#Brasidas x Reader

[mimbotomy]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by the amazing @aeide 💕

How many works do you have on AO3?

Nine! Eight AC Odyssey fics, three of which are crossovers and only two of which are completed, and a six year old Miraculous Ladybug fanfic we don’t talk about and will never speak of again 🤫

2. What is your AO3 word count?

531,641 😳

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I’m just writing AC Odyssey fics right now, but I also LOVE LOVE LOVE crossovers so I have theoretically also written for the MCU, Hades, and Harry Potter. AND I have WIPs for Odyssey crossovers with Percy Jackson and God of War and AC Valhalla. They’re still all Odyssey fics in my mind though 😂

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Rebirth - 799 Assassins, Atlantis, and Avengers - 230 The Children of Kephallonia - 185 Not a Malákes Ravenclaw - 113 To Live by Another Name - 98

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I am unfortunately not as good at responding to comments as I would like to be 😬 I just get busy and then I feel like it’s weird to comment like a month later and I don’t know I get anxiety about the weirdest things. But I love all my comments and I should be a thousand times better at showing my love for my wonderful readers than I am 🩷

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well, only two of my fics have been finished and they both had happy endings so. . . But one of my WIPs is angsty as hell and slow going because it’s hard to write through the tears so that will probably be it 😭

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

As said above, only two of my fics are done and both have happy endings! If I had to pick though, I would argue that my Hades crossover There Is No Escape. . . has the happier ending, but maybe that’s just because it was so fun to write and its eventual sequel the Electric Boogaloo is also super fun to write.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

The only one I can think of was this shockingly angry comment someone left on Rebirth years ago that accused me of being homophobic and told me I should kill myself because I said I wasn’t a fan of Kyra x Kassandra, but either I deleted it or they did because I can’t even find it anymore. Kinda made me hate Kyra x Kassandra a little bit though 😬

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No full on smut, but I have noticed that my work is definitely getting 🔥 spicier 🔥 as time goes on.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

As mentioned, I have three posted and even more in Google Docs purgatory! I think my Odyssey x MCU and Odyssey x Hades fics make sense within the context of canon, as do my unposted crossovers, but I still have absolutely no idea where the idea for my Odyssey x Harry Potter crossover came from. Probably a minor manic episode fueled by mix of weed and sleep deprivation, if I’m being honest. But it’s super fun to write so I’m glad I had such a weird idea!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, and please don’t steal any of my fics! I will cry 🥺

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Once again, not that I’m aware of, and if someone did translate one of my fics I would cry, but they would be tears of joy.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I think that would be an amazing challenge if anyone wants to collab!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Kassandra/Brasidas, followed closely by Kassandra/Daphnae and Kassandra/Alkibiades. I feel very guilty picking one over the others because I truly do adore all three of them, but Brasidas kinda reminds me of my husband so. . . 😍

15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh god, I hate saying this because I truly do love the story and saying it makes it true, but Assassins, Atlantis, and Avengers. It’s such a fun fic but I got stuck in a rut writing the Age of Ultron arc and even though I am far more excited for everything that comes after, I just don’t have any motivation to write even the stuff I’m excited about. I’m just more than a little over the MCU these days - it was just too much to watch all the movies and shows and everything built on everything else and it was all lowkey a little bad too so. . . Maybe one day I’ll come back to it but despite the update I posted earlier this year I don’t see any new chapters coming anytime soon 😭

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I am pretty good at getting in characters’ heads and the nuances of their relationships with others, or at least the important relationships. I also like to think that I’m pretty good at filling in the gaps of a character’s history and relationships, because god knows Ubisoft gave us the bare minimum in a lot of cases, while still being true to the characters we all know and love. And I don’t think I’m half bad at fight scenes too!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

More often than not, I get too wrapped up in a character’s internal dialogue/thoughts that the actual action/conversation/scene gets lost in the sauce. And maybe this isn’t completely a weakness, but my chapters can get WAY too long. Pretty sure the last chapter I posted was the longest to date at almost 30K words 😳 But as hard as that might be for someone to read, I don’t like cutting my chapters shorter either or splitting them into two! I try to write each chapter as their own mini story and unfortunately that means they sometimes end up a lot longer than planned because I get excited about a conversation or a scene or go off on a bit of a tangent that I didn’t expect but don’t have the heart to cut. All this to say that I’m so sorry to everyone who reads Not a Málakes Ravenclaw, but you should probably expect another 30K chapter at some point.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

My senior year of high school, after four years of Italian, my teacher told me, “I know that you are trying so hard, but you are so bad at this.” Unfortunately, I am truly terrible at languages no matter how hard I try, and trying to write dialogue in another language would be a disaster. So I use google translate and hope for the best 🤞🏼

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Miraculous Ladybug. I also wrote some Gravity Falls fanfic in high school but I never posted any of it.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I love all of my fics but The Children of Kephallonia has a special place in my heart. I started writing it almost exactly two years after Rebirth, my first big Odyssey fanfic, and those two years not only made me a better writer, they also gave me a better grasp of these amazing characters and their relationships and the confidence to be a lot bolder than I was with any of my other fics. And working on it also inspired me outside of fanfic! Writing this fic somehow helped me rediscover my passion for character design, which encouraged me to go back to my original works that I had stopped working on during the pandemic. So I have a lot of love for the Children of Kephallonia and I personally think everyone should read it and hopefully you will love it as much as I do 🩷

As always, I'm sure everyone I would tag has already been tagged, but if not and you see/want to do this, consider yourself tagged and let me know for the future!

#tag game #for lack of a better tag

[sonnefuchs]

Helios Rises

Warning:  Nakedness.  So close to smut. 18+?

Waking, you sighed in happiness feeling a warm arm wrapped around your waist.  A beard tickled your cheek as soft lips kissed your skin.  Turning around, you kissed Brasidas in the morning glow.  His hand cupped your cheek, thumb gently caressing, as he moved back slightly.

Groaning at the loss of his lips, Brasidas laughed at your frustrated expression.  You knew he would soon leave and you frowned at the thought.

Rolling over you pinned Brasidas down to the bed, your hips settled over him and his wrists held down by your hands.  He smiled, amused, letting you pin him down.

“The sun rises.”  Brasidas said, amber eyes watchful.

“I have no need of Helios yet,”  You leaned down and nipped at his neck.

Kissing down his chest, your hands let go of his wrists, wandering downwards.

Contented sighs left his mouth as your lips moved further south, hands running through the curls on his chest.  Brasidas tensed slightly, anticipating as your descent continued down to his inner thigh.  Sensing it, you moved back up to claim his lips, your hands teasingly moving across his skin.  A grunt of frustration escaped him, making you laugh.  Holding onto your waist, Brasidas moved quickly, flipping you onto your back, sliding between your thighs.

Wrapping your fingers around his neck, you grinned up at his playful smile.

“Then Helios shall wait until we’re ready.” he said, making your toes curl.

#haha #who knows #brasidas #Brasidas x reader #let me romance him damnit #that man is delectable

[writeforself]

Brasidas x Reader

Anonymous asked Can I request a short story where Brasidas holds his son/daughter for the first time?😊

A/N: Although I’m not a kid person, I enjoy writing Brasidas being delightful around children. Cuz it’s Brasidas :)))))

It’s as if he was riding Pegasus himself, across this land he cherished, toward the people he held dear.

He could recall the previous times he experienced this urge—to get back home in the fastest speed— when he came back from his first battle, when he was promoted, and after you promised to marry him when he returned from war.

He rode pass by the green fields singing under the spring sun, pass the helots working in the breeze, pass the soldiers patrolling on the dusty road, until he reached the gate to the city.

He jumped down the horse and staggered for a few steps. His muscles were still aching from fatigue, but nothing can get in the way of his good mood. When he regained balance, he started running, on his tattered sandals.

He ran pass through the agora, pass the training ground, up the hills, round the alley, and finally into the small neighbourhood you two resided in.

But he paused at the doorway. Only one meters away from you, he stopped and stood still. He gathered his breathes and straightened his appearance.

Am I ready? He asked himself.

He was nervous somehow. Since he had heard the news he was engulfed by exhilaration, he hadn’t had time to ponder on the subject. Then he started to worry about trivialities, like how would his child recognise him if he had never seen her before? Or how you would think for him not being around during the toughest moments? Or how…

“Brasidas?” You walked out of the house, holding a pile of laundry in your hands. “You’re back!” You dropped it and ran to him, holding him for the first time in months. Months of solitude and hardships.

Nothing worried him anymore, now that he had you in his arms after these long and tiresome days. How he had missed these—your skin that glittered under sunshine, your smell that always had a slight hint olives, your hair that tied up casually around you neck, your brightened smile whenever you saw him, your voice that sounded like the sweetest melody to his ears. But you sounded weary. To that all he could think of at the moment was to return with kisses, long or tender, any kind he could think of, until you laughed and asked him to save them for later.

“How is our child?” He asked, didn’t know why he lowered his voice. “Just fell asleep.” You sighed, “She’s quite a handful.” looked up at him and chuckled. “I wonder who she got that from.” “Probably you.” He answered without hesitation but laughed at it. “Really? We’ll see about that.” You pinched his arm while leading him inside.

Brasidas could feel the tension inside him building up once more. Am I ready? He questioned.

“She has your eyes.” You tried to console him as if you could hear his panic. “And your wit, to get whatever she wants.” He caressed your hand on his arm, and you continued. “She is basically you, my love. Nothing to worry about.”

At last he saw her, the sole reason for his haste journey. Tiny was the first thing that came to his mind. He walked toward the bed and kneeled beside it.

Those tiny hands curled up in the air, rising and falling along with the soothing rhythm. He reached out for the tiny hands cautiously, still holding his breathes, fearing any sudden movement would ruin that serene smile on her face.

“You can hold her.” Standing behind them, you spoke after quietly observing this scene you’d been craving for months. Moving forward, you demonstrated to Brasidas. “She’s a sound sleeper apart from everything else.”

Brasidas carefully tucked one hand beneath her head, with another arm slowly lifting the body. It’s lighter, he thought. Lighter than what he used to carry with him, the spear and shield, the things he had been carrying since the day he could run. And much more delicate than anything he had ever come across.

Yet in his hands he could sense another weight that weighed much heavier than his equipment, than anything he could ever hold with his two hands. Grander than anything he could imagine, yet closer to his bosom than anything that came to his mind.

He felt a droplet of warm liquid sliding down by his cheek. But he knew it was not for the immensity of the responsibility he now carried, but for the gratification that had risen inside him. That brilliant smile of his spread across his weary countenance as he leaned closer to that smile with the same tranquility. He whispered with the gentlest voice, hoping his words could travel to whatever sweet dream his child was in.

“Pater is here. Pater is home.”

p.s. I have been procrastinating a lot. So I have no progress on any other work. Just a head up if anyone is wondering.

p.s.p.s. I feeI like I work on requests faster cuz stretching out my own ideas is hard. idk, or maybe I just prioritise them. or maybe my brain doesn’t work properly for my own ideas... anyway, thanks for reading and requesting!

