#The Last Kingdom

[theboleyngirlx]

every time ewan shows up it's to prove that he's the hottest man ever 🫠❤️‍🔥

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

What You Need

Note: woke up horny and making it everyone's problem. 

Warnings: 18+! smut, mention of blood.

Pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

Wordcount: 1,8k

Summary: after confessing your feelings to Sihtric, you had to wait until he returned from battle to find out what you meant to him.

Masterlist

You had been in love with Sihtric for as long as you could remember, ever since you first saw him alongside Uhtred. Sihtric was always kind to you, as were Uhtred's other men, yet it was only the Dane who had caught your eye and captured your heart.

Due to their constant travelling across the country it was hard to peek Sihtric's interest in you, and so you could only wonder for the longest of time. You mainly met him briefly before and after battles, as you were the blacksmith's daughter and the warrior needed his weapons to be in the best condition. And except for that one night, many moons ago when you had met him in the tavern and shared a dance late at night, you never really had a private moment with him to confess your feelings.

And so your heart was crushed several years ago when you found out Sihtric had gotten married, and your longlasting wonder had been answered. You tried to move on, getting involved with other men as time progressed, but no relationship ever lasted as simply no man was the one you had been in love with ever since you were of age to wed.

So when you caught wind of Sihtric's divorce not too long ago, you were not letting him slip away once more, and you made your move. You met him again before he was to leave, to fight what would later be known as the battle of Tettenhall, as he stopped by the smithy to have his axe sharpened and ready for war. While your father worked the weapons, you led Sihtric with you behind the stables and confessed your feelings for him. He had been as excited as he had been surprised, and not been able to give a clear answer about what exactly you meant to him before he left. But the kiss you shared in secret that day was one you would never forget, and you waited anxiously for his return.

Sihtric returned, bruised and drenched in blood, a mixture of his own and of those he had slaughtered. He looked defeated, despite winning the battle, and you wanted nothing more than to run towards him and wrap him in your arms. But you still didn't know what you meant to him, and no one else was aware of your feelings for him either, so you only smiled faintly at him as he passed you. His dark mismatched eyes locked with yours, and he didn't need to use any words for you to know what he wanted and needed, and you followed him discreetly to his home.

Once there, you sat upon his wooden table while he sat on a chair in front of you, and you wetted some cloths to clean him up. You carefully removed the blood on the shaved side of his head, finding a wound as a partial source, and you tended to it. Sihtric was quiet as you took care of him, glad to be home safely again but his mind was still left on the battlefield, and you could tell. You removed the rings around his tattooed fingers and his arm braces, cleaning his hands and arms while checking for any wounds. But with the exception of some minor cuts and several large black and green coloured bruises, he seemed fine. 

You then removed his leather belt and worked the laces of his blood stained leather armour, and Sihtric groaned softly when he moved his body to help you take it off. He then pulled his tunic off over his head and sat back left in only his undergarments, after he had taken off his boots as well. You washed his impressive and scarred torso, relieved to not find any more damage than had been previously done to him already.

Sihtric then asked you to brew him some tea to help soothe his aching muscles. And while you retreated to his kitchen, he cleaned his privates and his legs, feeling equally relieved that no threatening damage had been done to him, despite getting awfully close in reach with Death after he had fallen down during the fight. But he did not want to tell you about the incident, for he had made it out alive and that was the most important thing.

Sihtric knew you loved him, and he had always loved you too if he had to be honest. His marriage had been a happy one despite that truth, until he was abandoned by his wife. He never forgot about you, even though he knew little about you. But like you, he often fell asleep reminiscing about that night in the tavern, where you had shared a drink and danced together that one time only. But it was one of his happiest memories, and it was the memory that crossed his mind during the battle, while he had clutched his hands around his axe and had braced himself to depart to Valhalla right there.

It would have been an honourable death, and a peaceful one too, for the last thing on his mind would've been your smile and the way you had looked up into his eyes in the dimly lit and crowded tavern, his only regret being that he had never humped you.

You joined Sihtric as he sat on his floor, upon the softest and thickest furs while a fire in the hearth burned brightly in front of him. He had thrown a fur cloak around his shoulders, only to look somewhat presentable for you after he had washed himself.

'Do you ever get tired of it?' you asked after a lingering silence while he drank the hot brew you made him, 'the battles, I mean.'

'You get used to it,' Sihtric replied softly, 'and I enjoy it if I'm honest,' he paused, 'does that make me a bad person?'

'No,' you said, 'I think you are a good man, Sihtric. And you deserve good things.'

Sihtric smiled faintly as the crackling sound of the burning wood and the soft orange glow of fire made for a pleasant ambiance. His eyes looked beautiful as he gazed at you, the flames visibly dancing in them while a different sort of fire began to ignite within you both.

'Will you stay?' he then asked, his voice warm and smooth, 'stay the night?'

'If you wish for me to stay,' you smiled shyly.

'There's nothing I'd want more,' Sihtric said and snuck one arm around you, pulling you closer, 'did you know you always made my heart skip a beat whenever I saw you?'

'Really?' you laughed softly, then hummed, 'why did you never tell me?'

Sihtric shrugged, 'I didn't think I had a chance. I still don't think I have a chance.'

