#eivor x sigurd

[hel777]

kisses kisses 

[cippicat]

Happy 4th Anniversary to AC Valhalla

H: Happy Birthday Eivor

E: It's not my birthday Allfather, but thank you

[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.

[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

[mirendils]

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

[vegtamr]

melon drama 💔💔💔💔.

[axelflare9700]

Eivor x Sigurd Moodboard

[notdeadellis]

oh to watch your loved one with sadness and longing in your eyes

[flare-queen]

Had decided to finish up Valhalla and got some really pretty Sigurd and Eivor from the PS.

[canaidliafail]

Fulkes undoing

fulke x f!reader drabble 🗡️

quick idea I had where you are one of Fulkes soldier that you have an intimate relationship with. Eivor kidnaps you in hopes that this will make fulke give her brother back. Sorry I unfortunately am a fulke enjoyer

when does the reason become the blame ? When did she fall so deep that her hand crafted soldier became her absolute undoing ?

weren’t you just her lackey ? sure you had spent countless nights exploring each other's bodies, mostly her exploring yours but even so, weren't you just someone to abide to all her whims and blindly follow her faith ? Then when ? How did she find herself in this position ?

It only took a second. a moment of weakness where Eivor, seething with anger, looked for her soft spot. Something to threaten her with and in her vulnerability her eyes darted over to you in concern. That was enough.

Eivor leaped and wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling them back, pinning them against your back and her axe was flat against your chest the tip pressed against your neck. You stopped breathing a thick clot forming in your throat from the supressed oxygen and eivors voice felt heavy right by your ears

“My brother in return for your woman” she threatened, still having reason within her to make a fair offer. What Fulke was building brick by brick to hide , Eivor had figured out in seconds.

You saw Fulke, looking collected, tall and cold as ice her blue eyes having a heated battle for dominance with Eivors. The ice blue darkened, a storm was brewing tainting the skies of her mind. You were familiar with that look

“She is but one of my soldiers” Fulke tried the words, flattening them, trying to unravel the situation unceremoniously but her pinky finger twitched and her breathing pattern grew deeper. she was at Eivors mercy at the moment

“I could replace her by dinner. Can you say the same for your brother ?” she teased with a sharp, thin smile but Eivor didn’t waver. she lowered her axe and pushed you towards a man who grabbed you with equal force. -Basim- as you recalled.

“She isn’t just a soldier fulke. That much I could tell. Bring me my brother tomorrow and I’ll let her go. Dont make me change the deal by saying an arm for an arm as well”

Fulke turned her back waving goodbye and grabbed a horse. The rest of her soldiers followed her lead heading back. She prayed that you understood this was an act. that she hadn’t abandoned you. In all honesty though she was lost and she felt cold sweat prickle her skin and dampen the fabric of her back

this may very well be the last day she would see you. Could she possibly find Eivors hideout within 12 hours, find you and then bring you back to her chambers where you could stay there safely and out of sight.

She had worked all her life for this moment. She couldn’t just give sigurd back. Sigurds prophecy was her life's purpose. She grew gloomy and grim. “Hej!” she called out and whipped the reins harder, urging the horses to pick up their pace.

what was the solution

what was the answer

what

what….

Had her God abandoned her or did she perhaps abandon him while pursuing you?

[owlidragonage]

Eivor tribute - Meet me at the top - Assassin's creed valhalla

This blog was lacking a bit of life, here's a bit of novelty. I've been playing Assassin's creed valhalla for the past few months and have created 6 game music videos about the Eivor story. Here's the first about the raven clan with the great music of Unsecret. I'll be posting more soon. (I did the romance with Tarben and Randvi). (I was a bit surprised that at the end (at Yggdrasil) Sigurd doesn't blame Eivor for the romance with Randvi, he doesn't even mention it. I deduced from this that if we don't make any 'bad choices' that would damage our good relationship with Sigurd he doesn't mind… so Sigurd goes back to England with Eivor). FR : Ce blog manquait un peu de vie, voici un peu de nouveauté. J'ai joué à Assassin's creed valhalla ces derniers mois mois et j'ai créé 6 gmv sur l'histoire d'Eivor. Voici la première sur le clan du grand corbeau avec la très bonne musique d'Unsecret. J'en posterai d'autres bientôt. (J'ai fait la romance avec Tarben et Randvi). (J'ai été un peu étonné qu' à la fin (à Yggdrasil) Sigurd ne reproche pas à Eivor la romance avec Randvi, il n'en parle même pas. J'en ai déduis que si on fait aucun "mauvais choix" qui diminuerait notre bonne relation avec Sigurd, Eivor peut romancer Randvi, ça ne le dérange pas… donc Sigurd rentre avec Eivor en Angleterre).

