#sigtryggr ivarsson x you

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Little Warrior

Pairing: Sigtryggr Ivarsson (The Last Kingdom) x F!Reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and death, kidnapping, slight Stockholm syndrome, attempted sexual assault, sexual tension, coercion, corruption kink, talk of religious beliefs, female masturbation, loss of virginity, smut. Word count: 4.6k

Summary: When Sigtryggr and his men seize Winchester he takes a special interest in one of their captives (I have essentially yeeted Stiorra from the story and adapted the storyline of how her and Sigtryggr become an item to suit my own). Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

They come in the night. As Winchester sleeps, the Danes descend upon it.

She is woken by the blood curdling shouts and screams of the townspeople, accompanied by the acrid stench of smoke from nearby burning buildings.

Her heart lurches in her chest, panic causing bile to rise in her throat as she acts purely on instinct, scrambling from her bed and out of the house wearing just her nightdress. The only thought in her mind is that she doesn’t want to die trapped in her home as it’s burned to the ground.

Once she is outside, she watches wide eyed with horror at the destruction around her. Buildings are ablaze, people lay dead and dying upon the ground, the thick coppery scent of blood makes her want to vomit.

It’s only when the coolness of the night air begins to chill her skin that she realises just how perilous her situation is - a thin layer of cotton is all that separates her flesh from the horrors around her. She worries about what these Heathens will do to her if they see her in such a state of undress.

She trembles at the thought, dread gnawing at her insides. It’s too risky to go back inside, her only option is to hide. She takes her chances beneath an overturned farmer’s cart, crawling beneath the gap and cowering, waiting for the chaos around her to die down.

Clutching the cross around her neck, she sends up a silent prayer to God to keep her safe. Her destiny is in his hands now.

The aching in her joints for having been crouched for so long is beginning to become unbearable when the noise eventually quietens. She wonders if the Danes have left, if King Edward will return to rescue Winchester or if they have managed to capture it in his absence. Where are the Wessex guard?

She freezes when she hears the sound of approaching boots upon the ground, her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage when they come to a stop in front of the cart she’s hiding under.

“I can see your feet, Christian”, comes the voice of a man. He speaks softly and quietly, and it sends shivers down her spine.

Too paralyzed by fear to do anything, she remains as she is, her breaths coming quick and shallow, a rapidly dying hope in the back of her mind that he might give up and leave her alone. But there is no such luck.

“You will come out,” he commands, “or I will drag you out, the choice is yours.”

She clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle the frightened whimper that escapes her, attempting to force herself further back against the wooden confines of her misguided hiding place.

A large hand appears beneath the cart, reaching towards her before wrapping itself around her ankle.

She shrieks, thrashing against the hold it has on her as she’s dragged out. She lays wide eyed on the cold earth, her breathing erratic, as she looks with terror upon the Dane that towers above her prone form.

His long brown hair is wild and unkempt, half of it pulled back, and a ragged scar runs the length of the left side of his face. He regards her with mild amusement and she becomes aware again of her state of undress.

The thought that he might rape her sends her senses into overdrive, pure adrenaline driving her decision making. She knows she’s in no position to run, her only other option is to fight him, so as he crouches down towards her, she lunges upwards, slapping and scratching at his face and shoulders.

He is quick to overpower her, pulling her to her feet and twisting her arm behind her back.

“A fearsome little warrior, she is,” he chuckles, keeping her arm taut behind her as he gently urges her forward. 

He guides her towards the front steps of the King’s estate, where several people are kneeling before a group of Danes. As they draw closer she recognises a few of them; King Edward’s sons and a few of the Wessex guard.

She is certain she’ll be killed. The man presses on her shoulder, urging her to kneel beside the other captives. She takes up her position, the stone step is hard against her knees, and she is all too aware that she is the least valuable of everyone gathered there.

“Send them to where they keep their dead King,” the man says, looking at Edward’s children and then nodding towards the chapel.

“We need to send a message to Edward,” a dark haired, heavily pregnant woman says, as two of the Danish men pick up the boys and carry them off. “We must force him to yield Winchester to us.”

It makes her shudder to think that this woman will be a mother, when she is capable of such atrocities. 

“And what do you propose, Brida?” He responds.

Brida regards her with a look that makes her blood run cold. She has never seen anyone look at her as though she is worth less than nothing, her brown eyes are filled with utter contempt. “Send him her head,” she tells him, “it is more shocking to Christians when you are prepared to kill women and children alike.”

She gasps audibly, stricken by terror at the notion that they intend to behead her, until she feels his hand upon her shoulder.

“You will not touch her,” he says cooly, “slaughter the men, but she stays with me.”

“And what will you do with her?” Brida asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That is for me to decide,” he responds dismissively.

He makes a cut throat gesture at the Danes that flank Brida, then nods towards the kneeling guards, before pulling her back to her feet and directing her inside of the King’s estate.

She winces as she hears the sound of blades making thick, wet impact upon flesh, followed by dying screams of agony. Despite her shock and disgust, she cannot help the twinge of relief that lightens the feeling in her chest that that is not what destiny has in store for her, at least not yet.

The room that he brings her to is what she assumes is a study. It is filled with books, maps and writing materials, the space is occupied by a wooden writing desk, a chair and a settee.

As her eyes travel around the room, taking in her surroundings, she’s startled out of her reverie when her gaze settles back upon him. He is standing so close, silently observing her, his expression unreadable.

Once more she is reminded of how little she is wearing, and now that she is alone with him, fear of what he might do to her returns in earnest.

“S-stay back,” she stammers, backing away, eyes scanning the room for something, anything, that she can use as a weapon.

He smirks, unmoving, as he looks her over from head to toe. “Be calm, little warrior. Do you know who I am?”

Her face contorts in confusion. “No…”

He straightens, tilting his head slightly, clasping his arms behind his back. “I am Sigtryggr Ivarsson. I am a Dane. If I wish to hump a woman I do not need to do so by force.”

She softens slightly, fear does not grip her heart quite so icily as before. His name is meaningless to her, but she is relieved that he means her no harm.

Sigtryggr leans in, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. “But make no mistake, little warrior, I will have you, and you will beg me for it.”

She draws back quickly in disgust - not at his words, but at the reaction they elicit from her. The way warmth pools in her lower belly fills her with immense guilt. This man has invaded her home and killed people she knows, people she loves, she should despise him.

Swallowing thickly, unease prickling at her, she elects to change the subject. “What have you come here for?”

“To take what I am owed,” he says simply.

“And what is it you believe you’re owed?”

“Land. Your people drove me from mine,” he explains, anger lacing his tone, “your boy King will give back what he stole, or I shall keep Winchester and send him the heads of his children.”

She inhales shakily, feeling like she wants to cry. “A-and…how do I factor into all of that?”

He softens, shrugging slightly. “You don’t, but I can’t imagine your King will yield quickly, and it is always nice to have company. You are brave, for a Christian.”

“So I am your prisoner?”

“No, little warrior. You are free to leave any time you’d like, and take your chances with Brida.”

The implication is not lost on her. Her freedom is an illusion when the alternative is death. Sigtryggr is her only guarantee for safety.

“Shall we find something else for you to wear?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

She looks down at the thin material of her shift, seeing how dirty it is from having been crouched beneath the cart, dragged out and then forced to kneel on the steps of the estate. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“Yes, please,” she whispers.

He nods. “Wait here.”

Sigtryggr leaves her alone in the study, not bothering to lock the door behind him - a sign of his confidence that he knows she won’t try to escape.

He returns a few moments later with a white cotton shift that is similar to the one she is currently wearing, She assumes it belongs to Ælflæd, something he has found within a bedchamber.

“Where is the rest of it?” She asks.

“What do you mean? It’s the same as what you have on, and it’s clean,” he says simply.

“Yes, but this is meant to go under–” she sighs, “nevermind.”

She takes the shift from him and begins to change, noting the way that he turns from her, keeping his eyes fixed on the shelves of books that line the walls of the room. The small mark of respect makes her smile. She had not anticipated such manners from a Heathen.

He pulls a book from the shelf when she is finished, flipping through its pages. “Can you read?”

She nods and he hands the tome to her.

“Read to me.”

“Can you not read?” She asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I can,” he says with a smirk, “but where’s the fun in that?”

She sighs, settling into the chair in front of the writing desk, while Sigtryggr sits upon the settee a few feet away, and she reads to him.

Over the next few weeks their days are spent much like this. She reads aloud to him, though none of the books are particularly interesting, mostly religious texts and historical records of Wessex. She’s not convinced that he pays any particular attention to the words, but he seems to enjoy the sound of her voice.

They find a Hnefatafl board and Sigtryggr teaches her how to play. They while away hours strategising ways to remove each other's pieces from the board. He has a sharp mind, is calmer and more analytical than any other Dane she’s ever met. He bests her with his cunning multiple times, until she finally begins to get the hang of it and he begins to lose to her.

“Another game?” She asks. “How many have I won now?”

He shoots her a sideways glance, a faint smile upon his lips. “I am not keeping count.”

She giggles. She is beating him, but he does not seem to mind.

They sleep upon furs and blankets that Sigtryggr has brought down to the study and fashioned into a makeshift bed. Her stomach flutters at laying in such close proximity to him, but true to his word he never touches her. Shame blooms hotly in her chest as each of the days pass and she finds herself yearning for it.

He brings her food, and the hopelessness of the situation looms over her as with every meager meal the bread tastes more stale.

“Read to me, little warrior,” he requests, reclining on the settee, his forearm slung over his forehead.

She grouses, hunger pangs causing her stomach to rumble painfully. “I cannot concentrate,” she whispers.

“What is the matter?” He asks, sitting up to look at her.

“I am hungry. I’m always hungry.”

He nods, stepping towards her and offering her his share of the bread.

She looks from his outstretched hand to his face uncertainly. “What will you eat?”

“I will manage, and you will read to me,” he tells her, as she takes the offering and he settles back down.

She smiles to herself at the gesture, warmth spreading throughout her. So she eats, and she reads to him.

Sigtryggr disappears each day, leaving her alone in the study. She only leaves to bathe and to relieve herself, but she is perfectly happy to stay put and await his return, especially when she is all too aware of the alternative.

Each day when he returns he brings news of the continuing siege. King Edward and the Wessex guard surround the walls of Winchester, but will not attack as his sons are being kept captive in the chapel. They have yet to yield to Sigtryggr’s demands for land.

She fiddles with the cross around her neck, eyeing the Mjölnir that sits around his carefully. “Can there not be a peaceful resolution?”

"It is more difficult to live peacefully with enemies than to fight them,” he tells her.

“But we live peacefully,” she retorts.

“We are not enemies, little warrior.”

The sentiment makes her heart flutter, though there is the lingering question in the back of her mind; what are we?

He leaves her alone again as usual one morning and she busies herself poring over maps to pass the time.

She turns when she hears footsteps, expecting to see Sigtryggr but instead it is a man she does not recognise. He appears Saxon, so she cannot understand why the Danes have allowed him to move around the estate so freely.

The stench of ale upon him as he draws closer is nauseating. His eyes hold malicious intent as he advances towards her, and her blood runs cold at the sight.

She stands, backing away from him. “Whatever you are planning to do, please reconsider,” she pleads, “Sigtryggr will punish you if anything happens to me.”

“I have allied myself with the Danes,” he slurs, “but at what cost? They treat me like a dog, while Sigtryggr coddles you. Tell me, whore, is your cunt really that good? Perhaps I ought to find out for myself.”

She yelps as he lunges for her, grabbing her and pinning her against the desk. Fury flashes through her as she struggles against him, attempting to free herself from his hold.

“Whatever treatment they give you, you have brought upon yourself, traitor,” she spits.

Her head snaps to the side, a sharp sting spreads across her cheek as he strikes her.

She barely has time to adjust her focus before she feels him forcefully being pulled off of her.

“Eardwulf!” Sigtryggr snarls angrily. “Fucking coward!”

His fist makes impact with Eardwulf’s face knocking him to the ground, before he is dragged away.

She curls up on the furs, shaking as tears stream down her cheeks, waiting for her heart rate to calm. What could have happened to her if Sigtryggr had not returned when he did doesn’t bear thinking about.

She is unsure of how much time has passed when he returns.

“Are you alright?”

She turns towards the sound of his voice, gasping when she sees he’s covered in blood. Rushing towards him, she places her hands upon his face. “You are hurt…”

Softly he grasps her wrists, keeping her hands where they are. “This blood is not mine, and Eardwulf will not hurt you ever again.”

Her lips part in shock at the thought that he has killed for her, saved her life twice now. She studies his face, taking in the stormy blue of his eyes, the fullness of his lips.

She allows her gaze to linger there for just a moment too long, embarrassment making her hot, eager to distract herself. She traces a finger over the scar that runs the length of the left side of his face.

“How did this happen?”

“A man tried to take my eye during battle,” he explains softly, “so I took his life.”

“But you were hurt.”

“Injured, yes. Left with a scar, yes. But very much alive.”

“As am I, thanks to you.”

She drops her hands from his face and he steps away from her, pulling off his blood soaked light armour and clothing.

She feels her throat run dry at the sight of his bare torso, all lean, lithe battle hardened muscle, adorned with scars. She longs to trace her fingers over each of them.

Looking away, she feels ashamed for harbouring such thoughts and desperately tries to ignore the throbbing ache in her core.

As night falls and Sigtryggr lays asleep beside her, the feeling that lingers between her legs has yet to subside. It is maddening, robbing her of rest. Every time she closes her eyes the image of him stood bare chested before her enters her mind.

She has never touched herself before, it is impure to do so, yet she needs relief or she is sure she will go mad.

Sparing a glance in the darkness towards Sigtryggr, she makes sure his eyes are closed before reaching a tentative hand between her legs. She lets out a shaky sigh as her fingers make impact against the sensitive flesh.

She is not quite sure what she is supposed to do, but finds that a combination of rubbing the area and bucking softly against her hand feels most pleasurable, so continues to do that, holding her free hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds she makes.

There is a feeling that builds within her, a zenith that she feels she must press towards, so she continues in earnest, until finally she feels something within her release and her entire body shudders, a soft moan stifled against her lips as white hot pleasure rolls through her body.

Laying there afterwards she does her best to calm her breaths, feeling guilty for having done something so depraved.

She is startled by Sigtryggr’s voice beside her. “If only you’d beg, little warrior, I could do that for you.”

Her breath hitches and she quickly turns away from him. Not knowing what to say, she feigns sleep, clutching her cross and praying silently that he’ll forget.

She is grateful when he speaks of it no further, and life goes back to normal, or at least what normal is for them.

That is until a couple of weeks later when Brida storms her way into the study, clearly having grown impatient with the lack of progress being made.

