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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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