#brasidas x reader #brasidas #assassin's creed imagine #ac oddysey #assassin's creed odyssey #Assassin's Creed

[legendary-maddie]

• B R A S I D A S × R E A D E R •

》Imagine you meeting Brasidas while being escorted by Kassandra/Alexios and him falling in love with your beauty head over heels

Feel free to reblog & write something to this imagine ♡

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed odyssey #assassin's creed odysee #assassin's creed imagine #imagine #kassandra #alexios #deimos #brasidas #brasidas x oc #brasidas x reader #why can't we kiss him #godamn ubisoft #stentor #nicolaos #myrrine #Kassandra #barnabas

[caythleen]

Get To Know Me Meme

Tagged by : @vorchagirl - my long lost twin :D they even named us same..

Rules:  Tag nine hundred people you want to know better.

I’ll tag … NINE HUNDRED MILLION PEOPLE! And these guys ;) @thatsouthernanthem @alethiometry @spartan-officer-brasidas @lacedwithlilacs ( I am lame and don’t have many people on Tumblr xD)

Relationship status: Married

Favorite color: Yellow and blue. Depends on weather :D

Top ships: fReyder, fShenko, fShepard x Garrus, fRyder x Jaal, Kassandra x Brasidas, Nyx Ulric x OC/reader, Ardyn Izunia x OC/reader, fWarden x Alistair, f Inquisitor x Cullen 

Last song:  Macca - Lost In You (ft. Lucy Kitchen)

Last movie: How To Train Your Dragon 3 - I was crying hard... ^^

#meme #i dont know how this works

[author-morgan]

🔥 + Brasidas

The tales of Brasidas of Sparta spread far among the villages of Lakonia and soon across Hellas. Your first impression was that he was no different than any other hotheaded Spartan when he first came with his bronze shield, spear, and a squadron of hoplites at his command. A show of strength to garner the respect of your father —an esteemed Arkadian general— who knew this would be a smart match for a political alliance. But your initial thoughts on his brutish nature were proven wrong the first time he lays you down on a bed of linen and silk. Brasidas is a gentle, attentive lover, and every torrent kiss and caress burns with his intense passion. And perhaps the most infuriating thing about him is his ability to leave you satiated but still yearning for more.

[send me a 🔥 and a character name and/or prompt word and I'll write a spicy headcanon]

#sierra replies #Brasidas #Brasidas of Sparta #Brasidas x Reader #AC: Odyssey #fanfic game #headcanon #my writing #anonymous

[author-morgan]

(Fanfic game!)

“I thought you were dead,” Brasidas gasped.

His eyes are shining with tears, hands still slick with blood when he cups your face, rough fingertips trailing over the short gash on your temple trailing back into your hairline —bottom lip swollen and busted from the battle. “Almost,” you laugh, an ill attempt at humor to help keep down the lump of heavy emotion rising in your throat and keep your mind from the throbbing and aching pain.

Brasidas shakes his head, his laugh low and strained —teeth a flash of white when he smiles. He wants to scold you for rushing so carelessly into the fray, wants to call you a fool for thinking you could face the Athenian champion alone. But Brasidas can say nothing of the like; instead, he will let his actions speak —his kiss is sudden and tastes of blood and victory, burning with unspoken longing and love.

To celebrate 5k followers, send me an ask with the first sentence of a fanfic (or a dialogue tag) and I’ll write the next five sentences.

#sierra replies #ask game #fanfic game #5k followers #brasidas #brasidas of sparta #brasidas x reader #assassin's creed odyssey #im-an-octopus #my writing

[author-morgan]

Title: Call of Home

Pairing: Brasidas x fem!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: Brasidas comes home after having been away at war too long.

THE DAYS ARE long without Brasidas at your side, but the nights are even longer. War had called him away to Methone, his wit and shield needed to repulse the Athenians plaguing the sea-side Messenian polis. Intended to be a short campaign lasting no more than two moons, it has stretched on into seven. Regiments came and went, but your beloved was never among them though the Spartiates spoke of his courage in battle and his ability to craft lucrative strategies on a whim. There were even rumors among the Lacedaemonians of the two kings’ interest in Brasidas’ feats with the word promotion whispered at feasts. 

Life cannot stop with his absence, though. There are still crops and livestock in need of tending and trades to make in the agora. You wipe the sweat from your brow and readjust your grip on the scythe. It was time to reap the golden fields of barley. As you work the blade, Pherenike gathers the crop into tight bundles for storing for the winter. Pausing, you set the scythe down and walk toward the stone well near the small farmhouse. 

Taking a drink of water, you sigh, recalling your last moments with Brasidas —a gentle and bittersweet kiss in the heart of Sparta. Come back with your shield, you told him while forcing yourself to smile. Or on it, he finished, placing the shell necklace he wore in your palm. Reaching up, you run your thumb over the smooth shell, longing for the day you could return it to your husband. Shaking your head of the memories, you return to the fields working in the midday sun. 

The day’s work is cut short by Eudoxos shouting whilst racing up a winding path to the farmstead early in the waning hours of the sun. “What is it?” You ask, offering the helot a ladle of water as he catches his breath. He had gone to market to purchase a ream of linen and trade a basket of salted lamb for fresh apricots but returns empty-handed though wearing a widening smile. 

“A trireme arrived in Gytheion,” Eudoxos announces after hearing the news in the agora. You dare to hope this will be the ship that bears your husband. The months are long, and you miss your husband more with each passing day. “They say Brasidas is the trierarch,” he adds. If word had reached the polis, then by the day’s end, you should see Brasidas marching up the worn path through the fields of grain to your home. The next hours will seem like days. 

“Brasidas,” you cry. He drives his spear into the soft earth and drops his shield. You leap into his waiting arms —embracing him tightly as he lifts you and turns. His smile so large the edges of his golden gaze crinkle. Even with your feet on the ground, you are not eager to let go of him, for it truly feels like home again with his return. 

“What a fair sight you are,” Brasidas muses, stroking the backs of his fingers over your cheek and brushing away the dirt stains from working the crop. He bends forward, lips brushing over yours —it has been so long he fears he has forgotten how to kiss you properly— but with a quiet laugh, you chase away the distance and his worries. 

You kiss him like you’ve done a thousand times before, falling into the rhythm as though you never parted. His kiss, in turn, is gentle, echoing the longing he has endured since departing from your arms on a cold winter’s morning. Your fingers comb through his beard as you part, foreheads resting together. “I’ve missed you,” he breathes. You trace the new scar on his cheek, wondering if it is the only wound he bears from this campaign. “A mark of victory,” he notes softly, still cupping your cheek in silent adoration. 

“You must be tired, love,” you note, stepping back and lifting his bronze shield emblazoned with the red sigil of Sparta —it had served his family well for nigh six generations though now bore new dents and scratches. 

“Weary, yes,” Brasidas says, taking the shield from your hands and fixing it across his back. He plucks his spear from the ground and lays a hand against the curve of your back, continuing the trodden path to the small house. Many nights passed where Brasidas was unable to sleep, a mix of missing you and shouldering the responsibilities of his rank. Sleeplessness was a battle you fought too —waking up to an empty bed somehow stung worse than going to sleep in one. “It is difficult to sleep without you next to me,” he admits. 

Despite the years of marriage, his flattery —albeit laced with truth— still causes warmth to rise to your cheeks. “I’ve missed your charm,” you tell him. It was because of his charm and charisma you were able to call him your husband. Brasidas talked your father out of proceeding with the marriage he arranged for you, instead proposing he would make a better match, having been a longtime friend and someone quickly rising to renown within the Spartan ranks.  

“Is that all you’ve missed?” He teases with a soft chuckle, stepping back into his home for the first time in months. You watch as he moves in routine, propping his spear against the hearth and mounting his shield above it. He loosens the ties of his sword belt and hangs it upon a hook before starting to shed his armor. 

Taking one of his wrists, you loosen the vambrace and slide it from his arm, laying it on a low wooden table. “I’ve missed my husband,” you remark, reaching for his other arm, “my general.” He raises his brow, knowing you’d heard of his promotion while aiding Messenia, and cannot help the shiver that creeps down his spine at hearing his rank in your sweet voice. Brasidas lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your palm, and gives a silent nod of assurance that he will finish ridding himself of his cuirass and greaves. Turning to the washbasin, you splash water on your face —scrubbing away the dirt from the day’s work. 

He tells you of his exploits in Methone over a small meal of fresh bread and fruits —even reenacting one of the battles with grapes and olives before you both finish them off with cups of watered wine. Brasidas stretches his legs and drapes an arm over your shoulders, asking after the crop and the helots, who are less slaves and more family. The harvest will be a good one, with plenty of stores of the colder months and enough to take to market. “You should rest, Brasidas,” you murmur against his cheek before rising —noticing the darkness encroaching the corners from the loss of Helios’ light. “There is always tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Brasidas agrees, standing too, one of his hands forming a loose shackle around your wrist, drawing you back to him, “but after these lonesome and endless weeks?” The beginnings of a smirk kink his lips as he releases your hand and moves closer. “I want to feel your warmth, wife,” he tells you, voice dropping to a low rasp as he pulls the bronze fibula at your shoulder free, watching the linen flow down the length of your body like a crimson waterfall. You loosen the knot holding your breast band in place, discarding it on the floor as you step from the puddle of garments and to Brasidas. 

You smooth your hands across the planes of his chest and down his arms, feeling the warm corded muscle under your palms with a quiet sigh of content. Brasidas leans down to kiss your lips again before he moves to kiss your neck, making his way down to your breasts, kissing your skin as he goes, cupping each breast with his battle-roughened hands as he takes your nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and drawing soft moans and quiet whimpers from your lips.

When you pull Brasidas close, he pulls you closer —skin against heated skin. Each of his breaths is met with yours; kisses too. You feel the moan you coax from Brasidas against your tongue when your hand tangles in his short hair. He pays you back by slipping one hand from your back to your waist. It almost takes your knees out when he squeezes your bum, lifting you for a moment. But then his hand moves to your front and in between your legs. 

Then those deft and calloused fingers start playing you like a lyre —and you sing for him, or something perversely close. Moaning and sighing. But it’s music to his ears. Brasidas’ other hand holds you steady when your body begins to rock and writhe on its own. Another finger slips inside, and it has you shaking. But he stops too soon, lifting you to carry you to your bedchamber upstairs. 

Brasidas looses his footing over one of the pillows and you fall into the pile of pillows and pelts of the bed pallet with him atop you. You both laugh —foreheads pressed together. Despite Brasidas’ weight on top of you, you’ve never felt lighter. Even when he presses against you, pushing what little air you have out, your heart flutters like a hummingbird. Brasidas kisses you over and over, like he cannot stop. A kiss for every day we were parted, he thinks.

His barrage of kisses halts when you loosen the knot of his loincloth, throwing it to the side. You roll your hips into his and feel the heavy length of his cock resting between your thighs. Brasidas reaches between you, stroking himself thrice before starting to press into you. He groans, mind reeling —what is the love of the gods compared to a woman’s love? Brasidas bares his teeth, cursing as he slides into your warmth until your hips are flush together. 

