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erzsebetrosztoczy · 3 months

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saw your requests are open. If its not ignore this .

can u do AC Valhalla hytham x reader ? Maybe reader is evior sibling? And hytham is falling for them but is shy to confess . They fall in love and basim is like :

Amongst hidden ruins

I am so sorry for the long wait I was havig life and death situation with uni I didn't consider that would be there but I hope I can make it up to you by offering a 3 part slow burn?? Ya girl is trying I promise🙈🙉🙊

Pairing: Hytham x reader

Word count: ~16k

Genre: fluff, awkward fluff, idiots in love

Warnings: none, except if you count me not knowing what im doing???

Note: Shy Hytham is canon to me, let he be nervous and giddy with his crush🤌❤️. Also, Basim with his wolf dad energy 100% supports his adopted son like "i teach you how to be an assassin, now i teach you how to rizz, boy" and Eivor finally can live through what Sigurd needed to, aka being the older sibling and they will quickly find out why Siggy has eyebags lmfaoo

Being related to the leaders of the Raven Clan was not easy. Especially when it came to two battle-hardened brothers. From the dawn of your life, you had to have someone by your side to keep you from being "hurt." First came the cautionary orders of your father Styrbjörn, which you cannot remember unless it is from Tekla's evening stories. Taking in and raising a newborn baby with two troublemaker squirrels aged a lot on your fathers, even during the early winters of your lives. Then, as you were growing, Prince Sigurd's sense of duty began to surface, and who else could he begin directing, rebuking, and protecting than his youngest sibling. Most of your childhood thus consisted of tramping in your eldest brother's heels, holding his hand, and obeying when he forbade you something. And just when you thought your troubled years would cease to exist as you grew up, Eivor's pestration began.

"I'm just saying it doesn't hurt to call Randvi next time. More eyes see more, more blades cut more." Eivor continued as he dodged those who came across him, trying to catch up with you, who was trying to get rid of his brother with wide steps. You rolled your eyes grumbling as you picked up a bucket from the riverbank, heading towards the stables.

"Eivor, last time, I just went riding for an hour. To the neighboring fields. If you climbed up the top of the Longhouse you would have seen it!" You patted it over your shoulder as you trampled up the path of the settlement.

"Yes, but Tove reported that Saxon bandits are passing nearby lately and-" "Eivor, I don't need a nanny! I can defend myself. I might as well show you how good I am." You raised your voice a little harder than you wanted as you spun back, defiantly shouting into his face. Eivor backed up with wide open eyes, raising his arms to the surrender.

"Hey, hey, you have no reason to yell at your brother, little one. I just want the best for you." Eivor's voice sounded suspiciously metallic, sarcastic. You knew he was almost certainly taking your words half-heartedly.

"And if you want any good for yourself, you'd better shut your mouth before I stuff it with Gunnar's footcloth!" Your fingers and fists almost turned white from the effort you used to hold the bucket close to your chest – you had to concentrate very hard not to hit your brother's head with it.

"You talk like you have a chance to beat me." Eivor chuckled to himself in a pitiful grin.

"Listen here, you smartass, Sigurd entrusted you with the leadership of the Clan, not that some blister-headed—"

"I think it will be enough of spreading curses for today. Otherwise, Valka won't be able to make enough talismans for all of us if you keep going like this." In your big arguments, you didn't even notice that Randvi walked next to you. She looked at the two of you with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe a retreat would be good.”

"But Randvi, don't you hear that Eivor runs to me at the slightest crack of a stick to see if I'm still alive? Can't you see that even though I've had the same training as him in our childhood, he acts like I'm a defenseless baby? " You turned to Randvi in desperation, not even paying attention to the water, whether it would stay in your bucket or not.

Your sister in law looked back at you with a pursed mouth. Please, be the more mature one. Reflected in her gaze.

Why do you always have to take the shortcut, for the sake of peace?

You nodded with an annoyed sigh.

"Alright." You grunted in agreement turning back to Eivor, but your flaming stare could have almost scorched him. "Next time I'll tell someone to come with me when I leave home. Okay?"

Eivor's face softened, his eyes sparkling with joy as he grinned in satisfaction.

"Perfect, little sister." He almost sang it as he straightened his back and walked off as if he had done his job well.

"I'll drown him in Tekla's beer one day, you'll see." You fumed at Randvi as you watched with narrowed eyes your brother’s leave.

Randvi laughed hearing this, and patted your shoulder. "Don't be so angry with him, he really only wants good for you." She said apologetically, voice full with kindness.

"His desire for good crushes me. He suffocates me with his fear. No one could live that way." You answered defiantly, speaking from your heart. When will the moment finally come when you can live your life for yourself and no one else?

You sighed dejectedly, then lifted the wooden bucket to your side again. "..I'd better reload this." You muttered, then waved goodbye to Randvi and turned back towards the water.

It seemed to be a long day ahead of you.

That night you felt like all the joy had been drained from you. Despite the feast, time passed grimly. Despite the music, singing and celebration, you couldn't cheer up - the meat felt tasteless in your mouth.

Since what happened in the morning, you didn't even want to see your brother, specifically for that reason you went to the other side of the longhouse, where you won't even accidentally come under Eivor's watchful eye.

You wondered what you should do to make your brother's overbearing subside.

"Is this seat up to take?" A question came to you behind your back. At first it crossed your mind that it could just be Eivor, that he can't even leave you alone while eating, but then you realized that the voice asking the question sounded much softer than your brother's thunderous one.

You turned around and found yourself facing Hytham's slender figure. He wore his usual white caftan, but now the hood did not cover his lush brown curls. In the darkness, the light of the fire showed a deep brown iris of warm honey, his skin golden from the dancing embers.

It was as if the summer night itself was standing before you.

"For you I am gladly saying yes." You smiled with relief, motioning for him to take the seat beside you.

With a chuckle Hytham took a seat beside you and as he was settling, his shoulder and elbow rubbed against yours.

"Oh, sorry!" He gasped in fright, immediately pulling away from you, offering a decent distance.

"Ah, don't even worry about it." You waved it away, turning to him. "And what's new in the office? Have you found anything recently with… Eivor, that would advance your research?" You asked, leaning on your elbows.

Hytham shone a timid smile towards you, shaking his head.

"I'm afraid I can't give you exciting news, there haven't been any new leads for weeks. Eivor has been too busy lately, taking care of the clan's affairs with the surrounding allies, to be thinking about that right now."

Pursing your lips, you pondered; your attention falling on the beer mug in your hand, you didn't even have time to notice the warm, longing look with which Hytham stole a glance at you.

