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eu-nicola · 2 days ago

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convenient marriage

summary: Sihtric is forced to marry the king's niece to silence rumors about his love affair with the queen

english isn’t my first language (warning: ¿?) (words: 10,6k)

i know that the tags are not correct, it's just to reach more people

The king’s hall was bathed in the golden light of the afternoon, which filtered through the tall stained-glass windows like blades of fire. Incense was burning in one corner, and the distant murmur of the court barely slipped through the thick stone walls. In the center of the hall, standing like a forged statue, Sihtric Kjartansson remained firm, arms crossed behind his back, brow furrowed, and heart as agitated as a war drum.

The king’s voice rose, serene, confident, assured.

"I do this for you, Sihtric," he said. "For the good of all. I want no scandals. No whispers in the corridors or drunken poets singing lies with a hint of truth behind them. I owe you this. You have served me well. With loyalty. With steel."

Sihtric lowered his head, clenched his teeth. He loved him, respected him. The king had been more than a lord: a savior, a leader, an almost paternal figure. But he was also the husband of the woman Sihtric desired with every fiber of his being. The woman who smiled at him with her lips, but spoke with her eyes. The woman who, in another life, would have been his.

And once, she had been.

The king stepped closer, placed a strong hand on his shoulder.

“I will introduce you to my niece. She arrived this morning from Wessex. She has manners. Beauty. Education. She is the best I can offer you to put an end to this delusion. What happened… what could have happened with the queen, will be left behind. This engagement buries it. You understand, don’t you?"

Sihtric looked up.

“Yes, my lord," he replied with a firm voice. But inside, each word tasted like betrayal.

The door to the hall opened softly, and the breeze from outside carried the scent of fresh flowers, sage, and something else a sweet, sophisticated perfume that imposed itself without being cloying. The young woman crossed the threshold with the grace of someone who knows she is being watched. Her dress was deep blue, cinched at the waist, with golden embroidery that wound like rivers over the fine linen. Her hair, a shining gold, fell in an intricate braid that crossed her crown like a diadem, adorned with small jade stones.

She had large eyes, a little proud. She walked with elegance. She wasn’t very tall, but her presence filled the space as if she were. When her eyes met Sihtric’s, they studied each other. She analyzed him with the attention of someone who knows she’ll be judged in return. And he… he only saw what was evident.

She was beautiful.

But she was not “her.”

“My lovely niece, Eadlyn," said the king with a smile, "let me present you to Sihtric Kjartansson. One of my bravest men. My confidant. The man with whom I hope to seal a lasting bond between our houses."

She curtsied softly.

“It is an honor," she said firmly but politely.

Sihtric bowed his head.

“The honor is mine, my lady."

They looked at each other for a moment longer. There were no awkward smiles or uncomfortable gestures. There was a tacit admiration. Recognition. But no emotion. Nothing that burned.

The king looked at them both, pleased.

“You see, Sihtric? She will be a good wife. She has education, wisdom, and impeccable lineage. Besides..." his voice dropped a tone, "she’ll silence the gossips. No one will doubt you if they see you with her. No one will remember rumors or… past mistakes."

Sihtric nodded.

“I understand. And I agree, my lord. If this is what you desire."

“And you desire it as well," added the king with a smile that allowed no argument. "Because it is the right thing to do."

Just then, the doors opened again. Like a shadow that had remained hidden within the walls, the queen entered the room.

Her dress was dark green, fitted, with long sleeves that brushed the floor. Her dark hair was braided into a single rope that fell over her left shoulder, heavy, perfect. She walked with the grace of a queen. Her eyes, those eyes Sihtric knew better than his own, landed first on him. Then on the young woman beside him.

“Lady Eadlyn," she said with a smile that was anything but sincere. "What a joy to finally have you at court. I’ve heard so much about you..."

The king’s niece bowed respectfully, though her expression remained cold.

“Your Majesty. The honor is mine."

“want to help you with your dress for the ceremony," the queen said, walking toward her, nearly circling her. "After all, you’re part of our family. And I can’t allow someone of your beauty to appear in anything less than perfection."

Eadlyn tilted her head, with that same attitude of someone enduring a situation out of courtesy, not pleasure.

“I would greatly appreciate it, Your Majesty," she replied without enthusiasm.

“The queen gave Sihtric a fleeting glance. It lasted barely a second. But that second seemed eternal.

And he knew, deep within, that there would be no peace in this engagement.

Hours later, the dinner had been formal and proper. The great hall was filled with laughter and clinking goblets, the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread floating in the air like a comforting caress. Eadlyn had sat beside her betrothed, just as the king had arranged, and although they had exchanged only a few words, both were cordial, polite, even slightly conspiratorial in some shared glances when the older nobles began speaking too loudly or repeating dull stories.

Eadlyn was no fool. She knew the rumors circulating the court, the whispers about him and the queen, the awkward silences when her name was spoken alongside the sovereign’s. But she also knew what was said about him as a man of honor, a loyal soldier, someone who had never failed his king.

And she wanted to believe in that. In “that” man.

After dinner, with a slight nod, she took her leave and retired to her chambers, assisted by her ladies. She walked through the silent corridors, her skirts barely brushing the polished stone floor. In her mind, one thought beat like a drum: two days. Two days until she would stop being a free lady, to become a wife, someone’s woman whom she barely knew. But she would do it. For her uncle, for the realm… for herself.

The next morning dawned mild and clear, as if the sky itself knew something important was coming. The windows of the queen’s chamber were open, letting in a soft breeze that made the white linen curtains billow. The sun's rays fell upon the mannequins that held the dresses crafted at record speed for Eadlyn.

There were seven in total, each more elaborate than the last.

The queen was already there, standing next to a maid holding a velvet box filled with hair ribbons. She wore a simple yet elegant black velvet dress, her hair tied in a low bun braided with golden threads. Her eyes landed on Eadlyn the moment she walked in.

“Did you sleep well, Lady Eadlyn?" she asked in her carefully measured tone, so polite it stung.

“Yes, Your Majesty," she replied with a small curtsy. "Thank you for receiving me so early."

“This is your day. Nothing is more important right now." The queen took a few steps toward the dresses and gestured with one hand. "These have been prepared by the best seamstresses in the realm. I want you to choose for yourself. Nothing imposed. Not today."

Eadlyn stepped forward confidently, letting her eyes roam over each gown.

The first was pure white satin, adorned with ivory lace on the sleeves and hem. Too traditional. The second, a cream color with golden and green floral embroidery: beautiful, but it didn’t feel like hers. The third was sky-blue silk, a nod to her mother’s family crest, with open sleeves that trailed to the floor like wings. She admired it… but didn’t choose it.

She examined the others carefully, listening to the queen’s comments, opinions that didn’t intrude.

And then she saw it.

The sixth dress.

It was a pearly white, almost silver, with gold-thread embroidery in subtle spirals. The neckline was straight, elegant, and the sleeves were long but of translucent tulle, as if the skin breathed through the fabric. The skirt was wide, but not heavy. It fell gracefully, like water sliding over stones. And at the waist, a barely noticeable ribbon that enhanced her figure without exaggeration.

Eadlyn stood still.

“That one," she said, almost without thinking. "I want to try that one."

The queen nodded, showing no surprise.

“It is beautiful. Perfect for you."

“Then I’m glad it chose me," Eadlyn replied.

A barely perceptible smile appeared on the queen’s lips.

When they dressed her, and Eadlyn saw herself in the mirror, the entire room seemed to stop. The gown embraced her figure with delicacy, accentuated the curve of her back, and the golden hue of her hair contrasted elegantly with the pale fabric. She looked like a statue carved by masterful hands.

“It fits you perfectly," said the queen, approaching from behind, her hands gently touching the sleeve edges. "Sihtric won’t be able to take his eyes off you."