“It has been more than thirty days since we captured Winchester, and your negotiations with the Saxon King are not working, Sigtryggr,” she glowers at him, “the time for talking is over. We are killing more captives.”

She does not miss the way that Brida’s eyes linger upon her as she says this, a shiver of fear causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh.

“I will choose who we execute, not you,” Sigtryggr tells her.

“You cannot protect this Saxon forever,” Brida retorts.

“Oh, but I can,” he says, placing himself protectively between her and Brida. “She is mine, and I will decide what happens to her.”

Brida scoffs, turning and leaving. Sigtryggr follows, leaving her alone to ponder the fact that he has once more saved her life.

When he comes back several hours later, he looks so tired. The expression he wears is one of defeat and she feels her heart ache for him.

“Read to me,” he says softly, sitting heavily upon the settee.

She regards him quietly, she wants to comfort him. She wants to comfort herself. She has grown weary of denying him.

Before she has time to think about what she’s doing, she crosses the room, and places herself upon his lap, her thighs astride his.

“What are you do–”

His words are cut off as she presses her lips to his eagerly, before pulling away. “I’m begging, Sigtryggr, please. I–”

He surges forward, kissing her again, his mouth possessing hers hungrily as he grasps her hips, lifting her as he stands to deposit her onto the makeshift bed upon the floor, his body caging hers in against the furs.

“I knew you’d give in, little warrior,” he whispers against her neck, kissing his way down her throat to her collarbone.

His fingers toy with the hem of the shift she wears, a silent plea for consent in his eyes as he looks at.

She swallows thickly and nods, nervousness and excitement fluttering ceaselessly in her stomach.

He pulls the garment over her head, throwing it to the side before sitting back on his haunches to admire her.

“Gods…you were worth the wait. So beautiful,” he whispers reverently.

She squirms beneath his gaze, turning her head away at the intimacy of the gesture, feeling shy and uncomfortable.

“Look at me,” he tells her softly. His fingers grasp her jaw, turning her face back to him.

Slowly he undresses, until he is as naked as she is. She feels the familiar ache between her thighs as she drinks in the sight of him, chiseled and battle hardened.

“Now we are equal,” he reassures her.

He reaches for the cross around her neck, toying with it between his fingers, before giving a quick, hard tug, causing the cord to give way. “What we are about to do is no business of your nailed god,” he tells her, tossing it to one side.

He kisses her once more, slower this time, their mouths saving the feel of the other’s against it. Trailing featherlight kisses down her body until he reaches her breasts, he wraps his lips around one of their hardened peaks, sucking gently.

The sensation causes her to moan, a pleasurable sensation shooting through her body, pooling into wet warmth between her legs as she arches against him. 

Sigtryggr repeats the motion on the opposite breast, before descending further down, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

She freezes up when he grips her thighs, placing them over his shoulders so that his face is level with her most intimate of parts.

“What…what are you doing?” She asks anxiously.

“I’m going to taste you,” he says matter of factly, making pointed eye contact.

“You cannot do that,” she protests weakly, “it is an unclean thing to do.”

He grins at her, shaking his head slightly. “Christian,” the word leaves his mouth as a half hearted insult, before he presses forward.

The first swipe of his tongue against her folds causes her to gasp, her hands burying themselves in his hair as he uses his grip on her thighs to pull her closer, his tongue moving against her firmer, deeper, faster.

A groan of satisfaction rumbles in his throat, the vibrations causing her insides to clench as she bucks against his face, chasing the edge of oblivion that his tongue is pressing her towards.

He sucks at her pearl, before laving his tongue over it and she cries out as she spasms against his mouth, ecstasy numbing all of her senses as he continues to lap at her.

Once she relaxes, he pulls away, sitting back between her legs, his chin slick with her juices. His fist runs over the length of his cock as he takes in her blissful state and her eyes widen as she sees the size of him.

He is thick, long and slightly curved. She has never looked upon anyone’s manhood before and she trembles as she wonders how it will possibly fit inside of her.

Sensing her trepidation, Sigtryggr caresses her cheek with his palm. “Relax, little warrior, I have prepared you well.”

He presses the head of himself against her entrance and she braces herself, but then he stops. Her eyes flit to his questioningly.

“Beg for it,” he whispers.

She whines, wanting to hide her face in furs that they lay upon.

“Beg,” he says again, more insistently.

“Please,” he pushes forward, aided by her arousal and release, “please,” he pushes forward again, more of her swallowing him up, accompanied by the sensation of stretching and the slightest of stings, “please,” he pushes forward once more, finally sheathed fully inside of her.

She realises as he settles on top of her, giving her a moment to get used to the feeling of him, that this was merely a means to distract her so that she wouldn’t focus on the possibility of it hurting and grow tense. She smiles, stroking the wild tresses of his dark hair. Always so cunning.

He withdraws his hips slowly, before carefully pushing forward again. He repeats the motion several times, watching her face carefully.

As her breathing quickens, her brow relaxing as her jaw begins to slacken, he increases his pace, hips snapping against hers faster and faster, their kisses frenzied as they pant into each other’s mouths.

She feels him throb inside of her, the sensation pushes her back towards the precipice she’d fallen over earlier, but before she reaches it he is pulling out, spilling pearlescent ropes of spend across her belly.

He wipes her clean with a blanket, discarding it before laying down beside her and pulling her into his arms. A satisfied ache settles within her, she feels she could fall asleep like this, but his voice lulls her back to full consciousness.

“I have released the King’s sons back to him,” he tells her quietly.

“What will happen now?”

“He is sending a warrior named Uhtred into Winchester to negotiate terms, if I accept those terms then my men and I will move on.”

Her heart sinks. She cannot bear the thought of him leaving, not now she knows what it’s like to be in his arms. “Oh,” is all she is able to muster, pressing tighter to him.

They fall into a quiet doze, until he gently squeezes her shoulder. “I must go and speak with Uhtred.”

She watches sadly, quietly, as he dresses. He leans down to kiss her before he leaves and she pushes her lips eagerly to his. If he is to abandon her then she will cling to every last moment until he does.

When Sigtryggr returns later, she is dressed in her shift again, though her cross remains discarded. She is seated by the window, staring listlessly out of it.

He carries a bundle of clothing in his arms and she looks at him curiously.

“To keep you warm,” he explains, deepening her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I have discussed terms with Uhtred and we have reached an agreement. I will leave Winchester, on the condition that you accompany me…not as my prisoner, but as my woman.”

She grins, running into his arms and wrapping her arms around his neck.

As they ride away from Winchester, side by side on horseback, she does not feel as though she is leaving her life behind. On the contrary, it has just begun.

[sigmartell]

sigtryggr & stiorra in 4.10

[idksmtms]

Sigtryggr Masterlist

Series

Under construction...

Oneshots

Hostage Situation - (Sigtryggr x reader - coming soon)

During the siege of Winchester, you, palace maid, are called to speak to Sigtryggr. He sees your intelligence, knows you would have been quiet but would know lots of information about Edward and the royals. He doesn't expect you to be beautiful and so easy to fall in love with as well...

The Forgotten Princess - (Sigtryggr x Princess!reader - coming soon)

As negotiations begin for Winchester, you find that Edward would rather burn down the city than retreat for your life. Still, Sigtryggr won't let anything happen to you. You are his favourite captive after all.

AUs

Coming soon...

[willowbrookesblog]

"I'm afraid of you."

Pairing: Sigtryggr Ivarsson x Fem!Reader Uthred's daughter and Stiorra's older sister

Notes: This is my first fic about Sigtryggr so if you notice something out of character for him or some spelling mistakes, please tell me :) I'm also lowkey highkey scared to post this because I've never truly written anything to the public 😩 but I know that by practicing my writing will slowly get better as time goes on so please give me some pointers if you want it will be greatly appricated- anywho hope you enjoy~

warnings: talk of childbirth/death but its just one line and doesn't get talked about again.

Y/n sat in silence - head resting on her hands that were interlocked under her chin starring at a book Sigtryggr asked her to read to him blankly, knowing that her sister was okay and that no one would harm her, she wasn't worried about Edward's family as she had a feeling they were going to be used as pawns or something of the sort.

She had already talked to Sigtryggr and had told him everything he had asked for in return for the security that her sister wouldn't be harmed to which he had agreed - she couldn't deny the warmth that spread through her when he had promised that he would not let anyone hurt her or her sister.

In truth, for the past few weeks she had grown quite close with him, Sigtryggr even going as far as to let her see Stiorra herself to make sure she was alright. Sigtryggr managed to figure her out - something most men couldn't do, and that terrified her. She had built walls around herself so that no one could get close to her, she didn't want to lose anyone else and he managed to make his way right into her heart and made her walls crumble to the ground while she stood watching them fall and there was nothing she could do about it.

Sigtryggr silently watched her from the opposite side of the room a small smile playing at his lips as she sighed "What is it?" Y/n turned to look at him "This is so stupid, I'm bored, tired, and hungry, and I'm tired of reading, my brain feels like it's being tortured" Y/n scoffed before pushing the book away and leaning her head on the table.

She heard Sigtryggr chuckle at her and lifted her head "What?" Sigtryggr moved to sit in front of her, handing her some bread, his fingers lightly touching hers as she grabbed it "Well then, you shall take a break. Tell me more about yourself, you said you often thought of your future, tell me about it" He asked her, only for information and totally not just him wanting to learn even more about her or anything "I want to go on a couple adventures, maybe own my own bakery, I refuse to have children so maybe have a cat or two, and then live a quiet and peaceful life," Y/n says as she looked up at him

Sigtryggr smiled at her and tilted his head "No children? why is that?" Sigtryggr asked her curiously and Y/n scoffed at the question not hesitating to answer him "I have no maternal bone in my body, when I hear a child cry I do not feel the need to comfort it instead I pray to the gods that it shuts up, and when a child falls I have no feeling to comfort them in fact i find it rather amusing." Y/n leaned back "Plus i don't want to die giving birth, it scares me" Sigtryggr nodded "that's understandable" it got quiet for a few moments before Sigtryggr got called for by someone and he excused himself, gently touching her shoulder as he went by.

Y/n sat quietly by herself, his touch set her skin on fire and she couldn't help but think of what it would feel like touching all over her body, she quickly shook her head and took a deep breath in trying to calm herself but it didn't do much to calm the heat her body was forming.

-----

About another two weeks had gone by and her body craved him, she wanted him more than anything and that terrified her, she didn't know it was possible to want something so much, didn't help that she would make up so many excuses just to get him to touch her, it was almost pathetic, she felt herself falling for him and she couldn't stop herself.

Similarly Sigtryggr was having the same problem, every time she asked for this or that and he let his touch linger on her, he knew that he was falling for her, but he wasn't upset by finding out he was, he was just worried about what would happen to her.

She sat down at the table back facing the door when he walked in "I'm afraid of you, afraid of the feelings that you make me have. Of how tempting it is to make excuses just to feel your touch on my skin, of lying to myself. I'm afraid of the feelings that consume my entire being when you come around, or when i think of you. I'm scared about how much I feel for you. I can't hide it anymore- I'm tired of hiding it and being afraid of you rejecting me, Of being scared of what I want" Y/n says to him as she stands up turning to face him

Sigtryggr tilts his head to the side and slowly steps forward to stand in front of her, "And what do you want?" His voice is firm but gentle "I want you" she responded almost instantly "I want you so much it scares me" Y/n said again her voice slightly quivering

Sigtryggr looked at her and nodded his head "Then you will have me, I was just about to come and tell you a deal has been made. You will come with me to Eorforwic, I will give you everything you wanted, adventures, your own bakery, cats, and a peaceful, quiet life"

Sigtryggr gently holds onto the sides of her face "If you would be willing to go with me, will you?" he asks looking in her eyes "I would happily go with you, Sigtryggr" Y/n smiles and pulls him closer to her and lays a gentle kiss on his lips.

-----

Please 🙏 please tell me how it was, did you enjoy it? Any feedback helps and is greatly appreciated <33 Also before I forget Please reblog 😊

@valeskafics @sihtricfedaraaahvicius I'm tagging you both just because I wanna know what you guys think of this <3

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Doctor's Assistant chapter 1

Note: inspired by a request from @sigtryggrswifey.

Warnings: none (yet).

pairing: Doctor!Sihtric x Assistant!Reader/You (f) (x Doctor!Sigtryggr).

summary: Two doctors opened a new practice, and you are their assistant.

wordcount: 3,3k

Masterlist

The new practice.

You had been a doctor's assistant at the same practice for many years when you got the news that you were to be transferred to a new practice at the other side of town. Somewhat reluctantly you had agreed to the transfer, not really wanting to give up the practice you had grown fond of and familiar with all the doctors and their patients, but you also knew it was time for a change too. You were told the two doctors at the new practice were young and eager, unlike the old and somewhat grumpy doctors you had worked many years for. So you looked forward to your new workplace after a bittersweet goodbye at your old place.

After a well deserved break of two weeks, you found yourself staring up at the new building where you would spend most of your week from today forward. You felt nervous and excited. You wondered what kind of patients you would get to meet here and how busy it would be, since it was a new practice. But you mainly wondered what the two doctors would be like, since you knew nothing about them and had no idea what they even looked like or what their names were. You also worried if you would fit in, as some doctors look down on their assistants and treat them like garbage.

The things you did know was that the three of you were all new at this practice, but you all had years of work experience already. And with that knowledge you walked up the narrow stairs to the second floor, where the first thing you saw was your new workspace: the front desk. The entire place was so new that it was squeaky clean, and you wondered if the painfully bright white paint had fully dried, as you could still smell it. You walked up to the front desk when you suddenly heard loud laughter emerge from a room on the right side, down a narrow hallway. You carefully walked over to where the two male voices continued to sound. Your heels clicked lightly on the wooden floor, and the voices suddenly stopped as you closed in on them. Then, before you could even knock on the door, you were startled as the door flung open and a tall man with bright blue eyes stared down at you. His hair was braided and the sides were shaved. He was wearing a black knitted sweater with black jeans and black boots underneath. He had a large scar on his face as well as a well kept goatee and moustache, and around his neck he wore a silver hammer pendant.

'Hi!' the impressive man said with a beaming smile, 'you must be our assistant.'

'I am,' you confirmed and shook hands with the tall, handsome man.

'My name is Doctor Ivarsson, but you can call me Sigtryggr,' he said, 'or Sig, since that's easier to pronounce.'

'O-okay,' you chuckled and introduced yourself while the doctor still held your hand in a firm handshake.

'Nice to meet you,' Sigtryggr smiled at you.

'Nice to meet you too,' you said and felt yourself suddenly become a little shy under his gaze.