You couldn't notice it - but Basim did; from across, beside the fire.

"And if I helped instead of Eivor? Trust me, I'm just as good at tracking as he is!" It came out of your mouth suddenly. The thought that you could finally break away from the prohibitions of your brother, from the small life of the settlement, had an invigorating effect on your soul.

"Uh…well…I don't know." Hytham was suddenly speechless, fidgeting shyly, glancing around the hall. "I don't think your brother would be happy if I took you."

"Eivor would only be happy if I was sitting on the shelf in his room until Ragnarök." You rolled your eyes, poking at your brother in annoyance. "Please Hytham! I promise I'll be of use to you!" Leaning closer to him, you betted your eyelashes so sweetly, gazing up at him in the hope that his heart softens for your request.

But Hytham's heart no longer needed cunning tricks to seduce him.

An indescribable force has drawn him to you since his arrival in the North. The man stood mesmerized by your beauty and as the months went by, as he got to know your pure soul, bright mind, and sharp tongue more and more, he grew a great passion for your person.

Young fierce love or it was a heart-wrenching, bittersweet yearning; he didn't know yet – Hytham was only certain of this: that your nearness filled him with hope and happiness.

And that was enough for him.

"I— I can Basim when he might not need my help, and if he releases me, we can go…if you really want to, of course." He agreed with a warm smile on his face.

Sheepishness filled you under his penetrating gaze – your heart pounded, and slowly the heat of the fire seemed cold compared to the warmth of your skin, as you could only look at your mug while blushing.

When did the young man from the far east start to interest you? When did you notice his charming smile and delightful gaze? How many times have you melted by his eloquence, gentle speech, patience or care? Why did you feel you could never tell Hytham this, because of Eivor? That your brother would definitely stand in your way, even if only for a spark of happiness.

Perhaps better at rest; to live unchanged; as in shame and regret.

"So be it, Hytham." You agreed, now in a much more subdued tone. "If you have come to an agreement with Basim, please tell me immediately!" You promised him as he bowed in agreement.

Maybe you were given a chance for a way out after all. Maybe you'll finally manage to break free from your brother's wings. Maybe if you start on this unknown path, you can find yourself in someone else's arms.

#ac valhalla #assassin's creed #assassin's creed valhalla #ac hytham #ac valhalla hytham #hytham #hytham x reader #ac hytham x reader #ac valhalla imagine #ac valhalla fanfic #my writing #i need someone to sedate me

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author-morgan · 2 years

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Eivor has really started grow on me (honestly that boy is 🥵 - could I ask for a Eivor/reader where the reader misinterprets a moment between Eivor and Randvi and gets upset, thank you 😊

here you go! sorry it took so long. I'm finally getting caught up on everything. hope you like it! as always, @mrsragnarlodbrok helped develop the plot. m!Eivor x fem!Reader

“DO YOU EVER miss Norway?” Ceolbert asks, untangling his fishing line. The young ætheling has been in Ravensthorpe for no less than a full moon’s cycle. He’s good company —eager to help and learn under your and Randvi’s tutelage. The River Nene burbles past the growing settlement, flowing out to the sea. A fish takes the bait, a piece of three-day-old bread, and you start hauling in the line. A small perch is on the hook, too small to worry with. You free the fish and let it back into the river, searching for a larger catch to add to the evening’s pot of stew.

“At times,” you answer —knowing you miss the snowcapped peaks, the winter lights dancing in the sky, and the pink-purple sunrises most of all. England is not so poor a substitute, with green rolling hills, pale sea cliffs, and the lonely ruins of a once-great civilization. “But all my friends and those who I love is here now” —you smile— “what more could I ask for than to be among them?” And for you, home will always be where they are, regardless of where in the world you may lay your head to sleep. Though, of late, Ravensthorpe has felt a little less like home with Sigurd and Eivor gone so often.

Ceolbert echoes your smile. He’s heard stories from Eivor and his brother about you, and now that he’s grown to know you, he realizes none of them held any embellishments. Despite only being a handful of years older than him, there is already a dignified shrewdness surrounding you, especially when compared to his compatriots. You’ve already taught him a great deal, and he’s eager to learn more. “Eivor often spoke of your wisdom,” he notes.

“So,” you muse, “he does listen.” The young ætheling laughs and starts pulling in a decent size brown trout to add to the basket. You often cursed Eivor for his stubbornness and how it seems he often disregards your counsel in favor of the more reckless options, but it does soothe your heart to know he remembers your words —even if he does not listen. There’s a tug on your line, and you begin to pull in the catch, a bullhead just the right size to join the evening pot.

A familiar squawk draws your attention to the sky —a raven circles above before diving down, eager to make off with a small fish or two from the basket. But you know the raven and his oil-slick colored feathers, and instead of making off with one of your daily catches, he settles on your shoulder and begins to preen his belly. “Hello, Sýnin,” you greet, offering one of the bait worms as a snack. Casting your line out into the river again, you wait for another fish to bite; knowing where Sýnin goes, Eivor will not be far behind. But until then, it feels like time has slowed.

You spot the sails emblazoned with the Raven Clan’s sigil coming around one of the river's bends, and Ceolbert notices how you seem to light up —and your smile when you first spot Eivor Wolfsmal standing at the prowl. The ætheling takes your fishing line and the basket holding the day’s catch and starts back toward the heart of the settlement as you make your way to the docks.

“Eivor!” He steps from the longship, not sparing a moment before engulfing you in his arms. You press your face into his scarred neck and breathe a long sigh —now Ravensthorpe feels like home again. Eivor’s lips brush against your temple before he parts, keeping you close at his side as the others unburden the longship with goods and supplies. “How did you get on in East Anglia?” This journey was not planned, but one made in haste after Rued’s Clan attacked in the night, an offense he could not let stand.

He drapes his arm over your shoulders. “The Raven Clan has new friends,” Eivor tells you. Oswald is an unlikely ally for sure, but one who will answer the call should it ever sound.

“That is good to hear” —you smile. “We must celebrate,” you tell him, knowing the people would want to hear of his tales, just as they had when he returned from treating with the Sons of Ragnar. The thought of readying a feast sets your mind racing with a long list of chores.

Eivor shakes his head and steps in front of you. He settles his hands on your cheeks, thumbs running over your cheekbones. It nigh stops your heart, and then he smiles. “Ah,” Eivor sighs, “seeing you once more is enough for me.” He steps closer and bends at the waist, pressing his lips —cracked and wind-chapped— to your forehead. And he’s home again.

