#ac sigurd

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

Thank you so much for writing that, I really enjoyed reading it. I love ivarr so much 💙would it be okay if I could request an imagine with Sigurd where him and the reader (a shieldmaiden for the clan) are dating but they have to break up because he is forced to marry Randvi. Sigurd asks eivor (male) to watch over her and always be there for her which results in eivor falling for her. (This is before they all go to England)

At your request 😌

Pairing: m!Eivor x f!reader

Word count: ~ 3000

Genre: angst, tiny fluff

Notes: Okay but I dig the "I cannot be with you, so I make sure someone else will keep you safe/company for that other person to fall in love with another so it's kinda a forbidden-love, love triangle I-live-for-drama story. Yesyes good soup :3 tempted to write about this more picturing Sigurd's reaction maybe??? Oh and I'm writing on sutdy break moments so the writing gonna be super slow but I try yall I swear I try 💀

„ No, this can’t go on anymore and you know this.” You sighed sitting up in the bed, the sheet's whisked a gentle breeze that stirred the bright flames of the candles around you. A groan left Sigurd's chest as he joined you, straightening up, his large palms came to rest on your middle, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. He did not respond right away, just sat there beside you, looking ahead as he came to rest his chin on your shoulder- tangled beard and ginger hair tickling your skin. 

"You're to marry her." You continued, tone balked and weak. "How can you expect me to keep my heart this way, as it is right now? How can you expect me to–"

"I do not, my love." He cuts you off with a timid hum, his words resonating throughout your back. "I don't expect you to love me the way we loved each other when this happens… I don't want to– I would never disrespect your honor and trust." 

You felt warmth on your cheeks, as tears broke off from the corner of your eyes, slowly making their way to drop down to your lap. It was no easy task, for neither of you. Sigurd was the clan's prince, the next in line, the only one who's right to lead the Raven clan. And therefore, King Styrbjörn made the decision to strengthen his position, the clan's safety and Sigurd's place by joining clans with a rival of his. Sigurd will marry the Jarl's eldest daughter, thereby forging an alliance with them. 

The duty of a son. The demise of your love with the Raven Prince. 

For weeks you have been consumed by the news, at first you did not believe that your love must soon end. Sigurd offered to go with him that very evening, desperate and hopeless. He will take you to a faraway land, where no one will know you, rank and duty will not matter, only you to each other.

But you both knew it would be an impossible undertaking; would the heir to the throne, who dreamed of following in his father's footsteps since he was a boy, run away from his birthright for the love of a simple blacksmith's daughter?

A girl, whose aging parents are waiting for her at home who loves her, who needs her help and protection. Who would remain among the voices, eyes and mouths in the storm left behind by their child's shame?

No, you were both more mature than that. You will take the responsibility that your ancestors have given to you, so that the white canvas of the lineage does not fail.

“I know, love. I know that.” You calmed Sigurd falling back, leaning your neck on his chest gazing up at him. Sigurd's arms crawled around your torso, reassuringly pulling your body closer to his as he gently rested his chin on the top of your head.

Your lips trembled as a new idea passed through your sweeping mind - a mindless, desperate, shameless idea, but you felt you might be able to survive the hardships that came with it. Your voice was thinning, almost whispering when you uttered the words.

"What if we don’t need to stop our love after all?" You proposed, waiting a few moments to gather the courage to continue. "We do it so that no one knows. They don't know it even now, anyway. It's just that...there would be another person there. During the day, her husband; at night, mine...?"

"Are you saying let's continue all this in the midst of even greater secrecy?" Sigurd's voice rang doubtfully. In addition to deep pain and sadness, bitterness seeped into his words. Are you saying you want me to pretend you're just a side issue? Like I just want to be with you in secret when my wife can't see it?” He moved quickly, you hardly had time to react to him as he crawled back and pulled your body into his lap, hugging you tightly, looking down at you with a worried look. It was then that you saw your dear prince's eyes were glistening with tears.

You couldn't give an answer, just to swallow against the huge lump that was squeezing your throat. You saw no other option but to…

“I will never put you in a situation where you think you're just an affair to me. I love you, my dear, with all my heart, and if it were up to me, I would have made you my wedded wife long winters ago.” He said, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your temple."I want you to be my wife, my partner who stands by my side. You deserve that, nothing less. I wouldn't dishonor you not even for all the treasures of Midgard. But I can't do that."

“So then? Will it all end? What we have? What we share, what we feel? How could I forget this…leave this behind..?” Your vision blurred as tears pooled in your eyes, the man's tall figure looking down at you from behind a wall of water. You waited and hoped for so long, after so many doubts and struggles, when you finally realized that there was more to you than simple friendship. After you were finally brave enough to cross that invisible line. Finally you could be together, and those moments were worth more than any treasure; you finally felt like you found that lost piece of your soul that you've always longed for. Finally, your heart was filled with him, you were happy with him, you were happy with each other. And now it's over? You will be banished once again to a harsh and dark barrenness without Sigurd's care and touch.

"Duty comes first. It doesn't just bind me, it binds you too, and you know that well."Sigurd slowly leaned forward, the warmth emanating from his skin comfortably covering your body, and fearing that he would soon pull away from you, you crossed your arms over his back.

"Whatever fate brings, my heart will be yours forever." 

"I belong to you and you to me as long as we live." His lips whispered, softly caressing your face, one last time.

___

The wind bit hard against his skin as Eivor walked across the creaking wooden planks of the dock, around him- the lights of twilight flickered back from the icy sea. The flames of the torches bent with each gust of wind, dutifully standing at the edge of the pier.

His brother waited for him — arms folded behind his back, standing at the edge of the dock, watching the icy, slow-rolling sea as the blues and greens of the night lights cast upon Mindgard. 

Sigurd took him aside for a word during the day, when Eivor had just returned from his dawn hunt- the stag not yet cooled out on his horse's back when he arrived. A single glance was enough for the young man to realize that something was wrong with his brother, Sigurd's usual serene expression, his eyes shining with peace, now dull and weak.

