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#would die for Eivor
syninplays · 8 months
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Lord & Lady of Burke 👑
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witchthewriter · 14 days
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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐮𝐡𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ gender neutral and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ
ISTP/ISFP
Gryffindor
Chaotic Good
Scorpio Sun, Aries Moon, Aquarius Rising
𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿
・You know when you meet someone, and you don't have to force your personality to fit into some kind of shape?
・That's what happened with you and Ruhn
・Ever since you met, there was a spark. You were both curious about each other.
・You were drawn into the way he looked. Not many fae tattooed themselves from nearly head to toe, or had so many piercings
・It made your heart beat faster and faster
・You knew you were attracted to him
・And he made you laugh within minutes
・But you didn't want to give him the satisfaction
・So, the one thing that has stayed throughout your relationship is the goddamn bickering. Which really is just another form of banter.
・This has caused a lot of angst between the two of you.
・But you both knew it was pure play. Flirting. Humour. Banter.
・Everything changed when you had a panic attack in front of him. You were so embarrassed. But the way he held you, cupping your face, moving your hair behind your ears, wiping away the tears.
・His purple eyes bore into your own and you felt instantly calmer.
・From that day on you thanked The Maker. Because staring into his eyes - something clicked. Like a piece was perfectly placed; one you never knew you were missing.
・Making you blush is one of his favourite hobbies. Seeing you duck your head, cover your face or roll your eyes makes his day.
・Very protective; is able to stop himself from taking a swing at the asshole. He's more of a rip him to shreds verbally and then wrap an arm around your shoulder and walk away.
・But don't think he won't get physical over you. Because Ruhn definitely will.
・Would rather take your last name when you get married - his holds too many bad memories
・He knows his smirk makes you weak in the knees but when you brush over his bare skin, he nearly gets on his own knees to worship you
・Would walk to the ends of the earth to find you. There's nothing Ruhn would not do for you. Kill, maim, avenge, even die for you.
𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔
Tough on the Outside, Soft on the Inside (Ruhn) x The Top (You)
Overly arrogant, flirty (Ruhn) x Pretends To Be Unfazed, But Is Dying On The Inside (You)
“Shut Up” x “Make Me”
𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆
Intertwined Destinies
𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈
Fire In The Water by Feist
Blood Moon by John Lunn & Eivor
The Lure by The Weeknd
𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞
・Every time with him is hot and heavy; it's hard to breathe when you're both in the mood. It's as if the world doesn't exist and all you can do is be in one another's arms
・You're both as dominant as each other, but when you tease him, gods help you. He'll have you bent over any flat surface, taking you from behind.
・Definitely an ass slapper.
・Growls in your ear both in the bedroom and in public
・Something turns primal in him whenever he's with you. Sometimes it feels like he's a hairs breath away from completely ravishing you
・Ruhn is definitely one to keep a naughty polaroid of you
・At times you think you're both insatiable; no matter how many times either of you cum, nothing is good enough.
・As Mates it's easy to explain. Your souls were made for one another, and so is your biology. Therefore, you both have high fucking sex drives.
・You're obsessed with Ruhn's hands and he knows it. Large, veiny and usually with a few rings. He rests his hand on your thigh, and will slowly move it closer and closer to your core - no matter who is around
・His cock is 8 inches when hard, veined, 3cm in girth. Circumcised; when he's horny the tip is a dark weepy red and when after orgasm it's slightly darker.
・As much as he can be serious and passionate, Ruhn also loves when you two can be silly while having sex. Talking about your day, or laughing when you two almost fall off the bed.
・The first time you had sex, Ruhn didn't last as long as he usually does. He was a whiny, whimpering mess, head in the crook of your neck, pumping in and out of you relentlessly.
・It was like fucking for the first time.
・Nothing compared to being with the person you were supposed to be with.
・Ruhn couldn't stop kissing you, and not just your lips. His favourite part was behind your ear. Trailing hot breathy kisses down to your neck.
・He apologised, but it didn't mean he was done. It just meant there was more natural lube for you.
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reddeaddamnation · 1 year
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welcome back to the writing side of tumblr! idk if you’ve written something like this, bc i can’t find your masterlist, but how would the assassins or at least my baby ezio act when they find out assassin!reader is pregnant with their child but still taking on missions and possibly putting themselves in danger, no matter how good they are at their job xx
Thank you it's good to be back. I missed you guys and your creative ideas lol I don't remember writing anything like this so there you go
Basim would be like nah nuh-uh. You say in bed and take care of yourself because in his culture a woman who is pregnant is sacred and needs to take care of herself. The most you can do is go to the market if you won't have any trouble with walking. If you're in discomfort - he will go with you.
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Eivor would try to explain to you the dangers of the missions as if you don't know already and would kindly and politely tell you to think about your child because he will be devastated if something happens to either of you.
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Alexios' jaw would just drop and he would have no idea what to even say. "Please don't." He would just say in a monotone voice but with the most pleading eyes you ever saw him pull off. He wants to say so much but doesn't even know where to start, because he was shocked when he found out.
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Bayek would sit you down and lecture you in a rather angry tone because he had flashbacks of when he saw his own son die so he will NEVER allow it to happen again. "I'm very disappointed that you don't know how to take care of yourself in this condition. What came over you?"
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Altair would cut you off mid-mission and would tell you to turn back or else. He will take care of the mission instead of you if you promise to not put your head in danger and don't be stubborn because he can be more stubborn and will not budge until you accompany him back to your home. No matter how long you spend in that one place he met you.
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Ezio would be like "WHAT" and chase you down hoping he isn't too late and would give you the lecture of your life. "You know you're more important to me than anything. Now that you are carrying our child, I will worry about both of you and will not forgive you if you put the two of you in danger again. The baby did not choose to be here. Think about it."
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Connor would be so disappointed. Honestly how will you look at him and still do it? He asked you to take care of yourself and rest and here you are putting yourself in danger. Usually he communicates everything but this time you get the silent treatment for at least a few hours.
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Edward would sigh and say "I ask you for one thing and one thing only. Stay. Out. Of. Danger. Don't you realize what you're doing?" He wouldn't show his true anger tho and would leave you with your thoughts for a few hours.
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Arno would pace around all day and when you come back, he will nag you to oblivion. "What do you think you're doing? Why? What do you want to prove? Is our child less important than the damn brotherhood? I can't stop you if you don't want to quit but at least think about what you're doing."
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When Jacob found out you want to come on the mission too, Evie begged him to tell you to reconsider. He just walked past the both of you like "Y/N you're not coming." in a stern voice, leaving you shocked. "If you're so adamant on coming, I think you should think about the consequences" Jacob? Consequences? Don't go, for the sake of this nice change in him!
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Shay would be angry. So angry and so stern. "You know the consequences if anything were to happen to you and I can't be there to say anything except I told you so because we both know what will happen if you keep going on like this. Instead of resting and staying safe, you go out of your way to put yourself in danger. You're acting like a child."
Haytham would just sigh and rub the bridge of his nose. "Don't make me lock you in our room with guards outside because if you don't have the decency to keep yourself safe, I will."
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sapphic-woes · 2 years
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Eivor x Fem!Reader - Merciful
A/N: So...first fic ever doing x reader, bear with me as I get the hang of this. In this, Eivor is injured and comes across a nun who helps her out. Minors DNI. 
Word count: 4k.  AO3 link
_______
Mercy. It was a virtue that was usually praised. However, when it came to you many said it would be your downfall.
“You’re too nice, too caring, too understanding. That's why everyone always uses you.” You knew that. It was easy to tell when a kind smile masked ill intentions, and yet you could never bring yourself not to lend a helping hand. For that was the duty of a nun, wasn’t it?
“Ugh…lady…” As you dropped the bucket of water you’d fetched from the river, you soon realized there were some good deeds even you found difficult to do.
It was a dane, one bloody and bruised, dragging himself…herself, up out of the river. It was a struggle not to scream, she looked like the devil himself with her war paint running down her face and blue eyes focused on your startled form. Even in her plight, she still managed to notice your instinctive step back, and her glare in response–as if daring you to call the guards–making it feel like it would be pointless to try. 
“Please…” Only the second time she spoke did you fully register her voice–both its peculiar ruggedness and the fact that she spoke English–sending a shiver down your spine. Clearly, she was asking for help. But to help a dane? 
You weren’t a fool. You lived in an abbey, and heathens loved to attack them. It was a risk you gladly took to serve the Lord, and you had been prepared to face death by the hands of a dane since the moment you became a nun. Now you were facing a dane alright, yet somehow the Lord was testing you with her imminent death rather than your own. 
Do I let her live, or leave her to die? The choices led to two grim realities. Her death within the hour, or the abbey’s potential massacre within a few weeks' time.
You prayed to the Lord that the if of the latter would never become a reality.
She was heavy, stinking of dirt and blood. By the time you decided to save her, she had already passed out, leaving you to somehow drag her body to a suitable area. Luckily, being the pushover of the abbey had some perks. In your desperation to find solitude, you’d stumbled across a cave not far from the river and used it to rest from time to time. 
Once there, you huffed, laying her down on the dirt floor as gently as your sore arms could. Then you were off to fetch a new bucket of water and medical aid, explaining poorly to the reverend that you were simply nursing an injured baby calf stuck in the woods. He thought it was useless work–but work no one other than you would do–so he let you go, and with haste, you returned to the dane.
Once you entered the cave again, you set to work. The bleeding had to stop and to stop the bleeding the wound needed to be located. Oh, you thought with a nervous gulp, her top will have to be removed... 
Heat crept over your cheeks, but quickly you shook your head. This may be a dane, but she was a woman nonetheless. A woman exactly like you. There was nothing to be shy about, and it was confusing that you even were. With a deep breath you took the knife you brought, murmuring apologies to the unconscious heathen before cutting through her thick clothing.
Immediately, you realized she was certainly a woman…but her body was definitely not like yours.
If there was one word to describe it, it was hardened. Trained. Muscles rippled as she breathed, and tiny scars decorated her waist and chest. There was ink too, terrifyingly beautiful designs that made your heart hammer and nervously breathe out. You’d heard from rumors that the tattoos meant horrible things, like tallies of how many saxons they’d killed. What if I become one too? Again, panic seized your heart, and you found yourself trembling as you studied the wound she’d suffered.
Luckily, it was something treatable. With great care not to wake her (though you weren’t sure if it was out of fear or genuine concern) you patched her up, checking to see if there was anything else. There was a slash at her right leg, and you patched that one up as well, finally moving to clean the dirt from the rest of her body. Gently, you dragged a cloth across her chiseled face, marveling at her sharp jaw and long, pretty lashes. Perhaps she had looked intimidating before, but fast asleep she was clearly a thing of beauty. 
You liked her straight nose and her eyebrows that seemed to grimace even in her sleep. You wondered what she’d look like when she was wide awake and not glowering at you. You wondered if her voice really was that low–or if her long journey only to end up passing out in the river was the cause. You were curious, and before you knew it, you were hovering less than an inch above her face.
Lord above. You held back a squeak, scrambling back. That was rude! Impolite and…odd of you. Very odd. For a moment you tried to register why you’d done such a thing, but you came up with no answer. All you knew for certain was that you felt warm all over, tingly as you watched the woman’s chest rise and fall. Somehow, just watching her breath was mesmerizing. Was it the devil in her making you so curious? You didn’t know–but you did know that the reverend would be expecting you back soon.
In more of a frenzy than you’d like to admit, you gathered your things and left, cheeks aflame as you rushed to escape whatever trap satan intended to use the dane with.
_______
It took a week for her to wake again.
In those days, the routine was fairly simple. Every day you went out to fetch water you’d take the time for a detour. There you’d clean her wounds and redress her bandages, leave fresh water and stolen borrowed leftovers just in case she’d wake. For the past week, the food rotted, and dust settled over the water. Today was no different, at least, when you first entered the cave it wasn’t.
She was lying as she always did, and you moved quickly. You only had so much time before the reverend, or anyone else for that matter grew suspicious. Despite everyone needing you, they did little to respect you as a person, becoming more of a lapdog than anything. You set down the bucket of water with a huff, arching your back to crack it with a groan. Who knew being a nun would require so much labor? 
“It’s already been a week…maybe it’s exhaustion?” You murmured as you walked up to the sleeping dane, hovering a hand over her face. She was breathing, and her breaths were stronger than when she was usually asleep, though still steadily rhythmic. That was a good sign, right? You bit your bottom lip with worry, turning away. 
To transport her bandages and other medical supplies, you tied them with rope in pouches to the side of your thighs, keeping them hidden under your long robe. At first, you felt ridiculous walking with them like that, but now it was like second nature. With little thought you hiked up your dress, untying the pouches carefully. That was when you glanced in front of you at the food you’d left before. A useless endeavor, but still you couldn’t help but check with hope…
…and see that it was all completely eaten.
You froze. One of the pouches you’d tried to quietly remove slipped from your hand. Glass jars full of healing salve shattered from within. You didn’t care.
No–you were more concerned with the eyes drilling into the back of your neck, trailing down the base of your spine…and finally, resting on your legs exposed to the chilly autumn air. You didn’t know whether to run or scream. You didn’t know if either choice mattered.
“Lady.” Her gruff voice made you jump, and suddenly you could move again. You spun on your heel, you scrambled back–two horrid decisions to make at once. Your balance abandoned you, and suddenly coarse skin gripped your hand, yanking you forward. You stumbled, letting out a startled cry as you fell onto your hands rather than your back. 
You’d squeezed your eyes shut to brace for impact, but now as you tentatively fluttered them open, you didn’t recognize the bandages inches from your face. That is until they rocked up and down. An amused, albeit pained, voice rumbled from the depths of it.
“Lady, might you remove yourself from me?” Am I…staring at her chest? You moved faster than you ever had before, clambering off of the dane and then shuffling several feet back. She watched the entire display with a raised eyebrow, and her calmness in juxtaposition to your alarm only made you feel more embarrassed. You opened your mouth to speak, but the knot in your throat wouldn’t allow for more than another frightened noise. At that the heathen paused, shifting her gaze to think before focusing her gaze back on you.
“I…won’t hurt you. You saved my life, lady. It would have been easy to leave me there, or send out guards to end my suffering. Yet,” the dane waved her hand to the empty food and water, “you did all this instead. It would be foolish to repay my savior with violence, wouldn’t you think?” She was right, it would be foolish. However, you had been taught that danes were exactly that; tricked by the devil into wanting nothing but bloodshed. It would be foolish of you to immediately believe her words.
“T-thank you.” You tried to act as if you believed it, though from her frown she guessed you didn’t at all. You stayed frozen as she sighed, scratching the back of her head.
“I’m not saying that to be thanked. I’m just…telling you. Despite how you view me, you have helped me. For that I am grateful.” With that she attempted to rise, hissing out in pain. You gasped, stiffening with worry. She had just woken up or at least had in the last couple of hours. She had no business moving yet! Before you knew it you were on your feet, rushing over to stop her. 
“Wait! Please don’t move, your wounds are still healing and you’ve just woken up. You must rest.” Regardless of how badly you trembled, you still spoke as firmly as you could. “You can’t do any harsh manual labor–like traveling to God knows where–until it’s safe!” That surprised the dane, eyebrows high on her face and mouth slightly agape. Slowly, her lips curved into a smirk, and she nodded, lying back down.
“You fear me, yet you give me orders?” Your cheeks reddened, and her sly smile widened. “Alright then, little lady…for a few days, I’ll rest my body for you. Is that satisfying?” For you rang like a sweet mantra in your head, and at your awkward nod the dane chuckled. It was a pleasant sound, making you wring your hands together and swallow nervously. You would have said more, but suddenly you heard your name being harshly called out, making the both of you jump.
“I–I must go now. No one else…knows. I didn’t think they’d take kindly to the idea of treating you.” That made the heathen's eyes darken with understanding, and she nodded. 
“Go, the last thing I want is you to be punished for helping me.” Her voice had hardened just as it did the day you both met, though this time it didn’t scare you as much as before. It left you with a tight chest, and you didn’t trust your own voice to speak again properly. Quickly, you nodded, rushing out of the cave with warm skin and an ever growing heartbeat.
_______
Her name was Eivor, with some knowing her as Eivor the Wolf-kissed, you hoped it explained where the gaze came from. 
You had felt it the day she’d woken up, and you had dismissed it as a look a warrior would give to their enemy. Calculating and intense, dragging down your body before rising back up to your eyes–you assumed as a saxon, she’d immediately seen you as her enemy and had reacted as such.
Now, you had no explanation for the heat in her stares, and it was starting to plague you.
Her promise of only days turned into another week with your insistent begging, and in that time period it became clear that walking into the cave was like walking into a wolf’s den. Each day that her wounds healed she grew stronger and more…overwhelming. In her teasing voice by your ear as you dressed her wounds, and in how when she sat with you, it was as if she was caging you in. 
She spoke to you like a friend. An extremely caring one. She hated to see you exhausted after running around the abbey, angry they’d treat you more like a servant than an equal. Her hands would hold you close and urge you to rest in the safe embrace of her arms. It was nice, and you found yourself longing to go to the cave every day. However, you didn’t understand her actions. At first, you summed them up to culture, but her gaze told you otherwise.
There was something in those sapphire eyes, something enticingly dangerous, and it gleamed whenever your cheeks burned bright. It darkened when you bit your bottom lip with shyness, flickering over your heaving chest when her actions became too much for you to bear. Now, the tension in the air had shifted from one of fear to…curiosity. Need. But for what, you feared, would be your undoing.
“Little angel,” The raspy voice in your ear brought you out of your thoughts, “are you done?” You jumped, looking up to find Eivor’s face hovering above your own. It took everything in you not to marvel at it. She had a rough kind of beauty that made your insides squirm, and abruptly you looked down again.
“Yes! Right–apologies. I was lost in thought…” You finished fixing her bandages, fingers lingering over her toned abs. How are they so defined in the first place–large hands wrapped around your own, and with surprise you looked back up into Eivor’s concerned eyes.
“You’ve been odd lately. Listless. Is something bothering you?” You smiled softly. Despite her stern face, you’d soon learned that Eivor was incredibly soft. She was a warm soul, and from the stories she’d shared with you, someone who greatly cared about her family and friends. You shook your head.
“There’s nothing. Well, I don’t believe there is. I’m simply…confused, Eivor. May I ask,” you sucked in a fractured breath, unsure if you should continue. A calloused hand cupped your cheek, and unconsciously you shut your eyes to lean into the touch.
“What is it, love?” Again, she called you in a way that made your stomach burn and your heart swell. With a hushed whisper, you spoke your mind.
“Why do you…act this way with me? I do not understand. Is it custom for da–norse–to treat other women like…like…” You didn’t know how to say it, but Eivor didn’t need you to, humming softly.
“Like a husband would?” You breathed out in relief.
“Yes! Are norsewomen more intimate with one another than sax–” That made Eivor snort, sharply reigning in her laughter so only the corners of her lips twitched. However, at your puzzled stare she realized that hadn’t been some kind of joke, and her laughter completely left her. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and then eventually decided such innocence could only be met with a soft, but equal amount of bluntness.
“Little angel…I act this way because I have affection towards you. You are kind, albeit self-sacrificing.” What? You couldn’t believe the words she muttered, but her eyes held yours with such conviction that you knew it was true. You wanted to look away–her gaze was becoming more predacious with every second your cheeks burned brighter–yet you couldn’t, captivated as Eivor continued. “You shine like the sun, and I cannot help but think you are a gift from the gods…and in the future, if you would allow me, I would like to lie with you.” 
She would…what? That had been the source of her looks this entire time. It wasn’t as someone assessing an enemy, nor pure curiosity. It was…lust. She wanted you, in ways you were sure you couldn’t imagine, and when you expected the feeling of disgust to wash over you, something worse happened. 
All at once, it came barrelling over you. A tantalizing heat and debilitating fluster, aching across your skin as you struggled to say something, anything to discourage her words. The hand at your cheek was cruel. It burned like molten iron, doing nothing to help you think straight. Eivor wanted to lie with you, as a man would with a woman. To hold you in her arms, commit an act you had vowed under the eyes of God to abstain from–and while that should have made you wretch away from the woman, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.
Rather, you felt your core burn. Shame bubbled up inside of you, but so did the desire. From the beginning, you had wanted something from this woman. Before, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Now the answer was clear as day, burning over your heart.
“If I were to,” you had to pause, words too much to ask all at once, “to lie with you, Eivor. What…” you took the chance to glance up at her. Her gaze was like a crackle of lightning. It took your breath away and made you twitch with wanting. You found it took an effort to finish your question.
“What…would you do?” That was a mistake. There was hope in your voice you accidentally let slip through, and Eivor caught onto it. Those shapely lips twisted. 
Once again, her sharp eyes dragged over you..but it was shameless this time. Devoid of the restraint and caution she’d had before. Now you shivered, because it was obvious now, painstakingly so, that from the moment Eivor met you, she’d wanted nothing more than to defile you.
_______
You were a mess, a whimpering, trembling mess, and Eivor wasn’t nearly done with you. She pulled away from between your breasts to catch her breath and admire her work. She’d left bite marks all over your chest, thighs, and waist, the indents of her teeth a pretty color across your tender skin. Your teary eyed, gasping face only spurred her on more, and she hummed as she leaned down to steal the heat from your lips, eliciting a moan from you.
Your precious gown, used to avert the eyes of men, was gone. Your veil was thrown away long ago. The autumn air bit at your skin, but regardless of the temperature around you, your body burned nonetheless. You felt one hand brush against your breast, sending a quivering through your spine as she rolled the bud between her fingers. Her other hand went further south, down to your unattended, dripping wetness.
She had been fiendish there before, suckling your thighs and kissing the skin between your legs and your heat, yet never there. No–not until you were gripping the hard muscles of her arms and practically begging, needy for relief. She might be one to tease, but Eivor wasn’t cruel–taking her fingers to grant you the pleasure you craved.
Her fingers brushed over your bud, and then she pressed down. It was gentle, yet firm, falling into a steady rhythm as she rubbed a tiny circle there. You gasped, nails digging into her arms. Soon you were overwhelmed with bliss, weak in the knees as your voice fell into sweet, keening sounds to her ears.  
“That’s it,” the blonde said, voice gruff as she watched you whine, “keep letting me hear that beautiful voice angel.”  Oh, did you obey that command, voice ringing out as if you’d become a bard just to sing of the pleasure she gave you. She pressed into your bundle of nerves more, never slowing down. You stammered, hands moving to cling to her back in desperation.