RAVENSTHORPE FEASTS IN celebration. It is good to have new friends —new allies in what would be a hostile land. The evening passes with boisterous tales of battle, roast boar, and Tekla’s mead. It is good to have everyone, save Sigurd, present once more too. You sit back, leaning against one of the great wooden pillars of the longhouse, and let out a long and tired sigh, wondering how much longer it would be before you end up like Revna beside you —slumped over on the table and fast asleep.

Nigh everyone is far enough into their tankards and ale horns for the night that they will not notice Eivor’s absence. His gaze flits around the longhouse, finding you sitting at the far end with Sýnin perched on your shoulder. The raven croaks at his approach and ruffles his feathers. You look up at Eivor and smile —and his heart swells and flutters with the sight. Sýnin hops from your shoulder to Eivor’s then settles in the rafters above.

“Come with me,” he whispers at your ear, offering his hand. His fingers curl around yours when you place your hand into his, and you only hope the warmth rising to your cheeks can be blamed on the mead.

Eivor leads you to the waterfall just behind the longhouse. It’s one of your favorite spots to come in the settlement —the constant rush of the water is enough to soothe your heart and mind, and the rippling pool has served as a place you often frequent to reflect.

Tonight, a full moon turns the water silver. Eivor eases his hand from yours and reaches behind him, pulling out a small earthen vase with a piece of fabric stretched over the opening. He pulls back the fabric, and a dozen little insects take flight toward the water —lighting up with a yellow-green glow. “They’re called fireflies,” Eivor explains, extending his hand over the water’s edge. One of the sparking bugs lands in his palm, and he reaches for your hand, letting the firefly crawl from his hand to yours.

You watch the bright flashes of light —like tiny stars— and smile, yet another wonder of England. “How lovely,” you muse aloud, holding your hand out for the firefly to rejoin its brethren. They flutter around the waterfall, twinkling in the night. You sit, and Eivor sits next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours —it sets your heart aflutter, but you gather the courage and lean your head on his shoulder. Instinctively, Eivor wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close to his side. “Can I expect you to stay a while this time?” You ask, hoping he will not have to leave again so quickly.

He shifts and presses his cheek to the crown of your head. “Until Sigurd sends for me,” Eivor tells you, watching the fireflies flit around above.

IT’S ONLY TWO days after his return that you see Eivor and Randvi ride from Ravensthorpe in the early hours of the morn. Seeing him go without a word makes your heart fall. It isn’t like Eivor to go off without telling you, and given one of the late-night conversations you’d had with Randvi in Sigurd’s absence —well, you refuse to dwell on the thoughts. Ceolbert leaves the stables from helping Rowan when he sees you approach, crestfallen though you try to hide it. “Did they say where they’re going?” You ask, looking toward the east and the direction Eivor and Randvi had gone.

“Grantebridge,” Ceolbert answers, still unsure why they were going there unless Soma had sent a message —but you nor anyone else had mentioned receiving anything from the jarlskona. He looks between you and the morning sky and tries to think of something that might help cheer you up. “There’s an orchard to the north,” the ætheling supplements, hoping he can help remedy the crushing waves of despondency which have overtaken you so quickly. “Perhaps we could go?” He asks. “It’s only a short ride.”

You smile, and Ceolbert can see it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Very well,” you agree. Rowan helps saddle two horses —one speckled and one chestnut— and the two of you ride out before midday. It’s a slow and steady ride across the hills and rivers to the orchard just south of Ledecestre. A bramble of unkempt trees heavy with green-red apples too tart to eat raw but good for stewing and baking. It’s easy to fill two small sacks, just enough for Tarben to make a pie or two.

Ceolbert secures his sack of apples to his saddle and pulls himself back into the saddle as you do so, starting back to Ravensthorpe. The ætheling asks about a story from childhood that Eivor told him at the feast —he’d fallen from the roof of the longhouse in Fornburg and on his arse, right in front of you, only you’d been carrying a basket of deer offal.

The memory makes you smile and laugh, the first time you’ve genuinely done so today. You dropped the basket in surprise —it landed on Eivor, spilling guts and blood over him. It took several washes to clean the stench from his clothes and hair. Ceolbert glance at you and smiles too, and from the fondness in your voice, he thinks it’s obvious. “You love him, don’t you?”

Yes, but for some reason, you struggle to say it aloud, Regardless, Ceolbert can tell, and despite what you may think, he believes Eivor loves you too —if only you could both see it. You look ahead at the winding road, wishing to change the subject away from your feelings, away from Eivor. “They say Ivarr the Boneless was also your mentor.” You’ve heard stories of Ivarr Ragnarsson from other Northmen and Saxons alike, part of you envies Eivor and Sigurd for getting to meet the renowned Sons of Ragnar —let alone being able to call them friends. Ceolbert nods. “Will you tell me about him?” He nods and weaves a tale of his time with Ivarr, helping distract you from the woes of life.

The sun is close to setting when you and Ceolbert return to the stables of Ravensthorpe, passing off your horses to Rowan. “I’ll have Tarben make us a pie,” you tell the boy, collecting the small sacks of apples to take to the bakery. But hooves thud, fast approaching —Eivor and Randvi have returned. You do not stay to greet them, quickly slipping away.

“Ceolbert,” Eivor greets, leading his dark mount back into one of the stalls. “Where is…” his voice trails off as he turns to look for you, wondering where you’d gone.

“She was here a moment ago,” Ceolbert says, turning to look around the stables, but you’re already gone, and so is Eivor when he turns back.

EIVOR FINDS YOU sitting beneath one of the great trees near Valka’s hut —knees pulled up to your chest as your look over the ripping pool of water. He kneels in front of you and reaches out, rough fingertips brushing along your jaw to gently lift your chin and gaze. Tearstains are not the sight he wishes to see. Eivor frowns, brushing away the dampness under your eyes with his thumb. “Why are you crying?” You do not answer. “Has something happened?” He asks, unsure what could cause this bout —just last night, you and he were both laughing and drinking without care.

“I am not sure,” you admit. It's heartbreak and a tinge of betrayal. With his return, you had thought, had hoped, but it seems it’s only foolish and childish wishes. You meet his gaze, clear and blue like the sky, and feel a lump grow in your throat. Sýnin croaks from the branches above —the raven has refused to let you be alone since he first perched on your knee and dropped a smooth river pebble in your lap after finding you so distraught. The raven croaks again, and Eivor’s eyes flit up to see a pair of beady dark eyes staring down at him. Sýnin takes your side in whatever quarrel this may be.

