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the-chocoholic-writer · 4 years

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Loving Her 3/3

Female!Eivor X Female!OC

Eivor and Sarah leave for Ravensthorpe. The love grew even more between the two.

Part One: Here Part Two: Here

Words: 1065

Warnings: None

“It’s time to go now, my little dove,” Eivor says softly to Sarah, caressing her cheek softly. Sarah nuzzles into her large hand, eyes closed with a soft smile.

“Okay, my wolf.” She places a soft kiss to Eivor’s palm and let's go, walk over to her brothers. Ubba and Ivarr hug their sister tightly, pouring their love into the hug. The siblings hold each other for a bit until they finally separate, tears in their eyes.

“Be safe out there. If you need ANYTHING, you can come back here.” Ubba says to her, patting her shoulder.

“I will brother. Don’t worry about me too much.” She says with a watery smile. “Good luck controlling this one by yourself.” She motions to Ivarr, who gasps dramatically.

“How dare you sister! Go, just go now. Bye.” He crosses his arms and looks away. She turns to him, arms open.

“Are you not going to hug your sister goodbye?” Ivarr looks at her, tears swelling up in his eyes again and he pulls her into a tight hug.

“We love you. Look after yourself and if you are in trouble, use your horn. We will hear it.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. They pull away from each other and Sarah takes a step back, looking at Eivor, who finished saddling the horse, over her shoulder.

“Bye my brothers, we will meet again before we go to Valhalla.” Ubba and Ivarr wave as she walks over to the horses and Eivor. They wave goodbye to the brothers and begin their travel home.

Along the way, the two converse about Ravensthorpe, a small tear trickles down Sarah’s cheek. Eivor notices and leans towards her, caressing her cheek, catching the tear.

“It will be okay my love, you will see your brothers again. This isn’t the end of your family.” She rests her forehead against Sarah’s, the horses moving in sync. Sarah gives her a small smile and leans against her.

“At least I will have you there. Thank you for bringing me with you Eivor.” Eivor smiles and caresses her cheek again.

“From your brother’s stories, it’s as though I have known you for so much longer than I truly have.” Sarah giggles softly.

“Well, my brother would talk about you often, I thought he would have been in my place until he let it slip that I should find love.” The pair laugh and stare at each other with love in their eyes.

After a little bit of riding, Eivor smiles brightly.

“Ravensthorpe is up ahead, little dove. Welcome to your new home.” Sarah smiles just as brightly as they enter Ravensthorpe. Children running around, waving to Eivor and everyone was just so friendly. Eivor climbs down from her horse and grabs Sarah’s waist, placing her on the ground in front of her. She places Sarah’s hand on her arm and gives her a tour of Ravensthorpe, all the while, flirting with her. I enjoy seeing that blush paint her star-covered cheeks Eivor thinks, watching Sarah’s reactions to her new home. She squeezes Eivor’s arm softly. “As of now, Ravensthorpe has a Blacksmith, run by Gunnar, the Hidden One's Bureau run by Hytham, I will introduce you to him at the feast, the Barracks is just down there, the Stable and Aviary was what we passed when we arrived and the Trading Post is right here…”

“Ravensthorpe is such a beautiful place.” Sarah looks around in awe of what Eivor and her crew built.

“We have worked hard to make this our home… and now it’s yours as well. Your brother told me you are a very fierce warrior, I would like it if you joined us on raids, however…” Sarah tilts her head.

“However? What’s the matter?” Eivor smiles at her.

“However, I would possibly kill anyone who even tried to touch you out there.” The pair laugh. “I’m serious though. I will not let any harm come to you, my little dove.” Eivor places a soft kiss to Sarah’s lips. The kiss is full of love and compassion for each other.

Throughout the longhouse, cheering, celebrating, smiles on everyone’s faces, mead in hand. Ceolbert stands with Randvi and Eivor, talking of potential things Ceolbert could do.

“Maybe you should help Randvi with the alliance map and all her reports.”

“It would be nice to have a helping hand with them, even for a little while.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Thank you Eivor, Randvi… for this opportunity.” Eivor pats Ceolbert’s shoulder and smiles.

“I must go find Sarah, I’ll be back.” Eivor leaves Randvi and Ceolbert to continue talking as she walks out the side door of the longhouse. Over by the large tree, a figure sits in the glow of the torches. Eivor smiles softly, walks over and kneels behind the figure. “Are you okay?” Sarah turns to the drengr, a small smile on her face.

“Yes I am, my wolf. It’s just a big change, leaving my brothers…” she looks out at the river, but she takes Eivor’s hand in hers and squeezes it, “but there is nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.” She looks at Eivor and smiles. Eivor smiles lean forward and rest their foreheads together. The Danes slowly disperse from the longhouse.

“I am happy that you joined me here. Now, we must discuss matters of your sleeping arrangements. My bed is big enough if you want, We could build you a house, will take a couple of days, or-“

“Did you say I could sleep with you in your room?” Eivor freezes, a blush rushing to her face.

“Uh… Yes. Yes, I did… I understand if I am being too forward…” Eivor tilts her head down, hand covering her eyes. Sarah softly pulls her hand from her face and looks into her eyes.

“I would love to spend as much time as I can with you.” She whispers to her. “I mean, who wouldn’t? Such a sweet but strong Viking… with such a handsome face like yours…” Sarah says softly, running her hands slowly down Eivor’s arms.

Eivor smirks at her, taking Sarah’s hands in her own and places a soft kiss on the back of both of her hands and leads her through the longhouse to their room. Randvi watches the two enter Eivor’s room, her heartbreaking at the sight, with Ceolbert as her witness.

#eivor #eivor x oc #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfkissed x oc #female eivor #female eivor wolfkissed #female eivor x oc #female eivor wolfkissed x oc

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ao3feed-assassinscreed · 3 years

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Norwegian Rain on Saxon Roses

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2YL6lI9

by LittleXenomorph

[AC Valhalla Alternative Story] [female Eivor x OC] Während eines Raubzuges in einem weit abgelegenem Kloster, auf der Suche nach Schätzen, findet Eivor die junge Sklavin Rose. Die durch monatelange Misshandlung geschändete und verängstige junge Frau findet durch Mitleid den Weg nach Ravensthorpe und beginnt dort ihr neues Leben. Der Neuanfang in einer Kultur, in der es derber zugeht, fällt ihr schwer, doch unter Eivors Fittichen beginnt sie langsam, Vertrauen in einem neuen Kreis zu finden. Das Erblühen ihres Charakters fällt dabei vielen auf, auch der tapferen Kriegerin selbst...

Words: 7967, Chapters: 2/?, Language: Deutsch

Fandoms: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: F/F

Characters: Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Randvi (Assassin's Creed), Hytham (Assassin's Creed), OC - Character, Sigurd Styrbjornson

Relationships: Eivor/OC

Additional Tags: Fear, Fear of Death, Blood and Violence, Stalking, Sex, Nudity

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2YL6lI9

#ao3feed #fanfic #assassin's creed #assassins creed

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hysterialevi · 4 years

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Eitr | Chapter 5

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

TWO DAYS LATER

ELMENHAM, EAST ANGLIA

Eivor gripped the weathered bow in his hand and silently gazed towards the bleak horizon, watching as the boat drifted away with the water’s embrace.

She was gone.

She was actually gone.

After what felt like an eternity of suffering, and a heartbeat of saying goodbyes, the gods had finally granted Randvi the peace she deserved, and carried her off into the afterlife.

