— FINAN AND SIHTRIC COMPETING FOR YOUR AFFECTIONS WOULD INCLUDE ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
table of contents; fluff, banter, reader is living my dream, finan being his cocky self, sihtric is ever the gentleman, this is lwk canon af, suggestive in places, so much testosterone, finan is a grumpy ole man, just sit back and bathe in the delulu. (it’s a river in tumblr)
— HOW IT STARTED.
finan saw you first.
you were going about your day, minding your business as you served ale to your customers like you always do, when you caught his eye.
he’d been staring, his dark eyes watching your every move the way a cat would stalk a mouse.
“what are you looking at?” asked his friend, mismatched eyes following those of finan to seek out what had occupied his undivided attention.
sihtric saw you second.
“she is beautiful.” observed sihtric, to which finan grunted in agreement.
then the irishman frowned. “i saw her first.”
“i saw her second.”
we’ve already established that.
and so the battle commenced.
there would be a feast that night. music; dancing; ale and wine; women.
the two men glared at one another, pumping out their chests.
“ya only want her ‘cause i do.” finan accused, narrowing his eyes.
sihtric smirked, oddly-coloured eyes darting to you, then back again. “i would have spotted her eventually, my friend.”
“well i spotted her immediately,” finan countered, thumbing the leather of his doublet. “how many times do i wonder ya’ve seen her before and not batted an eye — blue or brown?”
the dane scoffed, thumbing his own leathers as he shifted his feet. “i think i would remember a lady like her, finan.”
“funny,” finan took a step nearer. “i don’t recall seeing her around. i’d remember her, too.”
sihtric quirked the brow that bears a scar beneath it. “uh-huh, what is her name?”
“. . .”
“. . .”
“well i don’t know that yet, do i?” finan chided, a little too defensive. “ya little runt.”
“can i get you lads anything?”
they both jumped at the melody of your voice, finan’s hand flying to his chest while sihtric gazed down at you with bulging eyes.
you gave them a strange look, lips smirking. “did i scare you?”
once finan regained his composure he cleared his throat and leaned against the bar, eyes soft. “you could never scare me, lady. please, excuse my friend,” he leaned forward to whisper the next bit. “he’s not great with women.”
you shot a glance at sihtric who rolled his eyes at the irishman.
“ale?” you offered, jug in-hand.
sihtric parted his lips to speak, but finan turned to him with sour features and hissed. “i saw her first.”
then he returned his gaze to you. “i’d love one, sweet lady.”
you smiled and filled his cup. “and you?”
“i would also love one.” sihtric propped his elbows atop the bar as you poured him some ale, eyes wondering over your face.
“it is rude to stare, my friend.” finan scolded him, which earned him a giggle from you. he smirked, proud. “and get ya mucky elbows off the lady’s bar.”
sihtric only motioned to finan’s own arms which were bent against the oak, then uttered his thanks when you slid the cup into his open hand.
“what is your name?”
finan scoffed at the dane’s question. “smother the poor woman, why don’t ya?” though he was only annoyed he hadn’t asked you that first.
you looked between them with a smile, then gave your name. sihtric grinned at you, igniting a flutter within your stomach. “a pretty name for a pretty lady. please, call me sihtric.”
he offered his hand and you took it, only to flush deeply at your cheeks when he turned it in his palm to kiss it. “and this here is finan.”
the man in question glared at sihtric through a swig of ale, then turned to you. “i would kiss your hand, lady, truly i would. only, i don’t know where my friend’s mouth has been. . . on many other women, i reckon.” he leaned closer to murmur, “if i were you, i’d wash ya hands.”
“thought i was not great with women?” sihtric nudged him. “do not listen to him, lady. he is a jealous little man.” he leaned closer also. “but i am not.”
finan took another sip, then forced himself between sihtric and the counter. “i saw you first.” you chuckled at that, resting a hand at your hip.
“and i do not think ya pretty, i think ya beautiful.” then he glanced back at sihtric as if to say ‘hah.’
“would ya dance with me tonight?” he asked you, and behind him sihtric huffed.
you took your lip between your teeth, eyeing each of the men as they awaited your answer. “the tavern will be busy, but if i find the time, then yes, finan, i’d be honoured to dance with you.”
he pushed himself away from the bar with a grin, the masculinity that festered between them almost as potent as the stale air of the alehouse.
“i will see you boys later.” you said with a smile, then left them to their bickering.
they both wished you farewell at the same time, then exchanged standoffish expressions once you’d gone.
“you only did that because i was winning.” sihtric grumbled, drinking from his cup.
“i was going to ask her anyway. it’s like i said, old friend,” and finan took a gulp from his own. “ya not great with women.”
“at least i asked her name.” the dane shot back.
“i was going to ask her for her name before ya interrupted me.” snapped finan, his brow wrinkling.
sihtric finished his drink, then clapped a hand to the irishman’s shoulder. “so it begins, then.”
finan shrugged his hand off. “so begins nottin’. she’s mine, you’ll see.”
“for now, maybe.” sihtric leaned toward his ear. “soon we will see who is truly great with women.”
as he sauntered away, finan watched him with a face like a slapped arse. “ya just a baby!” he called after him, then sunk his weight against the counter. “i saw her first.”
“might i have this dance?”
you turned at the voice’s familiarity, the steel tankard in your hand squeaking as you polished it. “still competing with your friend for the first dance?”
“well, i asked first.” finan reminded you with a cheeky glint, a far less predatory gloss to his eyes this time.
you nodded and returned the tankard to its shelf, then leaned against the counter. he mirrored you, leaving a small gap between your faces.
“like how you saw me first?”
“precisely,” he glanced around, then turned to you again with that same mischievous gaze. “i think ya can retire from ya duties to join me for a moment.”
the bar was empty, save for you. everyone else was dancing or drinking or both. “i think i can, too.”
so he led you into the space where people swayed to the music, lost within themselves and each other.
“ya look beautiful.” he told you, one hand landing at your waist whilst the other took yours in his.
“why, thank you.” you gushed, resting your other hand atop his shoulder.
you moved in time with the song — a slow, steady beat. he pressed you to him, holding you close. over his shoulder you caught sight of his friends, a familiar face standing out from the rest.
sihtric watched you behind his alehorn, not drinking from it, but rather trying to conceal his thoughts. you could read them just fine; his expression did him little justice.
“your friend appears thwarted, to say the least.”
finan did not need look to know. “he is not known for taking defeat so lightly.” he hovered his lips at your ear, breath tickling it. “just another reason why i am the better choice.”
“i see.” you lifted your fingers from his shoulder to give sihtric a small wave. the gesture was not returned, his focus solely pinned on shooting daggers at the back of finan’s head. “he is not happy.”
“let him stew in his misfortune.” finan gave your back a light pat, regaining your attention. “and let us enjoy ourselves.”
you challenged him with an arch of your brow and a broad, goading smile. “you hardly know me. do you think my affections are won so easily?”
“i know ya enough.” he retorted with practiced charm. with a silver tongue such as his, it was small wonder to you how he survived so much. “and i plan to become acquainted with ya all the more, if i may.”
you glanced at sihtric again, his eyes fixed to yours and finan’s interlaced fingers. “you may.”
— HOW IT PROCEEDED.
you’d never known such attention, especially not all at once. it got to the point that you contemplated asking uhtred he put the two men on leashes.
“finan, i can manage.” you griped as you heaved a barrel from the wine cellar.
“are ya sure?” he asked, arms at the ready should you changed your mind.
you huffed, eyeing the man. “very sure.”
“here, allow me.” offered sihtric, reaching for the barrel.
“thank you, but that’s quite alright.” you rebuffed, wishing they’d stop badgering you.
“you heard the lady,” finan folded his arms. “she said she could do it. are ya questioning her ability to move a barrel, sihtric?”
you groaned, on the verge of banning them both from your tavern.
“i am simply concerned for her wellbeing,” his friend parroted back. “those barrels can be heavy.”
“so are ya questioning her strength?” finan continued to stir the way he would when he felt sihtric had, how he’d say, the upper hand.
“you tried to carry it first.” sihtric shot back with his usual sass. “you are usually the first to point out how you are the first.”
“so childish.” finan said with a tut, then turned to you. “such a man-child. ya cannot be doing with that, sweet lady.”
you scrubbed at your eyes, hands dropping when you could finally face them again. “listen—”
“he started it!” sihtric blurted, pointing at the irishman who looked between you with a shake of his head.
“see now, i would never snap at ya like that—”
“right, both of you out.” and you herded them toward the door. “come back when you have grown up.”
finan began to chime in but you held up a silencing hand. “no, i have heard enough.” you told him sharply. “out.”
sihtric sniggered.
“i am angry with you, too.” you told him with a jab of your finger.
his face dropped and you slammed the door before he could pipe up.
“now look what ya did.” finan hissed, delivering a smack to the back of his head.
and then there was the time the door to the tavern just ‘came loose’. to this day you’re certain one of them loosened the hinges on purpose.
“my sweet lady,” finan announced, opening and closing the door a few times, then gave it a tug. “it would seem this door has seen better days.”
“you did slam it rather hard.” sihtric voiced, barging finan from his way to inspect the hinges.
“yeah, ‘cause of you.” finan grumbled, batting the dane’s hands away. “ya don’t even know what you’re looking at, little dane.”
“i am taller than you.” sihtric quipped.
finan tsked at that. “by a finger nail, perhaps.” and stuck his middle finger up.
sihtric swiped for it. “how many doors have you fixed, anyway?”
finan threw him a sidelong glance, then gave the door an ‘expertly’ tap in several different places, pressing his ear to the wooden face of it. “ah, i know what the problem is.”
sihtric glared at him, incredulous. “what are you listening for?”
“it has woodworm.” finan concluded, thumbing his belt as he turned to you. “an easy fix, if i may, my darlin’.”
“woodworm.” sihtric scoffed. “you made that up.”
“everything was made-up by someone.” the irishman retorted.
you smirked at their exchange. “what is woodworm, finan?”
“it is a wood-eating infestation, my dear woman. it burrows into the timber, ya see,” he pointed at the door, but at no part of it in particular. “nasty things, so they are.”
“you do not talk like that,” sihtric remarked. “you read that in a book, didn’t you?”
“at least i can read.” replied the irishman lowly.
“how did it get in there, then?” sihtric challenged, arms folded.
finan blinked, then squinted at the man. “in all manners of ways, i’ll have ya know.” he took a step toward him. “care to explain in which manner my foot ended up your arse?”
sihtric snorted. “your foot is not up my arse.”
“not yet.” finan leered.
“you are funny, finan.” the blue and brown-eyed man took a step forward, too. “if you are looking for a stick, i might know where you lost it.”
“spose i should start looking at my lovely lady’s backside where i’d be sure to find yer lips, ya little arse-kisser.”
“children, children, please.” you wrenched an arm between them and they backed away from one another. “fix my door, if you must, then kindly be on your way. i have much to do and would rather do it without your squabbling.”
they glanced at you; then at each other, stared the other down; then both raced for the door.
you watched them fight over the hinges, trying to jam their hands into the small gap whilst shoving each other in the side.
it was like watching two kids fight over a slice of cake.
then finan snapped his hand back with a wince, cradling his fingers. “ya did that on purpose, ya shite!”
“i did not!” sihtric placed a hand over his chest, feigning shock or even offence. “you are clumsy.”
“they call me finan the agile, not finan the clumsy.” he growled. “i dance around men on the battlefield, y’know.”
“well, work your magic, by all means.” sihtric took a step away from the door. “dance.”
you shushed them and took finan’s hand in yours, assessing his fingers. “well, they are not broken.” you told him, stroking them gently. “but swollen, yes.”
“he could have crushed them.” finan mumbled, laying it on thick. “ya don’t want to let a finger-crusher court ya, lady.” he kissed his teeth. “bitter little man.”
“if i were truly courting her, it would not be her fingers that risked injury.” sihtric deadpanned, though the implication made you blush all the same.
“and you keep calling me little,” he went on, smirking over his shoulder. “you are the one with small man syndrome. i know this because you display every symptom, friend. temper-tantrums, a fuse almost as short as you, and the like.”
finan huffed out through his nostrils. “by a finger nail.”
you shook your head, adjusting his fingers within your grip. “can you bend them?”
“of course, i can, sweet’eart. we irish aren’t so brittle.” and he bent his fingers in front of your face, then booped your nose. “gotcha.”
“you put your fingers in the way because it is the only way you can get the lady to hold your hand.” sihtric accused, wobbling the door in its frame.
“ya just shitting y’self ‘cause a bruised ego isn’t so easy to tend to.” finan quipped, then leaned down to murmur. “he has chased so many other women, ya see. now he has many wounds from his attempts to show for it.”
sihtric muttered something under his breath, still struggling with the door.
“such a shame that he’ll soon have a broken heart to accompany them.” finan chortled, then let out a pained noise when you bent one of his fingers back.
“be nice.” you berated, then approached sihtric. “those women must have been blind.”
the younger man smiled down at you, finally freeing the door from its rusted hinges.
“what’re ya doing?!” finan marched up to him, conveniently placing himself between the two of you. “why did ya take the whole bloody thing off?!”
sihtric looked at him like he’d been asked to recite the alphabet backwards. “you said it had worms.”
“it’s not a physical worm, ya absolute menace.”
“finan is right.” you laid a hand atop his shoulder. “they are beetles.”
they turned to regard you with expressions that alternated between both surprise and perplexity.
“how d’ya know that?” finan asked, genuine.
“because i know what woodworm is,” you told him with an amused smile. “and my door does not have it. if it did, you would see the damage.”
finan opened and closed his mouth again with a furrowed brow, then you turned to sihtric. “please, put my door back.”
“yes, go on. very bad manners to rip a lady’s door off.” finan told him with a wag of his finger. “he is heavy-handed, always has been.” he drawled, low like a murmur.
“you said it had worms.” sihtric hissed, trying to realign the door.
“i said it had woodworm which is a beetle.” finan corrected with a smirk.
“well you were wrong.” then sihtric switched his glare to a sweet smile when he looked to you. “do not fret, my fair lady, i will fix it.”
“with what? hopes and prayers?” finan pushed him aside. “let me handle this.”
you ended up having to replace the door entirely and fitted it yourself whilst they watched.
oh and how could you forget about the bouquet debacle? you’d never received so many flowers.
“those are pretty flowers.” sihtric had observed one day, nodding to a cluster of floral wildness that sprouted from the soil before him — each petal differing in shade from the last.
“so they are.” finan agreed.
they looked at each other, then the flowers, then each other again. there was a pause, then the two men dove for the bloom, hands wrestling for their stalks.
“find your own flowers!” sihtric seethed, clenching them in his palm while his free hand tried to pry finan’s away. “and do not tell me you saw them first.”
“how do ya know i didn’t?” finan grunted, digging his boots into him.
but it was the dane who prevailed. he leapt to his feet, bouquet raised tauntingly. “you got to dance with her, it is only fair.”
finan rolled onto his side, dusting his front down. “that’s fine, some men do not need flowers to impress a lady. make it your apology gift for breaking her door.”
“i helped her mend it.” sihtric defended, wiping bugs and dirt from the flowers.
“ya did not,” finan took to his feet. “ya got in her way until she kicked ya out.”
sihtric narrowed his eyes at him. “you hammered the nails in upside down.” he waved his hands around, exasperated. “how do you even hammer something that only has one sharp end in upside down?”
“i was distracted by her beauty.” finan grinned, arms spread out at his sides.