His frown deepens. “You can tell me anything,” Eivor breathes. You’re his best friend —have been since the two of you were children all those years ago.

But I can’t, you think, not wanting to risk a lifelong friendship over a dream. You inhale shakily and shake your head, pushing his hands away. “I need a moment, is all.” It’s a trembling whisper, and Eivor does not want to leave you in this state, but he relents, knowing nothing good will come of forced words. You always gave him time and space when asked for it; the least he can do is offer the same. He sighs and stands, hesitant to leave —a look back, and he sees Sýnin swoop down and perch on your shoulder, offering a golden oak leaf.

Eivor goes to the longhouse and grabs an empty cup, filling it from the cask of ale before taking a seat at the table across from Ceolbert —picking at a hunk of bread and slab of pickled fish. “Do you know what’s upset her?” He asks the ætheling, thinking the boy might know given the time he’s spent under your guidance.

“I” —Ceolbert looks down into his cup of ale. He didn’t think it would be difficult for Eivor to figure out. Almost all of Ravensthorpe knows. Everyone but him. Ceolbert frowns. “I do not think it is my place to say,” he tells Eivor.

It feels like Thor has brought Mjölnir down upon his chest when the realization hits him —and suddenly, everything makes sense now, or at least he thinks it does. Eivor feels his heart clench, then fall into the pit of his stomach, and all he can say is a soft, nigh inaudible: “oh.”

IT’S ONLY A short ride to the south, near the border of Grantebridgescire, but Eivor convinces you to go with him even in the dead of night. He cannot bear the thought of you being upset —let alone upset with him. You’re quiet, unusually so, but when he pulls the reigns of his horse to a stop by the edge of the mire, you gasp —albeit softly. Skirting over the still surface of the water and into the air are hundreds of fireflies, all flashing and twinkling like little stars come to settle in the darkness. He dismounts and helps you down too. “There are so many,” you breathe, smiling.

Eivor stands behind you, his hands settling on your waist, chin resting on your shoulder to watch the fireflies with you. But the closeness and how your heart begins to ache and beat quicker, it’s too much to bear after today. You shake your head and step away from him, feeling dampness prick at your eyes again. “I wish you would not play so carelessly with my heart, Eivor,” you tell him, hugging yourself.

“It’s not careless,” he whispers, gently pulling you back to him. Eivor takes your hands, his gaze drawn downward to see how perfectly your hand fits in his —as though the gods always meant for the two of you to be together. And then he looks at you, eyes shining in the moonlight, glimmering with the reflection of fireflies flitting around his head and yours.

It makes your breath catch —how he looks at you. How he’s always looked at you. “You’ve always been at my side,” he tells you. It’s the truth, even when he was a boy and at odds with Sigurd, you were there —you were always there, and he’s been a fool not to tell you sooner. “It’s only ever been you.” Eivor lets your hands go but is quick to take your face into his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheeks with gentle reverence.

“I love you.” But he gives you no time to respond or react even as one of his hands slips back into your hair and he leans forward. Eivor’s lips find your own. His kiss is everything you’ve dreamt of and more —a sweet paradox with his rough but gentle lips and the tickle of his golden beard.

He pulls away too soon but only to watch the soft smile overtake your lips. You comb your fingers through his beard and lean toward him, arms draping over his shoulders, fingers locking at the nape of his neck. You kiss him back, and he wraps his arms around your middle, keeping you close to him —where he had always kept you in his heart.

“Ek ann þér,” you breathe against his lips, and a weight lifts from your heart at finally being able to tell him. You can feel his lips twitch into a smile against your own. When you part, it’s to turn back to watch the fireflies, and now Eivor’s arms are around your middle, his nose nuzzled into your neck. You lean back into him and sigh, almost thinking this is all a dream, but Sýnin’s low croak from the trees above is enough to assure you it’s real.

[ taglist: @mrsragnarlodbrok @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @overratedsun @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @erzsebetrosztoczy @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @edelaen @darkravenqueen98 @callmemythicalminx @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @certifiedlittleshit @queenyalo @thedragonqueenfan @alessyaraven ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. tumblr was giving me a lot of grief with the tags this time, apologies if I missed anyone! if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #requested #shamelesspsychicpursebuscuit #lil-monitsu #my writing #remember if you liked this pleases reblog it #also can we appreciate how stunning he looks #valhalla finally gave me some decent lighting and it was a cutscene #also i call these lightning bugs bc thats just how we do in the south

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wolfkcst · 7 months

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Baldur's Gate 3 verse

Eivor was born in Baldur's Gate but more towards the outer city. Their parents were well known - perhaps that is why their home was burnt into ashes and they had to run away. Far away. They remember their fathers sacrifice but the god in their ear whispered 'a cowards death'. They did not want to run away willingly, they wanted to fight. Even at such a young age as six, but their brother, Sigurd, who was a teen at that time, felt different. They were quickly scooped up by their brother and onto a horse where they fled from the scene of their burning home, and out into the woods where much more danger lurked. They cannot remember how it happened, but they were somehow separated from their brother, and laid almost lifelessly in the middle of the woods with a wolf looming over them - teeth like razor dug into their flesh at their throat, eyes rolled back nearly seeing death itself until a flock of ravens had saved them. They managed to kill the "wolf" while it was distracted with their little axe their father made them, and had to run away to find shelter. Not realizing that in the years to come they would realize it was no wolf, but a werewolf that inflected a "curse"(infection) upon them.

Sigurd found them on the brink of death, and carried them back to his home where his father, Stybjorn, had then adopted Eivor into his home at the promise of raising them in their parents stead.

They lived there for many years, and soon raised to be a mighty warrior. Eivor's pledge to kill their parents murderer still stood, and so that was when they started to be a little more reckless when they reached the age of 16. Full moons would mean for them to be restrained after a near killing in one of their clan mates. Chains around their wrists and ankles, keeping them from breaking loose and feeding the hungry beast from within. Years later, the present they would be captured in Baldur's Gate by the Illithid Nautiloid. Now inflicted with two infections, they had escaped but with a whim of another's help - landing on a beach somewhere they couldn't quite gather their bearings. This is when they would find others that seek for this infection out, and would try to find their people and their brother once more.

#ooc #V.;; BG3.#so i did it finally - sorry if its kinda rambly i couldnt sleep and my brain mush but #this is basically it

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ac-lesbians · 10 months

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I've been really thinking about Valhalla lately and the way the story played out from my perspective as a player who solely plays f!Eivor and how that plays into the larger AC franchise. And I'll say that my hottest take is that if Eivor Varinsdottir was supposed to be canon, then they shouldn't have had the m!Eivor option at all.