Eadlyn tensed slightly. Just for a second.

"I hope he looks beyond the fabric," she said softly, watching her reflection.

The queen tilted her head. Her eyes met hers in the mirror.

“You’ll look like a wife," she said simply. "The rest will come or it won’t. That’s how it is in noble marriages."

Eadlyn didn’t reply. She just lowered her gaze to the golden embroidery of her dress. She thought of her mother, of stories of forced love, of feigned fidelity, of pacts sealed with cold kisses. And still… she had faith. Not blind. But resolute.

That night, the castle slept, but not in peace. At that hour, darkness embraced the hallways with a heavy silence, broken only by the creaking of stone beneath cautious, deliberate steps. The torches flickered with weak flames, and the shadows danced on the walls like spirits refusing to rest.

Sihtric walked through a narrow corridor, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He shouldn’t be there. He knew it. But something stronger than reason, older than loyalty, pulled him forward. It was that invisible thread he had never been able to cut.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to.

The queen was waiting.

She wore a soft linen tunic, almost translucent under the faint candlelight. Her hair, so often braided, now fell loose over her shoulders. She turned slightly when he crossed the threshold, and on her face there was no fear or regret. Only a tense, broken calm.

“I thought you wouldn’t come," she said in a low voice.

“I thought I was strong," he replied.

Neither moved at first. The silence between them was thick, alive. Sihtric looked at her as if trying to memorize every line of her face, every shadow beneath her eyes, as if he knew that after that night, he’d have to live with only the memory.

“Eadlyn is beautiful," she said, stepping closer. "She’ll be a good wife."

“I know."

“She’ll be good for you. She’ll give you children, respect. Stability."

“I know," he repeated.

She looked up at him, closer now, so close he could feel her breath.

“But she won’t give you this," she whispered.

And then their lips met. Not with violence. Not with fury. As if the world had been waiting for that moment. The kiss was long, restrained, desperate. She clung to his neck, he held her by the waist as if afraid she might vanish in his arms. Their bodies spoke the language they had tried to forget. One that had never stopped burning beneath the folds of duty.

They parted moments later, barely, their lips still brushing.

“This can’t go on," said Sihtric, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“And yet, it will," she replied.

“We won’t meet in secret," she said, almost in a whisper. "But there will always be a place to find each other. A glance in the hall. A word in a letter. A whisper in a corridor."

“And if I fall in love with her?" he asked, as if betraying himself by saying it.

The queen smiled sadly, touching his face with her fingertips.

“Then you’ll be happy. And I… I’ll pretend not to care."

The wedding took place the next day in the Grand Temple of the Realm, a structure of white marble with columns as tall as ancient trees. People gathered from dawn: nobles from distant lands, lords, ladies, knights, even lucky villagers who had secured a place among the crowd. The bells rang through the valley, announcing the union of the king’s warrior with his favorite niece.

Eadlyn prepared in a chamber lit by stained glass that cast warm tones. The dress she had chosen embraced her like a second skin. Her ladies braided her hair into golden crowns resting like molten metal atop her head. Her face was serene, but her eyes couldn’t lie. There was hope, yes. And beauty. But also a trace of fear. Fear of not being enough. Of not being loved.

The queen entered unannounced.

They looked at each other.

For a moment, they said nothing.

And then the queen approached, gently adjusting Eadlyn's veil clasp and said:

"You're perfect."

Eadlyn watched her from the mirror.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Are you nervous?"

"A little."

"That's natural. The first day doesn't define what will come. Love can grow over time. And if it doesn't... respect may be enough."

Eadlyn nodded. She wanted to believe her. She wanted to think those words were sincere. And perhaps they were.

Sihtric waited for her at the altar, dressed in a ceremonial battle tunic, his scars visible, his posture straight. When he saw her enter, something in his chest stopped. Eadlyn walked towards him as if floating. Beautiful, golden, strong. Her future, though uncertain, became tangible with every step.

The queen's eyes, seated beside the king, watched him. And in that instant, when their gazes crossed among the crowd, there was no hatred. No jealousy. Only a silent understanding.

They were not going to stop seeing each other.

The vow was spoken. Their hands bound with the sacred ribbon. The kiss was chaste, respectful. The bells rang out. The people cheered. And so, Sihtric became a husband.

The wedding banquet was at its peak. The tables overflowed with jars of wine, hot bread, spiced meats, and fruits bathed in honey. Music filled the great hall, and the clamor of the guests grew with every toast. Sihtric had remained serene throughout the evening, playing his role as husband, raising his cup, responding with a smile to the greetings, thanking the good wishes.

But when he finally found a moment to breathe, he discreetly stepped away from the crowd. He leaned against one of the stone columns that flanked the hall, watching his new wife from there.

Eadlyn was laughing at that moment, seated between two ladies who were showering her with compliments. Her golden hair seemed like a living crown, her eyes sparkling with a mix of shyness and grace. She was beautiful, as everyone said. But beyond her beauty, there was something that unsettled Sihtric: that quiet dignity with which she looked at him when no one else was watching. As if she knew more than she let on. As if she were waiting for him, not just as a husband, but as a man.

"You've been very still, brother," Uhtred's voice said beside him, interrupting his thoughts.

Sihtric didn't respond immediately. Finan appeared from the other side, chewing a piece of meat as if nothing could disturb him.

"So, you're married now, huh?" Finan said with a crooked smile. "Does it feel different?"

Sihtric sighed, not taking his eyes off Eadlyn.

"I don't know. Everything has happened too fast."

"That's normal. The important thing is that you did it. It's the right thing," Uhtred said, patting him on the shoulder. "The king trusts you. And the girl... she seems kind."

"And flexible," Finan added with a low laugh, receiving a warning glance from Uhtred. "Come on, don't make that face. It's not a punishment to marry a beautiful woman."

"It isn't," Sihtric admitted quietly. "It's just that... some things aren't easily forgotten."

The two friends fell silent for a few seconds. There was no need for him to say more. Uhtred knew. He always knew. His gaze scrutinized him gravely.

"Listen," Uhtred finally said. "You don't always choose whom to love. But you can choose whom to respect. And if she's your wife, make it worth it. Get used to her voice. Her laugh. How she looks at you. Not everything starts with fire. Some things ignite slowly."

Sihtric nodded, pressing his lips together.

"I'll try."

"You'll make it," Finan said, giving him an elbow nudge. "Though tonight, you'll only have to try once, if you know what I mean."

"Finan..." Sihtric grumbled, unable to prevent a fleeting smile.

"Come on, Sihtric!" Finan laughed. "It's your wedding night. The first one! Maybe the most awkward, the most uncomfortable, but also the most fun. I hope you're not too rusty."

"You should be more nervous about what she expects of you, not you of her," Uhtred added with a half-smile. "Do you think she hasn't been watching you all day? I wouldn't be surprised if she's more ready than you."

Sihtric shook his head, resigned, though an uncomfortable heat rose up his neck.

"Enough, both of you. I got married hours ago and now you're talking to me as if I'm going to an execution."

"Sometimes, it's the same," Finan said with a laugh. "But with less clothes."

Later, the moon was high when the door to the marriage chamber closed behind them.

Eadlyn walked first, in silence. Her steps were soft, and her dress glided like a stream of silver across the floor. The maidservants had left minutes before, leaving the room in perfect order: the bed was covered with clean sheets, fresh flowers adorned a side table, and the candles spread a warm, dim light throughout the room.

Sihtric stayed near the door for a moment, watching her.

She didn't look at him immediately. She walked toward the vanity, calmly removing her rings, one by one. Then she spoke, without turning.

"You can sit down if you want. There's no hurry."

"I'm not running away," he replied, taking a few steps forward.

"Neither am I running toward you," she said softly.

