest, storing each new thing he learned about you somewhere easily reachable in his brain. He was perfect, life was good for a while. If only he hadn´t followed Uhtred back to sea.

Not long after he had left, the letters he had promised to send stopped coming out of nowhere, even though he had just promised to marry you as soon as he came back.

Reams of miles away Sihtric thought and worried endlessly about the same, you had sounded beyond happy about his promise in the last letter only to then suddenly stop writing out of nowhere. That´s when he received a letter that would explain the absence of any writing in all the worst ways.

He was alone when he opened the envelope addressed to him. It´s contents talked about how he had left you behind pregnant, a fact that made his heart beat higher, the overwhelming happiness overshadowed the fact that you had not told him yourself or the absence of any communication for a moment. Only for it to end with his heart sinking into before unknown depths and his vision to veil with tears as he continued reading. There had been complications and you, as well as the child, had died. The paper is crumpled in his fist before he can read the expressions of condolences, he didn´t care for them anyway. The scream that leaves his lungs goes unregistered by his own ears, but it is heard by many others.

Little did he know that at approximately the same time a very alive and unpregnant you received a similar letter. Stating that there had been a disaster too cruel to recount to you, that there weren´t many survivors. However, Sihtric was not amongst them. Leaving behind only tear-stained nights and dreams of what could have been.

It felt like your life stopped the moment you had opened the envelope. An unending numbness filled your body. Each month you had known Sihtric converted to a year of mourning his loss and you weren´t sure what was worse. The longing and yearning for nothing more than to have him back with you under any circumstances, not talking, eating or sleeping at all or far too much. The inner coldness no matter how many layers of clothes or furs you wore, that only got worse the more the sun shone. Or realising that life had to move and allowing yourself to live again. Even in just small ways. The first time you actually ate, slept, went about your day as before, the first time Finan managed to make you laugh for the first time in what felt like forever send you spiralling all over again. But you allowed yourself to be comforted by the Irish man, who had a seemingly way easier time handling the news than you did.

“How do you do it?” You asked him one afternoon as you sat together.

“How do I do what?” Came the fairly confused question back.

“Be so fine to live on without him. Laugh. It feels like he took even the colours of the world away when he died.” You mutter the forgotten context into the room.

“Ah…” Finan makes a quiet sound of recognition, thinking deeply about his next words. “I believe it is because we all have made our piece with the fact long ago. Our lives were never quite as safe as yours, especially out on the sea, where every storm could mean the end if you are not careful.”

“Oh…” You feel stupid for your answer or perhaps even asking the question, but you didn´t know what else to say.

Silence settles over the two of you again like a stone slab.

“It is so hard to believe that he is supposed to be gone and I am still here, having to go on. He was so sweet; he did not deserve this.” Your eyes begin to burn, though you aren´t sure if it is from tears of the past or present.

“I know.” There isn´t much more Finan can answer.

“I love him so much still.” Your voice nearly gives out under the familiar knot that builds in your throat.

“I know.” Finan pulls you onto his lap, to lay your ear on his chest.

The gesture had always comforted you when you cried over the thought of Sihtric leaving one day. He had let you listen to his heart to remind you that he would always be there for you. If not in physical form, then in soul and heart.

“You need only to close your eyes and think back to this moment. Then you will know I am still with you.” Your Dane lover had rasped into your ear and for as long as you thought him alive you lived by it.

When you eventually met a new man, you couldn´t help but to compare him to Sihtric and find he was different in so many ways. Naturally. He was still nice and caring and funny, but even the beating of his heart was different to Sihtrics. Not only because it was there, but the rhythm it drummed against his ribcage was fundamentally so contrasting. The way his arms wrapped around you felt different and you have to confront the fact that things would never feel the same. Yet over time the strong, vibrant pulse began to drown out the steady beat you fell in love with. And so, when you allowed for people to enter your heart again, the wish of being able to be okay with living became a wish to share your life more intimately with the man than before. After all, he had made every effort possible to make you as happy as his former crew mate would have. And though you had sworn to only ever love one man, you were overjoyed when the man proposed to you. Or at least that was how you interpret the way your own heart, which had thawed entirely only shortly ago, beat a few deep pulses before returning to normal. The ceremony is arranged to be held by father Beocca at your future husbands house, your friends help you into the dress, braid flowers into your hair and do their best to calm your nerves and dry your tears. But still when it is time to leave for the ceremony, you are unsure if you are truly ready.