“Is there a problem, brother?" He raised his hand worriedly on Sigurd's shoulder, growing somber himself. Eivor usually cared for his own business, he didn't like to interfere in others' debates and troubles, but when it came to his brother's burdens, Eivor did everything to see Sigurd happy again.

As his piercing gray-blue eyes focused on Eivor, the young man thought he could feel the pressure of heavy burdens on his brother. Waiting for an answer, he scanned Sigurd's face, trying to figure out what was pressing on his heart.

Sigurd's eyes closed for a moment, a deep frown appeared between his eyebrows, and then they smoothed out just as quickly when he looked back at his little brother. 

"Meet me on the beach after dinner. I have something to discuss with you, Eivor." He announced and after a strong handshake he left, leaving Eivor with the prey he had killed.

The elder brother's gaze was lost in the distance, the unison ripple of the water moved the pieces of the ice armor broken by the ships. Fornburg was quiet at this late hour, only the lapping of the water and the whistling of the wind could be heard. Eivor walked over to his brother silently; standing next to the tall man, he folded his arms across his chest and looked around the bay.

He knew that his brother was not usually this solemn, something really important could be weighing on his soul. Like everything since childhood, the two brothers shared their troubles with each other, looking for advice and sympathy in the other. Eivor decided to wait for Sigurd, let him share his problems with him at his own pace, he would not force this out of his brother.

For a while they stood motionless , silently appreciating the company and the discretion, as the two brothers had done many times before. After a long sigh, Sigurd looked up at the sky, blowing white mist into the air. Waves of colors seemed to follow the sea, the threads and shapes did their eternal dance in silence. 

I presume you heard the news from our father.” The taller brother spoke, hoarse. Eivor glanced at his brother who kept his eyes on the sky- as he nodded. Oh, now he understood what it's all about. Oh, he now understood what it was all about.

"I follow our father in the leadership of the Clan, my duty is to keep my people safe; to give them a good life." He continued, raising his gray iris to Eivor.

The blond lad straightened his posture, his brother's look suggested that his help would be needed now more than ever.

"You will be a good leader." Eivor tried to reassure Sigurd,with  conviction in his voice. Sigurd weakly acknowledged the words with a half-smile, but his eyes only exuded sadness. "No matter what happens brother, you’ll always have me by your side. I'll help you no matter what."

Sigurd wrinkled his nose wryly, as if a white-hot knife had been thrust into his side, as if it caused him immense pain to even talk about it.

"I entrust you with a serious task, brother, because you are the only one in the world in whose hands I would place my life."

An anxious, tight lump grew in Eivor's stomach, waiting for the question he had suspected since their father had told him of Sigurd's betrothal.

"You have to take care of her." Sigurd finally breathed, his voice breaking in the evening frost. "Be there for her and make sure she lives the life she deserves. The one we both know she deserves." Sigurd made him promise. .

___

Stretching your legs, you jumped off the rock, splashing the sparkling water onto the sand in the shallows.

"The fish must have heard that the dreaded Wolfsmal was stomping this way and ran up to the trees in fright." Chuckling, you strode over to Eivor's side, hands clasped behind your back, chin lifted to examine him as he stood in the stream with his breeches pulled up to his knees, fishing line in hand.

The man huffed one with pretended rage, lifting one leg in the stream, he kicked towards you, soaking your thin linen apron. You squealed and jumped back- a grimace of surprise and astonishment plastered on your face.

"Evor!" You shouted insulted, immediately bending down to return the “kind” gesture to the man by dipping your arm into the ice-cold spring. Laughing, you rushed at him, splashing the water back at him, that made Eivor dart backwards, his deep laughter echoing in the roaring water. 

“If you keep doing this, there won't be fish for dinner and then you can try to explain to Tekla what we were up to instead of doing the chores.”

"Oh, I'm not the one who stands in the stream for half a day without a catch!" You cut back, spraying a veil of water over Eivor's head again. Having enough of your duel wrapped the line around his hand, starting to move towards you, his strong legs carrying him with easy through the heavy upstream. Turning back to the shore, you stumbled out onto the dry just in time, when you felt the touch of his wet, cold hand on your upper arm, closing around your torso from both sides, erasing even the thought of escape from your mind. 

Your legs rose from the ground as you tried to kick free as one of Eivor's arms crawled under your knees, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing.

"Put me  down, Eivor!" You rolled your eyes at him, but his huge smile just betrayed the mischief, hiding across his face. "Do you hear that? Don't you dare throw me in the—" You ordered, trying to sound menacing and angry, but just like Eivor's face, your own was beaming with childish glee.

The man firmly grabbed your legs and arms and spun around on the shore, slapping you in the face with his untangled, wet curls. Apart from the roar of the river and the birds' whistles in the green forest, only the laughter and shouts of the two of you could be heard far along the river. 

Sometimes, in moments like this, you forgot that what you call home now, was a foreign land a long time ago. A foreign country, with foreign people - but also a new beginning, a clean start. Leaving the past behind, you and your family came to this island in search of a new life.  At first, it was searing, almost unbearable pain that you constantly felt when you saw Sigurd beside another;  when you were no longer able to touch his scarred skin or press soft kisses onto his lips– all slowly drifted away in your mind and heart, leaving a throbbing wound, now only a memory for you.

Eivor was always there to distract you from them. As in battle, so in everyday life you sought his presence; your friendship - initially bonded by Sigurd- grew stronger, growing into faithful companions who were always there for each other at arm's length.

You knew that, and you felt it on Eivor as well; this bond was important to both of you. The two lonely souls, often separated from the clan, could have a kindred soul by their side. And you also knew very well that this arm's length was slowly shrinking. Pulling the thread of the bond on you ever tighter...

After finishing the game, you both started collecting your fishing gear and your own belongings, moving quickly and smoothly around each other. You glanced to the side from the horses, catching Eivor tossing his water-dripping mane back in frustration, leaving dark blue stains on his blue tunic. Sighing in amusement, you turned back to him, hands on your hips.

"Shall I help you?" You called out to him, but before Eivor could answer, you quickly stepped behind him.

