Request: I was hoping you could write something about being in a relationship with finan? Maybe this is super self indulgent cause I can relate lol but being sihtrics sister and in a relationship with finan and reader had too much to drink so finan has to take care of her? Thank you so much 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
Warnings: Mention of reader and Sihtric's traumatic past at the hands of Kjartan.
Sihtric was solemn and pleading as he stood before his Lord, on the eve of the attack on Dunholm, he looked so small that it made even Uhtred thread carefully.
“Whatever it is,” he urged gently, “Speak freely.”
“I have no right to ask this Lord,” he mumbled, still refusing to meet Uhtred’s eye, and Uhtred softened.
“But ask it anyway, Sihtric.”
“Spare my sister,” he begged and Uhtred looked at him puzzled, “I barely know her Lord, but she is not like them. She was whelped upon a kitchen maid, but she is kind and good. She is a shield maiden, she will be there I have no doubt, but she will reason and lay down her weapons if I may but talk to her.”
Finan who was leaning against a post, moved forward, “Sihtric, if she is caught up in the melee-”
“Or if she will not lay down her arms,” Uhtred joined in, and Sihtric was nodding in understanding.
“But I give you leave to try get her to safety,” Uhtred spoke and that was all the permission that Sihtric needed and he released the breath that had been caught in his chest.
“Thank you Lord.”
They had breached the fortress of Dunholm and hacked their way through defending Danes. Sihtric’s mismatched eyes were frantically searching for you as he fought his way though, but he could not locate you.
Suddenly, Kjartan was in the fray and Steapa was opening the gates to allow the band that Ragnar headed, through into the fight, and Kjartan and his men were forced to pull back.
Uhtred was suddenly screaming for his men to form a shield wall and they began falling in line as they began to push forward and Kjartan’s men were forced to keep pulling backwards, it was there that Sihtric finally spotted you, blood splattered across your face and matted into your plaited hair, your frantic eyes had yet to land on him but he had no choice but to keep pushing forward.
He could not help the shudder of relief that ran through his body when Kjartan demanded his side drop their weapons as he stepped forward in acceptance of Ragnar’s challenge and agreed to fight him in one to one combat and once Uhtred demanded to make the square your eyes finally landed on your brother.
Your face softened and crumpled as you spotted him and immediately the weapons dropped from your hands in surrender, he longed to break the square to rush and embrace you but Kjartan was roaring for a shield and Ragnar was stepping forward in challenge, he removed his helmet, he wanted his father to see him, wanted him to know in his last moments that his own son was part of the reason justice would finally be brought down upon him.
It was vicious hand to hand combat and Kjartan actively taunted Ragnar.
You and Sihtric shared the same look of victory as Kjartan was thrust upon his back and Ragnar stabbed his blade through your father’s sword arm.
“Kill him, kill him,” you were pleading, though your voice was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd.
He was pleading for his sword, but Ragnar continued to deny him and you locked eyes with Sihtric, smirking at the bloodthirst in his eyes.
But the smirk was replaced with horror as Ragnar hacked and hacked at him, even long after the light had left his eyes, continuing to stab at him in battle rage, your feet were moving forward of their own accord, unable to look upon the scene any further, bile rising up your throat until you were vomiting into the strawed ground, Sihtric visibly flinched with each blow but was unable to look away.
Thyra’s wailing pulled you back to your senses and you were brought back to reality, and you pushed through still bodies until you reached your brother who was stuck looking upon the hacked and bloodied remains of your father.
“Sihtric?” you whispered softly and he rounded on you, both of you stood facing each other in a state of shock, chests rising and falling rapidly before you were launching into each others arms, clinging to the other for dear and utter life.
You cupped his face in your hands inspecting him as if he were a cruel trick from the gods.
“I thought you dead,” you cried “You didn’t come back, I thought you dead.”
“I am here and it is done,” he was whispering into your hair as he pulled you to him.
“We are free,” you cried, clasping him to you in a ferocious grip, the only blood you had left on this planet.
That night the victors held a feast in the great hall and you hung like a shadow to the walls, arms hugged around your own frame.
Life under Kjartan had meant you had quickly learned how to make yourself small and undetectable, preferring to cling to shadows and always searching for your quickest escape route.
“What is it?” Sihtric asked gently and when you turned to face him your eyes were glassy with tears.
“I thought it would feel different,” you cried and he swallowed hard, he too had battled this feeling of nothingness in his chest when he was finally freed from your tyrant of a father.
“We are free- Thyra is free. So why does freedom feel like we paid such a heavy price?”
He had no answer for you, so you pressed further.
“You will leave here again brother?”
“I will follow my Lord, wherever he would command.”
“And what would I do?” you cried, uncrossing your arms and reaching for him.
“Be at peace,” he urged, shaking you gently, “Marry. Have pups of your own. Be at peace.”
You tutted and shook from his embrace and whirled on him, “This is not what the gods have mapped out for me to do,” you sighed and then you kneeled before him clasping his hand in yours, “My sword is yours, I will follow you. I will fight by your side.”
Sihtric’s eyes widened in horror and embarrassment as he ushered you up. “I am pledged to Lord Uhtred, I follow his command.”
“Well then I will swear my fealty to the Lord Uhtred,” you said it as if it were of no consequence who you swore loyalty to as long as your place was beside your brother.
Sihtric was reminded in this moment that he did not know you, not really, he did not know your will, nor your stubbornness yet, you were in many ways a stranger to him- but he would come to know you in time- but all he knew in this moment is that you were his kin, and all he had ever wanted in his life was to protect you from Kjartan and Sven, he had done that now so could rest, but if you wished to remain by his side he would not turn you away.
He watched you make your way over to Uhtred and Ragnar, kneeling before them, and although he could not hear what you were saying suddenly his Lord’s eyes were upon him, intently staring into his and all he could do in that moment was nod.
Finan had saddled up beside him, mug of ale in his hand, and laughed lightly, watching you, arise from your knees slowly, still locked in conversation with the two brothers.
“She is a tough one,” he commented.
“She is swearing her sword to Lord Uhtred,” Sihtric deadpanned and Finan’s eyes simmered as he looked onwards at the scene, and he straightened up as you suddenly made your way towards them.
“I travel with you in the morn,” you said triumphantly and Finan guffawed loudly and clapped you on the back as you passed.
“Do not let him leave without me Irishman or I will have your eyes out.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, love,” he promised and Sihtric shot him the dirtiest look he could muster.
“Do not make eyes at my sister,” he warned and Finan stuck his hands up in mock surrender.
The next night as you made camp, Finan watched you hang back, the last in line for food, skittish and looking as though you expected someone to strike you, or steal the food from your hands, he noticed Sihtric’s eyes following his same line of thought and when Sihtric called your name you came warily forward, he placed his own bowl of stew in your hands and your eyes widened in shock.
“You have no need to fear,” Finan whispered softly “No man here will harm you and you have earned your right to your food, nobody will take that from you either.”
He said it like it was not the most profound thing you had ever been told and he simply turned around and filled up another bowl for himself.
You had lived a life thus far of being reminded your place in line was at the back, you never ate before the other soldiers and you certainly never had been given a larger portion than anyone else before.
You ate greedily and quickly, still fearful the bowl would be knocked from your hands or simply stolen away as seconds for another, and when Finan offered you a piece of stale bread he was shocked to find your bowl empty already.
Sihtric’s chest hurt, it was odd to see- almost mirrored the way he had behaved when he first joined Uhtred’s forces, the fear and the anticipation that pain was coming, even though amongst this band he had yet to see even an ounce of the malice his life had been under his father’s command.
You lay down in your furs and your teeth chattered bitterly.
You were exhausted from being on such high alert throughout the day but you could not find sleep in the cold.
You were used to scouting expeditions and minor battles and raids, but you were ashamed to say that in the past few months since Sihtric’s departure, Kjartan had punished you for the crimes of your brother, food had been scarce and you had been kept in the dungeons more times than ever before. He had intended to make you weak and under thumb and his ferociousness towards you had served in keeping you compliant, but you were weaker than normal and could not quell the shaking in your body.
Sihtric was snoring soundly a few feet away from you and you rose and made your way towards his sleeping form.
“Sihtric,” you whispered trying to rouse him, “Sihtric,” you tried again and he mumbled in his sleep but did not awaken, “I am cold,” you pleaded, sounding more desperate than you had intended and then shuffling to his side caught your attention.
“You are cold love?” it was Finan, his hair tousled from sleep and one eye was opened, the other closed in sleep.
You were embarrassed and hung your head down, refusing to meet his eye.
“Come here you can have some of my furs.”
When you didn’t make to move he rose gently, “Come on love, you’ll be no good to any of us if you freeze to death,” you couldn’t help the shy smile that graced your face, as you accepted the furs he wrapped around your shaking form.
“Christ, you are like a block of ice,” he whispered as his hands brushed your skin, “Your teeth will shatter in your skull, come here,” he fussed and you allowed him to pull you down to his camp bed and he wrapped his strong arms around you.
He swayed you both gently, rubbing his hands up and down your arms in an attempt to radiate heat and even though it fought against every fibre of your being, you relaxed into his touch.
Finan realised too late and with a jolt that you were sleeping against his shoulder and his eyes instantly flicked to his sleeping friend, ‘He’ll have my head on a spike,’ he thought to himself, but when his eyes landed on your sleeping form his heart leapt in his chest, you were beautiful, truly beautiful, and he had known from the moment he had laid his eyes on you that he was in trouble, that he would do anything you asked of him, and now holding you against his chest, sharing his body heat with you he made a solemn realisation, he was yours whether you realised it or not, whether you wanted him or not.
"I'm fucked," he whispered into the night air.
Datchet (Kingdom of Mercia)
As you clambered off your boat onto the shore, your sword hand immediately went to the hilt of your sword in readiness.
“She says she loves me,” Sihtric continued in his pleadings about the whore he had been sleeping with.
You rolled your eyes and Finan laughed, Sihtric shot you a pleading look.
“I swear, she says she loves me.”
“She would,” Finan added dryly while Uhtred reminded him that she was a whore.
“What she loves is your silver!” Finan chided and Clapa goaded “Is that the name of his cock?” you made a disgusted face at the comment but couldn’t help but find the humour in the situation.
Until you spotted the crestfallen expression on Sihtric’s face and it wiped the smile clean off yours.
“I wish to marry her,” he said defiantly.
“I wish you to kill Danes and survive the night,” Uhtred shot back and you laid a hand on your brother’s arm when the sound of screams caught your attention, a silent plea to park this conversation until you were all safe.
“Time to kill some raiders,” you announced and Finan smirked your way as you shared a cocky nod with him.
You all went to cover, under Uhtred’s command and waited for his word, your hand clasped tightly around your sword in anticipation for the fighting to begin, and on his command you surged forward following Finan’s lead “We kill every bastard one of them!” he was shouting and you sprang into action, hacking and slicing.
The women who had been dragged as slaves began running frantically and you shouted at them to get behind you, ushering them towards the bushes, they began to gather behind you, terrified and crying out but you sliced at any Dane who attempted to get at them.
When the killing was done, some clung to you, “It’s alright, you’re alright,” you were trying to reassure, “Return to your village, take care of your dead, you will be alright now.”
“Thank you! Thank you Lady,” one woman was crying at your feet and you locked eyes with Finan, an expression you could not read on his face.
“Take back what belongs to you. You’re safe now!” he shouted and your face crumpled with a small smile his way.
On the boat back to Coccham you were mainly silent.
There was blood matted to your face and even though all you wanted was to sleep, you knew you would have to bathe first, so you went straight to the stream to wash away the night’s blood.
You were just working your fingers through your matted hair when you heard the footsteps on the bank, you were thankful you had kept your slip on as you bathed for this very reason but nevertheless when you turned around, Finan’s eyes were almost a shade of amber in the morning sun and he swallowed thickly.
“I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t know you would be here.”
“I’m nearly done,” you replied, returning your ministrations to your hair, and he sat his weapons down upon the bank and began to strip off his own clothes, both of you trying to pretend it was normal. Just two bloodied warriors bathing the night’s battles away but the air was thick with something unsaid and not quite understood yet.
He didn’t mean to but his eyes settled on a huge ugly scar that ran along the expanse of your shoulders, it stood out a mile against your perfect skin.
“You were amazing back there,” he tried to say it casually but it came out like a confession, “The way you protected those women and children.”
You smiled, turning to face him but you caught where his eyes had been focused and you grimaced.
“I believe it is quite ugly, the scar.”
“No-” Finan shook his head and you softened, your body language telling him it was alright that he had been looking.
“A present from Kjartan,” you offered by way of explanation, “I can’t remember what for, but he had Sihtric locked in the dungeon for weeks, he was half starved and barely alive, I truly thought fever or hunger would take him, so I went down there and got him out, we had to fight our way out and we were so nearly free- we were just at the gates when Sven intercepted us. I didn’t see Sihtric again for months, I truly thought he had been killed and Kjartan had me whipped at the post just for good measure.”
Finan had moved subconsciously closer in the water to you, and reached out a gentle hand to touch the mottled skin, your eyes slipped closed at his gentle touch, and you turned to face him.
“You ask me all the time why I am a warrior? That is how Kjartan treated his bastard son. Now imagine what use he would have found for a bastard daughter if I could not make myself more useful than a whore.”
Finan ghosted his hands up along your arms and you leaned like a cat into his touch, his eyes flicked down to your lips and you looked up at him doe eyed through your lashes.
“You could never be a whore,” he spoke, voice heavy.
“Then what am I to you?” you whispered and he leaned forward and for a moment you thought he would kiss you but voices approaching caused you both to break apart.
“We should- I should never-” he was feet apart from you in seconds and the spell of the moment was broken.
Weeks passed and the moment in the stream was forgotten.
Uhtred went to visit the dead man Bjorn who spoke of prophecies and Kingdoms.
Aethelflaed, the King’s daughter married and you remained an honest and loyal warrior to your Lord.
It became clear that war was threatening to erupt when the Lady Aethelfaed was kidnapped by the brothers Erik and Sigefrid.
And you rejoiced in the arrival of Alfred’s bastard son Osferth who you very quickly adopted as an honorary brother, whilst your own was away spying on the two brothers for Lord Uhtred.
It became evident that war was coming to Beamfleot and on the eve of battle you tried your best to prepare the baby monk for what would lie ahead.
And on that hill in Beamleot when King Alfred called for the shield wall you fell in line behind Finan, he threw a worried glance over his shoulder and you smiled a reassuring smile his way, “Glory or Valhalla!” you shouted and he smiled in awe, brown eyes boring into the depths of your own before he turned away to face the oncoming Danes.
It was ferocious and fast. The ground was streaked red from the blood of Saxon and Dane alike and in the tumult of blows and swords, you had lost sight of everyone that mattered to you.
You drove your sword into the ribs of a Dane who spat blood into your face, and for a moment you were disorientated, shoved by the push and pull of the fight around you, and then you slipped, boots skidding across the bloodied ground and you hit the ground with a sickening thud, a loud ringing in your ears as your shield was kicked away out of your arms and your eyes widened in horror as an axe swung down at your face, your sword hand swinging quickly to deflect the blow and suddenly your attacker was sent hurtling across the mud.
“Get up,” Finan was roaring, his own face a mixture of horror and blood as he pulled you to your feet, but there was no time for happy reunions as you both moved like wolves, fighting back to back, and you hacked, swung and stabbed with all your might. A blow to your face had you swallowing blood and still you fought. To Finan’s left you watched a Dane sneak up from behind to stab him while he fought off another, his strike never landed because you drove your sword through his skull, adrenaline pumping through your veins.
"Thank you love," Finan shouted over his shoulder and your heart thumped in your chest.
Osferth told you after the battle that it had been the Lady Aethelflaed that had driven a sword through Sigefrid’s back and you relished in knowing he had met his fate at the hands of a woman.
But the battle was won.
The drinks flowed and Osferth was drunk, asleep on the table of the alehouse. Sihtric had already gone to find his woman and Uhtred was with his Lady Gisela.
“You are a woman!” a Saxon man was shouting, “But you fight better than any man I’ve ever seen,” and Finan was laughing along easily.
He had his arm draped drunkenly around your neck and you were swaying from drunkenness.
“Then I shall drink like a man!” you cheered and downed the entirety of the mug of ale in your hand in one go, to the shouting and cheers of all the men around except one.
“Okay- Hey, hey! That’s enough love,” Finan was chastising, but he could not fight the giant smile on his face.
“Another!” you boomed and the men went to fetch it for you, and he blocked your line of view.
“Love, that is enough. Uhtred and Sihtric will have my head tomorrow.”
“Just one more,” you pleaded arms wrapping around his neck and laying the weight of your body against him, and when the men returned with another jug of ale for you, he relented and collapsed on the bench with a sigh, he kicked Osferth’s legs and he awoke with a jolt.
“Bed!” he ordered and the baby monk retreated up the stairs solemnly.
He leaned his back against the table and watched as you laughed easily with the other men.
Perhaps it was the drink, at least that’s what he was blaming, but he was green eyed with jealousy.
The smile slipped off your face as you excused yourself from your group of admirers and saddled up beside him.
“You are staring again,” you teased lightly, and when he made no reply you huffed and without warning you plonked yourself down to straddle his lap, thighs pressed either side of his hips and hands braced against his shoulders.
His breath hitched and his eyes widened.
“I see the way you look at me,” you drawled, eyes boring into his now, his hands hovered by your waist unsure what to do.
The fire crackled and his hands found your hips, “Don’t,” he tried to protest but it was weak and feeble.
“Why not?” you pleaded “Aren’t you tired Finan? Don’t you want me, the way that I want you?”
His hands tightened on your hips, he closed his eyes, head thrown back in an attempt to regain some semblance of self-control and swallowed thickly.
You pressed your lips to his exposed neck, and he shuddered, body betraying him entirely as he bucked his hips in an attempt to cause some sort of friction and dug his fingers into the skin of your thighs to keep you in place.
“Please,” he gasped although he didn’t even know what he was begging for, but when you trailed your hand down the expanse of his chest and ghosted it along his waistband he suddenly rose, bench scraping away as he kicked it and he carried you upstairs, kissing you as he went like a man drowning, and he knew he shouldn’t want you like this but he was tired of denying himself of the thing he wanted most in the entire world.
The door slammed behind him and clothes were discarded in a fray of tugging and pulling.
He carried you over to the bed, his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he placed you down, but like a beast you lunged for more tugging at his hips and his hands were in your hair, tugging your head back so he could attach his lips to the smooth skin of your neck, he bit down hard and you cried out fingers clawing at his back.
“You’re mine,” he growled and you moaned, as he removed his lips from your skin, hand still fisted into your hair.
“Say it. Say it love, say that you’re mine.”
“Yours. M’all yours,” you panted, kissing him again and he pinned you down under the weight of his body, pinning your hands above your head, his lips trailed down along your jaw, your throat, and across the swell of your breasts.
You were a panting needy mess beneath him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to get him to meet you where you needed him the most.
You whined when he suddenly stilled all actions, brown-worried eyes boring into yours and releasing your pinned arms.
“Are you sure that you want this love? We’ve had ale- you might feel differently about this in the morning.”
You flipped him over to staddle him and cupped his worried face in your hands, “I could never regret you,” you cried looking at him with such sincerity it made his heart swell in his chest, “I am yours and you are mine- I have been waiting all this time for you, you have no idea how long I have wanted to make you mine.”
“My love,” he sighed, flipping you back over onto your back, spreading your legs apart with his knees and finally sliding inside, “I have been yours from the day that we met.”
He pounded into you hard and fast, the bed creaked under the weight of you both and your ragged breaths and broken sounds filled the room.
And when it was all over-When the shaking in his arms faded and you lay panting beneath him, he placed his forehead against yours, strong hand cupping your face beneath him, thumb brushing circles beside your lips, and he kissed you once more, just because he finally could.
“I love you,” he whispered so earnestly, your eyes flew open to look in his.
“And I, you!” you told him honestly.
The next morning in the soft glow of the morning light, he saddled up behind you where you stood, arms locking around your middle and pressed a kiss to your temple.
“Do you regret it love?” he asked shyly and you turned around in his arms and pressed a kiss to his nose, “Never. Not with you.”
“And in the light of morning,” he swallowed thickly, voice deep and rumbling from within his chest “Darling, who am I to you? Because I cannot go back to never having you like this again.”
You pressed up on your tiptoes, lips millimeters away from his, “You are everything,” you told him honestly “And I want you this way for all time. However long we have. For forever.”
Tagging: (Just using my Sihtric tags but feel free to ignore if it's not for you)
Author's Note: This idea came to me watching the famous Club Scene in Heated Rivalry and it sort of wrote itself honestly. I'm also kind of in love with how I wrote Regulus and Barty in this fic.
Summary: Remus has spent his entire life believing he is something to endure, not something to love, So when he finally makes a move on the best friend he has been in love with for years he panics, utterly panics and ruins everything. And works very hard at convincing himself (and you) that he doesn't want you. But jealousy always has a way of bringing the truth to light- so when he sees you with somebody else, he just can't bring himself to pretend anymore.
Warnings: Remus has body and scar insecurities
As soon as you’d made it safely inside your apartment you let out a strangled gasp as the tears you had been holding in all night finally burst free.
It was a great ferocious flood of tears and for a moment you struggled to catch your breath.
You could pinpoint the exact moment your heart had broken clean in half in your chest, watching Remus pressing his lips to another woman’s neck on the dancefloor, while she grinded against him, cast in perfect hues of green and purple while the strobe lighting ahead matched the pulse of your racing heart.
The very same Remus Lupin who had pressed his lips to yours not three nights ago.
The very one you had been painfully and insufferably in love with for more years than you could count.
Who had so confidently crossed the threshold of your shared kitchen and pressed his lips to yours and laid you bare and made love to you, only to wake up the next morning to an empty bed and walls higher than the Burj Khalifa around the man you loved.
“We can just pretend it never happened,” he’d said over his coffee cup as if that didn’t fucking kill you.
“Is that what you want?” you’d tried carefully, trying not to sound as pathetic and small as you felt, and he nodded so quickly you wondered how he didn’t get whiplash.
“Yeah I mean..absolutely. We’re such great friends and I would hate for this to get in the way of that.”
“Okay,” you’d said, because that was all you’d been able to make yourself say, and the rest of the morning you’d spent hunched over the toilet bowl throwing up sporadically, happy enough for him to think you’d simply had too much to drink the night before.
But you had managed to do an okay job at pretending this whole thing wasn’t making you want to die, or at least you had been until tonight.
You’d turned up for work every day.
You’d even managed to eat a few bites of dinner yesterday and when you’d agreed to go out tonight you thought at least getting drunk and dancing with your friends might make you forget about him, even for a moment- and for the most part it had worked, until your traitorous eyes sought him out just like they always did.
And of course they’d found him, arms around her, lips attached to her neck, smiling at her like his lips were made just for hers and you just couldn’t do it anymore.
You just couldn’t pretend you were okay anymore when it felt like the whole world was spinning too fast on its axis and you were one misstep away from being sucked out into the void.
Not when for days now you’d been carrying a heartbreak so strong you barely ate a bite, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gotten a full night’s sleep.
Your sheets still smelled like him and some sick sadistic part of your brain refused to change the bedding, refused to wash the smell of him away in case it was the last time you ever fell asleep to his scent again.
You’d walked home alone, you hadn’t even said goodbye to your friends and here you were heaving giant sobs alone in the entryway of your shared apartment.
And then laughter in the corridor spurred you into action.
Surely not…
Surely he wouldn’t bring her here, to your shared space. The place of cosy fires and old books and board games and coffee and knitted sweaters and the second hand sofa you’d lugged up three flights of stairs laughing endlessly when you’d dropped it on his toe, and the kid on the second floor went around for weeks, repeating the profanities Remus had yelled in that moment.
And quiet nights curled under blankets, hands entwined wondering if finally he would see what had been right in front of his nose all this time.
Surely he wouldn’t…
You just managed to get into your room when the jingle of keys in the front door interrupted the giggling for the briefest of seconds.
“Shh. Shh,” Remus drawled outside your door, “I have a roommate.”
A roommate…
You’d gone from best friend, to lover, to roommate in a mere matter of days.
“Okaaay,” she’d whispered dramatically and then his door across the hall clicked shut and you were bolting out of the apartment before you could even think about what you were doing.
In your haste you remembered that you had left your keys in the little bowl on the cabinet in the entryway and silently cursed yourself for that.
You walked around the city for a few hours, shivering and pulling your coat closer around your body.
You’d eventually stopped crying after what felt like days, too numb to keep it up, and for that at least you were grateful.
Two people spilled out of a nightclub door and nearly knocked you off your feet.
“Watch where you’re going!” one of them snapped and you were apologising before you’d even registered the fact they had been the ones who had knocked into you.
Someone called your name, and when you drew your eyes up you were startled to find you were looking into the slightly concerned eyes of Regulus Black.
“I’m sorry Reg, I didn’t see you both,” you said pitifully and he gently untangled himself from the arms of the man he was with.
“Are you okay?” he tried gently and you really did try your best to smile, you did, but even you knew it wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Why are you out here alone? Where is everyone?” he tried gently and your mouth opened and closed a few times but you honestly couldn’t find the right thing to say.
“Come on Reggie. I’m getting cold,” his companion was demanding, very obviously bored by this whole interaction.
Regulus gave him a look that could cut glass, “This is my friend and she’s very clearly not alright. Could you have some patience?”
“She’s fine, aren’t you?” he demanded and you were nodding quickly, “There she’s fine, lets go!”
“You know what?” Regulus said, sounding bored “I think you should just leave us. Maybe another time..”
“If you do this now, there won’t be another time Reg!” his companion warned, and Regulus shrugged nonchalantly and his companion huffed and stormed off “Nice knowing you Black!” he’d shouted back, and Regulus, unaffected, turned his full attention back to you.
“Shall we get you somewhere warm?” he said gently and you were looking at him in bewilderment.
“Regulus your date..I didn’t mean to ruin your night!” you tried to argue but he was having none of it.
“A) Not a date, I was just bored and B) You matter more to me right now.”
You were sure you looked a mess in your clubbing makeup, tucked into one of Regulus’ oversized, grey cashmere sweaters, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
You were sipping on a hot cup of tea and slowly beginning to thaw out.
Regulus had made grilled sandwiches when you’d got back to his, and you’d pecked at it, a little like a small bird, but couldn’t bring yourself to eat much.
You’d been friends with Regulus before you’d even known Lily, Sirius, Remus, James and Peter.
You’d been in the year below them in school and even though you’d been sorted into their form house, you’d been in Regulus’ year and he’d never been anything but kind to you, even throughout all the Black brothers’ drama, when Sirius was determined to paint him as a villain, even when they weren’t speaking, Regulus had been your friend.
