Sihtric had promised to come back for you when he left Dunholm all those months ago. As time passed, you began to grow less and less sure of the fact, resigning yourself to a life spent fighting for those who had wronged both you and your brother. Training was relentless, the rewards underwhelming, and the taunts from one-eyed Sven merciless.

You hated your life, wondering why the gods had been so cruel as to give you such a fate.

Sihtric was not a blood relative of yours, although you had much in common. You were a small child when you were enslaved alongside your mother, the only reason for your survival being your potential as a warrior in the future. She died of the sickness only two years after, leaving you alone. Being several years older, Sihtric had taken over the responsibility of caring for you and tried many times to protect you from Kjartan, often bearing the brunt of the violence instead.

Despite this, he never once blamed you, never once took his anger out on you. He was the only security you had and you loved him as a brother, so to watch him leave both broke your heart and terrified you.

Now that you were a teenager, you had to fend for yourself.

You were in the hall one morning when Sven stormed in with the news that Uhtred and Ragnar Ragnarson were in Northumbria and would surely attack. Although Kjartan was flippant, you had a feeling things would not go to plan. He ordered Sven to inform Thyra not to feed her wild hounds and, out of curiosity, you slipped out at once, following him down to the cells.

Having never before dared to venture down to where the “wild” daughter of Ragnar was being held, it was only then that you saw for yourself just how terrified Sven was of her - and listening to his voice tremble as he relayed the message made you smirk.

Her hounds barked as she screamed at him to get out, and you pressed your back against the wall as he did just that. As soon as he left, you let yourself become visible.

Unsurprisingly, Thyra gave you a suspicious look.

“Are you another son of Kjartan?” she asked.

You shook your head, fidgeting with your sleeve. “No. I am Y/N. The son of a slave.”

“Why are you here?”

You had to be honest. “I heard that Sven was scared of you. I wanted to see if it was true.”

Thyra weakly huffed what you thought could be a laugh, and your shoulders sagged a little in relief.

“I think they’ll be successful, you know,” you continued quietly. “Uhtred and Ragnar. Kjartan says this fortress is impenetrable but I have heard your brothers are wily.”

“I have no brothers,” she repeated in a low voice.

Your hands clasped the bars of her cell. “I’m sorry. I understand.”

She gave you a strange look. “Do you?”

“I miss my brother,” you admitted.

“Sihtric.”

At the mention of his name, her face softened. “Oh, yes. I remember him. He is kind.”

You sighed. “He was like a mother and a father to me. He took as many of my beatings as he could.”

“Beatings?”

“We are seen as bastards,” you smiled sadly. “Kjartan does not care for us. Sven tormented us. But when Sihtric left, he said he would be back for me.”

Thyra bitterly laughed. “I have heard that one before.”

At once, you became defensive, although you were unsure how much weight your words carried. “He will, I know he will!”

“Perhaps he will come with Uhtred,” she said in a neutral voice.

“Perhaps,” you nodded, hoping fervently that she was right.

~~

When the attack came, you hid yourself away. Nobody would remember to find and force a green boy to fight, he would only become a human shield. You seized your chance, grabbing the keys to Thyra’s cell and hurtling down to free her as soon as you could.

Thyra gave you a weak smile, although you could tell she had been crying; her hounds gazed up at the two of you, before following you up to the hall with Thyra in front. As she led you in, the door opened and you instantly froze - it was Sven.

But then one of the hounds by your feet growled, and the terrified look on Sven’s face reminded you of how fearful he himself was.

Still, you hung back slightly, watching in silence as Thyra set her hounds upon him. You were stoic as they tore him apart, his screams becoming synonymous with Kjartan’s - who was standing in a shield wall by the window. As Sven finally fell silent, Kjartan’s eyes drifted to you, and you held his gaze, full of hate for the man that had enslaved you and your mother.

There was nothing he could do but keep going, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“We’ll be free,” you murmured, staring at Sven’s mutilated body.

Thyra said nothing.

It soon became clear that you were right. Shouts that Ragnar and Kjartan had made the square quickly reached you, and at once you made to leave.

“You will not watch?” you asked.

Thyra shook her head. “Go, Y/N.”