“I–I can’t…” Those sharp eyes were hazy now, glossed over as she took in your bruised lips and half-lidded eyes. Her hand circled your bud one last time before the pressure stopped, and immediately you let out a sound of dismay, trying to focus and ask why–but soon, you were given an answer.
“Oh–!” In one fluid motion, two thick fingers were plunged into your dewy folds, burying deep and making your back arch at the sudden fullness. Her fingers curled, and she took her time just as before, offering a steady, brutal rhythm. She wanted to leave you ruined, and it was working, bones turning to mush and overcome with sensual destruction.
Relentless, she pounded her fingers up to the knuckle. She knew what to do to leave you a puddle of fervent desire, skillful even as she grew more lustful herself. Watching you crumble from her digits stretching your heat was intoxicating, and you could see the carnal need in her eyes grow as she continued.  Her tongue raked over her canines as she thrust particularly deep. You whimpered, body shaking uncontrollably, and the sight made her want to taste you, now more than ever. Without warning, she swiftly moved.
“E-Eivor!” All you could manage was to say the norse’s name with a fractured, desperate moan, squirming against her firm hands. They gripped your thighs and held them in place as she went down on you, indulging herself with the slick folds before her. She dragged her tongue upward, and you choked–your oversensitivity to her every action making your legs grow weak. She chuckled at your disoriented pleasure, and the vibrations of her voice against your folds were torturous. Eivor knew that, and she didn’t hesitate to use it, not bothering to pull away as she moaned against your heat.  
You squirmed, bucking to push her tongue harder into you. She obliged, pressing deeper into your wetness and having her fill of your taste. Her nose routinely brushed against your bud, and it drove you wild, drowning in the sensations clawing at your core. 
“I-I need, Eivor please–” how did a single question come to this? Now you were shamelessly begging the norse before you to have her way with you–as if she wasn’t already–lips forming over your bud. Oh God. 
Your hands found their way into holding fistfuls of her blonde hair. She was calculated, devastating in her onslaught over your pearl. You were reduced to a bundle of mewls and hopeless clawing, throbbing against her tongue as she brought a mayhem of pleasure over you. It consumed you in a near terrifying way, eyes rolling as she continued to bring you to your peak.    
“I can’t, d-don’t stop…!” It was the only warning you could utter before you were mindless, toes curling and hips rocking wildly. You choked back a sob as she continued to suck on your pearl even as you rode out your peak, only letting up when you completely slumped over. She kissed your twitching folds and inner thigh before she rose, gathering you in her arms.
“Little angel,” her chest rumbled at your back, textured hands pulling you into her lap. “Are you alright?” You were more than alright, nodding into the crook of her neck.
“I am. That was…um…” Despite having done all that, in the heat of the afterglow you felt your embarrassment creep back in. Eivor laughed.
“Good?” At your nod, she smiled, fingers brushing against the back of your neck. “I’m glad, I wanted to make sure you were comfortable…but it was hard to control myself once I saw that face.” The way she complimented you with ease made your stomach twist with butterflies once again, and it must have been evident on your face. Softly, a hand held your jaw where she wanted it, and Eivor kissed you slowly and sensually, pulling away just enough to whisper against your lips.
“Come back with me. I have a settlement–Raventhorpe–and I would care for you there. You wouldn’t be pushed around again, and your kindness would be honored, not used.” It was nearly said in a plea, hesitant as if the woman wasn’t sure what your answer would be. But you knew it from the moment she’d begun, heartwarming with joy.
“Yes,” you nodded so quickly it elicited a laugh from Eivor, adoring your enthusiasm, “I would love to, Eivor. If it means being with you…” Your fingers intertwined with hers, and you smiled wide, sharing in Eivor’s own giddy smile back.
“I’d go anywhere.” 
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teecupangel · 10 months
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Okay okay so.
Your thoughts on a Time Travel-ish fic where Desmond gets yeeted back to a little bit before Altaïr’s time and Bayek, Kassandra, Alexios, and f!Eivor become basically immortal bc of POE/Isu bullshit?
And then all the main characters after that become immortal bc of POE/Isu bullshit (including Desmond) so they’re just slowly gathering a bunch of immortal Assassin/some Templars and winging it til they hit the modern day era.
If you like to add a vampire spin to it, here’s the vampire idea a while back that does include a lot of main characters (but not all) getting turned into vampires.
Now, for this idea, let’s set up some things first.
Desmond is the primary immortal and nobody knows how it works.
They stop aging once they die and are revived for the first time.
There will always be a minute of death before their revival. (spawn rate)
Since we want to cover all main AC characters (although I love the fact that we didn’t include Basim in that list. Mirage isn’t out yet, Basim doesn’t count yet, I guess XD), I know you asked for Desmond being yeeted a little before Altaïr’s time so I’m hope you’re fine with Desmond being yeeted before or during Kassandra and Alexios’ time period. (I mean how 'little' is open for interpretations I say)
And how about we make this a little bit more interesting?
Desmond gets yeeted into the time of the Isus. To be more specific, he gets thrown into Minerva’s ‘temple’ during the final days before the Solar Flare.
He’s disoriented and maybe just ‘a bit’ traumatized because of the pain he felt when he activated the device so all he could do was try to understand what Minerva was saying.
About how she’s trying to save his life. That he must do what they all fail to do.
Find the true source of this anomaly, this singularity point that ensures a catastrophe hits Earth every few millennia regardless of what they do.
Because, and this is important, Desmond, even if you save the world from the Solar Flare, another catastrophe will happen. It is inevitable.
But you can find the reason why it has to be that way.
Desmond…
No matter what happens.
Never give up.
Keep looking.
I will do all I can to give you as much help as possible.
Good luck.
And Desmond falls asleep when Minerva pushes him into some kind of device that looked like a water bed.
When he wakes up, he finds himself staring at a confused-looking woman clad in armor.
The Layla Trilogy:
Desmond has no clue what this singularity point is meant to be but he assumes that he’s meant to find it now that he’s woken up… 2 millennia before his time, Jesus Christ.
Kassandra was just looking around the supposed ruins of Athena’s first temple. She believes he’s a demigod or a human turned demigod by Athena. She also thought he might even be Erichthonius but that idea was scrapped when Desmond showed her just how little he knows of the Ancient Greek world. He joins her because it’s not like he has any other clue and Kassandra traveling made it clear that he could cover more grounds if he stayed with her.
It’s because of Desmond’s intervention that Alexios (as Deimos) isn’t killed and the siblings’ relationship is rocky but Alexios stays with them in the Adrestria even if it usually comes down to Kassandra and Desmond making sure Alexios’ temper doesn’t get them into trouble. (Whether the other family members survive is your call).
In the end, it’s the whole Atlantis DLC that makes Kassandra and Alexios accidentally (or is it an accident, Minerva?) immortal. Desmond’s inclusion into the ‘vision’ screwed up the Isu tech and whatever is keeping Desmond immortal is copied into Kassandra and Alexios. They don’t realize it until later on when Alexios dies during a very fierce battle. Then a minute passed while Kassandra cradles her baby brother in her arms as she cries, Alexios opens his eyes and gasps loudly. Kassandra and Desmond would realize they’re immortal as well later on. No matter what they ask, Aletheia in the staff (Desmond doesn’t trust her one bit) doesn’t say anything at all. Desmond believes that their immortality might have been caused by one of the many POEs he had with him at the moment (he’s been hoarding every POE they find).
In this setup, Alexios would be Aya’s ancestor and it’d be more of a one-night stand that happened because Alexios was feeling a bit off that day and wanted some company. Whether they learn Aya is Alexios’ descendant is up to you. They meet Bayek during the Curse of the Pharaoh DLC while they were checking out the ‘curse’ and this is another case of Desmond’s immortality getting passed into Bayek while the POE is shrouding all of Thebes. Maybe even during the time they were in the Duat and Desmond is seeing people who haven’t even been born yet and that’s how he believed his desire to destroy the lies being shown to him caused Bayek to be infected by his immortality. They don’t know Bayek is immortal though but Bayek knows they’re immortal (maybe make one of them die in front of Bayek? They’ve become quite prone to risky actions because they know they can’t die) so when he realized he was immortal, he starts looking for them.
Eivor met them on the Isle of the Skye and Desmond’s immortality infects her during that time as well (maybe during the final confrontation with the POE?) but, as usual, they don’t know that yet. What happens is that Eivor returns to Ravensthorpe and the story continued until the end of AC Valhalla, maybe a few days later, Reda (who may or may not be an avatar of Minerva or her sage or something, the point is his immortality is not connected to Desmond’s… maaayybbee) introduces her to an old friend of his who is looking for someone who looks a lot like Randvi, a man going by the name Amun. At that point, Eivor already knows she’s immortal, Basim slicing her throat during their final confrontation was a dead giveaway, and Reda introduced them as ‘two people of similar circumstances’. They both realized that they’re immortals and Bayek (who Eivor knows as Amun) believes that the answer to their questions is with Desmond and the Spartan siblings (they’re not, they don’t even know they’ve been leaving immortals behind) so Eivor leaves Ravensthorpe to find Desmond and the other with Bayek, promising to come back once she has all the answers.
They finally catch up to Desmond and the others around late 1100s and Desmond doesn’t know how but he’s sure he’s the reason why they’re all immortals now. Without any other information, all they can do is be cautious and, later on, they decide that Desmond shouldn’t get too close to other people until they’re sure on how this entire immortality thing gets activated. Of course, that only means Desmond would feel bored (and maybe have bad reminders of his life on the Farm) so he was just walking a busy marketplace to take some time off his own spiraling thoughts, just looking around and that’s when he bumps into Altaïr.
Desmond’s Ancestors (Part 1):
Desmond didn’t even know Altaïr would be around these parts. Why would he? All he knew during this time was that Altaïr went with Maria to go travel, he didn’t know just how far the two had traveled during that time. Desmond desperately tries to get away because, fuck, there’s no way that he was going to mess up Altaïr’s life even if he desperately wants to because he has no idea what will happen to him if he messes Altaïr’s life so badly that Desmond Miles wouldn’t be born centuries from now. This only makes Altaïr interested in him and it ends with Desmond joining Altaïr and Maria in their travels, sorta forgetting to tell anybody else that he might have been half-kidnapped/half-went along with it?
So the current immortality gang is out looking for him while he’s making a life in Masyaf, becoming like an uncle to Altaïr’s children. Desmond keeps trying to tell Altaïr that Abbas is too dangerous to keep alive but Altaïr won’t listen, thinking that Abbas would not stoop as low as Desmond says, especially when the Apple doesn’t show him anything bad happening with Abbas. By this point, Desmond had told Altaïr everything so Altaïr know Desmond knows of a future but he insists that that future is no longer their future because they have changed things.
Altaïr and Maria still go with Darim to assassinate Genghis Khan but Desmond stays behind to keep an eye on Abbas. Unfortunately, this gets him captured and it’s only because of Desmond’s warning that Malik survived, taking Sef’s wife and children out of Masyaf on Sef’s orders while Sef stays behind to save Desmond. It ends in tragedy as Sef dies in Desmond’s arms instead even though Desmond begs for whatever is keeping him immortal to save Sef, to make him immortal as well. Desmond is taken deeper into Masyaf and tested on to find the reason for his immortality instead.
Altaïr’s return is heralded by a civil war between those who sided with Abbas and the Assassins Malik rallied. In the battle, Maria dies in Altaïr’s arms as well and, if you really want to hammer in the pain, Malik falls as well. When they finally took Masyaf back, Altaïr finds Desmond in the deepest part of Masyaf alive but… well… it’s not a pretty sight. Just as he frees a catatonic Desmond, Abbas stabs him from behind and Desmond snaps out of it, screaming as Altaïr falls into his arms. Remembering how Sef dies in his arms the same way breaks Desmond. Altaïr dies in his arms and revives a minute later, much to Abbas’ surprise. In the end, Altaïr kills Abbas and takes Masyaf back.
After the funerals are done and Masyaf starts healing, Altaïr tells the new mentor (Malik if he’s still alive or Darim if Malik is already dead) that he and Desmond are leaving Masyaf. That this place is simply too painful for Desmond right now and the only way he can heal is to be away from this place. The mentor agrees because they both know how much Desmond blames himself for the death of the people he and Altaïr loved. That not even Altaïr telling him it’s not his fault could reach him.
So they leave and a few days later the immortality gang reaches Masyaf but everyone is tight-lipped about what happened and if they know anyone that looks like Desmond (there were rumors that the people of Masyaf were experimenting on how to achieve eternal life and such). So it took them a long time for the mentor to confide what had happened (that’s fine with them though because they trust Desmond can take care of himself (oh boy) and they’re immortals, they have all the time they need) and the mentor isn’t sure where Desmond and Altaïr could be.
They’re in Monteriggioni. Of course, they’re in Monteriggioni. Desmond talked and showed Monteriggioni to Altaïr and his sons so Altaïr knew how much Desmond loved the town. They stayed there because Altaïr was hoping Desmond could heal there and Altaïr accidentally sorta-maybe bought the place while it was just a little thing and started expanding and stuff. They’re always known as descendants of themselves and they’re rumored to be brothers or cousins or something, anyway, the point is the town’s connection with the Assassins is a very hush-hush affair and the Italian Brotherhood grows with Altaïr’s assistance while Desmond just… does whatever he wants.
Desmond meets Ezio as a child when the Auditore family visits the town to pay their respect and Altaïr sees how happy Desmond is to play with Ezio and his siblings. He suggests that they vacation in Florence once in a while to visit the Auditores and Desmond agrees.
The Auditore execution doesn’t happen because Altaïr’s presence makes the Italian Brotherhood be more incognito. Giovanni is still loyal to Lorenzo (an ongoing headache of Altaïr’s) and he’s the mentor of the Italian Brotherhood while Altaïr has more of an advisory role but his connection to the other Assassins was great enough that he was able to coordinate a rescue mission when Giovanni was arrested. Federico and Claudia (who learned enough to fight in secret thanks to her Tio Desmond) were in the house and they got the others out while Giovanni stayed behind so he was the only one arrested and the Auditore family is given asylum in Monteriggioni.
Of course, the whole rescue plan had been in the making for a while now as a ‘last resort’ since Desmond told Altaïr what would happen and this pushes Ezio, Federico, and Claudia to join the Brotherhood in hopes of avenging what has happened to them.
Same thing happened as canon. The actions of the Italian Brotherhood (really, Ezio and his siblings) catch the attention of the immortality gang who finally catches up but they accidentally thought Ezio was the immortal with Desmond named Altaïr and that’s how Ezio learns about the whole immortality thing.
Ezio finds out he’s immortal after Rodrigo stabs him and he dies but revives. He believes his other siblings aren’t immortal though because he saw Minerva’s message for Desmond and it’s already changed. She’s speaking to Ezio and she tells him to “keep Desmond in check”. To make sure he remembers his mission. Ezio believes it’s not Desmond who gives immortality to random people but Minerva. That this immortality thing is something Minerva prepared to keep Desmond ‘safe’ and ‘focused’.
Desmond would have easily said that Minerva is going by a list of people Desmond cared about but he didn’t even know about Kassandra, Alexios, Bayek and Eivor before his death so that idea gets thrown out before it even fully forms.
Anyway, it ends with the immortality gang going on a newly refitted and upgraded Adrestia to start looking for this singularity point with Altaïr giving Monteriggioni to Petruccio who had been taking care of the finances and the little details for a while now. They stop by Constantinople as well and Ezio falls in love with Sofia, maybe he stays with her for a while and have two children? Idk. Anyway, the Auditore line continues…
Into the Kenway line…
Yeah, see that part one? Yeah, it’s because this got too long and I only answer/reblog on tumblr on a specific time frame to make sure I get things done. Sorry XD
I’ll get back to the others tomorrow (if work wills it) but if anyone wants to take a stab at this, feel free :)
(ngl, I was debating if I should make Malik/Maria/Darim and Sef immortal. I’m still on the fence with Malik being immortal. It would be a good angst fodder “Why you but not them?!!” kind of deal)
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watch-me-liv-morgan · 4 months
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Assassin's Creed: A Fated Encounter II
Characters: Eivor Varinsdottir and Kassandra
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This story contains violence and sexual content
Word Count: 1458
Years after the events of Valhalla, Eivor sets out on journey leaving Vinland to find Isu artifacts. She arrives in China, only to find warriors harassing people, men and women, asking questions about a mysterious artifact that they are looking for. Eivor looking at the warriors closely, figures out that the warriors are part of the Order of the Ancients, who are looking for the same artifacts as she is. Eivor intervenes and puts a stop to the warriors before they could kill more people. More of the Order comes and starts to surround Eivor. Being outnumbered by the Orders 10 to 1, there was no way for Eivor to leave the area without being killed. Then a mysterious figure with a hidden blade, kills one of the members of the Order, which starts a big fight. Eivor and the mysterious person would come out alive, as a few members of the Order retreat.
“Thank you for the assist but I had it all under control.”
“Did you now? It feels like to me you need all the help you can get, Eivor.”
Eivor realizes that she heard that voice a long time ago back in the Isle of Skye
“Kassandra, is that really you?”
Kassandra removes the hoodie, “It is good to see you again, Eivor. We should talk somewhere we will not be killed.”
Eivor and Kassandra would leave town and go into hiding in a cave nearby.
“It’s been a long time has it not, Eivor.” As Kassandra gives Eivor food to her realizing how far she went.
“It has been a very long time but you have not aged since we last met.”
“You wont understand if I told you”
“Help me understand, Kassandra. How are you the same as you were back in the Isle of Skye?”
Kassandra would then reveal the Staff of Hermes to Eivor appearing in thin air like it was magic.
“My father passed this staff to me a long time ago. It has powers that I could not have imagined it. It kept my father alive all this time.”
“Kept him alive?” Eivor looking confused.
“This staff keeps the user alive. Does not age. I do not age. After my father passed it down to me, he passed away. Right in front of me.” Kassandra looking sad telling Eivor about her father passing.
“It’s hard seeing my friends die while I do not. I watch people die and I go on about my day like it was nothing.” As Kassandra shreds a bit of tears in her before wiping it away.
“Enough about my past, why are you here, Eivor?”
“I heard from one of the warriors that there is an artifact here.”
“I know. I can somehow sense it. We should look for it in the morning. It’s better if we do this together.”
“Okay then, tomorrow it is.”
The next day, Kassandra wakes up and sees that Eivor has already left without her. Kassandra starts looking for her outside but she is miles away. Eivor arrives on a new town and sees dead people around her, including children. Blood everywhere and houses being burned. Her attention is turned to a mysterious female warrior and her army. Eivor confronts the mysterious female warrior as the army surrounds them. Eivor suddenly sees an object being held by the female warrior, which happens to be the Apple of Eden.
“You must be the one who caused all of this.”
The mysterious warrior, holding the apple in her hand, speaks.
“My name in Lin Knan. You must be Eivor.”
Eivor shocked that she knew her name, only to be here for just a day.
“The apple is dangerous. You do not know how powerful it is.”
“The apple has giving me a vision. A vision of my future. What me and my army could do to China. Let me show you how powerful I am, Eivor.”
“You won’t be alive to see your future comes true.”
Eivor and Lin go on to battle each other. Lin would go on to have an advantage on Eivor. In the end, Lin would stab Eivor thru her stomach.
“You are not worth my time, Eivor.”
As Lin, with the power of the apple, pushes her far into a brick house. In Eivor’s final moment, she sees Lin and her army leave before fading away. Kassandra arrives into town and finds Eivor body. She takes her body to a nearby abandoned home. Desperate not to lose another friend, she tries using the power of the staff to heal her, in which she succeeds only to weaken her a bit. Eivor wakes up in shock and sees a weaken Kassandra. Eivor, being angry at Kassandra for reviving her, goes to her.
“Why? I was ready to die. I wanted to die and go to Valhalla. Why did you do it?
Kassandra holding Eivor’s hand.
“Because I did not want to lose you.”
Realizing what she said, Eivor kisses Kassandra in her lips and the two would fall in love in bed, kissing each other and having sex. The next morning, the two make there plans to stop Lin once and for all.
“She has a castle not too far from here. We can sneak in and attack her and kill her before she does more damage to the people.” Kassandra says.
“Then what are we waiting for? An invitation?”
The two would sneak into the castle, killing most of her men. They finally reached into her chambers as Lin was waiting.
“So, you come to die again Eivor and this time you bought a friend with you.”
“We will end the terror you caused Lin. No more people will die by your hands. The apple has corrupted your mind. Let’s finish this.”
Eivor and Kassandra draw out their swords, readying for a fight.
“This time I will kill you and your friend will join you as will.”
Eivor and Kassandra rush into Lin, only for Lin to use the power of the apple to push them away. Lin attacks them straight away as Eivor and Kassandra would parry her every moves. Lin would surprise Kassandra as she slashes her. Kassandra heals from her slash as Lin sees this.
“You are a surprising guest”
Lin being surprised by Kassandra, does not see that Eivor has snatch the apple away from her. Kassandra would suddenly stab her with her hidden blade.
“Your fate has been sealed.”
 Kassandra says to Lin as she stabs her in the head to finish her once and for all. As this was happening, Eivor, holding the apple in her hand, sees visions of the future and sees what would happen to Earth in 2012, with the solar ray hitting Earth ending humanity once and for all. Kassandra takes the apple away from her before she could be consumed to the power of the apple.
“What did you see, Eivor? What did the apple tell you?”
Kassandra says to Eivor. Eivor, realizing what she saw, lies to Kassandra about the vision she saw.
“It was nothing.”
Kassandra knows that Eivor was lying as Kassandra has seen the future as well long time ago in Greece. The two leave the castle as the two see that order has been restored. Kassandra hides the apple in a secret place that no one can find and use the power to harm the people of China.
A day later, Eivor meets Kassandra in the port, realizing that Kassandra will be leaving again.
“Your leaving again.”
“I cannot stay in one place for too long. The Order will now know who has the staff and will not stop until they get their hand on it.”
Eivor understands her decision to leave. Before the two go on their separate ways, they share one final kiss to each other.
“Don’t forget about me.”
“I will find you again. I promise.”
Kassandra goes on to the ship and ship departs to an unknown destination as Eivor also leaves as well.
Many years later in 1971, Kassandra still with the Staff of Hermes, finds Eivor’s unmarked grave somewhere in New England, putting a flower in her grave.
“I told you I would you again.”
As she stares at her grave as the sun sets behind Eivor’s grave.
In 1991, a young girl meets Kassandra at the park and gives her a flower.