You ran your fingers through his blonde curls, the thick strands gently tickling your fingertips. Eivor's shoulders relaxed with a sigh, instantly bending his knees so you could reach his head.

Not a single word was spoken between you, as your nimble fingers braided his long hair into a loose line, careful not to pull on his lush curls.

Finishing your work, you wiped your wet hands on your skirt, Eivor turned, towering over you as he  faced you. The man must have been two heads taller than you, so close to him you had to bend your neck back a little to be able to look into his shining sky blue eyes.

His eyes always seemed to you they were in a different color each time you locked eyes with him. Ice blue, light blue, greenish blue- it seemed that Eivor's penetrating gaze was the night light itself. It was as if Eivor carried a part of your past within himself. The water was still dripping from his beard and forehead, small drops falling onto your face. An arm's length away, you were always just an arm's length away from each other.

"Eivor…" You breathed softly, raising your palm to your cheek. You didn't even notice that your thumb brushed away a drop of water from under his eyes. He knew everything about you, and you knew everything about him, the days when you were alone in his absence passed so bitterly slowly.

His searching gaze betrayed his thoughts when it fell from your eyes to your slightly open lips for a few moments. And you caught the moment. Whether it was you or the man who broke the still moment, you didn't know. You only realized it, when his lips were on yours, soft flesh melting over yours as a hand crept across your middle, pulling your body towards his form. Eyelids closed, you eagerly answered the movement, capturing his tender bottom lips between your teeth. At this action, Eivor groaned into the kiss, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he slightly skimmed across your lips with his tongue. The touch burnt your skin all across your body, tingling and pinching you, as your mind buzzed in excitement. 

The warmth left your lips too soon, cold air sweeping across your flushed face as Eivor leant back. His gaze felt so tender across your form, adoring warmth glimmered in his eyes, a hand rubbing your side up and down. 

The distance has now dissipated, a thread has grown stronger and tighter, as it connected your hearts, opening a new path for you.

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

Lads, please , you're fucking killing me here 😭😭

Never taking these two pillaging with me again smfh

[vegtamr]

these geniuses CAME TO BURGER KING!!!!!!!!!!!

original: my beautiful burger king trip with friends.

[ecude]

Lean on me, I will lead you home.

[frenchoravocadotoast]

Hytham headcanons

Hytham (AC Valhalla) x GN!reader

Word count: 1078

A/N's note: I've been meaning to write about Hytham these past few weeks! Have some headcanons while I finish reading The Golden City :) (it got a bit angsty at the end)

Hytham’s love languages are gift giving and quality time. Hear me out.

He's pretty quiet (compared to the rowdy Vikings, at least), but true to his creed, he watches everything and everyone like a hawk. This applies to you too.

Hytham is willing to wait when he starts to grow interested in someone. He’d much rather approach them only once he feels like he’s gotten to know them both from the inside and the outside. I don’t see him seeking his crush out from the very beginning – he prefers bonding with them over time and seeing where things go.

Do not be fooled by his acting. Whether he’s cackling at a joke, dining at the longhouse or target practicing, Hytham is sure to be eavesdropping on your conversation. If you’re nearby, that is. This doesn’t mean that he’s spying on you specifically – he tends to strain his ears (like all Hidden Ones do, really), and sometimes, if he’s lucky, he might just hear your voice.

When he does, he smiles to himself.

You’re good friends with Eivor, and often accompany her on her errands around the village. This has led you to the bureau multiple times, and Hytham is always caught off guard by the unexpected visit.

“🧍🏾‍♂️Oh. Good evening.”

You like the place, it’s cozy and the man isn’t bad company either. So you stay, and even if there’s other parchments he needs to finish before sunset, Hytham perks up at the chance to answer any question you might have (grinning and kicking his feet when you show interest in the creed).

So that’s where you spend time together. Celebrations in Ravensthorpe are also guaranteed to lure him out of his cove – you’ll be sure to find him letting loose and coming out of his shell more. His favorite game is apple bobbing, and he’s determined to win everytime – but despite his competitive streak, he might pretend to lose if he’s going up against you.

As for gift giving, it doesn’t evolve into actual physical gifts until later on (he thinks that’d be way too obvious). Instead, his first ‘gifts’ are things you might need.

Whether you have experience in fighting/self-defense or not, Hytham hints at the training yard he and Basim use. He invites you to use it whenever you please (you can pummel the dummies for a bit, as long as you put them back in their place); and if you have no experience whatsoever, he’ll gladly teach you some things.

You don’t get to have your own hidden blade though. Sorry (ask Basim for one)

But you can try his! Just don’t die.

If you do somehow get injured, you can have the medicine he’s made. It’s all yours.

Interested in a particular topic? He probably has a book about it at the bureau (or he’ll find it somehow, don’t ask) and will gladly let you take it.

Teaches you how to do the leap of faith. If you pull his leg just like Eivor did and don’t leave the haystack, I think he’d have a similar reaction.

“Very funny. You can come out now.”

“We are so not doing this rn.”

“Please.”

“Please, Basim will kill me.”

Things start to shift when you see the signs. You crack a joke with your friends and notice Hytham’s already looking at you with a soft smile. You tell him your pouch is broken, and remember the beautiful purse you’d once seen at a market in Lunden. Days later, coincidentally, Eivor brings you a beautiful leather pouch from the same city (hint: it wasn’t Eivor’s idea). You also find him playing hide and seek with the Norse children outside, and he urges you to join.

You start testing out your theories. When spring comes, you comment on the beauty of the blooming flowers and he’s immediately crouched down, going through every plant in your vicinity to tell you everything he knows about them. By the end, you have a large bouquet of flowers in your hands.

Eivor sees this, and jokingly tells Hytham he should get some purple ones and smack you in the face with them (a courting tradition amongst Vikings). Needless to say he’s mortified.

Random secret: he knows how to make flower crowns – his mother taught him when he was younger.

He’s giving you instructions as you weave the stems together, and you can’t help but feel his eyes glancing repeatedly between your hands and face.

