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icefrozendeadlyqueen · 4 years

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Embodiment of a Goddess: Prologue

A/N: It might just be a one time thing. It was hard to write I couldn’t decided where my mind was taking this. I am incapable of following the show in ways. This pop up in my head, and I couldn’t stop writing it.

I don’t own the viking show or its characters. I do own mine

idk Viking Language Google told me:

Að unna means love.

if you know plz let me know, I appreciated Thank you

enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

"You lied to that boy, sister", (y/n) locks the door once both of the Perovina sisters were in. The daughters of the Godesses people whisper among themselves as they go in crowds and out. (y/n) glances around her sister's chambers when she claim in front of the crowd the truth Ashla is Hvitserk's other half perfectly align with the prophecy she sees in her mind. (y/n) wears a fine silk (f/c) dress with adorning accessories gifted to her by her husband. Long and horrendous years that we have lived not knowing if we gotten to our destination that century or achieve the path we were given.

Ashla & (y/n) always together... that was the idea of the gods for us. (y/n) can know the desire future of the beholder with no regards on reality. You can bend the future to your bidding with or without re-precautions... you have never suffer any or because the gods fear darkness that you have at your disposal. You are the delighted representation of light in all types or forms. This world has proper our mission is true, we have done enough and given everything to become what we are now. The journey here to find Kattegat was not easy; however, we prevail in what we do best create hell-firing WAR.

"You know as well as I that you are Hvitserk's future for all of these not to be in vein. You have to marry him not King Umpa of the Legion", (y/n) extend her arms about sketching a map of all the steps we have taken through the vile obstacles that the gods would give us just to fuck with us. Heart tightens making hard for you to not scream at the skies for the stubbornness of your sister here, "It's meant to be", She whispers under her breath trying to atone for the pain she cause Hvitserk. Ashla wears a blood red cloak tender flickers of light emit from the piece of clothing moving about as if alive. (y/n) catches sight the darkness pilling at the hem of her sister's dress. Ashla wore a black dress (y/n) has no idea how can she turn dark everything touching her body of the finest fabrics Hvitserk could find. (y/n) remembers that day by the markets Hvitserk searches fabrics for a dress to be made for Ashla, "There is a bet at stakes (y/n). Ashla told me that if I can somehow make a dress keep its color while she wears it at the next feast! She'll dance with me for as long as my heart desires", His lips press together staring from thick to soft fabrics not sure what would do. He knew that such task was impossible to achieve in his heart he knew thus still he tried to make it a reality. In Hvitserk's shared chambers with your sister, Ashla darkness among men, (y/n) has this whole plan to convince Ashla that this is madness.

"He told you? so it was you that help Hvitserk win huh?", (y/n) glances up lips curl into a genuine smile from your sisters lips. A sense of helpless washes over you when you stare into her eyes it comes with looking into darkness, "You know having share thoughts its extremely annoying", (y/n) claims knowing very well it isn't. You and Ashla are more connected than your husband and you would ever become, "Bridge fell?, Cave Bandits?, Dragon?, Saxxon army? and so on and so forth. I may be arrogant after all who better to protect you than darkness huh? Your Ragnarsson's husband? A human? ha! Cute", Ashla goes on about set reasons to avoid centering to the matter at hand, Hvitserk. You know from the way she caress Hvitserk's objects all around a sense of peace rushes in the room when Ashla's eyes soften barely showing the blood she is so hungry for all the time. War its what keeps her going, she says. War is all she needs, she continues. Love is not something she wants, liar is what she is.

It was it a time matter a jump or life ending you have no idea what was first. No one ever interrupt us discussing matters for Kattegat's future that's what we used to tell Ragnar and he had no reason not to believed us. We have won wars for him prosper Kattegat to levels they can't wrapped their minds around. Vikings are still afloat on top of the world by the era we are in they should have died long ago. It's our duties as Goddesses to keep that from happening. It was sacred, we said. After this we would part ways going to our respective Ragnarssons; however, fate laugh in our faces. I have already knew what was coming if I let my sisters even inch closer to the window she will escape my judgement as usual.

"I appreciate you, sisters", (y/n) starts stopping the raging monsters that's Ashla from continuing the rampage of her trying to evade love, "I am not discarding that I need you just as much as you need me", Ashla's black shadows Holt their movement watching Ashla do the same. She gulps saliva hearing (y/n) words trying to reason with her, "I don't know why don't you accept, Hvitserk. He has given you care and acceptance more than anyone in Kattegat had. Ragnar and Aslaug took a liking to me; however, Lagertha took a liking to you". (y/n) a satisfactory grin writes in your lips. Ashla breath for the first time since 2 weeks ago when you dare her to stop breathing to see how long a Goddess can go without air. Her shadows rejoice at the name of their war mentor a human, Ashla would have laugh, she would to anyone else not to Lagertha.

"You unhitched swine. W-why! you!", Ashla swing around ready to throw her darkness at me in a playful manner to get me back for breaking her solemn walk. It was the only person that would work among us sisters, "Hvitserk", Ashla breath out her eyes flying from (y/n) to his green ones. You glance at your right stand one of Ragnar's oldest son, Hvitserk. (y/n) lets go of the breath you were holding happy that now everything might get fix, "Ashla". Hvitserk breaths out, he blinks a couple of times before taking a step forward towards her. Ashla's hand shake a bit of an anxious habit she is well known for, but no one is brave enough to tell her. (y/n) knows thats a sign that Hvitserk's presence is affecting her. Hvitserk stops looking around localizing every single shadow of hers. They have a tendency to frighten the living hell out of him, "I told you, they won't attack you... (y/n) and you might be the only people they tolerate". Ashla blurts softly as if scared to raise her voice afraid of what might come out. They keep eye contact ignoring your presence all together, "Hvitserk and Lagertha". (y/n) corrects Ashla slight mistake.

"We need to talk", Hvitserk takes a step towards her. His hands closer to his chest though spread about hoping to get close enough to bring her into him.

"No good conversation comes out 'we need to talk' spit it out!", Ashla raises her voice a bit trying not to shout. Shouting only leads to them fighting, and she wants to enjoy this a little longer.

"We don't always see each other eye to eye. (y/n) and you have help my family keep on living for all these years with nothing in return. You given me a muse, and a reason to go into battle knowing well I'll always come out alive... my brothers don't have what I have. Sigurd has (y/n) and I can confirm I have you", Ashla got lost in his voice the way his lips move distracting her awareness. His eyes on hers is all a girl can wish for the reassurance that loneliness is long forgotten. She takes deep breath walking the couple steps towards him. She locks her arms around his back while he does the same to her, "Speak to me. I am begging you. Why? Have I fail you in anyway? Do you wish to marry me? Is that why every King or Earl thinks they stand a chance?". Hvitserk goes on to this feast trying to find an explanation for what happen. King Umpa of the Legion proclaim to Kattegat that he wants Ashla hand in marriage at the feast. The royal family's smiles left as Ashla said yes instead of no. Everyone who knows the relationship between Hvitserk and Ashla stare horrified at Ashla confirmation.

"Is it not your wish to have the greatest army of the world, Að unna? Ragnar's army are equal to none. Sigurd has (y/n) who can see our greatest and worst future. I have you, but you have no army that you can brag about. I want to give you that. I want to give you everything", Ashla takes a breathing letting her words free in the pages of destiny. A black tear runs down Ashla's cheeks showcasing the truth in her words. (y/n) has never seen her sister shed a tear not even really weep. You wait to see if she laughs at the end of her words but she never even grins. Hvitserk lets go off her tender embrace bringing his rough hand to cup her cheeks with tears on his own eyes, "I have you, Ashla. I don't need an army when I have you. You are darkness for the rest of the world, but for me you are my redemption. You make breathing a blessing not a curse. You make living paradise not hell without you in my life I would have gone mad". Hvitserk closest the gape between their lips sealing their future from now on till the ends of times.

#vikings #viking show #reader x sigurd #sigurd ragnarsson #oc x hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarson #Ragnar Lothbrok #ragnar #lagertha #aslaug #embodiment #EmbodimentofaGoddess #Embodiment of a Goddesss #goddess #supernatural reader #emotions #sadness #love

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magravenwrites · 2 years

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The Ugly Duckling - Part 2

Sihtric x OC

Part 2 for my submission for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie follower challenge, I hope you like it!

Again a huge thank you to @axe-does-writing for beta reading this for me 💕

Warnings: mentions of fighting, like three swear words, angst, fluff. Let me know if I've missed any!

Read Part 1 here

Click on the moodboard to see it in better quality.

--- 12 years later ---

Sihtric had left Elsef at Dunholm.

He had been sent away to find a man named Uhtred Ragnarson, and he hadn't returned. That had been almost four years ago.