The pace is slow but steady. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist while one of your hands reaches around his broad shoulders —feeling the muscles flexing and shifting beneath his warm skin. The other one cradles his scarred cheek, and your thumb brushes the skin just beneath his eye. In all the time you’ve known him, Brasidas has always been taciturn. Even though there are few words, he makes the most wonderful noises. Every kiss accompanied by a low moan and almost every thrust is followed by the throatiest grunt. Then those sounds change into desperate panting, his chest heaving against yours.

Brasidas’ whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch —thoughts clouded by lust and love. “Brasidas!” His fingers find your clit the same time his mouth latches to your neck.

His face hovers above you, keeping eye contact as the pace quickens with your name slipping from his lips like a soft prayer. The muscles in your lower body tense as your climax shudders through your whole body. You throw your head back and cry out Brasidas name, exposing your neck, which he peppers with kisses. The sensation of you tightening around him sends Brasidas over. He thrusts a few more times, shaky but solid, and groans from deep in his chest.

You hold Brasidas right where he is. He kisses you languidly, tiredly, and you stroke his back —finding the small scar on his shoulder blade from when you were both children. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say how much I missed you,” he breathes.

“You don’t have to dwell on that,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair —still holding him close, “we’re together once more.” He smiles against your neck. The stories said man was originally created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces, but fearing their power Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. You’ve no doubt Brasidas is your other half because every time he returns home you are made whole again.

He rolls his weight off you, but quickly brings you into his arms and draws you against his chest —the steady and strong beat of his heart echoing like a sweet lullaby you’ve not heard in months. “Rest well, my love,” you whisper and Brasidas steals a final kiss for the night. For the first time since he departed, sleep comes easy for you both.

[taglist: @kvitravn​ @khaoskrossed​ @nemo-my-name-forevermore​ @tammym3903 @balmacedapascal ]

#Brasidas #Brasidas x Reader #Brasidas of Sparta #Brasidas Imagine #Brasidas Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #my writing

[author-morgan]

Title: A Truce

Pairing: Brasidas x fem!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: Brasidas is willing to risk a chance of peace to have something so sweet. 

THE DUSKY AIR is heavy with the scent of incense and wine. Talk of war permeates the silence —a meeting among generals of Athens and Sparta. Discussion had been civil since the meeting began, but after the mention of a treaty in favor of the Athenian forces it quickly turned into raised voices and red faces. Among those is your betrothed, an esteemed general for Athens with a hateful streak wider than the Boeotian lake. Only one manages to keep a calm demeanor about him —Brasidas of Sparta. 

War and politics are considered a man’s affair, but it does not stop you from lingering in the shadows and listening. You pass unseen by all but one in the gathering. Brasidas has barely taken his dark and intense eyes off of you since he first noticed you standing near a curtain dividing the war room from the villa courtyard. The Spartan General is handsome, especially in comparison to your promised —who already has silver hair and sagging jowls. A fifth wife for the old general as his others had died by spring fever or on the birthing bed. Brasidas though, there is not a silver hair to be found on his head or in his thick brown beard.

Brasidas speaks with passion and urges for diplomacy when it is his time to speak —uncharacteristic for a Spartan. The gathering looks amongst themselves, weighing what had been discussed, but time is needed before any decisions are made and any papers are signed. A recess is called, and you slip from the room and back up the stairs onto a balcony overlooking the dark Aegean Sea. It would not have boded well for you to be seen eavesdropping. 

A rush of air as the curtain of the balcony is drawn alerts you to the presence of another. Turning you are met by the kind and warm —if not curious— gaze of Brasidas. He had sought you out, curious to know more about the hostess of the meeting. “Does political talk not bore you, my lady?” Brasidas asks, even the women of Sparta grow weary of talk after the first hour passes. 

“No,” you respond, shifting your attention back to sea, “my father was a lieutenant. I grew up listening to the affairs of men.” As his only child, your father had done well to raise you as an equal —he had little choice after your mother died before you could even walk. You spent many nights crawling over his vessel and clinging to his leg during meetings. 

The general smiles. It is a rare thing to find a woman so acclimated to the discussion of war. Brasidas knows you heard all of what transpired in the first half of the meeting —you had been in the dark shadow of the room since it began. “And what do you think of the proposition made?” He inquires. Athens sought to rob Sparta of Skioni —a small island polis south of Makedonia and a valuable outpost for the Lakedaemonians. 

“Athens is trying to cheat Sparta,” you reply, it is not hard to see. The Athenians wanted to push the Spartans back and rid their growing sphere of influence of any Spartiate presence. After hearing Menexinos speak, you had not expected the Spartan generals to succumb so easily to a poorly worded and unenforceable truce. Brasidas steps up to your side, hands curling around the stone railing. 

You steal a glance at the general in the dying light of day —the setting sun bathes him in a golden light. “Do you not have a wife, Brasidas of Sparta?” You ask, surprised by your boldness, but for what other reason would he seek you out. 

“I do not,” he answers. The time for marriage was drawing nigh, but with the war, it was difficult to remain in Sparta for more than a day at a time when there were battles to fight and men to command. “And you do not yet have a husband,” he observes as you still wear a maiden’s veil covering your hair. 

His statement brings a wave of despair crashing over you like the waves on the rocks below. You have wished for Hades to claim your promised, even if it is wrong to do so. Hades has not answered nor has Hera. “Not yet,” you breathe, but that dreaded day draws sooner with each setting sun. The general feels a pang of misery rise in his chest for ever having brought the topic up. Brasidas turns to face you, his arms trapping you between him and the balcony railing, a gentle cage that you can break free of should you wish. 

But you do not move —you do not want to. Reaching out, you smooth over the Tyrian purple himation draped over his shoulder, hiding a soft green exomis. All that is missing is the golden wreath atop his head from the relief of Methone. His head dips down and his coarse beard scrapes across your cheek, tickling. A warning before his lips pressed against yours, gentle if not hesitant. “Forgive me,” Brasidas breathes, but the apology is insincere. You slide your hand to the back of his neck, beneath a single braid, pushing up and pulling him back down at the same time. There is no hesitancy this time. 

“Brasidas,” you murmur, heart racing. The curtain to the balcony is drawn, but there is still a nagging voice in the back of your head saying what if. Brasidas silences that voice with another kiss, this one rougher and needier than the last. You gasp into his warm mouth when his hands grip onto your thighs, lifting you onto the stone railing. He keeps his arms around you, but pulls away to study your face. You blink, eyes hazy with lust. The general smiles, reaching up to brush your hair back. He leans forward, lips catching on your cheek in a light kiss, working his way to your ear. 

You moan, a tiny and strangled sound at the back of your throat, head tilted back. He takes your earlobe between his lips and teeth, nipping the delicate flesh and drawing another gasp from you —fingers clutching around his back. Brasidas pauses, a flicker of uncertainly in his warm honey eyes, but it’s chased away when you whimper, pleading with him to keep going. 

He slides his hand between your legs beneath your loose laurel-colored chiton —the only thing you wear as the maiden’s hair veil as slipped off and fell to the churning depths of the sea— thumb grazing over your clit. You shudder in his arms and his hand moves lower, sliding his fingers against the warm, soft sex between your thighs. Brasidas laughs —a low, hearty sound— when your legs clench around him. He bends his head toward your neck, lips suckling where your pulses races. 

A soft sigh escapes your lips when he slides one of his calloused fingers inside you. Hooking his finger, he begins to thrust back-and-forth in slow measure. Keeping balance, you part your legs further to accommodate his wandering hand. Your hands rise form his back to find his thick brown hair, fingers threading into the short cut locks. Brasidas rubs his beard against your neck, moving back up to claim your lips again —already pink and swollen. He lifts one of your legs beneath the knee, slipping another finger easily into your warmth. “You’ve cast an enchantment over me,” the general breathes. For a moment he thinks you to be Hekate in the flesh. 

His fingers curl upward again, and you clutch onto his hair tighter, gasping —but then he withdraws them to your soft cry of protest. Brasidas smiles, lowering himself to the stone between your legs. Pushing your chiton out of the way, you gasp again, the muscles in your legs tightening as he places a kiss to your thigh. It is a sight to behold one of the most powerful Spartans in Hellas on his knees before you. The general holds your legs open with a firm grip as he nips at your thigh, soothing the red mark with his tongue. The warmth of his mouth and cool sea breeze sends a tingle over your body. Brasidas draws slowly towards your center, tongue lazily trailing along your skin. 

Both you and Brasidas moan when he reaches your heat —lapping at your slick folds with his tongue. You shudder above him, hands wrapping tightly around the stone railing as his beard scrapes against the inside of your thighs. He tends to you eagerly, spoiling himself with the sweet taste. Chest heaving, you moan aloud when the general closes his lips over your clit, suckling on it and drawing a forceful shudder from you. But then he pulls back, nipping hard your thigh again. “Brasidas,” you whine as he rises back to his feet. 

Hurriedly, Brasidas pulls at his himation, kicking the puddle of linen aside and unties the knot in his loincloth, adding it to the pile of fabric. He only wears the green exomis now and the outline of his cock is evident —as are the lines of his muscles. He pulls up the hem of the short tunic, giving himself a few quick strokes before stepping back between your legs. Brasidas guides his hard cock to your warmth —watching you as he begins to push forward. You part your legs wider and he hisses behind clenched teeth. Hooking your legs around his waist, you grasp onto tightly behind the shoulder —holding onto him as though he is a lifeline. 

He draws his hips back then snaps them forward again, you moan drowned out by a burning kiss and the rolling waves. Clenching your legs around him, your nails dig lightly into his bare shoulders, seeking purchase as he rolls his hips into yours. Losing himself is too easy. Brasidas grunts and lifts you from the railing, turning to press your back into the rough stone wall next to the flowing curtain. You hardly notice, only focusing on the slow drag of his cock as he moves his hips again and again. The general looks at you, a beautiful sight in the throes of forbidden passion, face twisted, and eyes squeezed shut. 

Brasidas braces his hand on the stone wall and thrust harder. You tip your head back against the wall, tightening your legs around him. He feels your muscles tense up, quivering, reaching the edge of a precipice. Moving his hand from the wall, he slides it between your joined bodies, fingers finding your clit again, even as he thrust wildly with every quick roll of his hips. “Brasidas.” His name falls from your lips in a soft chant. Your back hits the wall, over-and-over again, but the scrape of the stone pales in comparison to the ecstasy. He surges forward, drowning the whispers and moans with another heady kiss. 

His kiss, the roll of his hips, and the pressure of his fingers rubbing your clit is too much. The coil that had been tightening in your belly since he first slid a finger into your heat release. You shudder, heels pressing into his lower back, nails scraping down his back —but Brasidas swallows all the sounds you make, still rutting into you. This had been an act of lust, though with the way he holds you it could be something more given time. A final thrust sends Brasidas over the precipice too, and the general collapses against you, twitching and moaning aloud into your shoulder —shaking deep within his bones. The sweat on his brow already beginning to cool in the evening breeze.