Swallowing, you doubled back and took her hand. “If he is with Uhtred, then I will go with him. And if you come too, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

Thyra gently cupped your cheek. “You are only a boy, Y/N,” she said.

“I’ll become a man soon enough,” you said at once, eliciting a rare smile from her.

“Find your brother.”

Before you left, she pressed her forehead to yours. It was with a reluctant gait that you walked outside. Hardly anyone noticed you, their eyes glued to the fight taking place. Kjartan hurled insult after insult, so it felt all the more deserving when Ragnar finally got the upper hand and drove a sword through his chest. You watched as he continued to hack at the body, feeling a vicious sort of satisfaction to watch the man that had stripped the dignity and hope from your mother be robbed of Valhalla, his body stripped of its own dignity.

Eventually, Uhtred held him back, and you finally tore your eyes away to search the crowd of warriors for your brother. Then-

“Sihtric,” you whispered, your heart pounding.

Your brother was there, right at the front, his helmet removed to get a proper view of Kjartan’s demise. His face was a blank slate, one he had mastered from years of abuse, but you knew his emotions were in turmoil.

You wove your way through the crowd rather than across the square, not wanting to be noticed by anyone but him.

And notice you he did.

“Y/N,” he murmured, so quietly you could only read your name from his lips. He enveloped you in a tight hug as soon as you reached him, and you held him just as tightly. “I was looking for you. I feared you were dead.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you grinned despite the tears in your eyes, and Sihtric laughed as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I promised I’d be back for you.”

“I know. I always believed you would.”

Sihtric fondly ruffled your hair, leading you away from the square towards the horses. “You have grown.”

You beamed, saddling your own horse. “I’ll be taller than you one day.”

“Keep dreaming, brother.”

~~

That evening, Uhtred questioned who you were. Sihtric introduced you to all those present as his younger brother, and it warmed your heart how quickly you were accepted as one of them, despite your youth.

After you reached Coccham, Uhtred briefly pulled you aside.

“Your brother is a loyal warrior, Y/N,” he said.

“I know, Lord,” you replied. “He is a good man. I hope to be like him someday.”

Uhtred ruffled your hair, a habit he had quickly picked up from Sihtric. “That is good. Although I hope that does not extend to his taste in women,” he added with a snort.

You laughed along a little awkwardly, unsure of what he was referring to. If Sihtric had a woman, you were not yet aware of it.

In truth, Uhtred did not have much to fear about your taste in women, because you didn’t have one at all. Your affections lay with men, although they had taken years for you to even recognise, let alone come to terms with.

The only one that knew of this was Sihtric - and he was more than understanding. In the time before his departure from Dunholm, he had been the one to help you come to terms with your feelings, after all.

As long as he was around, you were in good hands.

~~

Three years had passed since you moved to Coccham with Sihtric. You were on the cusp of becoming a man, preparing to swear an oath of loyalty to Uhtred after endless months of gruelling training. You had found many friends from many different backgrounds - Coccham had become your home.

For Thyra’s wedding to Father Beocca, you had travelled to Winchester with Sihtric, Finan, Uhtred and his wife, Gisela. He was a priest who had been present at Dunholm and prevented her from setting her hounds on her brothers out of anger and grief.

Thyra had emerged from her shell completely with the help of your friends, and you were fiercely protective of her. You knew Beocca would be good to her, having seen their love firsthand. It was with a wide smile that you watched Uhtred perform the ceremony. If anyone deserved to be happy and loved, you thought, it was Thyra.

Soon afterwards came the wedding of Princess Aethelflaed to Aethelred of Mercia, a man referred to by Uhtred as a bread-pudding of a boy. Your attention drifted elsewhere several times during the ceremony despite the fact that Father Beocca was presiding - Christian services simply bored you to death.

After the wedding, you sat outside on the steps of the palace, reclining slightly to soak up the rare sun. Sihtric was a little further down, embracing the woman he had told you he would marry someday. Uhtred and Finan dismissively referred to her as a whore, but you liked her. She was called Sigdaflaed, and she was a kind, funny woman who you thought was a perfect match for your brother. It was only the knowledge that Uhtred was also your lord that prevented you from stamping on his foot for saying otherwise.

Finan, however, was not, and so received many a shove for his crass words.