At approximately the same time a boat arrives at the docks. On it Uhtred, Sihtric and the rest of the crew. It had been so long, yet seeing the town made Sihtric´s throat tighten as memories of you flood his mind. He had almost obsessively studied the last letter containing information of your status and it had been too painful to return. But Uhtred was right. He couldn´t let that hurt take control over his life. So now he found himself wandering through the greenfield the two of you had spent so much time laying close, talking about everything and nothing all the same. The tavern you met at. Even just the town square and lastly… your home. Where, if it hadn´t already, all the colour would have drained from the Dane´s face. It felt like a hallucination at first. One that took away his voice and nearly made him fall to his knees. The desperation for the moment to be real wore him down as if someone had slit open his stomach, put boulders into it and sewed it shut again. He stumbles and almost falls multiple times, calling your name until you turn to see him.

“Sihtric…” You whisper and slap a hand over your mouth, getting the attention of the women surrounding you. The bouquet in your hands falls to the ground in favour of them grabbing and lifting the skirt of your dress to pull it up out of the way of your feet. The whispers around are drowned out by a high-pitched ringing in your ears and without having to think about it, your feet carry you towards the only man you ever loved.

Once his arms wrap around you it is like something shakes the fundament of the earth. The world becomes more colourful again, air fully fills your lungs for the first time in forever and the tears that burn in your eyes are for once uncoined by grief, yet the sense of longing, that had plagued your soul for so long, prevailed. The scent of wet wood and musk fills your nose, followed by the comforting undertones of honey and black pepper to soothe your mind.

“You are real…” Sihtric is the one to speak first.

“The much more pressing question here is how you are alive?” You answer, leaning back in his arms to look at his face as your hands cup his face. Even feeling the skin under your finger pads couldn´t completely convince you that this moment was real.

“Me? How are you still alive?” Sihtric´s eyebrows knit together tightly, the frown on his lips deepening further in confusion.

By now a small cluster of people had collected, watching the reunion and whispering behind their hands a small distance away. In search of an answer, you turn to them, hoping to find your future husband, so he could give an explanation, but he seemed to still wait inside. Unaware of what was going on. Unaware of what was going to happen soon.

“Me? You were the one that stopped writing first. And then I got a letter that said… It said that you...” It´s too hard to actually say the words, but Sihtric understands nevertheless.

He is just about to say something, when the door to your home opened and Finan stepped out, assumingly to look where you were, eyes widening at the sight of his friend. Yet there is no time for any more reunion feelings, as the Irish man is closely followed by your husband to be.

Sihtric´s eyes widen in understanding before yours do and you have a hard time holding him back, but the men just have too much strength. The Dane lands a hard punch in the man´s face, splitting his lip with his knuckles and drawing some blood. There are screams heard from the crowd and immediately a handful of men have to pull them apart before anything worse happens.

“Stop it! Stop it this instant you two!” You scream repeatedly at the top of your lungs, yet it still takes a while until the spirits have been calmed enough to at least have the two men not struggle against the men parting them anymore.

However, there is no way to get an explanation from anyone as they continue to scream at each other from a distance. Spouting insults that you had never heard before in your life.

Then Sihtric silences everyone with three powerful yet simple words. “Make the square!”

There are protests from several of the men, but in the end, everything goes all too fast. You are frozen to the ground you are standing on, so Finan pulls you aside. Sihtric presses a kiss to your lips and mutters a promise that your brain is unable to register. All you can focus on is the weapons being drawn. Your brain doesn´t even register the hot tears that stream down your cheeks and stain the fabric of the dress. The first sound of the blades meeting each other, has you burying your face in Finan´s chest, resounding in your ears horrifically. You can´t stand to watch most of it, shaking and flinching with every sound of blades clashing or pained scream. You have to force yourself to watch eventually when you can´t deal with the anxiety and uncertainty anymore. Frantic eyes searched for Sihtric. Finding him, covered in dirt, blood and panting, but still standing and to your relief with a good chance at winning. Though you don´t allow yourself to cheer like the others yet. There is still too much shock in your bones, too many unresolved questions plaguing your mind. You manage to get so caught up in your thoughts, that you only come to, when the fight seems to be close to over. Luckily in favour of your one true love, which now stands above the man you were about to marry, a dagger you hadn´t noticed the Dane carrying before, to his throat. From the distance you can see the raw fear in the man´s widely opened eyes and rapidly rising and sinking chest, clawing at the Danes wrist to get him to let go of the weapon to no avail. That fear quickly morphs to relief, exhaled in a deep breath and relaxing facial features, when Sihtric puts the dagger into the ground beneath his head, the blade sticking out upright. Only to morph back into the purest horror just as quickly as before, when the first fist swiftly comes down onto his face. A crack can be heard when the knuckles make contact with the bridge of the nose, thus breaking it without even batting an eye.