Apart from Eivor, she had been the only survivor of the attack on Ravensthorpe. Everyone else in the village had either been killed or gone missing, and now, she too joined their brothers and sisters, leaving Eivor all alone in this world.

It felt like a nightmare, he thought, to watch all of this unfold. Within the span of a few short days, his entire life had fallen apart, and everyone he loved had departed from this realm.

Sigurd, Valka, Hytham, Petra, Tarben, Finnr... Randvi. All dead. All ghosts. All nothing more than names that now echoed relentlessly in Eivor’s head, and haunted him in his dreams.

He was the only one left.

Much like all those winters ago when Kjotve cut his father down in cold blood, he found himself standing among the ashes once again, forsaken by the very same gods who saved his life.

“Randvi...” he whispered, his voice trembling softly, “...forgive me. I thought I could save you. I thought that... perhaps there was still a chance. You were always so strong and vigilant that I just refused to believe you would die. But I was wrong. Just like everyone else in our clan, I’ve failed you. I failed to keep my promises, and I failed to protect you when you needed me most. You may be off to Helheim’s gates for now, but it is me who should be in your stead.”

Eivor slipped an arrow out from his quiver and held it to a nearby torch, setting the tip aflame.

“Goodbye, old friend. May the gods guide you across the Gjallarbrú, and may you find the honor that was robbed of you in death.”

Pulling the arrow away from the torch, Eivor drew it back and steadily took aim, letting it loose as it went soaring through the air.

The arrow pierced the boat with a solid thud, and within the blink of an eye, the entirety of the structure had been set ablaze, embracing Randvi in a bed of fire.

Eivor felt numb at this point, after bidding farewell to so many of his friends. Over the past few days, he had watched pretty much everyone he knew be taken away by the grace of the gods -- and with one more soul going to join their ranks, the lone viking wasn’t sure if he could endure it anymore.

There was just so much pain. So much fear. Even though he was confident that he could find allies who would be willing to lend him aid, he had no idea where he would direct them for now.

After all, Eivor didn’t know who was behind the attack on Ravensthorpe. No one had come forth and taken responsibility for the assault, and considering the fact that he was still recovering from his wounds, he doubted he’d be able to scour the remains of his old village without being killed.

He had been trapped behind a dead end... and there was nothing left for him to turn back to.

“Eivor,” a man suddenly said, breaking the silence. “There you are.”

Eivor turned away from the water, looking to see who had approached him.

“...Oswald,” he greeted softly. “Forgive me. I did not mean to disappear so abruptly, but... I wished to be alone for this.”

“No need to apologize, my friend,” The Saxon said. “I know things have been immensely difficult for you lately. I only hoped to check up on you.”

Oswald stepped next to Eivor, linking his hands behind his back as he watched Randvi’s boat float away.

“How are your wounds? Are you feeling any better?”

Eivor glanced down at the bandages on his arms. “Physically speaking, yes.”

Oswald raised a brow. “...And otherwise?”

The viking paused, staring blankly into the rippling water. “I... I don’t know, Oswald. I need answers. I need to know who did this. I need to know why they did this. I... I--”

“--You need closure.” The young king replied.

Eivor nodded slowly, his gaze now lost in the water’s depths. “...Yes. Closure. And justice. For all those who have fallen. The only issue is I’ve no idea where to begin.”

“Well, you can’t go after your enemies without an army. You’ll have to rebuild, regain your strength, prepare yourself to lead. You’ve already forged alliances in Ledecestrescire, Grantebridgescire, Lunden -- and with myself, of course -- but that may not be enough. If you wish to search England for the men who destroyed your clan, you’ll need to pave the way with even more alliances.”

“But how am I supposed to do that when I’m just one man? I no longer have any warriors to fight in my name, nor any resources to spare.”

Oswald remained optimistic. “No... but you do have me.”

Eivor wasn’t so sure about the idea. “But you’re a king now, Oswald. All of England knows your name, and they know of your tolerance for Danes. If you lend your aid to me -- a Norse -- you could risk open war with other kingdoms.”

The young man persisted with his offer. “We’re already at war, Eivor. The moment those people kicked down your door, they became my enemies just as well as they became yours. But... you’re right. I cannot act so blatantly without fear of causing more division. We’ll have to do this discreetly. Away from prying eyes. At least until we know exactly what’s going on.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

Oswald rubbed his chin in thought, quickly putting together a solution.

“...Gjuki.”

Eivor shrugged in confusion. “Gjuki? Who’s that?”

“A friend of Valdis,” he explained. “He used to fight for Rued’s clan, but quickly turned rogue after your assault on Burgh Castle. He’s a skilled warrior, and he knows how to be covert. I could send him to Ravensthorpe if you like. I’m confident he’d be able to find something.”

The other man considered the option. “Tell me about Gjuki, first. Do you trust him? How are you so certain he won’t turn on us like he did Rued?”

“Because he hated Rued. I do not know the reason behind his hatred, but Gjuki was never truly loyal to that man. He only fought alongside him because he had nowhere else to go. But when you launched your assault on the castle, you gave him the chance to break free.”

“And you think he’s the best suited for this task?”

Oswald nodded. “I do. Gjuki’s been in England for quite a few years now. He knows his way around the country, and he knows how to avoid attention. I’m sure he’d be able to find out who attacked your clan -- or at least give us an idea on who to investigate.”

Eivor decided to go along with the plan for now. “...Very well, Oswald. I trust you. But if it’s alright, I’d like to speak with Gjuki myself first. I wish to see him face-to-face.”

“Of course. I understand. You should be able to find him in the longhouse. Just tell him I sent you, and he’ll listen to whatever concerns you may have.”

The viking gave the Saxon and appreciative look. “Thank you, my friend. Truly. Your support means the world to me. Were it not for your help, I would’ve died along with Randvi. I owe you everything.

Oswald frowned sympathetically upon hearing her name. “I’m sorry about Randvi, Eivor. I’m afraid I didn’t get the chance to know her that well, but it’s a shame that she had to meet her maker like this. If it’s any consolation, I’m certain she was grateful to have you by her side in the end.”

Eivor let out a sigh, walking away from the shoreline. “I hope so. She was the only one I could escort into the afterlife. Everyone else in my clan just... fell out of this world before I had a chance to say goodbye. Even Sigurd died without my company.”

Oswald placed a hand on Eivor’s shoulder, attempting to comfort the man. “Do not torment yourself with these thoughts, Eivor. You will only end up feeding your grief. What happened at Ravensthorpe was beyond your control, and I’m sure Sigurd knew that just as well as you do. The most you can do for your brother now is to bring justice to those responsible. Learn their names, study their motives, and then strike them where it will cripple them most. Your battle is not finished yet, my friend, and neither are you.”

The Norse took the young man’s words to heart, giving him a firm gaze. “I understand. Thank you, Oswald. I will heed your advice and speak with Gjuki. I only hope he is more fortunate than I was.”

Oswald removed his hand from Eivor’s shoulder, allowing the viking to take his leave.