“she cannot hear you, you know.” grumbled the former.
so that night, sihtric presented you with the bouquet—a little bent and misshapen—but you appreciated the gesture, placing them in a vase along with the others that both men had offered you over the weeks. you’d acquired quite the collection; the tavern never smelled so nice.
and finan arrived soon after, unveiling a fresh loaf of bread. “here,” he’d said. “a lady who works so tirelessly must keep her strength.”
your stomach growled at the sight and you took it in both hands, very thankful indeed. “oh, thank you! i will get some bowls. please, eat with me.”
the irishman grinned, triumphant. he was absolutely considering it a date. but his smile faded as soon as it came when you invited sihtric to join you.
when you disappeared to the kitchen, sihtric threw an angry finger at the man. “you do not bake.”
“i never said i do.” finan sighed, helping himself to a jug of ale. “you did not grow those flowers.”
“no, but i picked them personally.”
“and i bought that bread personally.”
the only time the pair of them saw eye to eye when it came to you, was when you dared to spike another man’s interest.
“are you seeing what i’m seeing?” sihtric nudged his friend.
“i am.” finan answered into his cup.
“she is laughing.” sihtric panicked, shifting in his seat.
“yeah, at him.” finan slammed his cup down, straightening in his chair to watch more closely. “he is making a fool of himself, surely.”
they both watched from afar, faces thunderous when the man touched your arm. you didn’t back away.
sihtric shook his head, jaw ticking. “i think she is enjoying his company.”
“so the man has jokes,” finan was practically seething. “so do i.”
you indeed were laughing when they approached, though on closer inspection your laughter seemed forced and solely at the man’s expense.
two gravelly throats cleared themselves behind him and he turned, jumping a little. “can we help you?”
you smiled, then took that as your opportunity to escape.
“no, but you can.” sihtric told him, hand poised at his sword’s hilt.
the man glanced at it, then back up, gaze flitting between them. “and how might i do that?”
“by leaving.” finan jutted his chin in the door’s direction.
the man frowned. “i don’t understand—”
“i do not think we can make it any clearer.” sihtric warned, slicing at the words with his tongue.
finan took a step nearer, expression fierce. “we could arrange to have ya carried, big man.” the threat was delivered icily, so much so that the man shuddered.
he never bothered you again.
— IF YOU CHOSE SIHTRIC.
it was probably through rather traditional means. with uhtred’s blessing, he vowed to wed you before he bed you.
he would not wait long before taking you for his wife. the battle for your heart had been a tedious one, perhaps the toughest he’d ever fought.
might as well make it official before his god.
but it had been uhtred who took it upon himself to hurry things along. “sihtric, loyal friend, we cannot bear these longing looks of love much longer. wed the girl, of this i actually beg. you know i do not beg.”
it made sihtric laugh, deep and from the pit of his chest. “lord, i fear the longing looks will not stop with marriage.”
finan, to your surprise, was not as sore of a loser as you’d expected. you broke the news of your decision to him gently out of fear he might kill his opponent, but if anything, he took it on the chin like it merely inconvenienced him.
he took sihtric’s hand, then clasped his shoulder with the other. “ya fought well, my friend. i guess all that arse-kissing paid off.”
sihtric chuckled, genuine and hearty. “it did, friend. she will be my bride, finan. that means you will not have to worry about losing to me next time.”
the irishman guffawed and drew a cross over his chest with his fingers. “well, thank the lord for that.”
of course, he still held a torch for you. a flame like that is not so easily extinguished. on the odd occasion, finan would throw a wink or a flirtatious comment your way; harmless, and no doubt to soften the blow of seeing you at his best friend’s side every day.
he might remind you of what you could’ve had, but sihtric would soon shut him up with a stern glare.
so they drank to it like men, both of them secretly relieved that their little contest had come to an end, which in the grand scheme of things was pretty silly.
“i let ya win, y’know.” finan jeered through a mouthful of ale.
“well then i must thank you, finan,” sihtric grinned. “thanks to your act of virtue, it is me who gets to hump her, not you.”
“virtue?” finan grinned. “a big word for a dane. where’d ya learn it?”
“it is not that big.”
“y’know what else isn’t that big?”
sihtric huffed. “please, do not say my cock.”
— IF YOU CHOSE FINAN.
you went to sihtric first, letting him down gently. he did not try to hide his disappointment but he smiled and said, “the heart wants what it wants. i wish you both happiness, sweet lady. and my friend deserves a woman as kind as you. finan, he can be a lot, but he will never harm you.”
so you went about seeking out the irishman, though you always hear him before you see him.
and when you told him the words he’d been yearning to hear since the moment his eyes first found you, he ravished you in a way one might inhale a mutton chop amidst starvation.
a man starved, he certainly was.
he had not been with a woman since meeting you, and with a sex drive as high as his, he was pleased he had not deprived himself for nothing.
to put it simply, he did not wait until your wedding night to hump you.
if anything, it was uhtred who encouraged him to elope before he impregnated you. “finan, the two of you are like rabbits in spring. for the love of what is good and pure, marry the poor girl.”
and so he did. and before long, there were many mini finans running around to remind sihtric of his loss.
but we all know that any woman in her right mind would have chosen both.
In which Uhtred and his pretty boys are caught staring at the woman their heart desires
a/n: my first post finally!!! I decided to start small in order to get the feel of writing for these characters! likes and reblogs are appreciated!!
“I can feel you staring at me…”
You watch the timid monk stiffen and look away from your peripheral. You often noticed Osferth’s eyes were drawn towards you when in the same room. You didn’t mind, of course; it was quite cute, so you never felt the need to call him out on it, but the poor boy looked as if he was about to explode if you didn’t speak up soon.
“Ah…apologies… I don’t mean to stare." His eyes involuntarily straying back towards you for a moment before he forced his gaze to the wooden floorboards beneath his feet.
“Have I got something on my face?” You tear your gaze from the arrow you had been crafting, now trailing over the anxious-looking monk. “Or perhaps my hair is askew?” A smile curls its way onto your lips as you watch Osferth shake his head at your teasing, his eyes flickering up to your face before dropping back down as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to meet your gaze.
"N…n-no, my lady, you-“
"I’m teasing you, Osferth,” you cut him off, not wanting him to embarrass himself further, his own lips curling into a smile as his eyes finally decided that he did want to meet your gaze.
“Oh…” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Right…”
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as your attention is drawn back to what you were doing before.
and again, Osferth is staring.
He watches as your hands craft arrow after arrow as if it were nothing more than muscle memory.
From the corner of your eye, you notice Osferth fidgeting again, unsure if he should leave or try to start another conversation with you.
“Come, sit,” you break the silence, making the decision for him as you offer him the seat across from you. “I’ll show you how to make an arrow.”
“I can feel you staring at me.”
Your voice cuts through the loud ale house, but Finan seemed to hear you just fine from where he was standing, slumped against the wall next to where you sat.
“What? Now I’m not allowed to look at ya?" He scoffs, bringing the mug to his lips.
“First ya take my seat, and now ya won’t even let me look at ya?" He jests, shaking his head as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
Your eyes roll at his words, unable to hide the smile Finan seemed to always bring to your lips.
“I’m going to get us some more ale,” you state with a laugh, plucking the mug from his hands as you stand up and make your way to the barmaid behind the counter.
Of course, once you left, Finan reclaimed his stolen seat. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you’re able to get a word out, he’s pulling you into his lap, the ale in the mugs sloshing around, coating your hands in the sticky liquid.
“Finan!” you scold. “I’m covered in ale now, you bastard!”
He shushes you as he takes one of the filled mugs from your hands. “I’ll help you clean it off later; just sit still and let me enjoy a nice cup of ale with a pretty girl on my lap.”
“I can feel you staring at me,”
A grin stretches it’s way onto Uhtred’s face as he tore another piece of chicken from the bone, his eyes flickering down to the meat as he slips it into his mouth before his gaze moves back to yours.
“Am I not allowed to look at my woman anymore?” He said in his usual smug tone that only added to his charm.
“There’s a difference between looking and staring,” you say with false annoyance lacing between your words.
This, of course, only makes him more smug, causing laughter to bubble up past his lips as he continues to enjoy his meal.
“I can’t help that you look so beautiful tonight." Uhtred shrugs, looking back down at his plate as he finishes his food.
“I look the same as I always do,” you argue, standing up to put away the plates.
As you walk by, Uhtred catches your waist with his hand. He leans back in his chair, his thumb gently moving back and forth, tracing the skin beneath your clothes.
“That doesn’t make you any less beautiful to me." His voice was softer than before; the smugness was gone as he gazed up at you.
“Sit, I would like to enjoy this moment with you a little longer." He releases your waist at the request, and you obliged, of course. Who are you to deny Lord Uhtred such a simple request? A request that ended up leading you right into his bed.
“I can feel you staring at me.”
You pull your hands from the cold water of the river, giving Sihtric your full attention. It was hard to believe he was the warrior that people said he was because every time you got a look at him, he looked more like a puppy than a man to you, much like he did now, staring at you with wide eyes, shifting in the place he stood as he worked up the courage to speak more than his usual two words to you.
“I wasn’t staring." His voice was light, almost light enough to be carried away in the wind, but you heard him. You always did.
“No?” you hummed, turning your attention back to the wet dress in your hand. “Just happened to be strolling by the river, looking in my direction then?”
There was a pause; for a moment, the only sound you heard was the sound of the river as you used it to wash your clothes.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone." Sihtric spoke up, changing the subject. It seemed he’d rather focus on you in this moment.
“I’m not alone,” you replied, squeezing the water from the dress you were cleaning. “You’re here.” You look back at him from over your shoulder, smiling at the sight of him moving his gaze down to his feet.
“Will you come and make yourself useful, or are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” Your invitation seems to break the barrier between you two, the leaves crunching beneath his feet getting louder as he gets closer.
“I was not staring,” he mumbles, taking one of the dirty pieces of clothing from her basket and dipping it into the river.
- dividers by @dollywons and @thecutestgrotto -
a/n: again, this is my first post!! feedback in the comments would be appreciated! ^-^
!!!DISCLAIMER!!!: English is not my native language and since i didn't watch the show in the original language and i have no idea about the difference between English/Irish accents like Finan's, i'll write using the classic english they teach in school lol. But you are free to correct me on it if you wish to. And i haven't read the books so i'll write my stories based on the show.
WARNINGS: this is a bit long i'm sorry. Based on s3ep6-7, angst + comfort fluff, established relationship, FEM!R but no use of Y/n, little platonic moments with Finan and Osferth because we love them<3.
Something wasn't right, you could sense it. You still didn't know what it was, but you had that bad feeling of anguish that was slowly sprouting in your heart.
Thanks to Edward and Alfred you had won the battle against Haesten, but there was no party atmosphere at Aethelfled's estate.
Everyone could feel the tension going around in your group and the cause was only one: Skade. Or at least, that's what Sihtric claimed. You all hated that witch, but the only one who still hadn't gotten rid of her was Uhtred. Because of that woman's curse you were all suffering: when Uhtred had fallen ill he had risked dying and even poor Osferth, despite having fought bravely, had been wounded in battle, but fortunately he had survived.
Sihtric and Finan wanted nothing more than to kill her, but Uhtred would listen to no reason. So the only thing you had to do was follow his orders, as you swore to him.
While Osferth rested in his room, you, Sihtric and Finan sat at a table. Sitting in front of you, Sihtric was eating with an unrelaxed expression on his face and you, worried for him, exchanged a look with Finan, who however raised his shoulders slightly, just as confused as you.
You swallowed the morsel in your mouth to reach out for his hand, before he could drink from his goblet. Sihtric looked up from his plate to you and you gave him a small smile.
"Is everything okay?"
Sihtric nodded slowly, squeezing your hand weakly.
"I'm just tired..." he only replied.
From the tone he had just used you understood that in addition to being tired he was also a little annoyed, but you didn't push the topic, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere which was already heavy.
Before you could say anything else, Uhtred entered the hall and came to sit with you, next to Sihtric.
"Where is Osferth?" he asked.
"He's sleeping" Finan replied. "As we all should do"
"I suppose we can't leave the witch with Haesten" you said, looking at your plate. "We have to go get her, don't we?"
"Again" Sihtric commented.
"We have to" Finan answered you and then looked at Uhtred. "As long as she is free you will be cursed"
"Skade is with the danes, i cannot get to her" your lord replied. "And we will not die for her"
"Death will find us regardless" commented Sihtric again, but this time giving Uhtred an annoyed look. You touched his foot from under the table, but he ignored you, still glaring at Uhtred.
"Do you want to tell me something Sihtric?" Uhtred retorted, equally unnerved by his attitude.
"No, he does not" Finan answered cautiously for him.
But Sihtric did not back down.
"Aren't too many men dead already?"
"Dying is a warrior's risk" Finan continued.
There was silence for a few seconds while you looked between the three men, hoping that the discussion had ended there.
"I will return to Ragnar" Uhtred then said. "I have to help him find peace"
"You will only find ghosts around his grave" Sihtric retorted once again.
"Sihtric stop it" you whispered and he looked at you for a split second, then looked away.
You weren't mad at him, you understood his point of view a little, but you didn't want him and Uhtred to get into an argument.
"Continue to protect Aethelfled and rest" Uhtred concluded and then stood up, while you and Finan nodded.
Uhtred headed for the door but before he could leave, Sihtric's voice rang through the hall.
"Those who serve Uhtred will not rest. Not while Skade is still free"
Uhtred stopped in his tracks, turning to look at him.
"Sihtric you're tired and you're drunk" Finan interjected again, trying to calm things down.
"Yes, i am tired" Sihtric replied, then turned to Uhtred. "Of marching from north to south, being called a traitor and not to being able to live my life in peace with my woman. And for what?"
Your heart sank when he glanced at you as he said the last words and you looked at him pityingly. Yes he was right, you too missed life in Wessex with your beloved Sihtric before Uhtred was banished and the affair with Skade had only made that whole situation worse than it already was. But you didn't even like the hatred that had arisen between him and Uhtred. Yours was a united group and you couldn't let that witch split it with her curses.
"Then leave" Uhtred replied, moving closer to him again.
"Uhtred, you truly don’t mean that" you murmured worriedly, but he ignored you, continuing to look at Sihtric.
"If you're unhappy then take your wife and leave"
Sihtric jumped up in anger and gave him a small shove backwards.
"I have fought for you!" he exclaimed.
Uhtred smirked. "You fight because you like it"
"You would let me go that easily?" Sihtric hissed.
You and Finan stood up to join them, placing yourself between them.
"Leave or stay, i do not care" Uhtred replied.
"Yes he does care, he's not serious. Now enough arguing, let us sit down" Finan said seriously, looking at them.
You took Sihtric's hand and although your touch and warmth were always enough to calm him, this time they had no effect.
"Leave or stay Sihtric Kjartansson, it's your choice" Uhtred continued, looking at him defiantly. "Make it"
Sihtric stared back, thinking for a couple of seconds about how to respond, until he tilted his head.
"Do you want to make a square Uhtred of Bebbanburg?" he asked menacingly.
"Both of you stop! Neither of you will fight" you interjected, placing your hands on Sihtric's shoulders and making him take a couple of steps back.
"There won't be any square, we. just. sleep." continued Finan. "Sleep"
Uhtred and Sihtric continued to look at each other and Finan sighed a curse, tired of the situation. Then he approached Sihtric.
"Take the prisoners to the pigs, tied up" he ordered, knowing it was best for him and Uhtred to remain separated.
Sihtric moved his gaze to your eyes as if he wanted to know your opinion and you looked at him seriously without saying anything, wanting him to understand that Finan was right. You all needed to sleep and put the fights behind you.
