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Sihtric stood next to his best friend, his hands clasped in front of him, quiet and still, as the sun shone against the group. The sun shining at a funeral was almost comical.
Around him, Sihtric could see friends and family, all gathered for one grievous reason. Only days ago, his best friend had lost his wife, and these were the people who cared enough to gather to pay their respects and to bid the lovely Gisela farewell. On the other side of Uhtred stood Finan, the dark haired Irishman had traded his wide smile and jovial demeanor for a solemn expression.
Thyra; Uhtred's sister and a long time friend to Sihtric stood beside Finan with her husband, Beocca. On the other side of the grave Sihtric watched Gisela's brother, Guthred, the only blood family she had left. He was standing not too far from Sihtric's own blood.
Between the golden haired Hild and the mousy haired Osferth, stood the sable haired Sibbe. His twin sister, best friend, and life long partner in crime. Seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks, Sihtric's heart ached.
He wanted to go to his sister, hug her, and rock her in his arms. To tell her everything would be fine. They would be fine, but Sihtric found himself rooted to the ground. Sihtric never left Uhtred's side, keeping guard over his friend as Uhtred had done for Sihtric so many times.
The longer he watched his twin, the more pull it had on Sihtric. He hadn't been to a funeral since they had laid their mother to rest. Sihtric and Sibbe had been only thirteen then. As much as Sihtric loved his mother, Elflaed's funeral had been half the gathering that Uhtred's wife had brought.
He remembered the day, as if it were yesterday. Dressed in a black suit with his hair combed to perfection, he stood next to his sister, clutching her hand and doing his best not to let his tears show. Sibbe had stood like stone, sandwiched between Sihtric and Thyra. Uhtred had stood behind Sihtric, his wild long hair tied back, and his steel blue eyes snarling at anybody who dared to look at the twins before him.
"She'll always be with you." Thyra had spoke, when the funeral had ended and the handful of people began to leave.
"Not now, Thyra." Uhtred had groaned, rolling his eyes and loosening his tie. He hated suits, but out of respect, his adoptive parents - Thyra's parents - had made their children dress well. Elflaed deserved a smart looking funeral, Sihtric had heard Ragnar, Sr. chide.
"But she will, our loved ones are always around us. Ravn said so." Thyra huffed, dragging her late grandfather into this. Typical siblings.
"We should go." Sibbe managed to speak, her voice quiet. Sihtric had barely heard her, over Thyra and Uhtred. Words escaping, Sihtric nodded taking one last look at the fresh grave.
Walking away and leaving his mother had been the hardest thing he had ever faced. At thirteen, a boy is supposed to be worried about sports, and girls, failing his next math test - not worrying about his sister and how they would make it through without their mother.
A man spoke, jarring Sihtric back to his present, talking about God and how he would welcome Gisela. Right. Did this man even know Gisela? She had a multitude of beliefs, but God was not one of them. Sihtric couldn't blame her. Despite his sister's Christian beliefs, which he often teased her for, Sihtric knew it was rubbish.
If there was a God and if he was so grand, why had he left two thirteen year old kids without their mother? If there was such a being, why had he left Sihtric to suffer?
It was shortly after their mother's death that Sibbe had began to find God. She would attend church every Sunday, without fail, preaching to Sihtric when she thought their father wasn't listening. Telling her twin about all the amazing wonders that this powerful man had in store for them. The only good that came from it, was Sibbe's constant faith drove their older brother Sven crazy.
Wild and reckless, Sven had been a handful since he was born. It didn't mean Elflaed loved her eldest son any less. Sven was sixteen when his mother passed away, not that he cared. Sihtric hated his brother, almost as much as he hated his father. Cruel and manipulating, Sven was an ass.
Sibbe's faith had drove Sven crazy, which meant when Sibbe was home, he was not.
"Shut her up." Sven moaned, a pack of frozen peas against his face. The result of another fight, Sven was always in some sort of scuffle.
"Let her be." Sihtric stood up for Sibbe, who was singing some hymn she had learned the previous Sunday. "She isn't hurting you."
Sven was taller than Sihtric, stronger, and wider. He was slow and dumb, as far as Sihtric was concerned, but it didn't stop his mother from always telling her sons to play nice. When they were little, Sven would take Sihtric's toys and bury them in the back yard, always leading to Sibbe attempting to beat up her older brother in Sihtric's defense.
"She's annoying." Sven continued to gripe. "And so are you."
Rolling his eyes, Sihtric picked up his text book, to move to his bedroom. He was over listening to this bullshit. It didn't matter what he said, because Sven would continue to complain and in the end, Sihtric would be the one to get punished.