Sihtric clenched his jaw. He walked up to her and stood by her side. He looked at her in the mirror. Her eyes met his reflection: hers calm, his... filled with everything he couldn't say.

"I know this is strange," she murmured, finally turning to face him. "But I'm willing to try, Sihtric."

"So am I."

Silence fell again, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable.

He raised a hand and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. She didn't pull away.

"You're beautiful," he said in a quieter voice.

"And you're gentler than they say," she whispered.

She began to untie the strings of her dress, slow and precise. He helped her, with careful hands, no rush. When the dress fell away and she stood before him, wrapped only in a linen cloak and her golden hair loose over her shoulders, he looked at her not as a man who demands, but as one who learns.

He kissed her then. Slowly.

There was no clumsiness, no wild fire. It was a union of two who were just beginning to know each other, but were willing to do so with respect, and perhaps, with time, with tenderness. She received him with her eyes open at first, then closed, surrendering without fear, but with care. He was patient. She was generous.

It wasn't overflowing passion.

Hours later, with the candle almost melted and the warm air between the sheets, Eadlyn looked at him from the pillow.

“Thank you for not pretending.”

Sihtric turned his face toward her in the dim light.

“Thank you for being braver than I am.”

She smiled, and for the first time that night, she touched him without formality. She gently stroked his chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

They didn’t say anything more.

And although Sihtric’s heart still belonged to someone else… in that moment, he allowed himself to rest in the idea that, maybe, he could learn to love his wife.

The days after the wedding passed like pieces on a board moved with precision. Shared breakfasts, brief walks through the castle gardens, public meetings where Eadlyn and Sihtric walked together, spoke politely, sat next to each other. To the eyes of the kingdom, they were a perfect couple. The noble niece of the king and his most loyal warrior. A marriage that represented stability.

But behind the walls of their chambers, the story was different.

Eadlyn tried. She looked at him with the naive hope of someone who wishes to be enough. She learned his silences, his gestures. She sat by his side at night, asking him about his day, his battles, even his childhood. And Sihtric responded. He responded with respect, with kindness… but without commitment. As if there were an invisible wall that she couldn’t break through.

Sometimes, he looked at her as if he wanted to love her.

And other times, as if it pained him not to.

Everything worsened when the queen began visiting them more frequently.

She didn’t do it openly. She was subtle. She would appear at breakfasts, under the pretext of “family time.” She offered to accompany Eadlyn in choosing new fabrics or reviewing the tasks she now had as the wife of one of the king’s closest men.

“You have good taste,” she said, running her fingers through a dark blue silk.

Eadlyn smiled politely. The queen was refined, intelligent, elegant. She made everything seem like a noble teaching, a guide between women. But every piece of advice was a subtle stab, a warning. And above all, a way to remind her that she had been there before. That, in some way, she still was.

One night, Eadlyn decided to confront the wall.

She waited for them to lie down. The candle burned next to the bed, and the light cast a still, tense profile of Sihtric.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her voice barely trembling.

Sihtric looked at her, surprised.

“No. No, Eadlyn. You’ve been… much more than I expected.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re so far away from me? Why do you speak to me as if we’re always surrounded by people, even when we’re alone?”

Sihtric closed his eyes. He sat up in bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

She didn’t respond at first. She moved closer, sitting in front of him, barefoot, her white nightgown floating over her thighs.

“You can’t hurt me with the truth, Sihtric. Only with silence.”

He looked at her. And it was then that she saw him clearly. In his eyes, there was something broken, something ancient. It wasn’t cruelty. It was pity. It was contained desire. It was the shadow of someone else.

“Do you still see her?” she asked, her voice firmer than she thought possible.

He hesitated to answer.

“I don’t seek her out. But she’s always there.”

Eadlyn didn’t cry. She didn’t make a scene. She just nodded.

“I’m not blind, Sihtric. I’ve seen how she looks at you. How she speaks to you when the three of us are together. With that soft voice, with that smile. As if it were a conversation that started long before me and hasn’t ended.”

Sihtric took her hand.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could love you as you deserve.”

She looked him in the eyes.

“Then do it. Try. But don’t ask me to share your heart with her. I’m not a child. I’m your wife.”

The next day, the queen asked Eadlyn to accompany her to the castle’s greenhouses.

Amid the sweet aroma of flowers and the singing of birds, the conversation began as always: calm, elegant.

“You seem stronger these days,” the queen said as she cut a thornless rose. “That’s good. A husband needs a strong wife.”

“I’m just trying to live up to what’s expected of me,” Eadlyn replied.

“And you’re doing an admirable job,” she said, before turning around. “Though you shouldn’t pressure yourself so much. Some men are like wild dogs. You can try to tame them, but in the end, they always remember the first hand that caressed them.”

Eadlyn stopped.

“Was that advice, Your Majesty? Or a warning?”

The queen smiled, calmly.

“It was the truth. You have his name. His bed. His alliance. But I have his memories. And not everything that’s seen in public is what’s felt in the dark.”

For the first time, Eadlyn felt a real chill being near her. The queen didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. There was a way she claimed the space without moving, as if the air knew whom it should obey.

“Sihtric is mine,” Eadlyn said, this time more firmly.

The queen leaned in to smell another flower.

“Maybe. But not entirely.”

That night, Sihtric found a note under his sword.

It only said: “The queen has called for you again. This time, decide for yourself if you respond.”

He stared at it for a long time. The fire in the hearth flickered like a dilemma.

And elsewhere in the castle, Eadlyn looked toward the door… waiting.

But no one entered.

The next morning, a veil of clouds covered the castle, casting soft shadows over the stones. And there was Eadlyn, walking with firm steps toward the queen’s chambers.

She didn’t ask for permission to enter.

The two maidservants guarding the door exchanged nervous looks, but a word from the king’s niece was enough to make them step aside.

The queen was sitting on a dark velvet divan, a glass of wine between her fingers, still dressed in her embroidered silk robe. Her hair fell loosely like a river of dark fire over her shoulders, and her expression barely changed when she saw Eadlyn burst into the room.

“So early, dear?” she said, not looking up from her glass. “Shouldn’t you still be in bed?”

“I haven’t come to play at good manners,” Eadlyn replied, closing the door behind her. “I’ve come to speak to you as I am: Sihtric’s wife.”

The queen put her glass aside and calmly crossed her legs, evaluating her.

“Then speak.”

Eadlyn took a few steps forward, not sitting down, as if afraid that if she relaxed, the queen would swallow the air in the room.

“You’re interfering. You’ve been doing it even before I arrived. And you’re still doing it now, with smiles and soft words, but with the clear intention that he doesn’t belong to me entirely.”

“What a dangerous word… ‘belong,’” the queen replied, looking at one of her nails distractedly. “Men are not rings that you place and forget. Nor are feelings.”

“I’m not interested in what he felt for you before,” Eadlyn said, stepping closer. “I care about what you’re still seeking from him now. The looks. The notes. The private conversations. I see everything. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

The queen looked up. Her eyes were like a frozen field.

“And what do you expect to achieve with this visit? A confession? An apology?”

“No,” Eadlyn said firmly. “I expect respect. I expect you to step away from what no longer belongs to you. You’ve had Sihtric. Whatever you shared, it’s over. Now he’s with me. And if he ever learns to love me, it will be in spite of you, not because of you.”

For the first time, a flash of emotion crossed the queen’s gaze. Not fury. Not jealousy. But something older. Pain. Nostalgia. And maybe… fear.

“You think this is so simple,” she whispered, standing slowly. “As if love obeyed laws. As if it could be cut like a rope. You see it as a rivalry between women. But you don’t know what it’s like to love someone who can’t be yours without everything else falling apart.”