“Go in peace, my friend. And may God watch over you in the battles to come.”

~~~~~~~~~~

MEANWHILE

FORANGAL CASTLE, THE CHAPEL

“As I’ve explained to you already, bishop,” Edric said impatiently, “Father’s decision is final. Sigurd is to be our personal bodyguard from now on, and if you have an issue with that, you can talk with him about it yourself.”

Hundwerth crossed his arms. “I simply fail to see how we could benefit from having a Dane in our midst, my lord. We know next to nothing about Sigurd’s past, nor where he comes from, and yet, your father has seen fit to grant him a position next to his own children! It’s preposterous! You ask me, the only place Sigurd belongs is in the dungeon.”

“Well, it’s a good thing no one asked you, then. Do not forget, Hundwerth. You are here to offer our people religious guidance. Nothing more, nothing less. If my father wishes to hear you political opinions, he will summon you. Until that happens though, I suggest you stick to your holy books and save the bleating for your priests. I’ve enough of a headache as it is.”

The bishop scoffed. “Such disrespect from a so-called lord. Perhaps you would do well to spend more time here, Edric. I could give you some of my ‘religious guidance’ as you put it.”

The young man’s tone remained firm. “I’ll pass. I fear I have far more important matters to attend to, starting with this bloody war. You want to preach to me during a siege, be my guest.”

“Your insolence is--!”

Pausing mid-sentence, Hundwerth cut himself off when he heard the sound of the chapel’s doors being pushed open with a creak, leading both him and Edric to bring their attention to the entrance.

There, in the distance, he saw a tall redheaded man approaching them from the opposite side as the sunlight draped over his figure, turning him into a silhouette.

He was dressed in what appeared to be Saxon-made armor, and yet, the man himself was clearly of Northern origins. His skin was marked with many outlandish tattoos, and if Hundwerth recalled correctly, he believed this was the same man he saw in Linette’s infirmary the other day.

“Sigurd.” Edric greeted with a hint of relief in his voice. “There you are. And with your head still attached to your shoulders, too. I’ll take that as a sign that Hundwerth has yet to harp you.”

The bishop scowled in annoyance, eyeing the viking with distrust. “...Ah. The very subject of our conversation. I see you’ve made a full recovery, Lone Wolf.”

Sigurd threw a glare at Hundwerth. “Is there a problem, Saxon?”

“Well, if you ignore the fact that there’s a pagan standing in this house of God, no. None at all. I hope you’ve come to do penance, Dane.”

The man’s expression was flat. “I’ve come to do no such thing. I am only here to fulfill my duties to Lord Edric. Besides, listening to you speak is penance enough.”

Edric chuckled at that. “That’s one thing we can agree on.”

Hundwerth let out a huff. “As I was saying before, Edric, your insolence will be the end of you. You may laugh all you want now, but bear in mind, the Lord is watching. And he is not pleased.”

“I don’t blame him, considering who he’s using as his mouthpiece.”

The bishop shook his head in defeat and decided to drop the conversation for now, storming out of the chapel whilst the other two stayed behind. He was already thin on patience due to the recent events that had transpired in Forangal over the past two days, but to face such defiance from one of the lords themselves brought him to a level of irritation he didn’t even know existed.

“Well...” Edric said as he watched Hundwerth take his leave, “that’s one way to end an argument.”

Sigurd took note of the young man’s tone. “You don’t seem to be fond of the bishop.”

“I don’t think anyone is. He is a man of God, mind you, but I fear he can be... forceful in how he spreads his faith sometimes. There’s also the fact that he’s been furious ever since my father decided to spare you. Let’s just say that I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

Sigurd leaned against one of the pillars. “It’s my job, isn’t it? To protect you from troublesome situations?”

Edric grinned. “I suppose it is.”

Falling into a brief silence, the two of them took a moment to enjoy some peace and quiet as life carried on outside the chapel, causing the muffled sounds of distant conversation to seep in through the doors.

It was a calm day, Edric thought, considering all the conflicts that had risen due to Sigurd’s presence. Even though many of the people in Forangal were in disagreement with Aegenwulf’s decision to keep the Norse around, few of them had yet to actually protest against it. Unlike Bishop Hundwerth.

Edric supposed they simply didn’t want to cause more tension. There were enough fires being sparked in Wedenscire with all the hostile clans threatening their walls, and considering how Gareth’s death had affected the ealdorman as of late, it was probably best if no one pushed him over the edge.

Still, Edric understood the concerns that some people had. Sigurd was a stranger to their lands, after all, and he did not think it entirely unreasonable for them to be wary.

Though, he couldn’t help but wonder how the viking himself felt about all this. Despite his compliance, Edric could tell that Sigurd wasn’t happy. He often carried a sense of despondency to his broody temperament, and even now, the man’s gaze seemed to sag with fatigue.

He was probably still trying to process whatever happened to him before he arrived in Wedenscire. Edric had yet to learn the details of how Sigurd ended up in such an injured state, but seeing as how bad his wounds were when they first found him, he assumed it had been a terrible ordeal.

Who knew how much trauma the man was dealing with right now? Within the span of a few days, he had been torn away from his home and thrown into the middle of a Saxon fortress, surrounded by hostile guards. He had next to no friends in a shire such as this, and with all the people calling for his head, it was no wonder that Sigurd seemed to be exhausted.

Perhaps... it was time for Edric to ease up on the man. Sigurd was to be his protector from now on, and he did not wish to be enemies with him.

“Hey, Sigurd,” he said gently. “Are you well? You seem... preoccupied.”

The viking was clearly surprised by Edric’s concern, but kept to himself regardless. “It is nothing to concern yourself with, my lord.”

“I know you’re technically our servant now, but that doesn’t mean you’re not important. Your well-being is just as crucial as ours.”

“Is it? And what brought about this sudden change of heart, may I ask?”

Edric bowed his head in shame, letting out a deep sigh. “...If you must know, our healer Linette had a hand in it. She gave me quite a talking-to when she heard that I dragged you all the way to the armory without giving you a chance to rest. Also when I made you carry your armor to the smithy. Edlynne and Joseph weren’t too happy about it either.”

Sigurd gave the young man a humorous glance. “Careful, my lord. Keep on like this, and you might actually apologize.”

Edric laughed. “Ha! Well, in this case, it would be deserved. You’ve been to Hell and back these past few days, and I... I have not welcomed you as a true Christian should. You were in a time of need, and I was willing to push you away. I’m sorry.”

The viking didn’t seem too bothered. “You were only trying to protect your people. I understand. If I’m being honest, I can’t say I would’ve been entirely different if it was you who washed up on my shore. But regardless, I accept your apology.”

The young lord beamed at him. “It gladdens my heart to hear it.”

An idea popped up in Edric’s head, causing him to give Sigurd a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Hey, what say you to a quick hunt?”

Sigurd tilted his head at him. “You want to go hunting? Now?”

“Why not? The skies are clear, and the day is still young. I’ve some time to spare before returning to my duties. Besides, I must admit, I am curious to see how a Norseman hunts his prey.”

Sigurd pushed himself off the pillar, eager to take on the challenge. “Very well, my lord. Just don’t cry when I steal your glory.”

Edric smiled in amusement. “Confident, are we? Good. Do not be fooled though, Sigurd, I’ve a few tricks of my own.”

The young man began making his way out of the chapel, beckoning Sigurd to follow.

“Come. We’ll stop by my chambers and collect some gear there. I have a spare bow that you can use, and I imagine a dog or two would be useful on the hunt as well. Have you ever hunted boar before?”

Sigurd nodded, recalling all the times he spent hunting with Eivor.

“Yes, actually. My brother and I often went hunting as a way to pass the time when we were children.”

Edric raised a brow. “You have a brother?”

The viking’s heart sank with grief, and his light-hearted mood vanished immediately. “Had. He’s dead now.”

