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legitalicat · 7 months ago

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Dragon of Valhalla

AN: Guys I've started doing TikTok trend posts for Anya and Sihtric, I love them so much. They have my whole heart.

Series Masterlist here!

Special shoutout to @sihtricfedaraaahvicius as the "flower scene" was inspired by a recent meme she posted!

Songs of the Chapter:

Soldier by Tommee Profitt and Fleurie

Driver's Seat by Madds Buckley

Given by Sleep Token

We Are Broken by Paramore

Summary: Grief rolls through, denial and acceptance and love being left behind.

CW: Divinity, talks of loss, talks of grief, unrequited feelings, Sihtric speaks of Kjartan

Pairings: Sihtric Kjartansson x Anya Eivorsdottir, one sided Aemond Targaryen x Anya Eivorsdottir

Word Count: 3.6k

Previous Chapter

Chapter 11

Ravensthorpe, Kingdom of Mercia

They had returned three days earlier. Sihtric tried to remain by her side. Yet, it seemed every time he tried to find her, she was gone. He did not find her in her room, under the tree, in the war room, or even Valka’s hut. She really only allowed him space in the night, when she laid in his arms and tried to pretend as though she did not cry herself to sleep.

He knew she was spending time with Aemond. While he did not understand why, he would wait. He could be patient with her. What she had just gone through would have devastated even the most seasoned warriors.

Sihtric did not know what he could do. Eivor nor Hytham could speak to her. She refused. They told Sihtric she had never become like this. Death has never so greatly affected her, as they told him.

Anya sat on the cliff side across the river from Ravensthorpe. On her right sat Dwolfg, a wolf she had bonded with early on in her life, head in her lap. On her left sat Aemond in a rare moment where he allowed the removal of his eye patch. She could watch the movement of her people as though they were ants.

She could see Criston Cole, his armor shining in the light like a beacon, making his twice daily perimeter. The children of the town played about aimlessly. Tarben carried his bread to the longhouse, Dag lead his men to a longship. Uhtred, Finan, and Osferth followed Sihtric as he undoubtedly looked for her.

There was a part in Anya that wanted nothing more than to be by his side. She wanted to share this part of her with him. She loved him a great deal. It infuriated her to no end. Her heart should long since have learned that love seemed to only hurt her.

Sihtric was impossible to not love, though. He was soft where she had hardened. He found beauty and joy in the gentle parts of the world. His favorite thing she had shown him was whenever butterflies gathered in the lilac field not far from where they met. He was dawn where she was dusk. He the promise of warmth and light, she the promise of cold and dark.

How could she explain to him how weak she felt? Be it honor or cowardice, she should have stepped forward to try to fight Ivarr. Instead, she stood by as her mother made him answer for his crimes. She did not move to avenge Ceolbert.

“I do not mind the silence, but I do believe you will not get past this if you do not speak of it,” Aemond said quietly to her, glancing at her.

“I do not wish to speak of it,” she whispered.

“Then speak of anything, Anya, please,” he pleaded with her.

She sighed and turned to look at him. The look of love in his eye was obvious. How desperate he was for the connection they once shared. What that connection was, Anya could not name. But she knew it was different than what they shared now.

“It is here that I feel the callings of Norway. I cannot tell you why,” she said quietly.

She could not tell him the whole truth of it. It was a part of her that only Sihtric was granted. To know the inner workings of her heart and soul was the privilege he earned.

“It is odd, in truth, to long for a home I have not seen,” she told him. “I do not know if I ever will.”

“Why not?” he asked her. He turned to face her completely.

“I was gone for four years, seeking the army I need to achieve my destiny. Seeking you,” she said. “What would it say about me if I were just to turn around and leave again?”

Aemond felt his heart thud against his chest at her words. She had sought him specifically. She had alluded to it, yes, but never outright said as much. To think about how she had traveled across oceans to find him set something on fire inside of him.

“Anya, I,” he said quietly.

Her blood ran cold. The way he was looking at her made it obvious what he wanted to say to her. His words were heavy on her ears. She did not want to hear them.

