Chapter Text
It was in the dim light of candles that Finan first laid eyes on him.
A Dane boy, Kjartan's bastard, Uhtred had told him upon their arrival at Eoferwic. He had been a slave as well but had entered his friend’s service mere days before his own enslavement.
He did not look like the Danes Finan had encountered so far.
He was still young, around 16 if he had to guess, with sharp features and pale skin that remained almost free of scars still. His dark brown hair was laid in three neat plaits atop his head, the sides trimmed short but even.
On the right side of his neck, Finan glimpsed an inky black pattern when the boy turned his head, though he could not quite identify what it was meant to represent from afar. Thor’s hammer glistened where it rested against his chest
Finan's attention however kept being drawn to the boy's kohl rimmed eyes. They were constantly moving about, subconsciously searching for threats, Finan supposed.
It was a phenomenon he had witnessed a lot aboard the Trader, usually on the days when the slavers were angrier and more cruel than usual.
They had spent those days in constant fear of their whips.
There seemed to be no imminent threat here but the shadows were brimming with lurking memories.
When the Dane's eyes finally met his own, he first noticed the subtle difference in their color, enhanced by the candles illuminating them. Even more striking however, was the sea of emotion reflected within them. All of a sudden, Finan felt like he was intruding, like he had walked in on something that wasn't meant for his eyes. He turned away from the Dane, reaching for his cup as he retreated into his thoughts.
Finan had taken many lovers in the past both female and, in secret, even male. He had been young and wealthy then, had had land and title. He had taken whatever it was that he had desired, had drank and whored whenever he felt like it, enjoying all the pleasant things that life had to offer, yet never in his time on earth had he felt a longing so great, that it had settled itself so deep inside his chest, right where his heart was meant to be. Never in his life had he felt a longing as great as the one he had felt when he had taken his eyes off the Dane.
Perhaps it was merely a symptom of being starved of the means to take what he wished to have for so long.
Finan was no stranger to longing. Back on the slave ship, when the nights had been long and cold, he had longed for comfort, for home and his old life. An emotion so intense that it had left his heart bleeding until there was only a bleak void left in its place, a gaping hole that he had never even hoped to fill.
It was as if the Dane had cursed him, Finan thought, as if he had trapped a piece of his very soul within those mesmerizing eyes of his.
His grandmother had once told him of curses like these, where woman would try to make men fall in love with them to achieve a higher status for themselves or simply because they were so hopelessly in love, they did not care for damnation.
Such witchery never ended well, she had told him, her weathered finger raising in warning, for it was the devil’s work.
Finan had never given these particular stories much thought, something he now regretted.
Because when he asked himself how it was possible to just love a stranger without reason, without logic, he knew that there could only be one answer.
The Dane boy must have cursed him somehow.
Finan was unable to forget about those eyes for the rest of the night. Even when the Dane had long since left them to go to sleep, they were burnt into his memory. He could see them whenever he closed his own eyes and not even the ale could help that. Not that it had stopped him from trying.
Finan didn't sleep that night either, his thoughts circling around the Dane with the different colored eyes ceaselessly.
He looked for him when morning came, trying to spot him among the other Danes in the great hall but there was no trace of him. For a short moment he felt a treacherous sting in his heart, one that he recognized but did not want to acknowledge as disappointment, but he recovered quickly when Uhtred approached him.
"There you are." The man smiled brightly as he pulled him into a brotherly hug, patting his back before handing him a cup of ale from the table. At least Uhtred appeared to have all but recovered from their ordeal. Being reunited with the lady Gisela seemed to have done wonders for him.
"I was worried you might have enjoyed yourself a bit too much last night."
Finan took the cup from him, emptying it in one go. He grunted, not bothering to give a vocal response as he searched the crowd once more, just in case.
"You are looking for Sihtric, aren't you? The young Dane with the different colored eyes? I saw the way you looked at him last night. Like a starving man looks at meat", Uhtred added the last part to tease the Irishman, grinning victoriously.
Finan couldn't help the shocked expression that took over his face for a heartbeat.
Had his staring really been that obvious?
Or had these long months at sea bonded them so much that they now shared a mind?
"Don't worry, my friend. Your secret is safe with me", Uhtred added when Finan didn't respond, pulling him over to a table so they could both take a seat.
"I sent him with a group of men. They are to scout ahead and search the roads to Dunholm for anything that might need our attention before we march. When he returns, he's all yours", Uhtred explained once he had placed a plate in front of Finan, whose tired mind was struggling to keep up with all these complicated words.