'You were the only one who ever had a chance.'

Sihtric looked at you, with a soft yet intense gaze. And suddenly his need for you, which had been kept hidden deep inside of him for many years, finally took over. He dropped the empty cup on the floor and grabbed your face, firmly but never bruisingly, and he kissed you in a way he had never kissed anyone before. The fire crackling sound faded as you both only heard the sound of your lips while you kissed passionately. You wanted him to forget the horrors he had endured and you wanted him to release the tension his body held, so you kissed him while you slowly pushed him to lay back on the furs.

You kissed your way down, nipping at his neck and shoulders, trailing your lips down over his muscular chest and hearing him struggle to steady his breath as you neared his already exposed and twitching cock. You'd been lusting over this man for far too long, so you weren't wasting any time now that you could finally have him. You placed one hand on his chest while you worked his length with your other, teasing with your lips while preparing him with your saliva which you used to wet him. Sihtric moaned softly as he pushed himself up his elbows, and you watched his head fall back while he smiled after you wrapped your lips around his cock.

You sucked him off greedily, taking pleasure out of his increasing moans which were almost pathetic while he desperately withheld from shoving his cock completely down your throat. You felt him twitch in your mouth with each stroke of your tongue, and you bopped your head sloppier and needier with each passing second. You desperately wanted to see him spill his seed, to feel him spill on your tongue and let it drip down from your swollen lips, you wanted to feel him spill over your face and your neck, and you wanted to feel his warm load spill all over your tits.

But you pulled away before he could climax, and without him needing to say the words, you hastily pulled the top of your dress down while he hiked up your skirt, and he pulled you on top of him with ease despite his aching body. You gasped when you sank down on his length, being stretched pleasantly, and he felt even better than you had imagined all those years. He placed his big and warm hands on your waist while you began to slowly ride him, only gently increasing your speed, wanting to savour this moment. Sihtric hummed, almost growled and moaned under his breath while he looked up at you with love intoxicated eyes, completely bewitched by you, your body and the way you rode him so sensually yet so filthy, better than any experienced whore he had ever been with.

'You,' he murmured, 'you're exactly what I need,' he paused as a sudden loud moan escaped his lips, 'you've always been exactly what I need.'

You moaned his name in a sweet whisper while taking his cock entirely, allowing him to bury deep inside of you while he spoke to you.

'Tell me,' he husked with ragged breaths, 'by the gods, tell me what you need, darling. I want to be everything that you ever need.'

'You,' you moaned as he took your hands and kissed them all over, 'I just need you, Sihtric, you're everything I need. Always.'

You continued to ride him, feeling his throbbing cock while he neared his high and he brought one hand to your cunt while his other firmly squeezed and massaged one of your breasts. He stimulated your core with his rough fingers while you bounced needily and rapidly on his cock, feeling your walls clench and the tension in your body grow tighter and tighter, until you couldn't take it anymore. You came on his cock only seconds before he spilled deep inside of you, riding out your high while Sihtric laid back with his hands behind his head, gazing up at you as you both slowly came down again.

He then wrapped you in his arms and covered you both under the furs, where he kissed you lovingly and swore to love and protect you if you would allow him. And you promised each other you would be everything each of you needed, for as long as you were both blessed to live.

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[whitedarkmoonflower]

Dream

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: @foxyanon this is for you. Your request was absolutely amasing and I just hope I've done justice to it. 💖My warmest thanks to lovely @arcielee for beta reading, you are awsome and your comments literally made my day 😘

Warnings: angst, longing, some lowkey SMUT 18+ nothing explicit, use of she/her pronouns.

Word Count: 2,6 K

Inspired by the The Apparition by Sleep Token

Why are you never real? Whenever you appear You leave me with that grace I am trembling with fear But I know that you will disappear Just as I awake Whisper in my ear Well, I believe Somewhere in the past Something was between You and I, my dear And it remains With me to this day No matter what I do This scar will never fade

He awoke with a silent cry trembling on his lips, hands instinctively reaching to wipe tears from his wet cheeks, his breath panting as if he were drowning in his own sobs. He had dreamt of her. Again. 

The sensation lingered in his fingertips: the soft touch of her palm against his, the echo of her laughter wrapping around him like a warm summer breeze on a cool evening. He couldn’t recall her face anymore. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure she was real; just a fleeting memory or fantasy conjured by the ghosts of his past, taunting him anew.

And yet from the moment he had set his foot on Dunholm’s rocky ground, he dreamt of her almost nightly. The sweetness of their shared moments intertwined with the bitter ache of longing, all overshadowed by the burning flame of guilt for having failed her, that made him wake up with a cry, forehead covered in sweat and heart racing. 

Sihtric’s eyes wandered the small room, slowly adjusting to the darkness, disturbed only by the faint glow of the waning moon. With a deep sigh ripping through him, Sihtric swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself up. His bare feet brought him to the window. The rough uneven wooden floor was a constant reminder of the past times indelible from the deepest corners of his mind, of times long ago when his feet pounded the very same wooden floor, with each step carving the memory of these paths into his very being.

The dreams were too real, clinging to him with all the colours, smells and sounds, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. A taste of remorse and longing.