And like, I get Ubisoft is a deeply misogynistic developer and this is not at all a new criticism, but just think about how much more depth to the entire world of the Assassins and Templars there would be if we actually had like, real female characters, let alone playable characters.

I've only played Odyssey and Valhalla because those are the only games I give a fuck about, but my point remains. The depth in those two games would have been amazing had they focused on one female protagonist and not making the game as gender neutral as possible so that misogynistic fan boys can keep their power fantasies and never have to consider a perspective outside their own while the rest of the world does.

Like Eivor would have had a MUCH more interesting story if she had to deal with the fact that she was a Norse woman in 9th century England. That changes the WHOLE STORY.

Dag would have had a legitimate reason to be mad at Eivor for using the power and authority lent to her by Sigurd. Sigurd would have had a real reason to be so dismissive of Eivor's input into his decisions. The Christians would have had one more reason to despise Eivor and the Raven Clan, not only are they heathens but Eivor is a woman daring to defy her social position.

The world of Assassins Creed would have had leagues more depth to it if the creators acknowledged that being a competent gender role defying woman is SO different from being a competent dude. Eivor should have had a million more roadblocks ahead of her as a woman trying to lead a clan in 9th century England.

And the worst part? We know it's not a research problem and we know it's not a "we don't believe women had those problems" thing either. Because RANDVI IS RIGHT THERE.

Randvi is one of the more important female characters in Valhalla and her backstory includes marrying a man she didn't know for the sake of securing an alliance. This isn't about shipping or anything, that's just basic info about Randvis character. And it doesn't take a genius or a historian to know that her situation is not a novel one, that happened over and over again throughout all of history. We KNOW that Randvi's story is not a unique one, and it's actively acknowledged in the game! So playing an entire game as a hyper competent female leader, who is also surrounded by plenty of competent female NPCs, fell REALLY flat for me when we see other characters face the woman-problem (AKA being a woman trying to get anything done at that time in that place) and Eivor never once faces it.

No one says "why should we listen to you, you're a woman" even when you are playing female eivor because that's how the game has to be for those who play male eivor. But I'm sorry I get that shit now as a woman who knows what she's talking about in this time, at this place. Eivor should not have been an exception. We see her regularly prove her mettle to other characters for different reasons (you're a heathen, you're a stranger, you're not from around here) but never the most OBVIOUS barrier being "you're a woman."

And I'm not saying that Eivor shouldn't have been a badass warrior or anything. In fact, it would add so much depth to her character to think about how different she is in comparison to the women around her who DO follow the expected gender roles of the time.

Eivor's parents died when she was young. We know that her mother was a competent enough warrior to hold her own in battle. That would not be surprising to me and it wouldn't have broken my suspension of disbelief. But when you think about Eivor and this pivotal moment to her character, knowing that she was a child of a nobleman and would be raised by both parents to be able to fight and be of noble blood, the fact that she's rather rough and tumble, focused on fighting and valhalla, then it really raises some questions.

If Varin and Rosta hadn't died, would Eivor be a viking? She probably would have had a better political education. She wouldn't be fumbling her way through leadership the way that she does in game. She'd probably have to be more clever because she has to manipulate her way through society, instead of blustering and fighting.

She'd also probably be married. Either to someone she cared about, or to someone politically viable like Randvi and Sigurd. She would have had her father choose a match for her, and she'd probably have little say in the match as well.

But styrbjorn raised her "as his own." So she learned to fight and became a viking. But that doesn't change the fact that she came from a noble family. She would not be so high status if she didn't come from a noble high status family. The idea that she doesn't behave like the other noble born women around her is kind of a key characteristic. And it's never brought to the front or explored because that would break the immersion for the fan boys who'd rather play as Havi.

Anyway this is my thesis for many of my fics because there's just so much there that is completely ignored because it literally CANT be explored if Eivor is a man. Ubisoft for the love of god hire a female historian I'm begging

#eivor varinsdóttir #ac valhalla #this got long and rambling im not really sorry

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magstorrn · 5 months

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my favourite part of valhalla so far has to be when sigurd is rallying the raven clan to leave norway and basim is off slaying in the corner

#assassin's creed #ill get visual evidence of this later when im not at work #ac valhalla

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serpent-sariah · 1 year

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How Long in Twilight Waiting Long for The Rising Sun/I'm Right Here With You

Her bones ached, the new wounds from Ivarr reminding her the failure of saving Ceolbert from the Boneless' twisted means. The wood of her longship doesn't do any justice for her back after being thrown off the edge by Ivarr's strong grip. The boat floats, surrounded by the lush forests of green on each side of it, and the water sparkling, reflecting off the stars in the night sky.

She stares off into the dark blue above her, the only thing keeping her warm is the Raven Clan flag. Eivor can't sleep; her mind run amok, reliving Ceolbert's untimely death, not reaching him fast enough. She blames herself for his death, not going with him when he went hunting. She wishes she went with him, to protect the boy, who had come to be like a son to her. She hates the fact Ivarr planted his death just to kill Rhodri, the thought of him now turning her stomach.

A sigh escapes her lungs, a frown pulling on her lips, her arm acting as a pillow behind her head, golden locks flowing like the sun fanning over her arm. The only thing she's happy for is that she'll see Siv again, and the monster that is Ivarr is on his way to Outcast Island.

Her eyes finally close, sending her into an uneasy and restless sleep.

Upon waking the following morning, she is woken gently by Yrsa shaking her shoulder just barely. Despite the gentleness, Eivor still wakes with a start, something that has followed her since Siv was taken back in Norway. The crew landed at the dock of Ravensthorpe, and the others were awake. But who took over?

Eivor rubs the tiredness from her blue eyes, slowly pulling herself to her feet. It was like her weight shifted upon standing, her sore and aching muscles bearing down on her. Her body still aches, and she is sure that bruises formed beneath her armor. "Who took over?"

"I did," Freydis makes herself known, stepping from the back of the longship. She looked beaten, but not as bad as Eivor, nor as bad as she looks. "You needed to sleep. Ivarr really took it out of you, and Yrsa would've had my head if I took the risk of waking you."

"Freydis, it is fine," the young mother waves it off. "I would do the same thing." Granted, she does do the same thing.

Freydis gives her a small nod. She and Yrsa helps Eivor from the ship to the dock. She is mildly unsteady, thankful for her two supports helping her over, and thankful for being on solid ground once again.