'Okay, okay. Hurry up, prince charming,' the second voice you heard before sounded mockingly from inside the room, 'let her in, I want to see who we're dealing with too.'

Sigtryggr finally let go of your hand and beckoned you in the office as he held the door open for you. You stepped inside the room and laid eyes on the bearer of the second voice you had heard. Another stunning man looked up at you as he was seated behind a desk, and a cheeky yet sweet smile appeared on his face, which was also scarred, but more subtle than the other doctor's face. He also had a well kept goatee and moustache and, like Sigtryggr, he also had a hammer pendant around his neck, except his pendant was bronze instead of silver. His long, dark hair was tied back into a bun, and he wore a white shirt which left nothing to the imagination; the doctor was insanely muscular and well built, and you wondered if Sigtryggr was also that muscular underneath his cosy sweater.

'Ah,' the muscular doctor clicked his tongue and looked at Sigtryggr, 'now I understand what took you so long, trying to win her over already, huh?'

Sigtryggr smiled and shook his head while the other doctor got up and made his way over to you, and you felt your cheeks heat up a little.

'My lady,' the doctor said with a smooth, warm voice and held his hand out, 'I'm Doctor Kjartansson, but you can call me Sihtric,' he quickly looked over at Sigtryggr and then back at you, 'or Siht, if that's easier for you to pronounce,' he winked.

'Gods, you're such an ass,' Sigtryggr scoffed with a smile, while Sihtric grinned at you.

You shook Sihtric's hand as you chuckled and introduced yourself to him, his tattooed fingers also holding you in a firm but gentle grip.

'I like your eyes,' you blurted out as you looked up into Doctor Kjartansson's mismatched pair.

'Awh, thanks, sugar,' Sihtric smiled, then looked at Sigtryggr again, 'I think I won her over already.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sigtryggr rolled his eyes, 'we'll see about that.'

'Who said I could be won over?' you taunted both men as you all sat down.

'Feisty lady, are we?' Sihtric hummed with a smile while he sat back and crossed his arms.

'You have no idea,' you snorted, making both men laugh.

'Well, let the games begin,' Sihtric grinned at you.

'Yeah, okay, anyway,' Sigtryggr cleared his throat and became serious, 'jokes aside, welcome,' he smiled again, 'we're glad to have you on our team. We were told you have a lot of experience and we heard nothing but good stories about you. We really need you to get this practice up and running smoothly. Of course, we already have some of our own clients who came with us when we moved to this practice but, as the whole place is new, we will still need time to adjust.'

'We take it that you have everything you need to get yourself settled at the front desk?' Sihtric asked and pulled his hair tie out, then raked his fingers seductively through his wild locks while he wetted his lips slowly with the tip of his tongue.

You wondered if the doctor knew how good looking he was, and if he was doing this on purpose.

'Y-yes,' you said as you tried not to stare at Sihtric's biceps, 'I, eh, I am ready to get started.'

'Good,' Sigtryggr smiled, 'then I say we get to work. If you need anything, darling, this is my office, and Sihtric's office is on the other side of your desk.'

'Sounds like I'm cosy in the middle then,' you joked.

'Cosy in the middle,' Sigtryggr nodded.

'Or,' Sihtric smirked and got up from his chair, 'you could be cosy in my office too.'

'I bet she'll be cosier in this office,' Sigtryggr retorted.

'I'm sure I will be cosy enough at my desk, guys,' you chuckled and got up.

Sihtric held the door open for you, and only then you truly noticed how comfortable he was dressed, with his black sweatpants and black sneakers underneath. You were amused and intrigued by the contrast between the two good looking doctors, but, as handsome as Sigtryggr was, you felt very much drawn to Sihtric, and you shyly walked past him out the door. He smiled at you and followed closely behind as you walked to the front desk, but not too close, as he took his time to check you out in those tight denim jeans with your black blouse on top.

'If you need anything,' Sihtric said as you got seated behind the front desk, 'you know where to find me, yeah?'

'I'm sure I'll be able to find you, yes,' you smiled.

'Are you sure?' Sihtric asked and leaned on your desk, 'I mean I could show you where my office is.'

'It's down this hall, right?' you teased, as if there was another hallway.

'It is, sugar,' Sihtric smiled and leaned in, 'you don't want to check out my office right now? It's nicer looking than Sig's.'

'Oh, really?' you feigned interest.

'Totally,' the doctor said with a smug face, 'come, I'll show you.'

You couldn't help but chuckle when you followed the less formally dressed doctor to his office, and you had to hold your laughter when Sihtric showed you his hyped up office, which was even more depressing looking than the other doctor's office. Sigtryggr had a few props in his office and a tiny plant on his desk, but Sihtric's office was… completely empty, except for his desk with a laptop, a phone, three chairs, and an examination couch.

'Oh, wow,' you snorted, 'oh, yeah, I absolutely love what you've done with the place.'

'Right?' Sihtric laughed, 'much cosier here, no?'

'For sure,' you nodded, 'but, eh, you don't want a fancy skeleton in here, like your rival has in his office?'

'That skeleton was actually mine,' Sihtric pouted and sat down in his comfy chair, 'Sig just stole it when we unpacked our stuff.'

'Geeze, fighting of skeletons and the assistant?' you mocked, 'you two must be very busy.'

'You should know,' Sihtric shrugged, 'you're in charge of our schedules.'

'Well, I'll make sure it's fully booked by the end of the day, doctor,' you chuckled and turned on your heels.

'You go and do that for me, sugar,' Sihtric grinned before you closed the door.

It felt like your first day at the new practice went by faster than you could blink. You enjoyed the constant bickering of both doctors when they had a moment to spare, and the rest of your week wouldn't be any different.

The next day you found the two men arguing at your desk as you climbed up the stairs, early in the morning.

'There she is, why don't we just ask her,' Sihtric said and skipped over to the stairs, 'good morning, sugar,' he smiled as he held his hand out to you and helped you up the last few steps of the stairs.

You fought a smile and felt a pleasant tingle in your body as you held Sihtric's big, warm hand. Today, your "favourite" doctor was dressed in a black hoodie with black jeans, while he was wearing yesterday's black sneakers. His long hair was braided today, which made him look so attractive, it made you lightheaded.

'Show off,' Sigtryggr coughed while Sihtric offered you his useless help up the stairs, 'and good morning to you, darling,' Sigtryggr, who was dressed in all black again too, smiled at you and was quick to hand you a cup of coffee he had bought for you on his way to the practice.

'Good morning, doctors,' you chuckled and shook your head while you got seated at the front desk, 'thanks for the coffee, Sig, that's really sweet.'

'See,' Sigtryggr elbowed Sihtric, 'I'm sweet.'

'Whatever,' Sihtric rolled his eyes, 'look, we have an important question.'

'Oh?' you frowned and sipped your hot drink.

'If you have to pick,' Sigtryggr began.

'Between the two of us,' Sihtric continued, 'who would you rather date?'

You stared at both men and grimaced while they gave you their sweetest smiles and puppy dog eyes, as they both leaned with their elbows on your high desk.

'You guys can't be serious,' you snorted, 'really?'

'Really,' Sihtric said.

'We're very serious,' Sigtryggr added.

'God, eh,' you chuckled and felt your cheeks heat up, 'how can I possibly choose between my two favourite doctors?'

'Oh, you have to, lady,' Sihtric smiled and leaned in closer, 'it's a life or death situation, sugar.'

'Oh, come on,' you sighed and sat back, 'fine… I'll save both and date both of you.'

'What?' Sigtryggr frowned, 'no, that's not an option.'

'No, you can't pick both,' Sihtric agreed and turned to Sigtryggr, 'look, she'd totally date me, but she just doesn't want to hurt your feelings.'

'Oh, please,' Sigtryggr scoffed, 'as if she'd date a guy with that haircut.'

'There is nothing wrong with my haircut,' Sihtric looked offended, 'it's almost like yours, but better.'

'Better? You mean worse?' Sigtryggr teased, 'because you look like a homeless person when it's loose, I don't.'

'Hey, the ladies find it very sexy when my hair is all loose and wild,' Sihtric said firmly.

'Ladies? What ladies? When was the last time you took a girl home?' Sigtryggr provoked.

'Listen, I'll give you a new scar that will match the one on your face if you keep going,' Sihtric jokingly threatened.

'Fine by me,' Sigtryggr shrugged, 'then our lovely assistant here can patch me up, ain't that right, darling?' he looked at you, and you tried to come up with anything to say.

'She won't have time for that because she'll be out on a date with me,' Sihtric snapped back and then looked at you, 'ain't that right, sugar?' he smiled.

'I… eh,' you stammered. 

But before you could continue, the phone on your desk rang.

'Okay,' you then laughed and waved the two doctors off, 'someone here has to actually do their job.'

'That's right,' Sihtric smiled, 'and you,' he nudged Sigtryggr's shoulder, 'stop talking to my future wife.'

'Your what?' you giggled as you reached for the phone while Sihtric shoved Sigtryggr to his office.

'You heard me,' Sihtric said as he looked back over his shoulder and winked.

You tried to collect your thoughts again as you answered the phone, and your ridiculous nerves became less as a few minutes passed. But when Sihtric walked past your desk to his own office, he winked at you with a sly smile, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat for a second. The pretty boy doctor, with his fine haircut, made you nervous like no one else had ever done before. And once you simply accepted the fact that you definitely had a crush on him, it only got worse. It also didn't help that an hour before lunchtime he came over to the front desk, and sat down in the chair next to you while you answered the phone. You felt your cheeks heat up when Sihtric rolled the chair closer to yours, and you tried your hardest to not let him see your slightly trembling hands as you added an appointment to the other doctor's schedule in the computer.

'So,' Sihtric smiled and leaned in once you hung up the phone, 'what would you like for lunch, sugar?'

'For lunch?' you blinked, 'I, eh, I brought my own lunch. I always do.'

'Oh,' Sihtric said, a little disappointed and leaned back in the chair.

'Why?'

'Well, I wanted to buy my future wife lunch,' he shrugged.

'You're not his future wife!' Sigtryggr yelled with a laugh from his office, down the hall.

'Hey! Stop talking to my future wife!' Sihtric snarled, just as a patient stepped out of the elevator.

Sihtric froze and cleared his throat, then bit down a grin while he watched you help the old and rather confused patient to Sihtric's boring office. When you made your way back to the front desk, you met Sihtric in the narrow hallway, and he stopped you by trailing his fingers down your arm, to grab your hand gently.

'Think about what you want for lunch, okay, sugar?' Sihtric said softly with a sweet smile, 'you can pick anything, I'm buying.'

'What about Sig?' you asked, quietly.

'He eats lunch on the road when he prepares to go on house visits,' Sihtric almost whispered and leaned in as he lightly stroked your hand with his thumb, 'it'll be just us, if you don't mind?'

'Oh, I see. No, I- I don't mind,' you whispered.

'Good,' Sihtric smiled and bit down on his lip, then stepped back as he reluctantly let go of your hand.

Just when Sigtryggr left the building, your lunch was delivered, and Sihtric sprinted up the stairs with the delivery in his arms after he had locked the entrance door. During your lunch break, which lasted an hour, the practice was closed and only emergency phone calls were answered, which were rare. You ate your salad while Sihtric ate a slice of pizza, followed by two chicken wraps.

'That's a healthy meal,' you chuckled.

'What?' the doctor frowned, 'there's lettuce in this wrap.'

'Oh, so healthy,' you teased, 'such a good example you are.'

'Hey,' Sihtric nudged your shoulder and smiled, 'watch it, lady.'

'Or what?'

'Or I'll pin you down on my examination couch and we'll see how healthy you are,' he taunted.

'Sure, because that's how it works,' you laughed and finished your salad.

'Well, I can surely check your heartbeat and stamina that way,' Sihtric winked.

'Fine,' you shrugged, 'you'll find out I'm perfectly healthy then.'

'Oh, will I?'

'Yep,' you smiled and cleaned your desk up as Sihtric finished his food too.

You got up to throw away the bag and empty wrappers in the trash, and walked into the little kitchen to make yourself and Sihtric some coffee. The doctor followed you and washed his hands while you leaned back against the kitchen counter.

'Are you single, sugar?' Sihtric asked bluntly, 'I know we taunt a lot, but we never even asked about your relationship status.'

'Eh, yeah,' you chuckled, 'I am. You?'

'Of course, lady,' Sihtric smiled, 'what kind of a guy would I be if I'd tease you all day while I have a woman at home?'

'You'd be a pretty common guy,' you grimaced.

'Well,' Sihtric stepped closer and towered over you, almost trapping you between his body and the kitchen counter, 'I'm not a common guy, sugar,' he whispered.

His duo coloured eyes darted over your face, and you felt yourself swallow hard as your own eyes trailed down to his lips, which he licked as he hummed, and you quickly looked back up into his eyes again.

'But you don't want a common guy, do you?' he spoke softly with a half smile, then leaned with both hands on the kitchen counter, locking you between his strong arms, 'hm?' he hummed.

'I don't,' you agreed, as you felt his warm breath on your lips.

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed again, amused, 'we still have about twenty minutes,' he whispered and smiled cheekily, 'how about that examination?'

You wanted nothing more than to be dragged into his office and pinned down on that couch by him, but you did want to be unprofessional, or risk anyone walking in on you or simply hearing you. You also wanted to get to know Sihtric a little better before you gave in to his charms, no matter how badly you wanted to grab his face and kiss him. This was only the second day you worked with him, you'd be a fool to mess around this soon already and risk your job.

'Actually,' you smiled, and teasingly trailed your fingers down his muscular arms, 'I think your schedule is fully booked for today, doctor.'

Sihtric brushed his lips lightly over yours, which made you lightheaded and exhale sharply, which was exactly the sound Sihtric needed to hear, and he understood your hint. Now he knew that you were clearly interested in him, and maybe even desperate for him, he was in no rush to get in your pants. He enjoyed a chase and a tease, and he knew he was going to enjoy this game when Sigtryggr would also seek out his chances with you. But Sihtric already knew he had nothing to worry about, as he had already seen that the way you looked at Sigtryggr was way different than the way you looked at him.

'Unfortunately, I think you're right,' Sihtric breathed, his lips almost touching yours, 'but, just in case you ever need a house visit outside of working hours, sugar,' he smiled, 'I think you should save my private number.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @liandav @diiickbrainn

[witchofthevale]

↷ september '23 fave fic recs!⋆☂｡☽˚.

Okay, okay here we go! This nearly killed me to make, so you better read them.

I'm kidding... I think.

Gentle reminder that what I consider 'fave' is by my own personal tastes and preferences, and you might not agree with them and that's okay! These are very lovely authors you can peruse on your own to find the right fic for you, and there are always the tags + algo. Just because your favourite fic isn't here doesn't mean it's not good; it could be potentially for a variety of reasons (I haven't read it yet, I have just not this month, I don't vibe with that character, etc).

