#randvi fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years ago

Text

Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 13

This was meant to be a sweet little epilogue and turned into something very different and very long.

I want to say a big thank you for everyone who came on this journey with me, thank you for your sweet comments and messages and above all, your patience!

Summary: The reader and Eivor are set to marry tomorrow. It would be a shame if anything were to go wrong... (11k words)

CW: canon-typical violence, attempted sexual assault, food/beverages, alcohol

picture by @jshepardtsoni

masterlist with all the chapters and more fics

No. This could not be the end. You refused.

Eivor sat huddled against the wall, half-conscious, blood dripping from her lip into a puddle between her knees.

This was not how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to be married today. Damn all the gods and their tricks. You would fight with everything you had left in you to get your woman back.

The day before

The wind was sharp and merciless this morning, tearing loudly at the linen sheets on the rope behind your hut and whistling through the tiny window. Birna made a distraught noise and disappeared under the sheets, curling up between your feet.

“It seems that summer is over, my love.” Eivor’s lips brushed against your ear and she wrapped her arms around you tightly. “Høst is here.”

You blinked into the golden light of early autumn morning and hummed, turning in Eivor’s embrace so you could face her. Every year as the gentle heat of summer left you and the river grew too cold to swim in, Eivor seemed to awaken from a daze. She would begin getting all the affairs of the camp in order, roping all the clan members into her preparations for winter. The harvest would be stored in sacks and barrels at the back of the longhouse, meat, fruit, and vegetables would be dried, the children would collect nuts and seeds and bring them to Sfáva and the drengir had to mend and polish their weapons and armor. When the first snow fell, Eivor wanted everything to be perfect.

You pressed your face into the crook of her neck and enjoyed the last moment of peace you would get in a few days. Your wedding would be tomorrow. Eda had been like a hawk in the past few days, tracking you down no matter what hut you chose to hide in. She wrapped you in shawls and held colored stones up to your face, she came after you with flowers and brooches and never ceased asking you if you had prepared your vows. Even Valka showed you no mercy, pulling you into her cottage and brandishing smoking bundles of herbs, waving them around your head until you had to excuse yourself and flee the hut gasping for air.

The girl you had been when you had first met Eivor and her clan was long gone. You were a drengr now, had earned the title in countless battles at your warrior’s side. Before Sigurd had left for Norway, he had acknowledged you as one of the most valuable fighters in his clan and finally offered you a place at his table. Now Eivor had taken his seat and you had been given the one next to her, with Randvi on her other side. The food was the same for everyone, but it still tasted better at the high table than it had on the long benches in the years before. Now it was seasoned with the knowledge that you had earned it and with the pleasure of being alive after so many brushes with death. As if she had read your thoughts, Eivor groaned and stretched.

“If I don’t eat at least five sausages in the next hour, you will be a widow before you become a wife.”

Laughing, you threw her a tunic from the foot of the bed and let your eyes wander over her lean figure as she stood tall, tattooed and scarred skin bare to the cold morning air, the muscles in her back dancing as she pulled the garment over her head. She chose some light blue linen pants and a broad belt from her wooden chest and stepped into wooden clogs next to the door. Birna was next to her in an instant, asking to be let outside.

“Coming?” Eivor asked, her eyes still soft and slightly puffy from sleep. She waited with her hand on the door handle.

You made an indistinct grumbling noise and heaved yourself out of bed, putting on a woolen dress with long sleeves and sturdy boots, wrapping your belt with the two small axes around your hips. Eivor said something to Birna about sensitive southerners who had never gotten a glimpse of real cold and you threw a lavender satchel at her head.

You almost made it through breakfast without any disturbances, eating in comfortable silence with Eivor and Dag, when laughter came from the door of the longhouse and Randvi and Eda came in together, arms hooked at the elbows. You couldn’t stop yourself from ducking slightly, your shoulders almost meeting your ears as you held your breath and prayed for another moment of peace and quiet. But it was no help.

They had you surrounded in an instant, talking simultaneously about food and decorations and guests and your clothes. When asking Eivor about hers, she had just given you that half-smile and turned away, determined to be mysterious and let you suffer as you tried to figure out the customs of Viking weddings and remember what people had worn at the few weddings you had attended in the last years. Ignoring the two women towering over you and Eivor’s amused chuckles to your left, you finished your porridge and got up, grabbing your bowl and steering toward Sfáva at the hearth.

“Come to the map room at noon!” Randvi’s voice rang through the hall. “It’s important!”

“Everything is,” you mumbled and put your bowl into a tub already filled with other dirty plates and jugs. You smiled to yourself as you remembered your first weeks here, cooking with the old Norse woman and cleaning up after everyone. Sfáva squeezed your arm as you thanked her for breakfast. She smiled widely, bare pink gums showing, then she gave you an encouraging nod and sent you off to your duties. You could see Randvi and Eivor bent over a small piece of parchment, talking in hushed voices, and Dag rolled his eyes at you from the high table. You mimicked strangling yourself with a rope and turned to leave, running into another person with a surprised “oof!”

It seemed you could not escape your fate. Eda grabbed your shoulders to steady both of you and fixed you with a glare.

“You’re coming with me.”

Seeing no other way, you sighed heavily and followed your childhood friend out of the longhouse. She was like a sister to you, years spent at each other’s side no matter the place and circumstances forging a bond thicker than blood. She took your hand as if she was still expecting you to run away - a thought not far from your mind - and pulled you into the hut she shared with Randvi. They had made a beautiful home for themselves, cozy furs and weaved blankets painting the large room in dark reds and browns with specks of mustard yellow.

Eda opened a small wooden chest and waved you over. You took a few curious steps forward but stopped when you saw the contents of the case. Fine white silk filled the small space, the color spotless and brighter than any garment you had ever owned. On top lay a necklace made of silver, carrying at least a dozen small blue stones, as well as a pair of matching earrings.

“For me?” you whispered, hands pressed to your stomach. You could never repay this. “How? Where -”

“They were my mother’s,” Eda said softly, taking out the jewelry and weighing the precious metal in her palm. “Randvi and I went back to the castle once. I knew where my mother had her hiding places, far from the fingers of greedy servants” - she shot you an apologetic look - “or my father’s fits of rage. This was underneath the floor in her Bower. I thought I might want to wear it someday.”

She looked at you with a gentle kind of melancholy, her hands still cradling her mother’s wedding jewels. You took them in yours.

