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thenameswinterfics · 7 months ago

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THE BLUE BUTTERFLY

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 5 Summary: The summary sucks, but I'll try. After returning from Datchet, Sihtric spends some free time with you, and a group of blue butterflies catch your attention. Word Count: 4K (sorry-) Warnings: Fluff, missing moments, mention of word "whore". There are some minor spoilers from "The Lords of the North" book, so if you're planning on reading them I would advise against reading certain parts. A/N: After being a silent reader for a while and enjoying every exhistent fics on this character, I've decided to write one of my own. The inspiration comes from this post, and after weeks of venting on my terrible writing and fighting the urge of deleting everything, I wrote this! It came out different from what I had imagined, but I'm slightly satisfied. A special thanks to @sihtricfedaraaahvicius, the owner of the linked post, who gently passes me the whole passage from the book, and to @whitedarkmoonflower , @lord-aldhelm and @sylasthegrim for being my amazing beta readers and cheerleaders. I love you, really.

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

Header by @whitedarkmoonflower Dividers by @saradika-graphics

READ IT ON AO3

“She says she loves me, lord,” Sihtric told Uhtred in a quiet voice, careful not to raise it too much as they slipped into the forest in the middle of the night.

The air grew cold and thick, the full moon rising brightly into the sky, its pale rays faintly illuminating the surroundings as they filtered through the thick bank of fog that enveloped the area like a heavy blanket. The silence of the night was occasionally broken by the chirping of crickets, the hooting of an owl and the sound of leaves and trampled wood. Felted footsteps crossed the woods, a sign that Uhtred and his men were quietly approaching the village of Datchet.

Everyone was silent and cautious, except Sihtric, who was strangely absent-minded and rather distracted, the thought of your gentle smile and soft touch staining his mind like a woodworm eating the pulp of wood.

"Of course she says that," Uhtred replied quickly, hoping that his disinterested answer would quell Sihtric's desire and return his focus to the mission. But it didn’t have the desired effect; on the contrary, it encouraged Sihtric to speak again.

“I swear. She says she loves me!” the Dane retorted, his voice slightly raised as if he had found the courage to defend his feelings against his Lord, to whom he had sworn his life and his sword, for the very first time.

“Sihtric, she’s a whore,” Uhtred said, a hint of irritation could be heard in his voice.

“No,” again, Sihtric raised his voice, which grew brighter as he continued. “She’s past that,” he added with a newfound confidence, words that were far from a lie.

Sihtric had never been loved, nor had he ever felt it, an emotion of which he knew only the name and little of the meaning. How could he ever have understood such a noble thing when he was born and raised in an environment where there was no love? When the only person willing to give him love had been taken from him by a father who wanted nothing to do with him?

He lived in Dunholm, a fortress that was more of a prison than a real home. Kjartan had never felt a shred of compassion for his bastard son: to him, Sihtric was nothing more than an expendable life, a useless existence to be thrown to the dogs, as he had done to his mother, had Tekil not pleaded for his life and taken him into his servitude.

Sihtric had felt his mental chains crumble on the day he offered his life and sword to Uhtred, and vanish on the day Kjartan died, shattered by the endless blows Ragnar had dealt him while taking Dunholm. But of all the emotions that overwhelmed him that day, the void, the emptiness that the absence of love had brought him was hard to assuage. A void that he tried to fill by paying women for pleasure, hoping that one of them would step forward and mend his wounded heart, feeling that love he was craving for almost all his life. And it was in one of his nights of seeking affection from women that he found you.

When you first approached him, he was completely overwhelmed by the way you carried yourself: your ethereal beauty, your soft voice, your long curls and your big, shining eyes, which drew him to you like a moth to a flame, made him wonder why a woman as beautiful as you had chosen this kind of work. The aura that surrounded you both attracted and intimidated him, and Sihtric thought he was looking at Freya herself instead of a mortal woman.

You took him in your room and both made love that night, soon to be followed by many others, and each time it was the purest of experiences. His rough and trembling hands were soothing against your body while his lips explored every inch of it, savouring you with the utmost respect and devotion as he saw how surprisingly responsive your body was to his touch. Soft kisses and whispers of love parted as your naked forms joined as one, two seemingly different souls in a desperate search for each other, feeding on a love you both sought by others. You desperately clasped at each other when you both reached your high, the bliss of the act made you both dizzy and satisfied.

Sihtric fell in love with you that night and already thought of you as his wife, and when on a cold winter's day a soft "I love you" escaped your lips while reaching your peak, the Dane warrior asked for your hand, tearing you away from the job that robbed you of the dignity you deserved.

“What she loves is your silver,” another voice, Finan, joined the conversation, and soon a chorus of jokes and laughter from the other warriors followed, mocking the naivety of the young Dane. But Sihtric was not to be deterred, and with the most serious expression his face could show, he looked at Uhtred and spoke again, his words echoing in the silence of the forest.

“I wish to marry her.”

Again, Uhtred chose to ignore his words, making Sihtric’s impatience growing inside him.

“Lord, the lady said…”

"The lady said she loves you, but she seems to be making good use of all the silver I gave you." Uhtred blurted out, not raising his voice too much. He could not see him, but could feel Sihtric's jaw clenching and his eyes almost looking down at his feet, as if he had been caught in the act and was awaiting punishment.

“I will help you find a wife,” he told the Dane in a lower voice, never looking over his shoulders, “For now, I wish you to kill Danes and survive the night.”

Then a piercing scream from some of the villagers broke the silence of the night. Finan, the first in line, raised his hand to signal a halt, and Uhtred, Sihtric and the other warriors followed. They spotted two Danes resting by a makeshift campfire behind them, and having successfully neutralised them, Uhtred ordered them to hide and wait, not to attack until they were given the order. Sihtric stood near a huge tree, his back pressed against the rough wood, clutching his weapons and fidgeting with the hilt of his sword as he felt the adrenaline of battle coursing through his veins.

The night was long, and the threat was far from over, but he was indeed following his lord’s advice to survive the night.

Because he knew that after this battle, he would return home, and would find a safe place in your arms.

A new day dawned and winter quietly took its leave of the Saxon lands. The pale rays of the morning sun warmed the earth like an embrace, peeling away the layers of snow and allowing nature to be reborn, blooming with all its colourful vegetation and the intoxicating scent of plants and flowers. Even the animals awoke from hibernation and the warmth of the spring sun allowed them to roam freely in the wild, hunting to feed their young, exploring new places to settle or simply returning like the flock of birds in the sky.

Spring came to Coccham too, and soon the village enthusiastically welcomed the arrival of the new cycle of life. And you celebrated it by sitting by the river, enjoying the warmth of spring, closing their eyes and feeling the wind dance around them, gently ruffling their long curls. The scent of the lake, a mixture of musk, wet wood and grass, filled your nostrils and you let out a long sigh as the bare skin of your feet dipped into the water. This was the time of day you free yourself from your chores and spend some time with your thoughts.