"Sihtric!" Uhtred's voice boomed once again and you all turned to look at him. "I will leave at dawn. But i will return... And if you are still here, i will kill you"
Your eyes widened, bringing a hand to your mouth and Sihtric stiffened. Uhtred said nothing else and turned to leave again.
"Uhtred please-" you tried to call out to him, taking a step towards him but he walked out and closed the door behind him.
You ran a hand over your face, feeling your eyes watering, but you stopped yourself from crying and turned to look at Sihtric.
Finan shook his head, looking at his friend with disappointed eyes.
"Why?" he just asked him.
But Sihtric didn't seem to be as sad and upset as you were, in fact he just got angrier at Uhtred's threat. With a wave of his arm he threw away the cup that was on the table, causing it to fall to the floor.
"He has cursed us all!" he exclaimed, looking at you and Finan, who sat back down at the table with his head in his hands.
Dagfinn, Haesten's companion whom you had taken prisoner, had witnessed the whole scene like the rest of the men and decided to interfere.
"She has cursed you" he commented, while he was busy eating with the other prisoners. "And Uhtred let her"
"Be quiet" you murmured.
"Leave him, it's your only chance" Dagfinn continued to Sihtric. "You are a dane first and foremost"
When Sihtric left the hall to take the prisoners to the pigsty, you watched him go heartbroken. There was no way in your mind that he and Uhtred had actually said those things to each other. I mean, you can understand sometimes not getting along and having different opinions, but Uhtred had threatened to kill him! How did you end up at this?
Someone placed a hand on your shoulder and when you turned you met Finan's pitying gaze.
"Are you okay sweetheart?" he asked thoughtfully and you nodded weakly.
"Do you think…" you murmured. "Do you think Uhtred was serious? Would he really kill Sihtric?"
Finan let out a small sigh, stroking your shoulder with his thumb. "Part of me doesn't want to believe it, but... We know what Uhtred is like"
"But Sihtric didn't do anything wrong" you replied worriedly. "Finan, it's not his fault it's Skade's fault. Why would Uhtred kill him? I understand that he was angry about what Sihtric said, but... B-But it's not fair!"
Finan hugged you, caressing your head and bringing it against his chest and you let yourself be lulled by his caresses. You loved Finan like he was your older brother, you protected each other and he had always been there for you in times of need, even when there were problems between you and Sihtric.
"I don't know what to do" you continued, your voice muffled by his clothes. "Would you really let Uhtred kill Sihtric? Would you let our group be destroyed in this horrible way because of the witch?"
Finan tilted his head to press a small kiss to your hair and then placed a hand on your cheek, pulling you away so he could look you in the eyes.
"Why don't you go and talk to Sihtric? You're the only one who can make him see some sense, little one, and we all know that. And when Uhtred returns we will clear up the situation once and for all. No one will kill anyone, i promise"
You nodded, closing your eyes to let out two lone tears and Finan wiped one away with his thumb.
"Thank you Finan" you said with a small smile. "We're lucky to have you here"
He smiled back and removed his hand from your face to let you walk away as he watched you walk out the door.
When you were about to reach the pigsty, you saw Sihtric walking in your direction, after he had finished binding the prisoners.
"Sihtric" you called him softly.
Sihtric froze and raised his head to look at you as you stood in front of him. You were both silent for a couple of seconds until you gave a small smile mixed with a grimace.
"You carry the smell of pigs with you" you said. "Unless it's the one of the danes'"
Sihtric smiled and then shook his head.
"Have you come to scold me?" he asked you and even if he didn't want to address you in a rude way, you clearly heard the bitterness in his tone of voice, probably because he was still angry with Uhtred.
"Oh no my love. No..." you replied immediately, shaking your head.
You reached both hands forward to take one of his and Sihtric relaxed, squeezing your hands back.
"I just want to talk to you. I understand your point of view, i know you miss our life in Coccham and i miss it too, i really do" you said trying to reassure him. "But why did you talk to Uhtred like that? Why did you get so angry?"
"You ask me why?" he asked in turn. "You ask me why i was the only one among all to have the courage to rebel against him after he did nothing but use us for a whore who only made us suffer? Is that what you ask me?"
"Sihtric, he is our Lord. We have sworn loyalty to him-"
"No. His mind is cursed and he no longer thinks. That is not the man to whom i gave my axe, do you understand?" he retorted, placing his hands on your shoulders. "The Uhtred i know wouldn't have thrown me away like i was shit and wouldn't have threatened to kill me"
You shook your head again, placing your hands on his cheeks. "He didn't mean it, he would never kill you. Uhtred... I'm sure there's a reason behind his actions, you have to trust him, like we always have"
"Do you trust him? Do you still want to serve him? After everything we have done for him?"
You reluctantly nodded and Sihtric took a step back with a grimace.
"I should have expected that you would stay on his side and not mine"
Your eyes widened as you felt your heart skip a beat.
"What? Sihtric, no-"
"You would rather listen to the words of a cursed lord than those of your own husband"
"What are you saying? Why do you think that?" you asked, taking a step towards him.
"What would you do if i asked you to come with me?" he retorted.
You fell silent for a couple of seconds, not understanding his question.
"What do you mean?"
"I no longer want to follow Uhtred's orders. I can't stay here, i want to leave"
"But... But where to? Sihtric i don't understand"
"Anywhere but here. Uhtred doesn't want me so i'll leave"
"No. My dear please, you don't really mean it" you tried to say, but he nodded.
"Yes, i do. And i want you to choose once and for all" Sihtric said, moving closer to you again. "Me or Uhtred"
You shook your head, looking at him with teary, teary eyes.
"I can't. Please don't ask me to answer this"
"You can't or you don't want to?" Sihtric hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't you want to stay with your husband?"
You lowered your head, sniffling, scared. What did you have to do? Could you really choose between the man you loved and the one you swore loyalty to for life? Of course not. But by now Sihtric was blinded by rage.
Sihtric looked at you with an almost disappointed look and took a couple of steps back.
"Just as i thought. I can't trust anyone anymore. Only the Gods" he said, turning his back to you.
Those words and the feeling that he wanted to leave forever pushed you to run to position yourself in front of him again, intent on making him reason for the last time.
"Sihtric, please listen to me. Listen to me my love" you said, looking intently into his eyes as he saw your pupils flutter. "I love you with all my heart, i trust you and you know i would follow you to the end of the world. But i also love Uhtred, the same way i love Finan and Osferth. I know you're angry, but you must not let that witch destroy everything our friendship has built"
Sihtric let out a deep breath through his nose, remaining silent to listen to you and you took one of his hands, bringing it to your chest.
"Don't ask me to choose between you and Uhtred. I don't want to lose any of you. We're family" you murmured through tears, stroking the tattoos on his fingers. "Please. Stay with us and we will solve everything. Together"
There were a few seconds of silence that were broken by the sound of someone walking nearby and the noises of the night. Then Sihtric sighed and leaned over to rest his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you against his body.
"You're the only one who will always be able to convince me. And that's why i love you" he murmured against your skin.
You smiled, wrapping your arms around his body and rubbing your cheek against the soft fur he was wearing.
"Glad to hear it"
The next morning you woke up with sunlight hitting your face. You reached out beside you, believing you could touch Sihtric's body and you were surprised when you felt his side of the bed empty. But you didn't worry too much, thinking that he was already with the others. You stood up and after getting dressed you went down to the hall to eat something, joining Finan and Osferth who were already sitting at the table with Aethelfled.
"Good morning" you said with a smile, not noticing the worried looks your companions exchanged.
The princess smiled at you, greeting you in return and you sat down in front of her, next to Finan.
"How are you Osferth? Are you feeling better?" you asked, turning to the young monk, who nodded slowly.
"Um, yes thank you. Much better than yesterday"
"That's good. Have you guys seen Sihtric? I thought he was with you" you asked then.
Finan put down the piece of bread he was chewing and looked into your eyes.
"Sweetheart" he called to you cautiously. "Sihtric is gone"
You looked at him in silence, your brain still busy registering his words. "What do you mean?"
"He left with the prisoners. This night" Osferth replied this time, sounding sad and disappointed at what your husband had done. "He betrayed us"
You looked between the two of them and Aethelfled who tried to give you a reassuring smile, but that wasn't enough to calm the doubts and confusion that were clouding your mind.
"What? It-It's impossible, no..." you replied, shaking your head. "Why he would betray us, i don't understand. I-I, i talked to him Finan, you know that, right? We talked, i told him we would help him and he told me he wouldn't leave. No, no..."
Finan looked at you with pity and you lowered your head, seeing a couple of tears that you didn't even realize you were shedding fall onto your plate.
"Why did he do it?" you murmured, sniffling.
You balled your hands into fists above your thighs and Finan leaned in to rub his palm on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. But now it was all useless. You trusted Sihtric and he had taken advantage of your moment of weakness to escape without even saying goodbye. You had lost your husband and your companions had lost a friend. And the pain caused by betrayal burned more than that of death in battle.
"Hey"
You lifted your head, seeing Osferth sit down next to you. Around you, Uhtred's men chatted and laughed among themselves, and Finan played dice with them. You were watching them in silence, happy that at least they were enjoying their stay at Aethelfled's estate.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, looking at you with the usual worry lingering in his eyes.
You nodded, smiling slightly but didn't say anything. Your mind had been troubled since the day Sihtric left and you didn't know what to do or think anymore.
"How about we have a drink to relax?" continued the monk. "And we can also have our new slave serve us"
You stared at him confused by his words, but when you noticed Finan approaching you with two cups of beer that he handed you, you smiled amusedly. You and Osferth clashed your beers in a toast, while Finan leaned towards the window to look out. Osferth swallowed the drink he was taking to look at him.
"What is it?" he asked and you also turned to Finan.
"Better to say who it is" replied the other with a smile, and then moved away from the window and headed towards the door.
The doors flew open and Uhtred entered. You and Osferth stood up, also happy with his return, while Finan walked towards him.
"You're back" the Irishman said as he hugged him with a smile and Uhtred hugged him back.
"I'm back"
The two broke away and Uhtred placed a hand on Finan's shoulder.
"Sihtric?" he asked.
"He has left. A long time ago" Finan answered. "Along with the prisoners, Lord"
Uhtred nodded and after giving him a couple of pats on the shoulder he also noticed your and Osferth's presence.
"Osferth" he called, walking in your direction.
"Lord"
"You're still alive" Uhtred said in a teasing tone and Osferth smiled.
"Of course Lord"
The two hugged and then Uhtred turned to you, calling your name.
"I'm glad you're back, Lord" you murmured, moving closer to him. Uhtred gave you a smile that seemed more made out of pity and hugged you. You tightened your arms around his body and he caressed your back a couple of times, then pulled away and looked you in the eyes.
"I'm sorry about Sihtric" he murmured, though those near you could still hear him. "How are you?"
You shrugged with a sigh. "I can't say that i didn't suffer from his choice, like everyone else here. My heart is broken in half. But i try not to give in to the pain and move forward"
Uhtred nodded and in the meantime Aethelfled also joined you in the hall, having learned of Uhtred's return. And when their eyes met they smiled at each other.
Uhtred had to take Skade back. But entering the camp of the danes, who were more than two thousand men in the service of Cnut, Brida, Haesten and Bloodhair, was impossible, practically suicide. But Uhtred was no fool and you were proud to have sworn your sword to a man of his valor.
Luck, or fate and the Gods to some, came your way when you stopped at the village of Crugland, where the Mercians (or buttered bishops as Finan said) who lived there wanted to keep you trapped as bait for the danes. But after you had rid yourself of Aethelfled's traitors you went in the direction of the danes' camp, knowing that some of them would leave thanks to your diversion.
"Uhtred"
You rode your horse closer to Uhtred's, who was trotting at the head of the group and he turned to face you.
"I was thinking…" you murmured and he had no trouble hearing the tone of concern decorating your voice. "Do you think we will meet Sihtric when we enter the camp?"
"Very likely, because he knows i want Skade back" Uhtred nodded, then looked forward again.
You looked down at your horse's mane and tightened your grip on the bridle. You wanted to ask him something else but you didn't have the courage.
"You're afraid i'll kill him as soon as i see him, aren't you?" Uhtred asked you and you looked back at him with wide eyes. It was like he read your mind.
Uhtred let out a deep breath from his chest, as if he was still pondering something.
"Would you really do that?" you murmured. "Would you kill him?"
Uhtred smiled, turning to you.
"You still care about him, despite what he did"
You remained silent for a couple of seconds, thinking about what to answer him and you ran your tongue over your lips.
"When i fight in battle i always try to kill my enemies with the first blow, so as not to make them suffer. Because i don't wish the worst pain even on my greatest enemy. And Sihtric is no different. He is still my husband, but even if should our paths part forever, i will worry about him until i die"
"And tell me, would you defend him from my sword?" Uhtred asked you seriously and you looked at him in surprise. "You stayed with me and i appreciate that. But if he and i found ourselves face to face dueling, what would you do? Would you try to save him from his fate?"
His words caught you off guard and for the second time you found yourself with a dry mouth. Your heart beat faster knowing that Uhtred was right. You had to make a choice. A choice from which this time you couldn't back out. Sihtric or Uhtred?
"In all honesty i still don't know, Lord” you said. "I guess we'll find out about that once he's with us"
You looked back at the horizon, where the sun was slowly starting to set. Inside your brain there was a tornado of thoughts and doubts that never stopped. Uhtred, however, managed to keep himself from smiling.
There were a few hours left before darkness arrived and you, Uhtred and the others were hiding in the trees near the camp, waiting for the right moment to infiltrate.
"Someone is coming" Finan whispered, pulling out a dagger. Osferth remained kneeling at your feet, while you and Uhtred clasped your hands on the hilts of your swords, ready to attack.
"It's Sihtric" Osferth muttered and your eyes widened.
You felt your heart skip a beat and exchanged a look with Finan, while Uhtred took up his sword.
And Osferth was right. It was him, it was Sihtric.
When you saw your husband emerge from the branches your first instinct was to go to him, but Uhtred beat you to it and took a step towards him.
"Do you have something to tell me?" he asked menacingly. Sihtric looked him in the eyes and nodded.
"I do" he replied before drawing his sword and pointing it at your lord. "Yield to me"
You expected one of the two to attack the other and you weren't ready to know what you would had to do, who you would've defended. But much to your surprise and confusion, Uhtred raised his arms and let his sword slip from his hand. A second later, Sihtric planted his sword on the ground and approached Uhtred to embrace him. They both laughed, while you all looked at them in shock.
"You fooled us!" Osferth said with a surprised smile, reaching back to touch Finan's leg. "They fooled us! Why?"
Uhtred and Sihtric stepped away from each other, while the monk and Finan approached your husband. You, on the other hand, remained motionless on your spot and stared at him.
"You had to believe it for the others to believe it too" Uhtred replied.
"I knew it" said Finan to Sihtric.
"No, you did not. Was i good?" your husband replied with a smirk, then turning back to Uhtred.
"A little" said the other with a wave of his hand.
"I'm telling you i knew it" continued Finan and then hugged his friend, followed by Osferth who did the same.
At that moment you also decided to approach them and Sihtric finally laid his gaze on you. It was in that precise moment that you saw his mismatched eyes fill with joy and love, two completely different eyes than the ones full of anger he had on the night of the "betrayal". That was the Sihtric you could recognize.
"My love" he said with a relieved smile, stretching his arms out towards you.
You stepped towards him, but just before you could hug him you had a second of hesitation. You quickly looked over his shoulder at Finan and Osferth, who gave you two reassuring smiles and so you took them as signs to wrap your arms around your husband's body. When your cheek came to rest on his warm, fur-covered clothes, you let out a breath of relief from your nose as he pressed his hands on your hips to pull you towards him.