“Who are you miss? You look pretty.”
The girl tells Kassandra.
“My name is Kassandra. What is your name?”
“My name is Layla. Layla Hassan.”
Kassandra would see a vision where she meets a adult Layla Hassan at the lost city of Atlantis and passing the staff to her before she passes away. Kassandra smiles back at her.
“I know.”
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leofrith · 1 year
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A Critique of ACV: The Last Chapter (SPOILERS!)
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I wanted to hold off on sharing my thoughts about the new content until I’d given The Last Chapter time to breathe, because I was honestly hoping that maybe if I gave it some time, I wouldn’t dislike it so much. But the more I think about it, the more I find things to dislike about it. Which is why what started out as a quick write-up of my thoughts immediately after playing The Last Chapter has now spiraled into this very long critique that got so long I needed to add subheadings to break it up. 
Sorryyyyy. 
I’m basically spoiling everything from The Last Chapter here, along with Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla and parts of its expansions. I also briefly mention a few other Assassin’s Creed games, mainly Odyssey and one of its DLCs. My point being, if you don’t want to know anything then please look away now. Or don’t. But I know I would have appreciated a warning before diving into this mess. 💀
As a disclaimer: this essay is not meant to be an attack, nor is it meant to place blame squarely at the feet of Darby Mcdevitt, or any of the other writers or developers involved with the game. There are so many moving parts in a game as expansive and with as much add-on content as Valhalla, and I can only guess what happened behind the scenes that brought us to this point. I don’t know who wrote what, who made what creative decisions, and I therefore don’t feel comfortable placing blame on anyone in particular. I have never worked for Ubisoft and I can therefore only speculate about their internal culture based on what has been leaked from the company over the years. Furthermore, this is not an invitation to personally attack anyone involved in the development of this game on Twitter or wherever else. This is purely an attempt on my part to articulate why me and so many other fans of Valhalla and of Eivor feel so profoundly emotionally betrayed by this ending, as well as outline some factors that I believe contributed to the way the game was mishandled. 
So. I think I had already accepted when the trailer released back in September that something like this was going to happen. I had already done my mourning for the fact that Eivor would never get the send-off she deserved, which is why I think I’m a lot less upset than I would have been otherwise… but that doesn't make this suck any less. The Last Chapter was completely underwhelming, it was emotionally unsatisfying, it completely butchered Eivor's character, it felt incomplete, and rushed, and it felt more like a teaser for Mirage than anything close to the conclusion Eivor’s story deserved.
The (Character) Assassination of Eivor Varinsdottir
When we first meet Eivor as an adult, she is overconfident, brash, and she has just gotten in over her head and gotten both herself and her crew captured by the enemy. She is in the 17th year of a quest for revenge she has been in pursuit of since she was nine years old. She has spent more than half of her life hunting Kjotve, the man who stole her parents, her clan, and her childhood from her, and is fully prepared to die if need be to kill him. She is an orphan who was taken in by the Raven Clan after the slaughter of her own people, and she considers these people to be her new family. Her love for her family and community are central to Eivor’s character right from the beginning. While she learns and grows past some of her flaws throughout the game, her love for her community and her loyalty to them is what sticks with her. 
Eivor also starts the game carrying an immense amount of shame for how her father died, laying down his axe in the hope that the rest of his clan would be spared, only for he and most of his people to be slaughtered anyway. Through her time spent acting as a leader to the Raven Clan–first as a warrior and later as their Jarlskona–Eivor finally understands by the end of the game why Varin did what he did, because she realizes that she would make the exact same choice to protect her people. Eivor, too, would choose to die in “dishonor” if it offered even the smallest chance to save her loved ones. 
Eivor is the reincarnation of Odin; she carries his memories and his thoughts, unbeknownst to her. She has visions and prophetic dreams and hears his voice in her head, but spends much of the game not understanding the meaning of it all. The part of her that is Odin pushes her toward chasing personal glory, toward the pursuit of knowledge, toward selfishness. But she chooses to abandon all that in favor of the people she loves, even as Odin rages and screams insults into her ear and calls her a coward–the one thing she has always been most fearful of becoming. Odin is a representation of everything she has been told to value in life, and she is (literally) pulled in the opposite direction by Sigurd, Randvi, Hytham, Valka, Gunnar, Soma… everything else. 
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Eivor never truly seems to grasp the meaning of her connection to Odin, Sigurd’s connection to Tyr, Basim’s connection to Loki, or anything about the sages or the Isu at all. Not in the base game or in any of the DLCs. She never really acknowledges it explicitly until The Last Chapter. 
Put a pin in that.
Family and community are central to Eivor’s character. Loyalty is central to Eivor’s character. Honor is central to Eivor’s character. That’s why it makes absolutely no sense for Eivor to drop everything, seemingly out of nowhere, to go back to Vinland alone and live out the rest of her days learning from Odin, the part of her that she explicitly rejected at the end of the main game. And it certainly doesn’t justify Eivor deciding to leave Ravensthorpe in the middle of the night without a farewell, regardless of who she supposedly said goodbye to offscreen. It doesn’t justify her completely sudden and out of character decision to walk away from her clan, her family without a true goodbye. Eivor spends the entire base game acting as Jarl in Sigurd’s stead in everything but title, because Sigurd has all but completely abandoned the clan in order to chase his own ambitions, only for Eivor to supposedly do the very same thing? No. It’s completely incongruent with her character and actively contradicts facts that were established in the main game.
There are so many other inconsistencies, including the fact that I highly doubt Valka–the same Valka who we saw warn Eivor against digging too deeply in her visions in the intro to The Forgotten Saga–would simply accept Eivor departing for another continent to delve deeper into her visions. But the way they miswrote Eivor’s character was particularly glaring. There could have been a version of the last chapter in which Eivor's motivations actually made sense, but that version needed so much more evidence for it to be believable. Reading between the lines is one thing, but expecting players to accept the conclusions you’re feeding them without planting any seeds beforehand is just lazy writing. [insert “HE WOULDN’T FUCKING SAY THAT” meme]
The RPG structure is the root of all evil (I know just… hear me out on this)
I think applying an RPG structure to Assassin’s Creed was a mistake, and have thought so for a while, but not really for the reason you’re probably thinking of. The “but we’re reliving another person’s memories in the animus, so how can it possibly make sense to allow us to make choices that affect the narrative?” reason. My criticism of the addition of choices is mainly this: I think that by trying to “expand” the story by adding RPG elements and dialogue options, they instead ended up severely limiting themselves. Because the problem with adding dialogue options to Assassin’s Creed is they can never take those choices to their conclusion. They can never truly have consequences.
Trying to tell a linear story with a non-linear structure like this doesn’t work, or at the very least, it hasn’t worked in Assassin’s Creed thus far. Odyssey came closer, I think, because it had multiple distinct outcomes and player choices actually had an affect on the trajectory of the plot (Mostly. Hi, Legacy of the First Blade. I’m coming for you in a minute.). Odyssey's multiple endings present a different problem entirely in the context of Assassin’s Creed because despite the input of choice, there is still a canon version of the story and a canon ending. It leaves those players that arrived at a different outcome feeling alienated, and like their choices were incorrect or simply didn't matter. 
But in Valhalla, all roads lead to more or less the same destination and most decisions have no impact on the trajectory of the story. The problem that arises from this is that players will make their choices and expect some sort of payoff, as they should. But they won’t really get it. As per Darby McDevitt, for example, Sigurd always goes back to Norway at some point, regardless of whether a player ends up with the “good” or the “bad” ending. Sigurd returning to Norway is a fixed point and the timeline will always course correct, so to speak, to reach that end. 
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(Thank you @/vikingnerd793 for the screenshot!)
Everyone gets more or less the same version of The Last Chapter, with the siblings’ interactions only varying slightly after the “bad” ending to reflect the fact that Eivor and Sigurd haven’t seen each other in a while. But even with the tiny variations in dialogue that exist, a few changed lines in a scene that doesn't last any longer than two minutes still fail to make Eivor and Sigurd's supposed off-screen reconciliation feel even remotely earned. Ubisoft wanted to offer “choice” while not following through with emotional payoff for those choices because they only wanted a single ending. Even if a player ends the main game with Sigurd deciding to stay in Norway as a result of Eivor’s “betrayal,” the consequences of that to their relationship are never truly explored.
Having only one ending with no variations in an RPG means that they couldn’t address any of the plot points that could have been affected by player choices. Interpersonal conflicts are watered down or only vaguely referenced. They couldn’t truly address the state of Eivor and Sigurd’s relationship because that would depend on what endgame the player reached. They couldn’t give Randvi an actual goodbye because some people didn’t romance her and therefore it might feel “forced” to those people, despite her being a major character. Vili–despite apparently being Eivor’s best friend–can’t appear because for some people, he’s busy being the Jarl of Snotinghamscire. There is no true emotional follow through for any of the choices made throughout the game. The end result is a goodbye tour consisting of Aelfred, Guthrum, and Harald, three people who Eivor has little to no emotional attachment to, but whose roles in the game are fixed no matter what choices the player makes, which means they’re safe to use. To be clear, Hytham’s role in the narrative is also fixed, but the reason I separate him from the other three is because he is actually emotionally significant to Eivor. His goodbye, unlike the other three, feels earned. 
To be clear, I don’t place the blame entirely on the writers for this because, as I’ve said, they were given a franchise that revolves around linear stories, told to put dialogue options into it, and make sure all those choices still lead to the same conclusion. As an extension of that, they brought back people who worked on the base game two years after its release to tie up loose ends that should have been dealt with years ago. I wouldn't be surprised if those same creators have all since moved on from this story and its characters, both creatively and emotionally. It's been two years. Even longer than that since they actually worked on the game. I wouldn't fault them for not having the same enthusiasm they once did. But the end result is a last chapter that feels almost completely devoid of emotion, and ties up absolutely none of the loose ends that most people would expect from a permanent “goodbye.” It fails to reach the emotional highs and lows that a conclusion with two years of build up should have. 
Which now brings me to Randvi. 
Oh, Randvi, now and forever shackled to her map table. 
I know this will be a hard pill to swallow for a lot of people, but I always suspected that they would never actually follow through on making Randvi and Eivor's relationship canon despite the fact that it is indisputably the most fleshed out romance in the game. They are hinted at right from the beginning, in the form of Randvi’s clear dissatisfaction with her marriage to Sigurd and in Eivor’s lingering gazes. It is the only romance option in the game that has any effect on one of Eivor’s core internal conflicts: remaining loyal to her brother. “The wind calls [her] back to Randvi” after almost every single regional arc, whether players choose to pursue a romance or not.
But Darby McDevitt Official Headcanon or no, I never thought Ubisoft would "force" another romance after the backlash from Odyssey's Legacy of the First Blade (I told you I’d come back to it). I truly believe the company will and has happily suffered criticism from the Queer community for forcing a relationship on gamers who played Kassandra as a lesbian. Kassandra who, prior to the DLC, also never shows any interest in starting a family, or becoming a mother, or “continuing the family line”, as would become Ubisoft’s flimsy correction to the storyline after the criticisms started rolling in. But I highly doubt they would be okay with alienating the bigots who seem to form the loudest portion of their player base. That would be too much of a risk to their bottom line. 
To me, the romance plotline in Legacy of the First Blade was the inevitable result of Ubisoft wanting to tell a linear story with a non-linear structure. I think they did so without thinking through the implications of letting players choose their character's sexuality, only to then backtrack on it later because they needed Kassandra to have a baby. And what they seemed to take away from that was only that all forced romance is bad, without grasping the nuance of why that particular forced romance was so bad. This isn’t to say there should be any forced romance at all but that it should have served as a lesson of why one shouldn’t make a game with so much emphasis on player choice, only to take that choice away and even retroactively nullify those choices when it suits the needs of the plot. But that wasn't Ubisoft's takeaway. So in Valhalla, they pulled back. They made all player choices matter just a little bit less.
Eivor and Randvi’s relationship is inarguably handled with more care than any of the other romances in the game. It is inextricable from the narrative, whether it is a romantic relationship or a friendship. But despite any amount of blatantly obvious subtext that exists, Valhalla is still an RPG and the creators cannot confirm or deny any of the choices as correct or incorrect. And because they have to cater to all possible endings, they cannot address Eivor and Randvi’s relationship in any capacity because it might be misconstrued as being forced. Despite every overt piece of evidence that exists, Valhalla is still technically an RPG and at the end of the day, plenty of people did not choose Randvi. No amount of narrative director headcanons or heavy subtext will change the fact that Randvi is a seemingly meaningless choice in a sea of meaningless choices, and has now remained so permanently.
Ubisoft just really sucks as a company, actually
Everything that I am about to say in this section (and honestly, most of the next one as well) is conjecture because again, I don't know how certain creative decisions were reached behind the scenes. This isn't just about Randvi, or about Eivor's sexuality. It’s also about Ubisoft’s long and storied history of internal misconduct and suppression of marginalized voices. It's about Ubisoft's history of employee abuse in general. It's about the fact that Ubisoft suddenly decided to let players choose their gender, but only once they finally got around to making mainline titles starring women. Syndicate’s Jacob and Evie share the role of protagonist, and would have also shared equal screen time if Evie’s role hadn’t been significantly minimized throughout production in favour of her brother. Aya was originally meant to replace Bayek as the main playable character early on in Origins, but was later reduced to a side character who is only playable in a few missions throughout the game. Aya, the founder of the Hidden Ones. The order that would later evolve into the Assassins. The order that is the namesake of the entire franchise, just to be clear. Odyssey was originally conceived as Kassandra’s game, before the developers were made to allow players the choice to play as Alexios. Every female protagonist in the franchise thus far has been minimized in some way, and Eivor is unfortunately no different. 
Assassin's Creed is a huge enough brand at this point that they could have easily released Odyssey with only Kassandra, and Valhalla with only Eivor. But instead of taking a "risk" and doing just that, they added the male options to cater to a small but vocal minority of misogynistic piss babies who don't want women to exist in their video games, period. At least, certainly not as fully realized characters with personalities and thoughts and feelings of their own. That would require acknowledging women as people, rather than as identical playthings that mostly exist as a social stealth mechanic for them to hide behind when they need a cover. 
It’s especially funny because it was such a futile effort. That very same group of people was never not going to complain about Assassin’s Creed going “woke” for having female protagonists, even if they were optional. Those people were going to complain no matter what, and they absolutely have as evidenced by the fact that they've been having a conniption on Twitter for the past few months now that Eivor is suddenly getting even half of the attention from the marketing team that Havi has gotten for two years. The comments section on every official social media post featuring Eivor is a sea of people complaining about how “female” Eivor being canon makes no sense, how her voice sucks, how she is just the result of Ubisoft pandering to a “woke” demographic. The “fan” response could not be more blatantly misogynistic. What’s more, Ubisoft bases the trajectory of their games at least partially on fan responses. It’s a toxic feedback loop of them making creative decisions built on sexism and the fans responding in turn. 
Ubisoft deciding to implement gender choice as a mechanic didn't happen because they suddenly had a change of heart after happily ignoring their female players for years. It happened because they got busted for the "women don't sell" comments and the company's history of burying sexual assault allegations, and because they finally caught on to the fact that catering to gamers that aren't cishet men might actually be profitable. And it wasn't for lack of trying from the devs within the company because again, Origins was originally conceived as being Aya's game, Evie and Jacob were at the very least supposed to have equal screen time when development on Syndicate was in the early stages, Elise's role in Unity was also reduced... you get the idea.
Letting people choose to play as a woman or letting people choose to play as a Queer person is great. But it's an obvious cop out when your company also has a history of suppressing those very same voices, has done next to nothing to remedy the toxic company culture that encourages that behaviour in the first place, and when you've been dragging your feet as a developer about making your games even just a bit more inclusive for years. It’s an empty gesture when those female characters need to be watered down just enough for their male counterparts to make some amount of sense in the story, and when the marketing for the game hides them away like some kind of shameful secret. 
Suddenly making games starring female protagonists because you’ve realized that it might be profitable, while also making it optional anyway, isn’t exactly the win for representation they seem to think it is. Especially when the marketing favours the non-canon, male protagonists so totally that most people would assume Eivor and Kassandra are skins of their male counterparts. Because heaven forbid the poor baby boys have their escapist fantasy shaken if they have to play as a woman who’s better at getting girls than they are. Making your representation optional makes your representation look half-assed and while I absolutely adore Eivor and Kassandra, I mourn what they could have been if their stories were allowed to be fully theirs. 
Perhaps I’m being overly harsh and Ubisoft simply decided to implement gender choice in Valhalla in good faith. I honestly wouldn’t care if I thought it had, or if AC games had always allowed players to choose their gender. But considering the company’s history, and considering the game’s marketing, I somehow doubt that. Especially when, in their first game featuring a canon male protagonist since before AC pivoted to RPGs, they are not giving players the option to choose their gender. 
Hi Basim. 
Now don’t get me wrong. I obviously understand why Mirage doesn’t allow players to choose their gender; Basim is a pre-existing character, and it really wouldn’t make sense. But it is so transparent that they are willing to jump through narrative hoops to explain why Alexios is playable as the Eagle Bearer, but the same thing can’t be done for Basim. I suppose the importance of coming up with convoluted reasons as to why your protagonist’s gender is so easily changeable fades away when you’re not trying to replace a woman. 
But what’s this? By God it’s–it’s Mirage with a steel chair!
The final content update for Valhalla feels like a teaser for Mirage. Full stop. If you think I'm being too harsh or unfair, then that's your prerogative. But in The Last Chapter, in the long-awaited conclusion to Eivor’s story, we don't even get to play as Eivor. The entire questline (if it can even be considered that much) consists almost entirely of cutscenes, which we view through Basim's perspective while Eivor is relegated to a side character. It’s a collection of Eivor’s memories that are supposedly filtered by emotional intensity, as Basim puts it. Grief, longing, sadness: all emotions that I fail to see being presented in the memories they gave us, at least for the most part. For the first time in Valhalla, we are voyeurs to Eivor’s memories rather than experiencing her life through her own eyes. The role of the animus user in past Assassin’s Creed games has always been pretty unobtrusive, but The Last Chapter constantly reminds us that Basim is there and watching. "Animus magic," as Basim calls it, was less of a necessity to the plot and felt a lot more like Ubisoft's marketing department gone awry. 
I'm thinking about what Basim says at the end of the base game, when he is in the modern day and speaking to Eivor's remains. When he says, "I can take from you anything I want... your memories, your skills, your secrets. They're all mine." It's so ironic because he really stole Eivor's ending right out from under her, and I would have to laugh if it didn’t suck so much. It's all I could think about while I was watching Basim flippantly scrub through some of Eivor's most "emotional" memories which for some reason include… saying goodbye to Guthrum, a character we spend very little time with in the grand scheme of things, and who Eivor has next to no emotional attachment to. I understand the desire to tie up loose ends in terms of the historical events that were happening around this time, and they absolutely should have done all that because Assassin’s Creed has always been, in part, an exploration of history. But it should not have happened at the cost of providing closure for characters who were such significant figures in Eivor’s life.
I thought the Roshan quest was fun and I loved her and Eivor’s dynamic, even if we only got a small glimpse of it. But it was development time that could have been spent on wrapping up Eivor’s narrative instead of making another timeline agnostic add-on stealth mission in a game that has always had notoriously janky stealth mechanics. I look forward to seeing more of Roshan in Mirage and can now rest easy knowing that she is going to survive to the end of that game (although I cannot fathom why they decided to spoil that so early on). But they used what was apparently very limited time to give us a quest, very clearly a nod to Mirage, that does more to promote their next AAA title than serve the narrative of Valhalla.
Using the ending of a game to lead into the next is fine and is to be expected. But that transition should not come at the cost of a resolution for the story you're leaving behind. And really, it seems there was far more thought put into Basim and William Miles' first meeting than how Eivor came to the decision to leave for Vinland. 
I think Basim is an incredibly rich, complex character, and it will be interesting to see what direction they take his prequel. But as someone who has actually been really excited for Mirage, the way they've dealt with this transition between games has left me feeling so conflicted, not least of all because of how quickly Ubisoft dropped the ball on Valhalla as soon as Mirage was announced. I’m not sure I’ll be able to look at everything we will be gaining with Basim in the next game without also feeling bitter about everything we lost with Eivor. It’s not terribly surprising, since Ubisoft has never treated Eivor’s character with any amount of respect; not in the marketing, and not in most of the post-launch content that has come out in the past year. 
The post-launch that launched absolutely nothing
Darby has now said that The Last Chapter is meant as more of a direct follow up to the epilogue of the main campaign, to be played right after Gunnar's wedding. This is why they didn't feel the need to show a goodbye between Eivor and her people; the wedding functions as a sufficient goodbye to the Raven Clan.
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But even if that was even remotely satisfying, it doesn't explain when Eivor came to accept her role as a sage, a role that she has yet to understand by the end of the base game, even if she is perhaps beginning to question it at the very least. It doesn't explain why it was never truly addressed in any of the some 100 plus hours of content that have been released for this game since then. It doesn't explain why Eivor and Randvi might finally pursue a relationship, only for Eivor to suddenly pick up and leave for Vinland, alone and permanently. It doesn’t explain why Eivor would leave for distant shores without saying goodbye to Ljufvina, or Vili, or Stowe and Erke, or Broder, or Oswald and Valdis, or Swanburrow, or any of the many other people whose relationships Eivor cherishes throughout the game. 
If anything, The Last Chapter being played immediately after Gunnar's wedding and the rest of the Hamtunscire epilogue makes it even more important for Eivor to say goodbye to her people, because that whole arc only cements Eivor’s devotion to her people, as well as how much her “encounters” with Odin have shaken her faith. Even then, that doesn't even touch on when or why she came to the decision to leave in the first place. 
Due to a “play anytime” approach that Ubisoft–for reasons I cannot even begin to fathom–decided to take with all the post-launch content for this game, all DLCs for Valhalla are exactly that: they can be played at any time. They go to great pains to avoid spoiling story points from the base game, they rarely make references to events from the base game and, perhaps most critically here, they don’t build on any of the plotlines of the base game. 
Remember that pin we stuck in Odin earlier? Hi. He's back.
None of the DLCs released in post-launch–from Wrath of the Druids to The Siege of Paris, to smaller, free additions such as the River Raids–touch on Eivor’s connection to Odin or her understanding of it, or any of the other potential threads left behind by the base game. Other more mythologically inclined entries like the Mastery Challenges, Dawn of Ragnarok, and The Forgotten Saga scratch the surface of it, but never dig deep enough for Eivor to put two and two together. Even in the Odyssey crossover with Kassandra, who has intimate knowledge of the Isu and their artifacts, Eivor remains completely clueless about her role as a sage despite it being the perfect opportunity for her to learn more. 