Sihtric lifted his hands, shielding his eyes with his palms and gently rubbing them, as though attempting to cleanse himself of the haunting impressions left by the dream. He had seen her so clearly, the colourful images spinning around in his head. 

Her hair loose and billowing in the wind, her merry laughter a bright messenger of joy as she skipped through the meadow, the gentle fingers of the rising sun caressing her glowing skin. 

She was the light in the darkness, the breeze of the fresh air in his lungs. Her laughter was a thread through the haze of his crippled existence. Just as the damp earth after a rainfall carries the scent of rebirth, her aroma was that of a promise of a new beginning – a gentle mix of sweet wild berries and midsummer flowers woven into her hair.

His body and mind ached for her, longing for their fingers to intertwine as he would willingly follow her wherever she led.

And then the kiss – his very first. Fingers trembling, heart pounding against his chest like a wild drum. She leaned against the sturdy trunk of the oak tree by the river, the tranquil sound of water splashing against the sandy bank filling the air. Pressing his palm against the rough bark, he sought to steady his racing heart, drawing strength from the solid presence of the majestic giant. The softness of her pale skin thrilled him as his other hand gently touched her cheek, tenderly guiding her gaze towards him.

“I… I want to kiss you,” he whispered softly, his breath catching in his throat, drowning in the depths of two sparkling eyes, pleading for his touch.

“What are you waiting for?” A sweet, lighthearted giggle echoed around him, and he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. With closed eyes, his dry, chapped lips timidly brushed against her soft ones, like a fragile whisper dancing on the edge of a sigh, like two lonely travellers adrift in the vast expanse of a starlit night, seeking refuge and salvation. 

“Sihtric ...” his name rolled off her lips, mingling with a soft whimper as his both palms cupped her face, their breaths picking up.

Sihtric's fingertips traced down to his lips, pausing there. He stood motionless for a moment, leaning against the window frame, arms crossing over his chest and breath catching in the cool night air as he attempted to summon her face from the depths of his memory. Yet it remained elusive and all he found was shadows dancing in his mind's eye. A silent curse escaped his parted lips. He had long ago banished these memories, fortified them behind a wall of self assured certainty that there was nothing he could do, that it was for the best. 

The mocking grin of the moon looked down at him from the height of his throne in the nightly sky. It sent shivers down Sihtric’s spine. 

"I didn't abandon her, I was sent away," Sihtric whispered, the words barely audible over the night's gentle breeze. "Away... away... away..." echoed through the empty yard, his own voice a cruel taunt. "I inquired about her in the village after the fall of Dunholm, but no one knew anything.”

The sound of his fist connecting with the wooden wall shattered the serene silence of the night. The impact reverberating through the stillness like a thunderclap – hollow and darksome. 

Yes, he had searched for her. A solitary visit to the nearby village where he knew she hailed from, greeted by anxious faces hastily retreating into their ramshackle homes, peering cautiously through the safety of their shuttered windows. The presence of Danes had always brought fear and uncertainty to them.

He had inquired about her at the small, dusty inn, amidst discussions of purchasing horses and timber to aid Ragnar in repairing the damaged gates. The host, suspiciously eyeing them, poured ale and swiftly pocketed the silver Uhtred had tossed his way.

Sihtric wasn’t sure what he had feared more: finding her happily married, her eyes denying him recognition and filled with fear, or discovering her waiting for him, unable to offer her anything. Nevertheless, he asked, quickly finding satisfaction in the host's indifferent shrug, as he explained that many had left in recent years due to meagre harvests, and there were no women matching Sihtric’s description in the village.

It was that one moment as they mounted their horses, Sihtric thought he heard her voice, calling his name. He cast a wary glance around the deserted square, the only sound a mocking crow's cry echoing through the stillness. He shook his head, as if trying to dispel a vision, before leaving his past behind like a worn boot—ten long years ago.

And now he stood once more in this place—Lord of Dunholm, a title that sent a shiver down his spine with each utterance. The shadows began to shift, the night's veil slowly lifting to reveal the faint glimmer of the sun lingering behind the horizon.

“I... I crave you... it's something I can't conceal... I've never seen anyone so beautiful..." his breath grew ragged, the silkiness of her flawless skin beneath his fingertips stirring an excitement unknown to him.

"Oh God," she gasped, her body arching against the soft blanket of moss and grass he had carefully laid her upon, his clumsy fingers seeking their way to her core, hungry lips stealing the soft moan escaping her.

"Please, tell me to stop," he pleaded almost desperately, voice quivering, unsure, even scared of where this journey would lead them. Yet unable to release her, unable to tear his gaze from her. 

“Don’t… please, don’t stop,” a shaky moan from her parted lips forced a low groan from him, his fingers dipping in her hot tightness. “It feels so good, too good… Sihtric, please, I want to feel more of it. I have never felt anything like this before,” she whispered through panting breaths.

He had never touched anyone like this before; his limited knowledge gleaned from overhearing drunken chatter around firesides or hushed conversations in the kitchens as staying unnoticed had become almost second nature to him. 

His own breathing getting more and more uneven with each quivering whimper, each soft moan leaving her lips; he watched her body responding to his touch, her breasts heaving, gaze getting glazy and eyes rolling back into her head.