[hel777]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eivor/Sigurd Styrbjornson Characters: Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Sigurd Styrbjornson, Randvi (Assassin's Creed) Additional Tags: Getting Together, Male Eivor (Assassin's Creed) Summary:

Great feast is thrown in Ravensthorpe soon after Eivor and Sigurd’s return from Norway but despite the joyful occasion Eivor’s thoughts weigh heavy on his mind.

[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 😔😔😔?

[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.”

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter Three

Masterlist

Two moons had just passed since your return.

Ivarr had been torturing Rhodri for two moons. He had asked his best blacksmith to build a cage in the pig pen. A solid cage in which Rhodri was rotting away with his peers. Everyone could see him and humiliate him. Halfdan had the idea of confiscating his clothes. Ivarr was purposely keeping him alive until you got better. He wanted you to witness what he planned to do to him.

A sigh escaped your lips as you sat on the edge of your bed. You felt better, even though your right eye still hurt when you exposed it. The nuns warned you that you would no longer see anything out of that eye. You thought you could get used to it, but you thought about all his battles and the hunting trips. How were you going to do it? You were still aiming with your right eye. You removed the bandages from your face, taking your sword to see your reflection. The threads were starting to fall off, the flesh was closing. It was starting to heal properly. But because of that, you found yourself hideous. Your once (Y/E/C) right eye had turned milky, your wounds were just starting to turn white. How could Ivarr still look at you? You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard the door open. Your attention was on your companion. He closed the door behind him, moving closer to you as you put the sword away.

"Halfdan, Sigurd and Eivor are still here? Maybe you should allow them to torture Rhodri," you said, getting out of your bed to pour yourself a glass of water.

"They do. Like everyone else in Sciropescire," he said, moving closer to you. “You’re the only one who still hasn’t gone to see him.”

You had a hard time swallowing your mouthful of water when you heard him. Yes, all of Scriropescire was able to humiliate and attack the Breton king. You were the only one who refused to see him. You didn't want to see him anymore. You had hoped Ivarr would kill him so you wouldn't see his face again. Ivarr could see that you had changed. You stayed cloistered in your room, in this damn Christian Church. You saw too much of Bishop Deorlaf for his liking. Ivarr had tried to get the bishop to talk, but he replied that what you had told him remained between you and him.

“Do you plan to stay hidden in this room for the rest of your days?” he asked, looking at you severely. “In this Christian Church?”

“I have the right to stay here as long as I want, Ivarr,” you said, slamming your glass down on the table. “Leave.”

“(Y/N).”

“Leave me alone!” you shouted, banging your fists on the table.

Ivarr gave an angry growl as he left the room, slamming the door. You bit your lip, no longer able to hold back your tears. You fell to your knees, hitting the ground while screaming in rage. You felt your fingers crack, it was painful, but you didn't care. You were so angry, so sad that you didn't care that your hands were bloody and that you broke your fingers. You stopped hitting the ground when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped, suddenly turning around to see Bishop Deorlaf. He watched you struggle with your condition.

"(Y/N). This can't go on any longer, you have to share your pain with Ivarr," he said, stepping back.

"How?" you asked, getting up. "How could I tell him that? He's a Drengr! That sort of thing matters very little, Deorlaf. For me too. I was born only to fight and die with dignity to reach Valhalla! That's the only reason I came into this world! I... this kind of thing... it shouldn't affect me... but..."

"(Y/N)... you are a warrior, but you are still a human being. What you have experienced, our Lord will condemn. You have the right to be sad. You have the right to be angry. Ivarr also has the right to know."

"For what?" you asked, turning to the bishop. “It’s gone, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

"It's important. Even if you think otherwise, you might be surprised by Ivarr's reaction if you explain to him what's tormenting you."

Deorlaf left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sighed, settling into your bed. You had no desire to tell Ivarr what King Rhodri had done to you. What's the point? You always hoped Ivarr would kill Rhodri so you could move on and forget. It was better this way. You were a Drengr. You shouldn't think about it anymore. You just had to focus on the future, the battles, the conquest of England, training Ceolbert. There were plenty of things to do, so you'd be able to keep your mind occupied.

Yes, you had a lot to do.

You shouldn't think about it anymore.

[longinus-shitpost]

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