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whitedarkmoonflower · 11 months

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Part 1 – Sihtric x reader

Authors note: while rewatching the Season 2 of TLK and going wild with exploring my newly acquired skill of taking and editing screenshots I became obsessed with the idea of writing my own version of how Sihtric met Uhtred. Please bear with me as I'm working on learning to concentrate on the essentials and leave out unnecessary details, but I also believe that small details can make the characters more vivid.

Summary: reader is Uhtred’s sister and a skilled healer. She travels with her brother’s men and after the unsuccessful attempt on Uhtred’s life gets curious about the young prisoner, the sole Dane from the group of assailants that is left alive.

Warnings: violence and mention of blood

Word Count: 1,129

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Sihtric found you sitting in your favourite spot near the lake, beneath the shade of the ancient oak tree whose sprawling branches provided protection from the scorching sun. He hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage, before taking a seat beside you. In your presence, he still retained an endearing shyness, as if uncertain of how to navigate the depths of his feelings. Sihtric stole glances in your direction, admiring your strength and beauty. His mind raced with the desire to strike up a conversation, but he couldn't find the right words. Finally, he mustered the courage to speak.

"I just wanted to thank you for saving me," Sihtric said, his expression serious as he turned to you.

"Saving you? What did I save you from?" you asked, puzzled.

"From feeling miserable, unwanted, and like I didn't belong anywhere," Sihtric replied, glancing into your eyes for a moment before lowering his gaze, his fingers fidgeting with the Thor's hammer amulet hanging around his neck. Nervousness radiated from him, mingled with a charming blend of insecurity and shyness that made a smile curl on your lips.

"You had every reason to hate me for attempting to kill your brother, but you never did. Instead you showed me kindness that I never truly deserved," Sihtric continued.

He had changed so much since the day you first met. You could still recall that evening as vividly as if it were yesterday, when Kjartan's men had tried to take Uhtred's life. They might have succeeded if not for Halig, who noticed the suspicious absence of the newly arrived Danes and urged the others to search for them. You had been on the verge of sleep after a long and busy day. Being a healer in a warrior's camp meant there was always an abundance of injuries to tend to, even without a battle. Men would hurt themselves during sword training, get kicked by horses, or foolishly engage in fights over trivial matters. Today, you had to fix a dislocated shoulder all because of an argument about the best whore at the White Goose tavern in Lundene. The shouts and clash of swords roused you from your slumber, causing you to hastily dress and rush out of your tent. Expecting yet another drunken brawl, you sought to find Uhtred and put an end to it. However, by the time you arrived, the fighting was already over. You approached the gathering of men, only to discover five lifeless Danes being dragged away from the lawn behind the stables.

"Uhtred!" you called out, fear lacing your voice as you saw him leaning against a stable pillar, breathing heavily. "Are you hurt?"

"All is fine. Don't worry, little sis. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for our Danish guests, but don't fret, they won't be needing your attention," Uhtred grinned, attempting to lighten the atmosphere as he noticed your concerned expression.

"Let me check on you," you insisted, pulling him closer to the torchlight so you could assess his injuries. At first glance, there were some bruises and a swollen eye, but no apparent serious damage. His movements lacked any signs of pain or hesitation, indicating that he likely didn't have any broken ribs. Still, you were reluctant to let him go, but Uhtred firmly took hold of your hands, kissing your palms, and with a determined voice, called out to the men dealing with the corpses behind you: "Secure the prisoner. I'll need answers from him later."

"I'm fine, sis. Truly, I am. Please don't worry," he reassured you, turning to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. Apart from Ragnar, Uhtred's Danish brother, the two of you were all that remained of your family, and the bond between you had always been remarkably strong. You loved this proud, stubborn, and courageous young man, and he cared deeply for you.

Reluctantly, you turned your head to catch a glimpse of the young, bruised Dane, his hands awkwardly tied before him as Clapa dragged him away. The Dane was in a pitiful state, with fresh cuts and scrapes covering his arms, a split eyebrow, and a bleeding lip and nose. Anxiety radiated from his tense body. In a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours, and you detected a flicker of despair within them. It struck you how young and handsome he appeared, despite his current circumstances.

Uhtred's men returned to their respective fireplaces, the evening just beginning. You knew all too well that this minor incident wouldn't deter them from their usual activities of drinking, gambling, and arguing about the “best whores”, as they did almost every night. You had no desire to be part of that. Tomorrow, there would be more dislocated shoulders and broken fingers to tend to, and since Uhtred seemed fine you eagerly longed to return to your tent and go back to sleep.