From the time she had met Sihtric when they were both twelve, he had helped train and protect her for six years. During that time, they had become inseparable, and Elsef's feelings for Sihtric had only grown, though she had never told him in fear of losing the only friend she had ever known.

When he had left, she was unable to go with him, unfortunately still under her parent’s thumb, despite becoming a fierce shieldmaiden. But he had promised to return and free her as soon as he could.

It was during the time when Ragnar Ragnarson had attacked Dunholm to free his sister that Elsef took her chance to escape. To leave Dunholm behind for good. Just as Sihtric had done.

She had to fight her way out, coming across more than one of her former tormentors on her way. She had been only too happy to show them just how much she had learnt, wetting her sword and dispatching them to Valhalla.

They were the first lives she had taken - she had taken the lives of those that made her own life so miserable. It was a strange feeling; she only wished Sihtric had been with her.

He had been right that the torments never really stopped. But they had gotten less, especially when she and Sihtric were fighting together. They made an impressive pair. Now it was all over.

A year on, she had travelled here and there, fighting for silver. She was currently on her way to the next burrough - Coccham - she thought it was called. It was Uhtred of Bebbanburgh's new estate in Wessex. The very same Uhtred that Sihtric had been sent to find.

As she rode down by the river, admiring the sound of running water, and the chill autumn air, her thoughts strayed to where Sihtric might be now. They often strayed to him in times of peace. Or any time, come to that.

She did not blame him for leaving Dunholm when he had the chance, nor really for not returning. But she couldn't help but admit that it hurt that he hadn't come back for her, or sent word.

A painful tug pulled at her heart as she wondered if he had ever really cared for her. Had he ever had any intention of returning to her? Did she mean that little to him? Maybe he had been wounded or killed in battle somewhere? Perhaps Lord Uhtred had killed him?

She prayed to the Gods that if he had fallen, he was feasting in Valhalla and had died a quick warriors death; it was what he deserved.

She missed him more than anything. Her best friend, her only friend, the other half of herself. It felt as if there were a part of herself missing without him. He was her confidence, the one who made her feel like she could do anything, the only one who had ever accepted her for who she was. She missed his quiet presence and kind nature. She missed his sparkling different coloured eyes and his smile.

She bitterly regretted not telling him how she truly felt about him before he left. Now she might never have the chance.

She just couldn't have brought herself to risk losing him if he had not felt the same. Though now she had lost him anyway.

Taking a deep breath she pulled herself from her thoughts as the gates of Coccham came into view.

She felt a shiver of nerves run down her spine at the sight, her hands clenching onto the reins tighter, twisting them enough to make the leather creak.

It had been no happy coincidence that Cookham had been her next destination. She had intended to speak to Lord Uhtred in the hopes he might have answers about Sihtric's whereabouts.

The only problem that arose was that she wasn't sure how she would react if Uhtred were to tell her that he had killed him.

It would not be a surprise, Kjartan was no friend of Uhtred's; if he had found out why Sihtric was there or that he was Kjartan's bastard son, it would be only natural to think he would have killed him.

Elsef would have to brace herself for the hatred and blind rage that would likely take over at the news. He would have taken away her best friend, the one who held her heart. Her whole body was shaking at the mere thought of it.

It would take all her strength to not attempt running him through with her sword in his own hall, strength she wasn't quite sure she possessed.

It was only when her horse threw its head, and jerked to the side, sensing her agitation, that she came back to herself.

Forcing herself to relax, she eased her death grip on the reins as she rode under the archway and through the gates of Coccham.

Hopefully it would not come to that.

She did not get far before a guard told her to dismount and state her reason for visiting.

She did not miss the disgusted look he gave her as he took in the pagan clothing and weapons hanging from her belt.

Looking around her, from her position still in the saddle, she was surprised at how many Saxons seemed to be walking around. For a Pagan town, she had not expected so many. They all looked to be content enough; though she had not imagined they would be happy to work under a Heathens rule.

"I shall not ask you again. Get down from your horse and state your business." The sharp voice of the guard demanded once more. He had even gone so far as to put a hand on his sword in a vague attempt to look threatening.

A smirk pulled at the corner of Elsef's lips as she considered the man; it looked as though he would shit himself if she were to come even three paces closer. She tried not to chuckle at the thought.

Rolling her eyes, she dismounted from her mare. It was probably better to avoid pissing anyone off just yet.

Adjusting the fur cloak around her shoulders to better shield from the bitter wind, she turned to the guard who hadn't moved an inch since he had spoken.

"I have travelled a long way, I am merely here to find somewhere to eat, drink and rest my head for a while." She smiled lightly.

"And who knows, maybe I will find a man to hump while I am here." She joked, enjoying watching the man squirm at her vulgarity. These Saxons were too pure for their own good.

"I would also like to speak to the Lord Uhtred. Can a message be sent to him?" She continued more seriously.

"That can be arranged. Who should I tell him is asking to see him?" He asked cautiously, his interest peaked.

"Elsef Larcensdottir. He won't know me, but I am here to ask him if he would know the whereabouts of someone important to me."

"And who might that be?"

"That is between Lord Uhtred and I."

The guard considered her for a moment. "Very well. You may wait in the Alehouse, word will be sent when he is ready to see you." He replied self-importantly, before turning on his heel and leaving.

"Filthy Heathens" She heard him mutter as he left.

She guessed she would have to find the stables and the alehouse by herself then.

She stroked the white nose of her mare affectionately.

"We best find the stable first hadn't we, hmm? I'm sure I can find an apple or two as a treat, you deserve it after how far we've come." She chuckled as her mare nickered, nodding her head as if in agreement.

--- Time Skip ---

It was growing dark by the time Elsef had finished grooming her horse, finally deciding it was time to find the alehouse.

She couldn't wait for a warm meal and an ale to fill her belly. She hoped the food was good here.

Sniffing, she wiped at her nose that had started to run from the cold. She realised she had probably been out for too long when she noticed how her fingers and nose had grown numb.

Pulling her cloak further around herself, she quickened her pace, hoping the alehouse wasn't far.

It wasn't, as it turned out. It was easy to see from the golden glow of the candles that welcomed everyone in, and from the men that sat at the benches outside, clenching their tankards close, despite the cold weather.

A relieved sigh escaped Elsef's lips as she prepared to welcome the warmth from inside when a man's voice from one of the benches on her left gained her attention.

"You need to find a woman, Sihtric - a real woman. No more of this imaginary redhead you keep telling us about." A rather loud Irish voice called.

Elsef's breath caught in her throat as she processed the name. Surely it couldn't be him. Not that easily. Not after so long.

She couldn't bring herself to look at the men. Not yet.

"That's enough, Finan. Leave the poor man alone. If he wants to keep himself for this redhead, we should let him."

"Ah nonsense, Baby Monk. We all know you're just sympathisin' with him 'cause you're a virgin. You can only dream of any woman ridin' ya', just like Sihtric does." The Irishman chuckled.

"How many times! I am not a virgin!"

"You keep tellin' yourself that Baby Monk, maybe one day someone will believe ya'."

All of the men at the table laughed loudly at their obviously familiar banter.

Elsef closed her eyes at the sound of his name again. It was no good. She was going to have to look. She had to know if it was him.

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she slowly turned to face their table.

She can honestly say that, at that moment, as she took in the occupants of the table, she experienced one of the best and worst of sensations she had ever felt.

At the table, there sat a broad-shouldered man with a cocky grin on his face, whom she assumed to be the Irishman - Finan; a young man that Finan had rather accurately described as a Baby Monk;

And him.

Sihtric.

It was him. He had filled out slightly since she had last seen him, no longer the lanky, underfed, young man she had grown up with.

Despite the changes, he was still lean in his build, he had the same tattoo on the side of his head, the same dark hair tied back with a piece of leather and the same contagious smile on his face.

It was, beyond all doubt, him.

Every thought about how she would greet him, should she find him again, seemed to immediately vanish from her mind. All she could do was stand and stare in complete and utter shock.

She felt herself go light headed, at which point she became vaguely aware that she had stopped breathing at some point.

She was so confused.

She wasn't sure if she should be hurt that he was sitting here, clearly enjoying himself, while she had been travelling all over looking for any sign of him.

Had she ever crossed his mind in all the years that had passed?

Despite that, she couldn't help but be overjoyed that he was sitting here, in front of her, alive and well.

How would he react when he saw her? Would he be happy to see her too? Angry perhaps, that she had turned up and reminded him of the life he had escaped? Would he even recognise her? She had changed much herself in the four years since they had last seen each other.

Taking a stuttering breath and rubbing her sweaty palms on her breeches, she took a tentative step closer to their table.

"Sihtric?" She called softly, her voice failing her.

She cleared her throat, speaking louder when he failed to hear her.