It’s not until Ravensthorpe is attacked that you’re forced to face your feelings. The ambush is bad – there is no escape as the docks are on fire, and arrows are whizzing past you no matter where you run. Whether you’re a villager, a sage, or a warrior doesn’t really matter. It’s the kind of attack where you’re certain your next stop is going to be Valhalla.

But then the clashing of swords stop. The last enemy falls to their knees, and through the smoke and the ringing in your ears, you hear the roaring victory of your people.

Sigurd and Basim are looting the bodies. Eivor is opening the longhouse where the villagers have barricaded themselves. But you don’t catch sight of Hytham, not until you see him emerge from the woods along with the other Drengr. His white robes are flapping in the wind, his sword dripping with blood, and he’s holding his side as he grimaces. So you run to him.

He sheathes his weapon when he sees you alive and well, eyes darting all over your face as if scanning for injuries; and before you can say anything, he cups your face and locks his lips with yours.

Congrats! You’re now dating.

Basim tells you and Eivor something enigmatic months before his sudden betrayal. Hytham’s happiness is clearly reason for his gratitude, and no matter how much you insist that Ravensthrope is Basim’s home too, you’re only rewarded with a wry smile from the assassin.

It’s months later, when you’re sitting in the empty bureau with Hytham, that you reason Basim must have known. You watch as Hytham grips the table and rakes his hands through his hair, how he paces the room when he’s not squeezing your hand. He questions everything when you realize Basim must have known all this time – must have known that he wasn’t going to stay, that his apprentice would be alright. That Hytham would be happy in Ravensthorpe. And thus, you make sure it stays that way.

[drawn-twogether]

Does anyone remember that promotional video Ubisoft dropped when they were advertising AC Valhalla and it was "how to be a Viking" or something? Well that inspired this lol. At least Holger's having fun 😂

--SciFiBeatlesGleek

[ls-21187]

we have a ✨problem✨

[artschoolglasses]

On the docks of Ravensthorpe...

Assassin's Creed Valhalla

[hereforreadandwrite]

Fanfiction Masterlist :

Assassin's Creed Valhalla:

Ivarr The Boneless x Female Reader:

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the furniture, everything was covered in your parents' blood. You could only watch helplessly as the macabre scene unfolded before your eyes. You weren't strong enough to be able to protect your parents. You had to live with their death on your conscience, but your brothers Sigurd and Eivor managed to ease the burden. Everything seemed to be going well until Sigurd decided to leave Norway to go to England.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Ect...

Mangle

King Rhodri decides to take revenge on Ivarr Ragnarsson by attacking the only thing he had the least bit of affection for: you.

Warning: mutilation, torture, nudity

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Ect.

charlie and the chocolate factory:

Willy Wonka x Female Reader:

Unlike your cousin Charlie Bucket, you hadn't had a chance in life. Your parents abandon you, leaving you in the hands of Mr. and Mrs. Bucket. As long as you can remember, you had to work hard to help them make ends meet. Like your cousin, you admired the famous Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, although you know that it was impossible for you to enter it. At least, that's what you thought.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Finish~

God Of War:

Kratos x Female Reader:

Abandoned

Ragnarok is over. You agreed to follow Kratos and Freya across the nine Realms, but instead of helping them in restorative quests, you will have a completely different revelation.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Finish~

Tyr x Female Reader:

You had a happy life. A loving family and a devoted husband. But every idyllic setting had a dark spot. And you were going to learn it the worst way.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Vikings:

Ragnar Lodbrok and Daughter reader:

Being the eldest daughter of Ragnar Lodbrok and Lagertha is not an easy existence. Everyone expects a lot from you. But it's even less so when you can't stand your own father and his ways.

Chapter One

kuroshitsuji:

Undertaker x Female reader:

Madness part 1

[elijahmiles]

listen both hytham and eivor were orphaned as young children and were taken in and saved by a family that became their own and in return they became warriors devoted to that family and to the person who saved them, both of them followed that family from their homes and across the known world because of their love, they both had to build a new home for their people, and then they were both abandoned and betrayed by that family who left them in favor of being sages, the love lost in the face of unfathomable ancient memories, and despite losing everything again they became the leaders of their people despite never thinking they could, despite always being in another's shadow, and they did it together, and this is why hytham/eivor should have been canon, them finding each other and building a new family in the wake of the one they lost, their causes the same, choosing love and hope in the face of so much grief

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

Hi! Idk if you write for Sigurd or Tyr but if you do, can i request a lil something with them, maybe comforting them after their arms got chopped off or something?

At your request 😌

Pairing: Sigurd x reader

Word count: 2770

Genre: fluff, angst

Notes: BB boi needs love. Give him love. Give him therapy and kisses and cuddles.

The mild spring weather, which you would otherwise have been grateful for, was now playing against you as you tossed and turned in your bed, your skin slippery with sweat, your forehead furrowed into deep wrinkles, your breathing ragged.Your dream images have now been ingrained in your mind - you have seen the terrible moments over and over again, you have felt the fear, sorrow, despair, helpless anger so many times. But these feelings did not rise in your heart because of your own suffering. That is, not completely.

The center of your dreams was not you. Your person, your presence was just an insignificant detail, as if you had become an outsider, a ghost, who was only an observer of all the bad happenings, unable to scream, run, or do anything to stop the horrors.

In the end; as always in this dream, you reached the point where your mind could no longer bear to see the further course of events - your awakening was a salvation. 

Gasping for air, you swallowed, your eyelids popped open as if a snake had bitten you; Throwing your blanket aside, you sat down among the furs. With a buzzing, dizzy head, you looked around thought zigzagging, wanting to make sure that it was just your imagination playing tricks on you- you were really in your bed, at home, safe, under the protection of your people, and all the ugliness you saw before was just a figment of your imagination. 

Your pounding heart echoed in your ears, a thin layer of sweat covered your skin as the coolness of the night hit your damp forehead.

Regaining control over your breathing, you took a deep breath in through your nose to calm your heart and mind.

After that you didn't want to go back to sleep— the nightmare chased away the dream from your eyes  and you didn't want to risk reliving the horrible events anyway- because you were almost certain that if you were to fall asleep again the images would return, starting all over again, like an insurmountable cycle.