When you first set foot in Coccham, you never felt the struggle to find a home of your own, as Sihtric insisted on welcoming you into his own house, which soon became your little love nest. Uhtred had not yet given you his blessing to marry, but in Sihtric's eyes you were already his lovely wife. He used to spend his silver at the village market, buying you all sorts of jewellery to adorn your pale skin and enhance your beauty. And when his silver ran out, he gave you his arm rings and spoils of war, a reward Uhtred gave him when he thought his services worthy.

The time you spent together was sadly short, as his lord always managed to fill his days with arduous tasks or sending him out on patrol, but as evening fell and you waited for him to come home, he never failed to show you how empty his day was without you. You could read all the love and devotion he felt for you in his timid, mismatched eyes, looking at you like a goddess descended among mere mortals. His calloused hands would always find your soft cheeks, brushing your flesh and lower lips with his thumb before giving you a desperate kiss, feeding on your lips like a hungry predator after a lean day.

And when there were evenings when Sihtric came home, haunted by the thought of leaving you behind while he was on the battlefield, he would sit by your side by the fire, his forehead pressed against yours as hot tears crossed his sharp face, and kiss every inch of your exposed skin as if it were the last thing he could do before reaching Valhalla. You would spend the night cuddling in bed, crying in each other's arms before sleep took you both, and you would wake in the morning with emptiness wrapped around your arms.

Uhtred had left weeks ago, taking Sihtric and the rest of his warriors and sailing to Datchet to secure the Thames for King Alfred. You would usually spend your time in Gisela's company, helping her with the household chores and keeping an eye on her children. But the restless night you were facing had left you with a throbbing headache and a bad mood, and you didn't feel the need for human companionship as much as the immaterial one of your thoughts and emotions.

You had learned over time how stressful and heartbreaking it could be to live with a warrior, and watch him slip silently from your embrace at the crack of dawn. Loneliness had become your silent companion during those long waits, leaving your heart bleeding with pain and your mind filled with imaginary thoughts that would eventually haunt you in your sleep, tossing and turning as false scenarios formed in your mind, your breath itching in your dreams as you saw Sihtric lying lifeless on the ground, no weapons in his hands in your worst nightmares.

You were jolted from your thoughts by two strong arms wrapped around your waist and a soft gasp escaped your lips. Your bare feet came out of the water and were soon planted on the floor, and before you could react the same arms wrapped around your waist, enveloping your petite body in a warm embrace, your back pressed against a broad chest.

Fear clouded your mind as you thought you were trapped under the clasp of a filthy man who wanted nothing from you but the pleasure your body could provide, but when you felt the man's head pressed against your shoulder, you shivered as you recognised the touch of his soft lips pressed against the side of your neck.

"My love," the soft and familiar voice called to you in a sweet chant, soon loosening its grip to allow you to turn around. And it was then that you recognised him: his lean face and sharp jaw, decorated with scars that crossed his forehead and one of his cheekbones, his dark hair cut short at the sides and combed in three braids, the kohl liner around his eyes that seemed to harden a tender and watchful gaze, and that unmistakable tattoo that ran from one side of his head to his neck. All features that could only belong to Sihtric, the Dane warrior who stole your heart from the first moment he laid eyes on you.

You jumped on him, wrapping your neck around your arms and pecking his face with small kisses. Your sudden move caused him to step back, struggling to find the balance and not fall ruinously to the ground.

“You are back!” you happily stated, stepping back a little to admire him. “And without a scratch!”

“I will always find a way back to you,” Sihtric spoke quietly, a small smile forming on his lips as he rested his forehead on yours, allowing his lungs to fill with your scent, a mixture of myrtle, rosemary and wild flowers.

“I looked for you all over the village, I thought I would have found you there,” he continued, taking one of your hands and pressing his lips on your slender fingers, enjoying the softness of your skin.

“I was in no mood to spend my time in the company of others,” you confessed lightheartedly, locking your gaze on his. "Besides, where could a defenceless lady go but to fantasise about her lover warrior by the lake?"

Your witty reply made Sihtric chuckle and shake his head, grabbing your tiny waist with his large hands and pulling you close to him. But when your foreheads touched, too intoxicated by your inviting scent, his smile fell and two dark, troubled eyes extinguished the light they had every time he was near you. A long sigh followed, and you could tell that his mind was tortured as well.

"Sihtric?" you called quietly, the light touch of your fingers on his cheek bringing him out of his thoughts. "Is something troubling you? Are you hurt?"

"No," was his quiet reply, whispered so softly as to be almost inaudible, and before you could question him further, he wrapped you in a long and desperate embrace, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breathing became shallow and erratic, and judging by his slight trembling, he was on the verge of tears.

“No other woman will be able to replace you. No one,” the Dane thought aloud, preventing you from replying back when his trembling lips captured yours in a needy and desperate kiss, storming your mind with questions you fear there can be no answers to.

Later that day, the sun was high in the sky and a cloudless blue expanse rose over the village. You could feel the sun's rays hitting your skin with an unpleasant heat, but you were glad that there was a soothing breeze in the air, its cool touch like a balm to your skin, which had become slightly red from prolonged exposure to the sun.

Everyone was busy welcoming King Alfred to Coccham, followed by Lord Odda, some soldiers and thengs, and his small army of priests and monks. When they retired to the main hall to discuss urgent matters, you took the opportunity to release Sihtric from his duties, as his presence was not required at that moment, and hand in hand you walked through the gates of Coccham, approached the small harbour and rested on the grass.

When you went outside, Sihtric finally gave you all the answers he had been unable to give you before, too overwhelmed by his emotions: he told you of his mission and the time he had spent in Datchet, and of the many times he had asked Uhtred for permission to marry you, only to be met with indifference or veiled refusal. He even told you how he had proposed to arrange a suitable marriage for him, and the very thought of it made you both feel sick inside.

It was no surprise to you that both the Daneslayer and his warriors frowned upon you; your old profession was a stain on your character that was difficult to wipe away. You were aware of the mischievous glances and veiled comments they made whenever you sat at the same table outside their tavern, to which you always responded with stiff lips and restraint, unlike Sihtric, who, dulled by the alcohol that brought out his dormant impulsiveness, threatened to make the square to anyone who dared offend you. It was your task to calm him down each time, assuring him that it was a temporary situation and that everyone would get used to your presence. But deep in your heart you knew it wouldn't be so.

You sat back in the grass, Sihtric's head in your lap, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the light breeze caressing his face. You stroked his uncombed hair gently, giggling at how soft his hair felt to the touch, while your eyes continued to scan the surroundings, focusing on the men coming and going from the small wooden dock, busy unloading goods from ships or docking others. Then you took your eyes off the water and sighed as you spotted a group of ducks swimming happily in the water, followed by a small group of adorable ducklings squawking loudly.

Suddenly your attention was drawn to a small group of butterflies fluttering along the shore, slowly dispersing into the air, creating a spectacular display of colour. Your jaw dropped slightly, mesmerised by the delicate dance these insects were performing in the air, some allowing the wind to gently transport them from the nearest flowers and feed on their nectar, others resting gracefully on the grass and stretching their bright blue wings a little before continuing their dance. A pleasant warm spread across your chest, feeling a sense of peace and happiness crossing your face.