At no point is Eivor shown to make any wild revelations about her Isu heritage that could justify her decision to leave. There is a gaping hole in the narrative where that development should be, and therefore the jump from “everything else” to “I’m older now, and I want to learn from the god who lives in my head,” is unearned and comes from completely out of nowhere. The DLCs could have remedied this easily by giving us deeper insight into how Eivor interprets her visions, specifically how she interprets her relationship to Odin. They could have dug into how and when she comes to terms with that connection, and the same could be said for how she comes to know about all the other sages, including Harald, who Eivor and Sigurd suddenly seem to know about being the reincarnation of Freyr despite not seeing him in more than a decade and never mentioning it before. But they can’t, because the DLCs are playable at any time, and therefore cannot discuss things the player may not yet understand.
The brevity of this DLC was especially jarring, even as someone who went into this with low expectations. Because after two years worth of updates, including some sizable free ones, I thought that surely Eivor’s conclusion would be considered important enough to receive the time and attention it deserved. After all, Kassandra got her own surprise ending in the form of the Crossover Stories, announced completely out of nowhere two years after the last DLC for Odyssey was released. After all the time and effort and love that clearly went into that crossover, it seemed reasonable enough that the ending for Valhalla, a game that was still being supported, would have the same amount of effort put into it, if not more. Instead we got a barely there wrap-up that lasts maybe 45 minutes at most, if you’re being generous, and fails spectacularly at offering the catharsis that should be a no-brainer in a story where the main character’s death has been a mystery to be unraveled, right from the beginning. 
Eivor is dead. She has been dead for centuries, buried across an ocean from everyone and everything she knew in life. The how and why of Eivor’s burial site is a question that follows us through her entire journey and throughout the entire game. One that was never resolved… until now, with some vague notion about leaving everything she has worked for and everyone she holds dear behind in an attempt to find herself, all with the help of an entity with whom her relationship has been tenuous at best. Eivor decides to banish the part of her that is Odin because she doesn’t like that part of herself. That second soul, the part of her that values personal glory above all else. Even in The Last Chapter, she describes Odin’s memories as “malicious.” So why backtrack so completely? 
I have no idea.
It’s possible the developers weren’t given enough time to give this final chapter the breathing room it needed to make sense. It’s possible they had lost enthusiasm, and just wanted to rip the band-aid off and get this thing over with. It’s possible Ubisoft wanted to cobble together the scraps of a potentially satisfying ending so they could say they did it, before turning all of their attention to their next title. As it stands, I wish they had just left Valhalla alone, with an open ending, instead of providing a non-answer that feels like an afterthought. An incomplete conclusion to a story and a cast of characters that many of us still care so much about, but Ubisoft seemingly gave up on long ago. 
Eivor deserved better. 
The Raven Clan deserved better. 
Valhalla deserved better. 
We, the fans, deserved better.
If you actually read this far then there is a good chance that you also need therapy
This whole affair really reminds me of the last time I felt this profoundly disappointed by a piece of media I loved. It reminds me of how I felt after watching the second season finale of The Mandalorian, when it hit me that the whole season had just been a series of various cameos and fan service moments that only made sense to the plot at a stretch. It hit me that I had just spent the previous eight weeks watching the show runners completely sideline their main characters–Din Djarin and Grogu–and lose the plot in favour of promoting future Star Wars projects. When it seemed like all the good writing in the show previously had been entirely accidental. But the major difference between The Mandalorian and the ending of Valhalla is that I knew there would be another season of The Mandalorian to potentially patch things up and pick up on some of the plot threads that were dropped. For Valhalla, this is it. There is no more content upcoming that will patch this up and, in hindsight, there are plenty of other things added to this game in post launch that I think would have also made me feel the same way I feel right now if I knew they were the last piece of content we’d ever see. 
Am I overthinking this? Perhaps. Am I being melodramatic? Probably. But to me, this ending for Eivor feels like yet another perfect example of what happens when corporate interests are allowed to dictate creative decisions. 
I say all this as someone who has and will continue to defend a lot of Valhalla’s faults, because if writing this whole thing has done anything, it has served to remind me how good the core narrative of the base game really is. It has depth, it has heart, and I hope that other people who enjoyed it as much as I did–and are as disappointed by The Last Chapter as I am–are able to reconcile the beauty of Eivor’s character arc in the main game with the way it was seemingly undone in The Last Chapter. 
I’m trying my very best to not let this ending retroactively take away all the joy I’ve found in this game for the past year. And in spite of how negative this critique has been, writing it has actually really helped me do just that. Because in writing this critique, I was also looking back on Valhalla’s narrative, its highs and lows, its major plot points, and I was re-watching clips. A speed run of Eivor’s greatest hits, if you will. 
I was reminded of why I connected so strongly with Eivor in the first place. I was reminded of her strength, her kindheartedness, her love of children, her wit, the poetry of her dialogue, her sense of duty. I was reminded of her rage, her single mindedness, her sense of loyalty that is often to her own detriment when she offers it to those who don’t deserve it. I was reminded of her character arc from someone who spends so much of her life on a single minded quest for revenge, to someone who becomes a beloved leader to her people. 
I was reminded of the Valhalla sequence at the end of the game, a sequence that still makes me cry just as much now as it did the first time I played it, if not more. When Eivor, who has spent most of her life feeling nothing but resentment and shame toward her dead father, finally learns to understand why he did what he did. When she understands why he laid down his axe, the very same axe she holds now, in the futile hope that his daughter, his wife, and the rest of his people would be spared, only for most of his people to be slaughtered anyway. When Eivor has finally realized, through years of acting as a leader to her people, why Varin did what he did, even in opposition to everything she has ever been taught to value. When she has grown enough to realize that she too would make the exact same choice her father did, her cowardly father, because she too would die in dishonour if it offered even the slightest chance to save her loved ones. When Eivor, who has spent her life trying to justify her existence by being useful, finally accepts that her parents died because they loved her and not because she didn't do enough. When Eivor is holding the very same axe now that her father held then and the High One himself is offering her wisdom and glory and power and she, like her father before her, drops her axe and turns her back and chooses love instead.
That is the version of Eivor I will remember. Not the hastily cobbled together ghost of her that we saw in The Last Chapter.
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vikingnerd793 · 11 months
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Valka: Odin’s selfishness and indifference is not a good thing. See that you don’t follow in his footsteps, as to do so would result in a personal exile and loneliness worse than death!
Eivor: I understand, or at least I hope I do.
TLC Narrator: She indeed does not understand, and ACTUALLY exiles herself to die alone in Vinland, doing nothing other than meditating about Odin. And she abandons everything with complete indifference in the middle of the night. You’re welcome, and thanks for playing this totally consistent story that took you hundreds of hours! These lessons from Valka totally aren’t meaningless now! 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
🤦‍♀️
They needed to hire someone who even remotely cared about Eivor to write her final chapter. They weren’t even trying.
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ninjahiccups · 4 months
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The Songbird of Asgard
Chapter 17: Truth...
AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 16.1k Warnings: Some angst, usual GoW violence
The time has come. What will he choose?
Two chapters today because this one turned out way too long... lmao
There had been so many occasions when Heimdall would begrudgingly wish he had listened to Eivor.
Usually for small things. She'd told him not to voice his disdain for Magni and Modi's destructive habits during their training, claiming it would only give them an incentive to do it more often just for the satisfaction of making him angry. He ignored that advice, and just as Eivor had warned, the brothers made a point to train close to his cabin and "accidentally" break a hole through the wall. He'd earned an "I told you so" for that one. One day he was asked to make preparations for transporting materials to Asgard from Svartalfheim, and Eivor insisted he give the dwarves incremental instructions instead of one very long list of goods to gather and sort, explaining that such an overwhelming task would inevitably lead to mistakes that he would have to personally correct later. Another suggestion he brushed off, believing the dwarves would be the ones responsible for any missing materials. Just as she said, when an entire barrel of ore was missing from Odin's requests, he lectured Heimdall for his lack of awareness as opposed to the dwarves' incompetence, and held him responsible. He had to go through the trouble of going back to Svartalfheim and double checking every single item leaving with him before he could finally get it all over with. Of course, Eivor was more than happy to gloat.
Still, he wouldn't admit to being wrong. Maybe he hadn't picked the ideal choice, but never would he say he made a mistake. 
But standing there, exhausted, beaten, pinned to a wall with a spear in his arm, he did not at all deny it.
He really, really wished he listened to Eivor.
Not only was she right that the foreign god had found a way to circumvent his foresight, he was now defeated and about to die in the most shameful way possible. 
And that wasn't even acknowledging the regret he already felt before this fight.
His eyes were clenched shut as he panted, the pain in his arm hurting far worse than all of the wounds he only vaguely acknowledged, mind too busy wandering while he waited for his trip to Valhalla. It was such an embarrassment, especially when he was in top form for this encounter. Sure, he was still mourning his love, but it was that mourning that made him fight his hardest, use every trick he had, taunt his enemy and berate them until they lost focus and gave him an easy win. Yet even when he had everything he needed to win, he still failed.
He couldn't even find it in himself to be angry, or wonder how disappointed All-Father would be. The only thing on his mind was her. How he couldn't avenge her, how her death could be traced back to him, how he had even soiled her memory during the fight by claiming he'd forgotten the last time he'd been struck. He even had to pause in the middle of that bluff, remembering the day in Muspelheim when Eivor proved to be his match, hating himself for speaking as if he'd forgotten about her even if it was intended to be nothing more than a boastful insult.
Eivor's loss was his fault. Her death was a result of his negligence and inability to keep his promise to her. He wallowed in remorse for days only to lose the most important fight of his life. Asgard would be in jeopardy because he couldn't kill a single rabid dog, and all he could do was wait until his dishonorable death came to let the indignity sink into his soul.
There wasn't a part of him that believed Eivor hadn't died without putting up a fight first. At least that meant he could find her in Valhalla and apologize for being a complete fool who couldn't appreciate her enough.
The God Killer's presence retreated, turning away from him.
Heimdall's gaze flew up as soon as he felt it, finding the foreign god staring to his right, spear in hand, motionless. "Wait…" The beast's mind had been mostly blank since his arrival, so much so that he wondered if the man had any brain at all. "What is going on in that empty head?" He despised the way his voice cracked, but that was far from the most disgraceful aspect of this moment. No, his own display of weakness couldn't compare to the absolute blasphemy this waste of life was committing. "Oh no no no no no…you are going to spare me out of pity!" He laughed in disbelief, his very being utterly insulted that this trash was inflicting the worst possible dishonor an Aesir could ever face. 
But his pride as an Aesir was secondary. What really pissed him off was that the old god was mocking him, forcing him to live with both the loss of his Songbird and the compunction of being unable to avenge her. He had the gall to make him suffer longer than he already has, to drag his name through the mud and force him to live with eternal despair. "That's not how this works. You don't get to do that. Not after what you did!" Heimdall spat, growling even louder when the god only gave him a brief glance. "Not after what you STOLE from me!" All the physical pain was incomparable to the crippling sorrow that leaked into his furious voice.
Yet the foreign god only peeked at him again, but this time long enough for Heimdall to catch his confusion.
"You don't even know!" Heimdal chuckled bitterly. One of the brightest and purest souls in the realms was snuffed out by this devil's hand and he didn't even notice. "You have no idea… you're too much of a monster to know what you've done." He took immense satisfaction in seeing the flash of emotion in the foreign god that indicated that he struck a nerve.
The oaf didn't linger, much to his disappointment, merely delivering a stoic, "Let it go and you may live."
Let it go.
Let it go?!
This degenerate took away his pride, his prestige, his reputation, his honor, and his love, and he was supposed to just let it go?! Just to live with the agony?!
This man was truly, profoundly stupid. A complete halfwit, a blundering fool if he believed he could get away with his crimes. Did he think he could just stop being the bloodthirsty beast whenever he felt like? Heimdall’s teeth were grinding together so hard that there may have been sparks in his mouth, the fierce scowl morphing his entire visage with rage. What would make this monster think he could do this to him?!
Unless…
"Is this about the little runt?" The anger melted as he saw the old god finally turn toward him, a look of warning in his eyes. That was when Heimdall realized he could take advantage of this moron's misstep, make him pay by exacting the same loss he had suffered from. 
This monster took Eivor from him. It was only fair that Heimdall took his useless son in return.
"Oh, now I am definitely going to gut him!" Heimdall reached up to the blade pinning his arm to the wall, too engrossed in his rage to see the foreign god lift his spear, ready to take his arm clean off. 
"STOP!"
The world froze.
That voice.
He knew that voice anywhere.
The spear was just a hair's breadth from the ground, the plea stopping the motion just in time. Heimdall swore his mind was playing tricks on him until the foreign god looked over his shoulder. He did the same, leaning a little to his right to see a ghost that took his breath away.
"E-Eivor…?" His voice faltered and fluctuated with disbelief, all the tension in him lost along with whatever will he had to fight. 
This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.
Those beautiful green eyes that he missed so much flickered between him and his enemy before she panted, "Kratos, back off." She paused, collecting herself after hearing how harshly she addressed the man who had her lover's life in his hands. "Please."
Kratos stared Heimdall down for a second longer, like he was reminding him of how lucky he was to still have all his limbs, before he stepped back and walked away, leaving his back turned to the scion. 
This was all a dream. He was dead and this was some sick joke the Valkyries were playing on him while his spirit was flying to the afterlife. There was no way she was alive and familiar with the foreign god.
As Kratos put distance between himself and Heimdall, Eivor hurried to him, all while Heimdall was wondering when the illusion would fade away this time. "Oh, gods, Heimdall," she sobbed, her heart aching at the sight of him battered and bruised, reaching up to caress the bloody gash on his cheek. With that touch Heimdall felt his heart stutter and his breath hitch, unable to resist leaning into her warm skin. 
This was real. She was real. 
Heimdall's left hand flew up to take hers, breathing unevenly as the confirmation that this really was her overwhelmed his senses. With her this close he could see that she was dirty and disheveled, like she had rushed over to him — like she knew he would be there. "What is this?" he whispered to her, at a complete loss. Alive, privy to his location, and in some kind of partnership with the enemy that was said to have killed her? It wasn't possible.
She sputtered out, "I know what this looks like, but —"
"We were told you were dead!"
Eivor's other hand went to his chest, barely able to keep herself from embracing him. "I promise I can explain all of this, I just —"
"That he killed you!" Heimdall added, nodding towards Kratos with pure hatred, voice hoarse and raw.
With those words Eivor's focus wavered. Of course Odin would lie through his teeth to convince Heimdall to do exactly what he wants, regardless of how dangerous and life-threatening it was. What else would he do to Heimdall before he was finished with him? She withdrew her hands and snapped, "And the fact that I'm here means Odin lied to you, doesn't it? What does that tell you about him?!"
As elated as Heimdall was to see her alive, he was immediately irritated that the reunion had already been soiled by conflict. All he wanted was to pull her close and tell her how much he missed her and loved her, and this was the first thing she said to him? Through grinding teeth he muttered, "This is not the time for this discussion!"
She shocked him once again by shedding all of her worry and care for a very stern command. "No, Heimdall, this is the right time for it, and this time you are going to listen to me!"
After getting over the sudden shift in her demeanor, his knee-jerk reaction was offense at the coarse and cold demand, his pride immediately stepping in to defend itself. But then her words sank deeper into his mind, reminding him of his greatest mistake.
The days he had spent without her were the most…miserable days of his life. He still believed it was his unwillingness to truly listen to her that led to her supposed death, and by continuing to brush her off he was only creating the possibility that she would end up seriously hurt. He'd already felt the pain and consequences of that guilt, and he was not at all ready to feel it again, especially if he could confirm her demise with his own eyes. He had to listen this time. He couldn't let her get hurt.
Even so, something in him was screaming for him not to, that nothing she had to say was anything worth his consideration. It was so adamant to label her as false. Why, exactly, he wasn't sure, and the internal conflict was creating an intense physical pain that forced him to squeeze his eyes shut and turn away, trying to make it stop.
“Heimdall, look at me.” Her quiet whimper was as torturous as the developing migraine. He took a deep breath to steel himself before looking at her again, sincerely trying to listen to everything she wanted to say. 
Eivor also had to calm herself, so many words trying to break free that they were about to burst and leave her too tongue tied to get through to him. Most of them were not even related to the point she needed to make. Those words wanted to be spoken to preceed the rejection the pessimistic side of her was so ready for, to just skip straight to the backup plan with the expectation that he truly was beyond her help. She had to choose to at least try, to have faith in him. She owed him so much more than that.
“You know I would never lie to you. I would never lie to you, or manipulate you, or intentionally hurt you in any way. I would never do that to you,” she began, pausing to see if he would have any arguments to. Relieved to find none in him as he patiently listened, her voice grew a bit steadier as a spark of hope ignited her determination. “So believe me when I tell you that Odin is lying to you. I don't know how you can't see it, but I know he is. He doesn't care about you, or anything you've done for him or Asgard, all he cares about is how he can use you, and he will not hesitate to throw your life away if he has a reason to do it.” A moment was taken to regain her senses before the emotion made her voice tremble, the possibility feeling too fresh after narrowly preventing it. “He's already taken so much from you, and he's only going to keep taking until you have nothing left. It's only a matter of time before he sends you to your death.”
With every odious word the pounding in Heimdall's head intensified, the piece of him denouncing her shrieking louder and louder by the moment. He was trying to listen in spite of how ridiculous it was, he really was, but all he felt was increasing contempt and denial no matter how hard he fought it. To ward that distrust off he looked into her eyes, trying to read the honesty from her, but the headache was somehow… suppressing his sight, making it impossible to see what was truth and what could be fiction. To be so uncertain was an experience that was beyond him — that he was too good for, and it only served to make him snap at her. “I am not a god who can be killed!” He shouted, witnessing the exasperation it brought to Eivor.
The goddess couldn't bear to hear his excuse after he almost let himself die as she predicted. Granted, Odin likely didn't ask Heimdall to confront Kratos since killing him would cost his partnership with Atreus, but it still would have been a death the Raven God ignored. The only loss he would lament would be that of Gjallarhorn, not the man who honorably carried it for most of his life. Frustrated by Heimdall's stubbornness, she hardened her gaze as she lectured, “That's exactly what you said when I told you not to come to Vanaheim, and look at you now!” Her hand flew towards him to emphasize his position and the dirt and blood coating his person, a stark contrast to the man he usually presented himself as. She witnessed Heimdall's lip curl up into a snarl at the reminder, signaling her to step back and use patience instead of force, just like she always had. “Heimdall,” she said in a way that calmed his subcutaneous anger enough for her to continue, “if you don't walk away, you will die. For nothing. And Odin won't let anyone remember you.” That point was one he hated, the very suggestion that he would be just a name lost to time was enough to make him seethe. The idea that it was the All-Father himself that would make that happen was more than enough to make the pain in his mind burn hotter. Until he felt Eivor's hands on his chest, gently and soothingly comforting him as she whispered, “You don't deserve that. You deserve so much more than he's willing to let you have.”
Heimdall shook his head, torn between the sincere love from Eivor and the sharp stings keeping his loyalty and debts to Odin in the front of his mind. Every stab he felt whenever he began to give in to Eivor's cries just hurt so much, every ounce of his being condemning the thought of betrayal. He was better than all the other lowlives who were willing to sink to that level.
But was his pride worth more than his Songbird?
Yet another pulse of torment spread through his head, reeling his consciousness back in enough to make him want to do whatever it took to make it stop. He couldn't give a reply, too focused on fighting the pain by squeezing his eyes shut and looking away.
When Eivor lost his eyes she felt her heart sink. She was losing him. Not knowing if she even had Heimdall's attention anymore sucked all of the hope in her, leaving her with nothing to do but implore one more time, “I know how hard it is for you to believe it, but I'm doing this because I care about you. I'm trying to save you.” One hand raised from his chest to caress his jaw, feeling disappointment when it failed to get him to look back at her. “Please, my love. Forget about him. Do more for yourself than he's ever done for you.”
She regretted her choice of words, seeing his jaw tighten in fury once more. The fact that he could still find a reason to doubt her after she was so tender and so loving felt like a sign — a sign that Atreus was right.
There was no other choice then. 
“Heimdall, please, you have to…” Still nothing. As much as she didn't want to do this, her last resort was the only option she had left. “You have to… or —”
He couldn't help the explosion of rage and impatience. The spear was still pinning his arm to the wall, his head was pounding, and every sound he heard only made the anger and pain worse. He threw his gaze back to her while he cruelly snarled, “Or WHAT?”
Were it not for the insanity pouring into his skull he would have reacted to her sudden gasp and the way she jumped back, like she was afraid of him. She remained silent long enough for him to register the loss of her touch and build up a yearning to have it back, not acting on it solely because his mind wouldn't allow it. Eivor schooled her expression into one of neutrality before she spoke again.
“Or kill me.”
In that split second all the agony and dismay dissolved, his face immediately relaxing into one of shock and confusion. In his peripheral vision he could see Kratos look over his shoulder, surprise emanating from him. Too dazed to say any more, all Heimdall could choke out was, “What?”
Eivor closed her eyes for a moment, ensuring that her emotions were hidden from Heimdall's foresight before opening them again. This was already going to be hard enough on him as it is, she didn't need to make it worse by showing him how much it hurt. Her voice was airy and trembling as she slowly said, “If you won't let me help you, I'm going to ask you to kill me.”
Heimdall shook his head, the horror apparent on his features. “Wha— Why would—”
“Look at where we are, my love,” Eivor said calmly, the suffering still showing through despite her best efforts. “I ran away from Asgard. I've allied with Odin's most daring enemies. And now I'm trying to take you from him. I've betrayed him…in every way.” She gave a rancorous smile as she shook her head, “He's not going to let me live. Unless I have a reason to keep fighting…my life is forfeit at this point.”
To hear her regard her own life with so little value made his chest feel like it was caving in. “No…” He didn't even have the words to counter the sentiment. Where did he even begin? She was too special to be tossed away over nothing, too pure to take her light away from the wretched and filthy world it cleaned, too bright for the realms to lose her and inevitably fade into darkness. She couldn't just give up.