That's what I love about the individuality in fandom and writers— there will always be that right fic from that right author that just hits all your good spots.

This is mine. For the month of September. If you find your next favourite fix here— I'm glad! If not, that's still swell! Hope you find it!

To the writers— thank you for writing such brilliant fics! I struggled setting this up because of how many I enjoyed 💝.

Anyways...

More quick reminders!

This is set chronologically; both by character name and by fic title.

If you are familiar with my blog, you will mainly see HOTD, some TLK, then random characters.

There may be smut! There may be dark fiction! I support and consume both! Please read trigger warnings actively! You are responsible for your own person! Community Labels ruin fandom ecosystems, stop snitching! Ignore or block at bloody will!

There are no series parts here. That is in a different display post that is still being processed lol.

If you see repeated author names, it can be numerous things— mostly, they're just that good, okay? Okay.

These are only for September 2023. I've read about 500+ on this account alone, and would die if I tried to go back before then, sorry. You can still check them out through tag navigation here!

I've also added some of my works that I enjoyed writing for the month, because why not.

Now that's fucking over, I hope you enjoy!

ABRAHAM (Grantchester)

*Untitled Piece by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

AEGON TARGARYEN II

Ceilings by @sapphire-writes

Lemon Cake To My Tea by @darlingofvalyria

Merciless or Ruthless? by @lovelykhaleesiii

Moan for Me by @st-eve-barnes

AEMOND TARGARYEN

A Mutual Feeling of Hate by @fan-goddess

Gelato by @oneeyedvisenya

Hell Hath No Fury @fromforeigntofamiliarity

His Love by @valeskafics

I'm A Fire, And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm by @randomdragonfires

Revolution by @valeskafics

The Black Stag by @darlingofvalyria

Til Death Do Us Part by @asumofwords

Unnerved by @dulcewrites

*Untitled by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

*Untitled by @missglaskin

Vulnerability by @valeskafics

ALDHELM

My Heart by @silens-oro

BILLY TAYLOR

The Perfect Send Off by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

BILLY WASHINGTON

Lonely This Christmas by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

DAEMON TARGARYEN

Ask, and You Shall Receive by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

A Thousand Words by @arabellasleopardcoat

Capital by @arabellasleopardcoat

Curse of Womanhood by @just-some-random-blogger

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

Valyrian Bride by @cryingforlife

HARALD SIGURDSSON

A Political Arrangement by @valeskafics

JACAERYS VELARYON

In Bastards of Blue, Wager in War by @darlingofvalyria

MAEGOR TARGARYEN

Little Lights by @dreamsofoldvalyria

OSFERTH

Lacnunga, Or, Remedy by @assortedseaglass

SIGTRYGGR IVARSSON

Little Warrior by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON

Hours by @valeskafics

It's Urgent Darling by @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

Take No Wife by @valeskafics

TOM BENNETT

A Good Wife by @valeskafics

Rest by @fidelias

VISERYS TARGARYEN III

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

Conquerors Reborn by @undertheorangetree | Helaena, Aemond x Reader

El Tango De Roxanne by @valeskafics | Jace, Aemond x Reader

Royalty Fucked by @oorhaellaoo | Baelon, Alyssa x Reader

[prpfs]

hi! i’m looking for 18+, literate roleplay partners for the last kingdom! 💗 NSFW and mature themes are welcome but not required. i’m looking for the following OC x CC ships:

alfred the great x my OC

sigtryggr ivarsson x my OC

we can double ofc! if interested, give this a like and i’ll reach out!

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

[timetravelingpenguin1066]

The Meeting part 2

Paring - Sigtryggr Ivarsson x Stiorra Uhtredsdottir Genre - historical fiction, Viking, romance Summary - Their meeting in Winchester from each point of view. Warnings - Violence Word count - 2289 A/N - Requests are open

Part 1

He never answered her question. One of his men came in saying he was needed, and I was left alone in the room. I glanced at the writing desk he’d the glass on. It was gone. He must have taken the shards with him to ensure that I would not be tempted to try again. I sat there, thinking he’d come back for some hours before I decided to move. My arse was starting to hurt. I got up and stretched, grateful that I wasn’t tied down. I explored the room. There wasn’t much. There were many books. I picked one up, almost dropping it because it was so heavy. I slammed it on the table and opened it. The first page did not particularly sound interesting. I flicked through it, hoping for something. But it was all just lists of history that I didn’t give a shit about. I gave up trying to find anything interesting. I sat back down on the chair, closing my eyes to meditate.

The door swung open. I looked over. It was Eardwulf, the arse-licking traitor. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It was strange. I dismissed the feeling. I stared stoically back at the wall, hoping he would just go away. I heard him close the door and stumble over towards me. He leaned on the table, a little too close. He stank of ale and I turned my head away. “I’ve been drinking ale,” he whispered. The smell hit me hard and I winced at the stench.

“I know,” I said. “What do you want?” He put his knife on the table.

“To kill someone, I think.” I glanced back up at him. “Someone or myself, one of the two.”

“Sigtryggr wants me as a hostage,” I reminded him. Perhaps fear of the warlord would make him leave. “I’m of use to him alive.” The arse-licker sat on the table now, still far too close to me.

“Oh, don’t be fooled.” He leaned on his elbow, stretching his chin. “He’s playing with you. Unlike myself, he’s a man bereft of conscience.”

I couldn’t take the reek anymore. I stood up walking away. “Then don’t anger him by killing me. If you want favour amongst the Danes-”

“I don’t want favour amongst the Danes,” he shouted, rising, kicking my chair. He walked towards me, forcing me to back into the wall. “Making a bargain with them was madness. I can see that now.” He came even closer, putting his hand on the wall beside my head. “I will suffer whatever I choose.” He had picked up his knife and moved it, deciding where best to hurt me. “So, I might as well take pleasure in a small scrap of vengeance.”

My heart hammered in terror, but I kept it off my face. “I have done nothing to you.”

“Your father turned my sister from me. Your father, Lady Aethelflaed, the King, all of them, stole my chance to regain my honour. Pushed my face in the dirt when all I wanted was to take back what was owed. Do you know what it is to have your life derided? To be forced to turn from your people to survive? Do you know what that does to a man?”

I slipped out from under his arm. “Turns him into a drunk?”

He stepped closer. “Do not mock me,” he warned.

“Then don’t be pitiful. All this, you brought upon yourself, you know that.” Then, a sharp sting in my cheek. He slapped me. I rolled away from the force. Then, the door opened again. I did not even need to look up to see who it was.

“Is this how we play now?” he said. “We strike those weaker than ourselves.” His comment hurt me for a moment, before the Dane hit Eardwulf, probably harder than he hit me, in the face. The turd stumbled into the wall. “Go on. I like this game.”

The turd tried to explain himself. “She’s defiant and she does not fear me.”

“Is that how Saxons are controlled?” When the drunk turd didn’t understand him, he rephrased his question. “In Saxon lands are people subdued through fear?”

“Aren’t all people subdued through fear?”

“Was this how Alfred thrived?”

“Yes,” he answered. Bullshit.

“No,” I corrected. “Alfred was loved. Look at how they honour him.”

“And what of your lord, Aethelred whom you abandoned to choose a life with me?”

“Aethelred was loved and feared.” Bullshit!

Since he seemed to have forgotten, I told him, “Not by you, you killed him in his bed.” I looked at Sigtryggr. “It’s why he ran from Mercia.” 

“Is this true?”

“No! Why would you believe a captive girl?”

The Dane glared at Eardwulf. I had no doubt he could right through him. “You lie worse than a child. So, you killed the man whom you’d sworn allegiance to? I knew there was something untrustworthy about you.”

The turd, fearing for his life now, rushed his words: “I brought you here. You can trust me. I’ve proved it.” 

“And how should I rule here? By fear, or by love?”

“I would always choose fear.”

I’d never fully understood love. I did not believe I’d ever really known it. I did not even know my feelings for the Dane-Slayers daughter until that day. I had gone to the reading room to see her. The guard told me that Eardwulf the Turd was inside. I heard the sounds of an argument from inside. Then I heard the slap. I went into the room, trying hard to remain calm. I confronted the man, asking if that was how we played, striking those weaker than ourselves. I knew, of course, that the girl was not weak, she was strong. Perhaps stronger than me. I took his knife. I could see that he had meant to harm her, perhaps kill her. I felt rage. Rage that I had never felt before. I had to put it somewhere. So I hit him back. I hit him harder than I thought I could. I felt the sting on my hand. I looked back at her, just to make sure she was alright. There was a red mark on her cheek from where the turd had hit her. He would pay for that. He tried to come up with an excuse, that she did not fear him. That she was defiant. And so I asked him if that was how Saxons were controlled, by fear. He claimed it was true, even Alfred had controlled the people with fear. But she called out his lie. Suspicious, I probed further, questioning why he left his lord, Aethlered. “Aethlered was loved and feared,” he claimed. And then she said something. Something useful. That this turd, Eadwulf, killed Aethlered while he was dying in his bed. Asked him if it was true. I had no need to, of course. If the girl said he killed him, then that is what he did. I only wished to test him. Of course he denied it. But this man was a terrible liar. I had always been wary of him, never trusting him. He told me I could trust him. His proof? That he brought me here. I could not deny that he had led me here, to the woman standing behind me. But that was before he tried to kill her. 

“And how should I rule here?” I challenged. “By fear, or by love?”

“I would always choose fear.”

I called for the guards outside, signalling them to drag Eadwulf away. I spared a glance in her direction, just to make sure she’d be alright for a few hours, before following the guards.

“Sigtryggr, please!” Eadwuld pleaded as he was dragged to a courtyard. “No!”

“Arse-licker!” called Haesten. “Did you fall in the shit?” I ignored him. Brida confronted me.

“What did he do?” she inquired.

“He works to his own plan,” I replied. “We need to be of one mind when the time comes.” I walked out, in front of the mix of my men and the people of Winchester. “We take this place because we seek a homeland,” I enunciated. “We work as one to achieve this common good.” My voice grew louder. “When we fight, we fight with one heart, to terrify the Saxons! But we do not succumb to anger. And at all times we are united, unlike our forebears.” I looked at Brida. “The men who tried and failed. Ubba. Bloodhair. Cnut. All taken in anger as they tried to pursue their own glory. This is the way of the old generation, and there is no longer a place for it.” Now I strode to Eadwulf. “This man…” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “This man is a man of ambition. There’s nothing wrong with that. We should all have ambition. But he works only for himself and his own desires, and this ambition,” I intoned, walking away again, “is a poison. A poison that had the power to seep! And we must not let his venom spread amongst us.” There was a murmur of agreement through the crowd. “So let this man's fate serve as a warning to the danger of anger and ambition.” He continued pleading for his life as he was dragged down the steps. He prayed to his god, not that it would help him. 

A voice suddenly sounded from the crowd. A woman. “Have mercy,” she cried. I glanced at the woman. 

“Who weeps for you? Who has this faith?”

“She’s a whore I once knew.” Given his previous lies, I inclined to have her brought forward. “She’s nothing. Discard her.” I hesitated, hearing the hate in his voice. Before I could say anything more, she picked up a basket and left. Deciding it meant nothing, I went back to the stairs, and Brida.

“You dare speak against the greatest warriors who ever walked this land?” she growled. I took a place beside her.

“If they were the greatest,” I reminded her, “then where are they now?” She knew the answer to that once, of course. They were dead in Valhalla. She should have known that, since she put Cnut there herself. I nodded to one of my men. He drew his sword, and stabbed the Saxon turd in the shoulder, ending him. 

I was about to return to the reading room and to the Dane-Slayer’s daughter when the Saxon King foolishly attacked the gates. I sent my arches up to the walls. After many rounds being exchanged, the King ordered his men to fall back.

“Men are coming from every corner of the Saxon kingdom!” he threatened. “By dawn tomorrow you will be surrounded! Surrender now and avoid being massacred! Do you surrender?” The King asserted.

“Do nothing,” I instructed. “The walls will hold. The fool built them strong.”

Then they attacked. But the attack was in vain. The battle lasted many hours. All they lost was time and men. It was late in the evening by the time I was able to return. I snatched food from the kitchens. Nothing much, just bread and cheese. That and a jug of ale. Water was in short supply and the healers needed it more. The room was dark. I lit a single candle, and looked around for her. She was sat on the floor, slightly slumped. At first I thought she was dead. I put the food down and rushed to her side. That’s when I heard her deep, even breathing. She was asleep. I knew I should move away, let her sleep, but I found myself drawn to her. My hand reached out, seemingly of its own accord, to brush her hair back from her face. To my disappointment, the slight touch was enough to wake her. I stared deep into her eyes and she held my gaze. I had no idea how long we stared at each other, but then she blushed and looked away. She turned her hurt cheek towards me. I felt another flash of anger. The mark was now turning purple. “Are you alright?” I worried.

“I’m fine,” she promised. “I can handle a little bruise.” I still did not like it. I rose, holding my hand out to help her up. She took it. She stood, gazing again. Then she blushed again, letting g of my hand. I immediately missed it, the feeling of her small warm hand in mine. “You seemed concerned when she came in,” she said, reaching for the food.

“You were on the floor, It was dark. I could not tell if you were alive or dead.” She nodded, taking a bite out of the bread.

“I heard the battle.” I sat down opposite her. “I must have fallen asleep before it finished.”

“It lasted until the sun began to set.”

“By the looks of things, Edward lost.”

“He was a fool.” We were silent for a moment. 

“Did you see my father?” she asked, hesitantly.

“I do not know what your father looks like,” I sighed. “However, I did see a man walk next to the King.”

  “What did he look like?”

“The only thing I could tell from the distance was that he was tall, dark hair. Carried his sword on his back. The sword seemed to have some kind of amber stone set in the hilt.”

“That was him.”

More silence.

“I saw him leaving the field.”

She seemed comforted to know her father was alive. My mind wondered back to what she had asked me. She must have been thinking the same thing. “You never answered my question.” I nodded. 

“I think it is a question only your father can answer.”

[laketaj24]

Ransom: Sigtrygrr

Author’s Note: Backkk to the Last Kingdom writing! I love Sigtrygrr, if you haven’t watched season four this doesn’t have any spoilers, but it just shows a new character that is on the Show! My taglist and requests are open! Happy Sunday and Happy reading!

Requested: Could you write a Sigtryggr imagine where the reader is the chieftain's daughter, and sig kidnaps her for ransom. The reader stays in Sigtrygrr's tent for the night, where she tries to kill him in his sleep. But he wakes up and is unnervingly calm about it, and the two have some sort of chemistry. It could be smutty if you like.