Air suddenly floods your lungs in a gasp at the cracking sound, but silently find yourself cheering on your one true love more and more as time passes. Your own body doesn´t listen to you anymore. Your eyes are dead focussed on the sight of his fist making contact with the face over and over and over again, even long after the resistance had stopped and he had clearly won as his opponent’s face was nothing more than bloody pulp. It was gruelling, haunting to see, but your head would have refused to turn away even if you had wanted it to. So, you continue watching and watching and watching until it becomes glaringly clear that Sihtric is not going to stop anytime soon. You aren´t the only one to have that realisation, it glimmers in Finan and Uhtred´s eyes as well. The two men pull their friend off the lifeless body and you are by his side in an instant. Cupping his face in your firm, but gentle hands, your eyes searching his until they make contact and in the corner of your field of vision you see the way his chest rises slow down.

“You have to stop now. It is over.” You urge him in a sore voice falling to your knees in front of him. “You won. It is over now.”

The Dane looks deep into your eyes, allowing your voice and words to soothe him, yet the anger took the ability to think clearly or speak from him still. Finan and Uhtred let him go and you can fall into his arms again without a care in the world about the pristine, white dress becoming dirty as well. All that matters is feeling Sihtric in your arms now as you keep murmuring to him. His entire body starts to tremble under the familiar touch and so does yours. You squeeze your eyes shut and pull him in tighter. You have trouble believing your own words. It doesn´t entirely feel over yet. Fear still gnaws on your heart, that he could vanish from your hold to leave behind nothing but a cloud of smoke and the pain of being awoken from yet another dream tricking you into thinking things hadn´t resolved in your favour. Fear that it was real, but he would be taken from you one day once more. The two of you likely couldn´t be further from having won. Or else, you think, the tears that now flow freely down both your faces to wet the others clothes wouldn´t be so bitter.

[little-diable]

Betrayal - Sihtric x Reader x Finan (smut)

I ain't sorry for the TLK fics I'll keep on posting, y'all just have to endure my obsession. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Set in S3E6/7, Sihtric betrays Uhtred and leaves his lovers behind, at least that's what Finan and the reader are forced to believe, till they reunite

Warnings: 18+, smut, a lot of smut lol, piv, unprotected sex, fingering, double penetration (2p in 1v), handjob, some angst, threesome

Pairing: Sihtric x fem!reader x Finan (about 2.2k words)

TLK Masterlist

Their hearts were heavy, and yet the weight resting on their souls had nothing on the pain clinging to their aching limbs. Æthelflæd's estate was filled with tired warriors, men that were stuffing their bellies full with bread and stew, choking on the ale they drowned to warm themselves. 

“Are you alright?” Finan’s accent grew thicker with every word he spoke, hand placed on her trembling thigh. (Y/n) was sitting between her lovers, tired eyes focused on the stew she couldn’t stomach. Her glassy eyes found Finan’s worried ones, taking a few moments to marvel at her lover’s dirty features, wondering how he still looked so awfully handsome, even after a fight this cruel. 

“I’m worried about Osferth, that’s all.” Her eyes wandered to Sihtric’s features, the warrior that had barely shared a word with them in the past hours. Something was weighing him down, forcing him to keep his mouth shut, pondering over whatever was echoing through his mind. “Sihtric?”

“Yes?” He didn’t look at her, eyes not wandering from his ale, watching his fingers move along the wooden cup. (Y/n)’s trembling hand tried to reach for his face, though forced to pull back as Uhtred sat down near Sihtric. She could barely spare the words their lord spoke her attention, though picking up that he’d leave for his brother's grave. Finan had pulled her closer, back pressed against his warm front. 

Only as Finan murmured a sharp “He does not” did (y/n) snap out of her trance, realising that something was off, a fight that would soon put the love the warrior shared with her and Finan to the test. Sihtric’s spiteful words about death and those that have died along the way left her tensing, hand trying to grasp Sihtric’s, only for her lover to shake her off. 

Hurt flashed through her eyes as she watched Uhtred rise to his feet, turning his back on the three of them. Finan’s hand grasped her waist, keeping her close, very well knowing that she was confused, hurt, and angered by the way her other lover was acting. 

“No man who serves Uhtred can rest, not until Skade is reclaimed.” Her eyes snapped towards Uhtred’s now angry features, watching how Finan tried to stop Sihtric from talking. Everything moved all too quickly, suddenly they were all standing, growling angry words and provocative phrases, while (y/n) tried to keep them calm. Finan’s uneasy eyes couldn’t help but watch his lover fall apart, struggling to keep her tears bottled in as Sihtric once again pushed her away, all too carelessly. 