Sweetly, affectionately, she explained, “I knew my choices would come to this…but you are worth the risk. If you don't believe me — if I can only wait for the end — then I don't want to die by Aesir magic, or by Thor's hammer, or alone in a cell. I want it to be by your hand…” she swallowed thickly, already holding back tears of anguish as her voice weakened and shook, “so that my last moments are with you.”
Every inch of Heimdall's skin crawled and he felt his stomach churn like it was trying to crush itself. He felt his expression melt into one of terror. All the air drifted from his lungs like they had given up on functioning, like they decided there was no need for air if it kept him alive long enough to hear that. He wanted to just hold her and command her to regain that fire in her that he loved so much, to shed this melancholy that ripped his heart from his chest and made his insides fill with ice so frigid and hefty that it pulled him into the earth.
Eivor's quivering breath kept her from letting a wail escape, intent on finishing her final thought. “I just…I want you to know that no matter what you choose…it won't change how I feel about you.” This time she grinned fondly, showing all the love she felt with one simple gesture. “I'll still love you all the same. In this life…” Then that tiny smile fell. “And the next.”
Gods, he couldn't take it anymore. It was impossible to decide if the continuous pounding in his mind or the stake through his soul was more crippling. 
“I made my choice. So now…” Eivor folded her hands in front of her, showing no intention of interfering with his actions. “I'll let you make yours.”
Her head fell and she looked at the ground between them, certain that she would weep if she watched him. Heimdall's breath heaved while he stared at her, dumbfounded and at a loss for how they ended up where they were. And to have to choose…
With the cyclone of emotions swirling inside, the only one he knew how to release was anger. His teeth grinded together while he glared at her. 
“‘My choice?’” He said quietly before giving a dry chuckle. It was laughable, the idea that this was a choice? What should he do? Cut off his right arm or his left? Stab himself through the forehead or the eye? No matter what he picked it would be the demise of everything he valued and cherished. To call such a dilemma a choice…
It was all so…ludicrous.
He tried to hold in the frustration, wanting to articulare just how nonsensical this “decision” was…but that damned spear was still too bothersome for him to actually focus. Taking his anger out on that, his left arm flew over to the spear and grabbed it as he growled, “You call that a choice?!” His last word was exaggerated by yanking the spear out of his arm, finally letting him take a step away from the stone behind him and fully express how ridiculous this “choice” was.
An argument he never made. As he wrenched the spear free from his limb Eivor flinched and retreated just a bit, her eyes squeezing tighter. But most importantly, her mind closed up completely. The one thing she would do when she didn't want him to know just how upset she was.
She…really thought he would hurt her?
“Brother…” 
Heimdall's eyes flew to Kratos, who had his back to the pair. Mimir wanted to do something before it was too late, but Kratos had learned from his feud with Freya. It was not his place to decide the fate of another if they had already chosen their own path, and he would not make that mistake again. Although a part of him still wanted to ensure Eivor would be safe, he ignored it, simply unclasping Mimir from his belt and holding the head in front of him, neither of them able to see what would happen.
With no sign of an intention to interrupt, Heimdall dismissed them and watched Eivor, wondering how on earth she would think he would stab her so quickly. As his eyes traveled back to her, he caught a glimpse of the spear, looking back at it when he realized how…taut his grip was. His arm was flexed, spear tip pointed directly at her, and all of his muscles waiting for his signal to deliver one fatal blow. He had to, the pins in his brain reasoned. “She's a traitor, she needs to die,” it whispered. It made everything in him scream to get rid of her, treat her like the heathen she was.
But this wasn't just any traitor, said his soul when it finally had the strength to chime in. This was Eivor. His one source of true happiness and peace. All the joy and calm and love in the world encased in one beautiful goddess with an even more gorgeous voice and a perfect soul that made him grateful to be alive.
With this internal debate he could now fully understand why she asked him to pick one path, seeing that she was, once again, right. He couldn't have both. But he wanted both. Somehow, he wanted both choices to coexist in one reality, like a naive child that thought they could have it all. So now he had to choose: his love, or his loyalty?
Eivor or Odin?
Which one could he live without?
How was he supposed to decide?
Looking down at her, arm shaking with tension as it prepared to strike her with the spear, all he could see was memories of her. Of what it was like without her.
The few measly days he lived with the belief that she was dead were… dreadful. He barely made it through, and he only did because he had vengeance to pull him forward. How in the nine realms was he supposed to press forward through that loss not only knowing she was gone, but that her blood was on his hands? He couldn't. There was no way. He would never forgive himself.
He had a life of his own. As the Scion of the Aesir his duty could be the one thing that kept him focused.
Then again…
Throughout the entire time she was gone his duty meant nothing. He merely proceeded with his daily tasks because it was expected of him. It was…who he was. And he was afraid to lose that identity.
Afraid of failing Odin.
Yes, that was it. Without her he was afraid. His worth would be measured solely by his abilities, and Eivor was the only one who treasured him for himself. He wasn't expected to be anything, and in that there was…freedom. After living a lifetime of believing those expectations and responsibilities were all he needed, he found something that felt like so much more.
With her he took far more pride in what he did, even if it was the most annoying, ridiculous, menial task he had to take care of. It was an inconvenience that didn't bother him because he had Eivor to take all of the irritation away. She gave him so much energy and motivation, so much more enthusiasm for life, whether he was on the job or reading a book at home. When he lost her, he had to return to the grind of working day and night just because that was his purpose.
Could he really go back to that?
That soundless voice in his mind howled at him, saying, “Yes, yes! Of course you do! That's what you're born to do!” and all it did was bring a heavier weight to the idea of that cumbersome life he used to have. It was a life he had because it was the life he was given. Eivor was the life he chose.
He loved Asgard and wanted to protect it with his life. He wanted to be the watchman.
But he wanted to be Eivor's too.
The conflict was just going around in circles, and he knew it. Heimdall snarled as he inhaled sharply, shifting the spear in his hand to keep his arm from acting on its own accord.
Every part of him stilled.
Just that little motion with the weapon made Eivor wince again, this time biting her lip as a few tears escaped.
She did think he would hurt her. She really believed that he would kill her without a word and was prepared for it. As if he'd never loved her.
His blood ran cold. 
She thought he would kill her right away, like he didn't love her. If she believed that then…
“ I will ensure you know just how much I love you. I promise.”
His promise.
He broke his promise.
No. He didn't break his promise.
He never kept it in the first place.
Just like everyone else.
Yet here she was. Despite not knowing if he truly loved her she was still willing to risk everything for him, even wanting to spend every second she had left on this earth with him. Because everything she did was for him. It wasn't about her.
It was never about her.
Because he never made it about her. 
That had to stop.
“Give her what she wants then. Kill her. Better that than to watch her die later.”
That voice had a point. They were doomed if they went against the All-Father. All he would do is delay her death.
“What other choice do you have…?”
His eyes softened as he watched another tear fall down her cheeks. He wasn't going to let her cry anymore.
This would be the last time he failed her.
His grip on the spear tightened, breath trembling as he mumbled out, “Asgard…is the only thing I have ever lived for.”
Eivor cowered away just a little more, tears now falling freely. Watching her heart break solidified his decision to end her pain.
The spear quaked in his hand.
One deep breath to prepare himself.
“But the realms would mean nothing if you weren't in them.”
The silence was deafening as Eivor's shoulders loosened and her eyes cracked open. They widened when the golden spear clattered against the ground between them.
Her eyes rocketed up to him, mouth hanging open in hopeful astonishment, finding him gazing at her softly. His brow was still furrowed to fight off the war that had begun raging in his head, but his glowing eyes held only love and regret.
He chose Eivor.
All the emotions burst out of her as she threw her arms around his neck with unhindered sobs, the tears that had built up spewing down her cheeks. Heimdall slung his left arm around her waist, his injured one bending at the elbow to place his palm on her side and he buried his chin into the crown of her head, every agonizing needle that pricked his skull ignored in favor of relishing in the embrace he had lived without for too long. He didn't even pick up on Kratos turning around to see the result, Mimir mumbling to himself in awe, “Would ya look at tha’...”
Eivor didn't care how pitiful and hoarse her shouts into his shoulder sounded as she cried, “I'm so sorry!” between mournful gasps. “I didn't want to do this! I didn't want to do this to you!” Heimdall only held her tighter, inspiring amazement from the timid onlookers when he started rocking her gently, as if to say she had no reason to apologize. “I didn't want any of this! I-I'm so sorry!” 
Heimdall merely held her, trying to sift through the thoughts he needed to say while battling the raucous dispute from within, taking only a few more moments to consider before he decided to go with his gut, as he had on so many other momentous steps in their relationship. He gently pushed her away by her waist, just far enough that he could look her in the eyes, left hand reaching up to her cheek and wiping tears away as they fell in abundant streams. It was such a debilitating sight, this level of suffering from her, so much that he almost lost every word in his extensive vocabulary. Quietly, gingerly, he said, “You thought I would kill you without a second thought.” Her eyes flew down for a moment in sadness, but his thumb wiping more tears away made her look back at him. “That means I haven't kept my promise.” He leaned in just a little closer and whispered, “I'm going to fix that.”
No spoken language could describe the breathtaking smile she gave him, nor the feeling of warmth in him that sprung forth when she gazed directly into his eyes and thought “I will too.” Heimdall could only beam back at her.
Until someone in the background conspicuously gushed, “D'awwww!” from the sidelines, making Heimdall finally tear his eyes away and sneer at the two men he would rather forget.
“I can hear you!” He snarled, wanting to do nothing more than mount the old goat's withering head on a spike for ruining the moment. Too incensed, he didn't catch Eivor shaking her head at him adoringly.
“OH uh, don't mind us! Just passin’ through!” Mimir fumbled, more as an apology to Eivor than Heimdall.
Kratos was unphased, putting Mimir back on his belt as he faced the pair completely with a stern, “That is enough.” Cautiously, he approached from across the clearing. Heimdall felt the alarm bells warning him of the vicious danger approaching, automatically stepping in front of Eivor and holding out his good arm to shield her, only relaxing a little when she put a hand on his shoulder to tell him Kratos meant no harm. Standing before the god he could have killed and the goddess who saved him, the old god first addressed Eivor. “You are unharmed?”
“For the most part,” she shrugged, knowing she looked like a complete mess after traipsing through a jungle.
She was met with a silent nod before Kratos looked to Heimdall, the latter's glare intensifying. “And you will not betray her?”
A simple question, but one that made Heimdall want to throw sense to the wind and douse the brute in as much explosive Bifröst as he could for suggesting he would ever tell Eivor a bald-faced lie. Despite that, his mind was still coercing him, telling him to make a plan to double cross Eivor for her treason. He resisted, able to just barely maintain a calm demeanor as he announced, “...I'm not going back.” The outrage from that internal power forced him to hold back a wince.
Kratos only nodded again, indifferent on the outside, but Heimdall could sense that he was satisfied with the outcome. “Then we have a temporary truce.”
Temporary. It was a word Heimdall agreed with.
An explosion boomed across the air from the distance. Another signal flare to tell the rescue team that they had to withdraw.
Eivor knew this as well, easing the pressure among the group by saying, “You should go. They need you.” 
“What will you do?”
She braced herself for the tantrum she predicted. “Heimdall needs some patching up —”
Like clockwork, Heimdall protested, “I do not need—”
“Is there somewhere we can wait for you?” she interrupted, ignoring the now annoyed watchman.
Kratos briefly paused. “The dwarves have a shop along the river, next to a travel gate.”
Perfect. The dwarves would surely have whatever supplies she needed. “Then go. We'll be there.” Eivor pulled on Heimdall's arm while he stared Kratos down, and the old god did the same to him, like a mutual warning to one another. The Aesir gave in to the second tug, Eivor taking his hand in hers to lead him away from the clearing and towards the river, in the opposite direction Kratos went after he was certain Heimdall would not do anything unexpected.
Mimir didn't wait to share his thoughts while Kratos brushed past the leaves and vines along the narrow path to the temple that was near the signal's location. “I can't believe it. She actually did it! And more importantly, Heimdall actually cares about someone! Ha! I never thought I'd see the day.” He received no comment in return, allowing his thoughts to wander. With a sigh his tone became more thoughtful and reminiscent. “It truly is amazing, innit, Brother? The way one person can take you at your worst and just…turn everything around?”
The severed head was referring to Sigrun, of course, but Kratos imagined another as the sentiment passed through his mind. That's when it occurred to him that, perhaps, he and Heimdall had more in common than either of them noticed.
While looking down at the ledge he approached, watching his son wave up at him with the eyes of his mother, Kratos could only absently whisper to his friend.
“Yes…”
Freyr's rescue was a success, though not without casualties and damage to morale. Despite Freya's worries she left her brother's crew to regroup in their camp while she treated Freyr's injuries at Sindri's home. Everyone was present in the realm between realms, all faces displaying the relief of a mission completed.
Except for one.
“So, uh, Father?” Atreus's voice was the first to break the calm silence over the group as he sat in front of the fireplace. Freya looked over her shoulder from her room, where she was mixing more herbs for Freyr, the dwarves looked up from their work at their forge, Tyr took his worried gaze away from the injured Vanir god, and Kratos set Mimir down on the table by his son, allowing the head to participate in the huddle. The boy swallowed nervously when all eyes were on him. “I…I can't help but notice that we're missing someone.”
The room grew heavy. Freya went back to her herbs, already certain that their newest friend was already gone. Tyr's eyes met the floor and his hands folded in front of him, as if paying respect to the goddess that had been lost. 
“Did…did Heimdall…?”
Those bright blue eyes filled with sadness made Kratos's stomach drop, the sight never failing to unnerve him even at his best, but the sensation didn't linger. He knew it would be gone with just a few words. 
“She was successful.”
Every soul was brightened by the declaration. Freya spun on her heels, nearly spilling the mixture of herbs in her hand while her smile of disbelief grew. The dwarves exhaled their worry and Atreus noticabley straightened his posture with glee when he exclaimed, “Really?!” 
All were thrilled. 
Except for one.
One who almost gave himself away. Tyr stepped forward with a terse, “What?!” Catching himself, he composed himself before attempting to speak further. “That…that's —”
Mimir's ecstatic chuckles cut him off. “I know! I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't seen it myself!”
“That's…incredible,” Freya gasped as she walked over to Freyr with more medicine, unable to fight off a hint of remorse for having so little faith in Eivor’s judgment. “It seems we underestimated Heimdall.”
“And Eivor,” Tyr corrected, grumbling too much to appear pleased with such an outcome.
Atreus was too impatient to let anyone notice. “Where are they now?”
“Eivor is tending to Heimdall's wounds at the dwarves’ shop in the River Delta. I requested they remain there until Freyr's rescue was complete,” Kratos answered.
The only person who didn't seem to acknowledge the main point of Kratos's statement was Freyr, who could only just barely manage slurring, “Ehhhh, it wasn't a rescue, it just woulda been borin’ if I busted myself out, yannow?” Freya shot him an annoyed glower that only a sibling could give as she sat down next to him.
“You just sendin’ folks to my shop?” Brok gruffly complained. “What, you think it's just some shitty shack you can point vagrants to as ya please?”
Kratos, not at all bothered, replied with just one frank word. “Yes.”
Knowing the God of War well enough to predict his lack of response, Brok didn't protest further, harrumphing, “Gotta respect the honesty, at least.”
There was one detail that bothered Atreus, one that Tyr was hoping wouldn't be brought up. “You actually fought Heimdall? Why didn't you call Eivor?”
“We tried,” Mimir answered. “Her spell didn't work when we used it.”
“It didn't work? But that's the same one we used around Thor.”
“Aye…” Mimir paused, his tone growing curious. “The only difference is that Tyr used his own tricks on this one.”
A bit too quickly, Tyr explained, “It would seem that the Giants’ magic was incompatible with hers. I will have to apologize next time I see her.”
Much to his well-hidden irritation, Freya was also nonplussed. “Incompatible? I've never heard of such a phenomenon between magic…though I suppose Eivor's is unique enough for it to be possible.”
Tyr was already preparing a more thorough excuse to dismiss the topic completely, but Kratos brushed it off, believing there were more important matters to discuss while everyone was present. “That is irrelevant for the time being. First we must decide what to do now that Heimdall has chosen to forsake Odin.” He missed Tyr's brow twitching slightly at the statement.
Atreus pitched a suggestion without hesitation. “We could bring them here.”
Sindri, from the background, was already growing weary of yet another house guest. “Here? Do we…well, I guess if it's for Eivor it's…acceptable.” 
With the obstacle preventing Atreus's idea from being torn down, Tyr made his own attempt to silence it. “If I may intervene, I would advise that we do not allow Heimdall to stay here with us.”
“Why not?”
Tyr calmly clarified to the young god and all of his allies, “We are forgetting that Heimdall is Odin's left hand, and his knowledge and abilities are not something that he will relinquish easily. Once his search for Heimdall is unsuccessful he will no doubt think outside the box to find him — or rather, outside the realms.”
A potential compromise to their safe haven was a risk Kratos acknowledged, however Freya countered with, “That may be possible, but what is certain is that we will at the very least have Gjallarhorn here with us, and that in itself is an advantage.”
“All the more reason for Odin to stop at nothing to find Heimdall.”
There was a substantial amount of confidence in his argument until Mimir also chose to stand against him. “I see your point, Brother, but I have to disagree. We both know how Odin is with treason. Not even Heimdall will be forgiven, and if all Odin plans to do is get rid of him and reclaim Gjallarhorn, then he'll watch and wait for an opportunity to present itself rather than waste resources tracking him down.”
Another rebuttal crossed Tyr's mind, but he was pushed to wait as Atreus chose to offer his own insight. “What about that thing I saw Odin do with the Einherjar. Would that change what he does?”
“Thing?” Freya inquired.
“Atreus saw Odin giving a ‘sense of self’ to new Einherjar, and I personally believe he's also adding some kind of side effect that makes them unconditionally loyal to him. The lad noticed their eyes are similar to Heimdall's, which makes it likely that he could be under the same spell. It would make sense, considering a man with foresight should be able to sniff out Odin's true nature eventually.”
The conversation was wading into dangerous territory, where Tyr was not willing to allow further deliberation. “That's not possible. Odin may be powerful, but there's no way he could have that kind of control over another god.”
“Don't assume so much, Tyr,” Freya ridiculed stubbornly, her own spite leaking into her voice. “I spent a lifetime chained to a single realm with no means of escape. He has ways.”
“Even so,” Mimir continued, “if Heimdall really is under such a spell he'd only be more of a dead man than he would be without one. If a loyalty curse couldn't keep him on a leash then Odin has no reason to let him live.”
A very valid argument. So valid that Tyr was not able to offer a logical counterpoint, making his jaw clench in agitation.
“Then what do you recommend?” Kratos asked, assessing all the information before him.
“Honestly, this is a delicate situation one way or another, but I'd day we're better off allowing Heimdall to come here. Eivor has proven she can handle him, and I doubt he would leave her behind to go running back to Odin after all this.”
“And if Heimdall plans on harming Atreus, as the Norns predicted?” Tyr was grasping at straws at this point, hoping one if them was sturdy enough to sway the crowd in his favor.
It was not meant to be, Kratos's trust in Eivor too stable after her effort to protect Atreus. “Eivor has vowed not to put her wants above anyone here. She has kept her word, even when it put her life at risk. Should Heimdall threaten anyone, I am certain she will not allow it.”
“Aaaand he's definitely not going to make a move in a room full of gods,” Mimir added. “Not even he stands a chance against all of us, and he would know as much after his fight with Kratos. The man may be more arrogant than an eagle living amongst turkeys but he's not stupid.”
There was a lull in the debate as Kratos summarized all his options, finding every perspective from each of his trusted accomplices to be valuable. Although, he had yet to ask for the counsel of one in the room, and that was a habit he was working hard to break. Turning to his son, Kratos softly asked, “What do you think?”
Atreus was surprised for a moment, but the welcome shift in his father's attitude shook him out of it. He paused for just a few heartbeats, wanting to be totally sure of his answer. “Heimdall did say he would defy Odin if he thought Eivor was in danger, and he's done that. There's no real reason for him to change his mind now, and even if he did, he would listen to Eivor when she talks him out of it. I think it's safe enough to let him stay here. We'll have to keep an eye on him for sure, but as long as we're alert I think we'll be okay.”
Kratos nodded, taking a second to feel the pride in his son's well executed and thoughtful response. With there being a nearly unanimous decision, the course of action was set. “Very well. I will inform them.”
Fists clenching in spite of the dejected tone he made use of, Tyr murmured, “Then please excuse me. It would seem I need time to rethink my outdated counsel.”
Mimir and Atreus called out to him to offer comfort, but their pleas went ignored. Freya, on the other hand, could only smirk at the misfortune that was inevitably coming Odin's way. “Things have taken quite the turn in our favor. It looks like Odin letting Heimdall grow close to Eivor could be one of his greatest mistakes.”
The door to Sindri's broom closet opened, Tyr's shining eyes casting light into the shadows as the raven inside greeted its fuming master. “So it would seem…”
Muninn cocked his head, awaiting the order to open the pathway to Asgard.
Calm waters left behind little sound for the jungle to take in. Animals were quiet, resting after the night of chaos and commotion left them scurrying for safety. The stars filling the dark sky lent the land some of their beauty by shedding their light down on it, illuminating the trees and decorating the river with delicate reflections of white sparkles. A perfect night. A picture of serenity. 
Yet Heimdall could only hear deafening crashing in his head.
Every bit of his sanity was teetering on the line between control and absolute anarchy, the conflict never ceasing to keep him tense and on edge, as if he would be attacked at any second. He knew he was safe. He knew Eivor would never do anything to harm him, but it seemed his mind didn't understand. “Turn around and slice her to bits”, it said. “Take everything you've learned and return to Asgard,” it ordered. “Return to where you belong,” it screeched. 
But why couldn't he silence it? 
He'd accepted that Eivor was telling the truth, that she was truly trying to help. She was worth the risk of punishment or banishment or whatever came out of this horrible night. More than anything else, he was absolutely adamant that he would never kill her as she asked him to do, whether it be directly or indirectly. Still, that side that was loyal to the Aesir was relentless. It didn't accept that Odin had fooled him, or that he had ever threatened or tortured Eivor, nor did it think this decision was anything but the dumbest moment of his entire life. It kept telling him to get rid of her over and over again, and every refusal lit his forehead on fire and dried his eyes into shriveled raisins, his chest heaving with pain and his stomach lurching with nausea. Every impulse to turn around and stab his Songbird made his heart ache and his soul drown in guilt, leaving his integrity wondering just how much his promises meant. An ever constant flipping between one or the other, unable to land on a middle ground.