Pulling your boots on, you pulled your thick blanket over your shoulders and walked over to your candle holder on your dresser. Darkness prevailed in your hut, only the white light of the silvery moon shone through your window, illuminating your modest abode. It was a small room, but it turned out to be just enough for you, its homely warmth always made your residence soothing. Lighting your candle, you stepped out into the evening sky; the fresh spring breeze came as sweet salvation to your heart, after the tormenting dreams. 

You thought that if you take a walk in the town; exercise your tired limbs, cool down your heated soul and clear your mind, you might be able to sleep a few more hours during the night before a new day begins full of tasks and responsibilities which can only be done properly with a clear head.

Your path led you to the river, watching the moon's eternal glow in the sky, listening to the soft creaking and cracking of the trees as the breeze moved them around you. You almost completely forgot the reason why you're awake, you almost completely forgot about the ghostly images that so gladly flashed before your eyes over and over again, while you roamed the realm of dreams.

Walking up the slope as you got a better view of the shore, you saw a figure among the docks, ships and stone pillars, not far at the end of the pier. The figure sat on the planks- long legs reaching down toward the water, the sluggish waves almost lapping at them. You stopped in fright, squinting your eyes, wondering if you could see him by the light of the moon, if it's a friend or a foe, who lurks alone on the shore in the dead of night. You were already about to turn around and quietly sneak home before it was too late, before the mysterious someone could notice. However, the moon has decided to come to your aid—the drifting cloud in front of it floated away into the distance, enveloping Ravenstorpe in a flood of light.

Your eyes widened, face elongated, and your heart felt as if it had been thrown off a mountain, when - to your greatest fear - you recognized the lonely figure. 

Dark red - almost brown braids glistened in the gloom of the night, the white fur coat fluttered on his shoulders as a particularly stronger wind swept across the water – Sigurd sat alone on the edge of the pier, his shoulders slumped, his back bent.

In that moment, the cause of all bad feelings, anxiety, and fear came flooding back into you, crushing you to the ground.

The images from your dream flashed into your mind—a dark, cold, damp room; a huge, murderous shadow, running from corner to corner so you don't even have a chance to figure out who it is; the knives and tongs are a sharp flash. And then there's always comes that makes your blood freeze, the hair on your back stands, and makes you want to cry convulsively. 

You catch a glimpse of Sigurd, sometimes sitting up, sometimes lying on the floor. Sometimes he's passed out or half dead, but that's the best case — most of the time he's awake, very awake.

You stand motionless in the middle of the room, you watch trembling as the dark figure ignores you and walks closer and closer to him, Sigurd's eyes widen, the paralyzing edge of fear reflected in his gaze. With what little strength he has left, he tries to free himself from the chains, ropes, and sharp claws, yelling, spinning, throwing himself- all the more in a frantic rush of terror. 

You also feel his fear, his helplessness, his vulnerability - like an animal waiting to be slaughtered, who has been tied up and is watching the arrival of his executioner. A cold pain shoots through your heart, your limbs start to go numb, your face and ears burn, your eyes fill with tears, as despite all your efforts you cannot prevent the events or turn away from them. 

A rusty, broken saw appears out of nowhere.

Then only the heart-wrenching yelling and sobbing; which one of you hears it, is unknown. Blood flows, blood everywhere, covers Sigurd, runs down to the floor, pooling, reaching your legs, then up to your ankles.

Blood, blood everywhere, red, warm and unstoppable flowing blood, covering the room, covering your body, flowing into your nose, ears, mouth, eyes, suffocating you.

Blinking, you turned back to face the Raven Clan's Jarl. You moved your trembling legs and wrapped your arms around your chest, to see if it could ease your heart's pounding.

You weren't there when it happened. You weren't there, you don't know how it was. It has already happened and there is nothing any of you can do about it. You know well, not even the weavers of fate can change the past. He was home now. Eivor brought him home; he lives- and is at home among his people.

You walked closer to the shore, but still making sure he didn't hear your footsteps - or at least if he did notice you, don't make it look like you wanted to go to him at all costs. In fact, that was all you wanted. Since Sigurd's return, you have only met a few times, your conversations were short. Until now, you didn't dare to bring up the subject of his arm, thinking that you should leave Sigurd, let him initiate the conversation. But inwardly your heart was rent at the sight of his condition; seeing the ghost of the agony on his face, the sparkle in his eyes has faded, his lips have only a faint memory of his smile.

You wanted to let him heal at his own pace, not rushed, forced just for your own peace.

However, you wanted to show him that you are by his side, that you are there for him at every moment, ready to do anything for him, just so that you can see him whole again. Until Sigurd is his old self, you can't be either.

The wind howled and rose stronger, caught in the blanket wrapped around you which flapped against your side like this. Grabbing the warm material, you pulled it closer as you were about to turn back from the shore, leaving him with his thoughts when a voice broke the silence of the night. 

"You're really awful at sneaking." Sigurd spoke to you, his voice seemed forced.

"I didn't mean to… I didn't want to eavesdrop." You stammered, swallowed thickly from the embarrassment and shame. "I just came out for a walk and..."

"I didn't mean to send you away. Just don't stand there alone like a ghost, come here then.” Sigurd's tall figure turned towards you, patting the wood next to him with his good arm. 

You just blinked at him for a few moments, wondering if you should leave him alone, or if he really wanted you to sit next to him for company, but your heart couldn't overcome your mind - you wanted to be as close to Sigurd as possible.

And now you had a great opportunity.

Taking small steps on the slippery wood, you reached him then carefully sat down on the edge of the dock dangling your legs over the water. You couldn't decide whether to look at him or you would make him uncomfortable with it, so you turned to his direction watching the moonlight reflected in the water.

In the past, the quiet, silent moments in Sigurd's company felt pleasant- a real salvation even - when you were both in your own world, yet next to each other —always in each other's company in an intimate silence.