She seemed almost otherworldly to him—her eyes curious and trusting, unburdened by fear or suspicion, her smile so radiant it felt like the warmth of the first sun rays in spring melting the snow of his desolation.

What had he done to deserve the gods sending her his way? A vision on an early morning, peacefully gathering flowers in the solitary meadow by the river where he had brought the horses to graze for the first time. His resort, a ray of light, piercing the dark loneliness of his soul, keeping him from drowning in it. 

Each time he returned, fear gripped his heart, his eyes scanning the secluded meadow, his back against the lonely oak by the riverbank. What if she didn't come? But she always did, and his heart danced with joy, bathed in the soothing warmth of her genuine smile. 

It had been so long ago. He had been just a boy, falling in love for the first time in his life.

Sihtric rubbed his sleepy eyes. Not a day passed without him believing he had caught a glimpse of her—whether in the shadows of the long corridors, the dark corners of the spacious great hall, or even his own bedroom. He knew his mind played tricks on him, yet each time his eyes seemed to capture that fleeting silhouette; he couldn't resist leaping to his feet, reaching out only to grasp empty air.

Hastily dressing in his breeches and boots, he tugged on a linen shirt while descending the stairs, snatching his leather tunic on the way out. Urged by an inexplicable force, he allowed his feet to guide him to the stables where he mounted his unsaddled mare.

"Open the gates!" his voice boomed across the yard, jolting the drowsy guards into action. They hurried to obey their lord's command, their eyes wide with surprise as they watched Sihtric spur his horse into a gallop.

The old, majestic oak tree welcomed Sihtric with a soft rustle of its green leaves in the wind. Leaning his head against the mighty trunk, he pressed his palms against its weathered bark, seeking solace and reassurance in the tranquil serenity of its solid presence, just as he had done before.

“Oh Sihtric,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders, as he slowly forced himself inside her. The feeling of her tight walls gradually parting, wrapping around him and letting him in so overwhelming, he was afraid he would pass out. 

Heart frantically beating against the cage of his chest, he froze, breath withheld, seeing tears pearling in the corners of her closed eyes. 

“Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?” 

A vehement shake of the head, her hips rising to meet him, was the only answer, and he leaned in, trembling lips brushing against her parted ones to kiss away the deep sigh drifting from them. 

“I love you, Sihtric!” 

“I love you too, and I always will,” he breathed, his hips starting to move, meeting hers with every slow thrust, breath quickening, like the rush of a rising tide. 

He had never put much stock in the tales his mother whispered under the veil of night, her gentle hands pulling their only blanket tighter around him, shielding him from the cold. Stories of beautiful angels, guiding lost souls back to the light—until he encountered one. An angel in disguise, wandering the earth and plucking flowers from the meadow.

She arched her back, enveloping him in the embrace of her fragile arms, and he buried his face in the curve of her neck, drinking in her sweet, intoxicating scent, his deep moans mingling with her soft whimpers.

He had meant every word of it. Without a shadow of doubt clouding his mind, he had made a promise—a promise destined to be shattered in the days that followed, as the Norns had already woven the threads of his fate, laughing over his youthful resolve.

Tears blurred his vision as he made his way back to Dunholm. He had waited until the first rays of the sun, knowing it was futile, knowing she wouldn’t come, as it was not the right day. There had been no goodbyes, no sweet kisses sealing the promise to return—just a lonely heart carved into the thick bark of the old oak tree, the silent witness to their happiness.

The sound of a dry branch cracking beneath feet jolted Sihtric, prompting him to turn his head.

“My lord, are you alright?” a slightly concerned voice inquired, and Sihtric's moist eyes met two sparkling, mismatched pools of brown and blue.

“I... I’m...” he stammered, his own uncertainty mirrored in the growing fear in those eyes as they darted down to his chest, fixating on the pendant of Thor's hammer hanging there.

Before he could utter another word, two gentle hands released the wild flowers they were holding, allowing them to scatter to the ground as the young girl spun on her heels and began to flee.

"Wait, please! I mean you no harm," Sihtric finally found his voice, but the girl paid no heed.

Sihtric remained rooted to the spot, unable to shake off the shock that held him captive, his gaze tracing the slender silhouette as it vanished from view. Eventually, he stirred, though the girl had already disappeared into the depths of the meadow and the forest beyond.

Driven by an inexplicable compulsion, he followed. Though he didn't want to frighten her, his feet seemed to move of their own accord, propelling him forward through the thorny underbrush. Long branches reached out like bony arms, clawing at his bare skin and leaving behind bloody scratches and bruises, yet he hardly noticed. Emerging from the forest, he beheld a crooked house nestled amidst a small garden.

Approaching cautiously, Sihtric scanned his surroundings, searching for signs of life. 

Engrossed in your work, you hadn't noticed anyone approaching. The weeds had begun to overtake your small carrot bed, a task long overdue for attention. A cough caught your attention, prompting you to straighten up and glance over, wondering who had ventured from the village to your secluded home.

You both just stood there, eyeing each other with disbelief and bewilderment. Sihtric shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, unable to tear his gaze away from you, unable to believe what he was seeing. 

Here you were—his ghost, his dream,  the most beautiful face he had ever seen, his most cherished memory locked away from his consciousness due to its unbearable pain.