"Sihtric?" She called, this time loud enough to gain the man's attention.

The man in question glanced at her at first, perhaps thinking he had imagined her calling him.

He did not seem to recognise her at first, but quickly did a double take, studying her more closely.

Elsef watched as his face slackened in disbelief when he finally recognised her. If she wasn't so in shock herself, she might have even found it funny.

"By the Gods...Elsef?" He whispered.

It was so good to hear his voice once more, she could almost cry.

"Hello Sihtric."

"Odin's beard. It is really you!" He exclaimed, standing from the table as if he wanted to embrace her, but could not get his legs to move.

He did not come any closer; perhaps he had the same difficulty as Elsef did. He did not dare approach in fear of her vanishing under his touch.

"Hang on now, wait a minute - Elsef? As in the imaginary redhead you've told us about?" Finan interrupted, looking between his friend and the mysterious woman that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

"Finan! You couldn't just let them have their moment could you?" The Monk admonished, smacking the Irishman in the arm.

El laughed lightly, their antics pulling her out of her head and her gaze away from Sihtric for the first time since she had seen him.

"Not so imaginary it would seem." She nodded at Finan.

Her eyes quickly darted back to Sihtric, it felt as though if she looked away for too long, he would disappear like in one of her nightmares.

Sihtric coughed, clearing his throat as he gathered his thoughts.

His eyes never left her own as he turned slightly to talk to his friends.

"Elsef, this is Finan and Osferth." He gestured to the men across from him.

"Finan, Osferth - this is Elsef… I told you I hadn't imagined her." He half chuckled.

Elsef awkwardly nodded her head in greeting at the two men, who were still sat, staring at her, as if she were some riddle to figure out.

She suddenly felt like she had intruded on something private, something she had no part in. She took half a step back at the thought.

She felt torn between running, leaving Sihtric to his peaceful life, and staying, because every part of her was screaming to never let him out of her sight again now that she had found him.

Everything about him was pulling her in, yet she had never felt so distant from him.

"Sihtric, I know you are a man of few words. But never have I known words to fail ya'. Why on earth didn't you tell us she looked so stunning?" The Irishman accused, breaking the awkward silence.

"I did! But she has only grown in beauty since last I saw her." Sihtric admitted.

"You did not do her justice," Finan remarked.

For once, Sihtric had to agree with his friend. Perhaps if he were a poet or a painter, he might have done, but words seemed to fail him when it came to describing Elsef. She was absolutely stunning.

How many times had he imagined what their reunion would look like?

Now there she stood. The once shy young girl with grubby hand-me-down clothes was gone. In her place was a tall, confident looking young woman, dressed in armour and white fur cloak. Her bright hair, still as wild, popped against the white of the cloak. It had been loosely tied back, with many curls still flying free; a familiar white feather had been attached to a braid on the side of her head. She had grown lean, lightly muscled from her years of fighting. Her cheeks and nose were dusted pink from the cold, no doubt aided by Finan's comment - She never could take a compliment without blushing. He met her eyes - they were the same bright green as they had been, he felt lost in them.

He was struck by her. He had already been smitten with her when he left Dunholm. But seeing her now, he failed to see how he could have ever left her behind. He vowed never to do so again.

As Finan would tell him - He was doomed.

He sucked in a breath, bringing him out of himself.

"You will have to watch out for Finan - He has a thing for redheads." He laughed, his heart leaping when he saw the amused smile growing on her lips. He was most definitely doomed.

"It is a pity I don't have a thing for cocky Irish men then." She laughed, turning her full attention to Finan.

"I could let you see what you've been missin'. You've obviously never met an Irishman like me before." He stood, making his way over to her, only stopping when he was close enough to touch her.

"You are drunk." She stated amusedly.

A smirk grew on his lips, leaning closer to her.

"Aye, I'm drunk on the sight of you."

Elsef scoffed lightly, rolling her eyes as she reached up her hands to rest on his chest.

She watched as his eyes lit with triumph, the smirk on his lips spreading at the thought of winning her over.

Slowly, she stood on her tiptoes, batting her eyelashes at the man, as she raised herself to whisper in his ear.

He did not see the wink she threw at Sihtric over his shoulder, before she hooked her heel behind his ankle and pushed him, tripping him so he fell flat on his back under her.

Finan's eyes widened, a look of disbelief crossing his face.

Elsef crouched over him, her own mischievous grin settled on her features as she laughed.

"And falling at my feet it would seem." She raised her eyebrow at him.

"But unfortunately for you, I prefer quiet bastards with mismatching eyes." She whispered to him, getting back to her feet to walk closer to the table Finan had just vacated.

"Sihtric my friend, you are one lucky bastard." Finan's head fell back to the floor, not bothering to get up as he shouted.

Finan was sure they would get along swimmingly in the future, if she were to stick around. Oh, the pranks they would pull together.

Elsef made her way to the table, delighting in the way she had managed to make Sihtric laugh at his friend. His smile lit up his whole face, making him look younger and more carefree. It was just like old times.

"Elsef Larcensdottir." A man called from behind her, making her look over her shoulder at him.

It was the guard she had spoken to earlier. He was looking disdainfully between her, and Finan, who was still lying sprawled on the floor.

"What is it?" She asked impatiently.

The guard straightened his back, his whole posture screaming of self-importance.

"Lord Uhtred wishes to see you now. He is waiting for you in his hall, I am to take you to him now."

Elsef looked back to Sihtric uncertainty, not wanting to leave him without having spoken to him properly first.

"I no longer need to see him, I have found who I am looking for." She told the guard.

"I am sure he would wish to see you all the same. Now if you would follow me." He demanded.

Seeing her reluctance, Finan stood up with a groan and swung his arm around the guard's shoulders, making the guard look very uncomfortable.

"Now, I'm sure Lord Uhtred can wait for once, how about you and I go and explain everythin' to him, hmm?" He grinned.

"But-"

"That's enough of that." He cut the guard off. "Baby Monk! Let's leave the lovebirds to it shall we?" Finan gestured, smiling lightly at the grateful, if slightly embarrassed, looks he received from his friend and the redhead.

"It was a pleasure meetin' you Elsef, and I look forward to crossing blades with ya on the training field tomorrow morning." He challenged.

Elsef's eyes lightened with the challenge.

"I look forward to it."

Finan inclined his head in farewell, all but dragging the guard and Osferth with him as he went.

There was a pregnant pause as the Sihtric and Elsef were left alone; neither one of them knowing where to start.

Heaving a sigh, Elsef took the final steps to the table, sitting on the stool opposite where Sihtric now sat.

Rubbing her hands together to instil some warmth into them, she gained the courage to look at the man opposite her. He met her eyes calmly, both of them lost in their own thoughts. She had forgotten how much she loved his eyes, how fascinating the colours were, how she could get lost in them. She searched them for any sign of what he was thinking.

Failing to find anything she needed, Elsef braved herself for the uncomfortable line of questions that had to come next.

"Why didn't you come back for me?" She asked lowly.

"I did." He stated, surprised at the hurt tone in his friend’s voice.

"No you didn't. I waited three years and you never came back for me, Sihtric." Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"I swear on Thor's hammer I did!" He protested.

"I was with Ragnar and Uhtred when they attacked Dunholm. After the fight, I searched everywhere for you but I couldn't find you anywhere. I couldn't even find your parents or sisters. It was like you had vanished!"

She scoffed as the realisation dawned on her.

"It was during the fighting that I fled. We must have just missed each other - if I had just stayed one more day, we would have found each other. How different the last few years might have been." She scolded herself.

Fate could be so cruel sometimes.

"It was not your fault, you couldn't have known and I don't blame you for not waiting any longer. I made you wait long enough. I am so sorry for that."

She shook her head, scratching at the table with her nails to distract herself.

"You wouldn't have found my family.." She continued.

"...My father would have been fighting, I don't know where my mother was. All three of my sisters are now unhappily married, growing fatter and greyer by the day. I almost pity them, but they got what they wanted, so they all got what they deserved. Their beauty was short lived, they were always ugly on the inside. Whereas me - I trained, I fought, I grew into my own. I am happy with where I am now. Of who I have become. I could not have done that without you. So you can imagine how hurt I was when you did not come back - I thought you had forgotten me."

"Never!" He shook his head vehemently.

"I entered Lord Uhtred's service. You have no idea how guilty I felt when I could not find you, that I failed to keep my promise to you. I am so sorry I did not come for you sooner. It has been eating away at me ever since. And now you are here. Fate has brought us together again. I only hope you can forgive me." He reached and took one of her hands, cradling it between his own.

"The Gods must have willed it. There is nothing to forgive Sihtric. I do not blame you." She smiled, squeezing his hand.

She felt overwhelmed by everything. He had not forgotten her, he had searched for her, and they had found each other at last.