“Then I will kill you.” Her air was stuck in her throat, body forcing itself past Uhtred to storm outside, heavily heaving as her body released the few bites she had forced into her system. With Finan hot on her heels, hand stroking her back, she allowed the man to guide her, teary eyes searching his, begging him to speak words that could calm her racing heart. 

“We can’t let him leave, Finan, we can’t.” Finan pulled her against his chest, cradling her as if he was scared that she’d break any moment now. He didn’t speak, eyes fluttering close as every cry of hers ripped his heart to shreds. 

……

Hours later (y/n) found herself pressed against Finan's naked chest, searching the distraction only he could offer. Her body was tired from the tears she had cried, the hurt swimming through her system.

"Look at me." Finan cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her trembling lower lip before he kissed her, gasping in surprise as (y/n) pulled him closer, forcing him to tower over her. "Are you sure?"

She could only nod her head, eyes squeezed shut as she felt his hand cup her heat, pushing two fingers into her tightness to prepare her for his cock. Finan's lips kissed their way down her throat, sparing her pulse point enough attention as he fucked her with his fingers, thumb rubbing her clit with just enough amount of pressure to push her out of her sadness, distracted for the upcoming hour at least.

(Y/n)'s needy gasps forced Finan to pull his hand from her cunt, bringing his arousal covered fingers to his mouth, cleaning his skin before he forced her thighs apart, positioning himself at her entrance.

"No matter what will happen, I will always be here for you, to love you. Love you just like Sihtric loves you." A cry ripped through her, hand searching his to interlace their fingers, needing to hold onto him as he pushed into her. For a few moments Finan kept still, allowing his lover to adjust, giving him enough time to wipe her tears away and to kiss her warm cheeks.

Even though (y/n) knew deep down that she'd cross paths with Sihtric again, she couldn't help but find strength in the way Finan loved her, how he cherished her, holding her close to remind her of the endless adoration he felt for her.

Finan fucked her slow at first, deep strokes that left her toes curling and her heart skipping beats, but with the first cry of his name, he began to pick up his pace, thrusts growing more ferocious. And as he loved her, in the dark room, she couldn't help but feel safe, and protected from her daunting thoughts.

……

The forest was cold, the snow-covered ground guided them further towards the Danes camp, eyes trying to focus on any movement, indicating that somebody was close. The wind stroked along their limbs, leaving them trembling and shaking, hoping that they’d eventually get the chance to warm their frozen fingers. 

Ever since Sihtric had left them,(y/n) had barely spoken a word to the others, caught in her anger, in the betrayal she felt, and the fear of never crossing paths with Sihtric again. Maybe it was foolish of her, she should be used to ever changing conditions, and yet she couldn’t. Finan had tried to distract her, holding her a tad bit closer at night, murmuring sweet nothings to remind her of the love he felt for her, and yet he didn’t manage to mend her broken heart. 

“Somebody’s coming.” They froze, watching a frame appear, moving closer and closer till they could make out Sihtric’s features, forcing a gasp out of (y/n). Finan had his hand clasped down on her wrist, keeping her from moving towards the man. Only as Uhtred and Sihtric shared a hug, followed by the sound of their laughter, did (y/n) snap out of her thoughts. Finan pushed past her, murmuring something about knowing of Sihtric and Uhtred’s game, but (y/n) didn’t move. 

“Love,” Sihtric murmured the word, taking careful steps to move closer, only for (y/n) to shake her head, chasing the now growing distance between them before Sihtric could touch her. Her anger kept thumping through her veins, though not because she was still hurt by his betrayal, but by the way he had pushed her, by the way he had shaken her off all too easily. 

“Give her some time.” Finan’s murmurs were drowned out by the heavy breaths leaving Sihtric, pained eyes watching her frame.

…… 

“Can we come in?” Finan’s voice broke the silence, eyes finding (y/n)’s. Her gaze flickered between Finan and Sihtric, slowly nodding her head to allow both of her lovers to enter. The silence returned within a few moments, engulfing them as Sihtric and Finan sat down on either side of her. With every passing second the silence grew more uncomfortable, a thick fog neither of them could break through. 

“I am sorry, we needed your sincere reaction to make them believe our fight.” Sihtric’s whispers forced her to scoff, eyes fluttering shut to sort through her racing thoughts. Her body was longing for him, wanting to feel his hands on her body, and yet her mind forced (y/n) to hold her grudges. 