The Saxon’s expression dimmed with empathy. “Ah. I’m sorry to hear that. It is a pain I know all too well myself.”

Sigurd held his head high. “Indeed. I miss my brother every day, but I find solace in knowing that he is now in Valhalla. He died fighting as a warrior, and I have no doubt that the Valkyries have escorted him to the corpse hall.”

Edric placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Then may he find peace there.”

He stepped back from Sigurd and turned on his heel, leading him away from the altar. “Come on. This way. Let us put our troubles aside for the moment, and take the day to enjoy some fresh air. This war isn’t going away anytime soon, and neither are we.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

ELMENHAM, THE LONGHOUSE

Strolling past the guards that stood beside the archway, Eivor invited himself into the cozy atmosphere of the longhouse as he scanned the area for Oswald’s friend, eager to speak with him.

At the moment, there were only a few groups of Saxons occupying the space inside and chatting happily amongst themselves, seemingly oblivious to the troubles of the war. They smiled, they drank, they laughed, they flyted -- all of them appeared to be trapped in their own little utopia.

It was like the world around them didn’t even exist. As far as they were concerned, now was a time for celebration. Their king had just gotten married to a Dane after a long struggle of fighting for power, and now, East Anglia was allied with some of the strongest warriors in the country thanks to the efforts of Oswald himself.

Everything was going well for the kingdom. Their troubles had been lifted for just a moment in this relentless storm, and with a newfound sense of unity settling into the land, it felt like they could finally breathe. Eivor, on the other hand, felt as though the world had stopped turning.

Walking up to the empty throne, the lone viking spotted Valdis leaning against a nearby wall as she casually observed the people in the longhouse, quietly keeping to herself.

She seemed to be doing well, all things considered. Despite the issues they had with Rued’s attacks and Oswald’s supposed “death,” the woman appeared to be happy in her marriage, and carried a certain sense of contentment that certainly wasn’t there before.

However, in spite of the joy he felt from seeing her again, Eivor couldn’t help but notice that she was alone. This “Gjuki” figure was nowhere to be found, and judging by the absence of any other Danes in the longhouse, the man assumed he probably missed him.

Damn it. He’d have to search elsewhere.

“Eivor!” Valdis greeted happily, smiling at him. “It brings me great relief to see you again. I was worried sick when Randvi first brought you to us. I feared the Valkyries might have taken you already. How do you feel?”

Eivor didn’t share the woman’s enthusiasm. “Well, I’m alive, so I can hardly complain. But I fear Randvi wasn’t quite as fortunate.”

Valdis’ expression instantly sunk. “What do you mean?”

“...She’s dead.” He said plainly. “Randvi succumbed to her wounds yestereve, just as the sun began to fell. I only sent her off to Helheim this morning. Oswald was there too.”

The woman shut her eyes in sorrow, letting out a deep sigh. “...Oh, Eivor. I’m so sorry. The amount of lives that have been lost ever since Ravensthorpe... it’s a tragedy.”

“Indeed. Our völva, Valka, always said that the Nornir weave our lives with a certain plan in mind, but I struggle to understand why they would curse us with such an unforgiving fate. All this death, all this chaos... surely, there must be a reason behind it. It cannot all be in vain.”

“I wish I could say.” Valdis replied. “Unfortunately, the sad truth is that war can be as cruel as it is unnecessary. There will be times when tragedy strikes without reason, and there will be questions that have no answers. However, I do not believe this is the case with your situation.”

Eivor quirked a brow. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Well, look at this way. When everyone else in your clan was killed, you managed to survive. In spite of everything this war has thrown at you, you remain the only man left standing. Surely, the gods must have granted you a second chance for a reason. They see a purpose within you, and perhaps that is why you are here now.”

“...Perhaps. It is all still so confusing, but... your words bring me comfort.”

Eivor decided to change the subject, pushing away his dark thoughts for the moment.

“Anyway, enough about me. I’m looking for somebody. A man named Gjuki. Do you know where I could find him?”

“Gjuki Haldorsson? Yes, he is just outside the longhouse. He shouldn’t be that far away from here, but if you can’t see him, just follow the sound of his lute.”

That caught Eivor’s interest. “Lute? Is he a bard? I was under the impression that he was a warrior.”

Valdis chuckled. “He is, but he is also many other things. You’ll see for yourself once you find him.”

“Fair enough. Thank you, Valdis. I’ll go look for him now.”

“Stay safe, Eivor. And may the gods favor you.”

Taking his leave from the longhouse, Eivor left Valdis to her own devices and stepped back out into the crisp morning breeze, keeping his ears sharp for any music that might’ve been playing.

At first, he didn’t spot anyone of interest -- most of the people outside were Saxons civilians and ordinary guards -- but upon taking a closer look, he suddenly noticed a peculiar man sitting underneath a tree, lute in hand.

He was definitely not what Eivor expected, to put it simply. When Oswald first told him of Gjuki, he had envisioned a large, burly warrior similar to the ones he often saw in Fornburg or other Dane settlements, but this man... was clearly something else.

Gjuki had a rather lean figure that was broadened at the shoulders thanks to the fur cape he adorned, and instead of having a full beard hanging from his chin, he only had a light layer of stubble.

His hair was long, straight, and as black as the void. A multitude of braids had been woven into the thick strands surrounding his face, and poking out from underneath his sleeves, Eivor could see a number of tattoos decorating his arms.

As for the man’s face, he didn’t appear to be that old. He looked to be roughly around the same age as Eivor himself, and had a pair of icy-blue eyes that sat in his skull like two glass orbs.

Both of his sockets had been smeared with some traditional war paint, and due to the dark color of its pigment, his gaze only seemed to stand out more, creating a stark contrast between his eyes and his skin.

He was a distinct looking man, to say the least. And terrifying, to say the most.

“Gjuki Haldorsson?” Eivor called out.

The man came to a halt upon hearing his name and held his fingers between the lute’s strings, glancing up from the instrument to see who had come to visit him.

“Well, well,” he said in surprise, “look who it is. The Wolf-Kissed. I see you’ve finally returned from your grave. What brings you to me?”

Eivor took a seat across from the other man, studying his mannerisms.

“I come on behalf of our king. He says that you might be able to help me with a problem I have.”

Gjuki rested the lute on one of his knees, casually crossing his legs. “Well, that depends. What sort of problem are you dealing with?”

“Before I get into that,” Eivor paused, “there are some things I’d like to ask you first.”

The other man quickly caught onto his tone. “Ah, a man of caution. I suppose there’s a reason you’ve survived for so long. Very well, if that’s what it takes to earn your trust. Ask away.”

Eivor started with the most obvious question. “Oswalds tells me you once fought for Rued’s clan. Is that true?”

Gjuki scoffed in amusement. “Fought for’ isn’t exactly how I would put it. I was sold to Rued many years ago as a slave after being captured by a Norse known as Kjotve.”

The viking glowered at the name. “Kjotve the Cruel? I’m familiar with him. He caused many issues for me in the past as well -- not excluding trying to sell me into slavery -- but have no fear. He’s nothing more than food for the ravens now. I saw to it myself.”

“He’s dead?” Gjuki asked, unable to hide the smirk that spread across his face. “Oh, how gratifying that must’ve been, to bury your axe in his chest. I would’ve loved to hear the scream that broke free from his lips when the gods swept him away from Midgard. You killed a snake, Eivor, and the world will forever benefit from it.”

“Well, as relieved as I am to have Kjotve out of this world, I fear there are many other snakes I must purge before I can find peace.”

The bard set the lute down by his feet. “And who would they be?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know. I’m looking for the men who attacked my village, but I am at a loss on where to start.”