She revelled in the feeling of his hands in hers, their warmth encompassing her hand, feeling it spark where they touched. She wondered if he could feel it too.

"You kept the feather I gave you?" Sihtric asked shyly, eyeing the white feather in her hair.

She reached up with her spare hand, lightly tracing it, a bashful expression crossing her face.

"I told you I would. I have kept it with me, always. As a reminder of how strong I have become. As a reminder of you." She admitted.

"You did truly grow into the most beautiful Swan." He whispered, she almost didn't catch it.

Elsef pulled her gaze away from him to where their hands were still clutched together. She wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"I don't mean just how you look - though you are a beautiful woman. You finally look at peace with yourself. You were never happy with the way you looked or how well you fought when we were growing up. But now… you look comfortable as yourself. You stand taller. It suits you." He explained at her continued silence.

Elsef laughed, feeling the blush rising on her cheeks at the compliment.

"You never could take a compliment without blushing like a virgin." He laughed, easily falling into their old banter.

"Shut up." She laughed, rolling her eyes.

They continued to laugh for a while before falling into a comfortable silence. Taking the time to appreciate how lucky they were to have found each other again.

"Did I ever tell you that swans are also fiercely loyal - they mate for life?." Sihtric said into the silence, a cheeky smile pulling at his lips.

"I don't think you mentioned that part when you gave me the feather, no. Though if that was your idea of a love confession when we were only twelve then you have been planning this a lot longer than I." She mocked.

He rolled his eyes fondly at her. Threading his fingers through hers.

"It is true though, I do love you Elsef. I have done since before I left Dunholm. I was just too much of a coward to admit it." He said gently, his own blush rising in his cheeks.

Elsef's heart leapt, he loved her. After all this time, he felt the same way as she had. Her brain seemed to stop working temporarily, as she couldn't form the words to make any form of response.

Sihtric's face fell, pulling his hands away from hers as he stood awkwardly from the table as he misinterpreted her silence as a refusal.

"I understand if you do not feel the same, a lot of time has passed, I am sorry." He rushed, turning away from her.

She quickly jumped up from the table, grabbing his hand, turning him to face her. Without even thinking she pressed her lips to his, her heart singing when she felt his lips move against her own, his hands moving to hold onto her waist.

She pulled away slowly, catching her breath as she floated down from her high.

"I feel the same, Sihtric. I have loved you since before you left too. What fools we have been." She whispered.

The most joyous smile spread across his face before he pulled her back in for another kiss in response.

When they finally parted, he threaded their fingers together once more, admiring how their hands seemed to fit perfectly together.

"Come, I wish to introduce you to Lord Uhtred. We will speak with him and you can stay here with me." He tugged on her hand, leading her in the same direction as Finan and the others had gone before.

"You won't leave me behind ever again will you?" Elsef asked as they walked.

He squeezed her hand, looking her straight in the eye.

"Never." He promised.

Hope you enjoyed!

Tags:

@deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @axe-does-writing @morosemagick @emilyhufflepufftlk @solinarimoon @lauwrite1225 @evelyn-shelby @ragsweas

#the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric #sihtric x oc #finan #osferth #Th Ugly Duckling

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emilyhufflepufftlk · 3 years

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A Cruel Game | Sihtric x OC

In celebration of @for-bebbanburg’s well deserved 100 followers.

Prompt: ‘being ordered to kill someone you’ve fallen in love with. How did you get into this situation and what will you do next?’

Tove, one of Kjartan's best warriors, is sent to kill Sihtric after he defects to Uhtred. However, her feelings for him get in the way.

Word Count: 2926

‘There are only seven heads! Go out there and tell me who is missing!’ Kjartan screamed at the closest guard. The poor man looked terrified; the last man that had been sent beyond Dunholm’s walls had been beheaded by a horseman sent from corpse hall to take all their souls. He looked like he was going to refuse but one look at his lord clearly made him remember that Kjartan was willing to inflict just as much pain on his men as any demon horseman. The great doors creaked open and the poor man scampered along the line of spiked heads, his eyes constantly darting to the tree line in case the horseman should return.

‘Sihtric, lord,’ the man shouted back. ‘It is Sihtric that is missing!’

Three days had passed since the heads had appeared outside the walls of Dunholm. Three days Kjartan had spent in a seething rage. Whether his rage was due to him losing some of his best men, his plans to finally get revenge on Uhtred Ragnarson having failed, or the unknown whereabouts of his bastard son, no one was sure. Tove thought it was probably a combination of all three.

Tove had known Kjartan her whole life. Her father had been one of his most trusted, loyal warriors who had been by his side since the days he had served Ragnar the Fearless. After her father’s death in battle when she was only nine, Kjartan had taken her in out of respect for her father. Kjartan was a terrible, evil man and deserved his title as Kjartan the Cruel, but it seemed to Tove that he had genuinely liked and cared for her father. Tove, on the other hand, Kjartan neither liked nor cared for, but he had given her food and a roof over her head, he had let her train and learn to fight, and he had prevented any of his men from using her against her will. Tove owed Kjartan a lot, without him she would have been destitute with no family to turn to; she may not like him, she despised him even, but in many ways she was indebted to him.

‘The bastard has betrayed me!’ Kjartan roared, banging his first on the table. ‘He is probably telling Uhtred about our defences as we speak! I should have had him killed ages ago, like I did his mother.’

Tove flinched. When she had first arrived, she had been terrified. Kjartan, thinking little of her, had told her to sleep with the slaves and that is what she had done. Sihtric’s mother, Elflaed, had cared for her the best she could, her kindness immeasurable. Her gory death had hit her hard, although not as hard as Sihtric, of course. They were a similar age, and although Tove wasn’t a slave she wasn’t treated much better; Sihtric had it worse, the cruelty Kjartan showed his bastard son knowing no bounds, but they helped each other through it. She had held him in her arms the whole night as he had cried his heart out after his mother’s death, and from that night on they had only had each other.

‘We do not know he is with Uhtred,’ Sven pointed out, the only man brave enough to dare to contradict his father, ‘why would he want him? He is nothing – a nobody! He would be worthless to him.’

Tove made sure to keep her face blank, she did not wish for punishment, but inside she was laughing. Sven loved to say that Sihtric was worthless, but he was a better fighter than Sven would ever be. Over the years she had known him, Sihtric had grown into a man and a great warrior. She was sure Elflaed would’ve been proud.

‘He is with Uhtred!’ Kjartan shouted again, giving his son a look that made it clear there was no room for argument. ‘The bastard has betrayed me! He must die!’

‘But how?’ Sven asked, never having been the smartest. ‘Uhtred won’t be taken for a fool twice.’

‘No, he won’t. That is why we will send someone he does not suspect,’ Kjartan snarled, turning to face Tove with a grin that made her blood run cold. ‘Who would suspect a woman?’

Tove was no longer the scared little girl who had first arrived at Dunholm. She had learnt that men would only respect her if she learnt how to fight, so that is what she had done, and now, nine years later, she was a shieldmaiden and one of Kjartan’s best warriors. This mission was not so difficult; sneak unnoticed into Eoferwic, locate Sihtric, kill him, and return to Kjartan with his head. But this was no simple mission. As she rode out of the gates of Dunholm, Tove’s heart was almost jumping out of her throat and she felt completely sick. For the first time in years, she was afraid. Afraid of what she must do. Sihtric wasn’t just a friend; over the years, as they had grown older, they had become far more to each other than that. In truth she loved him, although she had never told him that. However, her feelings meant nothing. She had given her oath to Kjartan, sworn her sword and there was no going back from that. She had her orders and she must complete them.

The only hope she had left was that Kjartan was wrong, that Sihtric had escaped and fled well away from Northumbria, but that hope soon disappeared. It hadn’t been difficult to slip into the city, especially under the cover of darkness, just like Tove knew it would be – people never looked twice at women, probably assuming her to be a whore. She had located Uhtred’s men quick enough and there was Sihtric, looking as handsome as ever. No, he was more handsome, as for the first time in his life he had hope in his eyes and a smile, a real smile, on his face. She couldn’t blame him for defecting; Kjartan had never given him a reason to be loyal to him and, by the looks of his men, Uhtred seemed to be a decant lord. But this changed nothing, Tove reminded herself.

When Sihtric stood and walked away from the other men, probably going to take a piss, Tove took her chance. Sticking to the shadows, careful not to be seen, she followed him into a side alley. She must have made a sound as Sihtric stopped dead still, even drunk his senses were better than anyone’s. Not even thinking about it, Tove grabbed him and pressed him against the wall, her knife against his throat. His eyes widened, ‘Tove?’ he gasped. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Kjartan wants you dead and he sent me to do his dirty work,’ she said in a flat voice, trying to keep her emotions from showing on her face.