“Eda, are you sure? You know me, I might get it dirty the moment I step outside.” You huffed out a laugh. “Am I even allowed to wear it? I think Randvi and Eivor are planning a very traditional ceremony.”

Eda rolled her eyes and smiled.

“I told Randvi that it might do people some good to see that you come from a different place, that you were once a stranger to the clan, and that everyone has a place here if they want to. She agreed.”

“Just like that?” It was hard to believe. The slender woman looked up at you.

“We have been watching the attacks on settlements in the shires around us closely. We will likely have to open our doors to smaller clans fleeing English attacks.”

The sentiment hung between you for a moment. Then Eda shook her head and carefully placed the jewelry on the bed next to the chest before taking out the white dress with delicate fingers. When she turned around to you, her eyes were shiny, but her lips carried an easy smile as she held up the dress to your frame.

It was simple and exquisite, several soft layers of white fabric with intricate lace patterns at the hems. You were surprised at its size - your Lady must have been quite heavyset in her youth. You knew her as a rather thin woman, with wiry muscles and hands that were always red and dry from the cold in the castle. Eda smirked at your expression.

“My father had good taste once.” She sighed. “It may not fit perfectly with those burly arms of yours.” She scrunched up her nose in feigned distaste, as if she didn’t lose every sense of reason as soon as Randvi wore a short-sleeved tunic. You snorted.

“I’ll certainly have trouble filling out the chest.”

Eda tutted and waved a hand dismissively.

“Clothes off.”

You let your belt fall to the floor and pulled off your dress with one swift motion. Your friend helped you into the wedding garment and your chest filled with a pleasant sort of giddiness as you felt the smooth, cool fabric slide over your skin and brush your ankles a few times before hanging still. Both of you grinned at each other for a moment. Then Eda furrowed her brows at your chest, tapping her shoulder in thought before lighting up with an idea.

She rummaged in a drawer and, with a triumphant “ha!”, pulled out a pair of woolen socks. You blinked at the ceiling and prayed for divine intervention.

After spending the entire day going over details with Eda, Randvi, and Valka while Eivor somehow managed to steer clear of any more planning and vanished from sight until dusk, you were in dire need of some ale and a hefty bite.

When most people had sat down to eat and the longhouse was filled with the warm hum and clatter of people enjoying a shared meal, Eivor stood up, pushing her chair back noisily to catch her clan’s attention. The noise quickly died down as people turned their faces toward you. You reached out and brushed your fingers over the back of her thigh, smiling up at her as she looked at you fondly. Your drengr raised her drinking horn.

“My dear fellow Ravens! Tomorrow will be one of the happiest days this settlement has ever seen, maybe the happiest in all its time. Tomorrow, a drengr that has brought honor and glory to our name will take my hand in matrimony. Tomorrow, I will get to call Y/N my wife!”

Cheers erupted around the hall and people raised their cups, some yelling your name as if it was a cry of triumph. Eivor raised a hand and waited to continue.

“I want to express my deepest gratitude to all of you. Every single person here has made this camp a home for us. We have worked hard to find our place in this country and we have all made sacrifices. Tomorrow, I want to give back to all of you. We shall have a great feast and dance long into the night. There will be competitions for sword fighting, archery, and other games. If there is something you long for, tomorrow shall be the day to tell me. I will grant every wish I can fulfill - within the limits of honor and capability.”

A few whistles and raunchy jokes came from the tables beneath you, but Eivor just grinned. She opened her mouth to say something else when she suddenly stopped and frowned. You stretched your neck to see what had caught her attention, the last few waves of laughter still ebbing away. Then you noticed her - the little white cat making her way to the front of the long tables, eyes fixed on Eivor. A few people noticed Birna and laughed at the determination with which the cat seemed to walk towards their jarl.

“Birna?” Eivor muttered and the cat leaped onto the table, not dropping her intense stare as she began meowing with a tone of urgency, walking back and forth in front of you. The blonde finally grabbed her and held her close, turning to you.

“There is trouble.”

Your hand immediately went to the hilt of your ax, the cool leather smooth under your palm. The entire hall was still now. People seemed to be listening to any sound of disturbance, any sign of something wrong after seeing Eivor’s expression. It was so quiet that you could hear the steps of a single person quickly strutting up to the longhouse. A small, sturdy woman with short black hair that was shaved at the sides stepped into the light. Her face was blotchy and glistening with sweat. You recognized her; two years ago, Eivor had introduced you to her cat’s namesake. You had stayed at an inn in Grantebridge after meeting tradesmen from Norway there and Birna had briefly joined you for a pint. Eivor and her had told you stories of Soma, the fierce warrior that had been a close friend to both before her honorable death in battle.

“Eivor!” Her raspy voice cut through the air.

“Birna.” Eivor’s response sounded quiet and strained. She rounded the table and beckoned the other woman to come forward. “What happened?”

“They attacked us. The English. We didn’t think they would dare to go for Grantebridge so soon. It is bad.”

Eivor did not hesitate.

“Drengir! We must defend our Danish friends from English wrath! Gather your weapons with haste, we will meet at the longship in an instant!”

The warrior pressed her cat to Randvi’s chest and whispered something to the woman, raising her eyebrows with a ferocity that told you she had just given Randvi an order. Along with the other warriors, you ran out of the longhouse and sprinted up to your hut, banging the door against the wall when you stormed into the dark room and blindly tore your clothes off, exchanging them for a thick tunic, leather pants, and a leather harness for your axes. You quickly strapped a dagger to your thigh and slipped on your boots, hiding another knife in the right one. You did not bother with closing the door before running down to the dock.

Eivor was already on the boat, instructing a few warriors on the way to Grantebridge. Aelfric and Hal came running down the path with a saddled horse each. Birna also approached with a nervous horse, one she must have ridden here judging by the foam spraying from its restless mouth. Your jarl raised her voice and addressed the group of drengir around you.

“We will approach on two sides. The ship will be much faster. We will try to get into the city and kill anyone in our way. The goal is brute force. In the meantime, Y/N, Dag, and Birna will take the longer route by horse. You’ll have to cross the water several times but I trust your abilities and Birna’s knowledge of the land. You will approach from the back, hopefully unnoticed because of our arrival, and try to open the city for all those needing to flee. Dag, I want you to lead them back here no matter what happens. Randvi will know what to do.”