Warnings: None, first part of three part series. Sooooo more to come.

Pairing: Sigtrygrr X Reader

The Last Kingdom Masterlist

“If she screams, cut out her tongue. No one is to touch her.” The wild-haired man had a mild voice. It was unsettling. He glanced over at you and smiled. The pristine look of innocence touched his eyes before he gave you a small nod and turned out of the tent. “I will return within the hour.”

It had been a day since the men had stormed your father’s hall and took whatever gold and silver they could get their hands on and then you. It was easier to kidnap and raid when the men were off fighting somewhere, cowards. You sat in the corner eyeing the place for weapons; like most Danes, there was bound to be one lying around here. Nothing. You pushed aside the furs searching for anything, and finally, a small dagger fell onto the floor. Quickly you tucked the leather holster into your shirt.  They’d already searched you, the chances of it happening again were slim.

Minutes faded into hours, or at least it felt like once your eyes started to grow weary. You closed your eyes and covered yourself in blankets, and slept sitting up, prepared for whatever they may try.

“Let me see the little bastard.” The slurred voice from outside of the tent boomed.

And now it started, the drunken state of men was sure to make your life a miserable hell, but you didn’t hide, you welcomed the intruder. You’d cut his tongue out and throw it in the face of that asshole who’d threatened you earlier. The tent opened, and the cool breeze brushed in.

“Lie down, you whore.” His face was disgruntled, brow furrowed and eyes glassed over. “Or squirm if you like… I like my women to have some fight in them.” The barrage of chuckles from outside the tent only made your heart beat harder. His belt fell to the floor, and the wool pants he wore started to slip. There he was almost naked from the waist down, and you had no fear. You’d just kill the asshole, and if he took your life, then the valkyries were sure to lead you to the gates of Valhalla.

“Do not touch me. I am Magnusdottir.” He stepped towards you, and you just watched, waited for him to make his move.

“Shut up.” He laughed.

He moved closer to you, and the smell of ale and woods hit your nose. Your stomach riled. You clutched the thick string of the necklace around your throat, Thor’s hammer Mjollnir was given to you by your father when you were younger. He claimed it was carved by Ragnar Lothbrok, it was there for protection. “Allfather,” You whispered. “Give me the strength.”

The spatter of blood hit your face before the drunken man fell back, gurgling his blood. “My instructions were simple.”

“Sigtryggr.” He growled, rolling to his side, cupping the blood that dripped from his mouth. He stood on wavering legs.

“Get some sleep.” Sigtrygrr pulled the chair close to you and took his seat. “Now, Leidolf.”

Leidolf left staggering, and you looked up to your captor. “I am not afraid of you.”

“Of course you are,” He chuckled, poured water into the curved horn, and handed it to you. “Drink.”

You didn’t deny the water, your throat ached from all the screaming earlier in the day. The cool water hit the back of your throat, and you breathed deep before gulping down more. Then your stomach rumbled, you hadn’t eaten in nearly a day.

“You can eat after we talk.” He crossed his legs. “Do you know who I am?”

“I do not.”

“I am Sigtrygrr.” Sigtrygrr placed his large hands on his chest.

“Spare me the introductions.” Upon hearing his name, you knew him, and you knew all about his glorious victories on the battlefield. Sigtrygrr was young and revered throughout Irland and Denmark. But in England he was a no one. He had to make his mark here. This was why he had taken you, a first step into establishing who he was while gaining a stronger following. You were a chest piece.

“And you are Y/N, daughter of the richest and without a doubt the most traitorous man of our people.”

“My father is not treacherous.” He did not interrupt you, he just stared attentively as you continued to talk. “My father has fought in his battles! He wants what is best for his family.”

Nothing. Sigtrygrr smiled, and the silence filled the room. “What do you want for me?” The silence in the closed area made it easy for him to hear the protests of your empty stomach.

“I want nothing from you; I only wish to broker a trader with your father.” He clapped his hands. “Leidolf, bring her some food. Her stomach continues to talk louder in this conversation than either of us.”

You scoffed. “I’d rather eat at home.”

“Or you can starve?”

“Fine.”

He took the plate from Liedolf and handed it to you. And you scarfed down the food, satisfied with the portions that he gave you. “Tell me about North Umbria?”

“I know nothing of it.”

“Your father conquered more than half of its lands. I know you know of it.” He perched back in the chair, raising the front legs from the ground. “I like conversing, so if you were honest with me, this would flow better.”

“It seems that you know more than enough.”

“Fine, we don’t have to talk. Sleep.” In a fluid motion, he took the plate and tossed it outside.  “Tomorrow, your father is likely to arrive, and then we can decide which limb to toss to him.” He smiled and laid back on the pallet of blankets. “Sleep well.”

 It didn’t take much time for Sigtrygrr to find sleep, the soft snores came from him within an hour. The darkness had swept over the camp. From the shadows, you could see the two guards at the entrance. Sigtrygrr was trusting or dumb. The sword at the side of the bed could easily be used to impale him while he slept. You cared less if he was polite or not, you wanted to return home.

Climbing onto the pallet, you moved stealthily, avoiding contact with him until you were over him with the steel of the dagger pressed to the nape of his neck. His eyes opened, not shocked, frightened, or even nervous. His eyes appeared welcoming. “This knife belonged to my father.” He whispered. “With it, he cut the eyes out of 100 Saxons and fed them to the ravens.” Sigtrygrr cleared his throat. “He said their eyes were not worthy of him, arrogant and confident he returned the heads to King Ecbert… and screamed at his gates for a worthy adversary.”

“I prefer not to hear the old tales of your father.”

“Well,” He easily pushed your hand from his neck. “If you were to kill me… I’d be disappointed you chose this dagger to do it. I am a worthy adversary of your father… this death would be unfair.” He said with a smirk. He reached for the weighted sword and handed it to you. “Here you are.”

It wasn’t fair; even with no weapon, Sigtrygrr had found a way to win a quarrel. You tossed the sword to the ground. “I do not think you honorable.”

“Good, that surely was not my intention.”

“Why are you doing this? Ambition, fame? Neither is worth it.”

“A man with no ambition hasn’t a right to be called a man at all. Now, if you’re antics are of Magnusdottir. I’d like to sleep.”

Even in the darkness, you could see the grin on his face. The youthfulness of Sigtrygrr was only in looks, his intellect gave him years of advantages you’d never seen.

Tags: @ceridwenofwales​ @whenimaunicorn​ @titty-teetee​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @geekandbooknerd​ @captstefanbrandt​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​ @carlya65​ @therealcalicali​ @sparklemichele​ @earthsmightiestasses​ @stardustnthings​ @dangerousvikings​ @greennightspider​ @awesomerextyphoon​ @allonesharingonebreath​   @rabeccablake​ @savismith​ @kittybites-94​ @naaladareia​ @umnoyeahno​  @riottkatt​  @ariellostatci​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @marvelousthronewars  @thevikingsheaux​ @prettythingsworld​ @miahelizaaabeth​

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

ANGE MY BELOVED!!! can i request corruption kink with sigtryggr and a saxon/christian reader (gonna put on my whitesona when i read this) 🤭

Here is a snippet for you, Babybel! Full fic coming tomorrow.

Little Warrior

Pairing: Sigtryggr Ivarsson (The Last Kingdom) x F!Reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and death, kidnapping, slight Stockholm syndrome, attempted sexual assault, sexual tension, coercion, corruption kink, talk of religious beliefs, female masturbation, loss of virginity, smut. Word count: tbc

Summary: When Sigtryggr and his men seize Winchester he takes a special interest in one of their captives (I have essentially yeeted Stiorra from the story and adapted the storyline of how her and Sigtryggr become an item to suit my own)

Snippet below the cut!

She winces as she hears the sound of blades making thick, wet impact upon flesh, followed by dying screams of agony. Despite her shock and disgust, she cannot help the twinge of relief that lightens the feeling in her chest that that is not what destiny has in store for her, at least not yet.

The room that he brings her to is what she assumes is a study. It is filled with books, maps and writing materials, the space is occupied by a wooden writing desk, a chair and a settee.

As her eyes travel around the room, taking in her surroundings, she’s startled out of her reverie when her gaze settles back upon him. He is standing so close, silently observing her, his expression unreadable.

Once more she is reminded of how little she is wearing, and now that she is alone with him, fear of what he might do to her returns in earnest.

“S-stay back,” she stammers, backing away, eyes scanning the room for something, anything, that she can use as a weapon.

He smirks, unmoving, as he looks her over from head to toe. “Be calm, little warrior. Do you know who I am?”

Her face contorts in confusion. “No…”

He straightens, tilting his head slightly, clasping his arms behind his back. “I am Sigtryggr Ivarsson. I am a Dane. If I wish to hump a woman I do not need to do so by force.”

She softens slightly, fear does not grip her heart quite so icily as before. His name is meaningless to her, but she is relieved that he means her no harm.

Sigtryggr leans in, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. “But make no mistake, little warrior, I will have you, and you will beg me for it.”

[sigmartell]

SIGTRYGGR & STIORRA in THE LAST KINGDOM, SEASON 5 EPISODE 6

[willowbrookesblog]

Hi I'm Willow and here's my masterlist | some things about me 😊

Free Palestine 🇵🇸 Free Congo 🇨🇩 Free Sudan 🇸🇩

If you support Israel or the genocide of any innocent human being around the world, Please block me.

I don't get political on here but human lives are not political.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

I like a lot of things like I don't know your mom?, some of the movies/series includes: The Lost Boys (1987), The Last Kingdom, That Modern Family, and House of The Dragon.

The music includes: Girl in Red, Ghost, Fall out Boy, Avril Lavigne Sleep Token, Melanie Martinez, and Taylor Swift.

---Masterlist---

{} The Lost Boys {}

The Lost Ones (The Lost Boys x Ocs)

The Lost Ones: Evelyn

The Lost Ones: Roseanne

The Lost Ones: Elise

The Lost Ones: Sage

| The Lost Ones: Chapter 1 |

~^~^~

Marko headcanons

Paul headcanons

---- ----- ----

{The Last Kingdom}

I'm afraid of you | Sigtryggr Ivarsson x Reader

@oceansrose2002 @britany1997 @henhouse-horrors @beoneofus @redrosewritingsstuff @house-of-slayterr @phantomenby @charlizekkelly @ria-coolgirl @pixielostboy @pitiful-anonymous-vampire @auntvamp @luminnara @arianamhm

If you want to be added or taken off the taglist for this story please dm me!

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Doctor's Assistant chapter 2

Note: 'tis the season! chapter 1.

Warnings: mention of cheating.

pairing: Doctor!Sihtric x Assistant!Reader/You (f) (x Doctor!Sigtryggr).

summary: Some Christmas decorations changed everything between you and Sihtric.

wordcount: 5,4k

Masterlist

Yule.

It was another early morning when you heard footsteps come up the narrow stairs of the doctor's practice, and you turned around to find Doctor Ivarsson gazing at the front desk.

'Oh,' Sigtryggr smiled at the festively decorated desk, 'you've been busy, huh?'

'I have,' you chuckled as the doctor gave you a firm hug.

'It looks great, darling,' Sigtryggr said, and looked at the Christmas garland that was draped over the welcome desk.

You had decorated the green garland with small ornaments and, above your desk, you had put up some slowly blinking Christmas lights, and a small Christmas tree was positioned next to your desk.

'Thanks,' you smiled while you both admired the jolly decorations, 'I wasn't sure if you guys were going to decorate anything, so I took it upon myself, as Christmas is approaching.'

'Yeah, Sihtric and I don't celebrate Christmas,' Sigtryggr said and chuckled, 'we're both pagan. We celebrate Yule in our own ways. At home I do decorate, but we don't decorate the practice. In fact,' Sigtryggr scoffed, 'I don't think Sihtric decorates at all, not even at home.'

'Not even at home?' you asked, stunned.

'Nah, he's, eh… his childhood sucked. At least me and my brother tried to make this time of year somewhat festive when we were young,' the doctor explained, 'but Sihtric had no one. And he still has no one. So he's not really used to,' Sigtryggr gestured at the decorations, 'this kind of stuff.'

'You think he won't like it?' you asked, suddenly feeling a little insecure as you felt your heart sank.

A few weeks had passed since your first work day at the new practice, and you had really grown fond of both doctors and their constant flirting with you and bickering about you. But you were especially fond of Sihtric, which made your crush on him even worse, and you actually weren't sure anymore if it was still just a crush. Every day he was a flirt and a tease and every day, when you had lunch together, you noticed he opened up a little more to you, but he hadn't brought up much about his past yet. You only knew he was a Dane, that he had no living family anymore, and that he had been single for a while. But that was as private as your conversations had gotten.

'Oh, no,' Sigtryggr said as he noticed your sudden insecurity, 'he'll love the decorations. I actually think you should decorate our offices too,' he smiled and nudged your shoulder, 'if you want to of course.'

'I'd like that,' you smiled and leaned against the tall doctor.

And Sigtryggr was right. When Sihtric arrived at work, he had a beaming smile on his face once he saw the decorated front desk, but he became serious when he saw Sigtryggr's arm around you.

'What did I tell you about getting near my future wife?' Sihtric asked with a stern look on his face, while he desperately tried to fight a grin before he pulled you in for a regular good morning hug.

'Whatever,' Sigtryggr rolled his eyes and left for his office, much to both yours and Sihtric's pleasure.

'Good morning, sugar,' Sihtric said as he squeezed you in his strong arms, to which you blushed, 'the place looks great, I love it,' he smiled.

You were glad Sihtric liked the decorations and that you hadn't accidentally offended the doctors, despite their religion. 

In fact, during your lunch break with Sihtric, he told you more about some Yule traditions, and you were intrigued. You could listen to Sihtric talk for hours, about anything, but before you knew it your lunch break with him was over again, and the rest of the day flew by too.

The next morning you arrived early at work again to decorate both offices. The first to arrive was Doctor Ivarsson, again, who absolutely loved how you had draped his desk with a garland, as well as the skeleton prop he had stolen from Sihtric, which you had also given a Santa beard. Sigtryggr laughed at the prop and then walked back to the front desk after he had admired the many little decorations you had placed all around his office.

'And?' you asked, like an overly excited puppy.

'You did great,' he smiled and hugged you, 'thank you, darling.'

'You think Sihtric will like it too?'

'If you decorated his office the way you have done mine, I'm sure he will love it.'

You fought a grin and hoped the other doctor would hug you with such a big smile on his face like Sigtryggr just had done. But moments later, when you both heard Sihtric stomp up the stairs of the practice, you knew something was wrong.

'Good morning, handsome,' Sigtryggr teased as he still had his arm around your shoulders.