‘You’re going to kill me?’ he asked, no fear in his eyes.

‘I do not want to, but I will,’ Tove forced herself to say through gritted teeth. She did not want to do this, but what other choice did she have? ‘Please, Sihtric, I don’t want to do this. Leave Uhtred and flee south, I can tell Kjartan that you must have escaped and ran. If I come back empty handed and he gets word that you’re here, he will kill me! You know this! You have to run! Please!’ She was begging now, her voice cracking from the emotion rising inside her.

‘I can’t,’ Sihtric whispered. ‘I have sworn to Lord Uhtred and he is a good lord, a great lord. I will not abandon him. I will not break my oath.’ Tove shook her head, her blade still against Sihtric’s skin, hating Sihtric for his loyalty, but at the same time knowing that was one of the things she loved him for. ‘Tove, you don’t have to do this. You can abandon Kjartan and join Uhtred. Join me! We can be together – isn’t that what you want?’

Tears were building in her eyes. That was exactly what she wanted but it was something she could not have. ‘I can’t, Sihtric! I have sworn to Kjartan, just like you have sworn to Uhtred! I will not be an oath breaker! I won’t!’

‘But Kjartan treats you no better than a slave! When you swore your sword, he swore to protect you in return. He is not a good lord; the Gods cannot blame you for leaving a man like that!’

‘He has protected me, Sihtric! Yes, he is a cruel, vile man. Yes, he has not treated me kindly. But if it wasn’t for him, I would be lying dead in an alleyway or selling myself in a brothel by now! Before he took me in, I had nothing! I am indebted, Sihtric!’ Tove sobbed, tears spilling over and running down her cheeks as she realised there was no way out of this situation.

‘So kill me!’ he spat.

‘I will,’ Tove spat back, trying to muster her conviction.

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ came a deep, Danish voice from behind her. Before she could turn to see who had sneaked up behind her, a pain blazed through her skull and she felt herself falling to the ground, before it all went black.

When Tove woke up it was light outside, although it was unclear how long she had been out for. Her head was extremely painful where she had been hit with what she suspected was a blunt object. She was in what looked like an unused part of a stable, her hands and feet tied together with rope. Looking up, she saw Sihtric sitting not far from her, meeting her eye when he noticed she was awake. He passed her a jug of water before getting up and leaving her, not saying a single word.

A few moments later he returned with two men. She was informed that the first man was Lord Uhtred, and the other man, who was huge with arms like tree trunks, was another Dane named Clapa. It had been Clapa that had knocked her out; no wonder her head hurt so much. ‘I understand that you’re called Tove?’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘The only reason you are still alive is because of Sihtric. He seems to believe that you might consider joining us. Help us against Kjartan.’

‘I’m sorry, lord.’ Tove said slowly, not looking Sihtric in the eye. ‘I’m afraid I cannot give you my sword nor my oath as they both belong to another. It is not for any love or loyalty to Kjartan that I refuse you, lord, but I cannot break an oath. I will not. And if that means I am to die, then so be it.’

Uhtred simply nodded in response. He and Clapa left soon after, leaving Tove alone with Sihtric. He came and sat on the floor beside her and took her bound hands in his. ‘He will not kill you; he respects you for not breaking your oath.’

‘Then what will happen to me?’

‘I don’t know,’ Sihtric answered with a deep sigh. They sat together for what seemed like hours, simply holding each other close like they always did back in Dunholm whenever life turned against them. The spinners seemed to have played a cruel game with them, making them fall in love only to tear them apart. ‘You have always been there for me, always. When I dreamed of escaping Dunholm, it was always with you by my side.’

She looked into Sihtric’s beautiful, mismatched eyes. ‘Me too. I never imagined a future without you in it. I knew that the future was unlikely to be kind to us, but I always felt it didn’t matter how hard it got so long as we were together.’ Tears once again fell over the brim of Tove’s eyes. Sihtric reached up and gently wiped them away with his thumb. His hands moved to cup her face and slowly brought her towards him. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, the contact bringing all the emotions Tove had tried to bury and ignore for the last few days back to the surface. This would likely be the last time she ever got to kiss him, and she didn’t want it to end, but he forced himself way. He looked guiltily at her, like he hadn’t meant to kiss her. ‘I don’t know what will happen to you, Tove. I’m sorry.’ With that he left, leaving her alone with her tears.

A week passed and there was still no decision on what Tove’s fate would be. It seemed Uhtred had more pressing matters to be concerned with. She saw little of Sihtric and when she did, he barely spoke a word to her.

It was early in the morning when she heard a clamour outside. She could hear Uhtred’s voice calling a woman’s name: ‘Gisela’ – he sounded desperate. Something was happening. Something was wrong. She heard someone running towards her corner of the stables and a few moments later saw Sihtric panting above her.

‘You have to go, now!’ he ordered her, in a rushed whisper. He undid the ropes binding her hands and feet and pulled her with him out of the stables. They ran through small backstreets of the city, which she assumed was to prevent them from being seen, his hand still firmly holding hers.

‘Sihtric, what’s going on?’

‘Lord Uhtred has been betrayed,’ he replied, emotion clear in his voice. ‘Guthred has sold him into slavery. Lord Uhtred was protecting you, now he is gone, you have been marked for execution.’

‘Won’t you get into trouble?’ she asked him urgently. She didn’t want him to be executed in her place.

‘Everyone’s too busy in the square to be worried about us. Come on!’

They reached a small side gate, a horse held by Clapa waiting for them. ‘Sihtric…’ she began. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, so many things she wanted to thank him for, but somehow all her words became caught in her throat. She threw herself at his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck as she buried her face into his shoulder to hide her tears. ‘I love you.’

He lifted her chin so that she was once again staring into those beautiful eyes. ‘I love you too.’ She grabbed the back of his head and brought him down into a passionate kiss, trying to convey everything she wanted to say but couldn’t into the action. ‘Now go,’ he urged her as they broke apart.

Tove pulled herself onto the horse and gave Sihtric one last desperate look before kicking hard and riding off into the Northumbrian countryside.

ONE YEAR LATER:

‘Every man to the walls! We are under attack!’ Tove grabbed her sword and shield along with all the other warriors of Dunholm.

Little had changed over the last year, apart from the large scar that now framed her face – a gift from Kjartan after her failure to kill Sihtric. Only the news that Uhtred had been enslaved and living a fate worse than death had saved Tove’s life, Kjartan too busy celebrating the news to bother with her too much. She had tried to keep Sihtric from her mind, but she had failed, finding herself thinking of him most days. She had thought she would never see him again, but she had been wrong.

As she ran into the courtyard towards the walls like she had been ordered to, a cry went up that there had been a breach – the enemy were within the walls. She turned, sword and shield in hand as she readied herself to slaughter the invading warriors but stopped still in her tracks. There was Sihtric, fighting alongside Uhtred.

A huge Dane came at Sihtric from behind. Sihtric was busy fighting off two other men and would be helpless to the new threat. Her feet began moving on their own accord, her body moving faster than her brain could comprehend. Before she knew what was happening, she was drawing her sword from the Danes neck and standing before a shocked Sihtric. More of Kjartan’s men came running towards them; Tove immediately moved so she stood back to back with Sihtric, ready to cut down her former comrades.

There was no time to talk. No time to explain how over the last year she had realised that she had made a mistake, that Kjartan was unworthy of her loyalty, that she should have sworn to Uhtred and been with Sihtric. All she could do was fight. It seemed she had made her choice; she had chosen to break her oath and kill those she was supposed to fight beside; but she realised to save Sihtric, she would do anything.

After the battle, Tove found Sihtric sitting alone just outside the main gates. The fortress bringing back too many memories for him to remain inside. Tove understood that. They sat in silence for a while, Sihtric’s hand in hers, their fingers laced together. ‘What happens now?’ she finally asked.

‘I go back to Wessex with Lord Uhtred. What will you do?’

‘I would like to come with you. Serve Lord Uhtred – if he’ll have me,’ she said with a slight smile. ‘I just want to be with you.’ Sihtric beamed at her and placed his arm around her, bringing his head forward so their foreheads touched. They were together, and in that moment, that was all that mattered.

#rosies100 #sihtric #sihtric x OC #the last kingdom #tlk fanfiction

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unlockyourmind-wp · 3 years

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OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN X OC | CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Eldrid Byrnjarssdottir is born a storm. Her rage is like the wind beating the waves on the rocks. Her love is the thunder burning down entire forests. Her grief is like a hurricane, destroying the land with its raindrops. She isn't made for a soft or quiet life.

In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she has gained a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Soon her fight leads her to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is looking for his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever.

When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid's wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can't turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what destiny had intended to happen all along.

DESTINY IS ALL.