“Is it something to do with Remus?” he said softly and your tired eyes shot to his, and you sniffed gently for a moment before you nodded, just once, briefly and your eyes filled with tears.
“Oh my darling,” he sighed, reaching forward to place his hand on your leg.
“How did you know?” you said softly and he leaned back in his chair again.
“You honestly think I don’t know what unrequited love looks like? I’ve watched you pine after that man for years now and I’ll tell you what I’ve always thought, he doesn’t deserve an ounce of it. You keep leaving yourself on the shelf for him, waiting, hoping, that he’ll pick you up. That he’ll choose you. And I’m not judging- trust me I know this feeling better than anyone.”
“James?” you said softly and he nodded, swirling his glass of whiskey.
“James,” he confirmed.
“How do you do it?” you cried, searching his grey eyes for some answers that could break you out of this perpetual hell you were in.
“You saw my great plan tonight darling. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”
“Does it work?” you cried and a tear rolled down your cheek and he reached across and wiped it away.
“Not a bit,” he whispered and pulled you to him, offering you a safe space to fall apart.
Over breakfast the next morning you finally confided to him what had happened, the night in your apartment, what he’d said the next day and bringing back another girl to the apartment last night.
To his credit he didn’t blow up. Didn’t call Remus an array of bad names, and didn’t overly coddle you, instead he looked at you honestly.
“Staying in that apartment is a form of self harm,” he said brutally, and you paused stirring your coffee, “If Remus can’t be a big boy and admit his feelings, or lack there of, then you need to get out of there, look at you love, you can’t even eat, it’s not going to end well.”
“Where would I even go, Reg? I’d be breaking my lease and I wouldn't get my deposit back.”
“Hello? Rude! I’m sitting right here, and who’s very lovely spare room did your arse sleep in last night?”
“I couldn’t!” you argued and he gave you that Regulus look that he gave to anyone he deemed stupid.
“Oh, but you could. And you can. You’re never going to get over him when you literally see him all the time. Come stay with me until you at least get back on your feet.”
As you carried the last of your moving boxes down to your car and came back up to leave your key in the little bowl on that cabinet in the entryway, Remus finally appeared in the kitchen, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.
“I guess this is it then,” he said awkwardly and you smiled a small but genuine smile his way.
“We had some great times here,” you said honestly, determined to at least leave on a good note.
“I- Look, I'm sorry. I know I made things awkward between us,” he said.
“Look,” you said, cutting him off. “I think maybe this is for the best, we couldn’t stay roommates forever could we?” You said the word roommates like it was acid on your tongue.. “And I’m sure a little bit of space between us right now would be a good thing. It’s hard to just forget about that night if we’re seeing each other all the time, at least this way we have a chance at fixing our friendship.”
“Right,” he was blinking rapidly like he was trying to get his brain to catch up with his mouth. “Right,” he said again “Okay. Yeah that makes sense. Very practical. Responsible even,” he shook his head at his own stupidity and lack of vocabulary.
You held the keys out to him and he took them in a state of stunned silence and you smiled genuinely his way.
“Be seeing you,” you smiled and fixed the strap of your bag on your shoulder and turned to leave.
You'd only made it a few steps when you heard his hurried steps behind you.
“Wait. Wait -” he called and when you turned up to face him he froze, nothing came out. No pleas to stay. No grand declarations of love…Nothing.
You steadied yourself with a solemn nod and continued your descent downstairs.
“Goodbye Moonman,” you called and he stood watching your head disappear down the winding steps.
“Fuck,” he cursed when he heard the door to the lobby close behind you, “Fuck,” he said again and a little voice on the landing below started shouting “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” and he ran inside and slammed the door before the lady in number 12 gave him another bollocking for teaching her kid even more swear words.
Regulus became your shoulder to cry on, and you had embarrassingly cried on him more times than you could count on both hands.
He was adamant about not allowing you to wallow in your heartbreak but he was a kind ear and a gentle place to land when the world felt too rough.
And he was respectful in the sense that he never took his conquests home with him, just a cheeky “Dinner's in the oven. Don't wait up,” was enough to let you know you'd have the place to yourself for the evening.
Weeks passed like this and you were beginning to feel like your old self again.
You both took turns cooking dinner and you even slowly began to mingle with some of your old friends, who you had admittedly neglected since you’d moved in with Remus.
A tiny bit of your spark was beginning to come back and you found yourself slowly piecing yourself back to the girl you had been before him.
“B.L”, Regulus affectionately coined it, Before Lupin, and you couldn't help but find the humour in that.
But it was impossible to deny that you were ignoring your friends and Lily was quite literally threatening to kidnap you if you didn't meet her soon. Even Sirius who notoriously hated phone calls had called you.. Called you.. To make sure you were still alive.
You really hadn't meant to punish your friends, it's just wherever they went Remus went too, and you'd somehow convinced yourself if you saw him, it would set back all the hard work you had been doing in trying to get over him.
Meanwhile Remus was falling apart.
He had that constant, overwhelming feeling in his stomach that he’d always had throughout his childhood that he had done something wrong, that there was something inherently wrong and unlovable about him.
A great gangly, scarred and contrary man that not even you could bring yourself to love.
He never checked his phone more, never lay awake as much listening to the quiet sounds of the apartment praying he would hear the jingle of your keys in the door, but they never came.
He didn’t even bother trying to replace you, or find somebody else to take your room, instead it lay empty and waiting for you to come back, just like his heart.
But he was beginning to understand with a sickening finality that maybe this time you were never coming back.
“Please get her to call him, he's a wretch without her,” Sirius had texted Regulus who read the message in a rare moment he had looked away from his work laptop and he sighed, gathering himself before replying “Tell him to be a big boy and call her himself.”
It was Lily's birthday and you absolutely could not refuse her request to come out for drinks, not on her birthday.
Regulus had to work late, it was auditing season at his firm and he had been pulling in a crazy number of hours this week.
“I don't want to go on my own,” you whined dramatically, arm thrown over your eyes and he sighed exasperated.
“Take Barty with you. He'd only jump at the chance to annoy my brother and his stupid friends.”
You sat with that for a moment, finally relenting and once you called him, Regulus was right he was more than happy to accompany you.
“Will you dance with me?” you said loudly over the music and Barty extended his hand in a mock bow and said “M’lady,” before he was pulling you onto the floor, spinning you away and pulling you back again, and you couldn't help it, you were laughing like a child and it felt good to let your hair down a little.
Your friends had not been happy initially when you had turned up with Barty, but you were here, and so they decided to choose their battles.
And you were having fun, truly having fun for the first night out in a long time.
You were merrily drunk and Barty loved to dance as much as you did, he twirled you to him and dipped you low and when he pulled you back up your smile was as bright as the sun.
“She's with Crouch now?” Remus spat bitterly, watching you from his seat, nursing his drink and Sirius bridled beside him.
“Enough with the jealousy and moping, Moons. She looks happy.”
“I'm not jealous!” Remus barked.
“No?” Sirius challenged “Because you were gunning for Reg last month even though you know for a fact he plays for the other team.”
“Yeah not so much that he wouldn't try his luck with her!” Remus muttered sourly.
“Well at least if he did try it with her, he actually did something about his feelings and gave it a shot,” Sirius spat and Remus went stiff.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“You sit and pine and moan and get mad when anybody else shows her the slightest bit of interest but you’ve never actually tried for her Moony,” Sirius deadpanned,
“I did!” Remus cried and then he was spilling his guts about the night he'd finally manned up enough to kiss you, the night you'd slept together and the next morning he'd been freaking out and suggested you just forget the whole thing.
“Did you even give her a chance to speak?” Sirius said, looking at his friend with sympathy written all over his face.
“She agreed to just staying friends, she said okay,” he cried.
“Because you said it first! How in the hell was she supposed to say anything else to that if the first words out of your mouth were, let's just pretend the whole thing never happened?”
Remus' eyes were wide in horror, had he really gotten it so wrong, that you hadn't understood that he was scared out of his mind that you didn't feel the same? That he'd tried to give you a way out, but instead you'd read it as if he didn't feel anything for you?
“Oh Moons,” Sirius deadpanned and Remus turned his frantic eyes to him “That night we were all out, she couldn't get out of here fast enough. And you.. You brought that girl back to your place.”
“No…Sirius. No!” Remus felt like he was going to cry, or throw up- or possibly both at the same time. Definitely both!
“I'm an asshole. A certified, genuine asshole.”
And the worst part about the whole fucking thing was he'd only been with her in the first place to try and get over you.
“Look, you need to tell her the truth,” Sirius prompted “Tell her and put you both out of this misery.”
“But she's here with Crouch,” Remus whined pathetically.
“Moons,” Sirius snapped. “You and I both know that her and Shithead Junior are just friends, man up and go get your girl!”
Remus was on his feet in an instant and they were moving of their own accord.
He made it precisely to the dance floor before his eyes locked with yours.
Your back was pulled flush against Barty’s chest, your hips swaying with his, his hand splayed across your abdomen, pulling you closer and your head was leaned back against his shoulder, if either of you moved just a fraction you could kiss him over your shoulder and it looked like that's where it had been headed before your eyes locked on Remus and your face hardened for a moment.
Crouch leaned forward to whisper something in your ear and the smile was back on your face again and you turned in his arms, allowing him to take your hand and lead you off the floor.
Remus’ stomach dropped painfully and it was only in that moment he realised how much he had truly hurt you. Because if you had felt even a fraction of what he was feeling right now, that night-he must have absolutely broken your heart.
“I'm an asshole,” he spoke aloud to nobody but himself as he watched your retreating form, hand firmly placed in Crouch’s.
You rolled around in the sheets giggling and Barty couldn't help but watch you fondly.
“This was the best idea you've ever had,” you said. You were drunk, curled up in one of his hoodies, your heels abandoned by the door and stuffing your face with chicken nuggets you'd ordered for delivery on Evan’s bed.
“Chicken nuggets in bed is never a bad idea, and the best part is all the crumbs will be on his sheets and I can sleep blissfully and crumb free in mine.”
“You ever gonna tell him you have a thing for him?” you asked kindly.
“If by thing you mean hopelessly and sadly besotted with him since we were 11?”
“Precisely!” you giggled and he couldn't help but laugh along too.
“If you tell anyone I will torture you slowly and painfully..”
You gave him your pinky and he took it in his in a silent promise.
“We kissed last week. Well, we haven't stopped kissing since then really.”
You beamed, jumping up on the bed and Barty laughed bouncing from the movement of your jumping as you squealed in excitement.
As you collapsed down and stole one of his chips he teased, “Are you ever gonna tell Lupin?”
“I tried to,” you said sadly, “We had a thing - a night, a few months ago. We slept together, but he made it abundantly clear the next morning he just sees me as a friend. And that's okay,” you slurred drunkenly “Cause he is beautiful, and smart and funny and I'm - well I'm me. So that's that really.”
Barty flung a nugget at you and it hit you square in the face, you looked at him shocked and he was suddenly very cross and serious.
“You are wonderful. So fucking wonderful. In fact you may have been the only woman to ever turn Reggie’s head when we were kids. You're so funny and beautiful without even trying, and Lupin, well he's a fucking idiot, always has been, but he's an even bigger one to let you go! Why do you even waste your time on him?”
“I love him,” you said simply and then flung the nugget back at Barty “And all the fit men I know are gay and don't fancy me.”
“Sorry about that,” he laughed.
“No you're not,” you threw back.
“No I'm not,” he grinned but pulled you to him anyway.
By the time you got an uber back to your apartment it was just a little after 3am and you were trying to be as quiet as possible, but you had stumbled in the door, knocked a lamp off a side table and fallen down until you'd laughed so much you were in danger of peeing.
But it didn't matter, you hadn't needed to be quiet. There was a little post it note stuck on your water bottle, already lovingly filled and left on the island.
“Gone to blow off a little steam. Emphasis on the blow. Don't wait up and drink all of this before bed xx”
Your heart surged in affection for Regulus and you grasped the bottle pulling it into your room with you, collapsing face down on the mattress, not even bothering to remove your makeup or dress.
Something was irritating you.
Some relentless sound that wouldn't let you stay asleep, and you realised much too late it was someone banging on the door.
“Reggie,” you sighed, covering your head with your pillow “Use your key Reggie,” you cried but the knocking continued.
You dragged yourself out of bed and pulled yourself down the stairs and to the hall, flinging the door open.
“Reggie I swear to god,” you barked but you were met with two amber eyes and a mop of auburn curly hair instead of grey eyes and black hair.
“Remus?” you gasped taking a step back and his frantic eyes raked over your bare legs and Barty’s hoodie still draped loosely over your frame. Your hair was slightly bed tussled but your makeup was still absolutely perfect. You were absolutely perfect.
He was swaying on the spot and using the door frame as a lifeline to hang on to, but his eyes were smouldering with unbridled jealousy.
“Is he here?” he said frantically, eyes searching the scene behind where you were standing, “Crouch, is he here?” His voice was tinged in desperation and wildness. “Love, please?” he begged, and instantly you were furious.
“Don’t call me that!” you snapped and his eyes went wide with hurt, “You don’t get to show up here in the middle of the night after all these months of nothing, and call me that.”
He flinched, like you had actually stuck him, and hell if you had raised your hand he would have let you.
Anything was better than the way you were looking at him right now.
“I know,” he said hoarsely, “You must hate me after that night.”
“Remus,” your voice cracked, despite yourself. “I gave all of myself to you that night. And the next morning you acted like it was nothing. Like it was some mistake we should just erase. As if that didn’t make me want to fucking die.”
He looked stricken at that, mouth opening and closing but no sound came out.
“You made me feel like I meant nothing to you!” you added sadly.
“No,” he rasped, too fast, too raw, “It meant everything to me. You mean everything to me,” he dragged a hand through his already unruly hair, beginning to pace with pent up restless energy.
“After you fell asleep I just..I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept thinking you would wake up and regret it. Regret me. I thought if I gave you an out-”
“An out?” you repeated, incredulously.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he cried, “If you had wanted to pretend that it never happened, I’d let you. I’d swallow it. I would have swallowed all the shame if it meant you didn’t feel trapped to be with someone like me. And when you agreed-”
“You are unbelievable,” you shrieked, releasing a sharp, disbelieving laugh, “You think I agreed because I wanted an out? Remus what was I supposed to do? The first thing you said to me was that we should forget about it. I’d already made enough of a fool of myself without begging you to love me too.”
He felt himself break at this.
“I never wanted you to beg..God..I thought I was protecting you- from being tied down by someone like me.”
He tried to take a step forward but you took one just as quickly backwards, hand raised between you in a silent gesture, don't come any closer.
“I was scared,” he said softly.
And because you were furious-because fury was easier than hurt, you snapped, “What?”
“I was scared,” he rasped more desperately this time, “Scared and stupid. I thought I was alone in my feelings, I thought mine ran deeper than yours,” his jaw tightened and his hands flexed. “I thought you’d wake up and regret ever touching me.”
You scoffed, shaking your head, but he pressed on.
“You..You’ve seen me,” he said like the words physically pained him, “All of me. The scars. I know it’s not pretty,” he said, gesturing to his body. “I kept waiting for you to pull away and when you didn’t I figured you were caught up in the moment of it all. But in the morning, in the light of day- I thought you would be disgusted. I thought you would regret ever letting me touch you.”
“You would really think that of me?” you cried, hurt beyond belief that that could truly be what his opinion of you would be.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” he rushed, shaking his head, “But I’ve spent my whole life being something people endure. I couldn’t find it in me to believe that you could actually want me..Not like that.”
His hands flexed again by his sides and he continued.
“And so I thought if I pulled away first. If I created the distance and gave you a way out, it would hurt less. For me. For both of us.”
“Oh yeah?” you cried, hurt now visible across all your features, “And how did that work out for you, Moons?”
The nickname hit him like a blow to the gut and he went still.
“I suppose,” you added, voice laden in betrayal “You were still protecting me when you brought that girl back to our apartment too? When I had to stand there, right across the hall and listen to you be with someone else, a few nights after I gave you all of me.”
All the colour drained from his face now.
“I didn’t-” his voice fractured, and he dragged a hand through his hair, feeling sick with himself. “I didn’t realise that you were home,” he admitted weakly, “But I knew you had seen us at the club and I thought if you saw me with someone else it would make it easier…For you to move on. And for me to get you out of my head.” His laugh was hollow and full of self-disgust, “I didn’t know it at the time but some sick part of me thought if I ruined it enough, closed the door firmly enough, it wouldn’t feel so impossible to let you go.”
Remus wanted to be sick and he was in real danger of throwing up right outside your door as he felt white hot shame coursing through him.
She- Lucille- had been a coward’s attempt to bury his feelings for you, to make him feel anything but the ache he’d had in his chest since he’d finally gotten to be with you after years of longing for you, and then very swiftly lost you.
“I don’t know how I could have been so stupid and cruel,” he said, hanging his head, “Bringing somebody else into our home. I’m ashamed beyond words and I’m more sorry than I can ever say. But I need you to know, as stupid as it was, it was to try and forget about you for just one night. To forget that I had you in my hands for that one beautiful night and I fucked it all up and I truly did not know you were there, but I know..I know that’s irrelevant and that I hurt you.”
He felt like he was drowning, truly- gasping for breath, kind of drowning. He took a step forward tentatively and this time you didn’t stop him.
“I was a fool,” he spat, “A stupid, stubborn fool who couldn’t accept that someone like you- Perfect, like you would want somebody as broken and fucked up as me. And even worse than that I was a coward.”
You still hadn’t softened into the girl he loved yet, you were fierce, jaw set in place defensively and arms wrapped around yourself, in Barty fucking Crouch’s hoodie, and you sniffed and looked away from him.
“How could you truly think those things of me?” you cried, voice trembling, thick with heartbreak and disbelief, “That I could ever be disgusted by you? By your body- your scars? God.. to hear you think that I could hate any part of you when I’ve spent all these years loving you and wanting to be with you more than anything in the world... That you could believe I even had an ounce of capacity to be disgusted by you when you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
Remus went to argue but you cut him off, “You were projecting the worst of yourself onto me! By thinking so little of yourself you wanted me to think it too without even giving me the chance to prove you wrong.”
There truly was nothing he could say to that, because you were right.
Of course you were right.
“I should tell you to go,” you said sadly, “You break my fucking heart and you turn up here tonight finally spilling all of this on me because you saw me with somebody else. You think I don’t know that? You saw me with Barty tonight? That’s what this is.”
Remus took a deliberate step back, his face a mixture of hurt and shame, but he nodded once in confirmation.
He swallowed hard and his voice was low and gravelly, “I know I’ve hurt you beyond repair- and I’ve broken everything between us..God, I should be on my fucking knees,-” before he could even stop himself he sank deliberately to his knees, looking up at you through his lashes and palms upturned as if awaiting your order, and you gasped because he had never willingly submitted himself to anyone like this before.
“I’m more sorry than you can ever know,” he choked out, “For thinking so little of you- of myself. For her. For all of it! And if this is what it takes, I’ll stay here for as long as you want me to. I’ll carry all the guilt on my knees before you if it means you will just look at me again like you used to.”
Tell me the truth, you begged, “Is all of this just because you saw me with Barty tonight? I need you to be honest with me. We can’t move forward without it.”
“Seeing you with him tonight absolutely destroyed me. I was so focused on my own insecurities that I never stopped to think about how any of this felt for you, having been dismissed the morning after we slept together or having to hear me be with her,” he bowed his head in shame. “But seeing you tonight with him- If you felt even a fraction of that heartbreak, I’ll carry that guilt with me for a long time. Forever if you tell me to.”
You looked at him for a long moment, but to him it felt like hours, your expression was unreadable and for the first time in his life he felt the overwhelming urge to beg.
“Please,” he rasped, “Please love. I know I’m a coward who pushes away the things I love when I’m afraid. Because I hate myself more than anyone ever could. I know that I don’t deserve you and I never will. But I’m here. On my knees begging. Even though every part of me is screaming at me to run. I won’t..not this time. I won’t leave again until you tell me to.”
A tear slipped down your cheek and you wiped it away hastily.
“I know I hurt you,” he continued, “The only person who has ever shown me real love, even though I was too blind to see it. Just.. please. Please give me the chance to earn it back and I will never run from it again.”
More tears slipped down your cheeks and it nearly undid him to know he was the cause of them.
“I will never- never hurt you like that again,” he swore, “If you give me another chance, even when I’m terrified. Even when it would be easier to run, I’ll stay and fight for you. I swear.”
Without warning, you threw yourself into his arms. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs but his arms locked around you instantly, holding you so tightly like he was afraid you would disappear.
For a long time, you just let him sway you gently, his fingers brushing loving ministrations through your hair,
When you pulled back to look into his amber eyes, he swallowed thickly.
“I kicked her out the moment I heard the door slam,” he confessed quickly, “I tried to go after you but you were already gone. I never slept with her. I lay awake all night wishing it was you I had come home to instead.”
Your heart pounded so hard in your chest it was almost painful, and you sniffed.
“Nothing happened with me and Barty,” you said softly, “We went back to his place and ate chicken nuggets on Evan’s bed. And laughed about how hopelessly in love we are with our best friends.”
Relief washed over him so visibly you would have laughed under any other circumstances, his hands came up to cradle your face and he leaned his forehead against yours.
“The truth is Remus, no matter how much I tried to lie to myself. No matter how many times I swore I was done with you, I was still hopelessly- pathetically in love with you.” Your voice wavered, heavy with tears, “Please,” you begged “Please don’t break my heart again.”
“Never,” he rushed, “Never, again,” he swore it like it was a vow, something sacred.
“And please,” you begged, “Don’t you dare ever talk about your body- your scars- like they are something shameful. They are not something to be endured. You are not something to be endured, Remus. You are worthy of being loved and worshipped. Every part of you, including your scars.”
“I want you so bad,” he confessed, gripping you tightly, “Let me show you!” he murmured, lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapped around him as he carried you towards the bedroom.
His hands roamed your body before he paused looking at the material bunched up in his hands like it had personally offended him, Barty’s hoodie, “Get this fucking thing off you,” he growled and even though it was playful jealousy he didn’t even bother to zip down the zipper he simply tore it open, breaking it at the seam, and he pulled it from your body and flung it across the room.
“Remus?” you gasped at his outwardly display of jealousy but you would be a liar if you thought it wasn’t the sexiest thing you had ever seen.
He moaned appreciatively at the sight of your clubbing dress, and his hands were everywhere on you again.
He attached his lips to your neck and sucked at the soft skin there as you arched up into his touch.
You tugged at his sweater and he understood what you wanted, pulling the garment over his own head in haste and you sighed looking at the expanse of his chest, tracing one of his most prominent scars with your lips, as you fumbled with his belt, pulling it free and he eased himself out of his pants, pinning you down again.
“Fuck, this is all I think about,” he confessed, “For years, picturing what you would look like, gasping underneath me as I make you fall apart.”
“You could’ve had it all this time if you weren’t such a giant pratt,” you joked but gasped when he suddenly pulled your dress down, sliding it down your torso and legs, and your underwear was swiftly disposed of by his hands too.
“Fuck,” he mused drinking you in, “Look at you.”
You surged up to kiss him again and he settled between your legs.
“You gonna make it up to me?” you cooed and he smiled devilishly.
“Gonna make you forget everything else except for me and how good I make you feel,” he promised.
And you threw your head back in invitation, and he wasted no time.
He’d already pulled you apart with his fingers twice by the time he eventually slid inside and you grasped his back with your fingers, cementing him in place, as he began to move.
“Darling, why is every single light in the house on?” Regulus’ voice suddenly interrupted and everyone in the room froze.
“Oh god,” he deadpanned. “Oh my fucking eyes! I can never unsee Lupin’s pasty arse as long as I live!” he cried, hands flying up to cover his eyes so nothing else could offend him, “I want to claw my own eyes out,” he fumed, “What did I ever do to deserve this?”
Remus couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him when you hastily gripped for the duvet to cover you both.
“Reg!” you cried clearly mortified and he pointed an accusing finger at you, though his eyes were still clamped shut.
“We will be talking about this in the morning!” he shot and then the same finger was pointed in the general direction of where Remus had been, “As for you Lupin, we will also be having a little talk about how if I ever find her in tears because of you again I will personally chop off your own cock and feed it to you!”
“Both understood and deserved,” Remus said meekly, even if there was a hint of a smile there.
“And for the love of God, you’ve already assaulted my eyes tonight, please leave my ears in peace. I don’t want to hear a peep.”
He turned to face the door, eyes still covered until he knew the coast was clear and he would deny this until the day he died but his voice softened, “Lupin for the love of God, be here in the morning, don't abandon her again,” and with that he disappeared out into the hall and closed your door behind him.
You and Remus waited until you heard his retreating steps before you both erupted into a fit of giggles.
“I'm sorry about Reg. He's sort of taken on the role of my protector lately, he's actually really sweet once you get to know him.”
“I'm glad you've had him,” Remus said honestly, “You deserved somebody in your corner while I was busy being an asshole. I am very, incredibly grateful that he is gay though, I nearly went insane with jealousy when you moved in with him.”
“So now probably isn't a good time to tell you that we were each other's first kiss?” you teased and Remus mock frowned before you countered, “Before he realised he was into men. And I realised I was into Remus Lupins.”
“Since school?” Remus said, eyes wide with shock.
“Since the first day I met you,” you told him honestly, “Remember that Valentine's day in your final year when someone gifted you that leather bound notebook and fountain pen?”
“Everyone thought it was Marlene, but she swore it wasn't?”
“That was me,” you admitted shyly, and he reached for your hand.
“Baby, I was seventeen, you would have been sixteen? All this time?”
“It's okay,” you reassured, hooking your leg over his and climbing on top of him, “You were just busy being an asshole.”
“A fucking oblivious one,” he countered but trailed off because you were positioning yourself on top of him, sinking down and beginning to move your hips and he was gasping up into your mouth.
“We have to be quiet,” you warned, snapping your hips when he gasped again and the only way he trusted himself not to cry out was by capturing your lips with his, so he did.
“Fuck,” he panted, pulling you to lie on his chest and stroking featherlight touches along your bare arms, “How could I have ever convinced myself to walk away from this?” he deadpanned.
“I want to make it very clear,” you whispered against his skin, “I love you. I don't regret this. I don't want a way out and my answer will still be the same in the morning.”
His arms tightened around you as he let your words sink in and truly allowed himself to believe it this time.
“And for the record, I’ve been crazy about you since school too. I was just too chicken to do anything about it," he confessed.
“I may need to move back in with you,” you teased, “I don’t think I can look Reggie in the eye anymore.”
