a/n: this is so inaccurate but i desperately wanted to write for my one love <3 kicking myself for not watching the last kingdom sooner (that's on me). this has not been edited/beta read.
also! would really appreciate reblogs + comments!!
word count: 1,3k+
COPYRIGHT ® 2023 DULCEBLOODHND. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS ORIGINAL WORK IS NOT ALLOWED TO BE REPOSTED ON ANY PLATFORM IN ANY FORMAT.
SOMEWHERE IN DANELAND
The aftermath of any battle came with its own consolation prizes. Both sides of the war lost many on their sides. There were dead bodies scattered everywhere, decorating the barren field to completion. You do not remember being dragged violently on the ground, only that you could not see properly as blood had gotten everywhere—into your eyes and all.
Now as you sit on the bloodied earth surrounded by Danes jeering about how they caught one of Uthred's most trusted men. But, you knew how the men looked at you. You rather the Saxon's and their god smite you then be laid out on a platter for these savages. You did not know when your back up would come, if they would notice that you were gone. You could be dead for all you knew.
Your hands shuffled across your body, patting down all over. Your fingers had found the small dagger strapped alongside your pants on the right-side. You would die with honour if worst comes to worse.
A Dane you haven't seen before strutted in his glory towards you. You glared as he laughed drinking his ale. Most of it spilled all over the ground. He swiped his long dagger from his hip and brought it directly in front of you.
“What a prize you are,” He dragged the tip of the steel from your cheek down to your chest. “I wonder what Uthred would say now that we have one of his own.”
You spat at him, “I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you and I will watch you as you choke on it.”
His smile turned into a frown. He chucked his empty cup away as he dug his dagger into your throat drawing a sliver of blood. You winced but you sneered even more as you struggled in your binding—the rope cutting into your wrists.
“You shut your mouth bitch or I will make you.”
You swore under your breath. You eyed this man before you spat at his shoes. “Fuck you.”
“You little…” He grabbed the back of your neck. You knew there was going to be a large bruise left after. That was the least of your worries. You had endured worse. Women always bore the brunt of men’s actions. That was written in history.
The Dane brought the hilt of his dagger and smashed it against your cheekbone and switched the weapon so the blade got dragged down your neck. He was making incisions amongst your skin, the flesh open and gaping; letting blood run its course.
You steeled your face. You must show no fear. He kept on beating you, wearing your body down. Until, there was a commotion at their camp. One of the men came and addressed his leader that they found dead bodies scattered at a river.
“The sickness, it has travelled from afar. From those Christian bastards. We must prepare.” The leader addressed his men, he stared directly at you, “If you see anyone that is not a Dane, kill them.” He smirked.
You cowered in hurt as you coughed up blood. It splattered against the earth. Your body collapsed against the ground, eyes dizzy. You didn’t remember anything, only blackness.
—
Screams were heard, the ringing in your ears faded with time. The screams continued. Metal clanged against another, the sharp thrum of violence. You could hear a name being shouted, multiple times of different voices.
Everything rushed to your head, a sharp tinge rung through. White light blinded your eyes as they fluttered open, trying to refocus your gaze.
The chant of your name repeated until you saw someone crouch by your side, pushing your shoulders back and letting your body lay on the dirt. You settled your gaze upon the shadow overcast your body, you gasped.
Sihtric cupped your cheek gently, “I’m here,” his fingers caressed the cuts. “I am here,” he whispered. You groaned in pain. Whimpered at the soft touch.
He coaxed you from the ground, hand cradling the small of your back as he helped you up from the ground. Sounds of throats being slit reverberated in the decrepit environment; Uthred, Finan, Osferth and Aethelstan took care of the rest of the men.
Sihtric called Osferth over to tend to your wounds. His look of worry worsened as Osferth approached in concern. He swore openly in undiluted anger. He stabbed one of his weapons; his dagger into the ground. Uthred grimaced. Osferth tended to your injuries, mixing a salve to apply to the deep cuts. He tore fabric and wrapped it tightly around your arms.
Osferth gazed directly into your eyes, “You know he’s not angry at you. He’s angry at himself, right…?”
Silence filled the space. You replied, “I know.” Your hands scrunched into the dirt, burying your anger and sadness into the specks of soil. “I know.”
Osferth got up and smiled gently towards you. “Thanks baby monk.”
His ears tinted a pinkish red.
Finan called him over after he saw that he was done tending to you. Uthred came over. It seemed like a domino effect; each man lined up waiting to speak with you on Sihtric’s behalf. When all you wanted was that oaf of a man.
You glared at Uthred, “Do not speak of it.”
“I do not know what you mean.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He lifted you up and brought you over to one of the horses and helped you up.
“Let’s get back home to Rumcoffa. We will ride as much as we can before we settle for camp.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re riding with Sihtric.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell by the way you placed me upon his horse.”
He laughed. Sihtric approached the horses side and pushed himself up and behind you. He snaked his hands around your waist to grab the reins. His left hand settled against your stomach and gently pushed you back into him. You felt the warmth of his palm. You relished in it.
A throat cleared and you snapped out of your thoughts. Finan smiled like a lunatic. You glared. The horses neighed and set off riding. Only the sounds of hooves hitting the wet ground as the group rode into the horizon safe from danger.
—
Night came upon the land quickly and Uthred decided to set up camp in favour of you being deeply unwell to continue riding in your state. Their were no complaints from the rest of the men. You needed rest.
The fire crackled, the rabbits spit roasted and charred from the fire, chewing of the cooked meat traversed the environment. No one spoke until Finan couldn’t handle the silence and started talking about one of the women in the taverns. An old tale, a tale heard many times before.
You smiled deliriously and yawned.
“Here use this,” sweet Aethelstan gave you a fur to cover yourself. It was a cold night.
“Thank you,” you said.
Sihtric stayed quiet. He stayed quiet until everyone finally dozed off into sleep.
He stayed right by your side; close by.
You awoke soon after. You could feel someone staring into your back or it could of been a nightmare. You’re not sure which. Sihtric gaze settled on you, his fingers clenched.
“Why do you hate me so?”
“I don't hate you. I hate them for turning you into this.”
“Into what?”
“Someone I deeply care for get hurt.”
“You know bloodshed will never end. Especially because of who our loyalties lie with.” You turned over to face him. You stretched your hand across and placed it onto his thigh.
“I still do not like it.”
“Well, you have to deal with it.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t pain me to see you hurt this way.”
“Neither do I when I see you hurt.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
Your hand grabbed his. “Then lay with me and rest.”