There was a sour taste in your mouth. Most of your fights were planned by you beforehand, only rarely did you have to leave in an instant and run into an unfamiliar situation headfirst. You did not like it but you saw there was no other way. The others began to settle behind their oars. In three long strides, you were at the longboat and put a foot on the railing. Eivor pulled you up with one hand and pressed you to her chest. You shared a hard, desperate kiss and whispered promises to return to each other, then you stepped back down on the dock and Eivor gave you a last loving look before shouting a command and directing the boat on its way.

You exhaled sharply, then you took your grey mare and gratefully placed your boot in Aelfric’s hands, settling on the horse’s back and nodding to your companions.

“Lead the way, Birna.”

You rode hard, not talking much as you galloped in the milky moonlight. You were able to cross the river easily and when you finally saw the lights of the settlement in the distance, Birna briefly told you everything about the situation as it was when she left for help. She led you to the northeastern fence and showed you the entrance to a secret tunnel that Soma had installed there years before.

“This leads straight to the longhouse. It might be useful later, but for now, we have to go through the fence and be quiet.”

The three of you dismounted and quietly made your way to the fence, listening for voices. There was screaming and crying in the distance, but it seemed to be safe to enter. Your axes made quick work of some of the wooden beams and you were able to step through the slim hole in the fence, coming in right behind a small house that concealed your exit. Dag loosely bound the horses so they could escape if necessary, then he squeezed through the crack and joined you.

You swarmed out, staying within talking distance but checking the windows and doors of every house you passed, weapons drawn and ready to fight. Finally, you heard a whimper from a small yard between wooden huts. You waved to the others and searched the space until you stepped on something hollow. You kicked away some straw with your boot and found a wooden trap door. Opening it, about a dozen frightened faces blinked up at you. Most of them were children.

“My name is Y/N from the Raven clan. Eivor sends me. We will lead you to safety.”

You extended a hand down the hatch and a boy, no older than twelve, bravely took it. After that, the others came out quickly and Dag counted them, telling them to stay close. He led your small party back to the fence. Birna decided it would be best if he waited outside with the others, ready to flee if things went wrong. She waved over the boy who had taken your hand. Another taller, older boy came with him, his mouth a determined line.

“What are your names?” Birna asked.

“Arne. This is Njal.” The smaller boy gestured to his friend. “What can we do to help?”

Birna nodded, visibly pleased by their courage.

“You will come with Y/N and I. We need to lead as many of you as we can out of the city before it is too late. Look everywhere, but stay close. Be careful, but thorough.”

The boys nodded and Birna handed them daggers.

“Only use them for the enemy. Scream if you should be attacked, we will come to your aid at once.”

You took a deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

When you had found about twenty more people, you asked the boys to bring them back to Dag and wait there for you. You were almost at the center of the city and the clank of metal echoed through the streets. Birna placed a finger on her lips and gestured for you to get low. You crouched behind a few barrels and tried to get an overview of the situation.

“Leave them be!” Eivor’s voice bellowed through the square. Your heart jumped into your throat.

Peering through the barrels, you saw Eivor dancing before a metal basket filled with burning coals. She had both hands on her longsword and thick, red blood was running down her jaw until it dripped from her chin. You could not find the origin of it from the distance. Standing before her were five English soldiers who had two crying girls in their midst. They were holding on to each other, their eyes wide with fear. A sharp pain shot through your stomach at the sight. They reminded you of Eda and Delia back in Williamsburg. So much pain, so much terror. You were about to jump over the barrels when Birna grabbed your wrist so tightly you feared she might break it.

Another party of red soldiers came onto the square, laughing and wiping their swords on furs they must have taken from a Viking's garments. You counted twenty men. Too many.

Their leader slowed down when he saw Eivor, his eyes widening in ecstatic disbelief. He licked his lips and you had to fight down a scream of frustration. Your drengr’s eyes quickly flickered back and forth between the soldier’s faces and she tightened her grip on her sword.

“Hand over the girls. You will not harm them.” Even in the face of such danger, she sounded sure of herself, confident in her mission.

The men just laughed and their leader stepped forward, lazily flipping his short sword in one hand.

“You know, wolf bitch, your men are far gone. Those who had reason drew back to the main gate. You came here all alone, into the lions’ den, looking for trouble it seems.” He opened his arms wide and grinned at his companions. “It seems the little raven thinks she can get away with anything.”

Your blood was boiling, but there was no sense in intervening yet. You did not stand a chance. Damn all the gods and their wicked plans.

“Let’s not play with our food,” the leader said, all humor now gone from his face. His eyes were narrowed into dark slits, his jaw pushed forward, turning his expression into a mask of pure hatred. “Capture her!”

You pressed a hand to your mouth as the men lunged forward and Eivor roared a battle cry that should have reduced the city into nothing but dust. One of the soldiers pushed the two screaming girls out of the way and they fell in a tangle of limbs, sobbing as they scrambled to get up again. Birna clicked her tongue and one of the girls saw you behind the barrels. They crawled over to you as fast as their hands and knees could carry them, fighting to stifle their cries.

“We need to get them out,” Birna hissed, grabbing them by their hands and already retreating into the shadow of the next alley. “We’ll come back for Eivor. Nothing we can do.”

You looked behind you and saw Eivor in all her glory, braids flying as she wielded that beautiful sword and sent one man after the next to his death. Was it possible…? But there were still more than a dozen left and she was bleeding from a gash on her shoulder.

There, another man smashed the broad side of his sword against her temple and she grunted, staggering. Tears were burning in your eyes. The commander laughed triumphantly. Eivor whirled and the man who had struck her looked down in surprise, dropping his sword. For a long moment, he tried to hold his bowels in his hands, amazed at what he saw, then he fell flat on his face and did not move anymore. The men attacked with more vigor now, hissing and yelling, fury fueling them. Eivor’s powers on the other hand seemed to leave her along with the stream of blood that was painting the sand under her feet a dark red.

Birna had already vanished, but you could not tear your eyes away from your drengr, your love, your everything. A sword slashed her stomach, ripping the fabric of her tunic and opening another terrible gash in her skin. She moaned in pain. Someone kicked her leg from the side and she fell to her knees, her sword slowly leaving her grasp and hitting the ground with a thud. The commander stood in front of her and grabbed her jaw hard. Eivor raised her eyes at him and he smiled. Then he pressed the side of her face into the metal of the fire basket. Everything inside you crumpled and burned, a storm raging inside your lungs as she screamed out in pain. You dug your nails into your palms and bit your lip as Eivor suddenly lost consciousness and slumped to the ground.