“Come home,” he said simply, squeezing you like that was the most natural thing in the world.“Everything is as you left it. As if I could ever bring myself to replace you.”
Tagging: (Just based on people who have interacted with my previous fics, but please feel free to ignore or ask to be removed)
Summary: Remus returns to his Father's home after the death of Lily and James and losing Sirius and Peter. He has no one left in the world who cares whether he lives or dies, until he falls in love with a muggle woman who has been caring for his Father in his old age. But his curse threatens to tear them both apart, before their love story can even truly begin.
Divider by @cursed-carmine 🖤
The smell of baking and freshly brewed coffee attacked his senses as soon as he stepped into the entry way of his Father’s town house.
There were no words that could do any justice to the depth of sadness he was feeling and it showed in the heavy way he carried himself- shoulders slumped, bones weary, and soul more tired than he could ever have imagined possible.
Lily and James were dead.
And Sirius had enacted a betrayal so deep upon his life he thought he would never truly recover or trust another living soul again.
He toed off his shoes was about to call out, when he heard rustling in the kitchen and the faint, tinny crackling of a radio playing, and he followed the sound, totally caught off guard at not finding his Father in the kitchen, but rather a young woman, apron wrapped around her waist and slicing into a fresh loaf of bread that looked like it had just come from the oven.
Your eyes widened at the sight of him and your mouth formed the shape of a surprised ‘Oh’ he had clearly caught you off guard.
You looked startled for only a moment before your face broke into a shy smile- and it completely unbalanced him.
“Hi,” you smiled shyly and even though he tried to return the gesture he was almost certain it came out as a grimace, for a moment it felt like he had completely forgotten how to speak, his chest tightened when you kept his gaze and he strangled down the sensation of warmth that threatened to spread if he would only allow it.
“What precisely are you doing here?” He had meant to ask it gently, but it came out more gruff and rude than he had intended, and he cringed inwardly at his own tone.
He watched you brace yourself slightly, stilling all actions in the face of his supposed hostility and the smile dropped slowly from your face.
“I work here,” you offered gently “As Mr. Lupin’s housemaid, I help with the cooking and cleaning, that sort of thing.”
“Right,” Remus nodded, “Right, and where is my Father now?”
You tried to smile his way again and not wilt under the weight of his heavy demeanor, “He’s reading his paper in the parlour,” you replied, then bit worriedly at your cheek, as he turned to leave the kitchen.
“I’m Y/n,” you offered meekly and that stopped him in his tracks, and when he turned to face you again his expression was softer, and he managed a genuine smile this time, “Remus,” he returned back and when your smile widened across your face he felt his stomach drop, you were quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes upon, a stray piece of flour upon your cheek and he wished in that very moment that he knew how to be soft or whole again, someone worthy of being smiled at, the way you had just smiled at him.
As soon as he stepped into the parlour his Father was rushing forward to embrace him and he allowed himself to collapse into the safety of his arms, leaning his full weight against him.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry son,” his Father was whispering against his shoulder, and all that Remus could do was hold onto him for dear life as the tears pooled in his eyes and he allowed himself to feel the full extent of his grief.
“Where is the boy now?” he asked as they pulled apart and Remus sighed.
“Gone to live with Lily’s sister and husband, none of us were deemed suitable, and well Peter and Sirius are both gone now. I’m the only one left and I’m hardly a suitable fit.”
His Father squeezed his cheek affectionately like he used to do when he was a child and for a moment Remus felt like he could release the shaky breath he had been holding in from the moment he got the news from Godric’s Hollow.
His Father was frailer than the last time he had seen him, he figured the death of his mother had really taken a toll on him, along with the constant worry for his son’s safety as he fought for the Order.
As they both finally sat he asked his Father if it was alright that he had come and if he could stay a while.
“My boy,” he replied “Wherever I am, you are welcome, this is your home, always.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before the door to the parlour opened and you appeared before them carrying a tray with a pot of tea, two cups and a jug of milk, and you simply placed it down on a small side table between them and with a small nod of your head, and a gentle genuine smile his way, you departed again.
Remus had expected you to linger, and was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t, sensing the two of them needed privacy, you retreated to the sanctuary of the kitchen, without word or fuss.
“She’s a muggle,” Lyall mused following Remus’ line of sight at the space you left in your wake, “But she carries her own kind of magic, just like your mother did,” in time Remus would come to understand just how true that statement was, but for now he found comfort in the sense that someone was looking after his Father, when he could not be around.
“That’s not a real breakfast,” you chided, climbing up the steps to the Lupins’ front door, shopping bags in both hands and Remus laughed wryly.
“It’s my favourite breakfast,” he retorted and you shook your head at the cigarette poking out of his mouth and the giant cup of coffee nestled between both of his hands to warm him up.
He was perched against the window sill of the giant bay window of the front room of the house in a cable knit jumper two sizes too big and his hair was disheveled from sleep, and you tried in vain to stop your heart hammering in your chest at the sight of him.
It had been weeks since he had turned up in the kitchen and you had developed an easy sort of repertoire with him, he mainly kept to himself, busy reading in the parlour, nose stuck in a book of literature or passing you briefly in the hall, hair wind swept from a long walk on the beach, but he mainly only ever crossed your path to come into the kitchen to make himself some tea.
“Let me fix you up a proper breakfast,” you smiled amused, struggling to open the front door with your overloaded hands and smiling gratefully when he reached across to open it for you.
“Define proper breakfast?” he mused.
“Bacon and egg butty, and that really expensive coffee that you like but are never arsed making?”
He huffed a small laugh behind you, “Dad was right, you are an angel,” he mused and you laughed when he flicked the end of his cigarette into the flower pot he used as a makeshift ashtray and followed you down the hall into the kitchen.
He ate greedily and you delighted in seeing the colour that was beginning to come back to his gaunt face.
You giggled slightly and it pulled him from his attacking of the butty, “You’ve got brown sauce on the side of your mouth,” you noted and he grinned lazily as he wiped it away with his thumb, “S’good food what can I say?” he grinned and Lyall shot you a genuine smile that warmed your heart.
Remus wasn’t always like this, carefree and playful, some days he barely spoke a word out loud to anyone, he would emerge from his room like a man who hadn’t seen sunlight in days, heavy lidded and black rings under his eyes indicating that he hadn’t slept a wink and when Lyall informed you that he was mourning the death of his friends you made a vow to always make sure there was at least one homemade meal ready for him every day.
He was an exceptionally tall man, especially in comparison to you, but his oversized jumpers did nothing to hide the fact that he was wasting away to skin and bone.
“Dad pays you to look after him, you don’t need to look after me too,” he said one particularly bad evening when you insisted on reheating the dinner you had made him earlier and you had softened into a sad, but genuine smile.
“I don’t,” you admitted gently “But I want to.”
Over the coming weeks there were moments Remus could not deny something was beginning to grow in his chest for you, and it terrified him entirely.
No matter how much he tried to ignore your presence in the house, it was like you simply had always belonged there.
Bringing him tea, asking him about the books he was reading and having discussions and debates about your own favourite writers and topics, gnawing away at the icy remnants of his heart.
There were moments where his hand lingered too close to yours.
Eyes lingered too long on your lips.
Breaks where you accompanied him for long walks on the cold, wind-swept November aired beach and talked about everything and anything and sometimes nothing at all.
A brief moment in the kitchen where you swept his hair from his tired eyes almost absentmindedly, cheeks flushed red when he looked up at you through his long lashes, something warm and unreadable on his face, your faces merely inches apart, he looked as though he wanted to close the distance but his Father appeared in from his morning walk and the magic of the moment was broken.
Or the morning he was reading at the kitchen table, or at least attempting to anyway, when the sound of your voice pulled him from the depths of his thoughts, it was a simple tune and you hummed along wordlessly to the radio, the radio that was always playing whenever you were in the house, it was always his indicator that you had arrived and he would find some reason or excuse to drag himself from his room to be near you, and he suddenly felt like his life had been entirely void of sound up until the moment he met you.
He had without realising it, began to actively seek you out when the thoughts in his head, or the pain in his chest were too much to handle, finding any excuse to stand beside you, or pull you to him and force you to dance with him to whatever song was playing on the radio, your laughter lighting up all corners of the kitchen and the darkest corners of his soul.
When you started lending him your favourite books he absolutely devoured them, sometimes you couldn’t believe he had actually read them in the time he did and he delighted when you would quiz him about them over coffee.
You met your friends for drinks in the local pub every Friday night and you had been begging him for weeks to come join you.
“They will love you,” you pleaded and he always refused you with a self-depricating smile.
It had been pure luck he had met the friends he made in school and they had accepted him for exactly who he was, he never thought he would find that again and then he had met you.
You seemed to intrinsically know what he needed and when he needed it.
When his pain was bad, or he had not slept well, he would be greeted with a warm coffee and silence- you didn’t feel the need to fill silences with nonsense small talk.
When he was in a slightly playful mood or when he felt the need to sprout off facts from the top of his head you were the perfect partner.
But he did not think he was ready to sit at a table full of strangers and have to navigate how to behave, and so every week you would beg and he would decline and he would watch the disappointment cross your face but to his eternal gratitude you didn’t push.
The mood in the house was so tense you could almost cut the tension in the air with a knife, it was clear that Lyall and Remus had been arguing before you stepped into the kitchen, arms once again laden in shopping bags of fresh produce.
Remus was pacing up and down the tiles and he reeled on you once you stepped foot inside.
“Your services are not required today, you can leave.”
Your stomach dropped down to your toes, and you shuffled the bags off your shoulders awkwardly setting them down on the counter, trying your best not to let the hurt at being dismissed so easily settle in your stomach.
“Do not speak to her like that,” Lyall scolded “Y/n, stay.”
You stood like a deer in headlights, big worried eyes darting between the both of them, not quite sure what to do.
“Oh for heaven's sake,” Remus snapped, dismissing you with an agitated wave of his hand. “We are perfectly capable of cooking on our own tonight. It's not difficult, you are not needed! Nor your incessant coddling, I can’t bear it! And that blasted radio that sets my teeth on edge whenever you are here.”
Your breath caught in your throat and your heart hammered in your chest.
“I’ll go,” you said, voice small, and cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
“Maybe it’s for the best dear,” Lyall sighed defeatedly and you tried your best to put on your best smile, like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t feel completely useless and unwanted.
But Remus did not miss the glassiness of your eyes or the fact he would have recognised a rehearsed smile like that anywhere, but he pushed any feelings of tenderness or remorse down, deep down into that residual space where his shame lived.
“I’ll see you tomorrow Mr.Lupin,” you tried to say in your normal cheery tone, but your voice shook and with a quick nod of your head in Remus’ direction you hurried from the room before your tears could fall and humiliate you further than you already felt.
Lyall looked at Lupin, tears in his own eyes and horrified, “Make it right,” he ordered “She does not deserve to be treated like that. Make it right!”
You didn’t see Remus the next day, or the day after and Lyall was doing his utmost to make up for his son’s horrible behaviour but you were quieter than a church mouse and he didn’t quite know how to fix it.
The guilt was beginning to eat away at Remus in the hours after his transformation.
How could he possibly put right something that was so abhorrently wrong about himself?
How could he possibly explain to someone as perfect as you that he turned into a monster both figuratively and quite literally at every full moon?
That he was a broken, irritable, and contrary man by nature and it was only worsened by his affliction.
That he was a flawed, heart-broken, un-whole person and you had been the only source of light in his life for years and yet he had absolutely no control of his emotions when he dismissed you like that-so offhand like you were nothing.
That he was still, even after all these years, angry at his Father for having provoked Greyback in the first place, even though he knew that guilt tore Lyall apart every full moon and it was, and would remain until the day he died, his biggest source of regret and pain.
That he still woke up in a pile of sweat every single night with terrors of a beast climbing through his window and attacking him in his own bed, monstrous eyes and huge teeth tearing into his skin and cursing him for the rest of his days.
That he pushed people away simply to prove to himself that he was undeserving of asking anybody to stay. Why on earth would anybody possibly want to?
And that he took it all out on you because you were the only person who had ever truly gotten under his skin and had a chance at getting close to the man within.
How could he explain any of that to you when it barely even made sense to himself?
And yet the look on your face as you forced yourself to smile and simply accept the humiliation he landed on you made him certain that he would have to apologise to you, even if it was easier to push you away and have you leave he couldn't bear the thought of you thinking you were simply nothing but the maid to him.
When he finally returned on the third day you were solemn, hair tucked under a white-laced bandana as you scrubbed and cleaned in silence.
The bathroom was gleaming and as you worked your way downstairs he fully expected to hear the telltale sound of the radio playing in the kitchen, but there was nothing but the unsettling and almost deafening silence.
It was like a dementor was present in the house sucking all the life and joy from your soul and he hated it. He realised with a jolt that he was the dementor, he had sucked the joy from this house and he'd done it by taking away your joy.
When he finally emerged sheepish, hands in his pocket, trying to figure out just what the hell to say to you, he found you on your hands and knees scrubbing relentlessly at the floor in the parlour and he watched you for a moment in silence before he cleared his throat and he didn't miss the way you jumped and then stilled but didn't turn around.
“I'm almost done here,” you rushed, hurrying your scrubbing attempts on the floor, “I'll be out of your hair soon.”
“Y/N, wait… Wait,” he rushed softly, placing a hand over yours to still your ministrations, and you froze under his touch but he was relieved when you didn't immediately pull away.
You allowed him to pull you up and even though his eyes were boring into yours you could not meet his.
“Will you look at me?” he pleaded and you shook your head, tears rushing to your eyes.
“I should get back to work.” you whispered and he brushed his thumb across your knuckles, which did cause you to jerk but you didn't pull your hand away, with both of your hands gently in his he pulled you softly into the middle of the floor, retreating just a second to the corner of the room to place the needle on the record settled in the vinyl player and it crackled as it turned and came to life.
As the song began to play he was before you again, and he captured your hands gently and began to sway them, you would have recognised the opening chords anywhere I’m Not In Love by 10cc, it was a vinyl you had loaned him weeks ago, insisting he needed this song in his life and he had lost count at the amount of times he had played in on repeat since.
You resisted stiffly at first, considering pulling your hands from his and insisting that you had work to get back to, but he guided you slowly, coaxing you into a slow, awkward sway on the worn tiles of the parlour floor, and still your eyes could not meet his.
He let go of his grasp on your hands and his own slid down to your waist and he guided you ever so gently closer, and when he had finally bridged the gap between you until you were chest to chest, his breath faltered, and slowly, almost reluctantly your own hands rose to his shoulders, and rested gently around the back of his neck as he continued to sway you both gently to the music.
You moved together, barely more than a gentle swaying but it was enough, neither of you spoke as he pulled you impossibly closer, and to hide the tears in your eyes, you laid your cheek against his chest, and allowed the steady thump of his heart and the gentle way he swayed you, calm your trembling, and his heart broke at how you shook in his arms.
You felt his breath against your neck and he rested his lips against the crook of your neck.
“I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered into your soft skin “For how I acted, for how I made you feel. I never want you to feel unwelcome here or that you are nothing more than the help.”
You shuddered and then sighed “But I am Remus, all you did was remind me of that, I got too comfortable- too close.”
Remus stilled in your arms and then shifted slightly so that he could look into your eyes and this time you could not turn away even though your own were blurry with tears.
“You know, surely you have to know that you are so much more to me,” he cried.
You shook your head and a rogue tear slipped down your cheek, “I thought that I was,” you cried before hastily wiping at your cheek, but he didn’t release his hold of your waist, “It’s textbook stupid girl, my friends warned me I was being foolish falling in love with my employer’s son, and I did it anyway because I am a fool. I’m the fool who fell in love with you anyway and forgot my place and how stupid to believe someone as beautiful and intelligent as you could ever fall in love with a maid,” you laughed bitterly at your own stupidity.
You pressed your arms against his chest to create enough distance to slip free from his embrace and slipped from his arms.
“So you did the right thing reminding me of my place.”
You made to turn around back to your work but he caught your wrist, firmly- but not forcefully and before you could argue he had pulled you gently back into the orbit of his arms, you barely had time to breathe before his mouth was on yours, his kiss urgent and desperate and rooted in both apology and need for you to understand.
His lips left yours only long enough for him to release a shuddered breath as he rested his forehead against yours.
“I need you,” he tried but shook his head at the lack of words he could find to articulate just how much he needed to say to you, “I need you to understand that you are everything to me. My only companion left in this world, and you are not the fool here. I am, for messing this up so badly. For allowing you to believe you had fallen alone.”
Your breath shuddered as you tried to make sense of what he was saying, was he admitting that he had fallen in love too?
“Remus I don’t understand,” you cried, “You don’t treat people you love like that. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
His forehead dropped against your shoulder in resignation and then you heard the sound that turned the blood cold in your veins.
The unmistakable, guttural sound of the sob that escaped him as he clutched you tighter in desperation, afraid that if he let go, he would lose you forever, “But I do love you, and if I could take it back I would give my life to do it and I'm sorry I was such a fucking git about it all."
Your hands moved of their own accord, cradling the back of his head, hands tangling in his soft floppy locks, as if you could shield him from all the pain he had ever endured in this world, and you realised with a jolt that no matter how much his actions had hurt you, he was here in your arms trying to make it right, and your heart fluttered in your chest.
“You love me?” you repeated and he nodded fervently against your neck.
The song still echoed faintly through the room, and you locked your arms around his frail frame in your arms, after a few moments of silence between you both the song played on steadily in the background, you whispered into his mousy locks “I forgive you.”
You sat all night staring at the door to the pub and every time it opened you tried not to be disappointed when everyone except Remus walked through.
“I don’t think he’s coming love,” your friend squeezed your arm gently and you smiled lightly her way.
“Must’ve got caught up with something,” you tried to sound lighthearted but she could see the sadness thinly veiled in your eyes.
“Another round?” she asked kindly and you smiled gratefully, finishing the pint in your hands as she rose and went to join your other friend at the bar.
You tried not to let the disappointment settle in your stomach. He had only said he might come tonight and you should have realised that really meant no.
As you placed your drink on the table, your heart began to thump in your chest at the sight of a figure lingering by the door, eyes frantically searching the room and smiling huge and relieved when they landed on you.
He stood in your favourite jumper, you told him a thousand times it was your favourite and you wondered with a warmth inside if that was the reason he had worn it tonight, it was a soft maroon coloured knit and the elbows were patched, and his dark corduroy pants were slightly frayed at the ends, he was the tallest man in the pub by a mile and he was the coolest, most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on.
He crossed the room quickly and you flung up with a giggle to lock your arms around him in a tight embrace and he kissed you quickly on the lips with a “Hiya love.”
He scooted in beside you just as your friends returned with their round of drinks.
“The elusive Remus Lupin,” your friend joked and he chuckled shyly beside you.
“We were beginning to think she made you up!” your other friend teased and he raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Very real and very late, my apologies,” he laughed along with your friends and you squeezed his thigh in appreciation.
When he slipped out of the booth your friend slapped you across the arm “Does he have a brother, tell me quick?” she gasped and you shook your head quickly with a content smile as he was sliding back into the booth beside you with his own pint, and slung his free arm effortlessly around your shoulder.
“But is it really escapism if he is confronting it head on?” Remus was arguing gently with your friend and she seemed to consider him for a moment, “Okay, I’ll bite, make your point Mr. Elusive.”
Remus chuckled at the use of the nickname and continued, “Well in a lot of his works he confronts grief and suffering head on, almost like he knows that life is a perfect marriage of both beauty and joy and grief and suffering, we can’t have one without experiencing the other. Surely grief is the proof that we have loved and I don’t think he shies away or tries to escape from that fact in his writing.”
Your friend groaned and buried her head in her hands “I could really have done with you two weeks ago when I submitted my essay on understanding his works.”
Remus laughed out loud and it was beautiful, truly beautiful, “My services are yours should you ever require them again,” he joked.
“Don’t tell her that!” you teased “She copied all my homework for years!”
“She is smarter than all three of us combined,” she said pointing between herself, your other friend and Remus, “If she had come to Uni she’d be wiping the floor with all of us.”
“And now I’m wiping floors for a living,” you joked self-depricating as your friends laughed and you took a long swig of your drink but you didn’t miss the way Remus' eyes landed on you, curiously, as if he was trying to figure something out simply by studying you.
It was a freezing December night and you leaned into Remus for warmth as you were all finally asked to leave the bar.
Sleet was falling and your nose was already turning red when you hugged your friends goodbye, and they each hugged Remus and asked him to come out for drinks with them again, he promised he would.
You were both entirely drunk and you swayed as you scrambled the cobbled streets home, hands swinging and laughing at everything and nothing.
When you reached the door to your flat, Remus backed you into the alcove and kissed you so hard it took your breath away.
“Come up?” you panted when he pulled away and his eyes lidded in lust were boring into yours, “Come up?” you said again, softer this time and he was kissing you again, hands flying up to tangle in your hair.
Getting to your bedroom was a mixture of fumbling hands, discarded clothes and his lips on every part of your skin they could reach.
When you finally slid his knitted jumper over his head he stood before you, head down in shame as his pale skin was exposed to you, along with the expanse of scars that covered his body.
You had always been curious about the scars on Remus’ face, but you knew he was shy about them, and had always settled for caressing them with your hands and lips, he was beautiful and you never wanted him to doubt it.
He mistook your gaze for something that it was not and he went to reach for his jumper again.
“Don’t,” you cried, prying the material from his hands, “Don’t hide yourself from me, you are beautiful.”
You ran your hands across the expanse of his chest and down the plains of his slender abdomen and placed your lips upon every scar you could find along the way, his head was thrown back, eyes closed in lust and finally when you began to fumble with the buttons of his pants he surged forward to free you of your own clothes, he fisted his hands into the hair at the nape of your neck as he kissed you hungrily and manoeuvred you backwards until your knees hit the bed and he collapsed on top of you, hands trailing the expanse of your naked skin before him.
“I can’t believe,” he panted “I can’t believe I’m allowed to touch you like this,” he mused in adoration and you surged up to kiss him.
“I love you,” you reminded him and he chuckled and it was both sinful and beautiful.
The morning light was beginning to flicker in through the window of your flat and you were still wrapped up in the heat of Remus’ arms.
You’d been awake for a while and you couldn’t stop thinking of the expanse of scars that ran across his beautifully pale skin, part of you knew in some way-some deep down place of your awareness that he had done it to himself, you just couldn’t put the pieces together of why.
Had he done it in grief of the friends he refused to talk about, or in a moment of temper like the one you had been victim to a few weeks before?
“I’ve got to go away for a bit love,” he mumbled against your neck when he finally awoke, “I really don’t want to leave, but I’ve got to go, just for a few days.”
You turned to face him in the bed, and he sighed, twirling a stand of your hair around his fingers.
“Please don’t ask me,” he whispered, “I don’t want to have to lie to you.”
You frowned, silently trying to figure out how to navigate the conversation, and picked at a loose thread on the duvet.
“Is it because of last night? You don’t want this anymore? Or you need space to figure out if you want this?”
“No,” he rushed “Last night-You-are perfect. I’m doing this because I love you.”
“But you can’t tell me why?”
How could he? How could he possibly tell you that under tomorrow night’s full moon he would turn into a beast that would kill you if you crossed its path? You didn’t even know he was a wizard for heaven’s sake. That was going to be shocking enough when he finally worked up the guts to tell you.
“Is it to do with the scars on your body?” you tried softly after a while and he nodded, “You’ve done them to yourself?” you tried again and he quirked his head, your friend had been 100% correct, you really were one of the most intelligent people he had ever met.
“Remus,” you cried, reaching for his hand under the covers, “You know there is nothing you couldn’t tell me right? Nothing that could make me stop loving you.”
He felt like crying as he clasped your hand in his, because that was precisely what he was terrified telling you would do. Drive you away, and he wouldn't even blame you.
“Could you accept that I will tell you everything someday but for now I am doing this to keep you safe.”
“Am I in danger if you stay?” you asked and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and nodded silently.
You considered him for a another moment and then decided you were going to just go for it anyway, and if you were wrong you were wrong.
“Is it because of the full moon?”
Remus dropped your hand and he felt a cold sweat break out all over his body, but his reaction was enough to spur you on, “Last month, when you lashed out at me, your Father tried to comfort me and he mentioned it was just the time of month that affected you, and sure enough walking home that night there was a full moon. Tomorrow night there will be another. Do you have some illness that coincides with the full moon?”
Remus’ mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water but there was no sound coming out and he could feel the beads of sweat forming in his brow as he rose from the bed and began to pace.
“There was a boy I knew when I was a child, he could… do things with his mind. Make things move, he could hurt you without touching you, and then he was shipped off to some fancy private school in the highlands and I would only see him on christmas and the holidays, and once when I was cleaning the parlour I was certain I saw the pictures on your dad’s newspaper move, and I guess what I’m asking you is if there are some things you think I might not be able to understand or accept, but what if I was telling you I could?”
Remus stopped pacing and looked at you in bewilderment, and for a brief moment he considered simply apparating out of your room and out of your life, but something deep inside of him was crying out to tell you the truth and give himself completely to you.
“At least give me the dignity of trying to understand,” you pleaded and he nodded, sitting gently down again on the side of your bed.
He swallowed hard, eyes locked on his own hands, he couldn’t quite meet your eyes yet.
“Last month when I lashed out at you, you had just walked in on an argument between myself and my Father, and that’s because- when I was a child I was attacked- bitten by a monster. I was just a boy and I didn’t ask for it, I was asleep in my own bed when he came and I was cursed. I wish he had killed me there and then because the reality is so much worse. On the full moon I become something utterly despicable- a monster and no matter what I do, I can’t,” his voice cracked and he choked up “I can’t stop it. I would kill everyone I love and have absolutely no control over it,” he sobbed “You are right about the scars, except I don’t do them to myself when I am human- only when I am the beast, I hurt myself because when I take myself away from any possible human I can, the urge to bite and attack never leave and the only way to quell it is to do it to myself. So I can understand if you don’t want to be with a monster like me, I wouldn’t blame you,” he now turned his glossy eyes upon yours expecting to see the inevitable disgust, or worse fear, laced there, but instead he was met with the crumpled expression of sympathy and understanding as you launched yourself into his arms and he locked his arms around you as you cried.
“It's a lot to wrap my head around and I have so many questions my love. But it doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you,” you cried and he was crying too.
“Except that my heart breaks that you have to go through this alone every month, I wish there was something I could do.”
“There is my love,” he cried, “Be waiting for me with the radio playing and the kettle boiled when I come home, be my beautiful, joyful girl, my light on the darkest of days and I will come back to you every time I promise!”
You climbed into his lap to straddle him, “How long do we have before you have to leave?” you cried and he ran his fingers through your hair.