Your hand rises to touch his forehead gently and he blinks, drinking in your features in the last golden light of the sun. Brasidas brings his hand to cup your cheek. “Do you think anyone heard us?” He asks cheekily, grinning despite his tiredness. You swat at his shoulder, smiling even with the flush of color on your cheeks. He eases you back to the flat stone on shaky legs and bends to collect his himation and loincloth —which he uses to wipe away the sticky warmth between your thighs. 

“What will you do now, general?” You ask, helping adjust his himation to hide the red marks on his shoulder before the recess ends and negotiations begin again. He cups your cheek again, bending forward to take another kiss from your sweet lips. He is a Spartan and he will do what he must for country. 

Brasidas warm gaze flicks between the moonrise and you. “I’m going to fight for Sparta,” he pauses, thinking himself unwilling to leave such a woman behind, “and fight for what I want.” He steps away from you and draws the curtain to the balcony back, rejoining his countrymen and the Athenians. Brasidas of Sparta is a persuasive man and he will have what he desires. 

#Brasidas #Brasidas x Reader #Brasidas of Sparta #Brasidas Imagine #Brasidas Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #Assassin's Creed Imagine #my writing

[author-morgan]

HEY! I really love your writing and I wanted to ask you if you could make a Brasidas x reader, fluff if it's okay (◍•ᴗ•◍)

Aww! Thank you so much, nonny. Ask and ye shall receive, behold Baesidas Brasidas fluff. 

Brasidas x fem!Reader

ANTHOUSA WEEPS WHEN she hears the news. The Monger has taken another of her girls. She won’t stand for it any longer. Something must be done. Determined to stop the brute’s reign of terror over her city, she goes to the Spartan general under the guise of night. Anthousa has her disagreements with Brasidas, but he is the best hope she has of seeing her girl returned safely. 

The Monger’s men leer at you, but they do not dare touch you before their leader has his fill lest they are on the receiving end of his wrath. So you tremble in the dark, hands and legs bound waiting for the inevitable and praying to the goddess you so devoutly serve to send someone to save you from this fate.  

Shouting interrupts your restless sleep. The rogues are leaping from their tents and bed mats trying to stamp out the flames overtaking the camp. Spears come from nowhere, embedding in men’s chests and backs. Some flee, others are stupid enough to stand their ground against the attackers in the night. 

A group of Spartan soldiers emerges from the smoke and flame. Hoplites take to finishing off the Monger’s men, but the Spartan commander is searching for something or someone. You cry out, rolling away from the fire licking at your back and into the greaves of the Spartan. He kneels, and you recognize your rescuer at once. 

Brasidas cuts through the rope bindings, pulling you from the ground and into his arms —heading toward the entrance of the camp, calling for his men to fall back. A pale horse is waiting in the tree line, and he places you on the beast’s back and mounts behind you, taking the reins. 

You and Brasidas are acquaintances of a sort. He and his men had come into the city after a victory for the night. Most of the men were quick enough to pick their girl and head off, but Brasidas had taken a spot next to you and reclined —starting to talk about his home near the heart of Lakonia. You listen to him with a smile, wondering if you’d ever get to see the city you were born in again. After that first night, he starts coming more often —sometimes alone— and wants only your company. And so an unlikely friendship buds between a Spartan general and hetaera. 

Upon reaching the Spartan camp, Brasidas eases you from horse and back into his arms. He takes you to his tent and kneels placing you delicately upon his bedroll. The light of a brazier catches a small scrape on your cheek and he frowns. “Never been so happy to see that stern face of yours,” you remark softly, smiling. The General has a proud and stern face, marred only by the slim scar crossing his cheek —his earthen eyes smile at you, even if he doesn’t.  

When Anthousa told him it was you the Monger had taken rage clouded his judgment. Brasidas prides himself on being a reasonable man. Able to see past his emotions and make noble decisions for the betterment of his men and Sparta, but by the gods, when the hetaera mentioned your name he was ready to summon an army. 

Brasidas rests his war-roughened hand on your cheek. “Are you hurt?” He asks. He can see the bruises and scratches on your wrists —he’ll tend to those in a moment, but some hurts do not show themselves physically. You shake your head. The Monger’s men hadn’t hurt you, not in the way Brasidas means. 

He shifts, bringing a bronze washbasin forward. “I would ask you not to fret over me, General,” you tell him kindly. You’re but a hetaera —a servant to Aphrodite and men. It is unfitting for a man of his status to stoop to your level. Brasidas is not like other men you remind yourself. 

“But,” he gently chides, shaking his head and wringing water from the washcloth, “this is my choice.” You offer no more protest as Brasidas wipes the dirt from your face and the flaking blood from your wrists. He’s tender and attentive —unbecoming of the Spartan label perpetuated by most of the Spartiates. The bruises on your wrists and ankles are not large, nor are they especially painful —in a few days they will fade, and it will all become a bad dream. 

The dirtied rag plops into the basin. You hold his warm gaze —surprised by the swell of confidence that rushes over you. “What else would you choose to do?” You inquire. Brasidas’ eyes dart to your lips. He’s dreamt of what they must taste of for weeks, though he shies away from desire —it’s the decent thing to do. Now though, he will not back down. 

“Let me show you,” he whispers, leaning forward. His beard tickles your cheek and then his lips meet yours. One of his hands slides back into your hair, the other down to your waist. You stroke your hand along his cheek. He groans slightly, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss —drinking in the soft sigh that passes through your lips. 

He draws back, forehead resting against yours —unable to hide his soft smile. You comb your fingers through his beard and boldly steal another quick kiss from the Spartan, and Brasidas is happy to oblige. “Get some rest,” he breathes, kissing your forehead before hopping to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” Brasidas doesn’t answer, but you already know —he’s too stubborn and honorable to stay the night, even if it is only to lie next to you. You frown, not wishing to see him go so quickly. “It’s rather chilly,” you muse before he leaves the tent, a poor excuse. 

“Then I’ll fetch more wood,” he responds —practical as always, thinking like a soldier. 

You almost laugh. “Brasidas,” you call, tone almost chiding. And finally, he turns back, seeing you’ve made enough room on the straw bed mat for him to fit. He fails to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The General pulls his bracers and greaves off, scaled cuirass following —he’ll let his guard down for the night, for you. 

[tagging @levikra for this Spartan softie]

#Brasidas #Brasidas x Reader #Brasidas Imagine #Brasidas Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyseey #requested #my writing #Anonymous

[author-morgan]

Title: I Found You

Pairing: Brasidas x Fem!Reader & platonic Alexios x Fem!Reader 

Rating: T

Summary: Alexios doesn’t expect the death of one friend to lead him back to another.

ALEXIOS STANDS ON the docks of Sami, bottom lip quivering as he watches a ship sail with the rising sun. His best friend is aboard the ship, leaving Kephallonia for a new life elsewhere. Ikaros perches on his shoulder –unable to take to the skies given the splint on his left wing– and Markos clasps onto his other.

He remembers the day you told him the news. It was the same day a group of older boys had thrown stones at Ikaros and broke his wing. "What do you mean? You can’t leave!" He shouts, causing you to jump while tying the strip of linen around the eagle's lame wing. You hope you've learned well enough from the village healer to ensure Alexios's companion will fly again.

"I don’t want to," you tell him. Kephallonia is the only home you've known. Others see the island as a curse or a prison it is yours and Alexios's kingdom and one day you will outgrow it. "But mater and pater-" Alexios grips onto your shoulders, cutting you off. "You can stay with me! Ikaros and I will be your family."

You shake your head. Kephallonia does not hold a future for you, nor does it hold one for your friend. "We’ll see each other again one day," you tell him.

"I’ll find you," he vows, and you wrap your arms around him. When the ship is no longer visible on the horizon, Markos guides him from the docks and gives him several jobs to take his mind of you.

DUTIES HAVE KEPT you apart for too long. He has been at war with Athens and the few times he has returned to Sparta, you have been away in Arkadia –tending to your widowed mother. But this time it seems as though fate will allow you to be reunited for a short while in Lakonia. He exits the throne room and breathes in the spring air, the scent of wildflowers heavy on the cool breeze. “Brasidas!” You cry, spotting him from the agora. He smiles as you bound toward him and into his arms.

“My love,” he breathes into the crown of your head, but despair taints the endearment.

Frowning, you step back to look up at him, hands lingering on his arms. “What is it?” You ask even though you have a premonition about what has soured your reunion.

Brasidas glances toward the throne room and considers the orders Eurypontid king had given him. Reports say Athens is gathering reinforcements and threaten the people of Makedonia. “I must sail for Amphipolis,” he admits, eyes downcast. He has seen enough bloodshed for two lifetimes, but when Sparta calls –he must answer.

You touch his cheek, fingers brushing over the scar below his eye. You can still remember the day he came limping back from the docks after winning a laurel in Methoni, using his spear as a crutch –face a bloody mess. “But you’ve only just returned to me.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. He dares not show more affection than that in public –not until you are finally wedded, at least. “And my heart will ache until I can hold you in my arms again," he tells you. “Walk with me?” Brasidas asks, extending his arm for you to take. From the agora, he leads you past the statue of Leonidas toward a small stream and patch of poppies.

Pylos feels like a lifetime ago, but the wound on his leg still is not fully healed. The injury made him realize he’d been fighting with too much hubris and not honor as of late. It also causes him to contemplate life and death and what he would be leaving behind. He cannot bear the thought of you withering away in sadness and heartbreak because of him. “Should something befall me-" Brasidas begins, but you are quick to place your finger against his lips, gently hushing him.

“Don’t speak like that," you breathe.

A smile pulls at his lips. He grips onto your wrist, pulls your hand closer to his mouth and presses a lingering kiss against the center of your palm. Brasidas knows you do not wish to speak of hypotheticals in which he does not return, but it must be said. His gut tells him Amphipolis will be a battleground like no other. “If the Keres take me to meet Hades I would ask that you do not dwell on the past." The Spartan general takes your face into his rough hands and runs his thumbs across your cheeks, catching the tears that betray you.

"Live and find happiness, for me." You bite down on your tongue and nod, but he attempts to chase away your worries with his lips. Outside of battle and politics, Brasidas is a gentle man and you could not ask for a better man to become your husband. You had once been angry disheartened after leaving Kephallonia and learning of the arranged marriage –but your parents swore they’d picked a good man from a noble family, one who could love and protect you. They had been right. When Brasidas holds you close –as he is now– you feel as though nothing bad could ever happen.

The following day you follow him and his men to Gytheion where the ships await. Brasidas caresses your cheek one last time –he will not see a sight so fair 'til he returns. Leaning into the touch, your eyes slip shut, and you do not see him leaning in toward you until his beard tickles your chin and his lips brush over yours. “Return with your shield, Spartan-” you whisper, parting. “-or on it,” he finishes. You give a solitary nod as your beloved steps back then turns to board the ship.