Sihtric had to hide is smile, now, when he stole a glance of Ragnar, Jr. A few feet from where Sihtric stood, the tall and imposing, blond man stood with his wife Brida.
Once, when Sihtric had been ten or eleven, he had got into a fight with Sven. Bloodied and bruised, he and Uhtred went home, despite their best effort to gang up on the older boys. When Ragnar had saw them, he demanded to know what happened. Scared for his brother, Sihtric refused to tell the teenager the truth. Uhtred on the other hand...
The next day Ragnar had cornered Sven on the walk home from school, demanding to know if he was the one who'd beat up Uhtred and Sihtric. Later that day, Sihtric was home helping his mother make dinner when Sven came in with a busted lip and swollen eye.
Kjartan had lost it, screaming and raging that his kids were never to go near Ragnar and Sigrid's heathens ever again. They were useless and violent - ironic, Sihtric thought. Elflaed had told him that kids would be kids. Then sent Sven to clean up and to bed without dessert.
Sven was too much like his father. Sihtric had always felt that way. Even as a child, Sven would be granted special treatment, while Kjartan would tend to ignore Sihtric. His excuse was that Sihtric was too soft and not at all a real man, nor would he ever be.
Unlike Sven and his much older half brother, who he only saw on holidays, Sihtric was quiet and not at all a fighter. Until the day his mother passed, she was his shining light. Losing her had sparked a raging fire in the quiet boy.
Despite the change, Sihtric would never raise his voice or fists in anger. If he did, then it made him no better than Kjartan or Sven. His mother had always told him that the key to being a good man, was to be generous and kind.
"Real men don't fight with fists and the good ones are never belligerent." Elflaed would tell her youngest son, kissing his forehead and stroking her gentle hands over his dark hair.
Then she would turn to her only daughter, kiss her cheek, and tell her “A good woman will fight as fearsome as any man, for what she wants.” Sihtric loved those moments with his mother.
The way she would smell, when he would sit with her on the couch, reading or watching tv. Her laugh - Sibbe had her laugh. Sihtric adored his sister, but when he'd had a few drinks and she began to laugh, it always left him with a lump in his throat and a hatred in his heart.
Hatred not for Sibbe or his mother, but for her loss. For the man who had tormented Sihtric, until the day he died.
Growing up, Sihtric and Sibbe had always been happy, safe, and loved. Sven, too. It wasn't until he grew older that Sihtric had learned the real truth about how cruel his father could truly be. If Sihtric had only known, then maybe he could have done something? He had failed his mother, in a way, allowing her to suffer all those years in silence.
She was a strong woman, never letting her children see the bruises or the scars, always with a kind and gentle smile. Sihtric should have known, Kjartan never hid his anger. Why had Sihtric never clued in that all that rage was being taken out on his poor mother?
Next to Uhtred; Sihtric clenched his fists.
Sihtric shuddered.
His hands clammy, his face pale. He caught Finan staring hard at him.
There had been some worry for Sihtric; Finan had held worry anyway. His friend didn't do well with death and this unfortunate accident was sure to bring back some sort of terrible trauma. Despite what Sihtric led people to believe over the last few days, inside he was still a boy, fighting for his life. The ghosts that were in Sihtric's head were beginning to come round in full force.
This wasn't about Shitric, which is why he had buried his emotions and focused everything he had on Uhtred and his family. Suppressing his emotions would only last so long, before the past came back. Sihtric shifted where he stood, his mouth dry as tears began to spill.
An accident had taken her away.
Sihtric had heard those words before. The police coming in and telling a family they had lost their mother, due to some unfortunate event. The difference was that this time it was an accident.
"Mom?" Sihtric could still hear his young voice, "Mom!" He called loudly, shaking his mother. When he didn't get a reply, he raced to the phone to call for help.
There had been so much blood. For nearly a year, Sihtric couldn't walk into the family room without fending off the urge to vomit. His body would shake and he would steady his breath, trying to push through in the best way he knew how.
"Your mother fell and hit her head." Kjartan's statement was cold.
At the time, Sihtric had been too grief stricken to realize, his mother's death was never just an accident. When the police had arrived, they were satisfied to claim it was exactly as Kjartan had said. She had fell and hit her head. As he grew older, Sihtric had dug deeper into the “accident”, finding what he had feared the most to be true. Without sufficient evidence, his hands were tied and his father got away with it.
If it hadn't been for forming a friendship with Uhtred; Sihtric felt that there were days, when he would have suffered the same fate as his mother. Uhtred would spend as much time with Sihtric as he could.
The two kids never discussed the bruises that Sihtric bore, they didn't need to. Uhtred wasn't stupid, he'd been the one who had told Ragnar that Kjartan was beating his youngest son. Sibbe, although aware of what was happening to her twin, had never suffered in the way Sihtric had.
