Assassin's Creed Drabbles

↳ blood and water confessions

eivor curses you for your stubbornness and gives you his heart anyways.

EIVOR GLANCES OVER his shoulder and breathes out a heavy sigh. You'd given away your presence by stepping on a twig on the narrow trail and snapping it. Turning, he crosses his arms with pursed lips. "I told you to stay with the others at the settlement," he chides as gently as he can, though annoyance still seeps into his tone.

Stopping in front of him, you put your hands on your hips and puff out your chest. "Stay here with the womenfolk, it's dangerous out there," you say, trying your best to imitate the timbre of Eivor's voice. He hadn't said those words per se, but it is what he had meant. It isn't that Eivor doubts your prowess or skills, only that Anglia is still a foreign land with many secrets and dangers. The settlement had lost its kennel master and his pack of hounds to bears not even a fortnight ago.

His lips twitch upward, threatening to turn his frown into a poor smile. "It'll be like old times," Eivor remarks, motioning for you to come along with him. It will feel like old times, before the wars between chieftains to choose a true king and unify Norway. Too many of your people had died for the cause and when Eivor would not submit to King Harald's reign, he took his people to safety —to Anglia.

"Here," Eivor murmurs his warm breath tickling your neck, hand resting on your bent draw arm, "lower this arm." He presses down, eyes still narrowed on the deer grazing in a small forest clearing —a fine meal to bring back to the village. "Release," he says. You let the arrow go, sucking in a large gulp of air as it whistled through the crisp air. A soft thunk is followed by a louder thud when the deer collapses. Eivor had felt his heart stop when you looked back at him with a bright smile. The thought of one of your first hunts together brings a faint smile to his lips, though he does not let you see.

Old times you muse with a smile, trodding alongside him. Eivor had always been one to keep to himself, but that did not detract from his ability to be a leader among men —strong and just. A leader who would fight his own battles and lay down his life if need be, but he was always trying to prove something —to himself and others. Eivor has nothing to prove to you, though. He is among your oldest friends and besides Sýnin, you are one of his only confidants. You can think fondly on old times, but you are excited to learn what this new life holds.

"Why'd you really follow me?" Eivor asks, his prior annoyance turned to mirth. In truth, he is glad to have your company —the burden of leadership among other duties has kept the two of you apart for many days. You give a small shrug, playing off the knot twisting in your stomach and heart as indifference. Eivor holds his arm out, stopping you in your tracks and raises a finger to his lips.

The forest is dark and deep and silent. You glance up at the canopy searching for Sýnin, but the raven is not to be found. Eivor reaches behind his back, freeing one of his axes and your reach of the hilt of the blade on your belt —nervous.

"Stay close," he whispers, inching farther into the wilderness. He stops again after several steps. Now the silence is replaced with a low rumble —growling. A dark shadow moves in the underbrush. The black wolf bolts from its cover, teeth bared and jaws snapping. Neither of you notices the second, larger beast until it latches onto Eivor's back. Sending them both rolling through the thicket in a blur of grey fur and brown leather —out of sight into a gully.

The black wolf surges, swiping its massive paw across your leg —claws sinking into your thigh. You scream at the burst of searing pain, slashing at the beast until the point of your blade sinks into its side. It rears back with a high-pitched yelp. You step back, foot catching on an upturned root. Just as you begin falling, the wolf leaps. 

Eivor pulls himself from the gully and glances around. When he sees both you and beast unmoving, his heart seizes. He pushes the wolf's corpse aside and kneels, laying his hand against your bloody cheek. "Damn you," he curses, shaking his head even as you smile at him. At first glance, most of the blood belongs to the wolf, but Eivor notices the ripped fabric at your thigh and frowns. "You should have listened," he tells you, inspecting the three long, bloody tears in your skin.

"When have I ever?" You counter, laughing as he slips his arms around your shoulders and beneath your knees lifting and cradling you against his chest. "I can still walk, you know," you tease. Eivor rolls his clear blue eyes, unable to hide the smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He'll take this as an excuse to keep you close.

ANOTHER KETTLE OF water hangs over the fire for a bath. Eivor kneels in front of you, wet cloth in hand. Solveig had already collected your tattered britches to patch —besides a night shift and wool dress they were the only pair you had for now. He wipes away the dirt and blood, pleased to find the wounds were not deep —stitching or burning would not be needed, just a good cleaning and fresh binding. Eivor's rough but gentle hands linger longer than needed.

He rises from the ground, tossing the dirtied cloth into the washbasin before fetching the kettle of steaming water and dumping it into the wooden tub. Eivor motions to the hot bath and averts her gaze until he hears the sloshing of water followed by a soft, content sigh.

"Eivor," you call, twisting around to see him looking at the scratches on his back —his tunic and jerkin hanging over the back of a chair. He makes a low rumble of acknowledgment, quickly glancing over his shoulder. A flush of color is on your cheeks, though you can blame it on the water and steam. "There's enough room for two," you tell him, motioning around at the tub. He hesitates but gives in to his heart's desire.

Water sloshes over the wooden sides when he slips into the tub, sitting in front of you, knees brushing together with yours. You lean toward him —scrubbing away the dried blood from a scratch on his shoulder. He shifts, straightening his legs, and draws you to him by the waist. Every time you've ever been this close to him, your heart skips several beats. He's a good man, a good leader, my closest friend you think, and I love him. You drop the sponge and take his face into your hands, fingers deftly combing through his beard and tracing the scar on his cheek. "Eivor," you murmur, "I have something to tell you."

Eivor strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, fingers trailing over your neck and back into your hair. A soft smile on his lips lights up a twinkle in his eyes —softer than even a summer sky. "So do I," he admits, feeling a fool for not acting on his heart's wishes sooner. Eivor had tried convincing himself he was better off alone, but he is stronger with you.

He draws in a deep breath and so do you. "I love you," you both say at the same time. For a moment it doesn't feel real, but warmth and elation fill your heart and his. Eivor tilts his chin up as you bend forward, pressing your lips to his. One of his arms wraps around your waist, bringing you flush against him —his beard tickling your cheek. The break lasts only a moment and when Eivor's lips brush against yours for a second time, you can feel his smile.

You lay your head on his shoulder, following the outline of the dark tattoo on his chest —a serpent consuming its tail— while he hums, fingers running up and down your spine. "Skatt mitt," he breathes when the water grows tepid, he still needs to bind your leg. Eivor wraps his arms around you, rising from the bath and places you on a chair by the hearth, moving to gather a clean strip of linen. With a fresh bandage, he wraps the two of you in a roughspun blanket before the fire. It had always felt right when he wrapped you in his arms, but now it feels like home.

"I want every day to be like this," you tell him, leaning farther into his chest.

He laughs softly, kissing your temple —arms tightening around you. "As long as there aren't wolves every day," he mutters, earning a chuckle from you too. This Eivor thinks this is a good life.