“They are a beautiful sight,” a kneaded voice brought you back to reality, feeling Sihtric slightly shifting from your lap. His brown eye was open, looking at the butterflies, while his other one was covered by his forearm.

“Indeed,” you spoke softly, gently pressing your lips on his forehead. You could see his cheeks flushing with the brightest red. “They truly are.”

One of the butterflies left its group, approaching you. Sihtric leanend one of his arms, stretching one of his fingers to welcome the insect. He chuckled lightly when he felt your curious gaze over him, and soon his mismatched eyes were locked into yours.

“I have heard stories saying that blue butterflies are meant to bring luck,” he explained quietly, his gaze now shifted again on the insect, which stood in midair, watching his finger. “The longer it stays on your finger, the longer your luck lasts.”

Sihtric waited for the butterfly to pose on his finger, a hint of impatience growing in him as he secretly begged the insect to rest as long as possible and bring you both luck. But it chose not to rest, spreading its wings and turning its attention elsewhere. He let out a frustrated groan, which was greeted by your delicate laugh. Your voice was a melody to his ears.

"Then I guess you have no luck," you said, a slight grin forming at the corner of your mouth, your hand continuing to rub Sihtric's hair in small, circular motions. Your reply caused Sihtric to move from where he was sitting on the grass and look at your face: his dark, loose hair seemed to soften his features, his two-toned eyes lit up at the sight of your smile, making his heart pound in his chest and his breath quicken. His trembling hands rested on your cheeks, rubbing them with the utmost care, afraid that you might break under his rough touch.

"I am lucky, my lady," he whispered, resting his forehead on yours. "A little butterfly may not have given me luck, but the gods have given me you, a far greater blessing than any fleeting luck could provide."

He slowly drew you closer, rubbing the tips of your noses and waiting for your permission. When you nodded softly, sighing at his soothing touch, he locked his lips to yours in a tender kiss, a light touch soon followed by deeper contact. He placed his hand on the nape of your neck, pressing urgently against it, rubbing your exposed flesh in slow, circular motions, his sudden movement making you tremble and a soft moan escaping your throat.

As the kiss deepened and the heat of pleasure engulfed you both, you felt a gentle tickling crossing your hand, causing you to break the kiss. You looked down your hand and a gasp escaped from your lips.

"Sihtric, look!" you called, shaking his arm without hurting him too much, and when you were sure his gaze was fixed on you, you gently raised your hand to reveal the same butterfly as before peacefully perched on your finger. Words were superfluous to describe the surreal moment, and you both stood still, watching in amazement as its shiny wings closed and reopened, both of you secretly telling the insect to rest as much as it could. In this silent exchange of glances and thoughts, it was as if nature had intervened in your path, whispering promises of future serenity and joy amidst the chaos of the world.

You felt Sihtric raising off the ground urgently, and without uttering a word he approached the gates. You gave him a puzzled look, stunned by his sudden move. “Where are you going?”

“To lord Uhtred,” Sihtric turned around and looked at you, a wide smile crossing his face. “I will ask his permission to marry you again.”

“But lord Uhtred already gave his decision,” you replied back, slightly raising his voice as you saw him approaching the gates.

“The blue butterfly.” he replied in a cheerful voice, pointing to the small insect still in your hand. “We have been blessed by luck. I will marry you, my love. I swear I will!”

And it was at that moment that you saw his figure cross the gates and slowly disappear into the distance, leaving you alone. You let out a long sigh, the corners of your lips curling into a small smile, and fixed your gaze on the butterfly, which awkwardly spread its wings, leaving your finger behind before rejoining its group and disappearing into the air.

That butterfly brought you luck. That was what Sihtric thought, while you continued to believe that Gisela's help was behind it all, when Uhtred finally gave his permission to marry you, on the condition that he complete a task for him. Sihtric came back to you, showering your face with soft and urgent kisses, his heart heavy at having to leave you again, but his spirit lifted at the thought that after this mission you would finally be his and his only.

Fortunately, Sihtric didn't keep you waiting too long, for he returned from Skald's Hall a few days later, and by mutual agreement, a small and intimate wedding ceremony was held on Frigga's Day, according to Sihtric's religion and beliefs. His eyes could not stay in contact with yours for too long, your dazzling beauty sending shivers down his spine and dulling his senses, for he could still not believe that the gods had allowed him a glimpse of happiness by sending you on his path. After the exchange of your wedding rings and Sihtric's promise to be the devoted and loving husband you deserve, clutching his Mjolnir pendant in his hands, a kiss sealed the much awaited union, witnessed by the few present and the watchful eyes of the gods.

And when the two of you would sit in the same place years later with your stomach fertile with new life, a blue butterfly would rest on your outstretched finger, bringing good fortune and prosperity to your happy union for years to come.

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

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

#sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #tlk fic

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foxyanon · 7 months ago

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To Love A Dragon: Part 1

Summary: “Two children, born of cruelty, one of fire and one of ice. Of old and new, by fire and blood, a story unfolds.” -prophecy spoken by Visenya after the birth of her granddaughter

Notes: I am incapable of writing one part fics anymore, so here’s part one of a miniseries about Sihtric and Rhaenerys that takes place during season 2. It’s short but I have more planned for it.

Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Rhaenerys Targaryen

Word Count: 1722

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: N/A

Part 2, Part 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Last Kingdom or A Song Of Ice And Fire nor do I own any of the images used. I only own my OC, Rhaenerys and the AI image of her.

Dividers by @arcielee and @zaldritzosrose

Sihtric had heard tales of the lands beyond the ocean, where old magic and dragons rule the land. When he was younger, he thought of them just as stories, tall tales to keep young children in line. But now he sees that they weren’t just tales. They were real. Very real.

Dunholm was a flurry of activity, his father even more on edge than usual. Kjartan wasn’t one to let many things get under his skin, but his tense stance and shifting eyes betrayed his fear. Scouts had returned claiming there was a dragon in the area, the men so damned terrified they could hardly speak. Sihtric had been keeping out of the way, before rushing to the ramparts when everyone else started to crowd the high walls.

He heard it before he saw it, the thunderous beating of wings before a massive dragon swooped down out of the sky, a deafening roar rolling across the land. He stood there, frozen in place as he watched the black and purple beast fly towards his home, his fear giving way to a sense of awe. It was only then he saw a saddle strapped to the dragon, the scaled beast flying close enough to the ramparts that Sihtric could just barely make out a woman in the saddle, her white hair blowing wildly behind her. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her laughter and by the gods did he want to hear it again.

He couldn’t believe his eyes, an actual Targaryen in Northumbria, but he couldn’t linger in his thoughts for too long, the sound of Tekil calling him pulling him from his reverie. Before he even made it to the old warriors side, he was told to pack his things and be at the stables to leave before nightfall to find where the dragon and its rider were camped at. He kept his head down and did his tasks quickly, knowing that Kjartan and Tekil were in rare form after the sight of a dragon flying over the fortress. The wooden walls could hold back a decent army, but they wouldn’t stand a chance against a dragon if it decided to attack.