THE PERSON STANDING before you looks more god than man but he knows your name and nearly falls to his knees when you turn to face him –as though he has seen a ghost. Then you see them –the broken spear of Leonidas on his back and Ikaros– and waves of emotions and memories crash upon you like rocks in a stormy sea when you look into his dark eyes. “Alexios?” He’s a far cry from the boy you once knew on Kephallonia.

Alexios nods and takes your hands into his own. He can hardly believe you're standing in front of him. There was a time when he'd given up hope, even if you had said that one day you'd meet again. Though Sparta is the last place he thought to find you -you'd dreamt of Athens and the islands as a girl. He'd been foolish enough to promise that one day he would take you there and across all the Greek world if you wanted. “What are you doing in Sparta?” He asks.

Tears have only just dried on your cheeks. “I was meant to wed one of the officers-" you look away from Alexios and toward the small home you and Brasidas shared when the gods were kind enough to reunite you. "But he has not returned from Amphipolis. I don’t think he will," you admit.

The Eagle Bearer follows you to the small cottage where he had placed his fallen friend's broken spear and shield and feels a lump rise in his throat as he pieces everything together. Brasidas's shield lies on the table next to two halves of a once whole spear, but there is no sign of him. Alexios catches you in his arms after your legs give –whole body trembling– and eases you both down to the earthen floor. "I'm so sorry," he breathes.

Live and find happiness, for me. But the wound is too fresh and you cannot begin to fathom a life without him. “You knew Brasidas?" You ask.

Alexios nods, brushing back the hair from your damp forehead. “I considered him a friend." A friend it seems he knew little about, in truth. "He never mentioned you, though," he admits.

A sad smile appears on your lips, and a breathy laugh escapes them. “Brasidas was never one to mix duty and pleasure.” He only ever spoke of militaristic matters to you when he was preparing to leave for battle. Your mother once said Brasidas was the most diplomatic Spartan she'd ever met.

Slowly, you start to compose yourself –at least on the outside. Alexios helps you stand, his hand lingering on your arm. “Will you stay for dinner?” You ask, eyes lingering on a basket of grain and fruit.

Both you and Alexios sit at the table again, now cleared of dishes and leftovers, nursing cups of watered wine. You both have so much to say and no idea where to start. Today's reunion hadn't been under circumstances either of you ever dreamed of and that undoubtedly sours the air. He reaches across the table, gripping onto one of your hands. “Come with me,” Alexios says. He has a ship now and can make good on his promise to take you across the Greek world.

THE TARNISHED GOLD trim on Brasidas's shield glints in the warm light of one of the Adrestia's braziers. The old shield has protected you well since joining Alexios. Tonight you and he sat next to one another –arms and legs pressed together– having set sail from Kos at dusk. He tells you about Athens and the people he'd met in his travels there. “And Sokrates?” You inquire, noting he seems to have left out a prominent Athenian.

The Eagle Bearer rolls his eyes at the mention of the philosopher –and friend. “Rumors are true, he loves the sound of his own voice." He could always count on Sokrates to give him a headache, though perhaps in a way he had come to enjoy their little debates. A bright light streaks across the dark sky, fading as quickly as it appeared. A falling star. “Did you see that?” Alexios whispers, pointing to the heavens.

You nod and lean your head on his shoulder. Alexios turns, nose pressing into your hair. Sighing, he kisses your temple and settles back with a smile. It is good to have his best friend by his side once more. You're smiling too, though there is still a pang of sorrow in your heart that refuses to fade. I think I can be happy, Brasidas, but I will always miss you.

#Alexios #Brasidas #Alexios x Reader #Brasidas x Reader #Alexios Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #Assassin's Creed #Assassin's Creed imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #look I just finished the Torment of Hades and I miss Brasidas #he is the ONLY long term man in Odyssey besides Alexios

[writeforself]

Tremor of the Night

Brasidas x Reader

You wake up trembling, not physically; you feel your mind ravaged by disturbance. It was a peaceful night when you fell asleep, there was nothing but the gentle calls of owls, yet now you can hear the wind rampaging through the woods, tearing down branches, displacing feeble withered leaves; and rains pouring down from the sky, flooding the streams, wreaking havoc across the land.

Boreas roars in the dark of the night, sending trepidation into your spine. Zeus throwing a tantrum, interrupts the tranquility with a thumping storm.

You remember the dream earlier; you were changing appearance, shifting identities, and meandering in the cool air. It not only confuses you , but also sends a dreadful fear into your heart. The atmosphere was peaceful and clement in the dream, yet it was like the lull before the storm, the omen of something terrifying. In the end of the dream you were tossed around like a shrivelled brown leaf, flying in solitary in the wide world across the chaotic stream.

In a time like this you become anxious; you start worrying about all sorts of possibilities, about yourself, but mostly about your loved ones. Like grey clouds gradually gathering in the blue sky, like the unsettling silence before a surprising incident, you become fretful for the unknown.

Lighting strikes across the sky. The tiny room suddenly turns pale, like the skin without the vibrant red running beneath, or the white fabric people laid upon a dead man’s face. In an instant the room turns dark again. Your eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. You can feel the darkness pressing down onto you, perhaps it is the pressure from air itself, perhaps it is something else. You want to close your eyes yet you are so petrified you can’t even move a muscle.

There you are, surrounded by darkness. Your eyes cannot get used of the heavy shadow, for the lightning keeps striking uncanny luminance into the room. Nevertheless, you stay awake long enough, long enough for the thunder god finally goes to rest and leaves the darkness alone to wander the land.

Finally, you are able to see in the dark. The world outside has returned to the sweet embrace of slumber. Nothing but silence.

That’s when you realise the other side of the bed is empty.

Where is Brasidas?

Fear creeps back to you, glides across your back and ascends to the back of your head. Turning your head, you look around only to find yourself alone in the vast room. Next to you is an empty bed, the spot is cold. You haven’t got a clue how long he has gone. As much as you can remember he fell asleep before you. In his embrace you fell asleep accompanied by his tender breathing rhythm. You remember how you gradually get used of his breath tickling your ears, and how his arms wrapped you up like a cocoon, when a cool breeze of the night sneaks through the open window, and chases each other out through the door.

But you soon find him sitting by the window; his motionless silhouette blurred by the faint moonlight. Head against the wall, he sits eyes closed. You sit on the other side, suffering in trepidation, staring at him.

You can’t count how many night you have woke up at night and just watched him asleep. Is he sleeping now? You would wonder while waiting to hear air exhaling from his nose and becoming agitated when the length between each breath drags longer. There are nightmares you have of you separating from him, whether by departure or mere death, you always wake up finding tears on your face.

His arched back gently rises and falls— you are finally at ease.

You stay like that for a while, feeling content, watching him asleep. Hypnos has left you for the night, you feel awake; but there is nothing to do, you don’t want to wake him up.

Then like one in a sleepless night, your mind starts to wander. You remember he is going to be sent out on another expedition a few days later. Then come months of nights in solitude. When you wake up in the middle of the night, there will be nothing to comfort your mind. During the day your mind will be occupied, but when night comes, you will fall into a bottomless abyss. You don’t even want to imagine what happens when the worst news arrives. That won’t happen. What he always says to you. If only you can hold on to his assurance forever.

You want to go for a walk. When you reach the door, you accidentally make some noise.

“[Y/N]?” His voice comes from behind, drowsy and hoarse. “Is that you?”

You heard the chair screeching against the floor. In the dark you turn around facing him, still tip toeing by the door, remaining silence.

Then he chuckles wearily. “Come, let’s head back to bed.”

When you reach the bed he is already on it, with his one arm spreading across it, welcoming you to lay beside. You settle down and snuggle into his embrace, just like what you did earlier tonight, when the weather was calm like now.

You feel oddly cosy, as his beard brushes against your face. You can almost indulge yourself in this moment without the troubling mind, almost.

“What were you doing?” He asks, while resting his head on your head. You can feel the vibration of his murmur through your skull. “Looking for you.” You answer, careless brushing your finger across his chest. “Outside?” He laughs softly. “I wanted to go out for a walk.” “At this hour?” “A night walk is a remedy for a disturbed mind.” His arm lies atop you, pulling you closer.

“What about a night walk for two?” “That sounds nice.” Your lips turn into the shape of a beautiful new moon.

“Not tonight though,” The muscles on his arms tense. He whispers as he holds you tighter. “I want to stay with you in bed tonight.”

You think about the storm earlier, about how it contrasts against the tranquility early in the night, about how you were awakened by the thunder, or by the restless stream in the dream, about how you woke up facing emptiness. Placing your head under his chin, you feel sheltered beneath his thick beard. His fingers glide across you back, eventually reach the back of your neck. You can feel his gentleness through his touch, as well as affection, and delicacy.

“Why were you up?” You whisper into his embrace. “Is everything alright?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just plays with the hair at the back of your head. You can imagine how his glittering eyes must have darkened right now. Like he always drops his gaze while he is pondering.

“The storm…” There must be more. “I couldn’t sleep… You?”

“Me too.” You choose not to tell him about the dream. There must be a lot of things on his mind; you don’t want to add more to the list. “Guess we suffer from the same problem.” He chuckles, but sound bitter.

You don’t know how much time has passed since you woke up, but you can hear subtle noises coming from outside; dawn must be near. Another night had passed before his expedition.

“Brasidas…” You cling onto his chest, trying to sound casual with a calm and soft tone. “Let’s have that walk when you come back. Just you and me, walking all day long.”

“I like the sound of that.”

#brasidas x reader #brasidas #ac oddysey #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed odyssey #Assassin's Creed

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[writeforself]

Remembrance [1/?]

Brasidas x Reader

A/N: Did someone say more Brasidas? No? Well, here’s more!!

Brasidas has no idea how long he has been here, in the underworld. After a while the concept of time itself seems to escape from him, like sand slipping through his fingers, as well as the memories of his life. He is conscious that he was once a fearsome warrior, and because of it, he had done something regrettable, which resulted in where he is now.

The words from his father still resonate within his mind from time to time. Although he had stopped thinking about the meaning of it after he was assigned to this task, he is still haunted by it. Sometimes he wonders what Elysium could be, and ponders on the definition of honour. Nonetheless, it is pointless for such question down here. 

Once in a while he would try to remember the previous life beyond violence and bloodshed, past honour and glory; he tries to memorise the beauty of his home state, of harmony and grace of nature, of the people he once loved dearly. Nevertheless, after spending so much time in the underworld, surrounded by misery and wailing, he cannot remember much of the life before.

The only thing that he could remember vividly is the grandeur of the golden fields. How he used to spend his spare time lying on the hills watching the tranquility; the sound of the wind sweeping across the field; the smell of the early autumn that traveled far with the cool breeze; and how the stars sang their lullaby to help him sleep beneath the twinkling canvas. Hypnos doesn’t visit the underworld, but Brasidas still slips into slumber from time to time. When he has time to sleep, he would have dreams of himself treading upon the yellow carpet, of himself hovering high in the cloudless sky among the shining waves. Yet every time he wakes up from those dreams, he would feel a sense of loss, emptiness, like most of the seconds he spent down here, weariness devours him like waking up in a dark winter morning.