“Enough time to remind me of the beauty that awaits me when my nightmare is over,” he whispered and you pushed him backwards onto the bed, kissing your way down his chest and making love to him like you were trying to tell him in every way that your body could, that every part of you was his and would be waiting for him to come home to you.
There would be more time to talk this all out when he came home. To ask the questions you wanted to ask. For him to be finally open about the Wizarding War and Voldemort and the death of his very best friends but for now he was content to give you his word that he would come back to you and your love could truly begin in honesty.
When he returned to you bloodied and battered, you welcomed him back into your arms like there was nowhere else on this earth that he belonged more.
Title: Based on the movie from 2005, forced to attend your sister's wedding where you have to face a family that are perpetually disappointed in you, and your ex who treated you like crap, you hire someone to be your date from an escort site so you don't have to face the ordeal alone.
I also listened to this song the whole way through writing.
Modern!Sihtric x Reader
Warnings: Brief mentions of domestic abuse. Reader's family are horrible.
You felt stupid, waiting in the station watching the boards to show the arrival of a train from London, a scalding hot coffee in hand.
Two hour long calls was all you had ever had with this man and now you were here anxiously waiting for him to arrive.
You were so engrossed in searching the boards that a voice calling your name nearly startled you half to death.
“Sihtric?” you questioned, taking in his appearance, long hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck, black skinny jeans ripped at the knees and a leather jacket open over a white v-neck t-shirt and your mouth almost went dry.
That was before you even honed in on the tattoos.
“Hey,” he smiled, a genuine smile that reached the whole way up to his mismatched eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile too.
“You mentioned on the call that you liked your coffee black,” you fumbled with the cup before handing it over to him and he smiled gratefully.
“That’s so thoughtful, thank you,” he smiled almost sadly and you motioned to the exit.
“The car is right this way, should we?”
“Of course,” he nodded, taking a huge gulp of coffee “Lead the way.”
You drove in silence for a while.
Sihtric settled into his seat winding it back a little to relax, you offered him to play his music and he was busy queuing up songs on his phone not really paying attention to much else. You couldn’t help but glance over at him while he wasn’t looking, he was one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen, he genuinely looked as though he had been carved from the gods, but then again that is exactly why you had chosen him.
“May I?” he asked, holding up a pack of cigarettes and you wanted to say no but the way he was looking at you almost like a kid afraid of getting in trouble, you couldn’t say no.
“Sure, just roll down the window,” you relented and he smiled big and bright as he cranked the window down, and stuck his head out to smoke.
The city was long left behind and now the open countryside was rolling into view and Sihtric seemed to be taking it all in, his cigarette was almost gone when he turned to face you, and was surprised to find you already looking his way, but he did not miss the way your cheeks tinged red as you hastily looked away.
“So,” he said, relaxing back into his seat “You got any questions for me, or have you done this before?”
You gripped the steering wheel as you swallowed hard “I have never done this before,” you answered voice shaking “I don’t even know why- I don’t know what I’m doing,” you were nervous and Sihtric wanted so badly to put you at ease, so he rolled his seat up so he was sitting upright again.
“It’s alright,” he promised reassuringly “You can ask me anything you need to know.”
“How does it usually go?” you asked, cheeks still tinged pink and he smiled.
“For the entirety of our time together I am whatever you want me to be. You want me to tell people I’m an investment banker..I’m an investment banker. You wanna create a backstory for us, I’ll learn it off. I’ll hold your hand in public, I’ll dance with you, I’ll do anything that you need me to do in order for people to believe this is real.”
You nodded, taking that in and he smiled.
“No sex,” he continued and you nodded in agreement, staring straight ahead, hands like a vice grip on the steering wheel, “Or that will cost you extra,” he winked cheekily, it was a cheap shot at making you squirm, but it was worth it to watch the blush spread all across your face for him.
“Do you have any rules, or I guess boundaries that we shouldn’t cross?” you asked gently and he smiled that almost-sad smile your way again, almost like he was in awe of how considerate you were being.
“I guess kissing feels very personal to me, so I would ask you not to do that.”
“It’s done,” you replied without missing a beat and he watched you from the corner of his eye again.
You drove in silence for a little while more until he interrupted the peace again.
“I’m sorry I gotta ask. You’re an attractive woman and you seem super nice and with your shit together, you telling me you couldn’t find a date to this wedding off your own bat?”
You huffed out a breathy laugh, “If you only knew the half of my bad luck with men,” you cringed “And worst of all, my ex is one of the groomsmen and he is a bit of a prick” you trailed off but Sihtric knew what you were getting at.
“So I’m here to make your ex jealous,” he deduced and you deadpanned with a pained laugh.
“It’s even sadder when you say it out loud,” you whined and he couldn’t help but laugh, and despite yourself you laughed too.
You pulled down the long winding lane that led to the country estate you had grown up on; a Georgian Manor House nestled among acres of ancient woodland and set in the backdrop of rolling hills and lakes.
It was the perfect place for a wedding, and the last place on earth you ever wanted to be again.
“Close your mouth,” you swiped at Sihtric as you struggled with your bags and he reached in over you with a “Here let me,” as he pulled them easily out and sat them on the ground, before diving back in for his own.
Standing back up to re-inspect his surroundings he muttered “Shoulda charged more,” and you shot him a dirty look,but laughed when he smiled that huge smile your way.
He insisted on dragging your bags up the steps to the door for you and when you suddenly stopped and patted yourself down, taking deep but uneasy breaths he could see that you were shaking like a leaf.
“This was a mistake,” you suddenly panicked and took off back down the way you had come, abandoning the bags in a heap he took off after you, you didn’t stop at the car, you continued sprinting down the path through the trees until you reached the shores of the lake and could run no further, and Sihtric burst out through the trees to find you absolutely freaking out, pacing back and forward trying to force air into your lungs.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you panted, pacing before him and he tried to reach out a hand but he wasn’t sure how best to comfort you, he didn’t even know you.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here, Sihtric. It was cruel. You don’t know these people, they make my life hell, they’ll do the same to you.”
“Hey, I don’t care what they say to me,” he hushed and you stopped pacing to glance at him, and shook your head.
“It’s not fair to ask this of you, Sihtric, you seem like a nice guy and I feel wrong forcing you into this, I know you were joking earlier but you are really going to want to charge me extra once you’ve spent a few days here and I won’t blame you.”
“You didn’t force me Y/N,” he finally reached out to place a hand on your arm and made you look at him “You told me exactly what I was in for on the phone, and I still took the job, you haven’t tricked me and you’re not forcing me to do anything. And I could be speaking out of turn here but are you sure you want to put yourself through this, if this is how they make you feel?”
“I have no choice,” you cried and Sihtric sniffed and then nodded.
“So we get through it together then?” he nodded, eyes boring into yours in a way that told you everything would be fine.
“Okay,” you eventually whispered and allowed him to lead you back up the path and up to your discarded bags.
Your parents took in Sihtric’s appearance and he didn’t miss the way your Father scrunched up his nose as if something stank, your heart thumped in your chest but you said nothing.
“You should freshen up before dinner,” your stepmother announced with a forced smile, “You are in the west wing.”
“Why not my room?” you quipped and she looked at you incredulously before smirking wryly,
“Honey, that ceased to be your room the day you turned down Cambridge to pursue that little art career of yours, besides your sister needs it for her new in-laws.”
Sihtric followed you up the stairs and into the room on the west wing of the house, not facing out to the lakes, but rather the forest of ancient trees to the back.
“So you’re an artist?” Sihtric asked you from his position on the bed, arms locked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling while you freshened up in the wash basin in the ensuite.
“A failed one,” you laughed back, before joining him in the room again, “I work for a publishing house as an editor now, and I do art in my spare time.”
“Anyone who creates is not a failure. It’s only failing if you don’t do it,” he answered as if it wasn’t the most profound thing you had heard in ages.
“What about you?” you asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and examining him, “How did you end up in this line of work?”
He considered you for a moment, he couldn’t explain why but he felt like he could tell you his whole story and you wouldn’t judge him, but he decided to give you the long story short.
“I was modelling on the side to make some extra money to get out of an incredibly shitty situation, and then my friend Uhtred put me on to this and I was making so much more this way I decided to pursue it. Surprisingly, I’ve never been short of work-”
-”With sad cases like me, incapable of finding a man on their own,” you were joking and he knew that, but something deep down inside of him wished you wouldn’t speak about yourself like that.
“So what do I do?” he laughed tapping you with his knee “Investment banking? Insurance? Hedge Fund Manager? Oh maybe I could work for a Consultancy Agency?”
“I was leaning more toward architect,” you suggested, pushing his leg off playfully, and he grinned at you “Always wanted to be an architect actually,” he mused and then he looked at you seriously “Okay, you are a fantastic editor and painter and I am a highly successful architect we live in a penthouse apartment in the city and we are very happy together. Drinks down the pub every Saturday with my friends Uhtred and Finan and Osferth and Sundays we spend browsing the markets and art galleries.”
“On Wednesdays I go to a jewelry making class,” you chimed in, that part was true and he made a mental note of it.
“We’re going to make this work, it’ll all be over before you know it and I promise I won’t leave you to face it alone.”
Dinner was a horrible affair.
Everyone talked over each other and Sihtric was questioned within an inch of his life, but he never faltered, that quiet confidence he carried himself with was such a breath of fresh air to you and you could not deny he looked absolutely and sinfully gorgeous in his dinner slacks and black shirt, which the top few buttons had been left open on.
“Where did you find him?” your sister asked in a hushed tone, openly ogling Sihtric like he was a piece of fresh meat.
“London,” was all you offered by way of explanation and she raked her eyes up and down his form, “He is delicious,” she mewled “Aethelred is going to simply die when he sees you two together.”
You took a monstrous gulp of wine from the glass in front of you, and Sihtric placed a hand on your knee and squeezed it once in reassurance, your sister nearly squealed beside you and you prayed dinner would end soon so you could be excused to the reprise of your room.
You weren’t paying mind to the conversations taking place around you, but Sihtric had been locked in conversation with your uncle for the past twenty minutes about Viking history and mythology and he laughed for the first time since you had met him, really laughed, and it lit up the whole room, and you couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your own face in response to it.
“Isn’t that right Lettie?” Your Father’s booming voice pulled you from your Sihtric induced haze and you whirled as your stepmother laughed out loud at the nickname.
“Don’t call me that,” you snapped and your stepmother rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.
“It’s just a nickname Let,” your sister offered and you were grasping the wine glass so hard in your hand, you thought it would shatter.
“What was the question?” you cut over the tension and your dad repeated his statement “Life is very hard for the struggling artist. Do you remember that god awful bedsit you were staying in when you first moved to the city? Thank God Aethelred got you out of there, the landlady was a god awful plump woman.”
“She was a lovely woman,” you cried “She looked after me like I was her own.”
“All the same-” Your father interjected “Thank Goodness for Aethelred.”
“She never did tell us how she managed to mess that one up,” your stepmother whispered to your sister, but whispered was too kind of a word because anyone within ten feet of her could hear it, Sihtric looked at you questiongly and you knew he had heard it too, you just shook your head in way of answering him.
You downed your wine and placed the glass down, “I’m absolutely shattered from today’s travels I’m going to call it a night,” you announced and Sihtric turned to face you.
“I’ll come too darling,” he shook your uncle's hand and promised him they would continue their chat tomorrow, he patted him soundly on the back and when he turned to you he smiled kindly, “You’ve found a good one there, Lettie.”
You and Sihtric decided to tuck and tail, he was at the top and you were down the end of the bed.
Lying in the darkness you tossed and turned for a bit, sighing loudly when you realised you could not fall asleep.
“Why do they call you Lettie?” Sihtric asked softly into the darkness and you couldn’t help the tears that sprang to your eyes.
“Piglet,” you eventually answered, voice barely above a whisper, “When I first met her, my stepmother, I never stopped crying apparently. Squealing, as she called it… like a piglet. I was four and my mother was dead and the nickname stuck.”
Sihtric felt a pain in his chest and he didn’t know what to say, “I’m so sorry, that is so beyond awful.”
“She was an artist,” you eventually spoke again after moments of silence, “My mother, she was incredible. I still have some of her work, well what’s left of it anyway. ”
“Is that why you pursue it?” Sihtric questioned and you hummed in response.
“I never knew my mother,” he added, “She died when I was a baby, but I don’t remember her, I’ve only ever seen pictures.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the darkness and Sihtric rustled about in the bed a bit until he found your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
When you awoke in the morning it was to a feeling of warmth all around you and you were startled to find yourself fully wrapped up in Sihtric’s arms, who was still sleeping soundly beside you.
“Sihtric?” you whispered panicked, but all he did was nuzzle further into you.
“S’too early, go back to sleep,” he mumbled into your hair and groaned when you sat fully up in the bed, pulling the duvet with you.
“What's wrong?” he sighed running his hands through his loose curls and you sighed because it was genuinely cruel for a man to look that good first thing in the morning.
“Look,” he reasoned, picking at a loose thread on the spread “You were tossing and turning all night, and I just figured you would be exhausted today if you didn't get some proper rest so I came down here and I held you and you stopped fussing and didn't move a muscle the rest of the night, and if you lay back down we could actually catch another hour or two, it's still early.”
You suddenly seemed very interested in the pattern on the duvet and were refusing to meet his eye.
“Just c’’mere,” he urged gently, scooting back down and making room for you, and after what felt like an hour you lost the battle with your better judgement and crawled back into his waiting arms and he scooted back up behind you, throwing an arm over you and pulling you close.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded softly and when your eyes finally fluttered closed you couldn't help but hope he couldn't feel how fast your heart was beating out of your chest.
The smell of coffee pulled you from the depths of sleep and you opened your eyes to find Sihtric struggling with a breakfast tray filled with pastries and two massive cups of coffee.
“Morning sleeping beauty,” he teased, gently settling the tray down on the bed and taking a seat down the end.
He huffed a laugh as you gasped “Thank you! Bless you!” and immediately took a huge chug of your coffee.
You both ate in a peaceful silence for a while before Sihtric finally spoke, “So I was thinking. Maybe it might be nice if we took a walk in the woods today. Get away from all the madness before dinner tonight, and maybe get to know each other a little better.”
“Yeah,” you smiled lazily “That would actually be really nice, Sihtric.”
You took Sihtric along your favourite trail, one you hadn’t been back to since you were a teen and it was surprising how easily the conversation flowed and just what good company he really was.
There was an openness and freeness to Sihtric that you really envied as he swapped stories about some of the antics he had gotten up to with his friends and you realised with a heaviness in your chest that nobody had made you feel this carefree in your entire life, especially at a time that was meant to be the most painful and stressful for you.
“Look I gotta ask,” Sihtric eventually stopped walking and turned completely to face you, “Why did you hire me? Surely there is some colleague or fellow artist out there who is dying for a chance to date you. We both know you would have no trouble finding a date, you didn’t need me.”
You sighed and then laughed “I have given up on love and dating forever. I’m really happy on my own and I guess if I invited someone to a wedding with me, it might give them the wrong idea. Plus my family are so much to deal with- hell I don’t even wanna deal with them. Just seemed cruel to inflict that on another person.”
“Forever?” Sihtric asked with a cock of his eyebrow.
“Forever,” you confirmed adamantly.
“Come on,” he reasoned “You don’t deserve to be alone forever.”
“Less painful that way though,” you tried to play it off as a joke walking on ahead of him again, but he could see the truth veiled thinly behind the words.
He caught your hand as you went a little bit ahead and swirled you around.
“You have given up on yourself,” he tutted and pulled you closer “Don’t you remember how love feels, the butterflies, the longing, the aching. Don’t you ever want to feel that again?” he was almost whispering, eyes flicking down to your lips, “The rush of a first kiss,” he trailed off, pressing a slow, languid kiss to the side of your face, hand rising up to cup your face, and as he broke away he gently placed a kiss to each of your closed eyelids. But much to your disappointment his lips never met yours.
“You’re lying to yourself,” he whispered “You haven’t given up on love, you’ve given up on yourself and that breaks my fucking heart.”
When your eyes fluttered open, they were glassy with tears and Sihtric’s face crumpled, he stroked your cheek with his thumb.
This isn't real, you had to remind yourself.
That evening marked the arrival of Athelred and you were a ball of nerves all evening.
“Can you zip me up please?” you asked Sihtric who was waiting on the bed for you to finish getting ready, his fingers ghosted over the bare skin of your back and you watched him carefully in the mirror, as he gently slid the zipper up, he caught your eyes in the mirror and you were suddenly blushing furiously. He turned you around to face him.
“Do you want him back?” he asked softly, “If he tries to get you alone tonight, where do I stand? Do I let you go with him or do I come save you?”
“Come save me,” you answered, voice shaking slightly, “Please don’t leave me on my own with him.”
“I won’t leave your side,” he promised, and then he looked like he was going to kiss you again, but refrained.
As usual the whirlwind that was Athelred swept in and caught everyone up in its orbit. Your stepmother and sister swooned around him, but Sihtric, true to his word, stuck by your side all night. Rubbing reassuring patterns on your knee or holding your hand whenever he sensed your unease.
“So, Sihtric,” Athelred called from across the table disrupting the conversation the two of you were having, “I hear you are an architect,” it was hard to tell if he was smiling or sneering.
“I am,” Sihtric answered back, confidence bordering on cockiness.
“Oh? At what firm?”
“Ragnarsson & Brothers,” Sihtric replied without missing a beat.
“Funny, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them,” there it was you thought, the snobbish, judgemental sneering, you were so accustomed to.
“That is funny,” Sihtric replied, leaning his elbows on the table, “Y/n never mentioned you were so interested in architecture.”
Athelred seemed like he wanted to press the issue but he could see now was not the time or place.
“And how exactly did you two meet?” he went back to faking a smile again.
Sihtric took your hand in his and smiled widely “We met at a jewelry making class,” he brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss to your knuckle and you couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your face.
“We’ve just recently started another one, haven’t we darling, every Wednesday evening.”
Your heart was thumping in your chest because how had he even remembered a point so trivial you had mentioned in passing?
It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.
You were repeating it like a mantra in your mind but yet you could not stop the familiar feeling of butterflies in your stomach.
After dinner, there was dancing in the marquee and you were tipsy.
Twirling around the floor with Sihtric, arms locked around each other and laughing so much your sides were beginning to hurt.
For someone so objectively sexy, he was a goofball and he was not afraid to dance with you even when there were no other men on the floor, he didn’t care for trying to be cool and that made him infinitely…cooler.
He dipped away to get you both drinks and you were dancing with your sister when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You thought it was Sihtric, you spun around but the smile immediately slipped off your face when you realised it was Athelred.
“May I?” he grinned like a shark and you searched the crowd for Sihtric but you couldn’t find him anywhere.
“Oh, come on, I’m sure your lover boy can spare you for one dance,” he mocked and grasped your hand in his and pulled you out into the middle of the floor.
You saw your stepmother's eyes visibly light up and felt as though all eyes were on you, you silently prayed that Sihtric would hurry up and come back.
“You know why they invited me this weekend don’t you? They’re hoping we will rekindle our little romance, and I can’t deny I was hoping for the same.”
“I’m with Sihtric,” you cut him off, “Besides, there is nothing to rekindle.”
“Oh come on y/n,” he scoffed. “Girls like you don’t end up with guys like him. Look at him, the tattoos, the hair, what on earth does he have to offer you in terms of prospect and comfort.”
“How about love and safety?” you cut back and he scoffed again.
“Oh come off it you’re running around with ruffians, doing your little art on the side, we all know it’s just a protest and one of these days you will have to settle down.”
You tried to pull your hand from his, but his grip tightened, and you gasped at the pain, “Don’t be stupid, I am offering you a second chance here.”
“You’re offering me a second chance?” you spat trying again to wrench your hand back, “You gave me a black eye and destroyed my mother’s paintings, it should be you begging me for a second chance, which by the way you wouldn’t get if you were the last man left alive,”
“Shh,” he warned, jerking you angrily “I warned you not to bring that up again. Ever.”
“Let go of me!” you spat, pulling your hand ferociously but he would not relent.
“She said Let.Go,” you heard Sihtric’s commanding voice behind you and you ran to him the moment Athelered released you and he caught you in his arms.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Athelred spat between his teeth.
“My girl is my concern,” Sihtric spat “And if she tells you to take your hands off her you had better do it quicker in future, or you won’t have hands anymore.”
Athelred smiled his fake shark like smile and rose his hands in surrender, mindful of the people watching, “Just a little misunderstanding between two past lovers,” he moved away and Sihtric finally gave his full attention to you.
“Are you okay?” he asked, hooking a finger under your chin to make you look at him, you were trying to play it off but eventually you shook your head and Sihtric pulled you into a hug.
“You wanna get out of here?” he drawled and you nodded into his chest and let him lead you off the dancefloor into the gardens, twinkling with the fairy lights draped overhead.
You walked hand in hand for a while through the edges and down towards the lake, before you finally felt like talking.
“He wanted to give me a second chance,” you laughed bitterly, “Like I’m the one who was in the wrong, like I didn’t have to sneak out of our house in the middle of the night to escape him.”
“What happened?” Sihtric asked, he wasn’t prying but he wanted to help.
“He came home drunk, smelling like another woman, and it was no secret he was cheating on me the entire relationship, but this time I had had enough, I packed my bags, but as I went to walk out the door, he grabbed me,” you stopped because it was truly embarrassing and you had never told another soul this in your entire life, “And he punched me as hard as he could, and while I was crying, nursing the cut on my cheek, he destroyed my mother’s paintings in rage. All I had left of her, destroyed in an instant.”
Your words from the other night came back to stab Sihtric in the chest “What’s left of it anyway… ”
Sihtric was suddenly seething “I will kill him if he lays another finger on you. I should go back up there and knock that fucking smirk off his face.”
“Don't,” you begged, reaching for him, “We just have two more days to get through and then I never have to see him or any of these hypocrites ever again. But I can't do it without you, you're the only thing keeping me sane right now and if you go up there and punch him -”
-”No of course, you're right. It just makes me sick that he could hurt you like that and yet your family would want you to take him back.”
“They don't know. You're actually the only person I've ever told.”
Sihtric’s face crumpled and he reached out for you, “Okay,” he whispered, “But I don't think I can look at him again tonight without ripping his head clean off his shoulders. So,” he proposed “How about we steal two bottles of that expensive champagne and have our own party in our room.”
“Sounds like the best idea you've ever had Kjartansson.”
The music was blaring and Sihtric was hanging out the window smoking a cigarette.
“Those things are gonna be the death of you,” you teased from the bed and he turned around to face you, you had long discarded your heels and were sprawled across the bed, one arm lazily draped over your forehead listening in a drunken haze to the songs he had selected.
He wished it was the drink, really wished it was, but it wasn't.
It really wasn't the drink that had him focusing on the way your hair fell down around your shoulders, the way your lashes fanned against your cheeks when you blinked or the way your bare legs looked like satin just begging to be touched, and it sent his head into overspin.
“You're gonna be the death of me,” he groaned and you had the cheek to cock your head innocently as if you didn't understand what he was talking about.
He stalked his way over to you, and you sat back eyeing him suspiciously.
He stopped before you and reached out his hand, “Dance with me,” he drawled and you allowed him to pull you up, and locked your arms around his neck, as he swayed you gently to the music, his mismatched eyes smouldering into yours, he fisted his hand up into your hair and brushed his thumb across your lips, you all but whimpered under his touch and before you could overthink it, you pressed up onto your tiptoes and kissed him on the lips.
“I'm sorry,” you gushed “I'm so sorry you said no kiss-”
He cut you off by pressing his lips back to yours and it was needy and passionate and your head was spinning, not from the alcohol.
Uhtred’s voice flashed like a warning in Sihtric’s head but he rushed it away, “Rule number one, never catch feelings for a client.”
You weren't sure when kissing became discarded clothes, and being pinned down under the weight of Sihtric’s body, or nail marks down his back and bite marks on your skin that you were hoping concealer would cover for your sister’s wedding, and you definitely weren't sure how one time became two, or how you ended up in the shower of your ensuite together, warm water running down your aching muscles.
But as you lay wrapped up in his arms that night, you had to repeat that same mantra that haunted you this entire week.
It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.
But no matter how much you said it, you knew this was only going to lead to you getting hurt.
“My father killed my mother,” Sihtric whispered into the night and you twisted in his arms to face him, “He used to beat her black and blue, and when she wasn’t around anymore he did it to me. That’s why I wanted to kill Aethelred earlier because the thought of someone hurting you like that makes me sick.”
You caressed his face with your thumb and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, “I’m sorry,” you told him truthfully and he nuzzled into your neck.
“The shitty situation I was running from, was because I beat him to a pulp, left him for dead but the bastard survived, almost killed me in return, kicked me out into the street and I had nowhere to go. This job allowed me the financial freedom to escape him and I’ve been doing it ever since. I just need you to know that that’s the man you are laying with. That’s my baggage.”
“I don’t care,” you cried, “We are not our families and we survived the best way we knew how, I would never judge you for what you’ve had to do to get by.”
He burrowed into you and you wrapped your arms around him.
“I need to ask-” you said but wished you could take it back because his mismatched eyes were glistening in the moonlight and the moment was so fragile you were afraid what you said next would shatter everything, and when he nodded for you to continue, you swallowed thickly.
“Have you ever done this with another client? Kissed them, lay with them? I’m not judging- I just. I just need to know that this is real.”
“Never,” he told you solemnly “You are the first and only. The only one who has never tried to take advantage. The first to respect my boundaries and not pressure me into doing things I don’t want to do.”
You released the breath you didn’t even realise you were holding and he took your hand in his and placed it on his chest, over his heart “And this is real.”
“Let me show you,” he mumbled, climbing on top of you, brushing his fingers through your hair as he kissed his way down your aching body, disappearing between the sheets to nip at the skin on your thighs and you gasped as he parted them, hands tangling in his mass of loose curls as he lapped at the skin of your most sensitive parts and he offered no reprieve until you were a panting, sweaty mess as you came around him, climbing triumphantly up the bed to rest his head on your chest and your arms locked around him, and for the first time in all your time together you ignored the mantra you had been repeating all week.
“Good morning beautiful,” Sihtric husked, kissing any piece of bare skin his lips could reach and you giggled in his arms.
“Our second last day together,” you pouted and Sihtric chuckled. “I wouldn't be so sure of that,” he kissed the pout off your lips.
“Although I do remember telling you that sex would cost you extra,” he teased and you looked at him in mock hurt.
“How much more?” you shrieked and he pretended to think about it carefully for a moment.
“Hmm, how about a date when all of this is over? I mean I know you have sworn off dating forever and all,l but I figured you might make an exception,” he mused and you turned in his arms to take in his beauty in the morning light.
