Assassin's Creed Drabbles

↳ night confessions

jealously takes hold of him and eivor decides it's time to let you know how he feels before it's too late.

EIVOR WOLFSMAL WATCHES you from across the mead hall —his arms crossed, leaning back against one of the great wooden posts. He can't help the smile tugging at his lips as he watches you dance with the children of the new settlement. Tonight's celebration was in honor of the first harvest reaped from Saxon soil. It was the first time in many days Eivor had seen you without being caked in dirt and sweat —you were always a pleasant sight to him, though.

Trygve joins Eivor, passing his son a horn of ale and tracing where his gaze lingers. He smiles when he sees you —twirling around with a boy and girl on each arm wearing a crown of summer wildflowers— then elbows Eivor with a knowing look in his good eye. "She can't wait forever," Trygve notes. Eivor's father can still recall when the two of you had been children —always getting up to mischief. Not much had changed in that regard, but the way you and Eivor looked at one another had. And both of you were too damn stubborn to do anything about it.

Taking a break from dancing, you settle down at one of the long tables to catch your breath. Noticing the opportunity, Skarde slides onto the bench at your side. He had thought himself a potential suitor for some time now and never missed a chance to try and make you see that. It's all you can do to politely smile at his tall tales from past raids and other pursuits. You shift away when he tries resting his hand upon your thigh.

Skarde quickly quiets down when he notices who is approaching the two of you. Eivor settles his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You don't notice the harsh look in his eyes for the smile kinking his lips. "Eivor!" You exclaim —wondering where he'd been hiding all night. "Skarde was just telling me he killed a great beast."

Eivor can hear the subtle hint of sarcasm in your tone. "A pup is no great beast," Eivor retorts and Skarde's face goes red. It was only a young wolf he'd slain, not even large enough to be a true challenge to boast of. He pushes away from the table, leaving you and Eivor alone until an old grey-hair man hobbles over to the bench with a twisted cane.

"Trygve!" Eivor's father takes your face in his hands and kisses your forehead before opening his arms wide in greeting. For many years, Trygve was the closest thing you had to a father since yours died in the summer raids. "It is well to see you!" You smile. "How fares your leg?" He'd taken a nasty fall while helping shingle a roof.

He falls back on the bench, patting his wrapped thigh. "Mending thanks to your skilled hands." As a girl, you'd dreamt of being a shieldmaiden, but the gods had given you a talent for healing and you put those skills to work well enough. Few who came into your care were ever lost.

"And how is your mother?" Trygve questions in return.

Your mother still woke at the crack of dawn to tend the chickens and goats, even with her aching and stiff bones. She was a fighter though, especially now as a widow. You laugh, pointing over your shoulder to the carcass that had been the star of the feast. "About as stubborn as that old boar was."

Eivor snorts, crossing his arms. "Just like you." Trygve chuckles and you cross your arms, glaring at your childhood friend. You can tell something is bothering him and before the night's end, you'll get it out of him one way or another. As the hour grows later, people start flowing out of the mead hall and back to their homes for the night.

He's sitting by himself when you part from the circle of chatty women —a distant look his bright blue eyes. It's not until you're standing over him that he looks up. "It's terribly warm in here," you say, nodding toward the door. Eivor rises and follows you out into the night. You take hold of his hand and lead him down to a small pond at the heart of the settlement —a full moon reflected on the rippling black surface. "What's wrong?" You ask. He's never acted this aloof before.

"Nothing," he remarks, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms again, staring off into the distance. No one could brood quite as well as Eivor.

You roll your eyes, nudging him in the side. "Now who's being stubborn as an old boar?" You expect him to laugh or at least see a small smile forming on his lips, but he does neither and your heart drops. Something really is bothering him. "Eivor." He glances down upon hearing the soft whisper of his name. It always sounds so sweet in your voice. "Tell me what's wrong, please?" He can tell you're worried, and a pang of guilt settles in his chest.

"It's just something my father said." Eivor bites down on his bottom lip, stealing a side glance at you in the pale moonlight. She can't wait forever and seeing Skarde with you only cemented it. He couldn't take it any longer. Stepping in front of you, Eivor takes your face in his hands, stares in awe for a moment before leaning down —his lips finding yours.

You react instantly, pushing up on your toes and wrapping an around his shoulders. His lips are soft but firm, how you'd imagined they be against yours after so many cheek and forehead kisses. When Eivor pulls away, you're grinning like a trickster god, fingers combing through his recently trimmed blond beard. "You know I've waited a long time for you to do that," you tell him, holding his clear blue gaze. Your mother had always joked that'd you'd have to be the one to take matters into your own hands with him.

The backs of his fingers brush over your jaw. There's a faint smile playing on his lips now. "You could have kissed me if you wanted to," he notes.

"And risk ruining my oldest friendship?" You challenge —it would have been a silly thing to risk so many years for a foolish kiss.

Eivor laughs. He'd suffered the same trepidations. There was too much at stake if the sentiments were not returned and he couldn't bear the thought of a life without you. Better to have her close than risk chasing her away. "I love you," he admits, "always have." Bending down he places another kiss to your lips —warm and soft— echoing the warmth blossoming in your chest.

"Always will," you resound, parting. He wraps you in his warm, strong arms —holding you against him as you both watch the moon ripple in the water, knowing there is plenty of lost time to make up for.