The small scouting party left shortly afterward, the dust being stirred up as they made their way along the road with haste in the direction the scouts claimed the dragon flew from. Everyone was on edge, the arrival of the Westerosi royal could mean anything. Traveling merchants had spun tales of the conquest of Westeros, enrapturing Sihtric ever since he was a small boy and now, he may have to live those terrifying tales. He wasn’t sure what he would prefer, a fate to remain at the hands of his father or hope the dragon rider would show him more mercy than he’d known if conquest was their mission. He should’ve known better to put the choice to the Norns, because they always spin your fate in ways you wouldn’t expect.

They rode for a day, finding the camp with ease due to the size of it. After stashing the horses where they would camp for the night and finding a place to hide out and observe, Sihtric noticed the camp was a flurry of activity. There were people everywhere, men in metal suits wandering around while servants of all kinds hurried about to do their tasks. While the young Dane wouldn’t say it out loud, the sight of the three headed dragon banners fluttering around the camp and the idea they were spying on one of the more powerful and well known royal families deeply unsettled him, and he couldn’t foresee an outcome where they walked away with their lives.

The party made camp far from the royal retinue, Tekil and the older warriors coming up with a strategy to infiltrate the camp and learn what they could before heading back to Dunholm. Sihtric sat quietly, sharpening his axe as he listened to the words they spoke. Something in his gut told him they would have a much harder time blending into the crowd here, that this would not be a simple scouting mission. In the short time since he laid eyes on the encampment, the amount of armored and armed men patrolling the area was more than expected. This was no Saxon guard they were spying on, this was the Targaryen retinue, and there were easily more guards in this one’s household guard than all of Northumbria combined. He fell into an uneasy sleep, praying to the gods they would survive this endeavor.

Dawn came sooner than he would’ve liked, the small campsite packed quickly while Tekil pulled Sihtric off to the side and informed him what the plan was. He was to sneak into the camp while Tekil and the others caused a distraction, locate the command tent, find out who and why they were here, then meet the rest of the crew at the village a half day’s ride from there before they would all return home. If Sihtric was caught, he was to say nothing about why he was there and if he didn’t make it to the town before noon, they would leave him. A simple enough task, but one that had Sihtric nervous beyond belief.

Once Tekil’s distraction was in motion, a large smoke signal that sent just enough guards off to investigate, Sihtric was able to sneak in with relative ease. He slipped between the tents, steady avoiding those awake and working as the sun began to crest the horizon. He started to panic the longer he snuck around, walking deeper and deeper into the heart of the camp until he found the largest and fanciest tent. Assuming that was where he needed to look, he deftly slipped through the entrance, narrowly avoiding being seen by a large older man in the brightest armor Sihtric had ever laid eyes on.

The tent was separated into sections, a desk covered in correspondence and a plush sitting area in the front with wooden screen dividers hiding the big bed and a copper tub in the back. Sihtric stopped breathing for a moment, noticing that there looked to be a person asleep on the mattress and deciding to make it quick before he got caught. He carefully stepped towards the desk, suddenly very grateful that Tekil had made sure he could at least read or he would’ve been done for.

He quickly searched the mess of papers, locating a letter from the newly crowned King Guthred to a one King Maegor, talking about a potential marriage alliance with Maegor’s daughter, Princess Rhaenerys. While there was no mention as to what all the alliance would entail, there was a location for them to meet in person to discuss the details. Satisfied with the intel he collected, Sihtric stuffed the letter into his leathers just as the sleeping person started to stir. With the noises at the front of the tent getting louder, indicating the arrival of more people, he knew time was up and he needed to leave now.

Keeping himself pressed against the wall of the tent, Sihtric tiptoed past the divider and around the tub, keeping his eyes on the shifting form of the waking person. When they sat up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, Sihtric nearly tripped over his own feet at the sight of the beautiful woman. Her long silver white hair was unbound, tumbling over her eyes as the silk sheet exposed her fair skin, covered by some fancy nightgown that he knew was not made in these lands. He knew he needed to keep moving, that Tekil was waiting for him and lingering here any longer was a death wish. As he reached for the opening at the back of the tent, his eyes locked with two deep purple ones, a confused look spreading across the young woman’s face. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, Sihtric’s heart beating rapidly within his chest as some strange feeling took hold of his heart in that moment.

He nodded once, before rushing out and not looking back, sneaking back through the camp before breaking into a run where his horse was. The journey to the rendezvous point went briskly, Sihtric’s mind a whirlwind as the adrenaline of being seen and seeing that stunning woman took over. He couldn’t explain it, but it was like something clicked into place for him. He had no words for his emotions, but they were stronger than ones he’d felt before. As he rode hard along the dusty road, he knew his fate had changed drastically.

Rhaenerys sat in her bed for a few moments, trying to determine if the strange, albeit handsome, man was another figment of her erratic dreams or if he had been real. Her ladies maids entered the tent, pulling her from her thoughts as their familiar voices filled the air. She could hear them talking about some false alarm the guards investigated around dawn, a fire having been set by some locals probably but it had the knights on edge now. Rhaenerys rolled her eyes and got ready for the day, the mismatched eyes she had seen never leaving her thoughts for long.

They looked familiar, reminding her of a wolf she used to dream about when she was younger. Once, her grandmother said that her dream was an omen, one that meant she would meet someone who embodied a duo eyed wolf and that she would know when the time was right. As cryptic and vague as that answer was when she was a child, she couldn’t help but think how correct it was in this moment. It meant he had been real and she wondered if their paths would cross again.

Her ladies finished dressing her in her riding leathers, tying the last knot when Rhaenerys noticed a letter missing from her desk. A wry smile formed on her lips, the knowledge that she would likely see that man again when she arrived in Cumberland to determine whether or not King Guthred was worthy of her hand, filling her with a new sense of determination. As she greeted the bustling camp and new day with a smile, ready to finish this long journey and discover that strangers place in her future.

Tagging: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @gemini-mama @mrsarnasdelicious @synintheraven

@zaldritzosrose @alexagirlie @legitalicat @thenameswinter99 @fallingintoyourlilaceyes

#sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x oc #Targaryen!oc #Rhaenerys Targaryen

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idksmtms · 10 months ago

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Sihtric Kjartansson Masterlist

Series

Under construction...

Oneshots

Flowers and Loyalty - (Sihtric Kjartansson x Uhtred's Daughter!reader - coming soon)

After begging for weeks, Sihtric's lord finally gives him permission to marry. Except his lord is in for a shock when Sihtric comes knocking at your door, asking for your hand in marriage...