“I value your counsel, Aemond,” she told him. “Your friendship has meant a great deal to me these last years.”

“Is that all it was?” he asked her.

She looked away from him. Ravensthorpe still bustled about, the view of it not changing. She could see Finan grabbing Sihtric, trying to get him to turn around to talk. But she could tell just she was he moved that he did not listen. He may have even yelled.

The way her heart yearned to go to him told Anya everything she would ever need to know. There was not a part of her that did not love him. As much as it frustrated her that she was once again vulnerable, nothing inside of her allowed her to deny it.

“What we were, or could have been, it is not important,” she told him while she watched Sihtric.

Dwolfg looked up at Anya as Anya looked down at her. The two did not make a sound between them. Anya knew the great creature understood her, just as she always understood Dwolfg. And somehow, she knew the wolf understood her desire. Without further hesitation, Dwolfg stood and began walking down the hill.

“Because of him?” he asked her quietly. From the corner of her eye, she could see him putting his eye patch back on.

“I do not wish to cause you harm. I care for you, but I merely cannot pretend Sihtric does not exist,” she whispered. “I wish I could explain it to you, but all I can tell you is that he above all is my future.”

“You will change your mind,” Aemond said simply as he stood himself.

“Aemond, I will not,” she said.

“You will. There will come a day you will understand what I offer you, and you will accept,” he said, his voice cracking just slightly.

She sighed, but did not try to keep him there as he began walking away. If he wished to live in his delusions, that was his decision. If he would beg her to speak, but then deny her when she did, she wiped her hands of the pain caused when he realized it was true.

For now, Anya looked north, past the longhouse, before closing her eyes. She thought of what it would be like to travel to Norway. The land of her people was interwoven so deeply within her that she could close her eyes and feel the biting chill. As long as she stayed in this spot, she could pretend. ( 1 )

It was when she opened her eyes that she was reminded of the truth. She was a warrior. There would never be a time in which she was not fighting for long enough to ever travel so far. Her duty to her people would stay with her until the end of her days.

Anya looked back to the town. Dwolfg had found Sihtric. As she nudged against him, he looked around. Anya did not understand how, but it was as though he suddenly knew exactly where she had been. He looked up at the cliff, directly at her.

Sihtric quickly held up his hands. A sign for her to wait, to stay where she was. She nodded, without knowing if he could even tell that she had. And then she watched as he practically ran into the longhouse.

That was the moment she decided she could not do this to herself anymore. He had asked her, begged her, pleaded with her to let him love her. She needed to let herself love him.

She closed her eyes again. Instead of envisioning Norway, she thought of his arms around her. Anya longed for the future they would have together. Perhaps one day, the fighting would be over. They could go to Norway, together. If they were lucky, maybe they would have children. A boy with her hair and his eyes, a girl with his smile and her nose.

She could see it so clearly. A life, dedicated to the gods and her destiny. Sihtric by her side, a life of happiness waiting for them at the end of it all. What more could she ask for?

When Anya opened her eyes again, it was because she felt his presence next to her. She looked to him, every muscle in her body relaxing. He had a basket at his side, a poorly strewn together bouquet of little white flowers in hand. Even standing before her in such a way, just in a tunic and his breeches with his axe loosely secured to him, she felt there was nobody she was safer with.

“Sihtric,” she whispered.

“They are in need of some sunshine,” he explained to her as he handed her the flowers. “You were the obvious solution.”

Her heart felt as though it were going to explode and melt at once. She could not fathom a world in which she deserved him. Where she was cold and closed off, he was warm and open. He thought her to be sunshine, but that would make him but an inferno.

“I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” he said to her before she could respond. “I had hoped you were right about him.”

The tears came to her eyes before she could stop them. If Anya were to be honest, she had avoided everyone these last days because she did not want to be reminded of her being wrong. Not because she could not admit that she had been, but because she had been so wrong. How many people died because of her trust in him? How close had Sihtric been to death because she was reckless?

“I do not regret denying him,” she whispered. “Perhaps that makes me just the same as him.”

“No,” Sihtric said immediately. His voice was unwavering. “Your reasons are your own, but I do not imagine I could do any different.”