“I will make an exception, just for you,” you told him genuinely and the smile that broke out across his face was absolutely radiant.
His heart fluttered in his chest, he knew he had been crossing boundaries with you all weekend, he had been the first to kiss you yesterday, albeit not on the lips, but he had still broken his own most important rule within two days of knowing you. You had slept together last night and that had been another boundary crossed, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He had been attracted to you from the moment he’d met you on the platform, coffee in hand waiting for him, and god dammit if you weren’t the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.
Sihtric tagged along with you to the city to go pick up the bridesmaid dresses from the tailors.
He held your hand in the car, he opened your door for you and he kissed you at every possible moment, hands tangled up in yours, arm slung around your shoulder, or hand placed delicately on your lower back, you soon learned that physical touch was his love language, he simply had to be touching you and for the first time in your whole life you didn’t mind the feeling of a man’s hands on you at all times.
When you had stopped for coffee, he insisted on paying and it was genuinely nice to have someone want to take care of you this way.
Your stomach would lurch every time you thought about this week ending, would you be able to make it work on the outside? Would he feel the same about you once he was back in the ‘real world,’ and had the freedom to see whoever he wanted? You didn’t want those doubts to creep in but Sihtric was an absolute God amongst men and you had not been treated well by much lesser of men.
“Hmm?” you chimed, pulled from your thoughts on the drive home by something Sihtric had said.
“I just said, would you maybe like to come for drinks with my friends some night after our proper date that is?”
You paused for a moment, your heart swelling with the cuteness of this man and you turned your head to smile his way “I would love that,” you smiled genuinely and his face erupted with a huge grin.
“Good, because they will absolutely adore you. You’re going to want to leave me for Finan but I won’t allow it because you’re all mine!”
You laughed because this man was ridiculous, as if you would even look at another man when this man was on your arm.
Tonight was the night before the wedding, and there was a huge rehearsal dinner planned. It was almost a mini wedding itself.
You watched Sihtric dress in dinner slacks and a white shirt and your heart fluttered with adoration as he fumbled with his tie, you moved into his space and began to arrange his tie for him, his eyes kept flicking down to your lips and he moved into your space and kissed you.
“Do you think if we had met under different circumstances you would have given me a chance?” he suddenly asked and you stopped his ministrations on his tie.
“Sihtric,” you stressed “Why would you even ask such a thing?”
“Look at you,” he mused, turning you around to face the mirror as his arms circled around your stomach “You are so out of my league,” he spoke into the skin of your neck “I don’t even deserve to look at you, let alone touch you. With my job, with what I do, are you not ashamed? You could do so much better than this. Than me.”
You turned in his arms and locked your own around his neck, “I’m not ashamed of you, and I couldn’t do better than you if I tried,” you told him honestly and you meant it, and that seemed to satiate him enough to put his mind somewhat at ease, “More than that, I don’t want anyone else but you.”
You were slightly late making your way down to dinner because as soon as you had put your dinner dress on, Sihtric had removed it and your sister sent you a knowing smirk as soon as you sat down.
“Sorry I’m late,” you muttered slightly bashful and she shrugged you off, “It’s alright we’re still waiting for Aethelred,” she told you and you searched the table, silently noting that he was indeed absent.
Sihtric grabbed your chair and pulled you as physically close as possible, you were absorbed in your own little conversation and barely even noticed Aethelred’s arrival until a folder landed with a thump in front of you and his figure loomed over you.
“I’m sorry to do this here but I think you deserve to know the truth,” he rushed and you looked between the folder on the table and him.
“What is this?” you quirked and Sihtric went to reach for the files.
Aethelred began to raise his voice and you began to suspect there was about to be a performance.
“You deserve to know the truth,” he spoke and then pointed his index directly into Sihtric’s face “About this con artist. He is not who he says he is!” he spat and continued “He is not an architect, he is a hooker and has been lying to your face from the moment he met you!”
With trembling fingers you opened the folder and there in black and white was Sihtric’s escort profile and you felt like you were trapped in a glass dome that was coming crashing down in sharp shards all around you.
Your stepmother swiped the folder from your hands and her eyes flew between the printed pages in front of her and Sihtric who had gone completely rigid beside you.
“You swine!” she shrieked “You dishonest swine, you would lie to her like this just to worm your way in and all this time you are whoring yourself out to sad cases who can’t find a man of their own?”
You felt white hot rage surge through your body and you glared into Aethelred’s smug face.
“I’m so sorry to do this you Let, but you deserved to know the truth.”
“He’s a hooker?” you heard someone whisper down the table and you were rising to your feet in an instant.
“He is not the one who has been lying!” you spat “I’ve known who he was from the moment I met him. And he is the most honest, decent man sitting at this table.”
You were shaking with rage and you watched the realisation wash over Aethelred’s face and he began to laugh, “Oh my God, you never thought he was an architect…you booked him.”
“I did!” you spat, “And how dare you humiliate him like this, with your fake bullshit concern, you didn’t do this for me but for your sick gratification you fucking tiny, insignificant man.”
“You brought a hooker to your own sister’s wedding?” your step mother guffawed and you rounded on her.
“I did, and he is the best man I have ever met. He is worth 10 of every single one of you sat here tonight and I am ashamed to even call you my family.”
“You know you don’t get extra for pretending to care for her,” Aethelred mocked, “Worming your way into her knickers is one thing but worming your way into your heart, now that was a good one, and she’s so fucking gullible, it was the perfect crime and you nearly got away with it.”
Sihtric was out of his seat and had his hands on Aethelred before you could even react.
In the scuffle that ensued Aethelred’s lip was bloodied and Sihtric’s hair had come free from his bun in loose, unruly curls.
“You fucking beat her black and blue. You destroyed her mother’s paintings and you stand here judging me?” Sihtric was roaring as he was being pulled away from a sneering Aethelred, “I might be a fucking hooker but I would rather die, than touch one hair on her head. You scumbag!”
Your sister and mother were looking horrified between both men and then your sister’s worried eyes landed on yours, “This is why you left him?” she almost cried and all you could do in the moment was nod, Sihtric was being held back by your father, his chest rising and falling in anger and he spat on the ground.
“You fucking hypocrites. You give her a cruel nickname that she can’t stand. You allow her to be abused by this piece of weasel shit and you stand here now and judge her? I am what I am but at least I can be honest with myself, you are all sitting here in a house of bullshit and you can’t even see the amazing, kind hearted girl right here in front of you.”
He shrugged your father off violently and stormed off across the grass and you followed in pursuit, but he didn’t stop until he made his way the whole way to your room, flinging the door open and throwing clothes into his bag.
“You’re leaving?” you cried when you finally reached him and he whirled on you like you were crazy.
“Of course I’m leaving!” he spat rushing around the room picking up discarded items and flinging them into his bag, “And you’d be a fool not to too!”
“It’s my sister’s wedding tomorrow,” you tried to reason, “I’m a bridesmaid, I can’t just up and abandon her.”
“Your choice,” he simply scoffed and you tried to reach for him.
“I’m sorry,” you cried and it sounded like begging, “Please don’t leave.”
He shrugged out of your grasp and began furiously zipping up his suitcase.
“Don’t,” he warned when you tried to reach for him again and when he realised he was packed he turned to you, “Are you coming, or not?”
“Sihtric I can’t,” you cried, “Please I am so sorry about Aethelred. I’m sorry about it all, but please we can face it together. I have to stay for her, but I can’t do it on my own. I need you.”
“Come with me,” he reasoned “Come with me or stay, but either way I am leaving.”
Your head was spinning because you always knew, deep down, that this day was going to come, you knew he would see enough, or wake up enough to know that he deserved better than you and he would leave.
He sniffed and then nodded in acceptance that you were not going to leave and flung his bag up onto his back and then pulled his suitcase from the bed.
“Fine stay, and let them walk all over you as always. What’s it got to do with me anyway?”
“You’re hurt and you have every reason to be, but you’re lashing out at me, but you know I have no choice here.”
“You have a choice,” he scoffed “And you’re making the wrong one.”
“I’m staying,” you said defiantly, even though your whole body was shaking. “Because I am sick of running. I’m sick of letting them dictate who I should be. I am not ashamed of you, or our time together and I will not let them make me feel embarrassed another moment of my life, and I will stand by my little sister’s side tomorrow and I will do her proud, with or without you. But I really wish it was with, so I am begging you, please stay with me?”
He seemed to consider you for a moment but he was too angry to take in what you were really asking of him.
“I would like to be paid now,” he sniffed again, as if he had disregarded everything you had just said.
“Paid?” you asked, voice small.
“Yeah. I am a hooker in case you needed reminding and I would like to be paid for my services.”
“Right,” you blinked quickly, feeling the dagger twist in your chest, “Right of course.”
You ruffled in your nightstand until you found the pale brown envelope you had kept from the moment you had booked Sihtric, you had put some extra in there over the week as time progressed and now your hands shook as you passed it his way and he snatched it from your hands, and tears sprang to your eyes as he made his way towards the door.
“Is this really how it ends?” you couldn’t help but cry as he reached for the handle,and Sihtric’s face softened ever so slightly.
“We’ve been fooling ourselves all week. Talking about us as if we were ever real. Carrying on as if this wasn’t the way it was always supposed to end” he replied, “In a way Aethered did us both a favour to snap us out of it.”
And there it was, the sickening proof that what you had been reminding yourself all week had been true.
It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.
When you didn’t respond he pulled the door open and made his way outside into the hall.
“Goodbye Y/n, good luck with everything. I hope one day you find what you deserve and the right man to give it to you. But I think we both know that’s not me.”
There had been no more trains going to London by the time Sihtric arrived at the station and he huffed in anger as he flung his bags down, realising he would have to sleep in the station.
“Good,” he muttered as he settled down on the waiting room floor, anything was better than staying in that bullshit place with your snivelling excuse of an ex, he only wished he had gotten one more swing at him before anyone else stepped in but he was satisfied that at least some of his blows had landed.
He pulled his jacket around him to protect him from the chill and pulled the envelope he had hastily stuffed in his pocket out and emptied the contents into his hands.
He ruffled through the wads of cash and realised with a turn of his stomach that there was way more than the agreed upon price there and finally a tiny hand written note.
“For keeping me sane this week and not running no matter how tough it got xx”
His heart sank down to his toes, he couldn’t shake the image of your shaking form in the bedroom as he threw shots intended to hurt your way. He thought if he could convince you that none of it was real, he would believe it too.
He had been a fool and worse than that he had been cruel and for what? All because Aethelred had wounded his pride and humiliated him.
You had defended him in front of your whole family, refused to be ashamed of him, pleaded with him to stay and he had thrown it all back in your face, all because you had the bravery to stand and face what he was too embarrassed to.
He broke his one promise to you, that he wouldn’t leave you on your own and all because he couldn’t take two minutes to sit with his feelings and cool down.
Maybe it was because everyone had spoken his worst fears out loud and Aethelred had laid it all out in black and white for everyone to see, he wasn’t good enough for you, and if you had never booked him, he would never have even had a seat at that table with you.
But he had laid himself bare for you in the moonlight and you hadn’t rejected him, and now as the sun rose you would be left to deal with his shame and shortcomings all on your own.
And he had broken every single rule in the book from the moment he realised he had feelings for you, and then it hit him like a brick and all at once, he had fallen in love with you and now it was all over.
His fingers shook as he bought his ticket and texted Uhtred asking to pick him up once his train landed in London.
He had gone too far, messed up too badly to come back and ask you for forgiveness so he took the cowardly way out, he did what he always did when things got real, he ran.
And so the train to London pulled in, he took one last breath and released it as it departed.
Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, and the makeup artist scolded you, asking if you’d had any sleep at all, but you weren’t about to tell her you had cried yourself to sleep that night.
You slapped a smile on your face for all the photos of getting ready with the bridal party, and despite the filthy looks your stepmother was throwing your way nobody brought up the antics of last night, until your sister came to sit beside you and handed you a champagne flute.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried “About the nickname, about pushing you to get back with Aethelred, for everything. Sihtric was right about everything, we’ve treated you so cruelly and I promise you I will never make you feel like that again.”
“Today is about you,” you squeezed her hand through your tears and she shook her head.
“I couldn’t do this without you,” she protested “You’ve always been by my side no matter what, no matter how horrible Mum and Dad are, you’ve never abandoned me and I’ve taken you so for granted. I wouldn’t have blamed you for cutting and running today, but I’m eternally grateful that you didn’t.”
You smiled her way and shook your head “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Sihtric?” she tried and you shook your head, refusing to meet her eye.
“Gone,” was all you offered and she pulled you to her in a bruising hug.
“For what it matters and despite what anyone else may say, it is impossible for anyone to fake the way he looked at you all week, I think he genuinely fell for you.”
“Maybe he did,” you said weakly, “But Aethelred killed it all dead, there was no going back from that humiliation.”
The bridal music began to play and you watched the first bridesmaid make her way up the aisle, followed by the second and when it was your turn you took a huge breath, nodded and held your head high as you began the ascent. You knew all eyes were on you and you ignored them all, but the wind was knocked completely from your lungs when you took your place at the top of the aisle and there standing in the back row, two- pleading- mismatched eyes locked with yours and it took everything in you not to cry there and then, so much so you could barely focus on your sister’s grand entrance.
Once the vows were swapped and the couple were deemed man and wife, you followed the procession down the aisle, eyes locked on Sihtric, afraid that if you took your eyes off him for just one second he would disappear.
He made his way over to you as soon as you cleared the aisle and you were struggling to find the words.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, the fragile hope in your voice almost shattered the tiny ounce of resolve he had.
“I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
“But you did,” you cried and grief carved its way across his face.
“I did,” he replied, voice raw and cracked, almost like it pained him to say, “But I came back for you and I won’t leave you again, until you send me away.”
“Sihtric,” you cried, tears pooling in your eyes “You told me it wasn’t real and I begged you- I begged you to stay.”
“I lied,” he rushed, words fast and desperate “I lied. I pushed you away because that made it easier for me to run. I was cruel. I was embarrassed and I lied. I know I have no right to even be here but I needed you to know that it was real for me, and the thought of leaving you to face this all on your own made me want to tear my own skin off. Even if you never want me again, I just needed to be here for you.”
“Sihtric, I don’t know,” you cried, hurt etched all over your features “You’re here and you’re saying all the right things, but I am shattered, I so desperately want to believe you but I’m scared,” he nodded, eyes boring pleadingly into yours, but he fumbled in his suit jacket pocket and pulled the envelope you had given him the night before and thrust it into your hands.
“I’m never gonna leave your side again, if you allow me. And I don’t know how else to prove to you right now that my feelings for you are real but to say I don’t want this- I just want you.”
You looked at the envelope in your hand and went to argue but he cut you off by repeating, “I just want you.”
Your name being called caught your attention and you hastily wiped your eyes, and thrust the envelope back into his hands.
“Can you please..stay. We will talk later I promise. Just. Please stay.”
“How long are you going to make him suffer?” your sister asked gently, after the speeches had ended and the band began to play, and you followed her line of sight to where Sihtric was sat alone, head down-turned, but still here.
“I don’t want him to suffer, I just need time to figure it all out.”
“Y/n, he came back for you. Despite what everyone here thinks of him and did to him last night. He’s here, and he’s here for you.”
“I think I’m in love with him,” you finally admitted and your sister smiled a small sympathetic smile “Of course you are,” she sighed “And I think you should go for it. You deserve to be happy,” she looked in disgust to where Aethelred was sat at the other end of the top table, “You never laughed with him the way you do with Sihtric, he lights you up and you deserve every second of it.”
“What if he breaks my heart?” you cried and your sister squeezed your knee.
“You’re breaking your own by not giving him a second chance,” she quipped, and you knew she was right..
You had barely stepped into his line of sight when he was up from his chair and standing to attention.
“Okay,” you replied, voice small and he was stepping into your space with a childlike excitement.
“Okay?” he repeated.
“Okay,” you nodded “I want this. I want us to try again. I want you-”
You hadn’t even finished your sentence when he was scooping you up and peppering kisses all over your face, each one dissipating the worry you had buried in your chest.
You took the band from his hair and freed his curls from the bun they were trapped in, you tore his tie off and threw it aside and he watched you with a curious quirk of his head.
“But the real you- not the one we were trying to impress my family with,” you popped open the top two buttons of his shirt to reveal his neck tattoo, and ran your hand over his pecs under his shirt.
“Not Sihtric the perfect date. Not Sihtric the architect. But my Sihtric.”
He smiled his huge, breathtaking smile and dove in to kiss you.
“I’m just warning you,” he mumbled against your skin “I’m never gonna leave your side again.”
“Good,” you laughed. “Because you are my date to every single event I can think of for the foreseeable future.”
“And you’re my last,” he told you and he shook his head “I’m getting out of this game, I’m tired of running, I’ve found everything I’ve been looking for and I won’t risk losing you again. You remember when I told you you were the first and only client I’ve ever kissed, I want you to be my last client, and the first girl I give my all to.”
You kissed him, because you could, because he was yours to kiss and when you pulled away you looked at him honestly.
“What will you do for work?”
“I had been saving up to open my own motorcycle work shop with Uhtred and Finan, Uhtred got out last year, and now it’s my time.”
“Sihtric the mechanic,” you smiled and he smiled too.
“But first I have to dance with my girl,” he grinned and before you could protest he was pulling you out into the middle of the floor, spinning you around under the lights and for the first time since you arrived at this godforsaken place, you didn’t care who was watching.
This idea came about from talking to the ever beautiful @leftoverp1zza who planted the idea of a touch starved Sihtric in my mind and I wrote it in one sitting.
I need to give this girl the credit she deserves, not only is she literally my biggest supporter and encourager, she literally beta read this for me and genuinely shaped the outcome! This would not have been written without her 🖤🖤🖤
It's also my first real attempt at writing smut, so please, be gentle with me xx
Summary: Sihtric had watched you from afar for months, longing and pining for you but he refused to allow himself to get close to you, too confused by the feelings you made him feel, until one innocent touch changed it all. How could he possibly navigate his feelings for you when all he had ever known was pain and punishment, but all you had ever shown him was kindness and gentleness?
For months Sihtric had watched you from afar. When Gisela had informed him he would be receiving a housemaid at first he was wholly against the idea of having someone live in his space and tend to him. He was uncomfortable with having someone below him when in his own eyes he was a servant of his Lord Uhtred, how could he possibly command someone of his own stature? But when you had arrived the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, all quiet smiles, and gentle hands he knew he was in trouble, and because he had never learned how to not fall head over heels with any woman who paid him the tiniest shred of kindness he immediately set stone walls between you both and never allowed you to get too close. Because every time he convinced himself it was love, it was for coin.
Women only allowed him to touch them if he paid for it, and he was not about to have his heart broken again by having you leave in the dead of night with all his coin, should he give into the temptation. Even if it pained him to do so. He was curt and at times cold and distant and you bore it all with good grace, blissfully unaware of the inner torment you were causing him.
Sihtric’s hut was dimly lit but the hearth burned and the smell of food cooking caused his stomach to jump in anticipation, he was hungry, hungrier than he had realised before he stepped into the warmth of his tiny dwelling.
You were stirring a huge pot over the flames and bowed your head in acknowledgement of his presence before you were moving to help him tug off his heavy armour, and carry his weapons to the little side table at the entrance of his hut, he already knew he would find them polished and gleaming when he awoke in the morning, just as he did every morning.
He winced slightly at an ache in his shoulder, and rotated his arm a few times to try and alleviate the pain there, but to no avail, an action not missed by you.
It was an injury he had picked up weeks ago in a sparring session training Uhtred’s household guard and persistent use had prevented it healing as quickly as he would have hoped.
He took his place at the table and you fetched him a bowl of rabbit stew, he delighted in the warmth of the bowl when you pressed it into his hands.
He ate in silence, watching you flutter around filling pots of water and bringing them to warm over the hearth.
His huge eyes followed you as you meticulously filled the tub that was tucked away at the end of the small hall with the water you had been warming, making several trips, filling the tub and refilling the pots, you worked in silence as you always did and when there was finally enough water, you urged him into the welcoming warmth and he settled down into it.
He could feel your presence lingering so he opened his eyes wearily, normally you left him to enjoy his baths in peace, only returning to top him up with warm water, but he was wincing with every movement of that shoulder and you wanted to ask him if he would allow you to take a look at it.
Your presence in Sihtric’s home was one of quiet understanding, you never pried, rarely ever spoke and he did even less so, he felt uncomfortable ordering another to do his work for him, and so he rarely did, but you somehow instinctively knew what he needed and when he needed it, and so most of your existence within his home was of mutual silence.
You kept your gaze down towards the ground, a gentle reassurance that you would not push him, or overstep some unspoken boundary, as you slipped around behind the back of the tub.
“May I, Lord?” you spoke so gently so as not to startle him and he examined you over his shoulder, when he understood you meant to take a look at the shoulder that had been troubling him, he nodded once, softly but you did not miss the way he stiffened instantly as soon as your hands began to massage the troubled muscles of his back.
You layered your hands in a healing salve and began to meticulously massage the knotted muscles of his back and shoulder, and even when you knew you were hurting him he never cried out or asked you to stop. The only signs of discomfort was how his whole body went rigid when you worked out a particularly stubborn knot.
This made your heart hurt in your chest, it was evident that Sihtric was used to pain, used to being hurt and not crying out or making a sound and something deep inside of you pained at that realisation.
You worked on him in silence for what felt like an age until you finally felt the tension melt away, you smoothed some more of the salve on the red skin of his back, and rubbed it in gently, it wasn’t until you began to move your hands away that you realised how much Sihtric had leaned into your touch, and you found it almost impossible to remove your hands from his warm skin.
Instinctively you could tell that he did not know how to ask you, but he wanted more, and so as you always did when you sensed he needed something, you got to work.
You wiped the salve from your hands, and ghosted your hands up along his neck and up into his hair, you gently got to work removing a braid from his hair when his hand shot up, and clasped yours gently.
“You don’t have to,” he whispered shyly, but the way he looked up into your eyes made your breath catch in your throat, because those huge eyes were pleading with you not to go, despite what he was saying, and so you soothed him with a gentle brush of your thumb along his knuckles and returned to your ministrations on his hair.
With meticulous care you untangled each and every one of his braids, and he hummed at the touch as you ran your fingers through his untangled locks, taking one of the emptied pots you dipped it into the water, and poured it gently over his head, massaging your fingers through his hair again, raking your fingers over his scalp.
A small whimper left his lips and then with a swiftness that startled you, he was standing to attention in the tub, cheeks tinged red with embarrassment and you stood frozen in place with fear, afraid that you had done something wrong.
“My Lord,” you whispered, eyes frozen solidly on the ground to preserve his dignity.
“I am not a Lord,” he snapped and you felt your own cheeks begin to flood with colour, “Uhtred is your Lord, not I.”
“I- I am sorry,” you were stumbling over your words, tears springing to your eyes, at the way he was glaring at you, at feeling like you had disappointed him, and then you were fleeing as fast as your legs could carry you, out of his home and out into the night, before you burned before him in shame at overstepping your place.
Sihtric sat at his table for hours waiting for you to return, one candle had already burned down to the wick and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he should go out and try to find you, but he had no idea where to even begin.
He felt ashamed for how he had spoken to you earlier, he had frightened you and he could see that now, and he wanted nothing more than to reassure you that you had done nothing wrong, to apologise and admit that he was the one at fault, all because nobody had ever touched him the way you did and his body had reacted of its own volition and it had shamed him.
He was pulling on his furs when the door creaked open and your tiny figure appeared in the doorway.
There were two dead rabbits in your hand and he figured you must have gone down to your traps near the river, he made a mental note of that in case you ever disappeared into the night again.
“I was beginning to worry,” he scolded, and silently cursed himself because he had wanted to seem tender and apologetic but instead it came out grunt and harsh.
You wanted to shrink into yourself. This was the most he had ever spoken to you and you desperately wished it wasn’t under such circumstances.
“I am sorry Lor-” you cut yourself off before you could finish, remembering his earlier berating of you calling him Lord. You were resolutely refusing to look into his eyes and kept your head down turned to the floor “I figured you would be asleep when I got back and by tomorrow all would have been forgotten. That we might carry on as we had done before.”
Sihtric looked at you in bewilderment, he had no idea how to proceed or navigate what he had felt for you this night so all he could do was nod “All is forgotten,” he reassured softly and you finally chanced a glance at him.
“I’m sorry I was harsh,” he spoke calmly, “I wish for things to return to how they were before.”
You nodded fiercely, eyes betraying your upset and muttered “I wish so too.”
“We should get some sleep,” he commanded and you moved to place the rabbits into the kitchen, your cot was located off the corner of the room and you sat delicately down upon it.
He removed his furs and placed them back upon the hook he had retrieved them from.
“Goodnight Ser,” you mumbled from your little corner and his heart thumped in his chest as he returned the greeting and made his way to his own room.
Uhtred absolutely kicked his ass in training the next morning because all he could think about was you.
The way your hands had delicately worked away all his pain, the feeling of your fingertips through his hair had caused a sensation he had never known could exist before, your doe eyes widened in fear as he berated you and how when he lay down that night all he could think about was how it would feel to have you touch him, really touch him and he felt like the worst excuse of a man for thinking such lurid thoughts over someone so innocent.
“What’s up your arse lately?” Uhtred quipped, as they sat down to eat a few days later and Finan chuckled beside him.
“Isn't it obvious? He can’t stop thinking about that little housemaid of his,” Finan teased and Sihtric shot him the dirtiest look he could muster.
“Oh come on if she was my housemaid I would have humped her in every room in the house already, you would have to be blind not to see the way her eyes follow you around like a little lost puppy.”
“Enough!” Sihtric snapped and Gisela, who had joined the conversation, reached a hand out to the young warrior.
“Sihtric if she makes you so uncomfortable we can redeploy her to another home,”
“Hell, you can take my old Nell, I would have y/n any day of the week in return. For a start I bet she wouldn’t burn my ear off with incessant chatter, and secondly I wouldn’t mind so much even if she did.”
He felt ashamed for wanting to be rid of you but you were consuming his every waking thought the past few days, he could barely eat or sleep and he was irrational and moody and everyone could see, and maybe just maybe if he didn’t have to see the way your breasts moved in your dress when you kneaded dough or scrubbed the floors, or the way your damp hair clung to your skin when you returned from bathing, or how plump your lips looked when you bit at them whenever you were concentrating on a task at hand, my god your lips were just begging to be kissed- Maybe, just maybe, out of sight would put you out of mind.