He kicked her with the tip of his boot and, when she did not move, he ordered his men to bind her and bring her to the longhouse. You finally retreated, crying silent tears as you hurried after Birna and the girls, frantically trying to come up with a plan.

Stepping outside of the fence, you saw that dawn was breaking already. The high grass was covered in dew and the valley below was almost invisible behind thick clouds of fog. The rescued Danes were standing huddled together, some of them crying, others nervously staring at the two drengir and their horses. You reached Dag and Birna, who was still clung to by the two young girls like a branch in rapid water. They explained that they would lead the others north to be picked up either by the longship when the other warriors came back to Ravensthorpe or by another ship Birna would ride to get from your clan.

Dag tried to reason with you to come with them for protection, sure that the other drengir would keep fighting at the front gate and slowly draw out all the English soldiers until they either won or could retreat and plan another attack. You knew it was irrational, but all you could think of was Eivor’s eyes when she had looked at the English officer - so full of defiance, so sure that everything was in the gods’ hands. You could not leave her here and subject her to any more torture.

“I’m going in.” You balled up your fists at your side and took a deep breath. "I will not go through the tunnel, I don't want to run into a horde of soldiers with only one way out. I'll use the streets." Birna handed you a brown cloak made out of a thin, robust material that blended in well with the wooden surroundings and the grey colors of the dawn.

“Take care, little dove.” You whipped your head around at her and she winked at you. “May the gods watch over you, Y/N. Go get your woman.”

With a last look at the train of people hurrying after Dag through the tall grass, you stepped through the fence. You sheathed your axes and pulled the dagger from your thigh. You would have to be quiet and quick. Trying to steady your breaths, you stalked through the deserted alleys toward the longhouse, having to step over more and more bodies the closer you got. It hurt to see them, people who wore the same clothes as you, with the same braids in their hair and the same weapons, their faces now cold and empty. You were able to collect a sharp, finely carved knife from a young warrior woman with icy blue eyes that reminded you painfully of Eivor’s. You spoke a silent prayer for her, then you crouched and approached the square in front of the longhouse.

Two men were stationed outside and had to make do with some bread and two mugs of ale on a barrel that served them as a table. They looked miserable as waves of bellowing laughter came from inside. You felt a grim satisfaction. You would make their day even worse.

Looking around, you grabbed a small piece of wood on the ground and threw it around the side of the longhouse. The men shared a look, then one nodded and drew his sword, creeping around the corner and vanishing from sight. The other took his companion’s mug as soon as he was alone and emptied it. He only managed to get out a quiet chuckle before you had covered his mouth with your hand and rammed your knife into the dimple below his ear. He went limp immediately and you dragged him to a stack of straw, dropping him into it. You made quick work of his partner as well and half-heartedly concealed them with straw before rounding the house and peering into a window.

The Ravens seemed to have drawn back, as victory celebrations were in full swing. Some of the soldiers had discarded their uniforms and armor, dancing on the tables while roaring drinking songs and splashing ale on themselves. You found a storage corner filled with boxes and barrels and climbed through the window, hiding behind some sacks of grain. You were about to crawl forward when you looked straight across to the other side of the hall and saw a dark bundle, slumped into a corner. Eivor. Two soldiers passed and spat at her, but she made no movement. They began laughing and kicking at her shins.

Just as you wanted to leap out and kill him for even thinking he could touch your Eivor, three more soldiers came your way, apparently looking for more ale. You looked around for a hiding place and finally squeezed behind the sacks of grain, ducking your head and hoping the cloak would blend you in with your surroundings. The men seemed to be in no hurry, opening a barrel of ale right in front of you and boasting to each other of their fights today. One of them sat down on one of the linen sacks. If you had reached out your hand, you could have touched him. You were stuck.

This could not be the end. You refused.

Your eyes found your drengr again, finally left alone by her tormentors. Eivor sat huddled against the wall, half-conscious, hair hanging into her face and blood dripping from her lip into a puddle between her knees.

This was not how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to be married today. Damn all the gods and their tricks. You would fight with everything you had left in you to get your wife back.

How were you going to get Eivor out of here without attracting attention? If they saw you, you would be dead before you could blink. Finally, the man standing next to the barrel of ale pressed a hand to his chest.

“Alright lads, this ale is running straight through me. I need a piss and some fresh air. You all smell like Danish cunt.” He roared with laughter and slapped his friend's shoulder, then he made for the exit. You breathed in slowly, filling your lungs while you counted to ten and they felt like they were about to burst. Your exhale got you to fifteen until your lungs were completely drained and starving for air. All the fear that had crippled you before slowly left you as your vision cleared and you finally found hope again.

Grabbing your new knife, you inched your hand forward until it was right next to the sitting man’s ankle. You crouched even lower and dug the tip of the blade into his skin, just enough to draw blood, then you drew back quickly. He cursed and jumped up, looking around for anything that could have bitten him.

“Fucking hell, something’s back here. Danish barbarians. The grain’s probably full of rats.”

Both men came closer and leaned forward, trying to catch any movement in the dark corner. You took the knife from your thigh in your free hand, then you moved your foot so the straw beneath it rustled quietly. The soldiers leaned over you, their foul breaths hitting your face. Just as they moved to straighten up again, you thrust up both hands and rammed a knife beneath each of their chins. Unable to speak, they both stared at you wide-eyed. You allowed yourself a small smile, then you pulled out the knives at the same time and they fell to your sides. Concealing them behind the sacks was quick work, luring and killing their friend with the same trick when he returned was almost pathetically easy.

Pulling the hood down over your face and staying in the shadows, you crawled over toward your drengr. A quick look at the party showed you that a few men were already sleeping on benches and floors while most of the others were drunk enough to become easy targets. You still did not risk going directly to Eivor, staying in the shadows in the corner opposite her instead. After hissing her name a few times and getting no response, you threw a tiny pebble and hit her shoulder. She lifted her head with a quiet groan.

When her eyes met you, they were cloudy at first. Did she think she was imagining your presence?

“Eivor, it’s me,” you whispered. “I’m here for you.”

Something lit up behind her tired eyes and she nodded, not changing her position so as to not attract any attention. You looked around the corner and saw a few men at the open ale barrel, unaware of the three bodies not two paces from them. Would they smell the blood if they stayed too long? It looked like there were about fifteen soldiers in total still capable of fighting, the rest were either stumbling around aimlessly or already passed out. These odds you could work with.