“It’s not about that, I understand why you did it. But fuck, don’t you ever push me around like that again, don’t ever make me feel like you don’t want to be touched by me again.” Sihtric’s hand found her chin, tilting her head towards him, eyes burning through hers. He dipped his head down, lips finding hers, kissing her breathless while Finan could no longer bite down his smirk. 

“I think it’s time for Sihtric to make up for our lost time together, don't you think?” Finan’s murmurs were met with a hum rumbling through (y/n), sighing as Sihtric let go of her, rising back to his feet. All (y/n) could do was watch both men undo their coats, followed by their leather armour, exposing their prominent, flexing muscles. 

“Look at our pretty girl, we haven’t even touched you yet, petal.” The heavy Irish accent left (y/n)’s heart racing, thighs pressed together to soothe the ever growing ache. She was dripping for their touch, ready to be toyed with, allowing her lovers to use her body as if the gods themselves were walking amongst them. Sihtric touched her first, helping her out of her clothes, slowly exposing the body he hadn’t been able to touch for a while, and yet he had dreamt of her every single night. 

“Lay down.” The command was followed without any questions, naked body pressed against the bed, eyes finding the glistening ones of Finan. The warrior settled next to her, groaning as her hand found his hardening cock, pumping him for a few moments before she felt Sihtric’s warm tongue brush through her folds, making her halt her movements. A string of curses left the three of them, mixed together to form one sinful sound. 

“Jesus, I’ll never get used to this.” (Y/n) had started moving her hand once again, pushing Finan closer to the edge as Sihtric got lost in her taste, cherishing her as if he hadn’t seen his lover in years. Both were a tangled mess of limbs, hearts, and souls, forever one to walk the same path, to share their ever growing love. 

“Want to feel both of you, please.” Sihtric’s eyes met Finan’s, forcing a smirk to tug on both their lips, letting go of (y/n) to wordlessly reposition themselves. It wasn’t the first time she asked to be fucked by both men at the same time, and yet (y/n)’s heart picked up its pace, as if she was fighting a battle, very well knowing that she stood no chance against her opponents. 

With Finan sitting down on the bed to pull (y/n) into his lap, Sihtric positioned himself behind her, sharing a few mischievous glances with Finan. Her trembling hands were placed on Finan’s shoulders as she sank down on his cock, forehead pressed against his chest, needing a few moments to adjust. Sihtric made use of her moments of distraction, slowly pushing into her like they had done numerous times before. 

(Y/n)’s moan was drowned out by Finan’s lips meeting hers, swallowing her sounds as her cunt tried to adjust to both of their cocks, their alternating thrusts that left her shaking. Heat flushed through their veins, a heat so biting it felt as if the Devil himself was guiding their every movement, forcing them to confess to their every sin. 

Finan’s cold fingers found her bundle of nerves, circling her clit to push her further towards the edge, feeling her clench around both their cocks. She’d cum any moment now, gone for her two lovers like a ship sinking to the bottom of the rough ocean, one with the waves that have drowned her body and soul. 

“Fuck, so tight, even after all those months, made just for us.” Sihtric’s praises gave her the final push, trembling between both her lovers as her orgasm clashed through her. (Y/n)’s fingernails drew blood from Finan’s skin, leaving marks he’d wear proud like a soldier showing off his battle marks. It didn’t take long for the two men to follow, pulling out of her moments before they came. 

All three were heavily panting, bodies falling next to one another, getting lost in the silence that had now returned. Sihtric rose to his feet to reach for a piece of cloth, cleaning himself before he helped out his other two lovers, searching their closeness. 

“I promise, I’ll never hurt you like that again.” Sihtric pressed a kiss to her cheek, admiring her tired features, still strung out, and overstimulated. Her chuckles vibrated through her body, fingers interlaced with both of theirs. 

“If you do, I promise to hunt you down myself.”

[ladyinred2248]

King of the North, Finan x Reader, Part 6

Warnings: Mature. Minors DNI! Violence. Angst. Sexual themes.

Uhtred, Sihtric, and Osferth escorted you to Winchester at first light the next morning, and you were barely able to breathe without one of them next to you. You felt as if your heart had been ripped out of your chest, as if you couldn’t stand on your own, let alone think clearly.

“Come, lady,” Sihtric whispered, assisting you in mounting his horse, “Careful now.”