Currently, you were in half a mind to give one to Aethelwold, the insufferable nephew of the king who was lecturing Uhtred about… something or the other.

“All I will say, again, is that the dead man speaks the truth.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to block out the sound of his voice, until it was punctuated by another.

“Lord?”

“Some would say it is treason. No, no, this wedding is treason.”

“Lord?”

“This wedding is a betrayal of Wessex and the men of Wessex!” Aethelwold continued.

“Meaning you,” Finan muttered.

You snorted.

Aethelwold was incensed. “Should the king die, I have a strong and rightful claim!” he snapped. “Now, Alfred is working to make a new line of succession-”

“Excuse me, Lord Uhtred,” the voice shyly interjected again.

“Go away,” Aethelwold snapped.

Whoever the newcomer was, he was certainly persistent. Now curious, you opened your eyes, shielding them from the glare of the sun, and was surprised to see a novice monk no older than you standing nervously near a peeved Aethelwold.

“I am Osferth,” he said.

“You are a monk,” said Finan dismissively. “A baby monk.”

“Go away,” Aethelwold added.

Despite not knowing Osferth, you frowned at their rudeness towards him and gave Finan a shove.

“Oi!”

“Lord, you - you knew my uncle, lord,” Osferth continued regardless, although his eyes momentarily darted towards you and Finan. “His name was Leofric.”

Leofric was a name you recalled; Uhtred had regaled you all with many stories of the warrior, and adopted his favourite nickname - Arseling.

“Leofric was a great man,” Uhtred said.

At once, you noticed Aethelwold grin. “You are Alfred’s bastard son!”

You picked up a small pebble from the ground and hurled it at him. It made satisfying contact with the side of his head and he yelped, making you and Finan snicker.

“Ow! Lord Uhtred, control your Dane-!”

Uhtred, naturally, said nothing and you made to stand up, making Aethelwold flinch slightly. It did the trick - he shut his mouth at once. Lowering yourself down, you smiled at Osferth, gesturing for him to continue.

“I wish to join you, lord,” he said. “Be by your side as my uncle was.”

Finan looked disparagingly at him. “No, we have no need of a monk.”

He was about to receive another shove when Osferth spoke again.

“As a warrior, lord,” he said steadily. “I wish to serve you as a warrior.”

You watched as Uhtred regarded him for a moment, hoping he would not turn the young man away. Despite his meek demeanour he remained stubborn, which intrigued you to no end. You began to wonder if Aethelwold’s words were true.

“Uhtred.”

Steapa had emerged from the palace, hovering over Uhtred. “Uhtred, you are wanted.”

Uhtred did not acknowledge him, continuing to observe the earnest monk.

“The king!” Steapa added impatiently.

“Enjoy the wedding feast,” Aethelwold muttered as he left, sulky at having been largely ignored.

When it became clear that Steapa was moments away from dragging him inside by the scruff of his neck, Uhtred stood up. “You. Find me again. Bring a sword and lose your cross.”

The smile that lit up the monk’s features inadvertently brought one to your own. “Thank you, my lord, I-I will!”

Beside you, Finan shook his head. “I’ll make sure the responsibility of training him falls on you, Y/N,” he said, and you only scoffed in reply.

~~

Evening had fallen and you were on your way home rather than joining Finan, Clapa, and Sihtric at the alehouse, electing not to have a sore head during training the next morning. As you turned a corner, you found yourself nearly bumping into the young monk from earlier.

“You’re a long way from the monastery, Osferth,” you smiled.

Osferth awkwardly laughed. “I’ve just left it, actually… for good. I remember you,” he added quickly, as though wanting to change the subject, “you threw that rock at Aethelwold.”

He seemed to be fighting a smile at the memory, which you found strangely endearing.

You smirked. “I did.”

“I don’t think I got your name…?”

“Y/N,” you answered. “Are you going to find Uhtred?”

Osferth nodded, and you grinned. “Then I’ll come with you.”

You were well aware that he probably already knew the way, but he didn’t exactly turn down your offer, giving you the excuse you wanted to spend a little time with him away from the others.

“Where will you stay?” you asked him.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I suppose I’ll need to find a room above the alehouse…”

“Or you could stay with us,” you offered. “Sihtric and I, I mean. We have enough room for the time being, and you won’t have to pay for it.”