Your fingers released the hoe, letting it slip from your grasp to fall to the ground at your feet. Covering your eyes with your hands, hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you staggered, struggling to maintain control over your wobbly knees.

In two long strides, Sihtric was beside you, his strong arms encircling your shoulders, providing support. Torn between the desire to push him away and to melt into his embrace, you remained rooted in place, sobs wracking your body as he enveloped you in his warm presence, like a comforting blanket.

"Gods, you are here. You have always been here," Sihtric whispered, his lips grazing your hair. "My love… I… I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. Will you ever believe that? Will you ever forgive me?"

"Mom, in the meadow where you always send me to pick flowers, I met a Dane today," a girl's voice rang out, as she appeared in the doorframe of the old house, freezing in her tracks as her eyes widened at the scene before her.

"She is mine. Isn't she?" Sihtric asked, tears starting to flow freely down his cheeks, yet he made no move to wipe them away. He didn't need your confirmation.

With a soft thud, he allowed himself to sink to the ground, his knees meeting the damp earth of the garden as he buried his face into your belly, arms enveloping your frame. The fearless warrior and the Lord of Dunholm cried, unashamed of his tears, while your fingers gently stroked his hair.

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[roshobbithole]

Finan - The Last Kingdom

[verenahx]

For all the Sihtric lovers out there I’ve made an audio with his voice; enjoy girlies 🫶

if you like it tell me if I shall do more :)

after not posting since forever I’ve decided to bless you all.

[ai generated]

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[legitalicat]

Appalachian Trailer Park!Sihtric - dating (SFW)

AN: This was supposed to be headcanons but now it's just turned into ramblings oops. This is not necessarily meant to be a universal Appalachian experience portrayal, but it is basically very close to mine and most people I grew up with. 😅

Masterlist here!

CW: Some sad moments, character death, AFAB!reader, talks of murder, talks of violence, blood a little, FLUFF (like tooth rotting kinda vibes)

Pairings: Sihtric Kjartansson x You

Word count: I'm guessing between 1 and 1.5k but I'm not real sure 😬 I kinda went crazy I will admit

You had lived in the same trailer park in the foothills of Appalachia your entire life. Despite anything that might lead someone to believe different, you liked it here. True, part of you longed for more. But how could one find more when their heart belonged to the mountains?

And maybe the cute guy who lived in the trailer across from yours had part of the reason to do that.

See, Sihtric moved in with his grandma, across from you, when you were both just entering high school. Your momma found out that Miss Ethel's daughter had been killed by her husband, and she had to take in her grandson because of it.

Miss Ethel was a lovely woman. She always volunteered to watch everyone's kids, during the summer she'd help provide the lemonade and the jar for catching lightning bugs. If anyone needed anything, from a cup of sugar to knowledge on hiding a body, Miss Ethel was there.

So, your little community welcomed the boy without a doubt. He didn't really cause any trouble, for the most part. Mostly just cussing in front of the little ones without thinking or throwing something in a fit of anger and making a loud noise.

Surely, wasn't a punishable crime.

Though it helped that you, the girl who helped tutor anyone who asked and baked cookies for the miners to have after their shifts, was sweet on him.

And boy, was he sweet on you.

He was working on his dirt bike in the driveway and you stepped onto your porch. Immediately, he fumbled around and dropped his wrench and cussed like a sailor.

Your cheeks heated up and you would debate to yourself on whether to go back inside or pretend like he wasn't there.

But your eyes connected. You waved. He waved. And it was the easiest thing in the world.

You started dating that same night, after he offered to teach you about his dirt bike and it ended with him kissing you.

Despite the doubts, you and Sihtric stayed together through it all.

Every year in high school began and ended with you walking through doors of the school hand in hand.

You both graduated, though him only by a thread.

He was there as you started college two towns over, close enough to commute daily so were still together.

You watched as he started working for the local garage.

When you were both twenty, Miss Ethel passed.

It felt sudden, especially for Sihtric, but you found out she had been sick for a while and just hid it from everyone. Including her grandson.

If anyone asked him, you were his rock.

You explained the situation to your college professors, and if you could make sure to keep up with your assignments according to the syllabus, they would find a way to make it work.

So you all but moved in with him officially in the weeks following. You had originally planned on waiting until you got your degree.

But you felt the need to take care of him. And at first he was just angry, angry at everything and the world and the gods and even God who he didn't believe in. He was going to work and coming home and going straight to bed. He wasn't eating, wasn't talking to you.

So, like any good girlfriend, you told him either he let you help him or you would beat him with a broom.

For the first time in weeks he laughed. You started staying with him that night and you just never left.

Before you knew it, you had graduated college, gotten a job in your field, and Sihtric was being poised to take over as shop foreman in the next few years.

And yet, you stayed where you were.

The trailer was nice. It would be fine until you got enough money saved up to buy a house big enough for the brood that Sihtric seemed to want.

For now? For now you had everything you needed. Sure the windows leaked sometimes if the rain rolled down the metal wrong way. Sure, Sihtric would sometimes have to spend a few days working on something else that broke.

But you had him. And that was enough.

The weeks may have been dedicated to work, but the weekends were for you.

Yes, you both always went to bed together. You always were affectionate (the man was a hugging machine after all).