A Captive - (Sihtric Kjartansson x reader - coming soon)

Every day in Dunholm, on order of Kjartan, Sihtric is sent to the dungeons to feed you. You, a young girl living with dogs in a dungeon. You, a gentle soul slowly driven to madness, who has stolen the heart from Sihtric without him even knowing it... (reader is kinda like Thyra in this)

AUs

Norse Mythology AUs

To Have, To Hold, But First, To Woo - (Freyr!Sihtric x Gerðr!reader)

Sihtric is madly in love and has become desperate. With no better plan in his mind, he sends Uhtred and Finan to try and woo you for him. - Based on a Norse Myth -

Mind Your Manners - (Thor!Sihtric x Sif!reader - coming soon)

The giant Hrungnir threatens to kidnap you, Sihtric's beloved wife, and Sihtric will not let this go unpunished.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #tlk #tlk fandom #tlk season 2 #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #sihtric smut #sihtric x oc #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric kjartansson x you #arnas fedaravicius

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idkyetxoxo · 7 months ago

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Four | Allure | The Last Kingdom

"Ah she's always had fire in her, which is why Ragnar and Uhtred shielded her, treasured her like a prized possession,"

"All the more reason for me to claim the prized woman for myself,"

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

"If you speak of this to anyone I will gut you" I warned, my breath steadying as I wiped away the last remnants of tears. Sihtric, withdrawing with a grin, reassured me, "Fear not, I am not eager to incur your wrath in its full fury," he quipped, guiding us back toward the others.

"I mean it," I cautioned, halting him in his tracks with a firm grip on his arm, perhaps firmer than necessary. He brushed my hand away with an irritated exhale, striding ahead.

As we approached the group, the cacophony of fighting and shouts filled the air. Uhtred and Bloodhair clashed fiercely, vying for the favour of Skade. The onlookers goaded them on, while Ragnar, observing in silence, deliberately avoided meeting my gaze.

Bloodhair's men resorted to deceit, attempting to strip Uhtred of his weapon.

I swiftly intervened, reclaiming Uhtred's weapon and returning it to him, despite Brida's disapproving glare and Ragnar's scoff.

Just as Uhtred seemed poised for victory, Ragnar interceded, declaring an end to the conflict, asserting, "I will not waste warriors before the true battle begins."

Addressing Uhtred, Ragnar ordered, "Take Skade and leave," then turned his attention to me. I waited, hoping for a sign, a word, anything to indicate he didn't mean what he said, but he merely averted his gaze.

With a heavy heart, I drew a deep breath as Finan offered a comforting touch on my shoulder. Shrugging him off, I mounted my horse and departed Dunholm, without a backward glance.

Beocca and Thyra soon followed suit. While Beocca and Uhtred conversed, Thyra guided me away, affirming, "No matter what Ragnar says you will always be my sister." Her words threatened to unleash another torrent of tears, but I steeled myself against them.

"He despises me now," I murmured, plucking at blades of grass, while Thyra deftly fashioned a string of daisies.

"He does not despise you he is ensnared by the manipulation of those greedy men," she reassured, weaving the daisies together. "If he truly hated you both, he would not have allowed Uhtred to depart alive," she reasoned, settling the daisy chain upon my head, a ritual we had shared since childhood.

"Did I do the right thing?" I questioned, meeting her gaze as she admired her handiwork. "You did the right thing," she affirmed, rising and gently pulling me to my feet.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

The nunnery in Wincelcumb yielded easily to our intrusion. We lingered in the kitchen while Uhtred made his presence known in the hall. "So, little devil, how does it feel to be in a nunnery? Does your skin burn yet?" Finan jested, eliciting a faint forced smile from me.

The absence of my retort didn't escape notice, but no one pressed the matter.

Exiting the kitchen, I turned to Aethelflaed. "Your men lack the skills of true guards. You'll require stronger protection when the Danes inevitably invade," I remarked, sinking wearily into a chair.

Amidst the chatter and dining, the discontent of the nuns echoed until the abbess rushed in, heralding the arrival of the Danes.

Uhtred proposed sending the abbess to parley with them, as they remained unaware of our presence. Despite hesitation, the abbess assumed the responsibility.

From a small window, I witnessed Haestan and Dagfinn demanding Aethelflaed's presence from the abbess, met with steadfast refusal. Their demand escalated to bloodshed as they slew guards and the abbess in their quest for her.

"Perhaps I should surrender myself," Aethelflaed suggested, prompting my exasperated response. "And how would that help us now? All those lives lost for nothing," I retorted sharply, met with wide-eyed surprise from her.

"Just go back inside," I directed tersely, the others maintaining a tense silence.

As Haesten and Dagfinn led their men through the first gate, chaos erupted into a violent clash. Seizing my dagger, I swiftly engaged a Dane who lunged towards me, skillfully bringing him down before another assailant knocked me to the ground from behind.

With my dagger just out of reach, I resorted to defensive manoeuvres, using my limbs to fend off his axe swings as he loomed menacingly above me. The whistle of the axe dangerously close to my head was abruptly silenced as Sihtric's axe found its mark in the Dane's body.

"You need to go back inside," Sihtric urged, concern etched on his face. I shook my head stubbornly, refusing to yield. "I can handle myself," I insisted.

Sihtric's eyes narrowed, "You're not focused, you'll get yourself killed," he admonished. Pushing him away with defiance, I retorted, "So, you don't care whether I live or die?"

Anguish mingled with anger as I confronted the unresolved turmoil within me.

"Don't act concerned now just because my brother saw fit to strip me of my lineage," I added bitterly, delivering one final shove before storming away.

Restless pacing consumed me within the confines of the nunnery kitchen, my head buried in my hands as the cacophony outside echoed our predicament. The realization gnawed at me, how could I, renowned for my undefeated prowess and skills in battle, succumb to vulnerability to the extent that Sihtric, of all people, had to come to my rescue?

"Get a grip," I muttered to myself, steeling my resolve before emerging from the kitchen to witness the front door open and a shield wall forming.

I pushed forward to witness Uhtred handing Skade over to Haestan in exchange for Aethelflaed. Skade's displeasure was evident, yet she complied without protest.

Dagfinn's gaze locked with mine, a smirk playing on his lips. "If Haestan gets the seer, then I want your sister," he declared boldly. My blood boiled at his audacity. "I would sooner impale myself with a spear than walk willingly to you," I spat, my defiance met with Haestan's mocking laughter.

"Ah she's always had fire in her, which is why Ragnar and Uhtred shielded her, treasured her like a prized possession," Haestan remarked, his tone dripping with contempt. Dagfinn's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with possessive intent.

"All the more reason for me to claim the prized woman for myself," he declared, his words laden with sinister implication.

"She's only under the protection of one brother now though," he added provocatively, goading me further.

Ignoring the shield wall, I surged forward, my fury unchecked. "Say that again, you coward," I threatened, my voice a low growl. Uhtred intervened, pulling me back by the arms, his whispered insistence falling on deaf ears.

"I'll return for you, little fighter," Dagfinn proclaimed as they departed with Skade in tow, a tension lingering in the air. Sihtric and Finan, visibly seething with anger, exchanged glances laden with silent fury.