You placed your new dagger on the floor and shoved it over to Eivor. She immediately placed her foot on top of it and hid the weapon beneath her body, beginning to work at the ropes around her wrists and ankles. Four men came along the side of the hall and steered in your direction so you pressed yourself into the corner again and whispered a warning to Eivor. She stilled and lowered her head.

“Well well well, who do we have here? The wolf bitch?” One man mused.

“The cursed crow,” another added, laughing, “shot from the sky.”

The third approached Eivor, keeping a safe distance.

“How about we pluck the bird a little?”

The others looked around and deemed themselves safely out of sight of their commander. The fourth stepped forward. His arm was bandaged and his left eye was swollen shut, a purple bruise covering half of his face.

“I’ll make the bitch pay for what she did to me.” His voice was quiet. His hand snapped forward and he grabbed a fistful of blood-drenched blonde hair, yanking Eivor’s head up. She kept her eyes closed, mouth hanging open and glistening red with blood. There were four dark purple stripes on the side of her face where she had been burned. You tensed, ready to lunge forward and kill them all. The man slapped Eivor’s face, grabbing her jaw hard and beginning to open the front of his trousers. For a moment, you were genuinely surprised by his stupidity.

One of the men walked backward, slightly swaying, until he leaned against the wall next to you, palming his crotch. The others were watching the scene in front of them, not paying him any mind.

“Bastard,” you whispered, then you drove your knife into his throat. His eyes bulged for a moment, then his head sank onto his chest. You held him up with your body and estimated the others. Two men were standing close to Eivor now, the third had his back to you and was making crude jokes. Eivor let her head fall forward until her temple was pressed against the injured soldier’s hipbone, then her eyes found you and she nodded almost unnoticeably. You let the man next to you slide to the floor, then you sprang forward and cut the third man’s throat.

At the same time, Eivor dragged her dagger over the back of the injured soldier’s heel, severing the tendon there and making him drop like a sack of flour, mute from shock. It was a neat little trick she had shown you once. Cut the strongest man’s heel and he will be stunned as a hare caught by an eagle. That moment was enough for her to leap at the last man and slash his throat before doing the same to the one on the floor.

“Quick,” she murmured and you pulled the bodies into the corner, as far from sight as possible.

“My love,” you whispered, cradling Eivor’s face in your hands, “can you walk?”

She nodded, her nostrils flaring as she tried to breathe deeply. You pulled her arm over your shoulder and wrapped the cloak around both of you, then you started for the entrance.

Suddenly, there was noise all around. The English soldiers sprang from their seats, yelling and grabbing their weapons. Your heart dropped. Quickly, you pushed Eivor into the corner again, pressing your body against hers and pulling the hood over your faces. Had you been caught?

There were loud cries outside and then the clash of metal. The Ravens!

You waited until all the capable soldiers had run out of the longhouse, then you sat Eivor down against the wall, covered her with your cloak, and made short work of all the men that were still lying or stumbling around drunkenly. You had no mercy in your heart for these animals who had taken your love from you, no pity or honor, just an insatiable thirst for revenge. You drove your knife into every heart that had sped up at the sight of Eivor, stilled every hand that had raised a sword against her, slew every man that would have dared to outlive the greatest drengr that had ever lived, the woman that had sworn to be by your side until death, death, death.

Your face was wet, with tears or sweat you could not tell, and your hands were covered in blood when you stumbled back into the alcove where Eivor sat, face pale and blood still dripping from her bottom lip. As you dropped your knives and knelt in front of her, she lifted her head and gave you a weak smile. You opened your mouth to speak, but in that moment her eyes rolled back and she drifted out of consciousness again, her head lolling to the side.

Then there were hands on your shoulders. You yelped and ripped the hidden knife out of your boot, spinning around to stab whoever had touched you, but Dag caught your wrist and barked out your name. The knife clattered onto the floor.

“Gods, Dag, help me!”

He took one look at Eivor and pushed up his sleeves, squatting down to inspect the weak warrior. You collected your weapons, then you helped him heave her lifeless body over his shoulders.

“Stay with us, my love,” you mumbled and pressed a kiss to her cheekbone, then you rushed ahead.

The other drengir outside were cheering and finishing off the last injured English soldiers. There were Danish fighters among them, thanking them for their help and promising glorious days of celebration. When your men saw Eivor however, the mood changed in an instant.

“Back to the longship!”, one of them ordered and then everyone was running, yelling instructions and commands until you finally approached the docks. You helped Dag on the ship and two of the others threw bundles of straw into the back of the ship before jumping on and setting the sail.

You tore open the bundles and spread the straw on the floor before gently lowering Eivor on them.

“Go command them,” you told Dag and he left with a nod.

First, you had to find the source of all this blood. You turned Eivor’s head left and right, only finding a small gash above her ear. You forced your thumb between her jaws and inhaled sharply - she had bitten her tongue, probably during a bad hit. A strip of flesh was almost completely torn off at the side and blood was gushing from the open wound. You had no clean fabric to stop the bleeding, so all you could do was to catch some river water in your hands and try to rinse her mouth with it.

Realizing that there was nothing you could do for her tongue, you turned to the wound on her stomach. You carefully peeled off the torn linen fabric and let some more water run over the slash. It would need to be sewn back together at Ravensthorpe. Lastly, you wet a strip of cloth and dabbed it on the burned skin on her cheek. Sighing in resignation, you sat down behind Eivor and pulled her head into your lap, keeping the cloth pressed to her face.

Later, you could not have said if the way home took minutes or hours. You just kept stroking her hair, whispering confessions of love and words of assurance, reminding her that it was not yet time to go yet. She had to stay with you, it was the only way. You would not be able to go on without her, to fight without her next to you, to sleep in an empty bed for the rest of your days. It was impossible.

“Come back to me, Eivor, please,” you whispered, shaking her shoulders softly, “please come back to me, don’t leave me.”

She did not wake up.

Her face stayed ashen, her breaths irregular and ragged. You kept hearing wolves in the distance, strange howling sounds that seemed out of place as the sun rose. After a while, you realized it was your own voice, your sobs filling the morning air alongside the men’s grunts as they worked the oars with everything they had.

When Dag’s horn finally announced your arrival, your throat was raw from crying and your tears had ebbed long ago. Your raspy, desperate inhales opposed Eivor’s shuddering, faltering ones. As soon as you felt the boat bumping against the dock, you struggled to your feet.

“VALKA!” Your voice sounded unfamiliar, hoarse and shrill, louder than you had ever screamed before. “VALKA! HELP!”