So far all he could do to reason with both entities was tell himself that he would only stay near her until there was a chance to take her back to the sanctity of Gladsheim, where All-Father would reward him for remaining true to his cause by forgiving Eivor.
But it didn't work any more. He knew it wasn't true.
Was he really so stupid that he couldn't see what was the right thing to do?
“Let me try again.”
Her sweet voice soothed him enough to bring him back from the brink of insanity and focus in the present. Eivor had cleaned the blood from his tunic and his face, but the scratch on his cheek continued to bleed. A sign of how weakened he was. The reminder burned him badly enough to make him scowl, though he schooled himself into neutrality as Eivor came back to his front side, clean cloth in hand.  With Heimdall sitting on the table in front of the shop, facing the river, Eivor was able to stand before him and comfortably lean down enough to gently wipe his face, her loose hair sweeping across her temple, catching his eye. They had been waiting at the dwarves’ shop for some time now and yet she was still dirty, stripes of mud across her cheeks and her hair disheveled. It was another brutal display of her selflessness, worrying about him well before she even considered cleaning herself up. A bitter reminder that he had yet to even attempt to put her first.
“It's stopped bleeding…but there's still a mark.” Eivor took the cloth away and straightened, running her thumb along the scratch, knowing he wouldn't like what she revealed. “It'll leave a scar.”
As predicted, he sneered at the ground. Great. An eternal symbol of his worst days. 
Eivor didn't give him time to fester, instead returning to the shop behind him and taking one last look at the sewing materials she could find before finally giving up. Trying to lighten the mood, Eivor joked, “I guess you won't see that my sewing lessons weren't a waste of time.” She came around to his side of the table and sat on his right, her deposited instrument cases just behind her, glancing at his arm to make sure no more blood had seeped from the tear in his sleeve. “I can't find any thread that matches your tunic.” Donning a smile, she lightheartedly teased, “I could use a different color, but I know you'll complain if I do.”
A roll of his eyes, a scoff, even a cranky denial would have been better than the stark silence he gave in return, not even looking up from the ground. It was a sight that filled Eivor with dread. Not only did she detest seeing her normally confident and eccentric lover so deflated, it was also an indicator that believing Atreus's theory had been incorrect was misguided. He could very well be thinking about discarding his promise and taking her up on her offer.
“You've been quiet…” she pointed out carefully, still receiving no sign that he had heard her. Swallowing her fears, Eivor remained true to her plan. This was his decision now, not hers. “Heimdall, if…if you're having second thoughts…” Shining violet eyes flew to her, finding only her profile as she stared into the river, too afraid to speak directly to him. “I won't think any less of you if —”
“No.”
The painful sincerity and tender hand on her shoulder drew her eyes to his. They were just as bright in appearance but so much more dull in spirit. Broken, beaten, confused, and framed by a furrowed brow marred by agony and a frown depicting a torn conscience. It was a difficult sight for her to take in, one that made her heart bleed for all the trauma she had put him through on that night. “No,” Heimdall repeated, retracting his hand when he felt another wave of excruciating pain assault his skull. “I'm not going to hurt you,” was his quiet conclusion as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hiding the clench in his jaw. His final remark summoned the worst pain so far, and keeping it inside was almost impossible by now.
Eivor scooted just a little closer, until they were shoulder to shoulder, cooing, “Tell me what you're thinking then.” Still nothing, and that only added to her worry. “I know this is a lot to take in so…let me help you.”
Heimdall could only grind his teeth with frustration. He didn't want to confess. He couldn't. It would be an admission of his fall from grace if he did. 
When Eivor's hand rested on his back, the touch alone enough to pull him back, he chose to confide in her.
“It doesn't make any sense.”
“What?”
Heimdall breathed deeply, ignoring the voice in him telling him to shut his mouth. “Everything you said.”
The sting of rejection was just inches away from Eivor's soul, but she wanted to give him a chance rather than assume the worst from him. She already had once that night, and it hurt him too deeply for her to forgive herself. “You don't believe me?”
“I do.” His fingers curled into his palm, fury aimed at himself.
“Is that wrong?”
“No, but…”
Eivor couldn't see what didn't make sense until she once again reconsidered Atreus's theory. “And you don't believe Odin?”
Now Heimdall was boiling, growling through clenched teeth, “I believe both of you…but that's—” He cut himself off, thinking of nothing but how idiotic he was for not being able to figure out what was true or false when all the information was right there. It should be so simple! He was obviously intelligent enough to immediately see when something was amiss, but on this matter he was just blind, deaf, and dumb. And he hated that.
Next to him, Eivor was much more forgiving. She knew exactly why he couldn't make sense of any of it. His inability to understand reality only confirmed her worst fears — and made her feel more powerless than she'd ever been before. After all this effort, all this time spent together, this could very well end with Heimdall killing her anyway regardless of whether he wanted to or not. Then all he would be left with is grief that he couldn't ignore but also wanted to dismiss. 
It was despicable what Odin did to him.
It hurt so much to watch knowing that there was no means to comfort him. Even if she told him about Atreus's hypothesis, he wouldn't have the capacity to believe it if it was true. No explanation she could offer would be substantial enough to solve the confusion he couldn't escape, and nothing she could say would make it stop. Her heart wept at the pain he was in, and the fact that it was pain he was oblivious to.
With nothing else to do, Eivor fell back on her tried and true methods. Gradually, careful not to startle him, she reached across him to put a hand on his cheek, her touch making his eyes open and the lines on his brow relax just a tiny bit. A little pressure was applied to pull him closer, a request he fulfilled by sitting up straight and facing her, violet irises still sour and angry. She raised her other hand to place it on his opposite cheek and leaned closer, a motion that he mirrored until they were just inches apart, Heimdall finding some solace in her verdant gaze. 
A deep inhale to prepare her voice, then Eivor began to sing his favorite tune.
The effect was instantaneous. Heimdall's eyes closed again and he melted into her, his forehead resting on hers while he let some of his weight fall on her, greedily taking in her support. It had been far too long since he heard her sing, since she made him feel truly at peace. Though he was disappointed to find that irritating voice still poking around at the back of his mind, too powerful for him to take just a few minutes to recover from such an awful night.
Eivor's hands slid along his face and past his ears, feeling the golden cuff she gifted him so long ago, when things were so much simpler. Her fingers didn't stop until they were carding through his hair, mollifying him so much that he totally ignored everything that wasn't her voice or her presence. Though it may have helped him, Eivor was still at a loss. Singing may subdue him, but it wouldn't free him. It wouldn't give back the autonomy that every other being had. It couldn't take away all the frustration and unending confusion. That damned spell, whatever it may be, couldn't be dissolved by treating the symptoms. If only she could —
Maybe she can.
She slowed her tempo a little, hoping he wouldn't notice that she seemed to be stalling. Her fingertips dug just a little deeper into his scalp, which Heimdall didn't mind in the slightest. Remembering Freya's advice — that her magic knew its bounds better than she did — she let it whisper into him just enough to search for a trace of magic, just like she would if she was tracking down the source of a stave or making use of a trail left in a spell's wake. Reaching just a little deeper, having barely any hope that she would ever find anything, she gently reached into his being and tried to uncover something.
And she did.
In an instant she had to partially close off her mind in case Heimdall picked up on her mixture of shock and excitement. A source! A binding spell! Complicated and unlike anything she had ever seen or studied, but as customized as it was, all binding spells had the same basic principles. Undoing them was no different. 
Every binding spell needed an anchor of some sort — a location, an object related to the subject, a tie to a different type of magic or material. There was something in Heimdall that Odin used to get this spell to take root. If the Einherjar also had the same spell cast on them, then the base had to be the one thing the scion and the undead had in common.
Bifröst.
She reached the chorus even with her slowed notes, meaning she had only so much time until there would normally be a long pause between verses. Heimdall couldn't disrupt her, not with how deep-seated this spell was. The music slowed a little more, adding in more vibrato and variation to make it sound like she was trying to give more flare and beauty to each note. Gold lights flowing from her hands, she desperately prayed Heimdall wouldn't be able to feel her sifting through the deepest reaches of his being. He didn't seem to, and she was able to let her magic sink in deeper and deeper, little trails of gold encircling this cluster of energy buried inside. Like obedient vines, gold wisps merged into threads that encircled this casing of magic and tied around it tightly, determined to pull it out of place.
With the chorus started, she hid her efforts behind her music. She needed some physical movement to help the magic unwind this spell from the bifröst within, creating that motion with her fingers. With every few slow words, her fingers curled inward, as if she was petting his locks in a comforting manner, then stretching them out and placing them back down, repeating with the rhythm she manufactured. 
The only problem was how stubborn this magic was. Expected, considering Odin wouldn't treat such a serious spell with carelessness. It proved to be infuriating in just moments, her magic snatching and tearing at the source to get it to move, but it refused to budge even by the smallest margin. Her heart began to sink when it seemed like she didn't have the skill to take the spell away.
No. There had to be a way. No spell was infallible, not even Odin's. What would Freya do…?
“It is a natural force, and like any other it cannot be controlled, only…shepherded.”
That's it. 
Once again, Freya's expertise proved to be invaluable. Forcing it wouldn't work, but directing it somewhere else might.
Finding motivation once more, her voice grew stronger as her fingers gently brushed along Heimdall's scalp again, this time coaxing the spell with her own magic. With one motion it began to listen, on the second it shifted a tiny bit, and on the third it loosened. It started to relinquish its form to her golden lights and separated, the energy gliding along her magic and out towards her hands.
Just a couple more lines in the chorus. With one she made a more dramatic stretch of her fingers, pretending to be taking her petting slowly, feeling the new, cold magic seeping into her hands. She ran her nails along his hair one more time, deceptively inviting whatever magic remained to join the rest of its kin in the outside world. The last few words spilled from her lips as her fingers splayed out again, her gold dust fluttering away and dispersing into the air. While her hands went back to playing with his hair she cracked an eye open to peek at the reflections on the river, seeing a gold dust carrying streaks of bright pink and a sickly green that matched Odin's ravens into the air and abandoning it to disappear into the night.
Eivor wasn't even sure if it worked, Heimdall not moving an inch as he breathed in the new silence, ruminating on the essence of her music. The anticipation was unfathomable, and to fight it off she juggled the one question that had popped into her mind: if Heimdall's eye color came from the curse, what would they look like without it?
She could just barely hold in a gasp when she got an answer.
When his eyes opened…they were extraordinary. Beautiful shades of blues, pinks, and violets swirling and shifting in gorgeous patterns around his pupils, retaining that unique shine that always set them apart. They resembled traditional bifröst much more, but with this glow and life to it that could never be replicated. She never thought his eyes could get any more stunning, but now they were. Because they were his. 
The moment Heimdall could see her again he already felt an unshakable sense of peace. No confusion, no voice telling him to do unspeakable atrocities, no weight on his shoulders commanding him to disregard everything he cared about and return to his post. She took all of that away, lifted that weight with nothing but a few quiet minutes, gentle touches, and a sweet, alluring voice. He could think clearly for the first time in days, and though his distaste for his current predicament was still in the back of his mind he could only see those green eyes, linger in the echoes of her singing. 
Looking down at her, feeling all of the love she put into every single moment with him, he knew he made the right choice.
A torrent of emotions washed over him all at once, and everything he'd been wanting to say since he last saw her spilled from him. “I thought I'd never see you again…” He couldn't even be angry with the way his tone trembled and gave away his weakness, too busy pouring out everything he'd been holding onto so tightly. “I thought…I thought I'd made a horrible mistake. That I had made the worst mistake. I chased you away, I ignored you. I put all of my needs first, unjustly put the rest of the world above you…” He had to pause, realizing for the first time since he'd chosen her that he truly meant it when he said she was worth more to him than anything else. More than himself, his home, his duty, his skills and foresight, even…All-Father. 
Yes…he really did. For years he'd thought as much but this felt like the first time he really believed it.
“You didn't know,” Eivor whispered, trying to comfort him while holding back the despair bubbling into her throat, torn apart by how sorry he was even though it was beyond his control. 
Shame pushed his revelation aside. “I should have. I should have seen it.”
“You can't be so hard on yourself, Heimdall.”
“Yes, I can. Because I'm a fool.”
Eivor couldn't help but see a parallel to their first real fight years ago, where he insisted he was worthless to her because of his mistakes. Which meant she had the perfect counter to his stubborn guilt. “And it's okay to be a fool sometimes. You're allowed to be a fool. You don't always have to be the best or better than someone else to be you…” Her hand caressed his cheek as she gazed into those radiant, true bifröst eyes. “...to be the wonderful man I fell in love with.”
Heimdall's eyes shot downward for a split second as he felt another sense of foreign familiarity. It was a concept he had heard before, one she tried to teach him several times now. This time, it seemed to finally sink in. He seemed to finally…accept it.
By the gods, how had he gone so long with this nonsense when the answer to all of his woes had been right next to him for years?
Unsettled by his silence and dazed eyes, she pinned on a phrase that would make her point obvious. “It's not your fault.”
It was. He truly felt all of her misery was his fault, but of course she would never acknowledge it. 
At least not out loud.
Eivor's worry only increased when Heimdall pulled away, leaning back with a sorrowful, yet hardened look on his face. Dreading the devastating truth he would have to revisit, he turned slightly to reach behind him and take something that was tucked into his belt. She blanched at the very familiar sight and mumbled, “My songbook…”
Heimdall held it in both hands, staring down at the leather cover for a moment before he flipped it over and opened it to the last page, making Eivor's stomach drop. The scion sat in silent thought for a moment before saying, “You were hiding this from me. Hiding all the pain you were in.” Eivor said nothing and looked away, unable to bear the devastation in his message. She wouldn't return the favor when she felt Heimdall's eyes on her. Sighing, he closed the book without another word, holding it out for her to take back, which she did reluctantly. As soon as she had a firm grip on the book Heimdall released his and quickly took her extended hand, getting her to finally look at him. He took the book once more and set it down on her lap, allowing him to take her hand in both of his and gaze at her both sadly and amorously. Amidst the misery in his fresh bifröst eyes, Eivor could see something else. Something brighter, almost…hopeful. His voice the quietest she had ever heard it, he made a new promise to her that he now had the ability to keep. 
“I may not have been the cause of your pain, but I did nothing to stop it…and that makes me complicit.” His hands squeezed hers even tighter. “For that I am so sorry. I will never hurt you like this again.”
A rare, sincere apology followed by a verbal expression of the lengths of his devotion. It brought her back to the first time Eivor had heard him apologize, when he promised to always show that he truly cared about her. Back then it was enough to elevate her into the clouds, but this time she flew straight to the moon. Odin had whittled his humanity into a mere puppet — an unforgivable act that he would pay dearly for. Yet despite the horrible truth that he had lived his life suspended on invisible strings, left unable to do anything that was not approved of by the puppet master, he was still here with her. Even when the most powerful god in the realms had his will in the palm of his hand, Heimdall's heart still won. And that meant he had grown so much since they met.
Eivor brought her other hand over his, smiling so wide that it hurt her cheeks as she replied in a way that mirrored the past. “I believe you. And I forgive you.”
He knew why she responded with those exact words, evidenced by the first real, wholesome, genuine smile she had seen since the day before she fled Asgard. That same uneven smirk with a dash of love that he saved just for her. She'd missed it immensely, her chest lighting up with warmth when he followed her example with a shake of his head. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
His smirk grew into a toothy grin that Eivor mirrored affectionately, both of them laughing at the other for no apparent reason. No words needed to be spoken when Heimdall began to lean in, Eivor meeting him halfway in a deep kiss. Their hands released each other, leaving the book on Eivor's lap while Heimdall took hold of her cheeks and Eivor resting her fingers on his shoulders, one hand slowly drifting backward to play with the loose hair framing his neck. For those long, heavenly moments there was no chaos in the jungle, no danger in the form of scouting Einherjar, no ravens watching over them, no friends that could drop by at any moment. It was just the two golden gods, sitting among the still waters and the singing cicadas with nothing but each other on their minds. A moment they yearned for and desperately hoped they could share after such a lost separation.
Neither knew how long they had been there, lengthening their connection to make up for all the time they lost, Heimdall finally withdrew just enough to rest his forehead on her again, feeling the urge to say one thing he should have said a thousand times by now. “I missed you, Songbird. So much.”
The adoration in that phrase almost drove Eivor to jump on him and never let go. Her control managed to keep her sitting, only smiling as she returned the sentiment with her own charm added to it. “I missed you too, Dollface.” She couldn't hold back a giggle when he chuckled and shook his head at her, hardly even trying to pretend he hated her silly pet name. Whatever restraint she had wavered just lost enough to make her dive into his chest and burrow into his neck, and right away he responded by taking her in his arms and basking in the presence that finally gave him a sense of peace. A perfect moment, one of the many he'd had with her over the years, and one that made him want infinitely more for the rest of his days.
Such perfection, however, could only last so long when they were out in the open. While Heimdall kept his chin on Eivor's head his changed eyes opened and flickered across the water, his foresight picking up on something approaching. Einherjar, he guessed, who were probably looking for Freyr or his crew. The alarm bells soon died down, signaling that the intruders were not heading in their direction. They could have continued the serene moment, but it only served as a reminder that they were far from out of the building flood they had waded into that night. He took one more deep breath to enjoy this, taking in her scent and warmth just a bit longer until he sighed, bringing up the subject they couldn't avoid. “I still don't trust them.”
Eivor backed away and sat up, looking straight into his eyes as she asked, “Do you trust me?” Without hesitation, Heimdall nodded wordlessly. “Then trust my decision to work with them. None of them wanted to help you, but they still gave me a chance to get to you first.” When Heimdall looked away with doubt, Eivor cupped his cheek and directed him back to her before gently declaring, “They aren't just barbarians who want to fight everything. They understand that this is far more complicated than anyone wants it to be.”
Still not convinced, Heimdall grumbled, “And why should we expect them not to wait until the perfect moment to get rid of us? Especially…”
He didn't need to finish for Eivor to know who he was referring to. “I know Kratos is…stoic, and…blunt, and seems unapproachable, but he's reasonable. He won't act with hostility if you don't. You just have to try to find a compromise.”
The scion rolled his eyes, acting like he would have actually attempted to make peace without a problem. Before he could offer another gripe his head turned slightly, forewarned of the magic approaching behind Eivor. “Speak of the God Killer…” As soon as he said it the stones of the realm portal began to stir and rise up to frame the door between realms. Heimdall and Eivor exchanged one last loving smile, then they both stood, prepared for what could be a difficult encounter. Heimdall merely glared daggers at the door as they waited while Eivor gathered her instruments and secured them to her belt, taking her place on Heimdall's left as they waited. In a few moments the blue bifröst door opened and the pale god stepped through, the darkness of the night contrasting with his ghostly skin in a way that made him look even more intimidating than usual. Heimdall acted instinctively, taking a step forward and putting his arm in front of Eivor to shield her from the enemy, but he stopped when he felt her hand on his shoulder. His eyes went back to her as she let one hand rest on his bicep and lowered the one closest to him to take his hand in hers, getting him to fully relax and regard Kratos with caution rather than mistrust. 
Kratos stopped a few paces in front of them, quiet until Eivor asked, “How did it go?”
Always brief with his words, the only detail he gave was, “Freya is treating her brother. And you are well?”
Heimdall had to hide a sneer, catching right away that Kratos was asking if he'd done anything to her. “I'm fine. We both are.”
The God of War nodded, then directed his stone gaze to Heimdall, pausing for a moment to consider the petulant god he had spared. “And your decision still stands?”
Again, Heimdall was more than irritated at the implications behind his questions. “No, I simply waited here to experience your excellent conversational skills.” Eivor elbowed him in the side at his thick sarcasm, not needing to speak for him to know exactly how much she disapproved of the attitude.
Kratos didn't seem to notice, or at the very least he didn't care. “You will not go back on your word?”
This time Heimdall didn't bother being upset with his assumptions, jumping straight to the matter that was more important to him. He harshly and defiantly spat, “I am not leaving her alone with you again.”
It was an insult, a reminder that Heimdall saw Kratos as a vile monster, yet when he looked into the Greek god's eyes he found a single thought in that empty head.
Respect. 
And it was a respect that was slightly reflected in his expression. For just a second Kratos regarded Heimdall with a hint of admiration for his protective instinct, a drive that he also kept close. Just as quickly as it came, the glint in his eye faded and he continued on without a hitch. “Very well. We have agreed to let you come back to our home with us…on one condition.”
Heimdall already despised being “invited” to the enemy's stronghold as a “friend,” but he kept his mouth shut. Eivor asked him to trust her, and she had yet to give him a reason to doubt, but he still rolled his eyes and drawled, “Oh, I wonder what it could be…”
It was incredibly obvious to Heimdall, yet he still tensed when Kratos took one step closer and held up a commanding hand as he sternly laid down the law. “No harm will come to Atreus.”
Ah. There it was. Heimdall scoffed, “So that's his name,” thoroughly vexed that it had been revealed to him before he found out for himself.
“You knew?” Eivor asked.
“I knew it wasn't Loki…but I never picked up the name he was hiding.” During their first fight in front of the Great Lodge, Heimdall made it known that he knew the twerp was lying, but he clearly didn't get the hint.
Kratos ignored the tangent, remaining just as severe. “That condition is not negotiable. Should you show any sign of aggression,” his voice dropped to a low, menacing rumble, “I will not hesitate.”
Heimdall felt a disgusting chill run down his spine and his traitorous eyes flickered down to the cursed gold ring on Kratos's hand, the pain of that spear impaling his arm already coming back to him. The only thing that kept him from lashing out was Eivor's fingers squeezing his hand, already aware of how serious he had to take that threat. Getting over the effect of such a brainless statement, Heimdall regained his confidence and rolled his eyes with a sigh, reluctance apparent. “Fine. I won't hurt the half-breed.”
Kratos subtly showed he didn't appreciate the term, but it was Eivor who wouldn't stand for it. She cleared her throat, glaring at him expectantly.
“I won't hurt the runt,” Heimdall corrected.
Again, not good enough. She lifted the hand on his upper arm and slapped him sharply.
“I won't hurt your son,” Heimdall forced out, nearly snarling at Kratos as if he was the one reprimanding him. The older god only nodded, accepting his answer and turning around to return to the realm portal, listening to the bickering behind him. “What?!” Heimdall hissed.
Eivor criticized, “He has a name! Two, in fact! You couldn't use one of them?” Heimdall only replied with an annoyed sigh, not wanting to inspire Eivor's wrath in front of another.