“You are much better than I, Sihtric. I do not think you could ever do such a thing,” she whispered.

“I just stood by as I watched Uhtred’s brother kill my father, a cowardly little boy just as I always had been,” he said quietly.

His gaze shifted down as she took his hand in hers. He did not say it for pity. But she deserved to hear it. If he were to spend his days by her side, she needed to know him.

“I should have taken you away from Repton when I saw Kjartan’s men,” he said to her. “I was paralyzed in fear.”

“You do not have to explain yourself,” Anya whispered.

“I do, to you,” he told her as he looked back up at him.

The wind danced around them. Their names were a whisper along the current. Those who knew them, who had loved them, coming to encircle them. For a moment, Sihtric could feel his mother’s love reaching out to him. Anya could feel Ceolbert’s unending approval.

“I am sure your father has told you about mine than what I alone have shared. Just as I am sure every story, every rumor is true to how he was. He was cruel, vicious. And never did he carry out his own punishments. He fed my mother to dogs, but did not have the honor to do anything but give the order,” he said quietly. ( 2 )

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. It was a connection of their hearts, their minds. A way to show him she was his, if she had to name it. It may be ridiculous, yet she needed him to feel her.

“I told you he was an angry man,” he said quietly, closing his eyes. “But I worry at times I may have inherited his rage. I worry the part of me he cared for and nurtured may one day win out. He taught me how to be a ruthless killer, whether he intended to or not.”

“Your heart is far too large,” Anya told him. “You are far too compassionate.”

“You did not know him,” he said as he pulled away. He was almost frustrated that she did not seem to recoil at this revelation. “He was perfectly contented by using me as a weapon! I was not good enough to be his son but I was more than welcome to spill his enemies’ blood!”

She watched as he stood and started pacing. It was not uncommon for her to see Sihtric become restless when his emotions started building up. She imagined that just a few nights earlier, when he walked away in the woods, he paced a cavern into the earth itself.

This, though, was different. A panic that had settled deep into the pits of his stomach. And it was not that she was the cause, but merely the vessel. The thing others could manipulate him with when he swore he would never be manipulated again.

“You…you do not think yourself capable of what Ivarr did, do you?” She asked him quietly.

Sihtric stumbled a bit as he came to a stop. Her words felt like chains around his ankles.

“Kjartan was like him. Kjartan raised me, his blood courses through me. It is not impossible,” he said quietly.

She stood from her spot. Her heart had ached with his claims. It was as though an eagle pecked at it. Piece by piece, dismantling itself in her chest, as she realized just how much Kjartan harmed him. Physical wounds would heal, leaving scars to prove victory. But damage to the soul felt near irreversible.

“You are mine as I am yours, yes?” she asked him. He only nodded. “Do you believe me to be capable of such things? When Ivarr was one of those who trained me?”

“No, of course not. But, Anya,” he whispered.

“I do not want to hear what you are about to say unless it is your agreement,” she said quickly. “I am yours and you are mine. Sihtric, I will stand by you in every moment. I wish to know the beauty, the pain, the love, all that you feel and all that you are. I will look at those who would harm you and cut them down before you ever notice them. I am not scared that you would ever betray me in any way, because you are not capable of such.” ( 3 )

Her voice was as firm as it was steady. There was not a word she said that she did not believe in entirely. The love and faith she bore him was just as sure for her as the faith she had in her gods. It was just as sure as the faith she had in her own mother.

He felt as though as his knees would buckle under the weight of her gaze. Never in his life had he seen a look such as hers. It was of complete, utter devotion. He was being granted more love from her than he had ever been in his life.

Anya could feel his understanding. Neither of them had been secretive about their feelings. They had both known, perhaps from the very beginning, that their hearts belonged to one another. Yet, she could not stand not to say it. She had wanted him to feel it, but to say it now would make it far more real.

“Sihtric, I love you,” she said quietly. Her voice cracked under the weight of her confession. But she could not stop herself now. “I love you in every part of me. All that I do, all that I accomplish, it would mean nothing without you. I love you entirely and completely. I would let the world burn to ash if it meant you would be by my side.”