Gjuki nodded in understanding. “And you need my help to find them. I see.”

“Do you think you can do it?”

The man thought for a moment. “Perhaps, but I’m going to need a lead. Do you have any idea where I should begin looking? Any particular shires, or names, or kingdoms?”

Eivor shook his head. “I’m afraid not. All I know is that they were Saxons, but they weren’t bandits. They ambushed us in the middle of the night, and fought under no banner.”

Gjuki furrowed his brow in confusion. “No banner? Interesting...”

“Why do you say that?”

“Saxons typically fly their colors proudly on the battlefield. It may surprise you, but they are just as proud of their tenacity as we are. It is odd to me that the Saxons who attacked you would hide their sigil. Unless, of course, they were trying to conceal themselves. Which... in that case, tells me they knew they shouldn’t have been there.”

Eivor was beginning to follow his thoughts. “You’re saying that this was meant to be a secret?”

Gjuki held up an index finger. “Precisely. Whoever ambushed your clan is clearly not in a position where they would be able to attack you out in the open. Not without causing conflict elsewhere, that is. Maybe they are from a shire that supports you, or at odds with one of your allies themselves. Whatever the case may be, they knew this assault would not go over well if other people found out.”

The viking shrugged. “So, what’s your plan?”

The bard stood up from his seat, picking up his lute from the ground. “I will travel to Ravensthorpe and see what other clues I can find. Assuming they haven’t cleaned up the carnage already, I’d like to take a look at the Saxons’ bodies; see if they hold any information. In the meantime, I’ll also start spreading some rumors about the attack. It may not seem like much, but if we pay attention to how other shires react, we may be able to find our target.”

Eivor nodded in approval. “I like that idea. I shall go with you. I know my way around Ravensthorpe. I can aid you in your search.”

Gjuki disagreed. “No. You stay here. You must recover if you are to fight against your enemies, and besides, Oswald would have my head if I let you walk out of Elmenham in this condition.”

The Norse chuckled, holding his hands up in defeat. “Very well. You make a fair point.”

“Is there anything else you’d like me to know before I leave?” Gjuki asked. “I do not know for certain when I’ll return, and I’d rather not risk sending a letter to you. Never know who might grab it along the way.”

Eivor pondered the question for a moment. He did have one other request in mind, but was hesitant to say it aloud.

“Well... y-yes. But it is a lot to ask.”

Gjuki urged him on. “Please, speak your mind, Eivor.”

The viking’s gaze fell to the ground in sorrow. “...If it’s possible, could you find out what happened to my brother, Sigurd? The last time I saw him, he had been shot with an arrow and thrown into the river. I never had the chance to retrieve his body. If he’s still around there somewhere, could you bring him back?”

The bard’s tone softened with empathy. “Of course. I make no promises that I’ll be able to find him, but I give you my word that I will try. If Sigurd remains in Ravensthorpe, we will ensure you have a body to bury.”

Eivor gave him an appreciative look. “Thank you, Gjuki. I realize this is a daunting task, but I honestly don’t know what else I can do.”

“Have no fear,” he reassured. “Your assault on Burgh Castle is the only reason I got the chance to escape from Rued and reclaim my honor. The way I see it, I owe you this.”

Gjuki waved a quick goodbye, sauntering away from the tree’s protective shade.

“I will inform you of my progress as soon as I can. Until then, wait here. It is likely that whoever conducted this assault has learned of your survival, and I have no doubts that they will try to finish what they started.”

#assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #male oc #female oc #sigurd x male oc #ac valhalla fanfic #eitr

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honeyedmilknsugar · 3 years

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Absolutely in tears from this amazing picture of my oc Yrsa with Hytham that my friend made me 😭😭 and how handsome Hytham is in her style?? Absolutely losing my mind 🥺💕

Artist / Meonholic

#Assassin's Creed #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Hytham #Assassin's creed Hytham #Hytham x oc #oc x cc

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honeyedmilknsugar · 3 years

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Thinking about my girl Yrsa and Hytham just make me <3<3

#assassin's creed #hytham #assassin's creed hytham #assassins creed #assassins creed hytham #valhalla #AC Valhalla #assassins creed valhalla #hytham x oc #oc x cc #cc x oc #art

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anime-vixxen · 4 years

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Just posted the first chapter of my new fanfic 😁 Since Valhalla is so new there’s barely any Hytham Fanfics so....

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anime-vixxen · 4 years

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Chapter Six is finally posted

#ac #ac valhalla #assassin's creed valhalla #assassins creed #assassins creed vili #eivor #fanfiction #hytham #hytham assassins creed #hytham x oc #romance #time travel #hidden ones #Viking #ac basim #basim ibn ishaq #randvi #fanfic

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anime-vixxen · 4 years

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So proud on how this is coming along. Buzzing to post the next one

#hytham #hytham x oc #hytham assassins creed #hytham x reader #assassin's creed valhalla #assassins creed #ac valhalla #ac #assassins creed vili #vili x reader #eivor #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #character insert #oc

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honeyedmilknsugar · 3 years

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Info dumping on my baby Yrsa and Hytham-

Yrsa's love language is absolutely psychical touch and it takes Hytham a bit of getting used to. Early in their relationship if she ever saw him having a rough day, or if she was bringing him herbal remedies for any discomfort, she would often touch his back or squeeze his shoulder, hold his hand. She'd notice at first that he's a bit uncomfortable and would stop, but she often catches herself doing it out of habit.

Getting closer I imagine Hytham just tells her to keep doing it, hes grown to like it and finds her touch comforting, her hands are slightly calloused, but she's so gentle yet firm in her touch.

#oc c cc #Hytham #Assassins Creed Valhalla #AC Valhalla #AC OC #Assassins Creed OC #Hytham x OC

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eivor-basim · 4 years

Text

Gratitude

Also available here on AO3

Pairing: Eivor/Basim/Hytham

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: rough sex, drinking

Word count: 3k

Summary: The Hidden Ones owe a lot to Eivor’s work in England. To demonstrate their gratitude, Hytham invites her to join him and Basim for a celebratory evening. They show her that she belongs to the brotherhood now.

————

A token of gratitude, Hytham had called it.

Eivor did not know what she had expected. A new poison technique, perhaps, or important information on the just-fallen kingdom of Wessex. She certainly did not anticipate the sight that greeted her in the Hidden Ones’ bureau.

Cheeks flushed with drink, Hytham lounged lazily on the bed with a flagon in one hand, head tilted back in laughter. His always-tidy white robes were rumpled and loosened, revealing a generous section of his tan chest. Across the room, Basim sat cat-like atop the desk, smiling with indulgent amusement at his ale-happy apprentice. He, too, held a cup, but from his clear eyes and immaculate state of dress Eivor assumed it was merely water.

“Basim, Hytham,” Eivor greeted, offering a warm if somewhat perplexed smile.

“Eivor!” Hytham called with glee. “Come, join us. Tonight we celebrate the great victory you have helped us achieve, the complete eradication of the Order of Ancients in England!”

“You honor me, Hytham,” she said, accepting the drink Basim offered and taking a seat on the rug between the two men. “I am glad to see you both in high spirits, though I must admit I did not expect to find you here, Basim. And sober?”

“For me, it is a matter of faith,” he said delicately.

“Everything is permitted!” Hytham countered. Basim shook his head with a fond sigh, giving Eivor the impression of a long-standing and oft-repeated disagreement between them.

“Well then, if we are to celebrate properly— that is, of course, with a drinking game —we must devise some alternative for you, Basim.”