Their jaunt through the Realm Between Realms was a quick one, and Heimdall spent it boring holes into Kratos's back, having yet to accept that the foreign god could be trusted in the slightest. The only thing that could pull his attention away was the sight if the building the portal took them to, styled in a way he recognized immediately. “Dwarven. Lovely,” he grumbled.
Setting aside her admiration for his accurate knowledge of architecture, Eivor made sure to stamp out his sass as much as she could before they went inside. “Sindri is an old friend of mine. Behave.”
He would do what he could, making no promises when it came to the Huldra brothers. “When am I not well behaved?”
“That's a joke, right?”
Heimdall only sighed yet again, his spirits sinking lower and lower with every step. This was just so…humiliating. The Watchman of the Gods, defeated and scarred, being escorted into enemy territory on the condition that he refrain from punishing them for challenging All-Father and Asgard. It was a testament to how far he'd fallen from his mighty perch among the Aesir, and it was a dreadful reality.
Then he felt Eivor's hand squeeze his again, as if she knew how uncomfortable he was. She probably did without having to look at him. 
It was a reminder. Eivor had been so dedicated to him that she put her life on the line to ensure he lived, shoving all of her effort into his well being. He needed to do the same. He would stomach the humiliation for her, put her needs and desires first. This wasn't about him, and he was going to make it about her. Even if it stained his pride beyond repair.
Besides, playing nice gave him time to think of how to set things right. He would find a way to get her back to Asgard and back into All-Father's good graces with a simple plea from his loyal servant, then everything would be fine. There was no way this ridiculous charade would go on for long. 
There was something new stirring in him though. Doubt, he realized. After all, with Eivor still alive then it had to be true that All-Father lied to him…
No, there was a mistake. All-Father wouldn't lie to him.
His ponderings were dismissed when the trio stepped inside, Eivor letting go of his arm so that he could maintain his detached and aloof image. The first voice to spring up was Sindri's from his forge, excited to see that Eivor was alright. “You're back!” His enthusiasm waned at the sight of yet another new visitor. “And…with a friend.”
“Well stuff my ass with hot coals and call me Surtr, she actually did it!” Brok exclaimed, earning a glower from Heimdall. With no fear whatsoever, he added, “Who knew the watchman was such a sucker.”
Heimdall retaliated, “I'd be happy to destroy your forge again, dwarf.”
Eivor didn't get a chance to ask exactly when he had done so in the past before Brok gave his own comeback. “Joke's on you, this ain't my forge.”
“Please don't!” Sindri begged, revealing exactly what Brok meant.
Already feeling the look Eivor was giving him as a warning, Heimdall ignored them, muttering, “Huldras…” under his breath as he rolled his eyes. This was already turning out to be worse than he expected.
Kratos stepped away to speak to the dwarves, though he only gave Heimdall space to examine his behavior when a threat was not standing right next to him. Freya was the first to give him a sample on her way to deliver more herbs to her bumbling brother resting on the chaise near the kitchen. She paused in front of the pair, her expression as neutral as she could manage. “Heimdall.”
“Frigg,” Heimdall answered just as coldly.
“Freya.”
“Sure.”
The goddess gave one last glare as Eivor offered an apologetic look in exchange. Once Freya moved there was no obstruction between Heimdall and Atreus, who leaned on the dining table next to Mimir, the latter giving a greeting that almost sounded like gloating. “Look who's back! Seems ya did a good job patchin’ ol’ Heimdall up, lass.”
Heimdall paid him no mind, sneering at Atreus so intensely that the boy started to fidget with discomfort, grateful for his father's very attentive surveillance. Then he took a longer look at the scion and his eyes, thinking that they were “different.” A thought Heimdall could see.
…was he really so stupid that he never noticed Heimdall had glowing eyes? Of course they were different.
Finally fed up with the endless snarling, Atreus chose to speak up, attempting to sound as friendly as possible but only coming across as confused. “Uh…hi?”
The watchman made his point by nearly growling, “Atreus,” clearly displeased that he had caught the youngster in yet another lie.
“Well, yeah. I mean, Loki works too…I guess.”
The blue dwarf across the room came to Atreus's rescue by calling out while approaching the broom closet on the opposite side of the entrance. “You really got beef with a kid, O Dainty Scion? What a joke…’ He successfully got Heimdall's full attention, the Aesir turning away from Atreus and stepping closer to the dwarves, Eivor sighing at the sight of yet another unnecessarily heated confrontation that took place less than five minutes after they arrived. “Hey Tyr! Get out here, we have a guest!” Brok's banging on the closet door was what made Heimdall snap.
“Enough of your stupid noise you troglodyte —”
“The fuck you call me?!”
“I don't care about Tyr, nor do I even remotely want to be introduced to everything hiding in this filthy house!”
Even Kratos glanced at Sindri when he dramatically gasped and dropped pieces of metal armor with a loud clang! He planted his hands on his hips, tone proving just how offended he was by the insult while also missing its figurative nature. “You take that back! This place is spotless and I won't tolerate such slander in my own home!”
Of course, Heimdall would not take such an order and continued to bicker with the dwarves in the pettiest manner, so much so that even the careful and suspicious Kratos lost interest in monitoring them as closely. Eivor sighed again, using two fingers to rub her temple and wondering how she ever thought this wouldn't be so much more difficult than she expected. Hearing more mumbling from Freyr, she grew concerned for him and approached Freya, who was sitting on a stool beside the chaise and gathering empty cups that were once filled with potent herbs. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You've already done enough, all he needs now is rest.” Freya stood to clean the cups and refill them with more medicine, placing a hand on Eivor's shoulder on her way to her supplies, shouting, “Now stop talking, Yngvi!” as Freyr continued to slur some nonsense about kelpies and mermaids.
Eivor was almost worried by how delusional he seemed and looked back to Mimir and Atreus to ask, “Is he doing this because —”
“Herbs,” they answered simultaneously.
Excellent. If it was from his injuries that was one thing that could wind down once he healed, but if his treatment was the cause, then this would become even more hectic when Heimdall inevitably tired of it.
A prediction that quickly proved to be correct. The new voice made Freyr sit up and take a closer look at his surroundings, not hiding just how interested he was in the new goddess. “Wait a sec, who's ’is?” As soon as he uttered the words as suavely as he could manage in his state, Heimdall's head immediately swiveled to the Vanir god, the dwarves forgotten as his blood burned and he marched straight for his Songbird, Kratos following until he reached Atreus and Mimir to watch the scene unfold. Freyr was only a couple paces from Eivor, who couldn't hold back an unimpressed roll of her eyes and crossing her arms despite the state he was in, fully prepared to shut down his attempts on her own. “Well, helloooooo there —”
Before Freyr could get any closer a rough hand slammed into his chest. “Hello,” Heimdall mocked openly with a sinister smile, pushing his enemy back while Eivor groaned at how overprotective he was.
Freyr, just barely able to catch himself as he stumbled, one arm holding the side that was still slightly sore while he clumsily gestured towards his former captor with the other. “Who invited ‘im?!”
“Says the moron who is out of his mind with just a few blades of grass.” 
Eivor was already putting a hand on Heimdall's arm while Freya yelled, “Yngvi, sit down!”
Freyr attempted to shove Heimdall back but was so far off the mark that he didn't even need foresight to know he didn't need to move an inch to avoid it. He gave it another go by rotating his arm like he was preparing to throw a punch, almost incoherently threatening, “Y'know, I still owe ya f'r Van'heim. I r’lly oughta —” 
“Yngvi!” Freya dropped the herbs she was mixing to force her twin to back down.
“Enough!”
The room fell silent at Kratos's powerful roar, gaining everyone's attention and keeping it with his authoritative demeanor. Now with the room calm, he quietly instructed, “Our actions in Vanaheim will have consequences. We must plan our next move while there is still time.”
Very smug with his arms crossed and a smirk painted on his face, Heimdall remarked, “Well, there won't be consequences because there already are consequences.”
Kratos eyed him carefully, irritating Heimdall once again by having a mind so clear that it almost didn't feel natural. “Explain.”
Putting the blunt and unappreciated demand aside, Heimdall complied. “The Einherjar have been ordered to get rid of Freyr's cohorts. They're busy hunting them down right now, I'd say.”
Freya, who had finally managed to get Freyr to sit back down and continue sipping his medicine, shot up and gasped, “What?! And you're only revealing this now?!”
“Well, no one asked until now, did they?”
Eivor nearly facepalmed. He really wasn't doing himself any favors.
All Freya did was snarl, but an inebriated Freyr had no problem expressing his thoughts. “Dick.”
“What else do you know?” Kratos said, still in complete control.
“Many things,” Heimdall boasted proudly.
“Heimdall.”
Eivor's warning did the trick, a fact that made Atreus smirk to himself at how easily she could get Heimdall to cooperate. “Including that this is also a lower priority task. If the forces already present are depleted, they're ordered to cut their losses and move on.”
“Then we can help,” Atreus concluded. 
Mimir, however, was more suspicious. “And why exactly are you giving all this away so easily?”
In a split second Heimdall's thoughts raced, the question throwing him off. He could never recall a time when he had spoken about his orders so freely, always keeping everything All-Father told him close to his chest. Even if the information was mostly inconsequential, what made it so easy now? It was a question he would never reveal to a crowd of enemies, shrugging nonchalantly to hide his dilemma. “That ‘army’ is more of a nuisance than a real threat. Letting them go makes no notable difference, really.” An answer that everyone believed, but he could already see Eivor's thoughtful eyes indicating that she knew there was more to it than that.
Kratos left no room for further argument, grunting, “Then we prepare. Atreus, bring your bow. It was damaged, yes?”
The boy followed his father as he returned to Sindri. “Coming! It's just a scratch though.”
“Didn't I just polish it for you?!” Sindri cried.
“I didn't mean to scratch it!”
Freya watched Heimdall carefully and noted the softness of the look Eivor gave him, reminding her of the tender stories she shared before the rescue. That, paired with the new color to Heimdall's eyes, cooled her sizzling hatred just enough to remember that he wouldn't be there if there wasn't truth to everything Eivor said, therefore giving her enough reason to put out the fires that had long since started burning bridges. Taking one step closer to the scion, Freya calmly said, “Thank you.”
It was still flat and lacking her usual level of sincerity, but it made Heimdall raise an eyebrow nonetheless. It was not what he expected, no sarcasm or anger. She was…genuine. And he couldn't make sense of that, not when he wasn't speaking to Eivor. “For what, exactly?”
“Helping…even if it is in a terrible way.” He didn't respond, still dumbfounded by Freya's willingness to look past his delivery and appreciate the message. 
These people were…stranger than he anticipated.
Eivor sensed his confusion, taking hold of his arm and gently asking, “Take a seat, I'll get supplies to fix your clothes,” before she headed to Sindri for sewing materials. Atreus let out a snicker, finding Heimdall's immediate obedience funny, only stopping when his father expressed his disapproval with a frown.
Heimdall had pulled out a chair but had not yet sat down when Brok spoke up again, grumbling, “What's that old codger doin’? He's still hunkerin’ down in his hidey hole instead of spitting out his ‘bites of wisdom.’” Once again he banged on the closet door and barked, “Tyr, get out here!”
Heimdall, thinking nothing of it, revealed the one thing he had yet to mention since Brok's first attempt. “There's no one in there.”
So casual, but it made the air in the room freeze. All eyes slowly went to Heimdall, a feeling of unease taking over the atmosphere.
Brok, not too bothered, grumpily argued, “Look here ya stiff, I saw him go in there, and I ain't seen him come out.”
“And you trust your sight more than mine?” No counterpoint was made, and the entire house grew colder with fear as Heimdall insisted, “He isn't there.”
Silence.
When the tension became unbearable, Sindri nervously chuckled, “I-I'm sure it's nothing! Maybe he, uh, went out for a walk. Lord Tyr does admire the World Tree, after all.”
Atreus sounded just as spooked as everyone else. “But I talked to Ratatoskr while Father was gone. He said everyone was here, and he would know…”
Another bout of stillness, nothing but questions absorbing the room until Brok waved a hand at the door to the closet and made his way back to the forge. “Feh, whatever.”
Eivor, sewing supplies in hand, returned to Heimdall and found him staring at the closet, like he was trying to see through the wall. It tied a knot in her gut. “Are you sure?” She questioned quietly.
Heimdall, perplexed at the vaguely recognizable presence he could sense, didn't have a complete answer. “There's something in there. But it's not a god.”
Eivor felt her heart drop as she asked Heimdall to sit down again, wondering if bringing him here could unveil a much darker secret that was right under all of their noses.
She shook it off. She'd been sneaking around Odin for years, she was just letting her usual mistrust get to her.
At least she hoped.
Eivor was not the only one considering what might be hiding in their haven, but they had to settle their doubt with one question: who did they trust more, Tyr or Heimdall?
Unfortunately, everyone except Eivor would not choose Heimdall.
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kiatheinsomniac · 2 years
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I saw your requests were open and I couldn't resist! I love your writing. I'd like to request female readerxfemale Eivor with the prompt " Deep breaths honey, you're okay now, you're safe." Thank you for your time!
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notes: It makes me so happy to know that you love my writing!! <3
pairing: f! Eivor x Reader
word count: 0.5k
☾ ⋆゚  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM
Deep breaths honey, you're okay now, you're safe
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When you had spun around after one enemy fell to your axe, you had been expecting to block a blade, weapon out across your body in anticipation, however you had not expected to be kicked off the dock instead. The boot in your gut knocked the wind out of you and you were suddenly shocked by the freezing water that you were suddenly submerged in. Your clothes were layered and heavy, only serving to weigh you down but you didn’t dare remove them for the cold. You fought against the gravity that was sending you to the bottom of the deep dock but couldn’t seem to make your way towards the glimmering surface of the water no matter how hard you tried. 
Your lungs began to burn for air as you frantically stripped off your clothing, only finding yourself getting tangled and exhausting yourself with how heavy they felt now. You fought to not choke down any of the water but your body seemed to have other plans as the suffocation became unbearable and, instead, you began to drown as water filled your lungs. You always knew there would be a chance of you dying in one of these fights but you had expected it to be with a spear through your heart or an axe in your skull, not by drowning. You would be terrified of your death in your final moments, it would seem. 
You didn’t even realise that you had blacked out until you were gasping for air on the shore, rough pebbles beneath you as you lurched to the side to cough up the rest of the liquid in your lungs. Panic shook you as you wondered what had become of you and, greedily, you began sucking down deep breaths of air, too deeply, too quickly and you found yourself hyperventilating. You weren’t dead, were you? Had you been saved by an ally or enemy? 
Suddenly, you were being made to sit up by calloused hands and you panicked even more before you met the blue eyes of their owner and you felt much better, even if you couldn’t calm your breathing just yet. It was Eivor who had saved you. She let go of you to shrug off her fur cloak and wrap it around your shoulders as you shivered. She needed to get you indoors and by a fire quickly but couldn’t do that in the state you were in right now. 
"Deep breaths honey, you're okay now, you're safe." She said as her hands, warmer than your body temperature, cupped your face and she encouraged you to breathe slower, counting how long you should inhale, hold and exhale. She stayed with you like that until your breathing returned to normal and you threw your arms around her, murmuring a series of ‘thank you’s in her ear. She helped you to your feet and began to lead you away from the water as you trembled. 
She had been beyond frightened when she looked around after the fight to find you absent and terror had wrenched at her heart when she saw the bubbles in your water and some of your clothing floating about. If you didn’t drown, you’d freeze so she had shrugged off her outer layers of clothing before diving in after you. She had dragged you to shore and managed to get enough air into your lungs for you to wake and now she would assure that you wouldn’t die of the cold either. She hadn’t the chance yet to tell you how much you meant to her after all. 
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☾ ⋆゚ Buy me a coffee? ✧⋆.・゜Want to be tagged?
🏷️ @writing-noah @veryfancydoilies
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Assassin’s Creed ladies’ Strap Game (Headcanons)
So there’s been an influx of strap headcanons for Eivor on this hellsite and they’re all so good I just had to contribute, but for Kassandra and Soma as well because these three women all have me by the metaphorical balls. I would like to thank the lovely @keyblade-loser and @saintbvcky because without their wonderful brains some of these ideas just wouldn’t exist, which would be tragic.
What you are about to read is nothing short of filth.
Minors do not interact.
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Eivor:
Absolute pringles-can of a strap. It’s thick, long (but not too long) and she got runes embossed over the length of it – that you can feel – because it’s her dick; if she’s covered in tattoos, her strap better be too.
She knows the size of it is overwhelming. Watching you gasp and whine that it’s so big as she sinks into you, thinking that it’s all inside when in reality she’s only halfway in because it’s fat enough to press against your sweet spot…she’ll never get tired of the sight.
Eivor may be doting and eager to please, but with her strap, she’s a demon, bullying her cock into you with unwavering hips at a pace that has you sobbing. She’ll slow down on occasion, just to admire the sight of you stretched out, bleary-eyed and shaking on the toy deep inside your weeping hole. Her praises take a darker turn as she rakes her teeth down your neck, murmuring that you’re her good girl.
She’s a growler. Snarling into your flesh with a predacious grin when you grasp at the sheets in orgasmic bliss. Growling when she’s pummelling you with deep, long strokes and the strap slips out because you’re so wet, tutting as she guides it back into your heat.
Not that she would ask it of you, but if you tried to suck her strap, she’d die and go to heaven. No matter how deep you tried to take it, just the sight of your drooly lips wrapped around the cock and the look in your doe eyes would make her weak.
Primal play is her bread and butter. Teeth, snarls and grunts when you’re face down on the mattress, back arched, hips raised and legs trembling. Don’t be afraid to rough her up, too. Eivor will wear your scratches and bitemarks with utmost pride. But if you’re of the softer persuasion, she’ll take you in a mating press, heart swelling as you reach to clutch her hand as she makes you come.
Modern!Eivor wouldn’t have a care in the world if people heard your pleasured cries. In fact, if somebody dared to knock and complain, she’d ease out of you – promising to make it up to you tenfold – slip on some joggers and answer the door. Tits out, the harness riding above the waistband of the joggers, and the outline of her strap completely visible through the fabric. Angrily, she’d tell them that she is quite clearly busy, slamming the door shut as they cough and splutter in shock.
Just...dick big enough to match her energy.
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Kassandra:
She owns a thick, ribbed strap with a little bit of curve, because she wants her lover to experience the pinnacle of pleasure while speared on her dick.
Kassandra is a very sensual lover, who above all likes to take her time. With her thrusts she rolls her hips into you, providing sweet pressure against your clit as the strap grinds delicious circles inside of you, ensuring she’s toying with every pleasurable nerve. She doesn’t want you to hold your noises back and is beautifully vocal herself, sinking her teeth gently into your flesh and moaning against your skin at the delightful pressure of the strap’s base against her.
But she’s also extremely cocky. She wants you to babble incoherently about how big she is, how full you feel with her inside of you, how good she’s fucking you. Seeing mascara run down your cheeks as you cry from overstimulation only gives her more energy. Feeling your thighs tremble with exhaustion as you’re riding her because you’re tiring out and need her to make you feel good? That’s what her ego lives for.
Her Amazonian height and broadness is a wonderful tool for versatility. She’s so strong that more exertive positions aren’t a problem. She loves to hook her arms under your knees, gripping your hips and lifting them off the bed, pounding away while you can only roll your eyes back and let the strap take apart. The look in her eyes is almost evil, with a thin sheen of sweat coating her bronze flesh…you’re fucked.
Loves, loves it when you ride her. Especially if you’ve never done so before; you sink down onto her and try to bounce on her lap, struggling to find an angle that works with burning legs. Kassandra thinks it’s adorable, chuckling before guiding your hips down to the hilt, urging you to rock back and forth, watching your mouth fall open with a moan because that’s so good. With kisses to your neck and a knowing smirk, she’ll whisper, “That’s it, isn’t that so much better?”
And there’s something about watching you use her for your own pleasure that turns her on immensely. Particularly if she’s feeling softer, murmuring praise into your skin, muttering about how perfect you look taking her cock. Something devious would overcome you, and the hand buried in her hair tugs none too gently, forcing her to look you in the eyes as you tell her it’s your dick. Kassandra would fucking melt then and there.
Let’s just say she can be equally as nefarious with her words.
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Soma:
Her strap isn’t of a brutal size, while it’s still girthy and veiny enough to have you drooling with rolled-back eyes, because she wants to draw out the intimacy of your bodies being so close with her inside of you. It wouldn’t be right to totally wreck you…yet.
She’s a romantic at heart; she believes you deserve nothing less than her all. So she takes her time in ensuring every thrust makes your toes curl, peppering your neck with kisses, fanning your skin with hot heavy breaths and grunts, humming as your nails carve into her back. Every praise she sings is tainted with profanity as she tells you how fucking perfect you are, how soft and wet your cunt is, how she can feel you gripping her cock even if it isn’t real.
Suck her strap? Suck her strap. It unlocks something within her that ensures you’ll be walking funny the next day. Soma will massage your scalp with her hand as you take her length into your mouth at your own pace, heart melting at your docility. She won’t be able to take her eyes off you as she coos, “There’s a good girl. Get it nice and wet for me, yeah?”
Soma may adore being ridden, but don’t mistake it for submission. Of course, she’ll let you have your fun, but ultimately she wants to be the one to make you fall apart. Languid caresses to your side turns into her holding your hips down and thrusting deep up into you, effectively shutting off your brain like that. Before you know it she’s coaxing you into her arms and rearranging your insides from below.
But sometimes she’s cruel. Overcome with the need to see you cry from pleasure, all thoughts fucked out of your pretty little head. Which is when modern!Soma introduces a vibrating wand in tandem with her strap. She’ll hold it flush against your clit as she thrusts torturously slow into your core, your spread legs giving her the perfect view of you clenching around her cock as you come. It won’t take long for her to overwhelm you, and that’s when the ruthlessness really begins.
She will adorn your skin with marks as you arch into her, matching every scratch you give with a gentler bite or a bruising grip on your hips. Maybe delivering a smack to your arse, and you’re so utterly gone, so possessed by the ecstasy she’s bringing you, that you don’t even process the pain, moaning at the new sensation. She’ll fuck you until you can’t physically take anymore, skin painted with a picture you’ll admire the morning after.
If you can make it out of bed, that is.
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syninplays · 1 year
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I'm finally done playing Valhalla's last episode and I just wanna say I'M SO MAD they basically spitted on Eivor's entire story and beliefs, like the same person who's willing to die for her people suddenly goes 'ok, fuck it I'm out of here' ?? And don't get me started on the fact all those who were with Layla are for some reason unknown blind or forgot Basim was a shit to Eivor/Layla.