"You should go and see Valka," Yrsa's eyes are clouded over with concern for her oldest friend. "See if she can brew some of her herbal teas for your muscles."

"I'll head that way soon, I need to go collect my daughter from Hytham," the young mother's eyes turn towards the green roof of the Hidden Ones Bureau, her voice deepened from the wolf damaging her vocal chords.

She'd asked the Hidden One beforehand to look after Siv while she was away, not wanting Randvi looking after her while fretting over the Alliance Map and wondering when Sigurd would be back. Watching the babe would just put more stress on her plate, and she didn't want that.

"Alright. Be careful, then."

"Always." Which isn't always true in her line of work.

The way up to the green hut takes the breath out of her, her lungs burning with each step. She wants to see her babe before she gets bandaged, wants to told her and never let her go. Losing Ceolbert opened her eyes to the protection and love to her people and Siv, and she knew why Ivarr is such a bad person, thankful that he's now rotting away behind the bars of Outcast. She prays that he never gets out.

"Eivor, here is your little one," the Hidden One breaks her from her thoughts, catching her climb up the steps. He notices her look and grows concerned. "Uh, Eivor, is everything alright?" His hand rests on her bracer.

Eivor shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Yes, I am fine. Thank you for asking. I'm just… tired from the mission and there is much to process." She is surprised by the contact, leaving tingles. She wills herself not to blush as she turns to pick up Siv from the makeshift bed at the foot of Hytham's.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Hytham offers, gesturing to the seat at his work table.

Eivor thinks for a minute, holding Siv close to her chest, her head resting in the crook of her elbow. She chews her lower lip. She knows he is right, and he has proven himself to be granted trust, much unlike his mentor Basim, as she's been questioning his honor since the days in Oxenefordscire, whispering into Sigurd before Fulke took him was a huge red flag to her.

She mentioned the elder Hidden One's shadiness to Hytham, who was at first shocked and appalled at her words, but knew to trust her judgment.

The young mother sits down on the chair he gestured to, Siv sleeping on her lap now, a forlorn look in Eivor's eyes. "Ceolbert is dead." Her voice is rough, but thick with sadness.

Hytham's posture stiffs, his heart thumping in his chest, and his face forming into a frown. He knelt down beside her, his hand on her bracer. "Oh dear Heavens. Poor Ceolbert."

"He was like a son to me, Hytham," her voice cracks. "He treated Siv like a sister. Knowing that he is gone, it's still a process." Her eyes closed tightly, heart rapidly thudding against her ribcage, feeling like it's going to burst from her chest, a fist clamping around her heart.

"What happened to him?"

"Do you remember Ivarr? The Norseman who takes pride in causing others pain?" The acolyte nods and she continues. "He killed him."

Hytham's mouth fell open. "Oh dear Heavens."

Eivor swallows thickly. "He did it to make war on Rhodri and kill him. He got what he wanted. I should've… I should've…"

"Hey, you did not know he was going to do that."

"I should've, I know how Ivarr is," she stares off into the distance. "I didn't see the signs until it was too late. Not until Ceolbert mentioned that he did something before the light left his eyes."

Hytham pulls her closed fist towards him, softly opening it. "You cannot always know these things, Eivor. They just happen. As you once told me, our fates are fixed."

She knows he's right, it still hurt. Of course it still hurt. It's going to for a while.

"I sent him to Outcast Island," she wipes a stray tear from underneath her darkened eye. "Sent him behind the strongest bars of the place. I wanted to kill him for what he did to Ceolbert. But in that moment, I just couldn't. I do not know if I did the right thing because I am afraid he'll come back for revenge and end my daughter and everyone I love." She held Siv closer to her with her free arm, not willing or wanting to let her go. "I would never forgive myself if anything bad happened to her. I don't forgive myself for Kjotve's men kidnapping her."

"Eivor, you had just had her hours before, you were just barely recovering," Hytham tries to reason with her. "Do not blame yourself for that, and she is a celebrated person of this Clan. She has a lot of people to protect her if such a thing came to pass, and I am one of them. Since I came to know her, she's became somewhat of a daughter to me, as well. I would give my life to let her live."

"You're immortal, though," Eivor points out.

"It is an expression."

"Either way, I am grateful to you, Hytham," she feels tears welling in her eyes again as her heart breaks once more, looking down almost immediately, avoiding his soft gaze. She didn't want him to view her as weak. She let out a trembling sigh. "You know how people either unite in times of plight, or fall apart? My Clan is counting on me, to find our Jarl, however I feel like I'm disillusioning them, letting them down. You witnessed Dag's actions prior to Rued's soldier attacking us. When Ceolbert was still with us."

"He definitely seemed out of sorts when you gave your speech," he affirms.

"It is not just Dag," she finally looks up to meet his gaze. "It is also Freydis. The both of them believe I'm out to take Sigurd's seat, or it feels like they are, and the timing is perfect, because the madwoman Fulke took him just after Dag began complaining that Sigurd put me in charge while he is away. I feel as though the whole world is on my shoulders, Hytham." She feels the tears escaping her eyelids. "Forgive me, I told myself I wouldn't cry. I should be this strong person, this person everyone can count on. If I can't get Sigurd back, then I don't deserve to be counted on."

Hytham wipes a stray tear from her pale cheek, the pad of his thumb running over the thin line scar. "My good friend, Eivor, do not be ashamed of crying. You are the strongest woman I know." His blue eyes sparkle bright like the stars in the night sky. "The Clan is undeniably fragmenting at the moment, though it will not disintegrate because of you, given that you are keeping them together. You are so much more fervent then all the background din. You are more fervent than Dag, Freydis, and anyone who is charging you of Sigurd's seat. This Clan is held together by you. So, never, please, never let go. For me."

A small smile tugs at the corners of Eivor's lips, her beaten heart warming at his sweet and kind words. However, her shoulders are still trembling, and Hytham's hands are placed on either side, trying to steady her and ease her, looking up at her with a concerned gaze, eyes darting.

"Eivor? Are your wounds bothering you?" He asks gently, his hand rubbing the back of her arm.

Her face is curved in a grimace, eyes tightly shut. She was indeed hurting, but it wasn't just the wounds littering her body. This was one wound that does not heal easily. It is her damaged heart, a fist clamping around it still, as well as her throat, making it difficult for her to swallow. "Yes, but my heart outweighs my wounds, Hytham. I am still… processing everything." She looks down sadly. "I know I could've gone to Randvi or Yrsa or Tove about this, I just didn't want to bother them with my problems." She wanted to see him, which is why. Out of all her friends, she chose him to go to. The slightly crippled Hidden One with the permanent injury. It was like she saw something in him no one else did.