'Morning,' Sihtric grumbled as he walked past you and Sigtryggr.

Your heart broke when you saw Sihtric's tired and empty eyes in passing, and you immediately noticed that his behaviour and entire look was just completely off. Sihtric was wearing black sweatpants and a black hoodie, which was nothing new, but his hair was loose and messy, which was unlike him. There was also no 'good morning, sugar' with a smile, no hug that lasted a little longer than it should for it to be friendly, no flirty wink, and no 'get away from my future wife' remark to Sigtryggr. There was nothing. Sihtric wouldn't even look into your eyes as he passed you.

'Wow, what happened to you?' Sigtryggr asked when he noticed all the same things.

Sihtric sighed and stopped walking, then turned to face you both.

'I got stuck in traffic,' Sihtric began, 'then some idiot tried to cut me off and I had to brake really hard, which caused my whole fucking coffee to spill in my car. Oh, and I barely slept because that bitch of an ex wife of mine contacted me last night, claiming that I owe her some money. Which I don't!' he snarled and threw his hands up.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you had no idea what to say. You looked up at Sigtryggr, who also wasn't sure about what to say, but before any of you could even try to say anything, Sihtric turned on his heels and made way to his office.

'Sihtric is divorced?' you whispered.

'Yeah,' Sigtryggr sighed, 'his ex took everything when she left. She cheated on him, he found out, they divorced, she took a shit ton of his money, almost all his belongings, and even his kids-'

'Wait,' you scoffed, 'Sihtric is a father?'

'He is,' Sigtryggr said sadly, 'but his children are completely out of the picture, they have been so for many years. And everytime it seems like he is finally doing well again, his ex contacts him for some bullshit reason. It's almost like she can smell that he's healing. But I already know why she contacted him.'

'Why?'

'Yule is approaching, she probably needs money to buy the kids presents. And Sihtric's a fool, but not that kind of a fool, so he knows exactly why she reached out. Which is even worse, because he would love to spend Yule with his children, but he never can. She just won't allow it.'

'Oh, no,' you whispered, suddenly feeling awful that Sihtric was about to step into a fully decorated office, and you ran after him.

'Sihtric!' you called, but he had already opened the door and switched on the lights.

When you reached him, he was frozen to the ground, staring at the decorations you had put up only an hour ago.

'I- I'm sorry, Sig told me yesterday it would be fun if I decorated both offices too. If I had known you had such a shitty night, and morning, I would have never rubbed this jolly stuff in your face. I'm so sor-'

'Don't,' Sihtric said quietly, and you froze, just like him.

Anxiously you awaited his next words, as he was clearly taking in his decorated office. You felt your heart beat out of your chest and accepted you had just made his day even worse.

'Don't… what?' you whispered, when the doctor simply wouldn't say anything else.

'Don't,' he sighed and turned to you, 'don't apologise.'

And when he looked up at you, you saw his tired eyes had teared up.

'I… I love it,' Sihtric whispered and swallowed hard, 'thank you, it's really sweet and thoughtful of you.'

'Oh,' you exhaled with relief, 'you're welcome,' you smiled faintly and pulled anxiously at the sleeves of white your sweater.

You looked at Sihtric, who looked down at his feet again and raked his hands through his wild hair as he sighed, clearly not knowing what to do with himself. The ticking of the clock on the wall filled the awkward silence for a few long seconds.

'Do you… do you want a hug?' you asked softly without thinking.

Sihtric looked back up at you, and he hesitantly nodded after a moment of contemplation.

'Yeah,' he said, barely audible, 'I- I think I do,' he sniffled.

You stepped closer and locked into an embrace, arms tightly wrapped around each other as you both heavily leaned in and enjoyed each other's warmth and scent for a moment. You quietly held each other until you both felt a sudden energy shift in the room. A certain electricity had filled the air when you looked at each other again, and you slowly tucked a strand of hair behind Sihtric's ear while you looked into each other's eyes.

'Better?' you whispered.

'Definitely better,' Sihtric said softly, 'sorry for being so grumpy.'

'It's okay. We all have bad days.'

'I suppose,' he smiled softly, 'but… thanks for this,' Sihtric looked around the room again, 'I really appreciate it. I love it, really. Thank you, sugar.'

'You're welcome,' you smiled and felt your cheeks heat up as he still held you in his arms.

'So,' he cleared his throat and finally took a step back, 'you, eh, think about what you want for lunch, okay?'

'I will,' you said.

And when you finally let go of each other, you went to make Sihtric a cup of fresh coffee. You returned to his office a few minutes later and placed the coffee on his desk while he was on the phone, staring out of the window, and he turned just in time to see you sneak out the door.

About half an hour later Doctor Kjartansson came up to your desk, holding the empty cup. He leaned in on the front desk to get your attention while you stared at your computer screen, and when you looked up you found Sihtric staring at you with a smile.

'H-hey,' you blushed.

'Hey,' he said with a sly smile, 'thanks for the coffee, sugar,' he said and winked.

'Would you really do that?' Sihtric asked and took a bite out of his apple as he sat back in his chair.

'Sure,' you chuckled, 'why not? But do you even have any decorations at home?'

'Eh,' Sihtric grimaced, 'no?'

'Oh,' you laughed, 'okay, well, you'll have to buy them first, otherwise I can't decorate your house.'

'Okay,' Sihtric said, 'I'll buy them after work.'

You nodded in agreement and finished your tea. During your lunch break, Sihtric had started to become more like his usual self again. He eventually jokingly asked if you wanted to decorate his house for Yule, to which you shrugged and said you didn't mind, not thinking he was serious. But Sihtric was very serious. He liked you. He liked being around you and he liked the way you had completely cheered up the work place with your festive decorations, and Sihtric figured his house could use that same vibe, unless he wanted to have another miserable Yuletide. When you found out he was serious about it, you still said you wouldn't mind, but that you didn't have enough decorations at your own place anymore to bring to his house. And so Sihtric said he'd buy his own decorations after work, which you could use when you'd visit him after work tomorrow, to decorate his house.

But today, when your work day had come to an end and Sigtryggr had already hugged you goodbye, Sihtric shyly came up to you as you packed your bag to go home.

'Good luck shopping,' you smiled at him.

'Yeah, eh, about that,' Sihtric chuckled awkwardly, 'I, eh… I… I don't know where to get those… things.'

'What? The decorations?'

'Y-yeah…'

'Oh, well, you can get them at garden centres, they have these big Christmas set ups every year.'

'You buy them there?' Sihtric asked while you zipped up your coat.

'Yep,' you smiled.

'Oh, okay,' Sihtric said, 'thanks.'

You waited for Sihtric to make way so you could get down the stairs, to the bus stop, and go home. But Sihtric didn't move, instead, he just looked troubled while he rubbed the back of his neck.

'Are you okay?' you asked.

'Yeah, just,' Sihtric paused and bit down on his lip as he kept fidgeting with his hands, and then said, 'I… so… maybe… would you, eh, I could use some help, you know? With the, eh, looking for decorations I mean. So, I was wondering if… if maybe you want to, you know, g-go with me?'

'Now?' you blinked, surprised.

'Y-yeah,' Sihtric smiled shyly, 'I mean… only if you want to. Otherwise I guess I'll, eh, figure it out,' he chuckled.

'Oh, eh,' you also couldn't help but chuckle nervously, 'yeah, I guess I could… join you.'

Sihtric anxiously tapped his fingers on his steering wheel. He was as nervous as he was excited to go shopping with you for Yule decorations. Or Christmas decorations, whatever you wanted to call it, Sihtric truly didn't care. He only cared about getting to know you outside of work. Whereas he teased and flirted with you throughout the day when you just met, he felt himself become a little more shy around you as weeks passed by. He didn't expect to ever meet someone again who would set his heart on fire, but he had; you. 

Everything about you was perfect to him, but he just couldn't say it. He was terrified you didn't feel the same and he didn't want to ruin the pleasant atmosphere at work. He knew you were interested in him in some way, but he wasn't sure anymore exactly what way. And when he had jokingly asked you to decorate his house, he didn't let the opportunity slide when you said yes. And he couldn't believe he got to spend time with you outside of work today, so abruptly. And now that he sat in his car, with you next to him, he felt nervous because he actually wasn't prepared to be around you after work right now.

Fact was Sihtric is very confident, but once feelings get involved, he becomes a little clumsy and shy. And sensitive. He was too shy to admit at first that he had no idea where to buy decorations, but at least he got over that. He had a much bigger problem now; he was too shy to talk to you. So all he did was stare at the road, tap his fingers, and change the radio station every twenty seconds, which drove you insane.

But you didn't want to come off rude and tell him to stop changing the stations. You were nervous and excited about the fact that you sat next to someone as handsome as Sihtric, that you forgave his odd driving behaviour. Every now and then you looked at him from the corner of your eye, too shy to say anything, and Sihtric didn't speak either. You weren't sure why he was so quiet, but you also didn't want to be weird, so you kept quiet too. Until Sihtric sneezed.

'Bless you,' you mumbled.

'Thanks,' Sihtric smiled.

And it seemed the ice had been broken.

'So,' you cleared your throat, 'are you feeling better than this morning?'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sihtric nodded, 'for sure.'

'Good,' you smiled, then cautiously went on, 'I, eh, was a little surprised to find out you are divorced.'

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed as he pulled up to the parking lot of the massive garden centre, 'yeah, it's not something I talk about a lot. I guess Sig told you some stuff?'

'Yeah,' you confessed, 'he did.'

'Saves me the trouble,' Sihtric said with a faint smile, 'I'm kidding. But, yeah. I'm divorced and a father of three kids, who I never get to see. My ex cheated on me, and because she's the mother she got full custody and moved out of town with my kids, so… yeah.'

'I'm sorry,' you said, compassionately.

'It's okay,' Sihtric said, 'I mean, I'm over her. I'm over the whole situation in general, but I guess during the holidays it just… I don't know,' he sighed, 'it gets lonely, I guess.'

'I understand,' you said, 'I mean, I can't relate to having kids or being divorced, but my ex cheated on me too and left me quite abruptly last year.'

'Gods, I'm sorry. Why are people such assholes?' Sihtric asked as he shut off the engine.

'Beats me,' you shrugged, and you both got out of the car.

'Well,' Sihtric said as you walked up to the store entrance, 'you deserve better than a cheater anyway.'

'So do you,' you said, to which Sihtric smiled.

He hoped he deserved you, at some point. But he couldn't possibly tell you that now. Not yet, it was too soon. Maybe if he'd get drunk enough during the Christmas party at work in a few weeks he might be confident enough to confess his feelings to you. Maybe.

You grabbed a shopping cart and Sihtric followed you into the store, where you turned to him with a grin and said, 'Well, go nuts.'

Sihtric gazed around the place, like a lost puppy, and he just had no idea what to do. He had never seen so many lights and decorations in one place, and it was actually overwhelming. He was already overwhelmed by having you with him, but now he couldn't think straight at all anymore. Christmas music blasted through the speakers, the choo-choo sound of miniature trains came from every direction, and on top of that, the smell of gingerbread and hot chocolate filled his lungs. Sihtric had no idea what kind of place he had just walked into.

'Are you okay?' you asked when the doctor looked like he had an internal error.

'I… I,' Sihtric stammered, 'I just… don't know where to start.'

'Okay,' you chuckled, 'I understand. These places are very overwhelming,' you reassured Sihtric that his reaction was completely normal. 'Okay, so, do you have a tree? A Christmas tree? Or a… Yule tree, if that's a thing?'

'Eh, n-no,' Sihtric said, 'I don't have a tree.'

'Well, then let's start with that,' you smiled and grabbed his arm, pulling him with you to the tree section, where you walked between the many trees with your elbows linked, 'the best thing to do is to get a fake tree, so you can use it every year. Real trees are cool, but messy and you have to replace them every year.'

'Oh,' Sihtric chuckled, 'okay, then I guess a fake tree?'

Sihtric looked at the insane variety of trees, and he felt lost once again.

'There's… so many,' he mumbled as he enjoyed the way you kept your arm hooked with his, 'how do I know what to choose?'

'It's all about height,' you said and looked up at him, 'do you want a tall tree? Or a small one? And then you can choose if you want one that has lights in it already, or maybe a tree with fake snow on it, those are cool! Oh! There are also white trees, black trees, even red trees!'

'I… O-okay,' Sihtric shook his head, 'calm down, sugar,' he chuckled, 'you're going to give me a sugar rush.'

'Sorry,' you smiled sheepishly.

'Don't be,' he smiled, 'but… I guess I'll take a tree that's as tall as I am. That makes sense, right?'

'It does,' you said and pointed out some trees that matched his height.

'Gods,' Sihtric grimaced when he looked at the price, 'maybe a smaller one, perhaps.'

You giggled and walked Sihtric over to a few smaller trees, which seemed to have a more fair price, and after some contemplating, Sihtric finally loaded one of the boxed trees in the shopping cart.

'Okay, that's one thing done,' you said, 'now onto the lights and tree decorations!'

Sihtric felt like his heart would explode by the way you excitedly showed him various ornaments and garlands, and he wished he could just grab your cheeks and kiss you on the mouth. But he had to fight his urges. Instead, he just agreed to almost everything you showed him. He didn't care about what you loaded in the cart, or what it would cost, being around you and seeing you so excited while being sweet to him was simply priceless to Sihtric. 

After a while of strolling through the endless Christmas aisles, you found yourself walking next to Sihtric with your fingers lightly intertwined. You enjoyed his touch, it made you all warm and fuzzy inside, and even a little lightheaded at times when he suddenly stroked your hand with his thumb. It seemed that with each new item you showed each other, you both leaned in closer and closer, as if you couldn't hear each other otherwise, which was a lie. You could hear each other perfectly fine from a decent distance, but you both just wanted to be close. And yet neither of you was going to confess that. You felt like this was the happiest you had been in a while, while it was such a simple concept; shopping for decorations with a cute guy. It was a dream. But that dream turned into a nightmare when you suddenly spotted your ex across the aisle.

'Fuck!' you hissed and ducked behind Sihtric.

'What's wrong?' the doctor asked, bewildered.

'Okay, don't look,' you said, 'but the guy behind you-'

You had barely said the words or Sihtric turned to look at the guy, and you slapped his arm.

'I said don't look!' you hissed.

'Sorry,' Sihtric mumbled, 'what did you expect, really?' he grinned.

'Whatever,' you smiled and rolled your eyes, 'anyway, that's my ex.'

'The cheater?'

You nodded and Sihtric looked back over his shoulder again.

'He looks happy,' Sihtric shrugged.

'Yeah, because that girl next to him is the one he cheated with!' you snarled quietly.