But Saturdays he would wake you up by running a bubble bath for the both of you, using your favorite scent.

Then you would go get breakfast, usually going to Tudor's Biscuit World so he could get a bacon egg and cheese biscuit bigger than your face. You would get, as you called it, a deconstructed pot pie that you joked with him you would leave him for. He would tell you that would give him more money to work on his car.

But he would get you a pot pie at least once a week just because it made you smile. And you would get in the way help him at the fourteen million car parts stores he would go to just because you loved seeing him do what he loved.

Sometimes you'd go to the mall. It was slowly dying, all the family friendly fun stores quickly leaving. But there were still some good parts.

Like Rural King where you could get free popcorn and look at turkeys, chickens, and rabbits (plus any dog that people brought with them).

You would inevitably get sad when you were reminded you couldn't bring home the animals. Like, tears in your eyes, heart aching sad because you just wanted them to have a home.

Which would be forgotten, until you came back at least, when Sihtric promised you he would buy you a milkshake and a stuffed animal or a book of your choice.

Sihtric watched as you practically skipped to the bookstore. You spent an hour there, talking about books you wanted to read but couldn't buy because you couldn't buy the whole series and you were not doing that to yourself right now.

So, after getting your milkshake, you would go find a stuffed animal that spoke to your soul.

He would carry around the contenders for you, because it was those specific ones that spoke to you and you couldn't risk putting them back until you were certain.

And when, inevitably, you came to two that you couldn't pick between, he would tell you get both.

He spoiled you, truly.

Sometimes you would go to a local bar. Not because you personally drank, but mostly because watching drunk people do karaoke tickled something inside your brain.

It also meant Sihtric would wear his white tank top, which showed off his arms in the perfect way. And maybe you would be jealous over the way women looked at him. But how could you be when his arms were wrapped around you all night.

The man was not at all subtle about showing you off.

And if a drunken idiot got too bold with his words about you, Sihtric would suddenly be in protective mode. His voice firm and commanding when he gave the warning to the idiot, making your face a little hot (which you swore had everything to do with embarrassment and definitely not how his voice affected you).

If that wasn't enough to deter someone, and they dared touch you, that was it.

See the only reason you and Sihtric had not been banned from this bar was because Sihtric played just inside the rules.

No fighting in the bar. Fine. Sihtric wouldn't.

He would just gently move away from you before grabbing whoever touched you and throwing them out the door and into the dirt.

He would spend a few minutes wailing on the idiot, getting hit a time or two himself since he had had a few drinks.

But he would come back, knuckles busted, some blood on his shirt or spattered along his face, a bloody lip.

He would settle back in his spot as a waitress brought y'all an ice bucket and the first aid kit (which they regularly replenished now because of Sihtric).

You would get him just cleaned up enough, his hands in the ice for a few minutes at best, when he declared he was done and tired and just wanted to be with you.

So you would drive home, with a tipsy Sihtric singing loudly whatever love song played on the radio cause you would need further proof of his love.

You would settle into bed, being held close to him as you read to him until he fell asleep, and you followed him soon after.

Sundays would depend on you.

Sihtric practiced Norse paganism. You parents were very active in their Methodist church. It caused some conflict, especially when Sihtric started talking about your future children.

If you wanted to go to church with them, Sihtric would kiss you before you left to go and be in the parking lot to pick you up afterwards. There would always be flowers waiting for you. Sometimes it would be dandelions, as you insisted they were beautiful even if they were weeds, sometimes butter cups, and sometimes you got lucky and he had seen tiger lilies.

He would smile at you and kiss you while he handed them to you, ask if the service was good, and then take you somewhere to get lunch.

If you didn't really partake in their church, you both would stay in bed until noon. When you would wake up, you'd crawl out of bed and cooked some breakfast foods that would wake Sihtric up. He would sleepily stumble in the kitchen, grabbing the coffee you set out for him.

Sunday was a lazy day. You guys lounged around the house. Sometimes you both would play video games, sometimes you would watch a show.

There were times when Sihtric's friends from work, Uhtred, Finan, and Osferth, would come over on Sundays. You liked those guys a lot, if you were honest. They were all respectful of you, and kind, and Osferth cleaned up after them so you wouldn't have to. And mostly, they made Sihtric happy.

Sihtric and you would walk over to your parents' for Sunday dinner around 5pm.

Despite the differences in beliefs, and the way your dad not so subtly didn't really like him, Sihtric was respectful and kind to them.

He was the one who insisted you come, telling you he would give anything to have dinner with his family one more time, even if he didn't remember his dad fondly. Family was important to him, even if yours didn't like him, and he wanted you to have that

He would stay quiet, even taking his hat off when your dad would say grace.

He would make polite conversation, always eagerly bragging about you whenever he got the chance.

Sihtric would compliment your momma's cooking. She liked him, but since your dad didn't she tried to act like she didn't.

But she always managed to get him a little extra food to take home, would put his favorite cobbler in the dessert rotation, and make sure his favorite drink was always somewhere to be found.

Your dad was polite. That was about all he could manage. And that was fine, according to Sihtric, because he knew your dad couldn't bitch him out for making you happy.

Sunday nights would end back in your home. You would listen to his talkings of your life together. The promises he made.