“Could you arrange the swap Lady?” he asked gently of Gisela and she nodded with a finality that told him it was done, and Finan whooped beside him and rubbed his hands together
He couldn’t face being there when you packed up your few meagre belongings to make the trek across to Finan’s hut so he made some excuse about having to tend to his horse.
There were tears in your eyes as you gathered your herbs and ingredients from the kitchen, normally Sihtric would reach up onto the higher shelves and fetch you the ones you stored just out of reach but today you fumbled with a stool and rummaged until you reached everything you were sure you would need to take with you.
“Did I do something wrong?” you had asked the Lady Gisela when she had come to tell you the news but she shook her head kindly and made some polite excuse about Nell being better able to navigate the work in Sihtric’s house as opposed to Finan’s and you had to accept that answer, even though you knew it wasn’t true.
You waited until dusk but when Sihtric did not return you simply accepted your fate that he did not intend to see you off and instead made your way up to Finan’s hut which was closer to the great hall than Sihtric’s, and further away from your beloved river.
Weeks passed and to a certain extent the move seemed to have done wonders for Sihtric, anytime you popped into his head he was able to push the memories of your gentle hands far from his mind.
Old Nell talked his ear off about nonsense, and her food was pale and bland in comparison to yours, but it was easier than coming home to your tenderness and genuine care for him.
Finan was however, starting to grate away at all his resolve.
“I’ve had to loosen my belt,” he complained loudly one morning, “I don’t know what she is feeding me but I cannot get enough,” he was teasing and Osferth observed that he was looking slightly porkier than usual, but that seemed like a compliment to the Irishman rather than an insult.
“Ah, I like a woman that knows how to feed her man,” he winked and Sihtric wilted.
“You are not her man!” he reminded and Finan punched him playfully, “Ah, that’s what you think big man!”
Another evening on his way up to the great hall he heard it, and it hit him like a bolt of lightning straight from Thor himself, your laughter bouncing through the walls of Finan’s hut, followed swiftly by the laugh of his friend he would have recognised anywhere, his insides twisted as he realised he had never heard you laugh before, had never been able to make you laugh before and he was green with envy at the easiness his friend possessed when it came to talking to people, especially you.
But the nail in the coffin was when Finan was loudly boasting to his fellow group of warriors “Her hands are like magic! I’ve had this knot in my neck for weeks and she just rubbed it out like it was nothing. I feel 15 years younger!”
“Shame you don’t look it,” Osferth teased and Finan punched his arm so hard it went dead which caused him and Uhtred to fall around the place laughing as the Baby Monk winced.
Sihtric disappeared from the Great Hall in a blind rage that his friends were not accustomed to witnessing from him. He was always measured and calm in how he conducted himself, but he simply could not take anymore of Finan’s boasting. He was almost certain the Irishman was doing it to simply get a rise from him and like a fool he had given it to him. It was a stupid offhand comment about your hands, again, and he felt white hot rage curse through him like poison, as he had grasped Finan by his furs, seething, before he released him with a hard shove and stormed away. By the Gods he just needed to feel your touch on him again, your gentle, delicate hands had awoken a longing in him that he could not ignore anymore. He had been lonely, lonelier than he could ever possibly admit, and starved of human touch his entire life. Violence had been the only physical touch he had ever known since he was a child, despite the tavern whores he had bought love from, but they had never made him feel the way you did. He understood now that he needed you in the same way that he needed air to breathe.
"You went too far this time," Osferth scolded his Irish friend, watching Sihtric's retreating form as he stormed away.
Finan nodded with a sigh, running his hands through his beard "I was just trying to give him the shove he needed to admit his feelings," he admitted but he concluded that the young monk was right, perhaps he had pushed his young friend too far this time.
Sihtric didn’t stop until he was well past the confines of the burgh and made his way down the winding path to the river hoping he would find you there, but his mouth went dry when he finally saw you in the clearing, your shift clinging to your wet skin, perfect breasts rising and falling with each breath, pebbled from the cold air and wet hair cascading down your back.
You were like a vision to him, Freya come to Earth to tempt a mortal man to be her lover, and he could not find his voice to speak.
“Sihtric,” you cried and it spurred him into action like he was a man on fire.
“Touch me again,” he pleaded and he was on his knees before you in an instant, he was a fish out of water gasping for air as he reached for you “I can’t bear it any longer, I need you- I need you to touch me-”
He was a mumbling, pleading mess and he watched you struggle to follow along with his words, with what he was asking of you.
“I don’t understand-” you cried.
“I feel- I feel as if I am burning, it’s all I can think about- your hands on me, in my hair, on my skin, that night- nobody has ever touched me like that and it’s pathetic. I was a mewling mess and all you had to do was touch me. It’s all I can think about. I can’t eat, I can barely sleep and every time I close my eyes it’s you. My god I’ve wanted you from the moment you stepped into my hut.”
Your chest was rising and falling rapidly and Sihtric wanted to bury his face in the swell of your breasts to inhale the very scent of your being, he was a man possessed and now months of pent up pining were coming spilling out all at once, it was like a dam bursting and he had no idea how to stop the flood.
You had had been in love with Sihtirc for months now, tending to his every need without being asked, capturing rabbits every few days because he casually mentioned it was his favourite food once, watching his body for any signs of injury or discomfort so that you knew which herbs to brew him in a tea or place in his bath and by the Gods you had wanted him too.
“Please, say you feel it too. Tell me I’m not out of my mind.”
“Sihtric,” you sighed, “I am tired of pretending that I don’t want you. Especially, when this entire time, all I have wanted was to be yours” you whispered and he was up off his knees in an instant, and reaching for you tentatively.
He touched you delicately, almost like he was afraid that you would shatter like glass in his hands, eyes searching yours for some kind of approval that he was allowed to even have his hands on you.
“It’s alright,” you whispered, “You can touch me,” taking his hand in yours and drawing it to your waist, his brow furrowed as he whimpered at the touch of the linen fabric of your shift under his calloused fingers, your hand placed gently above his own. His hands began roaming tentatively up the curves of your figure.
“You can kiss me,” you urged and his eyes shot up to yours, “Kiss me,” you reassured and his lips moved to kiss your neck and shoulders.
“May- May I?” he asked, hands hooking into the top of your shift and when you nodded profusely, he slid the material down your arms and watched it slide down your body and pool at your legs as your silky skin became exposed to him, and he cupped your breasts gently in his hands, his face a mixture of want and confusion, but you melted into his touch completely, head thrown back, eyes lidded with lust.
Eventually, his lips found yours with a tenderness nobody had ever kissed you with before and you opened up to him, he whined when you pulled away to look up into his hooded eyes.
You ran your hands up into the loose curls at the nape of his neck and grabbed a fistful of them before you tugged his head back, the sound that left his mouth when you attached your lips to the skin near his adam’s apple was guttural and sinful and you did it again for good measure, just to hear it once more, hoping to sear it into your memory forever.
“Please, please,” he was begging in a pleading whisper but he didn’t even know what he was begging for, and you began to fumble with the lacing of his leather jerkin, your hands were moving of their own accord and you tossed it aside as soon as it came free, not caring where it landed. Sihtric was left in his linen undershirt, wide eyes watching your every move in awe and you hooked your hands up under the material, “Is this okay?” you checked and when he nodded profusely, you hastily pulled it over his head and discarded that too.
You were used to seeing his naked torso but never in this way where you could run your hands freely over muscle and scar alike, You took your time running your hands gently over the plains of his skin, and he sucked in a breath when your hands ghosted over the muscles of his lower abdomen, dangerously close to the waistband of his trousers.
“You are beautiful,” you mused, looking up at him through your lashes as you dropped to your knees to slide his leather trousers down his strong, lean legs, he cupped your face in his hands and forced you to look up at him, stopping all actions immediately.
“Are we moving too fast my love?” your genuine care for him, had his face crumpling and he swiped reassuring patterns across your cheek with his thumb, “No-No,” he panted “I just needed to look into your eyes,” he whispered shyly, he tentatively moved his thumb onto your lips and parted them, your eyes were still locked on his.
He couldn’t believe that he was allowed to touch you like this, to have you before him, waiting and pliant, not asking him for anything in return, not telling him he couldn’t touch you, or kiss you, and it was as confusing as it was exhilarating for him, he was almost trembling with anticipation as he nodded for you to continue and you reached for him again.
He whimpered when you took him in your mouth, hands instinctively flying up to grasp your hair.
His eyes were squeezed shut, as you pulled tiny little gasps from his open mouth and if he weren’t so consumed with how you felt around him, he would have been embarrassed.
You thought he was the most beautiful thing on this whole earth, the sun was setting behind him, casting him in orange and pink hues and you didn’t know much about the Chistian book but you had heard about angels, and from what you had learned you could not imagine a creature more like an angel on earth than Sihtric. You could feel the self-restraint emanating from his strong body, the refrain from bucking into your throat, still afraid that he would shatter whatever this moment was if he truly let loose.
But when you looked up at him teary, doe eyed, mouth full of him he had to pull out before he spent himself down your throat.
He helped you to your feet and he ran his hands gently over you, mentally assessing if you were alright, hands gently roaming down your sides, and you pressed up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and for the first time he truly gave in to what he needed and that was to make love to you, to let you know how much he truly felt for you.
He gently re-positioned you on his abandoned jerkin as he lowered himself down beside you, kissing you so softly and carefully, you were a squirming mess beneath him.
He was gentle, but needy as he positioned himself inside you, and you did not care that twigs and sticks scratched your back with each movement because all that mattered in this moment was Sihtric.
His hands roamed your body, before he clasped your hands in his, he pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles and urged your hands back up into his hair, and taking his cue, you grasped at his loose curls again.
“I’m so close,” he cried as you clasped your legs around his back.
“Let go my, love,” you urged and his hands wrapped around your delicate throat but he did not apply any real pressure “Say that you’re mine. Please say that you are mine,” he begged, picking up speed.
“I’m yours,” you promised as tears pricked at your eyes “Only yours.”
He collapsed on top of you with a cry, having spilled inside you and you pulled him to you, cradling him against your chest and you brushed your fingers through his hair.
Now in the light of the moon he felt ashamed.
It was not manly to have begged and pleaded so much of you and he felt shame burning from somewhere within. Some deep remnants of the past beatings Kjartan had bestowed upon him for being soft.
Too soft.
Would you feel that way about him too, after seeing him like this? He could not bring himself to move from his place on your breast to look you in the eyes until you hooked a finger under his chin and made him do so.
“Don’t ever send me away from your side again,” you begged and he crumpled at the tears in your eyes, “Now that I’ve had you like this, I need you forever, you cannot cast me aside again my love.”
My love. It was the third time you had said it and his heart raced a million miles a minute.
“You would have me again?” his voice wavered in uncertainty and you frowned, sitting up, face laced in confusion.
“I would have you forever,” you told him unsure of what he was trying to say, “Unless- I thought you loved me. I thought this was what you wanted-”
“I want you! I love you!” he rushed, grabbing your arm to stop you from getting up and you turned to look at him, hurt and confusion written all over your features, “But how can you want me? After seeing me this way? I was on my knees begging for you. I am a warrior- I am violent, a savage, but with you I am a quivering, begging mess?”
“It is different with love,” you softened, hand cupping his face and he hated the way he melted into your touch, “You can be both things Sihtric. You can be strong for the rest of the world and you can be soft for me. You are safe with me, and I want both sides of you.. I- I love both sides of you."
“Can I kiss you again?” he asked and you nodded, closing the distance to place a kiss to his lips.
“Everything only makes sense when you touch me,” he told you honestly, mismatched eyes boring into yours.
"Don't send me away again," you repeated, eyes glassy, "My place is by your side now."
"You're mine?" he cried.
He meant it as a statement but is sounded more like a question, his worried, unsure eyes boring into yours.
"I am yours," you promised, rubbing soothing patterns with your thumbs either side of his lips and he smiled almost like he still could not quite believe it.
He placed a kiss to your nose and then finally to your lips again, just because he could.
Request: I have an idea for a one-shot with Sihtric for the future, where the girlfriend doesn’t allow him to tell his friends that they’re dating, and he starts to feel sad, confronts her, and discovers that she feels too ugly to be with him.
My darling wangjiangelangel I really hope I did your idea justice and I'm so sorry for the long wait ❤️❤️
Warnings: Reader is definitely struggling with self image issues, possibly body dysmorphia- If that's not something you feel able to read right now there is no pressure you can catch me next time xx
Sihtric collapsed down on the bed beside you trying to catch his breath.
He placed his forearm over his eyes as he came down from his high.
You padded into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and he watched you in awe as you walked back to bed.
“How did I get so lucky,” he mused and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks, unable to take the compliment so you brushed it off.
You snuggled into Sihtric’s chest, your ear pressed against his skin, you listened to the steady beat of his heart, as he absentmindedly ran his fingers up and down the naked skin of your back.
You could not quite believe that you got to be with him like this, by some fluke, or mistake from the universe you got to love him.
You had been friends with Sihtric for years now. You had been there for all the heartbreaks, all the great loves, all the situationships and by some utterly divine mystery he had chosen to pursue you.
You, who had carried a flame for him from the very first moment you met him.
Who had accepted your place as his friend and expected nothing more from him.
Until his last relationship failed and he made a point of pursuing you.
“I think the reason it's never worked out with any of these other girls,” he confessed into the darkness one night “Is because it's always been you. All this time it's been you.”
He'd sat up suddenly to look into your eyes “I thought I was so protective of you because you were my friend but it's always been so much more than that hasn't it?”
You wanted to believe that was the case with all your heart but your head told you it was simply because he had exhausted all his other options that he now found himself in your arms, in your bed. But you weren’t complaining, you were just happy that you got to share this time with him.
“When can we tell the guys?” he asked, disturbing your inner thoughts, ear still pressed to his chest.
“I don't want to keep lying to them,” he sighed “I don't want to end every night out in separate taxis just to end up in the same bed anymore. It feels dishonest and I don't want to hide us anymore.”
You sighed and traced a finger along his chest “Can't we keep it between us just a little while longer? You know how the guys are, they will be all up in our business and I would just like you to myself that little bit longer.”
He smiled a beautiful and shy smile, but relented.
“Just promise me we will tell them soon. I'm beginning to think you're ashamed to be seen with me.”
Your heart sank into your stomach because it was very much the opposite, you did not think you were good enough for Sihtric in the slightest. He looked like he was carved from the gods, his muscles were no joke and his mop of dark curls framed his face in a way that made him look angelic. But his tattoos and fashion sense gave him that bad boy edge that made girls go weak at the knees, you had witnessed it first hand, you were one of those girls. You saw the effect he had on women, you saw the way they desired him and for some reason you hadn't quite figured out yet, whether it was humility or ignorance, Sihtric either paid no heed to it, or simply didn't notice.
You on the other hand, your love life before Sihtric had been nothing short of tragic.
You had been cheated on, ghosted, broken up with and humiliated more times than you cared to count and it had made you somewhat jaded.
Sihtric had been there for you through each breakup, back when he was just a friend, he had gotten into fights with exes on your behalf and you couldn't understand why he hadn't run for the hills yet like all the other guys before. But here he was after months of sneaking around, falling asleep in your bed, wanting to be honest with his friends about your relationship.
It was a few weeks before Sihtric broached the topic of telling his friends again and you froze on the spot.
“Come on, it's the Christmas work party babe, everyone is bringing their significant others and I want to bring you as my date I want to show you off. I even got you this, thought maybe you might like to wear it. It might make you feel special, because you are to me.”
He pulled out the most stunning, sparkly dress you had ever seen and your eyes immediately began to water.
“Sihtric it is beautiful,” you gushed, running your fingers over the material.
“You are beautiful,” he mused and his eyes lit up, “Go ahead and try it on I’m dying to see it on you.”
As you spun around in the sparkly dress in the mirror, Sihtric burst into the room, eyes wide in pure joy as he placed his hands over his mouth, “Oh my god you look incredible!!” he mused coming to spin you around, he watched you almost with childlike wonder and then he took your hands in his “We are going to look so incredible together!” His excitement was absolutely contagious and that was how you found yourself agreeing to go to the Christmas Party with him and finally being honest with his friends about your relationship.
Walking up the steps to the swanky bar, you suddenly wanted to tuck tail and run, and Sihtric seemed to sense your anxiety.
He gripped your face in his hands and stroked your cheeks lovingly, “Hey, don’t be nervous, it’s my friends and they love me and they will be so happy for us.” he reassured, and you leaned up to kiss him, despite the nerves.
You were Sihtric’s friend, of course you had naturally hung out with his friends once or twice but you were far from close with them, and every time you had met them they had been nothing short of lovely, but you could not shake the fear that they would reject you once they knew that you were together.
That they would somehow see what you knew to be true, that you were not good enough for him.
Sihtric spotted his friends already gathered, drinks in hand and with a hand on your lower back he directed you towards them.
“Hey guys, you remember y/n right?” he asked and without warning Finan surged forward and pulled you into a bear hug, “Of course we remember,” he teased spinning you around “Ya haven’t stopped talking about her since the day you met her.”
You were still giggling as he placed you down, and Gisela stepped forward to pull you into a gentler hug, “We have always known he had a thing for you,” she said softly, “He never stops talking about you.”
“He is smitten,” Uhtred chimed in, shaking your hand kindly when Gisela stepped back.
Osferth, always the more reserved, just smiled shyly your way.
“I am smitten,” Sihtric beamed, coming to slink his arm around your waist again “And now I can finally tell the whole world about it.”
You felt your cheeks go red and the anxiety began to stir in your stomach again.
Suddenly Sihtric’s hands felt too heavy on your waist and you began to feel too warm.
“I’m just going to pop to the bathroom,” you announced jittery, and dipped out from under his arm and made your way to the nearest restroom in a hurry.
You rushed towards the sink, splashing cold water on your wrists to try and cool yourself down, forcing yourself to take some deep breaths.
Sihtric was deep in conversation laughing with Finan about something stupid when Osferth began scanning the crowd looking for you.
“Is everything okay with y/n?” he whispered into Sihtric’s ear and then he too was scanning the crowd for your face.
He bumped into you just as you were exiting the bathroom and he looked at you worriedly.
“I just…I just needed a breather,” you lied, patting your sweaty hands on your dress.
“A breather? Y/n we just got here,” he was trying not to sound annoyed but you could hear it in his voice.
“I know- I know, I’m fine now let’s get back to your friends.”
The drinks were flowing and you really did try to have fun, but the truth was you just felt so uncomfortable. Every time you saw a woman look Sihtric’s way your heart fell a little, even though he never once placed his eyes on any other woman except you and he always found some way to keep his hands on you.
You made small talk with Gisela and found yourself in a debate with Finan about football, both of you talking animatedly over each other until he jokingly put you in a headlock because he could not admit defeat, your squeals of laughter caught Sihtric’s attention and he demanded that Finan let you go, you took that opportunity to dig him into the ribs and he was left momentarily breathless and dropped you immediately.
As he was bent over trying to catch his breath he pointed a finger straight into your chest “I really like this one Sihtric. You better not fuck up or I’ll swoop her off you.”
You laughed and Sihtric laughed too but there was a hint of jealousy behind his laughter.
You finally felt yourself relaxing when Sihtric’s boss Alfred made his way over to your table with his wife. From Sihtric’s stories you knew she was meant to be a piece of work, so you tried to make yourself as small as possible in her presence but she still singled you out anyway.
“You are quite different than the last one he was with aren’t you?” she sniped, and you felt your cheeks tinge red.
“She worked on Fleet Street right, in Financing?”
“I believe so,” you answered shyly.
“And what exactly is it that you do?” she shot.
“I’m a freelance photographer,” you answered shyly “And I take shifts in my local pub to make up the difference.”
She scoffed a laugh and regarded you from the corner of her eye “So not bringing much in terms of value to the relationship really if you’re not able to make ends meet. I suppose you will be relying on Sihtric’s money too then?”
Your nostrils flared in anger, you wanted to snap at this bitch but Sihtric’s honey laugh pulled your attention to where he was sitting and you felt your anger dissipate.
She had only spoken aloud what you had known to be true from day one, you were not good enough for that beautiful force of a man, he laughed again and you couldn’t help the sad smile that spread out across your face, as you excused yourself out onto the balcony for some air, grabbing a free flute of champagne as you passed.
Sihtric was once again frustrated to find that he could not find your face in the crowd, he called your name, pushing through bodies on the way to the bar and he was still coming up short.
He finally spotted you through the glass doors out to the balcony, leaning against the railing, staring absentmindedly up at the skyscrapers across the London skyline.
“Y/n, what are you doing out here?” he snapped but he didn’t mean to, “I feel like I’ve spent all night looking for you and you’re nowhere to be seen. This was supposed to be fun, our first night out together officially as a couple and I feel like you’ve been avoiding me all night.”
You stiffened, and took a deep breath but your hands were shaking and you refused to face him.
“I’m sorry Sihtric,” you whispered, voice small, and he instantly regretted sounding so harsh.
“Talk to me. What’s going on?” he hushed, reaching out for you, alarmed at the tears in your eyes when you finally turned to face him, “What’s wrong babygirl?” he soothed, taking your hands in his.
“Sihtric,” you cried. “I don’t think this is a good idea anymore. Us. We- we’re just not suited, you deserve so much better than me and what I can give you.”
Hurt flashed across his face and he reached out to cup your face “Hey, where is this coming from?” he shook you a little and you just retreated further into yourself and doubled down.
“It’s for the best,” you continued, still refusing to meet his eye.
“Don’t do this here?” he cried “Please, let’s go home and talk about it. Please?” he begged.
“Please baby,” he begged again after you didn't relent, placing his forehead against yours.
“Sihtric, no,” you sniffed, untangling yourself from his grip and pushing him away to create some space.
“This whole night I have been trying to be perfect for you, trying to make myself someone that your friends would deem worthy of you, and I’m failing because the truth is- The truth is and I’ve known it all along is that I don’t deserve you. Your friends can see that. Your boss’s wife can see that, I don’t know why you can’t.”
“What are you talking about, not good enough for me?” he looked exasperated, and tried to reach for you again but you shrugged him off.
“You forget that I’ve been here for it all. All your exes that could have been models. All the successful girls who had nice apartments and were good for you, and I can’t compare an inch Sihtric, it’s why you kept me as a friend for so long, that’s the truth. And you just don’t want to admit that so I’m doing it for us both.”
Sihtric took an involuntary step backwards and his back collided with the railing behind, he ran a hand messily through his hair and you both stood in silence for a moment.
“Do you love me?” he finally broke the silence, leaning his whole weight on the railing behind him, your eyes snapped up to examine him and his mismatched eyes were already boring into yours “Do. You. Love. Me?” he enunciated each word, and you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks because you couldn't lie to him.
“Yes, I love you but it doesn’t change anything, I can’t change myself” you cried.
“I don’t want you to change a thing,” he pleaded, voice raised “I fucking love you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, inside and out. You are the reason those other girls are my exes, how could I ever fully commit to them when I was already in love with you! And now what you’re telling me that you think you are not good enough for me? Well you don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to tell me that I can’t love you, because I do! There is no one else on this earth for me but you,” he was angry and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he tried to control his temper.
You looked at him, his face stern but hurt at the same time.
“I just feel like I am letting you down all the time. Like my career, my life, my looks are not enough to earn my place by your side. I was so afraid that once we went public, someone else would make you realise that and you would leave me. I just thought if I ended things first it would hurt us both less,” you finally admitted.
“That’s why you put off telling my friends?” he asked softly “I thought you were ashamed of me, but it was the other way around this entire time?”
“Sometimes, I feel like the ugliest person on the planet,” you confessed, now it was truly time to start being honest with Sihtric “There are some days I can barely stand to look in the mirror and I can’t understand why someone as beautiful as you would even want to look at someone like me, let alone be with me.”
Sihtric sprung forward cupping your face in his hands and forcing your eyes up to meet his, “It’s crushing my heart to hear you talk about yourself like that. From the moment I met you I have thought you were the most beautiful woman on this earth. Earlier you made a jab about me leaving you in the friendzone and that was partly true, not by your reasoning but because I was so afraid to be rejected by you I chickened out of pursuing you for years. Y/n if you could only see yourself through my eyes you would see what a stunning, kind hearted, creative and strong person is looking back at me right now. But if you can’t believe that for yourself can you at least give me the chance to try and make you see?”
You nodded in his hands and he leaned in to kiss you.
“I’m glad you were honest with me in the end about what has been going on in that beautiful brain of yours, but please don’t ever talk about leaving me again, I couldn’t bear it.”
You leaned up onto your tiptoes to kiss him again, when the balcony door opened and a loud Irish man stumbled out.
“Everyone thought ye were gone!” he shouted “I said ye were fucking in the bathroom, but ye hardly did it out here for all to see did ye?”
“And you missed it all,” you teased “We literally just put our clothes back on,”
Sihtric laughed in your arms as Finan picked you up, “I’m doing shots with this one, are you coming?” he tossed you over his shoulder and your laughter made Sihtric sigh in relief, the tension of the last few minutes flowing out of every pore.
“Put her down Finan!” he shouted after the form of his retreating friend as you reached out to try and grab a hold of Sihtric's hand.
You stumbled into your apartment having done one too many shots with Finan and forcing Osferth to dance with you on the dancefloor, spinning him around so much he was nearly sick.
“I think I found my new best friend,” Gisela shouted into Sihtric’s ear over the loud music, and he gave her a squeeze in joy.
“She was so worried you guys wouldn’t like her,” he told her honestly.
“It’s not always so easy to go from friends to lovers,” she reasoned. “It’s a different dynamic. Be patient with her. You knew you had feelings for her all this time, but she didn’t.”
“Okay let’s get you to bed,” Sihtric laughed when you started hiccuping, and he picked you up bridal style carrying you to bed, and placing you gently down.
He went to fetch paracetamol and a glass of water, “Take these my darling, it will help with the hangover in the morning.”
“Good girl,” he mused when you swallowed down the glass of water, and you curled into him.
He brushed his fingers through your hair and placed a kiss to your forehead “I never want to hear you say that you don’t think you are good enough for me ever again,” he stated in a way that told you not to argue.
“You are the best thing that ever happened to me and I will never let anyone say anything bad about you again, including you!”
You chuckled at that and he smiled too, “Tell that to the voice in my head,” you slurred and he laughed out loud “Oh I plan to, every day for the rest of our lives!”
This has been sitting in my drafts half finished since Christmas and i FINALLY felt inspired to finish it today.
Set during Season 4.
Summary: As Sigtryggr's former lover, you are cast into a world of chaos when he is forced to flee Dublin and attempts to carve a new legacy on the map of England.
Warnings: Mentions of slavery and violence at the hands of men.
*Not proof read. Mistakes will be corrected*
You had been taken as a hostage in the negotiations between Sigtryggr of Dublin, and your Father, a King with great holdings of land in Leinster, when your Father had rebelled against him and subsequently lost.