“A confession,” Hytham suggested.

“Excellent suggestion. In lieu of taking a drink, Basim must confess a secret.”

Basim stiffened at the prospect. “I do not think—”

“Oh, come now,” Eivor cajoled. “It can be a secret of your choosing, nothing that will weigh too heavily on your conscience come morning.”

“It is only fair,” Hytham added. “For this drink is strong and will surely loosen our lips in equal measure.”

“What is the game?” Basim said. It was an acquiesce, and Eivor grinned in victory.

“It is simple. We take turns making a statement about ourselves. The other two must accept it as truth, or accuse it as a lie. If you are caught in a lie, you drink. If you falsely accuse someone of lying, you drink.”

“Eivor,” Hytham spoke urgently and solemnly, leaning over to clutch at her shoulders. “Are you sure you wish to play a game of deceit against Hidden Ones? We are trained in the art of deception just as thoroughly we are trained to deliver death.”

He looked at her so ardently, with such tender concern in his wide blue eyes. She could not help but laugh.

“Look to your own fortunes, Hytham. You have quite the head start on your ale. This game may not go the way you expect.”

Hytham huffed slightly, reclining back onto the bed, and Basim snorted at his antics.

“Shall I start, then?” Basim said. “Hmm. I have never taken a drink of ale.”

He looked at the other two, impassively gauging their reactions. Eivor smiled back at him silently, raising an eyebrow, but Hytham shook his head.

“No, no, this must be false. Surely you have had a single drink. You lie!”

“Drink, Hytham,” Basim instructed smugly. Muttering to himself, Hytham downed the remainder of his drink and held out his empty cup. Still wearing a self-satisfied smile, Basim grabbed the pitcher beside him on the desk and refilled the flagon. Eivor swore as extra drink spilled over the edge and splashed down onto her chest, but Basim responded to her glare with a look of feigned innocence.

“My turn, then.” She said as Hytham settled back glumly with his newly filled drink. “I have not laid with Vili Hemmingson.”

“I believe this is true,” Hytham declared. “You, Eivor, are a woman of great— ah, honor and integrity and would not— secure alliances in such a degenerate manner.”

Basim inclined his head knowingly. “Drink.”

“You are far too good at this.” Eivor shook her head, but obliged and swallowed a large gulp of ale. “Though I thank you for your faith in my virtue, Hytham.”

The poor man sputtered, face bright red. “I did not mean— it is none of my concern, truly— I would not presume to judge—”

“Breathe.” Eivor laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “I am only giving you grief, I take no offense.”

“Your turn, Hytham,” Basim said, turning his impenetrable gaze on the young man. “Let us see these infamous ways of deception you have studied.”

Hytham swirled the ale in his cup thoughtfully, casting calculating glances at his two companions. “I have kissed another man.”

“This is a lie, and not even a good one,” Eivor teased. “I do not believe you have kissed anyone!” Her confidence waned as she glanced over at Basim, who stayed resolutely silent.

Hytham shrugged and gave her a small smile. “Drink, Eivor.”

She swore again and took another drink. “Did you know this already, Basim? It seems nothing takes you by surprise.”

“It is true, I had prior knowledge,” he admitted. “Though in this particular case, as Hytham well knows, that is unavoidable.”

“Wait a moment,” Eivor said, looking between Basim and Hytham. The pieces of the puzzle began to come together. They formed a rather unexpected picture. “Then you are the man who— I hardly believe it. Hytham?”

He answered her questioning look with a blush and a shy grin. Undoubtable confirmation of what she already suspected.

“It was a kiss, nothing more.” Basim spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Hardly salacious. A single moment of natural curiosity.”

Hytham did not contradict him. He did not say anything, but instead stared off into the distance with a melancholy look. Driven by some deeply rooted intuition, Eivor turned to Basim, “That is a lie. Confess a secret.”

“I was not playing—”

“Ah, but we are still in the game. And it is your turn if I am not mistaken. If you lied just now, you must share a secret.”

Basim looked at her with dark, inscrutable eyes. After a long moment, he sighed, lips curling into a grimace. “You win this round, Wolf-Kissed.”

“Basim?” Hytham whispered, tilting his head in confusion. Basim avoided his gaze, but pressed on with his confession.

“I confess that it was not so simple as an isolated moment of weakness. Not for me, at least. I have thought often of that night, of what might have been. I did not want to… I had hoped never to burden you with this knowledge.”

Though nothing Basim said even remotely bordered on indecency, images appeared in Eivor’s mind unbidden. The feverish high of a successful mission under the moonlight. A master assassin pinning his young apprentice against the wall, a kiss stolen in shadows. Two lean, cloaked bodies pressed together. Eivor shifted self-consciously, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm all over.

“You are a stubborn, secretive fool,” Hytham finally said. Eivor blinked in surprise at the harshest words she had ever heard from the soft-spoken man. Stumbling only slightly, Hytham rose from the bed and crossed over to Basim, gently placing his hands on the older man’s cheeks. Basim froze, as if wary that moving suddenly might scare Hytham away. Almost painfully unhurried, Hytham leaned forward, capturing Basim’s lips in a tender kiss. After a moment, Basim reciprocated, sliding his fingers into Hytham’s hair and pulling him closer so that Hytham stood between his legs.

Eivor began to feel like an intruder.

Silently as she could manage, she rose to her feet and backed away towards the door. Just as she turned to leave, Hytham called out to her.

“Eivor, wait—”

“No explanation necessary, Hytham. I do not wish to stay when my presence here will only interfere with your happiness. It is no hardship, truly.”

“Eivor,” Basim chided, shaking his head in faint disapproval. “I thought you were better than that at weaving lies. Come. Drink.”

She blinked, then grinned lasciviously. Basim beckoned in invitation and she approached the desk, intentionally making a show of bending over Basim’s legs to procure the pitcher of ale. Locking eyes with him, she drank directly from the pitcher, swallowing it down until there was nothing left. Then she cast the container aside, carelessly letting it clatter to the floor.

“Satisfied?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not quite,” he breathed, reaching forward to caress her cheek. She allowed herself to be pulled in for a bruising kiss, nothing like the one Hytham had given so softly. Hytham… just as her mind returned to the young assassin, she became aware of his presence behind her. As if sensing her thoughts, he stepped forward, effectively pinning her between his chest and Basim’s unrelenting exploration of her mouth. Curious and delicate, Hytham’s fingers crept over her skin, drawing circles across her back and stomach. The soothing touches made for an electrifying contrast with the forcefulness of the kiss. Hytham’s lips met her neck like a whisper, leaving a barely-there trail as his fingers brushed against her still-clothed breasts with such feather-light tenderness that she almost mistook it for an accident.

Hytham lightly nipped at the junction between her jaw and throat, and Eivor quietly gasped against Basim. He chuckled, a low noise that stirred something primal inside her, and took full advantage of the opening, slipping his tongue into her mouth to deepen the kiss before she processed what was happening. Refusing to give herself up entirely, Eivor bit down on Basim’s lower lip as soon as he began to pull away, warmed by a wave of satisfaction when he moaned at the unexpected challenge. See? I can give as good as I get.

Breathless, the two broke apart and stared at one another hungrily. Basim’s eyes were dark and his lips swollen red where she had bitten down. It was a look that promised to undo her, and she licked her lips in anticipation at the thought.

“Eivor, my love,” Hytham’s lips brushed her ear, and she arched her neck into the touch. “Would you do something for me?”

“Anything,” she murmured, eyes half-closed in a blissful haze.

“Stay quiet for me.”

How could such an innocent-sounding voice deliver these seemingly innocuous words that dripped with such filthy implications? It was sinful. It was entrancing. Without a second thought, Eivor nodded. She vaguely wondered what she was binding herself to.