All this time they had talked, the grin from earlier hadn't left Uhtred's face even once, which made the sudden shift in his expression all the more apparent. The grin disappeared, a warning look taking its place as he lowered his voice dangerously.
"Sihtric has lived his life as a slave, he won't resist you. But he has my protection and should I learn that you forced his decision or harmed him in any way to get him into your bed, I will have your head, bond be damned."
Finan couldn't help but shudder at the threat but the mood changed back just as quickly and before he could pull together a coherent response, the smile had returned to his friend's face. Uhtred patted him on the shoulder amicably, then left him to his thoughts once more to speak to his brother that sat with his men at another table.
To Finan it appeared rather strange to talk so openly about lying with another men. Of course he, like many others, had done it in secret before but among Christians it was still considered a sin. One that could very well end on a pyre. After all it served no purpose other than sheer pleasure and pleasure was something the Christians condemned either way it seemed. On the other hand, Uhtred was no Christian and Finan really wasn't educated on what the Danes thought about the matter.
And besides it did not matter. This was merely a curse, the devil tempting him. He would not act on it.
Finan tried to distract himself for the rest of the day but no matter how he tried, he could not forget about the Dane. It was ridiculous really. He had only just met him and yet it felt like Sihtric was all that mattered in his life. In fact he could hardly remember what his thoughts had been before the boy had arrived to claim them. Uhtred had been right earlier. He felt like a starving man. Only that it wasn't food he desired. It was Sihtric.
A day passed and his desire only grew. As they all sat together that night he decided to ask Clapa about Sihtric, eager to learn more about the boy that has ripped his soul apart and kept a piece for himself. Clapa was by no means a bright man but he was gentle and compassionate, a knowing smile on his face as he asked the question but it was Rypere who answered him.
"A good lad. Fiercely loyal despite who his father is. He is young still but he has endured more than most of the man here." Finan hummed to show he had heard, picking up his cup again.”Seems that way anyways.”
"Apparently he didn't even flinch when the lord hit him." Rypere continued casually, apparently oblivious to the intention behind Finan's question.
"Uhtred hit him?", Finan asked surprised, remembering how he had defended the boy earlier in the day.
"Sihtric came here with Tekill, his former master from what I understand. Kjartan sent them to bring him Uhtred but they failed and Sihtric was taken hostage. Uhtred hit him with the shackles that had been meant for him."
"And how come he joined Uhtred in the end?"
"Sihtric is a sly bastard", Rypere replied, smirking a bit, "he tricked Halig, saying he needed to take a shit. Somehow he managed to stand his ground against two men, his hands still tied. Instead of fleeing he swore an oath to Uhtred."
Finan didn't know what to respond to that so he was silent, focusing on his food as the conversation returned to more mundane subjects, such as the awful weather and painfully slow training progress. Sihtric must be a good fighter then.
The Irishman did not sleep that night either.
He grew more and more distracted as a result, losing training fights against men that were about as unskilled with a sword as he was when it came to singing. And his singing could well win battles before they had even started.
At night, when he sat with Uhtred and Ragnar he almost dozed off until the arrival of a rider caught their attention. He could see surprise and confusion cross Uhtred's face before he turned to his brother.
"That is Halfdan. I sent him to scout the road ahead two days ago."
Fear gripped Finan's heart then. They were 5 days from Dunholm. There was no reason he should be back now. Especially not covered in blood.
"Lord, we were ambushed." Uhtred stood then, concern clear on his face "Tell me what happened. Now!"
Finan was pacing. Halfdan's group had been ambushed by Kjartan's men. They had taken the rest of the men hostage, which meant that by now they were probably on their way to Dunholm, where a slow, painful death awaited each of them.
But he couldn't even think about the other men. It was Sihtric he worried about. He had glimpsed a fragment the pain and fear in his eyes and from what he had heard it was Kjartan who put it there. The very men that would soon have him again, now a slave and traitor.
Kjartan would grant him no mercy. His bastard son would be made into an example, his death horrifying enough to deter anyone else from following his actions. If he was returned to his father then Sihtric would never see Valhalla, the place he understood the Danes treasured beyond anything else, Finan was sure of it.
His heart yearned to protect the Dane, to have him close by again, to look into his eyes once more.
Sihtric really had cursed him.
But the longer they waited the smaller the chances of ever seeing him alive again became.
"We leave at first light. Finan, Clapa, Rypere i want you with me"
Uhtred's voice brought him back into the present but the cold hand he had come to know as fear was still gripping his heart, squeezing until each sluggish beat chased ice through his veins.
There was no guarantee that the men were even still alive, that Sihtric was still alive.
"Get some rest", Uhtred added, patting Finan on the back, "you too. We will find them."