You grabbed Eivor’s shoulders and two other men took her hips and ankles. Together, you lifted her off the boat and placed her on a stretcher someone had brought down from the longhouse. Looking up, you could see Valka running toward you, wearing nothing but a thin black dress that fluttered in the wind, making her look like a great moth or - or an angel of death. She was closely followed by Yngvor, her red-haired lover. You waved them over. Valka pressed her basket with supplies to Yngvor’s chest and turned to you.

“Tell me.” Her voice was firm and composed.

“She bit a part of her tongue off, it’s bleeding badly. Face was pushed against hot metal. Gash above her ear, wound on her stomach. She took a hard hit on the head. Someone kicked her knee in sideways. She lost so much blood, Valka, so much. She isn’t waking up.”

“Take her to the longhouse!” Valka grabbed your arm and made you wait until the others had gone ahead, then she followed the small train of drengir with you at her side.

“You need to calm yourself, Y/N. Breathe. I need your help. Steady hands and a clear mind. Can you do that?”

Your bottom lip began to quiver and you tried hard to swallow around the lump in your throat.

“I don’t know, Valka,” you whispered, afraid your voice would betray you.

“Come here.” The healer made you stop and turn toward her. She placed her small hands on either side of your face. “Close your eyes.”

You obliged and Valka began to hum softly, whispering words in the old language you still had trouble understanding. Warmth began spreading from her palms into your temples, filling your cheeks and dissolving the tension in your throat. Your heart seemed to slow down at once and you gasped for air as if coming up from a long dive underwater. When you opened your eyes, Valka was looking at you with a deep fondness and fierce determination.

“Let us save your wife.”

Together, you ran up the path to the longhouse where the others had cleared a table in an alcove and laid Eivor on it. Images of a dead man on that same table, his wife wailing by his side, flashed through your mind. You shook your head and strode forward. Valka asked for a basket of hot coals and a kettle of boiling water which were brought immediately. You threw clean linen and crushed garlic into the water as you had done countless times before, then you placed a small twig on the coals and held your needle into the flame. Your hands had ceased shaking. Taking care of Eivor's wounds was the only thing you could do now, and then it was praying and waiting.

While Valka tended to Eivor’s head, you cleaned the wound on her stomach with the hot garlic tincture before closing it with even, precise stitches. Then you made a pocket out of the cooked linen and filled in the herbs Valka used for healing. You pressed the small satchel to the wound and had someone lift Eivor’s hips so you could secure it with bandages. Next, you took off her trousers and inspected her knee. It was already turning blue, but the bones were in place and she had been able to walk before, so it seemed to be alright. You smeared some of Valka’s green paste on it and wrapped it in a cold, wet rag.

“Good work, Y/N,” Valka said without looking up from her hands. She had placed two small pieces of wood between Eivor’s teeth and was almost done with suturing her tongue. The piece of flesh Eivor had bitten off was lying next to her on the table. You swallowed hard. Maybe it was better that she hadn’t woken up yet.

“What can I do for the burns?” You had to keep your hands busy or you would begin to scream again.

“Mix vermouth, flaxseed, and vinegar and make some cold compresses with it. Maybe it will stop the skin from blistering, but I am not hopeful. Afterward, we will make another salve with frankincense, sage, and honey.” Valka paused, then she continued quietly. “She will have a terrible scar.”

Something bubbled in your stomach, fighting its way up to your throat and finally breaking free. It was a giggle at first, then it turned into a manic laugh, reverberating from the walls of the alcove and drawing the attention of the few tired drengir who had stayed in the longhouse to wait for news. Valka paid you no mind and so you laughed and laughed, tears running down your face, until your stomach hurt and you turned to mix the vinegar tincture.

A terrible scar. Wasn’t that something? Another scar to add to the collection of reminders that Eivor had danced with death so many times. Another time she had almost been taken from you. On your wedding day.

You chuckled over your mortar as you ground vermouth and flaxseed to a fine powder.

“What’s so funny?” came a rough voice behind you, the words slurred and tired. You whirled around and rushed to Eivor’s side. Her eyes had their usual gleam to them as she looked up at you and squeezed your hand.

“You return to me, my love! Oh, Eivor.” You threw yourself over her chest and buried your face in her shoulder. “I was so scared.”

“I can’t miss my own wedding, can I?” Eivor mumbled, “but I may have to shorten my vows. Speaking hurts.”

Valka tutted and inspected the wound in Eivor’s hair.

“Stop talking then. I will have to shave this so I can close it.”

Eivor’s eyes flashed again.

“A new haircut for an important day.”

You swatted at her shoulder, suppressing a grin.

“Stop it. We cannot get married today. You need to heal first. I’m not even certain you are alive. You should be moaning in pain, not joking about your appearance.”

“But I love making you smile.” The blonde took your hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. You huffed and shook your head, then you turned back to your tincture.

The vinegar mixture stung in your eyes as you dipped a cloth into it. Eivor had closed her eyes again, her face now content and peaceful. Valka had shaved the skin above her ear and was finishing her work by dabbing some salve on the tiny stitches.

“Apologies,” you mumbled before pressing the cold cloth to the burned flesh on Eivor’s cheek. She tensed, hissing through her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut.

After a few moments, she began to relax and placed her hand above yours, pressing the fabric to her skin. She smiled up at you.

“Of course we will marry today. You saved my life and led dozens of innocents to safety. And we defeated the English in Grantebridge. There is no better day than this one for a wedding.”

Valka hummed with reluctant approval.

“The gods blessed your union once again.”

You threw your hands up.

“The gods almost killed Eivor! I saved her, not the gods. I got her out of there, and we put her back together. If Freya shows up to the wedding, I’ll accept an apology.”

Eivor barked out a laugh, instantly wincing in pain and trying to breathe normally.

“See, you cannot even hold a conversation.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

A yell from the entrance of the longhouse stopped you from saying more and you turned around. Randvi stormed toward you and skittered to a halt at the foot of the table, not sure where to put her hands. She settled on Eivor’s ankles, grabbing them tightly.

“What happened? Why did no one wake me?”

A sleepy Eda came in after her, hair still ruffled and her tunic wrinkled on one side. You leaned against the table.

“Well, I thought Dag’s horn and my screams for help would have sufficed. The next time Eivor almost dies, I’ll come by personally with breakfast.”

Randvi stood speechless for a moment, red spots blooming on her throat. Eda frowned, but did not dare to intervene. Eivor slowly pushed herself up on her elbows.

“Randvi, love, I think you have better things to do than to stand around and fuss over me. We have a wedding to hold today.”