"Then I will go through the process with you," Hytham moves her face to lock eyes with her. "However, I am glad you came to me, Eivor. I am more than happy to help you however, whenever I can."

A couple of tears stream down her face again. "I can't thank you enough, Hytham. I know we really didn't see eye-to-eye when we first met, however, I am overjoyed we became friends, and got to know each other."

The corners of his lips curved into a smile that complimented his baby blue eyes. "That brings me such joy to hear you say that, Eivor." All the while, a pink dusting flushes across his cheeks and nose.

The pink dusting reciprocated to Eivor's cheeks. She couldn't fully process this new light and bubbly feeling in her chest mixed with the other feelings as of late. She knew she should go when Siv began waking up and making noise, stretching her little arms. "I should take care of her. Thank you for everything, Hytham. Thank you so much."

"Yes, of course. However, please do make sure you get those wounds checked out by Valka as well."

#first time making it over a thousand word #ac valhalla #hytham x Eivor #baby Siv

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leofrith · 1 year

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Obligatory "Eivor!" for the ask game

well yeah of course ✨

a song that reminds me of them: borders by kalandra. every kalandra song can be about eivor if i want it bad enough 💖

what they smell like: honey and wood smoke

an otp: girl has chemistry with basically everyone. kassandra vili randvi hytham estrid etc etc. but i'm feeling some type of way about leofrith lately (lately being the last uuuuuh six months rip)

a notp: sigurd. there's a few others that i can understand but just don't particularly care for but keep away from me with that shit in particular. they're literally siblings!!!

favorite platonic/familial relationships: sigurd in the deeper version of their relationship that lives in my head. varin because eivor's relationship with her father is one of the emotional through lines of eivor's character in the main game. rosta, my darling rosta, who doesn't get as much attention as she deserves, but eivor is such a mama's girl and it makes me a bit insane. also gunnar!!! he loves her so much and is so proud of her. styrbjorn and eivor's relationship is so interesting and i wish we got to see more of it. i'm just listing everyone now. valka and eivor's relationship is so sweet and there's a kind of trust and understanding there that i don't think eivor shares with any other character.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with: i don't know if there are really any specific headcanons that i dislike? i tried to write a few responses to this but they just feel really nitpicky so i stopped 😂

the position they sleep in: when she's alone, with her back to a wall with easy access to a weapon. when she's with a trusted partner she's the little spoon because she can rest easy knowing she has someone watching her back 😭

a crossover au i’d love to see them in: accidentally have been becoming very serious about my star wars au in which mandalorian eivor comes into possession of the darksaber and starts having visions because of it (the sword's haunted--) while also trying to lead her scattered people and ally with jedi hytham and basim, who are hunting a relic of the jedi order for their own purposes. if none of this makes sense to you because you don't know or care about star wars lore then i envy you 💖 just ignore this and read the fic whenever i finish it pspspsps it's all you need i promiseeeee

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn: the berserker armour is my usual go to, but i also hate wearing it in wintery regions because eivor looks cold ahgsdfasdhf in which cases i'll usually rotate between the raven clan or mystical armor. would also wear the huldufolk armor if i had it !!!!!!

send me a character and i will answer these questions!

#i realized after reading reiver's answer to this that they ALSO said honey and wood smoke which i swear i didn't steal!!#it's about the honeyed mead and the scent of smoke that clings to her after a raid it's right there it's right theeeereee #thank you samantha!!! 💖#answer #artschoolglasses #ask games

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alethiometry · 1 year

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WIP Game: Departures, please!

'departures' is the working title for my kasseivor/valhalla last chapter fix-it wip! it was borne out of my disdain for how utterly underwhelming the last chapter was, as well as just me using any excuse to shove kassandra into any scenario. my hope is that, although i don't plan on it being a very happy fic, and i still want it to end geographically in the same place as the last chapter, the emotional and narrative payoff feels much more earned.

the premise is that eivor convinces kassandra to join her raiders and come live in ravensthorpe for as long as she wants. kassandra knows she shouldn't stay long (and aletheia is in her head doubling down on this thought) but ultimately as a big fuck-you to aletheia and also because she has the biggest gayest crush on eivor, she does accept the offer.

the fic opens with kass arriving in ravensthorpe, and the general idea is kass and eivor growing closer as in the background other characters come and go. vili returns to snotinghamscire to finally accept his position as jarl. gunnar and brigid have a child. randvi finds her calling in joining the hidden ones (under both kass and hytham's tutelage) and accompanies hytham back east. rollo goes to france. the raven clan kids' trio are growing up. "dreams" by the cranberries is playing in the background despite not debuting for another thousand years and i'm crying my eyes out just thinking about it etc etc.

eventually aelfred comes knocking and eivor and sigurd clash over what to do; sigurd wants to resist aelfred's army by any means necessary (aka all-out war), but eivor (from her own experience fighting in the south, and advised by kass who has already observed the spread of christianity through her travels and feels this is a force that cannot be resisted outright the way sigurd thinks it can) is inclined to follow in her father's footsteps and surrender/come to some kind of compromise in order to spare her people.

and that's kind of where the details end. i've got maybe the first couple thousand words written and everything else vaguely outlined up to this point. i have some ideas/inspiration for how i want certain plot/character beats to go, but a lot of it is heavily influenced by the final season of black sails, so for the sake of @milfeivor who is still watching that for the first time, i will keep my mouth shut for now :)

the main issue is that i feel like in order to do justice to any of the characters i would either have to re-play the game (which is too fucking long and i don't want to do it), watch clips of character interactions and cutscenes on youtube (which i could do but am lazy), or read fics featuring the characters i want to write about (which i don't feel comfortable considering "research" because i don't want to mistake authorial interpretation for canon fact or unintentionally pass off somebody else's ideas as my own). so for all those reasons, this one is on the backburner. i do hope to come back to it one day, but for now i don't feel any real urgency to work on it.

also, havi/odin does not exist in this story or at least isn't narratively present, because i simply do not fucking care <3

#thank you all for asking about this one!#included a lot of info bc i got 3 asks on it lol #anyway ky hmu when you finish black sails because i have THOUGHTS #ask games #aeide #milfeivor #doomcountry