"I missed you" Sihtric murmured.
"I missed you too"
You felt his fingers caress your body as he tilted his head to press a kiss to your hair. You remained in that position for a few seconds and while he seemed to be calm, you felt a strange sensation begin to invade your body.
"I thought you were angry with me" Sihtric murmured with a chuckle, making the others smile as well.
At those words you suddenly detached yourself from his body and punched him on the arm, a gesture at which everyone's eyes widened, taken aback.
"Ow!" Sihtric exclaimed in surprise. "Why did you hit me?"
"Angry? You thought i was just angry with you??" you asked, frowning at him.
"Honey what-" he tried to ask you but you cut him off.
"Do you have any idea what i've been through, Sihtric Kjartansson?" you asked angrily again, pointing a finger at his chest. "Do you have any idea how i've felt these days, thinking you betrayed us? Thinking you hated us? Osferth, tell him"
Osferth jumped, not expecting to be involved, while Uhtred and Finan exchanged looks like two people enjoying a show.
"U-Um, you felt bad-"
"Bad, yes! That's how i felt!" you spoke in Osferth's place, continuing your speech. "I felt very bad, Sihtric. I wasn't just mad, i was also sad and so fucking disappointed. You left without saying anything and i thought you had lost faith in me"
You stepped back and turned your back to him, not wanting him to see how you were rubbing a hand over your eyes to keep the tears from coming out.
"I-I thought you didn't love me anymore, i thought... I thought i had lost you forever..."
Sihtric's gaze softened when he saw your shoulders move with small spasms in the throes of sobs and he slowly approached you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, making you turn towards him and you let him.
"My love, look at me" he said softly, placing both hands on your wet cheeks so he could look into your eyes.
Oh, how you missed feeling his palms on your face.
"I'm so sorry you had to go through this" he said, trying to wipe the tears from your cheeks. "I want you to know that i've thought about you day and night since i left. There were never any secrets between you and me and having to keep the truth of the plan hidden from you destroyed me. I felt so guilty for leaving you alone to suffer, believe me. I didn't mean a single word of what i said to you that night, i never doubted you and your loyalty. And i will never stop loving you. Never. Understood?"
You nodded and sniffled as Sihtric leaned in to give you a long kiss on the forehead, while thanks to his comforting words you felt all the doubts that had invaded your head dissolve like fog.
"Do you forgive me?" he asked when he pulled away from your skin.
What a stupid question, of course you forgave him, you already had. And how could you not when he was looking at you with that pleading look of a guilty man?
So you raised your hands to wrap them around his wrists and nodded once again, smiling heartily.
"Of course i forgive you"
Sihtric smiled back and without wasting time he attached his lips to yours. You both closed your eyes, enjoying that kiss that sealed the renewal of your love and that would never fade.
When you pulled away you punched him again on the other arm and he looked at you offended.
"And what was that for??" he asked with wide eyes.
You pointed a finger at him, then crossed your arms and looked at him with a fake serious look.
"You stupid. Play another jest like that on me and next time i'll be the one that leaves you. Am i clear?"
Sihtric nodded with an amused smile and the others chuckled too.
"Yes my Lady"
Then you turned to Uhtred.
"I'll punch you too later Uhtred" you said and he looked at you in surprise.
"Me? What did i do?"
"Well, i think that this ingenious plan wasn't just my husband's idea, right?"
And while Uhtred looked at you with an embarrassed smile, Sihtric, Finan and Osferth laughed.
off topic but I HATE WHEN PEOPLE SHIP SIHTRIC AND SKADE!!!!! LIKE, I'M SORRY DID WE WATCH THE SAME SHOW???
"ThE cHeMisTRy BeTwEeN tHeM wAs So sTRonG!"
GIRL BFFR🤡
I haven't read the books, but in the serie they only spoke like once or twice in all the season and she never showed any interest in him. And he fucking despised her!!! He was clearly scared of her and he just wanted to kill her, like everyone else!!
Is it just me??? Please, i can't be the only one who saw it.
Summary: You were born the bastard child of King Alfred and banished from your homeland. Raised a Dane, you honored the call of the gods to heal the sick and wounded. Though you did your best to not draw attention to yourself and your parentage, the fates had another path in store for you. After all, destiny is all.
warnings: descriptions of gore/violence, sexual themes, explicit sexual language, strong language. viewer discretion advised
Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
SIGEFRID'S DARK EYES NEVER STRAYED FROM YOU as you stood outside the surgery, conversing with Rollo about some herb or another, eyes shining as brightly as the summer sun overhead. He watched with angered raptness, hidden from view by the bustling of servants that rushed in and out of the fortress courtyard. He sat with his brother and a small group of warriors, sipping ale and feasting on fresh bread and meat. A nameless servant woman was perched in his lap, attempting to redraw his focus from you and back to herself, planting gentle and suggestive kissed along the hollow of his neck. His hands dug into the flesh of her hip as he saw you lean in closely to the young warrior, showing him something hidden from view. A deep scowl carved itself onto his features at the sight.
"You seem tense, my Lord." the blonde woman purred, her hands now snaking down expanse of his chest. "Would you allow me to relieve you of such ail?"
The Northman tore his eyes from you and peered at the woman in his lap with distaste. "Do you believe you can?"
She pouted her pink lips. "I will get on my knees and suck your cock here and now, my Lord, if it will please you."
His scowl deepened when the offer did not excite him and turned his gaze back to you.
"Something troubles you, brother? Is the meat not to your liking?" Erik's voice snapped him back to the present moment. He slowly peered up at his brother, scowl deepening when he saw the knowing smirk and twinkle of his blue eyes.
"It's fine, brother." roughly Sigefrid pushed the woman off him, dismissively waving her away with a sharp flick of his hand. She bowed and promptly hurried back towards the direction of the kitchens.
"Good, good." Erik fought to suppress the wicked smile that threatened to show itself as he tore a chunk of chicken from the serving platter before him.
The elder Northman did not reply.
~
"My Lady, may I ask you a question?"
You peered up from your workstation, eyes landing on Rollo's focused form. The scent of hemp oil and lavender encased the senses as he carefully sifted the infused oil into a clay jar, the midday sun shining in from the rafters above and encasing his auburn hair in holy light.
"Of course, Rollo." you gazed back down to your own work of bottling a newly brewed batch of henbane.
"Even if it is a personal matter?" his voice was lilted in apprehension.
You hummed. "Ask your question."
"Are you Lord Sigefrid's woman?"
You slowly glanced up at him, eyes wide with bewildered confusion. "What did you say?"
His cheeks flushed. "It is only that I saw you and him...together...during the solstice last night, as did some of the other men. They say that you and he are lovers."
"Lovers?" you echoed.
"That you share a bed, Lady."
You gaped at him before a loud laugh bubbled from your lips. It shook your shoulders violently, your torso burning with the fit of giggles that consumed you. It took many moments for you to collect yourself before you could look up at the young man, bracing yourself on the wooden countertop in order to maintain your footing.
"Lovers!? How could you think such a horrific thing?" another burst of giggles sprung forth. "I have never heard more of such a ridiculous thing!"
Rollo's face was red with embarrassment. "It does not seem very much outside the realm of possibility, my Lady. The men said that you were going to hump."
"Rollo," you giggled again, "you mustn't believe everything the men tell you."
"I do not, Lady." he defended. "I saw you, and I know what humping looks like. The men speak true."
You sighed deeply before gesturing him to resume working. He did so without word, but glanced at you to ensure you would continue speaking.
"What you saw was Sigefrid being a brute, nothing more. Now I am more concerned about how you think a man behaving like that towards a woman is equivalent to humping than what the soldiers gossip about me."
"Well, they tell us their stories-"
"And some may ring true, but most are stories of conquest, not lovemaking." you deadpanned, dipping your chin in seriousness.
His eyes hazel eyes widened. "You are right. Forgive me, my Lady. I-I do not have the direct knowledge of knowing. I have never lain with a woman before."
You smiled gently at his admission. "There is nothing wrong with that."
The tips of his ears flushed pink before he tore his eyes downcast and intently began his work once more. "Yes, Lady."
The following evening you were summoned to the brother's hall during your supper in the surgery, belly full of roast and bread, mind pleasantly foggy with drink. Rollo and you had spent the entire meal playing a game that required the inclusion of wine, and against your better judgement, you agreed to participate. It was a bittersweet moment of normalcy you hadn't realized you missed, your mind flooding with memories of Brunnehilde and the life you once lived only months before. The wine offered soothing bliss to your aching heart, and only in the moment of your summons did you realize you had drunk an entire two glasses of wine. You had just enough time to grab your medicine bag before you were ushered away.
You followed the servant girl who never met your eye down the winding halls, the stone sconces illuminating your path in soft amber. You felt light upon your feet as you walked, gazing at the tapestries and statues that dotted the fortress's alcoves with newfound appreciation.
"In here," she gestured quietly, head bowed.
You thanked her softly before walking past her and entering the hall. The two brothers sat upon the chairs that encircled the massive brazier, the scent of maple filling the air. Soft golden light pooled from the center of the fire, encasing everything within its reach in warm light. A soft breeze floated in from the stone windows, gently caressing the side of your cheek.
"You summoned me, Lords?" your spoke first, hands held behind your back, head tilting to the side.
"Ahh, healer! Just in time," Erik gestured for you to draw closer, a broad smile on his face. Your eyebrow quirked in intrigue as you crossed towards the center of the room. Your eyes landed on Sigefrid who was sat upon the middle couch, brows furrowed as he attempted and failed to get the dagger-hand from off his arm. Even with the fuzziness of your mind and low light you could see the reddening inflammation developing on his bicep and immediately you understood the reasoning behind your summons.
Without wasting another moment, you walked over to where the Northman sat. He grunted as he attempted to unbuckle the sturdy leather straps, his sharp frustration more than evident. You sat beside him, and with gentle hands and wine-induced grace you took his arm and pulled it towards you, deftly working to undo he straps. He stilled at your closeness, but you were to focused on your work to notice.
With considerable effort you pulled the entire piece off, the wood and mental casing thudding to the ground heavily. Sigefrid growled deeply in his chest, the sound nearly inaudible as he ripped his arm from your hold, dark eyes settling over the fire at his feet.
You pursed your lips. "I need to inspect it, Lord."
His head turned ever so slightly in your direction, the sweetness of the wine upon your breath encasing his senses. "You smell of drink, woman."
You rolled your eyes. "It is no fault of mine that I was summoned during my evening meal, Lord." carefully you opened your herb parcel on your lap, pulling from it pain salve and cleansing tonic to clean the skin. Balancing it carefully you leaned forward again, extending your palm for him to place his stump in. He did not look at you as he did so.
"How is the pain, brother?" Erik asked from the chair beside him.
"The same...constant." his deep voice rumbled through you as he spoke, the sensation of it settling over you pleasantly. You frowned to yourself at the thought before shaking your head and carefully unwrapping his arm. The stich work you had done months before held better than you could have hoped, but the skin had begun to bruise and swell severely. With expert hands you began cleaning the skin with a featherlight touch, completely oblivious of his heightened awareness of your closeness. When you reached the direct area of the stitching he hissed, causing you to peer up at him from your lashes.
"Apologies, Lord," you murmured absentmindedly, refocusing on the task at hand.
"It is not you who should be apologizing," he replied gruffly, "only the arse-licker who did this to me. Preferably in the way of him losing his head at the end of my sword, stuffed into his arse."
"Is he a man without honor?" you wiped your hands on the apron that still adorned you before reaching for the pain salve.
"The Dane-Slayer is many things," Erik spoke, eying you with intrigue as you worked, "dishonorable is not among them."
"Dane-Slayer?" your eyebrows knit together at the unfamiliar name.
"You have not heard of him?" Erik questioned, voice laced with surprise.
"No, I have not."
"There is not much to know, he is a cunt and an arse-licker." Sigefrid spat at the flames.
"An honorable cunt and arse-licker?" a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. Sigefrid's own twitched the slightest bit as he watched you from the corner of his eye.
"He is the King of Wessex's man, a warrior I would rather fight alongside with than on the opposite side of the battlefield." Erik crossed his arms over his chest, eyes clouding over in thought. Your breath hitched in your throat at the mention of your father, eyes widening imperceptibly.
"He is still a cunt." Sigefrid bit. You saw him wince as you continued to slather the salve on his stump, taking a minute sense of satisfaction at his discomfort.
"Well, speaking of Uhtred, I bring news from Haesten."
"What news?"
"The Dane-Slayer is on his way here to Lunden. Said to be traveling with a small company, less than half a dozen men. He wishes to negotiate on Alfred's behalf."
"Negotiate?" the dark-haired Northman scowled. "Why would we wish to negotiate? We control the river. Winchester would starve if we wished it."
"Exactly, brother. This city holds value. We can use that to our advantage. If we wish, there is a way to raise the greatest army these shores have ever seen. It can be done. The Temes river would be dark with ships, Danes and Northmen. All we need to be is clever and patient." Erik's blue eyes found his brother's, dipping his chin at the promise of fortune.
"Patient?" he drawled sarcastically.
"Oh, there will still be blood to spill, brother," the younger Northman leaned back into his chair, eyes alight with vigor as he sipped from his goblet, "but this way we will be kings of it all. No Guthrum, no Aethelred, no Alfred, no Uhtred."
~
Uhtred eyed the towering gates of Lunden, hints of sweet nostalgia curling around his heart. It had been many years since set foot inside its walls with Earl Ragnar, and it was a bittersweet reunion. Finan and Sihtric were at his side, basking in the warmth of sun and the aromatic scents that floated through the air.
"They say Lunden is dangerous." Sihtric observed uneasily, dark eyes scanning their surroundings in apprehension.
"Oh, it is, but Lunden is alive with every kind of life." Finan confided, throwing a playful arm around the younger Dane.
"I heard women do not walk these streets unguarded, that bodies are found in the river daily."
"Twice daily, with each and every tide. Lunden is not Winchester, but one year here is worth ten elsewhere." Finan continued, eyes bright.
"Then why do you not live here?" Sihtric questioned accusingly.
"And end up dead in the river? Do I look like a fool?" the Irishman smirked widely.
"On the matters of women, Lord," Sihtric turned his attention to Uhtred, "what do we know of the woman Father Beocca told you about?"
The Dane-Slayer had informed his men of Beocca coming to him for help, though the information he shared - much like the priest - was scarce. "He told me much of little value, only that she is the daughter of an old friend."
"Beocca having friends that are not us? Seems unlikely." Finan chuckled.
Uhtred glanced over his shoulder, ensuring Aethelred and Aldhem could not overhear their conversation. He found them many paces away, whispering amongst themselves like clucking chickens before looking forward once more. "It seems unlikely to me as well."
"You think he is keeping something from you?" Finan's eyebrow rose in intrigue.
"I do," he admitted, "it is not like him to keep secrets, and when he does, I can see it plainly."
"How will we know where to look for her? If she is even alive?" Sihtric frowned.
"Her mother claimed she is a gifted healer. If it is true, I am sure Sigefrid and Erik will keep her close...if they have not yet already killed her."
"What will we do if we do find her, Lord? I doubt the brothers will give up their woman so easily." Finan wondered.
"I do not yet know," Uhtred considered for a moment, "but I am sure to think of something."
~
The summer sun beamed down mercilessly from the cloudless sky, its heat thick and suffocating. You watched with distaste as the large iron nails were hammered into a captured priest's wrists, his naked body bound to a large wooden cross. His wails of agony ricocheted off the stone walls of the main grounds, legs and arms jerking violently in protest.
