the last kingdom ♡ oneshots

beauty and the beast | sihtric x reader

Sihtric was cursed.

He had been cursed from the moment his father, the king, had refused an old woman shelter from the rain during one of his extravagant parties.

His half-brother Sven, who was as cruel as his father, was nowhere to be found in the courtroom. No doubt he was busy entertaining company elsewhere, as he usually did.

If it had been up to Sihtric, he would have let her in immediately, but Kjartan had not been the one to pass this kindness down to him. Whereas Sihtric had inherited his mother's kind, gentle nature, his father was known as the cruelest king Dunholm had ever seen for many years.

This cruelty did not stop at the castle walls. Sihtric was not his father's favourite, to say the least. Though he had been trained to fight, to hold himself high at court, his father had no love for him, or for his poor mother Elflaed, who could not have been more different.

She had been dead for several years now. Sihtric's memories of her were distant, but cherished. He wanted to keep her memory alive by trying to be like her in every way. She was the role model Kjartan had never been, nor had he ever cared to be.

Kjartan was as selfish as he was cruel, seeking to preserve his image and reputation above all else. So when the old woman hobbled into his courtroom that day, soaking wet and begging for shelter and food in exchange for a rose, he stood from his throne in anger.

"If you wanted food and shelter you should have worked for it, paid for it in money! Not a wilted rose!" he scoffed. "How dare you come into my courtroom and attempt to bargain with a stupid flower! You are not worthy of such rooms!"

When the old woman did not cower at the ferocity of these words, he was incensed.

Sihtric watched on from where he was standing beside Kjartan's throne, horrified at his father's coldness. He wished to speak up, but that would only result in punishment, so he remained silent. He had learned his lesson before.

The old woman straightened up with alarming speed for someone who had been leaning on a stick only moments before. She lowered her hood, and her face was the picture of fury, far worse than anything Sihtric had seen on his father.

"You are a cold-hearted man, Kjartan," she rasped, pointing her stick directly at him. "There is no compassion in your heart, none!"

Her eyes moved from Kjartan to Sihtric, who looked down at the floor in shame. "This is your son?"

She did not wait for an answer. "From this moment forth," she cried, pointing the staff at Sihtric, "he is cursed to wander this castle as a beast! You, Kjartan, shall disappear from the earth and from memory, along with the rest of whatever family you may have! Only his servants shall remain behind. And this rose," she said, holding it up, "has a spell on it. It can only be broken if your son learns to love another and be loved in return before the last petal falls, or else he shall remain a beast forever! We shall see if your son is as heartless as you."

"This cannot be!" Kjartan roared, "he is nothing but a bastard! You cannot do this!"

Sihtric felt sick with fear while Kjartan shouted and the noises of the courtroom drifted away as the old woman, the enchantress, screamed an incantation and his world faded to black.

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Your town was small and quiet, a place where everyone knew each other. You knew every nook and cranny by the time you had grown from a young girl into a young woman, having never left it once in your life.

You were also an avid reader.

The local library was your favourite haunt, so much so that the librarians all knew your name and you knew theirs. Every book available had probably already had their pages perused by yourself.