But in the underworld, memories fades away like ripples above a windless lake. When duty comes, nothing else matters.

***

“Safe Journey.”

Brasidas waves at the recently reunited couple that are on their way to cross the river. These are the few enjoyable moments for his life in the underworld. He stays and watches them handing the coins to Charon, and be on their way, hand in hand with a toddler between them. 

Turns out he is very adept at reuniting broken families. Maybe it is due to his exceptional observation ability that he had acquired in the previous life as a general, or the strong emotional pneuma that comes from those people. Until now, he has always fulfilled the tasks with efficiency and accuracy. Sometimes he even has time to perform a quest or two for the busy ferryman Charon.

 “You are just as helpful as your friend.”

Brasidas has just helped another lost soul navigate its way across the river. Charon is in a good mood. Smile doesn’t appear on his face everyday. The queue in front of the dock has finally shortened. It has been a busy day—helping an elder realised her passing, leading a warrior to his glory, guiding an orphan to find his parents— it certainly is the busiest day Brasidas can remember.

However, this friend Charon mentioned, Brasidas can still remember clearly how she helped him find his way in the underworld. Without her help, he would still be trapped on that battlefield, fighting until eternity, soaked in boiling blood and stinging sand. Sometimes he wonders what happened to her after everything. He could not remember her name or face, but the way she fights, resonates through his mind. His memory echoes like a distant chanting, vague and away. After all, he had met many exceptional fighters in his mortal life.

“Well, if you need my help. You know where I am.”

He waves at the ferryman with a tired smile and starts walking south toward the cradle.

Shrouded by the clouds, the sun hangs in the sky, halfway through the middle, never rising nor falling. The light always seems to be dim in the underworld, lingers within the strangest hour of a day, too early and too late. The only purpose of the wind that sweeps across this deserted field is to blow sand into travellers’ eyes. Already accustomed to life in the underworld, Brasidas walks by the dusty road with his eyes half opened. When he reaches the river banks, he would stop to feel the coolness of the water, it is the few leisures he could find.

“Ah there you are. Just the one I’m looking for.”

Hades appears from nowhere behind him. But Brasidas has already familiarised himself with the tricks this god likes to play with him. He turns and bows gently as the god of the underworld gradually descends to the ground. The air always feels frozen where he emerges.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” Hades smirks at his response.  “Oh? What gives it away?” “Just an instinct.” “If you are curious,” The air feels warmer as the smile arises on that stern pale face. “I have spent some quality time with my dear queen.”

Yet the warmth soon vanishes, and the usual coldness crawls into Brasidas’ bones.

“Anyway, I have a task for you.” “A task?.” His voice remains flat to constrain any emotions.

“Yes. I see you have been helping our dear ferryman. Since some of his tasks eventually fall into your hands,” He lowers his gaze down onto Brasidas, trying to figure out some reactions. “I thought, why not just order you directly?”

Care not to provide any detail, Hades raises his glowing scythes and points north, he continues without patience.

“The village at the north end of the field. Do what you must.” Then he vanishes into the dusty winds.

***

Brasidas couldn’t figure out whether Hades approves he helping Charon. Hades can be easy to read sometimes. He tends to set up a few torture shows when he’s in a bad mood. Especially when he loses bets with his brothers, or when he has a quarrel with that queen of his. Days like that the entire underworld would experience the fury from its dual rulers. On the other hand, when he’s pleased he would grant wishes for the lucky mortals—so has Brasidas heard, he never has the chance to witness such occasion so far.

Brasidas walks pass the newly arrived souls and ventures toward the opposite direction others are heading. During his time in the underworld he has yet seen any souls marching with pleasure. All of them march with a dreadful pace; their gaze fixed onto their steps; every step they take consume all of their strength, carving marks onto the ground, until eventually tucked under layers of trails.

When the village appears in his vision, he hears Charon calling for him not far away. He turns and realises there’s a small dock by the shore. Few souls come for this dock. There are only a dozen of them scattered by the road, each of them staring or toying with the drachmes in their burnt hands. Charon stands at the front of the line with a scroll in hand. He waves at Brasidas and signals him to come closer.

“Didn’t expect you to see you here.” Charon chuckles without raising his head. It sounds empty like the eyes of the souls lining behind.

“Hades asked me to come here, for another lost soul.” He answers and points at the village lying in ruins up ahead.

Charon raises his head as soon as he hears the name of lord of the underworld. But Brasidas can sense nothing in those bottomless black eyes. Nothing can escape or enter those pairs of eyes. The only clue Brasidas receive was Charon’s amusing reply as he draws a long dark line on the scroll.

“Oh, that mad one... I was going to ask you to help me with that too.” He drags his sentence as he leaves the line.

“Do you know anything? Hades didn’t say much.” Unlike Hades who enjoys trickery, Charon usually provides some tips for Brasidas’ task. But Charon merely frowns at his request this time.

“The only thing I can say is that this one is related to your main job. I guess that’s why Hades went straight to you for this one.” “Separated by war?” Brasidas mutters to himself.

“Go on then. Hades wouldn’t like you wasting time in idleness.” Charon urges Brasidas to move on before he calls for the other souls to stand in front of him.

Brasidas marches on thinking about the meaning behind their words. When he realises he is already standing in the middle of this desolate village. There is an uncanny atmosphere in this village like most of the uninhabited location in the underworld.

He looks around but couldn’t find any trace of person. Then he ventures on to the higher part of the village. Finally, among the muffled moans that drift along the river, he hears a small, almost imperceivable laugh coming down from the house next to the river.

That is you, covered in crimson, standing by the river. Your eyes glimmers when your body moves along with your soft chuckle. And you haven’t noticed Brasidas approaching you. He is baffled by your behaviour. It has been a while since the last time Brasidas saw a genuine smile. He remembers how he used to laugh under a bright summer sky, or during a chilly winter morning.

“Chaire.” The way your head turn feels like it’s all happening in slow motion. The smile on your face does not disappear when you hear his voice. It remains, like a stranded whale clings onto every bit of water. But those eyes, they shine with such lustre. “May I ask you what are you laughing about?”

You seem unsurprised at all when a stranger sneaks up from behind and asks you such a peculiar question. Brasidas could not find a word to describe his feelings. The only thing he could think of is the first meal after a long and tedious battle. He savours every particle of joy he could find.

“Just some silly memories.” You chuckle and continue, like you are talking to an old friend. “I used to spend time by the river during summer.”

If he is a free man, he would like to listen to you for eternity. He wishes to remain silent and admire the way you talk with such vibrance. It is a refreshing scene in the underworld. But he has a job to do.

“I see…” He mutters, thinking about how to break the news to you, because you don’t seem to know. “May I ask what you are doing here?”

“Just resting, river brings me such fond memories.” He sees a fragment of disappointment flashes through your eyes. Maybe you already have the idea? He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “I must be on my way. I’m meeting someone.”

“How did you get here?” He wants to be sure. “I’ve traveled a long way!” You answered with delight. “I’ve never traveled so far before.”

Yet your answer only uncovered more mysteries. Is it why Charon used the word “mad”?

“Where are you going? I may be able to help.” Somehow it would pain him to watch the lustre gradually fades away in your eyes, darkens with ambiguity like the ambivalent sun in the sky.

“Somewhere…” For a moment the smile is wiped away from your face. The muscle on your cheeks twitches while you ponder on the answer. “Somewhere… we promised each other to meet… somewhere…” You stop breathing after the last syllable. Standing, and shivering like you are being watched by the gorgons.

“Why don’t I take you to look around?” He takes your hand and has no idea why he does it. Nevertheless, when he senses the intense quivers from your arm, he only strengthens his grips. As far as he can remember, it seems to provide assurance. “I’m quite familiar with this part.”

“That would be wonderful! I’ve always wanted to travel with someone.” You snapped back to the captivating expression, like nothing had happened.

Although enchanted by your outlandish behaviour, Brasidas has not forgotten his task to help you find your way. He chooses his every word and step carefully because of a story he once heard regarding a lost soul. A story of how the devastating truth can damn the soul to an eternity of drifting. With no purpose, no memory, no thought of their own, like a madman driven into insanity, lost forever. He would never let that happen. At the same time he is befuddled by his determination.

“Let’s go then.” He didn’t know he still has the ability to smile. Not until now, when the muscle on his forehead softens and his lips press against each other to form a charming shape of a new moon. “He’s waiting.”

tbc...

#brasidas x reader #brasidas #assassin's creed imagine #ac oddysey #assassin's creed odyssey #Assassin's Creed

[writeforself]

Hearts of Wolves [4/4]

Brasidas x Reader

Warning: angst

A/N: Finally! Took me some time but finally! This one is over 3k, take your time. Hope you have enjoyed it.

The two of you take action as soon as Helios begins another day. First you go around the town collecting information on the bandit group. Some townspeople look frightened when you mention the group, some drive you away, some condemn you for bringing misfortune onto them, only a few whispers useful information to you.

Then you gather by the temple to share your findings. The bandits are located in the mountains between Megaris and Attika. People said they originally escaped from Lakonia, which might explain their shared hatred with Athens toward Sparta. After the clash in Megaris, they seemed to have made a deal with the Athenian army—ambushing small Spartan camps and scouts to weaken nearby Spartan army, which seemed to work quite effectively after the Spartan general was transferred to Boeotia. With the pace of this operation, the Athenian plans to reclaim Megaris in the near future. Brasidas certainly won’t let that happen. Not when he has the power and will to stop the operation and reinforce the Spartan army here.

Yet what worries you is not the state of the Spartan army, it has never been your concern, not even after you joined in the army. You have only two things in mind. The identity of the bandits and the safety of Brasidas. After spending these few days with him, you come to realise your fondness for him has grown stronger. You know he can protect himself. Brasidas is more than capable. After all, Nikolaos doesn’t just praise any soldier.

But you couldn’t just leave him alone. You couldn’t leave a person you care on his own, not again. Nothing good ever happened when you left someone you care alone.

You remember the night. The general, you late pater, sent you to pick up flowers for dinner, for a celebration of a festival. It was the last time you saw him. You didn’t know the meaning of that bitter smile on his face then. But you soon found out, with a feast of blood unfolded in front of you upon your return. You caught a glimpse of the perpetrators. One of them even looked back to you, he was much different from the others that were hurrying away. He walked calmly, wearing clothes with bright colours; he looked back and saw you standing idly. The smile on his face you would never forget. Like a deer targeted by a hunter, the sharpness of his gaze carved into you like a frozen knife.

Much of what happened after you cannot remember. Nikolaos came later and took you in. The incident was dealt quietly. One day when Nikolaos came back from a mission, he sat by the table and wept in silence. But you pretended that you saw nothing. You never asked why he took you in. The only thing you can remember of him is that he was close to your late pater. None of those matter now, anyway. Most of them are gone.