“Then let it fall apart,” Eadlyn said, her eyes burning. “But don’t drag the rest of us down with you. Not me. And not him.”

There was a long silence. The two women measured each other. Not with shouts or blows, but with the cold determination only possible between two who love the same man.

The queen took a step toward her, gently.

“And if he comes to me? Even without me seeking him? Will you still blame him?”

“No,” Eadlyn said. “But I’ll make sure he remembers every night that he has me. And every morning too.”

The queen stood still for one more second, as if the answer had hurt her more than she expected. Then she smiled.

“Then we’ll see who tires first.”

Eadlyn turned without another word. She opened the door with determination and left, leaving behind a fragrance of dried flowers… and war declared.

That night, Sihtric found her sitting alone on their bed, her hair loose, hands intertwined on her lap. He approached cautiously.

“Are you okay?”

She lifted her gaze, without a trace of doubt.

“Are you?”

Sihtric didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“I spoke with her,” Eadlyn said. “I’m not going to let her stay between us. No matter what you still feel. I’m here. And I plan to stay.”

“Sihtric…” he whispered, his chest tight.

“Don’t say anything now,” she interrupted, standing in front of him. “But if you ever decide to go to her again… at least have the courage to tell me to my face.”

And with that, she got into bed, turning her back to him.

Sihtric stood there for a moment. Feeling the weight of love that hadn’t gone away… and the one that was beginning to be born.

And he knew, with cruel certainty, that he couldn’t have both.

But he couldn’t let go of either.

The days following the confrontation with the queen were strangely quiet. Meals were shared with measured smiles. Walks through the garden were made in silence, hands intertwined more out of habit than desire. No one raised their voice. No one crossed a line. Routine settled in like a warm blanket covering a fire still burning beneath the surface.

Eadlyn clung to that calm. She wanted to believe things were changing. That Sihtric, though distant, was beginning to see her. To recognize her as something more than the wife chosen by the king. There were nights when he spoke to her more than usual. He touched her arm softly before bed. He had even smiled at her without having to.

She, naively, thought she was winning.

Until everything fell apart.

The rumor reached her like a cold gust while she walked through the upper gallery, from the lips of a maidservant who couldn’t keep quiet in time.

“…I saw him leave the queen’s chambers this morning. Alone. He seemed nervous.”

Blood froze in her veins.

“Sihtric?”

The maidservant’s eyes widened, pale, and she stammered some absurd excuse before retreating. But it was too late. The image had been engraved. The pieces fell into place: his evasive look at breakfast, his quieter voice, the way he avoided touching her fingers like he had the night before.

It hadn’t just been a conversation. She felt it.

And the doubt weighed more than the entire castle.

That night, Eadlyn sat waiting on the divan in her chamber. She didn’t change into sleep clothes. She remained upright, her dress still on, hands tense in her lap. The candle burned insistently, as if it knew it was about to witness a storm.

The door opened. Sihtric entered, closing it softly. When he saw her awake, he stopped.

“Didn’t you sleep?”

“Where were you this morning?”

The question fell like a stone. Direct. Solid.

Sihtric didn’t answer immediately. He lowered his gaze, sighed. Took a few steps.

“I spoke with her,” he finally admitted.

And the silence that followed was crueler than any scream.

“Why?”

“I thought it was better this way. That if we talked, if we made things clear…”

“And did you make them clear?”

Sihtric raised his gaze. He saw something broken in her eyes. It wasn’t anger. It was something more dangerous: disappointment. Accumulated pain. Insecurity. Desperation.

“Eadlyn…”

“What am I doing wrong?” she suddenly asked, her voice breaking. “Why can’t I reach you? Why do I try so hard and still not seem enough?”

Sihtric frowned, uncomfortable, tense.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth!” she screamed, tears running down her cheeks. “I’m not her. I don’t have her history with you, or her memories, or that look that makes you tremble. But I’m your wife, Sihtric. And I wanted to try. I really wanted… I wanted…”

“Because I don’t love you, damn it!” he exploded suddenly, with a dry shout that shattered the air. “I don’t love you, Eadlyn! I try, but I can’t! You’re not her, and that’s what kills me!”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Eadlyn looked at him, pale, as if he had struck her with a sword. The tears that had been falling stopped. Her body ceased trembling. Her face hardened.

She wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand, slowly.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” she said in a low, cold, empty voice. “I thought… I thought things were starting to change.”

She turned with grace, as if there were still dignity to salvage. She walked toward the door, and Sihtric, realizing his mistake, the sharpness of his words, called her.

“Eadlyn, wait…”

“No.” That was all she said.

And she left.

Anguish pierced her like a spear as she crossed the hall. She didn’t cry immediately. She had no strength. Her body felt light, undone. As if it wasn’t hers. As if it was another woman who had heard that, the one who had been rejected so violently.

She didn’t make it to her chambers.

In the middle of the corridor, she turned into a small rest room she knew, used by maids and visitors. As soon as she crossed the door, she fell to her knees.

The tears came like a storm. Uncontained, not elegant, not soft. It was a choked scream, a broken sob. And then… she vomited. Her body couldn’t hold on anymore.

One of the maids who had seen her enter rushed to her side. She knelt beside her, terrified.

“My lady, by the gods!”

“Don’t take me to my room,” Eadlyn whispered, still trembling. “No… I don’t want him to see me. Please… take me somewhere else.”

The maid nodded with tears in her eyes. She helped her lady to her feet, and together they walked to a smaller room, where hot water and clean sheets were already waiting. Eadlyn was bathed gently. Her body continued to tremble. Her head hurt. Her chest ached. Her heart seemed to have shrunk.

When they finally laid her down, she said nothing. She only stared at the ceiling, motionless.

“I don’t want to see him,” she murmured, before closing her eyes.

And that night, Sihtric’s bed remained empty.

And he, at the foot of the door, leaning against the wall, understood the weight of his cowardice.

The next day, the sun timidly peeked over the castle walls, casting its light on the cold stone. But no light was enough to dissipate the weight that hung over Sihtric since the night before.

Sleep was impossible.

The image of Eadlyn crying in front of him, asking with a broken voice what she had done wrong, hurt like a knife in his stomach. And worse still, hearing his own words shouting that he didn’t love her, that she wasn’t “her.” Words that he didn’t know whether they were as true as they were desperate.

He didn’t love her yet, but… he didn’t hate her either. She wasn’t indifferent to him. Seeing her hurt twisted his soul. And that, in his world, was saying a lot.

That morning, he didn’t go to training. He didn’t eat breakfast. He just wandered through the castle like a lost dog, searching for a door that would allow him to redeem himself.

But Eadlyn didn’t want to see him.

He knocked once on the door of the room where he knew she had been staying since the night before. A maid came out, visibly nervous.

“Is she okay?” Sihtric asked quietly, not hiding his anxiety.

“She had a fever this morning. She doesn’t want to eat. And she refuses to speak to anyone, my lord. No one… except us.”

“I want to see her. Just talk.”

The maid hesitated, swallowed.

“She expressly asked that you not be allowed in.”

Sihtric felt his soul break again. He clenched his fists and walked away without saying anything, his face hardened, his eyes burning. He had to do something. He had to find a way to mend what he had broken.

Later that same day, during lunch in the hall, the queen made her appearance.

But Sihtric didn’t look at her.

Not once.

Not when she sat near him. Not when, discreetly, she addressed him. He didn’t answer. He didn’t turn his head. He chewed without appetite, his eyes fixed on his wine glass.

“Is something wrong?” the queen asked subtly.

Sihtric didn’t blink.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

It was as if someone had thrown a dagger onto the silver.

The queen kept her composure, but something in her lips tightened. She stood up without saying more and left the room. Sihtric didn’t move.

Later, in the training yard, his friends saw him walking alone, grim, slamming his sword into a post with barely contained fury. Uhtred was the first to approach, arms crossed.