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iridescentmemoria · 2 years

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#ac valhalla eivor #ac valhalla #ac valhalla sigurd #assassin's creed #assasins creed #assassinscreedseries #assassin's creed valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #sigurd raven clan #sigurd #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #memes

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almakfi · 5 months

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basim does not or very rarely chooses to participate in the life of the settlement, to a point that makes his absence sort of accepted, or at least commonly expected, an assigned role in itself in the bigger picture of their communal life—and his presence, when he stays around for long enough for it to become slightly steadier than a glimpse, feels almost misplaced, like 'why are you not doing what you've always been doing which is being absent from our lives, who are you' which is an exaggeration because of course they know who he is but he's a stranger, they know him as the stranger, he wants to be the stranger. being the absent affiliate is his role in the raven clan and when suddenly he begins staying for longer periods like after sigurd is rescued or post-canon both the clan and basim himself have to start adjusting to the possibility of his presence, too

#HCS.#also he's object of settlement-wide gossiping #or at least conjectures since people naturally wonder #about him his relationship with sigurd etc

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akashadarkblade · 1 year

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WIP Wordsearch Game

I was tagged by @sleeplessincarcosa, thank you for the tag!

My words are: help, eye, sit, hair, and touch

“Help” from Gates of Hell, a RE/DMC crossover I’ve been picking at for a while now, trying to get it to work. (it’s not cooperating)

“You know, the least you could do is help!” Leon called out to him. He didn’t know the man’s skills, but he at least knew the man was armed. He could offer Leon at least some kind of help.

“Sorry, man, but zombies aren’t in my job description!” the man called back before gesturing to the group of infected, “Besides, you seem to have it handled!”

“I don’t have a lot of bullets left!” probably not a wise decision to tell a stranger you were running low on ammo; but at this point, Leon felt it didn’t matter. Without convincing this man to help him, his choices were either be eaten, or attempt to run through the dense crowd. Neither of which sounded very appealing.

“Well, in that case-” to Leon’s surprise, he pulled out two guns. The silver one from before in his right hand, and a black metal one in his left, “-guess we should get this party started.” with that, the man leapt into the air. High above the alley and the unsuspecting infected who thought Leon was their only target. He then aimed into the middle of the crowd.

And all hell broke loose.

“Eye” from Marks to Bind Us, a RE4make AU fic where Luis lives, and the ‘procedure’ to remove the parasite is an actual surgery rather than just radiation.

“Shut up!” barely stepping out of his way, Luis watched as Leon stumbled down the stairs. Ashley nearly falling out of his arms as Leon shook his head. Rushing to his side, Luis caught a glimpse of just how bad their infections had become since he last saw them. Black veins covering practically every inch of their bodies.

“Leon!” the man snapped his head around, but the glare on his face softened the moment his eyes met Luis’.

“I-I’m fine… Ashley…” he definitely did not look ‘fine’… but Ashley looked so much worse and Luis couldn’t say ‘no’ to the pleading look in Leon’s usually hard gaze, “Please… take her.”

“What about-”

“I don’t care about me!” he shouted before his voice and face softened again. The beginning of tears gathering around the edges of his eyes, “It has to be different this time…” the desperation in his voice made Luis give in. Knowing arguing would only cost them valuable time as he took Ashley from Leon’s arms.

“I’ll be back for you. I promise.”

“Just go.”

“Sit” from In the Hands of a Zealot, a AC:Valhalla AU where Eivor is taken by Fulke instead of Sigurd. Sigurd willingly offering him up to King Aelfred as ‘punishment’ for Eivor’s insubordination during the Oxenefordscire arc.

“As your jarl, I order all of you to go back to your barracks. Now.” Sigurd demanded as he came to stand near the group.

“And what would you have us do there, Sigurd?” Vili asked as he glared back at Sigurd, “Sit here, thumbs up are asses, while your brother – our captain – is being held captive by King Aelfred?!” Sigurd did not respond as Vili pointed an accusatory finger at him, “You and your father swore an oath over the graves of Rosta and Varin Jarl that you would never allow any harm to come to Eivor! Did you not?!”

“Traitors do not deserve oaths.” Sigurd responded coldly.

“If you think Eivor is a traitor, then you are either blind or insane!” Vili shouted, “All our childhood, Eivor only ever wanted to please you! To be worthy of being your brother! And this is how you treat him?! You leave him to die?! You are worse than Kjotve!”

“That is enough, Vili!” Sigurd bellowed. Clenching his jaw, Vili looked ready to argue with Sigurd further, but held his tongue as Sigurd continued, “No member of the Raven Clan will be leaving to find Eivor. I made an arrangement with King Aelfred and we will honor it.”

“Traitor!”

“Listen to your jarl, Vili.” Basim warned him.

“Sigurd is not my fucking jarl! My jarl is in Valhalla!”

“Hair” from a Mutated!Leon AU I haven’t named yet where during his fight with the boss in the nitrogene shower area, Leon is badly injured and it causes him to mutate. This is from a later chapter.

“This way.” Luis spoke, nodding to their left, “The room at the end of the hall. Right passed the vent that is currently… creepily breathing.” motioning for Luis to stay where he was, Leon slowly made his way toward the vent. Steps light and quiet. The hair on the back of his neck standing on end as the breathing began to get louder. Rattling through the vent.

As he crouched to look inside, Leon expected to see some pale abomination glaring back at him. Ready to lunge and try to kill him. Possibly with teeth or claws, or some other appendage it had grown.

Nothing.

Nothing? Leon’s brow furrowed when he realized the vent was completely empty.

“Touch” from My Own Valhalla, a WIP of an AC:Valhalla AU where Eivor – rather than being male or female – is a genderfluid shapeshifter that switches between their masc and fem appearance… because I said so. (it’s mostly a fic for myself…)

The sting from the edges of teeth. The touch of salt kissed skin. The tips of fingers digging into his hips. The fleeting memories, all chased away from his mind at the sudden slap of a palm against already abused muscle.

Eivor jerked awake as he realized he had been slapped on his bare ass.

“Time to wake up, Wolf Kissed.” Ivarr’s voice was a purr in his ear. Breath hot on his skin as Ivarr spoke, “You won’t want to miss the way Burgred cries when we put his crown on Ceolwulf’s head.”

Not sure who to tag, but if you want to try, here are your words: rope, grip, braid, fire, and tears

#long post #tag game #my writing #wips #and if anyone wants to know more about any of these projects #feel free to ask!

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erzsebetrosztoczy · 1 year

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

At your request 😌

Pairing: m!Eivor x f!reader

Word count: ~ 3000

Genre: angst, tiny fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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