Now however, this light and secure feeling couldn’t be found. A lump grew in your throat with each moment you spent in silence next to him, gnawing at the inside of your cheeks, wondering what and how to tell him. Do you say anything to him at all?

You noticed that, unfortunately, the man has changed towards you as well. The once open, attentive and interesting conversations turned into half-sentence answers, with his indifferent and tired voice you sometimes felt that he was perhaps outright bored or annoyed with your presence…

Although it had to belsaid; Sigurd held back himself particularly around you- since you saw how he could bark orders at Eivor, how venomously he could hurl accusations and insults at a person's head after a simple comment. You usually caught a glimpse of these while walking by the Long House; when at an unlucky moment you turn a corner and find yourself faced with a fight —  you were only an occasional real eyewitness of its manifestations, and even then, as soon as he noticed you, Sigurd immediately retreated into his gloomy, wordless brooding.

While he lashed out at others with burning anger, when he turned to you there was only cool callousness.

The river tumbled, bubbled and splashed beneath you, a chorus of frogs surrounded you as if they were singing to you. At least they are talking while you sink into deep silence.

There were many things in your heart that you wanted to say, that you wanted to share with him, that you wanted to guarantee him; Sigurd needs to know that he is not alone, that he never will be, and that he should never be afraid that anyone - especially you - will reject him because of what he has been through.

"It's so quiet." Sigurd sighed heavily, the sudden noise alarmed you as you turned your head towards him, straightening up in your seat. His voice sounded strangely harsh - raspy and hoarse, as if it pained him to make a sound.

"It's best to contemplate at times like this." You answered, in the hope that a conversation might finally come to fruition. "In peace and quiet."

Sigurd's nose crinkled as he grimaced sourly; his Adam's apple bobbed rapidly while he swallowed. You noticed this;  biting in the insides of your cheeks you thought again, could you have said something wrong to him. 

“Is…something wrong? Did I say something wrong?" You sputtered softly, having enough of the silence, having enough of the speechlessness, having enough that you don't know what is happening between you, what is happening with Sigurd, why he behaves like this towards you. “If you wanted to be left alone you should have just said-” You suddenly bit off the end of your words as Sigurd leaned over to you, wrapping his arm around your collarbone and pulling you close to his side.

A sharp, ragged sigh escaped your lungs, shoulders and torso rigid from the quick and unexpected action.

Moments later, however, you finally felt yourself melting into his chest, the pent-up doubts and tension of the days had melted away to almost nonexistent as he held you close - even if only for a few moments.

"No, not at all. I didn't want to - you never -" You didn't say a word, you let Sigurd say what he wanted, stuttering, not finding the words. He needed time to express everything he wanted; you also needed time to understand him. "I didn't want you to think... I just... I don't know what's happening to me, what's happening around me. Why is all this happening… Nothing is the same.”

"Hey," you placed your palm on his shoulder blade, trying to calm him by drawing small circles into his clothes. "it's okay. I do not demand anything from you Sigurd, quite the opposite. I want everything to go the way it suits you. I understand why you're upset... I'd be the same if I were you — I am; seeing what happened to you... I just want you to know that I'm here by your side." You spoke as quietly and softly as if you were talking to a feather, making sure your breath didn't blow it away from your palm.

"No—I'm not being fair to you." Sigurd's voice broke, swallowing thickly as he shook his head.

For a moment you blinked in silence gazing ahead into the river, your mind trying to comprehend everything that had happened so quickly until now; how you should respond to reassure your beloved and assure him that it is only his mind that creates these dark shadows. 

"How's your…arm?" You asked suddenly, the topic being so different from the previous ones that Sigurd snorted in astonishment.

"My arm?" A growl broke out of his throat as he forced himself to straighten up, leaving your side, his arm unconsciously touching the wound. "According to Valka, the skin is slowly starting to close... Sometimes it hurts, sometimes itches... most of the time it's like I still feel the -"

From the side you saw him biting his lip through his red beard, distant eyes wandering over the shimmering surface of the water. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together, pulling your body closer to his.

“It’s healing. Slowly, with a lot of care and time it will heal completly. Just the same, you will feel better over time. You can trust the clan, you can trust me— we will stand by you every step of the way.”

You turned to each other; pulling your legs up, you knelt on the pier so you could finally be at head level with Sigurd. Even in the darkness of the night, you could make out his sparkling, soft gaze, as his eyes scanned your features, mapping out what kind of meaning you wanted to give to your words.

Tingling waves ran over your skin as you finally felt Sigurd's warmth and the solidity of his body again; the fact that you could finally hold him in your arms made your heart skip a beat. 

Without a moment's hesitation, your Jarl wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his cold nose into the crook of your neck, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

You have been missing this feeling for a very long time. You missed him. Now, it's as if a little piece of your heart has returned to you again, as your body has absorbed the love and care of the moment.

Sigurd didn't answer, but he didn't need to-  you already knew what he wanted to express, what he wanted to show you, even though his wounds crippled his voice for now.

"We'll get through this." You sighed, fingers coming to comb through his long braid. "We'll get through this together."

[cippicat]

Waiting for Shadows

OMG I really love these two.

Why she didn't marry him ?

Why she decided to flee away with only Havi to keep her company 😔😔😔?

[syninplays]

Eivor my beloved ♥ and Sigurd

[bladesrunner]

I remember and admire the way you guided us from Norway to England. You kept my anger in check, my ambitons focused.

Assassin's Creed Valhalla (2020) dev. Ubisoft Montreal

[elfsroot]

"And his heresies are profound, my lord. He claims to be a living god."

[frenchoravocadotoast]

Take me back to Constantinople

Hytham (AC: Valhalla) x GN!Reader

Word count: 2704

A/N: I finished reading The Golden City a few days ago and I'm inconsolable :] Have some more Hytham content! (because I fell down a rabbit hole)

Had Hytham been told that he would challenge the tenets of the creed again, he would have vehemently denied it.

Constantinople had already been a tedious enough task to complete, and with his feelings involved, the young man swore to never get attached again. The life of an assassin was always on the run, never stable. He wasn’t meant to stay anywhere.