“Are you planning to kill something, or just your conscience?”

Sihtric didn’t answer. He kept hitting. The wood creaked with every strike.

“She doesn’t want to see me,” he finally said, his voice hoarse.

“And you didn’t let her see you before. Funny how life turns, huh?” Finan intervened, appearing behind with his sly smile and hands behind his head. “Maybe it’s for the best. Let you suffer a little. So you learn that words are like arrows: once shot, they can’t be retrieved.”

“I know,” Sihtric growled.

“Then do something. Waiting like a dog won’t make her forgive you. Go see her. Apologize for real. Not out of pity, but because you feel it. But don’t go thinking she’ll open her arms just because she sees your pretty face.”

“I don’t want her pity,” Sihtric said.

“And she doesn’t want your excuses,” Uhtred said firmly. “If you really care, you’ll show it with more than words. With actions. With loyalty.”

Sihtric lowered his sword. He was breathing heavily. His heart hurt. But it was true. He had to try to reach her… even if it was through a crack.

That same afternoon, he asked for permission again to see her. He didn’t insist. He just left a letter written in his own hand in the maid’s care.

“Eadlyn, I know I have no right to ask for anything. But I can’t stay silent after what I did. I was wrong. I let myself be blinded by the past, by something that no longer belongs to me. You are here, alive, real, present. And I failed you. I’m not asking you to forgive me today. Just to let me… show you that I’m not made of just mistakes. I’m willing to wait. As long as you need.”

The maid returned alone. No answer.

And Sihtric understood that the wound wouldn’t heal in days. That love, if it came, wouldn’t be by insistence. Nor by pressure. But because he would have to earn it.

And that night, when he passed by the hallways that led to the queen’s chambers, and she stepped out to meet him with a calculated smile and an inquisitive look… he simply turned his face and kept walking, as if she didn’t even exist.

Because in that moment, for the first time, he understood what he was willing to lose… and what he was no longer willing to keep touching.

The days passed like leaves blown by the wind, without stopping, without comfort.

Eadlyn didn’t speak to Sihtric again. She didn’t look at him during the dinners they shared in silence, nor at the events they had to attend. She didn’t search for him with her gaze, even when everyone present knew he was searching for hers.

She became a shadow in her own life. She smiled in public, dressed better than ever, walked with her head held high. But her heart hurt every time she felt him near.

Sometimes, she heard him pass on the other side of the door, standing still. She imagined him on the other side, with his hand raised, hesitating whether to knock. He never did.

And she, inside, cried in silence, hating herself for missing him so much.

Sihtric, for his part, became a man of few words. He threw himself into training with dry violence. He avoided any encounter with the queen, not only out of respect for Eadlyn but because now seeing her made his stomach turn.

Every night he passed by the room where he knew his wife slept, perhaps hoping to hear her voice, a sigh, a sign.

But nothing came.

Sihtric’s friends began to worry. Uhtred even tried to mediate in secret, but Eadlyn wouldn’t be swayed.

“He chose me last,” she said in a tempered voice. “I don’t want to beg for a love that will always look the other way.”

And with that, the conversation was closed.

Two weeks passed.

Then, one night, the wind brought something more than silence.

Eadlyn woke up suddenly, with her chest tight. A sudden nausea made her get out of bed urgently, and she vomited for the second time in three days. The maid who slept near her heard and ran to help.

“My lady, this is no longer from sadness…” she whispered, concerned, holding her hair. “You should see the healer.”

Eadlyn nodded, tired, defeated.

Hours later, the healer entered the room, with her wise hands, her ancient gaze. She examined her patiently, touching her forehead, checking her pulse, asking questions. Eadlyn answered everything with coldness, as if she were far from herself.

Until the woman stepped back and spoke with the softness of someone who knows her words will bring a storm.

“My lady… you’re expecting a child.”

Eadlyn stayed still.

“What?”

“You’re pregnant. There’s no doubt.”

The world stopped.

The maids remained frozen, watching her without daring to say anything. Eadlyn’s body didn’t react. Only her eyes trembled, fixed on some distant point, as the words echoed inside her.

A child.

From him.

And he no longer wanted her.

She felt the air escape from her. She wanted to scream, but no sound came. Only tears. Slow. Thick.

Sihtric was called urgently to the private wing. Finan and Uhtred were waiting for him at the entrance.

“What’s happening?” he asked, alarmed.

“It’s Eadlyn,” Finan said, serious for the first time in weeks. “She’s not well. You have to see her. Now.”

Sihtric didn’t ask further. He ran up the stairs, crossed the halls, and reached that room he hadn’t stepped into in days.

And when he saw her there, lying, pale, with her hands on her belly, her eyes red, and the maids looking at him with suspicion… his heart broke.

“Eadlyn…”

She turned her head with effort. Her face was wet, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t yell at him. She didn’t chase him out.

“I’m pregnant.”

Sihtric felt the earth tremble beneath his feet.

“What?”

“What you heard. I’m having a child. Your child.” Her voice had no tone. Just emptiness. “And I don’t know what you’re going to do with that, but I don’t care anymore.”

Sihtric took a step, then another, until he was next to the bed.

“Don’t say that. No… Eadlyn, I…”

“Are you going to shout at me again that you don’t love me?”

That silenced him.

She looked at him, hurt but firm.

“This child isn’t going to grow up hearing insults. He’s not going to see his mother begging for affection.”

“He won’t have to do that,” he said at last, with his heart in his throat. “Because I’ll be here. Because I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.”

Eadlyn lowered her gaze.

"I don’t want you to be with me out of obligation."

"And I don’t want to be alone out of regret," he whispered.

A long silence stretched between them. The maidservants discreetly stepped away, giving them space.

"I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me," Sihtric continued. "But I want you to know that since you pushed me away, I haven’t looked at anyone the way I looked at you. I haven’t touched anyone. I haven’t wanted anyone close. Not even her."

Eadlyn looked at him, and for the first time in days, something cracked in her armor.

After the confession, the tears, the exhaustion... she simply let him stay by her side. She didn’t ask him to leave. She didn’t avert her gaze. She didn’t harden her voice.

And for Sihtric, that was already a lot.

He sat in a chair by the bed, not touching her, not invading her space. He just stayed there. Watching her as she slept, with her forehead damp with sweat and her lashes wet. His heart ached to see her like this, fragile, when he had always seen her so elegant, so upright, so perfectly composed.

Now she was just her. A woman broken inside, carrying a child he had fathered and a resentment he deserved.

But he was there. And he intended to stay.

The following days were different. They still didn’t sleep in the same bed, but he began accompanying her on walks through the gardens. Sometimes they walked in silence. Other times, he told her stories from his childhood, about when Uhtred had taught him how to use a sword.

Eadlyn listened without saying much, but little by little, their glances lasted longer. Her voice was less cold. And her responses no longer felt like daggers.

One afternoon, while he was helping her up a step, their fingers brushed. Eadlyn didn’t pull away.

And Sihtric understood that she was yielding. Slowly, painfully. But yielding.

When the first moon of the pregnancy passed, the healer examined her again. Everything was in order. The child, boy or girl, was growing strong.

Eadlyn was paler, a little more sensitive, but her eyes no longer looked so dim. Sihtric never left her alone, and that confused her. She didn’t know if she should love him or be afraid of him. But every time he spoke to her softly, every time he brought her something she wanted, a mint tea, a piece of honeyed bread, a book of poetry... she felt the ice in her chest cracking.

One night, she sat by the window, cradling her barely visible belly. He entered quietly, without making a sound.

"Would it bother you if I stay?"

She looked at him, her eyes tired, but didn’t say no. She only nodded.