Author’s note: Chapter three has arrived! This chapter has a lots of little banter moments that I love. So I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

Tag List: @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @lauwrite1225 @magravenwrites @emilyhufflepufftlk

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2417

Of Storm And Siege Masterlist

―♛―

CHAPTER THREE:

✧. ⋆ the search for the dane slayer

HEADS TURNED AS THEIR GROUP of both Danish and Saxon warriors came galloping into the town. Eldrid had to admit it felt strange to ride alongside the Saxons. She had to keep reminding herself she was doing this for Ragnar, to find his brother and not to gift Alfred back his best warrior. When she told her men of their new mission, it had taken them some convincing. But Ragnar had made his plea well and so they followed. Though she had heard numerous conversations about Uhtred and if he was truly innocent of killing Ragnar the Fearless. The men might not have been convinced about his innocence but they were willing to follow Ragnar, content with a new path to follow.

Ragnar had thought it best they would first visit the man responsible for his brother's enslavement. Eldrid had been unable to tell if it was because he wanted information, or because he wished to shame the king for his actions. Or both. And so they had broken up their camp near the beach and rode for Cumberland to visit king Guthred.

After a long ride they had finally reached the city walls. Men and women gathered around them as they rode through the streets to the main courtyard. It wasn't a big town with only a few wooden houses. The palace came into their view soon enough and it seemed to be the only building with roman walls. Their party came to a halt in front of the palace. The unrest of their arrival had captured the attention of two priests, who came walking out of the hall and unto a balcony. She imagined they must have liked their place there, high above them.

'Sister Hild and company,' the oldest of the two priests spoke, 'What is your purpose?'

'We're here on the orders of Alfred of Wessex,' Ragnar answered. 'I want to see king Guthred.'

'You are a Dane,' the priest sneered, as if that made his request somehow unacceptable.

Ragnar simply smiled and Eldrid admired his calm demeanor for she probably would have beheaded him already. But not the son of Ragnar the Fearless, who instead calmy introduced himself. 'I am Earl Ragnar Ragnarson.' He gestured towards her. 'This is my friend Eldrid Brynjardottir. And this' -he turned to Steapa- 'is the warrior Steapa, Alfred's man.'

'Alfred sends his greetings to King Guthred,' Steapa said.

'And Guthred's sister?' Hild spoke up. 'Lady Gisela. Is she here? I would like to see her.'

'She is not,' the priest said, this tone suggesting that the woman in question was a topic he'd rather avoid. 'She did abandon the city.'

'Where to?'

'I have yet to find out, but I shall find out.'

Eldrid felt the need to drive her sword through his heart grow with every word he spoke. Before she could revel in that day dream however, another man stepped out unto the balcony. He had watery blue eyes, a pointed face and blond hair. He was wearing white robes and a sword around his waist. She could tell by the small bow that both priests made that this was the king. Yet nothing about him looked kingly. Not the way he carried himself, nor the way his uncertain eyes looked at the world around him, nothing.

It was clear that the power in Northumbria did not belong to this man, nor to his priests who seemed to try so hard to pretend that it did. This was a pretend king, a man who liked to think he had power over the Danes and Saxons that lived in the land. But Eldrid could tell from just one look that it was nothing more than a fantasy he was living in.

'You're his brother?' Guthred spoke. Even his voice lacked authority. 'You're Uhtred's brother?'

Hild looked at Ragnar. 'It is Guthred.'

Ragnar nodded at her. 'I am Lord,' he replied.

'Alfred sent you to do what?'

'To find Uhtred. He is in Uhtred's depth and would not see him harmed.'

The christian king indebted to a heathen. It sounded like a magnificent story, one that would be told for many generations to come and yet Eldrid had trouble believing it. Hearing about Uhtred's greatness was one thing but she knew she would not be able to believe it until she had met the man himself. How was it that he had the mighty king of Wessex sending out soldiers to find him? He had to be more than just a soldier. She could not help but admit she was growing more and more curious about this Uhtred.

'Uhtred is lost,' Guthred said. 'I am truly sorry to say that. My apologies to both you and Alfred.' He didn't sound sorry in the slightest and it made her blood boil. Apparently he was not only a false king but a liar as well.

'There,' the older priest spoke up again. 'You've had a wasted journey.'

Eldrid could not help herself, her hand was resting on her sword, ready to pull it out and cut off the man's tongue. But she knew it would do little to help the situation.

'Rest, please,' the pretend king offered, 'here, by all means-' 'You will tell me the name of the man who took Uhtred,' Ragnar interrupted him.

'I need to gather my thoughts,' the king spoke, shaking his head in confusion.

But while Ragnar pleaded to a man who would not help them, Eldrid felt her attention drawn to a little girl who was making her way through the crowd. She was holding an apple in her hand, offering it to Hild. The nun took it and when she did, her eyes searched the crowd and landed on a Danish boy dressed in black leather. The two seemed to have a wordless understanding before the boy turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

'Uhtred is indeed lost,' the priest snapped before turning and following the king into the palace.

Ragnar smiled disdainfully, his eyes filled with suppressed anger.

'Let's leave here,' Eldrid suggested. 'I refuse to remain in the company of cowards and liars a moment longer than necessary.'

And with one last disgusted glance over her shoulder, she turned her horse and headed for the gate. The rest of the party followed, leaving the small village and its coward of a king behind. As they rode for the rest of the men they left in the field outside of the town, Eldrid rode up next to Hild, watching as the nun held the apple tightly in her hand.

'Are you so beloved by children they just willingly give you food, sister Hild?' Eldrid questioned, knowing there was more to it than that but unable to pass an opportunity of teasing the nun.

Hild did not even spare her so much as a glance. 'Being kind certainly does not hurt.' Her tone was cold, a sign that she was very well aware of Eldrid's reputation.

She was unable to stop herself from smiling. 'You're unlike any nun I've ever met.'

'By "met" I assume you mean slaughtered?' Hild said coolly.

'I don't kill innocent people,' Eldrid snapped. 'Only those who deserve it.' And it was true. She had made it her life's mission to destroy slavers and their trade of human lives. She did not kill for pleasure or to pass time. There was no honor in slaughtering innocents.

'Some might argue that no man deserves death,' Hild said, still staring at the road ahead of her.

'You don't believe that,' Eldrid replied. 'Or you wouldn't be carrying that sword.'

Finally the nun turned her eyes to Eldrid, her cold demeanor melting away like snow beneath the sun. Instead her eyes seemed filled with an infinite sorrow. Then she took a deep breath and turned her eyes away again. 'Ragnar!' She called out, slightly taking Eldrid off guard. 'I know where to go next.'

The horses came to a halt and Ragnar rode to stand next to Hild, who was holding up the apple she had been given. When she opened her hand they could all see a small piece of parchment in her palm. A few words were hastily scribbled on the yellowish paper. There was a small hole in the apple in which the paper had been hidden. Eldrid recalled the young Danish warrior she'd seen exchanging glances with Hild. He must have been the one who hid the paper in the apple and sent the little girl to give it to the nun.

'What does it say?' Ragnar asked, who, just like Eldrid herself, never learned how to read.

'It's from Lady Gisela,' Hild explained, 'it says Uhtred was sold to the slaver Jonis.'

'Why is she helping us?' Eldrid questioned, wondering who the Lady was who undermined her brother's authority so fiercely.

Hild turned her eyes to Eldrid and her face said it all. Ragnar noticed it too and let out a booming laugh. 'He had a way with the ladies my brother,' he grinned.

'Do you know where to find this Jonis?' Hild asked Eldrid, ignoring the Dane.

'I have heard several slavers mention his name,' she recalled, 'I think I might have an idea where he could be hiding.' And without waiting for an answer she urged her horse to get moving again. They followed her as she drove through the hills and over the fields, towards the coast. Most slavers had a post near the sea, easy for trade and easy for an escape route. There was a part of the coast of Northumbria she had not yet searched and so that was where they were heading first.

They galloped through the hills and rode on for most of the day. It was late in the afternoon when she could spot a small campement between the trees ahead of them. They made their way inside with her and Ragnar in the lead and with Hild, Bjorn and Steapa right behind.

A man in a blue tunic came walking up to them, his suspicious eyes narrowed at them and, subconsciously or not, his hand went to the hilt of his sword.

'We would appreciate some water, for ourselves and the horses,' Ragnar told the man.

'It's yours,' the man spoke with a heavy accent, as he gestured for some of his men to go get some water.

They dismounted and she handed the reins to one of the men. He took her horse away to a few barrels in the corner of the camp. Then they walked closer to the man in the blue tunic.

'You are Jonis?' Ragnar questioned.

The man nodded. 'I am.'

'I've been told you took a man, a warrior, from Guthred of Eoferwic. You sold him as a slave.'