As you made your way past an empty wagon, you noticed Clapa and Halig engaged in what seemed like an argument. Initially, you hesitated to involve yourself, suspecting it was another petty quarrel you didn't want to be dragged into. However, as you attempted to quietly pass by, your eyes caught sight of the silhouette seated by the wagon. It was the young prisoner, the sole Dane who had survived today's assault on Uhtred's life. His gaze, as he was being dragged away from the small battlefield by Clapa, his hands bound and his face smeared with blood, lingered in your memory. An unexplainable feeling stirred within you, prompting a change of heart, and you headed straight for Clapa and Halig.

“What are you two arguing about? Aren't you supposed to be guarding the prisoner?" you asked with frustration evident in your voice.

"We are, lady!" Clapa replied defensively. "Uhtred ordered us to decapitate the corpses, but Halig lacks the courage to do it."

“That's not true, lady!" Halig interjected hastily. "I just needed a drink first. You can't deny a man a drink, especially one who's tasked with severing heads from still-warm bodies. Besides, it's better to do it later when the blood has thickened. And there's no need for two men to guard a securely tied-up prisoner”

"Alright, enough quarrelling, lads. Halig, go and fetch your drink, and Clapa, get yourself an axe or do you plan on using your eating knife? I'll keep an eye on the prisoner," you ordered firmly. As Uhtred's sister and a skilled healer, you were accustomed to giving orders, and his men knew better than to argue with you. Both departed without hesitation, not bothering to question your decision, although it must have seemed peculiar to them that you wished to remain alone with the prisoner. Turning your gaze towards him, you approached cautiously, maintaining a safe distance just in case.

“Are you hurt?" you inquired, observing the Dane who sat beside the wagon, his back resting against the wheel. He raised his head, confusion, and distress evident in his eyes. He didn't respond just shook his head.

“Your lip and nose have been bleeding quite profusely. Wait here, I'll fetch my bag," you said with a chuckle. "How foolish of me, as if he had much choice in the matter," you thought to yourself while making your way to your tent to retrieve your medical supplies. You always kept a bag prepared, stocked with clean rags, salves, potions, and other necessities, ensuring you wouldn't waste time searching when urgently needed.

Returning with your bag and a piece of bread in hand, you offered it to the prisoner, but he made no move to accept. Leaning his head back against the wagon wheel, he closed his eyes. Shrugging your shoulders, you placed the bread back in your bag and instead took out some clean rags and a leather flask filled with water. The Dane opened his eyes, watching your every move. Kneeling before him, you dampened the rags and reached out your hand to cleanse his face. Startled, he instinctively flinched and jerked his head back, accidentally striking it against the wheel, eliciting a groan of pain.

"Hey, stay still. I only want to clean your face," you said, perplexed by his sudden reaction. His whole body tensed as you gently touched his forehead and continued to clean his bruised cheekbones.

"The brow will require stitches," you informed him.

“Why are you doing this?" the Dane spoke, his voice husky but soft. "I am a dead man. Why would you bother stitching my brow if your husband will later torture me for information and then kill me anyway.”

Tilting your head to the side, you continued to wipe away the blood from his face, now focusing on his busted lip and chin.

“I don't have a husband. I have a brother whom you sought to kill tonight," you said, finished with cleaning his face you observed his features intently. "And if there's one thing I know for certain about my brother, it's that he has never tortured anyone, nor will he ever," you couldn't help but think about how handsome this young man was and you felt a pang of sympathy for his unfortunate circumstances. He believed his fate was sealed and had resigned himself to it. His gaze remained fixed on the ground, as if he dared not meet your eyes.

“I didn't want to kill him. I just did not have much choice about it," the Dane's voice remained calm, resolute, and tinged with sincerity. "I only wish Lord Uhtred would grant me the honour of dying as a warrior, sword in hand. And I would willingly share everything I know with him.”

“Not that I fear the pain," he hastily added, "I simply owe no allegiance to Kjartan.”

Unexplainably, you found yourself believing this man. Every word he spoke carried weight, and you suddenly felt deeply sorry for him.

“You are very kind to me, lady," the Dane continued, his voice filled with a sense of shame for being here, for being a part of what had happened. "I don't deserve your attention, but I am immensely grateful for it."

"What's your name?" you found yourself asking, driven by an inexplicable curiosity. It was as if fate had brought this unfortunate young warrior across your path, and a growing resolve began to take shape within you. You did not want to let him to the fate he thought inevitable.

“I am called Sihtric, lady,” the Dane answered with no hesitation. “Would you like to live?" you suddenly asked, as a seemingly absurd idea took hold in your mind.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #arnas fedaravicius #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #tlk fics #Sihtric fics #sihtric x you #violence

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