A small band of priests had traveled to Beamfleot at the behest of Guthrum, seeking to broker a peace between the two brothers. They were immediately thrown into chains and brought to Lunden to be tortured at the leisure of the occupying Northmen. Sigefrid had ordered your presence during his experiment, deigning you could glean information on the barbaric Christian practice.
"I do not understand how this kills a man." Sigefrid cocked his head to the side, half in confusion, half in boredom.
"Take his head and be done with it." Erik rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest in disinterest.
"No, no. I want to know how."
You glanced sidelong at the dark-haired Northman with a distasteful frown on your lips. "It is the shock, Lord. The heart and body have a limit on how much pain it can endure. It is different than an injury from a sword or axe, which is instant. Being nailed to a cross can last days, and the prisoner goes without food or water. It is death by torturous means."
He regarded you for a moment. "Oh?"
"The Lady is right, Lord. The cross kills a man slowly. It is both torture and execution." another captured priest spoke from beside you, beads of sweat running down his unwashed face. "Unlike Saxons and Danes, the Romans were clever."
"There, you have your answer." Erik pat his brother's shoulder. "Now take his head off."
"Agreed, Lord. And if you please, when it comes to me, with your sharpest axe and strongest man." the priest replied.
"You talk too much," Sigefrid exhaled in annoyance.
"I do. You should kill me swiftly." the priest agreed.
You could not help the chuckle that escaped you. The elder brother turned. "You find this shitling amusing?"
"Very much, Lord. I have never met an amusing priest."
"The only sort of amusing priest is a dead priest." Sigefrid huffed.
"And yet, one kneels before us, alive."
"Thank you, Lady," the priest bowed his head in your direction, "that is a kind thing to hear before one dies."
"You will be silent, priest." Sigefrid growled.
"I would be forever, Lord, if you would hasten the process."
"She is right, brother. He is amusing." Erik rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "What is your name, priest?"
"Father Pyrlig, Lord."
"What an odd name." Erik mused.
"Yes Lord, I always thought so."
"Silence, priest!" Sigefrid hissed. "Or I shall take your suggestion and swiftly bash your skull in."
"Well-"
"Lord, it is Uhtred." a nearby guard called from a few paces away, gazing upon the archway and watching as the warriors approached. The brothers shared a quick glance before turning to face the unexpected visitors.
"Uhtred Ragnarson, the infamous Dane-Slayer!" Sigefrid held his arms open in mock embrace. The mysterious Dane came into view, the amber handle atop his sword catching your attention before you were captivated by the light of his eyes. He was handsome, tall and strong shouldered as only the best warriors were, commanding the space around him with ease. He was flanked by a small group of men, light green eyes the color of moss briefly scanning the surrounding grounds with silent intrigue.
"Sigefrid," Uhtred greeted evenly, "I thought you might want to kill me still."
"Oh, for a long time I did," he smiled tightly before raising his dagger-hand, "but then I grew to like my new hand. Though I have to be careful when wiping my arse."
Erik eyed his brother before greeting the Dane. "It is good to see you here, Uhtred. Though your friends are not familiar."
"I could say the same of you, Erik." Uhtred glanced briefly at you before returning his gaze to the Northmen. "This is Aethelred of Mercia." he gestured to a pinch-faced lord, the curls upon his head reminding you that of straw. He looked barely old enough to be considered a man in your estimations, the air around him acrid with overconfidence.
"Lord," Erik bowed his head in greeting, "my spies tell me you are to marry Alfred's daughter."
Your stomach churned with uneasiness as you regarded the pinched-face man with narrowed eyes.
"Your spies are wrong, lord. I have already married Alfred's daughter." Aethelred replied smugly. You swallowed thickly at his statement, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips. Though there was no shared bond between you and the princess besides paternity, you empathized with her greatly. There were not many fates worse than your existence holding the value solely of political pawn, less so being bound to a lesser man.
"Why is he here, Uhtred?" Erik asked.
"I am here, lords, to ask of you your price for leaving Lunden." he attempted to pull himself to his full height.
"Alfred wishes to negotiate," Uhtred answered with a slight roll of his eyes.
"I wish to negotiate," Aelthelred amended tersly.
Sigefrid chuckled, brown eyes meeting the knowing smirk of his brother. "We have only just arrived, why would we want to leave?"
"You are warriors, you will know that Lunden is impossible to defend, so, let us get this done."
"Is that a threat?" Sigefrid titled his head to the side. "It sounds like a threat."
"I am asking you to retreat, lords, for a price, for silver."
"Flesh is our price. Your bride, Aelthelflaed." Erik goaded in return. The brothers chuckled to themselves. "She has great beauty, a good mind. I am in need of a wife."
"And I am in need of a hump," Sigefrid added, "we shall share her."
"Nonsense! She is-"
"Aethelred they are teasing you." Uhtred sighed in exasperated annoyance. "Perhaps we can begin with a cup of ale while we discuss these matters? It is a long walk from the river."
"A cup of ale it is, Lord Uhtred, this way." Erik smiled in agreement, extending his arm in the direction of the feast hall. You sidestepped, allowing them to walk by, eyes catching the emerald green of Uhtred's passive glance. You stared at each other for half a breath before he turned his head and walked away.
~
As the sun dipped below the horizon, a knock sounded from the surgery's open door. You peered up from your workstation, eyes landing on Rollo. "Come in. There is no patient at the moment, no need to knock."
"Forgive me, Lady. I would do so, however, Lord Erik has requested your presence."
"For what reason?" you turned your attention back to the crushed yarrow that lay within your mortar and pestle.
"The feast, my Lady. He wishes for you to dine with them as the negotiations continue, in case they turn."
You frowned, wiping your hands on the front of your apron. "At this very moment?"
"Yes, my Lady."
A gentle curse escaped you before you sighed and met the young warrior's hazel eyes, taking in hand your satchel. "After you."
The discordant sound of overlapping voices reached your ears before you entered the grand hall, only escalating to a grating degree upon entry. The scent of cooking meat and spices floated in the air, the smell causing your stomach to grumble, painfully reminding you that you hadn't eaten since midday. As you and Rollo walked the distance of the stone isle towards the head table, you felt the leering gazes of the brother's warriors as you passed them. You did not shrink from their stare as you pulled yourself to your full height, commanding the space around you. Eventually Erik nodded for you and Rollo to sit at their table, where one side was full of Uhtred and his company, the other comprised solely of the two brothers. The only space that was open was beside Sigefrid, directly across from Uhtred and another brown-haired warrior whose eyes were black as coal. You obeyed, silently settling beside the elder Northman, Rollo beside you at the table's end.
"Do you intend to put all the priests on the cross? I saw two on our way into the fortress grounds." Uhtred's mossy gaze landed on the brothers as he plucked at a piece of meat on his plate.
"It is Sigefrid's game," Erik shrugged, taking a tip of ale.
"I do not understand how it kills a man," he shrugged, "it is a cowardly death."
"Slowly lord, it is a cruel death." the brown-eyed man spoke, the lilt of his accent foreign to you.
"That is what the healer here said," he inclined his head in your direction.
"The healer is right," Uhtred's eyes flickered to yours, an indecipherable glimmer flashing briefly across them.
"The remaining priest you have tied in the square looks like he's nothing more than a pale bag of bones. You should let him fight." the Dane-Slayer took a sip of his ale.
"He could die too easily," Erik's eyebrows furrowed.
Uhtred shrugged, the movement causing the large sword upon his back to glint in the torchlight above. "Give him something to fight for: his freedom."
Sigefrigd's own goblet slammed on the table beside you, causing you to startle. The liquid within sloshed over the sides, pouring over onto your plate. With narrowed eyes he stared at the Dane-Slayer, voice darkening with intrigue. "Why?"
"I rather watch him spill his guts than be nailed to a piece of wood. Where's the fun in that?"
The dark-haired Northman barked a laugh before shooting to his feet, barking an order at one of the nearest guards. "Clear the tables and bring in the priest!"
You and Rollo remained seated, a deep frown etching itself onto your face as Father Pyrlig was forced into the dining hall, hands bound painfully in front of him. He tripped as the Dane who led him jerked forcefully on the rope, laughing with cruel amusement as he stumbled forward. A sword was thrust into his hands the moment his bindings were cut away, clattering loudly to the floor as it slipped from his grasp. A cluster of mocking laughter erupted from the crowding warriors, jeers and insults spewing from their lips.
"See now why I summoned you, healer?" Erik bent down to your ear before briefly meeting your eyes, his own twinkling with the promise of violence. You did not reply as he straightened and crossed over to his brother, clapping him enthusiastically upon his back.
"Do you not like fighting, Lady?" the man with the strange accent suddenly asked as he sat in the open seat beside you, bearing his goblet carefully in his hands as he lowered himself. He took a deep sip of his ale before meeting your eyes.
You shook your head. "I am a healer, not a weaver of bloodshed."
"Aye, makes sense." he regarded you for a moment. "I am called Finan, Lady."
"Finan?" you echoed his name, the syllables odd on your tongue. "You are not from Daneland, I take it?"
He smirked. "Aye. I was born in the beautiful land of Ireland."
"Ah."
"And you? Are you native to Lunden?"
You could not help the flicker of sadness that swam over your face as you introduced yourself. "I hail from Northumbria."
"Northumbrian?" his eyebrow quirked. "You are very far from home."
A tight smile forced its way onto your face. "I am, yes."
Finan stared at you for a moment longer before glancing quickly around the immediate vicinity. "Do you know of another priest called Father Beocca, Lady?"
The name tugged on something deep within the recesses of your mind, but no matter how hard you tried to conjure it, you could not. "No, I am not."
Surprise momentarily consumed him before he centered himself. "Beg my pardon, then."
"Why do you ask?"
"Well I-"
A loud clamor sounded out throughout the feast hall, causing your ears to ring. Your eyes landed on the towering form of Sigefrid standing atop one the tables just a few paces away, a shield in his right hand as he banged on it with his dagger hand. "Who wishes to be entertained? Who is man enough to kill a priest?!"
Dozens of men yelled their reply; their swords and axes held high above their heads. When you turned your head to requestion the Irishman, he was gone. Confusion overtook you as you scanned your eyes around the hall, stilling as you found him. He stood on the opposite side of the room, whispering something into his lord's ear. Uhtred inclined his head slightly before lifting it, eyes finding your own. They narrowed as his face darkened, chin inclining as they held your gaze. You did not shy away from it, not even as uneasiness curled within your gut. It was only when Rollo attempted to grab your attention did he turn and look away.
Summary - Abandoned by your lover, you turn to closest friend for comfort.
Warnings - fem!reader, platonic, abandonment issues, self-destructive behavior, mentions of blood/injury/slavery, will probably deviate from canon at times
Word Count - 1.4k
!MINORS DNI!
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
A metallic tang clings to your tongue, having chewed your nails to the point of ruin. How long has it been? Since you first began to drown in the insufferable sound of your own footsteps, pacing along the floor of what was meant to be your shared guest room at Lady Aethelflaed’s estate.
The minute’s feel like hours—or perhaps the opposite is true. Time seems to melt and blur, reality distorted by the most awful, unavoidable truth.
Sihtric is gone.
Something crumples in your chest. You stumble over nothing, barely reaching out in time to catch yourself. Bloodstained fingers curl around carved wood, gripping the footboard of a bed that’s much too big for only one person. You stare at it—at the absurd number of plush feather pillows, all neatly stacked atop thick furs.
Aethelflaed had done this on purpose. Given you and Sihtric the guest room with the biggest, nicest bed. The kindness of a friend, now turned to salt in an open wound.
Sihtric caused this. This yawning chasm inside of you, an emptiness that threatens to swallow you whole. He caused this.
Tears sting the back of your throat. Blur your vision.
The walls start to cave in. Begin crumbling around you.
You whirl towards the door, unwilling to be trapped in this room for even a second longer.
Antique sconces line the hallway, their dim flames fighting to stave off the thick shadows skulking in the corners. This late at night, an eerie stillness seems to cling to the air. You drift through it like a wraith—hopeless and stumbling.
When you reach the door at the end of the hall, you don’t knock. Pushing it open, you step inside without a thought.
A lone candle burns atop a desk on the far wall, the only light illuminating the cramped, windowless room. Weapons and armor are strewn about as if they’d been stripped off and carelessly discarded, exhaustion taking precedence over neatness.
You find Finan straight ahead, sprawled out on the bed with an arm tossed over his face.
Relief almost sends you crumbling to your knees.
At least he was still here. At least he hadn’t abandoned you.
You take another step, the floorboards creaking beneath your weight. Finan shifts, arm lifting just enough to reveal tired, squinty eyes.
One look at you and he’s shoved himself upright, concern etched into every line of his face.
Your voice is shaky, the words clawing up your throat. “Sihtric’s gone. He.. he left.”
Finan’s mouth opens, then closes again. He shakes his head, as though contemplating and then discarding several replies, unable to find the one that might actually comfort you.
Eventually, he settles on the truth.
“I know,” he admits, running a hand through his beard. “I noticed a few hours ago. I went to check on the hostages after Uhtred set out and…” A deep, frustrated sigh. “The cell was empty. I put two and two together quick enough—figured the little runt must’ve made a deal with ‘em so they’d take him back to the Danes.” An apology flashes in his eyes. “I’d hoped you were already asleep. That you wouldn’t have to deal with this until tomorrow.”
Silence pools around you, the melancholy blues of Sihtric’s absence boiling into violent hues of betrayal.
Suddenly, you have the insatiable urge to pinch yourself. As if this is all some sort of cruel mind trick. A nightmare you might still wake up from. You fumble with your hands, fingers picking at the already torn flesh around your nails. You feel pain—and yet nothing changes.
Sihtric’s still gone. He still betrayed you.
Betrayed all of you.
Your head shakes. Warmth begins to spill down your cheeks. “He’s a coward,” you grind out, teeth clenched. “A goddamn coward!”
A heartbeat and Finan’s up on his feet, closing the distance between you in only a few hasty steps.
Calloused palms wrap around your wrists, stilling your restless, bloodstained fingers. He pulls you toward him, your knees buckling as you collapse into his chest. Strong arms keep you upright, slipping around your shoulders as another sob tears from your throat.
Finan holds you like this for a while, rubbing circles against your back and mumbling soothing words against your hair—I know; It’s okay; I’ve got you.
It’s not until your tears finally slow to a stop, his tunic all but drenched with them, that he tries to say anything of merit.
“He’s not thinkin’ straight.” You feel the words rumble through his chest, but you’re not certain you heard him right. “It’s all this mess with the curse,” Finan mumbles. “It’s gotten in his head.”
You push back, not leaving his grip entirely, but enough to look up at him. “Are you seriously defending him?”
His gaze flickers over your face. A twinge of pity tightens his expression, taking in your flushed skin, streaked with tears. “No,” he answers simply. “But I am statin’ a fact. He would’ve never done this if not for that damned devil-witch.”
A fair point, perhaps.
The witch Skade had sunk her talons into Sihtric the moment she spewed that curse from her nasty mouth. She poisoned his mind with paranoia, feasted on his fear like a glutton.
Skade’s played a hand in everything Sihtric has done—undermining Uhtred’s authority, threatening to fight against his friends, betraying all of you by going back to those filthy goddamn Danes.
“Maybe you’re right,” you bitterly relent. “But it doesn’t matter. You can blame the witch all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that he made a choice! To betray and abandon us, and to leave me just like—” You catch yourself, mouth clamping shut on the vulnerable words.