Finally, Finan's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a blade. "You're venturing on dangerous ground, Dagfinn," he warned, his words sharp with indignation.

Sihtric's expression mirrored Finan's resolve, his jaw clenched with barely contained rage. "Your words will not be forgotten" he declared, his voice a low, ominous rumble.

Dagfinn's smirk faltered, momentarily replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. However, he quickly composed himself, his arrogance undiminished. With a dismissive wave, he scoffed, "Empty threats from cowardly pups."

Ignoring the jibe, Sihtric's eyes narrowed with a steely resolve. "Watch your back, Dagfinn," he warned his voice a chilling whisper that hung in the air long after the Danes had vanished from sight.

"I can handle myself, thank you very much," I asserted saracstically, pushing through the crowd of men. Despite the footsteps trailing behind me, I ignored them striding forward until a firm grip seized my arm, halting my progress.

Turning, I met Uhtred's concerned gaze, irritation simmering beneath the surface. "What?" I snapped, my patience worn thin as he guided me towards a secluded spot.

"You're not alright," he stated plainly, his worry etched into his features. I rolled my eyes in response. "What's your point?" I retorted, frustration tainting my tone as he exhaled heavily.

"I need to be certain that you're truly ok, that you don't regret forsaking your blood ties to stand with me," he implored, his words tinged with genuine concern. My expression slightly softened at his sincerity.

"Uhtred, you're my brother just as much as Ragnar," I confessed, a hint of vulnerability seeping through my facade. "Truthfully, it offends me that you'd doubt that," I added.

He drew me closer, enfolding me in his embrace. "I do believe it, I just question whether making Ragnar our enemy was the wisest choice," he confessed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"The gods work in mysterious ways," I murmured against his chest, finding comfort in his embrace.

"I'm grateful to have the little devil by my side, though," Uhtred admitted, his words carrying a mixture of sincerity and fondness. His admission elicited a grin from me.

"Finan and Sihtric are worried about you though, they think you're not yourself," he continued, his voice tinged with concern. My smile faltered at his words the stubbornness and wounded pride returning.

"Finan might be, but concern for me isn't exactly Sihtric's thing," I remarked, a dry chuckle punctuating my words. Uhtred's expression softened, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"You might be surprised," he countered cryptically, leaving me to ponder his words. A furrow formed on my brow, curiosity gnawing at me as I wondered what lay beneath Sihtric's facade.

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

arms 👀

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wackapedia · 1 year ago

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The Lady Of Devon

Sihtric x Reader, Finan x Reader Summary: You are a daughter of the ealdorman of Devon, you bothered Uhtred to let you join his band of merry fighters, and you live the best months of your life. Warnings: none, sad times Wordcount: 1,382

“Think about it, Sihtric, you don’t have to pay a girl if she truly loves you, eh?” You gave the Dane a raised eyebrow when he asked to borrow a few coins from you. He looks down at his ale and sighs, not wanting to hear your reprimands. “If you’re refusing me, then just say it! I don’t need to hear your sermon.” He slams his tankard against the table, startling you and Finan, sitting side by side. It is clear to the both of you that Sihtric has had enough drinks for tonight, evident in his slurred tone and rude approach.

“Maybe we should sober up a bit…” Finan reaches over to retrieve the Dane’s ale, swapping it with a mug of water, “.. before we say something we regret, aye?” “No!” Sihtric keeps his ale close to his chest. “What is she even doing here?” He glares at you, tucked in a corner of the booth. “Daughter of an ealdorman who’s done nothing significant, so now you’re pretending to be a warrior so you could be lady of Devon, when all you do is flirt with me and give me unsolicited advice?!” Sihtric raises his voice, loud enough to silence half the alehouse and turn their eyes on your booth. Finan clamps the dane’s mouth under his palm, but the damage has been done. He has said what he wanted to say. “Excuse me…” You mutter under your breath as you make your way out of the crowded room while Uhtred walks in with a couple more drinks in his hand. “Check your manners, boy.” Finan points an accusing finger at the younger Dane before leaving him with his lord as the Irishman follows you out. “I’m sorry about Sihtric, he’s just drunk and frustrated…” Finan knocks at your door, hoping to comfort you. “It’s not your doing.” You try to keep your voice stable, hiding the fact that you are crying. “What he said was true anyway…” The door creaks open, and you see the Irishman’s kind eyes searching your watery ones. “Oh, y/n..” His heart breaks as he steps in, taking in your appearance. No man should ever let you cry. “What he said was mean..” “But it’s true.” You sob into his broad chest, allowing yourself to drown in his warmth. “I’ve proven myself useless to my people; I ran away from my responsibilities; and I’ve embarrassed myself in front of him!” Everything Sihtric has accused you of is true. When your younger brother was named heir, Uhtred and his men happened to be passing by your hometown. The morning after the witan, you ran away and followed (more like bothered) Uthred until he accepted. Over the course of eight months, the exiled lord of Bebbanburg and his men treated you like family. In those months, between battles, shield walls, and Coccham, you found yourself gravitating toward Sihtric, that kind and mysterious Dane who was so fierce in battle, yet so nice, gentle, and funny when he was hanging out. You were certain he has noticed how often you prefer to sit next to him, set your bed roll next to his when you’re camping, and check on him during battles. Finan thinks Sihtric should be grateful to have your attention. It’s not everyday you have a beautiful, young, and gentle lady care for you. Unfortunately, the young Dane sets his sights on that one woman from the brothel who was very obviously ripping him off all his coin, even getting into bar fights because of her. You cry yourself to sleep that night, and Finan ever so kindly stays with you, sitting on the floor and resting his head at the edge of the bed. In the morning, Finan groans at the pain shooting up his neck from sleeping in an awkward position. Sunlight beams through the open windows of the lodge, brightly illuminating the room and the empty bed. His eyes immediately darted through where your belongings were supposed to be, only to find them void of your riding boots and your bag. The Irishman rushes out of the lodge, clocking Sihtric, who was on the way up to your room. “Is she awake?” He asks, bringing a bunch of flowers, probably for you. Finan was still too angry to give him an answer, and he was in a hurry to check the stables. This time he comes across his lord Uhtred, hastily marching back to the inn. “Where is y/n?” He bellows as Finan approaches. “Her horse is gone!” Finan snaps into action and mounts his horse, beckoning it to ride fast to catch you on your way back home. The sound of distant hoofbeats startles you on your way home. You prayed that whoever was on the way would not bring danger. “Y/n!” Finan yells as soon as he sees you miles ahead in an open field. You pull your horse to a stop as the Irishman catches up. “Y/n, If I have offended you, I apologize…” Finan sighs, still catching his breath. “You have not offended me, dear Finan.” You gave him a sad smile. “I have wasted enough of my time rebelling against my family. "It’s time for me to go home.” Finan is at a loss for words. “Please extend my gratitude to Lord Uhtred,” You begin to tear up. “And to every man and woman in Coccham. I’ve never felt so at home during my brief stay there,” You try to hold down a sob. Finan wishes to unmount his horse and take you in his arms, to tell you how loved you are, and to express all the love he’s ready to give you. “I thank you, Finan. For everything.” There was pain in your eyes as you said your thanks. You forced a smile for him, and somehow it felt like a goodbye. The Irishman watches you fade east, toward your home. Maybe your father would reconsider and appoint you as heir to Devon, or maybe he’ll arrange an advantageous marriage for you, and you’ll live the rest of your days learning to love someone. He hopes you find the happiness you deserve. The happiness he was ready to give, if only you felt the same way for him. A year has passed since your departure from Coccham. Things have become awkward between two of Uhtred’s best fighters. Finan and Sihtric would often have a random lull in their conversation, as if stopping themselves from mentioning a certain ealdorman’s daughter whenever something reminded them of her. Nonetheless, both still treat each other with respect, having each other’s backs on the battlefield and looking after each other as if they were blood brothers. Uhtred watches them and figures he should just avoid asking about her in fear of sparking something distasteful in their mending relationship. The lord of Bebbanburg now feels anxious to deliver the news to his men of King Alfred’s instruction for them to visit Devon and see how the new ealdorman is managing the land. “Where ‘east’, lord?” Sihtric asks as they journey on the road. Uhtred figures he’ll wait until one of them figures out on the way, “East.” He answers. Finan already suspects where they are headed as they move closer to Devon. The gates of the stronghold creak open as their band of ten men arrive. “Welcome to Devon, Lord!” A young man descends the stairs and greets Uhtred. The young man’s eyes shift, looking into every single man’s eyes as if looking for something or someone. Uhtred dismounts from his horse and gives the young ealdorman a firm handshake. And for the first time in almost a year, someone directly refers to you. “Did my sister choose not to come with you?” Your younger brother, now the ealdorman, inquires. Uhtred, in his surprise, twists around his band of men, carefully making eye contact with Finan and then Sihtric, who were both equally giving him an unreadable look. “Isn’t she here, lord?” Sihtric questions, remembering to show respect. “Why would she be? She left to join you a year ago…” The young ealdorman raises a curious eyebrow at the king’s men. “She left us a year ago; we thought she came home!” Finan exclaims, forgetting to show respect. There was an uneasy silence in Devon’s courtyard.

#sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x reader #finan x reader #Sihtric of Dunholm #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #finan #finan the agile #uhtred #Uhtred Ragnarsson #uhtred of bebbanburg #the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom x reader

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alexagirlie · 15 days ago

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Love at First Bite

AN: Time for the next installment of We Dance With Monsters : Vamptober - Love at First Bite (Masterlist)

This installment is dedicated to @whitedarkmoonflower for her birthday on Friday! She asked for Sihtric content and it gave me the motivation to finish this :D HAPPY (early) BIRTHDAY!!

Header by me, divider by @zaldritzosrose

Fandom: The Last Kingdom

Ship: Finan x Sihtric

Rating: M

WC: 755

TW: Vampires au. M/M Smut. Blood Kink. Feeding. Brief mentions of fingering and anal sex.

Summary: The first time Finan humped Sihtric (w/o Uhtred as he is enjoying his honeymoon) and lets Sihtric feed on him

Taglist: @gemini-mama @foxyanon @legitalicat @arcielee @thenameswinter99

The first time Finan was alone with Sihtric was after they returned to Wintenchester after they took Dunholm for Uhtred's brother.

They were all travel weary from the long journey and soaked to the bone from a downpour which had started a few hours before they had arrived in the Wessex capital.

Uhtred had been whisked away by his new wife. Gisela demanded the night to get reacquainted with her husband and his new vampire nature. Uhtred had surrendered with a laugh and tossed a bag of coins towards Finan with a command to see himself and Sihtric fed and housed for the next few days.

They found an Inn, paid for a room, sat in the main hall to share a pitcher of ale and a bowl of steaming hot stew before Finan noticed how pale the young vampire was and wondered when the last time Sihtric had fed.

Knowing that nowhere in Wintanchester would cater to a vampire Finan decided to handle the matter himself. Sihtric had fed from him before so it was no problem for Finan now.

“We should get some rest,” he murmured to the Dane, pushing his chair away from the table with a scrap of wood on wood.

Sihtric followed him silently as Finan exchanged a few words and some coins with the innkeeper and secured one of the inn's nicer rooms. One with two beds piled high with furs and its own firepit.

Finan made quick work of getting a fire started and the room filled with the warm glow. With the first task seen to, the Irishman walked over the Sihtric and helped him unlace the damp leather armour and pulled it over the Dane's head. Sihtric's fingers were still icy as he returned the favour and they shared a laugh as Finan shivered and flinched away as his armour was also removed and then their trousers until they were left just in their tunics and smalls.

Finan gathered Sihtric in his arms and kissed the vampire deeply. Sihtric moaned and pulled him even closer, his tongue sliding into Finan's mouth.

Hands roamed over the hard curve of muscles and under tunics to run over battle scarred skin.

They end up on the bed, Sihtric astride Finan's lap as they ground together, Finan's blood pounding in his ears and his cock hardening at the friction. When they separated so Finan could catch his breath he caught how Sihtrics eyes narrowed in on his pulse and the way his fangs glinted against his pink lower lip.

Finan tipped his head back on the furs in silent offer, biting back a grin at Sihtric's moan before soft lips kissed his neck and the sharp pinch of fangs piercing skin.

Finan moaned as he was flooded with the familiar pleasure of being fed on, combined with the way Sihtric was grinding down on his rock hard cock

was so good he almost spilled in his smalls. It took every ounce of self control to hold back until Sihtric had drunk his fill and pulled away to stare down at Finan with dark, sated eyes.

It's a scramble of limbs and remaining clothing as they rush to undress and Finan painstakingly fingers Sihtric open so the Dane can sink down on the Irishman’s cock. The new blood which flowed through his undead veins allowed his own cock to finally rise, hard and leaking from the head.

They did not take it slow. This was not love making or anything sweet and tender.

This was hard and fast, Sihtric bouncing on his cock, chasing the perfect angle against the bundle of nerves inside him with a desperation Finan had never seen in their short relationship.

He was entranced by the sight of his lover's muscles shifting with each rise and fall and with the tight feeling of Sihtric's arse wrapped around his cock.

Finan was barely holding back from spilling when Sihtric brought one of his arms up to his mouth and sinks his fangs into his wrist, never stopping the relentless moving of his hips. The new flood of pain and pleasure swept through the Irishman and he bucked up into Sihtric hard and he fell over the edge, pressed deep and coating the vampire's inner walls with his seed.

Sihtric groaned, blood spilling down his chin as he followed Finan over the edge, cock untouched.

As they lay together after cleaning up, seed and blood wiped away, Finan looked at Sihtric's face and felt his heart skip a beat.