“You cannot be serious -”

Valka cleared her throat and stood next to you.

“I propose this: You carry Eivor back to her hut to sleep, everyone has some breakfast, we prepare everything and Y/N gets some rest as well. I know in my heart it is the right thing.”

There was a silent standoff between Eivor and Randvi, both their faces determined as they stared at each other. Then Randvi turned on her heels and stormed out, Eda at her heels. Valka sighed and called for some of the other warriors to help you. She would brew something for the drengr and follow shortly after with breakfast. You lifted Eivor back on the stretcher and carried her to your cottage. She tried to joke with her men, but you could tell she was in a lot of pain.

You wrapped her in blankets and changed the compress on her face, then Birna curled up in Eivor’s lap and stared at you until you stopped hovering over her. You quietly got undressed and started washing the blood from your arms with water in a small basin on the table. The blonde was already half asleep when Valka slipped into the hut, a steaming mug in her hands and a bag slung over her shoulder.

“Stop that, you’ll bathe in my hut.” She motioned for you to come over. “Here, help me.”

You gently helped Eivor lift her head and drink the entire brew at once.

“Good girl,” Valka mumbled and patted Eivor’s chest, turning to you. “Now let’s make a beautiful bride out of you.”

You emerged Valka’s hut feeling like a new woman, fed, washed, and anointed, with dark red runes adorning your spine, your collarbones, and your wrists. Valka had given you a plain white underdress that fluttered loosely around your hips and she had left your hair down after brushing it carefully.

“Eda will take care of it, off you go,” she had said and thrown you out of her hut. What was everyone up to? Had the events of last night robbed everyone of their manners?

Even though you hardly concerned yourself with the opinions of others, you felt strangely exposed as you walked into the village barely dressed, long damp hair brushing over your arms and gleaming in the sun. The glances of the people you passed proved that you were indeed an unusual appearance, so you quickened your steps and finally burst through Eda’s door. She looked just as irritated, which was a small comfort. You threw yourself on her bed and gave vent to your anger about everyone’s behavior.

“I feel the same!” Eda gestured wildly. “First Randvi is determined on halting all preparations, then she fights with Eivor, and now she is Odin knows where - she would not tell me! She and Eivor have been whispering and plotting for weeks now, they are driving me to madness!”

You both shared a glance for a moment. The times of romance between Randvi and Eivor were long over and after a few moons of painful distance, they had found the bond of their friendship stronger than ever. You had never suspected anything between them, Eivor never showed signs of being unhappy with you, and Eda and Randvi still acted like adolescents around each other, blushing and courting the other whenever they could. No, impossible.

Eda seemed to have come to the same conclusion, sighing and grabbing a comb from the table. She pushed a chair into your direction and ordered you to sit down straight. You still had not slept, only dozed in the wooden tub as Valka had cleaned your hair for you, so you closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Eda’s soft fingertips rubbing scented oil into your scalp and working your hair into delicate braids.

Randvi and Valka had taught her a lot about the traditional hairstyles of Viking women, of the significance of different braids and knots, of their usefulness in fights or at work. Eda had always kept diaries, so when you had brought her a small book with new pages the color of wheat in high summer, she had almost cried with joy. She collected myths and tales, songs, and prayers, wrote down Valka’s recipes and the course of ceremonies, and she drew all the plants she found, the patterns on clothes and armor, the braids she saw in women’s hair. Once, she had allowed you to flip through the pages and soak in her beautiful work.

“You have to show this to people, Eda,” you had exclaimed. “Oh, this is fantastic.”

She had smiled shyly and shaken her head.

“This is not for all eyes to see. Just me and the people I will allow a look into my heart.”

You smiled at the memory and leaned back when Eda began dabbing red powder on your cheeks.

“Y/N… I have been thinking.”

You opened your eyes and caught Eda’s thoughtful gaze. She brushed her fingers over the silver jewelry she had laid out.

“I already told you about the dress and my wishes for our heritage to be a part of this day. You know, I still pray to my mother’s god before bed, but I celebrate Yule just as earnestly as the others. I still like wearing English clothes and my hair up like it used to be.” She sat down on the bed. “Tell me, did you ever dream of being married as a girl?”

You thought about it. No one in the castle had ever taken your fancy, and you had thought you would serve as a kitchenmaid for the rest of your days. If you had been lucky, you would not have been married off to some old disgusting toad as Delia almost had, had Eivor not attacked that day. You shrugged.

“I cannot say I did. I was always aware of my place and that I would likely not be so lucky. I knew of others who were in love, but it seemed to me more of a nuisance and dangerous at that, so I was glad to stay clear of it.”

“We were always quite similar, weren’t we?” Eda smiled. “I thought of men as nothing more than little dogs, either following me around like puppies or barking and snapping at my ankles. Neither was welcome to me. The idea of loving one of them always seemed absurd to me, let alone spending my life with one.”

“Remember when you called me a filthy sapphic?” You laughed and Eda groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. “You were just too scared to admit it to yourself - you are the biggest of them all.”

Eda got up, taking the wedding dress from its chest and looking serious again.

“I thought that maybe I could lead you to the altar today. I know there is no altar, and usually the bride’s father does it, but I’m close enough to be counted as family, I think. I would like to show some of our traditions to these old Ravens.” She smiled mischievously. “That way, everyone has time to admire your beauty before you’re forever given to someone else. Maybe we will get a fight.”

You stood up and lifted your hands over your head so Eda could pull the dress over your shoulders.

“I’d love to walk down the aisle with you at my side," you said, and you meant it. "If anyone so much as lifts a finger toward Eivor however, I will cut it off without thinking twice. She was so weak this morning. I shall be the happiest person in the world if she is able to stand through the ceremony.”

Valka and Eda had agreed to be the ones to marry you. Valka would take your vows and bless your union, then Eda would say a prayer over you and give you a pair of beautiful silver wedding rings. A sudden thought made your heart skip a beat - the vows!

“Eda, I don’t have any vows for the ceremony. I haven’t written anything down!”

Eda tutted and shook her head, smoothing out the fabric around your waist and handing you the woolen socks with a raised eyebrow. You stuffed them down the neck of the dress without complaint, pushing and pulling until they appeared as a believable pair of breasts twice the size of yours.

“I will tell Valka that we will keep the vows short and let Inga sing instead. You’re right, we need to let Eivor stand there for as short as possible. You will think of something, you always do. When you stand there and look at her, true love will move your tongue, I’m sure of it.”