If Kjartan had tried to raise a hand to his sister, Sihtric would have killed him. He would do anything, even now, to protect his sister.
Since becoming an adult, Sihtric had found that seeking help was a good way to begin the healing. He would never fully recover, who could? But he had made progress and had found some peace with his mother's passing.
Kjartan on the other hand - the only peace Sihtric would gain there was knowing that his monster of a father would never hurt his family, again.
Two years ago, when his father had finally died, Sihtric has spent two weeks in a drunken stupor. To an outsider it would sound terrible, but Sihtric had been so elated by his father's death, he didn't know what else to do.
Gisela, the shining light she was, had taken care of her husband's friend the best she could. All while still being the amazing and tentative mother and wife she was.
Sihtric had sat slumped on his bathroom floor, an empty bottle of tequila in his hand, a puddle of vomit next to the missed toilet. Tears staining his face, but Gisela didn't judge him. She had sat down, held open her arms, and let him cry until he fell asleep in her embrace.
"I could have saved her." He repeated over and over until he fell asleep.
"Sihtric, you were a boy. Nobody blames you, love." Gisela rocked him like one of her own children.
As much as Kjartan had tried, he could never break his son. Sihtric refused to be broken and defeated in the way his mother was. He had taken the abuse that Kjartan had decided to hand over without so much as a whimper.
If he showed pain or fear, Kjartan won. Sihtric refused to allow his father to win.
The first time Kjartan had hit Sihtric, the boy had been confused and drove himself crazy trying to figure out what it was he had done wrong. After a few weeks of taken a beating, for no reason, Sihtric thought he'd figured it out.
Kjartan was hurting, over the loss of his wife. Sihtric had taken it harder than anyone, being that he was the one who'd came home to find his mother. Obviously, his father didn't know how to cope.
A light breeze rippled through the grave yard, Sihtric felt the wind on his face, the sun still burning bright in the sky above. A father was to protect and love their children. When he'd learned the news of Gisela, one of the first things Sihtric had appointed himself was looking after the children.
He had been in their shoes once. Albeit Uhtred would never turn into the man Kjartan was, Sihtric had felt a need to protect the three young ones.
One day, Sihtric would settle down and have a family of his own. When he did, he would take everything he had learned about fatherhood from Kjartan and pursue none of it. He would love his children as fiercely as his mother - or Gisela. Sending his future children into the world with a firm and kind hand.
The loss of Gisela had taught him not to wait.
No more waiting, he would do it. He was getting down on one knee and asking Ealhswith to marry him. Sibbe would be thrilled, she'd always adored Ealhswith.
Sihtric had been in love with Ealhswith since her father had hired sixteen year old Shitric as a bus boy at Two Cranes. Ealhswith had been in her second year of university then, giving very little attention to the gawky boy working for her father.
Lying about his age to get the job in the pub, Sihtric also lied about his age to get a lease on an apartment with another young man working at the pub. Finan needed a roommate and Shitric needed a safe place for him and Sibbe to live.
Finan didn't ask many questions, although he knew Sihtric wasn't nineteen. His first year in college, Finan was more than happy to let the twins live with him. Shitric was a fantastic cook and Sibbe was always a breath of pure sunshine. Finan's own family life was estranged and he was no stranger to hard work and running away from an arsehole father.
Sihtric thanked his mother every day for sending him Ealhswith and Finan, when she had.
His mother had always known exactly what he needed. Sihtric snuffled through the tears, amused by the thought progression that his mind had taken. Scattered Sihtric is what Gisela would call him, teasing that he could never keep the same thought for more than a few moments.
Around him people began to move, parting ways, some retreating without so much as a word. Others forwarding their condolences as they prepared to leave. Sihtric stood rooted, his mind a million miles away. He could have stood there all night, allowing his own past to unravel, had his friend not needed him more.
"Shitric." Finan placed his hand on his shoulder, nodding his head toward Uhtred. Standing motionless, tears welled up in his eyes, and anger in his clenched fists, Uhtred stared at the grave. "Come on."
"Uhtred," Sihtric approached, his footsteps quiet in the grass. "We have to go, it'll be dusk soon."
"How? How do I leave her here?" Uhtred spoke, although his words weren't directly spoken to anyone.
"She'll be with you, our loved ones are always with us. I would be a liar, if I told you that it gets better, because it doesn't." Sihtric sighed, rocking on his heels, hands in his pockets. "It may never feel like you're whole again, but one day you wake up, you look outside and see the world and you know. You know she's with you and she's proud of you."
Uhtred's eyes red rimmed met Sihtric's gaze, a slow and dull nod let Sihtric know that his friend understood. A simple gesture between two men, told more than choked up words could.