Finan doesn’t speak, only watching you as the dim firelight dances over the handsome, yet despondent, planes of his face. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Brushes a knuckle along your cheek, wiping what remains of your tears.
Your tongue glides over dry lips, mind reeling slightly. He’s always so patient with you. So kind.
And he’s here.
Through damp lashes, you hold Finan’s soft gaze. “I’ll never forgive him for this,” you utter of Sihtric. You’ve been hurt so many times by people you cared about. Been left by too many of them.
Finan gives a terse nod full of understanding. “You don’t have to.”
“And I won’t sleep in that room,” you add. Your jaw clenches, fighting another wave of bitter emotion at the thought of laying in that big, lonely bed. “I can’t.”
All too quickly, he says, “Then don’t. Sleep here.”
A small wrinkle forms between your brows.
With one hand still on your back, he lifts the other in mock surrender—an awkward gesture given the closeness of your bodies.
“No funny business.” His vow is tinged with subtle amusement. A bit reluctant, he adds, “It’ll be just like the old days.”
Back when he and Uhtred were first recovered from the slave ship—before you took Sihtric as your lover.
You didn’t know Finan then, but you’d tended to his wounds all the same. Cleaned each brutal gash and stitched every cut; sat hunched in a chair until your back began to ache, plucking tiny splinters from his palms, the skin ravaged and raw from tireless hours spent rowing and rowing and rowing.
But the worst wounds had been the ones unseen.
The way his muscles tensed whenever he sat by the fire, the crackling logs too similar to the sound of a whip; how nightmares regularly tore him from sleep, blurring the lines between what’s real and what’s not.
You treated those wounds, too. As best you could.
Distracted him from the sounds of the fire with terrible quips and embarrassing stories. Spent late nights together in your room, talking about anything and everything until exhaustion would finally win out. And you’d still be there whenever he’d jolt awake, too, when the blackness of the room felt all too much like the hollow belly of the slave ship.
A faint smile touches your lips. In spite of the awfulness, something beautiful had been born in those dark months. Something light.
“The old days,” you muse, voice still hoarse from crying. “You mean back when you were always leaving your stench all over my bed?”
Finan scoffs. “My stench?” He makes a real show of it—leaning in close, his wiry beard scratching at your cheek as he sniffs your hair, only to recoil with a look of exaggerated disgust. Deadpan, he jokes, “I think you must’ve been gettin’ a whiff of yourself, sweetheart.”
Your laugh is a broken sound, but a laugh all the same.
“You’re insufferable,” you tell him.
The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin. “I think you mean irresistible.”
Your eyes roll as you slide from his embrace.
“I don’t.”
a/n: i wanna apologize to sihtric for making him seem like a total bitch in this, but tbf it's kinda his fault. maybe tell ur gf w/ all the abandonment issues about your plan, y'know?
anyways, i've been suffering over this piece for a full week now, so if you like it, please leave a comment/reblog/or write me an in-depth love letter about it!
note: A Nosferatu inspired fic. I know this won't be for everyone, and please be aware that this is not the usual way I write Sihtric or fics in general. Still, I hope those who read it will enjoy it. So, uhm, see you in a few centuries?
warnings: 18+! angst/horror/suggestive. Mention of death, blood, minor self harm (for ritualistic purposes), stalking, obsessed and possessive behaviour, no standard happy ending.
pairing: Vampire!Sihtric x Reader (f) (no use of Y/N)
summary: You accidentally woke an ancient creature of the night, and you had bound yourself to him in ways you never deemed possible.
word count: 8.6k
Masterlist
Reblogs & comments are immensely appreciated.
February 1st
'Cursed,' you muttered to yourself as you got up from the table. You grabbed your coat and threw it around your shoulders, then left the warmth of the coffee shop the same way you had arrived; alone. 'All men should be cursed,' you huffed and tucked your chin into the neck of your coat, seeking shelter from the snow as it fell from the grey sky.
You had been stood up by a man you had met on a dating app. You got ghosted all the while you had been waiting at a table set for two, at the cute and cosy coffee shop downtown. For over an hour you had anxiously checked your phone for any texts or missed calls from your date, before you realised no one was coming to see you, and no notifications ever appeared. Another date gone wrong, and you were done. You deleted the app off your phone as you stomped through the narrow street, passing the crowded shops and bakeries. Your hands trembled with anger and your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.
'They should all be damned,' you continued to curse quietly, shoved your phone in your purse, and your hands in your coat pockets. 'They should all be damned to hell. All those who toy with our hearts as if we are nothing. Useless creatures men are, all of them.'
This wasn't the first time you were stood up by a guy, but it was the last thing you needed to happen after a string of miserable dates. It was February and, with valentine's day lurking around the corner, you groaned upon seeing all the lovey dovey ads in every store window and billboard as you walked through the city centre. You wanted to get home immediately, desperately wanted a shower to wash away the shame and anger you felt after thinking maybe this date could be "the one". It was your favourite bookstore that made you stop your pace and turn, after you had stormed past the entrance already. If anything, you weren't going to let some stupid guy ruin your whole day. He had ruined a good hour of your day already, and that was enough. Some book browsing never harmed you, and you needed the comfort that came with the store. It always embraced you warmly with the scent of books and freshly brewed tea and coffee from the little bar in the back of the shop, and today was no different.
You calmed down while your eyes darted over the numerous books in front of you. The thoughts and memories of your failing love life were drowned out slowly, making room for the interesting covers and titles that caught your attention, yet none interesting enough to reach for and flip through. You sighed at the second disappointment of the day, sometimes even the book store couldn't please you. You turned to leave the store after a little while, but then you stumbled upon a table that held various books about spirituality and witchcraft. You snorted at first, not being one who indulges in those topics unless it came in the form of a spicy romantasy book. And yet there was one title that caught your eye and drew you closer.
Your feet moved to the table as if they had a will of their own, and you picked up a book called Love Spells. Your fingers traced the golden letters printed upon the black cover, before you flipped to the index page. Your eyes landed on a vast variety of rituals, which would supposedly give you everlasting love. You rolled your eyes at the nonsense, yet couldn't stop yourself from turning page after page, until you saw one ritual that was so odd you simply couldn't look away and ignore it.
Bonding ritual
What you'll need:
Rose petals (fresh or dried):
Rose petals are a symbol of love, lust and passion.
1 red candle
2 drops of blood (your own)
Blood is vital to love and life. It makes the ritual more powerful, intimate and personal.
Graveyard dirt (one tablespoon)
They say "'till death do us part" for a reason, adding some graveyard dirt will guarantee you to have a love that will last even after death!
You made a face; a mixture of amusement and disgust. No way that this could work. Or could it? That split second of hesitation caught you entirely off guard, and you closed the book as you turned on your heels. Once again it felt as if something took control over your feet as you made way to the cashier. You didn't know what came over you at that very moment, but something told you that you had to try the ritual. Your love life was a disaster already anyway. So what's the worst thing that could happen?
February 9th
Days after your book purchase you pondered about the ritual. Chances of it failing and being absolute nonsense, as you suspected, were high. But that tiny chance of success and finding the love you so desired kept gnawing at you. You had two of the main ingredients already: the dried rose petals and your own blood, naturally. You only needed to obtain the ridiculous component that was graveyard dirt. You refused to be seen scooping up dirt in the public graveyard, just outside of town, so you had to come up with a different place if you really were going to do this.
You paced around and wanted to fling the book into the trash bin next to your desk. But just when you wanted to give up on the ridiculous idea of doing the ritual, you suddenly remembered the old and abandoned castle which stood on the hill and overlooked your small town. Surely that place had a graveyard. You had a vague memory from when you were a child, of the rusty gates and half broken tombstones that sat at the back of the old castle, and you figured that the dirt had to be considered graveyard dirt too. It seemed ridiculous and it was a half hour drive, but if you were going to do something as grotesque as this ritual, you might as well go all in.
The castle had been forsaken for centuries. At least that's how the tale went. For once a powerful and important nobleman lived there and ruled over what was then a small village. The previously small village was a small town now, your town, and the castle was merely kept as a reminder of the history in which a lot of blood had been shed. But another story which had been spread over time said the castle was still there because it was haunted. Some believed that the spirit of the man who once lived and ruled there was still roaming the corridors, and tearing the building down would unleash a curse so great it was said to destroy the whole town. And nobody was ever brave enough to fact check that.
The old grey building was a haunting image from every angle, with its turrets and overall gothic architecture. It was eerily quiet when you stepped through the rusty old gate that was left ajar. Up ahead was a massive wooden door, but you followed the small trail that led around the gigantic castle, to the private graveyard you remembered from your childhood memories. You kneeled down at one of the half shattered headstones. The nobleman's last name was only half visible due to the cracks and crumbled stone, but you knew the man who was supposedly buried beneath your dirty sneakers went by the name of Sihtric Kjartansson.
You were not one to be scared easily, but the absence of any sound made you hurry. There was no distant noise coming from traffic or birds, not even the wind was heard and the high tops of the massive trees stood completely still.
'Sorry if this is considered desecration of a grave,' you mumbled and scooped a tablespoon of dirt in a plastic cup, sealed it with its lid, and then made haste back to your car without looking back.
February 13th, the night before Valentine's day.
You chuckled to yourself as you sat on the floor, in the middle of your darkened bedroom. You held the black book of love spells in one hand and lit the red candle in front of you with a match.
'What am I doing?' you mumbled and shook your head, then sighed. 'Well, here goes nothing.'
You grabbed the dried rose petals and crushed them in your hand as you read the words on the page out loud.
'With these petals I open up my heart and mind for unconditional love,' you said, a little uncertain, and you dropped the petals in the candle's flame, 'come to me.'
'With this dirt,' you continued and held the cup of graveyard dirt, 'I invite my yet unknown lover to love me in life and after death. Come to me.'
You sprinkled the sand carefully around the flame, to avoid extinguishing it by accident. You then took the small knife that was on the floor next to you and put the book down.
'And with my blood,' you said and hissed softly as you made a small cut in your ring finger, 'I bound myself to my yet unknown lover, forever and in eternity. Come to me.'
After your blood had mixed with the petals and dirt in the wax, you were quick to put a bandaid on the small wound and picked the book back up again.
'And now,' you continued to read out loud, 'I demand my love to come to me, to find me, to own me. This is my will, so it shall be.'
You took a deep breath and felt oddly powerful. You sat in silence for a few long seconds and then made a disappointed face. Your room remained quiet, and even though you had just done your first ever ritual, it seemed as if nothing had changed. And it was underwhelming.
'That's it?' you furrowed your brow, 'really?'
You felt a little disappointed as you looked at the burning candle. No great flames shot out from the candle, no howling wind rattled your doors, and no demonic creature took over your body. Nothing happened, absolutely nothing. Only your white curtains danced very faintly in front of your open window, the pale moonlight shining through the fabric as you just sat there.
You then shrugged and got up to close the window, and carefully placed the burning candle in the window sill so it could burn out safely, just like the book had instructed, and after that you simply went to bed.
'Another failed way of finding love,' you sighed and turned under the sheets, 'but at least no one witnessed this embarrassment, unlike being stood up in public.'
You tossed and turned for a few hours, and it was only right before you fell asleep that the hairs on your body stood up. It suddenly felt as if a colossal shadow was watching you, from the dark corner of your bedroom, but a heavy sleep pulled you under before you could blink again.
A restless night followed. Dreams that transformed into nightmares pestered you in your sleep, and it felt all too real. Images of the castle's graveyard, clouded with thick fog, made you toss and turn in bed. You wandered barefoot through the fogged up and muddy graveyard, towards the grand entrance of the ominous looking castle, and the way your feet touched the cold wet cobblestone floor as you explored the dark building made you shiver.
An open and empty casket stood in a dark stone hall, which made you whimper softly as you slept. It felt so real. The sight of the large, dark and open coffin, its lid thrown on the floor, made you stop and stare, as if you were completely frozen for what felt like hours. It was only the sudden howling of wolves and the sight of the great black predators emerging from the shadows behind the casket that made you turn and run. You ran out of the darkened hall and into a large room, which was lit by flames dancing in the hearth, and there you were abruptly stopped as you ran into a large dark figure.
The figure stepped into the moonlight, revealing to be a bare and breathtaking man, with his dark curls half shaved and his pale muscular torso gravely scarred. The stranger stepped towards you, but you felt no fear. You were only mesmerized and enchanted by his looks. You believed that if you could shape the man of your dreams, he would look exactly like the man in front of you. You looked at him in awe for a moment. But the handsome man suddenly grew ugly as you stepped closer, his face began to fall apart and bugs crawled out of his rotten flesh and cracked skull. Bats and rats emerged from the shadows as the man seemed to dissolve of sorts, and you ran again as fast as you could.
But you never made it out of the castle, not that you could remember at least. You jolted awake and sat up in your own bed, trying to catch your breath from the night terror you had just awoken from.
'It was just a dream,' you whispered to yourself, while the sun started to appear outside your window. 'It was just a stupid dream,' you scoffed, 'that's what you get for doing a stupid ritual before bed.'
It had just been a nightmare, that was all. Except when you got out of bed, you found your feet were covered with dried mud. You looked at your window sill and found the candle had burnt out overnight, just as intended. You figured that the dirt on your feet was merely some accidentally spilled graveyard dirt from your ritual, which you had stepped into before going to bed. And you took a shower to rinse yourself of the haunting feeling that lingered.
But your confusion didn't end there. It continued when you heard a knock on your door, hours later, and were surprised with a delivery. Two dozens of red roses were left on your doorstep, with no messenger in sight. Snow drizzled down as you picked up the flowers and closed the door. You inspected the flowers as you stood in your kitchen, and found an envelope tucked away which was sealed with red wax. Inside was a letter, handwritten in black ink:
Centuries I have waited to be awoken from my slumber.
You, my darling, have called upon me and given me life again.
We are bound to one another. I will love and cherish you in ways you can not foresee.
I am yours and you are mine. I will act accordingly to preserve what belongs to me.
I shall be eagerly awaiting our next meeting.
Yours for eternity,
Sihtric Kjartansson
'What the fuck?' you mumbled, then snorted as you looked for any clue that would reveal this was a joke. But when you found nothing, you looked at the letter again. 'Wait, next meeting?' you frowned as you read the letter over and over again, but nothing made any sense.
You placed the enormous bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase and sat back, staring at the roses on your kitchen table while you tried to piece together what was happening. It was ridiculous, but the timing of delivery made you wonder if the ritual had actually worked. You laughed dryly at the thought, and then felt a mild panic take over as your fingers traced the letter you still held in your hands. Either your ritual had worked, or someone was somehow aware of the ritual you had done and played a sick joke on you. You weren't sure which was worse. The idea that someone you had seemingly summoned was here to love you forever, or that someone was probably spying on you. Because how else would anyone know what you had done? For a brief moment you wanted to believe that the guy who had stood you up the other day felt bad about it and apologised. But that didn't make sense either, since his name was Aethelred, and not Sihtric. And although both names sounded ancient, you quickly discarded the idea, because you were pretty sure Aethelred didn't know where you lived.
You went over the night before and your haunting dream multiple times, and you couldn't forget the handsome man you had seen in your nightmare. Against better judgement you allowed a fantasy to settle in your mind. Could the man from your disturbing dream be the sender of the roses? Was he really the Sihtric Kjartansson whose graveyard dirt you had used?
You had a hard time believing the flowers were really a gift from an ancient corpse, because that was not possible. Right? No, it surely wasn't possible. And yet you felt strangely excited for the first time in a while, despite not understanding where these flowers truly came from, or why the letter was signed by the man who had died so long ago. But regardless, the smile on your face was set for the rest of the day, as it seemed you finally had found yourself an admirer on valentine's day.