As if they had conspired to create this very scenario, Basim lifted Eivor onto his lap, forcing her to wrap her legs around him. The position spread her legs wide and left her utterly vulnerable to Hytham’s teasing touches. Each delicate stroke was a fresh torture that left her aching for more, but Eivor recalled her promise and obediently bit her lip to suppress a whimper of desire.

She buried her face against Basim’s shirt, trying to preserve the fast-eroding ounce of dignity that kept her from rocking back against Hytham’s fingers in desperation. As a result, she felt rather than saw Basim grasp her hand and guide it towards his now-evident arousal. She allowed him to move her hand at the rhythm he desired, his fingers laced over hers. Controlling. Teaching, without a word. He did not allow the pace to falter even as Hytham brought her to the precipice of her own pleasure.

Just as she drew close to tipping over the edge, Hytham’s fingers vanished from her skin, leaving the building waves of pleasure to dissipate without ever crashing ashore. Leaving her to chase the shadow of satisfaction, now elusively out of reach.

“Fuck,” she snarled, breaking her sworn silence.

“Restrain yourself, Eivor,” Hytham chided. His voice was altogether too smug for her liking. It was intentional, then, the way he toyed with her. For entertainment.

“Or we will supply the restraint you lack,” Basim added. To prove his point, he placed his free hand over her mouth, muffling her indignant cry of protest. She glared at him, and he merely chuckled, stilling his movements and casting a glance over her shoulder at Hytham. “Perhaps we should have her on her hands and knees. Teach her some measure of discipline.”

“A wise idea. Perhaps I could have her mouth?”

“Ah, fitting. She did swear silence to you. Since she is seemingly incapable of that simple task, put her mouth to better use.”

It was infuriating. They discussed her as if she was not there, as if she were an object they could push and pull as they pleased. It was infuriating and, as the growing warmth between her thighs indicated, deeply intoxicating. Unwilling to fully admit her body’s reaction even to herself, she bit down hard on Basim’s fingers.

Swearing in a language she did not understand, Basim snatched his hand away and threw her a murderous glance. He opened his mouth, undoubtedly for a scathing rebuke, and drew his hand back as if to strike her. Before he could speak or move, Hytham grabbed his hand lightning-fast.

“Wait,” he said, then turned to Eivor. “You must know, Eivor, we would never truly hurt you. Never. I swear on my life.”

With unexpected tenderness, Basim dropped his hand and gripped her chin, gently guiding her gaze upwards to meet his. “Do not think for an instant that we would push you to act in a way you are any less than completely comfortable with,” he assured her, using the side of his thumb to rub her cheek affectionately. “Say the word and all will stop at once, habibti.”

“What if,” she leaned into his touch, “I do not wish for you to stop.”

“Then we are of one mind.” Basim smiled.

Caught between the two men’s touches and kisses like a leaf in a windstorm, Eivor found herself being gently escorted towards the bed. Half in a daze, her next moments blurred into an indistinct blend of pure sensation. She felt as if from a great distance Basim’s lips on her neck, strong hands guiding her downwards onto her hands and knees, sly fingers and pretty words coaxing her mouth open, the overwhelming feeling of being filled. For all his stoic demeanor, Basim had little patience as he took her quickly and roughly, his weight nearly pushing her into the mattress. She struggled to maintain her balance and relax her throat around Hytham, who took her mouth with slightly more lenience than Basim showed— though that was not saying much. It was all she could do to stay steady.

Her eyes watered. Her lungs burned.

Just as she felt ready to collapse for exhaustion and lack of breath, she found herself swallowing down Hytham’s seed and crying out into the night air as Basim slipped two fingers between her legs. She shivered at his touch, at how he relentlessly pushed them both towards release.

His movements became more irregular and his breath against her ear was a frantic, animalistic pant as he ordered, “I want to hear my name on your lips, Wolf-Kissed.”

“Basim,” she murmured, repeating it like a prayer. “Basim, Basim.”

With a final thrust and practiced swirl of his fingers, Basim plunged them over the edge, clutching one hand tight around Eivor’s throat as they shuddered in unison waves of pleasure. Her lips were still open, curved soundlessly around the syllables of his name, but she could not bring herself to care as she relished in the overwhelming, light-headed daze of satisfaction and warmth. The exhilarating sensation of being claimed.

“Gently now, gently.” The pressure on her neck lifted and two pairs of hands guided her carefully onto the mattress, settling her among the softness of the furs like she was a fragile doll. Eivor blinked up at Basim and Hytham to find them both watching her carefully, with thinly veiled concern. She grinned lazily and patted the bed beside her in invitation.

“Join me,” she rasped, throat somewhat sore. Hytham vanished from view, reappearing momentarily with a cup of water. She rolled her eyes, but allowed him to tilt her head up and bring the cool water to her lips. After a few— admittedly soothing —gulps, she pulled away despite Hytham’s protests that she should drink more.

“Are you well, Eivor?” Basim asked, running his fingers through her hair. She enjoyed the sensation but scowled at his words.

“I am fine and I do not need you two fawning over me like a child,” she said. “Trust me when I say it would take much more than that to damage me. Now lay down with me before I have to start breaking fingers.”

Basim and Hytham shared a look of bewildered amusement. Then Hytham shrugged and conceded, with Basim soon following suit. The bed was not built for three and creaked at their combined weight, but their forced closeness was not at all unwelcome. It felt like home. Basim settled behind Eivor, wrapping her in a possessive embrace, while Hytham laid down facing her and wrapped an arm around the other two. His soft eyes met hers with a look of such undisguised admiration and sweetness that she blushed and smiled like a young girl receiving her first kiss.

“You are such a blessing, Eivor,” Hytham whispered. “To me. To us. To the brotherhood. Of this I have no doubt, the heavens speak through you.”

Uncharacteristically, Eivor found herself lost for words.

“You have given us much, yes, and we are grateful.” She felt Basim’s low voice as much as she heard it, his lips moving against the exposed skin of her neck. Pressing lightly against the scar for which she was nick-named. “Now and forever, we are bonded. You belong with us. You belong to us.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes,” the two men answered simultaneously, and she smiled, content to bask in the warmth of their attention and embrace.

“Good. There is nothing I would like more.”

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eivor-basim · 4 years

Text

An invitation

Also available here on AO3

Pairing: female Eivor/Hytham

Genre: fluff and a little hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Eivor and Hytham are passing a lazy afternoon together in Ravensthorpe when she notices a letter he’s received from the hidden ones’ brotherhood.

————

It was a rare lazy afternoon in Ravensthorpe, and Eivor had sprawled out across the ornate red carpets of the hidden ones' bureau. Golden sunlight poured slow-like-honey into the room. Its warmth weighed comfortably on her bone-weary limbs, beckoning her into the haze just-before-sleep. She tilted her head back idly to watch Hytham quietly toil away at his desk.

He was a welcome sight. Even in the shadowed corner stacked high with dusty maps and letters, enough light filtered through to dance amber-copper across his soft hair and skin. Like the colored glass windows in one of Aelfred's god-houses.

Beautiful and frustratingly beyond reach.

Eivor sighed. “Why can you not simply take a break and come hunting with me? What is it that the hidden ones do anyways? Other than occasionally sending me to lay siege to a pesky castle.”

“My love, our work is secret. There are some things I dare not share even with you,” he said without looking up from his scrolls, but the corner of his mouth twitched ever-so-slightly. “Besides, you have been away for so long. I believe you would benefit from one day of relaxation.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, narrowing her eyes. “You are saying I need a nap? Are you mocking me, Hytham?”

He finally returned her gaze, neatly setting his quill down and feigning an expression of innocence. It was a thin veil for the mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t dare, Eivor Wolf-Kissed, for you are a mighty warrior and would surely have me at your mercy before the insulting words had left my mouth.”