#kirstin's chronicles #the last kingdom #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #finan #finan the agile #fintric #finan x sihtric #sihtric x finan #happy birthday liga!#m/m #vampire au

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obvious-captain-rogers · 9 months ago

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It's kind of cute if you think about it that the way Sihtric does his hair in S3 is how Finan does his hair in S4

#they're matching!#it's the same undercut/mullet thing with the little braid and beads behind the ear #the last kingdom #finan the agile #finan #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric of dunholm #sihtric

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thenameswinter99 · 28 days ago

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Much agree with this!

And the way he was able to convey all the emotions and give depth to a character it was poorly explored in the books (it was Uhtred's story, after all) tell us how dedicated was to his character. This is the case how talent and passion together give a stunning result.

Hope he gets more recognition in the future.

Fire // The Last Kingdom // S3E10

#the last gif always hits me #I still hold the hc of him and thyra caring to each other during the dunholm slavery tight in my heart #and if he just randomly expresses sadness in that scene he does extremely well #arnas fedaravičius #arnas fedaravicius #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #tlk sihtric #the last kingdom #tlk #3x10

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synintheraven · 1 year ago

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Guess season 2 had me really inspired because I absolutely love these 💕

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thenameswinterfics · 26 days ago

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CAOINEADH

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

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

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

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

READ IT ON AO3 (COMING SOON)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the first time he met you.

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

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

“She cannot escape to the Other World.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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#fan frankentober 2024 #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #tlk fic

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foxyanon · 5 months ago

Text

Shadow Lover

Was not expecting to write this but here we are. Thank you @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for the name and convincing me to post, cause I almost didn’t.

Summary: just a daydream I turned fic, enjoy

Pairing: Werewolf!Sihtric Kjartansson x Corvina

Word Count: 1160

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: Smut, monsterfucking

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Last Kingdom nor do I own any of the images used.

Dividers by @arcielee

He shouldn’t crave her as much as he does, but he can’t help himself. It didn’t matter that she was a vampire, his sworn enemy, because he did love her just as she loved him. He loved how she felt against him and she loved the way she didn’t have to hold back when things got rough during their intimate moments.

The illicit affair started back after Uhtred was banished from Wessex, when they had moved to Dunholm for a time. The Saxons were on edge, now that Alfreds dog was unleashed and roaming free, but Uhtred packed up the Coocham pack and didn’t look back. It was on a rare solo hunt when Sihtric first met Corvina, her pale skin and red eyes ensnaring him rather than putting him on edge. She claimed she was hunting some human criminal, but Sihtric found he didn’t actually care. He just wanted her and she wanted him. Naturally, that first meeting ended with Sihtric pinning Corvina to a tree as he ravaged her, the image of her crying out his name burned into his memories.

They continued to meet in secret for years, whispering promises and declarations of love with only the moon as witness. Uhtred never learned why Sihtric started doing hunts alone or why he always found excuses to go on long trips, or if he did, he never said. Now, Uhtred sat as lord of Bebbanburg and head of the Northumbria wolves, while Sihtric was the Lord of Dunholm and the alpha of his own pack. His favorite perk was that didn’t have to sneak away to have a moment with his lady love. He could have her in his home, beneath the furs on his bed without a care in the world if anyone heard them. The pack didn’t particularly care for Corvina, but she never bothered them so they simply turned a blind eye to the goings on.

It was late one night when Sihtric retired to his chambers after several days of dealing with a border dispute. Now that Danes, Saxons and wolves could live in Northumbria together, it was an adjustment for everyone and problems arose constantly. He was tired and frustrated, just wanting to collapse on his bed and sleep to hopefully forget about the events of the last few days. It was a petty dispute that ended in the Saxon farmer getting attacked by the wolf he accused of poaching his livestock. It was brutal, the farmer permanently scarred for the rest of his life and the wolf being escorted to Bebbanburg to answer to Uhtred. What he wasn’t expecting, was to walk in and see Corvina laid up in his bed, her smile making his heart race as he hurried to her side.

”I did not think I would see you for a few more days, my love,” he said as he kicked off his boots and crawled over her, kissing up her neck and along her jawline. Even after all this time, he couldn’t help but marvel at the smoothness of her skin.

Corvina chuckled, running her hand through the curls at the base of his neck. “I finished my duties a little earlier than expected, so I thought I would come to you. I can tell by your face that it has been a long few days. Do you wish to talk about it?” She asked in a concerned tone as Sihtric wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her neck.

”No, I just want to forget. Corvina, make me forget,” he pleaded as he pulled back to look into her eyes, wanting to lose himself in her before having to face tomorrow.

She complied without hesitation, their lips meeting in a desperate kiss as hands explored the other with the certainty of long time lovers. Clothes were removed and discarded on the floor haphazardly, breathy moans filling the air alongside the crackling of the hearth. Sihtric kissed down her body, the warmth of his lips contrasting with the coolness of her skin as he positioned himself between her legs. He licked a stripe up her folds, growling lowly at the salty taste before devouring her. He could feel the beast within jump to the surface, wanting nothing more than to give into his primal instincts and claim her like he had a thousand times before. And she let him, just as she had before.

He brought her to her peak with his tongue and fingers before pulling away to flip her over, swatting her rear playfully as she arched her back and gave him a cheeky grin over her shoulder. Sihtric lined himself up and thrusted into Corvina with a grunt, his claws digging into the pale flesh of her waist while she moaned, adjusting to his length for a moment before he set a slow, torturous pace. His hand traced up her spine slowly, one clawed hand wrapping around her throat and pulling her up until his chest pressed against her back. The angle gave him the opportunity to see her pleasure drunk face, her red eyes hooded and fangs on display as the most sinful sounds fell from her ruby lips. It took everything in Sihtric not to bite down on her shoulder and mark her as his mate, but he didn’t need some mark to know she was his just as he was hers.

Yellow eyes held red ones, her hand reaching back and tangling in his hair once more as her nails scratched at his forearm and left red lines in their wake. Their combined groans and the creaking of the bed would tell anyone passing by what they were doing, but neither was concerned, too lost in the other to care for the opinions of others. His free hand snaked down her body, fingers rubbing circles around her sensitive nub as she trembled in his arms, her walls clamping down on him while she cried out his name. No matter how many times he had her, the sight of her climaxing was one he would love forever. It didn’t take him long to follow after her, the two collapsing on the bed as they rode out their highs together.

When he finally pulled out to lay beside her, their shaky breaths turned into laughter as they looked at the other, a comfortable familiarity settling over them as Sihtric pulled Corvina into his side with a series of quick pecks all over her face. They laid there tangled together under the furs, gently caressing scarred bodies and breathing each other in. They talked for hours, and made love when talking wasn’t enough, Corvina successfully making him forget about the world outside his chambers even if for a little while.

No, Sihtric shouldn’t crave her as much as he does, but if you asked him who his greatest love was, he would simply smile and say his heart belonged to his shadow lover.

Tagging: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @alexagirlie @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose @gemini-mama

@synintheraven @thenameswinter99 @whitedarkmoonflower @viking-chaos

#sihtric x oc #werewolf!sihtric #vampire!oc #corvina #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom

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