Bound by fate
Pairing: Uthred Ragnarson x fem!reader
Summary : A Christian woman, lost and alone after tragedy, crosses paths with a group of warriors. Tension and unexpected emotions grow between her and their leader as they journey together, testing their beliefs and heart Word count : 1194
A/n: im so sorry if it's bad im still new to writing and if anyone has a tip for me don't hesitate to tell me!!
The night was painted with fire and screams. The scent of burning thatch and iron filled the air, mixing with the cries of the dying. You had hidden beneath the floorboards of your family’s cottage, clutching the wooden cross around your neck as your village was torn apart by the Danes.
You had never seen them before, not truly. You had only heard the stories—the ruthless pagans, the heathens who raided Christian lands without mercy. And yet, when you finally emerged, stepping over the bodies of your neighbors, the truth of those tales had never felt so real.
Your family was gone. The only home you had ever known was reduced to embers. There was nothing left for you here. So you ran.
You ran until your feet ached and your breath came in sharp gasps. You did not know where you were going, only that you needed to get away from the horror behind you. The night stretched on endlessly, and by the time dawn broke, your legs could carry you no further. You collapsed in the middle of the road, exhausted, praying for a miracle.
And that was when they found you.
---
A sharp voice dragged you from the edge of unconsciousness.
"Is she dead?"
You tried to push yourself up, your body protesting, but you managed to lift your head just enough to see them. Four men, all on horseback, watching you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. The leader was unmistakable. He was broad-shouldered, his long, golden hair tied back, his sharp eyes assessing you like a warrior appraising an enemy. He was beautiful in a way that felt dangerous.
“She’s alive,” another man said, a dark-haired warrior with a scar across his cheek. “But she looks half dead.”
The leader dismounted, stepping closer. “Who are you?”
Your throat was dry, but you forced the words out. “My village… it was attacked. By Danes.”
A flicker of something passed over his face—recognition? Regret? You couldn’t tell.
“Where?”
You told them the name of your village, and the men exchanged glances. The leader—Uhtred, you later learned—sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Too late for us to help.”
That stung. “My family…” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard. “They’re dead.”
There was a silence. You knew you must have looked pitiful—dirty, trembling, dressed in nothing but the torn remnants of your gown.
Finally, one of the other men spoke. “We can’t leave her here, lord.”
Uhtred’s gaze met yours again, considering. Then, with a sigh, he reached out a hand. “Come. You’ll ride with me.”
You hesitated for only a moment before taking it.
---
The journey with them was… strange.
Uhtred was unlike any man you had ever met. He was not a Christian, but neither was he wholly a Dane. He was both and neither, a man caught between two worlds, carrying himself with an arrogance that should have repelled you—but instead intrigued you.
Finan, the one with the sharp wit and the easy grin, was kind to you, teasing but never cruel. Osferth, a monk-turned-warrior, treated you with more gentleness, offering quiet reassurances when you were overwhelmed. And Sihtric was quiet, watchful, as if constantly measuring you against his lord’s judgment.
But Uhtred—Uhtred frustrated you.
He was infuriatingly confident, always smirking at you like he knew something you didn’t. He spoke of gods and fate as if they were the same thing, and when you clung to your faith, he only laughed.
“You still believe in your God after what happened?” he asked one night as you rode beside him.
“Yes,” you snapped.
His smirk widened. “You’re stubborn.”
“So are you.”
His chuckle was low and rich, like he found you amusing. You hated it. And yet, there was something in the way he looked at you that made your heart race.
---
The tension between you two only grew.
One evening, as the group made camp, Uhtred’s teasing went too far. You were already raw with grief, exhaustion weighing on you, and when he made a careless remark about your God not saving your family, something inside you broke.
Tears burned your eyes as you shot to your feet. “You have no right to speak of things you don’t understand!”
Uhtred’s smirk faded, replaced with something unreadable.
You turned away, arms wrapped around yourself, swallowing the sob that threatened to escape.
A moment later, you heard footsteps behind you. You stiffened as a warm hand rested on your shoulder.
“I spoke carelessly,” Uhtred said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. “I did not mean to wound you.”
You let out a shaky breath. “I’ve lost everything.”
His grip on you tightened, just slightly. “Not everything.”
Slowly, you turned to face him. The firelight flickered across his face, illuminating the concern in his eyes. He reached up, brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek.
“I cannot give you back what you lost,” he murmured. “But you are not alone.”
For the first time since the attack, the ice around your heart began to thaw.
---
Over the next few days, something changed between you.
The teasing remained, but it was different now—softer, more intimate. Uhtred began watching you in a way that made your stomach twist, his gaze lingering when he thought you wouldn’t notice.
One evening, when you stumbled on uneven ground, he caught you easily, his hands firm on your waist. You should have pulled away, but you didn’t. His breath was warm against your skin as he murmured, “Careful, little Christian.”
“You enjoy testing me,” you accused.
His grin was wicked. “Very much.”
Your pulse thundered.
---
The night it happened, the air was thick with something unspoken.
You had been tending to your small wound when Uhtred approached, kneeling before you. “Let me see.”
“I can do it myself.”
He ignored you, taking your hand in his. His touch was gentle as he examined the cut on your palm, his fingers tracing your skin in a way that sent shivers through you.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” he murmured.
You opened your mouth to argue, but then his thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist, over your racing pulse. Your breath caught.
Uhtred’s eyes darkened. “Tell me to stop.”
You didn’t.
His lips crashed against yours, fierce and claiming, as if he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.
You melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he pulled you closer. The fire crackled beside you, but all you could feel was him—the warmth of his body, the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred.
And for the first time since your world had burned, you felt whole.
---
When morning came, you expected regret. Instead, Uhtred only smirked, pulling you into his lap as if you belonged there.
“You are mine now,” he murmured against your hair.
You should have argued. You should have told him that no man could claim you.
But instead, you whispered, “And you are mine.”
And for the first time, Uhtred of Bebbanburg had no retort.