Sihtric took off his coat, crossed the room, and sat next to her on the couch. He didn’t speak. He only spread a blanket over her legs and draped it around her shoulders.

And Eadlyn, for the first time in weeks, leaned against his chest.

Just a little. Just for an instant.

But it was real.

That night, Eadlyn didn’t want him to sleep in another room.

"If you want to stay, you can… stay," she said quietly, facing away from him.

Sihtric stopped in the doorway, as if unsure if he had heard her correctly.

"Here?"

"Yes," she said, not turning around.

He nodded, though she didn’t see it.

He lay down on the other side of the bed, not crossing the center, as if there was an invisible line marking boundaries. But even separated, the air felt different.

Her breathing was slow. His heartbeats, more serene.

"Do you think about how it’s going to be?" she asked, not opening her eyes.

"All the time," he replied, staring at the ceiling. "I don’t know if I’ll be a good father, Eadlyn... but I’ll try. And I’ll take care of you. Of both of you."

There was a long, deep silence.

She turned her head slightly, still not looking at him.

"And if you never love me?"

Sihtric swallowed.

"Then you’ll have to put up with me as the husband who respects you, who takes care of you, who admires you... even though I’m still learning to love you."

And for the first time, a faint smile formed on Eadlyn’s lips. It wasn’t one of joy. But it was human. Real.

"It’s a good start," she whispered.

In the middle of the night, she woke up cold. She instinctively curled toward the warm side of the bed... and found his back. Sihtric barely turned, still asleep, and without thinking, he passed his arm over her.

Eadlyn stayed still.

She didn’t pull away. She didn’t cry. She didn’t think.

She just let herself be embraced. Because for once... she felt safe.

The days passed, and the room that once was silent and bitter began to fill with little things: a soft laugh, a shared gesture, the accidental touch that was no longer uncomfortable.

Sihtric no longer slept on the other side of the bed. Now he held her every night with the care of someone who knows they have a miracle in their arms. Eadlyn no longer cried when thinking of her husband. Now she watched him as he helped her put on her shoes or prepared tea with his own hands.

There were entire afternoons when they would go out to the garden just to sit under the same oak. He would read to her, his deep and slow voice, while his hand gently rested on her belly. Eadlyn found herself wishing that this would happen every day, like a prayer.

And when he laughed, something he did more often lately, she felt warmth in her chest.

One morning, while Sihtric adjusted her belt on her new dress, she turned and looked at him.

"Sihtric?"

"Mmm?"

"I don’t remember the last time I felt safe."

He froze, his fingers still at the knot of fabric, looking at her.

"Neither do I."

And then he kissed her. Softly. Briefly. Sincerely.

She didn’t pull away. She held on. And finally, she felt there was no fear anymore.

But light disturbs those who live in the shadows.

The queen, who had been watching from afar, felt the threat creeping up her back like a cold poison.

At first, she tried small things. Sending for Sihtric with silly excuses. Asking about his health. Leaving subtle gifts where he would see them and know they came from her. All without success.

He didn’t respond.

Not with words, nor with looks.

He no longer spoke to her, except in formal and distant terms. He no longer stopped to listen to her. He no longer pretended to be polite.

She stopped being an open wound. She became an unwanted presence.

And that drove her mad.

One afternoon, when Eadlyn was returning from a walk with Sihtric, she found a letter in her chambers. There was no sender, but the handwriting was feminine and elegant.

With suspicion, she opened it.

"Dear Princess,

It is admirable your effort to keep a man who, as you well know, was never yours from the beginning. I would like to remind you that what a woman cannot build from love, she cannot sustain from need. You have a child on the way… but do you have the father’s heart?"

Eadlyn’s heart beat fast. She felt anger. A sting.

And at the same time... she didn’t feel fear.

Because yes. She had his heart. Maybe not entirely. Maybe not the way she had dreamed. But she had it.

She crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire.

That night, while Sihtric gently caressed her belly beneath the blankets, she looked at him.

"I received an anonymous letter."

He frowned, concerned.

"What did it say?"

"That I don’t have you."

He sat up. Eadlyn remained calm.

"I want you to know," she said firmly, "that if you decide to leave, if at any point you realize your place is not here... I won’t stop you. But I also want you to know that while you are here, I won’t give up."

Sihtric looked at her, and for the first time, it was he who had tears in his eyes.

"I’m not going anywhere," he whispered.

And he kissed her.

Gently. With promise. With respect.

In the days that followed, the rumors began to fade. Because there was no longer a crack through which they could slip.

The queen watched them from afar, her face tense, feeling the ground slipping from beneath her feet. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break something that was being built on truth.

Eadlyn and Sihtric were now seen together at every ceremony, at every banquet. They spoke softly, touched each other naturally. They didn’t need to show love, because it was obvious. In the way he helped her sit down. In the way she looked at him when he didn’t notice. In how their bodies no longer repelled each other... they sought each other.

Love, or something very close to it, had found fertile ground.

And this time, no one was going to take it from them.

A few moons later, the rain hammered the windows like an insistent murmur, as if the heavens knew that today, nothing would be easy.

Eadlyn had been writhing in the damp sheets for hours. The labor had started at dawn, and it was already late afternoon. The midwives came and went with tense faces, bringing hot water, clean towels, and herbs to soothe her. Her hair, which was usually neatly braided, fell loose and sticky across her forehead. Her hands gripped the headboard, her knuckles white, her face contorted.

And yet, she didn’t scream. She didn��t cry. She didn’t ask.

She just clenched her teeth and endured.

Sihtric hadn’t moved from the hallway since the pain started. There was no way to move him. Finan, more practical, offered him wine. Uhtred gave him a pat on the shoulder. But he didn’t listen. He couldn’t do anything but stare at the closed door, his eyes burning and his fists clenched.

Each muffled scream that escaped from the walls tore him apart.

"Damn it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Why is it taking so long?"

Inside the room, the head midwife leaned over Eadlyn, worried.

"My lady... if you don’t push now, with all your strength, the child is in danger."

Eadlyn’s vision was blurred. She couldn’t feel her legs. She barely remembered how to breathe.

"Is the baby... okay?" she murmured through gasps.

"The baby is still fighting. But there’s no time."

Then, Eadlyn closed her eyes, searched for something within herself, courage, faith, fury and pushed. With everything. With the last of what she had.

A scream tore through the room. It was not elegant. It was not dignified. It was wild, desperate, human.

And then, the crying.

A sharp, powerful cry. Full of life.

The child had been born.

Sihtric heard the cry before the door opened. And for a moment, he didn’t know if it was real. He stood frozen.

The door creaked open and a maid looked at him.

“It's a boy. Strong.”

Sihtric didn’t think. He entered like a hurricane, without asking for permission.

He saw her. White as the sheets. Sweaty. Exhausted. But alive.

And in her arms... a child.

Small. Wrinkled. With a dark lock stuck to his head. Sleeping, still with the recent cry on his lips.

Sihtric knelt by the bed, his hands trembling.

“Can I...?”

Eadlyn nodded weakly. She could barely speak.

He took the child carefully. He had never held anything so fragile. His rough fingers, weathered by war, turned soft as velvet.

“He’s perfect,” he whispered. “He has your lips.”

“And your frown,” she said, weak but smiling.

Sihtric laughed, with a lump in his throat, as a tear fell from his cheek.

“We will take care of him. We will protect him.”

“We will love him,” she added.

They looked at each other. There was no more pain. Only that new, giant emotion, that could not be named.

Later, Eadlyn rested, still weak. The room was quiet, with a soft golden light coming through the stained glass.

Sihtric sat beside the bed, with the child asleep in his arms.

“How will you name him?” Eadlyn asked, her voice barely audible.

He looked at her. He didn’t answer immediately. He only watched the little one, breathing softly, as if he already knew he was safe.