She handed you the earrings with their tiny gleaming stones and stepped behind you to fasten the necklace. It hung heavily between your collarbones. Finally, she stepped back and admired her work.

“Y/N, you’ve never looked so beautiful. Tired, but incredibly, blessedly beautiful.”

You enclosed her in a tight hug, glad to be with your oldest friend today.

When you stepped out of the hut together, it was late afternoon, but the sun was still high up. Eda took your hand and you walked through the village toward the meadow where the ceremony would be held. Children were running around in colorful dresses and flower crowns, their parents hurrying past you and grabbing them to be there before your arrival. Three people stood waiting for you at the last cottage on the path, auburn and black hair all well-kempt.

“There you are,” Randvi called out and ran forward to embrace Eda as if she had not seen her in years. You and Valka shared a knowing glance. Birna held out a hand which you gladly took, grateful for her calm presence.

“I congratulate you. Eivor is a fine woman, one I aspired to court once.” She laughed at your expression and squeezed your hand, her palm warm and dry in your clammy one. “No need to worry, I see now that she chose someone to match her beauty and spirit. You two are a match for the gods.”

She released your hand and nodded at Valka before walking ahead. You craned your head and saw that an arch had been erected, weaved out of beautiful flowers and branches. Your clanspeople were dressed in their finest clothes and already drinking ale that someone had carried up from the longhouse. Some men were bruised or injured from last night’s fight, but they were cheerful and conversing loudly. Valka had been right; it was a perfect day for such celebrations.

“Randvi and I have something for you, something of a wedding gift.” Valka’s voice tore your gaze back to her. “Well, it was mostly Randvi and Eivor.”

Valka looked over to Randvi, who smiled and raised her eyebrows.

“We took the liberty of inviting two more guests.”

Eda and you shared a questioning look, then something moved in the corner of your eye. A man and a woman, about your age, stepped out of the cottage next to you. The stranger had hazel hair that was already slightly receding and he held the dark-haired woman’s hand as they came closer. They both had the tan skin of people who worked outside and their bodies looked strong and healthy. New clan members?

Next to you, Eda let out a scream that would turn heads miles away. The dark-haired woman laughed, and in her face, you suddenly seemed to recognize something. She opened her arms for Eda.

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Before your head had comprehended fully who was standing before you, your legs understood already. You flung yourself forward into Henry’s arms. Eda was sobbing into Delia’s shoulder next to you.

“You look wonderful, love,” came Henry’s deep voice in your ear. His warm tone, always on the edge of a joke, had not changed in the years you had not seen him, had not known if he was still of this world.

“Oh god, oh god,” you kept muttering, “it’s you, it really is.”

After a while, Henry gently unclasped your arms from his shoulders and held you at arm's length, grinning from ear to ear. You looked over at Delia and Eda, who were still crying and kissing each other, whispering quietly and holding each other tightly.

“How?” Your own voice sounded strangely flat, as if containing something that would be too dangerous to let free.

“Eivor asked every merchant, every sellsword, every jarl she knew if they had heard of us. A few weeks ago, a young miller’s boy came up to our house and asked if we were the young couple that had fled from Williamsburg to escape the She-Wolf. He had been promised money for any information. We were wary at first, fearing an attempt on our lives, but we were able to confirm with a group of Danes that Eivor had set up camp here and was a trusted ally.”

“We wrote a few letters back and forth and I convinced him to come.” Eivor was suddenly behind you and you immediately lunged to support her. She leaned lightly on your shoulder but seemed to be fine for now. The burns on her face were a deep brown-red now and the shaven side of her head had not bled again. She was wearing a dark grey tunic with leather pants and boots, along with her best belt and golden jewelry. Her father’s ax hung from her hip and pearls were braided into her freshly cleaned hair. Valka had done wonders to Eivor’s battered appearance.

“You’re breathtaking,” she whispered and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“So do you,” you murmured into the crook of her neck. She chuckled and her lips brushed against your ear when she spoke again.

"Do my eyes deceive me or have you grown a wedding gift for me under that dress?"

You coughed, trying to regain your composure. Delia cleared her throat and you felt heat coarse through your cheeks at Henry’s amused look.

“So we finally met yesterday and Eivor let us stay here, hidden until the wedding. Thank you, Eivor, for finding us.” She nodded solemnly.

“I have heard so much about you,” Eivor rasped. “I look forward to getting to know the woman that made the childhood of these two” - she raised her chin at you and Eda - “so unbearable.”

Delia feigned shock, clutching a hand to her chest.

“That’s not true! Lies, all of them!” She grinned at you and you embraced her warmly.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” you said quietly and she nodded into your shoulder.

Randvi clapped her hands.

“Alright, now that all the guests have arrived, let’s have a wedding!”

Valka offered Eivor her arm and the blonde gave you a last, deeply loving look before taking Valka’s elbow and beginning the slow, certainly painful walk into the meadow. Henry patted your shoulder, then he took Delia’s hand and they followed the others. You saw the seeress exchange a few words with Yngvor before leading Eivor to stand next to the arch. Randvi gave Eda a quick kiss, then she turned to you and squeezed your arm.

“I wish you all the best. May the gods bless you.”

Your tongue was suddenly stuck to the roof of your mouth, so you just nodded and she turned to follow the others.

This was it. Your wedding day. The day you thought would never come when you were still a maid but had imagined every night since being with Eivor. This glorious Viking warrior, your first and only love, was going to be your wife. You were going to be hers. Forever.

“Ready?”

You took Eda’s arm with shaky fingers and smiled at her, feeling the thrum of your heartbeat in your throat. But then your eyes found Eivor, standing below that beautiful flower arch, and a wave of peace rushed through you, washing away all remnants of fear. Your drengr looked glorious, her smile brighter than a thousand suns.

“Ready.”

author's note: we made it! thank you for all your support and love, I couldn't have done this without you. this was such a joy to write and this fandom is so wonderful.

are you happy with the story and its ending? what would be your vows to Eivor? please let me know what you thought!

this is probably the last thing I'll write for AC Valhalla, but I'm opening my inbox for submissions regarding Abby Anderson and possibly other wlw couples - I'll make another post about that soon!

#eivor #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #lady eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #ac valhalla #eivor fanfic #eivor fanfiction #assassins creed valhalla #assassinscreedvalhalla #wlw #wlw fanfiction #randvi #valka #dag #lesbian fanfiction #f/f #f!eivor

102 notes · View notes