'Oh, yikes,' Sihtric said, 'do you still like him?'

'What? Ew! No, not at all,' you said, 'I just despise him- oh, fuck! He saw me.'

Before you could pretend you never saw your ex, he already waved at you and walked over. Sihtric took a step back while you feigned politeness and engaged in a conversation.

'I thought that was you,' your ex smiled, 'how have you been?'

'Fine,' you shrugged, 'you?'

'Good, good,' the guy said, 'we are, eh,' he pointed to the girl he picked over you, 'we're expecting!'

'Oh,' you faked a smile, 'that's, wauw,' you swallowed hard, 'a-amazing, heh. Congratulations!'

'Thanks!' the couple smiled, 'so,' your ex continued, 'what about you? Are you seeing someone? The guy you just spoke with?'

'Oh,' you chuckled nervously, 'he's, eh, he's-'

'Honey,' Sihtric suddenly said as he held up a random deer plushie, 'what about this one? For in our bedroom?'

'H-honey?' you wheezed as your cheeks burned up, 'b-bedroom? Eh,' you cleared your throat, catching on to Sihtric's plan, 'eh, yes! Yes, that would work,' you smiled.

'Great,' Sihtric smiled and loaded the plush deer in the cart, then wrapped his arm around your shoulder, 'hi, I'm Sihtric,' he introduced himself to your cheater and his pregnant side chick.

'Oh, hi,' your ex smiled, 'eh, boyfriend?' he looked at you.

'Y- yes?' you said, awkwardly.

'Fiancé, actually,' Sihtric smiled and squeezed your shoulder, 'right, babe?'

'Oh, eh, yes,' you agreed, and wrapped your arm around him, 'Doctor Kjartansson proposed a few weeks ago.'

'Doctor? Oh… n- no way, hey, congrats!' your ex smiled weakly, and Sihtric enjoyed the fact that he could clearly see the sudden heartbreak in your ex's eyes.

'Thanks,' you smiled when you noticed the pain in his fake smile too, 'but, eh, we have a lot of shopping to do, so we better get going, right, Siht?' you looked up at your fake fiancé.

'You're the boss, sugar,' Sihtric winked at you and gestured to you to show him the way.

'O-okay, yeah,' your ex stammered, 'h-have fun. I'll, eh, see you around.'

'Ah, I doubt that,' Sihtric said, then grinned, 'we'll be moving soon.'

You had already moved on when Sihtric suddenly snuck his arms around your waist from behind. You were startled for a moment, but simply weakened at the sound of his voice in your ear when he murmured that your ex was still looking back at you over his shoulder.

'Oh,' you chuckled, 'well, I don't care.'

'Good,' Sihtric smiled and pecked your cheek, 'because he clearly does.'

You felt your cheeks heat up and, to distract yourself and Sihtric from your shyness, you grabbed a plant to keep up your relationship facade.

'How about this plant for the bedroom?' you asked, loud enough for your ex to hear you.

'It's perfect, sweetheart,' Sihtric replied loud enough and put the plant in his cart, 'just like you, sugar.'

'Did you see the look on his face?' you snorted as you held a cup of hot chocolate, 'that was such payback. Thank you, Siht.' 

Sihtric chuckled while he sat across the table from you, sipping his own cup of hot chocolate in the garden centre's restaurant.

'You're welcome,' he smiled, 'I'll admit that it was fun to see the confidence being squeezed out of him.'

You laughed again at the memory of your ex looking all hurt and upset when Sihtric announced your fake engagement. You looked at Sihtric and your smile slowly faded as you stared at him, and the same happened to Sihtric. He slowly reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours while your eyes remained locked on each other, and you both slightly leaned in over the small table. The Christmas lights above and around you made it a cosy place, and the burning candle in the middle of the table made it even romantic.

'I hope your ex realises what he has lost,' Sihtric said softly, and slowly caressed your hand with his thumb, 'he really didn't deserve you, sugar.'

You blushed and looked down at your cup, not knowing what to say to the doctor who you had a huge crush on. If it was still just a crush, because you weren't sure. Every time you looked at him you felt warm inside, and happy. And whenever you locked eyes, you felt shy and giddy, and you were nervous whenever he was around. Sihtric was the last thing you thought of at night, and the first thing in the morning when you woke up. You couldn't believe you even dreaded the weekends, because that meant you wouldn't see him, and you couldn't wait for Mondays to arrive. 

And unbeknownst to you, Sihtric felt exactly the same. You had Sihtric's number, as he had given it to you during your first week of work at the new practice, but you had been too shy to text him. And Sihtric didn't want you to feel pressured or for him to make things weird, so he had never texted you either. And yet you both couldn't get each other out of your mind.

'Well,' you cleared your throat, 'your ex really fucked up too.'

'Maybe,' he shrugged lightly with a soft smile, 'anyway,' he chuckled and sat back, his fingers still intertwined with yours, 'you're still up for coming over tomorrow evening?'

'Yeah, of course,' you said, 'would be shitty to watch you buy all this stuff and then for me to bail on you.'

'Stranger things have happened to me, lady,' Sihtric smiled, 'but, good. I'm glad you're still up for it. But what's the plan? Will you come with me after work? I can make some food while you decorate, if you'd like. But it's fine if you want to go home first.'

'The first plan sounds good,' you said, 'oh, but did you hear about that snow storm?'

'Oh, yeah,' Sihtric groaned, 'I totally forgot about that. But what are the odds? They always predict crazy weather and then nothing happens.'

'I know,' you said and finished your hot chocolate, 'but still, better not risk it, right? The earlier I finish at your place, the better I guess.'

'Already looking forward to go home, huh?' Sihtric joked.

'What? No,' you chuckled, 'not at all-'

'Not at all?' Sihtric frowned with a sly smile.

'I- you- oh come on,' you buried your face in your hands, 'you know what I mean.'

'I do, sugar,' Sihtric said, 'and I agree. I'll make sure to have you back home before the storm. It's near midnight, right?'

'Yeah, it's supposed to start quite late. So I'm not worried, but better safe than sorry.'

Sihtric agreed and finished his own drink, then said you two should probably continue your shopping as the store was closing in about half an hour. You made your way to the checkout, and Sihtric said he had never spent that much money at a garden centre before.

'It'll be worth it,' you promised.

'I hope so,' Sihtric laughed as he struggled to close the trunk of his car.

You got in the car and, after Sihtric finally managed to shut the trunk, he sat down behind the wheel and gave you the plush deer he had thrown in his cart during the encounter with your ex.

'Here,' he said.

'What am I supposed to do with this? Didn't fit in the trunk anymore?'

'It's for you,' Sihtric smiled, 'I mean, what am I going to do with it?'

'I don't know?' you shrugged, 'it's cute but… what am I supposed to do with it?'

'I don't know,' Sihtric also shrugged, 'keep it in your bed? You can hug it when you miss me,' he grinned.

'Oh, cocky aren't we?' you laughed, 'but, thanks. I'll make sure to give it a good spot in my apartment.'

'You do that, sugar,' Sihtric smiled and started his car.

The drive back to your place was way more relaxed than the drive to the store had been, and you felt a sadness creeping over you when Sihtric pulled up to your apartment building.

'So, I'll see you tomorrow then,' he smiled at you, 'thanks for tonight. You're all- I mean, I really needed this.'

'You're welcome,' you blushed, 'and thank you too, I needed it as well. And thanks for the plushie,' you chuckled as you held up the deer.

'You're welcome, sugar,' Sihtric said with his warm, smooth voice.

You stared at each other for a few long seconds until the tension in the car was almost visible.

'So, eh, hug?' you chuckled.

'Always,' Sihtric smiled and leaned in as he pulled you in for a hug.

'Good night, Siht,' you said softly as you hugged.

'Good night, sugar,' Sihtric murmured and then pecked your cheek.

You felt your heart skip a beat when you both pulled back slightly, only to look into each other's eyes. Sihtric's heart was beating out of his chest, like yours, when his eyes trailed down to your lips.

'I'll see you tomorrow,' he whispered, desperately trying to fight the urge to kiss your lips.

Sihtric tried to keep his eyes locked with yours, but when your own eyes trailed down to his lips for a split second, he couldn't keep it together anymore.

'Fuck,' he breathed, 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, then cupped your cheeks and planted his lips on yours, capturing you in a soft but firm kiss.

You stopped breathing when his lips touched yours. Your eyes were wide open before you understood what happened, and then you completely surrendered right after your realisation. But just when you wanted to kiss him back, Sihtric broke the kiss. His hard, shaky breath filled the silence in his car while you heard your heartbeat in your ears.

'Don't,' you whispered while your lips still touched.

'Don't… what?' Sihtric murmured, his voice vibrating against your lips as he held your face in his trembling hands.

'Don't… don't apologise.'

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[fan-fantasies]

Knowledge is Power

Request: Can you please do a Sigtryggr fic where the reader is a Saxon teacher who is captured when the Danes invade and she eventually is used to teach Sigtryggr how to read or something?

Pairing: Sigtryggr x Reader

Warnings: None

Masterlist 

“And what is it that you do here?” A gruff man asked you. The Danes had just taken over Winchester and were deciding who was valuable and who was disposable. 

“I am a teacher to the ætheling,” you answered. You had been taken into the palace by Edward and his wife once their son was old enough to start learning how to read and write. 

“And what is it that you teach him? The art of war?” He questioned. You scoffed at him. 

“There are more important things to teach a boy than how to fight. I teach him the history of our people and how to access that information so he may learn for himself,” you said. The man scowled at you and looked to another man that was in the room. 

“Arne, are you in need of a teacher?” He asked. 

“No, but I am in need of a whore,” he chuckled, looking at you with a dangerous glint in his eye. 

“I’d rather you kill me,” you spat. The man standing in front of you took a step closer but you didn’t move. You would not be scared into submission. 

“Well unfortunately for you, I don’t care what you’d rather. We have no need for a teacher, but you will make a nice slave.” He grabbed your face with a rough hand and your hands instantly wrapped around his wrist, trying to tear him from you. 

“And who said we have no need for a teacher?” Another voice spoke. His hand dropped and he stepped away from you like you had the plague. 

“I’m sorry, lord?” 

“What do you teach, woman?” This new man asked. 

“I can teach the history of the land and peoples as well as reading and writing,” you said. He looked you up and down, pondering what to say next. 

“I would like you to teach me what you know. We can start with reading the chronicles that are in the library,” he said. “No one touches her, understood?” 

“Yes, lord,” both men mumbled. 

“We start tomorrow. You will be confined to your chambers for the time being,” he told you. “You will be fetched when it is time for our lessons.” 

“Yes, lord,” you said. You were returned to your room by two very angry men, but were left feeling a sense of security. If you were of use, you were safe. 

Tomorrow came and you tidied your room until someone came to get you. You were brought into the reading room and saw the same man from yesterday already sitting with scrolls in front of him. 

“(Y/N), is it?” He asked. You simply nodded while taking a seat across from him. “I am Sigtryggr, but I am sure you’ve heard of me.” 

“I haven’t actually. You’re no where in these pages which leaves me to believe you have yet to make a name for yourself,” you said. He chuckled at your words. 

“You seem to know about the Danes and how we work. I will make a name for myself, that I am sure of. But for now, I simply wish to learn.” 

“Why? What use do you have of reading and writing?” You asked.

“Knowledge is power. The generations before me have always thought that power was won through bloodshed, but I believe that there are other ways,” he answered honestly. 

“Well, Sigtryggr, I think that’s very noble of you, even for a Dane,” you chuckled. 

“How long have you lived in Winchester?” He asked. 

“Since birth. I have lived in the palace only a few years now,” you said. “I thought you wanted to learn the history of the people, not me?” 

“You are of the people, are you not?” He asked with a smirk. You looked down quickly to hide the heat that had risen to your cheeks. 

“I suppose I am. But there are much more interesting people in these chronicles to learn about than me,” you replied. 

“We will get to them,” he said. He continued to ask you questions about your past and your interests. You had taught him almost nothing about the history of Wessex when someone came to request his assistance elsewhere. He waved them off before turning to you with a smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said. 

“And maybe you’ll actually learn something,” you chuckled. 

“I learned plenty.” He sent a wink your way before leaving you to be escorted back to your room. 

The next day was more productive, spending half the time learning about Saxon history and the other half was spent learning about Sigtryggr’s childhood and his time in Ireland. 

Over the next few weeks, you had grown closer to the Dane. He gave you the freedom to roam about as you wanted and you spent more time with him outside of your lessons. You typically ate dinner with him and took an afternoon stroll through the garden. You knew eventually that things would have to come to an end but you tried not to think about it. 

When the Saxons returned to reclaim their city, your study sessions ended. You were sad, to say the least, but you were still able to see him from time to time. 

You found yourself wandering the halls one night, unable to sleep. You were shocked to find that the reading room was lit with candles already when you entered. You saw Sigtryggr bent over the table, reading a scroll. He hadn’t heard you come in so you took a minute to admire him in the candlelight. 

His brow was furrowed and muscles tense. He had a frown etched onto his beautiful face. Being so young and under so much pressure was taking a toll on him. You jumped when you heard him speak. 

“I thought Saxons were supposed to have manners. I’ve been told that it’s rude to stare,” he said, not bothering to look up from his reading. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you,” you uttered. 

“You could never do such a thing,” he said. You stood next to him and looked at the scroll he was reading. He let out a deep sigh and ran a tired hand over his face.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked him. 

"You’ve helped me in more ways than you know,” he whispered. “I just want this to end in a way that could benefit everyone. We don’t have to act like the generations before us.”

“Everyone’s tired of fighting. I think if you talked to Edward then he would agree to a deal,” you said. You placed a hand on his arm and made him look up at you. “You’re an honorable man, Sigtryggr Ivarsson.” 

He took your hand in his and gave it a squeeze. He looked into your eyes and leaned in slowly, waiting with bated breath. You met his lips with yours in a sweet kiss that was long overdue. He pulled away and couldn’t contain his smile. 

“If that’s all I get for conquering Wessex then it would be worth it,” he sighed happily. He pressed his forehead to yours. 

“You need to get some rest,” you told him. 

“So do you.” 

“Let’s go then,” you said. You blew out the candles while he re-shelved the scroll. You accompanied him back to his room where you both fell asleep in each other’s arms, waking more rested than you had been in weeks. 

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[timetravelingpenguin1066]

The Meeting

Paring - Sigtryggr Ivarsson x Stiorra Uhtredsdottir

Genre - historical fiction, viking, romance

Summary - Their meeting in Winchester from each point of view.

Warnings - language 15+

Word count - 1797

A/N - this will get a part 2. Apologies for the quality of the moodboard.