The man shrugged. 'I see the faces of so many creatures.'

Eldrid took a deep breath to contain herself at hearing his words, her hand going for her sword and every bone in her body screamed for her to take her sword and run it through this man. He didn't even have the heart to call his slaves men and shrugged their life away. He didn't deserve to keep breathing a moment longer.

Her disgust must have been clearly visible on her face because Jonis took a small step backwards. Ragnar put his hand on her arm and she released the hilt of her sword. 'We're not here to open your belly, Jonis,' Ragnar promised.

'Not yet,' Steapa said, making her smile.

'I'll pay you,' Ragnar said, ignoring the scared look that had appeared in the man's eyes.

Jonis, however, was distracted by something happening behind them. 'You will not feed the slaves!' He suddenly shouted, pointing at someone.

Eldrid turned around and saw Hild had been handing out food to the chained up men and women. Her face was as hard as stone when she shouted in return: 'And you will not bark like a great fat hound!'

Surprise flashed through her as she watched the nun drop the last of the food to the ground and then walked towards them. This woman had more fire in her than any other nun or priest Eldrid had come across and she hated to admit that she loved her spirit.

'You said you would pay?' Jonis asked.

'Yes I did,' Ragnar confirmed. He took a piece of silver out of his pouch and tossed it to the boy standing beside Jonis.

'A warrior slave,' Jonis finally spoke, 'called himself Osbert.'

The name was unfamiliar to Eldrid but it clearly meant something to Ragnar because he took out another piece of silver and tossed it to the boy once again.

'There was another man, smaller, Saxon,' Jonis went on. 'A sea trader named Sverri took them both.'

'Sverri?' Eldrid said, her voice sharp and her heart pounding.

'You know him?' Ragnar questioned.

She clenched her jaw. 'We've been trying to catch him for years but he keeps on slipping through our fingers.' She turned her eyes to Jonis. 'Where is he now?'

'Wherever the sea and the promise of silver takes him,' Jonis answered. 'Life at the oar is hard and short. Sverri will return, I'm sure. Refresh his crew.'

'When?' Ragnar asked.

'Autumn and winter will pass, but, come spring, the first full moon after Sigr Blot, we will gather for business at the beach. Sverri will be there, I swear.'

'And between that time he sails where?'

'His ships plough the roughest sea, he could be any place.'

'You tell us nothing,' Hild said in frustration.

'I tell you what I know to be true,' the man snapped at her. 'All you can do is watch the beaches and wait.'

'Thank you,' Eldrid said, then in a quick movement took her sword out of her sheat and pushed it through the man's belly. She ignored the gasps of shock from the people around her and watched with a small smile as Jonis collapsed on the ground, dead. She pulled her sword free and cleaned the blood with his tunic, the blue slowly becoming stained with red. Then she stood back up and gestured for her men to start freeing the slaves. Her eyes turned to Ragnar, who was watching her with a small frown.

'It was you who promised to spare his life, not me,' she said. Then she turned on her heels and headed for her horse.

#the last kingdom #tlk #finan #finan x oc #finan fanfiction #finan fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #nellysofstormandsiege #nelly unlocks her mind

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loriendragonqueen · 7 years

Text

New Dawn - Chapter Six

Pairing: Ivar x OC

Words: 3.048

Warnings: bad language; blood; fight; magic; explicit; pain; battle;

Notes: Now we will have more action and deep feelings. And a lot o confusion. Sorry!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

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The day of the battle has come. Everybody was ready to die by the sword.

Isa was in the middle of her rituals pre fight when she heard steps coming from behind. It was her first commander.

"Eímaste étoimoi! We are ready!" he said.

"Boreíte den akolouthoún mou! You will not accompany me!" she said washing her face.

"Synchóresi? Pardon?" he asked confuse.

"Tha eínai mia dýnami gia na metakinísete ta apóvlita ólous esás gia mia máchi kérdise. Os ek toútou, entolí na boreíte na akolouthísete gia na Mercia! It will be a waste of strength to move all of you into a battle won. So I order you to go to Mercia!" she spoke a little harsh.

"Allá kyría mou... But my lady..." he tried to argue.

"Káne ó, ti ésteila! Do what I told you to do!" she shouted.

"Nai, kyría mou! Yes my lady!" and he left.

"Where are they going?" Ivar asked when the young queen got closer to his chariot mounting her brown horse.

"Mercia. We won't need them here. At least there they will settle a form of government so I can assume later!" she answered looking at the cold inside him.

"You saw something?" he stared her back.

"Maybe... Maybe not..." she laughed a bit when he blinked an eye at her.

"You have not forgotten what we'll do after the battle, right?" he opened a huge smile.

"I thought that you were mad at me, lazy dick..." she said surprise.

"Why? Because you abandoned me and acted like a bitch?" he said acid.

"Stop acting like a spoiled brat, Ivar. You know what happened to me, what I saw. I could not risk being close to you!"

"I am that irresistible?" he taunted.

"Your mouth is divine, my dear. I bet your cock is even more!" and she laughed when he wided his eyes "What? I wonder if you know how to use your dick the way you know how to use your tongue. I even touched myself thinking about it!" and she bit her lower lip.

"I... I..." he was speechless.

"Oh, Ivar, I love to make you blush sheepishly!" she laughed out loud, riding away from him.

"Wait!" he shouted approaching her.

"Just don't die in battle, Ivar... Nor you Hvitserk or you Ubbe!" and she turned to the men who were close to them "For it is not the time of your deaths yet!"

"As you wish, my queen!" they both said it together, bowing to the young woman and making her laugh and laughing themselves too.

Ivar got jealous.

"Do not be jealous, Ivar. You five conquered different kinds of my love. I love you all almost the same way, but ones more than others!" and she straightened in her saddle.

"You should love only me!" Ivar protested.

"Then I should be dead. A life without the many forms of love is no life at all. Love is not a thing to be owned, love is like the wind. You can feel it but you can't hold it or touch it. It is love that touches you!" she spoke as one of her teachings, like she used to do in Kattegat.

"Wise..." Ubbe said with a smile.

Hvitserk smiled even brighter than his brother.

"But you are more mine..." Ivar whispered to Isa.

"That we'll see after we overcome Wessex, brat!" and she winked an eye at him, commanding her horse to gallop.

As a part of Ivar's strategy for the battle, two groups were divided and Isa stayed alongside Ubbe and Hvitserk, being commanded by Bjorn. She was wearing her leather armor upon the chains. She was calmer than anyone in the field. The yearn of the fight for them was like a drug.

Not much after the running of men to disorientate the saxons, the second half of the army heard gallops coming from afar. The hearts started beating faster, except by Isa. She was like a lull, deeper than it may look. It was a matter of moments until they saw the saxons about to hit them with their horses.

"Shield wall!" Bjorn shouted out loud.

And his men obeyed.

The shock with the enemy was eminent. Blood spilled all over, men dying in both armies. It was when Isa saw their leader while she was beheading a soldier.

"Not him!" She screamed to her brethren, stopping them from killing him.

The prince got surprised.

"Remember that when you see me again, prince!" She said in his tongue "Go!"

And he stood up, running to his horse to flee.

The saxon army then ran away, what made the north men celebrate.

"It is not over yet!" she said almost as a whisper before whistling for her horse and leave to Wessex all by herself.

Isa rode to the castle of king Ecbert as fast as the remaining saxon army. Her instincts guided her towards the woods beside the castle, where she waited and watched the motion of the frightened lambs. She saw the prince arriving, she heard that his father made him king, and then she saw everybody leaving. When the place got empty, Isa went inside to see if there was something to preserve from the viking wrath.

The silence was absolute. Empty streets and corridors, nothing but dust along her way. She reached the library of the castle by instinct, as if the gods were guiding her. Quickly, she took all the meaning scrolls with her along with books, maps and paintings. She hid it in an empty trunk and dragged it to the outside, into the woods she were earlier. She knew that the northmen would burn that place to the ground, and save that little treasures was her duty.

It did not take too long to the pagan wave reach the castle. The men thought that it was a trap made by the saxons. They took precaution while entering the empty place. Isa showed up not much later, implying that she had arrived in that moment.

Ecbert, after noting what was happening, took his way towards to the Ragnarssons and Bjorn curbed him to being murdered by his fellows.

By the afternoon, Ecbert was caged the same way he did with Ragnar months ago. The old man was silent still and motionless while the five men were deciding his fate. It was when the young woman entered the room with her eagle upon her shoulder.

"If you will not need me any longer, I must go to Mercia to claim my throne!" she said in a polite tone.

"Of course I will need you, my queen!" Ivar said with his face closed in a scowl.

Isa then looked up to meet the gaze of the old man upon her. Her eagle manifested.