“Bjorn,” he said finally. “It means ‘bear’. May he be strong.”

Eadlyn nodded, closing her eyes.

“Bjorn... It’s perfect.”

And at that moment, for the first time, Sihtric felt complete. He was no longer just a warrior, nor the man caught between two women. He was a father. He was a husband.

He was free.

The queen did not appear that day. Nor the next.

Maybe she knew she no longer had power there.

Four weeks had passed quickly since Bjorn’s birth. The fortress was quieter, as if even the stones knew something sacred had been born there. The nights were brief and full of whispers: the baby’s cries, the soft steps of the maids, and the hushed voices of parents still learning how to be them.

Eadlyn had healed slowly. Her body, exhausted from childbirth, was regaining its strength. She slept little, but every time she opened her eyes and saw Sihtric with their son in his arms, life seemed more bearable, even beautiful.

That night the moon was low, huge, cut against the sky like a barely spoken secret.

Bjorn slept deeply in his wooden cradle. The candlelight flickered softly, casting golden shadows on the stone walls. Eadlyn was lying on the cushions, her hair loose, with a light linen tunic that left her shoulders exposed.

Sihtric carefully closed the door and approached her, letting his eyes speak before any words.

“He’s asleep,” he whispered, as if afraid to break the magic of the moment.

Eadlyn smiled at him, resting her head against the headboard of the bed.

“You’re doing well... as a father.”

“And as a husband?”

She raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Improving,” she replied playfully, though her eyes shone with truth.

Sihtric sat beside her, one knee on the mattress, watching her in silence.

“You look tired,” he said, caressing her cheek, “but also... different.”

“Different how?”

“As if you were reborn with him. As if... all the hardness in your eyes had surrendered.”

Eadlyn lowered her gaze, thoughtful. Then she took his hand and guided it to her belly, still tender.

“It still hurts a bit...” she confessed softly. “But not like before. It’s a pain that... reminds me that I’m alive. That I brought him into the world. That I’m not the same.”

“You don’t have to prove anything,” he murmured, his lips near her forehead. “If you want me to just stay here, with you, holding you, I will.”

She looked at him, that mix of laughter and tenderness on her lips.

“My body is sensitive... but not dead.

And you’ve always been good with your hands, husband.”

He let out a soft, almost fearful smile.

“I’ll be careful.”

“I always wanted to have many children,” she said jokingly, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “But maybe... we could wait at least a month for the next one.”

Sihtric laughed against her neck, slowly lowering himself, as if every inch of her skin was sacred, as if he were rediscovering it. His lips weren’t in a hurry. They touched, kissed, waited. As if asking permission in every caress.

She trembled. Not from pain, but from recognition. Her body, marked by life, was opening again. With fear. With desire. With love.

When their hands intertwined, there was no urgency. Only promise.

He loved her with the patience of someone who knows that the soul must follow the body, and the body must heal not only from wounds but also from emptiness.

Eadlyn surrendered to his kisses, his fingers, his warmth. She felt how the world reduced itself to the weight of his body on hers, to the shared breath, to the slow rhythm of two people who no longer sought each other to forget, but to find each other.

It was a silent, deep act. Like a prayer. Like a pact sealed without words.

And when it was over, when they both rested under the blankets, their son was still asleep, and the world kept turning.

“Do you still think I’m improving as a husband?” he asked softly.

She turned her face toward him, her fingers caressing his bare chest.

“Sihtric... If you keep this up, I’m going to have to play hard to get just to make you try harder.”

He laughed against her hair.

And for the first time in a long time, there was no past between them. Only the present. And a future, beating to the rhythm of three hearts.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fic #sihtric x oc #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom #tlk fandom #tlk #tlk fanfic

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witchthewriter · 2 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Also this is 18+ ... we acting like grown ups.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑼𝒉𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒅

“Destiny is all… but you were never part of the plan.”

・This marriage is a strategic alliance. An act to broker peace between two warring factions.

・Even though Uhtred wants this peace, he isn't thrilled about it.

・At first his mindset was to keep you alive, but the more you got to know each other...the more he was in denial:

“I don’t care about her. I just need to make sure she stays alive… for the alliance. That’s all.”

・What started as a simple sword lesson had turned into him pushing you harder than he intended. Wanting you to see the true strength of opponents.

・He didn't want to sugarcoat what war and battles were. (Not that you had been fantasising about them anyway).

・Uhtred thought his lesson was going well until you finally knocked him to the ground.

・For a split second, he was shocked...stunned and then he stared up at you, breathing heavily. And then he smirked.

・Showing indifference, Uhtred trains you to fight. And adorns you with proper fighting gear, a shield and gets a blacksmith to make your very own sword.

・Even in the early stages of your marriage, Uhtred would subconsciously protect you - no matter where you were or what you were doing. E.g., even at the tavern, he never let anyone get too close (his men were like three other bodyguards)

・You were glad for Finan, he became like a brother to you. Always making things lighter, bringing the humour.

・Because you were constantly on the road with the four men. And Uhtred didn't trust anyone else to take care of you.

・But he would never say that...

・Sihtric barely spoke to you, but he held a lot of respect for you.

・Over time, Sihtric becomes one of your fiercest defenders, in battle and in life. Like a quiet shadow, a forcefield ensuring no harm comes to you.

・Osferth; he's your first friend, real friend, although he was a bit awkward. You become the sister he's always wanted. And he becomes that little brother who wants to follow you everywhere and do everything you're doing...

・The truth of Uhtred's feelings comes out during a heated argument. After nearly getting himself killed...again, you accuse him of putting too much at risk to gain Bebbanburg, that he cares too much about gaining that castle back.

・Shocked, ashamed, embarrassed that you would say that. Uhtred's face heats, and what you say is truth. Well, it was truth, until:

"I have spent my whole life fighting for Bebbanburg! But then you came along, and now I’m fighting for something else. For you. Don’t you see that?”

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖:

“My Heart” uses this one when you have private moments and when he feels vulnerable. I.e., after a battle or during soft, intimate conversations.

“Shieldmaiden” is used in front of his men, showing his pride in you.

“Wife” is both teasing and affectionate, often said when you’re being stubborn.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Shared Vision and Purpose

Closed Off (Uhtred) x The Person They Warm Up To (You)

Brave Warrior (Uhtred) x Self-Assured Damsel (You)

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Home Is Wherever You Are

The Parents Of The Group

Reluctant Allies to Lovers

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Kingdom Dance by Alan Menken

Scotland by BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra

I Had To Do That by James Newton Howard

𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒏

“I didn’t want this, but now? I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

・Your marriage was a political alliance to strengthen ties between Ireland and the Saxons. Finan, as Uhtred’s right hand, was seen as a valuable connection.

・How else could Finan endure this other than with humour?

・As soon as you met him, he was cracking jokes. Sometimes he was funny, other times you were annoyed - because he was constantly making light of ... everything.

・When you called him out on it, he sighed, "I'm sorry lass. It's ah...the only way I know how to cope sometimes."

“She’s alright, I guess. I mean, for someone who can’t keep up in a fight…” (He says this right before throwing himself in front of an arrow meant for you.)

・Day by day, you were slowly opening up to each other. Learning through talking by the fire, on horseback, walking through the forest.

・Soon Finan began to lean close while talking to you, staring into your eyes, moving a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing past you "accidentally", etc.

・Finan was always looking to see if you were okay. Even in a crowded hall, his gaze would flick to you every few moments, but if he was ever caught, he'd smirk and look away.

・Whenever you feel down, Finan doesn't mind making a fool of himself to make you laugh

・If talking doesn't help, he'd happily slip in the mud during training or let Sihtric carry him around bridal style.

・One night, as a joke, you tied a small braid into his hair, saying it makes him look more "noble." He laughed it off but didn't take it out... he wore it for days afterward.