He insisted once he became foreman, he would buy you a big house with a dishwasher and enough room for all the animals you could ask for.

You two would be able to have a family of your own, ideally with four children or more, and he would give you everything.

You assured him you knew he would keep the promises he made you. But you always thought to yourself how you would be perfectly content with him, here, forever.

You had a roof over your head, food in your kitchen, electricity and water on demand, and a whole lotta love. You had Sihtric.

It was a simple life. But it was yours.

Side note I could not find the original source of this picture if someone knows please let me know.

Taglist: @foxyanon

[octoberdiariesx]

6 am and here i am, missing my boys 🥺

[lord-aldhelm]

Aldhelm's Brooch

Handmade by me, from Super Sculpey polymer clay, and painted with acrylic paints to resemble antique bronze. It measures 3 inches (10cm) in diameter. I sculpted onto a watchglass so I could get a curvature. The watchglass was removed after baking. It took me approximately 25 hours from start to finish.

A lot of fans talk about wanting a replica of Uhtred's sword. However, I wanted something more personal and meaningful to me. I had been planning to make this brooch for over a year now, and finally had the time and motivation to do so.

Progress photos and reference screenshots below the Keep Reading.

Progress photos. I rolled out the clay and molded it onto a watchglass. Then I printed out my sketch and used a pin to pinpoint the locations of the main features (the little spheres). Afterwards, it was just a lot of fiddly sculpting work to create the details. This was 100% done by hand; I did not use any molds or pre-created forms for this.

Painted version in indoor lighting.

Screencaps of the brooch. And you can see what I had to work with here, lol. Weird fact: his brooch changed color over the seasons! It was shiny gold colored in season 3, silver in season 4, and antique bronze in season 5. Don't know why it changed so much. Aldhelm's brooch is very unique and particular to him. He had a standard large bronze Mercian boar brooch in season 2, just like Aethelred, but for some reason that was changed to this one in season 3. It seemed to coincide with the change in his apparent personality, so I wonder if it was intentional or not?

[hoosbandewan]

🎂✨ 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐄𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥! ✨🎂

[alwaysaliceangel]

Uuff, nunca es suficiente, a veces quiero hacer explotar ese botón!

[theboleyngirlx]

EWANNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!! HE’S SO RADIANT!!!😭❤️

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

A Danish Werewolf in The City

Sihtric's Lore.

Note: additional lore to my werewolf!Sihtric fic. 

Warnings: 18+! horror/gore/murder described.

Pairing: none, just Sihtric.

Wordcount: 1,7k

Masterlist

Sihtric's eyes darted over the cut out pieces of newspapers, after he had taken the old shoebox they were kept in out of his last moving box. The lid had come off during the travel to his current location; his brand new house in a brand new city. He had recently bought the place as he had obtained a new job as a vet, another attempt to start all over again after his turbulent life. Sihtric had moved towns often in his lifetime, in order to keep his werewolf identity hidden, but now that he was a fully grown man and had his werewolf urges under control, he hoped he could finally settle down and stay in one place. It was the first day of his new life, but he would never be able to run away from his past completely, and he couldn't ignore the headlines that stared up at him.

He had kept all the news articles about his gruesome doings over the years, tucked away in the shoebox and always kept hidden far under his bed, wherever he resided at. The cut outs weren't trophies to him, like how some serial killers kept items of their victims as a fond memory of their deeds, in fact, these articles were the complete opposite to him.

Sihtric wasn't proud of his murders, and had kept the printed memories as a reminder that he never wanted to become like the beast from his past again. He never wanted to attack or murder again, with the exception of slaughtering wild animals which he simply needed to feed on in order to survive and still his hunger for blood. But never again would he want another innocent human-like being to be at the receiving end of his werewolf claws. He never wanted to kill again for no reason, nor if the reason was purely being revenge. But most of all, he simply never wanted to turn into his father, who had abandoned him from his pack and tribe.

Sihtric sat down on his bed and looked at the pages he had kept. Vivid memories came back to him as he could never forget awful murders he had committed and the horrendous attempts he had made to break the werewolf curse passed onto him. But nothing ever worked and he remained cursed until this very day. He had to live with the weight of his dark and bloody past on his shoulders for as long as his heart would continue to beat. Yet that weight was barely a punishment in Sihtric's eyes, for if anything, he felt his punishment should be death.

But death would be mercy, a mercy he did not deserve.

Sihtric was barely 18 when his first shift happened during a full Moon. And it had happened in the small room he rented just on the outskirts of town, for the city centre was a place he could not afford to live in. Nor did he want to, as he tried to keep a low profile and did not need much space either. 

The small room, which belonged to a lovely old and retired couple, was located on the second floor of the house. His room held a single bed, an old tv and a clothing cabinet, all of which were used by many strangers before him as they came with the room. He also had a sink with stains on it that wouldn't come off, and a half broken mirror hung above it. There was a tiny improvised kitchen in the corner of his room, underneath the only window he had which couldn't open fully because a cupboard blocked it. The kitchen came with an old microwave too, which he used to warm up quick meals with every day, and the device was clearly a fire hazard.