“They say the leader of the bandits come here alone at night. Maybe we should check out their camp first?” Brasidas asked. But your mind drifts away. “What do you think?” He turns to you, notices your far away look. “[Y/N]?”

You feel a grip on your arm.

“Yes… I mean, what?” You turn to him, looking confused. He seems worried, you don’t know why. “Are you okay?” His words full of concern, warmth. “Ye, yes, I am fine.” You reply. That smile in the dark still occupies your mind. “So what do you think? Let’s go scout out their camp first?” “Lead the way.” “Great, let’s go now.”

You stumble behind him in the forest. These hills post no challenge to you, yet since your mind is occupied, your steps drag and tumble. Along the way, you merely stare at Brasidas’ back and listening closely trying to spot any sounds besides the melody of nature. As his movements turn careful, you grow more alert. Widening your ears and eyes, you hear laughters.

“There.” Brasidas stops and whispers.

He squats and points at the top of the hills, where a camp stands looking down the road beneath. You cannot see how many of them there are, you can see only a few of them standing next to empty cages, and a face you would never forget.

That night. That smile. A lifeless body with a face barely recognisable.

You can feel your muscles tighten, shiver, but you cannot fathom the emotion. Is it hatred? Is it fear? It’s not important. You try to convince yourself. Yet you can’t help but stare at that face, at the man who seems to be different from anyone around him, who stands idly by the cliff looking down the road, whose cunning smile sends chills down your spine, who you cannot move away your stare.

Pressing down the emotion boiling inside, you grab Brasidas’ hand and dash down the hills, while making sure no one notice or follow you. You run all the way down to the coastline where no one is around but the two of you.

Sea murmurs beneath you. The dazzling lights above the surface of the vast blue calm you down. Brasidas has said nothing. He simply stands next you in silence, while you are catching your breath.

“I need to tell you something.”  The sea wind is soothing; your heartbeats has returned to its usual rhythm. But the phrases are stuck in your throat. “Easy there.” He gently puts his hand on your shoulder. His whispers drifts into your ears along with the wind. “Take your time.”

“I want to take down the bandit leader.” After a few minutes you finally speak. In his eyes you see confusion, astonishment, anything but a clear answer. So you continue. “They say he goes to the temple at night alone, right? I am going to take him down, right there.”

He frowns upon your request. His hand remains on your shoulder, the grip strengthens.

Then he takes a step back. Puts his hands behind him like he always does. Straightening his posture, he looks down to the ground, to the sea, and finally to you.

“I need a reason for such a dangerous task.” Although understandable, you can’t help but show disappointment. Seeing the frustration in your eyes, he walks towards you and continues. “I remember you once told me of your hatred toward bandits. Does it have something to do with that?”

Taking a deep breath, you can feel the muscles on your face shiver. Your expression must seem terrifying right now. The twitches of the muscles alone give you discomfort. You gesture Brasidas to sit next to you. Then you place the bow in front of him. The bow that save your lives countless times.

You don’t know where to start. Lips trembling, you try to give him the reason, tell him the story, the identity of the bandits. But nothing comes to your mind, but that disfigured face covered in crimson, and that smile gleaming ghostly by the firelight.

Then you feel something landing on your hand which is gripping tightly onto the bow. Brasidas lays his hand on yours.

“Is it…” He questions but soon ceases. His hand remains on yours. The warmth calms you down. The rough texture of his fingers brushing gently across the back of your hand. Finally he continues. “Is it about your pater? I mean not Nikolaos. But the general before him.”

“How much do you know?” His query feels like a relief. “They said he died on the battlefield. But rumour said he was murdered…” He frowns, like he is piecing the fragments inside his mind. “That man, who stood by the camp...” Your eyes widen. “He is the one right? The one who killed the general.”

You couldn’t utter anything. So you simply nod, hoping to hear his approval. But deep inside you know it will not be this easy. “No.” Not surprising. “I..” He sighs. “I can’t let you do it alone. It’s too dangerous.”

He turns away to the sea. You cannot observe his expression. His mind is racing, somehow you can feel it. But “No” is not the right answer for you. You look for his approval, but rejection will not stop you.

“I have to do it.” “For what? Vengeance?” You can sense exasperation in his tone. Yet cannot fathom his response. Somehow you want to tell him it is your own business. But you repress the urge to say that. “No.” Or yes? You don’t really know. But vengeance is surely not what Brasidas would want to hear. “For reconciliation.” Close enough. “With whom?” His voice lowers. Like a withered leaf landing onto the ground, weary and bewildered. “With myself I guess… I don’t know.”

Eventually you will eliminate the bandits with Brasidas and destroy that man. You don’t know why you can’t wait. You only know you can’t stand with the thought of that man wandering around for one more night after you saw him. Maybe it is vengeance. You just want it to sound better, to convince yourself the deed is noble.

“Listen, I have a plan… I’m going to inform the nearest Spartan camp. And we will destroy them together. All of them. You can have that man…” He turns to you and adds. “Just… wait for me at the town tonight. And we will take them down together as soon as I am back with a group of soldiers.”

You know you can’t argue with him. There’s no solid reason to reject his plan, just an impulse. An impulse you could not conquer.

“I know it is a hard request.” While you were contemplating, he moves closer to you. When you realised, he is holding your face, looking right into your eyes. Those cheeks have never felt hotter. “But please, wait for me.”

“I don’t want to you leave.” You speak without thinking. You’re tired of thinking. You voice breaks. “I can’t let you go alone.” “Hey.” He lays his forehead on yours. You have never been so close to him before. It is weirdly comforting. “Do you trust me?”

He smiles. You know the answer but cannot reply. You cannot even look him in the face for what you are about to do. “Of course I do, but…”

Pulling you into him, he stops you with an embrace. The sky and the sea are mesmerising. It felt like you have never seen anything more beautiful.

“That‘s good enough for me.” He pulls away, looking at you with that smile that can brighten up a dark winter day. The confidence, the assurance, if only those could put your mind at ease.

“I will be back as soon as possible. Just wait for me.” He stands up, gathers his equipments. “See you at the temple.”

Then he runs west, into the woods, into the unknown.

You stand up, still trembling, looking toward the thick green he disappeared in. Picking up the bow you take another glance to west. And move back to town. The sun is still high in the sky. Tonight’s battle will be different from those you have ever faced. You will meet him, face to face. No hiding, no tricking. You have to be prepared.

***

Time flies when you are occupied. Before gaining the confidence to face the bandit leader, Helios has already ended another day. The area around the temple is unusually quieter than the previous nights. You can smell fear in the air, but cannot be certain whether it comes from you or all the others.

As the night grows darker, you see a torch flickering in the dark, moving closer to the temple. Finally, you see his face lightening up by the torchlight; that dreadful night comes back to you. The leader is not alone, with two guards beside him, they walk into the temple.

You think about Brasidas’ words, his touches, his embrace, his confidence, his smile before he went into the woods. Unsettled with guilts, you follow them into the building.

Trailing behind them you ascend to the second floor of the building as soon as you enter. You hide behind the pillar and watch them from the shadow. There was no praying nor talking, merely the cracking sound of burning woods. Then you decide to take the shots. After all, you have to take care of the two obstacle first.

With two shots, the guards fall on the floor. You tread down the stairs slowly. The leader cautiously turns back to face you, until you finally reach your destination, blocking the entrance with yourself. Behind the leader is the small temple of the goddess resting in this vast structure.

Now you are face to face against him, the smile still hanging on his shriveled face disturbs you.

“You are interrupting me.” Flat without emotion, he doesn’t seem surprised. “That’s the intention.” You stretch the bowstring.

He manner changes when you notice your movements. Now he looks amused. Without utterance he takes one step toward you, trying to get a closer look.

“That bow…” He attempts to approach even closer, but you direct the arrow to his forehead, forcing him to stop only two steps away from you. “So it is you...”

He sneers, and turns away from you, walking back to the temple.

“I heard Nikolaos raised you up? How goes that?” Pacing in front of the temple, he pays no attention on the situation, standing on the brink of death. “Oh wait, he went missing in Megaris. How unfortunate.”

Notice your silence he turns to you. Somehow you still feel like a prey being devoured by dread. You could not speak.

“Quiet type, huh?” He laughs, hollow like the winter zephyr. “Let me guess then… You want revenge? Maybe some answers?”

Perhaps you only need one. Yet you want two.

“Well, count yourself lucky. I am willing to give you one of them tonight.” As he speaks, he gestures into the air, and looks behind you. Before you can react, a cold blade already stands at your throat, digging into your skin.

In your hands still hold your bow. Nevertheless, you cannot aim straight anymore, nor have the determination to shoot him in the face. For some reasons, Brasidas is the only person you could think of at the moment, hoping he could have your back.

“There’s really not much to it. He was in my way, the general, that pater of yours. Although I have to admit, I had overdone it. Having the Wolf himself to lead a pack of savages after me was never my intention.” He shrugs, still smiling. “And now this? I should have just killed you both and fed you to wolves.”

Every word of his drives the knife by your neck deeper. At last you lower your bow. Pointlessness, vain, it’s all you can think of.

“Take it away.” He turns his back to you and waves. “Kill it, give it to the fanatics, I don’t care. Get rid of it. Don’t make a mess here.”

Still facing the leader, the person behind you pulls you back. You think about struggle, sneak the dagger onto your hands and stab the person constraining you. But you couldn’t find the strength to do it. You hope to express your gratitude to Brasidas, for making the past few days one of the best time in your life. Perhaps you could still do it.

“Shoot his leg.” You heard a whisper. It is close. “I have your back.” The knife is sheathed. You feel a pat behind.

So you take it, as soon as you feel the assurance the arrow flies, piercing through his leg. He screams and falls heavily onto the wooden floor. It is when he starts crawling you finally see the soldiers hiding in the dark. And the person behind you walk into the light.

“Who are you?” His voice cracks. Intense breathing breaks the smile on his face. “Just another Spartan.” Brasidas reaches to your bow, lowering it down.

As he speaks, the Spartan soldiers come forward to tie up the leader. They leave the arrow inside his thigh to keep more blood from spilling onto the ground. With every violent move the leader led out a groan.

Eventually he looks up to you, with an expression you’ve never seen before.

“You must be enjoying this.” His face twisted into an ugly smile, filled with pain yet covered with ecstasy as well. Then he starts laughing, or crying, you can’t tell anymore.

“Take him away! Out of the city.” Brasidas shouts. “Sir?” “Do whatever you see fit.” He sighs. Directing you away from the scene, pulling you out of the temple.

The moment you see the moonlight, you throw your bow on the ground. You can’t control your hands from shivering. Holding them so tight you can feel the fingernails digging into palms. But you don’t care about the physical anguish, you just want to wash away what you just witnessed.