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hereforreadandwrite · 6 months
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Chapter Three
Masterlist
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Two moons had just passed since your return.
Ivarr had been torturing Rhodri for two moons. He had asked his best blacksmith to build a cage in the pig pen. A solid cage in which Rhodri was rotting away with his peers. Everyone could see him and humiliate him. Halfdan had the idea of confiscating his clothes. Ivarr was purposely keeping him alive until you got better. He wanted you to witness what he planned to do to him.
A sigh escaped your lips as you sat on the edge of your bed. You felt better, even though your right eye still hurt when you exposed it. The nuns warned you that you would no longer see anything out of that eye. You thought you could get used to it, but you thought about all his battles and the hunting trips. How were you going to do it? You were still aiming with your right eye. You removed the bandages from your face, taking your sword to see your reflection. The threads were starting to fall off, the flesh was closing. It was starting to heal properly. But because of that, you found yourself hideous. Your once (Y/E/C) right eye had turned milky, your wounds were just starting to turn white. How could Ivarr still look at you? You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard the door open. Your attention was on your companion. He closed the door behind him, moving closer to you as you put the sword away.
"Halfdan, Sigurd and Eivor are still here? Maybe you should allow them to torture Rhodri," you said, getting out of your bed to pour yourself a glass of water.
"They do. Like everyone else in Sciropescire," he said, moving closer to you. “You’re the only one who still hasn’t gone to see him.”
You had a hard time swallowing your mouthful of water when you heard him. Yes, all of Scriropescire was able to humiliate and attack the Breton king. You were the only one who refused to see him. You didn't want to see him anymore. You had hoped Ivarr would kill him so you wouldn't see his face again. Ivarr could see that you had changed. You stayed cloistered in your room, in this damn Christian Church. You saw too much of Bishop Deorlaf for his liking. Ivarr had tried to get the bishop to talk, but he replied that what you had told him remained between you and him.
“Do you plan to stay hidden in this room for the rest of your days?” he asked, looking at you severely. “In this Christian Church?”
“I have the right to stay here as long as I want, Ivarr,” you said, slamming your glass down on the table. “Leave.”
“(Y/N).”
“Leave me alone!” you shouted, banging your fists on the table.
Ivarr gave an angry growl as he left the room, slamming the door. You bit your lip, no longer able to hold back your tears. You fell to your knees, hitting the ground while screaming in rage. You felt your fingers crack, it was painful, but you didn't care. You were so angry, so sad that you didn't care that your hands were bloody and that you broke your fingers. You stopped hitting the ground when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped, suddenly turning around to see Bishop Deorlaf. He watched you struggle with your condition.
"(Y/N). This can't go on any longer, you have to share your pain with Ivarr," he said, stepping back.
"How?" you asked, getting up. "How could I tell him that? He's a Drengr! That sort of thing matters very little, Deorlaf. For me too. I was born only to fight and die with dignity to reach Valhalla! That's the only reason I came into this world! I... this kind of thing... it shouldn't affect me... but..."
"(Y/N)... you are a warrior, but you are still a human being. What you have experienced, our Lord will condemn. You have the right to be sad. You have the right to be angry. Ivarr also has the right to know."
"For what?" you asked, turning to the bishop. “It’s gone, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”
"It's important. Even if you think otherwise, you might be surprised by Ivarr's reaction if you explain to him what's tormenting you."
Deorlaf left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sighed, settling into your bed. You had no desire to tell Ivarr what King Rhodri had done to you. What's the point? You always hoped Ivarr would kill Rhodri so you could move on and forget. It was better this way. You were a Drengr. You shouldn't think about it anymore. You just had to focus on the future, the battles, the conquest of England, training Ceolbert. There were plenty of things to do, so you'd be able to keep your mind occupied.
Yes, you had a lot to do.
You shouldn't think about it anymore.
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alexalily · 3 months
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Alexa's Favorite Games of 2023
If you've paid attention to my activity online then you've probably noticed that I really didn't play many games this year! I spent much more time reading books and watching movies than I did playing games. Despite that, I will still make this list because I did still manage to play Some Bangers! But also some trash!
2023 has been a year of change for me: mostly in minor and bad ways but with a couple of bigger, better ways. I'm hoping 2024 will be a year of further change in some major ways. Without getting into too much detail, my life feels like some things are in a do-or-die/now-or-never sort of situation and that is scary but also it'll make changes that are better than what I've got going on right now.
In 2024 I am hoping to get back to gaming a bit more. I want to return to checking out small Itchio projects that no one else has heard of but that I will scream about until other people play them too. I want to play more visual novels, too!! And I want 2024 to finally be the year that I really give a fighting game a solid chance because it is a genre I have always wanted to get into but have never found the right time or place or game or whatever for it work out.
If you would like to see a similar list about the books I read in 2023, you can see it here on Tumblr. If you would like to see a similar list about the movies I watched in 2023, you can see it here on Tumblr or over on Letterboxd.
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Mémoire 0079
The "It's Not Nepotism If It's Genuinely Great" Award
I don't do ranked awards like everyone else but if I did this would be a strong contender for #1 and it's not just because I know some of the people that worked on it! I really really like the shape of this thing, with how it has you navigating pages like you're falling down a Wikipedia rabbit hole! It's such a fun concept and while I doubt it's the first or only to do it, it's done very well here! I love seeing how both sides frame the conflict and how they choose to write history their own way and how that leaves you to piece together What Happened. It's a game that has been stuck in my mind and kept me Thinking all throughout the year since I played it back in July and that is more than I can say about almost anything else on this list or that I even played this year!
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Assassin's Creed Valhalla
The "Why The Fuck Am I Still Playing This" Award
I am occasionally an Open World Sicko who likes big maps with lots of Meaningless Things to collect/do. Every so often I just need One Of These. I have played many and they are all terrible. The genre has had a largely negative effect on AAA games specifically and the video games community as a whole. And this has got to be one of the worst ones I've ever played. I will probably end up writing a "review" where I dump all my thoughts after I've finished it but here's some quick highlights: -it plays worse than AC Odyssey did -it looks worse than AC Odyssey did -England sucks ass -the main plot is so tedious and none of the writing is good and there is SO MUCH of it -Eivor is so fucking boring!! my gay ass should be fawning over her but I simply Do Not Care about because she has all the charisma and charm of a pile of rocks The Isle of Sky DLC(?) questline was the best bit so far but that might just be my Kassandra Bias coming in to play because it was nice to see her again and also for them to be willing to actually play with one of the things set up at the end of Odyssey! I have played for over 80 hours so far and feel like I am maybe halfway through. I fear I may be playing this game until the end of time.
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Charm Studies
Best Game That Is Laser Targetted At Me, Specifically
Narrative Picross! Cute girls! Witches!! What's not to love. I adore this lil game. I feel like this is going onto the list of games that I will take any chance I can to yell about because I want more people to play it because it's just such a charming lil adorable thing. It's cute!! I love it!! Play it!!!
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Fortnite
The "I Participated in Capitalism and it felt Gross" Award
I started playing like a week and a half ago so I am still an absolute little baby. The first thing that happened when I launched the game for the first time was that it notified me that I had unlocked Radiohead lobby music. And then when I went into my first match it was utterly overwhelming with all the sound effects and shooting and dancing and constant quest progress updates and meters filling and things happening, meanwhile I was just trying to figure out what the buttons do because there's not really any tutorials and it was one of the most stressful 10 minutes of gaming of the entire year. I think the actual movement and shooting feels Fine and is just Good Enough because the actual good thing is playing this with other people. The shop is egregiously bad. The battlepass system is also horrific. We all know this. I spent eight dollars on the battlepass because the punk catgirl skin is cute. I hated how I felt when I did it. I will continue playing because fuckin whatever who gives a shit. I hope Epic Games crashes and burns but for the foreseeable future I will continue to have fun playing this with people. If you are a person who think it might be fun to play with me and see first-hand just how bad I am at video games, hit me up because that sounds like a fun time to me.
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Bloodborne
Lady Maria Presents: The Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower Award for Best Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower
YES I played Bloodborne again this year, YES I will probably do it again in 2024. I finally beat Orphan of Kos!! The last time I played BB I smashed my head against Orphan for something like 10 or 12 hours and eventually gave up but this time I did it! I spent time grinding out as many blood vials as I could and making sure my weapon was as upgraded as was reasonable and then I beat Orphan of Kos in like 30 minutes of attempts!! What the fuck!! Easily one of the best feelings of triumph I've ever gotten in a Soulsborne game.
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The Exit 8
The "What The Fuck Am I Doing Here" Award
I feel like I need to preface this by saying that I believe everyone; I take all y'alls word that this thing is incredible and amazing and everyone needs to play it ASAP without knowing anything about it because it is just incredible. I completely believe you all. But when I played this, I ran down a hallway for ten or fifteen minutes and nothing happen. I don't get it. I read every sign (as best I could, since it's mostly in Japanese anyway). I pressed every button on my keyboard. I tried to interact with the doors. I tried to interact with that guy that walks by. I found a sign that said to turn around if I see an anomaly. I don't know what an anomaly looks like and I can't tell if I've seen one. I ran down the hallway in one direction. Then I thought maybe I need to walk. Then I turned around and went the other way for a while. I don't get it. I can't get the game to work. I am too stupid to figure out the first puzzle(?) of the game. If I had a brain and could figure that out I bet this would be sick.
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Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin
Best Game to Fistbump Your Homies To
What a cool fuckin video game!! Proof that Final Fantasy can still be good in the year 2023. I kind of hate how much this game gets memed on with all the "here to kill CHAOS!!!" stuff and people laughing at the Sinatra needle drops and fistbumps and whatever because while, yes, that stuff is objectively funny when you see it in the game, I think the game then does a lot of work to make you take that shit seriously and attaches emotional weight to it all that works in a truly sincere and honest way that I think the memes make people completely ignore. Jokin' around on twitter or whatever is all fun and good but please remember to engage with games on their own and actually think about the thing you are playing! It feels like this game is going to go down in history as some big meme when it's probably one of the best Final Fantasies in quite a while and I think that is absolutely fucking tragic.
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Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous
Most Videogame
I never did write out a full review of this game and maybe I'll go back and do that at some point but basically it comes down to this: All the parts of this that are Pathfinder are atrocious tedious garbage and all the parts that are Wrath of the Righteous are wildly inconsistent in quality but the absolute best parts of it are barely better than mediocre. Pathfinder, as a system, is really only for the sickos who enjoy planning out their character and everything they will do at every level-up because the actual act of playing it and engagin with the combat is miserable. God bless the difficulty menu for letting me turn it down to the point of not having to give a shit about any of that. Also shoutouts to whoever at Owlbear said "hey maybe we shouldn't have the final dungeon suddenly bombard the player with negative levels and attribute damage" because that was a truly awful part of Kingmaker. Oh and the Crusade mode sure does suck ass, huh? I hope someday Owlbear makes a good video game. The thing in CRPGs that I love the most is meeting all the cool companions and hanging out with them and helping them solve their problems (or sometimes making them worse). And this game barely has that. There's like a dozen companions and I think I could name three or four of them and could only really tell you much about two of them Daeran and Arueshalae save this game from being completely devoid of anything good. Arueshalae is my sweet babygirl and Daeran is a twink in need of obliteration.
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Celeste: Strawberry Jam
Best Game I Didn't Actually Play
I am not a Celeste Enjoyer because I am not a Platformer Enjoyer but I did watch my friend Carrie play through this and it's a genuinely incredible thing to see!! I really strongly suggest people check this out (either first-hand or watching videos) because it's wild to see how much work the Celeste community put into this thing. Custom art, new music, wholly new mechanics, and it's all arranged by difficulty so you can start at the beginning and work your way up! And they even added in tutorials so you don't have to know what a Ceiling Pop or whatever is because they'll just teach it to you! And, anyway, Celeste's assist mode is robust and people should be willing to turn that stuff on just to content tourism their way through what I think is one of the most impressive community endeavors I've seen in quite a long time.
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Final Fantasy VII
The "I Swear To God I'm Going To Finish It If It Kills Me" Award
I have started this game like eight different times in the past and it never clicked for me so I never got more than an hour or two into it but finally FINALLY this year it is working for me in terms of my brain but no in terms of my fucking computer!! I built a new computer very recently and when I reinstalled the game, the cloud save was empty! Every time I saved it told me it was syncing the save file but it was lying to me!! Luckily, I had my old computer around still and was able to find the save there, so my meagre amount of progress was not wiped out. But then! My DS4 was absolutely haunted! Everything was configured the same as the old computer, everything is set up the same, but all the button mapping was wrong and nothing I did fixed it! I had the controller unplugged for a couple days for unrelated reasons and then worked up the energy to troubleshoot this and when I plugged it in it Simply Worked! So now I am determined. I WILL play this game and I WILL finish it in 2024.
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Tabletop Simulator
The "I'm Tired Of Writing This List But Want To Add This One Too" Award
I played quite a bit of Tabletop Sim this year and had a lot of fun doing it! I've never been able to really get into board games or tabletop games because of a lack of friends to play with but this year I got to check some stuff out and have had a lot of fun with it! Even just loading into one of those big board games with a trillion pieces is fun just to look around at all the lil 3d models and flip through the cards. A lovely game that has given me a lot of lovely memories.
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sapphic-woes · 10 months
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Fables
A/N: A part of the 1k commissions! @penguin-wizard-party suggested a scary Eivor stumbling upon you during a raid...and I was like "wow bestie your brain is so big, imma get on that." lolol I hope you enjoy it and thx sm for commissioning me! <3
____________
You had heard the stories. Even spun some up yourself. Yet who knew the life of a storyteller would end up being cut down by the very people you lied about?
"...and the Danes fell upon them, hungry for war, violence, and blood!"
How foolish had it been? To make fables out of such tragedies. To think they would never happen to you.
"There was terror in the air, their homes ablaze. Alas! Would anyone save them?"
You shut your eyes and cover your ears, anything to stop the screaming. How many lay dead in the streets? How many were captured? You curl up in the little wooden box you once kept your most expensive dresses. You'd hung them up in the closet, hoping that would satisfy the Danes enough to not search for who owned them. More horrible cries fill your ears, and you try not to cry. Would you end up like them soon?
Was the help you spoke about in your stories…never going to come?
You freeze as the door handle shakes. You'd locked it, but it wouldn't hold out for long.  With bated breath, you stare into the darkness, waiting. 
It isn't long before your heart drops, and the hope that you'll make it out of this alive dwindles.
You hear voices. Gruff and in a language you don't know. The one closest to the door sounds like a woman. That doesn't make you feel any better. Surely, a woman would simply kill you rather than take you captive, right?
Suddenly the door is hit with a loud and sharp boom, followed by the terrible sound of it crashing to the ground. Had she done that? In one blow?
That’s it, I'm going to die. 
Boots creak across the wooden floor. Never had the sound been so dreadful. Woman or not, she was a Dane. If you were discovered, she could cut your head off and take it as a souvenir. To live, you had to stay quiet. You had to be still… 
…and pray. God, did you fervently pray.
Father, do not forsake me, for I am your faithful servant. 
The voice is clearer now. It's rough and awfully hoarse. It carries throughout the entire room, as if searching for you.
All my life, I’ve served you. spreading your word through the stories I weave. 
The steps grow near. Her voice is loud. It mimics the beat of your frantic heart. How ironically intune you both were. Perhaps that was why despite your efforts, she found you.
Save me Lord. Do not let her kill me! Please, anything but that–
"...it seems I've caught a mouse." Light shines as the lid lifts, and your eyes squint by reflex. Her English catches you off guard. Although it's thick with an accent, it's understandable. Fearfully, you look up.
Oh. It's a wolf.
How could eyes be so daunting? How could a face seem carved from stone? There's a pang in your heart. A chill striking through your body. How much of this was excitement? How much more fear? The woman is dirty, clothes stained with mud and blood. She seems to relish in it, much like how she relishes in you, eyes scanning over your shivering form.
You feel cornered by that gaze. As if you’re a butterfly pinned to a wall.
You're unsure whether you like it or not.
"A beautiful mouse hiding away in a little box? How adorable." The viking smiles, but her eyes narrow. Her blue irises are calculating, studying your wide eyes and parted lips. You’re too scared to speak, but the woman has no qualms with coaxing your voice out of you.
"Tell me Lady," you suck in a breath as she leans over the side of your box, blonde locks falling to tickle your skin. She smells of the burning fire outside and the blood of your people. It makes you shudder, and in turn the woman smiles. It's a soft smile, yet somehow it makes your blood run cold. "What are you called?"
What? You don't understand, but you answer regardless, scared of what would happen if you didn't.
"I-I, um, I am called Y/N…" Your miserable voice warily croaks out the sentence. The Dane repeats your name under her breath, testing it on her tongue. She seems pleased with it, lips spreading into a wider smile.
"It suits you. As does the last name Varinsdottir." You blink in confusion, then gasp as the viking grabs your wrist and pulls you out of your hiding place. You stumble with a yelp, falling into her arms as she chuckles.
"I admit, I'd rather not take a woman from a town I raided as my wife…but fate has not let us meet in the kindest conditions…nor am I kind enough to let you go." The woman's eyes shine as she looks down at you, grinning.
"You are beautiful, lady. It's no wonder you tried to hide, any of my wolves would have wanted you for themselves the moment they saw you…" You gasp as the woman cups your cheek in her calloused hand, leaning down to whisper.
"So I am thankful to the gods I found you first. I'll make you mine, y/n." You open your mouth to speak, but the woman has other plans–silencing you with a passionate kiss. 
"Mmh! W-wait, why–?" You whimper as the Dane doesn't relent, kissing you as if she hoped to devour you whole. Again and again, with hands grasping you close and body grinding against yours–you're falling weak to her advances, her burning desire, and gentle lips. It was useless to try and escape, nor were you sure you wanted to. 
What's gotten into me? A single kiss, and your lust becomes as strong as your fear. Did you forget how dangerous she is? No, you hadn’t. Yet she was…bewitching. The greed in her eyes when she pulls away and looks at you is addicting. The way her scarred, untamed body holds you tenderly. Protectively. Possessively.
There's something wrong with me. You know it because instead of running, struggling, screaming, anything–you merely nod, cheeks warm as you accept her proposal.
"Then…please take care of me…?"
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teecupangel · 8 months
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DesmondxHytham???
@fanworldbuildingfun and I had this idea where Desmond gets kicked into AC Valhalla’s timeline and he builds his own Brotherhood because he thought the Assassins didn’t exist by this time and it ends with his Brotherhood and Hytham’s bureau having some kind of turf war.
That could be our jumping point with Hytham being both annoyed and impressed by Desmond’s informants and recruits while Desmond is just under the misconception that Hytham might be some kind of proto-Assassin (which he is, the problem is Desmond doesn’t know about the whole Hidden Ones history since that was lost in time, hell, Amunet was only called a ‘proto-Assassin’ and isn’t even remembered as a founder by this point). 
So, once Desmond is sure that his Assassins would be okay without him for a while and all of their bureaus are safe at the moment, he goes to Ravensthrope to check the competition.
What does he see?
An overworked lonely man who was nice to everyone and who looked at him with wary at first, only to show a friendly side once Desmond told him that Eivor sent him here (a lie) to help out.
Desmond starts helping out in Ravensthorpe, doing errands and hunting. Sometimes, he’d help bring deliveries from nearby settlements. Other times, he’s working as Randvi’s messenger for any settlement conflicts that arises.
In his free time, he checks up on Hytham.
At first, it was because of his Hidden Blade.
He had seen Eivor’s Hidden Blade and knew that she was wearing it wrong but he had assumed Eivor had gotten it from one of the Proto-Assassins or something.
But Hytham…
Hytham was the one who told him about the Hidden Ones.
About Alamut…
And, now that Desmond thought about it, it made sense that the Assassins didn’t just sprung up out of nowhere. They had to have come from somewhere.
A secret organization stationed mostly in Alamut would make sense, Desmond supposed.
Hell, he had been thinking of going to Alamut himself but that was mostly because there were memory seals in the Temple underneath that he could use to leave messages for Altaïr and maybe even the ‘next’ Desmond Miles.
But this…
This changes… well…
Not much, really.
Desmond has no plan to join the Hidden Ones. He has his own Brotherhood and they’re doing well on their own.
It sucked that they didn’t have Hidden Blades but being an Assassin was never about the Hidden Blade.
It was about the Creed.
And it seemed that the Hidden Ones also had the same Creed.
So…
Desmond stayed.
And he tells himself that he’s staying to learn more about the Hidden Ones.
Hytham stresses that he was not a mentor (“Yet.��� Desmond adds, making Hytham chuckle and rub the back of his neck) so he cannot recruit Desmond but Desmond just waves it off, tells Hytham that he’s interested in the history and the traditions of the Hidden Ones.
And Hytham indulges him…
They have tea over it.
One time, Hytham showed him how to perform a leap of faith and it took all of Desmond’s willpower not to be a total showoff like Hytham was.
.
.
And then…
Eivor returned from her latest successful alliance and she sees Desmond in Ravensthorpe.
They talk and Desmond tries to tell her that he’s not here to sabotage Hytham’s bureau or whatever malicious plan Eivor believes he’s capable of.
Hell, the whole turf war between the Brotherhood and the Hidden Ones was started by a very gung-ho recruit and it’s not like Hytham had any other people in his corners other than Eivor and some informants.
It would be like pulling the pigtails of a girl peacefully making her sandcastle.
“I know we both have a list of people that should die and that’s not exactly peaceful, Eivor, I’m making a metaphor!”
But Desmond is good at making people do what he wants so Eivor just sighs and agrees not to say anything… for now.
If she even hears a hint of Desmond planning something nefarious against Hytham, she’d kick him out of Ravensthorpe herself.
And Desmond agrees.
.
.
So Eivor began to observe Desmond.
She tells Randvi that she’s doing it because she wants to make sure she did the right thing sending Desmond back to their home without her (and she wants to smack Desmond on the back of the head for making everyone believed she had invited him).
That’s when she noticed it.
What everyone in Ravensthorpe had noticed before.
Desmond and Hytham…
… were definitely acting more like a couple in the middle of courting one another than actual friends.
And that’s when Randvi told her that…
All of Ravensthorpe agreed not to say anything to either of them because watching them be oblivious to one another was more fun.
And Eivor…
… can’t help but agree to that.
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