A somewhat secret and mysterious admirer nonetheless.
Your curiosity had gotten the best of you, and only a few hours after the strange delivery you decided to grab your coat and jump in your car. You wanted to curse yourself for going back to the castle, but something inside you simply called to you. You had to go there.
The snow had started to fall heavier with thick flakes while on your way, almost making it seem like the city which the castle overlooked had completely vanished from the world behind a curtain of white and grey. The old building looked isolated from the world, and the wind howled loudly. You zipped up your coat and got out of your car, arms wrapped around yourself to keep warm while you walked to the massive wooden door.
You raised a fist to knock but found the door slightly ajar, as if it had never been locked. You hesitated for a moment, then gave the heavy door a shove and slipped inside the castle. The place was dark and quiet, but not cold like you had expected. It seemed the thick walls made for great isolation against the harsh winters. You remained silent as you carefully shuffled through the dark hallway, using your hands to guide you along the cool wall and into a grand hall. A huge stone stairway spiraled up along the walls, faintly lit by a handful of glassless windows which followed alongside the stairs, through which snow twirled in. The stairs were blanketed with a thin layer of the white powder the wind had carried inside. A massive old and rusty chandelier swung lightly, mounted on the ceiling high above you.
You took a deep breath and walked past the stairs, towards another heavy door which was also left open, as if it was a trail you were to follow. Anyone else would think this was a bad idea. And it's not that you believed it was a great idea, there was just something inside you that kept… calling you. You followed the magnetic pull until you found yourself in a large room, where a fire was burning brightly in the hearth. The room was empty, apart from a huge dining table with only two chairs, and one other grand chair which stood alone and faced the fireplace at the opposite side of the room. The chair's back was turned to you, and suddenly you saw a dark clothed arm resting on the armrest, fingers decorated with rings that glistened in the dancing flames. You cautiously walked over, just like you felt you were called to do, but froze when you heard a heavy exhale come from whoever sat in the chair.
'You came,' a low voice almost whispered, 'I called, and you came, my darling.'
You stood nailed to the ground as the man in the chair slowly turned his head to you, revealing his devastatingly beautiful face. The perfect face you had dreamt of. The hauntingly pale skin you had seen while you had slept. The mismatched eyes you had seen roll out of his skull. The curly dark, half shaved haircut you had seen turned into a dusty grey, before his skin rotted from his bones and everything death and decay took over. His scent of amber was pleasant, but it reminded you how the stench of rotten flesh had taken over abruptly in your dream.
The man smiled at you, warm and lazily, as if he had been expecting you all along. He then stood up and came closer, his dark fur cloak draped over his large and broad frame. He towered over you and looked into your eyes, while his tattooed fingers reached to briefly toy with a strand of your hair. He was breathtakingly handsome, a man that could bedazzle anyone with a mere glimpse of him.
He inhaled you deeply as his eyes darted over your face, and a low hum sounded from his chest. He then said, slowly, 'I… take… that you liked… my flowers?'
'Y-you?' you stammered, and a deep feeling of terror took over.
'See it as… a small gift… a thank you,' he breathed, 'for waking me… from my slumber.'
You swallowed hard, but your mouth and throat were dry. Everything suddenly clicked, and you then knew for sure that what you earlier thought was the unthinkable, was actually your new reality. Your ritual had worked. And somehow… you had called upon and woken a dead man in the process.
You triple-checked your doors and windows before you jumped in bed and buried yourself under the covers. Your encounter that afternoon had spooked you beyond words.
You had run as fast as you were able to in order to leave the castle, then literally jumped in your car and almost drove off the icy road as you speeded away without looking back. You tried to tell yourself none of it was real. But you knew there was no denying the warmth and electricity you had felt when Sihtric, who was supposed to be dead, had loomed over you in his castle. Still, you tried to convince yourself it was a dream, but you knew damn well you had been very awake and it had been very real. You had the scrapes on your body to prove it. You had earned the bruises on your hands after you ran from Sihtric, into the dark hallway, where you had used your hands to guide you back to the main entrance in panic. And your slightly bruised knees were the result of slipping on ice before you reached the door of your car.
But it had been hours since the encounter, so a part of you believed that this Sihtric guy wasn't out to hurt you, because surely he would've done so already if he wanted to. He even knew where you lived. Yet, he still scared the hell out of you though, because it wasn't natural for someone to be that perfect. Nor was the fact that he had returned from the actual freaking dead.
The vase of roses stood untouched in your kitchen. You were too afraid to touch them, let alone throw them out, so you had just closed the kitchen door instead before you had run to your bedroom. Maybe if you pretended the flowers weren't there, they'd disappear eventually.
You felt tired and hungry, but you were too exhausted and spooked to eat after everything, and it was already late in the evening by the time you heard your stomach growl louder than the racing thoughts you had all day. Instead of going to the kitchen and facing the roses, you turned in bed and hid deeper under the sheets. This was all a nightmare, tomorrow you'd wake up and laugh about it. Or so you hoped. But before you dozed off, it once again felt as if a dark presence lurked from the dark corner of your room, and then sleep pulled you under within seconds.
You floated through the dark night sky, high above your sleeping city, like a white feather being carried upon a cloud of darkness. You silky nightgown danced in the cool breeze. Snow had finally stopped falling as you drifted towards Sihtric's castle.
Unlike last time you had faced him, you now felt calm and safe in his presence. His strong arms were secured tightly around your waist as he held you from behind, his amber scent was comforting while his warm lips grazed your ear each time he spoke with his low and soothing voice. You sat in his lap, upon the grey furs that covered the old cobble stone floor, in front of the burning hearth.
'I don't understand any of this,' you murmured, sleepily. 'And I… I am scared.'
'Please, do not be frightened of me. I am not here to hurt you, my darling,' Sihtric whispered calmly. 'But… you called upon me. Woke me from centuries of lonely sleep. My mere purpose is to serve you, to give you everything your heart desires. To love you with everything I am, with everything I own. You asked for unconditional love, you asked to be bound to someone who would love you unlike you have ever been loved before. So here I am, my love. I am all for you. But,' he paused and took a slow, deep breath as he squeezed his arms tighter around you, 'forget not, my angel, you are mine as much as I am yours.'
'Are you real?' you asked, still drunk on sleep.
'I am as real as you are,' Sihtric chuckled softly, then brushed his lips over your cheek and kissed your neck softly. His tongue stroked slowly across your pulse point, then he said, 'I am as real as the blood in your veins, my love.'
You gasped softly and leaned into his touch. The feeling of his lips on your skin was like fire, a roaring heat spread through your body while you surrendered to him. He was, afterall, the man of your dreams. Irresistible. Your head spun as he kissed down to your shoulders, hooked his fingers under the thin straps of your gown and slid them down your arms. You turned in his lap, locked eyes, and kissed him as if something had taken over you. You got lost in his touch, his kiss and his scent. You allowed him to undress you, and in return you unclasped his heavy cloak and let it pool around him. You broke the kiss and took off his dark tunic, then admired his scarred and muscular body for a moment before your mouth was back on his again. He truly was perfect, and you couldn't seem to get enough. You wanted him. Needed him. Every part of him.
As if he could read your mind, Sihtric flipped you on your back and straddled your body with his. He kissed you hard and passionately, drawing blood from your lips and tongue as he bit you in between wet, open mouthed kisses. You moaned into his mouth as you felt your own heat pool between your thighs, while his rough hands trailed over your naked body as he kissed you greedily. You welcomed his hard length with ease as he took you roughly on the furs, in front of the fire, making love to and fucking you for hours until you came and screamed his name.
It was after your climax that you jolted awake in bed, blinded by sunlight as it shone through your open bedroom window. You swore you had everything closed before you had dozed off the night before, but relief quickly took over when you remembered the dream you had woken up from. Yet, a mild feeling of disappointment settled in too. Because the dream had felt so real, and a part of you wished it had been real. As a part of you longed to be with him again.
'It was just a dream,' you murmured, 'just a damn dream.'
Your curtains danced in the cool morning breeze, and you got out of bed to close the window. But when you looked down at your body, you found yourself naked and covered in scratch marks.
Before you could panic, you heard a knock on your door that made you jump. You quickly grabbed your robe and ran to the door, confused and frightened, while also feeling strangely complete and… happy. You opened the door forcefully and were greeted with snow and a cold wind. Again, not a messenger in sight, but there was another envelope delivered on your doorstep. You grabbed it with trembling hands and made your way to the kitchen, where you eyed the roses which had clearly not disappeared overnight. You sat down and opened the red wax seal on the envelope. Immediately a necklace fell out and onto the table as you pulled out another handwritten letter.
My blood is as real as the blood in your veins.
Hold me close, my love, the way I hold you close when we are not near.
Yours, forever,
Sihtric.
Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head, and you looked at the necklace. It was a thin metal chain, from which a small bottle with red liquid dangled as you held it up. You squinted to try and figure out what exactly you were looking at, and your breathing stopped for a few long seconds once you realised what it was.
My blood is as real as the blood in your veins.
Blood.
The necklace was a vial of blood.
Sihtric's blood.
You spent your free hours researching the ritual you had done and every possible outcome known. You learned you hadn't been the only desperate soul to perform a stupid ritual to find true love, only to end up more or less accidentally binding yourself to some kind of spirit. The stories you read were terrifying, the only consolation being that whatever you had bound yourself to didn't seem malicious or violent. Sure, your arms and legs were covered in scratches, but you weren't in pain or had ever felt unsafe in Sihtric's presence. Strangely enough, despite not really knowing what was a dream and what was reality anymore, you never felt threatened. You were frightened in a way, but not scared of the man who claimed he had been waiting for you for centuries. If anything, it was kind of comforting that someone finally longed for you.
You researched all kinds of demons and spirits, and at the end of the day you were fairly certain that Sihtric wasn't a demon. Because all you read about demons was how awfully violent and disgusting they were. And that sounded nothing like Sihtric. So, eventually you accepted the fact that he was most likely a spirit of sorts. A spirit you had summoned during your ritual, all thanks to the specific graveyard dirt you had used. You cursed yourself, but deep inside your heart you felt happiness. Because you had finally found your own undying love, who came in the form of a perfectly beautiful man and seemed to be obsessed with you in ways you only ever read about in your romantasy books.
You knew you should be scared, but you couldn't help thinking of him fondly throughout the day. You wore the vial necklace around your neck and absentmindedly stroked it with your fingers. Whether everything had been a dream or not, you longed for him. And every hour away from him only made your need for him stronger, made the pull to go to him more powerful.
You left for the castle again just before midnight, after you had paced for nearly an hour in your living room. Your need to be with Sihtric was stronger than your rational mind, which was begging you to stay away from him. But you refused to listen and decided to only follow your heart.
You leaped into his arms once you met him again. He had waited for you in the dead of night, standing in the door of his castle like a statue. He wrapped his arms and cloak around you, sheltered you from the cold winter night as he kissed you, and then led you inside the warmth of his gothic home. It didn't take long before you kissed him as desperately as you had done in your dream the night before, if it had been a dream at all. You completely surrendered to him without hesitation. You relished in the feeling of him inside you, and you kissed passionately while you made love like feral beasts, on the furs in front of the burning hearth. Only afterwards did you engage in conversation, as Sihtric held you tightly in his arms, both still naked and half covered with his cloak.
'Why did you give me this vial?' you asked as your fingers trailed over the bottle of blood around your neck again.
'You gave me your blood when you did the ritual,' Sihtric murmured in your ear, 'so I gave you mine in return.'
You smiled at that and closed your eyes, sinking deeper into his arms.
'Are you… alive?' you asked.
'Yes and no,' he answered, 'yes, I am living in the sense that I am capable of everything the living can do. I bleed when hurt, I grieve in case of death, and I love without boundaries. But I am dead in other ways. I can breathe, but I don't have to. And unlike you, my love, I have no beating heart inside my chest.'
'How is that possible?' you whispered your thoughts out loud.
'I am a vampire,' Sihtric revealed, 'and your ritual woke me. I can take on many shapes, and this is the shape you wished for me to have, even if you were unaware. You see me exactly the way you want to see me, my love.'
You chuckled and turned in his arms.
'And you are perfect,' you whispered and kissed his lips. 'You really look like a vampire, you know?' you smiled, 'those sharp fangs, your pale skin,' your eyes wandered over his face, 'too perfect to not be a vampire.'
'Because I am a vampire,' Sihtric smiled, 'does that not scare you?'
'No,' you said after a few seconds, 'you do not scare me.'
'Good.'
'So… you really are a vampire?' you asked as he remained serious.
'Of sorts,' he said and kissed the tip of your nose.
'How… how old are you?' you swallowed hard.
'Are you asking how old this human form you gave me is? Or how old my soul is?'
'Both.'
'My human form is somewhere in his thirties,' Sihtric said softly, 'my soul, well, I'm not sure you really want to know, darling.'
'I do. Tell me.' You pressed your forehead against his, your hand resting on the nape of his neck while his arms were still wrapped around you.
'Three-hundredth and eighty six years old.'
You gasped, and Sihtric closed his eyes with a soft sigh.
'Please, do not run,' he whispered as he held you a little tighter.
'I won't,' you reassured him, 'but… you don't age, do you?'
'Not really, no.'
'But I will,' you said, sadly, 'over time, I will grow old…'
'My love,' Sihtric smiled and softly nudged your nose with his before he kissed your lips, 'you know nothing of growing old. That is nothing you ever have to worry about, I promise.'
And after those words, you fell asleep in his arms. Only to wake up in your own bed again the next morning, after a loud knocking on your door had pulled you from your dreams.
Another gift was left on your doorstep. This time you found a beautiful red dress inside the massive box, and another handwritten note.
Tonight we will become one.
Yours, forever.
Sihtric.
You smiled at the cryptic message and didn't hesitate to try on the dress. It looked as if it was made for you, the way the velvet fabric fitted your body perfectly. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach when you met Sihtric again at his castle that night. He was dressed in a dark suit with red accents that matched your dress, and he kissed the back of your hand before he led you inside. You wondered about the effort to dress up, as you expected this night to be the same as any other, and thought you'd end up naked in a matter of minutes. But this night was different. This night you danced to the sounds of an invisible orchestra, in the middle of his grand room where the fire burned brightly in the hearth again.
Sihtric kissed you gently, patiently, as he held you tenderly in his arms. The violins slowed their tune, the melody becoming hauntingly sorrowful as Sihtric slowed his steps. You came to a halt, and he leaned in carefully, with one hand on your lower back as the other cradled the back of your head.
'Do not fear me, my love,' Sihtric whispered. A sharp fang grazed your ear before his grip on you tightened. 'The ritual is almost complete. But in order for us to be together, as you intended,' he paused to place a gentle kiss on your neck, 'you will need to die first.'
You gasped at his words, and it dawned on you what was about to happen before he could sink his teeth into your flesh. You shoved him away, your sudden move startled him and made him release you as he stumbled backwards.
'No!' you said with a cry, 'you… you can't kill me! That is not,' you gasped for air, 'that is not what I wanted! I asked for love, not to die and become some kind of creature!'
'My love,' Sihtric said, his voice unsettingly calm, 'do you not understand what you have done? Hm? Do you not understand what you have asked for?'
'What do you mean?' you asked, heart pounding out of your chest.
'You bound yourself to me with your blood,' the hungry vampire growled, 'and your blood I shall have. You will never know true love, the love you so desire, if you do not complete the ritual with me.'