Sigtryggr belonged to the Ui Imair ruling dynasty of Viking Dublin and for two years you had lived in relative peace, prosperity and harmony. Sigtryggr had for a time made you his lover, however you were never under any illusions that he would marry or commit himself solely to you. It did not stop you loving him and following him faithfully in the many battles that were to come in your time together.
Your Father had sworn fealty to his Viking overlord and for this and your holding as a hostage, Sigtryggr had allowed him to keep his lands and titles but this had all come to a violent and turbulent end when two years later he had switched allegiances and joined forces with the ruling clans of Brega and Leinster to attack the city and drive Sigtryggr’s clan from the land.
Amidst the chaos of blood and burning you had been taken captive and managed to flee with Sigtryggr and a small band of his best warriors, but he had been unable to rescue Rognvaldr his brother, and on a longship across the Irish sea bloodied and battle wearied, you watched the flames of any tenderness he had ever held for you die in his great icy eyes.
Your Father had tried to capture you,to take you back to the safety of your Kingdom, but Sigtryggr had found you first, and with your hands bound tight and a rope around your neck he had dragged you aboard his ship and had no care for how you cried as Ireland disappeared from view amidst the rough and stormy Irish Sea.
Over the course of the few weeks from when you landed on the shores of Wealas until the night he had rescued Brida and taken over the Kingdom she was imprisoned in, you grappled with the loss of the tenderness you had grown so accustomed to with him, replaced with the measured, cold and cunning Sigtryggr the rest of the world got to see, intent on taking Wessex and with a vengeance in his heart you had never seen before.
Brida held you in the highest contempt, she blamed you in part for the failure of Cnut’s uprising.
Had Sigtryggr not been so tied up in fending off your Father’s attack he would have sent his men to aid in his cousin’s battle, and she would never have been captured.
“Princess,” she would spit at your feet, even though bound in ropes and pulled wherever Sigtryggr demanded you were no more than a slave, your former status was used as slur against you, even at times by Sigtryggr’s own men, but with her you worried that her words would seep into him like a poison and further pollute his opinion of you, even more than your own Father’s actions had already done.
And so you were powerless but to watch as Sigtryggr set off down this path of violence with her, and accept with a heavy heart that you would never see your homeland again.
You travelled for days on the advance to Winchester and more and more you found yourself isolated from his inner circle.
Plans were made that you were not privy to. You slept in a tent alone, under guard most nights and Sigtryggr became more and more closed off and impartial to you, not caring if his men were a little heavy handed in how they hauled you about or dragged you behind their horses and even less so when you walked silently weeping for everything you had lost.
The night before the attack on Winchester, offerings were made to Tyr, and as you sat near the fire, rope burning tight around your neck, Brida came to sit before you.
“Tomorrow Sigtryggr will make his name upon this land,” she spoke truthfully, “For the first time in its history our people will rule Wessex. Danes. Warriors. Not Kings or Princesses, or Christians. And where will your place in this new world be?”
“Where it has always been,” you cut over her sniding, “At Sigtryggr’s side, wherever he commands me to be.”
“You love him!,” she suddenly laughed, “He does not love you! How pathetic to give your life to a man who does not love you. He can't even bear to look at you!.”
You rose from your seat in temper, lunging forward only to be yanked back into place by the restraints around your neck, hands flying up to the rope to try and ease the burning it caused as it bit into your sensitive skin, she laughed bitterly before rising from her own seat, and spat at your feet.
“Sleep well princess.”
On the morn Brida and Sigtryggr attacked and captured Winchester, and you watched in horror as prisoners were taken and the hostages were locked away.
You found a rare moment to approach Sigtryggr and reached for him, but he shrugged loose of your hold.
“The ropes will be removed and you will be given a room” he said finally, staring out into the void.
“Away from you?” you asked voice small.
He examined you with a pained expression for a moment before he answered carefully.
“Whatever there once was between us you know that the magic is long broken.”
“Because of my father’s actions,” you cried, hurt evident across your face “Not by my own, I have stood by you I have fought for you!”
“It is best that you do not try to run,” he warned, “You are alive by my grace alone, and I will not step in should you be caught trying to escape.”
Sigtryggr was not a cruel man, he was fiercely intelligent, he was calculated in his moves but he was not cruel, and even now you could see he was not trying to be cruel.
“Why did you even take me here?” you cried “To punish my Father? To punish me? I loved Rognvaldr like a brother. I loved you, and I was loyal to you only. I had no part in my Father’s treachery and deep down I know that you know this. I beg you, put an end to this suffering. Either drive a blade through my chest, or set me free.”
His face crumpled, and he remained silent, eyes boring into yours as though they held the answers that would free you both, but the moment was interrupted with the calls of Sigtryggr’s name, and the subsequent arrival of Haeston and his hostages.
Any fool with half a brain could see Sigtryggr’s interest in Stiorra, and you despite being many things were no fool.
The town was preparing for a siege, villagers were beginning to flood in from the countryside and you lay awake for hours on end staring at the ceiling, wondering in your lowest moments if you should just end it all.
Release yourself as a burden to the man you loved and allow him to carve out a reputation from anew, without the weight of your past around his neck or take your chances and run, but where would you even go?
Ireland seemed like a million miles away and you wondered if you even made it home if your Father would accept you, or if he would cast you out.
But then a fierceness came over you that you had never experienced before.
Your whole life had been planned out before you by men.
It was your Father’s decision to send you off as a hostage to Sigtryggr, despite knowing full well you loved another and wished to be married. That part of your life had been lost to you.
Coming to England with Sigtryggr and the subsequent conquering of Winchester had been out of your hands too, and you were tired of leaving your fate in the hands of men.
And in that cold room in Winchester you decided it was time to make your own destiny, to take the power of your own life into your own hands once more.
You would leave the next day, before Edward arrived, before any siege could take place.
As everyone was gathered around to witness Eardwulf’s execution you realised this was your best chance at escaping, while everyone else was busy, you would only have to convince the guards on the gate to let you go, so you slipped away from the crowd and made your way down as fast as your legs could carry you.
“Lady, it is not safe for you to go out there alone,” one of them argued and your patience was beginning to run thin.
“By order of Sigtryggr, you are to allow me to leave, and close the gates once I am gone.”
You were about to reissue your order when the man holding you suddenly stepped aside and stood to attention and you did not have to turn around to know who was standing behind you.
“You are trying to escape?” Sigtryggr’s silky voice questioned softly.
“I am leaving, yes,” you answered honestly, turning around to face him, hoping your brazenness would be enough to impress him, or catch him off guard.
“You would do this without saying a word to me?” he asked, blue eyes searching yours for answers, something resembling hurt etched across his face.
“Would you have let me go if I did?” you cried, “You do not care for me, and perhaps you never did the way I did for you. You cannot bear to look upon me and I have no place by your side anymore. What good would a long drawn out goodbye have done for us? I cannot make up for my Father’s mistakes and I don’t deserve to keep being punished for them.”
He was silent for a moment, eyes still frantically searching your face to find something to say,
“I let you live,” he said finally. “Any other man would have had you killed.”
The moment was interrupted by the approaching sound of cart wheels and you realised they were wheeling Eardwulf’s body outside the town gates and this would be your last chance to leave the city before the siege began. “Please, let me go?” you pleaded again and Sigtryggr nodded once, slowly in acceptance.
Before you could argue he was peeling off one of his arm rings and placing it upon your own arm.
“You are wrong,” he whispered, carding a hand gently through your hair before he took a small step back “I did love you once, and that is the only reason I set you free to find your own way, as I must now find my own.”
“Goodbye Sigtryggr,” you whispered, pulling your cloak up and turning away from him so he would not see the tears gathered in your eyes, and as soon as the gates opened to allow the cart out, you slipped out behind it and for the first time in your life you were truly alone.
You had barely gone a few hundred yards when the stampeding sound of hooves came crashing like thunder and you barely had time to process it before you were pulled off your feet and tumbled down a bank onto the ground from where if you had lingered just a second more you would have been trampled to death.
“Are you alright?” a man who looked like a Dane barked, raking his eyes over you to see if you were harmed, arms steadying you as he pulled you to your feet.
You were wide eyed and trembling as another dark haired man came into view, eyeing the red rope marks around your neck and attempting to reach out for you but you backed away in fear.
“They are not stopping,” the Dane said before he shouted “Finan! Take the girl, don’t let her leave until I get back!” and he was sprinting back up the bank into the melee of what you assumed were Edward’s forces, attempting to stop the attack, and amidst the sound of squealing horses and whistling arrows, you were grasped by the arm and pulled down towards the river, where two other men lay in the grass waiting and you were shivering like a leaf when you were placed into the arms of another Dane, whilst the man you assumed to be Finan ran back up towards the melee of battle.
“What has she said?” the Dane demanded once he clambered back down the bank.
“Nothing Lord,” the blond haired man who had given you water replied, he had introduced himself as Osferth and pointed to the Dane with the half shaven head as Sihtric. You were hoisted harshly back onto your feet as the other Dane in charge gripped your arm.
“You came from inside those walls, by my own eyes you look like a slave. Why would Sigtryggr allow a slave woman to leave. Tell me!” he shook you harshly and your eyes were wild with fear and you snarled trying to claw your way out of his grasp, “Or are you more to him and he released you before the siege?”
“Be honest woman,” Finan urged, “And we won't harm you,” and your wild eyes settled on him, honing in on the silver Christian cross that hung from his neck and you couldn’t say why but in that moment you trusted him.
“You are from Ireland?” you spoke in Irish and his own eyes widened too for a moment before he nodded “And you serve this man?” you questioned.
“What is she saying?” the Dane shook you again.
“She is from Ireland, Uhtred” Finan offered, eyes locked on you.
“He took me here as a captive,” you told Finan in Irish once again “It was my Father who led the attack on Dublin that drove him from the city.”
Finan nodded and relayed that to Uhtred, who looked at you sternly.
“Ask her why he let her leave?” Uhtred demanded, and you nodded your head in understanding before replying to Finan once more “Please,” you begged “It is not what it seems, I was his lover once, before my Father attacked I was his hostage, but I mean nothing to him, he let me leave because he does not care whether I live or die, he has no use for me anymore. He brought me here in ropes, he has shown me no tenderness, his only act of kindness was to let me leave.”
Finan relayed this to Uhtred who still regarded you with suspicion before he released his hold on you and you stood rooted to the spot.
“Have you seen my daughter, Stiorra, is she alive?” he asked, gauging that you could understand him.
“She is alive Lord,” you answered Uhtred now in English “He keeps her separate from the other hostages, he brings her food and he treats her kindly. She is alive and well.”
Uhtred released a huge sigh of relief, and took a step back from you.
“We should bring her to the King, Lord” Osferth spoke, “She knows where the hostages are being held and she may have further information that would be of use.”
Uhtred nodded in agreement and you were being hoisted up before the King before you could even argue, when you tried to plant your feet in resistance you were dragged unmercifully by your arm and planted at the feet of the King who was pacing back and forth like a lunatic.
“A captive?” he demanded stopping his pacing in front of you.
“Yes Lord,” you answered meekly.
“King. Lord King!” he shouted and you stiffened slightly.
“I was the daughter of King,” you said defiantly, “Given to him as a hostage, until my own Father drove him from Dublin, he brought me here in vengeance.”
“My Mother. My children, are they alive?” he demanded and you nodded.
“Yes Lord King, he keeps them in the crypt where your Father’s tomb is,” you answered honestly.
He considered you for a moment and you looked up into his red face with a defiance he did not like.
“Tie her up,” she may be of further use to us he commanded and two of his men hoisted you to your feet, the one on your left arm, stilled all actions when he felt it, and you knew he felt it because suddenly your cloak was ripped off and there for all to see was the arm ring that Sigtryggr had placed on your arm as a final act of kindness, you had hoped to use it to buy passage back to ireland but now it had laid you bare as a traitor in the eyes of the Wessex men.
Edward’s nostrils flared in anger.
“Would a Dane part with an arm ring to someone he did not care about?” he demanded of Uhtred and to your surprise Uhtred almost seemed sorry to have to tell the truth “No Lord,” he sighed sadly and Edward struck you across your mouth so hard you could taste the blood that rushed forward.
“You would dare lie to us all?” he spat and made to strike you again, until Sihtric surprising himself and everyone around him stepped forward to intervene, shielding you behind him.
Edward looked like he wanted to rip his head off but instead, ripped the arm ring from your arm and ushered his men to take you away.
Your eyes burned with shame and humiliation as once again a rope was placed around your neck and you were secured to a pole in the ground and for the first time since you had been taken to this godforsaken land, you wished you had stayed with Sigtryggr.
For thirty days Winchester lay under siege and you remained captive to Edward’s forces.
Uhtred’s men were the ones tasked with guarding you, and it was always Sihtric who came to take you down to bathe in the river, ever the gentleman he would turn away and allow you the privacy to bathe in peace, but he never relented his hold on the rope that remained attached around your neck, once or twice you had caught his eyes following a droplet of water that ran from your wet hair down the expanse of your neck and it made your heart flutter.
Finan talked to you a lot about home and your Kingdom and you learned a lot about his past, from his days under his Chieftain Father to being sold into slavery and you realised you had been right to put your trust in him on that very first day.
Osferth brought you whatever morsels of food he could ration out and he prayed with you, even though it was more like prayed at you from time to time.
In the thirty days you had been their prisoner, you were beginning to form an honest relationship with them all, and at night you lay awake dreading the day the siege would end and they would cast you aside and leave you behind.
“What is it he wants?” Uhtred asked you one evening around the fire.
“I think he seeks a home,” you answered honestly, “A true home. Somewhere he can live in peace. Somewhere he cannot be driven from.”
Uhtred examined you carefully for a moment before he accepted your answer.
“If he wants peace, he’s got a funny way of showing it,” Finan scoffed.
“He is different,” you answered honestly, “He thinks like no other man I have ever known. He should have killed my Father the first time he attacked, he should have taken our land and claimed it as his own, instead he allowed my Father to leave in peace as long as he agreed to accept his claim to Dublin. He believed my Father’s surrender and my presence as his captive would hold my Father to his word. We lived in peace in the time I spent with him. And he treated me with kindness, even when he did not have to.”
“You were his lover,” Finan scoffed again.
“I wasn’t always. He had others and yet he was never cruel to me.”
Uhtred seemed to really be taking in what you said, and your attention turned to Sihtric, “Would you take me down to the water?” you asked him gently and he relented with a soft nod of his head.
You did your best to bathe but the rope digging into your neck had made your skin angry and irritated, you tried to pry it away a little from your skin to allow the cold water over it but it did not relent.
“Sihtric,” you asked, voice small and he hummed in response, still respectfully turned away from you, “Please can you take the rope from my neck, I will promise you upon your Thor pendant that I will not run or try to escape you, but it burns me.”
“Woman,” he whined “You will be my death.”
“Tie my hand to yours if you do not have trust in me,” you offered and he suddenly turned around to face you.
You were naked before him but he kept his eyes trained on yours, mismatched ones boring into yours.
“Do not try anything,” he warned “You will not believe the things I can do with a rope,” it was a threat and he meant it as one but you could not help the smile that you tried to swallow when he stepped towards you and delicately worked the loop from around your neck. You hissed when the material was pulled away from your skin and Sihtric’s eyes were immediately drawn to the red tracks it left it its wake, he couldn’t help but run a delicate finger along the raised skin and tutted. You allowed him to tie the rope around your wrist, although you noted he did not pull it tight and watched as he tied the other end around his own.
“Be quick about it,” he urged before turning around again “Before you get us both killed.”
You soothed your skin with the cold water, and you waded out until you were waist deep in the waters to begin working on your hair.
Dusk was beginning to turn into night and the sky was cast in a beautiful purple hue.
“It’s beautiful,” you mused and Sihtric turned to see what you were looking at, smiling when he followed the dip of your bare skin to where it touched the water, water droplets dripping down your bare back and his mouth went dry.
You turned suddenly to find him staring and his cheeks tinged pink instantly and he went to look away again when he felt the tug on his arm.
He watched you gather the rope between your hands and begin to pull, he allowed himself to be dragged closer and closer to the water’s edge before his brain kicked into action.
“Stop this,” he warned, though he made no attempt to really stop you, and you were under no illusion that he could have pulled you to the shore in one attempt if he really wanted to.
You fed the rope through your hands and pulled until he was in the water, pulling him ever closer until you were almost chest to chest, and he allowed you to do it.
You placed your small hands on the leather of his chest and his eyes dipped down to meet yours, chest rising and falling rapidly.
“I’ve caught you looking,” you whispered and he bit his bottom lip, eyes travelling down to the swell of your breasts and back up to your face again, he cupped your jaw in his free hand and traced his thumb across the edge of your lips.
“This is a dangerous game,” he warned, thumb now stroking your bottom lip, “If we are caught we will be killed.”
“Don’t let us be caught,” you pleaded, reaching up on your tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips, when you pulled away, he grasped your face and pulled you back in kissing you hungrily, lips devouring yours, pulling you flush against him and you could not help the small but desperate whine that left your lips when you heard his name being called in the distance.
“Coming Lord!” he called back and he broke away from you, stalking back up towards the bank, pulling you along with him.
He allowed you to pull your dress back on before he untied the rope from your wrist, you looked at him with betrayal and hurt when he set to fasten the rope around your neck again, although he did not pull it tight, he cupped your face again.
“It hurts me just as much to put this around your neck again,” he whispered, and your eyes welled with tears but you nodded in acceptance.
“Did ya fall in?” Finan burst into laughter at the sight of his friend’s leather saturated and Sihtric grumpily barked that he had lost his footing.
Your heart fell into your stomach when you heard Sigtryggr’s voice calling from the city walls, calling Edward to come and face him, and it fell even more when you saw him emerge with the King’s two small sons.
“No,” you gasped as he bartered the life of one of the King’s sons if he were to retreat and when Edward could not choose, he retreated back behind the gates and you watched them close.
You could hear Edward’s screams from your spot by the river and instinctively you reached for Sihtric’s hand which he squeezed before he quickly dropped it.
“Where is the whore?” you heard Edward’s roar before he appeared before you clasping the rope and yanking you roughly behind him.
You fell twice and yet he continued to drag you, “He has threatened my sons I will slit your throat in front of him and let him watch you bleed out.”
“Please! Please,” you shrieked trying to yank the rope out of his hands, “He does not care for me,” you could barely breath and Uhtred and his men were running behind you trying to keep pace, one of Edward’s men struck you and you released the rope, “He will not care if you kill me, please?”
You were screaming now and it was pitiless begging, because Edward did not relent, your knees were bloodied from falling and your eyes were blinded from tears and yet he dragged you before he dumped you unmercifully on the ground and went to fetch his sword.
“Sihtric….Sihtric!” It left your lips before you could stop yourself and the man in question was rushing forward, Uhtred’s eyes widening in horror at the realisation before he too was rushing forward.
“Lord King she is a whore, nothing more. This will achieve nothing. He wants me dead, this much I know from Haeston.”
“He would not trade you for my sons,” Edward relented “You are not that valuable to me Uhtred.”
“No more than she is to him,” Uhtred reasoned pointing at your crumpled form on the ground, “But I do have a value to the Danes. To kill the man they call Dane-Slayer would bring great reputation. He might want that.”
You could barely recognise that Uhtred was bartering for your life with his own, because Sitric was before you, sword arm ready to strike any man that would attempt to grab you again.
And so to your horror you watched as Uhtred walked himself into the besieged city, believing he could end the whole affair.
“A true home,” he said to you in confirmation of the conversation you had the other night and suddenly you realised he meant to bargain with Sigtryggr, you nodded because in your shocked state that was all the confirmation you could offer and you watched the gates close behind him.
You sagged your whole weight against Sihtric as you watched the King's two small sons run to safety towards him.
And that night despite his immense worry for Uhtred, he cleaned your bloodied knees and pulled the rope free from your neck.
He kissed you openly in front of Osferth and Finan and he did not care who saw, the next man to strike you would lose that very hand before they could hurt you again.
When the combined forces of Edward and Athelflaed attacked the city Sihtric had forced you stay behind in camp, “Wait until you know it is safe he urged, placing a dagger in your hand, if any man who is not me tries to take you, drive this dagger through his heart.”
“Come back for me,” you pleaded and he kissed you hastily, before nodding quickly and falling in line with Osferth and Finan and so you watched from afar as they stormed the gates.
When a lone figure appeared at the gates you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, running until almost all the air was knocked from your lungs and into the arms of your bloodied and beaten warrior.
“It is over?” you cried hands frantically searching his face for any signs that he was injured.
“It is over,” he smiled and you clung to him, “You are free.”
You watched as the army of Danes began to pile out of the city, holding steadfast to your own Dane. As Sigtryggr passed he bowed his head in recognition, for all that had passed and for the advice you had undoubtedly given Uhtred and despite it all you were happy that he may find both the peace and a home he so desperately yearned for.
You rode in silence for a while until Finan’s cheerful voice rang out amongst the sound of hooves.
“Will you return home now Princess? Back to Ireland?”
Sihtric’s mismatched eyes were on you but he did not say anything.
“Where is it we ride to again Lord?” you asked Uhtred, and he smiled at you with a knowing smile.
“To Coccham,” he answered smugly.
“Yes I will return home,” you answered and Sihtric looked down glumly at his steed, “Home to Coccham,” you added with a smile “If Sihtric Kjartansson resides there.”
Sihtric’s cheeks were tinged pink but he could not fight the shy smile that broke out across his face.
“I thought I would find you here,” Sihtric’s voice interrupted you from your evening dip as you bathed in the waters surrounding Coccham.
“Will you join me?” you teased and Sihtric chuckled behind you, already fumbling with his belt and weapons, “Without your leathers this time,” you added and you heard his clothes drop with a thud to the ground.
The evening sun was glowing behind him and he stepped into the cool waters with grace.
He stopped just before you and your eyes raked over his battle scarred skin.
“Now you see me,” he spoke shyly and you swam towards him.
“Now I see you,” you spoke softly, running your hands up the rippled muscles of his torso.
He pulled you to him and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he hoisted you up to hold you to him.
You leaned in to kiss him gently and he returned your kiss much softer and more languid this time.
“You would really choose to stay here with me?” he spoke softly, voice almost a whisper, spinning you around in the waters.
“There is nothing for me back home,” you replied “And everything for me here.”
He positioned you just right to slide inside you and you gasped his name as he began to pick up a bruising pace, he was claiming you as his own, marking your skin with his teeth and you clawed onto his back to keep you in place, the sun was setting behind the trees painting the sky in glorious hues of pink and orange and when he came inside you, you couldn’t help but feel the tears prick in your eyes.
This was what it meant to be truly free, to be loved by the man who held your heart in his hands.
He allowed his head to fall against your naked breast and your carded your fingers through his wet hair.
“All I have endured,” you whispered into his hair “I would endure a thousand times if you are the prize awaiting me at the end,” you told him honestly.
“This is not the end,” he mumbled into your skin before lifting his head to look into your eyes “My love this is the beginning, we belong together."
By now the moon was high in the sky and the air was chilly, you both began to shiver in each others arms and you conceeded you would have to leave the tranquility of the lake.
"It is a full moon," you whispered and Sihtric followed your gaze before his eyes bore into yours, setting your heart ablaze and your pulse racing.
"Under this moon I make you a promise, that as long as I have breath in my lungs, no one will ever hurt you again. You will never be bound or not know freedom again, and I will love you from this day forward for all eternity,"
"And I promise you Sihtric Kjartansson that I will always choose to stay with you, wherever it is our paths lead, mine will always be by your side."
Idea comes from the ever beautiful mind of @whitedarkmoonflower
and I am only hoping I did your idea justice my love:
I had and idea of a fic about Sihtric rescuing a young girl when he's still a boy at Dunholm and then meeting her again in S3 or S4 setting and finding out she's noble and out of his reach, but then by some whim of fortune he has to rescue her again and finds out she hasn't forgotten him either.
Warnings: Mentions of torture, domestic abuse and slavery- if you don't feel up to reading any of those things please put your own peace first and you can always catch another of my fics soon xx
*Not proof read. Mistakes will be corrected*
The sound of the hounds baying and barking caused you to run faster and faster through the trees.
Your dress was ripped and your feet were bloodied but you ran with all your might.
You were half blinded by tears and you could barely breathe for crying but still you ran.
You were lost in the unfamiliar woodland terrain of the Dunholm surrounds and you truly feared that you would die here.
Hurtling down a thorny bank and splashing into an icy stream, you waded through the ankle deep water, passing under the roots of an upturned oak tree and clambered up onto its trunk to see if you could fit inside.
You could hear your tormentor's laughter from afar but you knew his hounds would find you long before he ever did.
“I will find you,” he shouted through the trees and you couldn’t help the sob that wracked from your bruised body.
And then the glowing eyes of one of the beasts that had been pursuing you shone under the light of the moon as it bore its teeth and began to try to lunge for you, your screams echoed into the night as two more appeared and began to bite at the bare skin of your legs.
You were pleading and scrambling, trying to pull yourself higher up the trunk of the fallen tree when a pair of strong arms suddenly grasped you and hauled you down, you were flailing in his arms trying to free yourself, but he hushed you with a gentle shake “It's okay, I’ve got you.” He took your hand and began to push you behind him as the beasts began to circle around you both, gnarling and frothing at the mouth.
He was armed with an axe and each time one of the creatures lunged he would strike out, he killed one and the others were wounded, but relentless.
One took a hold of your arm in its great teeth, biting down and tearing at the flesh and only released you once he slashed at it with his axe.
“Sihtric!” a voice suddenly emerged and you clung to the arm of your rescuer, “Hand over the girl,” he commanded and you begged him not to let you go, “Please, please please…” it rolled off your tongue like a desperate prayer and the small group of men gathered behind Sven the One-Eyed began to laugh, but Sihtric did not release his hold on you, despite how you could feel him tremble.
“You killed my best hound,” Sven tutted, “That will not go unpunished. Do not make it worse for yourself- hand over the girl. Now!” he was shouting. Furious that Sihtric had thwarted his little game for the evening, and Sihtric knew that Kjartan would indeed have him tortured for the death of the hound.
The standoff however was interrupted by the approaching sound of hooves and little glimmers of torch light and eventually Kjartan the Cruel appeared before you.
He took in the sight of you, dress torn and bloodied, great tear tracks down your face and Sihtric stood before you defensively, the dead hound lay out before his feet.
He swung his legs over the saddle and landed on the ground with a mighty thump, before he rounded on Sven, grasping him by the furs of his cloak.
“The girl was not yours to torment,” he fumed, shaking his son in his arms.