Something else comes to your mind. You turn and look straight into Brasidas’ eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Apologising without hesitation. “I broke your trust. You told me to wait but I didn’t. I didn’t even think of keeping the promise. I don’t deserve...” “It’s alright.” He takes you hands, still shaking, still red from the suffocation. “I didn’t think you would. So I ran as fast as I can.” His smile is like a beacon. “Glad I made it on time.” “You are not disappointed?” “A little bit. But I understand. If it was me, I might do the same.” “But I don’t deserve your trust. I…” “No, don’t think that way…” He chuckles. “The important thing is, you are still in one piece. Safe. That’s all I need.”

“You are not mad?” “Not at all. If anything, I was afraid.” He turns away for a second, before returning with a bright grin. “But it’s okay now. I came back for you on time.”

Finally you smile too. With he being so optimistic, you can’t help but rejoice.

“Besides, I still need someone to go back to Korinth with me. Didn’t you say you won’t let me go alone?” “I did, didn’t I?” You chuckle. “I should keep my promise this time.”

At last you remember about you bow, you turn around but see it lies broken on the stone paved ground. After all these years, it finally breaks.

“It’s broken.” Brasidas lets out a sigh and runs to pick it up. He holds with delicacy and presents it to you. “It’s fine…” You take it from his hand, scrutinising the damages-- a broken string and scratches on the bow itself. “Just need some fixing.”

An idea comes to your mind.

“Brasidas, are you in a hurry to get back to Korinth?” You ask with a smirk. “It can wait.” “While my bow gets fixed. Can you teach me fighting? I’ve learned a lot from Nikolaos before but…“ I want to spend more time with you. “It would be great to learn more from a hero like you.”

“Well… I might not be a great mentor like Nikolaos. But I will be happy to be with you…” Suddenly he stutters. Perhaps it’s the torchlight, his face seems redder than usual.” Uh... I mean teach you more.”

“Great.” You giggle, putting the broken bow on your back. “One last thing.”

Leaning closer to him, his warm breath grazes the tip of your nose. Then you bury your face on his shoulder, whispering into his ears.

“Thank you. And...” I love you? No, you decide it’s too early for that. “Hm?” Noticing your half-finished sentence he waits for you to continue. “Never-mind. Just… thank you, for saving me.”

His embrace tightens, you’ve never been held like this. As if you would melt into him in any second. Secured, belonged, cherished, loved.

#brasidas x reader #brasidas #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed odyssey #ac oddysey #Assassin's Creed

[writeforself]

Hey guys it’s been a while, I can’t even remember the last fanfic I was writing without checking the content haha

Anyyway, I hope I can finish this one next week. Here’s something from it. It’s about Brasidas, again haha

“How he used to spend his spare time lying on the hills watching the tranquility; the sound of the wind sweeping across the field; the smell of the early autumn that traveled far with the cool breeze; and how the stars sang their lullaby to help him sleep beneath the twinkling canvas. Hypnos doesn’t visit the underworld, but Brasidas still slips into slumber from time to time.“

Have a great days guys :)

sincerely, a tired me

#brasidas x reader #brasidas #rambling

[writeforself]

Hearts of Wolves [1/4]

Brasidas x Reader

A/N: This one is going to be slow, development and writing process both. 

Standing by the Adrestia, at a small harbour in Korinthia, you usher Phoibe onto the ship. You are appointed with the grand task by your step sister, Kassandra, to escort Phoibe safely back to Athens, despite the protest of Phoibe’s, as well as your unfamiliarity with this city you once fought against.

Across the gulf, there stands the legendary Salamis, and beyond lies the great city of Athens. Not long ago you visited Athens for the first time, along with your newly acquainted step sister. It was a troubled time for both of you, so you weren’t in the mood to savour the grandeur of the city. You actually spent the whole time at the Piraeus, gazing at the great wall, and a glimpse of acropolis, from the ship far away.

“I wonder where pater is now.”

After the confrontation between Kassandra and your step-pater, Nikolaos the Wolf of Sparta, he disappeared. As the special guard of his, you witnessed the whole event and asked to travel with Kassandra. Hated to face your step brother Stentor alone, you left Megaris as well, with Kassandra, without a trace. It had been a while since then, sometimes you muse about the reaction Stentor might have. Never were the two of you close, yet after all he had done a decent job being a brother, before pater appointed you.

The roaring waves of the sea, hitting the dock perpetually with a hypnotising rhythm; you ponder on the decisions you had made. Leaving Sparta behind was easy for you; if the story they told were true, you probably weren’t even a Spartan. Nevertheless, there is something you think about when you are on the sea, or in the land afar. A person actually; an acquaintance to be more precise.

“ [Y/N] can I take the helm?” A voice breaks your thought, it is Phoibe. “Sure, why don’t you ask Barnabas to help you get to know Adrestia more first?”

With a squeak of excitement, she runs off like a wind and boards the ship. From a distance, you could see Barnabas standing at the far end of the ship, holding a bowl of wine as always, and being frightened by the sudden energy that Phoibe pours onto him. Yet they soon recognise each other as kindred spirits.

“By the gods.” You hear a familiar voice coming from behind, but out of cautious, you keep your hand closely by the dagger which was hidden carefully around your waist. You have heard he is stationed in Korinth, but you didn’t expect to meet him. You didn’t even anticipate him to remember you. Turning around, you meet with his amber eyes, bright as the chariot of Helios. “It is you!”

“Captain Brasidas,” As soon as you meet his eyes, you shift your gaze to the ground, as if you are bowing out of courteous. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Although you have only met in a brief occasion, his voice left a profound imprint in your mind. He looks much the same as if he is walking out of your memory. Enchanted by his presence you can barely maintain your poise. His hair and beard stand firmly despite the warm sea wind, but the short braid dangling behind evokes a gentle smile on your face. Yet you do not understand the reason behind your delight.

“The ghost child of the wolf.” He quickly draws close to you and gives you a pat on the back, which soon turns into a cordial embrace.The strength he possess transforms into friendliness and livens up your spirits. “Great to meet you again.”

The ghost child, the name that people gave you back in Sparta. They never said that in front of you, only whisper into the winds. Perhaps it was because you were never really around; moving across the fields and hills like a phantom, appearing out of nowhere. They barely approved you existence because of your background and the eccentric bow you carried around. Perhaps it was the reason Nikolaos assigned you as his special guard, to protect him out of conspirators’ sight. He’s gone now, no one left to protect.

Meeting his gaze once more brings nostalgia. The day you met him was a sunny one like today.

***

Before you were appointed as the special guard, you spent your time wandering around the forests and mountains of Lakonia, running across the field like Atlanta. Although each excursion only exchanged scolding from Nikolaos, and scoffing from Stentor, you would always set out for another exploration.

From time to time you had been told of your background again and again--found in the forest outside of Lakonia with the bow by another Spartan general, and was taken under Nikolaos wing after that general died on battlefield. Nikolaos was a great pater; you were fortunate enough to be adopted in a fretful time like that. As for Sparta, they took you in but never as one of their own.

So there you were. Concealed yourself from the eyes of people, yet eager to appreciate this land you were supposed to call home. Across the meadows, down the creeks, along the hills, up to the peaks, all over Lakonia. Stilly, you would crouch in the bushes, watching others undertook the relentless trainings, seeing some of them being torn apart by the ruthless wolves, which always made you run back home and fall into silence for days. Yet if there’s one thing you realized growing up in Sparta, that is it’s better to be torn apart by wolves, than by men.

Sometimes you dwelled on the stories you overheard, about the family Nikolaos once had. A family torn apart with his own hands. You never bothered to ask, because you could see the torment resting deep in his eyes. Like a wolf, too proud to expose his agony, he concealed it deep inside. Sometimes you two would sit beside the bonfire, watching the logs cracked and dismantled; like two injured wolves seeking consolation. He used to say he took you in because he saw himself in you, which you could never grasp with such idea.

One time you reached the border of the city, resting upon the hills near the statues of Castor and Pollux, looking at the vast forest lying far away, which extended beyond horizon. To the east across the glittering sea, along the rocky coastline nestled another colossal forest. Sometimes you muse about the location you were found; Was it on the land of golden crops? Or was it on the land of healing?

You tread further down the hill. The breeze soared up along the elevation; for a moment you felt like an eagle gliding high along the peaks, through the land and across the sea, traversing aimlessly in this boundless world.

“The ghost child of the wolf.” Pulled back from the reverie, you raised your bow to the source of the voice promptly. Despite being taught to act without hesitation, you were grateful you haven’t always been an obedient type. “It’s an honour.”

Not the word you expected to hear from a man being pointed by an arrow. He approached eagerly; after a gracious nod he reached out for a handshake, which did not receive an immediate response. Instead, you withdrew the arrow and took a step back.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” He gave up on the handshake, and placed behind him with grace. Beside Nikolaos, you’ve never seen a man acts in such solemnity. “Plus, I don’t think we’re acquainted.”

Unlike the aggression you usually encountered, his reaction was refreshing, which ignited your curiosity. An unfamiliar sentiment rose inside your bosom, when you saw he bursted into a soft laughter.

“My apology.” He laughed, still sustaining the elegance he possessed. “My name is Brasidas. I have heard a lot about you.” “I’m sure you do.”

You lowered your guard when he introduced himself because you had heard about his outstanding performance during training. But decided to ignore him, you threw the bow back on your back, then made your way further down the slope, and found a perfect spot near the cliff, to luxuriate in the sensational view of the bay and the Aegean Sea. Islands scattered across the azure serenity.  Usually you were alone to relish this tranquility.

“Nikolaos said great things about you.” He chose to join in. You were astounded by how peaceful you felt about his presence, a stimulating contentment, without alienation.

“He does?” Before you could protest, he had already settled comfortably next to you. Peeking at this expression with the corner of your eye, you waited for his answer.

“Yes, a cub with great potential he said.” Not like others’, treating you like an exotic beast, his stare is gentle and genuine. He looked straight ahead, at the coastline, at the cliffs, or at the immeasurable blue, before turning back to you. “What are you doing here?” “Pondering,” Picking up a tiny stone, you threw it off the cliff. “Alone.”

“I’m sorry if you feel bothered.” You saw him turned away, his gaze shifting on the ground. “I just happen to see you here. And want to meet you in person after hearing so much from Nikolaos.”

“Don’t worry.” A subtle smile naturally came upon your lips, which was uncommon for you in the face of a stranger. “It’s an unusual path for a hike though, predators are common in this part.” “It is. But I see you are already familiar with this part.” He replied. “Yes, I come here a lot. I’ve been to every corner in Lakonia, but I like here the best.”

The snowy mountain peaks, the furthest south of Peloponnese, the streams running across the land then into the sea, nothing can compare with the hills that leads to another strange yet familiar landscape.

“The view is quite extraordinary.” He said, stretching his legs in front of him, glancing at the sky. “Yet I feel like you didn’t come here for the view.” “Nikolaos is not lying, your intuition is impressive.” He chuckled. “Why are you here then?” Your tone remained flat. “Guess I will need a hand. Come.”

He jumped up from his seat in such agility as if the wind just lifted him up like a bird ascending. Without a second utterance he walked toward north, down the slope, en route to the forest where Lakonia meets with Arkadia.

And you follow behind, with indecision in mind.

tbc...

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