But then they met Sigurd. He and Basim traveled to Norway with him, then to England – and then Kjotve happened, and now Hytham had to stew in his disappointment as he healed from broken bones. His journey of travels ended here. At least he had the bureau to keep himself busy, as well as the lavish dinners to keep him fed and entertained. He liked it when there were get-togethers in Ravensthorpe. 

Like the one from a couple of days ago.

The assassin didn’t know what the reason for the celebration was – not that the vikings needed any. As long as they were promised food and booze at the banquet, they would gladly pillage and conquer any village they were asked to. Hytham had to admit that their logic was pretty efficient, if not a little too simple. But with Eivor, it was different. Her loyalties lay with her own virtues, a moral compass that luckily aligned with Hytham’s; and thus, she would willingly carry out any task that the Hidden One needed of her, even without the promise of a full belly and a drunken tongue.

She’d done a lot for him and his creed, and he couldn’t bring himself to say no to her when she insisted that he attend the celebration. She knew Hytham tended to overwork himself. There was paperwork to finish, new feathers to stock – hell, even the bureau itself was a mess. If Basim were to return with Sigurd now, and find the bureau looking like a rabid drengr had rummaged through it, Hytham would probably have to spend the rest of the month cleaning up the place rather than working up the ranks. 

He pursed his lips, not amused by the idea, but he tried his best to focus on the moment regardless. The clan members had come to form a circle, swaying to the tune of the music, and clasped their hands together as they stomped their right feet in unison. Hytham could feel the tremor under his own feet, and the laughing of the people echoed all over the room, pulling a smile at his lips too.

For a group of drunkards, they danced with great passion and expertise. Practice, Hytham shrugged. It definitely wasn’t their first night drinking and pissing mead, and dancing until their feet hurt. The circle spun faster and faster as the music enhanced. The dancers paired up to twirl and jump, and through the motion blur of faces and twirling dresses, Hytham saw it. Well, he wasn’t quite sure he’d seen it, but the smile looked familiar enough – and as the dancers continued to spin, his eyes settled on you.

He was right, then. You had indeed joined the circle. But your steps were calculated, and you lacked the drunken sway of the vikings who could barely keep themselves upright. Your smile shone bright, and your eyes crinkled under its pull as you switched partners with a woman. Her cheeks matched the tone of her ginger hair, and you somehow managed to avoid getting splashed by her drink, horn in hand.

Hytham’s eyes softened. It was moments like this that made him feel at ease, with no fear of an uncertain future or the haunting of a dark past. Everyone in this room had their fair share of demons, even the children – but they somehow possessed the power to forget about everything for the night, swinging and swaying to the music as the smoke from the bonfire fed off of each chant.

But there was something about you in particular that fascinated Hytham. Perhaps it was the way you carried yourself. The way you spoke, your presence. Maybe it was just the way you looked at him last week, when he’d taught you how to use his throwing knives. He was fixing your posture, and perhaps you’d noticed that he lingered close for too long, because Hytham caught you looking at him on numerous occasions since then. 

There was something there, he mused. A potion brewing quietly, and you were both none the wiser. Even now, the mere memory made Hytham’s fingers twitch as he watched you disappear on the other side of the circle.

“You’re staring.”

He stiffened, not wanting to give the woman the satisfaction of his reaction. 

“I’m just watching them dance.”

Eivor huffed out a laugh, dragging a wooden stool and plopping down next to him. From the corner of his eye, Hytham could see the blade of her ax glimmering under the candlelight.

“Basim was right, you’re awfully transparent.”

Hytham met her eyes, slightly offended. “He said that?”

“You can’t deny it if it’s true,” the blonde shrugged, nodding in your presumed direction. “Why don’t you ask them for a dance?”

Immediately, the assassin clammed up. It must have been an amusing sight to Eivor; a trained killer with a blade strapped to their arm, refusing to approach a person of their interest. When he and Eivor first met, Hytham had gone into detail about the imperative need to separate one’s feelings from their work – to allow such a thing could greatly compromise both his life and his creed. But it was a blurry line for the likes of him, a game that tested their loyalty to the brotherhood. The young eagle knew that line had been tested before, trespassed by his peers and predecessors. It hadn’t ended well for them – after all, the life of an assassin was short. It was built on sacrifice rather than yearning, that was the true purpose of a Hidden One. But now, Hytham knew he was once again at the mercy of his own heart – and what would that make of him?

Human, the little voice in his head said. It sounded an awful lot like Basim, and the acolyte was sure he could almost hear the older man’s trademark smirk. He must have trespassed that line too, at some point in his life; and Hytham couldn’t blame him. He was almost tempted to do it for the second time, too – perhaps he was spending too much time around the man. 

Hytham gave the viking woman a tentative smile. “You know I’m injured. I shouldn’t be dancing anyway.”

Eivor cocked an eyebrow, like she’d been expecting him to say that. 

“I thought it was your ribs that were broken, not your feet.”

Hytham frowned, frustrated; not because of her insistence, but rather because of her ability to read him like a book. Unlike his mentor, Hytham lacked the talent to keep secrets, and he was seemingly obvious to everyone except for himself.

“I don’t know how to dance,” he tried again.

“And they do?” Eivor laughed, looking at a drunk man who tripped and dragged his dancing partner down with him. Hytham could smell the alcohol on their breath from his seat.

“They’re too drunk to care.”

“Hytham.”

“I know you mean well, Eivor,” he softened his tone, shaking his head. “But I believe I should sit this one out. My ribs have been hurting again, and I wouldn’t want to aggravate them.”

It was a lie, and Eivor knew. Nevertheless, without questioning him, the woman sighed and stood up with great effort. She squeezed his shoulder in one last attempt to encourage him, but Hytham only patted her arm. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, or that he lacked the confidence to do so – but Hytham felt like he’d be intruding if he were to approach you now. You gleamed and danced amongst the other dancers, stepping over the bodies of the people who had succumbed to a drunken sleep. You moved with the kind of expertise he would almost envy if he weren’t a skilled fighter himself. 