She closed the distance between them. Ten feet from where she stood at the edge to where he was. Ten feet that felt like a chasm large enough to swallow thirty jötunn whole. Her need for him far surpassed anything else.

“It is my failing that you do not understand,” she whispered to him as she took his hands in hers. “I should have told you. I thought perhaps if I loved you enough you would know it so deeply I would not have to say it. I thought I,” she took a deep breath, trying to steady the way she now shook. “I thought if I said it you would be taken from me.” ( 4 )

“Why?” he whispered, his own voice cracking now.

“I have not said, to anyone, that I love them since Ceolbert’s death. He was the last I told, in any circumstance. He died in my arms, Sihtric, and that nearly destroyed me. To think of you in such a position, to think of losing you, I would never recover from that,” she told him. She found herself incapable of holding it all in anymore. “Because you are not just the holder of my heart but my heart itself. You are all that I fight for and to weigh you down with the burden of me paralyzes me.”

“What burden do you pose on me?” he asked her, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Why do you fight so hard to prove yourself to me when I have never asked you to?”

He dropped her hands before taking her face gently in his own hands. It was something he had done a few times now. Now, there was something different.

The wind shifted around them. It was an encompassing comfort, urging her further into his arms. As though being controlled like a marionette, her feet shuffled forward helplessly. Her face was still held by him, but now they were chest to chest.

“You deserve everything,” she whispered. Her hands found the sides of his tunic, gripping it tightly to hold him as close as possible.

“You are everything,” he told her firmly. “In the morning before the sun has even risen, you hold the value of Wincestre’s wealth. While in the quiets of the woods, when it is nothing but the two of us, I would build a city brick by brick in your honor. You are everything, whether you secure a thousand victories or never again pick up your axe.”

Anya shifted onto her toes so that she could kiss him. She felt a desire to be closer to him. She wanted to prove to him just how much she loved him, and she could think of no better way. Their lips moved feverishly against each other’s, his hands holding her face still as they both tried to put everything into this moment.

As much as Sihtric relished in the kiss, the deepening longing behind it, he pulled back after a few minutes. She looked to him, confused, as he rested his forehead against hers.

“I need to be clear of mind. The first time I enjoy you, I cannot be so overwhelmed,” he whispered to her.

“Okay, my love,” she whispered. “Then let’s have this lunch you brought us.”

He smiled and nodded, taking her hand in his and leading her to their previous spot. He was beyond what she could have ever hoped for. If Anya were asked, she would tell anyone that Sihtric was the perfect embodiment of man. And so, she would wait. She would be patient with him just as he was with her. He was worth waiting a lifetime for.

“You know, this is the spot my parents remember falling in love,” she told him as he helped her sit.

“Oh?” he asked as he sat next to her. He grabbed the basket and pulled it closer to them.

When he opened it, she saw he had packed it full of some of her favorites. A golden brown loaf of bread, scored by Tarben with an arrow so she knew it was just for her, accompanied by both goat cheese and cow’s cheese. There were a few pieces of roasted duck. She liked the thought of Sihtric going about the town and trading a piece of silver here, a favor there, just to assemble this.

“Aye,” she responded as he handed her some duck. “That branch there,” she gestured to a felled log that looked sturdy as though it had only just been laid, “Da taught her one of the greatest, most sacred rites of his order. It is older than some of the trees in this land. It was a show of great trust between them, and as they said, that trust gave way to love.”

He smiled, mostly to himself. The way she looked as she told this story softened him inside. It made her seem happier in ways he had not quite seen from her.

“When I come here, I feel at home. I feel connected to myself, to Norway. Ma always told me it was the closest view to Fornburg, the village my people came from,” she said quietly. “Between that and my parents love, I think it is why I love it up here so much.”

Sihtric nodded softly. He thought about how this moment was perfect. He could imagine coming up here one day, as Anya taught their children of her parents and her people. She could grant them the privilege of their heritage, and teach them the ways of Hytham’s order. And one day, he would take her to Norway.

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Taglist: @foxyanon @zaldritzosrose @lexeirikrleif @thenameswinter99

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