I remember the first time I saw him. I’d been captured, taken prisoner. My heart beat so fast I thought it would explode out my chest. Haesten’s men dragged me into that room. I only saw her. Brida. Pregnant. I knew that if she discovered who I was, she would kill to send a message to my father. They did not seem to notice me at first. I thought I’d get away with it. Lady Aelswith threatened Brida. “I am giving you a warning,” she told them. “This inclusion will not be tolerated. My son will burn us all to the ground before he concedes one square of Wessex land. You are a pack of fools. Unknowingly, you have trapped yourselves within these walls. For once, the heathen are all in one place. And when the fire comes, as come it shall, we will watch your souls burn as we ascend.” This threat seemed not to affect Brida. She merely scoffed, picking up her axe.

“Have her servant girl feed her shit.”

“Torture me by all means,” the Lady said as she was dragged away. “But you must know that she and the boy are Danes. They were taken as slaves after out victory at Tettanhall. If you value your people, take them back.”

Brida approached me, seeming sceptical of the Lady’s claim. I couldn’t help but tremble in fear. “Who is Sjofn?” she asked, challenging my knowledge of the gods.

“Handmaiden of Frigga,” I answered. She seemed surprised.

“She is half Dane at most. The monk boy, not at all.”

“Half Dane is enough,” came a new voice. A man. His hair was long, pale red-blonde in the light. His armour had no sleeves, leaving his muscled arms exposed. My breath caught. What would he do to me? “Hold the young woman separately.” Separately? What? So the men force me to do things? Then another voice spoke. Eadwulf. Fuck. He knew who I was, and he had to tell that to everyone.

“She's Uhtred's daughter. I recognize her.” Brida stared at me, searching for my father in me. “We met in Mercia when my sister betrayed me.” Well, I was not about to let this spineless arse-licker expose me.

“I’ve never seen you before,” I told him. But it was too late.

“Of course,” said Brida. “She has his look. And she is cunning like him.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Find Uhtred. Send him her head.”

“No-” Lady Aelswith protested. Or tried to.

“Do it. It will bring him. It will bring them all and the end will begin.” The man rose from his seat. Bride walked towards Aelswith. “What? I thought you welcomed the fire.”

“Put the Queen and the others back where they keep their dead king,” The man said, striding towards me. “She comes with me.”

A hand slid around, covering my mouth to stop my protests. The man held his hand around my neck until he shoved me in a room. The room was bare, save for a few tables and books and scrolls along the walls. There was an empty glass on the table. I sat and smashed the glass. I held a shard to my face. If I was ugly, no man would have me. The door opened. My time was out. I closed my eyes and prepared for the pain.

“Do not,” he said. I hesitated. There was something in his voice that made me pause. I could not see him. “I will not harm you. Do not.” He walked around, crunching on the broken glass, until he was in front of me. He was still standing and I did not raise my eyes. He held his hands up. “I only wish to speak with you.” I stared up at him. He knelt down to my level. “Answer me truthfully and I will treat you kindly.”

“I have heard of men’s kindness and I do not want it.”

“I am the Dane who took Winchester. If I wanted to hump a woman, I would not need to use force.”

I lowered the shard from my face and he reached out. I let in a sharp breath at the closeness, but he only took the glass from my hand. His warm fingers brushing gently against mine. He stood after a moment, going to the other side of the room. Far enough away to assure me of his intentions. “Who was your mother?” he asked as he walked.

“Gisela, sister of Guthred of Northumbria.”

“Oh, so we share the same ancestors.”

“Yet we’re not the same.”

“And where is your home?” he inquired. I turned my head briefly to see him sitting down. 

Turning back, quickly, I told him, “Bebbanburg.”

“A young woman with land in the north.”

“Our lands were stolen, but my father will see them restored.”

“Hm, so, are you one of us, or one of them?”

“I’m both!” I told him. “As are many living here, two generations, three.  This foolishness of who is Saxon and who is Dane.”

“When one side seeks to destroy the other, you must choose in order to survive.”

“Well, I refuse. It’s a game for old men.” He said nothing, so I carried on. “I won’t be held to the feuds from years ago. I have no fight with either side and I will not choose. It would dishonour either my father or my mother.”

“Well, then, I would say this love of honour makes you a Dane. The Saxon only cares for obedience to their god.”

“Then you know nothing of Saxons. They treasure honour as much as you do.”

“Yet they say their god is the god of peace.”

“Do you also believe them when they say their god came back from the dead?” I asked him, sceptical myself. He laughed.

“Do you think there could be peace between Saxon and Dane?” I turned back to face him, unsure of what I was hearing. “They are new to me, I wish to understand their ways.” I turned back, unwilling to look at him. Though I was no longer afraid, my heart still hammered, but there was a new sensation low in my stomach. I seemed to only feel it when I looked at him. 

“Many would like there to be,” I confessed. Then he changed the subject.

“Tell me of your father Uhtred.” He rose and moved to a seat further forwards, much closer to me. I leaned on my hand, elbow on the table so I did not have to look at him. “Why does he hate us?”

I looked at him, affronted. “He doesn’t.”

“Then why does he kill so many of my kin? Why does he revel in his title ‘Dane-Slayer’.”

“He doesn’t revel in it. He hates it. You speak like a man who has never killed.” He did not seem to be offended.

Instead, he said, “Oh, I have killed, but only Christians. I would never betray my people.”

“He’s never betrayed anyone.” I felt compelled to explain. “He was often torn between those who loved him like their own and those were his blood. My mother was a Dane and he loved her.” I turned to face fully. “If Uhtred were intent on destroying the Dane to clean us from the land, why am I here to speak of it?”

~...~

Stiorra. That was her name. The name of the woman who had captured my gaze the moment she walked into that room. I did not notice her at first. I was more entertained by Aelswith’s attempt to use the power of her god to threaten heathens. But then my attention was drawn to her. The Lady claimed that the girl and the boy were Dane. Bride, the she-wolf, tested their knowledge with a minor goddess. The girls answered. Brida believed her to be half Dane. The monk boy most certainly was not. “Half Dane is enough. Hold the young woman separately.” Then that annoying shit of an arse-licker decided to speak. But his words were, for once, of interest. He declared her the daughter of Uhtred, the Dane-Slayer. She tried to protest it, to claim she’d never seen the man before. But Brida saw through the lie. And, of course, Brida sought to use the information to bring this Uhtred to her.

“Find Uhtred. Send him her head.” Her head. Those words echoed in my head. Her head. The Lady tried to protest. Brida merely taunted her. I did not want to frighten this woman, but I had a reputation to maintain. 

“Put the Queen and the others where they keep their dead king. She comes with me.” My man grabbed her by the neck and led her out. She was put in a room. A room with many maps and books. A glass sat on one of the tables. She smashed and held a shard to her cheek, intending to cut her face so no man would use her. “Do not,” I said. She did not move. “I will not harm you. Do not.” I moved around in front of her, the glass littering the floor crunching underfoot. I lowered myself to her level, raising my hands. “I only wish to speak with you. Answer me truthfully and I will treat you kindly.” But this woman was defiant.

“I have heard of mens kindness and I do not want it.” Ah, that fire in her. A warrior’s spirit. It reminded me of a story a woman had told me on the way to Winchester. The story of Boudicea. A warrior queen who would rather die than be taken as a slave. But this woman misread my intentions.

“I am the Dane who took Winchester. If I wanted to hump a woman, I would not need to use force.” She lowered that and I reached out to take, letting my fingers brush along hers. Small, but soft and smooth. I moved away so I would not be tempted to touch her again. I was curious about her. She was different from other women I’d encountered in my past. I asked her questions about her mother and her father. She remained defiant and headstrong. Even when I asked if she would choose Saxon or Dane, she still said she was both and would not choose. I asked her why her father killed my kin.

“He’s never betrayed anyone,” she told me. “He was often torn between those who loved him like their own and those were his blood. My mother was a Dane and he loved her.” She turned to face fully. “If Uhtred were intent on destroying the Dane to clean us from the land, why am I here to speak of it?”

I hesitated in my response. That was no easy question to answer.

[honestsycrets]

More Than Her Legacy IV: The Sword of Kings

Author’s Notes | see my masterlist for prior chapters. this is the last in this series.

❛ pairing | sigtryggr ivarsson x reader, sigtryggr x ivar (platonic

❛ word count | 1298

❛ genre | multi-series

❛ summary | sigtryggr returns home for his wedding empty handed

❛  warnings | heavy angst, deadbeat dad comes around

As he steps off the boat looking toward his uncle, he knew that he had failed in his mission. With all of his heart, he had tried to do what was asked of him. Yet-- he failed. He most definitely failed. He tried to reason with what he might tell Ubbe when he returned home. Perhaps that his father was curt and didn’t want to speak to him? He wouldn’t have his father’s sword at his wedding, and so, he had to work around that.

Ubbe steps up with his hair in tight rolls bundled into a braid trailing down to his ass. Torvi clutches his arm as they step together. Sigtryggr’s flat eyebrows push together, blue eyes twinkling in the softness they look to him with. They had always… always… been like this. They had always cared about him where father did not.

“Did he give you the sword at least?” Torvi looks out to Sigtryggr’s solemn eyes.

“No.” He answers. “He doesn’t approve of my marriage to (Y/N).”

There was no reason why, and yet, he hoped that for once Ivar could. For him-- for his son. Sigtryggr’s hand falls down from his black armour baring the mark of a raven. Torvi’s eyes dart about until she moves her other hand forward.

“He is Ivar the Pitiless, Sigtryggr.” She consoles. Her hand falls from his shoulder.

“I know.” He sighs. “I only wished…”

“You may use my sword.”

His uncle’s hand comes around to the shaved sides of Sigtryggr’s head, soothing him with his thumb massaging apologetically over the runes tattooed down the side of his head. His chest swells this time, full without the feeling that he was so used to-- rejection. The film of his eye seems to moisen with his glee but he holds it, looking down to his feet. Father tormented him with his softness. He couldn’t be soft yet again.

“Thank you uncle.” He nods, looking back to the boat where his younger sister hikes up her long skirts to step off the boat. A little clumsily-- and Sigtryggr darts in their direction. “I better get my sisters off that boat.”

The second that the young boy steps away, Torvi turns up her head toward Ubbe.

“He really rejected him?” She asks. Ubbe tilts his head watching Sigtryggr grab his younger sister just under her waist, hiking her up and stepping off the boat. There is a plank leading from the boat to the pier-- but they could never do things that easily, now, could they?

“He’s never gotten over her death.” Ubbe draws out a sigh.

“Then the solution was to reject his only son with her?” Torvi attempts to see the reason in that. There’s no way that he could to begin with.

“You know my brother. He’s stubborn.” He looks toward Sigtryggr who repeats the treatment to all of his sisters, pulling the youngest around in a little spin. “But I always hoped he could work it out for him.”

“My love!” Then at long last he waves toward you standing at the very end of the pier, waving. Almost adorably he winds his fingers through Helga’s and runs for your direction. Ubbe’s hand comes to Torvi’s wound around his elbow.

“We are more than enough family for him.” Torvi shakes her head just slightly. It’s Ubbe’s sincere hope that he was right. After all-- the wedding was in only days.

It was your wedding day. Everything was meant to be happy, good times. You had yet to see Sigtryggr but you were sure he would look like a little stud. You smooth over the hem of your dress as your father sets upon your head a red flower bridal crown.

“How does it look?” You ask your mother, turning around in the long dress. Blaeja’s hand comes to her chest, smiling.

“It’s beautiful, (Y/N).” She had been there through much of the marital preparations and now… well, it was about time. Sigtryggr’s jaunty laugh in sacrificing animals to the the gods had marked time to go!

On your way out of the tent, you encountered a strange sight. Torvi’s sword was drawn from her side. Initially you don’t recognize the older man with a soft, short beard. But then, upon second look, it’s your uncle’s cane. His hand is tight with tension around his sword.

“Why don’t you go home?” She leers at him. At your side, Sigurd drops his hand from his wife’s waist in exchange for his axe, stepping up to his sister in law’s side.

“I want to see my son.” Ivar says.

“You had your chance. Ubbe is with him now.” Your father says. Ivar meets his oh so favourite brother, exhaling air out of his nostrils.

“He is my son.” Ivar leers hatefully. “Is he an Ubbesson?”

“Better an Ubbesson than an Ivarsson, eh, Boneless?” Sigurd threatens.

“Are you questioning my wife’s honour?” Ivar snarls to your father. His axe raises-- and you quickly decide to intervene upon the issue.

“Please, father… wait.”

Sigtryggr was wound up waiting for his bride. He knew that this was a special day and moment for you-- but his stomach was in knots.

“Why is she taking so long?” He looks to his wish-father. Ubbe stands with his legs slightly apart, reaching out to affectionately massage his shoulder.

“It is her wedding day.”  

That it was. Sigtryggr calms himself to the tune of soft drums. He turns up his face toward the thin column that his bride would be walking down. It should have been the happiest day of his life really-- but his head just about does a double take when he catches just who his lovely fiance is holding onto on one side with Sigurd upon the other.

“Father?”

He does a double take toward his wish-father and then back toward his father. Oh no-- oh no oh no oh no, he was about to humiliate him again. He swallows long and hard, his hands forming a knot. Ubbe whispers something low under their breath into his ear before taking a step back in line. The godi looks toward Ivar and Sigurd.

“Who then gives the bride?” She asks.

“I do.” Answers Sigurd. He steps aside next to Ubbe but Ivar, holding his breath, draws out his sword beside Sigtryggr and you. His young son’s hand darts to the burgundy tunic before you hold up your hand to your intended.

“The sword of kings.” Ivar balances his sword upon his palm. “Take it.”

Sigtryggr’s eyes drop down to the sword his father offers up to him. As his father’s only son, he’s always dreamed of this. He’s sure that his shieldmaiden sisters have as well. His sister Helga is shaking her hands in excitable expectation. Sigtryggr is not so sure.

“You should save that for your heir.” Sigtryggr says. It hurts to say-- but he so desires to hurt his father like he hurt him all these years. Ubbe’s sword… he deserves it more than Ivar’s. That was his wish-father. His wish father.

They exchange a look between another. Almost as if… Sigtryggr can feel the moment Ivar changed his mind. Perhaps he was sitting on his throne, questioning everything up to this point. Questioning how he lost his son in Kattegat? Sigtryggr’s anxiety dissipates when Ivar offers him a rarely soft, wide smile. He returns the smile to his father.

“I have.” Ivar answers. “Take it.”

He takes it from his father’s hand-- and then, he turns to you. You give him a small nod and so he nods in return to the Godi. You smile brightly, laughing and god-- this shouldn’t have been a moment of laughter! But he is, he is laughing too.

The godi nods. “Now we are ready.”

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