You hadn’t slept the night before, too much adrenaline coursing through your veins and an empty pit of sadness engulfing the core of your body. Uhtred and the others were the only thing standing between you and sudden death it seemed, the endless wave of emotions hitting you over and over as your thoughts drifted to your beloved’s inevitable consequences, and it shattered you every time. Unrelenting nausea overwhelmed you until noon hit its peak, the men rushing to take care of you at every opportunity. Uhtred worried for you greatly then, furrowed brows draping his ocean blue eyes as he looked you over. He followed behind you from a distance as you emptied the watered contents of your stomach for the last time, only hours away from reaching Winchester.

“Are you sick, my lady?” Uhtred asked, visibly concerned.

“I am fine, Lord.” You rasped, trembling slightly and trying to fix your posture as you neared him.

“My wife will meet us in Winchester, she can… help you with this,” Uhtred responded, making an assumption that your sickness had less to do with Finan’s fate and perhaps more to do with a woman’s blessing. This thought unnerved him to his very core as he worried for both you and his most loyal brother.

King Constantin readily relinquished the palace at Winchester when he discovered that Finan and Domnal had been arrested, locked in chains and deemed war criminals, traitors to the Kingdom of Wessex and to be punished as such for what Aelswith called attempted regicide. Constantin and Alfred had no qualm with each other per se, only an impending trial to determine Finan’s fate, and Domnal was simply complicit in the eyes of the Witan. Constantin and Alfred had decided that prior deliberations between themselves were appropriate.

Constantin maintained his calm and collected approach, though his rage still stuck to his words as he spoke.

“What makes you think that you are above the law of the land, Lord King? Our treaty is now null, considering the amount of times you have treated my daughter as a simple whore to be taken as property. If you condemn him to death, you can expect a war from the North.”

Alfred looked almost unphased, a stoic and solemn figure where he stood, taking in Constantin’s words but having no real fear of them. “Perhaps a new treaty would serve us well.”

Constantin scoffed, his patience waning, “You mock me. I would choose your next words carefully.”

Alfred hummed softly, his hands coming to join together in front of him as he stood, his trademark gesture of contemplation. “I do not wish to further endanger the safety of my people nor those I hold dear. But treachery must be met with consequence.”

Constantin came closer to Alfred then, searching his eyes with an intense gaze, “Have they not suffered enough?”

The Witan gathered in the great hall of the palace at Winchester, and you noticed how suffocating and oppressive it felt as soon as you walked in next to Uhtred. Noble men, most of them old and ragged, sat before the King of Wessex with stern and unamused looks on their faces. This will be the crowd that will determine the fate of the greatest man I’ve ever known? You thought, already deeming them unworthy of standing before your beloved or casting any judgements. You took a seat next to Uhtred and his men, all of you receiving spiteful glares from the crusted men who sat before you.

Finan and Domnal were suddenly cast before your eyes, escorted in with heavy, binding iron chains at their wrists and ankles and stood before the King. The whole room stood on their feet, your father standing off to the side and his angry expression visible from a distance. Finan looked weary now, as if he had finally renounced his faith and accepted his demise, but something in his eyes told you that this wasn’t the case. Your lover stood before the King beaten and worn, but his dark eyes told you that his fierceness remained, exuding everlasting resilience and faith as they always had since the day you met him.

Finan had a semblance of a smirk as the King and his men rose from their seats, a tinge of rebellion still lingering as he and Domnal looked at each other for a still moment before looking up to Alfred’s gaze. Alfred spoke first, enlightening the crowd to Finan’s many war crimes without mentioning his own provocation, much to your dismay but not entirely unexpected. The trial would have witnesses, and your stomach dropped when the first one was called to speak.

Steapa was called to stand before the King to give his testimony, and Alfred was confident in his loyalty until he spoke with not only conviction but absolute truth.

“I am ever loyal to the King of Wessex,” Steapa began, “…and I have stood in many battles to preserve this Kingdom. This man,” he pointed to Finan, “has stood with me in every one of them. For several years he has stood as Lord Uhtred’s first in command, defending Wessex from the heathens. And I stood before him and watched as he earned his title as rightful King of the North.”

The Witan was silent, and Alfred gazed at Steapa, enraged. Finan caught Steapa’s eye contact as he spoke.

“He nearly killed me when he besieged Wessex,” Steapa continued, “but my direct command was to go against the Kingdom of Ulaid and abduct his future Queen. So, understandably, it was only a matter of time before Wessex would reap the consequences of its King’s order.”

“Steapa, you may step down now.” Aelswith commanded sternly, her own rage festering within her. Steapa continued, speaking firmly and with conviction.

“I am ever loyal to Wessex and my King. I speak the truth as I know it under oath and under God’s command. This man is noble and righteous, and I do not believe he deserves to be served with cruel punishment.”