Her mock-indignation quickly morphed into a sly smile as she rose to her feet and approached him slowly. Like a wolf closing in for the kill. She planted her hands on the desk and leaned over, fixing Hytham with a teasing look that seemed to freeze him in place.

“At my mercy, you say?”

“I— I wasn't— your—” he stammered as a sweet red-pink flush spread across his cheeks. Beautiful, she thought. To his credit, he held her gaze, wide-eyed and white-knuckled clutching at his now-forgotten papers.

She savored the moment, wetting her lips with a quick flick of the tongue that Hytham’s eyes followed oh-so-closely. Then she cleanly snatched the parchment from his hands.

“Eivor!”

She chuckled and spun away, already scanning the text as she paced across the room with Hytham hot on her heels. “Acolyte Hytham, we were dismayed to learn of—”

The words died in her throat.

She stilled and lowered her arms slowly, almost mechanically, the paper fluttering at her listless fingertips. It was a simple task for Hytham to pluck it away as she stared blank-eyed into the distance.

He stood at her side, looking down at the letter before turning his gaze on her soft-and-sweet. There was no trace of irritation left. Only sympathy.

“Eivor... I confess I selfishly did not want you to read this,” he said. His voice was sweeping-swallowing seawater, rising and falling with a deceptive gentleness that concealed its engulfing undertow.

I will not fall into it, she thought. I would not rise again.

“I understand, Hytham,” she said heavily. “Some things are meant to be private. I should not have pried. You are… you are leaving Ravensthorpe, then?”

She could not look at him. Nevertheless she heard him shuffle, tuck the letter away. Felt his hand on her shoulder and leaned into the comforting gesture despite herself.

“You misunderstand me. I did not wish to hide this from you… I merely did not know how to tell you. Our moments of peace are rare enough. I could not bring myself to shatter this one.” He hesitated. “The brotherhood has called me back and it is my duty to answer their summons.”

Oh-she-did not mean to curl her fingers into fists but the unspoken sadness under her tongue tasted like blood. The familiar iron-tang of losing another person who was supposed-to-be-there always.

“Yes, it is your home. Your people. You must, of course, return.” She crossed her arms, shoulders tensing against his touch. His hand fell away and she did not allow herself to mourn its loss.

“That… that is not why. You have made my home here, Eivor. Since the day I first arrived on your icy shores, you have opened your arms to me. Even when I did not initially extend the same trust to you.” He took a cautious step towards her and extended a hand, warily as if approaching a cornered animal.

With a sigh of acquiesce, Eivor accepted his embrace, burying her head against his chest and shutting her eyes tightly against the tide of salt-tears. Seawater I drown in. Seawater I give myself to.

Small though he was, Hytham’s arms wrapped around her sure-and-strong and his familiar warm scent enveloped her senses-- ink and paper, sandalwood and something earthy-sweet. He smells of home. The realization ached in her chest. Turned ice-cold in her stomach.

“I thought… I had hoped Ravensthorpe had become a true home for you. That you might stay,” she murmured the words without lifting her face, internally wincing at how her voice wavered and threatened to break altogether.

“Eivor, habibti, I have spent years watching you build this town into a place worthy of calling home. I and everyone who lives here owe you a debt that can never truly be repaid. But I know in my heart that my home is not here,” he said, pausing to tenderly tilt her chin upwards, urging her out of hiding. Tear-streaked and red-eyed, she reluctantly met his gaze. “This is because my home cannot be found in any one place. You have not only built Ravensthorpe. Day by day, year by year, you have built me a hearth-warmth love within which I find myself resting more contentedly than I ever have before. And now… now my home is found wherever you are, always.”

“Hytham,” she managed, but all the disjointed poem-words racing through her mind were not enough. They fluttered away like falling leaves and left her empty-handed. So I will fill my hands with what I have in front of me.

Without a second thought, Eivor curled her fingers into his hair and pulled his lips against hers with an urgency unlike any she’d ever known. He followed willingly, gladly, gasping softly before returning the kiss with fervent longing. I will put all of my love into this kiss so that it tastes of sunshine to him. Sunshine and honey and the promise of a hundred-kisses-more.

She reached one hand around his waist, discontent with even the small space between them, pulling him flush-against-her and deepening the kiss slow-sweet. Demanding more, more, more. He whimpered faintly and she smiled against his mouth at the noise. Resting there for a moment before pulling away just enough to press her forehead against his, that she might see him and he might see the adoring smile he had brought to her lips.

He returned her gaze with reverence, blue eyes wide and kissed-red lips still slightly parted. In his eyes, she found the words she had been missing.

“I do not pretend to understand,” she began, “the strange threads of fate that have brought you from afar and woven you into my life. All I know is that I am grateful.”

“As am I,” he breathed, then smiled brightly. “Come with me, Eivor. Come with me to meet the brotherhood. I need not leave home behind when I leave after all.”

She smiled back melancholy-sweet. “It is a lovely thought. But I am needed here. My clan, my brother, Ravensthorpe. What if something were to happen while I am off venturing carefree into the unknown? All I have worked for and protected could be lost.”

Hytham leaned back and bowed his head, considering her words. “Do you never stop giving of yourself, Eivor? You have poured your life-blood into securing a peaceful home for your family. Now that it is safe, allow yourself to rest. Do not build shelter for others and leave yourself in the rain.”

“Ah, but someone must stand guard in the rain so that the people inside may sleep without fear through the long night,” she answered.

“And there are others who can stand guard, who would be happy to help should you but ask. Remember you are not alone,” he said. “Do you think Randvi would prefer you to remain silent rather than trust her to protect the clan in your absence?”

“She would be insulted that I did not confide in her,” Eivor laughed breathlessly, stepping away with nervous energy as something-like-hope blossomed in her chest. She turned in place, surveying the little bureau they had built together, eyes flicking from one object to the next. The carefully-exact map of England she had watched him draw, his brow furrowed in concentration. The small bed in the corner where they’d lain for hours, legs intertwined, speaking of everything in the night-quiet. The shelves she’d pressed him back against to steal a kiss, sending scrolls flying.

Somehow, imbued with memories of their time together, the room had taken on a life-breath of its own.

It spoke clearly now and she heeded the words.

“Yes,” she said, turning back to Hytham. He stood patiently, hands clasped. The very stance he had adopted on the dock in Fornburg all-those-years ago. “Yes, yes, I will go with you. Of course I will.”

“I— thank you.” Relief sparked in his eyes as the invisible weight of doubt lifted from his shoulders. She only smiled.

“Do not thank me, you have reminded me that I must live my life for myself and choose with my heart. It is something I needed to hear. When do we leave?”

“Soon, I think, but not today or tomorrow, habibti,” he closed the gap between them, grasping hold of both her hands and looking up at her earnestly. “I did mean what I said earlier. You have long been away and should rest. Reacquaint yourself with Ravensthorpe before setting off once again. The journey will be long and newly-rekindled memories of loved ones will make our steps lighter.”

“And I will rest,” she rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “And I will spend time with my brother and Randvi and all the others. But right now, I have missed you and I believe you owe me a hunting trip since you are no longer preoccupied with your oh-so-secret work.”

“You are implacable, my love,” he said fondly. “Very well. And after?”

She smirked.

“Well, I have a few ideas for after.”

The sight of his reddened cheeks and shy smile was enough to fill her heart to the brim with warmth.

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