He seemed genuinely taken aback by this. “Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t want to intrude-”

“You won’t,” you said automatically, waving him off. “Besides, my brother’s getting married soon, so when he moves out it’ll just be me left. And I wouldn’t mind a roommate,” you added with a smile.

Tentatively, he returned your smile. “Will Sihtric mind?”

You shook your head. “No, he’s not Finan.”

He huffed a laugh at that, making you feel strangely proud that you had elicited it from him. “He doesn’t want me around, does he?”

“He might act like it,” you shrugged, “but he doesn’t usually give nicknames to people he can’t stand. You saw how quickly he’s taken to calling you Baby Monk, no?”

“That’s true,” he smiled. “I think he’s forgotten my name already.”

You laughed. “Maybe.”

~~

It was dark by the time you both reached Uhtred’s home. Being more familiar with it than Osferth was, you guided him down to the dock by the hall, where you knew Uhtred liked to spend quiet time with Gisela.

“I’ll get going, then,” you said. “If I’m asleep by the time you’re back, just let yourself in, alright?”

Osferth nodded. “Alright.”

He waved you off as you left to return to your home, happy to have found a friend.

~~

Sihtric had still not returned from the alehouse by the time the door opened again. You were still awake despite your lethargy, anxious to ensure Osferth reached your home safely.

“How did it go?” you asked at once, jumping up to meet him.

“Good,” he answered vaguely. You cocked an eyebrow and he exhaled. “Well, the only reason Lord Uhtred allowed me to join him was to embarrass Alfred. But I think Gisela likes me.”

“Well, I’d say Gisela’s the smarter of the two,” you said, closing the door behind him. “Don’t tell Uhtred I said that, though.”

Osferth smiled conspiratorially. “I won’t.”

You beamed. “Besides, you’ve got plenty of time to prove yourself. Give him reason to let you stay, you know?”

Osferth was taken aback. “That’s what I said!”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Then I’ll hold you to that even more,” you grinned. “Right,” you added, looking around. “I’d give you Sihtric’s bed for now but he might still wander in later, so you can take mine.”

At once, he protested. “No, no, it’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor-”

“What kind of a host lets his guest sleep on the floor?” you countered, already pulling extra furs down. “Go on, take the bed. I really don’t mind.”

For a moment he looked conflicted, but eventually caved in at the stubborn look on your face. “All right. Thank you, Y/N, truly.”

At once you waved him off, but the warmth of his smile did far more to warm your cheeks than the roaring fire, and you knew at once that you were fucked.

~~

Training over the next few months was brutal as usual, but having Osferth at your side meant you actually looked forward to it. As Finan had promised, you were landed with the task of training the young man more often than not. If he ever noticed that you did not mind one bit, he would almost certainly revoke it.

At first, you were easy on Osferth, aware that the mere feeling of a sword in his hand was still largely foreign, but after a week or so you realised that if he was to yield any results, you would have to be tough.

“You’re seriously making me rethink whether I should’ve left that monastery.”

“Am I that bad?” you laughed.

The two of you had retreated to a corner of the alehouse to reward yourselves after a particularly gruelling training session.

“You’re a great friend,” Osferth smiled, “but a cruel mentor.

You smirked, even if being called his friend didn’t feel nearly as good as it should have. “Well, it’s because I’m such a great friend that I’m so cruel. I’d quite like to see you again after battle, you know.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “if my legs don’t give out on the battlefield first. What if I’m not meant to be a warrior, Y/N? I feel like an idiot compared to everyone else.”

“Everyone else started learning to fight when they were children,” you countered firmly. “Don’t compare yourself to them. I’m willing to bet you never even so much as picked up a weapon in all the years before you joined us.”

Osferth shrugged. “Even so, I’ll be nothing but a liability at Beamfleot.”

You frowned. “No, you won’t. Uhtred wants you there ‘cause you need the experience, and I want you there ‘cause… well, I’ll feel better with you nearby. Look, I’ll have your back, won’t I? Don’t worry so much,” you added with a grin, poking his furrowed brow, “or else that face will stick.”

He swatted your hand away but he was laughing now, and that was all that mattered to you.

~~