Someday, he told himself. Someday, he would try to talk to you again. Not now, when you seemed to be in your own world. Hytham was content with just watching for now.

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

That day came sooner than Hytham expected.

The scenario was oddly familiar. As per your request, you were in the training yard once more, graced by the presence of a slumped dummy. The assassin didn’t stray too far from you, observing your posture as you readied another throw. 

“Remember to aim for a pulse point.”

Hytham muttered, not keen on interrupting your focus. You were deeply concentrated, he could tell. Your gloved fingers gripped the dagger tightly, readjusting your hold, before you pivoted and hurled the weapon at the humanoid sack. The blade hissed through the air and past the target, and the scowl on your face darkened.

“Damn it.”

The assassin smiled in amusement. Throwing knives were cheeky little bastards – they seemed to have a mind of their own and strayed wherever they pleased. And the wind today didn’t seem to be working in your favor, either. These weren’t the best conditions to be training; but for the two of you, spare time was just as slippery as the flying blades. The second you could find time to spend together, you’d take it.

So Hytham respected your choice to continue training. It was a good enough excuse to spend time with you, at least until he ran out of knives.

He drew another one from his belt, nodding at you. “That’s alright. Try again.”

You took the dagger from him, and perhaps your impatience was starting to get to you, because just a few seconds later, the knife was cutting through the air again. This time though, it embedded itself into the crotch area of the dummy, and true to its humanoid appearance, it slumped over as if it were in pain. Hytham let out an incredulous laugh, warily eyeing the dummy.

“Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

You grinned in triumph, satisfied that this one had struck the target. “But this would still work, right?”

“I suppose it would,” he hummed, instinctively handing you another knife. It was the last from his belt, and Hytham was relieved to know that he would soon be retreating back into the warmth of the bureau. He propped up the dummy before joining your side again. “Try one last time. Here, I’ll help you.”

Your posture was better than last time, but it still needed fixing. The man waited for you to curl the knife up to your opposite shoulder, before leaning closer to hover at your eye level. Gauging the distance by moving into your space was unnecessary, he knew you were capable enough to do so on your own. You knew you didn’t need him either. And yet, Hytham relished the side glance you gave him, one that lingered on his face longer than he’d expected. He fought back a smile as he reached to lift up your crooked arm.

“Focus on the target and take your time,” he reprimanded you playfully. You ripped your eyes away from him, and Hytham swore he could feel the heat emanating from your cheeks. “Your arm should be fully outstretched in a straight line. Aiming too high or too low will miss the target entirely, and you’ll quickly lose range advantage.”

He let go of your elbow when he was satisfied enough. Your eyes were trained on the dummy, unblinking, and the leather of your gloves groaned when you tightened the grip on the knife. Your voice was a soft mutter, but Hytham heard it. 

“You know, you sound a lot like Basim.”

The man gave you the ghost of a smile. It seemed the little voice in his head was starting to seep into his voice now, too.

“Well, he is my mentor,” a pause, and Hytham was tempted to speak again despite your focus. He added quietly. “Would you prefer his tutoring?”

“No. I would much rather enjoy your company.”

“And I yours.”

Another pause, and then, you flung the knife again. It cut through the air with a hiss, glinting for just a second before it sank into the neck of the dummy, and the stray strands of straw fluttered down at the stab. Hytham grinned as your eyes widened, and drew back to look at you properly.

“Good job,” he winked, promptly walking back to the mannequin to retrieve his knives. “Remind me to never get on your bad side again.”

“So this is how you do it?” you asked, and Hytham’s smile softened at the awe in your eyes. “I’ve seen you fling daggers from greater distances with just the flick of a wrist.”

The man shrugged, at a loss for words. He was never good at taking compliments, especially when they were this genuine. “It’s a matter of practice,” was all he said instead. He nodded at the bureau just as you joined his side.

“In that case, I’ll have to whisk you away more often. I need you to teach me how to do that.”

Hytham repressed a grin, but he couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks.

“You know I won’t complain.”

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

Complain? No, he could never.

Hytham didn’t know what it was that pulled him towards you. Other than his feelings, of course. Was it the way the fireplace of the bureau cast shadows on your face? The depth of your eyes, perhaps? The tender caress of your lips against his? Too many questions ran about in his mind, and no answer was valid enough to satisfy him.

There was one thing that did satisfy him, though; and he knew right then and there that he was doomed. The kiss started off with a peck –Hytham wasn’t sure who had leaned in first–; but then came a second one, and then another one, which turned into a lingering kiss. He felt the heat of your sigh, the gentle nudge of your nose, the caress of your lashes against his skin. The blood in his ears was roaring at your touch.

If this was how training ended every time, then Hytham wouldn’t have minded teaching you more often.

You had somehow found your way to the shelves. His body pressed you against them, caging you in his embrace as your hands cradled his face; and here, hidden away from any witnesses, your lips came to create a dance and language of their own. Hytham pulled back, desperate to relieve the burn in his chest but not leaning too far either. Your breaths intermingled once more as his finger skimmed over your cheek, and he whispered.

“I’m starting to think training was just an excuse.”

He felt you smile against his skin, like he had caught you in a lie. Perhaps he had, judging from the glint in your eyes.

“It wasn’t, at least not in the beginning,” you paused, interrupted by him as he surged forward to catch your lips again. Your words etched onto his skin as you whispered through the kiss. “But then you refused to dance with me at the celebration, and I had to come up with a new idea.”

Hytham stilled, and your smile widened at his reaction. He glanced between your eyes, trying to read you like he’d been trained to do in his novice years. It was so obvious now that he looked more carefully – maybe he was too distracted by his feelings in the past to even notice what you were plotting. That seemed to be a recurring problem for Hytham. His cheeks grew warm again, but his small smile said he was impressed.

“I was set up.” 

“Took you long enough.”

“You’re devious,” his words were teasing, but the assassin felt his eyes soften the more he looked at you. Your arms around his neck had never felt so welcoming. “Perhaps we should make a Hidden One out of you.”

“Only if you continue teaching me how to use the knives.”

Hytham grinned, whispering against your lips. “Deal.”