“Steapa, you will step down.” Alfred commanded, contempt slipping past his lips and joining with his stoic stature.

Steapa gave Finan a firm nod as they caught eye contact once again. Despite everything, Steapa knew Finan better than most men in the room, and spoke truth that spread like wildfire as the men of the Witan spoke in hushed voices. Uhtred and his men held smirks on their faces, pleased at the outcome of Steapa’s testimony.

The next one to speak was Lady Aelswith, who gave excruciating detail of the siege on Winchester, taking care to fabricate her story with many tales of Finan’s merciless deeds. Her rather dramatic retelling spawned gasps of horror across the room.

“The punishment for this crime shall be beheading. It can be nothing less,” Aelswith spat with disdain, “This man is of the devil.”

Finan was visibly offended then, narrowing his eyes at Aelswith, but still remaining calm and letting the events unfold before him. He knew in his heart that nothing he could say or do would change the outcome of a corrupt trial.

Your father’s rage had finally engulfed him as he stood from his seat and approached the King and Queen of Wessex.

“You condone your husband’s behavior, my lady? You accept that he admits no fault in the kidnapping of my Daughter? The constant suffering that he has put her through? Hm?”

Aelswith scowled at him. “The King had his reasons and has always acted in the best interest of Wessex.”

Constantin scoffed, “You’re a fool.”

“Enough!” Alfred shouted, “Action will be met with consequence!”

“You have surely gone mad,” Constantin chuckled, “Any harm comes to this man and I will shatter any dream of a united England you ever had. All of you will be begging on your knees for mercy.”

Alfred was trembling with rage now, a hot flush coming to his cheeks as Constantin demeaned him in the presence of the Witan.

Aelswith stood, fuming from your father’s remarks, “Guards! Take this man! Take him now!”

Your blood felt as if it was boiling underneath your skin and you had endured the deliberations of the trial long enough. You suddenly pushed past Uhtred and his men, coming to stand before Alfred and Aelswith with fury in your eyes.

“No,” you said to Aelswith sternly as you approached, standing next to your father before them, “That is quite enough. Lord King, Finan saved your life. You would not be here today if he hadn’t. None of this would have happened, if… if you could have just let me go.”

Alfred’s gaze softened as he looked at you intently, seemingly trying to reflect upon your words.

“Lord King, if only you loved me enough to understand how my happiness has flourished. If only you could understand how this man has saved my life as well,” you continued, speaking softly, “I beg you for the last time, Alfred. Please…Let me go.”

The room was silent as you and Alfred held eye contact, his eyes slightly watered but no tears falling, only a silent look of sadness upon him.

After several moments of silence, Alfred cleared his throat to speak. “I shall pardon him on one condition.”

You smiled softly as you held Alfred’s gaze and nodded to him before he continued.

“He must relinquish the royal title, and he will swear a lifelong oath to serve me and the Kingdom of Wessex.”

“No,” Constantin interrupted, “Never.”

Uhtred spoke now as he had pushed himself past the crowd harshly, “Lord King, it’s his birthright!”

“Uhtred,” Finan said softly, “It’s alright.”

The whole room became quiet, looking to Finan for his response. The two of you caught eyes then, and he nodded to you before looking back to Alfred.

“I accept,” Finan said firmly, loud enough for the men of the Witan to hear.

Constantin sighed, looking at you and shaking his head still somewhat angrily. You stepped forward, unsure if you would be allowed to grab your beloved’s hand but did so regardless, “Finan, no.”

“Quiet,” he rasped sternly in his deep brogue, “This is the only way.”

Alfred walked closer to Finan, standing before him now as he commanded his guardsmen, “Remove his chains.”

Finan was released from the heavy iron cuffs, and the silence in the room was deafening as he bent a knee to the King of Wessex.

The Witan had been dismissed, and although Constantin and Domnal remained unscathed for the role they played in the siege at Winchester, a new treaty would need to be arranged with Wessex and other areas of the South. Their political standing in the North was left lingering in the air with Finan’s resignation, much to their dismay and anger. They instructed you to find them in the morning to discuss the now unknown future.

Uhtred had resolved to allow Finan to make his own impossible decision, because for now, all of you were exhausted and in need of rest. You took rooms at the Inn, the very same one you had been to with Finan before, the night you first met. You finally had a moment alone with your beloved again, but there was still no resolve that felt justified in your head.

“Are you mad?!” You asked Finan, gripping his tunic to pull him closer.

“Mm,” Finan hummed, “Madly in love.”

Finan grabbed your waist firmly with his hands, pulling you flush against him before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue sought entry to your mouth and stroked yours, sending goosebumps cascading down your arms and a throbbing sensation to your core.