'Meaning I have to die to complete it?! I never agreed to that!' you shouted, 'I never agreed to become a monster! Or to be with a monster!'
'A monster?' Sihtric chuckled without a trace of humour, 'you demanded me to come to you!' he barked and stepped closer. His tall and threatening figure towered over you as he continued, 'you demanded a love for eternity! You opened up and gave your heart and mind to me!'
'No,' you cried, 'no, not like this.' You hiked up your skirt and ran for the door. 'I do not want to be with someone like you! And I will not die for love!'
'No!' Sihtric's deep voice echoed louder than humanly possible, and he chased after you with ease.
'Stay away from me!' you screamed.
Sihtric grabbed your arm before you could run out the door, and he hissed, 'I warned you before that you are mine as much as I am yours! You can run, little thing,' he grinned devilishly, 'but remember that you. Are. Mine. Wherever you may run to, I will find you. And I will have you.'
'You promised you would never hurt me!' you spat and tore yourself out of his grip, 'and you will never have me, you demon!'
'You! Are! Mine!' Sihtric shouted after you, and his dark voice followed you in the night as you ran, while thunder rolled over the city. 'You can never hide from me!' he snarled, lightning flashed as he spoke. 'We are already bound! And you… you will come back to me willingly, my love! But until then, I shall tear out the hearts of any man who dares to look upon you with lustful gaze! I will rip out every tongue of those who dare to speak to you! And I will feast on the hearts of those who think they could win yours! You belong to me, my enchantress!'
July 13th
Your life had turned back to normal long after the disastrous ritual you had done the night before valentine's day. At least, somewhat back to normal. It had taken you months to understand, accept, and get over what had happened between you and Sihtric. You mourned the loss of your dark love as if you had been together for years. You felt hollow ever since you last saw him, and you had thrown away everything he had gifted you the same night you last ran from him. The roses, the dress, all the handwritten notes and their envelopes ended up in the trash. Everything… except the vial of Sihtric's blood. Because somewhere, deep inside your cursed little heart, you still loved him and couldn't pretend he never existed or never meant anything to you. You still longed for him in ways you knew you would never long for anyone else. But you couldn't allow yourself to die for him, no matter how much you loved him.
It hadn't been easy to pick up your life again, for it always felt as if Sihtric lurked from the shadows in the night, no matter where you went, no matter how much time passed. For months on end you woke in the night and swore you heard him call for you. His voice most nights was a mere whisper in the wind, but some nights it was as violent as a clap of thunder. But you never acted on it, no matter how hard it was to ignore him. No matter how sweet he sounded or how scary, you never gave in. It was painful, physically and mentally. Your whole body ached to be with him, as if you had a constant fever for months. But you also learned that the more you ignored his invisible presence, the more he slowly seemed to vanish from your life over time.
And when summer arrived, you finally felt free and alive again.
You picked up a new job and even decided to start dating again. You truly believed all was well for a little while. But you found out in gruesome ways, after your first date, that nothing would ever be well in your world again.
Each and every man you went on a date with was brutally slaughtered by the end of the night, as he walked you home, by the vampire who you had bound yourself to months ago. Each and every man would scream in terror upon seeing Sihtric emerge from the shadows of a dark and empty alley. And no matter what you did or said, nothing could stop Sihtric from killing those who thought they could take you away from him. He feasted on their blood while they prayed to their gods or called for their mothers. Some men called you a "witch" before they died, as if you had lured them to the creature of night. And all men called Sihtric a "hideous creature", "a beast from hell", "a rotting corpse", and "Satan incarnated".
You never understood why those men used their dying breaths to try and insult their killer. Because to you, despite his bloodlust and extreme possessiveness of you, Sihtric was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen.
Yet each time you witnessed his brutal nature, you ran and hid from him. You knew you could never fully escape him, but you couldn't be near him either. He was a relentless killer, and you continued to try and push him away, dating even more men who were strong and powerful, and you hoped they would be able to perhaps fight Sihtric. But it was all to no avail, as so much blood was shed in the span of a few weeks. And the amount of innocent men who lost their lives because they came in touch with you was something you didn't know you could really live with. Every lost soul was one too many, a fate none of them deserved. All had been kind and respectful to you, yet they all died after that one date.
You had witnessed most deaths, and at one point you hoped that maybe you could deceive Sihtric. Maybe if he never saw a man walk you home, he would never figure out you had gone on a date. Or maybe if you didn't go out on a public date, he would never find who you had met up with.
But the newspaper headlines told you Sihtric was always watching, and no man you came in contact with would ever be safe. They all died by the hands of a monster you had unleashed upon the city. And after every single murder, you would find a handwritten note left on your doorstep.
"Mine."
"My forever."
"My eternity."
"You belong to me."
"You are mine."
"Come to me."
And after a while it didn't even matter if you had gone on a date, or simply had smiled at a random guy in the grocery store, or even thanked a lady who held open a door for you. They all wound up dead in the night one way or another, and then realization dawned on you; Sihtric would kill everyone around you until there would be no one left. He would slaughter a whole town if it meant you would come back to him and hold up your end of the deal.
You belonged to him. You were bound to him.
And no man or woman would ever be safe from Sihtric, unless you surrendered and allowed him to take your life. And he was right all along, you realised, because you eventually returned to him willingly. Because you needed to put an end to this horror.
July 30th
'You found your way back, my love,' Sihtric murmured as he held you in his arms, 'you returned to me, like I always knew you would.'
You silenced a whimper when you felt his lips kiss your shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around you from behind, caging you against his strong body. You wanted nothing more than to run, because you knew how vile this perfect looking man could be. You had seen the horrors he had committed without remorse, and you knew he would never let you go. He couldn't. Because of your ritual, nothing would ever stop Sihtric from having you. The only way to keep him from murdering every single person in your small town, was to leave behind everything you ever had and give your life to him. Only the sacrifice of your heart and blood would put an end to the accidental curse you had bestowed upon yourself and your town.
So, yes, you had returned willingly, but only because there was no other way. Only because your life was not worth more than the dozens of innocent people who had already died at your lover's hands. But you couldn't tell Sihtric that. Not when you turned and looked up into his beautiful mismatched eyes. Not when you inhaled his pleasant scent. Not when you traced the scars on his perfect face. And not when you raked your fingers through his soft curls. Your heart was still beating for him only, and you hadn't felt this alive anymore ever since that last night you had escaped his castle.
'I had to learn for myself I couldn't live without you,' you half lied, lips brushing against his, 'I had to see for myself how devoted you were to me.'
You knew that you loved him so deeply, you truly wouldn't be able to live without him. But your rational mind also knew you wouldn't be happy after being turned into a vampire.
'I killed all those people for you, my love,' Sihtric murmured as he rested his forehead against yours, 'I knew you would eventually understand how much I love you. That I would do anything for you, because you are mine.'
'And you are mine,' you whispered, then softly kissed his lips.
The kiss deepened gradually, and Sihtric lowered you onto the rugs in front of the burning hearth. His cloak draped over you both while you devoured each other, and you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling of someone truly wanting and loving you unconditionally, before it would all be over.
'Sihtric,' you whispered, 'I want to be with you, forever.'
You carefully took the vial of blood from your neck and held it up.
'Turn me.'
'Are you sure, my love?' Sihtric asked in awe.
'Yes,' you smiled. Because you will not stop until you have my life.
You tipped your head to the side, staring into the flames as you exposed your neck to him. A deep growl sounded from his chest, and he kissed your neck lovingly before his teeth pierced your skin. Sihtric gulped your blood like a starved animal, and he only withdrew his fangs when you became weak in his arms.
'My darling,' he breathed, your blood dripping down his chin, 'now drink me.'
Sihtric unscrewed the vial and held you up as his blood dripped on your tongue. And it was then that you finally understood what those dying men had been so afraid of. Because it was then that you saw the hideous, rotting corpse Sihtric actually was. Not the perfect man you imagined him to be, no, that was just another one of his demonic tricks to draw you in. You had summoned and unleashed an actual demon, and you were going to kill him.
A single tear slid down your face while you smiled up at him, no longer seeing the beautiful face he wore for you, but seeing the disturbing figure from the very first night you had dreamt of him. His flesh was torn and rotten, and bugs crawled out from his cloudy eyes.
'You,' you whispered, fighting to get any air in your lungs while your heart was seconds away from taking its last beat, 'You…'
'Tell me, my love,' Sihtric whispered as he held you close.
'You… will… never… have me.'
Sihtric froze at your words, and you then used your last strength and final breath to slide your bare feet under his cloak and kick it into the roaring flames beside you. The fire spread within seconds, setting the room and everything in it ablaze. Including you and your demon. The fire burned you both to ashes, and you were freed of the curse you had called upon yourself. Free from the demon who had claimed you. Free from the man of your dreams you had woken from the afterlife. Free from a love that was never true, but had only been a diabolical force of a dark ritual you had performed.
And the castle would crumble down in the flames, and become one with the ancient burial ground. And the ashes of you and Sihtric would be scattered in the howling wind, carried far away from the town you had saved from its lurking evil.
☆ day four: sihtric of dunholm ☆
— the last kingdom sihtric x gn!reader with the following prompt: There are times when he is not sure of anything but the sheer anxiety he feels any time he is around death.
w/c: 1.4k words
a/n: i love love love. ps, erm idk what pies were called during this time. some places use "rissoles" and some use "coffyns" but i'm just gonna say pie to save us all some time. godspeed.
click here for the original event post.
MASTERLIST
There are times when he is not sure of anything but the sheer anxiety he feels any time he is around death.
It is not like it was anything new—death had always been around. He knew death well, and it would never go away, much like a cruel mistress who followed you every which way. To the ends of the Earth, really. It was just the way the world worked. Without death, there would be nothing new. Without birth, death would be a figment of the imagination.
It was just the way of the world.
He hated it.
Every moment he stepped onto the battlefield, he wondered if it would be the day he met his demise. He fought valiantly, yes, every time—but why? Just so he could live and someone else could die? Was it cruel of him to live a life of such hypocrisies?
And then there were days that the thought of death got to him, and not even ale would bring him comfort. On these days, he searched for familiar faces. Finan was fun, yes, but not like the friend whom he's come to know and love. They tended to his emotional wounds like no other. But it was rare that the days and thoughts of death would land on the days they were actually in Coccham.
When he was in Coccham, though, his feet found the familiar path to their humble abode. His lips would say their name so sweetly, and the scents wafting from their home from the freshly baked breads and pies they would always make would hound his nose, reminding him that he was oh so alive.
Death would not have him yet. Not any time soon, if he had a say in it.
You were to thank for that. His perseverance. His need to stay alive, no matter the cost.
Sihtric slips through your front door with little bit a quick knock just to let you know he was there. You would have heard the horses, heard the people running by announcing their return.
And of course, you were ready to greet him.
All smiles, you open your arms to him, and he immediately melts into them, pulling you close and burying his face in the crook of your neck. He smells of rain and mud and blood. A little of it is uniquely Sihtric's, his natural musk evident. He needed a bath, but it would come in time. For now, you held him.
"It is good to see you," you say, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
He hums against you, unmoving and as still as a tree, feet anchored to the ground beneath him. He breaths you in, feels your body in his hands. The consistent force of man and steel, the agile Dane who did all he could for his Lord Uhtred, reduced to nothing more than a simpering child in your arms. He loves you. He knows he does.
Now to tell you before his feet grew cold.
He looks up at you, a soft smile gracing his lips.
"I must tell you of our battles," he says, hands squeezing your sides. "I must tell you what I learned, as well."
"Come, then. Let me get you a slice of pie and a bit to drink, hm? Then you can tell me while you eat."
He perks up at the mention. "Pie?"
"No meat, but we had an abundance of berries just this morning. I thought a sweet would settle nicely. Had I known you'd return today, I would have done differently."
"What?" he starts, smiling all the while. "No, no, berry is good. I love berry pie."
You fight back a soft giggle, pulling back from his hold. "Go, sit. How much would you like?"
"As much as you're willing to give."
Soon enough, you return to him with wine and pie, grateful you bartered one of your other pies with your neighbor for a bit of wine that morning. It turned out to be a wonderful decision, after all. As Sihtric dug in to his food, he talks through bites.
"There were so many of them! It was like walking through an army of men completely out of their skulls. May the gods follow them where they lie." He bites back his other words. I was scared I would not return to you. I was scared to die.
"Sounds as if you've had your fill of blood for the next few weeks," you say, more hopeful than anything.
He smiles. "Lord Uhtred says we're to stay in Coccham for at least two weeks. He's waiting to hear word from Alfred, and you know how that goes."
"Hmm," you sound out, leaning back against your chair. "And you? Are you planning to stay?"
He quirks an eyebrow. "Where, pray tell, would I go?"
"You must have a woman to go and find," you say, smiling at him. Not out of jealousy or delirium, but genuine care. For all you cared for the man, you could admit that you only wanted him to be happy.
At your words, he nearly chokes on his sip of wine. He sputters, quickly sitting it down to stare at you with wide, heterochromatic eyes.
"What?"
"Sihtric."
"No, truly," he says, staring at you in disbelief. "Are you—you cannot be serious."
"I am," you say, shaking your head. "I'd like to believe you're not here to waste all your precious time with me."
"I want to waste my precious time with you," he blurts, clearing his throat. "I—"
He averts his gaze for less than a second. And then, he reaches forward, grabbing ahold of your hand. The gods spur him on. He must tell you for fear of missing out, for the fear of missing you.
"I'm here to waste all my time with you. But—it would not be a waste. Not if it was with you. My time spent with you, that is."
He's flustered and blushing, hand gripping onto yours for dear life.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at him, lips parted in surprise. Or, well, more or less a feeling of disbelief. Was he in earnest? You move to speak, to ask him, but he stops you by speaking himself.
"What I learned," he says, "when I was out there, fighting. I learned that there is something bringing me back to Coccham, and it is not just Lord Uhtred. It is not my friends, not Finan nor Osferth. You—I learned that you are the reason I continue to come back. And I fear that if I do not say something, I will miss out on the chance."
You stare, wide eyed and silent.
"Death is always around the corner. I shall die and find Valhalla one day. Even so, I do not wish to die. Not until I have had the chance to know you as I want to know you."
"You... you want to know me?" you echo, unable to stop yourself.
"I want to love you," he says. "Ah—no, I do love you. Very much."
Heat burns in the core of your heart, weightless amongst the nervous feeling washing over you. You had never felt so seen before this moment, never felt so loved. You could feel it just through his words, through his tender gaze.
He felt the same.
He felt the same, and you were sitting here, staring like some daft child—
"I love you," he says, this time much quieter, hesitant even. "I am not lying to you."
You squeeze his hand.
"I love you, too," you whisper, the confession leaving you breathless and out of your depth.
This was it.
Death may be waiting on the other side for Sihtric, but he would face it willingly now, knowing that he spoke the truth in every possible way. He would fight it for as long as he could, but when the time comes, he knows the anxiety he feels now would be nothing compared to the love you have given him, even if you only just confessed.
He smiles at you, a small, steady thing that is far more contagious than you would like it to be. He leans forward, nose gently brushing against yours.
"Truly?" he asks.
"Truly," you answer.
He closes the small gap between you, chapped lips pressing against your own. He tastes of berry and pie crust and the sweet wine long since forgotten on the table beside you, lips molding perfectly with yours.
He hated the way of the world. But for you? He'd face it all.
something something just thinking about finan with shieldmaiden!reader who falls in battle and finan’s grief overtakes him because she’s gone to valhalla— somewhere he can’t follow due to their differences in faith
(eternity by Alex Warren… This song causes me pain)