His room was old and musty, with a worn out wooden floor while black mold decorated parts of the ceiling and walls. Sihtric had covered up the black patches on the wall with some posters, which he had secretly ripped out of a few car magazines in the shop down the street. The bathroom next to his room was shared with the old couple, who lived downstairs, and he occasionally passed them as he went up to his room. The couple liked Sihtric because he was quiet. They could tell he was troubled but, as he never really opened up to them, they let him be and never complained as long as he paid his rent in time. Sihtric was still young and struggled to afford living with the money he had, which he earned by delivering newspapers in the very early morning, before the town would wake.

Several full Moons before his first shift he began to notice a change inside of him. He always knew he had werewolf blood inside of him, as his father, Kjartan, was cursed to be a werewolf. Technically Sihtric belonged to the tribe of his father, but he was abandoned as a young boy, for his mother had been human and died while giving birth to him, and his mother was not married to his father. Kjartan was married to a werewolf lady but had committed adultery, with Sihtric as result and being a permanent reminder. A permanent reminder he wanted to forget, and so Sihtric was neglected and forced to leave the pack he never really seemed to belong to. And looking back, Sihtric was glad he got away from his father, for his father was a brutal killer, a foul beast, and he was nicknamed Kjartan the Cruel for his many cruel deeds to the innocent, both human and other creatures.

After Sihtric's painful first transformation, he felt incredibly powerful. He was in luck, for the old couple was away for the weekend during the full Moon, so they never heard the bone chilling sounds that came from his room as he snapped out of his skin. Sihtric was confused once transformed, but also hungry. So very hungry. And he had jumped out of his window, shattering the glass as he went through it before landing on all fours on the well kept lawn, and he then leaped around the neighbourhood, finding his way to the city centre as the scent of fresh human meat lured him…

Sihtric's first kill was an awkward one, for he had no idea yet of how to control the beast he had turned into. He had sniffed out a meal, a student he found out a week later after the body was discovered, and he had stalked his prey while disguised as a black wolf. He followed the young man as he left the city and went into the quiet streets. It was dark and chilly outside, and Sihtric learned that night that winter time was an awful time for werewolves. 

Before the student could reach his front door, Sihtric had shifted into his gruesome werewolf form and, standing back on his large and hairy hind legs, he snatched the neck of the student's coat and hauled him into the darkened woods nearby. The terrified young man was silenced by his own fear upon seeing the hideous werewolf, while being dragged down to the thick trees and bushes, and what was supposed to be a fast kill ended up being a torturously slow one. The werewolf clawed at his thick coat, and its inner white fluffy filling was pierced by the monster's claws. Sihtric struggled to scratch the man's throat, for a thick scarf was wrapped around the neck and his claws were dull, as the coat's filling had gotten stuck to the sharp edges of his nails. Sihtric then lunged at his victim with his two hands, scratching the poor man's face all over until the body eventually laid lifeless underneath him after a cruel struggle.

Sihtric then tore off the scarf and ripped open the dead man's throat, blood spraying all over his dark fur as he tried to drink it as fast as he could. Sihtric groaned darkly as the blood began to spray less and less, and he used his large tongue to lick the remaining blood off the torn open neck. And then, still hungry, he attempted to tear off the thick winter coat, but it seemed impenetrable for the inexperienced werewolf. Sihtric fought with the zipper in the hopes of simply unzipping the coat, but his claws were too long to get a good hold of it and he lost his patience. He snarled and growled loudly, then delved his teeth in the coat and shook the lifeless body like a ragdoll until all upper clothing was completely torn. And then, on that dark and cold night, under the silver glow of the full Moon, the werewolf helped himself to the insides of his prey. And when his hunger was stilled and his dark fur smudged with blood and guts, he howled loudly at the Moon.

Sihtric had no idea how he had returned home after his feast, nor had any recollection of the fact he had apparently licked himself clean while in wolf form. All he remembered was that the old couple woke him up the next morning as he was asleep in their backyard. They were baffled at the fact Sihtric hadn't died of hypothermia, as they thought he had gone to a bar and returned drunk, having lost his keys and somehow all his clothes too on the way back, before he had fallen asleep on the lawn. Sihtric was embarrassed when he discovered he was without clothes, and he had a raging headache while the old lady was quick to wrap him in a warm blanket made of sheep wool, before preparing him some warm soup.

When the old man asked about the broken window, Sihtric slowly began to remember the night before and simply lied, saying he had no clue and that it must have happened when he wasn't home. His story made no sense at all to the couple, but then all of this could've happened to any young man who got drunk on Saturday night. 

Except they would never know that Sihtric had gotten drunk on human blood instead of alcohol. And they would never know he was the cause for the missing student, who was found dead in the woods a week later, an horrific event that shocked the entire city.

And for Sihtric… this was only the start of a very bloody, confusing and violent future.

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama

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if you want to be added to/deleted from the taglist, message me 🖤

[whitedarkmoonflower]

What is an approximation to a Witan? // The Last Kingdom S3E5

Comment or write to me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @thenameswinter99 @alexagirlie @synintheraven

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[destinyisall-tlk]

the last kingdom + alignment chart (insp)

[barbieaemond]

requested by @hoosbandewan -> Ewan's characters smiling

+ BONUS: unhinged war criminal

[bhxrdy]

the last kingdom, S04E10 | osferth, finan & sihtric