“I would not have harmed her,” Sven defended, arms instantly flying up in defence.
“She is harmed!” Kjartan roared and forced his son to look at the state you were in, shivering greatly as the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and he backhanded his son with a force that had him stumbling back and blood rushing to his mouth.
“And you!” he spat turning on Sihtric “You killed one of my finest hounds,”
“Yes Lord,” Sihtric shivered in defeat and acceptance of what was to come and you shrieked as he was ripped from your arms and set upon by Kjartan who beat him mercilessly and bloody.
“Please, please,” you begged mustering all your strength to throw yourself forward, “The beast would have killed me.”
Kjartan swung around and for a moment you thought he was going to strike you, but the fury on his face dwindled for a moment before he spat “Better that it had. Nevertheless, you are under my protection and I will see you back to the keep.”
He bundled you onto his horse with force before quickly climbing on behind you.
“My children continue to disappoint me,” he huffed, before he turned his horse to face one of his waiting men, “Tekil, the runt is yours to punish, see to it he never lays hands on any of my property ever again,” he spat, before kicking his horse into a gallop and you craned your neck to try and get one more glance at Sihtric, but you wished you hadn’t as Tekil and the other rider were taking turns at kicking his crumpled form on the ground.
That night his bloodied body was tossed into the out building you were kept in and you nursed him all through the night, despite your own injuries you held him all night long, terrified to let him go for fear he would not make it to the morning light. Once he woke in the night and mumbled your name and you held him tight, urging him to make it, urging him to just hang on and when he reached for your hand you allowed him to take your hand in his weak grip, brushing his soft curls out of his eyes and praying to the gods that he would make it. When you awoke the next day he was gone and your heart sank a little for it seemed you had finally found a friend in this hell on earth.
For the remainder of your time as a hostage in Dunholm, Sven watched you from the shadows, tormenting you from afar, or following you down to the stream to watch you while you bathed but he never made another attempt on you after that night, but he wasn’t the only one who seemed to be keeping watch over you. Every night Sihtric would appear like a spectre watching you from the edges, his eyes were nearly swollen shut and each time you thought he would try to speak to you, he scarpered away before you could reach him. Your physical wounds healed in time but you woke every night screaming and sweating and the fear Sven had instilled in you on that fateful night would remain with you for years.
When negotiations were finally completed and the ransom was paid, you watched in anticipation as the hostages your father had taken were returned to Kjartan and then the great gates opened and you were instructed to follow your Eldermen out to freedom.
It was only after you had ridden for what felt like a lifetime that you glanced over your shoulder to the looming keep of Dunholm rising up like a spectre in the background and prayed to the Gods that you would never see that place again, but you would never forget the pair of mismatched eyes that had shown you the only real bit of kindness you had experienced there and in some ways you had left a little bit of your heart with him.
Your husband was a Jarl with small holdings of land in Northumbria, he had been loyal to Kjartan in the past in the sense that he had agreed not to infringe on any of his lands and pay him taxes, and to swear his bannermen to aid Dunholm if ever it was attacked but that had all changed when Guthred was made King and took control of Eoferwic.
Your husband swore fealty to Guthred and so the events that played out over the course of the next few years meant that your house was allied to that of Guhtred’s and in time you would come to live in Eoforwic where your husband served as an adviser until the time of the his own death.
Your husband was killed in a Scottish incursion a few years into Guthred’s reign and you wept when his lands were simply given to another Jarl who had served Guhtred faithfully, you were bartered off like livestock to marry him and no matter how you pleaded with Guhtred to free you from the agreement he would not budge.
Your new husband was a cruel man, he relished in the capturing of nearby Saxon villagers to sell to the slavers, it was an endeavour that had made him an incredibly wealthy man but one that forced the bile to rise in your stomach when you would hear the women and children cry at night. Bringing back old, unhealed wounds of a young girl running terrified through the trees at the foot of Dunholm.
One night you fought him as he tried to take you and he beat you so bloody you could not walk for days, and you had made up your mind to flee at the very first chance you were able to ride again and so after a week of only being able to move from bed to relieve yourself you bribed the stable boy to ready your horse and you rode away into the night, taking only your dowry’s worth of silver with you.
You made it precisely to the door of the great hall in Coccham before you collapsed upon its steps and the next time you awoke it was in a small cot with the lady Gisela sat by your side wiping sweat from your brow.
“Who did this to you old friend?” she asked softly, and you were spilling the entirety of what you had endured in the past few months.
You and Gisela had been friends since you were girls, your fathers, both Jarls had been great friends and distant kinsmen, so when you decided to escape the clutches of your husband you knew you would be welcomed by her. She too had known betrayal at the hands of her brother and you had hoped she would have sympathy for your plight now.
“He will come for me,” you cried, “The people are loyal to me, as they were to my late husband but they have no fealty for him, they will revolt. He needs me if he intends to rule there.”
“Let him come,” she said with a defiant squeeze of your hand, “If he dares to come he will be met with the justice of Uhtred’s sword and nothing more.”
You squeezed her hand affectionately, “You always were the better sibling,” you joked and she sighed , “I agree they should have crowned me.”
When you were finally well enough to leave your room, you began to eat in the Great Hall with the rest of Uhtred and Gisela’s household, sitting with her handmaidens and usually with the toddler Stiorra in your arms.
“Will you stop gawking,” Finan swiped at Sihtric who was once again more focused on you, bouncing a giggling Stiorra on your lap, than whatever it was Finan was saying.
“She’s a married woman,” Osferth interjected, “And according to Uhtred she is of nobility to the Danes.”
“So very far out of your league then,” Finan teased.
“I am the son of a Lord actually,” Sihtric swiped back in a jovial manner.
“A bastard son,” Finan cut and Osferth joined, “Aye, if that’s the case I’m next in line to the throne of Wessex.”
“Shut up you idiots,” Sihtric swiped as Finan guffawed with laughter and ruffled the baby monk’s hair in affection.
Sihtric watched you for days with a longing in his chest that he had never known before. It was as though he had dreamed you into life, or he had known you in some past life.
You were gentle and kind and he could not imagine what kind of man could have inflicted upon you the injuries you had shown up with a few weeks ago.
It was he who had found you on the steps of the Great Hall, he who had carried you in his arms and watched as the Lady Gisela shrieked at the recognition of her friend in his arms, urging Sihtric to place you on the bed and run to fetch the healer.
He watched you picking herbs at the edges of the village while he trained Uhtred’s household troops, he watched you as you walked hand in hand with Uhtred’s children through the wildflower meadows singing songs and telling stories, and he could not shake you from his head at night when he closed his eyes.
He wished that he could be lucky enough to run his fingers through your beautiful hair and have you sing those soothing songs to him, he wished to look after you after all you had endured, but you were forever out of his reach and he thought it was cruel of the Gods to place you within arms reach of him but never let him touch you. Very cruel indeed.
He had fetched a bowl of soup for himself and sat down on one of the long benches, eating at a pace unholy to man when he felt the wood dip as someone sat down beside him.
You smiled at him and he thought you were made from sunlight itself the way you warmed him.
“Gisela tells me you are the one who found me. I wanted to thank you for bringing me to safety,” you smiled again and he couldn’t help the shy smile that spread out across his own face.
“It was my pleasure Lady,” he replied and then his face dropped.
“I mean it wasn’t a pleasure to find you like that.” he deadpanned, rubbing his face harshly with his hand “I just mean it was a pleasure to help.”
You laughed out loud and all of his embarrassment melted away and he laughed too, “I knew what you meant,” you giggled and he thought your laugh was like music bottled by the Gods.
But the moment was interrupted when one of Uhtred’s hounds bounded into the great hall barking, while the old kennel master rushed around trying to usher it out to no avail, everyone else in the hall burst into laughter but you had clambered up onto the bench, clinging to Sihtric’s arm for dear life.
“It’s alright,” he soothed “He is friendly and he will not bite. I will not let him harm you.”
You were trembling like a leaf, but Sihtric finally coaxed you down from the bench when the offending hound was grasped by the scruff of his neck and marched outside, but you did not relent your grip upon his arm.
“Lady, it is gone. It cannot hurt you,” he whispered gently “You are okay, I’ve got you.”
You bristled at the phrase, it was one someone had told you years ago, while great ferocious hounds tore at your skin.
You turned your arm in his grasp, running your fingers across the faint white scar with slightly jagged edges, the unmistakable shape of a dog bite on your forearm.
You watched as his eyes were also drawn to the scar and realisation hit you both at the same time.
“You might not remember,” you began, voice shaking.
“I remember,” he cut in, chest rising and falling rapidly “That night in the woods-”
-”You saved me.” you cried, looking up into Sihtric’s huge mismatched eyes.
“Yes,” he nodded, and for a moment you were lost in each other's eyes, your pained expressions conveying so much but neither able to speak, “And you nursed me all through that night.”
You had moved closer and closer until your bodies were touching and you unconsciously ran your hand up to cup his scarred face.
“You risked your life for mine,” you whispered and he nodded in your hand.
“And I would do it again. I will never allow you to be harmed again, not while I have breath.”
Your lips were but a hair’s width away from his and his eyes dipped down to look at them, one gentle move and his lips would be on yours.
“My husband,” you cried softly, “He will come for me,” you admitted sadly.
“And he will die before he ever lays a finger on you again,” Sihtric rushed, pushing forward to capture your lips in his and you melted into his kiss, hand firmly cupping the sharp edges of his jaw, and only breaking apart when there was a commotion in the hall, thankfully your moment of bliss seemed to have gone unnoticed.
It suddenly made sense to Sihtric the sense of longing he had felt since you turned up at Coccham, because he had longed for you all those years ago as a boy.
He had felt it ever since you had arrived at Dunholm in chains, the only living child of the Jarl, your Father, you were taken as hostage to ensure peace and cooperation from his behalf.
He had watched you for weeks fearing that someday Kjartan would take you into the Great Hall and welp a child on you, it was however Sven who had taken an unfortunate liking to you, talking a great amount about the things he would like to do to you. You had inadvertently become his new favourite plaything and Sihtric, though he could not protect himself, had made it his mission to protect you.
He knew the moment he left the walls of Dunholm on that fateful night that he would be severely punished for attempting to thwart Sven’s tormenting of you, and he made peace with the idea long before he even entered those woods.
“I prayed to the Gods every night for you for years,” you admitted and his face crumpled “I never forgot what you did for me that night and what you endured on my behalf, although I fear I do not even know the half of it.”
“It does not matter,” he told you honestly “I would have endured it a thousand times over to prevent the things Sven would have had you endure.”
You took Sihtric’s hand in yours and smiled at him so purely he almost melted “They are both in Hel and we are here. We won.”
Sihtric wanted to kiss you again but he refrained, especially because Uhtred caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he knew he was needed back outside.
Sheepishly he rose from his seat, and you watched him rise.
“Might we talk again Lady, I would like to know you,” he admitted shyly, his cheeks tinged pink and you nodded earnestly.
“You will know me, Sihtric Kjartansson.”
It was dusk and the sky was painted pink and true to his word, Sihtric was waiting at the edge of the wildflower meadow when you made your way down, and you walked in a comfortable silence along the river for a while.
Being with Sihtric felt as natural as breathing, there was no need to fill silence with meaningless words, and you felt you communicated everything that needed to be said through your eyes alone. You had both suffered immensely and why shouldn’t you be allowed to find comfort in each other.
The first time you had made love to Sihtric right here on the river bank under the Summer stars you could not help but think as though the Gods had placed you in his reach twice so that you may know each other in this way, destiny is all and perhaps Sihtric Kjartansson had been your destiny all along.
“In another life I would have made you my wife,” he said brushing his fingers through your hair and you leaned into his gentle touch.
“In another life I would be proud to be your wife.”
And so it had begun the great love affair of your life with the boy who had saved you all those years ago.
But just as all good things must come to an end, the end arrived in the form of Guthred, his household guard and the man you had hoped to never see again, your husband.
“So it is King’s business to come fetch women fleeing a brutal husband now is it?” Gisela spat and Guhtred shrank a little under her venomous glare.
“She belongs in Eoferwic, she cannot stay here,” he answered as matter of factly as he could under his sister’s disdainful stance.
“You would have me send her back to a man who brutalises and beats her bloody?” she all but hissed “A friend you have known since she was a girl.”
“Venomous lies,” your husband spat and Gisela rounded on him.
“She was blackened and blue all over, she did not wake for nearly a week after her journey here, what man inflicts those injuries upon his wife?”
“I will not return, you said definitely, “In front of the Gods, in front of my King I am divorcing this man. This man has struck me more than three times. By our laws I should be demanding his life, instead I say before you and my witnesses that I want a divorce.”
“I bear witness,” Gisela urged.
“And I,” Uhtred seconded.
“And I,” Finan chimed, followed by Osferth and when your eyes landed on Sihtric he nodded at you, “And I.”
“I want my silver back whore,” your husband spat. “Have your divorce by all means, but I want my silver.”
“That silver belonged to my father,” you spat “You can have no claim to it.”
Guhtred remained silent for a moment and your husband rounded on him, “My King, if you wish me to accept this farce of a divorce that is my price.”
“She keeps her silver,” Uhtred threatened rising from his seat, sword hand placed upon serpent breath’s hilt, “She keeps her silver and you keep your life.”
“There will be no threats made,” Guthred warned, his household guard moving forward, although they had been forced to leave their weapons at the door, their advance was menacing enough.
“You are in my hall now brother,” Gisela warned, “You are not King in this country, and you have overstayed your welcome.”
“The Lady Gisela has kindly asked you to leave,” Uhtred confirmed “And there will be no second asking.”
Guhtred had to concede defeat and to your ex-husband’s horror, he nodded at his guards to begin their exit.
“This is not over,” your ex-husband hissed as he passed you by, but you did not have heart to listen because you only had eyes for the Danish warrier with mismatched eyes that you had freely given your heart to.
“When will you ask Uhtred?” you asked softly, walking among the trees with Sihtric.
“Tonight Lady,” he promised, “He cannot mistake my regard for you,” he reasoned.
“Nor mine for you,” you smiled softly, as Sihtric took you into his arms.
“I have nothing to offer you my love,” Sihtric smiled sadly, cupping your face in his strong hands.
“No great wealth, no Great Hall to preside over and be the Lady of. Nothing but my love.”
“Then you are giving me everything,” you whispered, “Everything that matters.”
“I’ve always been yours,” he confessed, voice soft “Only yours, and I always will be.”
“They wish to speak to you my love,” he announced, but his head was downturned, “I do not believe they deem me a worthy match of you,” he said sadly, and your heart sank as you began the climb up to the great table they were sat at.
“You would refuse us this chance at happiness?” you cried and Gisela’s face softened.
“You are the daughter of a Jarl,” Uhtred offered softly, “Sihtric is a warrier, of no wealth, no land and he must travel with me wherever the need takes us, does this seem like the type of life that would make you happy?”
“Yes,” you said without missing a beat. “Any life with Sihtric is one I would choose over any life without him.”
They were both silent for a moment and you decided to test the water further, “Have you no other objection except his lack of wealth and status?”
“None,” Uhtred answered honestly.
“Gisela, you were prepared to risk it all to be with Uhtred, with Sihtric I have never known such peace. I have had wealth and status but none of them can measure an ounce in silver to the price of peace and love that I feel when I am with him. I beg you, do not separate us for the sake of silver.”
“You love him?” she asked you honestly and your eyes began to tear up.
“With all my heart,” you answered, your expression pleading and they shared a look, before nodding in unison.
“You may be married upon our return from Winchester next week,” Uhtred decided and you were rushing forward to grip him in an embrace that you repeated on Gisela, your tears freely falling.
Sihtric too cried when you told him their decision and that night as you lay together he called you his wife, when you reminded him you were not yet his wife, he told you honestly that in everything but name, you were to him.
They came in the middle of the night on the third day that Sihtric was away with Uhtred, the hooves outside your door were your first alert to danger, but before you could even attempt to flee, they were inside Sihtric’s hut and you were hoisted outside and flung onto the back of a horse that sped away into the night.
You were thrust onto the stony ground of a makeshift camp, your hands quickly locked in chains and you gazed up at the hard faced expression of your former husband.
“It didn’t have to be this way,” he hissed, “You should have returned my silver.”
You spat at his feet and he advanced on you “Do you know how much highborn ladies like you go for?” he teased, grasping your face hard and you tried to wriggle away from the stench of ale on his breath “I will make back all my silver, and more on you.”
“Sihtric will come for me,” you said defiantly, and he laughed in your face.
“By the time he even realises you are gone you will be on a ship far away from these shores never to be seen again, and your name like any bitter taste will wear away.”
You tried to retain your resolve but your stomach sank with the realisation that he was right.
“Hold her down.” he ordered his men and before you could process it you were flipped over onto your stomach in the dirt, arms pulled high above your head. The wind was temporarily knocked from your lungs and you felt the unmistakable weight of a foot on the back of your neck to keep you down and then the soaring pain of a red hot iron pressed into the skin at the top of your arm, you screamed out into the dirt below you as he pressed the iron further into your skin, your mouth filling with dirt, and when it was over and you were hoisted back up, your head lolled to the side, and you had to be held up in place as the weight of your body sagged against the men holding you up.
“Please,” you cried, “I will give you your silver.”
“Your rat boy will give me silver in ransom, the slaver will give me silver in the morn, you have nothing left to offer me whore. The S seared onto your skin is the only value you have left in this world now. Put her with the rest of them,” he ordered and you were dragged across the pebbles to a pen with other weeping women and flung carelessly onto your back. Sihtric was the last thing you thought of before the blackness of unconsciousness took over.
The slaver did come in the morning and your former husband seemed pleased with the price he had fetched for you, and as you were hauled on board and placed near the hull of the ship you could not help but begin to weep as the coastline of England became smaller and smaller until all that remained was a dot on the horizon, your former husband’s face of cruelty and delight as you had set sail burned into your mind.
Over the next few months you tried to adapt to your new life of servitude in the Hall of a Norse Lord called Arne, whose wife took great joy in doling out punishment on you.
She seemed to be intent on destroying your face and you knew it was because her husband looked on you with desire in his great icy eyes.
You thought about Sihtric every moment of every day. Those two mismatched eyes, one blue like icy winter mornings and one brown like the warmest honey amber, his tender touch and the way he loved you with his whole body and soul.
You never lost faith that Sihtric would come for you, and as much as Arne’s wife tried to beat you into submission, you still watched the horizon for the man you loved more than anything, with hope in your heart that he would come and find you.
But as the months began to creep into a year, and the leaves began to turn orange and fall, a great depression took over and you stopped eating and began to be too weak to do the most arduous tasks and your Lord’s wife had taken to beating you when you could not complete a job.
After enduring another beating at her hands she said the words that caused white hot terror right down to your very core.
“A weak slave is a useless slave, perhaps you would be of better use as food for the hounds.” Death by hounds was truly your worst fear and your screams of terror and protest caused her husband to storm into the Great Hall, where he reprimanded his wife and hauled you, though you were still howling in terror outside to where a great fire was burning as people worked on the great longboat, nestled into the harbour of the lake his home was built around, he placed you gently down and thrust a bowl of soup into your hands.
“Eat,” he commanded and you began to shake your head in protest but the look on his face told you he was not to be argued with.
“I am leaving to winter in Irland,” he said after a long silence, and your eyes rose to meet his.
“If I leave you behind, my wife will have you killed,” he said it so matter of factly, it made the blood in your veins feel icy, “And I make no secret of the fact that I desire you. But I will not take you with me if you are too weak to make the crossing and so I am commanding you to eat, every day until the boat is ready to leave in a few weeks.”
“You want me to come?” you finally spoke aloud and he nodded as though it were obvious.
“As my woman. That is your choice, come as my woman or die here.”
Your heart was thumping in your chest, these past few weeks you had made peace with the thought that you would die here in Norway, but if you could make it to Irland, perhaps there was a way you could make it home to Sihtric, even if he had moved on and married another, he would know that you didn’t abandon him and then you could die in the peace of that knowledge.
“So what will it be?” he mused, running his hands through the length of his beard and you considered him for a moment.
“I will eat,” you confirmed because that was all you could promise him in that moment.
The crossing to Irland was rough.
Two of the crew perished in a storm near great rocky islands Arne referred to as Føroyar.
You were sick overboard more times than you cared to count and most days you were wet to your skin, and at night you lay huddled into Arne for warmth, but on the ninth day the Ravens took to flight and the great boat chased after until the unmistakable sight of great rocky cliffs rose up in the distance.
“Irland,” Arne confirmed, his arm affectionately around your shoulder, “The people here are ferocious fighters like none you’ve ever seen.”
“I knew an Irish man once,” you told him wistfully.
“And what was he like?” Arne chuckled and despite yourself you smiled too, “A ferocious fighter.” you confirmed.
Arne’s cousin was the leader of Viking Dyflin, and the months you spent wintering there were spent in relative peace and prosperity.
Sometimes Arne would take his ship and crew raiding up the rivers, but you would remain in the confines of the city. Arne had not forced you to lay with him but he did not hide his affections for you, ravishing you in gifts and silver after every successful return, although you were under no illusion that he very much believed you belonged to him, and the S branded on the back of your arm was a constant reminder of that.
“Is he the man your heart belongs to, the Irishman?” he spoke into the darkness one night, as you lay awake staring up at the wattled ceiling.
“No,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper, “He was a Dane, and we were betrothed, before I was stolen away.”
“You will never be my woman,” he spoke after a while.
“Many would have forced you by now but that is not my nature. I had hoped in time you would give yourself to me willingly, but I can see now that you never will, because your very being belongs to another.”
There was a sadness to his words that you did not quite understand but you were afraid to say the wrong thing in case it angered him and so you said nothing and after moments that felt like hours he finally sighed and turned his back to you, and soon after his gentle snores filled the room.
While Arne had spent the winter raiding and feasting, you had used your relative freedom in the city to plot your escape. You spent days down at the Port, overhearing conversations amongst those tending to the Longships and you learned enough to know that no trader or Norseman would take you willingly on their Longship, and if they did there would be no guarantee of your safety or promise that you would not once again be sold into slavery once it reached its destination.
You had long abandoned hopes of escaping on the Longships when a small Knarr with a small fat captain named Skagi arrived transporting goods from Frankia and your heart nearly launched through your chest when you realised he was restocking in Dyflin and heading next to Wessex. Only two things mattered to Skagi, his ship and silver, and you had plenty of silver, and after you had promised him all of it, he agreed to smuggle you on board.
“We leave at dawn,” he hissed, “And if you are not here we leave without you.”
As soon as Arne fell asleep that night, you gently rose and dressed and took as much of the silver as you could carry, you felt a slight pang of guilt as you made your way outside. Had you been sold to any other slaver you genuinely believed you would have lived and died in his service for the rest of your life, but Arne had been kind, he had fallen for you without forcing himself on you, he had taken you away from a life of servitude and offered you a second chance and if you had been any other girl this would have been more than enough, but you had a pair of mismatched eyes and a gentle soul were awaiting you the other side of the Irish Sea and that was all your heart desired.
As you clambered aboard Skagi threw a cloak your way and ordered you to put it on and to keep your head down.
Crossing the Irish sea was treacherous and from your small hiding space you prayed to every god you could think of to get you there safely, you even briefly considered praying to the nailed God the Christians prayed to but changed your mind when the shout cried out from the crew: “Longship! Longship ahead,” and the men began to row with all their might to try and outrun the advancing ship.
You trembled like a leaf amidst the chaos of roars to row faster and the shouts that they were catching up to your boat.
Skagi thrust a blade into your hand “Take it girl, if they come aboard they will take you.”
You cried pointless tears, how cruel to have made it this close to Sihtric, only to die at the final push.
There was an almighty crash as the front of the Longship crashed into the hull of your Knarr, and you were thrust forward, crashing forward and splitting your lip on the wooden slot before you, and you thought it must be Arne coming to retrieve you, it had to be.
The clashing of swords around you told you their crew was now onboard your ship and you heard Skagi shouting like a traitor that there was a girl onboard to take her “Take her, take her!” he was shouting before his throat was slit and you gasped trying to push yourself further into your hiding space before you were mercilessly grabbed and the hood of your cloak yanked clean off, regaining your senses you brought your own sword down, attempting to slice down the man holding you however with a dry laugh the blade was knocked from your hand and you were grasped again before you realised that the man holding you was none other than Finan.
“It’s her,” he shouted over his shoulder “Sihtric, I have her,” and he picked you up effortlessly and passed you across into the stern of the other ship which you now recognised as Fyrdraca and into the waiting arms of the man you had been dreaming of every single night since you had been taken.
“I knew you would come!” was all you could think to say in that moment as Sihtric grasped you like his life depended on it.
He held you in his arms the entirety of the journey back to Coccham, repeating almost like a mantra to himself, “It’s alright love, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
That night sitting around the hearth of Uhtred’s Great Hall you relayed your ordeal from start to finish, and Sihtric never once released his hold on you.
“We tortured it out of that goat turd of a husband of yours who he had sold you to,” Finan told you proudly, “We sailed the whole way to Arne’s homestead in Norway where his toad faced wife told us he had taken you to Dyflin. We've been patrolling the Irish Sea every day since.”
“I killed him,” Sihtric said softly behind you, “Your former Husband, for what he had done to you, I put my blade through his chest.”
Gisela reached forward and took your hand in hers, “He will never hurt you again.”
You could not believe that they had never stopped searching for you and you had no idea how you could ever repay them, perhaps you never could, but that night when Sihtric closed the door of his cabin he burst into unexpected tears and pulled you to him.
“I thought I had lost you,” he cried and bunched you to him tighter and tighter until his grasp nearly hurt, “I had only just found you again, and I lost you.”
You gripped onto his back ferociously “I will never let you go again.” he whispered into your hair before his lips were on yours and all that mattered in that moment was him.
“Sihtric,” you cried looking up into his huge sad eyes “I never gave up. I always knew you would come for me, as you have done every single time my life was in danger, you told me once that you had always been mine, but I will always be yours. Only Yours.”
Marital bliss was the only way you could describe life with Sihtric. He provided for you in every way he possibly could and he loved you with the ferocity and tenderness that you could only describe as Sihtric, for he was a ferocious warrior but he was a passionate and tender lover.
Pretty soon, your stomach swoll and the healer confirmed that you were with child and you could not have imagined a greater happiness if you tried.
And soon followed another babe and another and another until you joked that you were raising your own Danish horde and in time when Sihtric reclaimed his birthright on the stronghold of Dunholm, you looked out upon the woodlands where you had first laid eyes upon Sihtric and thanked the Gods for sending you the man who would save you time and time again and for a pair of mismatched eyes that looked at you even all these years later as if you were the only thing that mattered on this earth to him.