・His feelings are brought to light during a drunken night around the fire. The others were sharing stories about what they fight for; land, honour, family, ... fun.

・Someone asked Finan and as he was about to make a joke, he glanced at you.

・Your face was illuminated by the light of the flames, and it hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Her."

Silence fell. He looked to you who was wide-eyed, "I'll always fight for you."

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

“Lass” is his go-to—light, teasing, and affectionate.

“Trouble” slips out when you’re bickering or challenging him (which is often).

“Little One” is playful, his everyday teasing, often when he’s trying to make you laugh.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

You Fell First, But He Fell Harder

Constant Banter

The Sarcastic Duo That Can Finish Each Other's Insults

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Height Difference

Bickering and Banter

Timeless Love

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Say Yes To Heaven by Lana Del Rey

Valerie by the Midnite String Quartet

Happily Ever After by George Fenton

𝑺𝒊𝒉𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄

“You make me feel like I belong… like I'm worth loving.”

・For Sihtric, he was forced to marry you. The King willed it so. It was a cruel decision. the King wanted to somehow split up Uhtred's group - make it harder for them to be connected.

・It didn't turn out how the Monarch intended...the group just kept you with them.

“I don’t care if she notices me. I’m just here to protect her.” (He says while carrying a pouch full of the random trinkets you’ve given him.)

・You were trained by all of them in battle; how to defend, attack, how to do a shield wall etc.

・Spending time with the men was fun; even if Sihtric was silent most of the time.

・Finan always made you laugh, and Osferth made you feel comfortable no matter what the context was.

・In time, you truly thought of Uhtred as your leader. And you too called him 'Lord.'

・Sihtric constantly lingered in the background. He was always nearby, however, he was never imposing. Just ensuring you were safe.

・You were very different to what everyone thought. There was a softness in you. A heart of gold.

・When you became comfortable around Sihtric, you started to give him things.

・Particularly things you found on your journeys. E.g., many many rocks; smooth river stones, shiny pebbles (anything shiny really), beautiful feathers from birds, flowers that have specific meanings etc.

・And he keeps every single item.

・His pockets are completely full.

・Sihtric is constantly staring, but instantly looks away when he's caught. A small blush dusting his cheeks.

・Another thing is his quiet gestures...he'll fix your armor, puts extra supplies on your horse, sharpens your sword without saying a word.

・The love you hold for each other comes out during the aftermath of a brutal fight.

・You were tending to Sihtric's wounds, hands trembling as you stitched a deep cut on his arm.

・Sihtric couldn't help but watch your face, the concetration, the look of concern.

・You were both silent until you uttered, "You...you could have been killed," your voice was soft but full of emotion.

・Sihtric caught your wrist, his blood-stained fingers entwining with yours.

In a voice so wrapped with truth, Sihtric whispered, "I would die for you. Without hesitation. "

・This marriage wasn't duty anymore. Now...it was love.

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

“Little Blade” pops up during training sessions or when you sass him.

“Mine” is possessive, intense, and usually slips out during high-stakes moments.

“Angel” when he’s overwhelmed with how much he adores you.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Madly In Love (Sihtric) x Ridiculously Oblivious (You)

Sun (You) x Moon (Him)

Always Bringing Them Rocks They Think They Would Like (You) x Keeps The Rocks (Him)

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Healing and Redemption

Unbreakable Bond

Emotional Intimacy

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

Sex On Fire by Midnite String Quartet

Fire In The Water by Feist

𝑶𝒔𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒉

“You make me brave. Brave enough to be yours.”

・The marriage was to save your life. Many Saxons wanted you dead, but a marriage to a religious Saxon meant you'd be safe.

・Early on in the marriage Osferth would blush at everything you did. From compliments to teasing, he was constantly red-faced.

・But as your time together grew, he started seeking out those moments.

・Even though he’s usually mild-mannered, if anyone speaks poorly of you, Osferth is the first to step up; sword in hand, voice shaking, but unwilling to step down.

・Osferth would give you thoughtful gifts. Small items like a bunch of wildflowers, a smooth stone, etc. But never admitting they’re from him.

“She’s just being friendly. That’s what this is… right?” (As he turns red after you compliment his sword-fighting.)

・Both of you faced your feelings when he thought he lost you.

・It was after a battle; a close one where you all were separated from each other. You were missing for a few hours, and Osferth had been searching unrelentlessly.

・With each moment his panic had risen. His heart beating so fast he thought he might die.

・But he did find you. You were unconscius but alive.

・Osferth cradled you, tears in his eyes while whispering his feelings:

“Please, don’t go. I… I love you. I should have said it before.”

・You stirred at his words, opening your eyes, smiling lightly.

・Blinking slowly, you hummed. Moving to hold onto his arm.

"I love you too."

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

“Sweetheart” is his everyday term — filled with gentle love.

“Dearest” slips out when he’s overwhelmed with love — often in moments of shyness or soft confessions.

“Braveheart” is used when he’s overwhelmed by your strength, often after emotional or dangerous moments.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

He Confessed His Love When Thinking You Were Unconscious

Black Cat (You) x Golden Retriever (Osferth)

Menace To Society (You) x Living Moral Compass (Osferth)

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Trust and Dependence

Intertwined Destinies

Love Conquers All

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush

The Train by James Newton Howard

Let The Light In by Lana Del Rey

𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒈𝒈𝒓

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth—because without you, none of this matters.”

・There was constant tension whenever you were around Sigtryggr.

・He rarely spoke to you in the early days of your marriage.

・Seeing it only as a way for him to gain more power

・And in return, your family would be safe - your village, kingdom, would not be harmed by any Dane.

・You kept your own beliefs and wore your traditional family clothes, even though you did not know when you would see your family again.

“She talks too much… but I don’t want her to stop.”

・Watches you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

・His stoic exterior hides it, but he studies you. Including how you smile, how you move, how you speak.

・Sigtryggr knows what your favourite colour is, what you like to do with your time - all because he notices things. And he wants to know more about you.

・He lets you in; allows you to see glimpses of his vulnerable self.

・He shares stories of his past, things he’s done, things he regrets and waits to see if you’ll turn away. You never do.

・And in a world where he controls everything...he lets you make decisions. E.g., about where to travel, what to eat. He values your opinion.

・When both of your feelings were revealed, it was during a difficult situation.

・You had confronted him after a harsh decision in battle. He had executed someone who defied him.

・It shocked you. But ... you understood. Traitors had to be punished, maybe he went a bit far this time but you understood.

・In the comfort and seclusion of your shared bedroom, you spoke your thoughts.

"Don't you think that was a bit ... brutal? I mean, yes he was a ... traitor but you could have done anything else-"

"I know you think I'm a monster," he replies, his voice low. He wasn't facing you, almost as if he wouldn't. Or couldn't.

"A monster?" You replied, shocked.

"Yes! Do you think I wanted this? To be this man?" His words came out like venom.

You soften, and step closer, "No. No, you aren't a monster. Sigtryggr, I have seen the good in you!

His gaze turns to you, utterly and completely. Gently taking a hold of your wrist, voice low and vulnerable: “I’ve done terrible things… but I would burn the world for you.”

・No more pretending. You had the realisation that...he is completely, undeniably yours.

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

“Beloved” used during rare, emotionally charged moments e.g., after a battle, during confessions, or when you’re vulnerable together.

“My Flame” is used when there's passionate, heated arguments or intimate moments.

“Little Chaos” he calls you this when you’re being unpredictable or teasing him.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Soulmates

"I've done terrible things in the past" (Sig) x "All i care about is who you are in the present" (You)

The Hyperactive (You) x The Unheeded Voice of Reason (Sig)

Places His Wife Above Everyone

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

I Can't Exist Without You