“I want you,” Finan rasped, “I want you now.”

His abdominals jerked when you grabbed his cock through his trousers, hard, looking up at him innocently from beneath your long eyelashes.

Finan gripped your hips harsher then, his rough hands squeezing your arse as his tongue traced yours, and you simply melted into his embrace as you grew eager for his heated affections.

Finan pulled at the laces of your dress, pulling it down across your shoulders before bringing his hands to squeeze your breasts. His mouth stayed locked with yours as his fingers softly traced your collarbone, his hand then coming up to give a firm but pleasant grip around your throat as he kissed you. You broke your kiss for just a moment, enough time for you both to grip at Finan’s tunic and throw it to the floor. Your fingers fumbled with the laces of his trousers as he brought his large hand across your throat again, and you let out a soft whimper for your lover as he gently bit your lower lip. Your dress fell to your ankles and you were aching for him now, eager for him to take your body for his pleasure whilst knowing yours would be promised just the same.

Finan sat on the bed with his back against the wall and pulled you into his lap, your back resting against his chest as he took his fingers to your core. He traced them across your sensitive bud slowly for several minutes until he felt you shaking beneath him, stealing kisses from behind you as you arched your head back in pleasure. He finally dipped two of his long fingers inside of you, and your moans increased for him as he traced upwards, rubbing across the heated spot inside you as you rolled your hips to gain more friction. You were desperate now as the sensations grew stronger, your wetness covering Finan’s fingers and growing by the second, but he didn’t relent. He kept the firm and agonizingly slow pace until you were mewling helplessly, your core clenching on his fingers as your peak crashed around you and you moaned his name.

“Yes baby,” Finan cooed in his deep Irish brogue, “Such a good girl.”

You sighed happily and relaxed your back into his chest, coming down from your peak. You rolled your hips on top of him in his lap, stimulating his cock and telling him that you wanted more. You needed more.

“Please,” you said with a soft moan, reaching your hand down to guide him inside you.

“Ah, so impatient,” Finan chuckled, then quickly took a deep breath as you sank down on his cock, your warmth and wetness overwhelming him. You rolled your hips back and forth in a tantalizing motion, taking him as deep as possible. You licked your lips when Finan let out a deep moan, his hips bucking up into yours slightly.

Finan’s rough hands came up to your hips, holding firmly but letting you guide the motions as you rolled your hips faster. You felt his hard cock brush against the sweetest spot again, and you suddenly felt sensitive and needy, turning your head back to look at your lover. “Fuck me,” you rasped, before biting back a deep moan.

Finan’s breath caught in his throat at the next stroke you gave him, obliging your command as he gripped your hips more firmly and started thrusting up into you deeply.

“Oh my god… fuck!” Finan moaned, now arching his head back and losing his sense of control as your core throbbed on his cock, moving in and out of you faster and harder. His thrusts made you moan relentlessly for him, his cock growing harder by the second.

Finan’s primal instinct took over in that moment as he pushed you forward from his lap, the perfect position to fuck you on your hands and knees.

“My perfect girl,” he said in between pants, tangling his hand in your hair and gripping firmly as he fucked you from behind, “So fucking wet for me...fuck.”

“Finan, please,” you begged, “Please… please, you’re going to make me cum!”

Finan groaned as your core throbbed on his cock, clenching him tightly as your peak unfolded before him. Your cheeks and chest flushed red, your legs trembling at your strong, overwhelming peak before you drenched his cock in your wetness. Moments later, your peak relented and you panted to catch your breath. Your slight awareness told you that Finan was also close, so you took it upon yourself to move away from him and shove him backwards to lay on his back. You climbed on top of his hips again, sinking down on his cock as he arched his head back with furrowed brows and a light flush of red evident on his chest as he moaned deeply. He was visibly flustered, right on the edge of his peak.

You grabbed a dagger from the nightstand suddenly, bringing it to his throat as you simultaneously rolled your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His eyes widened, a mix of intense pleasure and confusion on his face.

“You will never leave me again. You hear me?” You commanded, still holding the dagger to his skin.

Finan closed his eyes as he nodded to you, barely able to think straight as his peak urged closer and closer.

“Speak,” you commanded him.

“N-never, my lady,” Finan stuttered, his abdominals twitching and his chest growing a deeper shade of red as he bit his lip.

You threw the dagger to the floor, bringing your hands to grip his face as you captured his mouth in a wet kiss. Finan moaned into your mouth as he reached his strong peak, his hips stuttering as he came inside you.

>>> Part 7

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