"King!" she said nodding her head slightly.

"Tell me, Isa, what would you do with him?" Ivar asked impatient.

"Given the circumstances, I would not kill him without a deal. For it is wise to guarantee at least two movements ahead the enemy. Your people want to farm and grow, then give it to them. They deserve it!" she said walking with her hands behind her back "However, take his word written in a scroll with his coat of arms, for it is not smart to believe in his bare words again. It might ensure your legal rights on the lands he will give you. Am I right, king?" and she looked up.

"I could not say better, queen!" he spoke amused.

"That means that a blood eagle is out of thought. At least if you don't want to transform him in a saint for his people, raising even more their anger against you!" she spoke haughty as a true ruler.

"Just as I thought!" Bjorn said staring at his little brother.

"You should be by my side, witch!" Ivar said between his clenched teeth.

"Not when you are acting like a spoiled child full of tantrums. This is not about avenging your father only. It is about the beginning of something greater, bigger than anything ever done!" she hissed frowning.

Ivar looked at her under his heavy brows feeling his core burst into flames. He was about to release his wrath.

"Well, I would do that if it was all about me. As none of this concerns me, I leave you at your own judgment!" and she petted her eagle under her beak.

"Gratias ago vos! Thank you!" said the king.

"Pro eo quod gratias ago? Thank you for what?" she asked confuse.

"Tibi gratias ago quia filium meum! Thank you for saving my son!"

She just smiled nodding and then leaving.

Ivar followed her promptly, crawling like a beast ready to attack.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he growled like a ferocious animal still chasing his prey.

"Because you are acting like a stupid boy when you should be acting like a man. You are no longer a child, Ivar, so stop acting like one!" she said without slowing her steps.

"Look at me when I am talking to you!" he ordered almost losing control, grabbing her ankle.

She swiveled in her axis and looked down. Her eagle manifested.

"Watch your tone, asshole, because I am your only ally in this fucking world. Your pain is my pain and I feel it every day. So bite your tongue and respect me!" she brawled in a severe tone "I am not your mother and I will not act like if I was. I am your ally, your friend, your..."

And she held a breath.

"Man up, Ivar!" she said before she leaves.

In the days to come, an agreement was settled between the king and the Ragnarsons, especially Bjorn. The whole west anglia was given to the elder son of Ragnar. A new dawn was emerging.

Isa watched to everything quiet, resigned into her silence. She was proud of the new conquer of the men, for she knew that that was the first sparkle of a new era. The gods has spoken that the world would get bigger from that.

The feast then began to celebrate the deal. Everybody was eating and drinking, laughing and dancing to the music. However, the young queen knew what would come next. Therefore, she waited apprehensive from afar. A quarrel then happened a little after the beginning of the celebration.

They heard the gasp when the ax hit Sigurd's ribs. Ivar has passed from the limit just like his brother. Sigurd always said rude things to him, but he never moved a finger to harm the youngest one. But, now, the blood was flowing like a river. Ivar was wide-eyed.

"MOVE!" Isa shouted running to the brothers table.

She found Sigurd almost dead on the wooden floor, being seen by the entire horde.

"Help me to carry him to a room!" she said to Ubbe, pressing her hands in the bleeding wound.

They ran as fast as they could, carrying the Snake-In-The-Eye through the halls of the castle that belonged to Ecbert. The blood marked the way.

"Bring me water and a bowl with wood and embers on it!" she ordered to Hvitserk who was beside her. He ran like the wind.

Isa undressed the bleeding man almost pale as the bed sheets and saw the damage made by Ivar. Two broken ribs and a cut in his liver and pancreas. That was more serious than she thought. So, after Hvitserk came back with the things she asked, the cure begun.

She touched the water with her left hand while catching the fire with her right. The flames became blue in contact with her skin and then red when she touched the wound. The blood stopped for a few moments and then the man begun to scream.

She was cauterizing the cuts while intoning old healing prayers from her people. The yells grew louder and louder as the cuts healed. Then was the time to fix the ribs and the fire became orange.

"I am the fire that heals the wound and I am the water that changes the changeless. I am the one who brings back the life, I am the one who lights up the path!" she said and the room filled with dense white light.

Isa took her hand away from the man's chest and walked away from the bed. Her breath was choppy and she felt dizzy.

"Bring him water and keep him in bed." she spoke to Ubbe and Hvitserk, both frightened "I shall see your brother!"

"Wait, you are bleeding!" Ubbe said as he saw her shirt clinging to her body in the same side of his brother's wound.

"I am fine!" and she left the room in a heavy breath.

Isa walked to the outside to meet the curious looks upon her. She was covered in blood from head to toes. There was tiredness upon her shoulders as much as guilt. Guilt for had encouraged Ivar's raging temper against the whole world multiple times.

"Where is he?" she asked to Halfdan.

"We don't know. Perhaps he gone hunting other of his brothers!" he joked.

"Maláka! Douchebag!" her jaws locked at the end of the word.

Isa left the men and focused her attention in the fresh trails on the wet ground. At the end of it was the young man, sitting in a large stone in the hill behind the castle, far away and looking to the valleys.

"Is he dead?" he asked feeling her presence on his back.

"Not thanks to your efforts, your fucking spoiled brat!" she answered with difficulty, coughing at the end.

"What?"

"I have saved him!" and she sat beside him lying down in her back to look at the cloudy sky.

"How?" he looked at her with surprise.

"It doesn't matter. He will live after all!" she sighed closing her eyes.

"Why? Why did you do that?" he questioned with his eyes almost jumping from his skull.

"Because of you. All I do is to fix most of your shit, because you are a fucking pain in the ass since the day I met you. Because I could not see you die for such a stupid thing, Ivar, that is why. Asshole!" she answered completely pissed with her head suspended by her hands.

He looked at her in shock.

"I hope you learn from your fucking mistakes from now on, because I am done with your anger for nothing and all the time. Fuck you and all of your bullshit!" then she coughed blood. "Arght!"

He instinctively touched his knife.

"Go on, cripple boy, rip my throat with your knife and silence me for eternity. This is how you deal with what annoys you, right? You cannot handle being confronted. So go ahead, kill me!" and she pulled him to her, making him fall upon her body wet in blood.

"You are bleeding!"

"Thanks to you, now go ahead, cut me!" she grabbed his hand with the knife and pressed the blade in her throat.

"No!"

"Go on!" she pressed even more, cutting her skin softly.

"What is wrong with you?" he yelled dropping the knife between them.

"I will not clean your mess anymore, Ivar. My debt with you has been paid a long time ago."

"Then why did you stay?" he stammered.

"Because I fucking love you, for the gods sake!" she hissed between her teeth.

"You... you..." he mumbled.

"Shut the fuck up!" she closed her eyes feeling the cold breeze freezes her pale body.

Suddenly she felt the warm touch of his lips on hers. Then she tasted the salt drop and she knew that he was crying. Her heart hit fast and stopped interspersed for a few moments. She did not know what to feel. At the end of the kiss, Ivar just collapsed upon her and cried, as he never did before. All that she did was to cuddle his head while he continued to cry, sobbing in pain. Inner pain.

She hugged him with tenderness even with her body protesting on the overweight, for she felt his amount of sorrow and rejection since his conceiving. His heart was heavier than a ton of stones.

"Arght!" she said softly in the middle of the cuddle feeling her ribs come back to their place with a crack sound.

"What..."

"My ribs came back to the place they belong to!" she interrupted him taking a deep breath at the end of the sentence.

"How did you..."

"I healed your brother the way I healed you back in the castle of Aelle. I gave him part of my health and took his wounds as mine!" and she puffed deeply before she feels her organs burn out the cuts, making her growl and muffle a yelp.

Guilty, he hid his face in-between the curve of her neck, squeezing her shoulders with all his strength.

"I hurt you. I... I apologize!" he said pressing his mouth in her cold skin, making her kiss his head as an answer.

They remained laid on the ground until the sun goes down and the moon arises between the clouds. They found some kind of peace in each other even in that moment of change.

"I want you to sleep in my chamber tonight, Ivar!" Isa chopped the silence when the first star appeared.

"Why now?"

"Because you need to know that you are not worthless as a man. You need to find your point of balance before killing someone else or being killed. That and because I promised you my first time!"

"No, my father told me..."

"It is not a choice, it is an order. I know you still think that you are dead from your waist down even after what happened in my boat, and you keep thinking you are not man enough because of it. Part of your anger comes from that. Your action towards Sigurd today proved it. Ragnar told you to embrace your hatred and I say you to embrace your flaws and wear them like an armor!" she stood on her feet "You will come with me to my chamber tonight!"

Then she left and walked back to the castle where she found a feast happening thanks to King Harald.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar's heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar x oc #new dawn #fanfiction #imagine

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